#there are definitely other places to get big drinks in America but these are the most iconic

[neonphoenix]

Remember to reblog to reach other usamericans!

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #28

The Battle of Big Wand

Part 3 of reacting to this episode (spoiler-free)!

They locked the boy who has a darkness phobia in the deep dark pit, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

omfg, OF COURSE the first thing he does is ask for a drink... Good to know that even 8 years ago, I clocked him as growing up to be a guy who relies on the things that get Fairies drunk (sugar and carbonation) to block out his excessive trauma. oh geez, dude...

How long's he been losing his mind down here? He was fine a few episodes ago in "Growing Pains"! D: He was hanging out at his parents' place!

- Oh, I SO called Peri with magical back-up. He's having a rough go of it... Wowza, he's hallucinating about Dev. That's dark. - I really hope they don't send Foop on a bathroom break or my anxiety is going to spike through the roof. Even if Hazel did use her rule-free wish to revive them, would that be f'd up if they killed Peri and Irep off the way the Grim Reaper told Foop he'd die back in "Man's Worst Friend" or what?

I think ginger ale is good for nausea, which is why Peri's asking for it, but it's still funny because... canonically, he can get drunk if he has enough of that.

I like the rainbow sickness. This feels more correct and enjoyable than the rapid inflation and explosion of the OG series. You can tell Peri is sick and gradually expanding as his magic backs up, but I like that we get to see it, especially since it's set up as death in this universe (rather than easy to recover from in the OG).

I like seeing that Peri is VERY clearly ill and definitely not in a mental or physical place to "push through the pain and escape."

I definitely would say "This is dark," and this loops back to what I said watching "Fearless" and "28 Puddings Later" that A New Wish is definitely a tone shift from the OG. I wouldn't say it's Invader Zim dark, but I think the only episode that gave me vibes this dark was "Channel Chasers" during the scenes that were aiming for "gritty adult action with buff hero characters.

I know Poof and Foop got torn out of reality in "Timmy's Secret Wish," but that's still cute and fluffy to me... lmao.

sldkjfsdklfj, I made a joke during my "Lost in Fairy World" liveblog about how Cosmo and Wanda were going to get ants with all that candy in their room. I know Hazel is lying about ants, but I like it.

Her landlord's hair reminds me of Remy's. that's... a unique style.

/glances tiredly and uneasily at my list of Remy's many runaway uncles who scampered off since they weren't their parents' heir and are still pretty messed up...

I enjoy Wanda comforting her dying son while Cosmo's taking it hard off to the side. Cosmo wanting a moment to himself feels right.

Peri and Irep must not be synced up, presumably because Irep is using magic to grant wishes. Or Anti-Fairies don't get back-up.

There he is~ Anti-Cosmo "literally only here because I was told I might score a godkid" Anti-Cosma. I hate him! (affectionate).

Anti-Wanda looks like she would bite me and I would let her.

Something is so very wrong with Dev "Instead of wishing my lactose intolerance went away, I'm going to delete lactose from the universe" Dimmadome.

I enjoy Irep constantly bouncing or lightly kicking his feet as he waits for Dev to give him new wishes. He definitely gets that from his dad.

Absolutely on the floor that I clocked Anti-Cosmo as hanging back while Irep runs the show with Dev. They've literally not changed and I'm so happy!!!!

I spent over a year worried they were going to reboot A.C. into some take-charge, full-steam-ahead takeover villain, and you're telling me the local confrontation-avoider is still avoiding conflict??

Take me out now; it's never getting better than this. (The sequel.) I'm gonna be riding this high for months.

I was expecting to see Tibecuador on that map, but they cleverly have the Americas on the other side of the globe. I assume that disappeared when Timmy aged out of Fairies, though we know it wasn't unwished after Season 5 (It gets a mention in Season 6).

I like that both Dev and Irep enjoy dancing to "So proud of my son" lyrics. They're vibin'. Irep has daddy issues too.

sdlkfjsd, when Jorgen undid Dev's "king of America" wish a few episodes ago, he didn't erase anyone's minds?? I like that the news refers to Dev as "former king of America."

??? Did Dev and Trev break their friendship after Episode 1 because they both like Bev? That's hilarious!

The news report specifically says "couples are breaking up" due to Anti-Fairy influence, without implying that Anti-Fairies caused these two to get together in the first place. WERE they together? That's silly.

I am once again disappointed we were robbed of the Trev-Dev-Bev friend squad. But this is funny too.

Another waning crescent.

I'mma be honest, but Hazel saying she's had her fairies for about a year just makes me even more confused as to why we're doing a "get a rule-free wish after 1 million" instead of the previously established "get a rule-free wish after 1 year."

I... am gonna un-canonize her 1 million wishes in 'fic unless this ends up being incredibly important. Sorry to keep bringing it up, but I just can't wrap my head around this. "Timmy's Secret Wish" was kind of a big deal. It was a movie and not just a one-off episode, and it's been referenced several times in A New Wish already. Timmy took so much flak for being allegedly wasteful, dangerous, or overly reliant on his wishes. He did make some wild ones, but I'm SO curious to know what Hazel wished for. I wish we'd see flashbacks like we did in that movie, but again... recognizing the limits of a 20-minute episode.

I'm so glad Jasmine told Hazel she wasn't shocked by the reveal that Hazel had fairy godparents, seeing as in Post #10, I said she'd expressed suspicions towards Hazel twice but it didn't seem to be going anywhere and I was disappointed. That's a good callback.

Winn: Your apartment was a hotel and then it wasn't.

That's the other thing I was wondering about! Thanks, Winn. You're my favorite.

It drives me wild that Antony's not going to talk to Hazel about whether she has issues because he doesn't have the context to know fairies get assigned to miserable children. I feel like he'd really want to hear about that.

Antony knows Cosmo and Wanda? Maybe they DID have dinner together. I hope he met Peri. I think they'd be friends. I'll have to look back and see if he was introduced to them by name in "Rattleconda Racers," but... I don't think I noticed he'd clocked them as her neighbors.

They probably crossed paths offscreen while he was home for the holidays. I haven't settled on a timeline yet, but he could've been home for a whole month for winter, so it's likely they've met and he saw Hazel interact with them.

There is something so funny about Winn saying they sussed Cosmo and Wanda out as fairies because of their pink and green hair when they look like this:

I enjoy Hazel being familiar enough with Dev, Cosmo, and Wanda to know their clothes by heart, but she blanked on Irep-

- implication being that she remembered his giant square head and not much else. Not even wings.

Hazel �� Chloe Remembering Foop's hair, mustache, and crown, but forgetting he wears clothes

I'm surprised Hazel's friends are ready to go to war against an entire race of evil magical beings famed for bad luck and torture, and they don't have any questions about this? I feel like one of them would want to talk to their parents. Jasmine said she was a fraidy-cat early on, but I guess facing her fears in "Fearless" turned that around more than I expected.

Oh no, Jorgen's in a pit.

??? If we're in Jorgen's office, where was Peri held before the takeover?

I like how Anti-Cosmo clicks his heels.

New shirt design for Anti-Wanda?? That was on my reboot bucket list! I had my fingers crossed for a fancy dress, sweater, or jacket, but I'll take it! This is clever because it's close to her old design.

... I don't look forward to drawing it :'D

I am OBSESSED with their energy. Anti-Cosmo is so fancy and Anti-Wanda looks like she showed up in pajamas or party clothes. And he loves her so much. That's always been their thing, but it's good to get a reminder since he spends so much of their 1-on-1 time in the OG series screaming and running around. I missed him... It's been 11 years...

... Actually, that makes this my first time ever seeing new (canon) Anti-Cosmo content drop since he was outtie by the time I got to the fandom (back in 2016 when Season 10 was just starting). Exciting!

I actually have an AU called "King Me" that I started in 2016 but have never posted anything for, but it's about Anti-Wanda being raised from birth as the leader of the Anti-Fairies and getting betrothed to some nerd, and seeing them new and shiny and dressed like this makes me want to finish it, because I love Anti-Wanda being in charge when she's so casual and silly. It's one of my favorites <3

omg, it's an anti-Fairy shirt... OH, this makes the fact I portray Anti-Wanda as giggly over puns and wordplay even better...

Anti-Wanda shopping, pointing at the crossed-out crown: It's me.

I like how while Anti-Cosmo is bragging that Anti-Fairies are masters of torture who know all their counterparts' weaknesses, Cosmo looks like this:

Anti-Cosmo: I'm a master of torture... I know your biggest weakness~ Cosmo: I don't believe you for a second, but go off I guess

Irep knew exactly what he was doing when he sent Peri to the dark pit... u can't make me believe it was an accident he was hyperventilating and rocking back and forth with crossed eyes when Cosmo and Wanda got to him...

Wheezing at the fact that I'm pretty sure neither A.C. nor Anti-Wanda has been addressed by name because the writers gave us Irep and Lezah... They can't drop the anti-names on us and don't want to call them Omsoc and Adnaw.

I DID wonder where that set-up was going, but I think their names not being not acknowledged at all is the funniest direction.

Like?? POV, New Wish is your only exposure to Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda, but you don't engage with the fandom so you sus out for yourself what their backwards names would be and that's how you grow up thinking of them.

I personally have Anti-Fairy kids using names picked by their parents and they only switch to using their anti-names when they become adults, so... if we were to assume Irep is just slightly too young to use the name Anti-Peri, that headcanon would still track in New Wish for him and Lezah. Which is interesting.

..... If Peri is short for Periwinkle, is Irep's full name Elkniwirep, because ouch. I understand where he was coming from when he complained his new name was "much more difficult to pronounce" than Foop.

I like the implication that Anti-Fairy nicknames would come from the end of their names rather than the beginning. Though looking at that name, I think Noir would also be an appropriate nickname for him.

Irep when he has to sign for a package for his parents: Eh, you can come back next week.

Anti-Cosmo's clothes are spot-on. It's him!! ... Except for his monocle being on the wrong side. I personally made him blind in one eye in 'fics, but I'm pretty sure a real monocle can be used on either eye.

It's kind of funny to me they did that. It must be easier to model this way, but the OG series never depicted him switching to the other eye even when he turned his head. Kind of interesting in an "I wonder if modern fanart will portray it interchangeably or if the right eye is deemed consistent" kind of way.

!!!! They kept his big ol' giant fangs!!! Irep definitely gets most of his personality from his mom, but he's got Dad's fangs <3

This makes me want to practice drawing him more. A.C. is the hardest for me to draw (between his clothes, hat, hair, and having bat-like ears in Cloudlands AU), but I really like his cravat here and would like to take another whack at him, I think.

skldjf, I'm glad Anti-Cosmo is still Mr. "super weird about needing to hold things in his left hand." Nobody cares, but I care

In the OG show, he threw his wand off-screen so he could switch his teacup to his left hand after picking it up... He does this in multiple episodes, shifting things to his left for no reason even if he picks them up in his right. I'm sure it means nothing, but... why did they draw him doing that? He keeps his wineglass on his left despite Anti-Wanda being depicted with hers on her right... Sometimes he'll even stand next to other characters and hold an item in his left even though his neighbor is holding the same item in their right. why.

?? Anti-Cosmo had to look up "discombobulated" in the dictionary? Wouldn't the taunting have been stronger to prove he doesn't have to look it up?

I like Anti-Cosmo bracing his legs beneath the dictionary the same way Peri did when he was looking at Da Rules.

Heavy book; need better weight distribution or it's killer on the back.

sdfkljsd... oh, poor Cosmo... Listen..... LISTEN........ I know there's no way in heck they would bring back the "77 Secrets of the Fairly OddParents (Revealed)" lore that Cosmo's deepest secret is that he's an "author of distinction" who's written oodles of books, including Astrophysics for Morons from the episode "Shelf Life," but...

This is SO MEAN... I have a 'fic ("Repeat") where we learn Cosmo's been erasing his own memories for ages because people wanted him in jail or worse for writing about astrophysics when Fairy culture pushes the idea that stars are ancient Fairies (à la "Wishology") and this is how he's protecting himself. My interpretation of him is that he gets upset sometimes because "He used to know what these words mean," like... that is an actual scene I've written, and I'm dying...

Corporate needs you to find the difference between these scenes... lmao.

"We knew it wouldn't be easy, not following the old beliefs… but we're on enough thin ice with the Fairy Council as it is. Let's… not tip the scales by making wild claims about the stars. But if it's any consolation… You can tell me about astrophysics any time of week." "Mm…" He didn't even know what 'consolation' meant. He did once, though… Didn't he? When he read his old diaries, they made no sense because he used to know so many words. His handwriting. His memories. But not all the words made sense anymore. Robin Cosma would be so disappointed in his son. How funny that your father can be a poet known across the cloudlands… and you can't remember how to spell "tinnitus."

Anti-Cosmo, you are being SO mean in my lore right now... Thanks, I hate it. But I like that physical torture wasn't the option they went for. This feels very right to me (Mental torments, preying on fears and paranoia instead of just attacking... This feels right for their species since they're supposed to be dark and creepy).

-> I mean, I don't know what I expected from Anti-Cosmo "avoids confrontation if he might get hurt" Anti-Cosma, but... lol.

SKLDFJSLDFJSLDFJ??

Anti-Wanda: /shoves A.C. out of the way and takes his book Anti-Cosmo: :(

If Anti-Cosmo has to confront anyone while he's in slapping range, he will die, actually. Wait, what did I write at the start of this liveblog?

OG series Anti-Cosmo doesn't even want to take over Fairy World; he wants a godkid. His shtick is "I will literally do anything for a godkid even if it's stupid and I make a fool of myself." And then he makes a fool of himself; it's great. [...] Taking over means confronting magical people, and Anti-Cosmo doesn't, like... do that. He taunts people IF he holds a blatant advantage (like them being locked up or them being a human who can't jump and grab him), but he's also a huge coward <3 He's Mr. Buddy System. He needs his Anti-Fairies. So... He might be here, yeah! But I do get major Irep vibes. Irep's totally leading, and I don't see Anti-Cosmo's aesthetic here, so I think he's playing a small supporting role if he's here at all. [...] He DOES have smug energy and cool lines sometimes… but he's also a tantrum-throwing brat who's scared to stand up to people, and in this house, we love him for it!! [...] I just want Anti-Cosmo to be an awkward nerd pretending to be confident, but also he likes to run around and goof off, but he should also look at people like he's confused they kicked his puppy.

sdlkfjsfdjkl??? oh my fluffin' gee. This is beat for beat "Anti-Cosmo taunting people when he's trapped them under a butterfly net in "Fairly Odd Baby" and then backing the heck down as soon as H.P. tells him "Yeah, we're not doing that." ... This is the same energy as Jorgen's slideshow when he specifically labels H.P., not Anti-Cosmo, the more influential parent of the anti-fairy child they raised to be evil way back when... He's the same person... He's such a sheep <3

I was so worried they'd change you, my doormat nephew, and for WHAT?!! Go king; give us nothing!!!

They didn't give him oodles of sass? That's what I thought for SURE they'd reboot him with. I'm losing it. He really is "just there doing his best" without being the main villain. He's minimally helpful. Basically not at all. I can finally embrace him without a hint of hesitation... My windblown tissue of a boy has come home!!

This is the best! spitting, crying. I cannot believe this. I can finally stop second-guessing if I even read him right in the OG series. He's so cringefail loserboy and always has been and I can finally stop lying low about it! I LOVE HIM!!

I genuinely could not fathom a world where they brought him back and he was still just Like That... How ?? did they do this?? I was so SURE they'd put him in charge and only present his "smug, confident" façade and I'd just shrug it off and try to squint for the parts of him I enjoy the most… omfg… Our anxious, dorky coward actually made the jump?

He's like Anatole Kuragin... Anti-Cosmo would be flawless in the role of "Okay, sing these two songs like you're the sexiest and most confident man alive. And for this other song, cower on the floor wailing about how you're a man of honor and the old man calling you a scoundrel should take it back because it hurts your feelings. You just tried to kidnap the girl you like, but got spooked and ran away. btw, you're everyone's most specialist boy in the world."

The Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812 AU nobody asked for but we know we deserve:

btw, after years of waiting, I had the opportunity to see this musical (<3) and words cannot express how I felt when - after listening to the soundtrack and always wondering why Anatole backs off so fast when Marya shoos him from the courtyard - I got to experience the shock of Marya bursting onstage with a gun.

I am in such shock that I read Anti-Cosmo right. Like ?? I don't know why that's bizarre to me- I've taken so many notes on him and I was very confident in what I thought about him. I just ?? can't believe he's still set up to be a soggy dishrag?

No one ??? ever portrays him like this ?? We don't do that here! That's not on his Fandom Wiki page, which calls him a "ruthless criminal mastermind" and "far more devious than most other villains in the show." People don't remember him like this... I'm dreaming...

I gotta lie down. What the FLIP do they have written for him in the story bible, if anything?

-> I gotta read the OG series story bible @zachbrightside sent me. I've been putting it off 'til after New Wish, but maybe I'll liveblog my reactions to that too.

-> Fun fact, I collect story bibles due to my days of combing Scribd for early scripts... But the OG series story bible for FOP is one I never thought I'd see in my LIFE. I'm excited.

Okay, I totally got impatient and took a sneak peak at the New Wish story bible for fun (something I glimpsed super briefly about a year and a half ago and then put away because I wanted to wait and see the show for myself, so I didn't see more than a glimpse of Hazel, Winn, and Whispers Fred, but I don't want to look at the OG series bible until I'm properly liveblogging). AND!!!!

Guess who didn't misremember the rumor about the Pixies coming back! I'll talk about that more in a separate liveblog, I'm sure, but oh gosh; oh goodness...

They didn't reboot Anti-Cosmo with sass AND they have a note here about the Pixies "potentially aligning their interests with tech magnate Dale Dimmadome..." Do you understand how close that gets us to H.P. coming back as his sassy, in-charge self... My most beloved character in the series, still snarky... I want him so much... I can taste it... He's one chump door away...

I won't get my hopes up since Season 2 isn't confirmed, but do u understand... Yes I know they might kill him and replace him with Sanderson and it'd shatter me, but do u understand how close we are to the funky guy who's haunted my mind every day for the last nearly 9 years...

Dale, I have GREAT NEWS for you... The prophecy... H.P. and Dale together... My 7-year dream fulfilled at last...

what are Ben Stein's rates and can we get him for another movie. I think Pixies & Dale would be the thing that does me in; it's never getting better than that... Can you even IMAGINE if we had Musical 2.0. for some inexplicable reason...... My favorite episode, oh goodness... Just let H.P. dunk on Anti-Cosmo again and I'm done; I'm out. retired. deceased.

It's SO over for y'all if they do bring back the Pixies. Unfollow me then because it's all I'll talk about for the rest of my life.

Hey wait a sec- I'VE BEEN ROBBED!!!! They WERE supposed to be here! Dale WAS supposed to be the finale antagonist!

?? I was RIGHT in my initial assumption that Dale had been set up for this plot. I'm totally justified for going into this finale thinking we were gonna fight Dale. That's... way funny, because I have a whole note over here I was gonna address when I'm done watching about how I don't feel like Dale stalking Hazel and all those notes about Fairy World left on his board even went anywhere...

Did they drop the "Dale stalking Hazel" plot point & this Pixie route because they figured Anti-Fairies would bait viewers in and Pixies wouldn't? So, like... did we only have that scene to upset Dev, and now we're not following through with the implications? :'D I am dev-astated on both accounts...

I probably would've done the same thing in their position (Write the finale for Anti-Fairies instead) because the Pixies aren't as well known (I think) and don't have the same opposite vibe as counterparts (which makes for dramatic storytelling), and maybe increased excited viewers increases chance of Season 2, but...

I've been robbed blind!! D: OH, this hurts so much more than when it was "just a rumor" to me that the Pixies were meant to appear "in the latter half of the season." skdljf, I shouldn't have looked at this; what've I done... PLEASE give us a Season 2 with Pixies in it... I'm beggin'... I've seen behind the curtain and I cannot be reborn in my innocence.

- Extremely funny to me that the Pixies not showing up implies they're not making a move because it hasn't been 37 years since their last big takeover plan. It's the OCD... - HEY WAIT A MINUTE, back at the start, I told y'all taking over Fairy World wasn't Anti-Cosmo's thing and it was actually H.P.'s... oh, this is FUNNY... I wish I had someone I could rub this in the face of. Oh my feathers, I'm SO glad I know H.P. and Anti-Cosmo well enough that I nailed them both like butterflies on display and didn't make a fool of myself [in my mind], sldkfj... #Not a fake fan... You don't spend 8 years writing 1 million words worth of 'fics about each of them without knowing your boys!!! I'm sorry, I just... This has been extremely funny to liveblog. I didn't peek ahead... I didn't know for sure if Anti-Cosmo was gonna be here to take over Fairy World - I really thought they'd reboot him to be confident and suave because why would they read him as an anxious coward?? nobody does that - but I sure as heck knew an Anti-Cosmo based closely on the OG wouldn't be leading the charge! He's a pushover <3 And the fact the Pixies were supposed to be here is KILLING me. Of course it was a plot meant for Pixies... because Anti-Cosmo doesn't do this and H.P. does. That's SO funny... I can't believe this... I'm dying, squirtle... I can't breathe... Please let me infodump about how despite everything I've said about H.P. going against the Pixie stereotype, he is actually implied to have OCD, and by his own admittance seems to want to take over Fairy World because Fairy World's disorder just drives him up a wall... I miss him... I lied about loving Anti-Cosmo; please come back, beloved... Please send him on a time travel vacation so he can come back feeling like he waited his obsessive 37 years... oh my glory, he's within my grasp... It's been 16 years... - The file name on this thing is "FOP Reboot Series Bible Draft 7..." oh, my boys lived up to 7 drafts... oh, my babies...

Oh my GOSH, they pitched an episode where Hazel's parents come over for dinner game night and Cosmo and Wanda are struggling to appear normal... That's the exact kind of episode I was sad we hadn't had yet back when I was saying post-Episode 1 Cosmo and Wanda were giving me sexy lamp vibes! I'm sad we didn't get this one.

Okay... I've seen too much. I won't read anything else in here and I'll save it for a future arc of liveblogging all these resources. Oh, this stings. The finale's cool and all, but I just miss my boys so much, and I want them to come back as their glorious, snarky, finger-gunning, drunk-on-the-job selves so a new generation can fall in love with them like I have, and they are SO CLOSE...... D: Nobody knows the trouble I've seen... nobody knows my

Ooh, what?

Big Daddy!? Mark Chang? Mama Cosma? Juandissimo?? omg-

IRVING?? They found you too?

No one is safe...

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Do you ever imagine Steve burping helplessly and Bucky getting turned on in a public place?

This isn’t public public but something that I have been thinking a lot about recently is car rides and how an especially rough ride might jostle burps out of someone while also forcing them to hold their sensitive, overfull tummy, groaning with complaints as the car rumbles and shakes. Then, as all this is going on, there’s also nothing they can do about it because they need to get home. In fact, before they got in the car and started getting jostled around, they really wanted to get home, they were so excited to get home so they could lie down and sleep off all the excess food and/or drinks they stuffed into themselves. So they're just trapped burping and being shaken up like a can of soda, about to pop. And that’s what I’m going with here! I hope you enjoy it!

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink under the cut. Warnings for alcohol consumption (but Steve can't get drunk because we're talking about serumed Steve, so it's not really intox? yanno?), burping, bloating, button pops, etc.

Steve and Bucky have just spent their evening at the latest fancy, excessively formal gala where they’re playing politics. Shaking hands with the government officials they pretend to listen to when it comes to how to save the world, living up to their roles as superheroes who are definitely not vigilantes and certainly operate under the law, yes, sir. Really actually gritting their teeth against boredom while making polite conversation. They’re doing it for the sake of the other Avengers and so they’re not deemed as enemies of the state… again.

So, once it’s over and they’re free to go home, both Steve and Bucky breathe a sigh of relief upon getting back to their car. It’s all over, well into the night or, actually, the next day. It’s morning now. Early, early morning. But. It’s over with. Thank God.

