#he’s gonna look like. Fifty times better with paint trust me

[unknownarmageddon]

Remembered I know how to do things with clay so I’m doing things

#Armageddon rambles woah #irl bullshittery #WIP #technically #Ignore the fact that he’s missing an ear it broke off when he was baking I gotta glue it back on #he’s gonna look like. Fifty times better with paint trust me #I just got excited #He’s a bit janked but idm it captures the essence of the source material

[pricemarshfield]

i dig you

A fluff & angst Amberprice fic. Chapter 1/2. Read on AO3 here.

Chloe still seems shocked every time Rachel sits next to her at lunch. She hides it well, snarks at anyone who questions them, teases Rachel about the plays she still brings to read and reread again and again.

But Rachel's pretty insightful, and she notices when Chloe's eyes widen, when she shifts like she's not quite sure what to do, when her smile dims a little when Victoria loudly questions why Rachel's still hanging around the soon-to-be-dropout.

She's not sure what to do about it. If she just tells her no, Chloe, I do want to be here still, she's sure Chloe'd find a way to take it the wrong way, question why she needed to bring it up, deny she ever doubted it in the first place. One or all of those things. She loves her, but her abandonment issues run deep. Rachel could punch Victoria, but she'd definitely get kicked out for that, and she doesn't want to risk law school.

So she makes an effort to include Chloe in everything. Chloe sits in on rehearsals, ignoring Mr. Keaton's increasingly desperate attempts to get her to join or at least take the intro elective class. They get high in the junkyard, find a little room and make it their own with graffiti (with actual spray paint, thank you, not a Sharpie). Rachel watches Chloe's weird movies, Chloe watches Rachel's Broadway bootlegs, they listen to punk and drive around in the truck, fabric of the seat replaced so they can't see the deep, dark red stain from when she got stabbed.

It doesn't change anything. Chloe still looks at her like it'll be the last time they hang out every time they have some minor disagreement, texts a hundred times in a row begging her not to leave her every time she gets drunk without Rachel there to reassure her in person. It's...a little exhausting, if she's being honest. She loves Chloe, she wants to help her! But it's...sometimes she's just trying to have fun with some other group, and it's been three parties of that in a row.

"You texting your girlfriend?" asks some well-meaning newbie to the Vortex Club. Rachel opens her mouth to deny it, already dreading having to make herself heard over Victoria's snide commentary and Nathan's barely-veiled homophobia, but then her phone goes off again, and again, and one more time for good measure.

"I do have to take this," she says, and pretends she can't hear the conversation that kicks up before the door's fully shut behind her.

The cool, fresh air outside is refreshing, and she takes a couple deep breaths before calling Chloe.

"Rachel," Chloe says, voice slurring enough that Rachel's heart immediately kicks into a higher gear.

"Hey, Chlo," Rachel says, a nickname she has not used once in her life. "What's up?"

"Wher're you?" Chloe asks instead. Rachel doesn't hear the sound of the train, so probably not in the junkyard? But it could just not be passing.

"At Blackwell," Rachel says, which isn't, technically, a lie. She's on school grounds, and she says it casually enough that Chloe doesn't immediately push. "Do you want to come over? We could put on a movie, light some incense."

Chloe laughs, and the sound is light and easy before it cuts out abruptly. She can't hear anything on the other end.

"Chloe? Are you okay?"

"I'm fucking fine," Chloe says, and she keeps her voice quiet, so that means she's at her house. Rachel's tipsiness from earlier in the night has long since faded, she's probably good to drive, and she really, really doesn't want to leave Chloe alone. There's an edge to her voice that Rachel doesn't trust, reminds her of the fragility in her mom's voice the last time she visited before apparently disappearing off the face of the earth.

Rachel hopes she's in rehab. But she thinks Rose would tell her if that was the case.

"Okay," Rachel says. "I'd still like to hang out, if you're free."

"'Course I'm free," Chloe says. "i don't have any fuckin' friends, do I." It's not said like a question.

"You have me."

"Right," Chloe says. "Just the best of friends."

Rachel's already in the parking lot, trying to remember where the hell she'd parked the car. (Her dad's: knowing how much evidence they have on him working with Damon, he's been inclined to give her everything she wants, especially now that she's already met her mom. Rose still tries, too.) "Yeah. We're best friends, Chloe. You're the person I care about most in this shithole town."

"Yeah," Chloe says. "Yeah, when are we leaving, again? Thought you wanted to leave more than anything?"

"I did!" Rachel says, then corrects, "I do. I had to heal up after getting stabbed, remember?"

It's shitty and manipulative, but it works; Chloe's irritation switches to concern. "Yeah. I remember."

"But I am feeling better now," Rachel says. "I'm ready to go when you are."

"Now?"

"Sure," Rachel says. "Tell me where you are."

"Step-dick's house," Chloe says, quieter now. "Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it," Rachel says. "Do you still have all the clothes I packed you?"

"Yeah," Chloe says, voice hitching a little like she's about to cry. "I do."

"Awesome," Rachel says, excited despite herself. "Then I'll see you soon."

---

Rachel wants to be ready for the grand adventure with her friend at her side, but Chloe's house is more than a couple minutes' drive from Blackwell, which gives the logical parts of her plenty of time to ask her what the fuck she thinks she's doing.

They have no money. Rachel's barely gotten her first credit card, and it has, like, 1500 dollars on it. Which is a lot of money, but she's already spent some of it on alcohol, on their half-decent fakes, on Venmoing Frank for their weed or the other things she's tentatively tried. So they have about a thousand, which will cover gas to LA, at least, and probably food, and do they really need hotel rooms?

But of course they need hotel rooms, they can't just park by the side of the road in the middle-of-nowhere freeways. Those are like...fifty bucks? A hundred bucks? They can share a bed, that should make it cheaper.

So. A thousand will get them to LA. Then they'll...get jobs, Rachel guesses.

She's got this idea of herself working at a diner, wearing some cute outfit with pops of red, serving coffee and making small talk with the chefs while she waits for her big break. But that's only good for the modelling; she wants to go into law one day, too.

Maybe she can transfer to a school there? Showing she's independent enough to live on her own (with Chloe, of course, but without her parents there) has to look good on an application?

Or reckless and irresponsible, like her dad keeps calling Chloe.

All-in-all, Rachel's doubting everything in her entire life as she pulls up to Chloe's house. Chloe isn't outside, and she's about to throw some pebbles at her window when the front door opens with barely a creak.

"Did you oil the hinges?" Rachel asks, trying to keep the tone light. "Handy."

Chloe beams at her, wearing Rachel's old tarot shirt. Fuck, her tarot decks, she wants to bring those. All her things. At least some clothes. Probably some food, too?

"Do you have all the stuff you wanna bring?" Rachel asks. "We might need to stop by my place."

"That's what you said last time," Chloe says, but looks at Rachel, wearing her party outfit--only a tank top and some high shorts, which are cute but not great for the only outfit to have in a big life change--and shrugs.

Rachel breathes a sigh of relief. "Plus, they'll get mad if we steal the car. And gas is gonna be expensive enough."

"Don't care," Chloe says. "I'll take the truck."

Chloe, who is visibly swaying on her feet, is absolutely not good to drive. Rachel thinks for a second--if she drives her dad's car back, Chloe can be in the passenger seat, but then they'll have to walk with all her bags back to the truck. If they take the truck, Rachel can leave the keys and a note explaining where it is. They'll be mad, but whatever.

"Can I drive your truck, actually?" Rachel asks, and Chloe shrugs again. It won't be the first time behind the wheel of the truck, but it will be the first time on actual roads, not the paths they'd cleared in the junkyard. "Thanks, Chloe."

"Sure," Chloe says, tossing her the keys and yanking at the handle on her side. Rachel opens her door, reaches over to unlock the passenger side so Chloe can climb in. "What are we getting?"

"Clothes," Rachel says. "Maybe my tarot decks."

A couple of the plays she has physical copies of. Any and all drugs left in her room. Her flashlight that Chloe made for her. The important things.

"Okay," Chloe says. "You mean it? We're gonna leave?"

"I do," Rachel says, and she should kiss her. She should. She has before. She wants to. But she looks at Chloe, eyes still wide with disbelief that Rachel will follow her, will help lead the way out. If she pushes this, and she's wrong...

Rachel grabs her hand instead, smiles at her. Chloe squeezes it, and they keep holding hands the whole way to the Amber house. Rachel hopes she won't ever let go.

#amberprice #rachel amber #chloe price #life is strange #my fics #OKAY done crossposting sorry for spam everyone

[wherevermyway]

bound up // binchan // oneshot // 18+

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: explicit sexual content, BDSM, rope bondage, dacryphilia, degradation word count: 2,722 also on AO3

originally posted: 13 november 2020

Chan and Changbin had an unconventional relationship, and they had some peculiar ways of relieving built up tension. Sometimes, vanilla sex was too boring. Drawing out their orgasms in the oddest ways possible really bring them closer together and make them feel better in multiple different ways.

Luckily, their oddities fit well with one another.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

“Is that tight enough, love?” Chan sarcastically coos, knowing that his lover can’t respond. If Changbin was honestly uncomfortable, he would have pressed the clicker he held in hands. Instead, the man bent in half, arms behind his back and tied up in an intricately woven criss-cross pattern in black rope, offers a strained grumble through his open-mouthed spider gag.

“It’s a shame you can’t speak, hmm? You’ve been so talkative lately, and it’s so nice to not hear you talk for once.” Changbin winces at Chan’s words, drool starting to spill from his mouth as he looked up to his senior.

Chan wore a proud, arrogant smirk on his face like he had gotten first place in a marathon, looking down at Changbin. His junior was being a bit too snappy and opinionated during rehearsals, and Chan knew this would be the perfect way for them to relieve some tension. “Shall we begin, my pretty little bratty boy?”

Changbin offers a weak nod, wiggling his toes around and adjusting the positioning of his arms as they pulled against the rope fastened to the ceiling.

“Remember to click if you need me to stop, alright?” Another nod in affirmation, paired with a tiny squeak.

The two of them just simply worked this way. They had been an unofficial item for nearly a year now, but they really preferred their unconventional relationship and unusual way of relieving tension. One night, when they were drinking on the rooftop and staring out at the Seoul skyline, Changbin blurted out how he had always wanted to try restraint play, but he figured he’d never find someone he trusted enough to try it.

“Why not me?” Chan slurred slightly, taking a drink from his bottle of strawberry soju. “We’ve known each other for years, dude. Not to mention, we’ve been sleeping together for, what, five months now? It could be fun.”

Changbin had shook his head in disbelief and stared wildly at Chan. “You don’t know what you’re doing, though.”

Chan offers a cheeky smile in response. “I never said that.”

This was their sixth restraint session, and they were getting bolder and bolder with each new session. Chan had just installed a seemingly innocent hook into the ceiling of their studio, something strong, yet easily concealable, and they were both dying to try it out.

Sure, their sex was satisfying enough, but to open up to someone and be so vulnerable with them was like ascending to another plane that was unattainable for most conventional relationships. Chan would bring Changbin down enough, knock him down several pegs to reset his arrogant attitude and pent up energy. Then, he would bring him back up to where he wanted to be as they cuddled in their dorm room and watched stupid videos on the internet, Changbin curled up against Chan, until they passed out together.

Chan’s embrace at the end of all of this felt so much sweeter because of the labour they went through to get to it. For Changbin to earn it. Sure, he could find himself in Chan’s arms whenever he wanted, but the way that Chan felt to him after their sessions was otherworldly.

“Alright,” Chan sighed as he sat down in the chair across from Changbin. He danced his fingers over the rope shears on the table, then grabbed a remote control, fiddling with his laptop with his other hand. Some background noise-type of lo-fi electronica quietly boomed through the studio’s speakers.

“I want you to be a good boy and press the clicker in your hand. Let’s see if I can still hear it over the music.”

Changbin does as requested, a couple of plasticky clicking noises coming from behind him. Chan nods and taps around on his laptop a couple of times until the music shifts to some other similar sounding song. “Now we can get started.” He leans back into his chair, bringing up the remote control to his face as he locks eyes with Changbin.

The two of them exchange an excited, somewhat nervous glance. A string of drool continuously spills from Changbin’s mouth, and Chan devilishly smirks.

“Three minutes, twenty five seconds until the next song.” He presses a couple of buttons on the remote control, and Changbin’s knees curl inward and his head drops. A throaty moan shakes its way through the younger man as he shudders at the sensation as the vibrating prostate massager quivers inside of him. “Like we discussed prior, you’re not allowed to come until the end of this playlist, and I’m not going to tell you how long the entirety of it is, only how long each song is. With every song, I’m going to up the ante. If you come before you’re permitted, there will be consequences.”

Changbin lifts his head, locking eyes with Chan before he nods once and drops his head back down. He tries to keep his pathetic mewls restrained, but some choked whines and whimpers still manage to escape him, causing Chan to nibble on his bottom lip in excitement. As the music played in the background, Chan grabbed a small candle off of the table next to him and lit it, preparing it for the next song.

Using wax wasn’t really something that crossed Chan’s mind, but when Changbin awkwardly gave him a couple of candles the day prior, he couldn’t resist the thought of adding it to the session he had in mind. “They’re special,” the younger man had whispered. “Don’t use these to make shit look pretty, because it’d be a waste. These were expensive and I don’t wanna waste them.”

Chan shook his head in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“Me,” Changbin furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips, his face flushed. “Use them on me tomorrow. That’s why I bought them.”

The tiny flame flickered and Chan smiled as he looked at it. There was twenty seconds left of the current song, so he stood up and held the candle, taking a few steps towards Changbin. “The next song is two minutes and fifty-five seconds. I think you’ll look pretty with your back painted in blue, hmm?”

Changbin tried to hum in some sort of response, but the spattering of warm wax to his back causes his soft murmur to turn into an unrestrained, loud moan.

“Now, now,” Chan tuts as he stops dripping wax onto the younger man’s back. “Everyone may be back in the dorms, but you never know who may hear you sound like such a needy whore. Do you want someone to walk by the door and hear you pathetically moaning for me?”

Chan doesn’t wait for a response he knows won’t come, so he tips the candle in his hand again, painting mindless patterns against Changbin’s skin, indigo blue spattering recklessly onto the roped arms of the bound man, against his own black button-up shirt. The wax would come off, Chan figured, and this was a small price to pay in order to watch his junior squirm.

The song was nearly over, and Chan brought the candle up to his face and blew out the small flame. Almost perfectly timed with the end of the song, he spun on his heel and walked back to the table, setting the candle down as the next song started playing. He started pressing buttons on the remote control again, causing Changbin to cry out again, curling his toes and shaking the ceiling rope a bit as his body convulsed. Saliva dripped from his lips, feeding into the growing pool underneath him.

“Four minutes, twenty-five seconds. Let’s see if you can hold out with this setting.” Chan looked over his shoulder, taking in the view of the mess they were starting to make all over the studio floor. Blue wax had splattered onto the hardwood floor, which would easily come off with a bit of effort. Changbin was twitching uncontrollably now, and precum was starting to add to the chaos painted on the floor.

Waiting for four minutes for the next phase was going to kill Chan. He reached a hand down to his pelvis, pressing the heel of his palm against his erection. Subconsciously, he looked to his laptop. Three minutes, thirty-seven seconds. A hiss escaped his teeth and he shook his hands away, trying to compose himself.

“You should know better than to talk back to me during practice, you know,” he groans, trying to distract himself by talking down to Changbin. “A dumb slut like you knows better, unless you’re specifically trying to rile me up so I treat you like this?” Changbin makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whine and a moan, shaking his head and causing saliva to go flying from his mouth.

At first, Chan didn’t understand why Changbin asked him to talk down to him during their sessions, to call him such degrading things. However, for some bizarre reason, it was one of the things Chan loved doing the most. With each session, he looked forward to this more and more.

Two minutes, fifty-one seconds.

“Regardless of if you’re even capable enough to not come before you’re allowed to, I’ve decided I’m going to paint that pretty face of yours with my cum,” Chan’s breathing was heavy, his nails digging into his skin as he felt his cock throb against the cotton of his briefs. “I’m gonna make you walk around with my cum all over your face and show you off to everyone, show every one of our friends how much of a pathetic slut you are for me.”

Chan’s words were dangerously close to causing Changbin to prematurely come all over the floor. He buckled his knees and whined, tugging hard against the rope fastened to the ceiling. He regained enough composure to look up to Chan with teary eyes, tears spilling down his face, a pleading look in his gaze. It may not seem like it to anyone else, but this look was what made the degradation worth it to Chan. Changbin was beside himself, loving how he was being forced exactly into the place he wanted to be.

Another glance to the computer. One minute, twelve seconds.

It was early, but Chan slowly walked over to just in front of Changbin’s face. “Are you going to be a good boy and keep yourself from coming?”

A nod. A whine.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Chan whispers, reaching up to Changbin’s soft, black hair, and giving it a couple of gentle strokes. “But you’re going to stay just as you are a little longer and make yourself useful.” The elder knelt down, taking in the look of how the metal fastened to leather straps inside of Changbin’s mouth looked. He made a mental note to make sure to apply some more lip balm to the younger man’s lips as soon as they were done, as they were starting to dry and crack a bit.

They exchange a caring glance, something that couldn’t be hidden no matter how hard and stern Chan tried to act. Deep down inside, they both really did love each other. That couldn’t be hidden.

The song faded out and blended into a new one, and Chan smiled. “Five minutes, thirty-seven seconds. Once this one is over and I’ve come all over that pretty face of yours,” he says in a low voice, standing up and fumbling with his belt buckle, “I might let you come. We’ll see how much of a good boy you are while you get me off, hmm?”

