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nkirukaj · 3 months

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I Want You, Simon- Chapter 17

Pairing: Simon Petrikov x Fem! OC

Warnings: implied sexual feelings

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Word Count: 2.67K

Chapter 16

“Wait, you didn’t know they were called ‘bikes’?

“No! To me a ‘bike’ is a contraption with two wheels that you pedal on the ground!”

She laughs “That sounds silly. Two wheels on the ground? Like, how do you even balance on that?”

“That was something people learned as kids in my time.”

“Well, everyone learns how to ride a bike, basically as like babies.”

“Yeah, but clearly we’re talking about different things!”

She smiles “We are, yours is just ridiculous.”

He shakes his head at the table. Samira is at the stove cooking, she wouldn’t tell him what she was making, so he had to wait and be surprised “You didn’t have to cook for me.”

“I’m not. I’m cooking for me and you’re just here, so I’m choosing to feed you.”

“You don’t have to,”

She scoffs “What do I look like having a guest in my house, and not feeding them?”

“Am I really a guest to you anymore?” he smiles and tapes the table

“Well then, why wouldn’t I feed a friend?” she turns and smiles at him “Besides, I wanted to talk to you.” She turns back around towards the stove

“About what?”

“I’ll get to it in a second.”

Samira approaches her oven and pulls out a fully cooked turkey, and places it on the counter, followed by a pan of baked macaroni and cheese.

“You bake it?” he asked curiously

“Hmm?” she turned to look at him after placing the pan on the counter

He points to the pan “The macaroni and cheese? You bake it.”

“Yes.” She states plainly “That’s the only way I’ve ever seen it get made,” Simon is somewhat confused, but intrigued by this “How do you make it?”

“I don’t really, but Betty-” he stops in the middle of his sentence, seeing Samira tense up for a moment. He chooses not to finish that sentence. “Sorry.” he says

Samira exhales and turns off the stove “It’s fine. Finish your sentence.”

“I was just going to say that she usually made it on the stove.”

Samira is quiet for a moment while she places each meal item on a plate. First, carving the turkey, scooping the mac and cheese, then the peas and carrots she had cooking on the stove. She places the plate with a fork and a knife in front of him.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” she sits down in front of him

He feels a bit too awkward to eat something, feeling that he caused an awkward silence. It seemed like Samira could sense this and gestured toward his plate “Go ahead and eat it. That’s why I put it there.” She smiles a little.

He does start to eat cautiously and slowly, while still making sure to listen to what she’s saying.

“I know that you apologized to me like a few weeks ago, but I think that I should be apologizing to you.” He looks confused, but has food in his mouth, so he can’t exactly speak. Samira finds this extremely cute, and laughs and smiles. “Sorry.” she takes another breath “It was entirely inappropriate for me to show up to your house like that. In that manner and at that hour. Again, I’m sorry for vomiting on your floor.”

He’s finally swallowed the food and is free to respond “I told you it was okay,”

“You’re very nice, but it’s not okay.” She shakes her head slowly and touches his hand “But what I mostly want to apologize about is…” she bites her lip anxiously before saying “The way I reacted in the first place. I shouldn’t be acting like that just because you bring up….Betty. I really had the time to stop and think about it. I don’t know, for some reason, I feel really defensive when you talk about her. Especially when it’s for a really long time. I’m not sure what it is. But I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a child.”

Simon reaches out and touches her hand back “You’re not acting like a child.” His voice is gentle and soft. “I get melancholy when I think about her as well. I know it isn’t the same, but it’s similar.”

“It’s not though.” She stands, “You knew her. You loved her. It makes sense for you to feel that way.” She paces around the kitchen “I’ve never even met her. She was gone before I even met you!” she whips around to look at him “Her being gone is the reason that I met you,” she says this part quietly

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” he looks up at where she stands

She exhales once more “I’m not going to stop you from talking about Betty.” She states plainly “This is my issue, and I shouldn’t be making it your problem.”

“Sami, you’re allowed to feel however you feel. It would be cruel of me to ask you to stop.”

“You’re not asking,” she says with a fake laugh “This is a choice that I’m making. You can talk about her all you need-want to. It’s cruel of me to try and tell you what you’re allowed to talk about. You can talk all you want and I’ll be here to listen. Whenever you need me.” She is resolute in this decision “You need time, I get it. So talk as much as you need to. It’s good for you.”

He tilts his head to the side “But what about you?”

She nods “I’ll be fine.”

Simon stands and goes to meet her where she stands and grabs her hands inside his. She looks up at him with sparkling eyes. “I care about you, okay? I want you to make sure you feel good. And I do like you. I want you to remember that.”

“Thank you, but I do feel good about myself.”

He puts his hand on her shoulder “But do you know that I know that I like you?”

“I- what?” she smiles up at him

He grins back at her “What?”

They both laugh wholeheartedly, to the point where they have to stop and catch their breath.

Marceline was floating around Samira’s house with her new guitar, strumming aimlessly and humming with the melody that she made up as she went along. Bonnie sat on the couch reading, while Samira sat at her desk, looking into her notebook and listening to her computer.

“What are we doing Samira?” She half sung “I thought we were practicing”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.”

“If you know, then what’s going on?” she strums the guitar aggressively

She waves her off “I’m just working on something”

Marcy goes over to where she sits “What even is this?”

“It’s just something I’m working on,”

“What is this, some nerd thing?”

Samira looks up at her in embarrassment. She covers up the notebook. “No!” Marceline raises her eyebrow, and in that moment Samira knew Marcy would never leave it alone.

Marcy smiles and leans in. “Oooh. What don’t you want me to see?”

“It’s nothing!” Samira’s tone became less and less believable

“Samira…”

“Oh wait, weren’t we supposed to start rehearsal?”

“Nope, it's too late! I’m interested in this now!”

Marceline glances at Samira’s headphones, and Samira glances as well, just a second too late, they both lunge for the headphones, Marcy gets to them quicker. She puts them on and plays the music. Samira has to succumb to embarrassment and defeat. She sits as Marceline listens to the music on the player, waiting to see her reaction. Honestly, she had wanted feedback on it, but she was too scared to show it to anyone else. She was too afraid of being laughed at.

After about three minutes, Marceline is silent. She takes the headphones off slowly, staring Samira in the face, while Samira can’t even bear to look her in the eye.

“Samira” she speaks very seriously. “Is this about Simon?”

Samira looks away from the Vampire Queen and doesn’t respond. Marcy removes the headphones and places them on Samira’s desk “Hey Bonnie come listen to this!” She calls for her girlfriend

“What are you doing?” Samira covers her computer

“Showing her the song you wrote. More ears means more feedback, doesn’t it?”

Bonnibel comes rushing into the room “Am I needed? I heard my name?”

“Yeah come listen to this awesome song babe,”

She grimaces “I don’t really like the songs you like Marcy.”

“Yeah, I know, but I feel like you’ll like this one. It’s very pink-esque”

Bonnie looks apprehensive and reaches for the headphones, placing them on her ears.

“Come on Samira,” Marcy touches her arm “Let people hear your feelings”

Samira reluctantly lets go of her computer and lets the song play. Bonnie looks pleasantly surprised at the tune, and begins smiling while hearing it. Once the song is over, she removes the headphone and looks toward Samira “Is this what you’ve been working on this whole time?”

Samira nods without making eye contact. “It’s amazing! You should let other people hear this!”

“Oh! You should perform it! And let Simon hear!”

“This is about Simon? Oh how sweet!”

“Yes! She should perform it right?!”

Bonnie claps twice and exclaims with a large grin on her face “Yes yes!”

“But where should she perform it?” Marcy strokes her chin

“Oh!” Bonnie chimes in “The Princess is having a ball at the castle to celebrate 600 years of the Candy Kingdom. Maybe she could perform there? I hear the princess loves her singing!”

“Yes baby, that's perfect!”

Bonnie and Marcy hug and then kiss really quickly in jubilation, while Samira doesn’t move. She’s still burdened by the uncertainty and anxiety that coursed through her veins.

“Hey,” Marcy turned back to Samira, after noticing her lack of intense happiness “What’s wrong?”

Samira lets out a small groan “I don’t know if I should sing this.”

“Why?”

“Because!” She lets out an exasperated sigh “I don’t want to embarrass myself okay? I don’t want to sing all about my feelings for this guy, and then it does nothing! I’ll look like a huge fool.”

“Hey.” Bonnie approached, trying to be helpful. “Think logically, no one knows that the song is supposed to be about Simon, but us right? And we’re not going to laugh at you. Just don’t tell anyone who the song is supposed to be about. Don’t even tell Simon! And his name isn’t in the song either. You’re golden! Just get up there and sing your truth. They’ll love it.” She touches Samira’s back “They always do.” She smiles

Samira sits up “Yeah they do, don’t they?”

“They do.” Marcy agrees and Samira is filled with a new sense of determination.

“I’ll perform the song.”

Simon hands Samira a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows while she sits on his couch, and he sits on one of his chairs.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks her

She smiles “Yes, and warm.”

He smiles back at her, “That’s good.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, drinking their hot chocolate. Simon reads and Samira stares out the window, thinking. She thought about the sun, the moon, the stars, and the sky. She thought about her existence and the fact that she happened to be alive at this very moment and in this very place, and how it was such a lucky coinicidence that she was alive around so many amazing people-

“Do you ever think about sex?” She asked the man in front of her

Simon is quite startled by her question, he lowers the book and the mug “What?” he asks through a mixture of a cough and a laugh

“What?” we’re both adults, we can talk about it” She pouts and crosses her arms

“I wasn’t debating our ages,” he’s still smiling “I was just caught off guard by the suddenness of you asking that.”

“But you didn’t answer the question,”

Simon looks a bit less distinguished when he answers “Yes Sami, I think about sex sometimes.” He brushes the nothing off of his button up shirt “I seem to find myself thinking about it a lot more these days.” he speaks pointedly at her

“I think about it like all the time.” She stares out the window, when she says this

“All the time?”

“Well not literally, all the time. But I think about like, how people had to have sex to create me, and also everyone else. And then when I meet people I think about whether or not they’ve had sex. And then I especially think about it if they’re attractive or if they have a partner.”

“Why?” he leans a bit forward

Samira shrugs “I honestly can’t help it. It’s not something that I make the choice to think about, it kind of just pops into my head randomly. And then I get turned on.”

“Are you comfortable with me?”

Simon’s question snaps Samira out of a sort of trance “Hmm? Oh, I already told you yes, I’m comfortable.”

“No, are you comfortable with me?”

She blinks “Yes.”

“Good. I just want to make sure.”

“Why?”

“I just thought because you tell me all the things that you’re thinking and I love that, but I wanted to make sure it was because you’re comfortable with me and not because you feel like you have to.”

Samira covers her mouth “Am I talking too much? Do I say too much? Are you getting tired of listening to me?”

“No,” he smirks, “I think it’s cute. I think you’re cute Sami.” Samira is very flattered and shows it on her face “And whatever question you’re thinking right now, you can ask it.”

“How do you know I have a question?”

He leans back into his chair, smiling at her “Becauase you’re Samira, and I know you.”

She crosses her arms again “FIne, I do have a question.”

“Ask it babe,”

Samira’s face turns a bit pink before she opens her mouth once again.

“When you were…intimate, would you say that you were more dominant or submissive?”

“Would you believe me if I said dominant?”

Samira laughs before saying “Not really,”

Simon chuckles “I didn’t think so. No, I was more on the submissive side.”

“Amazing!”

“Why?”

Her eyes glisten “Because I’m dominant.” He laughs a little louder than usual “What, do you not believe me?”

“I believe you,” he pushes his hair behind his ear

“Good,” she approaches him and pushes all of his hair back with both her hands and smirks “Call me Dommy Sami.”

“Dommy Sami? Oh that’s a good one”

“Yup, I’m your Dommy Mommy Sami.” She says with a large grin on her face

“Mommy?” He grins with a raised eyebrow

“Yes. That’s what I make my men call me.”

“And I’m one of your men?”

“Yes” she blinks as if this is obvious

“But I thought you said I was ‘Daddy’” he questioned

She nods “Yes. And I’m Mommy. Mommy and Daddy.” She gives him a face that says ‘duh’

“Ah, I see.”

She’s sitting in his lap now and he’s holding her around the waist while her legs are on either side of his, she looks down at their position and looks back up at the antiquarian

“You like sitting like this?”

“Hmm?” He looks down at their position “Oh, I hadn’t even noticed”

She sticks out and bites her tongue “And you haven’t pushed me off. Must mean you’re letting yourself like things nowadays.”

“I try.” He leans in and kisses her on the forehead, and she kisses him back at the same spot as she holds his head in her hands

“I love looking at you. You’re such a beautiful person.”

“Thank you, as are you.” He strokes her cheek with his thumb

“And we’re accepting compliments now?” she smirks at him

“Should I not?”

“I’m just pointing out your progress,” She shrugs and lays her head down on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around her.

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dhampiravidi · 7 months

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[KNIFE]: sender uses a knife to rip receiver's clothes (Ronnie and Jas 👀)

[sexy times 🥰]

It was the fourth time they'd had sex. The first two had been dismissed as blowing off some steam, burning adrenaline, whatever accidentally happened after they'd come out of a mission with zero wounds and violent pride. The third time wasn't talked about. It was hard, from a common-sense perspective, to explain how Ronnie's face ended up pressed into Jas's cunt, groaning as he left deeper bruises on her thighs the harder she rode him.

They'd sparred before, but not...not with knives. And definitely not with the intensity of sparks lighting up a fireplace. The two of them had always been fairly competitive--after all, the job they'd chosen was one that required precision and practice. There wasn't room for mistakes in their line of work, and you were good until you ended up dead. Not to mention, they were baby birds that'd been shoved out their nests. Training had been over years ago, and there was no going back, no getting help from their old mentors. They were both supposed to work alone, but for the moment, an alliance had become the best option.

