#(kill a man. drop the body. get paid. hey wanna have breakfast?) love that for them i guess. also literally the way it is so hard to write

[deadrlngers]

WIP DAY. (or whatever day it is)

i was tagged by @nuclearstorms and @arklay, thank you beloveds MWAH. i’ll share a little crumb of yea, still on the same work of last sunday, because i literally can’t finish this thing, i keep adding words and it’s hell at this point. anyways have fenix being dumb, my fave concept in the world

i’m tagging @morvaris, @swordcoasts @camelliagwerm @wrymbloods @jillvalcntines @reaperkiller @steelport and anyone else that wants to share a wip for anything at all really, art, writing, whatever <33

Fenix hesitated, still leaning over the counter. Mars knew something else was up. “Spit it out.” He pronounced the words like a prolonged sigh, already fed up with the interruption.

“Listen, can you maybe, ya’ know…take your trophy from the trunk and leave me the car?” Automatically he started tapping his fingers rhythmically on the counter: there was no way in hell Mars would agree straight away to the request but trying doesn’t hurt. Most of the times. “Just for a few hours? I’ll take it back here, cross on my heart.” He quickly added and outlined the symbol with his index and middle finger in the same exact spot he mentioned.

“No.” Mars’s reply was as hard and cold as his usual demeanour and struck quickly like a lightning, he didn’t even ponder the matter for a single moment. Luckily – but for himself only – Fenix was a stubborn man.

“C’mon, it’s just like…what?” he tried to reason, “two or three hours? Just enough time for breakfast and so on.” The tapping was closer to a hammering sound now and was gradually chiming louder and louder into the fixer’s skull like a nail striking inside. How he wished to cut a few more fingers off his hand. Trying to ignore both the sound and the man making it, Mars didn’t budge and kept his eyes fixed on his turning magazine’s pages activity, vital if you ask him.

“Okay listen. See the girl outside?” Fenix shifted his body to the side, weight resting on his elbow now, yet the man kept ignoring his every word, he was only glad his ears where spared from the noise. “Give a look man, for fuck’s sake they beat the shit out of me for that contract of yours.” The exaggerated exasperation in his now too noisy tone made the fixer puff out a tired breath as he raised his gaze; suddenly the idea of just agreeing to the request and let the cowboy go fuck himself was turning to be quite an interesting choice. He leaned to the side once again, this time only slightly since Fenix’s frame wasn’t obstructing the view any longer, and shot a glance at Vesper: she was still leaning against the car, phone in hand as she mindlessly tried to kill time by scrolling down on news and flashing commercials.

As if she could feel the pair of eyes staring into her direction, her gaze shot up to the shop, efficiently spotting the two men spying on her. “Yeah right, that one.” Fenix comically lifted his hand and waved, enough to make Vesper focus on the screen again with a groan. “Listen,” he began as he leaned over the counter again “I got a date with the girl and don’t let me get started on how fucking hard it was to make her agree to have one, I swear.” That wasn’t a lie, for once. Not only it took twelve failed tries – yes, he kept counting – for Vesper to finally accept the invitation but she still didn’t dump him and thirty minutes already passed. They literally just stopped to drop a corpse on their date, that had to be a deal breaker. “What kind of cheap fuck takes someone on a date with no car? This is my chance, I fail now I get no second tries. Help a man out.” He moved his wrist in short, fast circles now, his fingers following the circular motion in a gesture that Mars didn’t quite understand the meaning of.

He looked straight at Fenix now: his sardonic smile and usual confidence couldn’t hide the almost pathetic pleading. That was one of the most entertaining shows he ever offered to him. “The real favour here would be freeing her from you, actually.” Fair point, Fenix noted, that forked venomous tongue of his never disappoints.

“Yeah well, I asked you to make me a favour. You’ve been young too…” he stopped to scan the old man’s wrinkled face with a frown and then resumed his earnest speech “…one hundred years ago I guess. Y’know how it is.”

Ignoring the jab at his age, the fixer lowered his gaze on his magazine once again and for the last time; the silence following almost felt like a refusal and Fenix was ready to go back and talk his ears off. Thankfully it wasn’t needed. “Fine.” Mars finally yielded, probably only to make the annoying voice of such an insufferable man stop torturing him. “I’ll get the body. You take the car back when you’re done.”

Fenix smirked widely. “Thank you, bello mio.” He teased while slapping the palm of his hand on the counter a few times, Mars already opted for blissful indifference and really hoped – nearly prayed – that now he could finally find some peace again.

You sly bastard, Fenix thought, mentally patting his own back for a job well done. Turning to the exit, he left the fixer’s uncommon den and went straight back to the car, an unusual jauntiness in his steps. Back to his cool front, now. Can’t let the girl know he’s too overjoyed, that would ruin his image.

[laketaj24]

Toss a Coin II: Valley of Plenty

Author’s Note: It was supposed to be a one shot and of course, as usual I couldn’t make it a one shot. I hope you enjoy! My taglist is open! Requests open! I got this idea from a request so send them!If I missed you on the taglist add your name HERE please!! If your name appears Twice could you go in the taglist and take it off! lol Hope you enjoy! (The taglist is almost longer than my fic, I’m flattered)

Warnings: Smut

Pairings: Geralt x Reader

Requested: Hey! Can you please write Geralt falling in love with a reader who already has a kid? Thank ya! - ANON`       

Masterlist (Has Previous Part)

“Who are you?” The small voice said from the side of the bed.

Geralt could only see eyes, the green eyes of the small brown-haired boy staring at Geralt. Geralt’s legs tangled in yours, but luckily the blanket covered everything. His head hummed with the onslaught of a headache, and he was tired. You had quite the appetite. “Fu-.” He hesitated before completing his thought.

“Are you a witcher!” His voice was curious. “Mom. Is he a witcher?”

Mom. He looked over to you, your arms draped across his chest, and the soft snores were a clear indication you were sound asleep. Geralt sighed and looked at the girl. “Who are you?”

“I’m Talstyn.” He beamed. “My mom said today I could pick the eggs today. Will you come?”

Geralt tried to process it, but the kid was adorable. “Talstyn.” He smirked. “You should ask your mother.”

“I am asking you.”

“Hmmm.” He laughed. “I will if you ask her.”

“Do you kill monsters?”

“When I need to.” Geralt's eyes were soft. “What do you do?”

“I help feed the chickens, and sometimes I get to help my Uncle Roth in Tameria with his doctor things.”

“You’re a doctor.”

“I guess.” He perched himself on the end of the bed and picked up the dark elixir from the table. “Is this your medicine?”

“It is.”

“Drink it.”

Geralt’s laugh makes your eyes flicker open. “Not right now, I don’t see any monsters.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You heard your son talking and Geralt looking down at him with more patience than he had the one day you’ve known him. You spring up from the bed, pulling the blanket to cover your breast. “Talstyn. What did I tell you about sneaking into places?”

“The door was open.” He protested, standing from the floor. “Geralt is my friend.”

“Talstyn.”

“Can he go with us to the chicken coop?” He asked in a rush blaze of words. “Please! Please!”

You chuckled, “Certainly, only if Geralt wants to join us. Go back into the tavern, and I will come to get you.” He happily jumped three feet off the ground, and his hair whipped back, revealing the little pointed ears. Then he was gone. You cleared your throat. “I am sorry about that. Talstyn usually does as he is told.”

Geralt says nothing at first, but his eyes are soft as you climb from the bed and slip into your dress. “You have a child?”

“Talstyn.” You smiled as his name floated from your lips. “He’s seven, a little rowdy at times, but he’s my heart. You were not supposed to meet him,” You paused. “So, you should consider yourself lucky.”

“I do,  the four minutes, I have met him I can tell that he's a great kid.” He sighed. “He’s half-elf?”

You swallowed. “That’s between us, and yes.” You two dress in silence, but you can feel the eyes of Geralt wandering over your body as you do so.  He tossed you the small brown bag of orens, and you smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.:

You winked at him and pecked his cheek. “It was a good time.”

“Is this goodbye? I seem to recall an invitation to a chicken coop?”

“You want to join us?”

“I would like to if that’s okay?”

“Great, I’d like that.”

  What was happening? One night you were being fucked by a renowned witcher, HE EVEN PAID!!!! And you were taking him to fetch eggs with your kid. Talstyn was ecstatic; he clung to Geralt as if he’d known him his entire life, and in a way he might have, the tune about him was catchy. He sang it often. Geralt did not protest his clinginess; he walked beside Roach with Talstyn on his leg as if he weighed nothing. It broke your back sometimes just to allow him on your hip, and yes, he was too large for it, but he was your baby.

“What’s his name?” Talstyn asked.

“Roach.”

“I don’t like that name.”

“It’s okay; he’s not your horse.” Geralt teased.

“I would’ve named him Beleg.”

The thud of your heart flooded you, Beleg the Wise, his father was his favorite name for everything. He got a dog and named him Beleg, a cat, a chicken, the neighbor's cow, all Beleg. It was soothing to know that he loved his father, but every time you heard the name, your heart sunk for a moment, and you remembered him. It was always a good thing, the blue of his irises or the bolstering laugh — the good stuff.