Chan doesn’t bother removing his pants, only undoing them enough to pull his cock out. The cool air is enough to cause a shiver to run down his spine. He takes Changbin’s chin into his hand and guides his way into the younger man’s mouth. It feels a little different, knowing that there won’t be the added sensation of having a vacuum-like seal around him, but it didn’t matter. He was already so close to coming from watching Changbin writhe and listening to his pitiful whimpers and moans.

Changbin wastes no time guiding his tongue around the length of Chan’s cock. He acts as if his tongue was a paintbrush, painting swift, broad strokes of saliva against the warm canvas presented to him. Chan revels in this for a few moments before pushing in a bit more aggressively, needing more stimulation. As he hits the back of Changbin’s throat, he watches the younger man twitch, and he pulls back a bit.

“I’m gonna move. Be a good boy and stay still, hmm?”

Changbin lets out a muffled whimper, but doesn’t press down on the clicker, so Chan interprets that as an affirmation. He sucks in a deep inhale, grabbing a fistful of his junior’s hair and slowly increases his pace.

The music is more intense now. Chan specifically picked this bass-heavy song, imagining how it would feel to fuck Changbin’s dripping wet mouth. A pained groan leaves his lips as he starts to relentlessly thrust into the younger man’s mouth, the head of his cock rubbing against the firm tissue at the back of his throat.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Chan tries to stay composed as he whines. He doesn’t bother looking at the remote in his other hand as he aimlessly presses a couple of different buttons on it. Changbin nearly collapses onto the ground in reaction and Chan rubs his thumb soothingly against his scalp. “Not yet, not yet.” He’s not even trying to hide his pants as he fucks a little faster now. “I’m gonna come all over that pretty face of yours first. Gonna let everyone know you’re mine. You’re fucking mine.”

Chan can’t help but gasp as his possessive nature slips out, but he doesn’t care. The way that Changbin gives himself up to Chan, trusts him so much, enough to restrict his movements and use him as nothing more than a glorified sex object makes him possessive. Protective. If anyone did anything to hurt Changbin, Chan wouldn’t be able to contain himself.

“Fuck,” the older man whines as he pulls out, right as the song transitions into the next bass-heavy song. He lets go of Changbin’s head and mops up some of the spent drool under his chin, using it as a makeshift lube as he pumps his cock. “Look at me. Show me how badly you want my cum all over your face like the cumslut I know you are.”

Changbin obliges, his eyes weepy and his cheeks tearstained.

That’s all it takes. Chan throws his head back for a moment before he forces himself to watch as his cum spills all over Changbin’s face. He pants and shudders a couple of times, nearly collapsing to his knees due to the intensity of his orgasm. “You’ve done so well,” he gasps. “You’ve earned it, so do it. Come. Just fucking come for me.”

Chan pushes a button on the remote control again, and Changbin’s back arches, a choked, guttural moan absorbed by the soundproofing on the walls. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, his arms staying in place thanks to the ceiling restraint. Chan watches as Changbin’s cock twitches, cum splattering over the dried wax and precum from earlier.

They take a moment to come back to reality, and Changbin finally drops the clicker from his hands. Chan bends down to the younger man’s face, undoing the metal fasteners at the back of the gag. “You did so well; I’m so blown away by you yet again. That was absolutely incredible. How are you feeling?”

Changbin pops his jaw a couple times and shakes his head. “That was great,” he sighs and looks up to Chan. “I’m not gonna lie, though, my jaw is killing me.”

The older man laughs, pressing a kiss to the younger man’s forehead. “Well, I’ll untie you, get you cleaned up, and then you can have a well-deserved break. We can shower and get that wax off of you, then cuddle up under the covers all night. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds great,” Changbin weakly smiles. “I love you, but you’re cleaning all of this up, though. My arms are sore as fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chan rolls his eyes. “I love you too.”

#bound up #skz smut #skz fics #binchan #bang chan x seo changbin #seo changbin x bang chan #chan x changbin #changbin x chan #wherevermyway

[blushing-starker]

Another holiday one: Peter and Pepper going caroling together and they visit Tony in the workshop. The bots are wearing Santa hats

"Peter, darling, you know you can get him anything and he'll be over the moon, right? He loves you and it'd kill Tony to know this is causing you so much stress. We could always do a joint gift if that helps? After caroling, the night is ours and so is the mall."

God, what did he do to deserve Miss Potts? She has a solution for all the problems in the world, never hesitates to take what she wants and could probably kick his ass twenty different ways without breaking a sweat. Just last night, she'd cocked her head, put on a disappointed face and Peter was done, defeated, tore himself away from Tony's side at the lab to devour some freshly baked pie Rhodey had dropped by. They'd been working for hours, basically a hair's breadth away from a breakthrough, but Miss Potts didn't like her boys tinkering too long without eating.

Now she's holding his hand like it isn't serious, like it doesn't set Peter's heart aflame because this is Pepper Potts, kind and strong and witty and amazing, showing affection in a public place without shame or fear. And yeah, Tony would never be cold to him outside, but the man's a koala when you earn his trust. Peter has to practically pry the billionaire off from Pepper when the CEO has a meeting to conquer (he's dating a CEO, he's dating a billionaire, he's dating a CEO, he's dating a-

"Sweetheart, I see the gears turning in that head of yours, same as Tony. What is it, Peter?" The snow starts to fall a bit harder and they quicken their pace, catch up with Nat, Bucky and Bruce as they line themselves up before the next porch, ready to start caroling their hearts out. Who'd have thought they enjoyed the season this much?

The others didn't come because decorating the tower and baking dessert for 20 plus people took a team effort. Peter had wrapped an arm around Miss Potts' waist and swung them to the car before they were snatched up by Steve to help in the kitchen. They'd been pressed pretty close, Peter not wanting to risk hurting his, what, lover? Girlfriend? His lover's wife? Either way, he had curled around the tall woman, tried to not jostle her too much in case she got sick. It had been nice. Very nice, really.

The whole thing had lasted maybe thirty seconds so yeah. Technically, this is the first time they've had physical contact for a relatively long period of time. He's eighteen now, not supposed to be getting so hyped and nervous over something as simple as holding hands and going caroling along a snow covered neighborhood adorned with a thousand Christmas lights. But, but he's always been a romantic at heart and the neon glow is reflected off of shiny snowflakes that taste like something pure and special, his teammates are joyous, look decades younger, Bucky's cat Alpine has stubbornly decided to crisscross his ankles and Miss Potts ' is just really fucking pretty, ok?

"Peter?" He gets why Tony can submit so easily to the force of nature that is Pepper Potts ; is rather sure it has something to do with honest eyes and a gentle way of loving broken men.

"Um, you're very pretty, Miss Potts," way to go, Peter. It's a wonder he and Tony even got together when they share one brain cell and it's mainly dedicated to superhero work. Or to Miss Potts.

She softens, tugs at him until they wrap around each other and then kisses him. Light, barely there kisses on pale cheeks, his eyelids, the curve of a red nose, under an unhinged jaw. Nat shoves the team forward, says the next house will probably give them candy while winking at Peter, grins when he turns scarlet. Bucky grumbles, "it's not exactly Halloween," but she yanks the supersoldier away from them so there's some semblance of privacy present.

Miss Potts sighs, sets her chin on his head and Peter short circuits right there, is delighted by the fact that she's taller than him, vows to buy her as many heels and high boots as possible because this is extremely nice and being tucked under her is a dream come true.

"You're so nice, Pete. I don't think Tony's gonna last a month before he says he loves you, not with someone so considerate and amazing. Nat bet it'd take me three months, but right now? Tony would take one look at me and say three weeks. We've been outside for a while, how about we head back home? See if our ridiculous baby got away with sneaking to the lab?"

Oh. Oh, is he supposed to speak after that? Function when she just sent his world tumbling down in a second or two? He inhales slowly, presses his frost bitten lips to a long neck and shivers when Miss Potts laughs, sound as pure and lovely as the freshly fallen snow around them.

---:---------:----------:---------:-----------:---------:--------:---------:---

On the way back home (HomeHomeHomeHomeHomeHome), he catches sight of a pretzel stand and nearly slams them into the side of a building. Miss Potts does that thing where she chuckles almost silently and maybe it'll take her three weeks but Peter's ready to declare his love for her right then, absolutely smitten and aware of it. He wonders if this is what Tony felt when he fell for Miss Potts. Wonders if his boyfriend would tell him all about it soon enough.

Miss Potts strokes his cheek, smile this side of sharp and mischievous. "Does my boy want something?" It's a soft question with a soft touch with a not so soft look in eyes that could tear him apart any day of the week. His web snaps and they tumble down to the street, are saved by the fact there's three feet of snow by the building's back entrance and they weren't that high up.

Peter gets a pretzel from Miss Potts.

------:--------:--------:--------:--------:--------:--------:--------:-------:-

Their lover (loverloverloverlover) is, in fact, hiding in the lab. There's a neon glow here, too, wrapped around Tony as he reassembles holograms, sketches new designs for the spider suit, revises old architecture plans with the gaze of a hawk.

"Anthony Potts, you put down that hologram right now! You were supposed to help out and decorate; not adjust Peter's suit. Again." Tony jolts back, clicks his fingers and everything disappears from the lab table as if Jarvis had never brought several of the genius' secret files to life. He looks like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar and Peter isn't gonna let him forget this for as long as they live.

There's plenty of space on the table now so he settles there, swings his legs up and down, grins up at a fidgeting Tony. "Anthony Potts is new." A cookie tray is tucked away behind a pile of papers and it's too tempting not to snack on one even if he just inhaled a pretzel.

"I can call you Peter Potts, too, you know. Don't tease him, I know you would've been here helping Tony out if we hadn't gone caroling."

It's Tony's turn to grin and Peter's turn to flush now. Two more cookies are snatched, shoved into his face. "I kind of like that. The Potts thing. It's nice."

Miss Potts crosses over to them, wraps a finger around the one curl he can never tame and pulls on it until he's leaning on her palm with the sudden urge to never leave the lab. "I'm glad you like it, Peter. Anthony here has to go clean the dining table, but we can cuddle on the couch to warm up before seeing what's already cooked. How's that sound?"

"It sounds like your husband is being punished for upgrading your boyfriend's suit and making sure he doesn't die fighting some weird alien dog." Tony huffs, steals Dum-E's Santa hat with a pout before dragging himself up the stairs to the kitchen. "I'm saving everyone's lives, but no. I gotta see Steve butcher a Christmas tradition."

"There's nothing wrong with how Steve cooks the meal."

"Tell that to my grandmother and nanny. Even Jarvis could cook better and he doesn't have any hands." Said A. I hums in a suspiciously noncommittal way as his creator starts yelling about blood being spilled if a single stain is found in his prized kitchen.

The bots all seem to sigh in relief, roll over to bump Peter's knee or shoulder as affectionately as Alpine. He patiently fixes their elf ears and hats, rubs a few bells clean from grease and motor oil because Tony probably hadn't noticed and wouldn't notice until they accidentally stained something. Don't ask him or Miss Potts how, but Tony's children could ruin a fifty thousand dollar couch with purple paint without there necessarily being a can of paint around the lab.

Miss Potts' plan of cuddling on the couch is derailed when they hear screeching and curses pertaining to five different languages coming from above. She sighs, takes Peter's hand and he already knows she'll come up with a solution. She always did.

(Maybe it was time to explain he'd already found their gifts, twin silver rings with all their initials engraved hidden in his coat pocket.)

(And then Tony starts shouting something in Italian, Steve might be reverting to an Irish accent, Alpine hops on the dining table to pounce on the chicken, Miss Potts has to yank her husband away from the oven, Bucky's hair nearly catches on fire and yeah, he'll just show them on New Year's.)

#peter parker #tony stark #pepper potts #ironspider #starker #peter x tony #peter parker x tony stark #i am sleepy #i forgot #once again #the ot3 name #my writing #thank you darling katie #katie bug #🐞 #pepper x peter #pepper x tony

[domesticmail]

of kooks and pogues - ch. 1

word count: 2.5 k

pairing: slow burn jj x reader

warnings: cursing! maybe a lil bit of sad stuff? other than that we’re chillin

series summary: you and your dad have just moved to the outer banks after your mom’s death. you don’t know, really, what to make of this place.

chapter summary: the outer banks, paradise on earth. you’re ready to get away from old demons and start anew. mostly just an intro to your backstory and how you meet the pogues!

When your dad had come to you with a brochure and a suitcase, you hadn’t complained. You hadn’t even really reacted – just looked at him, then the brochure, and asked for an explanation. It felt like you already knew why he was doing this, it was something in the way he had hesitated in the doorway to your room, a moment of pause. He was unsure of how you’d feel about whatever this was. Unsure of whether or not you would be okay.

The explanation consisted of everything unsaid that had been hanging in the air for the past few weeks, the unspoken elephant in the room. Not that you’d been avoiding it, per se – you two just hadn’t been ready to talk about any of it yet. (You were sure that if your father were a little less caring, he would’ve never talked about it. Or, at least, not unless he was on his deathbed. And even then, only maybe. Feelings had never been his strong suit.) He needed some time away, he said quietly, taking his trademark place on the corner of your unmade bed. He needed to be somewhere where your mother wasn’t in everything.

It didn’t upset you to hear it – in fact, you’d been considering the same thing. 

Walking into the kitchen every morning was a chore, feeling like you were just on the edge of some hidden emotion, something threatening to break every part of you if there was a single unexpected change. The dishes piled up in the sink; you took over the chore of washing them, always expecting to hear the sound of her heels on the tiled floor, asking why you two couldn’t seem to keep the house clean. Dinner was no longer a family event; neither of you could stand sitting down at the dinner table knowing that her chair would remain empty. It was no longer a home, no longer the place where you grew up – now it was just the place you happened to have a room in.

He laid the brochure gently in front of you as you tucked your knees under your chin, wrapping your arms around your bent legs. I found a place we could go, he said. A new start. Somewhere we could live without feeling like we’re going to break every time we walk through the front door. An island off the coast of North Carolina.

“North Carolina’s a really long way from here,” you said after a moment’s silence, watching him carefully. He was a little more fragile after she’d gone, a little less strong. Before, he’d been the strongest man you’d known – a firefighter who was approaching fifty but still kicking – but now you saw him becoming more and more human. It’s what losing someone you love does to you.

He nodded. “I’m not going to force you to go.” There it was. The part of him that you knew best, the generous, loving part. He was never one to push you too far past your comfort zone. He reached across the bed to pat your knee with a smile. “You know you can tell me if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” you assured him. “I’m just going to be sad to go. This is…all we have left of her.”

“I know. It’s not easy for me either, trust me.”

A pause. You took a deep breath.

“We should go.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you’re sure, bee.”

You wrinkled your nose at the childhood nickname, smiling weakly. “I am.”

Your dad shrugged and grinned, standing up. He ruffled your hair with one hand before backing out of your room. “Alright. Get packing then, kiddo. We’re out of here in two days.” 

So there you are, two days later, sprawled on the driveway of your new home, paint on your favorite jeans, wishing you’d put more thought into packing instead of just throwing everything haphazardly into your suitcase.

“Hey, bee, everything going smoothly?” Your dad yells from inside. Thank fuck, you think to yourself. He didn’t see you just trip over an invisible object, the contents of your suitcase spilling out onto the road leading up to your house as you not-so-gloriously go face first into the dirt. A case of paint that has begun leaking ends up all over the right side of your jeans as you sit up, coughing.

“Yeah. Yup. Everything’s good. Just chilling,” you say by way of response, picking up your stuff as quickly as possible and just shoving it into the now-open suitcase, face burning. Of course you have to embarrass yourself within the first three minutes of being here. Because the universe hates you.

Your dad’s standing in the front doorway, smiling. “I see you couldn’t keep yourself from the driveway. I like it too, bee, but could you try to keep it in your pants until we’re at least moved in all the way?”

You shoot him a helpless look. “Can you come help me instead of being a smartass?”

“Good daughters don’t call their father a smartass,” he retorts.

“I was raised by you and mom,” you snort. “If you wanted me to be a good daughter, you should’ve sent me to boarding school or something. Or gotten a nanny.”

“Your mom would’ve loved that,” he laughs, then turns around and disappears inside the house.

Once you’ve picked up your things and made sure that nothing is still laying on the dirt for your neighbors to see, you head inside. You and your dad split up the rooms easily – master bedroom for him, second largest for you, and the extra room for your art – and start moving in, making the house your own. It’s not hard. You both have a love for knickknacks, photos, books, and your dad’s got a thing for action figures from when he was a teen, so the shelves fill up fast. The same happens with the walls – you set about putting the family photos up, pictures of the three of you at the beach, at the history museum, on Christmas. Your dad opts for putting art up – not art bought from some sort of art gallery, but your paintings, the ones you used to do of the flowers in your mom’s garden back home. Pretty soon it’s almost like you’ve lived here forever – almost.

Tired from the unpacking, you both take a seat on the new couch.

“So,” your dad starts. “Thought about making any friends yet?”

You laugh. “We’ve been here for five hours, and we spent that time moving in. The only thing I’m thinking about is taking a shower and sleeping for a week.”

He shrugs. “Look, I’m just saying, bee. I don’t want you to think you have to spend all of your time taking care of your old man.” He waves a hand at you when you try to interrupt. “No, no, I’m serious. At least try to have some fun.”

“Oh, wow. You’re turning into one of those parents in Disney movies.”

“Woah, woah. No. I’m tougher than any of them. And I have sense!”

You laugh, getting up from the table and kissing his forehead. “I believe you.”

“You’d better.” He grins. “Why don’t you go drive around a bit? Go into town, meet some people. Get to know – I don’t know, what do people say now? Get to know the vibe.”

“Wow. Astounding effort, really. That deserves an award.” You grab your keys off the kitchen counter. “Okay, I’ll go, then. Gonna go make some friends. Party really hard. You know me.”

“Your mother would be furious that we raised a party girl.”