So when they went from bruising kicks and takedowns to slashing at each other with knives, neither of them batted an eye. They just kept fighting, lunging and swiping, until he tore into the fabric of her cute, loose romper. Despite the decent amount of money she (typically) had access to, it wasn't often that Jas had any possessions she got attached to--lots got left behind when she was running from angry mobsters and government agencies.

"Ronnie! You fucking fuck!" she cried, kicking at his torso. He dodged, tossed his knife to the side, and barreled into her, taking her down even while she jabbed him with the handle of her knife. Ronnie just snickered, grabbing her arm and applying pressure so he could steal her weapon. "Oh, fuck you." He rested the tip of the blade on the hollow of her throat, then ran it straight down, til it reached the damage he'd done...right between her breasts. Hers weren't particularly large, but the otherwise tight confines of her top put them right there.

Jas and Ronnie's eyes met at the same time. He was already hovering over her, so it didn't take much for her to yank him down into a rough kiss. And their kisses only ever led one way. He'd adjusted his grip on the knife so he wouldn't hurt her, and when he shifted his weight to deepen the kiss, he inadvertently pressed his crotch against her knee. Immediately, he whined and groaned, trying to be subtle with how he began to rut against her. She just grinned, nipping at his lips.

"Nn--ah, fuck you--"

"Go ahead. You might blow up if you don't." Ronnie growled and expertly cut her top open, then groped one of her breasts with his free hand before he licked the hardening nipple. She stifled a weak whimper, and hunger flashed in his eyes. He cut away her clothes like he was carving a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, smirking when he found damp panties hugging her clit.

"I'm gonna blow up, huh? You sprung a fuckin' leak--" Her free hand seized his throat and squeezed, just enough for his blood to go from his head to his pants. God, he loved her when she tried to kick his ass. And she could, even though she was more than half a foot shorter and forty pounds lighter. Fuck if that wasn't hot.

He threw the knife away, shoved her panties to the side, and sunk two fingers in, easy. They both exhaled sharply--

"Condom, now." Neither of them should have a kid. Made sense.

"Yes, ma'am." Ronnie stripped and came back wearing a condom. As much as he wanted to pin Jas down and get her clinging to him while he fucked her dumb, she had a rule: she always topped. Arguing wasted time (and once, they'd done it sideways), so he just lied down and let her climb on top, looking horny and crazy and sexy with her tattered clothes and "you made me this way, you shit-grin ass" face. They licked into each other's mouths and bit at sweaty skin, fingers running all over. She rode him hard and fast. Pressed together as they were, the first round only lasted a few minutes.

They collapsed on the floor, both panting on their backs after four more.

"Y-you're...buying me another..." Jas managed.

"Yeah, OK."

#jkw: thread #in—somnium #in—noctem #thanks for the ask!

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 2 years

Text

The Demigod From Asgard - Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 11)

Summary: You celebrate your very first thanksgiving

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Fluff! Painfully slow slow burn!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 11: A Lot of Thanks to Give

Thanksgiving soon rolled around and you and Steve were making your way to the tower. Steve had picked you up on his bike before the two of you zipped through the streets on Manhattan towards the tower. As you pulled up you could still see the construction work being done to repair the damage from the battle.

Once you arrived the two of you made you way up in the elevator. When the doors opened you were greeted by the friendly faces of Tony, Bruce, Rhodey and Pepper.

“Ah the old folks have arrived!” Tony exclaims walking over, glass of whiskey in hand.

“Hilarious” Steve deadpans as he shakes Tony’s hand.

“No Nat and Clint?” You ask noticing their absence.

“No they said they already had plans, are they a thing?” Tony asks as he walks over to the bar.

“I don’t think so, just friends” Steve answers as the two of you follow Tony over to the bar.

“Potato, Potato what’s your poison?” Tony asks.

“Just a beer for me please” Steve answers leaning against the bar, raising a brow at you silently asking what you want.

“Same here” you say looking back over at Tony.

He smirks at the two of you before grabbing two beers, opening and passing them to you. The three of you then go and join the others on the couch.

“So this is your first thanksgiving isn’t it Y/N?” Pepper asks as you sit down, Steve sitting down next to you.

“Yeah, I’m excited to try it, we had feasts all the time back on Asgard, they’re a lot of fun” You smile.

“Well I don’t think thanksgiving gets as rowdy, most people fall asleep afterwards” Bruce chuckles.

“Oh good, because the one thing I didn’t like about Asgardian feasts was the mess” you chuckle taking a sip of your beer.

While you all waited for the food to be cooked you all chatted and caught up. Steve and Rhodey were talking about their time in the military, as well as exchanging stories about Tony. Bruce and Tony were talking about something technical that didn’t make sense to you so you stopped paying attention. While Pepper was telling you about her job at Stark industries and how she manages to deal with Stark on a nearly daily basis.

Soon JARVIS alerted you all that dinner was ready and you all made your way to the dining room. As you walked in you saw the impressive spread of food. The large roasted turkey taking centre stage in the middle of the table.

Tony sat at the head of the table, with pepper beside him, Rhodey sitting at the other end. Steve pulled out your seat for you before sitting down next to you. Bruce taking the last spot between Pepper and Rhodey.

“This all looks incredible” you say looking at all the food.

“Well hopefully it tastes as good as it looks, Cap you wanna do the honours?” Tony asks holding out the carving knife.

“Oh no, you’re the host Tony you do it” Steve says holding up his hands.

“Of course, was only offering to be polite” Tony says before he starts carving the turkey.

You all began to pile your plates full of food. Steve quietly explaining the dishes that you didn’t recognise. Soon your plate was full of delicious food. You were just about to tuck in when Tony interrupted.

“Okay what are you kids all thankful for?” Tony asks and you remember Steve explaining this to you.

“Well I’m thankful to have you in one piece, no more space wormholes please” Pepper says putting her hand on top of Tony’s.

“Yes I’m definitely thankful for that too, what about you banner?” Tony asks.

Bruce rubs his hands nervously “uh well I guess I’m thankful for the opportunity to work here with you guys, bit more normality no need to worry about the big guy” Bruce says with a small and sheepish smile.

“I’m thankful for great friends and my awesome job” Rhodey says with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Cap you’re up” Tony asks taking a sip of his drink.

“Well I’d say I’m thankful for a second chance of life, and some pretty nice people to live it with” Steve says smiling over at you.

Everyone turns to look at you and you rack your brain for an answer. It being a pretty obvious one in the end.

“I’m thankful for the chance to live on and learn more about this amazing planet, alongside some amazing people who have made the transition 1000 times easier” you smile glancing over at Steve.

“Cute, now lets eat” Tony says.

The room falls silent as everyone tucks in. The food was some of the most delicious food you had ever had. You sighed to yourself after a delicious mouthful, catching Steve smirking over at you.

“Enjoying it?” He smirks.

“Very much so” you say taking another large mouthful.

The conversation began to pick up as the pace everyone ate at began to slow. Soon everyone’s plates were emptied and people were slouched in their seats feeling quite full.

“Anyone got space for pie?” Tony asks resting back in his seat hand over his stomach.

“Maybe a small slice” Pepper says as she wiped the corner of her mouth gently with a napkin.

“What kind of pie?” Bruce asks.

“Well since I wasn’t sure what people wanted I got a variety made” Tony explains as a couple people bring out three different pies.

“We have the traditional pumpkin, blueberry and apple pie” Tony says pointing to the three pies.

“Which one do you suggest?” You ask turning to Steve.

“Well if you wanna stick to thanksgiving transitions I would suggest the pumpkin pie, but my personal favourite is apple pie” Steve explains.

“If I had a slice of pumpkin would you let me try a bite of your apple?” You ask tilting your head in question, smiling over at him sweetly.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll allow it this one time” Steve smiles.

Once you were served you slice of pumpkin pie, Steve offered you his fork with a bite of his apple pie on it. You take the fork from his and eat the bite of apple pie. Sighing in content at the explosion of flavours in your mouth.

“I see why it’s your favourite” you smile passing the fork back to Steve.

“Yes, now stop eyeing mine and eat your pumpkin pie” Steve chuckles shifting his plate slightly away from you.

You laugh shaking your head at him when he put his arm on the table between you and his pie. You tuck into your pie which was also very nice but not nice as the apple pie.

It took a lot for Steve to feel full after a meal but this thanksgiving meal definitely did. After eating the pies and once everyone felt able to move they all made their ways back to the living room.

“Another drink Steve?” Tony asks standing up.

“Yeah whatever you’re having” Steve says as he settles down on the couch, you sitting beside him again.

“Are you sure it’s pretty strong” Tony warns as he pours Steve a glass.

“Yeah, I can’t actually get drunk” Steve tells him as Tony walks back over.

“That is actually heart breaking” Tony says as he passes Steve his drink.

“I can’t either, or at least not without Asgardian liquor” you say as you tucked your feet up underneath you.

“Wow, Bruce do you think we could help?” Tony says as he sits down.

“Dunno, increasing the alcohol percentage might actually just do damage” Bruce pounders out loud.

“Well when you can get your hands on that Asgard stuff give us some, see if we can replicate it” Tony offers.

“Will do, once the rainbow bridge is fixed” you agree.

“Have I slipped into a food coma, or did you just say rainbow bridge” Tony says looking over at you with a stunned expression.

“I did” you smirk not elaborating.

The conservation continued to flow only dying out when Tony put on the movie Groundhog day. It was a movie that was on Steve’s list but hadn’t got round to yet so he was interested in watching in.

As the movie went on Steve could see the effects of the large meal starting to take hold. Tony was already asleep his mouth wide open as his head rested back on the couch. Glancing over to you, Steve could see you slowly begin to drift off. You had one arm on the back of the couch just behind Steve’s shoulder, using that hand to rest your head. Gradually as you fell more and more asleep you head dropped out your hand and onto Steve shoulder.

Steve looked over at you smiling gently as you peacefully slept. When you shift to get more comfortable he wraps his arm around you. Letting it lie gently against your back. This close Steve could smell the shampoo you used, the fresh smell of apples filling his nostrils.

As he turned his attention back to the film he spots Pepper looking over at him and you. She smiles before pulling her fingers across her lips signalling her promise to keep this from Tony. Steve smiles giving her a small nod in appreciation.

Eventually Steve felt his own eyelids grow heavy and despite his best efforts he soon fell asleep. His head resting on top of yours.

He woke to the feeling of you shifting beside him. Glancing round the room he could see everyone else was still asleep. Looking back down at you he watched your eyes flutter open and meet his.

“Oh sorry I didn’t mean to-“ you apologise but Steve stops you.

“No its okay, let’s get you home” he smiles standing up and offering you his hand.

As they left Steve told JARVIS to let Tony know they had left when he wake up. The walk back to his bike was silent, but comfortable the both of them still a little sleepy.

As he drove you back to your apartment, Steve felt you rest your head on his back. He gently moves your arms more around his waist to make sure you didn’t accidentally fall off if you fell back asleep.

When he pulled up outside of your apartment building you slowly climbed off of the bike. Rubbing your eyes tiredly with a small yawn.

“Thanks for today Steve, it was really nice. Glad I got to spend my first thanksgiving with you” you smile.

Steve smiles back up at you from the bike “it was nothing, glad you enjoyed it now go on, go rest i’ll text you in the morning” he says.

You nod your head smiling at him before turning and walking up the stairs to the door. You turn around giving Steve a small wave before stepping inside out of view.

Steve sighed to himself and small smile on his face. Taking a moment to himself before he started up his bike to drive on to his own apartment. Today had been one of the best thanksgivings he’d had in a very long time. And he couldn’t help but think it was because of you.

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itsthestutterforme · 3 years

Text

Tamed (Ari Levinson)

Summary: Ari tames an oddly strong and dominant omega with the softest of voices.

Notes: A/B/O dynamics, GIF is not mine

Three, two, one and pose. You and your sister were doing a summer photo shoot in sun dresses and sunflower fields. She sets the timer on her phone and you two find various poses when the timer reached one.

The phone took a burst of photos and you scroll through them to see how they turned out. Your sister was a bit skiddish about you leaving the house in what you were wearing.

In her mind, it was bad enough that you were an omega. But wearing a strapless sun dress just adds to the appeal. She doesn't understand how you want to be out and about places, knowing that your scent is more than alluring to Alphas.

Truth is, an ex boyfriend of yours was well versed in martial arts and he happily showed you how to defend yourself escpecially since he knew how erratic Alphas can be when catching an irresistible scent even if you did take suppressants.

You knew that when push came to shove, you could defend yourself enough to run away and get to safety. "I'm hungry," your sister says, holding her stomach as it grumbled.

"Let's go to Roy's. I've been craving their burgers lately." You suggest and she nods. You grab the tripod and advance back to your car. Pulling into Roy's parking lot, you grab your wristlet and hop out of the car.

Your sister walks in front of you to shield you from potential threats. You walk into the restaurant and some of the conversations died down at the bar. You looked to see the men at the bar turning their heads and staring at you.

"Hey, pretty lady." You hear and roll your eyes in response. "Table for two, please." Your sister tells the host but she doesn't move from her post. Instead, she just stares at you and what you were wearing. "Hello, Earth to hostess." Your sister starts, snapping her out of her trance.

"You two should leave. There's a lot of Alphas here and you're just going to start trouble. Have you heard of suppressants? I could smell you from the road." The hostess snaps. "Excuse me?" You sister says, stepping close to her but you pull her back.

"Honey, I take suppressants every day. Not like it's any of your business. We'll seat ourselves, thank you." You say, grabbing some menus and walking to a booth. You sit down and tap your finger nails on the table as you review the menu.

And as expected a group of men approach you, but you don't bother looking up from the menu. "An unclaimed omega traveling without her alpha. Bad idea." A man says. "What makes you think I have an alpha?" "So you're unmarked and unclaimed. Looks like I've found my new mate, boys."

"Wrong, I'll never me your mate. I refuse to settle for an Alpha that has only two brain cells." You retort, your eyes never leaving the menu. Your comment made the guys around him snicker, and he growls in response.

Soon you feel a rough hand grab the back of your neck and your body went into attack mode. Your claws grew out and you dig your nails into his solar plexus. You hold the hand that was originally on your neck and sank your claws into his wrist. He groans and stades down hands with wide eyes.

