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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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No Body, No Crime [Dave York x F!Reader]

Summary: When Dave York’s wife expresses her suspicion of him having an affair, you agree to help her gather the evidence to confront him. You believe that if you can prove his infidelity, their marriage will fall apart and you might actually stand a chance with him. But when you follow him out one night, you make a shocking discovery.

Warnings: SMUT, m receiving oral, f masturbation, choking, infidelity, murder

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3000>

Author’s Note: Please consider this my official application of entry to the Dave York pit. This one is quite intense. I’ve never written a thriller type fic before, so I hope it’s okay!

Masterlist

He had to have been cheating. There was no other excuse for sneaking out so late at night, and not returning until the early hours of the morning. His actions radiated infidelity. The only answer was that he was having an affair.

Dave York was the typical suburban dad living the perfect life with the perfect wife and two happy daughters. You would know as you were the York’s housemaid, and had the privilege of living with them. As an insider, it also meant you were a pair of extra spying eyes. And you watched Dave, a lot. It was only a matter of time before Carol caught on and realised something was up. So when she came to you one morning after Dave had set off to work, and the girls were at school, you could already sense her concerns.

If you recalled correctly, it was the fourth time this week he’d snuck out. You remembered last night, sitting by the attic window and watching him drive off into the distance. There was something about it that got you all riled up. You were ashamed to admit it -- but you were more than attracted to Mr. York. Once he was no longer in sight, you closed your eyes and slipped your fingers under the hem of your panties. You let out a puff of air as your digits found your clit and you began to rub tight little circles, squirming around in the wooden chair that you’d been sitting in. It creaked in the midst of the night, but getting so caught up in the moment, you didn’t even care if your movements or whimpers woke Carol up. You imagined Dave burying his cock deep inside you, moaning out your name. It was really bad, you knew that… but the truth is, if Dave wanted to fuck you next, you’d have no qualms. You’d let him. You’d beg him. With your free hand, you clutched the edge of the window sill so hard your knuckles turned white as you felt your body pull to its orgasm.

You stayed by the window for around two and a half hours after that, apprehending his return. If one thing was sure, it was that Dave made an effort to remain unseen. He dressed in all black, even opting to wear a hat to hide his brown locks of hair. You heard the keys jingle as he let himself into the house, this time via the back door because he knew it would be quieter. You heard his footsteps emerge up the stairs. Strangely enough, you heard the washer switch on as he would do his own laundry. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you had cleaned Dave’s clothes. Washing his clothes at four in the morning only made him even more suspicious, but you had to applaud his efforts.

“I think Dave is cheating on me,” Carol announced as you finished up doing the dishes. You felt your body stiffen at her tone, before taking a deep breath and turning to face her. She looked exhausted, nursing a cup of coffee and her bleached blonde hair tied into a messy bun. “He’s been… acting different,” she revealed sadly. “He slips out of bed at around one in the morning, every night. He comes back at four-ish, and I pretend to be asleep. But he undresses, and he smells like sweat. We don’t talk much anymore. I don’t think he loves me.” she confirmed, and you could tell she was trying to hold back unshed tears.

“I’m sorry.” was all you could offer her.

She sank down into the dining room chair and held her head in her hands. Carol wasn’t a bad woman -- but you couldn’t bring yourself to empathise with her. She was the lucky one who got to marry Dave in the first place… who got to bring up his two wonderful kids. She got to live in the big suburban house, and she got to drive the expensive family SUV. Clearly, she was struggling. Her suspicions of her husband cheating were eating her alive, and you knew from your own spying that he was certainly up to something. It must have sucked for her, but even if Dave was being unfaithful, she was still living your dream life.

“I think I’m going to call him out,” she confessed with an uneasy shrug of her shoulders. “I have to. I can’t keep living like this. It’s just… I have no evidence. No way to prove it.”

Carol had a point. If she was going to confront him, surely he’d just deny it and get mad. You liked Dave a lot, that much was clear, but maybe… in this scenario… you could be some use to Carol. If you could provide her with the evidence that he was cheating, then their marriage would inevitably fall apart. Then you could harness the chance to steal Dave away for yourself. This could actually work.

“I can help you,” you said suddenly, pulling out the chair opposite Carol and sitting beside her. “I can help you find what you need to expose Dave’s affair.”

Carol furrowed her eyebrows together in bewilderment, and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too excited about the prospect. “How do you plan on doing that?” she asked you with uncertainty.

You hummed, your mind weighing up the possible scenarios. “Uhm… well, next time he sneaks out I can watch him leave... and then I take your SUV and carefully follow him. I’ll try to snap some photos of him getting caught in the act.” you suggested and watched Carol wince at the thought of you seeing him with somebody else. Seriously… were you supposed to feel bad for her? Carol looked unsure but finally she sighed a breath of defeat and nodded her head, agreeing to your plan.

“Okay… but be careful you don’t get caught.” She warned.

“I’ll do it tonight,” you promised. “Don’t worry Carol, let me handle this.”

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This time, when the night rolled over, you weren’t in the attic like usual. You were hiding out by the living room window downstairs which gave you quick and easy access to the front door. Once you were satisfied that Dave had driven an ample distance away from the house, you grabbed Carol’s car keys and jogged down the patio to her SUV. You knew the roads would be empty at this time of night, so it shouldn’t be too hard to lose sight of Dave. What would be hard though, is trying to remain unseen by him. Any car out on the roads at two in the morning would be suspicious. You figured you were doing a good job at staying back in the shadows.

To your surprise, Dave began to drive out of town and he headed towards the forest that peppered the outskirts of the little village he lived in. You knew that nobody lived in this area, and so why he was driving this far out was beyond you. Though, it only piqued your curiosity more, and so you continued to follow him.

You parked around ten feet behind him, the car tyres getting stuck in the dirt. You watched as Dave hopped out of his car and swung a black duffel bag over his shoulder. He ventured into the depths of the forest, amongst the tall trees, until eventually he was nowhere in sight. You sat in the driver's seat for a few moments, contemplating what exactly was going on. You didn't expect this at all. You figured that, all this time, he had in fact been driving to a different part of town, letting himself into someone else’s house and having an affair.

Then, the reality that he could still be having an affair struck you. You hopped out of the SUV and turned on your phone’s flashlight, helping you familiarise yourself with your surroundings. Dave’s clunky boots left a trail of footsteps in the mud, thankfully, which meant it was easy enough to track him down. You were making good progress and doing fine until you heard a man scream. And your heart sank in your chest.

The same voice cried out in terror, before another scream followed. Could it be Dave? Was he in danger? Your mind shot to what you believed to be the worst possible case and your light jogging turned into running as you followed the sound. You had to make sure Dave was okay.

As you got closer and closer, you began to hear a squelching noise and a series of grunts and groans. You noticed a figure, on his knees by a large tree trunk -- and evidently, he noticed the way your flashlight had highlighted his body. The masculine figure rose to his feet and dropped the knife to the ground before turning to face you.

It was Dave.

“What are you doing here?” he interrogated, removing his hat and stuffing it into his pocket.

“You… I--... you…” you were speechless, your gaze flicking between Dave and the corpse that he had tied to the tree. The screams you had heard earlier hadn’t come from Dave, but instead had come from the man he just murdered.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He repeated, malice dripping from his tongue. When you didn’t answer, he scoffed incredulously and pulled out a clean knife. He took only a few steps towards you, breaking any distance, and held the silver blade to your neck. The coolness of the metal stung your skin and your gaze fixated on his cold dark eyes in horror. “I’ll ask you one last time,” Dave whispered, his warm breath fanning over your jaw. “Sweet girl, tell me, why are you here?”

“Carol sent me…” you lied. “I didn’t want to. But-- but she thought you were cheating on her. She told me to follow you into the night and see where you ended up.”

“That bitch,” Dave huffed, taking a step back and shaking his head in disbelief. “And you were happy to betray me?”

“No!” you said defensively, your voice raising an octave. “She said if I didn’t, she’d fire me.”

“You should have come to me first.” Dave gritted out, his voice deep and his eyes locked on yours. God, he was hot. If he hadn’t just murdered someone, you’d be all over him.

“I know,” you gulped and made an effort to flutter your eyelashes apologetically. “I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” Dave quizzed, tilting his head and wrapping a gloved hand around the column of your throat. He gave it an experimental squeeze.

“N-no,” you stammered out, biting your lower lip. “Scared of Carol.”

“And now that you know where I’ve been going every night. Now that you know that I’ve been murdering innocents… are you scared of me?” Dave rephrased after a moment of silence.

“No,” you confirmed again but with a shaky exhale. You raised your hand and cupped his cheek. The touch caught him off guard. He wasn’t used to this kind of affection from anyone. “Actually… it turns me on.”

Dave pulled away from you and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. “I never pinned you to be that kind of person.” he revealed, but if the tent in his pants was anything to go off, you knew that he liked it.

“I never pinned you to be a murderer.” you shot back with a sweet moan, licking a hot stripe along his jaw and maneuvering your hand along his broad chest.

Dave let his own gloved hand tangle in your hair before yanking your head back and forcing you to look at him.

“Not a murderer, just a cheater?” he questioned, venom in his tone.

“Mm, I’m sorry.” you whispered, and Dave began to push you down onto your knees.

“Show me,” he hissed, and you hungrily nodded your head.

In the darkness of the night, you began to undo his belt. Pulling it through the loops of his pants, you discarded it to the ground and then started to work at the zipper. You dipped your hand into his pants and pulled out his already hard cock. You couldn’t help but gasp at how heavy it felt in your hands.

You began to pump at his length, your fingers gathering the beads of precum that had dribbled out of his tip. “Let me fuck your mouth.” he commanded. You opened your mouth as wide as you could, preparing yourself for his girth, and stuck out your tongue. Dave chuckled darkly before thrusting his thick cock into your mouth.

His breathing hilted when you wrapped your lips and moaned around him, the noise sending vibrations through his body.

He pushed his entire length into you and then gently began to trace your throat with his index finger. The movements of his hands were achingly soft in comparison to the rough and messy nature of his thrusts. It didn’t take long for you to realise he was actually tracing the bulge that his thick cock had made there, and you gagged around him in response. He doubled back, pulling out of you and only giving you a second to catch your breath before fucking your mouth again.

His speech was slurred and his vision became hazy as he muttered words of degradation. “You little whore, sucking my cock in the middle of a fucking forest at night. Do you like this? Do you like taking my cock in your mouth?”

You could only hum in approval. You felt tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes and his cock began to throb in your mouth. You knew he was close now. You brought your hands to his balls and began to massage them, and looked up through your lashes at Dave who had tossed his head back, the pleasure consuming him.