“I can almost feel her spinning in her grave. I love you!” The last sentence is yelled through the front door as you bound down the wooden steps from your porch to the dirt road that leads to your house. Within seconds, you’re in the driver’s seat of your car, an old Jeep, and driving around.

The island is different than what you’d expected. There’s a beautiful side filled with massive houses and meticulous lawns, and for a minute you think about your mom – she’d have wanted to move there, with the minimalism and the haunting cleanliness of everything. The side you live on now is different, it’s run-down, old, and a little dirty. Even the people are different. You know the huge houses are filled with stereotypical American Families, Mom, Dad, Son, Daughter, and maybe even a dog named something cliché - Buddy or Spot.

After a little driving around, you find the place you know is going to become your safe haven. A little shop that’s only about a five-minute drive from the house is filled secondhand items, from t-shirts from the seventies to paintbrushes that are stained blue or purple or red. You spend nearly an hour there, filling up an eco-friendly bag (how does a thrift store afford eco-friendly bags, you wonder, but it’s only a passing thought) with as many art supplies as you can find. Checking out takes a little while because you keep accidentally distracting the cashier by talking about your new move. Eventually you manage to pay for all your items.

You leave the store with a grin, messing around with the items in your bag, trying to find the paintbrush you bought specifically because it reminded you of your mom, when suddenly you’re sent sprawling again.

Two times in one day, you think to yourself, the side of your face burning against concrete. Once again, all your stuff is out on the sidewalk, scattered around you. It feels like you’ve been slammed into by something two times your size, and sure enough, when you sit up, you notice that there’s a guy quickly getting up next to you.

He’s got a little less than shoulder-length blond hair, and a cut on his bottom lip, split apart by what you can only assume was him barreling into you full-speed. Is that really what happened, you don’t know, and right now you don’t care, because dear god, he’s not bad looking. Not at all. He’s actually quite good looking, and the grin he’s giving you as he gets up and offers you a hand is making your knees weak. 

You take his hand and stand up. As you regain your balance, you notice there are four people talking to you, all of them at the same time. Two are guys – one has that messy, just-woke-up look, and the other looks like what you imagine being stress would look like if it were a person. They’re with two girls, both of whom are so pretty that at first you’re not sure they’re actually real.

“I am so sorry, are you okay?” One asks, dropping down to help pick up your stuff. The other shoots an exasperated look at the guy that made you fall.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure her, taking your things from her hands and putting them in your bag. “Just didn’t expect my face to meet the sidewalk today.”

Everyone smiles at that. She looks you up and down. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you on vacation?”

“No, I just moved here,” you answer, sticking out your hand. “Y/N L/N.”

She shakes it reluctantly, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t really think anyone moved here anymore,” she laughs. “Sarah Cameron.”

Everyone else takes turn introducing themselves. The messy one is John B. – he and Sarah are a thing, you can tell immediately. The stress-personified one is Pope, and the pretty girl who looks exasperated is Kiara. The last to introduce himself is the one who accidentally hit you, and he grins and extends his hand to you.

“I’m JJ. Sorry for, uh, that whole thing.” He’s a little out of breath from the whole debacle, but his smile tells you he could do this all day.

“It’s fine, I should’ve seen it coming, really. Second time it’s happened today,” you shrug, shaking his hand.

Before JJ can respond, one of his friends – Kiara, Kiara, Kiara, you repeat in your head – swats his shoulder playfully. “Yeah, sorry, he doesn’t really pay attention to where he’s going.” Pope, John B., and Sarah all nod, grinning, like this is a universal truth.

“I think you got some paint on your jeans when you fell,” John B. points out, looking at the big splatter of yellow paint on your right pant leg.

“Oh, no,” you laugh. “No, that’s from earlier today. Everything in my suitcase fell out, and some of the paint went everywhere.”

“You’re a painter?” Pope asks.

“Um, not professionally, really.” You can feel your face turning pink. “I just do it as a hobby.”

“Hey, maybe John B. should hire you,” JJ suggests. “The Chateau could really use a touch-up.” John B. socks him in the shoulder.

The group is all really friendly – they’re the first people you’ve met, and you’re already attached to them. Surprise, surprise, Dad, you think. I might’ve actually found some friends. You exchange numbers and Snapchat users with everyone, and within minutes you have a message from every one of them. 

Your phone dings while Sarah is asking where on the island you’re moved in. “Sorry, hold on, it’s my dad.”

Hey bee, grab some popcorn for tonight? Got TG all loaded up.

TG – The Godfather. It’s your comfort movie – on the nights when you were having a hard time, Dad would put in on while you made popcorn, and you’d lose yourself in the world of Italian crime families for a little while. Of course he’d put it on the first night you’re moved in. He’s trying to help, trying to retain some sense of normalcy. Well, okay. Sounds good.

okay! You text back. “Um, I’ve gotta go. It was really nice to meet you guys.”

Everyone nods, and there’s a whole goodbye thing – Sarah hugs you, Kie does the same, John B. and Pope say it was nice to meet you, you should definitely come hang out with the group sometime, and JJ grins and apologizes again for hitting you and causing you to fall.

“Seriously, it’s fine,” you insist. “It was really nice meeting you guys!”

“Yeah, you too.” JJ nods, turns around – and then does another 180. “And hey, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow night…We’re having a kegger at the Boneyard. You should come.”

You’re not really a party person – the chaos of fifty drunk teenagers crammed together in close quarters is really overwhelming, you’ve discovered. Not to mention the fact that you almost always end up left behind, taking shelter from the noise and distraction in a bathroom or an empty bedroom (although usually bathrooms work better, bedrooms tend to be…occupied). At the end of the night you’re the one who laughs along but has nothing to add to the conversation, dropping your friends off at their homes and promptly getting to your own house as quickly as possible. The sooner you can get into your comfy clothes, fall asleep, and forget that night ever happened, the better.

But this is a new place, these are new people, and if you tell your dad that you turned down an invitation to a party, he might actually kill you.

So you tell JJ to send you the information.

The Outer Banks, you think to yourself on the way to your new home. Paradise on Earth.

#of kooks and pogues #ch. 1 #artist!reader #jj maybank #kiara carrera #pope heyward #john b routledge #jj maybank x reader

[jordan-of-dawn-and-storms]

Here’s more of my writing. This one doesn’t contain any triggering content (as far as i know). I’d love some feedback. Once again it may be a bit confusing without context, but that’s life.

“So that’s your idea of a fun night out? Breaking into a science lab?” Chris asked, eyebrows drawn up in what might be confusion or amusement.

“Hey, what’s more romantic than making a scientific breakthrough together?” Jay countered, taking hold of Chris’ hand. He was feeling bubbly, the excitement of the possible discoveries merging with the bone deep relief of still having Chris by his side. He knew that it was only a stay of execution, but he couldn’t help holding tight. Maybe he didn’t have to stay alone forever. “Besides, don’t you want to indulge your delinquent side?”

“I don’t have a delinquent side,” Chris huffed out, his lip drawing into an adorable pout, “i’m a model student. I’ve never even missed a single side.”

“No time like the present, right? Besides you are a person who wears camouflage cargo pants. That at least makes you a fashion criminal.”

“You’re wearing them right now,” Chris complained, his face so drawn into a face of exasperation that Jay couldn’t help but grin.

“They’re automatically fifty percent cooler if you stole them from your boyfriend. I don’t make the rules. Besides you’ll get to rack up some cool points now. After all what’s cooler than quantum physics?”

“Nerd.”

“Right back atcha, mister double-major.”

“So why am i here? Did you drag me along to stand watch while you break in?” Chris asked, sensing he had started a conflict he couldn’t win.

“We’re not actually breaking in. Who do you take me for?” Jay pulled on Chris’ hand until he turned to look at him. He smiled, stepping closer. “I got permission to visit the premises. You’re here because this will be really cool and i want to share it with you.”

“How did you swing that? What kind of professor would just let you use their extremely expensive and fragile machines?”

“Well, technically i’m just allowed to go there because the prof trusts me and i told her i focus better in the lab. The power is turned off at night anyway, so they would get alarmed if i suddenly turned it on.”

“So what’s your plan? Are you carrying a miniature atomic battery or something in your pocket?” Chris joked, managing to get a smile from Jay.

“I don’t think those exist and if they did carrying them in my pocket would probably kill me. I’m gonna turn the power on and have one of my nightmares hide it.”

“Isn’t that really dangerous? You panicked at the thought of them yesterday.”

“It’ll be fine. The Obscura is the fear of forgetting and being forgotten. As long as we stay close we won’t have a problem. We’re both protected by the crowns power anyway.”

“I’m only half reassured.”

“Hush. Take my bag,” Jay pressed the heavy gym bag against Chris. “if anyone asks you’re getting extra credit by helping me carry my stuff.”

“Hey, what the hell is in this? Lead?” Chris asked, looking at Jay’s frame. “How the hell did you carry all this stuff around? I’m more muscular than you.” Jay smiled at the return of Chris’ adorable pout.

“Well, when i made this body i put a little more strength into it. If you’re treating yourself you might as well get all out. And, yes there’s lead in that bag, among other things.”

“Wait, seriously? You can’t just drop a bombshell like that. How did you just make yourself a body? Can you give yourself superpowers? Why do you have lead in your bag?”

“I don’t fully know how this stuff works yet, that’s what i’m here to find out. The bag is filled with devices to measure ambient probability. The crowns power affects it in a weird way. Mind if i explain the rest later? We’re there.” Jay slid his card into the slot at the buildings door and waited for the small beep before pushing the door.

He led Chris around until they found the right room, opening the door soundlessly to let them in. The pale glow of the streetlights shone through the wide windows, painting the room in their orange hue. Jay took the heavy bag back and started putting the devices it contained on the table: a modified metronome, an apparatus filled with small lead and copper balls, a pendulum and a large, old video recorder. 

“I’m gonna call the Obscura and turn the power on,” he whispered, gripping Chris’ hand tight. “This may feel weird so hold on to me.”

Chris was silent, offering his support through a gentle squeeze of Jays hand. Jay took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on what was lurking just under his skin. He focused on that rush of fear, on the pounding intensity of his own heartbeat. He could feel it, the phantom of pressure against his brow, the threads anchored in his bones. 

He breathed out and pulled.

There was a fracture in the air around them and through it something emerged. The world changed by remaining the same. There was a sort of static around them, not a distortion of sound or sight, but of reality. The light dimmed until Jay turned the power switch, flooding the room with artificial light, that seemed to writhe wherever it touched anything. Jay took another breath and pushed back, banishing the Obscura back out of reality.

“You weren’t kidding.” Chris breathed out, looking down into Jays eyes.”That was a lot. Are we safe? Is everything back to normal?”

“Let me check,” Jay answered looking at the various devices,”we should be safe. We’re not fully back to normal yet, however. The probabilities are still out of balance. That’s the problem with the counter science, you can’t have a reliable outcome if the circumstances are constantly changing.”

“The counter science? That sounds really pompous,” Chris taunted, grinning broadly.

“If some biologists can name something a ping pong tree, then i can name it however i want.” Jay looked up at Chris, the thrill of success making him grin. “Besides, it’s the science that measures how much power is in an instant of fear. How much a soul weights. How time flows when it loses its meaning. How the world opens at the right touch. It’s allowed to sound pompous.”

“So, what are you doing here? Is this like one of those particle accelerators?”

“Those are locked up a bit better. This is a centrifuge. I thought for once i wouldn’t start with the most dangerous stuff.”

“So what are we doing?”

“We aren’t doing much. The machine is going to do most of the work.” Jay pulled a bottle out of the bag and poured it slowly in the opening. “It’s the blood of a nightmare. Or whatever nightmares have instead of blood. I want to find out if it’s actually made up of materials that exist or if it works by other rules.”

“So, now what?” Chris asked, wrapping an arm around Jays shoulder. Jay looked up at his face, painted with the orange light coming through the window and the harsh artificial light from above. He traced the knuckles of Chris’ hand delicately and started turning the knobs of the machine.

“Now,” he whispered against Chris’ neck, “we wait.”

#My writing #MY OCs #writing

[everythinggeeky]

Here With Me | Obi-Wan Kenobi

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi! reader

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, breaking the Jedi code is vv tempting

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Reader and Obi-Wan are assigned a mission together, and reader’s methods to interrogation are...untraditional. Despite her outlandish tendencies, Obi-Wan and the Council allow her to continue. Will her unconventional methods get her in trouble with the Council and with Obi-Wan?

masterlist

A/N: requests & taglists are open; I wrote this in a few hours so excuse any disjointedness!

You placed your saber on the table, glaring down into the eyes of Goru, the accused separatist pirate, who is seated and restrained in front of you. 

“I’m gonna give you one last chance to speak up. You don’t say anything, I use this. You speak up? The saber stays there. So what’s it going to be? My way, or your way?” You said, hands firm on your hips, leaning over the table just enough to seem menacing from his seated position.

Your prisoner glanced up at you, the saber, Obi-Wan in the corner, back to the saber, and up to you. 

He spits a glossy blob in front of you, just missing your saber by an inch. Obi-Wan stiffens in his position, he knows there are no holds barred with you, and you won’t hesitate to punish the prisoner for his current actions.

“Alright. So that’s how we’re gonna do this” you picked up your saber, igniting the blade.

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan spoke up from the corner.

You looked over to him, a contemptuous look on his face, urging you to back down. With a long gaze back at him, you consider your options. Let him go and risk another murderous rampage, or kill him and violate the Jedi code. Disengaging the blade of your saber, you place the hilt back into its position on your belt. 

You walk away from the table and nod to Obi-Wan, “let’s take this guy in. I’m not done with him yet.”

Obi-Wan signals the troopers to take the pirate away, taking him in for custody as ordered. You stand cross-armed, watching Goru stare you down and spit at your feet. Your face crumples in disgust before turning to Obi-Wan.

“Let’s get off this god forsaken planet. I have better things to do back home.”

“As you wish.” Obi-Wan leads you out of the interrogation cell and back onto the ship.

You walked up the ramp and slumped into the seat in the front of the ship, Obi-Wan taking his seat beside you.

“If you’re going to lecture me, now would be the time,” you mumbled into your palm which was pressed against your cheek.

“I’m not going to lecture you. Do I agree with your interrogation methods? Absolutely not. When we get back, we’ll talk it over with the Council. They’ll decide how to proceed.”

You grumbled, setting the ship’s course for Coruscant, refusing to look at Obi-Wan.

“Y/N, please. Give me something. We can relax now.”

“I’m still working, Obi. Not now.” 

He sighed deeply, sinking back into his seat. The remainder of the trip was silent, soft breaths and the occasional beep from the control panel filled the air where soft, romantic words normally would after a mission. After landing on Coruscant, you stood to leave the ship without another word. Obi-Wan stood, catching your arm in his grip, pulling you to a stop.

“Y/N. Please don’t shut me out. This is still progress.”

“And you still don’t approve of how I do business.”

“Is it untraditional? Yes. Effective? Unfortunately, often,” he said, releasing you, “the Council will figure this out. Please put some trust in them and in me.”

“Not after last time.”

Surrendering, he walked off the ship in front of you, heading into the temple. You watched sadly as he walked on; had you pushed too far? Softening your demeanor, you exited the ship and followed Obi-Wan.

“Master Kenobi,” you called out to him, he stopped in his tracks, turning to you a few paces ahead.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Doing your job? What you were assigned to do?”

“Master...you and I both know that’s not it. My methods do not usually obey the Jedi code.”

“And did you do anything today that would violate it? No. Do not stress about it.”

You nodded, looking up at the man who ranks above you in training but walks beside you in your much more private relationship. 

His face softened equally, “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t. I need you here with me, alright?”

Confirming your promise, you walked side by side with him into the Council meeting room. Standing tall and professional, you pulled your robe tighter around your body. Taking your seat in the Council meeting, you crossed one leg over the other. Master Windu opened the meeting, discussing past business before shifting into the present manner. During his discussion, you could help but doze off. You were terribly exhausted and were desperate to be in the hands of your fellow Jedi master once again. Your mind traveled a bit, to which Obi-Wan seemed to notice, pushing a thought into your mind. You snapped up, peeking over to him. Without a word, he raised an eyebrow and stroked his beard nonchalantly. Narrowing your eyes, you returned your focus to Master Windu, who was now focused on questioning your methods.

“Did you use the approach that we agreed on prior to departure? Was it successful?”

“After arriving on the scene, Master Kenobi and I decided that the Council’s methods would not be successful in the circumstances that we arrived at.”

“With respect, Master Windu, Master Y/L/N acted with restraint. Her methods were successful and the suspect in custody,” Obi-Wan spoke up in defense.

“Very well. With the guidance of Master Kenobi, we will allow the negotiations to continue. Be wary.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I think that settles things for tonight. Consider your methods for the following interrogations. Master Kenobi, Master Y/L/N, proceed as planned. Dismissed.” 

The Council members stood from their seats, each going their separate ways. You slipped into the hallway, standing by for Obi-Wan. As the Council members filed out of the session, you greeted them politely, Obi-Wan stopping next to you, keeping his own professional stance. 

“So it seems the Council is willing to be forgiving. This is the best we can hope for.”

“I suppose. You know how I feel about giving into law and order.”

“Y/N.”

“Yes, Obi?”

“Its the code.”

“Fuck the code, Obi.”

“Maker…” he mutters, shifting uncomfortably at your outburst.

“I’m tired. And I really need to get some rest, alright?”

“Of course. Would you like…?” he trails off.

“Please,” you invited him to come along with you, walking back with a professional distance between you both. 

On your way to your quarters, Anakin turned the corner.

“Master Kenobi, Y/L/N,” he greeted politely.

You both stopped in your tracks, glancing at one another before back at Anakin. He bounced back and forth between you both, a questioning look on his face.