The chickens were already out, pecking at the grains and furling their wings. The small village did not seem like much to your some, but for you, it had an air of reclusiveness, and given the state of things with Queen Calanthe and her elven raids, the caution was needed. You didn’t want him in any danger, and you for sure didn’t want an inkling of danger near Talstyn. You all reached the coop in minutes, and immediately Talstyn sprinted to he coop.

It was the first time you were alone the entire walk. “Why'd you want to come out here?”

“Well,”  he paused. “I am here for a few days. I figured it would be nice to have someone to talk to for once.”

“You’re usually alone?”

“Sometimes.” He brushed his hand down Roach’s coat. “I have Roach.”

“I’m sure he’s a great company.”

“You failed to mention him last night.”

“Oh, I apologize. I should’ve started it like this; I have a kid, wanna fuck?”

“Not what I meant.” He chuckled. “We talked last night; I figured he  might come up then.”

“No, I just keep him away from everything else, where he belongs.”

“Why chose…” He paused. “Chose this line of work?”

“Because I have no husband, and I own no land…. I have to provide and this allows me to be a mother and work while he sleeps.” Your face teamed with heat. No one ever cared how you had come to be a wench, just which room and how much. This was new. And the look on his chiseled face was genuine interest. “Though you think it’s a valley of plenty… I can assure you it is not for me.”

“I understand, finding work can be…” He paused. “Hard.”

You laughed at the unintended joke, and his pale face flushed red, “Good analogy there, witcher.”

“It was not what I meant.” His stone face was apologetic as he walked to the coop with Talstyn. He had six eggs in his basket and a grin. “What do you have there?”

“Breakfast!”

  You cooked for him, and breakfast turned into supper quicker than you expected. Talstyn was down, worn out from the day’s festivities, and for the moment, you were too. You cleared the plates from your table and poured him another glass of ale. “When are you leaving for your next adventure?” You sat across from him and gulp down on your ale.

“Kicking me out?” He cocked a brow.

“No.” You nearly choked laughing.

“Tomorrow morning.” He answered.

The room was quiet, but the tension was there. You’d been eyeing Geralt all-day, pangs of the pleasure from last night would hit you. Every time he growled or laughed, a part of you begged to hear him make other sounds. “So… it appears that we are near our farewells.”

“Pity…” Geralt moved from the table with his hand outstretched. “We should do it properly then.”

And there was no contest of his offer. You placed your hand in his, and he tugged you to his chest. The first kiss was euphoric, a burst of butterflies pushed through your body, and you were happy he’d stayed, glad that last night was not the first and last time you’d fucked the witcher. He cradled your face and stared at you once more.

“I know how to do that.” You pushed him against the wall, well he helped, there was no real way you could genuinely push the bulked man. You dropped to your knees, remembering how he seemed to like making you mewl. It was your turn now. He does not stop you from unzipping his pants a freeing his cock. Your eyes lit watching the thick veined cock; you gripped him feeling the large girth and the warmth in your hand.

“Are you scared of it?” He snickered.

But the snickered left once your mouth enveloped the crown of his cock, and your tongue swiped the salty precum that dripped out. There was a guttural moan that poured from him before you engulfed him all. His hands went flush against the wall as you started to move. You sucked, taking him to the back of your throat until he flinched and then stroked him. He tasted sweet and salty, a mixture you enjoyed.

His hands webbed your hair, guiding his cock further into your throat until you nearly gagged and then back out again. The pace was steady, deep strokes of winding hips, and you felt yourself growing wet from him. “Y/N.” He murmured.

You don’t answer, only pull him from your mouth with a popping sound and look up to him with lust-filled eyes.

“Fuck.” He groaned. What a sight? You wished you could see it yourself, you on your knees in front of the Witcher, basically begging to be fucked. It was a demand nearly the way your eyes pleaded to be fucked. Geralt lifted you from the ground and placed his lips on yours. “How do you want me?”

Your smile was wide as you slip from your dress and bend over, placing your hands on the bed. “Why are you over there?” You whispered.

“Just admiring, this plentiful valley.”

You burst into laughter. “That was corny, witcher.”

“Maybe.” The grin covered his face, and he took his shirt off and made his way over to you, and his hand slapped down on your ass, the hum of the sting makes your pussy clench. “Is this what you want?” He whispered as he dips a single finger into you.

You braced yourself for his intrusion, you would think after three rounds you’d be used to the feeling of being full of him, but you weren’t. He eased into you pushing your body forward, and you inhaled sharply, mouth open and eyes closed. He picked you up and started to fuck you. “Oh hell,” You rasped.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He murmured. His hips bounce from your ass with each stroke, and for some reason, he felt deeper every time he did. His hand wrapped around your waist and placed two fingers on your clit, causing you to fall on the bed with your ass arched and ready for him. He began to thrust quicker, barely controlling his chaotic state. “How you sound when I’m inside you…”

The words made you pussy clench, and then he stroked your clit again and pushed your legs farther apart. “Shit… Geralt.”

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbled against your back, and he slammed into you again. “Say my name again.” He commanded. The fresh air blew over your back as he stood and gripped your hips and pulled them to him. Your body jerked, the beginning of a feeling you’d grown to love. “Say.” He thrust into you, emphasizing the word. “It.”

“Geralt.”  You gripped the sheets, your head was light, and you were short of breath. He continued to fuck into you madly. “Oh fuck, Geralt.”

The snap of his thurst filled the room, followed by the moving of the bed a foot and Geralt falling into you and going deeper.  So, fucking deep. You winded your hips coaxing him to fuck you slowly. You were shuddering.

“I could do this every day.” He whispered. Geralt rolled over staying inside of you and allowing your legs to drape over his, he laid back on the pillow, rubbing the swollen bud over and over. Then he starts again, a riveting pace. “Every morning, every fucking night.” He added. The words caused your heart to swell and perhaps triggered the flood of pleasure that coursed through your body.

 You weren’t going to sleep with him tonight. You needed to get home and back to Talstyn. You wait until he’s asleep and dress quietly. The day was fantastic, the first time you felt safe going places with Talstn, the first time you’d seen your son smile over someone that wasn’t his dead father. But reality had set in; everything was perfect. But that was not your life, and you had to go. You took the leather bag of orens from your belt and put it in his sack. Whatever this was, you refused to let it go further. In a few months, you’d have to move, start over, and it would be easier to not be with him.

  The Witcher Taglist: @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme | @car-karaoke | @blackmissfrizzle | @red-rose21 | @grungyblonde | @therealcalicali | @texas-mutifandom | @sapphirescrolls | @crushed-pink-petals | @cltex84 | @rosey1981 | @taytayize123 | @inforapound | @soapjay | @wasntpriscilla |  @sdcyumyum | @onceuponathreetwoone | @oddlylonelyflights | @isthat-tyra98 | @courttttney | @babygurlniah43 | @rhys108 | @sincerelysinister | @sparklemichele @edythofhastings | @twistedcharismaaa | @escapingrealitytogotoneverland | @xmaudjexo | @allonesharingonebreath | @billywig-on-baker-street | @savismith | @blablatiti | @willow-days02 | @angelmusic123 | @tephi101 | @harleycativy | @the-actual-audrey | @ladywolf44005 | @gen-zeppelin | @readsalot73 | @supernaturalvikingwhore | @knittingmad | @wickedrum | @l-auteuse | @kelly-fasel | @siliethkaijuy | @oddlylonelyflights | @onceuponathreetwoone | @marvel-mystery | @childishhoe | @unnamedmaincharacter | @lyricxavierlove  | @getlostinyourparadise | @hidedemon | @summir-loving | @toenailcliipings | @yeet-me-out-tonight | @titty-teetee | @xxapollinaxx | @marvels-gurl | @onmykneesforloki | @cutiebubbleboo | @bugalouie | @babypink224221 | @uwumd | @bcimbatmandude | @igetcarriedawaywithyou | @drdorkus | @itsevalace | @drunkonbuckybarnes | @deviantloving-detective | @backontheolebullshit | @tranquility-or-chaos | @leapingoveroblivion | @maximoffzinha | @speedypastahairdocalzone | @lexxxistrips | @african-ebony-goddess | @m-a-k-e-d-a |  @firebirdsalvatore | @stinkyplease | @ginger-diaries | @youngestxhearts | @goldenhourchild | @tumblingurl | @kakashi-koi   | @blowmymbackout @therandomthoughtsofmsparker | @shellybeans | @lovepandasloves | @lizliz3107 | @itshaleighyo7 | @kathhdd | @canyoufeelthemagicintheair | @epic-fangirl-trash | @thenoblenomad | @atlanticowe | @vverecat | @jennifercjune | @clumsycaitx | @red-rose21 @spicylangdon | @v-v-x-x | @axa-vega | @missshadowpup | @brownsugerhippy | @peculiar-monstar | @fallslikefeather | @queenbetter | @this-is-whump-dammit | @lost-in-my-thoughs | @purpleisabela | @notyouraveragemochii | @ofstarsandfantasies | @uknowforget | @astrid345 | @lheart1 | @bukoandcoconutsarelife | @ladybeediva | @silvertongueserpent | @multi-fandomwriter97 | @lady-clegane-giantsbane | @fcgrizi | @bitchwhytho | @cha-lyn | @brexfrix | @lunaticgurly |  @sprinklesandsugarcubes | @missdforever | @bubble-t-r-o-u-b-l-e | @srsllydunnodoncare | @the-blue-tiefling | @drippingtragedygalaxy | @tshuuls | @superapplepie | @ellaheart  | @greektragedyc | @amelia2509 | @lovemindbodystuff | @tshuuls | @ryuzakiackerman1 | @lazilyscentedwerewolf | @ejc | @zlixlle @p3nny4urth0ught5 | @queen-sands | @stinkyplease | @ginger-diaries | @youngestxhearts​ | @goldenhourchild | @nightowls | @queenmissfit | @schelianhp | @we-were-so-close-to-something | @majicbamana​ | @you-are-my-sunshine-90 | @fiftyshadesofrebel | @oleander-in-the-wind | @yenneferv2020 | @alwayshavefaith-love | @belalugosisdead |  @laphirablack | @rndm-onsession | @szhead31 | @thedarkn1ghtxx | @omgkatinka |  @funmadnessandbadassvikings |  @just-call-me-no-name @rebelfleur22 | @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland | @just-a-normal-fangirl18​