Without any warning, Dave came undone, his salty load shooting into your mouth. He brought his hands back down to your head and forced you to swallow him whole. It wasn’t easy, but you managed to do so, relishing his taste. Eventually, he let you pull off him, a mixture of his cum and your saliva creating a trail between his cock and your lips. He grabbed your hand and helped you to your feet before tucking himself back into his pants and zipping himself up.

“Well, I can’t murder you now.” he sighed, rubbing his jaw.

“Do you need me to help you hide the body?” you offered.

“No,” he replied. “I do all my murders in this forest because no one has visited in years. They decompose quickly too. I just leave them to rot.”

It sounded pretty risky, you thought, but evidently, Dave knew what he was doing. He must have been doing this for a long time. “Oh okay…” you mumbled. “I’ll just… head back to the car then.”

You spun around on your heel and took a few steps in the direction you came before you heard Dave call your name. You froze and waited for him to speak.

“I’m going to kill Carol,” he said, the five words echoing amongst the trees around you. “And I need you to be my alibi.”

“M-murder Carol? But why?” you asked, honestly feeling a little uneasy at this point. You trusted Dave, you really did. But Carol had sent you out to try and evidence the fact he was cheating on you. In the past half hour, you’d witnessed her husband murder someone, and then you had proceeded to give him what could quite possibly have been the best blow of his life.

“She thought I was cheating on her,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost sinister. “She has betrayed my trust.”

You wanted to throw in the fact that he had actually just cheated on her, with you, but you decided that might not have been the best idea. He needed to know that you were on his side. You hadn’t realised the length of time you’d stayed silent for. Clearly, had been too long for Dave’s liking.

“Are you going to betray my trust?” Dave queried and you shook your head ‘no’ profusely. “Good.”

“Good thing I’ve cleaned enough houses in my time to know how to cover up a scene,” you said softly, taking a few steps closer to him. “And it’s a good thing I helped Carol take out a big life insurance policy.” your lips curled into a smile.

“So we do it tonight,” Dave whispered, his thumb grazing the height of your cheekbone. “We go home together, and I’ll kill her. I’ll take her body to the forest and you clean up before daylight.”

“What about the girls?” you couldn’t help but ask.

Dave picked up his belt and the bloodied knife before throwing them haphazardly in his duffle bag. “Good thing they’ll still be living with another, amazing woman that they can look up to once their mother is gone,” he smirked, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat at his words. “I’ll call the cops tomorrow morning and file a missing person’s report for Carol.”

“Will it work?” you wondered out loud.

“Do you trust me?”

Maybe you were foolish, but as you contemplated his words, you realised that you really did trust this suburban murder dad.

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Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal smut #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york smut

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imherongraystairstrash · 5 years ago

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So I want to first say that I am absolutely positively 100% in love with your fanfics. I am a huge sucker for anything remotely involving family fluff and you always deliver. I’m also very much loved your platonic Will and Gabriel fill that you posted so I’m going to give you maybe a little bit of a different ask.

It’s pretty clear that by the time of A Lightwood Christmas Carol Will and Gideon have settled into a brotherly relationship, I mean you can see evidence of that in Clockwork Princess even. What I want to see, and if you’re willing to write it, is the first time Gideon pulled rank, so to speak, over Will, by acting like an overprotective older brother, which Will would have no experience with, even if he has seen Gideon act that way towards Gabriel. Prompts 2 and/or 19 would probably be applicable for this, but if you think something else works better, or you don’t want to write it at all, that’s fine too, I know it’s a weird ask, I’m just in love with family fluff, especially from TID/TLH.

(It seems like all the attention gets put on the major pairings sometimes and everything else falls by the wayside, which is why I love your stuff)

Goodness! Where do you get these incredible ideas? Thank you so much for this wonderful request! I had a grand time writing it!

Prompts: “I don’t think so.” & “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Characters: Will Herondale & Gideon Lightwood (platonic)

Notes: This takes place after someone insults Tessa in front of Will

Red hot anger pulsed through Will’s veins. his face flushed from the cold as he threw open the doors, stepped out of the threshold and strode down the street. The night air didn’t do anything to cool his anger. He vaguely recalled hearing the door open again and the sound of footsteps crunching on the snow.

“Where the hell are you going?” He heard Gideon say from behind him.

“Out.” Will said, the wind howling in his ear and blowing his hair to the side.

“And what, might I ask, are you going to do while you’re out?” Gideon yelled out at him, so that his voice could be heard.

“Have a nice talk with a little someone.”

Will felt something grab him from the collar of his coat, pulling him back so that he was rooted to a spot. He turned and found Gideon’s intense green eyes boring into his own.

“I don’t think so.” He said, quietly but not, by any means, weak.

“Release me.”

“Not until you promise to go back inside the second I do.”

Will rolled his eyes. “I promise.”

“Did you honestly believe that would work on me?”

Will clenched his teeth.

“Let go of me, Gideon.”

“No.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. You aren’t my father or brother or—”

“William.” Gideon said, his mouth set. “I may not be your blood, and I know I am not Jem, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. And it also doesn’t mean I won’t tackle you to the floor the second you try to go after that man after I release you.”

Will didn’t understand why Gideon was doing this simply because “he cared”. It was annoying.

“He was asking for it, Gideon. He was provoking a fight, and you know it just as well as I do.” Will pointed out.

“Does that mean you go after him? Does that mean you let him win?”

“You’re one to talk.” Will spat out. “How many fights have you gotten into in the past?”

“Too many.” Gideon said, looking down and then back up at Will. “That’s why I’m making sure you don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

“This isn’t a mistake. Did you even hear what he said?”

“I did.”

“And you want me to do nothing?” Will scoffed. Gideon was out of his mind.

“Do you think it doesn’t kill me when they say the same things about Sophie? Do you really think it’s easy for me to stand by? I despise it. But do you know why I ignore it?”

Will shook his head, feeling a tiny bit small.

“Because I would rather spend my energy with Sophie, then waste it all on those pathetic lots. Think about Tessa, Will. Do you think she’d want this? Do you think it will make her feel good about herself?”

Will didn’t say anything because he truly hadn’t thought about it that way. How could he forget about Tessa? His Tessa?

“It’s going to make her feel worse.” Gideon said quietly. “And if there’s one thing you and I have in common, it’s that if we caused them to feel worse, it would tear us apart.”

Gideon’s hand was still on his jacket collar, but it felt lighter. Almost like Gideon was placing his hand on Will’s neck.

“Why do you care, Gideon? Why now?” Will asked, still a bit angry, but less so.

“Why now?” Gideon released an irritated breath. “Will, I’ve cared since I began living in the institute after my father disowned me. I care more now. You’re like a brother to me.”

“A brother?” Will asked quietly.

“An annoying, impulsive brother who needs to be restrained before he does something he’ll regret.”

Will didn’t smile, because he wasn’t sure he could, but he held Gideon’s gaze steadily. Tentatively, the older boy released his hold on Will, as though he were afraid he would bolt. Will just stayed were he was, looking down at his shoes.

“Thank you.” Will finally said.

“For what?”

“For caring.”

“Don’t thank people for caring, Will. Not only can we not help it, but we do it because you give us reason to care.” Gideon said.

Will considered Gideon. Did he truly think of him as a brother? That was perhaps the part that got to him the most from this moment. Having a sister was different from having a brother. Will had never had a brother; he used to play rough with Cecily when they were children, but his mother would always scold him. You can’t play with your sister that way Gwilim or you will break her, Linette would say. Will didn’t want to break his sister, so he stopped play fighting with her like he used to. And though he loved his sisters, he wasn’t allowed to have much fun with them. Of course, Cecily and he would sometimes run down the hills where their mother or the maids couldn’t find them, and play fight, but it wasn’t fun when you had to restrain yourself. You will protect your sisters when you’re older, won’t you Gwilim? Mrs. York, their neighbor, once asked him. Will considered her question, and almost asked but who’ll protect me? but didn’t.

Now, he looked at Gideon. A brother. Jem had been a brother, more than a brother actually, but Gideon being like his older brother and not his equal felt different. A different kind of affection, but one he could still rely on. Perhaps he was thinking too far into this.

“Will?” Gideon asked, looking questioningly at the stillness of the other.

“Did you really mean it?” Will asked quickly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Do you really think of me as a younger brother?”

Gideon looked startled. “I–I do. Of course I do.”

Will smiled despite himself. Maybe he could get used to having an older brother. “Does that mean I’m a pain in your arse?” He asked.

Gideon rolled his eyes. “I don’t know who’s worse, you of Gabriel. You both feel like my children. Barbara gives me less work than the pair of you.”

“Ah, well. At least you bring you joy.”

“At least you bring me joy.” Gideon agreed as they turned and walked back to the house.

...

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Send me a message of comment on this fic if you want to be tagged in the future! You don’t have to like or comment if I tag you, it’s just so that you can be notified when I post a fic.

#gideon lightwood #will herondale #will and gideon #Lightwood #herondale #tsc fanfic #tid fanfic #the infernal device #the infernal devices one shot #tid fanfiction #william herondale #platonic tid #tlh #the shadowhunter chronicles fanfiction

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ambivalentmarvel · 5 years ago

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so the story behind this is that @sreppub arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat.

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces.

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?”

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?”

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front.

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it.

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going.

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement.

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision.

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

#tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #supreme family #iron dad #spider son #fic #tss #ambivalentmarvel #if you tag this st*rker you die by our blade

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yikesharringrove · 5 years ago

Photo

For Steve

Commission for @cherrydreamer, thank you so much for your commission and your idea! 💕

Read on ao3

“Oh damn .”

Steve smiled bashfully, looking down at his feet, wrapped up in silk.

He had gotten a new set today, pretty lace panties matched the garter belt perfectly , stockings clipped in and held high on his thighs.

The bralette was see-through, but the lace on the trim matched everything else.

“Gimme a spin.” He turned around for Billy, throwing him a sultry look over his shoulder.

The panties were cut high on his ass cheeks, and he knew the straps of the garters framed his ass just right . He had checked in the mirror.

Billy was just about salivating as Steve turned back around, walking slow and sexy back to him.

“Jesus, Baby. I’ll never get tired of you dressin’ up all pretty for me.”

Billy grabbed him around the waist, tossing him onto the bed, pressing his body over Steve’s.

And Steve loved sharing this with Billy, loved that Billy got such satisfaction from his outfits , his makeup , but something didn’t sit right with Steve.

Maybe it was the dressin’ up all pretty for me .

It wasn’t for Billy.

It was for Steve.

He felt the most beautiful , the most confident , the most himself in stuff like this, delicate lingerie Billy was now taking off of him with his teeth , pretty dresses, and elegant makeup.