“Settling down for the evening?” he prodded.

“Oh, well, we have some business to settle before our interrogations continue later this week,” Obi-Wan covered.

You nodded in agreement, pushing down the growing blush threatening to paint your cheeks.

“Of course. Well, enjoy your...interrogations,” Anakin said with a smirk directed towards Obi-Wan before continuing on his way.

You continued down the hall, trying to get to your quarters as quickly and as professionally as possible. Entering your quarters felt as though a fifty-pound weight was lifted from your back. Obi-Wan sighed heavily, becoming more comfortable himself. You shrugged your Jedi robes off your body, opting for a much more comfortable nightgown. Obi-Wan stripped down to his trousers, settling into bed under the covers.

“Come here, darling,” Obi-Wan stretched his arms out to you.

You climbed up into bed, settling down beside him, resting your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry for acting out. I don’t like it when the Council tries to control how I work. I know what I’m doing.”

“I know, tomorrow is a new day, I’m sure we’ll understand the workings of the gang’s plot in the Outer Rim soon enough,” Obi-Wan threaded his fingers through your hair, stroking slowly to calm you down from your stressful day, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Obi,” you mumbled sleepily into his bare chest. 

As you relax in his embrace, you being to drift asleep. Obi-Wan presses a soft kiss into your forehead, bidding you goodnight. Falling asleep, Obi-Wan keeps you tight to his body.

The next morning, you grumble as you wake up, heading to clean up and get dressed. Obi-Wan follows suit, getting dressed for the day and then opting to prepare breakfast for you both. As you walked out to the dinette, you slinked your arms around his waist, leaving a kiss behind on his shoulder.

“Morning...thank you for cooking.”

“Of course, darling. Did you sleep enough?”

“I mean..I could always use more. But I’ll be alright.,” you grinned accepting the plate from his hands.

These quiet moments of solace kept you sane. One moment, the Council demanded your complete attention, the next you were training a rowdy padawan. Some peace and quiet hidden away with Obi-Wan in your quarters was hard to come by, but when it did, it was oh so sweet and you never wanted to let go.

“So. The Council wants us to re-interview Goru, the captured pirate from yesterday,” Obi-Wan spoke up to set today’s agenda on straight.

“Got it. Maybe I’ll consider following their suggestions. If no one decides to spit on me today.”

Obi-Wan let out a low chuckle, finishing his breakfast and cleaning up afterward. You both fluttered around your quarters, strapping on belts and centering lightsabers in their respective clips.

“Well, let’s get this shit over with,” you grumbled, making your way into the hallway first.

While signaling to Obi-Wan that the coast was clear, Anakin rounded the corner just as Obi-Wan stepped out of your room. With a knowing expression, Anakin looked to him for an explanation. There was none.

“Anakin. What are you up to today? At this hour?” Obi-Wan asked him.

“Master Windu informed me that I’ll be accompanying you both for the interrogations. He believed my methods would be much better suited to Y/N’s. You are still to supervise and monitor, Master,” Anakin responded.

“I see,” you looked nervously over to Obi-Wan who was now to serve as another body to witness to the Council.

The three of you made your way into the interrogation chambers in the temple. You walked inside while Obi-Wan and Anakin stayed behind to ensure nothing went wrong.

“Hey there, old friend. Long time, no see. Miss me?”

“Not at all,” your captive spat.

“Fair enough. Now, my offer still stands. Work with me and you won’t get a blade through your eye; fail, and well, bye-bye.”

“Y/N…” Obi-Wan warned.

You dismissed him with a wave of your hand, instead choosing to focus on the matter at hand. Working to pull the intel from him, you put the pressure on.

“Are you or are you not working with the Ohnaka gang??” you shouted into the face of your captive.

Anakin looked over to Obi-Wan with hushed concern, “Is this about Dooku?”

“The Council believes that he is operating in the Outer Rim with the help of Hondo. Keep it down.”

Anakin returns to his original position standing guard.

“I’ll never give up Hondo, you Jedi scum.”

“Cute. Real creative,” you paced around the pirate seated in front of you.

Withdrawing your saber from your belt, igniting the blade, you extended your arm to crackle just beside Goru’s face.

“I’ll ask again nicely, how are you working with Hondo?” you inched the blade closer to his flesh, threatening to singe a precise line.

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, silently urging you to proceed with caution. These were dangerous men, after all. However, with one wrong move, your decision could be fateful and in violation of the very oath that you swore to protect others with the Force, not use it to slaughter and mar. 

Pushing on, the blade of your lightsaber now ever so slightly damaging flesh, causing your captive to groan slightly.

“Hondo is negotiating with Dooku! Dooku is using the good we pocket to fund the separatist army!” Goru surrendered. 

Satisfied, you pulled your saber away from his neck, returning it to your belt. 

Walking around the table to face him again, “now was that really so bad?”

Goru threatened to spit at you once again like he did yesterday, but was quickly stopped by Obi-Wan and Anakin entering the scene.

“Aw, c’mon boys, I was just getting started,” you whined with mock disappointment.

“Goru, we’ll lead you back to your cell. The Council will decide your fate from here,” Obi-Wan chimed in.

With the help of Anakin, he led Goru down the hall back to his cell before returning to you solo. 

“Y/N.”

You shook your empty gaze from your eyes, “yes?”

“What did I say about physical threats?”

“Keep it to a minimum,” you mocked.

“Exactly. That was unnecessary.”

“I believe that was a minimum.”

“This is why they call me the negotiator. We’ll discuss our findings with the Council, and then proceed as they wish.”

“Do you ever feel like a soldier more than a guardian?” you interrupted.

“What? Well, I mean, it’s all for the efforts of war, protecting and guarding the peace.”

“But for what? How do we even know we’re on the right side of this war? What if we have it all wrong?”

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan looks around him before continuing, “darling, where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know. I know what I do is for the good of the Republic, but what if they got it wrong and I’m just completing tasks and orders?”

“There is so much more to Jedi master than that. You will find that soon. The hope in a padawan’s eyes when they discover the gift of truly utilizing the Force…” Obi-Wan reaches to rub your back in soft comforting circles.

“I want to be more than a soldier.”

“You are so much more. To the Council, the Republic, and to me.”

tagged: @kenobee​ @hxldmxdxwn​ @smokahuntis​ @jbarnesss​ @takenbymyfandoms​ @obiwkenobi​ @ilovesupersoldiers​

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader fluff #obi wan kenobi x reader angst #obi wan fanfic #obi wan kenobi oneshot #obi wan x jedi reader #star wars fanfic #star wars oneshot #star wars drabble #prequel obi wan kenobi #prequel obi wan #star wars x reader #here with me #everythinggeeky

[peppersonironi]

For @duketectivecomics‘s Duke Week Day Five: Leadership (A day late, I know, but I had wifi trouble)

Summary: Nightwing offers Signal a chance to lead a small group for a mission. Duke is wary, but accepts the challenge. He proves to be a rather great leader.

Notes: Takes place after Season Two of Young Justice, and ignores Season Three (I still haven’t seen it, unfortunately).

“So will you do it?” Duke looked over at Dick, who had decided to brave the day as Nightwing in order to ask a favor.

“I’m not sure, Nightwing, That’s your team, and I’m perfectly happy taking care of Gotham.”

Dick pouted and dramatically flung himself over the nearest gargoyle. “You sure? I could really use the help. Don't you want to lend aid to your poor, poor brother?”

“You are literally a billionaire.”

“Ha ha, Signal. You know what I mean.”

Duke sighed and joined Dick beside the gargoyle. “Yeah, I do. Are you sure you need me? Why not Tim? Steph? Heck, even Damian would love the chance to boos those guys around.”

Dick sighed. “I told you, The mission occurs at the same time as one on the opposite side of the world, which I already have Tim scheduled for. Steph is woking a case in Hong Kong with Cass. And Frankly, I doubt the Team would appreciate Damian's … style of leadership. This one is smaller, and less of a priority. I have some of the newbies and more older members on it, but none of them have experience with leading stealth missions.”

“So give one of them the experience!” Duke was getting a bit exasperated. Why did Dick think it would be a good idea to handle a mission on a covert team he'd never even met before?

“It's not that simple.” Dick frowned. “This mission is time sensitive, and delicate. It really does need someone with experience leading it, but all my best people are elsewhere.”

Duke tilted his head, considering. “Why me?”

Dick laughed. “Why NOT you? Seriously, Signal. You handled a whole group of Robins, by yourself. No Batman. You proved yourself, and you've earned respect. I trust you with this.”

Duke considered, thinking through everything Dick had said. “Alright,” He sighed, “What's the mission?”

*****

“Team, I'd like you to meet Signal. He'll be joining you on the mission, as well as over seeing things.” Nightwing stood at the front of the group of heroes, turning to where Duke had just come in from the zeta tubes.

Duke walked forward, surveying the group. “ 'Sup?” He asked, unsure of what else to say.

“Signal, meet Beast Boy, Kid Flash, Wonder Girl, and Blue Beatle.”

Duke nodded and extended his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“I've been waiting to meet you for so long, dude!” Kid Flash said, racing forward to shake Duke's hand. “I've heard all about you, but the dates on when you actively joined the guys in Gotham were murky, and since I couldn't ask Nightwing or Robin – wait, does that mean Tim's no longer Robin? Why didn't he say anything? Unless the history books got it wrong, in which case woah, sorry I said anything – anyway  it was a bit of a tricky situation. Of course, I probably could have looked it up on the internet, but that feels like cheating y'know?”

Duke blinked several times. “Um, thanks, I guess? I didn't really think anyone bothered with me.”

“Are you kidding?!” Kid Flash was literally bouncing at this point. “You're one of the coolest bats! You patrol during the day, for one thing, plus your costume is pretty crash. Not to mention you're literally the only meta human Batman has ever let stay in Gotham! Although Black Bat might be one, no one was ever really clear on that.”

“You're a meta human?!” Beast Boy asked, shoving Kid Flash to the side. “Seriously? And you work with Batman?! How does that work?”

Duke laughed. “Yes, I am a meta. No, Black Bat isn't. She's just awesome. And I was Batman's protege before I gained my powers. When we found out, we kinda just rolled with it.”

“Translation,” Nightwing added, “He grumbled a bit before deciding that the rule only really covers Green Lantern.”

“Didn't it always though?” Duke asked his brother.

Nightwing laughed. “Probably. He never seemed to keen on Superman either, to be honest.”

Duke frowned. “Wait, then why did he stop by for tea last week?”

“Wait, he did?! Why wasn't I invited?!”

Duke shook his head and tsked. “Downside to no longer living at the house dude, that's all I'm saying.”

The Team was looking back and forth at the exchange. “Wait,” Blue Beatle said, holding up his hands. “Superman comes over for tea, at Batman's house, which you live in, but Nightwing doesn't anymore?”

“Yup,” Both of the bats said.

Blue Beatle blinked, then nodded. “Alright then.”

“What are your powers,” Wonder girl asked.

“Light stuff, basically,” Duke said. “I can see in several different light spectrums, lets me do a bunch of stuff, like limited x-ray vision. I can also 'replay' what happens in rooms, due to the light residue. I can also see a few seconds into the future.”

Everyone blinked at him.

“Not to mention you can control shadows!” Nightwing added helpfully.

Duke cringed. “Yeah, but that's new. I'm not really familiar with it.”

Everyone stared, except Kid Flash, who just continued bouncing.

“Alright,” Nightwing said after a moment, “Let's get on with the briefing.”

*****

The mission was simple: Infiltrate a high rise owned by Lex Luther in San Francisco, and retrieve information that was being stored on a hard drive. Said drive was only going to be present in the tower for twelve hours, nine of which Lex was also present. Hence the need for a small team, and the precise timing.

The infiltration was scheduled at 1400 hours, after Lex had left for lunch, and before the buyer of the information had arrived. Duke had been given the plans of the building, and multiple suggested strategies. One of these strategies was modified by Duke, and was what led Beast Boy (who insisted Duke call him Garth) turning into a fly in order to get through the vents.

“Are you sure I can't go for something more fun?” Garth asked on the way to San Francisco, “Like a snake? Maybe even a monkey!”

“No,” Duke had said, “A fly is the best option, it's the least likely to set off motion sensors.” At the disappointed face, however, Duke conceded, “You can be a monkey when you open the side entrance.” Garth had whooped in triumph, and Duke had to crack a smile.

Once Beast Boy had managed to get into the building, he made his way to the main security center and dismantled whatever detection systems Lex had in place, allowing Kid Flash (Bart, Duke learned) and Signal himself to make their entrance. The trio made their way to Lex's office, only needing to take out a single guard, and retrieve the hard drive from one of Lex's many (There were like thirty, sheesh) safes in the room. The cracking of said safe took longer than initially planned, but Duke managed to hack the system in time for the guard change. Boy was he glad Tim taught him how to hack.

With the target in hand, they made their way out to the back alley, where Blue Beatle (Jaime, he said his name was) and Wonder Girl (Cassie) were keeping watch. They were almost caught at one point, but Duke saw the guards coming and quickly shoved his teammates into a closet, along with himself. In the end, two guards who were lagging behind on their shift change intercepted them, but Blue Beetle knocked one out, and Wonder Girl got the other.

“Took you long enough,” Cassie said with a grin when she saw the trio returning.

Duke grinned right back at her. “You have any trouble?”

“If these two count as trouble,” She replied, kicking one of the goons.

“Sounds crash!” Kid Flash replied. “How about we get out of here before something blows up?”

Duke frowned. “Why would anything blow up?”

Everyone turned and gave him a look. “You'd be surprised,” Blue Beetle said.

“Better not jinx it, then.” Duke spook, and the team made their escape.

*****

“ - Complete insubordination! Do you know what you did?!”

Duke paused at the doors, looking in on the meeting room where he and the others were supposed to go for their debriefing. Turns out, the other part of the Team was already there, and being chewed out by Batman himself.

“This was supposed to be a covert mission, and you go and get the entire building blown up!” Huh, they weren't kidding about explosions, Duke thought. “You clearly disobeyed the mission parameters, opting instead to joyride with the robots you were sent to destroy! Do you know how many lives you put in danger?!”

“It wasn't our fault!” Tim Drake, better known as Red Robin (Though Duke thought Bart mention that he still went as Robin here? Boy, Damian was gonna be pissed!) told Batman. “The robots got activated remotely, and dragged us along. In the end, they self destructed!”

Batman sighed, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I let Kaldur go one one vacation …”

“You can at least acknowledge we got the job done.” Tim said, and Bruce sighed once more. He looked so tired, and Duke could barely hold in a grin. From the scared faces of everyone else in the room, Duke gathered that no one else found it quite so funny.

“Yes, you got it done,” Batman conceded, “But your methods are far from acceptable! All of you need to reevaluate how you-”

“It's almost kinda funny when I'm not the one being chewed out!” Duke turned to find Jaime and Garth standing in the door beside him, the latter of whom had spoken.

“Oh it's definitely funny,” Duke replied. “I've had front row seats to these types of things since I joined the bats. I”m almost never the one in trouble. Surprised it's Tim, though. Usually Nightwing.”

Both of their eyes widened. “Nightwing is the one in trouble?”

“Yup. We – the other bats and I – have a running bet on how long the rants last. B's best record is two hours, fifty minutes, thirty-seven seconds. It was right after Nightwing spray painted the bat-suit glittery pink, though I'm pretty sure Spoiler helped.”

Jaime opened and closed his mouth for a few moments. “Wow.”

Just then, Bart and Cassie showed up. “Are we late for the debriefing?” The latter asked.

Duke shrugged and pointed into the room, where Batman had moved onto a rant about aerial combat and unneeded fuel. “Nope, There's is running late.”

The group turned and went back to viewing the scene before them. After another fifteen minutes, Batman said. “I have another team coming in soon for debriefing, so let's hope that they were at least partially competent.”

Duke thought that would be as good a place as any to make an entrance, so he brought his fist to his mouth and coughed a bit.

Everyone turned slowly to find the grinning group standing at the doorway.

“Signal,” Batman said, and Duke knew he was relieved, “Did you just get back?”

“We've been standing here for twenty minutes, B. Seriously, your lecturing skills have not gone unpracticed.”

Batman sighed, putting his fingers on the bridge of his nose, not a sight unfamiliar to Duke, but from the gaping mouths, Duke was pretty sure no one else thought anything about the exchange was normal. “Please tell me your mission went well?”

“Without a hitch,” Duke replied grinning. “We got in and out easily. Had a tad of trouble with hacking the safe, but we got it open.” Duke turned to Tim, “Thanks for those lessons last week, they really paid off.”

Tim grinned “Welcome. Wanna continue when we get home?”

Duke nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Were there any complications?” Batman growled.

“We took out three guards quietly, and avoided two more that I saw coming right before they turned a corner, but other than that, no.”

Batman glared suspiciously down at Duke, who only smiled. “Any explosions?”

Duke frowned. “What is it with this team and explosions?” Batman glared some more, “Calm down B, no explosions. Everything was quiet.”

Batman nodded. “Good job, Signal. You dropped off the target with Nightwing, I assume?” At Duke's nod, he continued, “You get head back to Gotham, then. Finish your report in the cave, and finish up your patrol if you want. I'll make a note on the file if we ever need you again.” He paused, and looked critically at Duke. “Would you?”

Duke looked back at Garth, Jaime, Bart, and Cassie, who were all nodding their heads furiously. “Sure,” Duke said, “Why not?”

#dukeweek2020 #duke thomas #the signal #Young Justice #Nightwing #Beast Boy #Kid Flash #Wonder Girl #blue beatle #leadership

[chimie-chat]

Open When...

Chapter 1: ... I leave you alone

The box appeared seemingly out of nowhere. 