[nothingbutimagines]

Elizabeths (Chapter II)

Pairing: Bad boy!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, death, mentions of suicide

Summary: Y/n is part of her high school’s most powerful and most popular clique, but she disapproves of the other girls’ behavior. When Y/n meets the new boy in school, Peter Parker, and begins dating him, what she has known to be her clique begins to unravel. Starting with the death of the clique leader, Liz Allan, one by one, people Y/n doesn’t like begin to die by her and Peter’s hands. Soon, she realizes that Peter is killing students he hates and begins to try to foil his plans, all while clashing with the new clique leader, Elizabeth “Betty” Brant.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. It’s a Heathers AU!!! This is going to follow a similar plot to Heathers, but of course, I won’t keep everything the exact same. Here, we meet our protaganist, Y/n, and our love interest, JD Peter.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

Dear Diary,

I know I said I only fuck with the college boys and to hell with the high school ones, but goddamn, I can’t take my mind of off Peter Parker. Especially with him pulling that shit he did with the gun in the commons. 

“God, they won’t expel him. They’ll probably just suspend him for a week or something.” Lizzie insisted, clacking her croquet mallet against your own as you both chuckled. 

“He used a real gun.” Liz scoffed. “They should throw his ass in jail. Doesn’t he know today’s climate? Hasn’t he heard of Columbine?”

“No way.” You argued, leaning forward on your unused mallet as you watched Liz retie her ponytail with that red scrunchie you always hated. “He used blanks. All Peter did was ruined two pairs of pants... maybe not even that...” You and Lizzie began giggling. “I mean, can you bleach out urine stains?”

The sound of Liz knocking her mallet into the red ball and the red ball hitting Betty’s green one was a response enough. The sound was almost deafening as silence fell between you and Lizzie. 

“Ah, yes, Peter.” Liz finally spoke up, “You seem pretty amused. I thought you were over high school guys.” 

“Never say never.”

“What are you going to do, Liz? Take the two shots or knock me out?” Betty asked, her doe like eyes meeting Liz’s, making it clear she had not been paying attention to the conversation at hand. 

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?” Liz snapped. “First you ask if you can be red, knowing I am always red...”

You watched as Liz took a step forward, her foot firm on her red ball as she hit the mallet against it, the red ball sending Betty’s green into the flower bed, causing you to wince as Liz grunted triumphantly. 

Liz hit her ball again, this time falling short of the wicket as she groaned, rolling her eyes. Always too cocky too early, Liz.

“Damn.” She cursed. “Anyway, I can say never to high school boys. Especially when I have Steve.” 

“Ah, yes. King Steve.” Lizzie chuckled, taking her shot and getting the yellow ball through the wicket as she squealed. 

“Maybe when you get older and actually reach maturity, you’ll understand the difference between Columbia University man like Steve and a Midtown High boy like Brad “nut-and-bolt” Davis.” 

Lizzie shrugged. “I think Brad’s sweet. Your turn, Betty!” 

Betty pouted, a whine escaping her throat as she navigated getting into the flower bed, trying to avoid the peonies your mother had planted earlier in the week. 

“No pain, no gain!” Lizzie teased.

“Give it up, girl!” You added, both of you howling at Betty. 

You watched as Betty furrowed her brow, leaning down a bit as she hit the ball. You chuckled as it bounced off a tree and then hit the fountain in the yard before rolling perfectly through the wicket. 

“Holy shit!” You gasped, howling in laughter.

“That was incredible!” Lizzie squealed.

“What. A. Shot.” Liz added, shaking her head, a mixture of pride and jealousy in her smirk. 

You began setting up your shot as Lizzie spoke up, your attention half on her and the other half on getting the shot. 

“So, tonight’s the night. Are you two excited?” Lizzie asked, glancing between both you and Liz. 

“I’m giving Y/n her shot. Her first Columbia party. You blow it tonight, girl, and it’s keggers with kids all senior year.” 

You groaned, having missed your shot. As you dropped your mallet, bending down to pick it up, you rolled your eyes as Liz’s attitude. 

“Damn.” You cursed. “So, who’s this Bucky guy I’ve been set up with? Witty and urban pre-law or an idiot and savant art major?”

“Don’t worry.” Liz rolled her eyes. “Steve says he’s very. So he’s very.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered, knowing full well the only boy you wanted to be set up with is the bad boy wannabe from the commons. 

“Lizzie! Your mom is here!” Your mother called before Liz could open her mouth to say anything further. 

“Come on, whoever wants a ride!” Lizzie announced. “Bye, Y/n. Good luck.” 

“Yeah, good luck.” Betty agreed as she rushed past, following Lizzie and Liz up the stairs. 

You dropped your mallet and followed behind the girls, waving them off as they cut through the side of the house and off the property. You took a seat at the table on the patio as your father took a seat beside you, James Patterson book in hand as you mother joined you both, salsa and chips on the platter clutched in her fists. 

“So, what was the first week of Spring Break withdrawal like?” Your father asked, leaning past your slouching figure to grab a chip. 

“Hey, kid, isn’t the prom coming up?” Your mother asked before you could answer your father.

You shrugged with a smile. “I guess it is.”

“Any contestants worth mentioning?” 

“Maybe. I guess you could say there is a bit of a dark horse in the running.”

“Goddamn. Why do I even read these damn Patterson books. Bastard probably doesn’t even write them.” Your father chimed in, looking up at you.

“Because you’re an idiot.” You beamed, laughing alongside him for a moment. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s it.”

“You two...” Your mother smiled, shaking her head.

“Thanks for the salsa.” You rose from your seat. “But I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that party tonight.” 

Dear Diary,

When you fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly. Columbia is Liz kicking my ass out of the nest, whether I like it or not. And to be honest, I don’t wanna fucking fly. 

You opened the car door, the cold night breeze chilling you to the bone as you slammed the door shut, wincing as you knew Liz would scold you for your improper behavior later. Tugging at the length of your sleeves, you walked towards the 7-11.

“Corn nuts!” Liz yelled, half her body out the car window as she yelled at you. 

Without looking back, you waved her off, tempted to just give her the middle finger and call it a night. 

You swung the door open, the warm draft greeting you as you made a beeline to the Corn Nuts, hoping to get in and get out and get this goddamn Columbia party over with. 

“You going to get a Big Gulp with that?” A voice erupted from behind you as you turned around, the bag of Corn Nuts you needed in hand. 

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a Slurpee.” You teased, meeting Peter’s eyes, or rather, eye, as the other was covered by his falling bang. “You sure do know your 7-11 slang.” 

“I’ve moved around all my life; Baton Rouge, Vegas, Dallas, Suburbia. There’s always been a 7-11. The only stability. Any town, any time, I can pop a chicken sandwich in the microwave and feast on a tornado. Keeps me sane.” He explained, his hand shaking next to his head at the end of his speech. 

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t know, I mean, that thing you pulled today was pretty severe.”

“The extreme always makes an impression, but you’re right, it was pretty severe. Did you say a Coke or Cherry Slurpee?” 

“I didn’t.” You pulled a red vine from the open box at the counter. “Cherry.” 

You smiled, taking a bit out of the vine as you twirled it between your fingers, Peter matching your expression. You took the Slurpee from his hand and followed him to the counter, the silence between you comfortable as he paid for the snacks you collected and you followed him outside. 

You shivered in the cold air, the thought that getting a Slurpee was a good idea now turning in your mind. 

“Great bike.” You nodded to the motorcycle as Peter took a seat on it. 

Liz honked her horn, causing you to tear your gaze from Peter as she gave you an agitated look, only for you to return the gesture with a glare and turn back to Peter.