Steve, however, sighs especially loudly, fidgeting with his tie and instantly undoing the knot the moment he drops his ass into the passenger seat, shutting his door with a little too much force.

“That bad?” Bucky smirks, teasing him but not looking over from the driver’s seat at him because he’s too busy sticking the keys in the ignition and starting the car, flicking on the ventilation system and fiddling with the radio, turning it on low for some background noise.

“You have no idea,” Steve snarks back tiredly, falling farther into his seat as he buckles up with a click.

Amused, Bucky looks over at his best guy now that the car is idling, warming up, there’s something in his voice that catches his attention - he swears if anyone said something stupid to his Steve, they’re gonna pay for it - and

Oh.

After he blinks and takes a moment to process what he’s seeing, Bucky feels his own eyes widen comically when his gaze lands on the way Steve’s gut is suddenly bulging out from his body. The breath gets caught in his throat. His stomach. Woah. It’s… it’s a thing. It’s big. Suddenly, straining the limits of his choking formal attire. His neatly pressed black suit jacket and white dress shirt underneath with the tails of his black tie falling to either side of the hill rising from the middle of his body.

“What the fuck?” Bucky murmurs involuntarily, staring at his best guy and trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. His belly is so pressed outwardly and distended that Bucky can’t see the shiny leather belt that he knows is holding up his slacks. He’s… huge.

With eyes on him, Steve stretches like a cat, arching his back like his belly actually fucking fighting to escape the formal wear and seat belt that he’s wrapped haphazardly around it. His suit looks painted on, so unbelievably tight; his seat belt is curving underneath his belly’s sudden weight and curled over the top of it, emphasizing its heft.

“C’monnn,” Steve whines, high-pitched, breaking his Captain America facade that he uses for these types of events and returning to the punk he really is, “get us out of here already.” He turns his head to the side, his blue eyes glassy.

Automatically, Bucky puts the car in gear and does as he says - he’d do anything for that stupid punk - but, at the same time, he can’t stop shooting glances over to the passenger seat where Steve’s resting, reclining, fully exhausted, in his seat. He sighs heavily again, this time it’s in relief from unbuttoning his suit jacket. Bucky catches an eyeful of it, his dick jumping, trained like a dog to a whistle but the whistle is Steve taking off his clothes. And… if possible… his belly swells outwards another inch. Maybe more.

“Jesus, Stevie,” they come to a stop at a sign, just leaving the parking garage, and Bucky uses the moment to reach over and touch his belly. Just making sure it’s real and he’s not seeing things. Patting him down. Under his palm, it’s very real. Very tight and very real, making a ripe, solid thump sound with each pat-pat he makes.

The collision has Steve stifling an airy belch behind a loosely curled fist, “c-careful, Buck,” he warns.

“Or what, you’ll pop?” Bucky’s teasing but also… he could. He might. Just look at him, nearly bursting out of his clothes. On a goddamn normal day, Bucky can’t deal with Mr. Steve I-Like-Tight-T-Shirts-That-Show-Off-Every-Inch-Of-My-Hot-Bod Rogers. So how is he supposed to deal with Steve when he’s dressed to the nines in formal wear and they’ve just had to deal with a fucking room full of stuffy politicians that frustrate him to the point of wanting to rip out his hair or punch a wall or fuck someone hard? (Preferably the last option, and preferably Steve).

He looks - Bucky licks his lips which are suddenly dry - almost pregnant. Ready to pop alright. Bucky shivers as he shifts gears.

Steve lazily chuckles at him, breathless, explaining his situation away by flapping a hand passively, “everyone wanted to have a toast to or a toast with Captain America,” Bucky nods, trying to listen and barely succeeding, “and you know how it is, I can’t turn anything down when I’m wearing the stars and stripes, it looks bad.” Steve shifts in his seat as Bucky hits the gas, the softest groan falling out of his loose, full lips already driving Bucky insane even before he admits, “so I have no idea how many flukes of champagne I drank.”

As they continue to cruise, Bucky keeps looking over at him, stealing glances, trying but failing to keep his eyes on the road. He’s trying to process the thought of Steve getting fucking wasted in this new century. Sloshed. Hitting glass after glass, bottle after bottle, until he’s flushing pink, and getting stumbly and tipsy and touchy like he used to before the serum when he was the lightest lightweight. Always snuggling up to Bucky, all over him, curling up in his lap like a cat after they went out drinking back in the day, kissing him and clinging to him, begging him with slurred words and dangerously mischievous eyes to fuck him rough and hard. Yanno how I like it, c’moooon, Buck, do meee, Bucky can still hear his drunk voice.

“Christ,” Bucky finally spits out some fucking words, his brain practically smoking, “it’s a good thing you can’t get drunk then, pal.”

“Yeah,” Steve’s breathing is labored as he tries to get comfortable, wiggling around in his seat, pulling at his now open collar and the seat belt cutting into him, “still can get full, though-”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees too quickly, too eager.

“And bloated,” Steve hisses out the tiniest of burps, leaning completely back into the leather seat, flopping back, his hands limp at his sides, “I’m sooo bloated.”

Bucky swallows thickly, “you look it… looks like you’re smuggling a watermelon under that suit.” Bucky’s flesh and blood hand aches with how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel, he’d be worried about breaking it if all his attention weren’t split between making sure he’s not about to crash and Steve.

“Thanks, asshole,” Steve laughs gently, the sweet sound ending in a gasp as he feels the alcohol in his belly swirl, the finger food he ate swimming in it, there’s so much.

“Just look at yourself, baby-” Bucky can’t resist pushing further, teasing and in awe at the same time. That’s what he and Steve do, though, they give each other shit. It’s a love language.

“Mmmmm-hm,” Steve lazily glances down, moving slower with just how overfull he is.

“You were sucking that thing in?” Bucky risks taking one hand off the wheel to reach over and smack his gut. Lightly. But, still, it’s enough to jostle a bigger burp out of Steve. He can’t believe how tight Steve’s belly is. He can’t believe how big Steve’s belly is. It’s making it hard to think. “That whole time? Your poor abs!”

“Uh-huh,” his big chest heaves as he tries to breathe deeply but can’t find the room in his body to fully expand his lungs, his stomach is too big, stretched, taking up all the extra room in his body and more, “Jesus, yeah,” he agrees, “my abs hurt, they’re so stretched-”

Bucky licks his lips, why does that sound so good? To him, and evidently to Steve with his tone of voice… it’s gone all breathy and soft like it does when he likes something. Turned on and weak for whatever it is, unable to put up a fight.

“-But it feels good to let it out, too.”

Christ.

Tease much, Rogers? Bucky wants to bite back.

But instead, Bucky can’t be bothered to be ashamed of himself when he answers, “it looks good, too.” Fucking sue him. He’s attracted to Steve all the time. Constantly. How would this be different? Why wouldn’t he want him like this? Even more of him. He can’t believe how hard that dress shirt is straining to keep his swollen gut covered. There are diamond gaps of exposed pale flesh between every button. It’s as if his belly is dying to get out and swell bigger, needing more space to get larger. And he’s… he’s interested in seeing it get bigger. If Steve can stomach it (ha), at least. He doesn’t want to actually pop Steve. He just wants to push his limits. See how much he can take.

Steve huffs, shaking his head affectionately like he can’t believe it. But he blushes bright pink, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. He’s on the same page, just shier about it, “thanks, pal,” he murmurs, ducking his head, “you know how to make a guy feel special.”

Bucky snorts, “sure thing,” they stop at a red light and Bucky indulges himself, finding one of the gaps between his buttons to put two fingertips against his bare skin. Investigating the new landscape of Steve’s mountainous gut. It feels like he has a fever despite being unable to get sick these days, and when Bucky presses his fingers in, just to feel how much give there is in that tight belly -

“Oof,” Steve groans, “be carefu-uuuurpp,” there’s nothing Steve can do to stop the burp that comes barreling out of him.

“Be careful?” Bucky smirks, laughing a little, more breathless than anything, though, he had no idea that a stomach could do that. Could be so tight. He’s felt up Steve’s rock-hard abs plenty. Often, even. But… this is different and it’s exciting. “Or what? What’re you gonna do if I’m not? It seems like you’re having a hard time over there, bud.”

A car drives up behind them, appearing out of the empty night and honking, forcing Bucky’s eyes back onto the road. Ah, the light’s green, it probably has been for a while, too. So, he drives on.

Steve is about to respond, giving him shit right back, he’s sure, when the car hits a sudden pothole, jostling them both. But, poor Steve, it hits him worse. Not just startling him. The pothole is on the passenger side, to begin with, and Steve’s more affected by it anyway with his bloated belly. Despite how tight it is, packed to the brim with carbonated liquid, the dip in the road leaves it bouncing, jiggling, and sloshing violently as the car shakes. Bucky has never so deeply paid attention to the suspension because fuck. The impact seems to send a shockwave through Steve’s whole body, causing him to emit a loud, reckless belch that actually echoes in the tight confines of the car. The last of it turns into a groan as Steve curls his hands protectively around his belly like he can stop it from sloshing around. Meanwhile, Bucky could fucking thank the god-awful Nazis right now for gifting him with super hearing, forgiving all the other torture they put him through, just because he can hear the way the champagne bubbles trapped inside him fizz, tickling his insides almost… pleasurably if the blush spreading over Steve’s face and down his neck is anything to go by.

They’re both breathing harder now.

Not even a minute later after the first cacophonous, obscene accidental moment, Bucky turns onto another road, taking them home on autopilot, leaving NYC and heading towards Brooklyn. On the other road, right after the gut-churning too-fast turn, there’s another polehole, this one worse. Worse not because it’s bigger but because Bucky knows what’s going to happen. He sees it ahead of them and his brain is still processing what just happened, how seeing Steve jiggle and wobble made him feel involuntarily forcing him to picture the way Steve’s ass and tits move when he rides him, the way he groans when his dick bottoms out inside of him, stuffed full, and -

Bucky doesn’t even try to avoid the pothole, he just stares at Steve out of the corner of his eye, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Steve’s swollen midsection heaves with another burp. Fuck. Bucky might be crazy, he might be seeing things, but his formal shirt, the buttons!, God, they’re almost straining more than they were before.

This time, his burps mix more with his groans and moans of discomfort.

Bucky’s head is spinning.

He feels like he needs to ask, “you alright?” But it’s more excitement than concern racing through him. This is… something about this is hot. Boiling even.

Letting the back of his head hit the headrest, hands supporting the underside of his belly, Steve swallows. Then, he nods weakly, cheeks flushed, “yeah,” he coughs to half-hide another burp, “‘m just gassy.”

Bucky’s gaze lingers on the mesmerizing sight before him, unable to tear himself away. The roughness of the road seems unending, who the fuck is in charge of New York streets anyway? They’re doing an awful job!, every jiggle and slosh of Steve’s belly sends shivers down Bucky’s spine. It makes Bucky’s face hot and tingly, stealing glimpses of his bloat as he takes them home.

Bigger and bigger and bigger.

He’s just filling up more with each shake-up of the contents of his stomach. Gas building. Bubbling.

Reflexively, with each belch and moan that escapes Steve’s lips, Bucky gets more and more aroused. His dick feels as hard as Steve’s belly looks. The tension in the car thickens. Steve tries to apologize for being so noisy and gassy, embarrassed, the manners he was taught holding him back, but Bucky won’t have it. Hastily, he reaches over with his hand not on the steering wheel to massage the roundest, most bulged-out part of his belly, saying, “you gotta let it out, baby, it’s okay. I want you to. Don’t hold back” He digs his fingers in just enough to cause another belch from Steve - a whimper right after - and they both squirm in their seats. “That’s it,” Bucky pats his tummy, encouraging him.

It seems impossible. He’s so full of champagne, so round. And all the sweet, fizzy alcohol is just getting more and more carbonated, more sparkling, more bubbly, more sloshy inside him with every jolt and shake of the car. Despite how much he’s burping, letting some of the gas escape, he just keeps swelling. Little by little, his belly inflates farther, expanding like a balloon. A balloon attached to a helium tank. Bucky is exhilarated by it, and judging by how Steve’s uncomfortable groans have pitched up into sounds that are more like moans of relief chasing each belch… Bucky isn’t the only one.

There’s something so hot about watching him blow up. Inflate. Expand. Swell.

The tension in the air follows Steve’s strained dress shirt, at first, it’s well-fitting, then a little bit tight, then tighter, tighter, until it’s creaking at the seams, ready to burst. The tension is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Ready to snap. The buttons are threatening to pop off at any moment. All that gas… all the sloshing. The pressure is mounting. Every pothole, speedbump, black-tar snake, and accidental hit curb is a sweet torment for Steve, making him burp and cry out more which in turn torments Bucky. Both of them are wracked with anticipation, crawling with the need to touch each other.

The next time Bucky can take a hand off the steering wheel again and reach out to thump Steve’s swollen gut, Steve lets out a low, guttural moan, his body jerking into the sensation. But at that same risked moment, they hit the deepest, biggest pothole yet and -

Pop!

The first one is so loud and unexpected that it makes both of them jump in their seats, Bucky slams on the break which doesn’t help Steve’s precarious situation.

Pop!

The second one makes Steve whimper, trembling in his seat under the sloshing liquid inside him, swirling around, leaving him aching, the seat belt digging into him harder, feeling as though it’s cutting him in half.

POP!

The third one has Bucky swearing because fuck. Fuck! That’s so fucking hot. Steve is so big, so swollen that the buttons on his shirt, stretched over Steve’s belly have popped right off, flying forward and hitting the dash or the windshield. His shirt is no longer able to contain the bulging dome of his gut. It’s too much to handle, it’s expanded too far for the once perfectly fitted formal attire to hold on.

With each button that bursts free, a pleasurable relief in its own right, Steve’s pale, round, so fucking round, gut spills out into the heated, thick air. No longer held back by his clothes. The audible slosh of Steve’s champagne-and-gas-filled belly swelling suddenly, violently into his lap between the white halves of his now-ruined dress shirt is mouth-watering. With every stuttered breath Steve takes, stunned by arousal and shock, his gut seems to pulse with his overindulgence. Bucky can hear his heart racing and he knows Steve can feel it in his expanded stomach. All that taut, smooth, blushing skin exposed.

Oh, God.

Steve lets out his loudest moan so far, reckless with it. His hands had been braced on the center console and door handle respectively, hanging on as he was sloshed and jiggled. His hands fly up, grabbing his gut now that he isn’t so precariously balanced on the edge, feeling ready to burst with the pressure mounting inside him, forcing burps to come out of his mouth whether he wanted them to or not.

“Oh. Ohhh,” he can’t stop saying it, as if he’s shocked by what’s happening to him and he is, probably just as much as Bucky is. Somehow his flesh is still so taut. The pressure has alleviated some, but not much. He still feels like a fucking balloon.

Swollen.

Bloated.

Spherical.

Shaking, the blond caresses the surface of his shiny stomach. The heat of his belly pressing down against his thighs, in his lap, sends waves of pleasure through his whole body. He may not be so tightly compressed but the burps keep coming, released between his desperate gasps for breath, “ah, urrrp, oh, ooh, auurp, fuck me. Buurp. Guh. Uhhn. I feel so full!” He whines, “I’m so gassy, and, urrrrrp, God, so round.”

Bucky is amazed that he’s still fucking driving because he isn’t fucking functioning. Watching Steve touch himself, rubbing the dome that is his tight middle and daring to try and sink his fingers into his swollen body for relief from the pressure, Jesus Christ, it’s enough to kill him where 70 years of brainwashing didn’t.

Fuck Steve Rogers.

“Ah, oh, ohhh,” Steve’s voice trembles, “I can’t - URP - believe it. Look at me,” he begs Bucky, turning his head to the side to pout at him.

Fuck Steve Rogers.

“‘M so big! Buck! I’m so big! I didn’t know-oh, I could stretch so much. It aches,” he whimpers, “‘m so stretched! Buurp.”

Bucky stops in the middle of the road. He doesn’t give a shit anymore. It’s nighttime. There’s no one driving behind him anymore. There are other lanes. Anyone who does drive up behind him can fuck off. They can go around - they can go to hell. He needs to get his hands on that gut. Now.

Steve writhes as much as he can under the mass of his gut sitting on top of him when Bucky lunges toward him, “look at me!” he whimpers again, happy under his attention, “it, it… it fills my, my whole lap. Urrrrp, ugh, God, ‘m so bloated!”

His stomach feels so tight that Bucky can’t believe it. He can’t imagine what the pressure must feel like for Steve. The fullness. It has to be unbearable. Like being fucked full of cock but so, so much more. Hell, just looking at him is raw and pleasurable in a way that it shouldn’t be, so he can’t imagine what it’s like for Steve. There’s nothing erotic about this yet everything about it is insanely erotic… how he can’t stop making noises, uncontrolled burping. Sloshing. Belching. Fizzing. The way he’s squirming. The way he’s begging Bucky to help him, relieve the pressure, touch him, massage him, anything!

“Buck, I’m… I’m so full,” he whimpers.

“I know, Stevie,” he growls, his voice low and husky, practically already fogging up their windows he’s burning so hot for this, “but, Christ, babydoll, you look incredible.” He does. His gut is throbbing, red, and shining under the street lights. Bucky can’t stop touching his belly, massaging it worshipfully. Thumping it to hear how much his body sounds like a drum. “We should keep you like this,” he’s already salivating at the thought, his hips jerking forward to grind into nothing but thin air. He wants him so bad when he’s like this, stuffed full, exposed, and incapacitated by the sloshing weight in his big, sexy belly.

“Unnngh,” Steve whines, nodding, “it, it feels so good,” he pants, “urrrp, aarrp, ‘m so fuckin’ full, Buck.”

“You’re like a balloon,” Bucky whispers, leaning over awkwardly in the car to say the words into his mouth, kissing him desperately, “so tight you’re about to pop.”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut, shivering, “keep, keep touching me, I need-” he cuts himself off, burping right in Bucky’s face with a flare of embarrassment so strong it makes him squeak. Mortified.

Bucky won’t have it, though. He bites Steve’s lower lip hungrily and digs them deeper into the debauchery, “I bet we can find a liquor store that’s still open, you wanna see if we can get a few more bottles into this tanker?” Then, he slaps his gut to make him convulse, curling around his pulsing, throbbing, aching belly.

Steve can’t take it, moaning, “yes! Yes, Buck! Please! I wanna be bigger. Fill me up until I can’t take any-ah-ahh, URP, any more!”

(Why does staring at an overflowing bottle make me horny? What even is this fetish 😂)

[ironstrange1991]

Forbidden (Part 6): Apocalypse

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!reader

Synopsis: When Stephen returns from a mission and is allowed to spend some time alone with you, he makes a discovery that he was definitely not prepared for.

Word Count: 7,5k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, drugs and sexual activies.

A/N: It took me 5 months to overcome the creative block I had and finally get to the point in the story that I was most looking forward to write. There's no smut yet, but I promise it's coming in the next chapter that I'm already finishing writing :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Stephen was in the kitchen filling a cup of coffee when Wong came in and started doing the same.

"Long night?" He asked probingly and Stephen nodded, throwing a pill in his mouth and swallowing it with the help of a long sip of coffee.

"How much did you drink?" Wong asked, rummaging through the fridge and taking out what he needed to prepare eggs and bacon.

Stephen threw himself into the chair and rested his head in his hands. The memories of last night passed through him like a blur, but he was still aware that he had taken a very big step towards Y/n and now there was no turning back. Not that he wanted to go back, he was just slightly more worried now that he was sober.

"A few shots of whiskey." He responded evasively and Wong scoffed "I've seen you empty an entire bottle of whiskey and not stay in that state, Strange. What else happened last night?"

Stephen thought for a second and then decided to tell the truth "Y/n and I kissed. There could have been a mutual declaration of love. It's possible that we are together. That is, if she didn't wake up this morning thinking everything was a bad idea."

Wong didn't say anything. He dedicated himself to prepare breakfast and Stephen remained silent watching him move the frying pan, finishing preparing the eggs. He placed them on a plate and then set about frying the bacon slices.

"Do you… think that's a bad idea?" Stephen pressed, waiting for an answer.

Wong shrugged "I think Y/n is too young for you, but on the other hand, I think you should have settled with a woman a long time ago, Strange."

He dumped the fried bacon on the plate as well, grabbed two forks and placed the plate between him and Stephen and sat down. "Eat. It'll help with the hangover."

Stephen took a slice of bacon and took a bite of it, chewing slowly. "You and Sara seem to have hit it off really well." Stephen pressed.

Wong looked at him with an expression that said that it wasn't because Stephen liked to talk about his personal life that Wong liked to do the same. Stephen raised his hands in surrender, "I just want to say that you look happy, if that's even possible to say by looking at your face. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I want to be happy too and Y/n likes me, and I like her. That's it."

Wong continued eating as if he didn't pay attention to what Stephen was saying.

"What about Stark?" He asked after a minute of an awkward silence.

Stephen sighed, but before answering, America entered the kitchen already complaining, "Are you guys having breakfast without me? Why don't you ever wait for me for us to have breakfast like a normal family?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow "Is that what we are?"

She smacked his head. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Stephen." She went to the cupboard and grabbed her favorite cereal, a bowl and the bottle of milk from the fridge.

"Are you going to tell me what you and Y/n were doing alone in that room yesterday?" She asked mischievously while grabbing a spoon and sat down next to Wong and addressed him "Thor and I found him and Y/n alone in the lounge on the accommodations floor. There was no one there besides the two of them and Stephen's face when he saw us was hilarious."

Stephen rolled his eyes, "Okay, don't go talking about this to everyone. Only you and Wong know about it and I want it to stay that way for now. Can I trust you, kid?"

America smiled hugely, "You guys finally got it together, didn't you? Are you dating?"

Stephen couldn't help but smile. He wanted this for so long. "We can say we're getting to know each other better. Let's keep it a secret for a while."

Stephen addressed Wong "To answer your question, I will talk to Stark at some point. Not now, it's too soon. Y/n and I are still trying to figure out what exactly we are doing."

"You should take her out. Not dinner, that's so boring. Something nice, a walk in the park or something." America suggested.

Stephen finished his coffee "That's a good idea, kid. I'll think of something."

"Today is Monday, she only has the first four classes in the morning, then she is free."

Wong glanced at America "How do you know so much about Y/n?"

"Because she's my friend." America answered shrugging as it was obvious.

"If that doesn't say anything about the age difference, I don't know what would." Wong grumbled, but Stephen paid him no attention.

"Good job, kid." He praised and the girl opened a smile.

"Are you going to ask her out then?"

Stephen opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Wong.

"We have a meeting with the masters of the Kamar Taj today. Furthermore, you will lead the mission to find the last members from the cult of Dormammu and must leave tomorrow."

Stephen sighed but said nothing.

"You must keep your head on straight, Strange. You are a Master of the mystic arts and not a teenager in love." He completed leaving the table.

America remained serious and silent until Wong left the kitchen and left them alone, then the corners of her lips curled into a smile. "I still think you should ask her out."

"I will." He answered with a wink.

...

You left college beaming after receiving your mid-semester grades. Despite all the distractions, you achieved top marks in almost all subjects. This, according to your professor, would help guarantee your entry into the PhD course. This, of course, without Tony's help. Of course, there were also other reasons for you to be happy, one of them was the fact that your Skin & Ink magazine was finally on newsstands.

The publisher had sent you a copy the night before and you were ecstatic with the photos. You were definitely proud of the result and part of you wondered what Stephen's reaction would be when he saw them. There were definitely parts of your body on display that he hadn't even dreamed of seeing yet and just thinking about him looking at those photos made your face blush.

On the way home, you received an excited text from MJ saying that she and Peter were taking the next four days off and coming to NY and then you guys could arrange something to meet up.

I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU

You replied with a wide smile on your lips.

You were getting home when your phone rang and you were absolutely sure it was MJ, but when you dared to look at your phone screen, Stephen's name was there instead.

"Hi"

"Hi, sweetheart. Can we talk?" He asked a little apprehensively.