"I'm not your ordinary omega, you dimwhit. You want me. Earn me." You growl at him before pushing him away and extracting your claws from him. He collapses to the ground but gets up within seconds. A deep growl erupts from his chest and he reaches for you.

Sheathing your knife from your thigh holster, you were ready to carve him up like a Thanksgiving turkey until you heard someone whispering to you.

"Relax, baby." Normally you wouldn't hear it but it was like your ears were tuned to this specific voice. A deep voice that gives you chills.

A man reaches around and grabs the aggressive alpha's throat. He pulls him backwards so he falls flat on his ass and the new Alpha stalks towards him with his body crouched like he was ready to attack but the aggressive Alpha stands and runs out of the restaurant.

The new Alpha turns around, his warm smile turning you to mush. You have to keep your guard up. You can't trust anyone, Y/N. "Drop the knife," he suggests softly and the knife fell from your hands without a second thought.

You hated this. You don't even know what this is. It's like your body was in full control and your mind was irrelevant. "Good girl, now come here." He says and your legs takes you over there to him. He lifts your chin so you are looking up into his eyes and his beautiful lashes.

Everything about this man was beautiful, and his hair looked so soft you could reach out and rake his hands through the "Y/N, is everything alright? Who is this guy?" Your sister says, looking between the two of you in confusion. Neither of you break eye contact and you answer, "Yes, I'm fine."

"My name is Ari. Ari Levinson. Do you both want to have dinner with me?" He asks and you nod your head, melting when he smiles down at you. "Follow me," he instructs.

Your sister decided to leave you alone with Ari as she felt like the third wheel. The bond between you and Ari developed faster than she has ever seen it. You bounce your leg nervously under the table as you nibble on a surprisingly good chicken teriyaki that Ari made.

He could smell your anxiety and said, "Relax, Y/N. I'm not the other Alphas." "What do you mean?" "I'm saying that I know how to treat a woman. You are a woman before you're an omega." He starts and he watched as your shoulders sag with relief.

"But don't get it twisted, I'm a soft dom." He adds and you nearly choke on your chicken. "What's a soft dom?" You say after you recover.

"When I give punishments, it's not through physical force. I am very meticulous and keep track of when you disobey. And will give back the same treatment." He explains, biting his lip with amusement.

"What does that mean?" You ask, not appreciating him being so vague. "That means that I'll give you orgasms that it starts to become more painful than pleasurable. You see, there's a thin line between pleasure and pain. And I know how to bend that line in my favor."

He pushes his dish to the side and leans his biceps on the table, making them bulge out of his button up shirt. He was taunting you. He could smell the arousal oozing down your thighs. You heart races as he stands up from his chair and leans on the table next to you.

"Everything is alright, omega. I won't touch you unless you want me to." He says. "But, does that sound like something you're interested in?" This time you stand from the chair and stand in between his legs. This was definitely not your brain telling you to do this. It was your damn hindbrain.

Your eyes drift to his neck and he says, "You wanna scent me, omega?" "Use your words," he says when you only nod in agreement. "Yes," "Yes what?" He ghosts a hand along your jawline. "Yes, Alpha." "Good girl,"

#alpha! ari levinson #omega!reader #ari levinson x reader #a/b/o dynamics #drabble #soft!dom

186 notes · View notes

dastardlydandelion · 3 years

Note

Billy having the bust appendix episode?

so i combined these into one thingy??

also the latter, uh, it's. like?? i played w ur prompt, dude, chose to focus more on the concept of "not lasting" w susan and max tho bc if i write neil for too long it'll inevitably turn into another murder fic.

ao3 link

content warnings: referenced/discussed abuse, brief suicidal ideation

“Day four of fever, fella. That’s no fun.” Susan sets the thermometer aside with a frown and brushes the back of her hand over his cheek.

Billy blinks slowly at the touch. It wasn’t that long ago that he would’ve pushed her away. He hasn’t exactly enjoyed having the Stomach Flu From Hell for the better half of the week, but he supposes if there was ever a time to get sick, it’s now. Because these past few days have been the last few days he’s ever going to get with Susan and Max. He can use being sick as an excuse to let them get close like this. He can let himself let them close without feeling defensive or embarrassed because after tonight, he’ll never see them again.

“I feel better,” he mumbles as she brushes his fringe back, pad of her thumb gingerly lingering over the nick in his brow. “Really, Sue, s’not as bad today.”

And it’s not. Today’s Wednesday and he’s been feeling shitty since Sunday night, sluggish and nauseous with a nagging stomachache. He managed not to puke up Sunday dinner until Monday morning, although he didn’t actually make it to the bathroom. Susan scrubbed it out of his bedroom carpet even though Billy told her to leave it. Max stayed home from school to keep him company, which really…genuinely meant a lot to Billy, considering skipping school meant sacrificing some of the little time remaining with her friends. And she did it to just to hang out with his sweaty, grouchy, probably contagious and definitely less sociable self.

His stomachache got worse throughout the day but he hadn’t said anything about it to anyone. Didn’t say anything on Tuesday either, even though by evening it hurt so fucking bad it was like there was an invisible knife carving into his guts, blade twisting so terribly the only thing that helped at all was curling into a fetal position. Billy was almost frightened, actually. He doesn’t believe he’s ever felt worse than the torture he went through Tuesday, not even at his father’s hands.

But he couldn’t say anything. Not with everything going on. He wouldn’t do anything to possibly compromise the plan. Couldn’t let himself do anything that could delay their escape. So he sucked it up and kept his mouth screwed shut, endured in silence.

The relentless agony of nonexistent knives twisting through his guts kept him up all night. Then very early this morning, just as the sunrise’s first rays began to lighten the sky, the pain subsided. Billy still feels uncomfortable and he’d probably hurl again if he got a whiff of goat cheese or canned sardines, but it doesn’t compare to the misery of last night.

“How about I put the kettle on? Ginger tea is good for stomach bugs.”

“Nah.”

“What about chamomile?”

“No.”

“Peppermint?”

“Stop, Sue. I don’t want tea.”

“Please. You’ve barely kept anything down all week and you’re sweating like a turkey at Christmas. You’ll feel even worse if you get dehydrated, Billy.”

Susan retracts her hand with a fretful noise in her throat and turns to the door. With a sudden spike of panic that she’s— she’s leaving —he frees an arm from the blanket and grabs her wrist. Susan jumps as though she’s touched a hot stove. Billy immediately lets go. He wasn’t thinking.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Susan, I just…”

Chewing her lip, she nods down at him. She carefully sits on the edge of his bed, one leg folding on the mattress, opposite foot still on the floor. She takes his face in her chilly hands and Billy heaves out a sigh.

“I wish things were different,” she murmurs. “If the, uh…if the p-place Max and I are going accepted boys your age, you’d be coming with us. I promise I’d take you with us if I could.”

The shelter doesn’t allow male children over age twelve, Susan had informed Billy the night she told him they were leaving. She’d said it apologetically, eyes sorrowful like the look she’s giving him right now. She’s said it like it scraped her throat on the way out, tragic and grave as though she were reading him his own obituary.

It was the oddest thing Billy couldn’t begin to comprehend. He wouldn’t go with them even if going with them was an option. And never had he ever expected it to be an option. He doesn’t understand why Susan is looking at him like that.

“I just grabbed you. I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

Susan’s face twitches like he’s the one being weird, like it isn’t she who’s looking at him with all these things he never wanted from her.

“You didn’t hurt me, Billy, just startled me a bit. I’m as skittish as a doe and of course today is…it’s a big day.”

“…what time?”

Susan spares a glance to his door. Still shut. Neil’s getting ready for work and he wouldn’t dare enter Billy’s room right now anyway. Wouldn’t risk catching whatever Billy has. He’d sent Susan in the bathroom Monday after Billy had barely stumbled out, wan from the latest round of purging, in drill sergeant mode and demanding that Susan bleach every contaminated tile.

“Noon. I want to drive in the daylight. Max is staying home from school. I told your father she caught your bug.”

Billy raises a brow.

“She didn’t,” Susan clarifies. “But he didn’t question the excuse. She’s sleeping in, I think it’s best to let her sleep in. It’s a big day.”

“Big day,” Billy repeats quietly.

Susan’s hands are still on his face, gentle and cool. Billy feels hot. The past few days he’s felt too cold or too hot, no in between. He’s either burrowing under the blankets to ward off the icy chills or laying on the bathroom tile to ease the sensation of roasting in his skin.

“I’m going to make you some tea, okay? You don’t have to drink it, but I’d appreciate it if you did. Fluids are important, Billy.”

Susan slides her hands off and Billy wonders if perhaps that’s the last time she’ll ever touch him. She leaves his room. Quietly closes the door behind her. Billy rolls onto his side and wraps his arm around his stomach, wondering if he should’ve let her closer before. If he should’ve let Max closer too.

Maybe it’s better he didn’t. Maybe losing them would hurt more if he did. And it does hurt. Even when the minutes tick down to the time they will exchange their final goodbyes, he’ll never say it out loud, but it hurts. It’s going to gut him when they go.

But it’s good that they’re going. And it’s good that he’s not. Billy ensured early on that Susan knew never to act like his mother. And Susan never seemed particularly passionate about trying, maybe there was even some relief for her that Billy had shut down every feeble attempt, that she never had to claim him. Billy never asked for Max either. The responsibility of a little sister. The pressure of having to set a good example for her, more reasons for Neil to be pissed at him whenever he inexorably failed. Max thought he was cool when they were younger, then there was that really rough patch after the move, and now things are better.

Things are probably the best they’ve ever been between him and Susan, between him and Max, and he’s going to miss them. Billy wants them to leave. Billy wants to be left. But the separation, the severing, the knowledge that he will never see them again pounds his heart like brass knuckles. He’s never going to watch Susan take another spider outside in a tissue, humming her weird little singsong. He’s never going to have to groan and roll his eyes over being Max’s designated chauffeur to the arcade, the park, the monster movie matinee.

He’s going to be alone with Neil.

Susan brings Billy a ceramic mug of steaming tea. She feels his forehead and probes at the sides of his neck, humming in concern. He would never let her fawn over him without a fight on a normal day. He’s only receptive now because he knows they aren’t going to be in each other’s lives anymore. He doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he kind of likes the fawning, but maybe he wouldn’t— maybe he wouldn’t like it at all if she wasn’t leaving, maybe the leaving makes it special. Or maybe it’s easier to think of it that way than to wonder if it would’ve been better to have this kind of relationship all along.

Billy watches the steam rise from the mug. He doesn’t touch the tea. He’s exhausted and he finds himself drifting, dozing off…

When Billy blinks his eyes back open, he’s dismayed to find his stomach hurting again. It might actually be the stomachache that wakes him up. Either the stomachache or Max in the doorway, hand on the knob.

“Are you awake?”

“I am now.” Billy begins to push himself up on his elbows, pauses when his gut lurches.

So much for that plan.

He settles back, and rolls onto his side, tucking his knees up to his chest under the blanket. Some of the pain abates. This position is still the winner.

“Are you okay?” Max rests her hand on the mattress, cocking her head to the side. “Do you need the trash can again?”

“Nah.”

“Okay…My mom’s loading up the car.”

“Yeah?” Billy really hopes she isn’t here to ask him to help. If she does, he will, but just the idea of rolling out of bed sounds like a grandiose effort.

“Yeah. Can I hang out for a little bit?”

Something thick rises in his throat. “Sure thing, shitbird.”

Max climbs onto the bed and over Billy, jostling him enough to make him queasy. She sits at his back. He can’t see her but he feels her hand settle on his shoulder.

“Your room smells like gym socks and barf,” she remarks, scowl audible in her voice.

“When you catch this from me, your room’s gonna smell the same way,” he mutters. Only after the words have left his lips, does Billy really realize what he’s said.

Max’s bedroom here on Cherry Lane isn’t really her bedroom anymore. Susan’s putting her belongings in the car. The next time Max gets sick, maybe it won’t be in a bedroom of her own at all. Or it will be her bedroom in a house far away from here. It’ll be a room Billy will never go in and he’ll never have the opportunity to tease her.

“I’m kinda nervous about the shelter, Billy,” she admits, voice quiet and unsure. “I was nervous when we first moved to Hawkins too. But this is a different kind of nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Billy mutters. “You’re gonna be safer there than you are here.”

“Supposedly,” Max huffs. “You know Neil’s going to be pissed when he finds out. What if he comes after us?”

“I won’t let him,” Billy declares, meaning every word.

“Could you really stop him?”

Billy curls a little tighter in an effort to ease the pain spreading through his stomach. It’s beginning to be more than a nuisance but he’s doing his best not to be distracted. Max needs him right now. This is the last time he’ll ever be an older brother. That’s more important, that’s the thing he needs to devote his attention to. He never asked for the job and he hasn’t been exceptional at it, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to soothe his soon to be ex-sister’s worries with her small hand shaking ever so slightly on his shoulder.

He cranes his neck back to meet her eye and flashes a winning grin he hopes looks less forced than it feels.

”Let’s put it this way, he’d have to kill me to get to you.”

Instead of being reassured, Max looks spooked.

“I really thought he was going to, you know. That night.”

Ah, that night. Billy knows which. He was feeling pretty ballsy, feeling strong and bold after a good workout and a couple of beers. When Neil got in his shit that night, for the very first time, Billy threw a punch.

He remembers thinking that things would go in his favor if he could just get Neil to the ground. That’s the last thing he remembers, actually. Thinking that. And maybe it really would’ve gone in his favor if he’d gotten Neil down. But he didn’t.

Billy doesn’t actually remember what happened. But it definitely wasn’t that.

“He wouldn’t really go that far, Max. Neil talks a big game, but I’m all he’s got and he knows it.”

Max doesn’t seem convinced in the least.

“I think that’s what made Mom decide we had to go,” she says quietly. “That night.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Billy says, tone sharp.

Max glowers, clearly disagreeing. Billy matches her stare.