“Just a humble perk from my uncle’s construction company or should I say deconstruction company?” 

“I don’t know, should you?”

“My uncle seems to enjoy tearing things down more than building things up. Seen the commercial? ‘Bringing every State to a Higher State.’“

“Oh, shit.” You gasped, connecting the dots as you playfully hit Peter’s shoulder. “Peter Parker... Your uncle’s Big Ben Parker Construction. Must be rough, moving place to place.”

Peter shrugged. “Everybody’s got some static in their life. Is your life perfect?”

You scoffed. “Sure, I’m going to a Columbia University party.”

Liz honked the horn again, letting her hand rest on the horn for a little longer as you frowned.

“It’s not perfect.” Your tone was serious. “I don’t really like my friends.”

“I don’t really like your friends either.” Peter shook his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips. 

“It’s like they’re just people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.” 

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation.” 

Liz’s horn blared again as you waved at Peter, starting to walk away. “You’re telling me!”

Dear Diary,

The day I take a vacation, that’ll be the day Liz Allan is dead. Until then, I’m stuck doing my job being her popular lap dog and sucking her dick by telling her how hot and popular she is. 

You could barely suppress a look of disgust as you followed Liz and Steve through the crowded dormitory hallway and into Steve’s dorm. You hated Steve. Sleazy, sweaty, somewhat mediocre looking Steve. You could feel the clot of bile creep up your throat as Steve held the door open for you, the sick smell of cheap beer and sweat so pungent your eyes teared up. 

“You can just throw your coats down on the bed, girls.” Steve instructed as both you and Liz slipped off your coats and did as you were told. 

You watched as Steve walked away for a moment, you assumed to get Bucky as you looked at Liz, who was watching them as well, the doe like look in her eyes telling you that she was in love with him. That for some reason, the clever bitch fell for the disgusting college guy. 

“Y/n, this is Buck.” Steve introduced the other boy, his hand clasped on his shoulder as he guided him to you. 

“Excellent.” Bucky nodded, his eyes tracing over your form as you held back a frown. “Did you girls bring your partying boots?”

“Yeah, let’s party.” Liz smiled, jerking you to get you to do the same. 

Steve chuckled, throwing his arm around Liz as he looked at her. “What can I say? She loves to party.” 

Dear Diary, 

I want to kill and you have to believe... damn pen! 

“So, are you a cheerleader?” Bucky asked, his back against the tacky blue and grey striped wallpaper.

“Not at all.” You gagged, the smell of beer and cigarettes on his breath making you nauseous as you took a sip of the drink in your hand. 

“You’re pretty enough to be one.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

“It’s so great to be able to talk to a girl without having to ask ‘what’s your major?’ I hate that.” Bucky took a sip of his beer before continuing, “So, when you go to college, what do you think you’ll study?”

You have to believe it’s for more than selfish reasons. More than a spoke in my menstrual cycle. You have to believe me. 

Bucky had given up on conversation, you could tell by the way he shifted on his heels uncomfortably. It’s not like you minded, nor cared, since you debated finding Liz’s coat and stealing her car, leaving her in your dust. 

Goddamn Liz. Goddamn Columbia guys. Goddamn you for agreeing to be here.

“So, what do you say we go up to my dorm and have a real party? I’ve got the best rap mix in the whole dorm.” Bucky’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as another boy approached.

“Buck, man,” The boy jerked Bucky around by the shoulder, “Nick’s been looking for you. He says he owes you for blow and he just got some shit himself.”

“You’re kidding. Asshole really scored some of his own?”

“He’s in Nat’s room. Go, man. Party on.”

“Excellent.” Bucky finally turned to you, as if he forgot you were even there, “Y/n, you ever do coke?”

“Ever since writing that DARE essay in fifth grade, I refuse everything.” 

“DARE? Are you sure that shit still works?”

You smacked your forehead lightly. “Oh, geez, right! I wrote that at eleven. Might as well do drugs now since I’m not so stupid!” 

You groaned, pushing through the crowded hallway back to where you and Liz had thrown your coats. 

“Hey, don’t run off, now!” Bucky called out, following behind you closely.

Seventeen is the last year Mom buys the Twinkies. When you make the jump from working at Pizza Hut on the weekends to working thirty years at I.B.M, when you lose something, not innocence - power.

You swung open the door to the room, throwing yourself on the stack of coats on the couch beside the door. Setting your glass of vodka in your lap, you pulled out the matchbook you’d gotten at the 7-11. You struck a match, holding your hand over the flame, bringing it closer and closer until the red light licks your hand, causing you to shriek in pain. You dropped the match into the glass, shocked when it catches fire. Giggling to yourself, you toss the glass out the open window; out of sight, out of mind.

“There you are.” Bucky’s voice has you rolling your eyes as you turn to him. “How’s my little cheerleader? Now I know everyone at your high school isn’t so uptight, come on.” 

His hand was coated in sticky sweat as it touched your tight covered thigh and his breath was hot and warm as his leaned in too close to your face. 

“Hey, I really don’t feel so great.” You argued, shoving him away from you as you shot up off the couch. 

“Let’s do it on the coats.” He grinned, oblivious to your side of the conversation. “It’ll be excellent.”

“You know, I have a little prepared speech I give when my suitor wants more than I’d like to give him. Gee, Blank, I had a nice-”

“Save the speeches for Malcolm X. I just wanna get laid.” Bucky chuckled, cutting off your sentence before you could even get the bulk of it out. 

You yanked your coat out from under him, sending him sliding off the couch and to the floor.

“You don’t deserve my fucking speech.” You huffed, stepping over him and storming out the door.

You slow as you realized you now gained Liz’s attention, along with Steve’s as Bucky emerges from the “coat” room. You can tell by the falling smiles on both Steve’s and Liz’s faces as Bucky spews some words you can’t hear that they are more than pissed at you. You watch, your eyes widening as Liz slides her beer glass on the table beside her, steel-faced as she approaches you. 

“What’s your damage? Bucky says you’re being a real cooze.” Liz snapped.

“Liz, I feel awful, like I’m going to throw up. Can we jam, please?”

“Hell no.”

You couldn’t help it, the sudden clot in your throat was replaced with actual vomit as you leaned against the wall, rendered unable by your sudden fatigue to make it to the bathroom. You leaned over, vomit spilling onto the carpet and splatter hitting Liz’s red heels. Groaning, you charge down the hallway and out the door, determined to make it back to the car as Liz follows close behind. 

Christ, I can’t explain it, but I’m allowed an understanding that my parents and these Columbia University assholes have chosen to ignore. I must stop Liz.

“You stupid cunt!” Liz roared, the trash can fire casting shadows on her face as you shivered in the cool night air. 

“You goddamn bitch!” 

“You were nothing before you met me! You were playing Barbies with Cindy Moon! You were a Brownie, you were a Bluebird, you were a Girl Scout Cookie! I got you into a Columbia University party! What’s my thanks? It’s on the hallway carpet. I got paid in puke!” 

“Like it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.”

“Monday morning, you’re history. I’ll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No one at Midtown is going to let you play their reindeer games.”

Cindy Moon was a real friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatchdogs and Diet Cokeheads. Killing Liz’d be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West. Or is it East? West! I sound like a fucking psycho. Tomorrow I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Liz. A world where I am free. 

You couldn’t help but fling your diary across the room, the satisfying thud from it hitting the wall beside your window soothing you as you wallowed in anger. You gasp as you hear a sound at the window, looking up, you tear off your glasses and make eye contact with one Peter Parker. 

“Dreadful etiquette, I apologize.” 

“It’s okay...” You replied breathlessly.

“I saw the croquet set out back, you up for a match?”

Your heart was still racing, however instead of the initial shock, it was now revving up with anxiety as you looked at the boy in your bedroom. Was he even really there? Or was he just an anger fueled hallucination?

“Sure. But I’m blue.”

Dear Diary,

When did my life become reminiscent of a YA novel? When did I come to believe it wasn’t weird that Peter Parker was coming through my window? Did Twilight finally condition me into believing odd behavior was true romance?

“Now I can see why you looked so mangled when I came up.” Peter shook his head, his voice soft. 

You shifted so that your head was on his bare chest, your eyes focused on the pile of his clothes that sat beside him. 

“I’ve always treated Liz’s drama queen plays as bullshit, but I’m honestly really scared. Who am I going to sit with at lunch on Monday?” You groaned, leaning back onto the grass, the blades pricking your bare shoulders. “God, I sound like I’m from Riverdale.” 

“Are girls really that bad?” 

“It’s a dog eat dog world.” You shrugged. “It feels like it’s either kill yourself or get told to kill yourself.”

“Geez.” Peter shook his head. “That was my first game of strip croquet, by the way. I thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a lot more interesting than flinging your clothes off and going at it on a neighbor’s swing set.”

“Well, I don’t know, there’s something to be said for- ouch!” 

You chuckled as the blue mallet that was stuck in the ground fell over and hit the boy. He handed you your panties that fell along with the mallet before sliding on his own underwear. 

