#Since I'm finally SELLING stuff with mickey

[infernothechaosgod]

Hey lads remember my post with pride mickey stickers?

Well turns out Redbubble kinda sucked so I moved to threadless! And I finally have a shop there :D!

So far it's only 3 pride flags (trans, bi and genderfluid) but I'll add more very soon! Turns out you have to have diffrent image size than the oryginal design's had so I redrew it and now I'm editing the hearts a bit so they won't look wonky or low quality compared to (like I said) now much bigger in resolution mickey

Feel free to check it out! And remember youre helping that way a young queer artist that saves up to move out away from their not too good home situation

https://flamespublicdomainshop.threadless.com

I'll be very grateful for any reblogs! And remember I'll be adding more merch both pride and non pride to it soon! (Feel free to leave suggestions for what you would like to see!)

For those wondering

Old design

New design

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 1

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Story Description:

❝It's like an afterglow.❞

❝Yes, like an afterglow. If seeing something so beautiful makes you feel good then the after of it all must be... more pleasurable.❞

❝A lot of people tend to miss that detail after sunset. But not you. You're a photographer, y/n. The details in nature, in people, are some things you can never miss.❞

But there's one little detail you had missed, that you both missed: that you've already met years earlier.

You're a 25-year old photographer and part-time bartender, and has heard countless stories about the adventures of your roommate's stepbrother, Bucky Barnes -- a clumsy, party-driven 38-year old businessman. One day, you stumble upon Bucky inside your apartment on a Saturday night that would change both of your lives forever as you both take pleasure in the afterglow.

A/N: I already have this on Wattpad but with a female OC. This is my first ever Bucky Barnes fan fic and I hope you guys like it :)

CHAPTER ONE

"Hey, y/n. I think Nick wants to ask you out on a date." Peter Parker, your roommate, brought his beer bottle towards his mouth. His eyes were fixated somewhere while you were wiping droplets of beer on the countertop. You looked at his face features illuminated by the light from his laptop. "You should really put coasters here, y'know." he added.

"Shut it, Parker," You rolled your eyes at him, "or no more free drinks for you."

"He's into you." He sang and averted his eyes somewhere. You followed his gaze which was on Nick Miller who was talking to some loud blondes on the booth, taking their orders.

"I'm not talking to you anymore." You put your hand up, blocking Peter's face and walked away. You greeted some customers approaching the bar counter. "Good evening, gentlemen, what would you like to drink?"

"Shots of tequila," one replied, "and keep 'em coming, doll!" The other three cheered which you knew annoyed Peter.

The bar was packed tonight. Saturdays were the only days New Yorkers were almost free for a chill drink hangout. College boys hang by the billiards table on the corner, office girls sip their margaritas on one of the booths, thirty-year old women shoot darts on the dartboard as if the board were their husbands, thirty-year old dads with their caps on drinking hard beer on one of the tables, kids who just turned twenty-one ordering their first drink legally, lonely people by the jukebox or on the bar counter telling their sad tales to the bartender and Peter Parker casually drinking beer with a laptop in front of him.

"You really should stop doing your work here on the bar." You approached Peter once more. "You're bumming people out."

Peter raised an eyebrow, his eyes glued on the laptop. "You're bumming me out."

"Seriously, do your business work elsewhere. Go to a coffee place or something. Starbucks isn't that far."

"You know I work better with beer"

"How can I forget?"

You and Peter go way back. You two had met in business school and had been roommates ever since. While you would pull an all-nighter in your shared apartment, Peter would struggle to open the front door, dance around in the living room like he had left feet and threw his final papers on the floor. He'd end up waking up your other roommates, Mickey and Pablo (who would usually join him by the way), leaving poor you cleaning up their mess the next morning. You'd put Peter to bed, seeing as the other morons were incapable of doing so. The next day, Peter's bed would reek of the pungent smell of beer and cigarettes. Though he didn't smoke ("and I never will!"), cigarette smoke disgustingly clung to his clothes and skin, which you found rather unpleasant. Even with all the alcohol in his system, Peter managed to pass all his exams and graduate with flying colors. You hated that.

"I don't get why you drink so much during exam week." You sighed, handing Peter a glass of water. He wasn't an alcoholic but he did turn into one right before midterms and finals start. It was somehow seasonal. According to Peter, it helped him focus. "You're not supposed to drink before a big exam, y'know."