“…I wonder if there will be other kids my age,” Max murmurs eventually, changing the subject.

Evidently neither of them want to argue their remaining time together away.

If there are kids her age, they’ll be girls, like Neil always wanted. No boys over twelve permitted stay. Billy shifts his head back, eyes sliding from Max and off to the wall. He’s starting to feel Tuesday night’s painful sort of nausea. Like his guts are going through a meat grinder.

“It’ll suck if I’m just surrounded by adults the whole time. However long that’s gonna be…Mom wouldn’t say.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know yet, Max.”

“Maybe not. She’s trying to keep her cool but I can tell she’s nervous. Even more than me and I can’t let on that I’m nervous at all, not to Mom, because then she’ll really flip her lid. She tried so hard to convince me everything will be okay at the shelter. She’ll feel like a failure if she knows I’m scared and Neil’s already made her feel a failure over and over. I won’t do it too.”

This is the last conversation they’re ever going to have. This is the last time they’re ever going to talk to each other. Max is on the precipice of another massive move to somewhere new. All the secrecy and uncertainties surrounding it make it all the more of a transition and Billy’s last job as her older brother is this conversation. He’s trying to focus on it, on her, but the pain in his stomach is growing more insistent.

“Billy?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?”

Billy curls his fingers in the bedsheets and silently begs for it not to get any worse. Not now. Max is leaving, Susan is leaving, fuck it— his fucking family is leaving and he can’t do this right now.

“…uh…yeah. I’m gonna get out of this Hawkins dump as soon as I can. And I bet you and your mom will find somewhere for yourselves better than this dump too, without Neil steering the wheel…how about, five years from now, we meet up in Cali? At least you and me, Sue can come too if she wants.”

Billy doesn’t think she would. Things have been better between him and his stepmother, yeah, but. He knows what he is. And Max— Max too, really. She thinks she’ll want to see him again now. Things have been better and maybe there’s even a part of her that still thinks of him as her cool big brother, but when she gets some distance, she’ll get some perspective and neither of them will want anything to do with him anymore. By then he’ll just be one more ugly part of an ugly life, the wayward offspring of the enemy.

By then he’ll be nothing but a reminder and no one wants reminders.

Max hums thoughtfully. “Yeah. We could do that, right? I always wanted to go back to San Diego…”

She squeezes his shoulder and Billy shuts his eyes. It’s getting harder to ignore how awful he feels. His whole body sagging with the overall illness laying him low. The torrent of nausea washing over him even though he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything left to puke up. The vengeful reprisal of the invisible knife, carving into his guts with a silent wrath.

“…does that sound good? …Billy?”

“What?” He blinks rapidly.

“The zoo, sick brain.” She huffs a little and gives his shoulder another squeeze. “In five years, let’s meet up at the zoo. In the gift shop where you stole the lion keychain.”

“Hey, you remember that.”

“You stole a gag giraffe toy for me too, the squishy one. When you squeeze it, the eyes pop out.”

“Pfft, yeah…I said, ‘look, it’s your mom’ and slipped it in your backpack.”

“I still have that giraffe, Billy,” she continues, voice determined. “I’m bringing it with me. I’ll look at it every day so I don’t forget our meeting place.”

Billy doesn’t really feel like talking anymore. He just wants to shove his head under the pillow and sleep it off, sleep it out. Wake up when his stomach isn’t being stabbed and his heart isn’t being strangled.

It’s a shining fantasy, that’s all. A fuzzy, glowing thing that will never happen. He’s just playing along for Max’s sake.

“What day, Max?”

“I was thinking the Fourth of July. You dad always made sure the fourth was the biggest Hargrove household holiday.” Billy can hear her roll her eyes. “Neither of us will ever forget that date, not even in five years.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Sounds good. We’ll meet again at the San Diego Zoo gift shop in five years, on the fourth.”

“Pinky swear?”

Moving makes the pain worse. Any movements, even small ones.

“Nah. My hands are all sweaty and contagious, you don’t wanna touch ‘em.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m not getting you sick, Max,” Billy states firmly. “You’ve got enough going on.”

There is a pregnant pause.

“I really do,” she says eventually, her tone wary. “I hate Neil. But leaving him means leaving you and my friends, and going somewhere with a bunch of total strangers who have their own Neils who might come after us.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“It could! Stranger things have happened! Stranger things happen all the time!”

Max smacks her hands together and does something with her arms that shifts her weight and in turn, shifts the mattress. The minute movement multiplies the knives and the stabs, and Billy agonizes, grinding his molars against a hiss as those knives in his gut twist so hard he’s already seeing fireworks.

“What’s wrong?”

It hurts so bad. This isn’t the flu. Billy doesn’t know what it is, but it’s definitely not the flu.

“Billy?”

Christ, is he dying?

“Hey.” The back of Max’s hand rests against his cheek, smaller and warmer than her mother’s was, fabric bandaid under her knuckles now protecting that scab she wouldn’t stop picking at. “Geez, you’re burning up. Are you dying?”

He’d gibe back at her if he wasn’t seriously evaluating this possibility. He momentarily considers telling her that he is, that it’s so fucking bad it’s like knives. Then he blinks and Susan’s here, half-in-half-out, one foot over the threshold of his bedroom, the other still in the hallway.

“Time to go, Max.”

Max inhales sharply above his ear. Billy composes himself. He clears his throat and does his best to keep his voice steady.

“You heard her,” he mutters. “Get your ass outta here, lemme sleep this off.”

Abruptly, Max’s weight flops over his torso, arms squeezing. She’s hugging him. She’s hugging him and the pain is so bad it’s blinding. Billy traps a scream between his teeth, burns with shame as the tears spring to his eyes. He can’t bring himself to uncurl enough to push her off. He can’t bring himself to uncurl enough to hug her back.

“Germs,” he manages to grate out, hoping it’s enough.

Max’s arms unlatch and she climbs down from his bed. Billy’s head spins with reeling pain and nausea as she trots across his floor for the final time. She stands at her mother’s side, no longer his responsibility.

“Bye, Billy.” Max’s lips twitch in a sad smile, her hand raised in a halfhearted wave.

Susan steps aside to let her through and lingers for a heartbeat, frowning at him.

“I hope you feel better, Billy…”

“Your tea was bitter,” he gripes even though he hasn’t taken a single sip.

Susan’s eyes sharpen. She sees something, Billy isn’t sure what. Her lips part but he speaks first.

“Please get out.”

So he can cry. So he can scream. It hurts, he hurts. His stomach, his heart. It’s horrible, he’s horrible.

Susan bobs her head and obliges, making herself scarce. Billy hangs onto the sound of steps getting further away. He doesn’t let the tears fall until he hears the door close and then he’s smashing his face into his pillow to smother his sobs in cotton stuffing. Forces himself to stop because crying’s making it worse, much worse, his shoulders are hitching and moving is anguish.

Something is so very wrong.

Billy can’t even think around its wrongness. Last night the pain was sharpest in his side but right now it feels like his whole stomach is burning. He shifts even slightly and his stomach burns with white-hot pain but he’s so cold everywhere else.

Billy lies still and curled and quiet, impatiently waiting for it to get better. If he doesn’t move, it should get better. Curling like this helped last night and then this morning, the pain went away.

Will it go away again if he just keeps waiting?

He’s already waited so long.

Will it come back even worse?

Could it get worse?

That’s a stupid question, everything can get worse. If there is anything Billy has learned in his life, it’s that there’s no real rock bottom. It can always get worse.

That shove will turn into a slap. That slap will turn into a punch. That punch will multiply into many punches. The opposite arm will lock around your throat so those punches can keep pummeling the breath right out of you and the night you think you’re gonna punch back—

No such thing as bad as bad gets, no limits, maybe if he really is dying, it’s for the best. Maybe dying is the best goddamn thing that can happen to you in a world where invisible knives slicing into you and screams shriveling like dead leaves—

(everyone leaves, doesn’t matter if it’s autumn)

—behind your chattering teeth could very well be the least of your suffering. It hurts so bad he can barely breathe.

Billy forces himself out of bed anyway. He always gets up even when he doesn’t want to, but today he’s outstandingly bad at it. His organs must be pureed from all the silent stabs and his legs buckle under him. His hands fly out when he falters, ceramic mug knocked off his nightstand.

When the tea spills on him, it’s cold and Billy’s confused because it’s supposed to be hot tea. Then he’s confused at his own confusion because no fucking shit it’s cold now, it’s been out for hours.

How many hours?

When did Susan put the kettle on?

How long has Susan been gone, Max in tow?

It feels like an eternity but Neil isn’t home yet, so Billy knows that’s not true. He has no idea what time it is, but he knows he’d know if Neil was home. Neil makes his presence known. Neil doesn’t set foot in this house without immediately staking claim to everyone’s attention.

Everyone?

There is no everyone anymore. Just Billy and Neil now. Billy got out of bed with the intention of finding his keys. Driving himself to the hospital. Because it’s been hours, how many he isn’t sure, but enough of them to mean he needs to go to the hospital. Go to the zoo?

No, he— he can’t go to the hospital.

He could make himself get up. Demons slice their claws through his stomach with every chill that wracks his frame and garble their guttural taunts right into his ears but he could get up. He could but he won’t, he knows better.

If Billy goes to the hospital, they’re going to call Neil. It’s a small town. Someone will know who he is even if he pretends to be too out of it to say. Someone will know he belongs to Neil and then Neil will be called. Then Neil will find out even sooner that he’s been left, and he’ll get mad, and Billy doesn’t know what he’ll do with the anger but it won’t be good.

Max and Sue need as much time as they can get, as much distance between him and his dad as possible before he finds out. He’s going to find out but they got a head-start and Billy won’t sabotage that. It’s better for him too, in case Neil decides to turn the rage his way. Neil takes responsibility for jack shit, he might even decide it’s Billy’s fault they're gone, because he got left behind to blame.

Billy could make himself get up but he won’t. He just pulls the comforter off the bed and over himself on the floor. It’s so bad he could writhe but that too, would make it worse. He’s waiting to watch a demon claw its way out of his stomach, like that scene in that one movie he watched with Max.

It wasn’t the last movie he watched with Max. Billy doesn’t remember the last movie he watched with Max, the last movie he’ll ever watch with Max. He’s never going to see her again. If he dies here on the carpet, he supposes he’ll never see anyone again.

Crying about it won’t help. Crying doesn’t solve anything.

Something is making a horrible yowling sound. There’s a stray cat in the neighborhood, it must be right outside his bedroom window. Or else it got inside somehow, it sounds so close. Its cries sound so wretchedly human.

Billy isn’t a brother anymore, he has demons twisting their pitchforks in his stomach, he’s too cold to catch his breath, and his cheeks are very wet. He doesn’t have any time or energy to chase around a stray cat, to stop it from making a mess.

Billy does not die on the floor. When his father comes home at first his yells are angry and then his yells are fearful. He calls an ambulance and cradles Billy close until it comes.

Billy loses himself in the whirlwind of activity that follows. He gets poked and prodded and jabbed, and someone blessedly takes his pain away but Billy doesn’t know who because everyone’s faces blur until they all look the same. He has too many white blood cells and not enough hydration.

Dehydration, that’s deja vu. But it’s not Susan talking about dehydration this time even though he wishes it was. He wishes it was?

Yes. No. She needed to get out. Max needed to get out. Billy has too many white blood cells and not enough hydration, and his fever’s so high they might as well bake cookies on him and— and if his mother were here, she would like that one, yeah, he definitely got his dry wit from her. Sardonic snark is right up Mom’s alley. But she had to get out too, everyone has to get out.

Except Billy. He’s fine. Well, he’s not fine, apparently he needs surgery, but he doesn’t need to escape. One day he will, but he doesn’t need to. It’s not a necessity. No matter what Max saw That Night he doesn’t remember, Neil would never kill him.

Neil would never, ever kill him. Billy is his only legacy. Piss poor legacy from Neil’s standpoint, sure, he’ll never let him forget it. But nonetheless, it’s the only one he’s got. Billy may blow his brains out when he gets bored of his twenties (if he even makes it that far) just to spite the bastard because he doesn’t want to be his good-for-nothing piece of shit legacy, he never asked for that.

But now is not the time to begrudge all he didn’t ask for, now is the time to count backwards.

“Dad?” Billy calls into the quiet nighttime of the room, blinking fuzzily at the figure slumped in the chair beside his bed. His throat feels like sandpaper, he swallows with an effort and tries again. “Dad?”

Neil stirs this time, eyes brightening, alert on Billy. “I’m here. Do you need something?”

Billy pauses. “M’sick, right?”

“Sure as shit you’re sick,” Neil huffs, eyes narrowing. “Almost lost all three of you in the same day.”

The words bounce around Billy’s skull.

“Susan left me,” Neil continues slowly, anger shimmering like hot coals underneath the veil of weariness. “All her stuff is gone, she took Max too. I don’t expect you knew anything about that?”

“No, sir,” Billy denies. “I thought they went shopping.”

“No. They certainly didn’t go shopping. They cleared out and left us behind. No explanation, no letter, not even a note.”

So it’s ‘us’ now, huh?

Billy widens his eyes, does his best to seem surprised as he attempts to sit up. Then he really is surprised, first at how awful of an idea that is, and then at realizing the blanket covering his hospital bed is one from home. One of Neil’s, fleecy and worn.

“Grabbed a few things from home. Needed something to do to keep my mind busy. You were on the operating table twice as long as they told me you were gonna be, Bill. Scared the hell out of me.”

“…why?”

“I’m told your appendix ruptured before they opened you up and that complicated things…you’re gonna be here for a little while, bud.” Neil gently rubs his shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

He answered the wrong question. Billy wasn’t asking why it took longer, he was asking why Neil was scared. But he doesn’t correct him. He swallows and hopes Max and Susan are safe. He wonders just what time they got to wherever they were going. Susan never shared the location or ever alluded to the distance from Hawkins. He hopes there were no mishaps along the way, no flat tires or fender-benders, or murderous traffic in backed up lanes.