He had since he was little and he and Carol would sneak into his mother’s things to play dress up with her expensive clothes, her fine jewelry and her makeup.

“Stevie, you with me?” Billy was kneeling between Steve’s legs, his brows drawn close together. “You kinda zoned out on me for a second.”

“Yeah, uh, sorry.”

“What’s up, Buttercup? You not in the mood? ‘Cause we don’t have to-”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, got all dressed up. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

Steve was expecting Billy to say something vulgar, maybe lick a stripe up Steve’s chest, but Billy’s eyebrows just scrunched closer, and he pulled away .

He moved to sit next to Steve instead of his position between his legs.

“What’s goin’ on?” Billy had put on his serious voice . “Why would it go to waste?”

“If we don’t fuck.” Steve was feeling too exposed, the lingerie usually felt like a fucking suit of armor , but it was all askew, tugged on and shifted, and Steve felt like he had nothing tethering him down , not Billy, not the lingerie.

“But, I mean, don’t you just like wearing it?” Billy was talking slowly, the way he always did when he had too much going through his brain, had to choose his words carefully .

Steve took a breath.

“Look, you’ve been really cool about all, uh, this ,” he gestured to himself, his body wrapped in lace and silk. “But I know you only roll with it for sex stuff-”

“Okay, wait just a damn minute .” Steve snapped his jaw shut as Billy held up a finger. “You think I just roll with it for sex stuff ?”

“I mean, yeah.” Billy sighed, shaking his head.

He stood up from the bed, went to pace in front of it.

Steve’s shoulders rose closer to his ears with every pass Billy did at the foot of his bed. He tugged the duvet up and over himself.

“I can’t believe you would think that I just rolled with it for sex stuff .” He was talking really fucking slowly, taking calculated breaths as he paced. “I don’t know who to be mad at.”

“Wait, I’m not following.”

Billy finally turned to look at him.

“If I should be mad at you for thinking so little of me, or mad at myself for leading you to think that.”

Steve’s jaw fucking dropped .

“Steve, I love when you wear the things you do. I love how beautiful- how confident you are in them.”

“But you, you said when I dress up for you -”

“That was just, like, dirty talk. I know it’s not for me.” Billy’s eyes were intense , he had stood pacing, holding onto the footboard of the bed so tightly his knuckles were white .

“Oh.” Steve looked down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers.

He felt fucking stupid .

“Baby, look at me.” Billy moved to sit on the end of the bed.

Steve glanced up at him, looking back down.

“Baby.” Steve forced eye contact.

“I’m sorry I made you think I was only letting you dress like this for sex. I want you to be happy , Sugar. In any way that means.”

But Steve’s smile was way too tight, and it just didn’t sit right with Billy.

“I got you somethin’.” Steve perked up at the idea of a gift, loved getting presents.

But like, not in a selfish way.

“What is it?” Steve scoot right up next to Billy, hooking his chin over his shoulder to look into Billy’s bag.

Billy tried to keep it closed, feeling around inside of it.

“It’s nothing really special , and I mean, it might be like, cheap -” he was actually nervous , babbling along about whatever it is.

“Billy, just gimme .” He jammed his hand into Billy’s bag, snatching the wad of fabric and tugging it out.

It was a dress.

A pretty simple dress, soft thin cotton with a pretty little floral pattern. It was spaghetti strap, and Steve fucking loved it .

“Oh my God .”

“I got it at the thrift store. Didn’t steal it or nothin’.”

“Wouldn’ta minded if you did.” Steve planted a kiss on his cheek, shooting off up the stairs to go try it on.

Billy was, well he was a little bit giddy to see Steve in the dress.

He had been aimlessly wandering the aisles, trying to think of things he’s already seen Steve wear before, but kept trying to stay focused , didn’t want to get anything too sexy .

Which was fucking hard to do , because he's pretty sure Steve could wear a goddamn potato sack and still look-

“Oh damn .”

Steve bit his bottom lip, modeling the dress for Billy.

It fit him well, Billy was pleased.

It was black, little pink and purple flowers dotting the fabric.

He gave a spin, the skirt flaring out just a bit.

“You look beautiful , Baby.”

“Thank you, Bill. This was really sweet of you.”

“These would be cute on you.” Steve just barely reacted to Billy’s voice quick enough to catch the pair of overalls he had tossed.

They were cute, would be a little baggy on Steve, but that was kinda the look , Steve guessed.

“Don’t you think they’re kinda, like, schlubby ?” Billy raised one eyebrow, a sparkle of laughter in his bright eyes.

“You’ve worn schlubbier.” Steve snapped the overalls at Billy. “They’ll be cute! Just put ‘em on.”

Billy was right .

Steve had put a lace bralette underneath them, and even though they were baggy, they were cute.

And they were also the most non-sexualized thing Steve has ever seen .

Even with the peak of skin on the sides, they weren’t sexy , they were just fun and comfortable and fucking cute .

Billy’s eyes lit up when he saw Steve.

“I told you .” Steve just gave him a look . Billy tugged on the straps, pulling Steve closer to his body. “They’re cute. You’re cute.” Steve just laughed, dodging Billy’s attempt to plant a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Yeah? Well, you’re buying.”

“You look nice.” Billy planted a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

He had been careful with his compliments lately. Wording them very specifically.

Saying you look nice or that color is very pretty on you. Makes your eyes pop or even a I can tell you feel good .

It was sweet , his own little way to affirm Steve, trying his very best not to sexualize his compliments.

He’s been extra careful about validating Steve in the everyday.

But sometimes, Steve wanted to be a bit of a tease .

They were quiet moving down the stairs, the socks resting high up on their thighs.

Billy wasn’t paying any attention, immersed in one of his heavy books he devoured like candy.

Steve bit their bottom lip, causally knocking a coaster of the end table.

“Oh, oops .”

Billy looked up just in time to see Steve bent over, short lilac skirt riding up, delicate lace panties on display.

He swallowed thickly, eyes snapping back to his book as they move to stand.

Steve pouted for a moment, slowly smiling when they realized how pink Billy’s cheeks had gone, how his eyes had gone unfocused.

“You know, you’re allowed to look , sometimes. I know you’re being all sweet , but sometimes it’s okay to be, not sweet .”

Billy looked up, his tongue rolling deliberately across his bottom lip.

“Baby, you’re makin’ a man lose all sense of resolve.” Billy sounded wrecked .

Steve was delighted .

They were in a short skirt, one of Billy’s shirts tucked into the top, and of course , the long socks.

But Billy’s seen them in sluttier , in flimsier and more see-through, in sexier .

So maybe it wasn’t how much of their body was on display, Steve thought as Billy slammed his book closed, pinned them up against the wall with his body.

Billy was like a little puppy when Steve returned home from a shift at Family Video that evening.

It was their first weekend in the new apartment, the teeny little shoebox overlooking the gas station, with only one bedroom and only one queen-sized bed.

“I did something.” Billy was hopping from foot to foot, positively giddy .

Steve took their time removing their shoes.

“How worried should I be?”

Last time it was I did something , Billy had flooded the bathroom in Steve’s parents’ house.

“Oh, ye of little faith. Just come on .”

Billy pulled their wrist, made Steve stumble along behind him.

He smiled brightly outside of their bedroom, pushing the door open with his hip as he slid both hands over Steve’s eyes, leading them inside.

Steve was dizzy, completely disoriented.

And then Billy pulled away his hands.

Their shared closet had been completely redone.

Billy had worked all day installing the organizing system.

There were drawers, organized with extreme care.

“So, I got all your just for show stuff in this set of drawers, and this set is all your more practical stuff,” Billy opened one of the just for show drawers, revealed a few lingerie sets stored delicately, laying flat and wrinkle-free. “All your clothes-clothes are hanging up, and shoes are on the rack.”

Steve was speechless , began pawing through the three-quarters of the walk-in closet that now belonged to Steve and their stuff .

“Bill, I-”

“I mean, I got a few new things, too. I was walking past that boutique Susan is always trying to get Max into, and I guess they’re going out of business, or something, because everything was like, seventy-five percent off , so I just like, took a bunch.”

“Yeah, the whole fucking store ?”

Billy just smiled bashfully at his feet.

“You like it?”

Steve wrapped their arms carefully around Billy’s neck.

“I love it .”

Billy stopped dead in his tracks.

His heart was fluttering in his chest, and he kinda felt like he could throw up from such a perfect scene.

Steve was humming to themself, swaying along to the Proclaimers record playing in the kitchen, turning to their cat to sing along to Over and Done With .

Their dress brushed the tops of their ankles, the pretty floral material flowed as they danced.

Billy was so fucking in love.

He dumped his bag down, kicking off his boots to stalk towards Steve.

The dress was silky and delicate as he wrapped one arm around Steve’s waist, the other hand holding tightly to their hand.

Steve gave a bright laugh as they began clumsily dancing with one another.

“I love you so much .”

Steve’s smile was like the sun , made Billy feel warm to his core, made him feel whole and healed and safe .

Steve tossed their head with the music, let Billy lead them into a spin, a terrible dip.

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ot5ismyhome · 4 years ago

Text

10. Healing

I'm so sorry for posting very late. I had exams. Lol It's still going on now but I wanted to post something. Hope you like this chapter.

To read the story from beginning click here.

*****

As therapy progressed Wanda started regaining control of her life. One day, she decided to go back to her office. At the entrance, she was met by Davis who nodded his head sympathetically at her. She was hoping not to run into anyone else she knew. She didn’t want any more sympathetic nods. Fortunately, she didn’t see anyone. She got in the elevator and was about to press the button for her floor when a woman with loads of files in her hand rushed in. Seeing Wanda, she gave a grin. To be polite, Wanda returned her smile. Daisy recognised Wanda as soon as she saw, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to make her relive that night.

“Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before” Daisy said trying to keep it casual.

“No. I just... took a break. I’m Wanda, and you?”

“Daisy Johnson of your secret hacking division.”

Wanda raised her eyebrow at the funny introduction by the other woman.

Daisy laughed, “I’m intern at Comms”

“Great. How do you like it here?”

“Boring. So many rules and protocols.” After a pause, Daisy added, “Which department are you from?”

“I’m Mr. Rogers’ assistant.” Wanda smiled.

“When will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut, Daisy?” she spoke to herself. “Well. Then, I have a reason to come to the top floor” she winked at Wanda. Wanda was taken back and didn’t know how to react. The lift opened and Daisy got out, “See you later.”

The elevator continued to Steve’s floor. Wanda got out and made her way to her office. It looked different but it felt familiar. The office has been cleaned and some things have been moved. She checked the shelves and all her things were still there. As she settled into her office, she felt a wave of familiarity wash over her. She was in a known surrounding. Small steps at a time she said to herself.