One day, after spending too much time frustratedly thrusting every sharp object he could get his hands on into any training dummy he could find, Damian finally retreated up to his bedroom, drenched in sweat and desperately needing a shower. His plan was to dump his athletic wear on the floor, leaving a trail of clothes across the floor, leading to his ensuite. Instead, as he kicked the heavy wooden door shut behind him, hands cross, grasping at the hem of his Under Armour tank top, his eyes caught a glimpse of something on his desk that was definitely not there when he’d left. 

A scowl grew on his face. He hated surprises. He especially hated them when he was already in a bad mood to begin with. Yet here he was, face to face with a… box. A weird, random, wood box that was clearly homemade, seeing as the hinges on the back were screwed in completely unevenly. It was unfinished, pine laying completely exposed to the elements, save for blue paint smeared across the lid, and a poorly done cartoonesque heart taking up space in the top left corner. Underneath, thick black sharpie scrawled out the words ‘Open When’. Damian’s eyes narrowed at the writing. He’d recognize that chicken scratch anywhere:

Jon.

Thus bringing him to why he was upset in the first place. Now, Damian Al Ghul Wayne understood the necessity to train better than more. He regularly preached discipline, and the obligation of other vigilante types to commit themselves to constant practice…. That didn’t mean he was pleased to see Jon leave.

That was the issue. His comrade, his partner, the one individual he dared to call a friend, just up-skipped and left for some sort of training exercise. There were several very large issues with this, the primary being that Damian had not been informed of this. How rude could you be? After nearly two years of devotion and teamwork, and this damned corncob couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye? Obviously there was just no possible way he could, gee, I don’t know, need that stupid kryptonian hybrid? He couldn’t possibly have planned the majority of his group tactics on the presence of an eleven year old power house? Truly, this was just so inconsiderate. The second most prominent issue the young Wayne had with this, was that Jon hadn’t just gone into the mountains for a week. No, it wasn’t a simple trip to Smallville, consisting primarily of stacking hay bales, and building barns. No. Not at all. No, Jon had to go on an indefinite expedition in outer space.

So yeah. Damian was a tad pissed off. Never in all thirteen, nearly fourteen years of his life, would he ever have left the planet without sending out a memo to his teammates. 

The teen looked down at the box again and snarled. “Open when? Open when, what, Kent?” With a click of his tongue, he practically snatched the clasp that held the box shut, harshly flicking it open to see what could possibly be so important, that a shitty, oh-so-mysterious box would appear in his room. 

Damian didn’t know what he had been expecting, truly, but he knew he wasn’t expecting… This.

Despite the box being approximately eight by eight by six inches ー twenty by twenty by twelve centimeters would be a more accurate measurement ー it seemed almost bigger on the inside, as it lay before him, absolutely filled with… envelopes?

Cards, letters of various different sizes and colors were stacked on top of each other in no particular order. Perplexed, Damian picked the stack up, filing through them and reading what had been written on the front. Firmly pasted in the top left corner of each envelope, without fail, were the words “Open When…”, while the center, which would normally contain some kind of address, seemed to complete the sentence.

Open When…

You’re angry

You’re upset

You’re sad

You can’t sleep at night

You feel alone

You’re frustrated

A mission goes wrong

You need a confidence boost

The list went on, each handling a different subject matter. Damian counted fifty letters total.

This… This was absurd. How dare Jonathan leave such rubbish behind for him? What kind of stupid, sentimental garbage was this? That idiot should know better than to believe Damian was anything less thanー

Open When… I leave you alone

...That’s not fair.

Damian tugged open the top drawer of his desk, removing a pair of scissors. He held them open before using the blade to cleanly open the letter, leaving the others to rest in the box. 

He’d expected simple lined paper, low and behold, that’s exactly what he got. Three hole-punched, loose leaf paper tri-folded and stuffed into an envelope. How classy. Damian unfolded the note with a sigh. This could only be so good.

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

Hey best buddy!

So, I’m sorry about all this. I don’t know what happened but I know I’m sorry. Did we have a fight? I hope not. I never was to fight with you. Obviously I know we play fight a lot and sometimes when we spare our punches feel a little more like we actually want to punch each other. But I am never really mad at you. I proms promise. I hope that you feel the same way because you are my best friend and I like you a lot.

If we didn’t fight then I probably had to go for some reason. Chances are it was pretty importent important. I wish you could be with me. Missions are always so much more fun when you’re there with me. But for whatever reason I guess I had to go… You can go ahead and be mad at me if you want to. That’s ok. I completely understand, because I’d probably be pretty upset if you suddenly left too. I mean, I know that sometimes you just disappear. That’s different though, ya know? Like, you do it and it makes sense and I trust you because you always think things through. Me? I’m smart, but I’m not as good at planning as you are. There! I admitted it! You’re better at me than something, so you can just go ahead and hold that over my head forever now.

Anyways. I’m sorry I’m gone, Damian. I really am. But I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can. You know I always do. I can’t let you be lonely without me for too long. I know how you get. Maybe you can go spend some time with the Teen Titans? Oh! Or you could practice hacking into the Justice League computers again! My dad told me that they’re gonna update all of their software, so maybe it’ll be a little harder for you this time.

Wherever I am in the universe, I bet I miss you a lot. I always miss you. You’re my best friend, so of course I do. 

Take care of yourself, buddy! Try not to be too mad at people while I’m gone.

See you soon!

You’re best friend, 

Jon

P.S. Make sure I didn’t leave any snacks that could go bad down in the Fortress of Attitude. Thanks. 

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

Damian rolled his eyes at the letter. The grammar was god awful, and way too many letters had been scribbled over to try and correct spelling mistakes. What was the damn point of this? The teen bit into the inside of his cheeks as he crumbled the stupid letter into a ball, holding it clenched in his fist, before slowly unfolding it. He lay the paper against the flat wooden surface of his desk, smoothing out the new crinkles with the palms of his hands. 

…..Apology accepted. 

#damijon #damian wayne #jon kent #jondami #fanfiction #fanfic #super sons #dc #dc comics #superman #robin #superboy #batman #teen titans #batfam #superfam

[lambourngb]

Aaaaaany chance of a little tiny sneak peek at your Lost Decade prequel to Last Year’s Wishes?

For you, anything!

I’ve shared the first bit before, but here’s more of Michael’s first day as a rider, other than a laborer.

**

This was his third season at Fosters Homestead Ranch and Michael’s first off of the punishing duty of the “fence and feed” crew. 

Repairing breaks in over 100,000 acres of fence line or hauling endless fifty pound bags of feed for ranch’s dairy operation, had lent Michael strong wiry-bound muscle and burned his skin to a golden brown. Mindless, back-breaking labor had banked the anger that burned inside him, leaving him numb and able to drift through spring, summer and fall without taking much notice of how his siblings were passing him by. Isobel was dating a newly hired lawyer at her father’s firm, Max was finishing off his AA in criminal justice, and Michael? 

His aspirations were more a little more earthbound for once and closer on the Maslow order of needs.

He had an eye on an Airstream at the Chaves County impound lot, sitting under bank-repossession. His greatest hope was that he could spend a winter in the safe confines of his own home, instead of squatting in empty houses that were under foreclosure. The silver lining of the housing market crash was that he had multiple choices for his lock-picking brain. It certainly beat camping at the Wash, the makeshift homeless encampment nestled on the banks of the Berrendo Riverbed.

If Michael could have a place to call home, maybe he could convince Alex to spend his holiday leave in Roswell. Maybe the idea of being together wouldn’t seem so impossible to them both. Maybe they could part with a wistful ‘see you next time’ instead of a stone-cold ‘this can’t happen again’. There was news at least that President Obama was working to change and remove the DADT policy. Maybe he could finally be what Alex wanted. 

I want to be with you.

The admission of a worried seventeen year old’s desire for him kept Michael going. He just needed to meet a few markers of progress, even if he was mired in Roswell to keep an eye on Isobel. Alex would be done with his service in another two years, and he could decide to come home to Roswell, despite his father being a homophobe. If Alex had somewhere to go home to, he might stay. Michael needed to be ready.

The ache that hope brought sliced straight through his carefully cultivated dulled feelings, dropping away apathy and leaving him raw for a moment. 

It was just a fresh thin layer of skin barely stretching over his heart as protection. This was how seeing Alex always left him, a newborn toddling through life without the calloused layers. Dice and sliced up by hope. Not seeing Alex was objectively worse. He was just a painted up corpse then, lying in repose while the world moved on. ‘Here lies a promising student, made of lost opportunities’.

Not lost though, actively forsaken. To protect Isobel. He was the architect of that choice, but at least she could live safely in the cover his lie built.

“Hey Curly Sue, you paying attention?” A loud, annoyed voice cracked across Michael’s attention, dispelling the thoughts of the past. 

Michael looked up at the foreman Paul Foster, the young grandson of the ranch owner and shaded his eyes with his left hand, “yes sir, sorry sir.”

The crowd of this year's labor force twittered softly around him. Most of the group were somewhat familiar to Michael, the typical migration of men who were only suited for outdoor work. Following work with the ever-changing seasons, instead of the toil of monotonous cubicles and repetitive memos. The young ones, new to ranching, worked their way through the shit jobs, sometimes literal shit jobs of mucking, to earn a path up the rungs of responsibility to the trusted, returning crop of herdsmen and horsemen. 

“Joe, here,” the foreman nodded to the head of the outriders, “thinks you’ve done enough time digging irrigation lines for the hay fields, and doing feed and fence work, that it’s time we put you on a horse.”

“Mr. Joe is dreamin’,” a voice called out, “look at that hand of his, how the hell is he gonna ride a horse with two fingers?”

Michael dropped his left hand abruptly, shoving the evidence into his pocket uselessly. It wasn’t new knowledge at the Fosters Ranch, his first months out of high school meant he had hauled fifty-pound grain bags on his shoulders while the crooked breaks healed enough for him to hold a pitchfork for stall cleaning. Some of the workers had protested that he had skipped the worst of the chore duty as a green ranch hand. 

Stubbornness kept Michael frozen in place, even as he wanted to slink away. He could do another year repairing fences in the sun, it wouldn’t make as much money as the riders did but it was a job he knew. He’d even grown accustomed to the soft foggy place his brain took him once the hammers started swinging to secure wire and boards. His sense of spatial awareness, sharp and alien in nature, had kept him from hurting himself as he had drifted away in the meditative sounds of thunk, thunk, thunk.

Still making less money was disappointing. His goal of buying the Airstream would need amendment, or a trip to a casino further out than the Mescalero Res. Perhaps north to Isleta Pueblo casino, he wasn’t known there.

“Michael will be a better rider than you assholes. That hand means he can’t ruin a horse's mouth.” 

The unexpected shock of hearing someone advocate for him jerked his wandering attention back again. The head outrider, Joe, was watching him in turn. Dark, kind eyes, familiar but in the face of a stranger, met his from under a black cowboy hat. The head rider ran his gaze up and down Michael’s shabby jeans and Max’s cast-off hiking boots, before his lined mouth smiled, “besides, you’re supposed to ride off with your legs and ass, not off your damn hands.”

There was a moment where Michael thought Joe was looking at him in a different expectation than just riding a horse. That spark of interest. Curiosity about a man and what he could with his hands and generous mouth. He wasn’t wholly unfamiliar with that type of appraisal, but the look disappeared too quickly for Michael to really categorize it. He was probably just lonely or used to seeing that in a set of dark eyes set on similarly molded features.

With that, Joe swept off his black cowboy hat to mop off the sweat from his tan skin marked with sun damage, before resetting it on his head. His words were clear and invited no argument, secure in the knowledge that Mr. Foster himself waited every spring in hope that he was returning to New Mexico after working the winter cattle season in Argentina. No one could ride a horse, handle a herd, or command the type of respect in men better than Joe did and everyone knew it.

“Well?” The foreman Paul prodded pointedly, “why are all of you just standin’ there? Go get yourself a horse so Joe here can teach you something before dinner time.”

The lucky ones, Michael included, that were selected to work the beef cattle this year, headed for the upper field that held the horses. The rest of the new greenhorns and returning laborers headed to the equipment sheds to outfit themselves for fence repairs, or worse, start the task of mucking out the dairy barns. 

Without realizing it, Michael found himself falling in step with Joe as they headed for the fenceline. It was uncharted ground for him, but gratitude was circling his throat and he felt like he needed to say something. “Mr. Garcia, ah-”

“It’s just Joe, although my id says Joseph. But no Mr. And don’t thank me, kid.” He slanted his eyes over to Michael, another swift once over, lingering longer on Michael’s shoes then over to where Michael’s hand was still hiding his jeans pocket. “I meant what I said, you’ll be fine to ride.”

“I know I will be, I just appreciate the chance and I won’t let you down.”

“We all deserve a chance, and I’ve seen you work here for the last few seasons, uncomplaining and quick to pick up a skill. I mean you looked like a sullen raincloud most of the time, but you worked hard. And no one has ever complained about your attitude other than your penchant to flirt in town on payday. And man, I was a young man once too, so more power to you,” Joe commented dryly. 

Once again, Michael felt a little warm hearing that he had been noticed, but he didn’t comment as Joe slowed to a stop as they reached the horse pasture. The fenceline was decorated with worn nylon halters and mis-matched colored lead ropes hanging off of every fence post. Michael squinted in the bright sunlight at the herd of grazing horses spotting shades of brown, black, grey and even dull gold in the green grass of the ten acre field. It was a familiar sight from past years, he used to take his lunch and sit under the trees just to watch the ranch horses enjoy the fresh shoots of grass.

He had been told that in past years, the Fosters had needed to drop large bales of hay in the fields to keep their hard working four-legged staff fed through the long summer months, but every year Michael had worked there, the grass had grown thick and plentiful.

“Take out that hand of yours, I want to see what I’m working with here.”

Well damn. It was one thing to know his hand and disability was something of an open secret at the ranch, and even to old man Sanders at the salvage lot, it was another to let someone examine it closely. Brief bed partners, mainly the female tourists that were drunk enough to find his advances charming but not so drunk they weren’t aware of what was on offer in regards to casual sex, were mainly too engrossed with his efforts at bringing them to orgasm to notice his left hand. Max and Isobel had noticed, but both had agreed that a doctor would bring too many questions.

Alex, of course, knew. Alex, who had spent two weeks chasing his own demons in Michael’s body over Christmas, had made an effort to hold and touch his hand but still his gaze had skittered away from the scars and evidence of Jesse Manes’s rage.

Swallowing hard, Michael pulled his hand from his pocket and offered it meekly. Joe in turn pulled off his work gloves with his teeth and cradled Michael’s hand between his bare, rough palms. 

“Make a fist for me?”

Michael’s thumb and forefinger easily tucked into his palm, while his middle, ring and pinky finger slowly, crookedly bent into an awkward fan pointing to his wrist unable to curl fully in a ball. 

Joe made a soft humming sound in his throat, before reaching for the lead rope from the fence post. “Okay, open up for me.”

A squirming feeling snaked down his spine at the command, but Michael obeyed again as Joe draped the shot of line across his palm. Slowly he wrapped the line in a firm loop, squeezing Michael’s fingers over it, his eyes intent on the flexibility of Michael’s grip. The tug of line around his hand and then wrist sent another shock of almost arousal. Michael inhaled sharply, as Joe looked up in question. 

“Feel that tension? You’ll never need more than that when you’re riding, unless something has gone horribly wrong, okay? Less is more. I can teach technique, but I can’t teach you feel. That’s something you have to find on your own?” 

Michael wet his lips, struggling to focus again on the instruction and nodded.

After a moment, Joe made another off-hand humming sound, and unwound the rope from Michael’s hand and wrist. The strange atmosphere broke as he slapped the halter and rope into Michael’s right hand, and pointed out to the field, “see that horse over there? The one with the white butt but brown body? That’s Rocky. He’ll be a good one for you to learn on. So go get him and we’ll get started.”

It was strange, Michael felt both hot and cold as he fumbled his grip on the halter. It was like surfacing from a deep dive in the lake, his ears almost wanted to pop and his lungs felt tight. He tucked those feelings away and ducked through the slats of the fenceline.

#prettier and younger but not any better off #prequel to Last Years Wishes #the making of Cowboy Michael #wip whine #aewriting

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Best lyrics on 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑘𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒.

the 1 - 

“And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow.” 

“We never painted by the numbers, baby, but we were making it count. You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.” 

cardigan - 

“And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite.” 

“I knew you tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy. I knew you. Leavin' like a father, running like water.”

“I knew I'd curse you for the longest time. Chasin' shadows in the grocery line. I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standin' in my front porch light.”

the last great american dynasty - 

“The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. There's only so far new money goes. They picked out a home and called it "Holiday House". Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud. The doctor had told him to settle down. It must have been her fault his heart gave out.” 

“Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names, and blew through the money on the boys and the ballet. And losing on card game bets with Dalí.”

“They say she was seen on occasion, pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea. And in a feud with her neighbor, she stole his dog and dyed it key lime green. Fifty years is a long time. Holiday House sat quietly on that beach. Free of women with madness, their men and bad habits. And then it was bought by me.”

“I had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

exile ft. Bon Iver - 

“I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending. You're not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out.”

“I can see you starin', honey. Like he's just your understudy. Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me. Second, third, and hundredth chances. Balancin' on breaking branches. Those eyes add insult to injury.”

“I’m not your problem anymore, so who am I offending now?”

“You didn't even hear me out. (You didn't even hear me out.) You never gave a warning sign. (I gave so many signs.)”

my tears ricochet - 

“We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room. And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too.”

“I didn't have it in myself to go with grace. And you're the hero flying around saving face. And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. Look at how my tears ricochet.”

“We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean. Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring. You know I didn't want to have to haunt you, but what a ghostly scene. You wear the same jewels that I gave you, as you bury me.”