“Not a baby,” he mutters. “Not gonna bitch about a stupid stomachache.”

At that, his father raises a brow. He gives a shake of the head and his hand leaves Billy’s shoulder. He makes a low noise in his throat that almost sounds like approval and covers Billy’s forehead with his hand. The heel of his palm is calloused and Billy knows he’s been hitting the bottle when the unmistakable scent of warm beer wafts over his nostrils.

“Well, it’s just us now, tough guy. You need to speak up if something’s really wrong, capeesh?”

He said it again. Us. They’re an us once more. Billy tiredly lifts his hand, bracing his elbow on the mattress to give his father’s forearm a squeeze.

“Yes, sir.”

#my fic tag #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #susan hargrove #max mayfield #anonymoose #i hope ur down w the combo #if not i'm open to writing smth else but pls don't be rude

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goldenretriever-nicknelson · 3 years

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Annus Mirabilis ~ Thanksgiving 2020

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: Happy turkey day! This chapter is actually on time yay! This was really hard to write because I don’t celebrate thanksgiving but I got some help so hopefully it’s okay. I can’t believe there’s only one month left!! Where did this year go?

Since this is my last time writing a chapter for this series I just want to say it’s been an honour to write with @thinkoutsidethebex. She’s one of my favourite writers here and one of my favourite friends that I’ve ever made on this hellsite. We’ve had our differences and disagreements but I love you Bex Thank you for writing this with me.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, a brit writing about a holiday she doesn’t know about lol

Word count: 2.6k

Thanksgiving was one of Peter’s favorite holidays. Not because of the traditions or the parties, it was because of the smell he woke up to on Thanksgiving morning. His heightened senses allowed him to savour the smell of his aunt’s cooking from the moment he woke up and it always put him in a good mood. The thought of having a nice dinner, just him and May, and not having to worry about assignments too made Peter feel lighter than he had in ages.

“What’s got you so happy?” May asked, raising her brow as he bounced into the room. “Did things with Y/n finally work out?” Peter’s expression and heart dropped at the same time, the memories of the last time he had seen you rushing back.

“Um no. I’m just looking forward to dinner.” He forced a smile and grabbed a piece of fruit for his breakfast. May nodded, already prepping things for the afternoon.

“I did tell you I invited a few people for dinner this year, didn’t I?” Peter almost dropped the apple from his hand as the nice image of a quiet dinner was thrown out of the window.

“What? Who?”

“Oh, um just a few of the avengers. Steve, Natasha, Bruce, and.. Y/n.” May turned as you said the last name, avoiding the look that Peter sent her way.

“May! She’s not going to want to see me!”

“Oh really?” Peter nodded as if it was obvious as May turned back to him with a knowing smirk. “Then why did she already say yes?” Peter’s jaw dropped a little, panic and nerves and a little bit of excitement flooding his brain.

“S-she said yes?” he stammered, allowing the faintest glimmer of hope to flare in his heart. May nodded with the same knowing smirk playing at her lips.. She could almost see the gears in Peter’s brain working double speed as he thought about seeing you again.

“It’s gonna be okay.” May tried to reassure softly, but Peter was worried it would be anything but.

He tried to preoccupy himself until company came that afternoon. He went on a quick patrol, but it seemed even the criminal element of New York had opted to spend the day with family because there wasn’t so much as a jaywalker. He stopped by the F.E.A.S.T. shelter to help out a bit with their Thanksgiving meal, and swung by the store on the way home to pick up a few things May mentioned to him that he missed.

By the time he got back home, he was almost in full panic mode. He fussed about what to wear and what he was going to say, even going so far as to practice in his mirror, until Ned walked into his room and laughed.

“Dude what are you doing?” Peter’s cheeks flushed red as he rolled his eyes and finished getting ready.

“Nothing, I was just-”

“Telling your mirror how much you love Y/n?” Ned laughed and adjusted his hat. Peter threw a sock at him and tried to change the subject as they walked downstairs.

“So, new hat?”

“Don’t try and change the subject dude, but yes.” Ned smiled and patted his hat as if for good luck just as Peter noticed someone walking through the door.

You looked hesitant as you walked in, a large freshly baked pumpkin pie in your hands and a small smile gracing your lips. He wondered if you’d picked pumpkin pie to bring because you remembered it was his favorite, or if it was just a strange coincidence. You were wearing a simple outfit with your hair done up but Peter couldn’t help but think about how good you looked. His heart simultaneously lifted and fell as you met his gaze. It only lasted a brief moment but the tension between you was thick.

“I, uh, think I’m gonna grab some coffee.” Ned cleared his throat and walked past you both into the kitchen, leaving you both to bask in the awkwardness of what was once your best friendship.

“H-hi Peter.”

“Hey.”

You both gave slightly forced smiles to each other before Peter’s eyes darted towards his shoes. You sighed and bit your lip, wishing that something could break the awkwardness.

“You never replied to my texts.” Peter commented, breaking the silence that had settled in the room even with more guests arriving.

“Oh well I-” You faltered, unspoken words dying on your lips as you looked back at Peter. “I came here because May invited me, okay? That’s all.”

Just when Peter thought he couldn’t hurt anymore at seeing you, those words chipped away at the cracks in his heart.

“Oh.”

You held the plate of food tighter and chewed on your bottom lip before walking away into the kitchen to find May, fighting back your tears. Peter looked up at you just about to apologise for the party with his rehearsed speech but the words left as he saw you walking away.

He tried to occupy himself with the party, greeting the various members of the team as they arrived. Once everyone was there, May then asked him to set the table which he hurried to do.

“Y/n would you go and help Peter please?”

Peter cursed May in his head as he heard those words, followed by your footsteps. He sighed and laid out the napkins.

“I’m capable of setting a table, you know?” he snapped, a little harsher than he intended.

You choose to stay silent and started laying out the cutlery but Peter could sense your gaze flickering to him every so often. The only thing that broke the silence was the chatter from the living room as they watched the parade and the soft music playing on in the background.

After the table was finally set, you and Peter made your way to see the rest of the guests. May was busy putting the finishing touches on dinner and the others were idly chatting as the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade showed on the tv. Peter immediately noticed you walk straight past him and Ned to where Steve was drinking a beer and watching the tv.

Peter once again tried not to look too hurt as you ignored his company, instead choosing to focus on Ned talking about the newest update for Beast Slayer. His eyes kept flickering to you as you laughed with Steve, resting your hand on his arm. It was the most he’d seen you smile in a while, he just wished he could have been the one to make you smile like he used to.

“And it has these cool Christmas updates where you can- Peter?”

Ned noticed Peter’s jaw had clenched as had his fists, his eyes focused on the other side of the room where you were leaning in to whisper something to Steve before both of you started giggling. Peter was just about to walk over but Ned soon stopped him and ushered him to the dining table where May was serving up dinner.

“Looks great May! Right Peter?” Ned nudged his best friend, trying to distract him from what Y/n was doing. Peter looked at Ned and nodded.

“Um, yeah you look alright dude.”

Ned and May gave each other a look before she called everyone for dinner. It was a small group but it was still a tight squeeze on their small table. Peter saved a space for you next to him but you choose instead to sit next to Steve, making his blood boil.

“Dude, you’ve got to stop being jealous. Trust me nothing is happening.” Ned whispered to him as Peter vigorously cut his turkey piece as he had been doing for the last 5 minutes. The knife was almost carving into the plate.

Peter dropped the knife quickly and turned to Ned with red cheeks and a forced laugh. “Je- you think I’m jealous?” Peter asked, shaking his head and forcing another laugh.

“Dude cmon.”

“I-I’m just worried about her. I mean you don’t know Steve could be dangerous.” Peter stuttered, ignoring Ned’s scoff as he stuffed a piece of turkey in his mouth and his eyes glanced back over to you but this time you met his gaze. You both blushed before quickly looking back down at your plates, both suddenly very interested in your food.

The rest of the dinner was pleasant, and far less tense than Peter had imagined it would be. Everyone was smiling and exchanging stories about missions or old family traditions. Even you and Peter started to enjoy yourselves more. Peter was stuffing his face with all the different kinds of food, trying not to look over in your direction too much because he knew he wouldn’t like what he saw.

“So, what is everyone thankful for?” May asked as she finished her plate, looking around the table. “Peter?” She gave him a smile, interrupting the stuffing of mashed potatoes in his mouth.

“Um.” He quickly ate the food and blushed as he noticed all eyes were on him, waiting for him to start the tradition. Peter’s eyes quickly met yours once more before he spoke. “I’m thankful for the people in my life who I love even if they don’t know how much they mean to me.”

The last part was mumbled but he knew as he looked back up at you that you had heard, knowing it was meant for you. For the first time since you arrived you gave Peter a genuine smile and blushed.

The tradition continued around the table, Peter didn’t really pay attention until it came to your turn. You cleared your throat and blushed a darker shade of red.

“I-I’m thankful for…” You paused for a moment to think before smiling at the table. “I’m thankful for my friends, old and new.” Your eyes lingered on Peter who smiled back before you looked at Steve. Peter’s heart fell again. He knew it was stupid to read into things and feel jealous but he couldn’t help it. Ned gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Hey Peter, do you wanna pull the wishbone?” May asked, holding the bone up and knowing it was one of his favourite traditions they did together. He nodded and came over to take the bone.

“Can I do it too?

Peter looked up in surprise at your question and bit his lip. May nodded and smiled at you as you walked over and took the other side of the bone. Peter blushed as you smirked at him.

“Ready, Parker?”

He smiled at the sense of normality between you and nodded, smirking back as he held the wishbone tighter.

“Bring it on.”

May counted down before you both started pulling the bone, trying to break it. You both laughed at the small tug of war that was happening until you finally pulled back with the bigger half. You looked shocked and furrowed your brow at Peter, knowing he had been holding back to let you win.

Peter just smiled innocently and shrugged. You let out a giggle before feeling a kiss on your cheek as Steve walked over.

“Woo! Well done Y/n!”

“Oh, um thank you.” You blushed hard and gave a laugh as you looked at him. Peter watched the scene before him, feeling his blood start to boil as well as the ache starting in his chest. He clenched up again and although Ned tried to distract him he couldn't take it and excused himself for air.

He stepped out onto the fire escape away from the rest of the party and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He almost wished he’d gotten the bigger half of the wishbone then maybe his wish would come true. He wished that everything would go back to normal before he had said that lie to Flash all the way back in February and before he had fallen in love with you.

“Pete?”

He quickly straightened himself up as he heard your voice and wiped his eyes, trying to keep the emotion out his voice.

“Um, hey.”

“What’s wrong?” You squeezed next to him on the fire escape and looked out at the city before turning your worried gaze to him. “And before you say nothing, I know you Peter.”

He sighed and blushed, thankful for the darkness of the night as you kept your gaze on him. He heard Steve ask where you were and felt the jealousy come back to him.

“What’s wrong?” He gave a forced chuckle. “If you wanna know what’s wrong why don’t you ask your new boyfriend?” Peter spoke bitterly, keeping his gaze on the city. You scoffed and looked at Peter as if you couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“Are you serious right now? You’re jealous?” Peter didn’t answer, instead giving you the cold shoulder and clenching his jaw again. “You’re the one who left me at that party!”

“I know!” Peter huffed and threw his hands up in exasperation, finally looking at you. “You think I wanted to do that?!”

“Yeah, I know,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “Spidey stuff is more important. But it still sucked, Peter. It hurt because I thought that maybe you wanted to go on an actual date with me.”

“I did want to!” he yelled, frustrated.”Don’t you get it?” Peter looked at you like a sad lost puppy, begging for forgiveness.

“Get what?”

Peter gulped and sighed, kicking his feet and staring at the ground below.

“N-nothing,” he grumbled. “Go back to the party and be with Steve. Maybe you’ll get it with him.” You stared at him in bewilderment and confusion, furrowing your brow.

“Peter, what are you talking about?!” you yelled, growing angrier by the second. “You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend. It’s not like we ever really dated!”

“You don’t have to remind me.” Peter spoke through gritted teeth, glaring at you before he shook his head. “Forget it.”

You were taken aback by his behaviour as he went back inside and stormed to his room, ignoring your calls of his name. You stayed outside for a moment after he left, wiping your eyes and regaining your composure before heading inside.

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve asked you, worriedly resting his hand on your shoulder. You nodded and let out a sniffle, shrugging his hand away.

“I’m fine.”

You noticed that almost everyone in the room was looking at you since they had probably heard the argument outside and it only made you feel worse. May tried to comfort you but you just thanked her before quickly grabbing your stuff and rushing out the door. May sighed once everyone had left, exchanging a worried look with Ned who had stayed to help clean up and talk to Peter.

“How is he?”

Ned shrugged and sighed as he walked out of Peter’s room.

“Not great,” he admitted. “He barely said two words to me.”

May finished washing up the plates and let out a deep sigh. It had been Ned’s idea to invite you, hoping that getting you both in the same room would at least start you on the path to being friends again. May was eager to play along and get you two talking again, but after hearing your fight on the fire escape she couldn’t help but think they had only made things worse.

Meanwhile, Peter was still in his room and screaming into his pillow. He knew he was acting stupid but his feelings just kept getting stronger. He didn’t want to lose you but the more he tried to fix things the more he failed; the carnival, your birthday, the Halloween party. It felt like all he had done all year. He’d screwed everything up and you were all he could think about as he fell asleep that night, your contact open on his phone.