You stared at the back of Happy's head for a second and your eyes met in the rearview mirror. "Happy is taking me home now. Can I call you when I get there?"

"Sure. Will be waiting."

You called him back once you were safely inside your room.

"Happy isn't trustworthy. He tells everything to Pepper and Tony. In fact, Pepper is keeping an eye on me, I think she suspects something, Stephen..."

Stephen chuckled "Sweetheart, breathe. It's okay. We didn't do anything to make her suspicious."

You shook your head, throwing yourself onto the bed. "You are probably right. IT was just a conversation. I’m not used to hide stuff from them, Stephen."

"I know. You have all been a good girl. Aren't you? " He teased but didn't give you time to think in an answer. "Well, I am calling you to let you know I'll be gone for the next few days."

You felt all your excitement jumping throught the window. "Why? I mean, what are you going to do?"

"A mission with some other masters. I plan to be back by the weekend. Heard you had an important show on Sunday, want to be there for you, and that brings me to the main reason I called."

"That is?"

"I want to take you out. Anywhere you want. I just need to spend time with you, Y/n. Would you like that?"

You smiled from ear to ear, but then you frown. "Yes, of course. But a date outside... What if someone sees us?"

Stephen chuckled. "We can go somewhere far away. Somewhere where people don't recognize us."

You snorted "It's hard to find somewhere on the planet where people don't recognize the Doctor Strange, but I accept the challenge."

Stephen was silent as if thinking for a second. When he spoke again there was some excitement in his voice.

"Can I see you?"

You sat up in bed "Now?"

"You're in your room, right? Closed doors?"

"Yes, well..." But you were interrupted by the familiar hiss of a portal opening and he walked through it dressed in his blue robes and red cloak. There was a smirk on his lips that you weren't yet used to. Everything seemed like a dream to you.

He took a step out of the portal entering your room and came towards you. He held out his hand for you to hold and in a quick gesture he pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

You definitely weren't used to it, but something between the taste of toothpaste and coffee on his lips and the trembling touch of his hands on your skin made it all feel so familiar and comforting. You hummed when his tongue slipped into your mouth exploring.

It was you who broke the kiss to breathe, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks when you realized that Stephen was in your room.

"I couldn't wait until the weekend to do this." He confessed caressing your cheek lightly. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself these days while I am out."

You nodded. "Only if you promise me you'll do the same."

"Promise." He kissed you again and then pulled away and you hummed in protest. "I really need to go. Be a good girl and wait for me with this same enthusiasm."

"I will, but only if you kiss me again."

He smiled kissing you softly and walked away back to the portal he hadn't bothered to close and you heard a knock on the door. He hurried back through the portal and with a smile and a wink the portal closed and he was gone.

You were still struggling to regulate your breathing when you heard Pepper's voice calling you insistently.

"Come in" You replied, running your hand over your face and trying in vain to hide how agitated you were.

Pepper walked in and closed the door behind her and then stared at you for a long minute, finally she sighed and said what she came to say. "Y/n, we need to talk about Stephen Strange."

You feigned surprise. "What about him?"

"You think I didn't see you two last night, not to mention you two disappeared together to do god knows what."

Oh shit. "Pepper, that's absurd. Stephen is my friend." You blatantly lied. "We were talking last night. I complained about the noise and we went to a quieter place. We talked. That's all."

Pepper placed both hands on her hips, the serious expression on her face showing that she wasn't convinced at all. You noticed that she was barefoot, wearing denim shorts and a white t-shirt. "Didn't you go to work today?" You asked.

She shook her head "Tony needed me here. He and Rogers left with Fury right now, doing who knows what."

"He's going on a mission again, isn't he?" You asked, looking for an answer in her eyes. She just nodded and you sighed in frustration, but decided to change the subject.

"I received my grades today. Very good. Skin & Ink was also published today, the photos are incredible." You said.

"Tony made Happy buy the entire supply of magazines from the newsstand. He placed them all over the Tower. We're so proud of you, Y/n. I'm proud of you, I'm just worried that..."

You smile reassuringly, "Pepper, it was just a conversation. Besides, there's nothing to worry about. Stephen isn't a stranger."

"He's 24 years older than you, Y/n. Of course I should be worried."

"Really? How do you know his age?"

Pepper raised an eyebrow. Your sudden curiosity giving you away. "Tony has a file with personal information of all the Avengers."

"He's not an Avenger" You muttered.

Pepper was silent and you took the opportunity to get up and choose a change of clothes and pack your things to take a shower.

"I spoke to MJ this morning." You said changing the subject not so subtly. "She, Peter and Ned are going to come to NY. I thought we could have dinner to welcome them."

Pepper agreed, seeming to give up on the subject she was there for in the first place. "Of course. It's a great idea." She sighed "Well, I'm going to get back to work."

...

You were right about your suspicions. At dinner Tony announced that he was going on a mission and although you weren't exactly surprised, you couldn't help but feel disappointed and frustrated. You always felt that way when Tony left.

"It'll be quick this time, I promise." He said looking in your direction across the table.

"Who's going?" You asked him, but was Steve who responded.

"Tony and I will lead the mission. Clint and Rhodes will go with us."

You nodded.

"Romanoff would help a lot..." Tony whined and you could hear the frustration in his voice.

"Not an option." Nat replied. She was the first Avenger to work with Tony, they were extremely close and he trusted her more than anyone else, except maybe Rhodes. You understood why he was frustrated.

"Yeah, it's going to take Nat a good few weeks to get back on track." Clint added.

"I'm loving my forced vacation." She teased glancing at you and smirking.

After dinner you dedicated yourself to trying to compose something on the piano. You felt a lot of things that you couldn't talk about with anyone and most of your songs were born that way, but your thoughts were agitated that night, making it impossible to concentrate on anything. You were playing the keys without paying attention to the sound they were making when Tony approached.

"Can I sit with you?"

You moved to the side, giving him space on the small bench to sit.

"Pepper told me about your grades. I'm so proud of you. Sometimes I think I don't tell you that enough."

You smiled shyly remembering the conversation you had with Stephen at the party some time ago.

"I know. My advisor said that with these grades I will get the PhD course." You informed with a modest smile. Any happiness seemed to be clouded by the fact that both Tony and Stephen were going on missions and leaving you. Again.

"I know you're not happy about me having to leave again, but I promise I won't take long this time." Tony said, clearly noticing that you were sad.

"Are you going to tell me what you're going to do?" You asked, but he shook his head.

"You know I can't. The less you know, the better."

"I'm not a child anymore, Tony."

He nodded. "I know."

You laid your head on his shoulder, sighing heavily. "Sometimes I miss when you were just Tony. Before you were an Avenger."

He stroked your hair affectionately. "I know, but if we stop to think about all the wonderful people we've met, it almost make it worth it, doesn't it?"

You smirked "Yeah, I guess you're right."

He was silent for a minute before asking, "Are you okay? I've been feeling us a little distant these past few days. You know you can tell me anything."

You sighed, closing your eyes and feeling Tony's fingers running through your hair.

You wanted to tell him about Stephen, but it was too soon and you had no idea how he would react.

"I guess I've been feeling a little lonely lately." You said testing the water. "It's just that I miss having someone."

Tony nodded. "What about Mike? The guy likes you."

You shrugged. "He's not my type, Tony. I was serious when I said I prefer someone older." You said pulling away to look at him.

Tony was extremely protective of you, and you knew that the mere idea that you could date someone was a nightmare for him.

"How older?" He asked and you shrugged again.

"I don't know. Old enough for me to feel safe with him. I don't feel safe with Mike, most of the time it feels like me and the girls need to take care of him. He is nice but he's also an idiot."

Tony chuckled and then thought for a second. "You're very young, Y/n and you lost your father very early in life and although I'd like to think I've done a good job taking care of you, I haven't been able to replace him, which means there's a part inside you that miss it."

You looked at him, surprised at how easily Tony had summing up your feelings. He was just too good in reading you.

"Do you think I have daddy issues?" You joked, but you were actually worried that Tony might be right.

He made a face, clearly uncomfortable with the term you chose to use. "I think you're too young to be with older guys. You should be with people your own age, people who are at the same stage in life as you, who are still discovering themselves."

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes.

"I think it's hard to find someone as backward as I am at my age. It's a jungle out there, Tony. You have no idea what things people my age are doing these days."

He raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

You chuckled, "Yes, but not for the reason you might think."

"This conversation reminded me of what happened at that night club, I know these things happen to anyone nowadays, but, you're my goddaughter, you need to be more careful."

You sighed heavily, trying to control yourself so as not to start a fight. That was the same speech Stephen had used on you that night. Why did they think you weren't careful? It was irritating.

"Tony, I'm going to stop you before you say it was my fault for being drugged."

"I did not say that." He replied, almost offended.

"I know, but that speech is the same one Stephen used on me that night and I don't agree with it."

"What are you talking about?"

You chewed on your lip. "I'm sure you saw the videos on the internet."

"Yeah, Strange getting you out of there, but why would he say something like that to you?"

You shrugged. "Maybe he felt obligated to give me some kind of advice, I don't know. He has America and god knows he and Wong are freaking out about her and I swear he talked to me that night like he was talking to a 14 years old teenage girl, which was almost offensive..."

Tony nodded. "He's a good guy. Annoying, but nice. And he was right. You need to be careful."

"What makes you guys think I wasn’t? Tony, all I do is be careful when I'm out. But it's tiring having to always be looking over my shoulder waiting for something bad to happen."

He sighed, running a hand over his face. "I know, but this is your life now, darling, and it's my fault, so please just tell me you'll keep being careful no matter how boring and tiring it gets."

You nodded. "By the way, you never told me what happened to that guy."

Tony smirked "Let's just say he won't repeat the mistake again."

You stared at him blankly "Oh my god, you killed him."

"Of course not. I put him in jail. And with a little influence I got him to stay there for a long time."

"That's good, I guess." That's just what you said on the subject. "I'll be more careful, I promise." You sighed.

"Great. That puts my mind at ease."

"Fury called." You were interrupted by Steve's calm voice.  "The situation has become complicated. We need to go."

Tony sighed and cupped your face. "I love you."

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight. "I love you too. Be careful, okay?"

He smirked "I always do." He pulled away and then turned to look at you. "On the subject of older guys... let's finish this conversation later, okay?"

"Yes, dad." You teased watching him walk away and then leaned over the piano feeling your chest heavy.

...

It was Wednesday and you were bored, rehearsing in the small studio at Mike's parents' house for the show you would play on Sunday. The place was small, but it had better acoustics than anywhere in the Tower. Tony had suggested renovating some of the spare rooms so that you could have a decent studio and sometimes you thought about accepting, other times you were reluctant, thinking that it wasn't right to skip steps like that. You wanted to achieve that on your own merit and not with the help of your godfather's money.

You were deciding on the setlist for the show. You guys were going to play at a new venue south of the city. It was a cool place and the biggest one you had performed in so far. Ticket sales were going well and with luck you would have a full house. It went without saying that you were excited and slightly more anxious than usual.

"Four thousand people will be there on Friday. That's so incredible." Samantha said excitedly. "Remember when we used to play to 100 people?"

You just smiled in response. You remembered well the beginning of the band and how you felt out of place within it sometimes. Over time you matured, and your compositions got better, as did everything else, including your voice.

"We're still not sure if we're going to sell all the tickets." Susanne replied as she adjusted the drum cymbals.

"Are you kidding? With the free marketing from Y/n's magazine launch, we're sure to sell everything." Samantha stated giving you a wink.

"By the way, you looked beautiful in those photos, girl. I can't imagine how the magical Doctor reacted to them."

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. "I don't know if he's seen it yet. He went on a mission again."

Susanne stared at you for a second.

"You should talk to him. Pining over him from a far isn't going to help you have him, Y/n."

You sighed, deciding it was better not to tell them the truth, at least not yet. "He's way beyond my league."

You were interrupted by Mike clearing his throat exaggeratedly loudly and changing the subject in a not so subtle way.

"Hey, I'm having a party on Saturday. My parents are going to be out. I was wondering if you'd like to come."

You stared at the girls for a moment, Susanne smiled at you.

"Who is going to be there?" You asked a little worried. Mike had some weird friends and the last time you agreed to go to one of his parties, things got a little weird.

He shrugged, "The usual guys. You know."

"Same old stoner losers, he meant." Samantha replied.

"Hey, don't talk about my friends like that." Mike replied irritably. "Are you girls going or not?"

Samantha shrugged, putting the bass back in it’s case. "I don't have anything better to do on Saturday."

Susanne agreed "Yeah, that might be cool."

The three of them stared at you waiting for an answer.

You could think of a thousand times more interesting things to do instead of going to one of Mike's parties, but they all involved Stephen and he wasn't available, so you accepted with reservations. "Okay, I'll go, but I'll let you know that if things get weird like last time, I'll leave."

"Define weird." Samantha asked giggling.

...

You were slightly angrier than you wanted to admit. You knew it would be a mistake to go to that party, but you were alone and there was nothing to do. Peter and MJ stood you up and ended up canceling their visit, Tony and Stephen were god knows where and you just wanted to forget how worried you were about them.

Every time they went on a mission it was the same thing, but you still couldn't control your thoughts. You always joked that your super power was the overthinking. It made you travel to the future and see the infinite ways everything could go horribly wrong. You were basically Doctor Strange with the anxiety stone. Funny, but not pleasant.

Although you regretted going to the party, you tried your best to enjoy the moment. It was Saturday night, after all. You even drank a little, danced to their bad music, but as the hours passed and the party was coming to it's end, you found yourself sitting on the sofa in Spencer’s living room watching as Mike's stupid friends snorted cocaine and your girl friends were no way to be found.

You got up irritably and headed outside, sitting on the stairs, deciding to call a taxi to take you home. However, fate seemed to have other plans for you, as your cell phone rang and Stephen's name showed up on the screen, pulling a silly smile from your lips.

"Hi." You answered almost to quickly.

"Hello, sweetheart. I'm sorry for calling you so late, I just wanted to let you know I'm back."

You smiled to yourself. "It's not that late."

It took him a while to respond.

"What's all the noise? Is Stark having another party?"

"Not really. He went on a mission with Steve and Rhodes. They haven't returned yet. I'm at a party with some friends."

"Should I be worried?"

You bit your tongue to not provoke him, but ended up giving in.

"Two guys tried to take me to one of the available rooms, but I managed to get away from them."

"Can I come get you?" He asked and the tone of concern in his voice was almost offensive.

"I was joking, Stephen. But the party is over for me. Everyone left is either having sex or taking drugs. I was going to call a taxi to take me home.."

"I can pick you up if you want to." He offered.

"I don't know. Magic portal isn't very discreet." You responded and heard him chuckle through the phone. The baritone making your skin tingle.

"Send me the address. I'll be there as soon as possible."

Stephen parked in front of the address you gave him and looked for you among the people scattered across the lawn in small groups, but you weren't among them. He sighed checking his phone to see if you had left any messages and was distracted by a group that passed the car banging against the window and shouting "Nice car, man."

Just then he saw you coming down the stairs. He flashed his headlights to let you know it was him and watched as you walked towards the car. You wore a black flowery dress that was too short for his taste, boots and a black jacket. He realized that looking at you was different now, he didn't feel guilty anymore even though he knew he should.

You got into the car and the smell of your perfume filled his nostrils. It was too inviting and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he felt his pants getting tight around his hips.

"Nice car. How come I've never seen it before?"

He smirked "It's from another life and although is not discreet, magical portal is my favorite way to get around."

He touched your face lightly. "Come here, give me a kiss. I missed you, sweetheart."

You kissed him quickly as if you were afraid someone might see you. It bothered him, but he understood. After all, he was the one who asked you to keep it a secret for a while.

"Straight home?" He asked, hoping you noticed how much he wanted you to answer otherwise.

"I'm not in a hurry to leave. Pepper is aware that I would be late or that I would probably sleep at Susy and Samantha's house, but believe me, nothing in the world would make me spend the night there."

Stephen raised an eyebrow "Should I ask?"

"They recently discovered that they are more than friends and I would hate to spend the night listening to the two of them fucking."

"Cool friends." Stephen chuckled.

You stared at him, noticing a small cut on his cheekbone and another bruise on his forehead. "You are hurt." Your voice sounded quite worried, which made Stephen's heart flutter in his chest.

"It's no big deal. Don't worry."

You smiled sweetly at him. "Difficult mission?"

He sighed. "Tiring. But everything worked out in the end and that's what matters."

You nodded, seeming to think about what to say next. "I wouldn't mind spending time with you before I go home. If you want it too, of course. I missed you. I always do."

Stephen smiled brightly. "Tell me what you want to do."

"Can we just go somewhere quiet?"

"To my house, then." He decided, restarting the engine and driving the car slowly to avoid the people in the middle of the street. He was aware that Wong and America weren't home and that taking you to the Sanctum could only mean one thing and to be quite honest, he couldn't wait. He wasted too much time pinning over you instead of working up the courage to actually talk to you. He was determined not to waste any more time. Stephen wanted you, he wanted to make it official, claim you as his.

"By the way, nice song." You said, interrupting his train of thoughts and he smirked to himself. He was listening to U2. The Achtung Baby album was by far his favorite, and Until the end of the world was perhaps his favorite song from the album, but again, it was difficult to choose a favorite one on an album that didn't have one bad song.

 "I thought you didn't like U2." He teased.

"That's not what I said." You shrugged "I just don't know the band and the three songs I know I don't like."

"We need to fix this. Did you hear the song I recommended?"

You smiled mischievously "Not yet, but I'll accept listening to your old man songs if you accept listening to mine."

He chuckled, turning around on the avenue that would take you to Greenwich Village.

"Show me your worst." He teased and to his surprise you quickly took your cell phone and connected it to the Bluetooth and a weird song started to play. He stared at you for a moment before turning his eyes to the street in front of him, you had a playful smile on your lips that somehow took his breath away.

He couldn't help but chuckle in delight as you began to sing the lyrics of the song.

"Hidden behind merciful shadows, beyond the cruel daylight, living to hunt and kill, we are the damned children of the night..."

When he parked in front of the Sanctum entrance you were giggling, probably from his reaction to the song you were listening, and he couldn't deny that your energy was contagious. The moments he spent with you were when he felt most alive and somehow reminded him of a distant time, where he used to have musical quizzes with his coworkers in the operating room.

Stephen didn't know what his expresssions were like, but you teased him because of it. "What's wrong? Am I scaring you, old man?"

He smirked, but instead of responding to your teasing, he cupped your face with both hands and pulled you in for a hard kiss. You let out a cute hum on his lips, surrendering and letting him penetrate your mouth with his tongue, controlling the kiss like he controlled everything else in his life.

"You're going to have to do a lot more than that to scare me, young lady." He said getting out of the car and going around to open the door for you.

When you both walked in, Stephen couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked. The street lights and the dark of the car didn't let him see you properly, but now, under the amber lights of the Sanctum's foyer he could analyze every detail from the flowery print of your dress to the way your hair was falling from your ponytail, some strands falling down your face.

He gently placed them behind your ear and kissed you again.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful I think you are?" He asked helping you take off your jacket and pulling you into the living room.

"I don't think so, but I always wondered why you couldn't take your eyes off me at Tony's parties."

 "Now you know why." He confessed watching you plop down on the couch, crossing your legs and grabbing one of the cushions and hugging it to your stomach. He handed the TV remote to you. "Show me more of your dark taste in music while I get us something to drink. Are you hungry? Something tells me there wasn't anything decent to eat at that party.”

"Not really. I just want something to drink." You responded taking the remote and turning on the TV.

"Tea, coffee maybe?" He teased.

"I think I'll need something stronger if I'm going to have to put up with your despicable company." You teased back.

He chuckled "Ouch. Be right back."

You scrolled through your Spotify playlists feeling a strange feeling in your stomach. Your eyes left the TV for a moment, looking around and wondering if Wong and America were home. You had been to the Sanctum Santorum several times, but always knowing that they were there too and You knew you were being childish, but the idea of ​​being alone with Stephen there made you nervous for reasons you still didn't know how to tell him.

When you heard him approaching you clicked play and a song by Cigarettes after sex started to play. You kept the music low and smiled to yourself realizing that it was common for couples to have a song and somehow you felt like you and Stephen had a whole band because you always thought of him when you heard that band.

"Come on, this isn't scary." He joked, handing you a glass and sitting next to you. He opened the bottle of red wine he brought with him and poured your glass and his. "I thought you'd show me more of that, whatever it was you showed me on the way here."

You smirked taking a long sip of the wine. "It's called Sopor Aeternus. They have some really good songs like the one I showed you." You bit the inside of your cheek and continued "This band always makes me think of you." You confessed gesturing to the tv screen.

He smirked, paying attention to the music for a minute. "Why is that?"

You shrugged. "I don't know, actually. But I've been listening to their music a lot."

"Does that mean you've been thinking about me a lot?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "All the time."

He smiled drinking his wine. "Post rock?"

You shrugged "I'm not sure. I've never heard anything like them to be honest. They're my comfort band."

Stephen shifted to make himself more comfortable on the couch. Only then did you notice what he was wearing. A pair of jeans and a gray shirt.

"What exactly would a comfort band be?"

"Not familiar with the term?"

He shook his head, extending his arm and indicating for you to come closer. You felt your cheeks turning red, but you took another sip of your wine and shuffled closer to him. He immediately wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

"These are things that calm you down in times of stress or that simply make you feel good, safe. I have comfort movies, comfort TV shows and so on."

He caressed your cheek. "What about me?"

“What about you?”

"Can I be your comfort person?"

You felt the feeling in your stomach intensifying and no matter how much you tried to look away, he held your face in his hands waiting for a response, but you just nodded, afraid of how your voice would sound if you tried to speak.

Stephen smiled brightly. You knew he was fully aware of his effect on you and he liked it.

"I think I liked it." He said and you looked at him without understanding. "The music, sweetheart."

You smiled widely and threw yourself into his arms, kissing him desperately. Somehow you felt like you needed Stephen's kisses to breathe, and you wondered how you survived so long without them. When you broke the kiss you both took a second to catch your breath.

"Wong and America...?"

"They stayed at Kamar Tag."

You chewed on your lip.

"Show me your favorite song of theirs." He asked.

You smiled, placing your glass on the coffee table and taking the remote to change the song. Without giving much thought to what you were doing, you stood up and extended your hand to him, "Dance with me."

He looked at you intently as if asking if you were serious.

"Apocalypse. That's my favorite song of theirs. Now dance with me."

"I don't dance, sweetheart."

You grabbed his hand and started pulling him. "There's no one here, Stephen. No one will see us. You can maintain your mysterious sorcerer pose."

He chuckled nervously, but gave in to your request, standing up and approaching you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close enough for you to feel the firmness of his chest and abdomen against your body. He was always so warm and his scent was intoxicating. You held his shoulder with one hand and held the hand he extended to you with the other and the two of you began to slowly sway from side to side to the rhythm of the song..

"I haven't done this in a long time." You admitted it.

Stephen chuckled "I thought you were the dancing type."

"Not like this. The last time was at the prom."

Stephen hummed and you felt his body slowly relaxing. There wasn't much of a secret in slow dancing, as long as you didn't step on each other's toes, you'd be fine.

"May I know who you danced with?"

"Besides Tony? Mike."

He raised an eyebrow. "Has he liked you since then?"

You smirked "I'm sure he liked me way before that."

"I can't blame him for that." He replied.

You smiled looking around still not believing where you were, who you were with and what you were doing.

"What is it?" Stephen asked, but you shook your head responding with another question.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He nodded.

"When did you find out you liked me? Romantically speaking."

He seemed to think for a second before answering and the song ended in the meantime and another one started and you continued dancing so slowly that you barely moved.

"Since I got back from the Blip" He confessed. "You just seemed different."

"Five years does that to you."

He smirked, "But you've always been beautiful. I just didn't see you like that before."

You laid your face on his shoulder so you didn't have to look into his eyes before confessing. "I fell in love with you from the moment I first saw you in the tower."