On her way to the conference room, she bumped into the new Head of Communication, Billy Koenig. They made some small talk and went on their ways. Things have changed around her Wanda thought.

By afternoon, Howard came to visit her. Seeing him after a long time made her lose it. It reminded of the time when everything wasn’t messed up. She started trembling and crying. She was able to let everything out. The familiar presence by her side was warm welcome. He held her and consoled her till her tears subsided. When Wanda calmed down bit Howard had offered to take her home then but she declined.

“Then come over to my lab.”

“That sounds fine.”

They both went down to his lab. They talked the rest of the day. Wanda felt better at the end of the day.

…..

Five months later

“I can’t come to the movies tonight. You guys go on. Maybe we can hang out some other time” said Carol. She was Steve’s chief advisor on Foreign Relations.

“Date night?” asked Piper.

“Yeah. I planned something sweet for my wife. I don’t want to postpone it”

“That’s cool. Other’s on board?” asked Daisy.

“Yeah,” said Davis. “And Carol, when is your wife due?”

“Two months from now”

“Decided on the name?” asked Piper.

“Yeah. Monica” Carol beamed.

“That’s cute,” said Wanda.

“What about you Piper? When are you planning to pop the big question? When are you planning on expanding the family?” Daisy teased.

“Guys. Guys, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I like how things are going with Becca. I’m not thinking much into the future right now.”

“What about you, Daisy? Met any new person.” asked Wanda.

Daisy laughed. “I don’t have much luck in the dating front. You know, one time …” Daisy started narrating a funny story. The group laughed and joked till they had to get back to work.

One months later

It was the last therapy session for Wanda. Andrew was satisfied with her improvement throughout the session. He asked her to keep in touch if any need arises contact him for any problem. Wanda thanked him and got up from the sofa.

“What plans do you have for today?”

“I’m moving into a new house.”

“Glad to hear that. Good luck, Wanda.”

“Thanks, Andrew.”

As usual Andrew walked Wanda to the entrance before preparing for his next client. Wanda walked to her car and started it. She drove to her old apartment but paused at the entrance. She hadn’t gone back there for a long time. She didn’t want to go back. She feared it would open the closed wounds. She stood at the corner of the road, staring at the building. Steve’s car caught her eyes. She reminded herself that he was there for her and she doesn’t have to go through this alone.

Wanda climbed the familiar stairs and reached her old apartment. She went in to see Steve already packing everything. Seeing her he gave a small smile. She joined him.

“You don’t have to pack by yourself. You could have waited till I came back.”

“Who said I did by myself? The others are also here.”

Hearing the conversation, Natasha peeped out of her bedroom and gave a smile. Wanda smiled back. She went into the kitchen and saw Tony and Howard working together. She was surprised as she stood in the doorway and looked at the father-son duo. Sensing her presence both turned towards her. She gave a small smile and went back to the living room and joined Steve.

“Sorry guys. I’m late” they heard a voice by the door. They turned to see Coulson standing there with a smile.

“Hey, Coulson” Wanda greeted him. “It’s been long. How’s work going on?”

“It’s classified,” he replied with a smile. He joined the others to help them pack.

All the stuff in every room was packed except Pietro’s, Wanda opened the door and stepped in. She let out the breath she was accidently holding. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see it was Steve. He was there to assure her that she doesn’t have to mourn alone. He was there to share her grief. Together they started packing his stuff. After they were done, the movers loaded it into the truck. The house felt different without the things. She went back to Pietro’s room to look at it one last time. Even though she stood alone she could feel her brother’s warm presence. She embraced herself and took one final look at the room. She walked out of the room and joined the others. They set out for the new place.

It was a cosy condo in the outskirts of Brooklyn near Steve’s place. Steve had suggested it to her when she asked him. She liked the place when she saw it first. When she took the tour of the place, she fell in love with it. It was fully furnished. The house looked elegant but not too extravagant for Wanda’s taste. They reached the new place and waited for the movers. After unloading the boxes, Natasha went out to pick up Bucky who was planning to join them for dinner. On the way back, they bought some take outs and drinks. The dinner was filled with quirky conversations and crappy jokes.

“I have an announcement. I’m going to Wakanda next month” Howard announced with pride.

“For how long?” Wanda asked.

“For about six months.”

“You know, Howard. You have to run these things by your employer first.”

“I forgot you were here. I thought you and Bucky were doing laundry” Howard snorted.

Steve and Bucky became red. The others burst out laughing.

Wanda thought about the first time they had hung out together. Everything was very different now. She thought they were just normal group of friends. Now she knew most of the group were vampires. Coulson is the Director of S.T.A.K.E. And she was ‘I’ now. But she knew she will be alright. As long as she had her friends by her side.

…..

Two months later

It was a bright sunny day and the sun’s rays danced on the graveyard grass. The tomb stones shone in the light. The leaves rustled in the mild summer breeze. Wanda walked to the empty grave with flowers in her hand. Thompson accompanied her. They laid the flowers on the empty grave. Thompson walked away for some time to give her alone time with her brother. After she had talked, they sat near the grave and recollected the memories of Pietro as a token of celebrating his life. By afternoon, they decided to leave.

“I will wait in the car,” Wanda said, slightly gripping his shoulders for support.

Thompson nodded.

After visiting Pietro's grave both of them drove to a nearby café. They ordered a coffee each and settled in an empty table.

“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you before. I was-”

“Hey, it’s okay. I understand. We both were not in a good place. No bad feelings” Wanda reassured him.

Thompson gave a weak smile.

“How’s work?”

Thompson opened his mouth to talk but Wanda intervened again.

“Oh wait!” she said “It’s classified” she said mimicking Coulson.

Both of them chuckled. “That wasn’t a very good impression of Coulson but I will let it pass” he laughed.

“We should do this often. Meet and catch up with each other” Thompson offered.

“That would be nice,” Wanda smiled.

*****

Chapter 11

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bluecrusadearcade · 4 years ago

Text

Harrison Osterfield is not your regular irregular

By Baker Street, Gentleman’s Journal quizzes the star of Netflix’s new drama on world records, Sherlock Holmes and his golf swing…

Draped in a silk shirt and paisley scarf, Harrison Osterfield is shivering his way across a brisk Regent’s Park. But he’s not complaining. Why would he? After all, the 24-year-old has dealt with worse. In his latest television series alone — Netflix’s The Irregulars — he’s tussled with demonic crows, paranormal serial killers and even the occult. So a little nip in the air? Nothing to worry about.

“I do have my eye on that jumper, though,” beams Osterfield from behind a bold pair of sunglasses. I don’t blame him. It’s a chunky-knit, funnel-neck number from Connolly, and the next piece of clothing lined up for this al fresco photoshoot. But, for now, the young actor must grit his chattering teeth — and continue striking willowy poses in that billowy shirt.

And those poses are turning heads. Dog-walkers, taxi drivers and tourists are all picking up on Osterfield’s energy; a coolly British blend of big grins and bouncy enthusiasm. He swings from a lamppost! He dances through daffodils! He feeds the pigeons! NW1 hasn’t seen this much action in months…

And we’ve come to Regent’s Park for obvious reasons; Baker Street snakes down from its south-west corner. And, on that famous thoroughfare, sits the fictional digs of Sherlock Holmes. But The Irregulars, a supernatural-tinged drama named for Holmes’ gang of trusty street informants, wasn’t shot in London. Rather, it was filmed on the authentically old streets of Sheffield and Liverpool — the same cobbles walked by the Peaky Blinder boys. So this, Osterfield grins, is a fun opportunity to see the real thing.

“All of the rest of the cast,” he admits, “are really big Sherlock fans. I’ve never really read any of the Sherlock books. I’ve seen maybe one Robert Downey Jr. film? So I was very new going into it.”

Today, then, will be a crash course. Because, after we get Osterfield out of the park (and into that jumper), we’re heading to the Holmes Hotel for a coffee and a catch-up. It’s a relatively new hotel just off Baker Street, decked out with knowing nods to the world’s greatest detective. There’s a bronze bulldog guarding the door, pipe-patterned wallpaper and signature cocktails at the sadly-closed bar (anyone for a ‘Case Closed’?).

But, though there are only suggestions of Sherlock in the Holmes Hotel, Osterfield explains that they’re even subtler in the show. Because The Irregulars, in a nutshell (wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma), sidelines the sleuth, and shifts the focus onto Osterfield and his fellow gang members. The actor plays one of the show’s leads; frail runaway nobleman Prince Leopold. All sullen glances and broken bones, his story is the heart of this first season.

“And it’s been a long project in the making,” says Osterfield, noting that filming on The Irregulars began almost two years ago. “That’s quite daunting. When you’ve spent that much time on something and you’ve got no idea how it’s going to turn out?

“It means that, now, it’s crunch time,” he continues, face creasing with mock-worry, “and I have no idea how people are going to react. But I’m really proud of the work, and that’s what I’m taking away from it.”

The Irregulars may be Osterfield’s first lead role — but he’s been acting for years, popping up in several short films and the George Clooney-directed adaptation of Catch-22 before Netflix took notice. His first role came at 11-years-old, when he was cast as Tiny Tim in his school’s stage production of A Christmas Carol. “It’s funny, actually,” says Osterfield, “because it’s quite a similar physicality to my role in The Irregulars”.

“But that’s where it started,” he continues. “And the real reason I got into acting was because there was this girl in the drama class who I really liked. I thought, if I joined up and impressed her, I could take her out on a date. That didn’t happen. But, although she wasn’t interested at all — the acting seems to be going okay!”

It certainly does. But, like actors all over the world, it’s been a very slow year for Osterfield. He returned to set in September to finish filming the Netflix show — but the rest of his lockdown was eerily, cannily familiar to everyone else’s.

“I went back to my home in Kingston,” he nods, “where I was living with three of my best mates who are also actors. Quite a few of my friends are in theatre, and they had a really tough time of it — not knowing what was going to happen next. I was very lucky, knowing that I was going back to finish something”.

The actor says it was strange being locked-down with fellow performers. With sets closed around the country and curtains falling on theatres, it was one of the first times they had all been at home together. But, even with the additional pressure, he says there were no problems. And there never have been, according to Osterfield — as it’s rare that he and his friends ever compete for the same role.

“We’re all very different castings!” he laughs. “Which is good. It’s a mixed bag, really. But it’s very useful when you’ve got to self-tape an audition and there’s another actor literally upstairs. Also, we’ve all known each other for ten years, so we’ve grown up together and, luckily, know when not to push each other’s buttons.”