“What a night.” You giggled, slipping on your panties as you kissed him softly and stood up. “What a life. I almost moved into high school right out of sixth grade because I was some sort of genius. But of course, my mother was too scared I wouldn’t make friends, so we chucked the idea and blah, blah, blah.”

You searched the yard for your clothes, cursing Peter silently for allowing you to toss them around instead of into a neat pile like he had done. You picked up your shirt and pants, gathering up your socks and slippers before putting them on as you spoke.

“But now blah-blah-blah is all I ever do. I use my grand I.Q. to decide what shade of lip gloss to buy and how to hit three keggers before curfew. Some genius.” 

“Liz Allan is one bitch that deserves to die.” Peter blurted out, making it clear he wasn’t listening to you. 

“Killing her won’t solve anything.”

“A well time lighting bolt on her walk into school on Monday morning, all the other Elizabeths, shit, the whole school, would be cut loose.”

“Well, then, I will pray for rain.” You chuckled. “A flowerpot falling from the window sill would work just as well, more likely to happen too.”

“You see those condoms in the grass? We killed it tonight, Y/n. We killed our baby.” 

“Hey, it was good for me too, imbecile.”

“I’m just saying. It’s not hard to end a life.”

“There’s a big difference between killing the prom queen and busting into a condom.”

You both laugh as Peter finally starts getting dressed. 

“I guess I don’t know what I’m talking about. After all, there’s only one genius here.”

“I know exactly what the hell you’re talking about and you’re right, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t we just graduate, grow old and be adults, and then die?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“But before we do that, I want to see Liz Allan spew chunks so we can call it even.”

_____________________

Tagged: @thewinchesterchronicles @spookyanairwin @audreylovespidey706 @asonofpeter​ @halparkebitch​

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[platypanthewriter]

The Prince and the Pauper (that drives an Uber) Ch. 2

Part One | Two | Three | Four

Prince Steve paid for the hotel—he wanted one with neon lights, ideally a blinking palm tree, for some reason, until Billy explained you couldn’t order food. In the face of a royal pout, he offered to pick up pizza, and Steve studied the menu on his phone before ordering five pizzas, deleting them, and yanking Billy closer to consult.

Billy watched him scroll through, and leaned closer. “I could tell you all the reasons you don’t want to stay in the cheapest motel,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s ear to make him duck his head in a grin, “—but...I’ve never stayed in a nice hotel.”

“Ohhhh,” Steve trailed off, then pulled him into a soft kiss. “You should—you should definitely get to, I’ll take you somewhere nice.”

Billy breathed a sigh of relief, remembering driving back from his dad’s place, Max silent as he got a motel room and brushed rat droppings off the pillowcases. The sticky carpet had adhered to their shoes, making a crisp tape-like noise when he returned with sandwiches, and realized Max had gotten him out of the way so she could cry in the bathroom. He had tiptoed out, walked around the block, and come in again.

The idea of taking a prince to a motel with foot-long wads of hair and crud whipping wildly from the front of the AC units, or pipes so rusted out the water looked like old blood...was a great idea for a horror movie, he thought, imagining the cursive, loopy pastel font of the movie he was currently in. I want a romcom, he admitted to himself, watching Steve flick the pizzas away to frown at tourist guide listings.

“The nicest,” said Steve, scrolling through search results. “Hot tub?”

“I’d probably be impressed anyway,” Billy told him, staring at the pictures of penthouse suites. “That’s so much money, no!”

Steve grinned at him. “Their security is best. Technically I am a target of assassination attempts—”

“Technically?! What happened?!” Billy choked, his hands tightening on Steve’s arm without his permission, like he was going to prevent...something. Steve blowing away in the wind, maybe, or someone shoplifting him. This was what the money was for, he reminded himself, resisting the urge to laugh hysterically—he had driver duties now, and one of them was to hang onto his prince’s hand like a helpless moron.

Steve grimaced. “It’s been years. And I was in the car with an archbishop—”

“What happened,” Billy said, and Steve grimaced, hunching his shoulders.

“A...car...bomb?”

Billy didn’t even think, he just yanked the other full-grown man in the car towards him, squeezing his muscular shoulders until Steve banged into the the gearshift. “Jesus christ on a cracker,” Billy whispered.

Steve was muttering something else in a language Billy didn’t know, swearing and rubbing his hip, and Billy let him go.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry,” Billy apologized. “Sorry.”

“I don’t think I was the target,” Steve laughed, reaching over to pull Billy’s face close enough to kiss his cheek, while Billy’s head played a unhelpful recording of every movie explosion he’d ever seen, burning tires spinning away, and people trapped in crushed metal as the gas pooled near the flames. “I was greeting a black archbishop from Zimbabwe,” Steve said casually. “There were nazis—” he flapped his hand.

Billy made some kind of weird noise in his throat, cleared it, and said “Give me the fucking directions, we’re getting you to a fucking hotel.”

“A nice one,” Steve laughed, checking his phone. “We can get dinner.”

“Is that the only time somebody tried to kill you?” Billy asked, staring at the phone and repeating the address in his head, as a mantra.

Steve winced, opening his mouth, then biting his lips. “Uhhhh...noooooo?” he trailed off, and Billy smacked randomly at the passenger seat, unwilling to take his eyes from the road. He connected with something, soft hoodie over muscle, and Steve laughed, pushing his hand away. “Um. I…”

“You are a shitty liar,” Billy told the prince in his passenger seat.

“Maybe don’t google me,” Steve said, grimacing, and Billy gunned the motor to get through the yellow light. “Why,” Billy hissed. “Did your family get gunned down behind a theater? Are you the goddamn Batman?”

“What?” Steve snorted. “No? Aneurysm.”

“Holy shit, jesus christ,” Billy said, clenching the steering wheel. “Fuck, I was kidding, goddamn.”

“Just my mom,” Steve shrugged, as Billy shot him a disbelieving glance. “It’s fine, I don’t even remember her, I was just two—”

“Oh my god,” Billy choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry, holy crap.”

“She was a beautiful princess?” Steve said brightly, laughing at Billy’s enraged muttering. “My dad didn’t take royal title when he married her—he didn’t want to quit his job—so everybody joked that if he’d been a prince, he could’ve woken her up with a kiss. If only he thought ahead, right?”

“That’s horrible,” Billy whispered. “That’s so fucked up.”

“It’s a little funny,” Steve said, shrugging, and Billy groaned, pulling into the parking lot under the hotel.

Steve was watching out the window, his brain probably somewhere else entirely, when Billy pulled up to the window and accepted the paper ticket. “Oh, wait,” Steve said, as Billy pulled around to look for a parking space. “Did you have to pay? I never have to pay, I forgot—”

“Poor little rich boy,” Billy muttered. “Nah, I’ll pay on my way out.”

“Mmn,” Steve said, sighing. “Okay.”

“Sorry I said stupid shit about your parents,” Billy told him, grimacing as Steve got out of the car and wandered away to frown around the parking garage before smiling, waving back at Billy, and pointing triumphantly to the stairs. Billy started to follow, then remembered there was an entire goddamn crown rolling around in his backseat, and climbed over to stretch for it, and wrap the thing up in Steve’s discarded starchy white wedding jacket. “Jesus,” Billy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and getting out. “Sorry, again,” he said again, trotting up, and Steve shrugged.

“How nice? You want the honeymoon suite, or—”

“I just don’t wanna wake up to a crack-smoking rat sucking my dick,” Billy told him, eyes narrowed. “You can get STDs from the sheets in some of those motels.”

Steve blinked, staring at him, his mouth twitching. “That’s...vivid,” he said, biting back a snicker. “What do you think? I think I deserve a honeymoon suite,” he said thoughtfully.

You deserve anything you want, Billy didn’t say, or I love you. He cleared his throat. “Sure. What’s that do? You get wine or something?” He wasn’t, strictly speaking, supposed to drink on work nights, but Max would understand. Probably. Billy ran his fingers through his curls, making a face.

“This one sounds like it’s breakfast in bed for two—”

“I’m onboard—” Billy cut in immediately, and Steve laughed.

“—they put rose petals on the bed, I guess?”

“Only fair,” Billy nodded, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder to look at the pictures. “Princes probably need some flowers to feel right. Few woodland animals, maybe.”

“...you saying I should sing at the birds on the balcony?”

“Yeah, charm some pigeons,” Billy nodded. “Tell ‘em you got good and laid on your honeymoon.”

The lady behind the hotel desk didn’t realize they were together, and tried to step between them to take Steve to his room, but she apologized profusely when Steve grabbed Billy’s hand.

Once they got there, Billy stood staring at the glass shower in the middle of the room. “...I feel like a creep just standing here,” he said, frowning.

Steve snickered, pulling the hoodie off over his head. Billy watched him fold it and sit it on a chair, and missed it already—Prince Steve, cozy in Billy’s faded hoodie, smelling like laundry soap. Steve pulled the shirt off too, and then Billy wasn’t thinking about anything but skin.

Billy peeled out of his shirt, and swaggered closer to lift Steve’s chin for a kiss.