He ran his hand through your hair, delicately stroking the strands of your ponytail and then stopped abruptly which made you look at him and something in his eyes made your stomach weird in a way you had never felt before.

He grabbed your chin and pulled you to his lips kissing you hard and the next thing you knew you were back on the couch, his body on top of yours and his hands were everywhere, roaming your body, touching and groping your breasts, your thighs and moving up, but before you could even think straight you felt your body getting tense and Stephen moved his hands away, pulling away from you and clearing his throat.

Something in his gaze made you feel distant from him and that thought seemed too unbearable, so you crawled over to him, pulling him back to your lips, hoping that it would distract him from whatever thoughts were on his mind, but he pulled away gently and looked at you.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?”

You stared at him not understanding. "What? Nothing, nothing is wrong."

He didn't seem convinced. "That's the second time you've flinched like that when I touch you."

"Is nothing." You shook your head, cupping his face and pulling him back to your lips and this time he surrendered, humming sweetly in your lips and kissing you hard and desperately, but then he broke the kiss and there was something else in his eyes and you could almost hear the penny dropping in his head.

He sighed heavily, running his tongue around the corner of his mouth and without mincing words he asked. "How far did you go?"

You felt your heart racing. Your cheeks were an angry red and you felt the fire running through them.

"What do you mean?" You asked, pretending not to understand, cupping his face and kissing him hard as if somehow that could make him forget the subject, but he pulled you away gently and asked again.

"Besides kissing like that, how far did you go with a man?"

You stared at him trying to understand if he was mad at you, but you couldn't understand the expression on his face. He was serious, there was a bit of disbelief in his eyes, concern perhaps.

"I did a handjob once." You admitted, pulling away and sitting crisscrossed playing with your hands to try and calm down. You were so embarrassed.

"A handjob?" His voice sounded incredulous. "No one ever touched you?"

You shook your head and he ran his hand over his face.

"Are you mad at me?" You found the courage to ask. "I was going to tell you, I just didn't know how."

He chuckled nervously, taking your hands in his.

"Why would I be mad at you, sweetheart?"

You shrugged. "I wanted to do it, but I never met anyone who made me feel safe."

"Come here." He said pulling you into his arms and you laid your head on his chest letting yourself be enveloped by his strong arms.

"What about the handjob guy?"

"He was an idiot. Guys my age are all the same. He didn't even want to touch me when he was done. And it was disgusting."

Stephen found himself stroking your hair as he listened to you speak, his thoughts were all messed up and he didn't know exactly how to proceed. He never had a virgin. Inexperienced, yes, some, but definitely not virgins. He was terrified, the idea of ​​being your first was scary, he didn't want to hurt you, but at the same time he couldn't deny that there was a part of him that liked knowing that no one had touched you before him. But it also made him feel even more perverted than before for getting involved with someone who was young enough to be his daughter.

"Please don't give up on me. I can solve this. Some of my friends told me that they lost their virginity with toys, alone, I can..."

Stephen could hardly believe what he was hearing and had to interrupt you to explain himself. "Y/n, I'm not mad and I'm not going to give up on you. I'm surprised, that's all. I never imagined you could be a virgin, but that's not a bad thing. Not at all."

You stared at him, but just nodded. However, he lifted your chin and made you look at him.

"Now I need to ask: Have you ever..."

"What?"

He smirked stroking your cheeks with the back of his hand.

"Touched yourself?"

He watched in delight as the blood rushed to your cheeks, but your answer was firm and you sounded almost offended.

"Of course. I'm a virgin, Stephen, not a nun."

He smirked, "If you ask me, I'll tell you that I doubt nuns don't play with themselves."

You opened your mouth to respond, but slapped his shoulder instead.

"Don't be gross, Stephen."

He giggled letting himself relax now that the impact of the surprise had worn off and decided to push you a little harder.

"Do you think of me when you do it?" He asked, genuinely curious. Although he hated to admit it, he jerked off several times thinking of you, long before he imagined that the two of you could actually have something. Knowing that you had also done that in some way could ease the weight on his conscience.

"Stephen!" You scolded him, hiding your face in his chest.

"What? We need to talk about these things, sweetheart."

You sighed, building up the courage to look at him. "I do." You admitted pulling away and sitting up straight. "I bet you're having second thoughts about us right now."

He shook his head. "No, I'm not. I was surprised, Y/n, that's all. I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression, but I'm a little lost here, I don't know exactly how to proceed now, but I was serious when I said that I'm in love with you. Nothing is going to make me lose interest, definitely not the fact that you're a virgin. It's cute, if you ask me." He smirked.

You smiled sweetly at him. "Most girls my age lost their virginity years ago. I just want to get it over with. I don't want it to be a hindrance..."

He shushed you. "No, sweetheart. We're going to do this the right way. At the right time. I don't want to rush things."

He caressed your face and kissed you softly. "When it happens, and believe me, it will happen, I want you to feel safe with me and most importantly, I want you to feel pleasure."

"Will you show me how?"

Stephen felt his stomach fluttering upon hearing those words, but he just smiled reassuringly. "I will."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

DOCTOR STRANGE MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Tag list: @doctorstrangelovemusic-blog @rachelessfreedom-world @a-tong @ppatricia34me @strangesgirls @dreamxonxx @benaddictcumberpatch @iamsherlocked1479 @veryladyqueen @notglucose @wickedscribbles @agathassscribbles @rmoonstoner @fanartka @katehawke @nicoletk @azu21 @captaincarmel416 @harlekin6 @coffedraven @withalittlehoney

@dontmindme262 @dementeddoll @yourmajesty13 @strangeions @bloodyflowerrr @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @dragonqueen89 @newtsniffles @whiskeyho @sherlux @xourownsidee @kakashibabe02 @hobimysolecito @geeky-politics-46 @lykaonimagines @d0ct0rstrangewife @classickook @iobsessoverfictionalmen @bobateadaydreams @aphroditesdilemma @sassenach-on-the-rocks

@thealleydog @anadlockfan @pinkthick @loverofallbroken @butchers-girl @ironstrangeheart @asgards-princess-of-mischief

[quizzyisdone]

Take On Me | Fem! Bell Reader x Frank Woods

A/N: Hi!! I know it has been forever since I post for BOCW and honestly, I miss it a lot. Adult life just doesn't really lend itself well to having creative hobbies (shocking). But here's a little something for Valentine's Day that definitely is not projection at all :) Masterlist Pairing: Fem! Bell Reader x Frank Woods Word Count: 3.2k Synopsis: Woods has always hated Valentine's Day -- it's just a pathetic marketing gimmick for big businesses to take your money and for society to make you feel bad if you spend it alone. Bell, on the other hand, would beg to differ. Warnings: Strong language, mentions of alcohol, Woods is a jackass at one point but don't worry he makes up for it

*Title inspired by Take On Me, by a-ha

You walked glumly down the sidewalk, attempting to avert your eyes from the restaurants that lined the streets, young couples all enjoying a nice Valentine’s Dinner inside. Even the damn weather was romantic.

 Light flurries of snow cascading around everyone, intricate snowflakes landing delicately in your hair and onto your coat. It wasn’t bone-chilling cold either, perfect for a stroll down the street, holding hands with the one you loved. Warm yellowish hues from inside the various buildings emanated onto the street, along with the sound of laughter and idle chatter as well. It would’ve been the perfect atmosphere to set the mood for a date with Woods. The idyllic late winter day.

You clutched the brown paper bag filled with his favorite beer to your chest, careful so as not to drop it. It was your little Valentine’s Day gift, small and inconsequential enough to play off as just a kind gesture and completely not at all related to the present holiday. Admittedly, your feelings were a little hurt when Woods had gone off on a sarcastic tangent about how much he hated Valentine’s Day the other day and that it was just a stupid corporate holiday. 

He was kind of right, but it was still fun to celebrate, at least for you. A nice little date, free from the worries of either of your jobs or maybe at least a gift from Woods would have been nice. You two had never even been in the same state, or even country for that matter, during the holiday since you started dating. 

Maybe missing Valentine’s Day was kind of your fault anyways, since after his little joking tangent both of you agreed not to celebrate or do anything -- it was just a normal day. Ironic, considering a day with Woods could scarcely be considered normal due to your work with the CIA and his with the Marines. A normal day wasn’t getting called into work and both of you just sitting on the couch, too exhausted to truly spend time with each other in a manner other than physically being in the same room.

Truthfully, life had been rather boring lately, your relationship wasn’t missing love per se, but it was missing that old excitement.

You turned off of the street and into the apartment building where you shared a flat with Woods. After climbing up two flights of stairs and finding your door, you reached into your coat pocket for your keys, opening to the door to find Woods putting his own jacket on and grabbing the keys to his truck. 

“Hey babe.” He said, barely giving you a glance in acknowledgment as he tied his boots. 

“Hi.” You said, confused and frowning. You crossed your arms. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, over to this dive bar with Adler, he just got back into town, thought I’d get a drink with him.” Woods explained, none the wiser to how upset you were. You harshly placed down the brown bag. “Uh, what’s in the bag?” He asked.

“Something I got for you. I wanted to do something nice for you.” You crossed your arms and put on the angriest expression you could muster to hide how defeated you felt. He opened it, revealing a six pack of his favorite imported beer, very difficult and expensive to get in America. Instead of a smile and a thank you, he furrowed his brows, frowning.

“We weren’t supposed to get each other anything.” 

“It wasn’t for Valentine’s Day. It was meant to be a nice gesture” You spat, stomping off and into the living room adjacent to the foyer. “Not even a fucking thank you.” You whispered under your breath.

“Thank you?” He yelled from the other room, following you, now clearly just as angry as you. “We agreed not to get anything for each other. I don’t fucking want your gift if you’re just going to be an ass about it.”

“I went to seven different liquor stores across the entire Philadelphia city limit in the snow and paid nearly fifty dollars for a six pack of special imported beer that you’d go through in one sitting because I knew this was your favorite and now you don’t want it. Some gratitude would be nice. ”

“Why would I want it if you’re gonna act like a bitch?” Woods bellowed. ‘Bitch’ had hit a nerve, he had never called you that before, but then again the two of you never got into any bad arguments before. Regardless, you stood your ground.

“Maybe I’m acting like a bitch because your first response was to chastise and question me for getting you a present and now you’re yelling at me.”

“I didn’t even want to celebrate Valentine’s!”

“Maybe I did because I never get to be with you anymore, you’re always too tired or too busy to fucking be my partner.” Your pitch became quieter and you suddenly became aware of the tears streaming down your cheeks in a torrential downpour. “You haven’t touched me in forever. I miss you. I wanted to celebrate it with you, I never got to experience any of this.” You said through clenched teeth.

Evidently, the tears did not sway Woods, as he continued yelling. 

“Well I have and it’s not that fun. Sorry I’m exhausted from saving the entire fucking free world, Bell.” He retorted.

You scoffed.

“Get off your fucking soapbox, Woods. You and I do the exact same thing, and I still make time for you.” You turned your body away from him facing the wall, not even wanting to see him. “It’d be nice if you could do that for me too.”

“I do!” He explained, almost childlike in his declaration -- like a toddler so boldly claiming that the sky was green because he said so. 

“When was the last time you even took me out when it wasn’t my idea?” Woods paused, attempting to remember (to which he couldn’t). “See? You don’t even remember. Go and hang out with your buddy, don’t bother coming back if you don’t want me anymore. I’ll get the hint.” You said dejectedly, walking off to your bedroom but stealing a glance at Woods, who only glared daggers at you, brows furrowed, looking almost annoyed with you. 

You lightly shut your bedroom door the exact moment Woods slammed the front door shut, the vibration of which could be felt against the wall and you could hear a distant clang and glass shatter. You placed your back against the wood, slowly sliding down into the floor and placing your head between your knees, sobbing.

You instantly regretted that ultimatum you just gave him, Woods was the only person you have after MK-Ultra, while he had everyone. He didn’t need you, you needed him. To ground you, to keep you sane.

---------

Woods stomped off to his truck, angrily shoving the key into the ignition. The drive to the bar was erratic and rage-filled, as he gripped the steering wheel with an iron clasp and swore under his breath, muttering counter arguments that he could’ve used in an attempt to justify his actions.

Arriving at the bar, he slammed the door shut, scanning the front of the building for Adler, whom he found almost immediately, nursing a cigarette as per usual. The person who stood next to him, however, utterly enraged Woods. Fucking Hudson.

Despite himself, Woods strided to where they were standing, waiting for him. 

“Hey Adler.” He greeted the scarred man. Adler nodded back in acknowledgement.“The fuck you doing here, Hudson?” 

“Well aren’t you in a great fuckin’ mood.” Hudson retorted, jabbing Woods’s shoulder. “Come on, we can argue inside when we’re sat down and drunk.”

Woods reluctantly obliged him, opening the door and scanning the room for a table, considering the bar was completely full. He found a high top table and sat down, beckoning for a server, for which he ordered three whiskeys and a round of shots for the table. 

Silence ensued for a brief moment before Adler broke it.

“So why the hell are you in a bad mood this time, Woods?” He asked, exasperated in a way that indicated that it wasn’t so uncommon for the sergeant to swing by in a sour mood. Woods immediately went on the defensive.

“The more important question is why the fuck Hudson is here? Don’t you have a wife and kids to celebrate Valentine’s with? She pissed at you too?” Woods spat, and Hudson sighed deeply.

“So that’s what this is about.” Adler chuckled to himself.

“If you have to know, Jenny’s not in town right now,” He explained. “Few days ago she was really upset and needed a vacation, so I told her I’d watch the kids while she went down to her mother’s house for some alone time.”

“Oh and so I guess you just left the kids at home by themselves.” Woods retorted, realizing belatedly that his statement was a bit unfair. For all his faults, he had always known the man to be a devoted husband and father. Hudson rolled his eyes.

“What kind of father do you take me for? This sixteen year old girl down the street needed some pocket money so I’m paying her to babysit them. Happy?” He rolled his eyes and Woods let the matter drop. “So now that I’ve answered your question, what has put you in an even worse mood than usual? Is it Bell?” Hudson asked.

Woods groaned. “Yes, okay? We got into a fight.” 

“About?” Adler beckoned Woods to explain.

“Well,” He began. “So a few weeks back, right? I went off on some rant that Valentine’s Day is stupid and we agreed to not celebrate it. But today I guess she went back on her word and got me a gift and made me look like an asshole for not getting her anything. Then we got into a fight. That’s it.”

“That can’t be it.” Hudson scoffed. This time it was Woods’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Fine.” He huffed. “Words were… exchanged.”

“And what the hell exactly did you say to her?” Adler piped up. Woods rolled his eyes again, slamming his beer bottle down. 

“Fine.” He huffed, beginning to regale every single gritty detail of a five minute fight, seeing as Hudson and Adler would’ve pried everything out of him some way or another. Throughout his story, Woods kept stuttering over his words, pausing, taking deep breaths. He still couldn’t get over that ultimatum. 

“You called her a bitch?” Hudson stared at Woods, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“That was your first mistake.” Adler snickered. 

“No, that was his hundredth mistake. Your first mistake, Woods, was ranting about Valentine’s Day in the first place.” Hudson paused, noticing the very displeased expression of the man across from him. Not wanting to get into a bar fight tonight, he chose his next words carefully. “Hear me out, I can tell you every reason why you’re wrong, if you want. If you don’t, that’s fine. Drink your pain away and let your relationship with Bell go down the drain.”

Tense silence filled the air as Woods retreated back into his head. He certainly hates Hudson, doesn’t think the man does a damn thing right, but he’s been married for the better half of a decade for a reason, right? Woods slowly nodded his head, it couldn’t hurt to hear the man out, and besides, even in his rage, even after the ultimatum you gave him, losing one of the only people he actually cared about was one he couldn’t bear.

“Okay. Well, as we all well know, Bell doesn’t remember anything about her life.” Hudson glanced at Adler, who suddenly found a keen interest in the glass of whiskey in front of him. “And in the past three years, she hadn’t been able to celebrate any holiday other than Christmas last year because of schedules. Everything is a first for her, making it special to her. So your first mistake was ranting about Valentine’s Day.”

“Wh- How?” Woods sighed. 

“Jesus Christ you’re so fucking dense.” Hudson mumbled to himself, rubbing his forehead. “It’s her first and she has someone who she loves dearly to celebrate it with. Probably felt like a gut punch. And still yet, she tried to make it special in spite of you. You practically spat on her for it. You called her a bitch and yelled instead of just accepting it and spending the night with her. That’s all she wanted.”

Oh. Maybe he was onto something.

“You are all Bell has.” Hudson stressed, the way he was explaining the situation to Woods, you would think he has experienced this exact situation. Perhaps he has, Woods did find that break up letter to Hudson from some girl like fifteen or so odd years ago. “And she’s probably feeling pretty neglected.”

“So why do you all of the sudden like Bell?” Adler asked, shame from the mention of what he did to you still painted on his expression.

“I like her well enough, and she’s proven herself.” Hudson took a sip from his drink and laughed softly. “But I like proving Woods wrong more.”

“Shut the fuck up, baldilocks.” Woods grumbled and Adler snorted, while Hudson let out a small chuckle at the creative insult. “I’ve gotta go.”

Unceremoniously, Woods removed himself from the high barstool, fumbling in his pocket for his wallet. He placed a twenty on the table, leaving without a word.

“Y’know he’s never gonna admit that sometimes you’re right.” Adler said, a cigarette between his teeth as he popped open his zippo lighter. 

“I know.” 

__

Woods glanced down at his watch as he approached the door to your shared apartment. It was only seven when he left. Fuck. He hoped you might still be awake. As quietly as he could, with a bouquet in one hand and his keys in the other, he unlocked the door.

“Bell?” He whispered, hoping to hear at least a TV or the radio playing. Instead, it was dark, with only a small glow emanating from the oven light in the kitchen. “Babe?”

No answer. Shit. He set his keys down on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and turned on a lamp. Gingerly, he made his way to your shared bedroom, opening the door softly.

On the bed, he found you asleep, facing towards the door and your hand lazily resting on the pillow on his side. He sighed, it was clear you had fallen asleep crying, your eyes puffy and cheeks red even in sleep. Woods took off his boots, setting down the bouquet on the nightstand. 

As stealthily as a man of his size could manage, he crawled into bed, facing towards you. He held the hand that was resting on his side in his own hand, bringing it to his, softly kissing your knuckle. 

“Bell.” He rested his free hand on your hip, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. Woods smiled softly as your eyes fluttered awake. Instead of returning his soft gestures, you simply grumbled, taking back your hand and flipping over on your other side. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re drunk. Go to bed, you'll feel differently in the morning.” You said, sniffling and barely audible. 

“I didn’t drink anything. Baby girl, I am so fucking sorry.” He scooched closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush to his form. “I’m sorry for complaining about Valentine’s, I’m sorry for the beer, I’m sorry for calling you a bitch, I’m sorry for being a fucking jackass to my girl.”

Silence ensued for a few minutes, only interrupted with your occasional sniffle. You sighed, sitting up and facing towards him. You gave a sad smile.

“Frank, I just want us to be normal.” Your voice cracked as the tears began again. “I don’t want this shitty military stuff anymore. I just want to be a normal couple who does normal couple things.”

“Oh, baby girl. Honey, I am so sorry.” He shushed as he sat up, holding you in his arms so tightly, as if he was afraid you’d shatter into dust and leave him forever if he didn’t. 

“Baby, we can be normal. I’ll take you to the movies, I’ll take you on more dates, I’ll bring you flowers, I’ll win you the biggest stuffed animal at the fair, I’ll even celebrate Valentine’s Day with you.” He kissed your temple, pulling you even closer as sobs racked your body. “Please, I just need you in my life.”

“Please don’t ever leave me.” You whimpered.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” He held you, strong and steadfast, guilt from the events that transpired earlier sweeping over him. “I couldn’t live without you. God, I’m so fucking sorry, baby girl.”

“Me neither.” The two of you remained there, locked in an embrace and peacefully silent. For hours, you felt as if he was going to leave you, and without him, you’d quite literally have nothing. Without him, you’d have to crawl back to the man that hurt you the most. 

To have the normally gruff, brash Marine sergeant here, admitting to you how much he needed you in his life, it almost felt that for once in your life, that you were a normal person. Not some brainwashed freak.

“I got you a present.” He pulled his head back to look at you. A soft smile creeped across your features. “It’s not as good as those beers you got me,” He reached over the nightstand, presented the bouquet of flowers. “And it took me forever to find, considering every florist was either closed or sold out. But you deserve this, and so much more.”

“Oh, Frank. They’re perfect. Thank you so much.” You gave him a quick peck, looking over the bouquet with a proud smile on your face. Your first flowers from him.

“Bell, I also have a very important question for you.” He smiled earnestly at how your eyes were lit up, just from flowers. You nodded, beckoning him to ask. “Will you be my Valentine?” 

Your happiness turned into straight glee as you practically exploded with joy.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” You exclaimed, pushing him down and straddling him. You giggled and peppered his face with little kisses all over as he grinned, chuckling along with you. “Of course I will.” You said softly, pulling back as you placed the flowers on your side’s nightstand. 

You returned to his side, cuddling up flush against his chest as he smiled down at you, like today never even happened. Your hands drew small circles on his chest and you sighed contentedly, this was a feeling that you had missed these past few months. Just you and Woods -- nothing else.

“Baby?” He hummed. You let your eyes close, the threat of sleep drawing ever near.

“M’yeah?”

“We’ll do something more fun tomorrow, okay?” Woods grinned as he also let his eyes close, pulling you even tighter towards him.

“This is good enough for me.” You lazily smiled against his chest.

So needless to say I'm odds and ends But I'll be stumbling away Slowly learning that life is okay

[hetaologist]

APH America "Ethnography" and Headcanons (SFW)

The United States of America, Alfred F. Jones, Mr. Stars and Stripes, 'Merica, Pretty Boy, um... or just simply America.

Here is a list of data I have gathered from this country and oh boy, what an interesting specimen we have here....

Ethnography

You will find this find this mythological creature at your local Walmart superstore during the evening hours on a weekday, sporting flannel loungewear pants (The plaid kind), a cotton t-shirt that definitely has been worn no less than two (2) times, Old Navy $1 flip flops, and a gray jacket.

When asked about his late night runs to the popular supermarket chain, his answer is just simply:

"There's nothing else to do and no where to go."

America's Cart Inventory for March 22nd:

One (1) package of "Mega Stuf Chocolate Oreos" for $5.97, One (1) 6-Pack of "Starbucks Frappuccino Chilled Coffee Drinks" in Caramel Flavor for $7.98, One (1) Family Sized Bag of "Flaming Hot Cheetos" for $5.94, One (1) "Furby Interactive Toy" for $39.19, and One (1) Stick of " Axe Apollo Men's Deodorant Stick" for $4.97. Total of purchase was $64.05 before tax.

When questioned about the "Furby Interactive Toy", he replies:

"Yeah dude, there's this thing I wanna make that's called a "Long Furby". Wanna come by my place and check it out?"

I agreed to the invination as it would give me a better look into his living space and lifestyle. He's very friendly person.

Living Space (Home):

Oh dear god, why did I agree to come here?

House is a what you would expect from a typical American college student such as:

"Saturdays Are For The Boys" banner flag, Marvel and DC posters, a very unsettling looking blue leather couch that looks like it has been through hell and back, random dumbbells and untouched exercise equipment, every game console from the 1972 "The Magnavox Odyssey" to the PS5, action figures from various popular TV shows and comics, an old KFC bucket with half eaten chicken on the coffee table and a shelf with a huge vinyl record and CD collection.

Conclusion: What a fucking gross nerd.

America offers a cold can of Coca-Cola, I accept it.

He shows me a very long light blue "Long Furby" from his collection, further proving how much of a dork he was.

When asked what kind of music he liked (in regards to his music collection), he replies:

"That's hard to answer, it changes every week. Because of my diverse music, I pretty much like everything. One week I could be listening to 1980's classic rock, 2000's techno-pop, Bluegrass Country, 1990's Hip Hop or anything. But, if I had to give you this week's favorite artist, it would have to be Taylor Swift and Doja Cat."