“And you can aim for my heart, go for blood. But you would still miss me in your bones. And I still talk to you... (When I'm screaming at the sky!) And when you can't sleep at night... (You hear my stolen lullabies!)“

“You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same. Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. You turned into your worst fears. And you're tossin’ out blame, drunk on this pain. Crossin’ out the good years.”

mirrorball - 

“I'm a mirrorball. I can change everything about me to fit in. You are not like the regulars, the masquerade revelers. Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten.”

“And they called off the circus, burned the disco down. When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns, I'm still on that tightrope. I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me. And I'm still a believer, but I don't know why. I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try. I'm still on that trapeze. I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.”

seven -

“Please picture me in the trees. I hit my peak at seven feet in the swing over the creek. I was too scared to jump in. But I was high in the sky with Pennsylvania under me. Are there still beautiful things?”

“Sweet tea in the summer. Cross your heart, won't tell no other. And though I can’t recall your face, I still got love for you. Your braids like a pattern, love you to the Moon and to Saturn. Passed down like folk songs. The love lasts so long.”

“And I've been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad and that must be why. And I think you should come live with me, and we can be pirates. Then you won't have to cry or hide in the closet.”

august - 

“But I can see us lost in the memory, August slipped away into a moment in time. 'Cause it was never mine. And I can see us twisted in bed-sheets, August sipped away like a bottle of wine. 'Cause you were never mine.”

“Back when we were still changin' for the better. Wanting was enough. For me it was enough. To live for the hope of it all. Canceled plans just in case you'd call, and say, ‘Meet me behind the mall.’ So much for summer love and saying ‘us’, ‘cause you weren't mine to lose.”

“Remember when I pulled up and said, ‘Get in the car’? And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call? Back when I was livin' for the hope of it all.”

this is me trying - 

“I've been having a hard time adjusting. I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. I didn't know if you'd care if I came back. I have a lot of regrets about that. Pulled the car off the road to the lookout. Could've followed my fears all the way down.”

“They told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential. And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad. I have a lot of regrets about that. I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere. Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here. Pouring out my heart to a stranger, but I didn't pour the whiskey.”

“At least I’m trying.”

illicit affairs - 

“And that's the thing about illicit affairs, and clandestine meetings, and longing stares. It's born from just one single glance, but it dies and it dies and it dies! A million little times.”

“Take the words for what they are. A dwindling, mercurial high. A drug that only worked the first few hundred times.”

“And that's the thing about illicit affairs, and clandestine meetings, and stolen stares. They show their truth one single time, but they lie and they lie and they lie! A million little times.”

“And you wanna scream, ‘Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby". Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else. Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby". Look at this idiotic fool that you made me. You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else.’”

“‘And you know damn well, for you I would ruin myself a million little times.’”

invisible string - 

“Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

“Bad was the Blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to LA. You ate at my favorite spot for dinner. Bold was the waitress on our three-year trip, getting lunch down by the lakes. She said I looked like an American singer.”

“A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar. Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire. Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons. One single thread of gold tied me to you.”

“Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart. Now I send their babies presents. Gold was the color of the leaves when I showed you around Centennial Park. Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven.”

mad woman - 

“What did you think I'd say to that? Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? They strike to kill, and you know I will. What do you sing on your drive home? Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? Does she smile? Or does she mouth, ‘Fuck you forever’?”

“And there's nothing like a mad woman. What a shame she went mad. No one likes a mad woman. You made her like that. And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out, and you find something to wrap your noose around. And there's nothing like a mad woman.”

“Now I breathe flames each time I talk. My cannons all firin' at your yacht. They say ‘move on,’ but you know I won't. And women like hunting witches too. Doing your dirtiest work for you. It's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together.”

“Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy. What about that? And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry.”

“I'm taking my time, ‘cause you took everything from me. Watching you climb over people like me. The master of spin has a couple side flings. Good wives always know. She should be mad, should be scathing like me, but no one likes a mad woman.”

epiphany - 

“Keep your helmet, keep your life, son. Just a flesh wound, here's your rifle. Crawling up the beaches now. ‘Sir, I think he's bleeding out!’ And some things you just can't speak about.”

“Something med school did not cover. Someone's daughter, someone's mother, holds your hand through plastic now. ‘Doc, I think she's crashing out!’ And some things you just can't speak about.”

“Only twenty minutes to sleep, but you dream of some epiphany. Just one single glimpse of relief, to make some sense of what you've seen.”

“With you I serve, with you I fall down. Watch you breathe in, watch you breathing out.”

betty - 

“You heard the rumors from Inez. You can't believe a word she says most times, but this time it was true. The worst thing that I ever did, was what I did to you.”

“But if I just showed up at your party, would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself, or lead me to the garden? In the garden, would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything, but I know I miss you!”

“I was walking home on broken cobblestones, just thinking of you when she pulled up like a figment of my worst intentions. She said, ‘James, get in, let's drive.’ Those days turned into nights. Slept next to her, but I dreamt o’ you all summer long!”

“Yeah, I showed up at your party, will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything, but I know I miss you! Standin’ in your cardigan! Kissin' in my car again! Stopped at a streetlight, you know I miss you!”

peace - 

“But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade, ocean wave blues come. All these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret. The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me. Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?”

“Your integrity makes me seem small. You paint dreamscapes on the wall. I talk shit with my friends, it's like I'm wasting your honor. And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences. Sit with you in the trenches. Give you my wild, give you a child. Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother. Is it enough? But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the West, I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best. But the rain is always gonna come if you're standin' with me.”

hoax - 

“You know I left a part of me back in New York. You knew the hero died so what's the movie for? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars, from when they pulled me apart. You knew the password so I let you in the door. You knew you won so what's the point of keeping score? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars, from when they pulled me apart. But what you did was just as dark. Darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart.”

“My only one. My kingdom come undone. My broken drum, you have beaten my heart. Don't want no other shade of blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do.”

#folklore #taylor swift #ts8 #music

[theonewiththefanfics]

Hawkins’ Charm (Part 4/?)

Synopsys: They had gotten out of Hawkins. After all the shit that had happened, all the heartache and pain, Billy and the Reader had gotten away from that hellhole, building their life in California as he had dreamed. But when Max’s graduation rolls around and they go to celebrate, it’s as if the Upside Down was just waiting for all of them to return. And it has a bone to pick.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!Reader; platonic!Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: blood, mentions of injuries and death, fighting, swearing

Word count: 3345

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE BILLY’S ACTIONS AND THE THINGS HE’S DONE! THIS IS BASICALLY AN AU, WHEN REALLY LOOKING AT IT! SPOILERS FOR S3! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

Y/N’s heart felt as if it was about to break out of her chest, her arms clutching onto a crowbar she’d found under one of the bus’ seats. Steve’s back was just as tightly pressed against the inside wall, as was hers, his own fingers wrapped around a sturdy looking piece of wood, yet she still felt like there was nothing separating them from the Demogorgon.        Tears had started to stream down her face pretty much instantly when they both dropped down to hide inside the hull of the vehicle.        “Do you think it heard us?” Y/N whispered, trying not to move a muscle in her trembling limbs.        Steve shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I’m not about to ask it.”        “We have to get out of here.”        “Yeah no shit,” he hissed, extending his neck to see out the front window where the Demogorgon was still lurking, moving at a snail’s pace and sniffing each and every corner.    It looked about a hundred and fifty feet away, but it was still a risk to leave. They could slam up against something sharp, and if the sound wouldn’t give away their position the scent of blood definitely would.

       Y/N was desperately trying to look around the interior for anything they could use against it. She remembered that it hated warmth, despised it, so fire would be a sure way to incapacitate it for a moment, if not even gravely injure it.        Her Y/E/C eyes befell on a graffiti can.        “What are you doing?” Steve asked, hands gripping his weapon tighter.        She just shushed him with a look and passed her crowbar to him. Barely breathing, Y/N leaned to stand on all fours and crawled her way down the aisle. Just as her fingers were about to reach for the can, she heard the Demogorgon approach.        Y/N completely pressed herself against the floor as Steve did to the side of the bus. The fear was all consuming by that point. Sure, she’d fought one of those pieces of shit before, she had fought even bigger monsters, but there was something about the Demogorgon, that Y/N couldn’t quite shake.        Maybe it was the fact it had been the thing that started it all – taken Will, killed Barb and had turned her life upside down. Quite literally.        Or maybe it was the fact she was no longer fighting for herself or for her friends. Y/N had a family. A husband and a daughter that meant the most to her in the world, so the fact that the Demogorgon could so easily rip it away was not something she liked to consider.        They could hear the weird noises it emitted, as it walked around the junkyard, slowly moving further away from where Steve and Y/N were hiding.        He stretched his neck a bit further out to look at where the Demogorgon was, and after deeming it safe, Y/N crawled forward a bit more and got a hold of the can. She couldn’t tell if it was half full or completely empty, at least not by the weight of it, so the only way they’d be able to check was if she shook it and pressed on the nozzle.        “It’s gonna be loud,” Y/N muttered, looking at Steve.        He nodded. “I know…" then something dawned on him. "Wait, do you have a lighter or something?”       Shit. She hadn’t even thought about how she’d light it up. Y/N’s main concern had been getting the can and now testing it, not figuring out if by the lucky chance it was usable, they had anything to flame the paint up with.        Instinctively Y/N patted down Billy’s jacket, for the first time ever hoping to find either matches or a lighter, but of course, there was nothing. He hadn’t smoked in years.        Her mind wheered with the possibilities of what they could do.        “Do you think there’s something here we could use? There’s no way kids don’t come here to smoke or drink,” she muttered, scanning the bus again.        “Maybe,” Steve whispered back, still tracking the Demogorgon’s moves, the crowbar his new best friend until he could get his hands on his trusty nailed bat. “And there could be some stuff of use in the other cars, but are we sure we wanna risk it?”        “Steve,” Y/N whisper-yelled, “we’re gonna have to risk it either way. There’s zero chance we can take it on with a rusted crowbar and a wooden plank. Fire’s our best bet.”        “And if it’s empty?”        A pregnant pause passed.        “Then we run like fucking hell.”

***

       The junkyard might’ve been a twenty-minute walk through the woods from Tina’s, but with a car, with having to weave their way through the town, no matter how small Hawkins was and no matter how fast Billy was driving, it was still way too far away.        “Take a left!” Robin yelled, as he almost missed a turn, the tires screeching against the road and leaving black marks in their wake.        She looked to the side, watching as Billy’s knuckles on the wheel turned from white to almost translucent, eyes boring into the street like he could see invisible marks Y/N had left there that would lead them to Steve and her.        “They’re gonna be okay,” Robin tried to somewhat soothe him, but his grip only tightened, and his foot pressed on the gas pedal harder. “They’ve dealt with this before.”        “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Billy grunted and quickly looked in his rearview mirror to see Nancy practically decimate the path behind them, her headlights shining brightly before they disappeared as she took a quick right to pull up on the other side.        “They’re alone, in a junkyard with whatever the hell kind of a monster the Mind Flayer has released now. No weapons,” he slammed a hand on the wheel, and Robin tightened her hold on the shotgun. “And it’s my fault,” he let out a bitter chuckle. “I called her a mood killer and told her to go home, ‘cause I just fucking needed to prove to fucking Tommy H, Tommy H! that I was still the King of Hawkins!”        “Look,” Robin started and then pointed to where a forest road led to the junkyard, Billy quickly turning that way. “Yeah, you were a dick, when she just wanted to relax with her friends, and your ego might’ve gotten in the way, but this is not your fault.”        “Really? Then whose is it?”        “I don’t know!” she practically screamed. “Probably whoever opened the Gate!”        Whoever.        Opened.        The.        Gate.        “Fuck,” they breathed simultaneously.        The Gate was open. Had to be. There was no other way to explain how something from the Upside Down could be here.        “Do you think it’s the Russians again?” Billy asked, trying to think of something else other than his wife fighting off a monster, and maybe, potentially, losing the battle.        “I don’t know,” Robin shook her head and loaded two rounds into the gun. “It wouldn’t make any sense, cause the people Hopper called to help us out four years ago made sure to lock everything up.”        “And do you trust what they said?”        “I mean given how they poured cement over each and every door, and Joyce was there to oversee it, yeah. I trust her.”        It didn’t make any sense. The only other option was that the old access point in the Lab had been opened.        “I mean, the Russians did apparently have their own Gates,” Robin suddenly remembered a conversation she’d had after the whole thing had gone down, hands slightly shaking at the thought of what was to come. Would it be as bad as it had been the first time around?        Billy’s eyebrows furrowed. “What like in Moscow or something?”        “I don’t know. All I know is that the last time Joyce and Hopper grabbed some commie dude, and he told them they used to have their own Gates, but something always prohibited them from fully working, so that’s why they came to Hawkins. This is like the source of all that Upside-Down shit.”        Of course, there’d have to be something completely wrong with this already godforsaken town.        “So, you think they did what?” Billy bitterly chuckled, “hopped on a boat and sailed here? Or did they send ‘em through the post?"        Robin was not on board with his attitude despite understanding where he was coming from. “Look, I said I thought I saw a weird humanoid thing with a flower for a head. Nance said that means it’s probably a Demogorgon, and the last time, that shit could make portals wherever the fuck it wanted. So, maybe there’s a Gate open somewhere in Russia, and it just decided to move on its own to where the pull is the strongest?”        They had slowed down to a crawl, headlights turned off before Billy had to kill the engine. They’d make the rest of the way on foot as to not give away their position.        “There still has to be a gateway open in Hawkins,” Billy whispered opening up the trunk and taking out a bat he kept there. Clara was a huge fan of baseball for some reason, and he had decided for her fourth birthday they’d go to a game and ask a player to sign it. “It might be able to survive with a Gate open so far away, but it wouldn’t be able to function. Trust me,” he gave Robin a painful look. “I’d know.”        “We need to see El,” Robin muttered, whispering as they neared the junkyard. “Maybe she can help us find out what the fuck is going on.        “After we save my wife.”        “And Steve.”        Billy just gave her a look of dejected confirmation before they stepped out into the dark woods. Y/N would always be his first priority. Her and their kid.        His grip grew tighter around the bat.

***

       They had miraculously managed to evade the Demogorgon, up until that point. Together Steve and Y/N had made their way across the junkyard and towards the tiny path that led into the forest but not before scouring every possible car. She was still holding onto the graffiti can like it was her last lifeline, which it might as well have been.        “The one time his disgusting habit could’ve been useful,” Steve had muttered to Y/N after they had searched the third car for something to ignite the fumes if there were any left in the can.        Their feet moved against the gravel with way too much noise for their liking, but the Demogorgon seemed to be far away enough, it wasn’t picking up on it or didn’t deem the prey noteworthy if it did hear them.        “Quiet,” Y/N hissed with a motion to the trunk as Steve popped the back open. It seemed to be a relatively new car in the yard, at least it hadn’t been there when they were teenagers, the paint was still shiny, the light from the moon bouncing off its sides, compared to the rusty beasts lying around.        A trash bag, what looked like a ripped-up sheet with stains littered across the fabric and a can of gasoline was what was inside.        Gently, Steve grabbed the handle and lifted it up. Clear as the day, they heard liquid slosh around the cannister. And yet, still, with the additional fuel they could use, there was no way to ignite it.        Something in the woods behind them cracked, and their heads whipped around. A low rumble echoed across the field. It was a rumble that Y/N would recognize even dead before it disappeared.        “Billy,” she whispered, hope lacing that single word, but during the little moment of happiness, she had let go of the trunk's hood, as had Steve for he had grabbed onto the crowbar with both hands thinking it was the Demogorgon when it closed with a loud slam.        The monster whipped its head around from where it had been sniffling, opening up its grotesque mouth and releasing a screech.        Her first instinct was to drop down and hide, but someone from the opposite side yelled ‘hey!’, and they took it as their opportunity to flee.        “Run!” Steve yelled, setting off in a dead sprint.        A gunshot rang out, the bullet whizzing past their heads, and Y/N instinctively ducked, the graffiti can rolling out of her hands and under a pile of metal scraps.        “Shit!”        Y/N scrambled towards where she thought it could’ve gone but had to recoil when something sneered directly into her face. It seemed to be a Demogorgon, but it wasn’t big enough, more so the size of a big cat or a small dog.        A hand grabbed at her collar yanking Y/N back, the crowbar in Steve’s hand meeting the back of whatever that thing was.        “Watch out for Demodogs!” he yelled, and a bullet from the shotgun Robin was holding met its head, the beast recoiling away but not dead.        Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched up. “Demowhatnow?”        “Demodogs!” Steve was gripping at her hand and pulling her away to the bus to take cover, as more and more of those things surrounded them. “The year after the first incident, Dustin found this weird lizard thing, and it turned out it was a Demogorgon, only not fully evolved.”        “So, you’re saying that those things,” Y/N pointed at one of them, “become that?!”        By that, she meant the Demogorgon making its way towards them but being fended off by Nancy who had made a Molotov cocktail from a whiskey bottle she’d snatched from Tina’s, the end of her blouse and a lighter.        A lighter!        “Nance!” Y/N yelled. “There’s a can of gasoline in the trunk we were looking in!”        “On it!”        The Demodogs were pressing in on them. She could hear the yelps from them when the thud of a crowbar or Billy’s bat met flesh, Robin taking as many out with her shotgun, Johnathan keeping Nancy safe by creating a wall of flame as he spilt another bottle of whiskey around them and lit it on fire.        It was unmistakably Billy’s arm that wrapped around Y/N's middle and pulled her behind him.        “Get to the car! Now!”        She wasn’t going to argue, seeing as she was the only one without a weapon, and where she was stubborn, she also knew how to read the situation. With one last look at Steve to know he was going to be okay, he nodded giving her the green light, and Y/N was running.          But she didn’t get far. Pain exploded all across her back, and a metallic taste invaded her mouth as she was slammed onto the ground. Bright spots danced across her vision, and it was hard to take in a breath. It was like a belt was slowly being tightened around her neck.        She thought she vaguely heard someone yelling her name. Someone vaguely sounding like Billy.        Y/N tried to answer, to call out for him, but her tongue was made out of cotton, and lips wouldn’t move. Her fingers went to grab at whatever was prohibiting her from taking in a breath when she was met by fingers with razors for nails.            Y/E/C eyes instantly sprung open to see the Demogorgon leaning over her, its mouth open as if waiting for her to give him permission to eat. Of course, that was not going to happen.        With as much strength as she could muster, Y/N kicked at the knees of the Demogorgon, and for a brief moment, she had taken it off its balance, allowing air to start flowing once more.        Quickly she turned on her stomach to crawl away, but her oxygen deprived limbs were too slow, and the agonizing feeling of claws digging in her back and dragging her away made her vision go black.        For a moment, Y/N opened her eyes and saw the junkyard illuminated by a circle of fire and a horde of Demodogs surrounding her friends and the one person she could never live without.        Then everything turned to darkness.