"Hemingway drinks. He writes better when he drinks."

"You're a business major. Not a writer. You don't even read literature."

"Look at you now cleaning other people's messes." Peter chuckled, closing his laptop. You sighed and wiped the counter with much vigor. The four gentlemen from earlier left a pretty big mess toasting shots before they went towards the billiards table.

"Please, this is not the kind of bar you used to go to." You responded, making a gin and tonic. "This is a smoke-free, grope-free, friendly bar. No dancing, no loud stereo music -- just your regular bar where you can relax with your friends after a long day at work."

Peter turned around and tilted his head towards the jukebox. "There's someone dancing right now beside the jukebox."

"Not that kind of dancing." A 20-something year old man was breakdancing to some old beat you've never even heard of.

"Y'know it's really ironic you're working at a bar now. Oh, how you used to hate them."

"It's the only job I can do." You shrugged. "Besides photography, of course. And again, this is not that kind of bar. Think of it like a MacLaren's Pub from that tv show. Kind of funny how it's also just below our apartment building. If only we lived in this building in college, I would've enjoyed bars more."

You once went to one party at a crowded bar where Peter had surprisingly invited you. Writhing bodies pressed up against each other. Body shots from strangers. Toilets that reeked of beer vomit and pee. An "accidental" kiss between you and Peter in the bar that lead into a steamy makeout session as soon as you got in the apartment you both shared. Up to this day, neither of you spoke of that night and perhaps that day wouldn't come -- You really hoped it didn't. Wouldn't want to open a can of worms from the past.

"You're a boring old hag." Peter snorted.

"Hmm, I'd like to disagree. I can make drinks and you can't."

"Oh, you know who can make drinks, though? My stepbrother!"

Ah, yes. His stepbrother. The infamous Bucky Barnes. Born in the upper east side of New York and sadly, out of wedlock. Orphaned at a young age and adopted by a man named Tony Stark who then married Peter's mother. A successful hotel business owner (but not really famous), and the star of Peter's countless stories. Been arrested once for streaking. Got Peter out of detention in high school. Trespassed school premises. TP'd a house during Valentine's Day. Caught naked by a newly-wed in a hotel room. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

"I know. He makes the best bloody drinks of all time." You mimicked Peter the way he would -- insulting and proud -- which he didn't like as he shot dagger-like eyes at you. His expressions changed in a snap.

"Oh, that reminds me. He's in town!"

"I thought he was in Monaco?"

"Yeah, no. He travels a lot."

"Does that mean I now get to meet this famous stepbrother of yours?" You smirked, pulling out shot glasses from one of the cabinets.

"I'm not sure he would want to meet you. You're not exactly in his league."

"You mean snobby and rich?" You laughed while fixing the shot glasses on the counter. "I'm aware."

"I mean classy." He adjusted his tie.

You snickered. "Yeah, all those stories were real classy, Parker. Top-notch."

"You know what I mean, y/n - suits, money, stuff like that. Bucky's changed." One big sip of beer. "I think."

"Ya think?" You scoffed.

"Maybe, I don't know. Haven't spoken to him in a while. He's always traveling and stuff. Hard to keep track of him."

"Sounds to me like he's on a run from the bad guys." You joked which Peter didn't find funny.

"What do you mean?"

Peter idolized Bucky. He was the sole reason why he got into business in the first place -- no, they didn't spend late nights talking in their backyard basketball court about how fulfilling business is and all that crap like brothers would do. Peter just wanted to be like Bucky. To be in the world of money, booze, and then more money. That kind of crap. "It was a joke, Parker. This Bucky sounds like he may have done some stupid stuff but I doubt he's into something illegal or what."

"Yeah, he's a good guy." But even Peter didn't sound convinced of himself. He took a big gulp of his beer.

Nick approached the counter, avoiding your eyes but a smile landed on his lips as soon as he neared you. You could hear Peter chuckling. "Hey, Nick."