"Interesting..." I replied.

I have recorded enough data for today (the smell was bothering me) and left his home to do further extensive research.

Headcanons:

America has a deep love for cars and trucks, he can be seen working on his vintage 1968 Dodge Charger R/T called 'Thunderbird' (an absolute speed demon that can reach at top speeds of muthafuckin' 156 mph), and his enormous 2019 Ford F-150 'Big John' that he loves to drive to world meetings because he is a total stud muffin showoff.

Oh yeah, he defiantly modded 'Big John' horns with airblasters. So when he parks his car and he sees other nations come out of their vehicles, he pounds on that horn and scares the living shit out of them.

He totally does 2 am donuts in the Thunderbird the front of Walmart parking lots with his brother Canada to freak him out.

Other than seeing him work on his cars while listening to "Waking Up in Vegas by Katy Perry" on the radio, he's in his room sorting out his action figure and comic book collection.

Damn, what what a geek.

He has an eBay account where he buys, trades and auctions his collection as his interests constantly change.

If you think him being a geek, dork and a nerd is gonna save him from getting a basic ass Stanley cup, you're wrong.

He has a navy blue one that he takes to meetings and he would get dirty looks from the other nations.

"Goddamn it America, you do not need that much coffee."

"Fuck you, you scone sucking twink. It's not coffee, it's the Panera Super Charged Lemonade mixed with Redbull."

"I beg your fucking pardon..."

He gave Canada a red one for his birthday that he also takes with him to meetings.

"Canada, mon ami~. That better not be that merde American drinks that makes your heart explode."

"No, it's Tim Hortons iced coffee."

"Well.. that's better than what America drinks..."

[sammwitch]

Purgatory isssss Vietnam and i will not be convinced otherwise!

in this essay i won't because i'm not american and am not equipped to root through the various generational traumas the vietnam war inflicted on america and how that impacted American Masculinity but like,,,,, it's there! it's super there. idk if this comparison is super obvious if you are american but i'm going to explain myself anyway

(before i start, i will be talking about the idealised and fetishised idea of the vietnam war, not the actual realities of the actual real conflict. this post is about how the spn writers are weirdo american men, not geopolitics)

eye mean,,, obviously the racism that runs through all of spn- there are creatures living alongside us who look like us and talk like us but are actually Dangerous Monsters Who Must Die- but keyed up to 11 because this is a land of monsters/non-humans/them-not-us

and as a part of that, we never see any child monsters in purgatory despite child monsters existing and also dying. because this is the Ideal vietnam which is only a wild battleground and not a place people, families and non-combatants live. only populated by savage non-americans who are hell bent on killing 'Our Boys'

benny fits into this too. being Other but also an ally. not someone whp can be entirely trusted at first and definitely in it for the personal gains that Fighting For the USofA could bring him, but through their shared experiences bonding. y'know, he's one of the good ones! like the (north? i think?) vietnamese allies america had on the ground

even washing all the colour out of the scenes until it's almost black and white??? like the footage that was broadcast to americans of the war?? i'm connecting the dots

purgatory not as something you beat but something you endure and then escape?? literally it is an idealised vietnam war were you don't have to confront that america super didn't win because the victory and horrors came in getting out

the way post-purgatory dean is treated like a Movie Veteran with his new brotherhood forged in blood and his thousand yard stare and his sullen drinking (all portrayed by jensen ackles who mustn't look any worse than slightly dishevelled or muddy in any shot) and that whole 'it was purer there' bullshit that i have definitely seen in other media portraying vietnam vets. they really gave him glam war trauma and it feels uncomfortable. it feels fetishy

not going to go further than "i think american men who didn't go to vietnam for whatever reason (including age! the lack of a big existential war to go fight in has really done a number on the self-perceptions of generations of american men) have a real chip on their shoulder about it and a resulting pretty gross mythification of the vietnam war because of it. maybe it's because they felt isolated from the Manly Men they idolised irl because of that lack of trauma?" when theorising WHY they did this because, again, not american.

TLDR later season dean winchester really was the writer's fetish doll to be The Most Masculine American Man and it's weeeeeeiiird!

[randomshyperson]

New Romantics - Chapter Two - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Trapped in a loveless relationship that has cost her friendships, Wanda watches her senior year of school turn upside down after a party. She will make new friends and may end up learning that not every relationship is doomed to failure.

Warnings: (+16), straight and toxic relationships, making out, underage drinking, language, co-dependency, conversations about insecurity and self-worth, attempted romantic comedy, unrequited love at first, friends to lovers. | Words: 4.507k

Skamverse Collection | Series Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

--//--

Chapter Two- Easter with Ink and Phones

Downtown, Tuesday 02:14 pm

A soft melody echoed throughout the room, but you weren't paying much attention to the lyrics. Your dominant hand was doing the work of painting the canvas, and slowly, the image of a faceless female figure was forming in the paint.

But your creative process was interrupted by the pause of the music - Making you realize that you were, in fact, paying attention to the melody.

"Hey!" Your protest was soft yet annoying. Natasha laughed, holding up the radio control. 

"Sorry, but they're calling you again." She says and you sigh tiredly. 

"I thought we blocked the number."

Natasha places the remote control on top of one of the countless bookshelves in her makeshift gallery. "Well, I had that geek neighbor of ours look at the phone, but whatever she did, it didn't work."

You chuckle, your eyes back on the screen. "America Chavez was definitely messing with you, sweetheart."

Natasha grimaces. "No, because she charged for the hour and I'm going to commit a crime if it was a prank."

Not wishing your friend to go to jail, you gave up painting. You started to take off your dirty apron and gloves, telling Natasha that you would take care of it. But before you could leave the studio, she called you. "It's easter, Y/N. Maybe, I don't know, you could give them a chance."

You chuckle. "Christmas is when we get more generous and tolerant, Natasha." That's what you say to her with a wink before leaving the scene.

It's not a surprise that America answers the door when you ring the bell - Both of their mothers are nurses, and usually, work on holidays like these. Her apartment is not empty anyhow. The kids from downstairs, Kamala Khan and Bruno Carrelli, are playing video games on the couch and sharing pizza from the night before.

"Hey, neighbor." America greets you excitedly. You laugh.

"Don't hey neighbor me, you little pest. Come on, you charged Natasha about the phone and now you're going to do the work." You nod toward your door, but America hesitates.

"Wait, I can explain-"

"Come on Chavez, don't try to wind me up." You interrupt with a grimace. "Do the job we paid for or I'll call your moms and tell them what you've been doing."

The girl snorts in defeat, and nods to her friends, saying she'll be right back as she leaves them playing.

You lead her straight to the kitchen and grab cans of soda while she goes to the phone. She picks it up and presses a few numbers.

"What are you up to?" You ask curiously, and she sighs.

"Your phone sucks, Y/N, it won't let me block any untraceable numbers. Are you running from secret agents by any chance?"

You chuckle, opening your soda. "I wish I had such an interesting life. You retort. "My parents are both psychiatrists and have private numbers so that patients don't save their personal contact information and try to call back."

America grimaces softly. "But what if the patient really needs to talk to them?"

You shrug sadly. "They don't care."

America doesn't insist, without knowing how far the intimacy for questions of good neighbors goes. She stays on her task for a while, before asking, "I can only block calls from all over the country. Are you sure you don't have any Brazilian friends you don't want to unintentionally ignore?

You deny it, taking a big sip of soda and watching America finish with the phone. When she releases the handset, you extend the other can of soda from the counter to her.

"The door is always open, kiddo. If your friends want a soda." You tell her, and you both know that this is an invitation for her not to spend the Easter holiday alone.

She smiles in thanks before leaving, and you go back to your studio, only to find your roommate snooping - or rather looking - at your paintings.

"Did you find something you like? It's all for sale." You joke, managing to get her to smile. You walk over to the radio, and Natasha tilts her head as she faces the painting you are starting.

"Who are you painting?"

You feel your cheeks warm, so you remain with your back to her with the excuse that you are choosing the music.

"A girl from school." 

Natasha makes a sound of interest. "Pretty?"

You laugh. "Smart."

"That's not what I asked."

"She's in my literature class, always reading. Quiet, but not shy. Sarcastic but never mean. And she has quick answers for almost everything. The first week she was the only one in the class who had read Madame Bovary, and the opinion piece was so impressive that the teacher praised her out loud in front of the class." You continue to ignore Natasha. "She has a strong Sokovian accent, so I guess she must have been born in the north since English is more like a second language in that part of the country. And yes, Natasha, she may be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Your friend smiled, pushing the locks of her hair behind her ears. "Did you notice that she was beautiful before or after you fell in love with her?"

You chuckle, walking over to your painting. "I'm not in love with anyone, don't be ridiculous. I don't even know her."

Natasha watches you intently. 

"So you notice all the girls in your literature class who are sarcastic but not mean, and paint them for hours?" She retorts and you can feel the tips of your ears warm.

"I've only been painting for a few minutes." You defend yourself, but Nat clears her throat, and when you look at her, she is pointing to several sketch boards thrown behind the main one. Most with faces and figures that look a lot like the larger one. You roll your eyes, sighing. "I know a lot of girls." You try, but it only makes Nat laugh.

"What's her name anyway?"

You draw with the pencil what would be the outline of a nose. "Wanda Django Maximoff."

"Full name and you swear you're not interested." She teases, and because your back is turned, you don't notice her reaching for her cell phone. Rolling your eyes again, you continue to draw and paint.

"She signs her full name on the door call. I think it's cute."

"I bet you do."

Deciding that you were no longer going to give Natasha material to torment you with, you focus on your painting. But the redhead only gives you ten minutes of peace before she calls you back. "Hm?"

"I found all her social media. Instagram, Facebook, and even Linkedin. She used to do tutoring can you believe it? You're right, she is very pretty."

You spun around the seat, curiosity in your gaze as Nat angled her cell phone so you could look too. But then you turned around, "No. I don't want to be a stalker."

Nat chuckled, shaking her head. "You know that's how people know each other in the 21st century, right?"

You roll your eyes, sliding your paintbrush across the canvas. "I'd rather talk to her for real than through a screen, Nat."

"Oh, and how's that going?" Nat teases, smiling at your displeased snort. But she puts her cell phone away the next moment, taking pity on your annoyance and adding more softly, "Maybe you should give it a chance. A little online chat just so you don't scare her off, and then you can go full Romeo Montecchio on her."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Thanks, but I think I'd come off as a complete disaster online and effectively scare her off before I had any real chance."

"So pessimistic." Nat muttered getting up. She walked over to the radio connected to your cell phone, probably to change the music. When she laughed for no reason, you took your eyes off the board to her. "The universe is in my favor, my friend. Wanda Maximoff just requested your friendship on Facebook."

You stumble on the bench as you get up in a jump to go to your cell phone. Nat is telling the truth, the notification is right there. Wanda and her stupidly beautiful face on a Facebook icon.

"Oh, okay, what do I do now?"

Nat giggled rolling her eyes. "You click yes." You make mention of picking up the cell phone, but Nat pulls it away with a grimace. "God, don't be ridiculous. You can't accept it now, she just sent it."

You frown in confusion. "What? Why not?"

"Y/N, for heaven's sake, you can't look desperate. Think about. It's easter, she can't think you're well… locked in a studio waiting for a notification. Nope, you have to look busy, and interesting. Wait at least a day to accept or even the end of the holiday."

Nat puts the phone in your hand, and you scratch your hair with the other, "But I want to be her friend now..."

The redhead giggles in disbelief, taking the phone back. "I'll take care of this, you can go back to the painting, Da Vinci."

"But-"

"See you at dinner." She escapes the studio before you can protest.

Downtown, Wednesday 08:25 am

You have accepted this request for friendship. You and Wanda Maximoff are now friends.

"You are so weird, Y/N, I swear." Yelena's voice made you bang your head with force on the ink shelf, definitely not because you were distracted by a stupid notification from hours ago.

"Jesus, don't you and your sister ever knock?" You retorted, mashing your head with one hand and with the other holding a pot of paint.

Yelena was holding a package of take-out Mexican food that she left on the small table - the smell made your stomach jump and reminded you that you were starving - before approaching the nearly finished painting in the center of your gallery.

"Why would I knock on my own apartment?" Yelena reasons teasingly, and you chuckle rolling your eyes. 

"Not that I agree, but why am I weird?"

She nods at the board with her chin. "You're painting Novi Grad's Wednesday Addams in the middle of Easter."

You chuckle. "Do you know Wanda?"

Yelena shrugs. "Not really, but she's well-known at school."

You hum with your hands busy separating the right shades of paint. "Really, why is that?"

"I don't pay attention to rumors, sorry." She retorts distractedly. "But that painting turned out beautiful. Did she commission it or what?"

You chuckle awkwardly. "No, I wanted to do it. My brain didn't seem to accept getting her out of my head until I paint it. It's the eyes and the wine's fault, I'm sure."

"Wine?"

You sigh. "I met her at your welcome party and helped her with her makeup. And I also had a few glasses of wine. I came home with the trace of her eyes stuck in my head, I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Artists are so weird." Yelena mutters, and you chuckle.

"Tell me about it."

Yelena sighs, throwing herself into one of the armchairs. "Wanda seems to have gotten herself into a little bit of everything at this party." Yelena then comments. "I had a fight with Kate and I was a little... shaken up. Wanda found me in the bathroom, she was kind and helpful. Who knew."

You frown, looking at Yelena. "What do you mean shaken up? Is everything okay?"

Yelena sighs, forcing a smile. "It's just the usual, honey, don't worry about it."

You drop the ink on the table. "Yelena, you can talk to me."

The blonde hesitates, but then sighs. "I don't know, Kate's been weird since her new stepfather moved in. She was going to come out to Eleanor, but she keeps putting things off. We've been fighting so much, and maybe she's just lacking the courage to make a decision."

You wipe your hands on the washcloth from the canvas and approach your friend and roommate. "Yelena, I think you should talk to her." You say, and when the blonde makes mention of protesting, you hold up your finger. "Talk. Not accuse or demand. Ask her what's bothering her. By god, you two are so annoyingly in love all the time, what is this now? A sweet sixteen crisis bullshit?"

Yelena giggles, rolling her eyes. "I have no idea, Y/N, if I did I wouldn't be involving other people." She retorts. "Carol is sure Kate wants to break up."

You grimace. "Carol doesn't know anything, don't listen to her."

"Oh, am I supposed to listen to you then? Why? A degree in romantic comedies like The Notebook?"

"Honestly, you and your sister are the worst." You chuckle throwing her a dirty paint washcloth that makes her jump away. "Get out of my studio, I'm done giving you advice, you pest."

She flashes you her tongue, and you laugh, wishing your friend wouldn't give up on Kate Bishop before the younger girl gets up the courage to hand over the commitment ring you helped her choose.

It was only when Wanda's painting was ready that you left the studio to take a shower. You had already removed the top of your clothes when your cell phone vibrated.

'H'. This was the message on the Facebook chat coming from Wanda. You got online because you thought it was a bug in the application. But soon after she sent a larger one:

"Sorry. I meant to say Hi, but I just pressed the H."

You smiled to yourself. Wanda was so cute. You thought about Nat's advice about sounding interesting and taking your time to respond but you didn't want to leave her without an answer now that you were online. But you also felt weird about talking to her without clothes on, and you weren't going to put the pieces on the bathroom floor back on your body.

Finally, you sent an emoji of a thumbs up and headed for the shower, with no idea that the girl across the country was thinking you thought she was somehow stupid.

Novi Grad, Thursday 10:04 am

"Come on guys, I know the holiday makes everyone tired but just two more days and it will be the weekend again. Have a seat..."

You hastened your step at the request of Mrs. Frigga, the Literature teacher. She waved to the chatting people at the back to get down from the tables and sit down properly, and you balanced your notebooks on your left arm to take an empty chair. There was a little commotion with the boys, and somehow you ended up sitting, without realizing it, right next to the person who hadn't left your thoughts the entire holiday.

Wanda tried to disguise her tight grip on her book, watching out of the corner of her eye as you distractedly took the seat next to her and took the items out of your backpack, only to notice her the next second and offer her a gentle smile.

"Hi." You say, taking off your jacket next. "Or should I say, 'H'?" 

She giggled at your joke immediately, some of the nervousness flowing into her stomach like butterflies. She felt silly, being so anxious about someone she didn't know. Maybe it was your fault, for looking so lovely and pretty without the slightest effort.

Before she can think of how to continue the joke, Frigga is speaking again.

"I hope you all did the assignment I asked for." Remembers the woman, receiving a chorus of dissatisfaction, to which she only chuckles lightly. You curse low from your seat, and Wanda looks up at you immediately.

"I totally forgot we had homework." You mutter to Wanda's curious gaze. "You think I can guess the answer?" You joke with a funny grimace, making her chuckle again. Frigga looks at the two of you.

"Would you two like to start?" she asks aloud, and you swallow dryly. Wanda licks her lips, drawing the focus of the teacher and the room to herself as she asks:

"Of course, miss. What would be the question?"

Frigga smiled. "What do you think being a wallflower is?"

"The non-official definition is related to shyness, to being the socially awkward and reserved person. Which fits well with the personality of Charlie, the protagonist." Wanda replies. Frigga nods in agreement and looks at you.

"Anything to add, Miss L/N?"

You press your lips together, thoughtful for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I agree with Wanda but I feel the answer is slightly incomplete." You say, drawing the attention of the class to you. Clearing your throat, you continue. "I think it's more connected to a person's unique characteristics. Wallflowers are unique in their particularities, that's what makes them special. Even if Charlie wasn't shy, he would still be observant and very considerate."

Frigga rests her back on the table. "Better, Miss L/N, thank you." She says. "I like how you two complete each other answers, how about being partners in the report? And maybe for the semester, it might be good for you both."

You look at Wanda immediately, finding her already looking at you. The room is a bit of a mess with the announcement that the report could be done in pairs, but you have your full attention on the girl next to you.

"I think you're stuck with me, Maximoff." You joke, making you smile.

"What a tragedy." She retorts good-naturedly, managing a soft laugh before you two get to work.

It almost amazes you the way you work in perfect harmony with Wanda, but you are so distracted by her presence that you forget to think about it. She doesn't share any other classes with you, and when Literature ends, she seems just as hesitant to say goodbye as you are. 

"See you around, Maximoff." You speak then, trying to make things more casual, unaware of the internal battle the girl lives to build up the courage to ask you to lunch with her. Unfortunately, you have already left with the crowd of students when she thinks she could make it.

Downtown, Thursday 07:34 pm

"You ate my noodles again?" 

Natasha takes her attention away from the television, an apologetic expression that doesn't seem very genuine. You sigh impatiently, tossing the empty box you had taken from the cabinet into the trash before looking for your keys. She pauses the movie - receiving a protest from her sister - and kneels on the pillows to look at you. "Hey, sorry, Steve and Sam came over and there was nothing to eat..."

"And you obviously served my food." You retort sarcastically. Nat mutters that it was the only thing she had to eat, but she and her sister stand in a curious silence with the way you are struggling with your sneakers. 

"Are you okay in there?" Yelena asks from the armchair, and you snort loudly.

"I'm hungry." You grumble, getting a roll of the eyes. And then you sigh, one of your sneakers on. "And I don't know how to ask a girl out."

The sisters exchange excited glances. "Wow, that's interesting." Natasha comments. "It's Wanda, yes?"

Yelena looks ready to say something, but you get up in a bad mood. "Yes, she's very cute and I don't know how to say that without making an embarrassment of myself."

Natasha jumps up from the couch, excited. "Well, my friend, lucky I have a million tips. Yelena, we're going to buy food, don't watch the movie without me!"

The blonde rolls her eyes, pulling her cell phone out of her jeans, and Natasha tries to put on sandals before walking you out of the apartment.

On the other side of town, as Natasha makes you laugh by listing out the most foolproof movie seduction tips while you shop for noodles, a couple argues on a balcony. Wanda ends the night with tears on her cheek, just like you, but for different reasons.

Novi Grad, Friday, 02:05 pm

Wavy hair cascaded over a dark denim jacket. Wanda first adjusted her clothes, and then her headphones, taking them off to put in her backpack. She was alone again and looked a little bored. She searched through her backpack for something, and you sighed when you caught a glimpse of her hand full of rings giving the material a gentle squeeze-

"You're staring again, weirdo." Yelena teased, sitting in the chair next to yours. It was afternoon break, and you were sitting on one of the patio chairs. She had been on her cell phone, exchanging messages on the edge of passive-aggressive with Kate Bishop for about fifteen minutes, and in theory, you were reading. But since you noticed Wanda leaving through one of the hallways, your attention was solely on her.

"No, I'm not." You grumble, turning your gaze to the item in your lap and getting a short laugh from the blonde.

Yelena didn't take her eyes off her cell phone as she spoke, "Natasha and I invited her to something earlier today."

Trying not to show any latent interest, you raise an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Mm-hmm." She mutters. "The Graduation committee is already separating the sales teams, not that you're very interested in that." Yelena hints, but you don't mind. She sighs faintly. "She was sitting with two other boys from Nat's class, and they declined to participate. They're kind of preps if you want my opinion."

"And Wanda?"

Yelena didn't hide her little smile. "Is that interest in your voice?"

You rolled your eyes, your cheeks blushing lightly. "Come on, it's just curiosity." You retorted. "Not to mention you know damn well I'm interested."

Yelena giggles, shrugging. "It doesn't get any less funny to torment you for it." She says. "Wanda said she'd think about it. Maybe that will be a good incentive for you?"

It's your turn to laugh. "You know I don't care about these things, Lena. If I could make good money as you guys get from the fundraiser, I'd spend it on something much more meaningful than a party. I've been trying for months to get some money together to fix my truck."

Yelena sighs. "I still don't understand why you don't use that student money of yours."

You laugh. "That's because you don't listen to me! I've told you a million times that the scholarship only covers my housing and food!"

"So boring..." You laugh again, returning your attention to your book. Yelena keys a few things before adding, "When are you going to build up the courage to ask her out?"

"I'm working on it."

"Let me guess, waiting for the right moment?"

You shrug. "Maybe."

Yelena giggles, looking at you. "Sorry to break this to you and my super romantic sister but this is complete bullshit." Declares the blonde. "If someone likes you, any time is the right time. What do you think is going to happen, Wanda is going to magically guess that you are into her and hang around you until you build up the courage? Don't wait for that. Go to her, and ask her out. If it works, it worked. If not, it gives you even more time to move on."

You stare at her in shock for a couple of seconds. "I had forgotten how practical you are."

"Thank you."

"I didn't say it was a compliment." You retort good-naturedly, receiving a light kick to your leg. You laugh and look away. 

Wanda has taken a flyer out of her backpack and is putting it up on the school bulletin board. You smile and close the book. 

Yelena raises a curious eyebrow. "Well?"

"Wish me luck." You say, leaving the item beside her before going to approach the brunette.

The flyer was a reminder about the deadlines for the university's admissions letter submissions, and you guessed that one of the professors had asked Wanda to paste the notices. 

You reached next to her, one finger going to the title of the item she just pasted.

"H, as 'Have you sent your admissions letters yet?" You started with a little smile, turning your face to look at her. "Or, H, as, Have you got any plans for tonight?"

Wanda giggled shyly, a little surprised at the unexpected invitation. You, despite your heart leaping in your chest, kept your composure. She opened her mouth to reply, but you both were interrupted by Natasha's exit from the cafeteria, the door next to the board.

"Hello, you two." She had a suggestive little smile that made you bite the inside of your cheek. "Is Y/N repeating our invitation from earlier, Wanda? It would be a nice addition to have you two on our sales team."

You could dig a hole in the ground now, but for your friends. Wanda gives a nervous chuckle, looking between you and Nat before speaking. "I think so. The meeting will be in the auditorium, right? I didn't know you were on the committee..."