***

       Robin didn’t have any more bullets, and she was fighting the Demodogs off by simply slamming them with the shotgun. But the fight didn’t last much longer.    In a way, it was a miracle, as the surviving Demodogs retreated back from where they’d come from, hissing and growling. But at the same time, it didn’t feel right. Sure, they were battered and bruised and tired, and they had no complaints about no more fighting, but that’s when they were the weakest, the easiest to be killed.            Billy was sporting a nasty cut on his shoulder from one of the paws of the Demodogs, and it was hard to keep ahold of the bat the pain making bright white spots dance across the inside of his lids whenever he blinked.        “What are they doing?” Johnathan asked, completely confused as they’d stood back to back while struggling to defend one another.        “They’re retreating…” Robin stated the obvious, but it seemed so improbable it was needed for it to be pointed out. “Why – why are they retreating?”        “Guys?” Steve butted in, “where’s Y/N?”        “I told her to get to the car,” Billy responded, and it was those words that made him dash towards where he’d parked the Camaro by the junction.    He’d never been a religious person, the Virgin Mary that always hung against his chest had been his mother’s, but for the third time in his life, he prayed.        The first time had been when the Mind Flayer had injured him. He had prayed for death to come quickly. The second time had been when Y/N was in labour. He had prayed for everything to go as smoothly as possible. Now he was praying to find his wife in the safety of his car, but when he was fifty feet away, he didn’t need light to know she wasn’t there.        “Y/N!” Billy roared but was only answered by the silence of the forest. “Y/N!”        Four pairs of feet joined him and looked at the distressed man as he pulled at his hair and kept yelling her name    “Maybe the Demogorgon was chasing her, and she decided to run,” Steve threw out the idea, hoping for it to be true, but everyone had a gut feeling it wasn’t. Nothing was ever that easy.       “No! Fuck it took her! I left the keys in the car! If she would’ve made it, she would’ve slammed on the gas pedal.”            Billy chucked the bat against the door, and it left a sizable dent in it. He didn’t care about it anymore, he didn’t care about anything else anymore. His wife was gone, missing, and it had been his fault.        His fault she was hurt, his fault their daughter could possibly have to grow up without a mother.        His fault.        “Let’s go,” Johnathan’s voice brought him out of his self-loathing.        “No,” Billy shook his head. “I gotta find her.”        But he had nowhere to start.        Nancy tried to reason with him. “That’s what we’re gonna do, but it’s pointless to scour the woods in complete darkness with barely any protection. We don’t know where the Demodogs are or the Demogorgon. El’s at our place with the rest of the Party… She can help. She can find her.”        “Do you promise?” Billy asked through tears that he could barely keep at bay. “Can you promise me she’ll be alright?”        “I can’t,” Nancy’s lip quivered at the admission. She couldn’t lose another friend, but she also couldn’t swear that they’d find Y/N alive. “But El’s our best option.”        He kicked the dirt by the wheel of the car but nodded.        El was their best option.        “Come on,” Billy wiped his face down, a trail of dirt and tears left in the wake of his palm. “The sun's coming up.”    With the first scarlet rays of the new day, Billy and Robin climbed into his car as Nancy and Johnathan went back to theirs. He'd find her. And if he didn't he'd burn Hawkins to the ground.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): 

Hawkins’ Charm tag list: @genius2050 @aiifandomsunite​ @ashleymarieriffle​ @littlefool-smalljester​ @infinitelycharmed23​ @llcalumllhoodll​ @benevolentgemini @rxmanovbby​ @euphoniumpets​ @krazykatykat456 @believerofall​ @cracked-sidewalk98 @ccidk​ @babechief @meganmj​ @blackhood5sos​ @fml9603​ @noodlenerd101​ @universefinds​ @kuroidesuchloe​ @im-a-stranger-thing​ @grxxn-gardxns​ @springholland​ @beforethebraces​ @robinisourlesbianmom @queeneliza108​ @neenaw-neenaw @lexisntthatweird​ @choicesismylife​ @mckenzie2020 @kcd15​ @snuggleducky​ @reckless-sofia​ @didyouseetheflair​ @silver-winter-wolf​ @jay-ta-blog​ @hopeless-lovex0​ @anyasthoughts​ @robinismyqueen​ @yeah-butyourenot-dacremontgomery @mcrganstarks​ @psychoticobsession @cutehipstergirl25​ @sbfandom @mickmoon​ @jackyfrost01 @txhmine @dark-princess99​ @morgangrice18 @changingmylifestyle367​ @graveyard--baby--666 @sweetdayme4427

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28

A/N: I apologise for any grammar mistakes, I’m pretty tired, but I wanted to put out this part :D

P.S. my tags are always open :)

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgromery #dacre montgomery x you #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre x reader #dacre montgomery x y/n #stranger things #stranger things season 3 #strangerthingsedit #stranger things spoilers #stranger things 3 #stranger things 3 spoilers #netflix stranger things #netflix #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #johnathan byers #reader insert #series #hawkins’ charm #hawkins #hawkins indiana

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (3/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,639

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing

masterlist

a/n: I realized that I really enjoy writing Peggy and Bucky interactions.  Let me know what you think!

Bucky sighed as he pulled on his t-shirt, moving his head side to side until he felt a satisfying pop.  It had been four days since your trip to Central Park, and while he thought you were feeling a little better, sometimes he couldn’t tell.  There were moments when you’d be giggling and joking with Wanda and the others, but then sometimes he’d catch you with your eyes glazed over. You would see what was going on around you and react in a somewhat appropriate manner, but it was like you were wading through water.

There was a soft knock on his door and it creaked open to reveal Sam.  “You ready?” He asked, leaning against the frame.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said as he looked back at himself in the full length mirror.  He looked… relatively normal.  His t-shirt, his jeans.  The baseball cap on his head.  He’d taken to not covering his arm as much, at least when he knew he was only going to be seen by his friends, the people he trusted.  He turned towards the door and began to follow Sam out, but he hesitated, asking, “Is she awake yet?”

Sam shook his head with a bit of a smirk, nodding towards your new room that was a few doors ahead.  “Nah.  She’s still out from what I know.”

And he knew.  He knew that Sam would give him shit for it, but Bucky tiptoed down the hall towards your door anyway, tapping into his Winter Soldier training.  When he didn’t get a response, he gently opened the door without so much as a creak.  A fond smile tugged at his lips as he sees you curled up under a huge comforter, surrounded by an overabundance of pillows.  One of your arms was tucked under the pillow as you laid on your stomach, your hair fanning out behind you.  You looked so peaceful, so pretty, that he was sure his heart was going to burst.  For once you’re not restlessly tossing and turning on the living room couch, you’re not being plagued by nightmares.

He’s just happy that you’re actually getting some sleep.

He carefully shut the door with a soft click, hoping desperately that it won’t wake you up.  It was only eight in the morning and you deserved to sleep in, despite the fact that your usual training schedule from before the Snap happened had always started this early.  Hopefully there wouldn’t be a need for that for a long time.

Sam shot him a knowing look as they headed for the garage, grabbing a set of keys from the plethora beside the garage door.  The two of them never grabbed one pair specifically.  They just chose and random and then figured it out when they actually got there.  Sam hit the lock button as they stood in front of the row of cars, and he smirks as he hears the telltale beep from further down the line.  “Bentley it is.”

“Damn,” Bucky deadpanned.  “I was hoping for one of the Audis.”

They didn’t say anything for the first three and a half hours of the four hour drive to Buffalo (it was supposed to be five and a half but Sam didn’t care much about the speed limit).  Well, they did a little when they stopped in a drive thru—a McDonald’s, Bucky thinks it’s called—but only saying “Get me whatever” doesn’t really count.  They listened to the music softly playing—something from Sam’s phone that’s hooked up to the Bluetooth—and watched the scenery.

“You’re sweet on her,” Sam said out of the blue, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

And Bucky whipped his head around so fast he’s surprised he didn’t break it.  “What? No, I’m not.  Why would I—”

“Bucky,” he said, effectively shutting the other man up. “Don’t lie to me.  More importantly, don’t lie to yourself.”  He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “You’re sweet on her.  That’s completely normal.”

“Is it?” He asked with a groan, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him whole.

“Yes.”

He leaned his head back against the headrest.  “She’s my best friend’s girlfriend.  It’s weird and a little more than creepy.”

“Was.  She was your best friend’s girlfriend.  That’s an important distinction.”  And Sam can’t help but grin, shaking his head.  “And how the hell is it creepy?”

“They just broke up, like, a month ago.”

“I’m not saying go after her now,” he said, shaking his head in slight disbelief. “That would be creepy.”  He rolled his shoulders back.  “But in a few months or so, when she’s not heartbroken anymore...  I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with asking a pretty girl out for dinner.  Or coffee, if that would make it easier on you.”

Bucky let out a huff of air as he crossed his arms over his chest and pointedly ignored his somewhat best friend.  “I’m not asking her out.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam said with a deep sigh. “But I’m telling you, if you let that one go, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

And he knew that his sort-of-kind-of best friend meant well.  Really. He did.  But it still frustrated him to no end that he just had to go poking his nose into matters that didn’t concern him.  As far as Bucky was concerned, the matters of his heart didn’t concern anyone that wasn’t himself, and sometimes not even him.

“She’s taking Morgan out for a movie today,” he said, his voice barely audible as he made a point to stare out the window.  Anything to avoid Sam’s ever-knowing gaze.  That man could read anyone, and he really didn’t want him to see just how nervous he was.  It was going to be the first time you’d left the compound since that Final Battle without another Avenger.  And while he knew that you could handle yourself, he was still anxious.  Just thinking about it made his hands start to shake.  The world was still finding its way and there were still people who wanted to pretend as though billions of people hadn’t returned from the dead.  They were ransacking and looting, attacking people in broad daylight.

And he felt so stupid because even though you could handle yourself—you were an Avenger, just like the rest of them—he wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and keep you safe from the rest of the world.

“I didn’t know they’d be coming out with new movies so soon,” Sam said, his brows furrowing.

Bucky sighed as he picked at a loose thread on his jeans.  “They’re not. The movie theatre in town is just getting up and running again, and they’re playing old movies.  I think she said something about The Little Mermaid.”  And he doesn’t know what that one is, only that it’s a Disney movie that came out past his time and he’d really like to see it with you, but he promised that he’d visit—

“Here we are,” the other man said as he turned onto the long driveway that led up to the Roger’s household.

And once again, Bucky is absolutely floored by the life that Steve has created here.  The driveway is long and winds up through deep trees that are in full bloom. Mostly towering oak trees, though he does see a few sycamores.  The two-story house is painted a soft yellow and has a white porch that wraps around the entire thing.  The front door was open, letting the summer breeze in through the storm door.

Sam threw the car into park and when the two of them stepped out, the hundred-year-old man could hear the faint sound of jazz coming from the house.  An easy smiled tugged at his lips as he saw the familiar woman step out onto the porch, wiping her hands on a rag.

“Bucky!  Sam!” Margaret Carter-Rogers shouted as she waved at them enthusiastically.

“Hey, Peg,” Bucky said as he climbed up the porch steps.  He can’t say how amazing it feels when the elderly woman pulls him into a hug because one, he’d missed her, and two, he didn’t get many hugs.  The metal arm tended to put off a lot of people, but never Peggy. The first time he’d seen her, after Steve had showed up all wrinkly and actually old, she hadn’t hesitated in embracing him.  She didn’t shy away from his arm.  “How are ya, doll?”

“I’m doing just fine, Buck,” she said as she pulled away before pulling Sam into the same embrace.  She patted the other man’s cheek before leading them into the house. “Steve’s in the kitchen.”

And the fact that his best friend loved cooking—and that he was actually really good at it—still surprised him.  But sure enough, there he is.  He had on one of those aprons with ‘Kiss the Cook’ embroidered on it and that’s just what his wife—his wife of fifty-two years now—does.  She stood up on her tiptoes to press a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips, and it’s so intimate that Bucky feels the urge to look away, to give them a bit of privacy.

Steve turned, his blue eyes lighting up as he sees his two best friends.  “Hey! There you two are!  Lunch is almost done.”

“I’m gonna go and wash my hands,” Bucky said, pointing towards the hallway.  It was easy enough to find the bathroom and wash his hands, but as he dried them on the soft blue towel, he caught his own eye in the mirror and just stopped.  It’d been a while since he really looked at himself. He ran his fingers through his beard, which had started to get more than a little out of control.  I wonder if Y/N likes it, he thought to himself before shaking his head.  He really can’t have those thoughts.  At least, not when he’s in your ex’s bathroom.

He flicked off the light as he left the bathroom, and though he knew he should head back to the kitchen, he hesitated.  The laughs of his friends were floating down the hall as he took in the many different photographs that were hung up on the wall. There were a lot of just Steve and Peggy, but there was even more of their family.  Their kids, their grandkids.  There’s a huge horde of Rogers and it amazes him.

Bucky jumped almost a foot in the air as he heard the soft feminine voice, and he’s a little ashamed since he was supposed to be the deadliest assassin in the world and that means he doesn’t get snuck up on.  “It’s strange, isn’t it?” She asked as she sidled up beside him.  “Seeing all of this?”

“You have no idea.”

She grinned, and he gets a flash of the first time he met her, trying not to smile at Steve with her lips painted a perfect shade of red.  “I’ve done a lot of things in my life, and I can truly say that my children and grandchildren are my greatest achievement.”

“Really?”

“Let me tell you, Barnes,” she said with a soft laugh. “Running one of the best spy organizations in the entire world is a walk in the park compared to raising children. Especially ones that are half super soldier.”

He can’t help but laugh as he nods towards one of the pictures that has the entire family in it.  The look on Steve’s face is one that he rarely saw after breaking free of HYDRA.  He’s content, happy, peaceful.  “You have no idea how much I wanted him to have this.  A good life.  A happy one.” His blue eyes rested on the woman beside him.  “Thank you for giving him that.”

“I spent years trying to move from him after he went into the ice,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.  Her eyes were glistening as she remembered how awful it had been.  “I went on quite a few dates, but…  None of them were my Steve.”

“You two were always going to be brought back together somehow,” he said, and he truly meant it.  “Even back in the forties, we could all see it, even if you two couldn’t.”

“He told me about everything that happened after he came out of the ice.  How he came back to me,” she said.  Her hands were wringing together anxiously as she turned to look at the pictures on the wall. “He told me about Y/N.  How much she meant to him.”  She drew her bottom lip in between her teeth, chewing it for a moment.  There was a strange tension in the air around them.  “How is she doing?”

And he didn’t know how to answer.  “Y/N is…  She’s surviving.  I took her to Central Park the other day to get her mind off of everything and that seemed to help, even though she refused to get on my motorcycle because it reminded her of Steve’s,” he finally sighed, knowing that he had to tell the truth. If he didn’t, Sam would let it out sooner or later and then Peggy would have his ass, regardless of how frail she was. “She keeps pretending as though she didn’t lose anything, like she doesn’t have the right to be upset.  She won’t even accept the fact that it’s okay to be upset over losing Natasha, and she was like her older sister.”

Peggy was silent for a long time as they stared at the photographs, at all the smiling faces.  There were a lot of candid photos mixed in with all the somewhat formal ones. Ones of their three kids in their pajamas on Christmas morning, of them running around with sparklers in their hands and dirt smeared on their faces.  “I’d like to meet her,” she said.  “One day, when she’s ready.”

“She’d love to meet you, too.”

“What are you two gossiping about?” Steve asked as he came around the corner.  “Lunch is ready.”

The brunette walked over and kissed his cheek, his baby blue eyes fluttering shut as he relished the feeling.  “Just about how grateful I am to have you.”

And Steve whispered something in her ear that Bucky couldn’t hear even with the serum, but he knows that it’s something heart wrenchingly sweet.  And his heart felt so full as he clapped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder and followed him to the kitchen.

“Auntie Y/N, can we go to more movies?” Morgan asked as the two of you made your way into the compound.  Her tiny hand was in yours, her dark eyes looking up at you hopefully.

You grinned down at her, reaching down and picking her up.  “Of course, we can.”

As soon as you were on the residential floor, Pepper was greeting you and pulling the little girl from your arms.  “Thank you, Y/N,” she said gratefully with a warm smile. “But it’s this little one’s bath time and then bed.”  She nuzzled her nose against the little girl’s.  “What do you say to Y/N for taking you to the movies?”

“Thank you, Auntie Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, baby girl,” you said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss on the cheek.  She was then carried off by her mother, leaving you alone in the communal living area.  You stared out of the large windows for a long time, taking in the night sky.  You and Morgan had spent all day together until it was time for the movie at seven.  By the time you’d gotten home the sun had set and it’d gone dark.