“Mmn,” Steve hummed into it, then pulled away, sprawling back across the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows to rake his gaze up and down Billy’s body.

“Surveying the goods?” Billy asked, flexing, and resisting the urge to cover the slight softness of his stomach, come from nights eating in the car between fares instead of hitting the gym, and evenings with Max eating ice cream and watching stupid TV.

“Never done this before,” Steve said, off-handedly, and Billy folded his arms on reflex, feeling his smile turn a little mean.

“Never what,” he laughed. “Never fucked a guy? Or a what, a servant? Never been this bored?”

“Jesus,” Steve sat up again, brows scrunched over uncertain brown eyes. “You want to stop? We can—”

“No, no,” Billy took a slow breath, imagining his therapist’s voice. Listen to what people actually say, she’d said. “Sorry. I—I’m—you’ve never done what. Exactly.”

“Any of this,” Steve said, pulling his legs up on the bed.

He was scrunching himself up, Billy realized, pulling his limbs in to protect his tender underbelly, and Billy forced himself forward and put his hands on either side of Steve’s hot, slightly stubbly face. “Hey, hey, you’re all...pillbugged up. Uh...nobody knows you’re gay?” he asked the prince, in the honeymoon suite, trying to be...gentle.

“I’m not,” Steve said, scooting back against the headboard, and Billy jerked his hands back.

“Well, I’m glad I helped you get that straight,” he shot back, scrambling off the bed and yanking his pants off the floor.

“Wait, wait, Billy—” Steve crawled after him, swinging his legs down, and Billy stopped, registering his prince was so hard he was leaking, his dick rubbing shiny streaks across his legs as he moved. “I’m not straight, wait, I’m—I like men too, and—” he frowned into the middle distance, bending his knee up again, to lean his chin on it, “—I was at a red carpet thing and Indya Moore walked by and my heart stopped, I swear to god, I am definitely into…” he mouthed at the ceiling, frowning. “Thudes?”

“...sorry,” Billy said, dropping his jeans, and rubbing his face with his hands. “Sorry. I keep—I’m waiting for the punchline, tonight, sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said cautiously, and Billy walked back over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, shit, I’m sorry. Sorry,” Billy said, reaching out to squeeze his prince’s hand. “You’re...perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” Steve shot back, narrowing his eyes, and Billy snorted a laugh and coughed. Steve sighed. “I should look up the words,” he said, beckoning. “So that doesn’t...happen again. Come back. Come here.”

“Thought maybe I scared you straight,” Billy huffed a laugh, scooting closer, and Steve smirked up at him.

“Gonna have to try a lot harder than that,” he said.

“Lemme kiss you,” Billy told him, feeling hoarse, then jerked with surprise as Steve surged up to kiss him open-mouthed, tasting of mint and latex, and pulling Billy across him onto the bed in a crash of elbows, knees, stiff bridal uniform trousers, and bumping teeth. “God, feels like I just married you,” Billy whispered, rubbing his nose with a wince where it had connected with Steve’s jaw.

He could feel his face getting hot again, but with Steve grinning under him, all he could think about was soft lips, and the warm, firm skin against his. “Should have carried you across the threshold,” he whispered, bracing himself on his elbows to hover over Steve’s chest.

“Maybe you should’ve,” he said, laughing. “Maybe—”

“Maybe I should,” Billy said, sliding off the bed to scoop the royal heir into his arms, spin them both around—Steve whooped, slinging his arms around Billy’s neck and kicking his feet—and walking them out the door of the hotel room.

It locked.

“Oh shit!” Billy breathed, and Steve burst into snickers, hugging him tighter around the neck.

“I’ve got the keycard in my pocket,” he whispered, kissing Billy’s jaw. “Husband.”

“Shit,” Billy answered, laughing along now he knew he hadn’t locked them out. Steve squirmed around to dig into his pocket, and waved it at the door. “Good thing it’s not real,” Billy said into his hair. “Married to me, jesus.”

“You want a divorce already?” Steve asked, blinking wide eyes up at him, and Billy spun them around, kissing him on the way to the bed, his muscles complaining as he wished he’d spent more time at the gym and less time trying to keep track of Max’s anime addictions.

“No, no, you want me, you’ve got me,” Billy panted, sitting on the bed and letting them both fall sideways, so Steve’s legs were half on top of him.

“Good, I can’t take getting dumped that often,” Steve mumbled, sliding his hand around the back of Billy’s neck, and yanking him into a kiss.

Steve was warm, and laughing, and Billy pushed back on questioning his good luck. Something had to go right eventually, he told himself. Balance out the rest of my life. He oofed as Steve rolled on top of him.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, sliding his hands over Billy’s chest and shoulders with a little intent smile like he was exploring the unknown.

“Hey,” Billy whispered back, folding his arms behind his back, both so he could watch, and to make his arms flex. “Finding anything good?”

“Started out good, keeps getting better,” Steve mumbled, narrowing his eyes as he scooted forward to lean in for a kiss. Billy was already feeling his face heat, wondering who even said shit like that, when their cocks brushed, and he groaned, bucking his hips into the sensation. “God, I’m so lucky,” Steve mumbled against Billy’s lips, and Billy barked a laugh, yanking him in by the back of his head and hair for a slow kiss, the kind where Billy could see what made his prince hum happily and press closer.

Steve shifted on top of him, squishing and sliding their cocks together, and Billy made an undignified squeaking noise into his mouth. Steve lifted his head, laughing, and then leaned in again just as a knock came on the door.

Billy didn’t even register the noise, pushing himself up on his elbows to chase the kiss he’d been deprived of, but Steve pushed him back down, laughing. “Stay here, I’ll get it,” he whispered, and Billy blinked after him, bereft.

Room service brought half the menu, it looked like, and Billy stared, sitting up. “...you’re probably hungry,” he said, laughing, and Steve lifted a few lids and stuck his finger in one, then closed the lid again and crawled over, sticking a finger full of maple syrup in Billy’s mouth as he dropped next to him.

Billy watched him, feeling his skin heat again at Steve’s matter-of-fact appraisal of his dick, which was hard as rock, dripping from watching Steve peel back out of the robe, and bend over the cart.

“Hungry for you first,” Steve said, lying half on top of him so he could fist their dicks together, and looking kind of delighted as he tried it. Billy wondered in passing if Steve had watched something similar in porn, or invented it himself, but couldn’t hold back a groan at the feeling of tight, warm skin on his cock, and Steve’s smile as he kissed the syrup off Billy’s lips. “Even sweeter,” he whispered, and Billy snorted a laugh, his face so hot it burned.

He’d meant to make it good for Prince Steve, soft and slow, and there he was, pinned and writhing, his fists clenched in the sheets, while the royal hand worked his cock. “Billy,” Steve whispered, his breath hot as Billy moaned against his mouth.

“Anything,” Billy mumbled back, and came all over their stomachs. Steve was only a few seconds later, and Billy hugged him close, sticky and panting. “Anything,” he whispered again, burying his face in Steve’s hair.

“You’re enough already,” Steve laughed, smiling. “I was just saying your name. You’re perfect.”

Billy snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Sure,” he said, smiling back.

Steve sat up, frowning down at his messy stomach, and Billy swung his legs off the bed and ran to the bathroom. He returned with a wet cloth to wipe up his prince’s belly, then fold it and scrub it over his sides, and up his chest, until Steve laughed and kissed him again, squishing the gross washcloth between them.

The next morning, Billy went to slide out of bed and get to class, and Prince Stephen of Blois, Grand Cross of the Order of the House of Orange, rolled over to slide an arm around his waist, kissing his side. The royal stubble tickled, and Billy squirmed around to face his attacker.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, reaching up to stroke his knuckles down Billy’s stubble.

Billy realized there was no reason compelling enough to leave, and crawled back over his fare-turned-seducer and prince. “…what are you doing today?” he asked, and Steve raised his eyebrows, then pulled Billy down to lie on top of him. His warm hands slid up Billy’s back as he hummed thoughtfully, and Billy was relieved to find the squirming body under him was nearly as hard as he was.

“…thought you said you had class,” Steve whispered, and Billy laughed, nuzzling in to kiss his neck.

“I get…okay grades…” Billy mumbled, catching the skin of Steve’s neck between his teeth, and feeling him groan. “…miss a day.”

Steve’s groan turned more resigned. “How about we meet again after class?” he asked, and Billy froze, then sat back, frowning down.

“…you can just tell me to stop,” he said.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Steve told him, grabbing Billy’s hand and kissing it, so Billy could feel the royal breath, warm across his knuckles. “But you—you stopped working to take me bowling, I can’t make you miss school.”

“It’s okay,” Billy laughed, his eyes fixed on the prince kissing his hand, like they were at Cinderella’s ball. “I’m not that dumb,” he muttered. “I can miss one day.”

“You’re not dumb,” Steve frowned, and Billy’s grin widened.

“You wanna bet, pretty boy?”

“I was…what if I want to…see you again?” Steve muttered, and Billy raised his eyebrows. “You have to tell me no, if I’m interrupting something—“

Billy squinted. “The fuck do you mean, see me again. You’re going back to—to Europe, right?”