"I'm not-"

"She's what we call a ghost member." Natasha cuts in giving you a gentle nudge. "She lives with me and Yelena did you know? So she's been helping with activities since she got here, even though she's not officially part of the club."

"Oh, got it." Wanda mutters, twiddling her fingers as she tries not to exchange such obvious glances at you.

"Can I expect you at the meeting today then?" Natasha insists smiling.

You give Wanda a small smile, and her face lights up. She nods. "Sure, I'll be there."

"Great, I'll see you later." Natasha says, pulling you by the arm.

When you are far enough away, you turn to her with a grimace. "Why did you do that? I had just-"

"I think she has a boyfriend." Natasha declares and it's like a complete bucket of cold water.

"W-what?"

"God, you're completely clueless." Nat scratches her forehead. "I'm not sure, but I think it's the boy we saw with her earlier. We're not from the same group of friends, and I don't give a damn what people do in this place but I think so. There is some rumor of a fight she got into as well but no one really remembers either. Parker is a terrible informant. And I need a bigger team, and this is the perfect opportunity for you to find out if she's taken and in the meantime help me with graduation."

"I hate you." You grumble sullenly.

Nat laughs, grabbing your face to kiss your cheeks and wipe the grimace off your face. 

When you join Yelena, she looks up at you. "Did you make it?"

"No, your sister ruined everything."

"That is an unfair statement, I am getting more information for an efficient approach." Explains the redhead, and you have to laugh. "You don't appreciate the work of a spy."

You and Yelena burst out laughing.

[littlemissheavenonearth]

The Dancer and The Rockstar Part 7 (Joe Elliott x Reader)

a/n: this is part 7 and after this there will probably be 3 more <3 I hope y'all enjoy!

[Y/N POV]

That was Def Leppard’s High N’ Dry tour. The entire tour was a dream, I’m sure that everybody dreams of going on tour with a band, yeah? They boys played Mirror, Mirror every night after the show in London. 

Well anyway, guess what, I fell in love with my childhood best friend about a year ago and he fell in love with me too. We confessed to each other that night in the bar and we have been dating since then. 

When we went back to Sheffield, we went back to the dance studio. Just like old times. I’d dance and Joe would sing and play guitar like he used too. I even did choreography for Mirror, Mirror. Lia helped of course, I’m not skilled enough to choreograph my own dance. 

Other than that, the boy began writing songs for their upcoming album, Pyromania. They had thought of other names too, but Pyromania was one of the more

serious ones. Some of the songs they’d written for this album were, Stagefright, Foolin’, Photograph, Rock Of Ages, etc. They have so many amazing songs, I still wonder how they do it. 

It took forever to figure out the lyrics for Rock Of Ages, but they did eventually after figuring out the instruments parts. At the end it was worth all that struggle to figure out the lyrics. The boys eventually asked me to be in their music videos for a few of the songs. 

For two years, this is what we did. We spent time in the studio, we filmed music videos, but we also went on trips together. We went to America. I was really excited to go ‘cause I had never been and the boys told me that it was beautiful, when they went. I’d always wanted to go, ever since I was little ya know, to see the big open spaces and the  big skies. 

In 1982, we went to Los Angeles to visit the Sunset Strip. I cannot emphasize enough how beautiful the street was. We saw all of these young rockstars running along the street, eager to set forth on their rock n’ roll journey. 

I held Joe’s hand as we entered the Rainbow Bar And Grill to eat some dinner. It was a small place with red leather seats and tables. There wasn’t much light, there was a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling and some colorful fairy lights, but still it had a dark feel to it. The place was full of people, the great majority of them were drinking, doing drugs, or trying to please a girl and even though it concerned me quite a bit, what seemed to stick with me the most was that these people, they seemed genuinely happy with how they were living their lives. They were enjoying themselves like they had wanted to when they were kids. 

There wasn’t a place you could turn your head and not see people. Their energetic demeanor was contagious, I was definitely feeling like doing something stupid. 

Joe definitely noticed my mood and guided me to the bar counter. 

“Could we get a few shots of Vodka?” He smirked. I just nodded in agreement. 

The bartender gave us a few shots and Joe turned to me with the little glass cup in his hand, “are you ready to get mad drunk?” 

A smile grew on my face, I’d never gotten drunk before, but it’s never too late to try new things. 

Joe took the first shot and motioned for me to take the next one. I nodded, grabbed a cup and brought it up to my face.

He could tell I was a bit nervous, “go on then,” he chuckled.

And so I did, I shot the Vodka down and then I took a deep breath. 

“How was that, love?” 

“That was,” I grinned, “that was certainly something.” 

“D'ya like it?” 

“Hell yeah!” I grabbed another cup and drank it and then another, and then another.

“Alright, alright, slow down, beautiful.” 

“Sorry, was that too much?” 

“Nah, I just hadn’t seen you act like this before, but you look gorgeous doing it.” He winked and heat rose to my cheeks as he said those words. I got closer to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. I was already starting to feel a bit of the alcohol kick in now, “kiss me, rockstar.” 

His arms snaked around my waist as he leaned down to press his lips to mine. It seemed like our lips fit perfectly together and they moved so in sync, it was incredible. 

“Woah, get a room, you two.” Said Pete. I vaguely remember Joe and I giggling like two teenage girls at some celebrity magazine. 

Living the rockstar life is definitely something to experience, it’s nothing but a good time all the time, until it’s not, if ya know what I mean. 

In early 1983, the band was getting ready to record their Pyromania album, but there was some issue with Pete and they kicked him out of the band. They got a new guitarist, Phil Collen, a boy from London. He was originally in the band, Girl, but he left when he was asked to join Leppard. The lead singer of that band went to LA, to sing for the band, LA Guns. 

Anyway, after that situation, the boys finally recorded the album and even fixed some of the songs. The boys were getting ready to embark on their Pyromania tour that was starting in Milan, Italy.

I wasn’t going because I wanted to spend some time dancing again. 

“Y/N?” Joe asked me. As we were taking a walk in London near Downton Abbey.

“Yes, babe?” 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Sure.”

He breathed, “..ok..um,” everybody else was watching.

“Don’t be afraid, love,” 

“Ok,” he looked so nervous, but then he got down on his knees and opened the ring box. I put my hands over my mouth.

“Y/N, would you make me the happiest guy on earth and marry me?” I nodded aggressively because I was too shocked to speak. A sweet smile grew on his face as he stood up to put the ring on my finger. I had tears in my eyes as we embraced.

“I love you, y/n/n.”

“I love you too, Joe.” Cheers from the rest of the boys arose in the background. 

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

Taglist:

@elliotts-personal-property @joes-sha-la-la-la-girl @terrortwinsfav @stevesfuzzypinkslippers @genxrocker @i-love-def-leppardhostaccount @jimmysdragonsuit13 @ni-hao-kitty @steveinscarlet @stardust-bitch @ride-the-hammett @nenynra @bludgeon-riffola @lil-melody-moon @rickallensbarefeet @switch-6-2-5 @discothequechaser @armageddonviv @wasted-my-time @the80srewinders @moon-fashioned @alexaelliott @defsteria @leppardcampbelllove @whitelightningstrikes @appetite4savage @make-me-your-animal

*side note: if you have any ideas of the plot that you wanna see, just dm me <3

[angel-inrealtime]

November F1c Prompts Day 29

29. Sight: Monument

A/N: Second last day (again, ignoring the month pls). We're embracing the tooth rotting fluff I guess.

-

He truly, disgustingly, loves America.

You’ve accepted, by now, that it’s not likely to change. That he’s just going to keep loving America and you’ll spend some of the year there.

It’s not so bad, you think, doing a leg of the great American road trip (which you started off calling it as a joke and then it stuck) where you’re in a car rather than on the bikes and it’s just the two of you and you book a couple of nights in a dome made for stargazing not far from the Grand Canyon.

There’s nobody around for miles and miles and you lie with your heads next to each other on the deck outside, looking up at the endless inky sky and the pinpricks of stars dotted all over it.

“Mm.” Daniel makes a noise after a while, contented rumble in his chest.

You thread your fingers into his hair, stroking through his curls and scratching your nails against his scalp. “Okay?”

He nods emphatically, pushing his head up into your hand. “I’m good. Like, so good.”

🌙

It’s worth the early morning wakeup, you think, to see him bathed in the sunrise light. It catches all the gold in his eyes, makes them look like they go on forever. You feel on fire with how much you love him, want to carve out a space in his chest and curl up next to his heart, keep him safe and never let him forget how much he’s loved.

Daniel reaches a hand up off the railing and pokes your nose. “You’re staring.” He’s preening, a little.

“I know.” You couldn’t keep the little smile off your face if you tried, lean back on the railing so you’re looking at him instead of the sunrise, one arm looped through his. “You’re just gorgeous. Can’t help myself.”

Definitely preening, now. “Aw babe.” He grins so wide it splits his face. “Stop it.”

“You don’t mean that. You love it when I tell you how pretty you are.”

Daniel laughs with his head thrown back. “Guilty as charged.” He runs the backs of his knuckles over your upper arm, face softening as he looks at you. “Thanks, for doing some of this with me, when you can. It means a lot.”

“Oh, love.” You kiss his bicep, between the astronaut and cowgirl tattoos. “Of course. I love exploring with you.”  

He hums, the same contented noise in his chest from the night before. “Would you…” There’s something on his face that you can’t quite place. “I’m crap at this, I had a big thing to say, and...”

“Crap at what? What do you mean?”

“I just…I don’t wanna explore with anyone else, you know? And I was thinking, like, we’re going to Vegas soon. For the race and stuff. You wanna add in a visit to the drive-thru chapel?”

Your eyes have snapped back to him, now. You can only blink, dumbfounded. “Are you…did you just propose to me?”

He looks like he’s blushing, but he doesn’t move away. “I mean…only if you want to. We can have a party any time and…” He gets more flustered as you stand and look at him. “You always said you wouldn’t want like a big thing, or anything! I just…”

“You are absolutely…” The words dry up in your throat and you turn him around to face you. “Fucking come here, idiot.” You drag him down into a kiss with a hand around the back of his neck.

“So is that a yes, or…?” He says against your mouth, when you let him pull back.

“Is your mum gonna hate me if it is?”

It makes him laugh, trying to pull you as close as possible. “Nah, I told them I was gonna ask.”

“Then yes.”

“Run that by me again?” His eyes are shining.

(You think you might be crying, actually)

“Yes, Daniel.”

🌙

“You guys aren’t coming for a drink later?” George asks, surprised.

You look at Daniel first, furtively, and then smile at the younger man. “Nah we’ve…got plans.” You manage airily.

You leave with Daniel's arm over your shoulder and his head thrown back laughing at something you said, think that’s the end of it. Later, Max tells you the conversation that happened right after you left.

“I’m telling you. They’re gonna do it. Carmen heard her talking about getting photos done after they picked up a car. And they’re all...” George waves his hand. “Y’know.”

Lewis laughs. “They’re always like that, they always have been. Like they’re disgustingly in love or something.” He jostles the younger man. “They’re not even engaged man, and Daniel isn’t the marrying type. He’s told me before.”

“Maybe he wasn’t.” George turns to his teammate, hand outstretched. “Bet you fifty quid, they’re getting married in Vegas.”

“You’re insane, there’s no way.” Lewis says it even as he’s shaking his hand. “Deal.”

🌙

“Are you sure, Daniel?”

He nods earnestly. “We can have a party anytime, with everyone. I kind of...” Daniel cranes his neck up to kiss you where you’re standing in front of him. “It’s kind of nice, that this is just us.”

“But your family...” You fret, not for the first time.

“They get it. Don’t worry.” He smiles at you, and it feels so soft, like a caress. “It’s nice that you care, though.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Of course I care, it matters to you. And like...I like them, and I want them to continue to like me.”

“They fucking love you, are you joking? You sure I don’t have to like, ask your mum for permission or anything?” He asks, poking you in the side.

“Ohhh, you’re so funny.”

“I mean you clearly thought so, at some point.”

“I still do.” You concede. “I’ll deny it if you tell anyone though.”

He laughs, bright and loud, rests his hands on your waist when you both go still, breathing falling in sync. “No take backs.”

You brush your hands through his hair, and the only word you can find to describe how he’s looking at you is ‘adoringly’. You bend down to kiss him softly. “No take backs.” You repeat firmly.

The black dress swirls around you as he stands, picks up your hand and makes you spin in your cowboy boots, grinning wide when he puts the hat on your head too.

🌙

You stride into the paddock on Thursday holding hands, and it’s George who spots you first.

“You actually bloody did it, didn’t you? You went to the fucking drive thru chapel.” You laugh loudly and hold up your left hand, newly adorned finger glittering in the sunlight, and he leans back through the front door into the Mercedes hospitality. “They did too, you owe me.” He crows.

Lewis shakes his head but hands over what looks like $50 to the younger man, before he hugs you both over the fence. “Cheers for the invite, man. Happy for you, but like...”

Daniel laughs. “Thanks, mate. Party will be later. It just...when in Vegas, you know?”

Geri screams when you walk into the Red Bull hospitality area, and you know the news has beaten you there. Daniel stays close all day, rolling his eyes when they pull him away to film social media content.

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [13]

chapter thirteen, act two: anobrain

masterlist

November 1st 2013

Tommie has always felt like out of all the places in America, New York would be scariest. It's big and that's where all the big American crime drama shows she watches are set, with things like the mafia or random serial killers.

But no, LA, is by far, the scariest place she has visited.

With people screaming as you pass by, strangers trying to sell you CDs and monks handing out bracelets. The dress up characters (something she used to be afraid of as a child), getting handsy as you walk through the touristy parts creeped her out, and if one more person tried to hand her a flower she was going to scream.

Not even Times Square was this bad.

Her anxiety was getting the better of her and the deeper they got into the walk of fame the more she clung onto Matty’s arm.

He’d sensed her anxiety a while back and had kept closer as the other three oblivious men (of course men, what anxieties do they need to have while walking down a street in the night) walked on ahead.

“Do you want to turn back?”

She shakes her head, “I’d rather not go back through all of them.”

He grins as they get closer to the loud music of this pub a friend had recommended, “Almost there anyway, we’ll get a taxi back from right outside when we’re done, yeah?”

She nods quickly, “Okay.”

His hand lifts to play with some strands of her hair, she’d had a shower before they left and hadn’t had time to dry it, so it was a curly wavy mess.

“I like your hair like this.”

“Really?”

He nods, pulling on it and watching the curl bounce back into place, “It’s messy but put together at the same time, like you. It suits you.”

Tommie stuck by him all night, they both shared a drink, they only did one shot, a couple ciders, and had two G&T’s.

About an hour after Tommie had finished sipping on her orange gin and tonic she and Matty had ordered an uber from right outside and gone back to the hotel, leaving the other three in the bar, all of them too far gone with John running around after them.

In the lift Tommie sighs, leaning back against the wall as she kicks off the heels that George’s date for the night had let her borrow.

She leans down to rub at her left foot while struggling to undo the strap of the right one at the same time.

Matty gives a lopsided smile and kneels down to help her, he taps his knee and she holds her weight on the railing so her aching foot doesn’t take all the weight.

It’s a little hard in her tipsy head but she manages to hold herself upright.

He carefully undoes the strap, slides off the heel, and then delicately places her foot back down, his hand following his movements up her bare leg slowly as he stands.

Her shoes now in his free hand until she stands upright and shoves it into the pocket of his skinny jeans.

“God,” She groans and grimaces, “Did you see that one couple?”

He nods, “The ones that were practically having sex on the table?”

She nods trying to rid the image of the girl lying flat on her back with the guy on top of her, “What ever happened to hello?” She wonders.

“Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk — real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious.”

She rolls her eyes, “Stop quoting that book all the time, you twat.”

“Can’t help it,” He shrugs, “Read it so much it's engraved in my brain. Like you with fantastic mr fox. Guarantee you could quote that film word for word.”

“I can’t.”

He nudges her hip with his, “Don’t lie, you definitely can.”

She shrugs her shoulders, “Maybe a few scenes.”

She looks him up and down, “Are you not hot?”

“I’ve been told I am.” He says cheekily leaning to her.

She rolls her eyes, shoving him out the lift when it stops on their floor, “I meant warm, physically, it’s bloody boiling out here.”

“You just think that ‘cause you’re ginger.”

“No, I think that ‘cause I’ve sweat through three t-shirts today.”

She groans as she tries digging around in her pocket, “What?”

“I’m sharing with Ross, he has my key card.”

He pulls his from the back pocket, “I was supposed to be sharing with George until he ditched me for that bird he met a couple days ago, so I have a free bed.”

She smiles, following him inside, “Life saver, you.”

She faceplants the first bed she comes across but he tugs at the foot that hangs off the bed, “Uh uh, my bed’s always the one closest to the door.”

“Why? You gonna fight off any attackers with that pigeon chest?” 

He laughs sarcastically, “I was thinking more if anything goes wrong I can run out the fastest.”

“My knight in shining armour, you are.”

He says nothing, just aggressively throws her a pair of shorts an old the cure t-shirt, she’s halfway through pulling it, looking at her tired face in the bathroom mirror that she realises it's her own shirt she lost about four months ago on the tour.

“Hey!”

She rips open the bathroom door and he looks up, “What?”

“I’ve been looking for this top.”

“It’s mine.”

She shakes her head, “No, Adam bought me this when you guys went to that concert a couple years ago. It was my christmas present, my mam spilt wine on it and it stained, look!”

She shoves the stain into his face and he leans back, pushing his glasses up on top of his head.

“Well, it looks better on me anyway.” He says, holding back the smirk.

She grins and pushes him so he falls back on the bed, “Ow, not funny, think I landed on the remote.”

He winces and she feels slightly bad, slightly.

“Pull me up so I can get dressed.”

“Get up yourself.”

“Think it’s only fair after the attempted assault I just endured.”

Rolling her eyes she holds her hands out and he grips them both, he starts pulling himself up but he uses all his body weight to fall back and pull her down with him.

She laughs, bending his arm awkwardly to hold him down, “Tap out.”

“No.”

He tries to twist around but only ends up with her overpowering him even more, “Tap out. I’ll break your arm, Roddy, not even joking.”

He flips her off and they play fight for a while giggles and tickles being passed around until eventually she pinning his arms above his head and panting heavily.

She grins down at him but there’s no humour on his face, his eyes are lidded, head slightly tilted back to stare up at her.

“I won.”

“Mhmm.”

He bites down on his lip and she watches as he has some internal battle behind his eyes as they flicker around her face.

She leans back a little, grip loosening, “Matt-”

He moves forward quickly, sitting up, one hand holding him up on the bed, the other circling around to her back to hold her there as his lips land on hers.

It’s a quick and harsh peck, his bottom lip between hers, their noses pressed into each other's cheeks creating indentations of each other.

He pulls back, doesn’t say a thing as he looks at her, assessing her.

He knows her.

He knows that the softness of her eyes means she at least didn’t hate it. Knows that the crinkle on her one eye means she’s thinking it over.

And he knows that that smile… he knows that that smile will be the death of him.

She moves forward, both her hands in his hair as she brings him closer, leaning backwards until she’s lying flat on her back and he’s on top of her.

His hands are everywhere all at once.

She’s addicting, her taste, her sound, everything about her, he can’t get enough.

One moment his hands are threading through her hair, the next they’re on her face, thumbs rubbing across her round cheeks, then they’re travelling down her arms, down her rib cage, her waist, he wants to touch parts of her no one's even thought of touching before.

He wants to know everything. 

He opens his eyes, moving back so he can look, like really look, not like his usual fleeting glances where he’s afraid he’ll get caught.

She lifts herself up on her elbows, trying to chase his lips but he stops her, “Wait, I want to see you.”

She giggles, “I’m right here, Matty.”

“No, I want to see you.” He moves to kiss her cheek, “Explore you,” A kiss on her jaw, “See the way you work, the way you move, hear the way you sound when you cry my name.”

She slaps his chest, but then curls her hand around his white t-shirt to bring his lips back to hers, he mumbles into her lips, “You’re so addicting.”

“That’s just the oxytocin, darling.”

He groans into her ear, biting down on her bottom lip and pulling back, “Call me that again.”

“What? Darling?”

He nods, leaning back to pull his t-shirt off and toss it across the room, “Come here, darling.”

He smiles into the kiss as he pushes her back, their teeth clashing together as he pushes her top upwards.

She doesn’t have a bra on, and he feels himself grow harder when his hands meet her breast.

She arches her back, pushing her hips into his own, “Matty, I’ve-”

He moves his kisses to her neck, “I know. We can stop.”

She shakes her head quickly, hands gripping his shoulders, encouraging his arms to go higher, “No, no,” She shakes her head, the words leaving her lungs in one breath, “Please.”

He moves his kisses to her collar bone, tugging down on the neck of the t-shirt but still telling her, “One word, one word and we’ll stop, Tommie.”

“Just go slow,” She says, chest pushing into his, her hands squeezing his upper arms, “Be gentle.”

“Always with you.”

When Tommie thought of losing her virginity she didn’t think it would be in a hotel room in LA with her cousin’s best mate.

She thought it would be a drunken one night stand with a complete stranger to get it over and done with.

She’s glad it’s Matty.

She trusts Matty.

He finally peels the t-shirt off in a painstakingly slow manner, letting out a low guttural groan at the sigh of her bare chest in front of him, “God.”

 His hands move to her shorts, tugging them down and throwing them to the pile, “One word, Tommie.” He says again, moving further down the bed to pull her underwear off too.

She doesn’t say anything, lets herself get lost in the  feel of his hands and the fabric pooling at her ankles.

She doesn’t say a single thing until his hands are on her again, “Please.”

He nods, “Gonna go slow, baby,” He kisses her between her thighs, “Nice and slow.”

It was slow, and gentle, but fast and rough at the right times.

It was a mix of his moans and her loud screams of his name as they both allowed themselves to come undone around one another.

It was a mix of hands and mouths roaming each other’s bodies, exploring across freckles like stars on a constellation map.

At one point, when Matty had flipped her over, a pillow beneath her stomach, his hands pushing her shoulder blades down he’d leaned forward and quietly whispered (while still inside her). ‘You have a group of freckles shaped like a moon.’

He’d slowly traced his finger around the crescent shape on her shoulder and then leaned forward to place a kiss there.

“I know.”

Then his lips had moved to the tattoo on the other shoulder, her own words from her poem and coincidentally their song lay there.

He kissed the tattoo, lips slightly open and pushing into her skin before he dragged his bottom lip up towards the nape of her neck.

Only glancing back at the words once more before he pushed himself deeper into her.

‘I love you, don’t you mind?’

But now they lie silently beneath the covers of the bed closest to the door, he pushes the hair from her face, kissing her temple as she allows herself to nuzzle deeper into him.

“Matty?”

She yawns and he carries on playing with her hair, “Yeah, baby?”

“You know what I was saying like oxytocin and serotonin and stuff?”

He hums, “It’s not the chemicals.” She mutters quietly, “Just you.”

He smiles to himself, listening to her breath even out as she finally falls asleep, he pulls back to look down at her, head tilted as he gives her forehead one last kiss. “Good night, beautiful girl.”

Then, shifting further down the bed so he can comfortably rest his head on her chest just above her heart, he allows the sound of her to consume him until he falls asleep.

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart

@indierockgirrl

@sofaritsalrightt

@julezs-bl0g

@eaglestar31

@sophinthealpss

@if-my-heart-bleeds

-let me know if you want to be added :)

[tllgrrl]

Just A Little Fais Do-Do by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Relationships: Sarah Wilson/Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson/Misty Knight | Rated: SFW

Summary: Sam should’ve known he’d have to tell Scott Lang, the man with a hit podcast and a New York Times Best Seller, to keep an invite on the DL.

Didn’t matter. As far as Sarah was concerned, what looked like was now turning into a fais do-do was Sam’s concern because she and Bucky already made alternate plans for their own New Years Party.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sarah and Sam weren’t meaning to have an actual Party on New Years Eve.

Sarah sure wasn’t.

It was supposed to be just Sam and Misty, Sarah and Bucky, and Joaquin Torres, who was invited to come over and to bring a Plus 1 if he had one.