It was a little strange, being in the compound.  It was so different from the old one and yet almost exactly the same.  You’d lived in an apartment with Steve for five years after the Snap, so lucky none of your things had been destroyed in the Final Battle.  It was only after you all realized that your home was destroyed that Pepper revealed that Tony had built a second compound a few hours away, only an hour outside of New York.  It was meant to be a backup plan in case anything happened, and it certainly did. You and Steve had only shared your new room for six days after the Final Battle before he finally went to return the stones and never came back.

Getting almost everyone to move into the new, slightly smaller compound was relatively easy.  There was this urge to be together again after spending so much time apart. Especially Pepper.  You’d been the only one allowed out to the cabin to visit during those five years other than Natasha and you two getting to be close to each other brought back a sense of normalcy, a sense of comfort.  It hadn’t mattered that Tony and Steve weren’t on good terms, you were like another adopted kid of the Starks, just like Harley and Peter.

You kicked off your shoes as you made your way to the kitchen, not really caring that you’d left them in the middle of the floor.  No one really cared about petty things like that anymore and it wasn’t like you wouldn’t pick them up later.

Right now you just needed a drink.

You were standing on your tiptoes, trying to grab a wine glass, when you felt two someone press against your back and saw another arm reach up and grab it for you.

“There you go, sugar,” Bucky said, his breath tickling your ear as he set it carefully on the counter.

“Thank you,” you said with a weak laugh as you turned your head to look up at him.  “You want some wine?”

“Why not?” He asked before reaching up to grab another glass while you pulled out a bottle of chilled white wine from the fridge.

As you worked on getting the cork out, you asked, “When’d you get home?  I figured you and Sam would be in Buffalo until tomorrow.”

And to be honest, he was a little surprised to hear you speaking so frankly about them making the trip further upstate.  “Just twenty minutes ago.  We only stayed for a few hours after lunch.”  He watched as you poured two generous glasses before passing him one. Even though he couldn’t get drunk unless he was drinking Thor’s Asgardian mead, he took a long swig of it, loving the sweetness of the Moscato.  “How was the movie?”

“The Little Mermaid is my favorite Disney movie, so it was good,” you said with a faint smile.  “It was nice getting out of the compound.  I think cabin fever was starting to get to me.”

“How can you have cabin fever in a place as big as this?” He laughed, nudging you with his elbow playfully.  Ignoring how you mock-glared at him, he then grew serious. “Nobody gave you any trouble though, did they?”

You shook your head, more than a little touched by how concerned he was.  You knew that some would be offended by the slight insinuation that you couldn’t take care of yourself, but you knew that wasn’t the case.  Bucky knew you could take care of yourself; he just didn’t want you to have to.  ���No, no one bothered us.”

“You know you can call me at any time, right?”  He asked, his pretty blues staring into your eyes. “If you’re outside of the compound and anyone bothers you?”

“Yes.”

Bucky looked at you in shock, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, uh.  Okay.  Good.”

You grinned against the lip of your wine glass, taking a sip.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

You stared down at the wine in your hand, swirling it as you lost yourself in a train of thought.  You weren’t sure if you actually wanted to ask the question on your mind, but at the same time you knew you needed the answer.  “Do you remember me?”

And oh.  He hadn’t been expecting that.  He stood there, a little dumbfounded with his mouth opening and closing.

You peeked up at him nervously through your long eyelashes.  “Do you remember me from the Red Room?”

Bucky took in a deep breath before letting it out, long and slow.  His heart was pounding against his ribcage.  He knew he couldn’t lie to you, couldn’t keep you in the dark.  “Yes.”  And he’s scared.  He’s scared of how you’d react because even it took him a while after meeting you as Steve’s girlfriend, he had realized that he had met you before.  He’d been in a different mind then, since he’d been the Winter Soldier, which is why he still thought of it as your first meeting when Steve had brought you along on the run.  He’d helped train you for a few years in the Red Room.  He could remember how he stood behind you, growling in Russian to do better, be better.  Had threatened you if you didn’t.  He’d been one of those horrible people that tormented you before you made your separate escapes.

So you could say he’s a little surprised when you simply nod, finishing off the glass of wine in your hand.  “Okay.”  You then set your glass in the sink before heading for the hallway that led to your room. You reach the doorway and turn, your stunning eyes locking onto his.  “Goodnight, Bucky.”

There was a sense of unease in the air as he stared after your retreating form, his heart still racing.  He couldn’t understand how you could take it so easy, unless you were hiding how you actually felt and waiting until later to explode on him. In all honesty, there was only one thing he was sure of.

Things just got a little more complicated.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #endgame spoilers #endgame

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Beyond Broken - Chapter Five

Chapter Summary:  Jess's interactions with her lonely man move forward and her friendship with David begins to evolve. She is beginning to move on from her loss on D-Day but can't see it for what it is just yet

Her lonely man is awkward funny and she's still oblivious to how taken with her he is, subconsciously she knows something is there but she's not ready to accept it yet.

Words:  2.6k

Warnings:  Bit of angst related to missing loved ones, a toxic friendship, bit of home-wrecking, bad language

Situational Evolution

Jess spent her Sunday painting the bathroom.  On a whim she bought a few cans of paint in a rich, deep teal colour.  She and Will had been planning on redecorating last year but they could never agree on a colour.  And so, by default, it stayed the same.

The large oval tub was white with copper coloured fittings.  The tiles were white mosaic style with scattering of copper accents. It had worked well with the beige, but the beige bored her.  It looked better with the teal, but the paint was still patchy.  She’d do another coat on Monday after work.

There was a buoyant sense of accomplishment that accompanied her throughout the rest of her evening. She felt a little guilty, having just gone ahead and changed something in the house.  Their house.  It didn’t feel anything like what she expected moving on to feel like but she supposed the process had to start somewhere.  It was just a house, after all, only a bathroom.  All the things that made her life with Will great were locked up inside her, in memories and feelings.  A few licks of paint would never change that.

 Monday breezed by without so much as a by-your-leave.  After a full day at the practice she delved into the rest of her redecorating.  She skipped dinner in favour of a few of her signature mojitos made with navy rum and brown sugar, and with a substantial buzz she’d fallen asleep on the sofa once again.

Sleep claimed her quickly but she didn’t rest easy.  Her dreams were mercurial.

 Jess awoke to her alarm on Tuesday morning with a crick in her neck and a headache.  She reached for the hand she’d been holding to find herself alone and her dream companion fading to nothing more than the idea of a man, and a feeling of intimacy.  Had she been dreaming about Will?

“You seem different today.” Sadie said as they went through the appointments for the day.

“It’s just a bit of a hangover.  Jessica had too many rums last night.”  She chastised herself.

“Did she now?”  Sadie jested.  “Good party, was it?”

“No party.”  Jess scribbled notes in her diary.  “I painted the bathroom.”

“Good for you.  We have to celebrate the little things these days.”  She squeezed Jess’s shoulder.  “You look great, by the way.  You’ve got colour in your cheeks.”

Sadie was the eldest of the dentists based at the practice, and she was one of Jess’s closest friends. At fifty four, she was twenty two years older than Jess but she was still young at heart.

 “Hey, do you want to grab a few drinks this evening?”  Sadie asked later as they were setting their tools in the UV steriliser.

“I’m meeting David tonight.”

“You mean you’re walking his dog while he spends time with that boyfriend of his, who you’ve never met.”

Jess had told Sadie some of her arrangement with David and she hadn’t approved.  The consensus was that Jess needed time for herself and not to be the enabler for the self-destructive behaviours her not-quite-brother-in-law displayed.  He needed real help and Jess was too soft to force him to face his issues.

It wasn’t that simple. Jess also needed him.  His high demand on her time kept her busy and mentally occupied.  It distracted her from her own pain.  She knew that was also not healthy.

“I can do after ten?” Jess offered with a shrug.

“Another time, maybe.” Sadie gave her sad smile.  “Don’t make me abduct you one night.”  She hugged her briefly and left Jess to lock up.

 David was waiting impatiently at Neptune’s.  He handed her the customary offering of tiramisu hot chocolate, the dog leash and a peck on the cheek.  He asked how she was but it felt strained.

“What’s going on?  You seem stressed.”

“I really miss Silas.” He sighed, shaking the tension out of his shoulders.  “I must have it bad if I can’t go two days without seeing him.”

She didn’t blame him. Missing someone that bad was like a gut punch that kept on giving.

“It’s still new.”  She smiled reassuringly.  “It’s only been a couple of months, hasn’t it?”

Wow, a couple of months? Is that how long she’d been helping him lie to Bill?

“Almost three.”  He nodded, glancing in the direction he needed to go to meet his beau.

“Why don’t you bring him one evening.  I’d love to meet him.”

“Yeah I’ll ask him. Listen, Jess, I’m gonna go.  I’ll meet you back here at ten.  Promise I won’t be late.”  There was barely time for a reply before he was marching off. He hadn’t even walked her across the street to the park this time.

“Have fun!”  She called after him.

 Jess wasn’t fooled by the apparent amiability of the weather; she carried her waterproof poncho in a small tote bag and had swapped her heeled pumps for a pair of boots.

She meandered the paths of the park as was her routine.  Without David there talking she had more time to think, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.  Daisy did her business and Jess dutifully picked up.  The dog was bouncing in and out of the bushes, excitedly chuffing as she snuffled around.  Jess couldn’t help but smile at her.

Down on the boardwalk she wondered if the lonely man would be there, and he was.  Sat in his usual spot on a bench by marker twelve.

She gave him a nod of acknowledgement and received one in return before taking up her place at the railings.   Both the sea and the sky were calmer than they had previously been.  Jess thought the clouds were thinning even further despite the cooling transition from evening into night.

The ocean always made her feel small and helpless.  To think of something so massive, uncontrollably powerful, and somehow alien, gave her shivers. It was natural to fear things we didn’t understand.  She imagined what it would be like to stand here while a ginormous wave grew out of the ocean, bearing down on the land and washing everything away, even her.  A wave like one in a disaster movie, hundreds of feet high.  She’d had dreams like that in the past when she was feeling overwhelmed and unsure of choices in her life.  She’d never envisioned one in her fully conscious mind though.  It gave her goosebumps.

 A shiver passed over her, and she came back to herself to find that she was not alone.  Swiping at the moisture under her eyes, she flicked a quick glance to see the lonely man.  He’d noticed her tears, a concerned look on his face.

“It’s calmer today.” She said, glancing at her watch. She’d been stood in silence for more than an hour.  “I still don’t trust it though.”

The lonely man nodded as if considering.  “Yes, those pesky storms are far from reliable.”

“Maybe the Lord of Thunder is angry.”

“God, of Thunder.”  He interjected flatly.  “He would be the God of Thunder.  Lord of Thunder just wouldn’t do him justice. Rather insulting if you ask me.”

She laughed at his dorkiness.

“Oh, my bad.”  She held her hands up in mock surrender, jostling the bell on the dog’s leash.  “God of Thunder, please don’t strike me down.” She spoke up to the sky with a light laugh tickling the cadence of her voice.

“He would never…”

She was almost lost in her own amusement as the lonely man looked ruefully out to sea.

 “Not angry, sorrowful.” He said after a while fixing her with a knowing look.  “I mean, I imagine he’s more sorrowful than angry.  Just a speculation.  Obviously I don’t know him.  How would I?”

Jess couldn’t help but laugh at his goofy ramblings.

“He’s an Avenger and not at all like anyone I’d ever hang with.”  He scoffed.

“I wouldn’t know.” She turned back to the dark horizon. They were deep in twilight now, the clouds a lighter dark against the coming night.

“You do not know The Avengers?”  he seemed surprised.

“Nope.  I know of them, sure.  But I don’t know much about them.  Wouldn’t recognise one.  Couldn’t name one.  Save for the God of Thunder who I now know is an Avenger, thanks to you.”  She shrugged.

He flashed her a smile that lit up his entire face.  Something dropped in her chest right down to her stomach, making her feel jittery.  Holy hell he was handsome.  And yes, there it was, the hot blush she got when she was embarrassed.  Just great.

“You have a little something on your neck.”  He waved his finger at her.

Distracted, she fumbled to feel her skin.

“A little higher.”  He rumbled.  “No, to the left.  No, my left.”  He watched awkwardly as she failed to find it.  “Please, allow me.”

When he stepped forward she almost jumped back, stumbling over the dog, who yelped.  Gasping, she gripped the railing to steady herself.  

The lonely man looked torn, stuck between a choice of back off or catch her.  He backed off.

Shocked by the sudden potential contact, she frowned.  She didn’t know the man.  Strangers didn’t just touch other strangers.  And strange men shouldn’t just go touching women who don’t want to be touched.  She supposed he was only trying to be helpful.

“My apologies.”  He said stiffly, his large hands held out as if to steady himself on unsteady ground.  “It’s just a dark smudge of something, dirt perhaps.”

“It’s not dirt.”  She rebuked, her pride kicking in.  She always took personal hygiene very seriously.

Sensing her offence, he backtracked.  “Not dirt, no.  Impossible. Definitely not dirt.”

“Poor Daisy Duke.” She crooned, scooping up the dog. “It’ll be paint.”

“Oh!  You’re a painter?”  He seized the opportunity to draw the conversation on.  “How lovely!  What do you paint?”

“My nails mainly. Occasionally I paint a bathroom.” She chuckled at his confusion, trying to bring the mood away from her harsh reaction.

Initially she’d thought him a solemn, troubled man, waiting out in the rain for some kind of peace. There was something about him that she felt connected to, like his outward display of – how to describe it - mourning, maybe, was akin to how she felt inside.  Now she saw he was light-hearted and really quite funny in an awkward, goofy kind of way.

Unable to make sense of the man, she decided to change the subject.  Time was getting on and she had to meet David back at Neptune’s.

“I better be going.” She gestured with a thumb directed over her shoulder.  “It was, ummm, educational talking with you.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” He smiled warmly if a little reluctantly.  “Would you like company on walk back through?”  The suggestion was hasty.

“No thanks, I’m good.” She said.  “See you tomorrow.”  The little smirk that curled her lip was involuntary and she turned to hide it, waving vaguely in leu of a goodbye.

“Good night!”  He called.

 David arrived at precisely ten o’clock, jogging around the corner, dishevelled like he’d rushed his clothes on only minutes before.

“Good visit?”

“The best!”  He hugged her tightly, planting a lingering kiss on her cheek.  Did she want to know where those lips had been?

She was always happy to see him happy.  It was more rewarding than you would imagine, putting yourself out there to help someone who then relied on you to help keep the balance of their fragile but fierce happiness.  Jess felt, in moments like these, that it was all worth the effort.  This feeling was exactly why she supported him the way she did.

“Did you ask him about meeting up?  I really wanna see this mystery man who makes you so happy.”

“I did.”  David was sheepish.  “He doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

This didn’t sound good at all.  Usually when David got defensive it was because he’d done something wrong or because he knew that people wouldn’t approve.  It was rare that he wouldn’t tell her the truth however.

“Why not?  I’m not going to bite.  I just want to meet him.  It’s not like me seeing him is gonna somehow trigger your dad finding out or anything.

“He’s not ready to meet people, you know, out.” He tried to explain it away but couldn’t look her in the eye.

She felt the irritation rising up under her skin as a restless burning feeling.  She clenched her teeth, pursing her lips and going fully with the disapproving frown.

“I accept that you don’t have to tell me everything.  It’s your life.  But when all I’ve ever done is support you, the least you can do is not lie to me, David.”

“It’s complicated, Jess. I can’t ask him to do this.”

“David, so help me god…” She hissed.

“He’s married, Jess. As in straight and married.  As in going behind his wife’s back to sleep with me, his gay lover.”  His agitation faded as the words flooded out.

“Jesus…”

Her mouth fell open and she didn’t know what else to say.  She felt pity for him and his situation but she also felt angry for being kept in the dark.  Knowing wasn’t any better than not knowing.  In fact, now, all she could think about was that man’s poor wife.  People had so little left to feel happy about, after D-Day, that to wreck someone’s marriage knowingly was pretty despicable.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“No.  No, you don’t.”

“I know you, Jess. You think I’m a selfish prick for getting involved with a married man.  I’m no homewrecker.”

Okay, so that was pretty close to what she thought, but still…

“He’s never going to leave his wife, and I accept that.  They lost their child like I lost Will and Mom, and he is all she has left.  He still cares for her, he’s just gay.  And this makes us happy.”  He gasped emotionally, shoulders hanging down.  “We found something together that keeps the darkness at bay, you know, we’ve both lost so much.”

A tear slipped free. How could she not understand? She’d lost as much as anyone.

“Jess, I’m so sorry.” He reached for her and she went to him, hugged tight against his chest.  He kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek there.  “I’m so tactless sometimes.  You’re always so strong that I forget you’re suffering too.”

That was her curse. She was always the strong one, the one people turned to for support.  She cared too much, gave everything asked of her and took very little back.

“Am I forgiven?” David mumbled into her hair.

The wind was getting up again, cold and gusty, carried off the see and straight up the street.  The effect was not unlike a wind tunnel during high winds.

“Not by a long shot.” She slapped his shoulder, withdrawing back to her own space.  “There’s going to be a free dinner in it for me sometime in the near future.”

“Cheap dinner though.” He cringed.  “I’m a broke-ass basic bitch right now.”

Jess couldn’t help but laugh.  She’d probably never call in that favour, like the hundreds before it. David was her brother.  Not just because of Will but because they shared this strange life together, each needing the other in some way just to get by. She wasn’t sure if she needed David in the same way but he kept her tethered to Will in a way that allowed her to live rather than moping at home in a pit of her own despair.  She was a high functioning griever.

#thor fan fiction #thor fanfic #thor x ofc #thor odinson #marvel fanfic #post infinity war #pre endgame #sad thor #thor falls in love #cloudy's writing #beyond broken