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Taglist

(link to join my taglist is in my bio)

Permanent ~ @eeyore101247 @geminiparkers @darlingspidey @ameelia @calltothewild @parkerpeter24 @rebekkah4766 @perspectiveparker @tom-hlover @parker-hollandx @call-me-baby-gir1

Peter Parker ~ @teen--marvel @yumings @musicalkeys @kickingn-ames @fancyxparker @shakespeareanqueer

Annus Mirabilis Taglist (10/25): @jin-hyuks @manuosorioh @eridanuswave @badmcuposts @meme-lord-shit @quackson-love @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @halparkebitch @buildingwings @too-big-of-a-mess

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Challenge: Bumps In The Night

Summary- 5.3k Steve Rogers x OC Katie (Stark) Rogers. Its Halloween Night! and the Roger Clan is busy getting ready for the night ahead. Once Steve and Katie have some time to themselves for more adult themed fun, there are some interruptions that might set them back. All a part of life in the Rogers Household though. Set in What-is-your-plan-today’s SSB Verse. Warnings- Hinted smut. Its really mostly fluffy fun for these two. Might be a curse word or two, cause lets face it, its who I am. Moodboard made by @what-is-your-backupplan-today and the lovely dividers made by @firefly-graphics

A/N- Congrats on your one year anniversary @what-is-your-backupplan-today. I know this year has had its moments, but I am eternally grateful I have gotten to know you this past year, and that you shared some beautiful stories with us, full of laughter, awww, and tears. (You know the moments I am talking about.) Thank you for letting me also dabble a bit in your OC’s lives, I think this is number 3? Also for basically just bullshitting random stuff in your inbox every week. It was a great challenge, a hell of a lot of fun. And as always sending you all the Love Babes. 💙

Be sure to read the follow up to this by @what-is-your-backupplan-today called Stark Spangled Forever: The Devil Wears Nada

Steve Roger’s Masterlist

Steve stabbed at the top of the pumpkin and cut around the top till he could pry it off, handing the pumpkin over to Jamie, who immediately started scooping out the seeds and innards, shaking his fingers a bit to shake off the sticky bites. Katie sat at the other end of the newspaper-covered table, wrinkling her nose. “I’m so glad this is your father’s holiday.” Flossie reached to grab a handful, and Katie scooped it over so the baby could squash it between her fingers.

Rori nearby, who was told she could paint her pumpkin instead, leaned to dip her brush into the hot pink and then swirled it around her pumpkin with the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration. “But it’s fun Mommy. In going to paint spiders all over for Auntie Nat Nat.”

Harry gave a firm nod as he covered his pumpkin in hulk green color. “Yes mommy, fun. Hulk Smash!” He tossed his brush aside and started to use his fingers and hands, slapping green handprints all over it till it was covered. Soon his face was streaked with green and he looked beyond proud of himself.

“Alright kids, you all know Christmas is your mom’s specialty.” Steve started to cut another pumpkin when Emmy came in, dropping her bag in an empty chair and rolling up her sleeves.

“Moms christmas’s are the best.” She dropped a passing kiss to Flossie’s head, and then picked up a knife Steve had nearby, ready to take the pumpkin Steve was cutting the top off of. “But Dad’s pumpkins are really awesome.”

“Thanks, Em.” Steve’s face flushed a bit at the compliment while he took the last pumpkin and opened it up, scooping out the innards just as Jamie started to finish his. Tilting it around, he looked at his mother.

“Which side should I carve? I’m going to do a scary face this time.” He twisted his pumpkin back and forth, Katie studied it a moment and made a twirly motion with her hands.

“Back that way, Yea. Looks flatter.” Jamie nodded and grabbed a sharpie, drawing a Jack-o-Lantern face on the pumpkin. “And your dad’s pumpkin’s do always look good on the front stoop. Why he does the pumpkins, and I take the pictures.” Moving to a stand, she patted a fussy Flossies back and took her to show her Rori’s and Harry’s wildly painted pumpkins.

Emmy scooped out some more of the pumpkin guts and scrapped it all clean with a spoon. “Well I was actually going to ask you and Dad, how would you two feel about Peter and I took everyone trick or treating this year? It will be a warm evening, and Flossie always sleeps while being strolled around. You two could have an evening to yourselves, hand out some candy to kids, and spend time together.” The way she said it, Steve and Katie both knew she had given this some thought. When Steve looked over at Katie with a questioning look she gave a slight shrug and nod.

“You sure you and Peter can watch over four kids?” Katie asked, slightly rocking Flossie back and forth. “Flossie can stay with us, she’s on a schedule, but I’m sure the other three would love to trick or treat with you and Peter.”

Emmy gave a nod and plunged her knife into the face of the pumpkin. “I will message Peter and let him know, this was actually his suggestion. He was really excited when he mentioned it to me.”

Steve gave a slight snort as he started carving. “And who are you two going as?”

She grinned as she cut the grinning mouth and handed it to Flossie to inspect, who shoved the hard piece in her mouth to gnaw on, making a funny face at the taste. “We’re going as Han Solo and Princess Leia Dad. Pete’s a Star Wars fan.”

“Course he is. Tony would have been thrilled to see Peter as Han Solo.” Steve turned his pumpkin to show Katie, who grinned as she leaned against Steve’s shoulder for a moment to look at his work.

“He would have loved it and never let you live it down that you carved him a pumpkin.” She said softly, and Steve kissed her forehead.

“Why I carved it.” Sitting on the pumpkin, was a carving of Ironman, Katie rubbed her face against his shoulder a second to collect herself. Memories of her brother still snuck up once in a while, but there were so many good memories that she didn’t mind.

“It’s nice to see him still a part of the holidays. And this…” she pulled out her phone to take a picture to send to Pepper. “Makes me start to like fall a little more?”

Steve gave a shrug, a bit of pink rising in his cheeks at how pleased Katie really did seem with it. “Jamie’s old iron man always ends up on the Christmas tree, and we started doing that sponsor a turkey in Tony’s name…” He drifted off, Katie giving a bit of a laugh. They always bought a turkey to be rescued, naming him Marv, it just seemed a fitting memory for Tony.

It was starting to get dark. Katie was helping Rori dress in her outfit, giving a slight sigh and grin at her daughter’s antics as she stood in the mirror, inspecting her mother’s artistic skills. “I need more whiskers mom. Cats have more whiskers.” Katie leaned down again with the costume makeup kit. Using the black pencil, she etched two more on each of her cheeks and pointed to the mirror.

“Okay how’s that Princess?” she asked, trying not to be sarcastic as Rori leaned in and stuck her ears on.

“Perfect! Let’s go get Jamie and Harry, I want my candy.” She grabbed her trick or treat bag and marched out of the room, a girl on a mission. Katie followed to hear Steve talking to Jamie.

“Okay, I’m trusting you to help Peter and Emmy look after Rori and Henry.”

“Yes, dad I will, okay? I know I know.”

“Sorry sorry, remember to have fun.” There was a rustling when Jamie scoffed and when Rori just slammed the door open and marched in like she was on her very own catwalk, you could see Steve holding a dinosaur Harry who took one look at his mother and held his hands out for her, which Steve passed over, and Jamie was straightening a wig he had on, having painted his face green, between him and Steve, they somehow managed to glue knobs on the side of his neck. Katie looked over her kids and gave a nod of approval.

“Oooh, you all are spooky.” She shivered and Harry laughed in her arms giving a roaring sound. When Katie gave a fake scream, the little boy broke down in laughter, half hanging out of her arms.

Rori started twirling around on her toes, showing off her costume. “What do you think, Daddy?” She sang and Jamie gave a smirk.

“Don’t you know Stark chases cats up trees?” Jamie started teasing, and Rori stuck her tongue out at him.

“Cats rule and dogs drool Jamie!” she retorted, and Jamie opened his mouth to say something when Steve cut them both off with a stern tone.

“Cut it out you two or Emmy and Peter will just be taking Harry out. Rori lets see that spin again.”

Both kids’ mouths snapped shut because they didn’t want to lose the privilege, Rori gave one more spin and gave her painted nose a wriggle.

“Look just like a Halloween kitty Rori.” Steve smiled at her, Jamie quick to pipe up.

“Year Rori, you look really cool.”

Katie chuckled at their quickly changing attitudes and set her dinosaur down, who clamped right on Steve’s leg, looking up at his daddy giving a squeaky roar.

“Oh! There’s a Trex on my leg!” Steve yelped and picked him back up, handing Harry his own trick or treat bag. “Okay, my Youngin’s, down to the living room to wait for Princess Leia and that boy.”

“Han Solo Steve.” Katie rolled her eyes at him in passing, checking on Flossie who wriggled happily in her pack and play. “You hungry Little Girl?” She collected her and went into the living room with everyone else to wait, she had settled on the couch and was feeding Flossie while the kids all sat around watching Halloween Town when Emmy announced they were there. Steve pushed up from the couch to go greet them, all three kids rushing to follow him. Katie finished feeding first and turned her to her shoulder to burp her. Going out, she saw Emmy showing her costume to Steve, and Peter shuffling a bit in just Steve’s presence. But visibly relaxed once Katie had come out.

“How do you think we came out Mom?” Emmy pressed in against Peter and hugged her arm around his waist, which he returned the gesture.

“You two look great! Love the characters you two chose.” Katie genuinely praised and Rori swung her bag.

“Can we go now?!” she whined and this time Katie gave her a reprimanding stare.

“As soon as we are done talking to your sister and Peter. Patience Rori. And I want some pictures of all of you on the porch with the pumpkins.” Of course Rori perked up hearing that.

“Can I wear my princess tiara?”

“Yup, go upstairs and get it, we will take pictures afterward.” Katie smiled at her, and the little girl sprinted towards the stairs. Jamie was just about to say something when he caught sight of his father’s face clearly telling him to zip it.

“I will be outside with Stark.” the boy patted his thigh, the dog pushing up from his bed and together they went out into the yard. Stark raced forward, diving right into a huge pile of leaves Steve had raked that morning, making Jamie laugh as the dogs head reappeared, half scattering the pile in his bounds back out to reach his boy for praises and head scritches. Steve, having watched all of this just shook his head with a chuckle before turning back to his oldest and her boyfriend.

With just the four of them left now, Steve remarked to both Emmy and Peter. “They are very excited, don’t let them run you over though.”

Emmy shook her head with a smile. “Rori and Jamie? They won’t be an issue.”

Peter was currently squatted down with Henry, playing a game with the little dinosaur. “They are always really awesome with us Mr.Rogers, I don’t see there being any problems. And were just staying in the neighborhood.”

Emmy gave Steve a ‘See Dad, he’s responsible’ look, which Katie hid a smirk against the top of Flossie’s head, giving a gentle kiss. Steve gave a look of defeat, Peter was really good with all the little ones whenever he was over.

“How about we head out to the porch? I hear Rori coming back down the stairs.” Katie suggested while sure enough, one black cat with a shimmering tiara bounded around the corner, throwing her hands up in the air. “Ready for my pictures!”

Once pictures were done, Steve and Katie reminding everyone to behave for Emmy and Peter, they stood on the porch together waving. Katie leaned into Steve’s side, watching him closely as he kept an eye on the group till they were out of sight.

“You all good Soldier?” she asked, and he glanced down in surprise, a smile forming on his face.

“Yes, just weird not to be with them.” His hand rubbed down Katies back. “But we got the next couple hours to ourselves, how about we make it like old times? Except I will order us some take out. You go enjoy a bath while I put Flossie down, and we will watch a movie?”

Heading back inside where it was warmer, Katie nodded, and handed Flossie over to Steve. “I think that’s a great idea, Steve. Is this pre or post dating old times?”

“Post, cause fooling around on the couch is permitted. Italian or Chinese tonight?”

Already Katie was reaching up to her ponytail and removing it. “Italian, get that penne arabiata, get extra garlic knots to.” She went to tiptoes and kissed his cheek before heading up the stairs to go pamper herself. Steve was already pulling out his phone to pull up their favorite takeout number when the doorbell rang. Looking out to see a group of trick or treaters, he set Flossie down in her pack and play, grabbing the bowl of candy they had set up earlier next to his pineapple bowl, and opened the door to the chorus of kids.

“Trick or Treat!” the group sang out and bags were held up with expectations of candy to go flying in. Which Steve did, fistfuls of candy tossed in, praising each costume he saw, a cowboy, an alien, princess, and then a teeny tiny little Captain America stepped up, holding his bag up towards Steve. Steve might have given him a bit extra.

Finishing getting the order placed, sure not to forget the extra garlic knots, Steve gave Flossie a quick bath in the sink just to clean her up, and wrapped in a towel, he carried his sleepy daughter upstairs to put her down. So far they have been lucky with her, not too fussy lately, as soon as he laid her down, she settled right in. He poked his head in momentarily to check on Katie, who looked so relaxed in all the bubbles, that he eased away and back down the stairs.

Steve set about opening a bottle of wine, and he went through the tv selections till he found one of Katie’s favorite movies.

He never cared for the scary movies, so Stephen King wasn’t necessarily one of his favorite artists. But the first time she had him watch The Green Mile, he really enjoyed it, which thrilled Katie seeing how much she loved. And the film, well it had a special meaning just for the two of them.

Get busy living, or get busy dying.

Yup, this would be the movie tonight, and as he finished setting it up, the doorbell rang. Digging out his wallet, he gave the delivery kid a nice tip and started to take the food out as Katie made her way down the stairs. Hair braided down the back, loose sleep tank and fuzzy warm plaid sleep pants. Her nose was lifted with appreciation, and she danced over to the counter, opening the bag immediately of garlic knots. “Steve, you’re the best for not forgetting the knots.” Immediately she ripped into one of the buttery rolls and popped the piece into her mouth.

“Would you like a glass of wine with that?” He asked, already knowing the answer, and started pouring.

“Mmhh, a man who knows the way to my heart.” She took the glass and sipped before going to grab plates and forks to serve them up.

“I hope after all this time I do.” Steve chuckled, grabbing things like napkins, the bottle of wine, a beer for himself and Katie’s garlic knots. She brought the plates with her to set them down on the coffee table before falling onto the couch. “Flossie all tucked in?”

“Passed out as soon as she laid her down. I think today’s activities tired her out.” He pulled the baby monitor from his pocket, turning on the screen to see Flossie had already shifted in her sleep, but still out of it. He set it up on the coffee table so they both could check in on her on occasion. Katie glanced to the tv screen as she got comfy on the couch.

“Ahhh, one of the best.” She cuddled up next to Steve, feet tucked up and her plate balancing on her thigh.

“Well this is as spooky as I like getting with movies.” Steve admitted while hitting play, and Katie chuckled, looking up at her husband while she took her first bite of pasta.