Sam also invited Scott Lange and Hope Van Dyne, who were going to be celebrating New Years Eve in New Orleans anyway. He told them feel free to drop on by if they found themselves overwhelmed by the New Years Eve crowd in “The Big Easy”.

Turns out that Scott casually mentioned to Clint Barton that Sam was “having a little get-together on New Years Eve at his place just outside of New Orleans”.

Clint then mentioned it to Nick Fury, who told Maria Hill, who told Carol Danvers, who mentioned it to Monica Rambeau, who told Jimmy Woo, who had no plans for New Years Eve.

Fury also mentioned it to Dr. Steven Strange.

Carol also mentioned it to Peter Quill and Thor, who mentioned it to Brunhilde.

And the next thing Sam knew, he was getting RSVPs from all over the place...meaning the Galaxy.

He even got an e-mail from Peter Parker, regretfully declining because Aunt May said No.

Sarah looked at the RSVP emails on Sam’s laptop, glared at the man and said, “I love you, Big Bro, but far as my kitchen and I are concerned, I’m closed.

Preparing and cooking for Thanksgiving and Christmas and now this?

We were going to have a nice, small, relaxed New Years Eve, and now you want to have a whole-assed fais do-do and fet up in here?

Feel free to cook, have a potluck or call a caterer, then. And you can watch me on the dance floor with my date.”

Fortunately, Sam knew exactly who to call on short notice. He knew there were some perks being Captain America, but this was definitely one of the best.

Keep Reading on AO3

* * * * * * * * * *

Glossary

fais do-do: a Cajun French term for party, shindig, dancing & drinking.

fet: From the French word fete. A big party.

* * * * * * * * * *

Thanks for reading my nonsense and foolery this year. I appreciate you more than I can say.

See ya on the other side in 2024!

[queenofquestions]

Off Menu Tag

So the brilliant @the-eclectic-wonderer tagged me in this game and I'm just going to apologize to @valentinaonthemoon right now because I'm going to 100% misinterpret the point of this game.

The thing is, I got this this morning and I was thinking about my favorite foods and they just don't go together at all! Like my favorite dish is probably a Thai yellow curry but my favorite drink is definitely a root beer float and so on. But together, like yuck! So I was really really stuck.

But then I remembered this is a genie and they have magic and I actually do have a list of foods I desperately want to eat and will never ever get the change to have. So without further ado...

You're in your dream restaurant and a genie waiter is ready to take your meal order:

Where does my dream meal take place: late Cretaceous North America, about 66 mya on the day the asteroid kills the dinosaurs. Because I'd get to see dinosaurs and then I'd get to see a brilliant falling star and then an explosion and then the sky would look like it had caught on fire due to all the debris shot up into the atmosphere and burning up.

Still or sparkling water: still. I don't really get the whole sparkling water thing tbh.

Poppadoms or Bread: if these are my only choices probably bread especially if I can have it with jam. But if I can choose anything of this type, chips and salsa and guac because I just got back home from France and I have been craving it so much.

Dream Starter: This is where I'm going to go off the deep end and say a like Spanish tortilla style omelet made out of elephant bird eggs because I really want to know what those taste like. They're so big!!!

Dream Main Course: easy. Velociraptor meat. I want to settle one of the most pressing paleontology questions of all time: did dinosaurs taste like chicken?

Dream Side Dish: Follow me on a detour out of bird/dinosaur land and into the world of archaeology. I desperately want to try some plant dishes from the Eastern Agricultural Complex. There's archaeological evidence that the people in the American Midwest had domesticated plants like sunflower, marsh elder, squash and goosefoot (a chenopod like quinoa) before the arrival of maize from Central America. The domesticated versions of these plants are completely lost and I'm desperate to try a dish made out of them.

Dream Drink: I have no idea. Mammoth milk?

Dream Dessert: Now, because I'm pretty sure none of the stuff on my list actually tastes very good I'm going to go ahead and choose something actually tasty to help get the taste of dead dinosaur out of my mouth. My favorite dessert is lemonade cake. It's a confetti cake that has been soaked in condensed lemonade. It's sickeningly sweet, super sour, and topped with an incredibly large amount of whipped cream :)

Tagging, absolutely no pressure: I'm thinking @herbirdglitter cause you always like the archaeology stuff and @val-bespoke because you know I love talking to you about foods which foods we can't possibly believe the other person hasn't tried

[dirtyvulture]

😎 Hello lovely people !!!!!!!!!! It is opening day for baseball , so I am just hanging out with my dad (baseball is my dad’s FAVORITE sport) and we have a tradition of hotdogs all day on opening day. Plus my nephew is VERY CLOSE , my sister has experience Braxton Hicks  ( false contractions/ false labor) soooo we are VERY EXCITED!!!!!!!!! I think this is cause for some silly little thoughts for both DK and SB AUs to celebrate.

I have talked about Wolvie enjoying sports before and how some of her kids would sit with her enjoying the game . Baseball was invented ( hugely believed) sometime in the 1850s , it became popular during the war ( civil war) and became America’s pass time when the league ( National) began in 1876( there was a bunch of other leagues and one of them started in 1867) . I think Wolvie really likes Baseball and even played it a bit during the war ( remember when the civil war was happening she was dressed as a man and fighting it as a soldier, not a nurse like all the other wars ) . She has watched opening day every year and eats hotdogs all day and of course she also drinks some beer too. Kit is from America ( he was from Texas and that became a state in 1845) but he disappeared from time in 1857 so he knows nothing about his own country’s pass time , R would be RANING to take him to a baseball game opening day and getting him and R beer and hotdogs ( telling him he has to part take in HIS country’s pastime and eat the traditional food too) . R has DEFINITELY delivered babies before, all throughout time ( as a nurse and before than too) . R is unfazed by it but she STILL gets so excited to meet new life and has always loved babies and children. She doesn’t talk about it but it affects her DEEPLY if she can’t save a baby or the mom for whatever reason ( she has lived through a time when birth complications were VERY REAL and common) . She gets sad and kinda shuts down a little bit for a while.

In the SB universe , ( I was talking with a friend of mine about this. But SB and their dad , didn’t have a …….. good relationship with their father let’s say) I think that opening day and just watching a baseball game in general was one of the ….. peaceful or pleasant experiences that SB and Sarah has with their dad. They (Sarah and SB ) watched opening day with their dad every year growing up , when they were separated and then when they made amends they continued watching opening day ( eating hotdogs and drinking beer of course) . Now that Sarah is married and has her son , SB has Nat ( and Yelena and Kate of course invites themselves along) it is just one great big house full of people for opening day , eating hotdogs and drinking beer ( Sarah’s son is obliviously getting baby food and drinks) . SB and Sarah wouldn’t trade it for the whole world. When Sarah was close to having her son SB was sooo excited and when Sarah had Braxton Hicks SB was just the EDGE OF THEIR SET !!!!!!

Ps I know that talked about Kit Morris a bit here but I have been talking to my friend ALOT so I don’t know what I have talked about here and what I talked about here . This takes place when Kit and R have reunited and are just generally hanging out. My sister is due April 10 so 12 ( give or take) days until my nephew is born!!!!!!!!!! Have a lovely day everyone.

This is a little late but I hope you had an excellent baseball viewing :)

Wolvie!R is super competitive, she definitely enjoyed watching playing sports throughout her life. And god forbid she ever tried to enter a hot dog eating contest, she would absolutely SMOKE the competition. :)

I think it would be so cute for all the different couples/families to get together and celebrate. :) I hope holiday parties are just the same.

Yayyy! Your nephew is almost here. 🥰

[love-kurdt]

... Then Who Am I Related To? (byler)

it's thanksgiving 1990. shit inevitably goes down at the wheelers' dinner table.

this is a prequel of sorts to this is me trying, which you'll need to read before this, as context from TIMT is used throughout.

word count: 4,680

warnings: underage drinking, use of the f slur

ficlet ao3 link

I’d been home for less than 48 hours, and I was already itching to get back to Indianapolis. I’d forgotten what it was like to have a curfew. I’d forgotten what it was like to share a bathroom with multiple females. I’d forgotten what it was like to not have an individual landline. I’d forgotten what it was like to sleep alone. I’d forgotten what it was like to live in a small town and therefore be unable to go to a random shop and use my fake ID to get liquor. I’d forgotten what it was like to have to sit down at family meals and listen to my dad rant about the AIDS epidemic and how fags were ruining America. I’d forgotten what it was like to live a singular mile away from… him, and to not be able to do anything about it. To put it simply, home didn’t feel like home anymore.

Which was why it was so strange that I was in the kitchen, helping my mom prepare Thanksgiving dinner. Well, one dish for Thanksgiving dinner. I had volunteered to make the mashed potatoes, and for some fucking reason, Mom had let me. I felt badly for her, and was surprised when she accepted my help so willingly. It made sense, though, since Mom was always the only one making the food, as Holly was still a kid, Nancy couldn’t cook for shit, and Dad couldn’t be bothered to lift even a pinky finger. Besides, I had a decent understanding of one specific recipe I’d learned a few years ago. So, as simple as mashed potatoes were, I figured my help could take a small burden off her shoulders.

It also helped me avoid the urge to go up to my room and drink whatever alcohol I had left in my bag until I saw double. I’d been on a good streak: twelve hours. Twelve whole hours. The last time I’d had anything was when I’d first arrived in the driveway of my childhood home a day prior, taken a swig of vodka from one of my many flasks, shoved a piece of gum in my mouth, and vowed to myself that I’d never drink again. And so far, I’d kept to my word.

“Mike, can you call the others and set the table for me?” Mom asked from where she stood at the stove, whisking the dark brown gravy in a saucepan. I pulled the hand mixer I’d been using out of the pot, resting it on its side on the counter. I took a few steps toward her and peered over to the saucepan, the scent of pure sodium and chicken broth meeting my nostrils and bringing a smile to my face.

Being away for so long gave me a much stronger sense of appreciation for my mom and all she’d done for me growing up; I definitely took Mom’s cooking for granted when I was a kid. I missed eating food that wasn’t boxed mac and cheese on a regular basis. “You’re doing an awesome job, Mom,” I said, surprising myself with my own words. Mom looked up at me with an even brighter smile than my own, her eyes lighting up with a kind of joy that I hadn’t seen from her in a long time.

“Oh, thank you, sweetie! You’ve been a really big help, too!” she replied, and reached up and brought her hand to my cheek. I leaned into the touch before lightly shaking my head.

“They’re just mashed potatoes. You made a fucking feast.”

“Language,” Mom habitually reprimanded, smile noticeably remaining on her lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” I chuckled, sauntering out of the kitchen and into the foyer. I took a deep breath before bellowing, “DINNER’S READY, Y’ALL.” I headed back into the kitchen to grab the dishes and fix the place settings on the dining room table.

Once everything was in position, all of us pulled our chairs out and sat down; Dad at the head of the table, Mom and Holly on one side, and Nancy and I on the other. The next few minutes were madness as we loaded our plates with food that we knew we’d have leftovers of for the next week. Mom cleared her throat, folding her hands as if saying “grace” was an everyday thing. I couldn’t even begin to recall the last time I’d prayed. Wait. Actually…

“Enough. You’ve done enough.”

“Please, God, help me wake up. Jesus, Allah, Yahweh, whoever the hell you are, if you even exist at all… if this is real life, please kill me. I can’t live like this.”

Yup. The last time I’d prayed was in March. The 22nd of March, to be exact. I may have sought out this memory on my own accord, but now, I had no desire to remember it anymore. Fuck, why didn’t I bring my flask with me to the table? Oh, right, because I’d promised himself that I wouldn’t drink again.

“Dear Lord, bless the meal we are about to receive,” Mom began, and I shut my eyes tightly, shielding my face with my interlaced fingers. “Thank you for this time spent with all three of our children together under one roof. Thank you for keeping them safe and protected while they are away at school. Please watch over them as they return for the last few weeks of the semester. Amen.”

“Amen,” Dad and Holly repeated, and I took note of the fact that Nancy and I were the only ones who hadn’t said “amen” out loud. Weird. I felt Nancy’s foot nudge mine, and I realized that the prayer had ended and I still had my head in my hands. I could have easily fallen asleep like that.

“Yet here we are, baby. Time flies when you’re blackout drunk.”

Feeling a little uneasy at the idea of Elvis Kuiken’s voice infiltrating my thoughts, I shifted my gaze back to my mom in order to engage in the small talk that was currently happening. Hopefully the conversation at the table wouldn’t veer too much into How’s School™ territory. Because I wouldn’t have much to say. I was still trying to figure out how to announce the fact that I was most likely going to be dropping out of college at the end of the semester. And I wasn’t even near ready to explain the reasons why I was doing so.

How could I even attempt to explain? “Hey Mom and Dad, I’m dropping out of college. You’re probably thinking, Why are you dropping out of college, Michael? Well, for starters, I fell in love with and was subsequently rejected by my best friend in the entire world– you know, the kid who was always coloring at our kitchen table– yeah, that one. Then, when I moved to Indy, I tried to fill the void that the loss of him created by drinking and hooking up with a series of men who– fun fact– all had the same initials as my ex-best friend. And then, at one point or another, the drinking and sex morphed into addictions rather than emotional crutches, and I got so depressed that I stopped going to classes, and I flunked out of literally all of them. Anyway, let’s get back to Thanksgiving, I’m fucking starving.”

Nope. I’d at least wait until after dinner to break the news. I needed to have this one last memory of my parents being proud of me, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin Mom’s hard work with my… drama. If I could even call it that.

Nancy nudged my foot again, a little harder this time. I snapped out of my thoughts to look at her. What crawled up her ass and died? I knocked my foot back at hers, a little harsher than she had, and her expression suddenly turned… hurt? What did Nancy have to be hurt over? She… Oh no. She was probably just trying to help me come back to reality. Ever since the events of the Vecnapocalypse, she’d become very familiar with my spontaneous mental dissociations. I moved my leg so our feet met gently; an apology for snapping. Silently snapping, but still. Nancy met my eyes, and offered up a light smile. Forgiveness.

“Everyone doing okay…? Everyone has something to drink? How’s the food?” Mom addressed the table, and we all nodded, unable to speak. I felt like I was in a restaurant, and the waiter or waitress had just approached our table as soon as everyone had a bite of food in their mouths. It was almost like they did it on purpose.

“Everything is delicious, mom,” Nancy reassured our mom. “The mashed potatoes are exceptionally good.”

“Aw, thank you, Nance!” the corners of Mom’s eyes crinkled as she took the compliment, “But I can’t take credit for the potatoes, those were all your brother.”

“Mike?!” Holly balked at me from across the table, her eyes going comically wide. “I didn’t know you could work a stove!” The rest of the family laughed, and I placed a hand over my heart as I feigned offense. 

“Hey! I know my way around a kitchen!” Okay, maybe I was exaggerating a little bit. Time to backtrack. “Well, all the recipes I know are pretty basic, but that was because W–” I felt my stomach twist and contort at the next word that was about to come out of my mouth. A name. His name. I hadn’t spoken it out loud since–

“Please don’t go. Hear me out. Will, you’ve got to believe me.”

“Well, I don’t, Mike. I don’t believe you.”

“Because…” Nancy prompted, leaning towards me slightly and placing a tentative hand on my shoulder. She didn’t know anything about what had gone down in August. Or did she? Well, Will probably told Jonathan, and Jonathan probably told her. Maybe it was a good thing that Nancy knew. She clearly didn’t hate me, or else she wouldn’t have put a Moral Support Hand™ on my shoulder.

All the dots in my head connected, the more I thought about it; Nancy had called to check in on me multiple times throughout my first year at the University of Indianapolis. Granted, I was usually… busy (drinking, hooking up with a guy, drunkenly hooking up a guy… or going to class, sometimes) and as a result couldn’t talk for long, but she seemed a bit… curious about my love life and well being during what was supposed to be pleasantry-filled, surface-level conversation between siblings. I never told her much, but maybe that was the key. Nancy was a journalist, after all; she probably used the process of elimination or some shit. Any girls? No, God, no. Any guys, then? Not really, no. Let’s talk about that ‘really.’ I’d rather not, Nance. Have you talked with Will lately? Oh-shit-gotta-go-bye-love-you. Yeah. She’d definitely figured it out.

“Because W–” Why was it so hard to say his name? It was one goddamn syllable. My mind certainly didn’t seem to have any trouble playing Will’s name on endless fucking loop for the past three months I’d been away. And not to mention, up until August 1989, I’d been saying that name out loud since I was five years old.

“Because W-Will…” There we fucking go, was that so difficult? Yes. I wanted to die. “Will didn’t trust me to not burn down the kitchen.” I let out a shaky breath, expelling the rest of the air I hadn’t been aware I was holding in my lungs. I cleared my throat, gripping the fork in my hand with an iron fist, and stabbed it into the gigantic pile of stuffing on my plate.

“Hmm, come to think of it, Michael… I haven’t seen Will around here in a while,” Mom said more to herself than to me, but the second our eyes met, my stomach plummeted out of my ass. “Are you guys still not talking? I would’ve assumed you two had made up by now. I know you two were inseparable.” Way to rub salt in the wound, Mom. Jesus.

“Yeah, no. We still aren’t talking,” I said, but figured my mom’s next question would go along the lines of me and Will reconciling eventually, so I added, “And I don’t think we will any time soon. We…”

“Broke up? About time,” Dad joined the conversation for the first time since we’d all sat down, not counting the grunts and hums any time someone addressed him directly. Dad’s bluntness caught me so off guard that I choked and nearly sprayed cranberry sauce out of my nose.

“Ted!” Mom exclaimed– her response to anything out of pocket that my dad said, which was pretty much any time he ever opened his mouth. I grabbed my glass of water and chugged it, still recovering from my near death experience by cranberry sauce.

“What?” he tossed a hand in my direction. “You can’t seriously tell me those two weren’t… gay… together.” Well, he got one of two things right, and not the one I preferred.

“We weren’t,” I replied, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “Will and I were never together. And I’m… I’m not gay.” Will Byers, Elvis Kuiken, Wyatt Bowman, Wes Butler, Walker Brooks, and Warren Blakely would beg to differ. But Dad didn’t have to know about any of that.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Dad shrugged, shoving an abnormally large chunk of turkey in his mouth. I narrowed my eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dad waved his fork around, pointing it at me as he replied oh-so-nonchalantly, “I’ll believe that you aren’t gay when you marry a woman.”

I gulped and desperately shot my eyes across the table to my mom, hoping that she would come to my defense somehow. It turned out that she had already been looking at me, and we gained eye contact accompanied by a silent understanding.

Please don’t tell him.

I won’t, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to get him to stop.

Right then, I had never been so glad my mom had found me having that panic attack on the day Will left. If she hadn’t, she never would have known about my sexual identity, and we probably wouldn’t be as close as we were now.

“Ted, don’t be ridiculous. You don’t know what you’re–”

“Of course I do, Karen! I’m not blind!” Dad effectively cut Mom off. “Michael isn’t in his right mind, hasn’t been for years. That boy corrupted our son with his… homosexuality.” My mom drew her focus back to me, her expression apologetic. Well… she tried.

“Dad, tell me you’re not truly that dense,” my older sister piped up from her spot next to me. My neck nearly cracked with how fast I whipped it to look at her. Was Nancy standing up for me?

“This is none of your concern,” Dad muttered with a tone that said, that’s that, end of conversation, but Nancy shook her head, lifting her elbows up so they collided with the surface of the wooden table with a sharp thunk.

“It is when you’re acting like a bigot and ridiculing my brother at the dinner table.”

“Thank you, Nancy,” I breathed, and she only nodded back at me, as if calling our father a bigot was comparable to a fucking walk in the park.

“Seriously, Dad,” Nancy continued, reaching out to her wine glass, “what is your problem?” I tried not to think too hard about the glass of red wine meeting Nancy’s lips, because Jesus Christ, of all times to lose sight of the situation at hand in favor of a glass of motherfucking merlot, this was not it.

“Maybe we should all just–” Mom, ever the peacekeeper, tried to diffuse the tension.

“I’ll tell you what, Michael,” Dad’s droning voice caught my attention, “I wouldn’t be surprised if one of these days you walk in and tell us you’ve got that disease. If not from the Byers boy, then from some other faggot.”

Mom shocked everyone at the table when she slammed her fork down onto her plate, the gold-plated utensil clanging against the expensive china. “Ted, that’s enough.”

“What? I’m just saying, Karen, all this gay nonsense is gonna… you know.” Another piece of turkey, down the hatch. “Bite him in the ass, literally speaking.”

I had finally had it. “Fuck you.”

“Michael,” Dad said, not looking up from his food, “Again.”

“Yeah, language. I fucking know,” I retorted with a roll of my eyes, pushing myself back from my spot at the table and standing up, so I towered over the rest of my family. My focus reached my father’s eyes, and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to pull a Vecna and explode them with my mind.

“Michael James, sit down. Now. It’s a holiday, for Christ’s sake,” Dad stared back up at me with a sense of mutual disdain, and I slammed his hand down on the back of the chair.

“No. No goddamn way. I’m not going to just sit here and take your shit anymore. I’m done. Happy fucking Thanksgiving. How’s that for language, Theodore? Fucking prick.”

With that, I stalked away from the table, taking the stairs two steps at a time up to my room, and slamming the door behind me. So much for announcing my status as College Dropout™. They were probably better off basking in their ignorance. I leaned against the door, dragging my hands down my neck and shoulders in an attempt to contain my boiling rage. But it didn’t help.

Fuck it.

I shuffled through my backpack, muttering to myself while trying to find… where was it? What if someone… Oh, thank God. It was still there. I pulled my bunched up socks out of my bag, unfolding them. I twisted the top off of my flask quickly, not even flinching at the sensation of straight tequila flowing down my throat as I tipped the flask upside down. The alcohol didn’t even burn anymore. Mike from a year and a half ago would have freaked the fuck out at this realization, but current me simply couldn’t bring myself to care.

I finished the flask off within the next few minutes. I sat down on my bed, waiting for the buzz to set in. Fifteen minutes went by, then twenty. Nothing. The flask had been full. My tolerance must have increased again. I let out a groan of frustration as I got off my bed once more and reached under my bed for my duffle bag. I pulled out my untouched bottle of Fireball Cinnamon Whisky and chuckled wryly to myself. Fireballs were always Will’s spell of choice. I unscrewed the cap, raised the bottle with cheers to Will, wherever the fuck he was on this fine Thanksgiving evening, and drank until I passed out.

I woke up a while later, and thankfully, it was still dark outside. It was always the worst when I’d knock out, wake up at the ass crack of dawn, and not be able to fall back asleep. Fuck, what time was it? I glanced over at my alarm clock, which read “11:16.” I’d been out for almost four hours.

I took a look around my room and sighed down into my hands. I had a mild headache, but not enough to warrant going to the bathroom cabinet to grab an Advil. I’d survive. I dropped my hands into my lap and took a deep breath in. Tonight was a fucking shitshow. I leaned down to grab my backpack, pulled my spiral-bound notebook and a pen out, and opened up to the next clean page. The notebook itself was getting thin, since I’d pulled so many letters out of it over the past year. I uncapped my pen, set the felt tip down on the paper, and began to write.

Dear Will, I think my family might have set the record tonight for the worst Thanksgiving gathering in all of Indiana. Maybe even the Midwest. Dare I say the U.S.? I should call Guinness and try to set up a meeting. But in all seriousness, I think I’ve reached the final straw with my dad. He’s so homophobic, Will. I–

I brushed a few tears away that had gathered in my eyes. God, I hated crying.

I have no idea what I’m gonna do. It’s so hard to wrap my head around. And the only reason why I have to maintain contact with him is because of my mom. They unfortunately come as a package deal, or not at all. He can never know about me, which I’m fully aware is a given, but like… how am I supposed to keep my dad in my life if he can’t accept the biggest part of it? And it physically hurts to think about if I eventually have to cut my mom off. I–

A light knocking at the door startled me out of my groove, causing me to slam my notebook shut at lightning speed. Who was knocking at the door? It couldn’t be my mom, because she still didn’t knock. It couldn’t be Nancy, because her knocks were more frequent and persistent. And it obviously wasn’t my dad. So that left…

I got up from my bed and turned on my lamp, padding toward the door and opening it a crack. Holly. What was she doing up so late? And what was she doing in my doorway, of all places?