“Not today,” Steve sighed, stretching, and then rubbing his face so Billy couldn’t see his expression.

“Just a few days, though,” Billy insisted. “I can free up my time, I’m nobody important—“

Steve dropped a hand to Billy’s thigh. “So you do want to see me,” he said flatly, and Billy swallowed.

“Y-yeah,” he laughed, watching Steve’s hands, instead of his face. “Of course. You got time for me, I’m there.”

“...okay,” Steve said, and he sounded like he was smiling, so Billy looked up to see his foreign royalty with a little grin on his face, and pink cheeks. Billy leaned in to kiss him, and Steve mumbled happily against his mouth. “...alright,” Steve said, stroking his fingers through Billy’s tangled hair. “I’ll see you after your classes. Text me.”

Billy half-wanted to threaten him. Say ‘if you don’t mean that, just fuck me now,’ but he took a slow breath, and didn’t do anything insane, like punch next to Steve’s head, and whisper threats about liars. “Yeah,” he said, getting up off the bed, wishing he could just—just jack off looking at Steve, lying there with his long legs and the curve of his ass cheek hanging out of the blankets. He thought about Max’s face if he admitted he’d tried to ditch work and school for some kind of sex marathon with a stranger, and yanked his jeans up.

“Love to watch you leave,” Steve sang, hanging half off the bed, and Billy burst out laughing, and nearly stumbled and fell with his jeans halfway up his hips.

“Call me,” he called back as he yanked his sweatshirt on. It smelled like expensive cologne, and he didn’t look back as he left, thinking hard about cleaning the kitchen drain to try and get his cock to go back to sleep. Steve yelled something as he closed the door, but Billy just ducked his head and ran for the stairs.

Billy’d organized his classes to be done, most days, by eleven in the morning. It left time for homework, and packing lunches for he and Max the next day, and a nap before work.

At eleven-oh-three, he was playing with his phone, biting his lips, and looking at the contact picture of Prince Steve failing hard at bowling. Finally, he tossed it in the passenger seat and drove home.

There was folded, stacked laundry on the table, along with a piece of paper that said ‘BROTHER SHAMING: what has he left in his pocketses’ on which dwelt an empty bottle of sunscreen, a pile of quarters, the now-half-wrapped, linty Starburst candies he’d grabbed instead of cigarettes, a handful of shredded Kleenex, a tube of eyeliner that was oozing blackened water onto the note, tiny bottles of mint schnapps and mint mouthwash, and a gooey pile that might once have been a cookie. Billy bit his lips together, raising his eyebrows, and cleaned his pockets out right there on the table.

It was sort of the opposite of a treasure hunt, usually—wadded up wrappers full of gum, stuff people left in his back seat—but today he slapped down the wad of hundred-dollar bills Steve had given him, and heard Max gasp from the doorway.

“Oh my jesus,” she whispered. “Billy. Did—what did you—did you—did you get a sugar daddy? Are you—are you letting some asshole millionaire fuck your ass?!” She grabbed his wrist, squeezing it hard, but he was laughing too hard, half-collapsing against the table, to answer helpfully. “Did you rob a bank?!” she squeaked. “Did you fuck a bank robber?! Billy!”

“No!” He cackled, dropping into a chair, and leaning his face in his arms. “No, no—”

“Is it real?!” she hissed, crouching to eyeball the money at face-level, then shuffling close to sniff it. “It smells like Skittles,” she whispered. “Billy...you could go to jail, don’t whore yourself out to counterfeiters—”

He laughed so hard he wasn’t even making noise anymore, and she punched his shoulder.

“At least make them pay with real money!” she hissed. “Is your ass counterfeit?! No!”

“No,” he wheezed, and she smacked his shoulder.

“What did you do,” she growled. “What the fuck, brother mine.”

“It’s real,” he whispered, trying to stop giggling. “It’s real, it’s fine.”

“What did you do to get it,” she asked, eyes narrowed, and he grinned at her ferocity. “Billy. Are you safe,” she asked, grabbing his sleeve, and he nodded, wiping his eyes.

“It’s fine, Max, I swear. I didn’t do anything shitty—”

“Did anyone do anything shitty to you,” she growled again, like a redheaded wolverine, and Billy started snickering again, grabbing her and noogieing her head until she yelled and yanked hard on a handful of his hair.

“I’m okay,” he told her. “I don’t owe anybody anything, I’m not in trouble, and I didn’t do anything I didn’t wanna do.”

“...okay,” she said suspiciously. “Can we...spend it? All we got is cereal and canned beans.”

“Yeah, go nuts,” Billy sighed, leaning his chin on his arms and imagining Steve’s grin, pressed against the door of the bathroom stall as he tried to hand his one-night-stand enough money to let Billy relax for a month. “Don’t, like, blow it all, but get some greens, maybe. I wanna take my car in, see why it’s making that whinny.”

“Damn. Yeah,” Max stared at her hands as she counted the money, then shook her head. “Christ, Billy, we could get a new toaster.”

“...it works,” he muttered, but eyed it speculatively. “Maybe we should wait. Save it, y’know. Just in case I—”

“It sparked so bad yesterday it was—it was like lightning in the kitchen,” she said with a grimace. “I threw a Pop Tart in and didn’t have the lights on, and I pushed the thing down and—GAH. Seriously, one of these days, you—you’re gonna find me on the kitchen floor with smoking hair.”

“Okay,” Billy nodded, making a face. “But then we gotta save some. I get sick, there’s no way to cover bills—”

“I know that!” she yelled. “That’s why I want a job, asshole!”

“I can do this!” he yelled back, and she narrowed her eyes, taking a step back and away, and Billy bit his lips, turning to face the other way. “I—I’ve got this, okay, just—just fucking—go to school and shit, you’re fourteen—”

“You’re eighteen!” she shot back. “You can’t even buy liquor!”

“I know!” he shouted at the wall, wanting to scream. “I know, I—I’m—we’ll get a fucking toaster, okay, I—I got you, will you just—”

“You don’t have to!” she shrieked back at him, and the neighbor started pounding on the wall.

“Shut up,” Billy sighed. He grabbed his phone, stomped into his bedroom, and locked the door.

He could hear Max slamming around in the kitchen, and he groaned, burying his face in his pillow, when his text alert went off. He clicked it, sniffling.

Prince: You off in time for lunch? Or dinner?

Billy stared at it, and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, blew out, and texted back.

Billy: Out of school

Billy: don’t have to work today because somebody handed me a stack of CASH last night

The phone rang, and Billy cleared his throat before he answered.

“You wanna pick me up? I’ll get you lunch,” said his prince.

“Y-yeah,” Billy nodded, wiping his nose.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, and he sounded so urgent Billy wanted to bawl.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he said, curling up tighter on the bed. “I—I’ll come and—you still at the hotel?”

“Yes I am,” Steve said, “I’m—is there anything I can do?”

“You already fucking did,” Billy grated out. “I have money and my kid sister is all excited to have a toaster that won’t kill us and worried as shit I’ll get sick and we won’t have any money left—”

“A toaster?” Steve repeated, startled. “Are you—you okay?”

“We’ll be fine,” Billy growled out, his vision blurring with tears again. “I’m—it’s fine, it’s just—” Steve waited, and Billy rolled onto his face, punching the pillow. His throat hurt. “I don’t have custody,” he whispered. “She—I’m her step-brother, you know, I just—god. Anything happens to me, she’s—”

Steve was quiet at the other end, and Billy wondered whether he’d hung up. “...but you’re fine?” he asked finally. “Right now, you’re okay?”

“I can do this,” Billy told him, swallowing hard. “She doesn’t need to—she’s trying to—she’s just a kid, she doesn’t need to—”

“...she’s worried about her brother?” Steve asked, and it sounded like he was smiling.

“She wants to get some—some sleazy job that’d hire kids,” Billy growled at him. “Help pay for things. She’s gonna do something dumb—”

“Maybe there’s a way she could help?” Steve suggested, and Billy sat up, glaring out the window, then down at his hands.

“She doesn’t need to! She already—she did all the laundry, and she’s out with your money buying food—she’ll probably cook something shitty—”

“I could get her dinner too,” Steve offered, laughing.

“She’s fourteen,” Billy hissed at him, and Steve was quiet for a long moment.

“Uh.” Steve paused. “Um...you know you’re her brother, right?”

“I’m not, that’s the problem—and I know, I’m—I’m trying, I just can’t—I can’t get it right, I never get anything—”

“Wait, wait, Billy,” Steve interrupted. “Billy.”

“Yeah,” Billy whispered, wiping his eyes.

“Just...why do you do all this?”

“The fuck do you mean why,” Billy yelled. “She called me, she—she needed—she needed me to—”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agreed, “—but why’d you do it?”

“I didn’t want my fucking dad to fracture her eye socket!” Billy told him, squirming under the covers to muffle his voice.

“...jesus,” Steve whispered. “But you did all this for her, right. She moved in with you?”

“I got an apartment,” Billy mumbled. “Ditched my roommates.”