With no work, Osterfield spent most of his 2020 getting stuck into lockdown. And he shamelessly tried every self-isolated stereotype. He binge-watched every sports documentary from Drive to Survive to Last Chance U. He upped the frequency and intensity of his workouts. He even tried his hand at cooking. He tried everything.

“I did try everything!” the actor laughs, fizzing once more with that lamppost-swinging, daffodil-dancing energy. “Really! I think I went though every lockdown activity there is. I gave baking a go for two weeks — that didn’t work out. I made a banana bread and that was it. I’m not going to be delving into that any more…

“We were quite lucky, though,” he adds, “because we had an outdoor space. We built a homemade golf net in our garden, by putting up two wooden poles and hanging a blue screen we had left over from filming. That kept us entertained most days”.

But, despite the failed banana breads, closed-off golf courses and Irregulars anxiety, Osterfield says that the worst thing about lockdown was missing his family.

“Because we’re a very close family”, he explains. “Massively so. And, usually, we’d have family gatherings every other weekend – my whole family are in East Grinstead and closer to Brighton, so real countryside. I’m honestly just looking forward to the day, with summer on the horizon, that we can do some good barbecues outside.

“We even tried family Zoom quizzes over lockdown,” he adds, “and they all figured out that I’m not that clever. The rest of my family all seem really, really intelligent. I don’t know if they were just revising beforehand, but I was definitely last a couple of times…”

And Osterfield’s most inspiring family member — not to mention the most irregular — is his 89-year-old grandfather. Despite the young actor upping his own fitness levels during lockdown (“I started doing handstand push-ups. That’s my new skill!”) Osterfield’s grandfather put those athletic achievements to shame.

“He’s fitter than me!” laughs Osterfield. “He’s been kept at home for most of the time and, as a family, we’ve been quite worried about him. But I struggle to keep up with him. I’ll ring him up and ask how his day’s going and he’ll say ‘Oh, hi Harry. Can I call you back later on? I’m just doing some exercise’. So he’s doing better than okay!”

But the exercising, Osterfield says seriously, has been a real lifeline. It’s kept both him and his mind busy during lockdown — and has motivated the actor to pursue more physical, active roles in the future. If he can look back at a body of versatile work, measured out in marked body transformations, he says he’ll be happy.

“I’ve been doing a lot of bodyweight exercise over the last year,” he nods. “I thought it would be quite cool, while in lockdown, to break a world record for something — so I’ve been trying lots of fitness challenges. I’m very close to getting the most burpee chin-ups in under a minute. I’ve got to knuckle down on that.

“I also tried to eat an apple in under 38 seconds,” he laughs. “Which sounds like a long time, but it’s actually quite difficult. And, with apples, I eat everything. Even the middle bit. Even the stem. I just chuck it down. I’m a big fruit bat, so I eat everything apart from the seeds.”

There’s that bouncy energy again; that fun-but-utterly-sincere enthusiasm. It’s an odd thing for an actor, to be so happily unabashed by everything — but the 24-year-old is as animated when talking about his acting as he is about his apples. And that’s nice to see. He’s clearly relishing every opportunity to better himself, and just getting started with what promises to be a very exciting career. Harrison Osterfield, it seems, takes every bite of the apple — literally. Talk about irregular.

#Harrison osterfield #the gentlemans journal #the irregulars #interview

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marvels-writings · 5 years ago

Note

Hey love u said requests are open but they still say closed on ur ask and bio u might want to change that. Pairing: carol x reader. Request: carol helps her close friend and secret crush buy a fancy dress for tony’s gala. Carol is getting more flustered after each dress. The reader who also has a big crush on carol asks for carol’s help with the zipper. Carol is floored after doing that. You choose what happens next but make it a happy ending please.

A/N: ayy next week this time i’ll be in india, guess who’s hella excited. Anyway i actually loved this request so here’s the drabble.

“Carol you have worse taste in clothing than a colorblind 5 year old.” You remarked, picking out random hangers from the rack in front of you.

You had dragged Carol to come shopping with you for Tony’s gala. Carol had been gifted a dress from Maria to wear, it was an army green halter top with gold patterns, Carol was borrowing some of your jewelry for the gala, you didn’t have a suited dress. Well, at least a dress which didn’t have stains or rips from missions.

“It’s not that bad, right?�� Carol asked, lifting up the arm of the hideous dress and looking up at you, you raised an eyebrow. Carol was currently wearing a light blue t shirt from Hollister, dark blue denim jeans and white vans. She had her black aviators on top of her hair as she looked around.

“Carol it’s a full sleeved, army green ball gown with ripped embroidery on the front.” You stated, Carol held it up in front of her, lolled her head to the side then put it back.

You’d been picking out dresses which complimented Carol’s, well you covered it up as wanting to twin your best friend, but in reality, it was because you’d developed feelings for her. And you were the awkwardest when it comes to confessing, so you’d decided to find a way around it and get her to confess, since half the avengers were telling you she liked you.

The other half were already finished with trying to set the two of you up and got tired of how oblivious you were.

“OOh what about this one?” You asked, trying to pick up another dress with your free hand which didn’t already have 5 dresses on it. The one you’d just picked up was a body-con, bronze dress with a leg slit, and it had two thick straps and a large neck and a low cut back.

“Isn’t that too much?” Carol asked sceptically. She had been crushing on you for the past few months, but you seemed to be completely oblivious. Everyone else had noticed the subtle ways to impress you, the increased visits to Earth, the requests for more missions with you, the stealing of your clothes. Well you hadn’t noticed her stealing your clothes… yet.

“No, I’m gonna try it on with the rest.” You stated, putting it on your arm, which was getting heavier by the dress.

“Y/n, I think you have enough dresses for the next 10 galas.” Carol commented after walking over to you.

“Maybe, I’m gonna go try them on.” You said excitedly, then walking over to the changing rooms. You noticed Carol wasn’t following you, you turned to face her.

“The changing rooms are over there.” Carol pointed out, you rolled your eyes.

“I need an audience.” You joked, walking over to her, carol smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“Wow you sound like a stripper.” She commented, grinning at her own joke.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed her wrist with your free hand, practically dragging her over to the changing rooms. Once you got there, Carol sat on the couches, fidgeting with her phone as she waited for you to change.

Now, you had 6 dresses, all of them a bit more revealing than what you’d usually wear, but hey, you needed to impress the great Captain Marvel, it needed to look better than just another Macy’s dress.

The first one on your list was an off shoulder two piece, the top was silver and the bottom was navy blue. After struggling a bit to get out of your t shirt and jeans, you put it on to find the top was a bit short, and the skirt a bit tight, making it look more revealing than it actually was. Oh well, you were just glad the changing rooms were empty today.

“Thoughts?” You asked, opening the door and walking outside.

Carol had meant to make a cool glance your way, but the outfit looked stunning. She stood up and looked at you with her gorgeous hazel eyes. The top seemed to be a bit tight, it hugged your body in all the right places, same with the skirt. Her gaze lingered slightly on the exposed skin before you cleared your throat, your face slightly pink.

“It looks amazing,” Carol’s eyes widened slightly as she spoke before she thought. “I mean, it looks good.” She corrected, trying to act casual and shrugging with one shoulder, you smirked slightly at the action and decided to tease her more.

“Don’t you think it’s a little tight?” You asked, twirling around twice. Carol swallowed, taking in the sight before replying.

“Maybe, maybe, just try on the other ones before deciding.” She stuttered, sending a small smile your way.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You said, looking down at the dress then walking back inside, noting that Carol’s eyes didn’t leave your figure until you closed the door.

Only 5 more dresses to go, you couldn’t wait.

The next three dresses went by fairly smoothly, no outrageous reaction. They were all fairly loose, floor length gowns and not too revealing either. One was backless, Carol’s face had almost turned to the equivalent of Barbie pink, you were enjoying yourself a bit too much.

Just as Carol thought the dresses couldn’t get worse from the backless, she had decided to lean against the wall instead of sitting, since she had ended up sitting down then standing a few times. Carol had almost recovered from her blush, when you came out of the changing rooms in a practically see through dress.

The dress was a purple, floor length, poofy dark purple gown. The straps and the light lace above the purple were black. The purple was a thin, see through cotton mesh. The entire midsection around your stomach, and everything below your hips was see through. Carol almost fell off the wall.

“A bit too see through?” You asked, clearly enjoying her reaction.

“You think?” Carol asked, fixing her aviators on top of her head. You grinned at the joke and decided to twirl.

“I don’t know,” You grinned, enjoying seeing Carol so flustered. “I kind of like the feel of it.” “Well, you won’t like the feeling of half the people at the party staring at the weird dress.” Carol commented, regaining her composure to the best of her ability with a light pink face.

“True, well there’s only one more then we can decide.” You stated, walking back into the changing rooms. After closing the door, you started laughing a bit at Carol’s reactions. Honestly, you didn’t think you would ever see the day where she was this flustered. Currently, your emotions ranged from happy, because Carol obviously liked you back, to anxious. You’d saved the best for last.

This time, Carol was closer to falling off the wall. The dress was an off shoulder with one of the straps intentionally falling off, it was body con, with a large leg slit. And you’d intentionally left the zipper half undone.

“Carol,” You said, snapping her out of her thoughts. She’d been staring at you for a few moments, she blinked a few times before focusing back on your face, her face starting to light up slightly. “Could you help me out with the zipper.”

You turned around and brushed your hair over your shoulder, giving Carol a view of your entire back. You could practically hear her swallow. She walked over behind you, stumbling almost.

Carol slowly pulled the zipper up, only for it to get stuck halfway through. She tried to pull it up a few times then frowned at it slightly.

“Y/n, it’s, it’s a little stuck.” She stated, still trying to pull it up a little. Your eyes widened slightly, this wasn’t supposed to happen, you still tried to play it cool.

“Try loosening it from the inside.” You offered, with a huge smirk on your face.

“Uh, can’t you do that?” She asked, letting go of the zipper.

“If I could, I would’ve zipped it up by myself.” You stated.

“Fine.” She muttered, the zipper was stuck in the middle of your back. She took in a slight breath before sliding her finger inside the dress and towards the zipper, pushing at the zipper slightly. Carol’s breath hitched slightly when her hand accidentally pressed against your back.

“You got it?” You asked, shuffling on your feet slightly.

“I hope so.” Carol stated, taking out her finger then smoothly pulling the zipper up.

You turned around slightly, both of your faces lit up a bright pink. Carol’s hands slipped around your waist on their own accord, surprising both of you.

“I, um, the dress looks great.” Carol said, keeping her hands where they were.