“Yea, you don’t seem like a ‘Scream’ kind of guy.”

He smirked while sipping from a bottle of beer, his blue eyes glinting at the innuendo that fell from him next. “Only Scream I want to hear is you saying my name.”

Katie rolled her eyes at him with a laugh, shaking her head while stabbing her fork into her penne. “You might get lucky and have that happen later. Maybe. Start the damn movie Soldier.”

A wiggle of Steve’s eyebrows teased further while he hit play, and they both ate in silence for the most part, Katie giving up first and setting her plate back on the coffee table, sipping from her wine and settling back in against Steve.

Katies arm went around the back of Steve’s neck, letting her fingers tangle in the short hairs, and then her fingers trailed along his chain, seeking out a tense muscle at the back of his neck and rubbing her fingertips over it. It felt good, enough for Steve to close his eyes, tilt his head forward and enjoy the sensation that it caused to ripple along his back. “Mmmhh, right there Baby.” Digging in deeper, she shifted, pressing in closer, and watching as Steve’s face twisted a bit with pleasure at the way her fingers were working the muscles.

“You know Steve, it’s going to be a while before the kids get home and Flossie will be down for a while.” That caught her husband’s attention, his eyes opening back up to look at her as she licked her lips, and catching the bottom with her teeth.

“We should really take advantage.” Steve started as he shifted a bit to offer more of his lap. “Come here Doll.” He grasped her hips and shifted Katie easily into his hold, a soft squeal of delight coming from her.

Katie was straddled in his lap, fingers moving to twist in his hair and large firm hands pressed against her back to pull her in closer, any words were lost between exploring lips, and soft sighs shared. This was familiar to both of them, fingers exploring, nudging of noses against the other to draw back into hungry kisses. As familiar as it was, it was exciting, Katie starting to rock herself in Steve’s lap, and his pants grew achingly tight the more his wife grinded herself in his lap.

“You’re going to drive me crazy.” he groaned into her neck where he was chaining kisses down, and Katie bit on his earlobe, sucking it to flick her tongue against the sensitive spot, moving enough to trace the shell of his ear with soft lips and heated words.

“That is the goal Captain.” a husky tone drove her point home, and Steve with his arm wrapped around her tightly, shifted the two of them till his larger frame pressed her into the couch.

“How much time till everyone gets home?” Steve asked as he drew up Katies tank top, flushing kisses along her collarbone and tugging it over her head to discard nearby. Grabbing his wrist, she twisted his arm enough to look at the time.”

“It’s just after seven now, so maybe forty five minutes?” letting go, she looked up at Steve, teeth pulling at her lips as her eyes roamed over his face. “You got time.” Wrapping her hand in his dangling chain, she yanked on it hard enough to draw Steve forward, crashing open mouths together and wrapping her legs around his waist when he lost balance and just about fell on top of her.

Katie knew she had caught Steve unaware, but he recovered quickly with a grasp to her hips and jerked her up the couch to give himself more room. Katie started to tug up his shirt to get to his shoulders, his chest, when the all familiar chime of the doorbell went off, and both of them froze in place. Steve hovering over Katie, his shirt half dragged off him, Katie arching her lower back to press into him. Both wide eyed at each other when the doorbell went off again, and a chorus of kids sang out “Trick or Treat, smell out feet, give up something good to eat.”

Katie busted out in a giggle, and peeked over Steve’s shoulder to see the shadows on their porch. Steve dropped his head against her shoulder with a groan, and pushed up off the couch, giving a parting hissing kiss.

“Don’t go anywhere Doll.” Off the couch and he pulled at his sweatpants to try and hide his semi erection, straightening his shirt. “Give me just a second.” Steve said with a raised voice when he grabbed the candy bowl. This time when he opened the door, there was ninjas, a witch, an angel, and a exhausted looking parent flashing a sorry smile at him.

“Happy Halloween kids” Steve held out the bowl and insisted each kid take themselves some extra, now kind of looking for an excuse to be able to turn off his porch light for the night. But he didn’t have it in him to do it before they were out of candy. Giving a wave as the kids thanked him, he let the door close and went back to the couch to see Katie half watching the movie. But hearing him approach, she turned her eyes up to him and gave a crook of a finger with a grin. “Where were we Soldier?”

Steve lowered back down onto the couch, pressing Katie to her back with caging arms, kisses going down from her neck to her shoulders. “Exactly right here.” He rumbled between the brush of his lips along that rush of her pulse. They only had 35 mins now, the thought danced in the back of Steve’s mind while his hands rubbed along her sides, then dipped his fingers into her soft comfy pajama bottoms to rub at her core through her panties, making her sigh and shift to tighten her legs back around him, her eyes softening to a lust filled haze as she pressed further against his fingers with the soft whimper of need. “Stevie…” Fingers tightening into his shirt and then she tugged at it, this time dragging it off so she could really touch him. That first push of her hands against his chest and down his stomach, it was hard not to control the tensing of his muscles, making Katie bite at her lip as she started to wriggle more, want more. Steve caught her lips with his as his hand withdrew, going to fold fingers into her bottoms and pull them off when a crash came from the kitchen.

“What the hell?” His head whipped up and concern crossed his face. Katie tipped her head back to look in their kitchen, but couldn’t see anything. “I better go look.”

As he got up, Katie twisted back to sit up and grabbed the baby monitor to check, and see Flossie still sleeping peacefully through the loud bang. Katie moved to grab her tank and tugged it on, as well as collect their empty plates, and called out. “Steve? Is everything okay?”

Steve walked in a bit cautious, looking around to see nothing looked out of place. A frown crossed his face as his eyes searched the darker areas of the kitchen, his hand sliding along the wall to find the light switch and flicked it on. That’s when he heard something shuffling against the floor just out of sight behind the kitchen island. Going around it, there he found Stark with one of the pasta containers, chasing it around as he licked the sauce out of it. Katies voice rang out questioning, and he scowled at the dog, his hands falling to his hips. “It’s okay Katie, just Stark.” Turning his attention back to Stark who seemed to realize Steve was there, and he lifted his head from the take out box with a wag of his tail. “Yea, buddy you kinda just blocked me.” he sighed as he reached down to grab the box and scowled at him. “And when do you counter surf?” Stark just stared at him, then leaned forward to attempt to swipe his tongue against Steve’s face, but the man yanked back in time, shaking his head. “Nuh uh Stark, that isn’t going to fix it, i’m mad at you.” Moving to straighten, Katie came in with empty plates and opened the door to the dishwasher to put them away.

“So what was it?” her eyes scanning around the room, Stark looking innocent between them and Steve stuffing the empty containers into the garbage. “Was it Stark?” Katies eyes narrowed at the innocent face while closing the dishwasher.

Steve gave a nod. “But my fault, I left the take out boxes on the edge of the counter.” Why was he defending Stark? Well he did have a soft spot for the mutt. “Any why didn’t you wait on the couch?” This time he crowded her into the counter to lift her to perch on the edge, Katie looking at Steve with an arch of her brow as her hands seemed to have a life of their own, sliding palms over his chest, scratching lightly. “Because now we’re at 25 minutes before Emmy walks through that door with three exhausted kids, and we have to get them in the bath and bed. While keeping them away from the candy.”

“You know I like a challenge.” Steve drew her in closer around him, making Katie giggle as they resumed their teasing from earlier.

“You really think you can do all you want to do, and have me presentable for the family.” she locked her legs back around him and grinded herself against him.

“Doll, you really doubt me?” Steve grinned a bit, cupping the back of her neck and tilting to kiss her breathless, once more the two of them playing a game of pull and push, bodies flushing against each other, and just about to take it to the next step. Steve grasping Katies clenching thighs around his waist when a cry emitted from above them, and next to them. The baby monitor was just seconds behind Flossies cries above them, and together they stilled, Katies forehead leaning against Steves as she drew in a frustrated breath.

“She’s hungry, it’s her feeding time.” Breathing that out, Katie cupped Steve’s face and gave just a affectionate kiss, her emeralds shimmering with a hint of amusement. “We were not even close.”

Taking a step back, Steve shook his head, lifting Katie off the counter. “I will go get her and bring her down Doll.” He offered, Katie giving a nod while she decided to make her a bottle this time.

Upstairs Steve saw a fussing Flossie, little fists waving and big eyes filled with tears. Steve shushed Flossie a bit while he picked her up, pulling her into his shoulder where he felt his littlest snuggle with soft cries into his shirt. “Now now baby girl, are all these tears needed?” His hand which covered her entire back made gentle soothing circles as he rocked himself back and forth gently. “Moms downstairs making you a bottle right now.”

Reaching for a soft blanket and draped it over his free shoulder while leaving the room. He was quick to go down the stairs, and back into the kitchen to check on Katie’s progress. Looking over her shoulder, Katies gaze softened seeing the two of them, and she tilted her head to look at Flossie who quieted once she saw her mother. “Did you tell Daddy that yes, all those tears were needed?” glancing up at Steve while she grabbed the bottle, he gave a confused look at how she knew what he had said, she nodded towards the baby monitor. “Heard you talking to her earlier.” Brushing past him, Katie got comfy in there makeout spot earlier, holding her arms out for Flossie. Earlier frustrations were gone as she pulled the baby into her arms, kissing the silky soft baby head while she offered the bottle. Eagerly, Flossie sucked on the bottle’s nipple, her eyes crinkling in the corner in happiness. Steve watched a moment before the doorbell rang once more. Dropping a kiss to the top of Katies head, he went to the door, automatically grabbing the candy bowl off the table and opening it. This time he was met with a black tiara wearing cat, one dinosaur, one frankenstein, a han solo and princess leia. Then behind them was one Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson grinning like idiots. “Trick or Treat!”

Steve held onto his bowl and smirked at his kids. “Well aren’t these just the coolest costumes of the night… I suppose you all want some candy and head on home?”

Jamie grinned and held out his almost overflowing bag, Rori marched past her father, and announced she was home with a loud “Mom! I got so much candy, and everyone loved my costume.” Bucky and Sam went around the two younger adults holding the dinosaur, Bucky grabbing the bowl from Steve’s hand.

“Happy Halloween Schmaptain Schmerica. Damn Wilson, they have the good candy.” Bucky started picking through it, and Sam grabbed the bowl from his hands. “Hey!”

“Let’s see what you call good, you old fart. If you’re talking about licorice, you’re certifiable.”

Their voices drifted off as they went into the living room. Peter and Emmy came in next, in which Emmy grabbed her car keys out of the pineapple bowl. “Peter and I got invited to a party after we finished up. So I won’t be home till late Dad. The kids were great, no problems at all. I’m just going to go say goodnight to Mom.” Taking Peter’s hand, she pulled him into the living room, Henry hanging on her hip. Steve decided to step outside for a moment, take in a breath of fresh air, clear his head.

It had been an interesting evening to say the least, but Steve wouldn’t have had it any other way thinking back on it as he tipped his head back to admire the night sky, the moon a full one this year casting everything in that eerie glow that just seemed to fit this night. Katie and him had fun together, even with the interruptions, the kids all had a blast as he could hear the laughter coming from behind him, and everyone was back home.

Well… mostly. But Steve trusted Peter for the most part to take care of Emmy, although he knew she could easily handle herself and had them on speed dial. Speaking of, he could hear Emmy and Peter making their way back out the door, talking to Katie who was following behind them. She paused at Steve’s side, leaning into his warmth as it got chilly out now.

“Be safe, and have fun.” Katie finished off what she had been saying and Emmy nodded.

“Of course, I will be home probably after midnight.” she assured her parents, and Steve pipped up.

“Need anything just call.”

“Yes, will do. Bye you guys, love you.” Emmy pulled away with Peter, and soon it was just Katie and Steve on the porch, together they walked off the steps and turned to look at the glowing pumpkins, their candles dying down to flickering flames. Steve’s hand rubbed against her bare arm, the tank top not protecting her much from the cold. “Ready to go back in?”

“Go back in, collect Flossie from Bucky and Sam, get the other two into showers and one roaring dinosaur into a bath. Put them all down for the night? That sounds like something a task force is needed for.”

“Yea, that kind of go back in.” Steve chuckled softly, knowing it was gonna be a bit of a fuss getting the excited kids all simmered down with how excited they were.

“I left Sam and Bucky entertaining to catch a few extra seconds with you before the madness starts.” she twisted into his hold, hugging him and tilting her head back to look up at him. “But, if you’re up for it, I think tonight in bed we should pick up where we left off. Without all the interruptions.”

“Only if you are still wanting Mrs.Rogers.” Steve assured Katie, who nodded and grinned.

“Let’s blow out these pumpkins and get started.” Going back towards the house, where a loudly singing Rori and Sam sounded like they were doing a disney duet, Katie and Steve blew out the glowing pumpkins and went back inside to get everyone situated.

#stark spangles is 1 #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x oc katie #steve rogers #captain america #stark spangle challenge #stark spangled #marvel #marvel fan fiction #steve roger fanfiction

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misssophiachase · 4 years

Photo

For @klarolinefallbingo - “Pumpkin Carving Consent”

Knives Out

Caroline is determined to get the Mikaelson siblings into the Halloween spirit by imposing some mandatory pumpkin carving.

Halloween Eve, Mikaelson Compound - New Orleans, LA

“She does realise that arming us with knives means this is only going to end badly, right?” He quipped, running his finger slowly over the large, sharp blade, a gleeful look reflected in his brown eyes.

“Not if you bloody behave yourself, Kol,” Klaus replied dryly, his disdainful look not lost on Kol.

Sure, his girlfriend loved special occasions, probably a bit too much by most people’s standards but he found it utterly endearing. It didn’t hurt that she was incredibly hot when she was clipboard in hand and immersed in full-on organisation mode either.

Ever since she’d turned up in New Orleans a year earlier after her mother’s death, Caroline had kept Klaus on his toes. First there was the whole no humanity thing to deal with but now she was back to the Caroline Forbes he fell in love with in Mystic Falls.

His siblings, on the other hand, weren’t as convinced.