“...so you did it to help her.”

“I had to,” Billy groaned. “The hell was I gonna say?”

“You could have called the police?” Steve suggested.

“What, wait until he does it?!”

“No!” Steve laughed, sounding a little raw himself. “But all this—all these—all this you do, you do for her? You do all this to help her, right?”

Billy narrowed his eyes. “What’s your point?”

“Why can’t she help you?”

“She’s a kid!”

“...can I see you? Can I meet you somewhere?”

Billy cleared his throat, again. “Yeah. Yes. Let me—” he took a deep, shaky breath, and got out of bed. “Where do you want me to go?”

“...what if…” Steve trailed off, and Billy’s throat closed again, as he registered the mess he’d just dumped in a stranger’s lap. “What about a movie?” he asked, and Billy started snickering.

“You can just hang up, jesus,” he said, stretching. “When somebody starts moaning all this shit. You met me once.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, once. Liked what I saw, though.”

Billy glared at the phone, his heart pounding as he wondered whether princes actually went to some kind of charm school, specifically to cause heart attacks in Uber drivers. ‘Course, somebody smarter might not take him so serious, he realized, then groaned dramatically through his fingers. “Fine. Awesome. What movie you wanna see?”

“I do not know,” Steve said slowly. “...trying to search while I’m talking to you, and it kind of…where is there even...”

“I’ll come get you,” Billy told him, smiling irrepressibly. He ducked his head as he walked out of his bedroom, and caught the pajama pants Max threw at his face.

“The hell are you going?!” she asked, sliding across the floor in her socks to glower up at him. “No! We’re watching Die Hard! You said!”

“Gonna meet him again,” Billy said, pulling his shoes on. “He’s leaving town.”

“You’re trading your ass to your drug lord again?” she asked, sounding resigned, and Billy stared at her. “Uh-huh. Try to get twenties this time, lady at the grocery store thought I was a hooker, I think. Probably. Or I robbed a bank? Or I robbed a hooker that robbed a bank—”

“She what,” Billy mumbled, horrified, but Max shoved a handful of granola bars in his pocket, and held the door open.

“You got condoms?” she asked, her eyes narrowed, and Billy shouted back a YES, MAX, I FUCKING DO as he fled down the stairs, his cheeks burning hot.

Part One | Two | Three | Four

[blainemoriarty]

The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - Sentence Meme

- “Look alive, Sunshine!” - “Something big went off, late last night...” - “Grab your friends, and hold ‘em close, ‘cuz we got no time for heroes, and no room for ghosts.” - “Anniversaries are lies if we forget why the confetti flies.” - “It IS you! I knew it - I had your action figure!” - “I know who she is and I know what she’s holding.” - “How did it feel to watch them die?” - “Now you can show us what’s so special about you.” - “Your battery needs to charge. You can barely stand.” - “Our bodies will only belong to each other, and the streets will be for shopping, not for working.” - “These two were found with their headphones on at an unreasonable volume.” - “She thought she had something to prove.” - “Doesn’t matter. She’s one of us now.” - “Please, that’s like catching cocoons instead of butterflies.” - “It’s okay... I’m tired... Tired of hiding.” - “Wrap him up. Let’s get him home.” - “May I remind you those things were created as something for us to do AFTER work, not instead of...” - “Is there anyone to, well, to meet me on the job? There’s just something... I mean... Sometimes I get the creeps out there alone.” - “Endless are the nights in your eyes. Quiet are your colors.” - “Shut that machine off. I don’t trust him.” - “A nonstop party, and mom and dad never come home!” - “Even spiders come up for air. Ten years of looking at body bags and tumbleweeds finally paid off.” - “God, how can you guys just sit here and play video games when you just buried one of your friends?” - “Attention! Brothers and sisters! Sons and daughters! It’s time to open those eyes and move those thighs.” - “Word from this God’s armpit we call home, is... Mom and Dad are coming home!” - “You need to hold tight to whatever gets you through the night.” - “Wake up!” - “That is all. Have a better day.” - “No time for breakfast. Got called in.” - “Your hair is the least of our problems after the crows flew in last night.” - “Our home was sent to the heavens, and there ain’t nowhere to go!” - “He will free us. The city won’t control us anymore.” - “They showed me how to live... Taught me things. I never knew my mom-- and now I can’t even remember their faces.” - “It was my fault they died. If I didn’t get caught--” - “I should have been there that night. I should have gone... I was a better shot than any of them.” - “I just couldn’t bring myself to kill.” - “Run.” - “Dying never hurts anyone except those it leaves behind.” - “Your total kills have been in a steady decline over the last few years or so...” - “Trigger finger getting rusty, old man?” - “Let’s just hope your drop in percentage has nothing to do with emotions...” - “Secrets are the Devil’s dessert.” - “Life and death... They are both part of a single movement.” - “It’s time. No more hiding out and waiting for death.” - “He’s not right, you know. He’s young, dangerous, and thinks he knows everything.” - “You don’t have to do this. You have a choice.” - “Can you teach me to shoot?” - “The sun is making my body feel like a jungle today.” - “This desert is getting heavy... It’s in the airwaves. There’s something big coming, and it’s gonna make the Analog Wars look like a holiday at Aunt Susan’s.” - “Hey, don’t let that ghoster get the best of you. If you want it to dance, you make it dance.” - “You wanna know what made me a better shot than anyone? I didn’t look at my enemy... I looked around them.” - “There’s something brewing out there... Let’s just make sure we’re nowhere near the coffeepot when it explodes.” - “Remember children -- An eye for an eye leaves everyone blind.” - “That one tried to cross the city line. Stupid! The power ends - we end at the line!” - “Enough - I’ve had enough!” - “I’ve had enough, too. Run.” - “He’s a wave head, an addict. Gets high off the sun’s radiation. Salvation is twenty feet away, and he doesn’t even want it.” - “I’ll say hi to your boys in Hell for you.” - “I killed one of them -- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” - “When I said that all those years ago, I didn’t mean unless you mess up or make a mistake. There were no clauses. No time frames. When I said that... I meant we would be together forever.” - “You look like the mayor.” - “Will you two stop screaming my name like that? You’d think you were always in some kind of grave--” - “Wait! Stop! That guy just moved! He’s still alive!” - “Nothing matters now. We made it.” - “Love. It makes people do dangerous things.” - “A hurricane’s brewing.” - “There isn’t any spy -- You’re crazy! He was just trying to help us survive out here. He... He loved us.” - “The aftermath is secondary.” - “Grow up, Sweetheart. Sit here and sob or come back with me. You can have a home with us. A purpose.” - “And what are you gonna do with that? You aren’t some golden child -- some savior.” - “Well, why don’t you just hang and wait to die, then. I’m outta here.” - “Keep the girl alive for a few more days. It’ll be fun to watch the panic from the front lines.” - “She can go up in flames with the rest of them.” - “That’s her! The one that escaped from the city! Bring her down!” - “I didn’t know it was gonna be THIS kind of party. I wouldn’t have dressed up.” - “I drink juice when I’m killing ‘cuz it’s fucking delicious.” - “Talk dirty to those guns and make yourselves useful.” - “This guy looks like he’s already dead.” - “Welcome to the Tube, Candidate.” - “To put it as clearly as possible... There is something wrong with you and we are going to fix it.” - “There’s nothing wrong with me. There’s something wrong with you.” - “Let’s party.” - “Poor soul. The first time he picks up a gun in years, he gets gunned down. And it was because of you, you know. He was trying to save you.” - “Well, whatever it was, it’s now just another piece of junk that has to be disposed of.” - “It’s not just a piece of junk. They aren’t just metal and wires -- just robots...” - “First one to bag a corpse gets a hot chocolate.” - “They deserve to be free.” - “What the -- ?! Am I dead?” - “Hurry up, now -- We don’t have much time. There’s something I have to tell you... There’s a choice you have to make.” - “All of her anger and rage -- Her stubbornness and spirit -- channeled into you. It manifested into something deadly -- something dangerous. Something grew inside you.” - “You are a bomb.” - “The ground isn’t as cold with you two in it.” - “I believe you have something that belongs to me.” - “Sorry about that. We thought you were dead and your cat looked lonely.” - “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared about. This one’s staying with me.” - “One more thing. I’m not hiding anymore.” - “BOOM.” - “I have an idea.” - “You knew that I bleed and still you gave your life to save mine...” - “I knew you never left me. Thank you for showing me the way.” - “Get ready for the fight of our lives.” - “He begged for his life, you know. He begged for you and you weren’t there to save him.” - “I wasn’t finished talking.” - “You didn’t think it was that easy, did you?” - “Get ready to die.” - “But ma’am. Aren’t you worried she will blow up?” - “This is your plan? Just give up?” - “I never gave up. Firing guns is your way. I need to find my way.” - “Kill me, please. There’s nothing left.” - “I’m done killing.” - “I’m sorry... For everything I’ve done.” - “Hey... Excuse me. I’m lost, can you help me?” - “Wait... Do I know you?” - “You’re not lost anymore.”