“Should I wear it to the gala?” You asked, leaning in slightly, staring into her hazel eyes for a reaction, you’d only just noticed they were slightly green.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stay away from you.” Carol replied with a smirk, glancing at your lips slightly and leaning in.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” You whispered, joining your lips together.

Carol was extremely hesitant, unsure if you really wanted this, after your lips moved against hers, she realized you did a little too late. Your hands went to wrap around her neck as the kiss deepened, her lips moving over yours.

“This is not what the changing rooms are for.” A employee said, a broom in her hand as she glared down the two of you.

You instantly, broke apart, detangling from Carol as she did the same, both of you breathless and more flustered than ever.

“Sorry ma’am.” You apologized, shuffling away from Carol slightly. The employee rolled her eyes and walked away. You sighed slightly.

“No worries.” Carol joked, you turned back to her with a playful smirk on your face.

“I think I just might buy this for the gala.” You stated, Carol smirked in return.

“Well, then this Gala should be interesting.” Carol joked, mirroring your smirk as her eyes glinted mischievously. In all honesty, she didn’t know how right she was.

Tag list: @capcarolsdanver, @blushycarol, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson,let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

A/N: This, is one of my new favs. I literally turned into a fashion designer half way through, feedback is amazing, thank you!!!!!!!!!

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supremeuppityone · 5 years ago

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Chapter 117: A Precious Vintage

Author’s note: This was written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events. Prompt: Best friend’s brother.

You can read Part 2 here.

Bill Forbes died and the family fortune was lost. Now Caroline is desperate to keep her father’s charity afloat — without revealing her misfortune to Klaus, her childhood nemesis.

Warning: Some angst.

“I often think how unfairly life's good fortune is sometimes distributed.” ― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

The crystal goblet was cool to the touch, holding the perfectly chilled Dom Pérignon rosé. And yet it scalded Caroline’s fingers the longer she held it. Her family once owned goblets like these. Until a month ago, they used to own a lot of things. Her smile was little more than a thin blade as she politely nodded at Carol Lockwood who gleefully detailed the latest rumors about the contentious Gilbert divorce. With that vicious old gossip, she knew better than to appear as anything less than perfectly content in front of her. The last thing she needed was to have a breakdown about her father’s death in front of Mystic Falls’ elite. Or the cruel aftermath.

�� She murmured a few well-placed noises at Carol’s mindless recount of Miranda getting caught with Matt Donovan, a decades-younger bartender, and then allowed her gaze to sweep the grand ballroom once more. The charity auction’s glittering gold banners were crooked and if Rebekah was here, she’d scream bloody murder that polyester fabric had crossed the threshold of her ancestral manor. She loved her best friend, but her snobby side was almost as ugly as that dolphin tattoo she got on her ass cheek during that drunken weekend in Antigua.

Carol suddenly squeezed her hand, cooing insincerely, “Please accept my condolences for your father’s passing. To lose him so unexpectedly must have been just dreadful.”

Yes, dreadful. Especially the part where she and her mother learned that he’d fallen victim to a string of bad investments and now the Forbes’ fortune was almost gone. Caroline struggled to keep her face impassive, thinking back to how she’d had to comfort her mother just that morning when she broke down in hysterical sobs as they scoured meager apartments two towns over. They both knew eventually the truth would come out, and ferocious harpies like Carol would relish the news, but her mother insisted they keep up the pretense a bit longer. Especially since they were scrambling to keep Bill’s charity afloat and preserve his legacy.

“Almost as dreadful as the sight of a grown man drunkenly chatting up a dimwitted bird younger than his granddaughter,” an accented voice dryly interjected, causing Carol’s forehead to crease angrily, or at least as much as the Botox would allow. Muttering a terse goodbye, she excused herself, which normally would’ve made Caroline sigh with relief, but now she was stuck with her childhood nemesis.

She’d grown up with Klaus; affluent families like the Mikaelsons and Forbes tended to travel in the same social circles — especially in small towns like Mystic Falls. But while she and Rebekah instantly bonded to form a lasting friendship, her best friend’s brother was another matter. Blessed with a chiseled jawline and piercing intellect, add in the prestigious Mikaelson name and enviable fortune, and Klaus was one of the town’s most eligible bachelors. And a gigantic asshat.

“I hope you aren’t expecting a thank you,” she coolly told him, “The day I can’t handle Botoxed bitches like Carol Lockwood is the day I skinny dip in mashed potatoes.”

Gray eyes twinkling, he leaned in close as he hummed, “Now that I would pay to see, sweetheart. While I don’t share your odd affinity for mashed potatoes, I certainly can see the appeal now.”

“I used to love them until you dunked my head in the serving bowl at Thanksgiving.”

Klaus let out a long-suffering sigh as they settled into one of their well-worn arguments. “We were children.”

“You chipped my tooth,” Caroline hissed, snagging another champagne flute from a waiter.

He impishly clinked their crystal rims as he toasted her. “But what an enchanting smile you have now — as I’ve told you on countless occasions.”

“Usually when you have several desperate groupies hanging off your arm,” she scoffed, hating how she secretly craved their bickering. Even though he’d always been a cocky asshole, arguing with him somehow felt like home. With all of the painful drama going on in her life, it was nice to indulge in something familiar.

She rolled her eyes as she overheard Tyler Lockwood get rejected by one of the servers when he told her his yacht had a ‘bitchin’ view of the sunset’. For fuck’s sake, he’d been using that same bullshit line since they were in high school. She felt an instant connection with the girl and decided maybe that much black eyeliner could be attractive in its own way.

“Yes, well, surely you noticed I’m unaccompanied tonight,” he ventured, eyes darting anywhere but at her as though he’d suddenly grown shy. “I thought Rebekah would’ve mentioned it...” he trailed off awkwardly.

“She flew out last night. Alexander surprised her with a trip to Romania to hunt wild boar.”

He raised an eyebrow. “My sister is a vegan.”

“She thinks she’s in love,” Caroline retorted, hating her bittersweet tone.

Flashing a dimpled smirk, he mocked, “Rebekah falls in love every other week. It’s the only time she’s punctual.” He cocked his head, studying her carefully. She wasn’t sure what he saw, but his expression turned serious as he added, “Not like you, though. You’re cautious. Meticulous. Examining every possible outcome from each angle before you take a step.”

For once, she was struck speechless. Normally, interactions with her best friend’s brother were a bizarre mix of boisterous banter with thinly veiled hostility. This was new. She bought herself some time to process by taking a sip of the overpriced champagne; however, the familiar Dom tasted like ash. They used to serve it at every family celebration.

“Let’s get out of here,” Klaus said unexpectedly, gray eyes blazing with a ferocity that Caroline found intensely appealing. She blamed the champagne. “I’m thinking San Sebastián. Remember that little place overlooking the Bay? Akelaŕe, I think?”

A little half-smile touched her lips as she recalled how Rebekah’s brothers had tracked them down at the exclusive boutique hotel and convinced them to extend their stay another two weeks. In between the spectacular beaches and non-stop shopping in the local markets, they gorged themselves on Iberico carpaccio, delicate herbed soufflés and gallons of fruity txakoli and hearty crianza wines.

She also recalled the way Klaus’ curls had darkened when he emerged from swimming in the sparkling bay, water droplets trailing down his firm chest. It was a memory she reluctantly carried with her, unsure if the spark she felt when they teased each other could be something more.

He must’ve taken her silence as a rejection, because he quickly amended his offer with, “It doesn’t have to be a date; it could just be a friendly jaunt and you could plan our next adventure, sweetheart.” Right. She couldn’t afford to keep up with Klaus. Not now that they were from two different worlds. Caroline didn’t know what the future held for her, but she didn’t belong here anymore. And she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the pity in his eyes once he learned the truth. “I can’t,” she softly told him, unable to mask her pained smile as she made her way toward the Mikaelsons’ lavish south garden where the charity auction was set to begin.

She chose a seat near the back, giving Elena and the Salvatores a wide berth when she caught part of a tiresome conversation about racing and how in an idiotic fit of one-upmanship, the brothers had purchased a pair of McLaren F1s to try out on the track that weekend. She also begrudgingly admired Elena’s bravery in showing her face tonight, knowing everyone would be gossiping about her parents’ ugly divorce. Of course, the Salvatores formed a protective cocoon around her all night, so it’s not as though Elena was truly alone.

No one would ever protect Caroline like that. Straightening her spine, she refused to give into self-pity, and instead let her gaze slide appreciatively over the impressive collections to be auctioned. Several charities had been selected by the Founders’ committee to benefit from the proceeds, and it was shaping up to be one of the most successful auctions in the town’s history. There was a Miró, several Richters, plus a giant Jackson Pollock the Mikaelsons were donating from their extensive collection. Sparkling Steuben Glassware, and even antique Baccarat with diamond stoppers rounded out the offerings, but it was the vintage Bordeaux that kept her attention.

It had been her father’s favorite bottle, purchased from the exclusive Travelers Vineyard the year she was born. It had held a place of honor in their wine cellar, and she’d burst into tears at least twice when she’d dusted it off for the auction. But she and her mother had agreed that Bill would’ve wanted them to keep the boys’ home going as long as possible. It was a cause that he was passionate about because his grandfather spent much of his youth in one, claiming it had saved his life.

The auctioneer held up the bottle, announcing to the crowd, “A precious vintage priced at just under $30,000. All proceeds will benefit Safe House, a residential boarding facility for at-risk youth. We’ll start the bidding at $35,000.”

Multiple paddles were raised, and she anxiously leaned forward, taken aback when Klaus bid an aggressive $40,000. He was sitting several rows off to the side, and gazed at her with an unreadable expression.

A few more bids were called, and Caroline bit her lip, excited that the money could fund the facility even longer than she and her mother had planned. “$100,000,” Klaus confidently shouted, flashing a dimpled smirk at the flurry of gasps around him.

She felt her heart thud in her chest as the auctioneer closed out the bidding. Klaus paid more than three times what that bottle was worth. Did he know it was her father’s? Mild panic flitted through her mind as Caroline questioned whether Klaus somehow knew about her family’s financial troubles. Was he secretly trying to help her? Or, maybe he just understood the importance of supporting charities?

It didn’t matter, she decided. Selfless generosity should be acknowledged and she was tired of fighting her growing feelings. She was ready to take that step. In a swish of black silk, her stride was decisive as she moved into his path. Her breath caught as she admired the perfect hang of his Tom Ford tuxedo. Her smile was hesitant even as she struggled to keep her tone nonchalant. “That was quite the display.” She watched his fingers toy with the old-fashioned waxed cork of the bottle, and she wondered if he’d like to hear how her father had taught her to make wax seals when she was little. Maybe on the flight to San Sebastián?