Nick acknowledged him by saying a small hello and started preparing a bunch of Bloody Marys for the blonde girls by the booth. Peter watched him, finishing his beer. You gave him a look before walking away to serve some drinks -- which he just mocked in return. With a tray of beer in your right hand, you approached the four gentlemen from before at the billiards table and gave them their drinks. Seeing a couple of girls slide out of one of the booths, you grabbed a washcloth and a bottle spray on the cleaning station and headed to clean the girls' mess. The table reeked of Gin and tonic, Margaritas, Grasshopper, a couple of beers and Long Island Iced Tea. Well, that's a weirdly wild group of friends.

While cleaning up the booth, you glanced up at the printed photographs on the walls which were yours. Black and white portraits of strangers. Flashes of red and blue lights on the streets. Giant buildings. Random people on Central Park and New York streets. Peter drinking beer at the booth with his co-workers. And the owner of the bar who was always cooped up inside his small office. Photos that didn't sell in your exhibit always went to the bar, in hopes that someone might find them somewhat good -- good enough to take home. But that wasn't the case. To them, the photos were just mere decorations at the bar; they just wanted to have a good time and couldn't be bothered to even take one shy glance at the bartender's photos. You wanted to think they just had zero taste when it comes to photography to make yourself feel better but you were wrong. It just made you feel worse.

Just when you were about to turn around, Peter slid into the booth. You almost dropped the things you were holding. "Jesus, Parker."

He looked up at the photos. "Told ya your photos won't sell here."

"That's not what I was thinking." Lie. You walked towards the bar counter with Peter on your tail. He sat once more on the high stool and immensely watched as you placed some glasses on the counter.

"Come work for our company. We could really use your skills for our products." He leaned in, trying to get your attention. It wasn't the first time he tried to convince you to go work for his company.

"For the nth time, I'm no corporate slave."

"You're working at a bar. You make drinks and serve people. Some of these fuckers have corporate jobs as well - like me! If you think about it," he crossed his arms, placing them on top of the counter, "it's kind of like serving these corporations you hate."

With a frown, you asked, "What kind of logic is that?"

"A businessman's logic."

"If that's the case, the corporate world is dead." You smirked, washing the glasses. Peter was no businessman. He was just a part of a sales team, making marketing pitch presentations every week or so. Honestly, you couldn't keep up with his presentations. "I'd be happy to join then."

"Come on, Aria. You can't be juggling two jobs for the rest of your life. You can get one big job at our company and you'll get paid big time. Plus," he leaned in further, almost getting up from the stool, "we'll be working together. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"I'm honestly getting tired of you." You chuckled, sprinkling some water on Peter's face. "And my answer is still no. I don't want to work for your company. I like freelancing and bartending." That wasn't a lie. Despite graduating from business school, you decided to pursue your passion in photography even if the pay couldn't cover your half of the rent. So, you decided to take a waitressing job at the bar just below your apartment, and then started bartending. Out of all the establishments you could've gone to, you chose this very bar because it was the most convenient option of all -- it was just below the apartment. Being a photographer and a part-time bartender weren't exactly the dream you had for yourself but you liked them; nothing gave you more pleasure than taking product photos for small businesses and making drinks for strangers who happen to stumble upon one of the best bars in the Upper West Side.

Peter sighed. "I'm never giving up on you. I'm not a quitter."

"Whatever you say, big guy." Peter had been at it for a few years.

"I hate you." Peter groaned.

"Aren't you the sweetest?"

Peter rolled his eyes and caught a quick glance at the wall clock. "Hey, your shift's almost over. Better hurry up."

"Right. Thanks, Parker." You began placing back the shot glasses on one of the cabinets then hurriedly walked into a small door on the back. You greeted your boss who was just doing some paperworks.

"Hey, Steve. I'm heading out."

"Right, right." Steve looked up from his laptop and removed his specs, placing them on the table.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you could even close the door, Steve called you.

"Yeah?"

"Nick's not gonna be here tomorrow afternoon and I'm gonna be in Long Island for some family reunion. Would you mind checking all the deliveries for tomorrow?"

"Well, what about the others?"

"Ah, they're no good." Steve sighed. "I only trust you and Nick."

You raised an eyebrow. "Nick? Really?" You wouldn't trust Nick with anything -- not even with some dumb, silly secret.

Steve shrugged. "He's a good kid. He and I get along. So, do I get a yes?"

"Yeah, sure. I got nothing going on tomorrow."