“Can I come in?” she whispered, anxiously picking at her fingernails in the dim light of the upstairs hallway, teetering back and forth in her pink fuzzy socks. I couldn’t say no, even if I wanted to.

“Of course, Holls,” I smiled, stepping aside and pulling the door a bit further so she could tiptoe into my bedroom. She surveyed the space, which she probably regarded with disgust at how cluttered it was. I crossed my arms over my chest, sniffing involuntarily. The sound prompted Holly’s head to whip upwards and peer up at me with narrowed eyes.

“Are you crying?”

I quickly denied any and all accusations, slapping my palms onto my face in an attempt to dry the tears that apparently still lingered there. “No, God no,” I muttered, “I just… got some hairspray in my eye.”

“It’s 11:30pm,” Holly stated, point blank. “You’re crying.”

Well, no use in lying now. “You caught me,” I confessed, and Holly crossed her arms with a satisfied expression plastered across her face, as if to say, I told you so.

“Is it because of Dad?” she asked, and I slowly nodded in confirmation.

“Kind of, yeah,” I said, walking back to my bed and sitting on the edge, patting the spot next to me. “But I don’t want you to worry about this kind of thing. You’re–”

“I’m ten, Mike,” Holly said as she sat down beside me, and my eyes went wide at that absolutely batshit insane fact, “Only one year younger than you were when everything started with the Upside Down.” Yeah, Holly, I get it, you’re not my baby sister anymore, and that hurts like a bitch. Your point? “Whatever you’re upset about, I promise I can handle it.”

Well, that hit him like a load of bricks. My little sister had grown up. I nudged her shoulder with my own. “When did you become so wise and well-spoken?” I teased.

“I have a kickass big brother to look up to,” Holly smiled back up at me, and my heart sank a little bit. “He’s gonna be a famous writer someday.” If only she knew the reality.

I shook my head, shifting back a little bit in order to face her completely. “First of all, I’m not kickass, I’m an idiot on steroids. Second of all, you’re being way too nice to me when I absolutely do not deserve it. And third of all, lang–”

“Fuck, shit, bitch, ass, twat. See? God didn’t smite me dead,” Holly replied, as if she’d had that locked and loaded in her mental arsenal, ready to use on the day that I finally scolded her use of profanity. I burst out laughing. The two of us relished in that moment before the mood shifted once more back into a much darker, melancholic state.

“I stand by my original statement: you are kickass, and I look up to you,” Holly confessed, her eyes focused on the wall in front of her. She reached out for my hand, and I looked down then. My hands really were giant, Will wasn’t kidding.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” I replied, my voice low. I reached over to my nightstand for the Fireball bottle, taking a swig to try and prove my point.

“Why not?” Did she seriously not get it? Because I’m drunk right now and have been since March, I wanted to say. But I wouldn’t. That was too much to unpack right now. So I told her a… partial truth.

“Because… because Dad was right.”

“Right about… what?”

“That I like guys.” A beat of silence followed, the air thin as my will to live.

“What’s wrong with that?” my sister asked, and I huffed out a sigh at her innocence. She probably had no idea what our dad and I had been talking about earlier. I debated ending the conversation right then and there, but if I knew one thing about Holly, it was that she was headstrong like no other.

“I like them romantically, Holly.” Another pause.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

I went to take another sip of whisky, but then Holly said something that made me choke on air before I could.

“Is it actually Will?”

“God, Holly!” I exclaimed, setting the bottle down as I glared at her. “What the hell?!”

“I’m— I’m sorry!” she raised her hands in surrender. “It’s just, I thought… I thought you were just lying to Dad as a cover.” I shook my head. “So you two never dated?”

“I loved him— still love him,” I admitted, “But… we never… He broke my heart.”

“I’m so sorry,” Holly said, and lifted a Moral Support Hand™ to my shoulder. I had never felt so relieved that Dad hadn’t gotten to her yet. There was still hope.

“It’s fine,” I said, practically on default, and Holly frowned in response.

“Not really,” she looked down at her fidgeting hands– something we had in common with each other. “You’ve been sad for a while now. I can tell.”

“Yeah, well… I deserve it,” I shrugged. But that only made Holly’s grip on my shoulder get tighter. She evidently wasn’t planning to let this go any time soon.

“No you don’t. Mike, you deserve so much b–”

“Forget it, Holly, okay?!” I snapped then, shoving her hand off my shoulder in a quick burst of anger that came and went in a second. “I did this to myself. I– Fuck. Just… go away.”

“O…kay,” Holly hesitated, getting up and walking towards the door. I didn’t want her to go, but I’d scared her away. I’d done the same thing with the rest of the Party (They’d called me the other day, trying to make plans to hang out over the long weekend. When I asked if he would be there and they said yes, I snapped and said, “I don’t know why the hell you’re even asking, then.”), My friends knew that Will and I had ended things on a terrible note, but my response was totally unwarranted, and I knew it. I regretted my words the second they came out of my mouth, and right now, I felt like I was experiencing déjà vu.

“Um… goodnight, Mike. Please know that I’m here if you ever want to talk. I hope things get better for you.”

I lowered my head down onto my pillow, and waited for Holly to close the door before whispering a quiet and remorseful, “Me too, kiddo.”

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Two Plus Two

This is for my GF @femjaskierinreallife

We're sitting in a cozy pub in Edinborough. Vacation with you so far seems like paradise. I could not be happier.

The waitress brings us the nacho's we ordered and you are people watching. I smile at the waitress and lean against you. "What you looking at?" I cooe. "That guy at the bar looks like Gerard Butler." You whisper. I try to be subtle about looking over at the guy at the bar, clad in a shirt of some band or the other and a fucking kilt.

He's looking our way, though and his eyes meet mine. I quickly look away, but do not miss him nudging the man beside him. "Omg, he is pointing us out." You squeak in my ear. "Oh and his friend is hot." I look again. And Gods, you are right. His friend is fucking glorious. "One for thee and one for me." I whisper.

My gaze meet the hot friend's and he grins lopsidedly. I flush darkly. You giggle in my ear. "Should we?" You ask. "I mean .. if they game." I whisper. I can't help but giggle wildly along with you. My heart is racing about a million miles per hour.

My hand finds your thigh and I give you a squeeze.

"I can lure them in." You whisper. "You make it sound like they are animals." I titter. "Well, maybe they will be." You lean in, pecking my neck. I notice that while you do this, you keep eye contact with the man that looks so awfully much like Gerry Butler. I can't help a little moan.

The man's friend looks at us, too.

"We got their attention." You murmur, nipping my ear. A genuine moan passes from my lips. Both men look at me now. My fluster darkens again. They come over and take two chairs from the neighbouring table. The Gerry Butler lookalike sits his wrong side front. His friend, taller, more imposing, keeps a bit off to the side.

"Are the lovely ladies vacationing here, or new in town." The Scotsman asks. His voice sounds suspiciously much like Gerard Butler indeed. I can feel you grin against my neck. "We are on holiday." I affirm. "My friend is too." The Scot gestures to his friend.

Is two plus two four, here?

"I am Tessa and this is my girlfriend Tonya." I cooe. "Nice to meet you, lasses. I am Gerard and this is my friend Pablo." The Scotsman smirks.

So two plus two is four.

You begin to giggle again and I feel my ears heat up. "So nice to meet you, gentlemen." I try to sound demure. I probably miss the mark, but both Gerard and Pablo grin at me. You cuddle in as close as you can get, inching Gerard up. He meets you eye and his tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip.

"Can I get yous something to drink." He rumbles. "Oh yes please." You affirm. "That would be nice." I agree. "What would you like?" Pablo looks me in the eye as he asks it. "He liiiikes you." You singsong ever so softly in my ear. "I'd like a cider please and my girlfriend takes a tequilla." I reply. Pablo nods and gets up, sauntering to the bar. I can't help but gaze at his ass. He has a great ass.

"He likes you."Gerard echoes your words.

I decide carefully on my next words. I don't want to give the gentlemen the impression we aren't open to them. You have made it evident we are more than friends, after all. And so have I..

"I am very flattered, I like him too." I say gently. "That is always nice to hear." Pablo comes back to our small table, placing down your tequilla and my cider. His eyes linger on both of us. The he gives Gerard a lil smack on the shoulder and goes back to bar to retrieve two glasses of whiskey.

"Where you lasses from?" Gerard asks. "I'm Dutch and Tonya is from America." I reply. "Met online, been smitten with her for years." You supply. "So, long distance?" Gerard furrows his brows. Pablo places one glass of whiskey in front of Gerard and sits down again. "For now, yes." I answer, barely able to tear my eyes away from Pablo. He smiles brightly at me.

"So, who moves where?" Pablo asks. "Tonya will move to The Netherlands." I purr. "Oh, big plan?" Gerard grins. "Nothing solid yet, but I'm definitely gona marry her." You reply. "Lucky girl." Gerard winks at you. "Who, me, or her?" You tease. Gerard laughs heartily. "Both." Pablo supplies.

You down your tequila and I sip my cider. The men both sip their whiskey and we exchange pleasantries. We talk about basic things and gentle nothings. We are all avoiding the genuine subject we want to talk about.

It is Gerard who broaches it first. "So, your hotel nearby?" He asks. "Wana come?" You cooe. "Getting straight to the point, I like it." Gerard smirks. "Straight, us... oh please." You titter. I can help a manic giggle. "We should finish our drinks first." I say. "I already did." You giggle as well. I snortle and roll my eyes. I know what tequilla does to you.

I sip my cider and you snuggle into me with a loud giggle. You're obviously becoming horny, rather swiftly. I am not complaining. I feel both men watch us with rapt attention. Your lips venture along my neck and I grit my teeth in order not to moan too eagerly. You giggle louder and nip at my skin. I gasp in pleasure. I can feel you smirk. I put my hand on your thigh, sliding upwards. You squirm against me. It would seem we are putting up a show. We are letting these men know what we are made of. What is in store for them.

Gerard leans forward on the backrest of his seat. He smirks widely. "Go on, kiss her." He encourages you. "I could also kiss you." You tease him. Gerard grins widely at you. "No no, ladies first." He murmurs. "Save us for in the hotelroom, yeah." He sips his whiskey. "Fine be my." I cooe. Pablo nods his ascend as well.

I cup your cheek and draw you in for a kiss. You grin against my lips. I taste tequilla on your tongue and squeeze your thigh.

Pablo and Gerard finish their whiskey and I have to gulp down my cider, because I don't want to dilly-dally too long. Gerard rises to pay the tab, which we are of course not protesting.

And not much later we are on our way to our hotelroom.

We're taking up the entire cobbled road, but there is no traffic. I'm holding your hand, but converse with Pablo. You talk with Gerard. I'm trying to keep an ear on your convo, but I just can't. I am so absorbed by Pablo. Everything about him hits just right. And he smiles so warmly down on me. He puts his hand on the small of my back, his body heat seeping into my shirt.

It is only a little while till we arrive at our hotel. I pull my keycard from the case of my phone and use it to open the automatic front door. Both gentlemen crowd us into the elevator and you hit the button for our floor.

The elevator is small and we are all pressed together quite close. You can feel Gerard has an erection, even through the denim of his denim shorts. His breath fans over your face. We are still holding hands. I'm leaning my forehead against Pablo's chest, inhaling his scent. He wraps my long ginger braid around his hand. My breath hitches a little. Pablo chuckles and gives a slow gentle tug. I can't help a moan. You and Pablo swear simultaneously.

The elevator dings and Gerard and Pablo exit, walking backwards. We eagerly follow. We shove playfully past them and lead them to our hotel room.

I unlock the door, forfeiting your hand and gesturing you through first. Gerard follows immediately after, giving you a firm slap on the arse. Pablo walks past me, giving me a lustful look. I smirk up at him.

You are already on the bed when I close the door and toe out of my shoes. Pablo kicks off his shoes as well. Gerard stands by the edge of the bed, as though he is waiting for his cue. "Take off your shoes." I make it a very clear order. You shudder in anticipation. Gerard looks over his shoulder and furrows his brow at me. "Oh she is sooo in charge." You titter. "Oh is she now." Gerard toes out of his shoes and joins you on the bed.

"You're the smallest one here." Pablo puts his hands on my shoulders, standing behind me. His warm and scent surround me. I heave a happy little sigh. "Yes I know, I am short, and bossy." I cooe. "But you are so good." You add lustily. "Why thank you baby." I purr.

Pablo squeezes my shoulders and I lean back into him.

"What are you waiting for?" I ask Gerard. He raises his brow at me. "Do what you want." I make it another order. Gerard chuckles huskily. "I think we got our work cut out for us." he tells Pablo. "I can handle some work." Pablo replies. Gerard climbs into bed with you. You open your arms for him. "Eager, are you?" He growls, his accent deepening a little. "Oh you havee no idea." I cooe.

"Can he please kiss me now." You pout. "I don't know, can he?" I smirk. "Please, Mommah, please." You whine. "Mommah?" Both men chorus. "I hear an echoe." I chuckle. "Go on, kiss her." I firmly order Gerard. "Just don't make me call you mommah, too." Gerard chuckles, before climbing on top of you. "I wouldn't dare." I lean back against Pablo.

You put your arms around Gerard's neck and tease the hair in his nape. Gerard groans and leans his forehead against yours. You whine softly and arch into him. "Needy little kitten." I remark. "Very needy." Gerard agrees. He closes the distance then, finally putting you out of your misery. You whimper against his lips. You feel his strength, surrounded with his warmth and his scent. Gerard is very eager, licking at the seam of your lips. You open up for him, meeting his tongue eagerly with your own. He tastes like whiskey and churros. You moan softly.

"You want to watch?" Pablo asks me.

I turn slowly to him. "I'd rather get some myself." I purr, cupping his cheek. Pablo chuckles huskily and cups my cheek. "Then get some." He rumbles. I stand on my very tippy toes. Pablo closes his eyes. I close the last distance, pressing my lips against his. He heaves a soft sigh and presses down against me. I moan sweetly into his mouth.

He begins backing me up to the bed. I let him.

I lay down beside you. Pablo is on me again, at once. I run one hand into his dark hair and search out yours with my other. You squeeze my hand. I moan excitement coarsing through my veins with the fact we are going to experience this together.

Gerard presses himself down on you. You buck your pelvis up at him. He groans and begins to grind. You make a soft whining sound and his tongue caresses yours. His hand slowly starts at your clothes, tugging and fiddling. You are not working with him, not yet. That would ruin all the tension and half the fun. And you don't want to get ahead of me by too much. You know I do warm up quick, but reach the finish line much slower.

Pablo nudges my legs open with his knee and nests between my thighs. I moan lewdly, the noise making you yet wetter. Pablo groans back at me, grinding down. "Let's get em undressed." Gerard growls. You giggle. "Yeah, we are all easy access and they are too hard to get to." You agree. "I was actually refering to you and your girl." Gerard tells you huskily. "Well, Tessa first, then." You cooe.

You're in naught but a tight dress and panties, where as I am wearing booty shorts, boxers, calvins and a tank. I am most certainly wearing more.

"I am not in a hurry." I murmur, kissing along Pablo's jaw. "But you defo need longer to heat up." You pout. I reach out and pull you into a slow, lewd kiss. "This is not a race. Enjoy this man, enjoy me." I purr. "Yes mommy." You cooe. "Good kitten." I purr. We kiss once more and I hear both men suck in their breath.

You feel Gerard's hand slowly creep up your thigh. You giggle and close your thighs on his hand. Gerard gruns, groping you lewdly, though he does not yet press his ascend. Pablo rucks up my shirt, pulling it up over my calvins. "Lookie there." He growls. "You like?" I cooe, barely breaking the kiss. "Fuck yeah." Pablo growls, yank down my bralette, my breasts popping free. He groans and lewdly gropes at my chest. His hands are vast and strong and I feel deliciously tiny.

You break away from the kiss to happily watch Pablo grope me. "Her nipples are very sensitive." You tell him playfully. Pablo casts his eyes to you. "Are yours?" He asks. You shake your head. "Shame." Gerard murmurs. But he pulls your dress up till your collarbones either way. You gasp in faux indignation. "You have great tits, baby." I cooe, pulling you into another kiss. "Gona cover them in hickies anyway." Gerard leans in.

The Scotsman's lips connect to the skin between your breasts. He sucks and then nips. His beard scratches at your skin. You press yourself against him, breath growing deeper. "Feels good, doesn't it." I purr. "Y-yeah.. Yes it does." You mewl. "Good, that is good to hear." I cooe, stroking your cheek.

Pablo leans down to seal his lips over my nipples. I moan eagerly. "Sounds good, huh?" You taunt Pablo. "Fuck she does." Pablo growls against my breast. He nips my tender flesh and his hand sinks to my shorts. I will most certainly not manage to stay clothes for long now. And I know neither will you.

Because Gerard's pulls your dress up over your head, tossing it away. "Hmm, pretty soft skin." He growls, leaning in again to nip along your neck. You whine softly and squirm below him. You can feel your insides begin to throb. You wriggle, so his thigh is between your legs, pressed up against your panties. "Tell him what you want." I order. You whine softly in reply.

I stroke your cheek. "I know it is hard, but you will be rewarded." I cooe. "But mommaaah." You whimper. Gerard grabs you by the face, making you look up at him. "Tell me." He orders. You squirm against his thigh. He tenses his muscle and leans a bit into it. Softly you mewl, rocking your pelvis against him. "That what you need?" He growls. "Y-ye-yes." You stammer. "Good kitten." I purr. Gerard begins to grind his thigh against your clothed cunt. You let out a soft gasp and roll your pelvis expertly. "Good kitten." Gerard growls. The sound of his voice shakes you to your core. "M-more." You stammer. "No, not yet, let your girl catch up." Gerard smirks, shaking his head.

"Imma take my sweet damn time now." Pablo chuckles, sucking a hicky on my breast. I moan, raking my nails over his scalp. "Fuck, I love how loud you are." He grunts. His lips close on my other nipple and I mewl, pressing his face against my tender flesh. He groans eagerly. "I love your noises, too." I cooe. Pablo grins and gives my nipple a firm nip. I squeal lewdley.

My sounds and Gerard's thigh are pushing you rapidly to the edge. "S-so close." You whisper. "What more do you need?" Gerard asks. You meekly shake your head. "Ju-just more.." You whine. "More of the same?" Gerard raises his eyebrows. "More of the same." I affirm. So Gerard grinds himself more firmly against you. You feel his cock through the cloth of his kilt. You squirm, eager to feel him inside you.

You trail your hands down his broad back, to his kilt. You flip the tartan cloth up, to discover your fingers slide across naked skin. This pushes you impossibly closer to the edge. "Ah-almost." You gasp. Your inner walls are already tightening on nothing. You whine at how empty you feel.

"She is so ready to cum." I encourage Gerard. He yanks down your panties, pushing his bare thigh against your naked cunt. A few more grinds does the trick very well and you shudder and spasm as you cum. "Isn't that good. Such a good kitten." I murmur, stroking your hair and your face. "I want to cum again." You whisper. "I'm sure Gerard will open up, before he gives you his cock." I purr. "Of course I will." Gerard agrees.

He fully pulls off your dress and panties and backs up a little to gaze down on you. "Oh, I do like what I see." He grows, in a deeper accent than afore. "Thank you sir." You mewl. "You're good girl. ain't ya." Gerard chuckles. "Today I am." You agree. "Just today?" Gerard furrows his brow. You giggle and draw down his kilt. "Just for you." You tease.

Gerard shirks his kilt and begins at his shirt. You tense a little in anticipation.

"Waaaay ahead of us." Pablo jokes.

"We'll put on a show once they are done." I tease. "No need to play catch up, huh?" Pablo rumbles. "Take your time on me." I encourage him. He groans, nuzzling his face between my breasts. "Gladly." He growls. His huge hand trails to my hip. He hooks his fingers into my shorts, making the button pop on own accord. "Eager, huh?" He growls. "For you, of course." I reply. He pulls down my shorts and my boxers. "Fuuuck." He groans, his eyes casting down to my cunt.

"Glistening already." He taunt.

"She's like, always wet." You inform him. Pablo bites his lip and pulls my folds apart with one big thumb. "Pretty pink pussy." He growls. "Now what was that about catching up?" Gerard chuckles. "Not gona work either way." You reply. "No?" Pablo frowns at me. I shake my head. "I take a good while to get there." I say softly, hoping it doesn't disappoint Pablo. "I'll put my full focus on it, then." He rumbles, putting all my worries to rest.

He kisses down my belly. I moan softly, seeking out your hand. You twine your fingers with mine. We squeeze each other's hands.

Gerard runs his thumb from the top of your folds to halfway down, pushing on. Slowly he pushes in. "Fek you are tight." He pushes on, his thumb into you as far as he can manage. You rock your pelvis into his touch. "Good kitten." Gerard growls. I squeeze your hand. I let you know I am with you all the way, no matter who you choose to focus on most. No matter who I choose to focus on most. We do this together, we enjoy this together. No matter who cums when, or with whom.

Gerard pulls his thumb from you, replacing it with his middlefinger. The digit is thick and dexterous. He fucks you slowly with it, making that come hither movement. It does not take you long to cum again, squirming and squeezing my hand. "So pretty when you cum." I whisper, pulling you into a kiss.

I moan against your lips when I feel Pablo part my folds with his tongue. He swiftly finds my clit, sucking down on it. Wetness gushes thickly from my core. Pablo groans and licks it up. "Taste so fucking good." He groans, before he fucks me on his tongue. I let my tongue slip into your mouth in my turn, moaning loudly.

"Three times already." Gerard growls as the noises I make get you to cum again. "You better be glad I am not keeping score." He taunts Pablo, slowly working a second finger into you. You moan softly, too. Our tongues rub softly together and you reach your free hand out to my breast. I run my free hand into your hair.

"Fucking look at them, man." Gerard grunts. Pablo chuckles against my folds, sucking leisurely at my clit. You pinch my nipple and I feel my inner muscles clench on nothing. I break the kiss. "Put a finger in me." I order. Pablo obliges right away. "It is so sexy when you give orders." You purr, dipping your head down to suck on one of my nipples. I moan and firmly tug your hair. The trinity of stimuli is absolutely doing the trick for me. "That's the ticket!" I moan loudly.

My inner muscles contract on Pablo's fingers over and over again and I cum, hard. "Fuck yeah." Pablo groans.

"Now let's fuck em." Gerard says, pulling his fingers from you. You whine at the loss. Pablo nods, forfeiting my cunt as well.

They both position their cocks against our cores. "You ready for him, baby?" I cooe. "Oh yes please." You purr. "Fuck her, champ." I instruct Gerard. He of course wasted no time. And neither does Pablo, he pushes in with a deep, sated groan. "Fuck, so tight." Gerard growls. Pablo nods in agreement. "And so fucking wet." He grunts.

They fuck us, both in brutal grueling paces. I moan almost continuously and you kiss me to taste the utter lewdity of it. Pablo and Gerard groan and grunt, creating a wicked cacophony. You cum again, clinging to Gerard's cock. "Holy fek." Gerard groans. It is his undoing and he empties himself inside you.

Pablo does not seem done yet and I am no way about to cum again. But you know of course just the trick. Your hand slowly slithers down my belly, between Pablo's body and my own, to rub at my clit. I cry out, loudly. I smirk and lean in to suck on my nipple as well. I am utterly unable to control the noises I make, squealing and gasping as I am pushed into the second apex of my pleasure. "Holy shit." Pablo groans, hilting himself and spending his seed at the mouth of my womb.

Panting, we all lay beside each other. Some seed dribbled from both our pussies. You grin a sated grin at me. "Round two?" I tease, pulling you in for a kiss. Both men laugh loudly.