“It seems my plan to gain your attention worked,” Klaus told her with a seductive grin, flashing his dimples as her cheeks warmed. “You seemed quite fixated on this bottle, and I decided to raise the stakes just to see that lovely flush when you’re especially vexed with me.”

She nervously tucked a stray curl behind her ear, pleased that he’d been so attuned to her to notice the wine’s importance. He was someone she could confide in. Finally.

Klaus lightly wiggled the bottle in his grip, sighing dramatically as he said, “Elijah will have my head when he finds out I’ve purchased something so tawdry for our collection. These charity events are quite clever to wait until attendees are properly smashed so they’re more inclined to open their pocketbooks.”

Caroline felt her heart sink at his words. “What? I don’t...”

“No matter,” Klaus smoothly continued, “I’ll just toss the bottle in some dusty corner of the wine cellar and my dullard brother will be none the wiser.”

It was a punch to the gut, but she was proud of the way her venomous smile didn’t falter. This wasn’t her world anymore. And she’d never been more grateful to be reminded of that. “That bottle belonged to my father. He lost our fortune and we needed the money to keep his charity from going under. So, thank you for your selfless donation.”

Caroline was certain his chagrined expression would become one of her favorite memories. As she stormed off, she hissed over her shoulder, “And I hope you choke on your tawdry vintage!”

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline fanfic #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline #kc does small-town old money #klaroline aesthetic #aesthetic

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fictionalginger · 4 years ago

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wandavision theories for ep 8 | contains spoilers

Obligatory disclaimer, these are my opinion + thoughts, and ideas, take all u see here with a grain of salt as of course, these are just theories. Now, shall we?

I’m writing this at 7:30am on Friday 26th, it’s taking all my self control to actually write this down before I go watch the episode.

Let me start this by saying that ever since this show started I’ve looked like this every single week, until the next episode, and then the cycle just starts over. I’ve seen the promos and the trailers in like 0.25x so many times.

Agatha/Agnes

I called it from before the show’s start and the fact that it was so obvious makes me think she’s not really the main but more like a pawn that’s serving a supervillain if that makes sense.

On episode 1, there was the June 2nd line and then the “Charmed” thing that confirmed it for me.

I think that she’s either

possessed

just crazy

I’m leaning a bit more towards the crazy part, she’s been an instigator throughout the whole show and seems to be doing it and enjoying it (ie agatha all along)

basically put the idea of having kids in Wanda’s head

instigated Vision’s doubts which then ultimately made him realize something was wrong

she literally gave him the last push for him to try to go outside the hec which might have killed him

she killed Sparky

brought Peter from (according to me) Fox’s universe as a stand in for Pietro bc he’s dead…

From the couple of promos and leaked images for ep 8, I think she’s gonna show Wanda her past which I think is tied to Mephisto because let’s be honest, how does a witch have powers comparable to those of someone who basically was exposed to an infinity stone. The amount of demonic symbolism in her secret lair was a lot, the cicadas, señor scratchy, what looks to be the darkhold.

I also think she’s the one that manipulated Wanda into creating the hex, seeing as her creepy basement is apparently outside of it. She manipulated her into having kids, we’ve seen that every time the twins are about to age up, she’s there. She didn’t even blink to Wanda having powers. That’s why I think she killed Sparky, because for some reason she wants to age the twins into teenagers to serve her purpose.

But why?

Does she want to bring someone back from the dead? Or does she want to manipulate Wanda into opening the multiverse because she knows she’s a Nexus being? Is she using her to bring Mephisto into the MCU world in a physical form?

Peter

I’m sure he’s just Peter from X-Men who Agatha pulled into the MCU as a stand-in for Pietro.

I think when Wanda yeeted him in the halloween episode, he got snapped out of Agatha’s control and we might see him team up with Monica to help Wanda and the residents of Westview.

I think he might stay in the MCU and be in Dr. Strange the multiverse of madness, and then we’d see him return to Fox

Monica

Not sure what name she’ll go with, Photon, Spectrum or even Captain Marvel 🤷🏼‍♀️

I do think she’ll take over as Director of S.WORD since I’m 99.9% sure Hayward broke the Sokovia Accords (and Vision’s will)

Hopefully we see more of her and why she’s so mad at Carol

Dottie

I have the feeling that there’s a lot more to her, but I’m on a time crunch and really want to go watch ep 8 so I'll just say that she’s either Arcanna Jones or Clea and I’ll be disappointed if she turns out to just be Dottie.

Also, she’s not on the board so I have my doubts about her.

Hayward

I’ve hated since I first saw him

I’m 99.9% sure he was experimenting on Vision trying to bring him back online which is a breach of the Accords, but he couldn’t and then saw that Wanda had breathing, living version of Vision and became hellbent on getting him, that’s why he’s vilifying Wanda so he can put the blame on her.

Vision

This one’s a bit tricky, because I have my doubts about him being Old Vision, but I really liked him throughout the show and it sucks that he’ll probably die at the end.

Theory 1:

He can’t leave the Hex, which makes me think he was created by Wanda, I mean after all she can manipulate things to a molecular level and could’ve given him the same traits as Old Vision, that’s why he has the stone and can’t really remember anything from before Westview, because he didn’t exist but still exhibits his selfless behavior (i.e doesn’t even remember being an avenger yet he wanted to help and then when he was dying outside the hex, he asked for help for the people and not for himself even though he was disintegrating)

This scene from one of the promos where Wanda’s still wearing modern day clothes and then she’s wearing the outfit from the first episode, and Vision’s like “Wanda?”. I think that’s where she created him, and gave him some basic memories to start from.

Here, where she’s looking at the stone, in another promo I believe, I think it’s that she’s “destroying” the stone which will inevitably kill vision.

Or when she has to inevitably bring down the Hex, he’s gonna die, again. The only plot hole to this theory would be, how is Hayward able to track him? Is he tracking the Vibranium signature only?

That scene where Wanda’s at S.W.O.R.D and she’s recovering his body, makes sense that maybe she made Westview Vision from Old Vision’s scraps, but he was completely disarmed and taken apart, how could she have done that? She would have had to completely put him together (which shouldn’t be hard considering her powers) but I’m guessing he wasn’t Vision anymore, they were turning him into something else.

Theory 2:

I remember reading in October, that White Vision could make an appearance which kinda makes sense? After all, he was killed and taken apart by a spy agency which could be S.W.O.R.D as it is now a “Sentient Weapon Observation Response Division” that is very specifically focusing on robotics and A.I. This could be what Hayward mentioned that he intends on launching on episode 7. Considering there’s only 2 episodes left, this seems like a lot to include with so little time left. But the possibilities are endless, it is Marvel we’re talking about.

Either way I think he’s gonna die and we’re all gonna cry. His death might be what pushes Wanda over the edge and into insanity, if even when she was living a normal, happy life she was pushing her grief onto those she was controlling, what would it be like when she has to let go of this? Heartbreaking, that’s for sure.

Billy & Tommy

I think they’re somehow fully real, made from who knows what but real

I don’t think Agatha killed him, but she might have aged them as that seems to have been her goal (it also makes them the right age for the young avengers set up they seem to be going for)

Perhaps, instead of living with Wanda, once the Hex goes down they’re forgotten? Like when, in the comics, Agatha wiped them from Wanda's mind.

I read a theory that the missing person Jimmy was looking for at the beginning was Teddy Altman who ends up being Billy’s husband in the comics, so that’d be cool.

Wanda

Poor Wanda has been manipulated this whole time.

Going with my theory that Vision’s body was completely torn apart when she got to S.W.O.R.D, I don’t think she could take it with her like that, that’s why I think Hayward is so obsessed with finding the Vision that she has alive inside the Hex.

I feel she was manipulated by Agatha all along, Westview might’ve just been the first town she found as soon as she left S.W.O.R.D where Agatha manipulated her into creating the Hex. This whole time she thought she was in control, it was Agatha behind the scenes controlling everything. Jimmy mentioned that she was displaying an amount of powers that far exceeded anything she’d displayed before and I think her crumbling mental stability, along with the fact that Vision almost died at the end of episode 6 (or he did actually die idk) could be what’s causing the Hex to start glitching and failing.

There’s a scene from one of the promos, and honestly it was hard to find, but we can see her in the town surrounded by all of Westview’s residents who look like they’re begging her for something (Phil). Maybe she couldn’t keep her control over them or once Agatha showed her the truth, she decided to free their minds.

and this scene where she holds hands with Vision while wearing modern clothes, I think it might be one of their last scenes together.

My working theory for Wanda is:

She realizes she’s been manipulated and how wrong it all is

Frees everyone

Tries to take down the Hex but has to fight Agatha and Hayward(and whatever he launched) in order to do so but she has the help of Vision, Monica and Peter

Inevitably kills Westview Vision when she takes down the hex, says goodbye and we’ll cry

Grabs her children and we go into dr. strange 2 where she’ll try to fix what she fucked up

She forgets her children, probably Agatha’s doing and goes crazy with the grief of losing everything at once hence setting her up as one of the main characters (villain?) of Dr strange 2

I’ve had the feeling that phase 4 is going to revolve around her and her powers, spiderman 3: no way home and dr. strange the multiverse of madness, even loki and antman: quantumania. They all give multiverse, ripples in the fabric of reality kinda vibes.

So far all I’ve got are more questions for episode 8

Why did Agatha do this? What’s the purpose of it?

Is Vision gonna die? Is he alive? Are my theories right?

Are the kids alive or aged up? Trapped in the creepy ass basement?

Is Peter under Agatha's mind control or will he team up with Monica?

Will the town people die in Haywards attack?

Will we get to see the big bad in the show?

Who is the aerospace engineeeeer?

Hope you’ve enjoyed reading my delusions, expect a theory for the final episode after I watch ep 8. Leave me a like or reblog if you’ve found this interesting. You can also follow me on Twitter where I usually post my dumbassery first!

#blog post #wandavision #wandavision theory #wandavision theories #wanda maximoff #vision #agatha harkness #spoilers #wandavision spoilers #episode 8 theory #episode 8

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thorne93 · 5 years ago

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Unforeseen Chasm (Part 71 - FINAL)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:2358

Warnings: epilogue of sorts, happy endings for all parties, super-powered children, fluffy ending

Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Side Note: We really hope you enjoyed the ride. We know this fic was long, and at times you may have been chomping at the bit to get to the next big adventurous part, but we feel like each part shows more of each persons character. Thank you for sticking with it, and we hope its everything you wanted in a story and more.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

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

Life moved forward, rather than lateral.

Steve returned the stones on time to their original timelines. He apparently spent a life with Peggy in one of them, but returned still fresh and young as always. He’d done this all before your wedding in fact.