"No photography thingy?"

You pursed your lips. "Not unless you want me to take photos for your family reunion."

"No way in hell am I gonna let you meet my family."

"Aw, you said you trust me."

He chuckled and leaned back on his office chair. "Go home, y/n."

You sent him a smile before heading back to the counter to meet Peter who was mindlessly scrolling on his phone. "Let's go, Parker."

You two walked up the steps towards your apartment building, shoulders bumping from time to time. You and Peter lived on the fifth floor. You would've gotten your own place but your parents cut you off since you refused to work for the family supermarket your family owned in Hoboken, New Jersey. The last time you spoke to your parents was almost three years ago, when you threw a huge tantrum like a damn baby at your graduation party. "There's nothing for me here in New Jersey! It's as boring as these two old couples next door. (No offense). I hated business school. I want to pursue photography whether you like it or not. I'm not staying in this hellhole forever."

"You walk out that door, you're out of here forever."

And out you went with only a couple of clothes and some leftover college money. The only sliver of hope you had was Peter.

"Hey, y/n?" Peter asked as soon as you got inside the elevator. "Hypothetically, if Nick asked you out on a date, would you say yes?"

You gave him a weird look after the elevator doors closed before you. "I don't know, man. Never dip the pen in company ink, right?" You fished for your apartment key on your purse. "How are you so sure he's gonna ask me out?"

"He flat out told me that's how." He replied. "Yesterday night. So, if he does ask you..."

"Why are you so invested in my dating life?"

"You have no dating life." He retorted.

Peter was one to talk. He also didn't have one.

"You know what I mean, idiot."

He shrugged. "Just curious."

The elevator doors opened and you both headed towards your apartment unit, with Peter still yapping about Nick this and Nick that. You groaned, getting ultimately tired of hearing Nick's name and the possibility of you and him dating. "Maybe you should date him, Parker."

"You date him."

You gave him a confused look. "Shut up, Parker."

"Wait, you know what? Don't date him. I don't like him for you. He's weird and -- "

"No, I mean it. Shut. Up." You hissed, stopping on your tracks and grabbing Peter by his arm. You were right outside your apartment unit. There was a small gap between the door and the door frame. It seemed like someone broke in..

"What do we do? What do we do?" Peter half-yelled, half-whispered.

"Have the cops on speed dial. If it really is a robbery, call them. Got it?"

"What if they have guns?"

"I'll tell them to shoot you first."

"Gee, thanks for looking after me. Appreciate it."

You smirked, your hands already on the door. Slowly, you pushed it away from your body, failing to make it as quiet as possible as the door creaked against the floorboards. You gently looked around the dark living room, seeing no sign of someone inside -- until your eyes caught something moving on the couch. Your eyes went wide. You went back in the hallway where Peter was standing with his phone in his hand, ready to press the call button.

"Well?" He was waiting for an answer.

"I think someone's crashing on our couch?" Even you looked confused.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Either that or a large animal just broke into our apartment. Come on, let's go see." You whispered, trying not to wake up the uninvited guest.

"I'm not going in there!"

"Fine, I'll wake the bastard up." You groaned. "Pussy."

"Dick." He snickered but zipped his mouth shut as soon as you sent him a glare.

Without a noise, you managed to get closer, using the light from your phone as a guide. On the couch was a huge blanket sprawled across and under that was the rhythmic sound of someone breathing. Your hand lightly trembled, reaching for the blanket to unveil whoever was under it; but before you could even touch a single thread, the person jumped out of the couch, and so did your heart. You let out a scream, falling backwards and hitting your head on one of the small tables beside the couch. The unknown person stood on the couch, and awfully joined your screams. The lights suddenly turned on, with Peter standing by the door.

"Oh my god!" You yelped as soon as you realized the man in front of you was naked. No clothes, no nothing, just bare skin against the cold breeze. Your hands immediately flew to your eyes. "Who the hell are you?" Your screamed at him.

He urged you to remove your hand from your eyes, telling you he was wrapping the blanket around his waist. Thankfully, he wasn't lying.

"Bucky?" Peter breathed, approaching the scene.

"This is Bucky?" You asked in disbelief.

Bucky smiled and jumped off the couch, offering his hand. "Hi, I'm Bucky."