Tony, Shannon, and Bruce stayed in their cabin that they’d built during the snap. It was a beautiful piece of property, with everything they’d wanted in a home, and had no desire to leave. All three of them could work from home, build their family, and they did so.

Tony said he retired from the hero game. Of course, if The Avengers or anyone needed him, he’d be there in a heartbeat, but for the most part, he was going to let the next generation take them on.

Shannon for the most part was a stay at home mom but if she was needed during an emergency or crisis she was the first one to get called to help. She also balanced a way to be with her kids while they attended Charles Xavier school by becoming a trainer for those who had powers similar to her vast collection of powers.

Bruce still did his research, driving into the city when need be, but Tony’s technology made it virtually needless to go in. He’d found a way to be able to marry Shannon but was still waiting for the right moment to ask her. He’d already spoken with Tony and was given the okay for it.

All four of their children were doing exceptionally well. Peter was top of his class at his graduation, valedictorian. Morgan was on the honor roll and even had a few of her own inventions that were up for funding. She was just as smart as her parents already. Natalia and Mason-Alexander (the twins) were turning three and showing signs that just like their parents they too had powers of their own completely different from their mother and unique to them.

When you and Loki returned to New Asgard from your honeymoon, your whole lives lay ahead of you. You had your physics that you could return to, perhaps starting a lab here, or maybe going back to New York. Loki could have stayed working with Strange at the sanctum, each of them protecting the time stone and other priceless relics. But neither of you had really thought about your future or work or anything. You’d been so busy living in the moment, in the now, you haven't given your future any thought, really.

Thor came to give you your wedding present.

“Welcome back,” Thor said happily as he and Valkyrie approached you from atop one of the roads back into town. The sea was on your right, down a steep grade, the mist washing up around your face.

“Thank you, it’s good to be back,” you replied as you held Loki’s hand.

“I’m glad to hear you say that, because I wanted to go ahead and give you your wedding present.”

You and Loki exchanged a look of anticipation.

“What would you say to being Asgard’s new King and queen?” he asked with a plucked up smile.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor.

“What? But--but, Valkyrie has been handling it. She’s been in charge, and you’re rightful heir. With Loki’s past and my--”

“Well, first of all,” Valkyrie started with a smile, “I’ve been in charge because I have to be, not because I want to be.”

“And it’s time for me to stop being who I think I’m supposed to be, and be who I’m meant to be,” Thor agreed. “I’ve already spoken with Valkyrie--”

“And we think it’s best if I step down, and restart the Valkyrie program. I could be the leader for your army.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you gasped. “I feel like we’re...stealing this from you. You deserve to be ruler,” you said with urgency.

“No, I think you two do,” she said with sincerity. “Loki risked his life for Asgard when Hela came. He saved its people, and you saved the universe, risking your life.”

“We will do this,” Loki suddenly said in a cool voice, his face looking defiant. “Only if,” he continued, before suddenly flashing a warm smile, “you agree to be our political advisor as well. We will need someone with experience to help us.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” she said with a dazzling smile.

After that day, it felt clear and right that being home with your Asgardian people was the best choice. Guiding them felt right, helping them make a better community felt good. You and Loki took the rank extremely seriously. It wasn’t just a role of royalty being handed down, but a way to honor his loving mother and your parents, and a way to give back to the people. Everyone was happy when you and Loki were crowned, and supported Thor in his endeavors as well. Valkyrie did her best and helped all the time to discuss and guide the issues of the community.

While being King and Queen was a full time responsibility, you felt you still had other debts to pay.

The Avengers training picked back up, but it got a few more recruits. Loki, you, Peter, and a few others had signed up for proper training. Once a good foundation was set for how you and Loki were running things in New Asgard, you would return to New York to begin your formal training. The agreement was that if New Asgard was in dire need, you’d return to it, but everything ran pretty much hands off in the community now.

On your first day, Pietro, Wanda, Sam, Bucky, Loki, Peter, Shannon, Carol, Scott, Hope, and Rhodey were all there.

Steve stood before you all, giving a quick speech about why you were here, what it meant to be an Avenger, and that being one didn’t mean you always saved the day. In the training room hung two portraits of Natasha and Vision, honoring their sacrifice for the fight to win back the universe.

Tony stood in the background, behind Steve. You wondered why he was here, but of course, his wife and son were there so naturally he wanted to be there to share the first day.

“With that being said,” Steve informed, a look of mischief crossed his face, “I’d like to give the first task to Bucky.”

Bucky frowned but walked forward anyway. All of you were equally confused.

“I’d like you to hold this shield, let me know how it feels,” Steve told Bucky with a bit of a grin.

“Feels heavy, and like it belongs to you,” he responded with a bit of shyness.

“Well, it doesn’t, it belongs to you now,” he said. With that, he turned to everyone. “In fact, this whole program belongs to all of you now. I’m retiring, and I think I'm leaving it in perfectly capable hands. Sam and Bucky will take over as the leaders of the operation, with Shannon overseeing it all. Recruits, it’s your job to follow their every instruction, it may not only save your life one day, but the universe too.” He shot you a tiny smile and nod, to which you returned. “As you know, Tony is retired, Clint has retired, Thor is out exploring the universe, and now with me, it’ll all be on all of you. I wish each of you luck. And as I once said to a very dear friend, no matter what. I promise you, if you need us, if you need me, I'll be there. Avengers, it’s time to assemble.”

He smiled to everyone, nodded once, then turned around. Tony put his hand on Steve’s shoulder as they walked out of the compound.

“Let’s go get lunch,” he said.

“You’re buying,” Steve responded. “I’m retired, gotta watch my budget.”

“Moocher,” Tony replied.

Sam and Bucky stood in front of the group.

“You guys heard him, hop to!” Sam ordered. “Let’s hit the gym everyone!”

With that, the group of you all walked over to the gym, with you and Loki hand in hand.

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

You and Loki were standing in the restored castle you’d found on the island, you on the balcony of the bedroom. Both of you staring out over the sparkling ocean. The two of you were on your scheduled vacation from Avengers training, and Sam and Bucky respected that you did have a small nation to lead.

Life continued on for all of you. When you weren’t training at the compound, you and Loki took trips to the sanctum to have tea with Stephen and Wong. Sometimes, for an extended weekend, you’d visit Clint and his family. Wanda visited you in New Asgard a few times, and the two of you would go out on the town, and sometimes Shannon would come, bringing Morgan with her - it’d turn into a girls day out.

Bucky, Sam, you, and Loki all got rather close as well. You all enjoyed practicing combat and Bucky seemed to really enjoy the knife fighting with Loki - those two gave each other a run for their money. A few times, all of the Avengers shared a movie night, a bowling night, a trivia night. Steve and Bucky beat everyone in history, for the most part.

If you weren’t training or helping out Tony and Bruce at Stark Industries with some of your physics knowledge, then you spent time with Shannon and her family. Tom and Diane adored being grandparents, and you and Loki spoiled the kids. It was absolute heaven. Life had finally become happy. It was far from normal, but it was filled with love and happiness, and that’s all you ever wanted.

“You look radiant, my queen,” he mused from behind you as he wrapped his hands around your waist.

“Thank you,” you said blissfully as you stared out. “Would you have done anything differently?” you asked.

Loki rounded around you and got in front of you, putting his hands on the small bump on your stomach. “Of course not, why would you ask that?”

You shrugged simply. “Sometimes I wonder if, well perhaps if you felt trapped or stuck with me. When I jumped after you all those years ago, we weren’t dating. We hadn’t even shared our first kiss yet. So I wonder if perhaps you chose me by default.”

He gave you a soft smile as he stared at you, his hands going to either side of your face. “Y/N, I had thousands of years before we met again to look for someone else. I had ample opportunity to leave you after our imprisonment. I’ve never wanted anyone but you, that has never changed, and it never will.”

You nodded, understanding him. As long as he knew he did have a choice in this, that was all you wanted.

“I’ve wondered the same thing, though. If your decision to jump was made in haste, and after all that time, you just felt as if I were your best option. As if perhaps, if you didn’t stay with me, jumping, losing your freedom, and everything else that went with it, would’ve been for nothing,” he admitted.

“You did?”

He nodded. “Yes. It ran through my mind a few times that maybe if I didn’t propose on the day I came back if you would’ve weighed your options with Remy some more. So one day, I asked Stephen what all those possibilities looked like. Out of those 14 million outcomes, how many of them you chose me in.”

“And?” you breathed, curious to find out, your heart beating rapidly.

“All of them,” he assured with a twinkle in his eye. “He told me that out of all of the futures, you loved me in every one of them, and chose me time and time again.”

You gave him a warm smile. “I’m not surprised,” you mused. “Maybe we should ask him about the future of this little Asgardian,” you said with a bit of a laugh.

“We don’t need him to tell us that future. I already know we will give them everything we always wanted,” he vowed. “I promise.” He got up and kissed you firmly. “Between the two of us, there’s nothing we can’t conquer. Besides, between us, The Starks, Thor, and the other Avengers, this baby will already have ten times the family we did growing up. This baby will be more loved and spoiled than any in existence.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that,” you hummed happily. “I love you,” you quietly said as you stared at him.

“And I love you, Y/N,” he promised with the warmest grin you’d ever seen.

“We’d better get down there,” he reminded. “Shannon and the rest of them just got here. They’ll be waiting on us.”

In just a few minutes, your world would change again, letting in your loved ones on your happy news.

Shannon, Bruce, and the rest of the Starks came to visit you all. You hadn’t told anyone you were pregnant yet, it was to be a surprise. You couldn’t wait for her reaction though, because Loki was right, you knew as a sister she’d go absolutely off the walls happy for you, but not to mention so would several other people that were now family to you.

What seemed like lifetimes ago, Tony, Bruce, were nearly strangers. You all were friends, but nothing compared to what you’d gone through now. Heck, all of the Avengers. People you regularly spoke to, worked with, and relaxed with were once people you hardly knew. Now you couldn’t imagine your life without them (sadly, some of them you didn’t have to imagine, thanks to the snap). They completed your world, they completed you.

This baby, and you and Loki for that matter, had a home, had people who cared for you and loved you deeply. In fact, you had multiple places to call home: the compound, the Stark Cabin, New Asgard.

And you owed it all to your best friend Shannon, and the love of your life Loki - they were your better halves.

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

Tag List:

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UC:

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mrs-dragneel-stark-solo · 5 years ago

Text

Unforseen Chasm (Part 71)

Final part of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. Word Count: 2358 Warnings: epilogue of sorts, happy endings for all parties, super-powered children, Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93 what was first a simple “what if” moment turned into a two year writing session and I’ve never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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