Sure, she made them eat turkey on Thanksgiving and sing carols at Christmas. Then there was the explosion of roses on Valentine’s Day but Klaus figured that deep down his family enjoyed it as much as he did.

Clearly Halloween was going to be another challenge given Caroline had insisted on a tutorial on proper pumpkin carving technique but he needed his siblings to cooperate as Klaus had an important plan to execute.

“Yeah because that’s going to happen,” Rebekah snorted. “Have you met your brother, Niklaus?”

“She does have a point,” suit-clad Elijah offered. It was now his turn to receive a glare.

“I let you live under this roof,” he growled, looking at them each in turn. “The least you could do is just shut those annoying mouths for one hour…”

“Or what? You’ll dagger us and house us in coffins?” Rebekah offered. “Oh that’s right, you’ve already done that. I’m bored, Nik, and pumpkin carving is hardly my idea of a fun evening.”

“Says the girl with no social life,” Kol shot back.

“I think it’s all rather charming and folksy,” Elijah offered. Klaus stilled, glad that he had at least one sibling on his side. “Although, according to folklore, the jack-o-lantern is supposed to scare away evil spirits. I think as a family we’re doing fine in that area.”

“Not to mention the fact that it’s Halloween all year round in this place,” Kol said.

“What is with you Originals and your need to drain the fun out of every single occasion?” She interrupted, walking into the courtyard. Even dressed in a festive themed black and orange skull sweater, Klaus didn’t think she’d ever looked more beautiful. “I know Mikael was a killjoy and all of that but don’t you think it’s time to loosen up a bit?”

“Hey, I’m plenty loose, darling,” Kol purred. “In fact, I could show you some…”

“Please do not complete that sentence,” Elijah interrupted before Klaus could tear out his younger brother’s liver. “I, for one, am quite looking forward to this little exercise, Ms Forbes. Lord knows my younger siblings could learn some patience.”

“That’s the spirit, Elijah,” she grinned. “Although, given we’ve been roomies since last year it might be time to start using my first name.”

“Roomies? Good god,” Rebekah drawled, rolling her blue eyes upwards.

“Look, I understand how intimidating this can be for someone without the proper technique and skill, Rebekah…”

“I have a knife you realise, Forbes? And my aim is never off.”

Klaus emitted a low growl, his protective wolf inside threatening to emerge. Sure, he loved his sister but nobody threatened the love of his life. Caroline moved closer, placing a comforting hand on the small of his back knowing just how to calm him.

“Now, this is starting to look like a real Mikaelson get-together,” Kol chuckled. “And just so you know, my skill and technique is impeccable. I could wipe the floor with these three.”

“Is that so?” Elijah demanded, brows raised.

“Sounds like Kol thinks he’s better than you.”

“Kol is mistaken and, now suddenly, I’m incredibly interested in this little activity,” Rebekah offered, hands on hips.

Klaus felt a smile tug at the end of his lips, Caroline truly was a genius when it came to corralling his siblings.

One sniff of competition and they were completely at her whim. Just another reason why he loved her. Between her organisation and manipulation skills, Klaus was starting to think he should ditch his plans and just take her upstairs instead.

But if he was going to propose to Caroline, Klaus needed to focus on the task at hand. If she wanted a carved pumpkin he was going to make the best damn one she’d ever seen.

“So, when I win can I dagger Kol?” Rebekah asked, breaking Klaus from his thoughts.

It was going to be an interesting night either way.

TBC - Klaroline Fall Bingo Drabble “Jack-O-Lantern”

#klaroline fall bingo #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #klaroline #pumpkin carving consent #this was fun #but when you have jack-o-lantern too it just calls for a sequel

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

My Yuletide Exchange fic!

Part One/Two/Three/Four/Five Read them as I post here, or all at once in Ao3 under peterqpan! @harringroveholidayexchange <3

“Hey,” Steve whispered, against Billy’s lips, grinning, pinned to his locker with Billy’s fingers clenched in his jacket. "Hey, I, uh. I got the house to myself for a few days. Wanna—”

“They what,” Billy paused, pulling back to frown at him. “They went away for Christmas without you?”

“No,” Steve laughed. “It’s for business, y’know.” He was still smiling, but it didn’t look happy.

“You wanting a sleepover, Harrington?” Billy asked, laughing.

“Wanna unwrap you Christmas morning,” Steve said, and Billy’s blood all rushed to his dick without stopping to let him answer.

“...maybe I can sneak out,” he said hoarsely. He kissed his boyfriend again, breathing in the smell of wet hair care products, exhaust fumes, and melting snow.

Billy’s dad was late again, that night, and he, Max, and Susan chewed long and peacefully at the rubbery meat in her casserole, listening to tinny Christmas carols.

“Neil, uh,” Susan started, then swallowed. “I—I’m—he said to say—”

“Jesus, Mom, talk for yourself,” Max shot over, and Susan bit her lips together, watching her hands.

She sighed. “He has to go out of town,” she told them, and Billy and Max stared at her, Max’s mouth twitching.

“Wait, when?” Max asked, dropping her fork. “How long will he be gone?”

“He’ll be gone for a week,” Susan said softly, her eyes on the casserole bite she was smushing into her plate. “He’s leaving tomorrow—”

“He’ll be gone for Christmas?! Holy hell, best present ever,” she crowed, and Billy drew a breath, trying not to smile like a goon. He choked on his casserole.

The house was already decorated for Christmas—Susan had done it when they were at school—and Billy coughed into a poinsettia-themed napkin.

He slammed his fist into his chest as he rose and grabbed the phone, hauling the cord into the bathroom to dial. “Steve,” he panted into the phone, still coughing. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Hey, I can come. I can come for Christmas.”

“You can?!” Steve sounded startled, but delighted. “You—you want to come over here for Christmas? I don’t—there won’t be anything—I can try to cook a—”

“I’m not coming for dinner, moron,” Billy sighed, feeling his cheeks heat as he grinned. “Not into you for your cooking skills.”

“We should get pies or something. Or ice cream,” Steve said, laughing. “Are—are you sure you wanna—you don’t have to, I mean, I’m used to it, it’s fine, I didn’t expect you to—”

“I’m coming,” Billy told him, imagining Steve watching reruns of Family Feud and staring at the wall all Christmas day. “Shut up, doofus, I’m gonna be there, okay.”

“Gimme the phone, Billy!” Max shouted, kicking the door. “I need to call Lucas!”

He surrendered it as she brushed by him on his way out. Susan was alone at the dinner table, her head in her arms.

On Christmas eve, Steve wouldn’t stop prowling the house, so Billy finally grabbed him around the waist and spun him around. “The hell is your deal. You need walkies?”

Steve laughed, sliding his arms around Billy’s neck. “F’we got some food, we could have like a real Christmas, y’know.”

Billy squinted over Steve ‘TV dinners are food’ Harrington’s shoulder at the wall. “Whaddaya mean ‘food’?”

“...like a ham or something,” Steve mumbled, and Billy considered, swaying them around.

“...you wanna go to the store?” he asked, and Steve pulled away to see his face so fast Billy staggered holding him up. He looked delighted, and Billy sighed internally over his planned lazy day of sex. “I can make a pie or something,” he offered, and Steve hugged him.

Billy was stuffed in Steve’s old ski jacket, taking a smoke break behind the Bradley’s Big Buy while Steve bought the entire grocery store, when he heard a woman’s voice shouting, and some loud thumps. He leaned around the corner of the building into the wind to watch her smacking the pay phone around, and wondered which of her kids was getting the verbal beatdown, but then she stumbled back, wiping her face with both wrists, and turned to bang her fist against the hood of her snow-covered car. The wind tried to take her hat, and she smacked her hand down on her head.

He meandered towards her, checking his watch—Steve had been buying everything for ages, surely everything had already been bought— as she opened her driver’s-side door and climbed in, slumping against the steering wheel. The snow on her roof and window fell a little with the force of her slam, whirling away into the gray evening, but it started building up again almost immediately.

Her car didn’t move. Billy squinted, crouching, to look in her snowy window, and she just sat there, as the sun set on Christmas eve, huddled in her driver’s seat in the snow. Billy wandered over to knock on the driver’s side windshield, the salted road crunching underfoot.

She rolled it down and sniffled, and he squinted at her, fairly sure she was somebody’s mom. “Hello,” she said, wiping her nose with her wrist, but her eyes were suspiciously red and shiny. “I’m fine!” she said brightly, before he could ask.

“A—are you sure?” Billy asked, noticing her shivering, and the buildup of breath on the inside of the windows.

“Merry Christmas!” she said, her voice shaky, and he squeezed against her door as a car passed.

“Uh,” he said, and tried to weigh being nice, which Steve preferred, but which probably meant listening, against his instinct to call her bullshit. “Bullshit,” he said, raising his voice to be heard.

“I-it’s Christmas eve,” she gulped, and started to cry.

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking a last draw on his cigarette, and tossing it behind him into the snowy road. “Doesn’t look too merry, though.” She had to be one of the actual parents of Steve’s kids-by-monster-hunting, he was fairly sure.

“I’m sorry!” she yelled, more at the steering wheel than him, and flailed her arms. “This is—this is crap! Everything is—everything is crap, it’s gone to shit, I don’t—I don’t—”

“Uh-huh,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows. “Who were you tryin’ to call?”

“My kids!” she yelled, smacking the steering wheel again, which put her as probably the littlest one’s mom, he thought, since he didn’t think Henderson had a brother. Or Lucas, he thought, grimacing. You never know, look at me and Susan, maybe he looks nothing like her. She sighed. “And I’m out of dimes.”

“...I might have a dime,” Billy said, jutting his hip in order to dig around in his tightest jeans, the ones he’d worn thinking Steve would peel off him. He found a hole in his pocket, and sighed.

“It’s no use,” she groaned, clicking her lighter about eleven times trying to light a cigarette, until he gave up and grabbed his lighter instead, holding it out. Between the wind and her shivering so hard, he had to chase the end of the cigarette around, and she groaned, starting to snicker. “Oh, jesus. I’m gonna freeze to death on Christmas Eve.”

“I can’t give you one thin dime?” Billy laughed, catching a little of her hysteria, and laughing. He wiped a snowflake off his eyelashes, his cheeks completely numb.

“I have to get home,” she sighed, leaning her head back to blow smoke at the ceiling. “I got...I got dinner to cook…” she groaned, wiping her eyes. “...somehow.”

Billy stood up to frown at the front of the store. Every time the doors opened there was a wind-muffled riff of Jingle Bells or Winter Wonderland, and he looked up to see Steve still hadn’t come out. He sighed. “Maybe you can use the phone in there?”

She sniffled, nodding. “Probably.” She took a long drag and blew out, frowning at him, and rubbing her hands together. “...you one of Jonathan’s friends?” she shouted over the noise of a passing truck.

Hell no, Billy thought, and cleared his throat. “Steve Harrington’s.”

She raised her eyebrows, nodding. “What are you doing out this late? Just out offering women dimes you don’t have?”

Billy snorted, brushing the snow off his shoulders, and rubbing his arms. “That’s my plan, yeah. Nah, Steve’s shopping for tomorrow. I guess we’re burning a turkey.”

She blinked, and leaned closer. “What? ...you two are making a turkey? Here, come around, get in.”

“Uh,” Billy said, shoving his hands in his pockets, but he walked around and climbed in as she unlocked it, so she could roll up the window. “Y-yeah, he wants a turkey,” he said again, in the quiet of the car, watching her shiver. “I mean, Steve’s parents, they’re always out of town—”

“Oh, he’s going to your house?” she asked, smiling over. “That’s nice of your mom.”

Billy swallowed down she’s not my fucking mom, and it’s nothing to do with her, and fuck you, and settled on, “N-no. I’m going to his place.”

“Oh,” she nodded, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, trying to get her blood moving. “Slumber party. Well, kiddo, I wish you more luck than I have ever had, trying to cook turkeys.” She pulled her knees up, hugging them, and sighed. “First turkey ever I burnt the whole outside, had to open all the windows...carve it outside ‘cause of the smoke...but when we stuck the knife in, it was still bleeding. Goddamn...burn victim on the table. Nearly called 911 for the turkey.” Billy was snickering, but he nearly lost it as she sighed out a trail of smoke, and said, “It was so raw inside I nearly tried CPR.”

“Oh no,” he wheezed, leaning against the side of her car. “We can just eat mashed potatoes, I guess.”

“My mom suggested I try adding a little garlic,” she said, curling up tighter. “She meant powdered garlic. Powdered. We kept hitting raw garlic cloves in the mashed potatoes…”

Billy groaned into his arm, leaning against the side of her car, but couldn’t stop sniggering.

“Want me to go in and make a call?” he asked her, and she swallowed hard, her eyes welling up again. Billy froze, lifting his hands for some stupid reason.

“It’s no good,” she moaned into her knees, waving her cigarette around. “What am I gonna do?! Even if Jonathan comes and gets me, I can’t—I can’t cook—”

“...you didn’t get any better?!” Billy asked, startled, imagining decades of bleeding turkey corpses, like a battlefield.

“I did get better,” she snarled, waving the cigarette at him. “I did! It was...it was pretty okay last year, there were good parts! It was edible! But how the hell am I supposed to cook with no power, huh, answer me that, smartass.”

Billy blinked. “...your power’s out?”

“The storm,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “Knocked a tree over, broke the kitchen window—” she sniffled. “And now my car won’t start—” She laughed sharply, looking away, and crossed her arms. “Some mother I am, I can’t even keep the heat on.”

Billy climbed out, checking again for Steve, and he was finally there. “HARRINGTON!” he yelled. “HARRINGTON! Over here!” Steve stopped halfway to his car, frowning around, and Billy slammed the door and ran up as Steve was unloading like 900 bags of groceries into his car. “C’mere,” Billy said, “It’s—that kid’s—mom!”

“What?” Steve asked, squinting, and Billy leaned their heads together to hiss “—the monster house lady.” Steve stared at him. “Joyce Byers? She—there were just monsters, she doesn’t have a monster house—”

“Yeah, that one,” Billy agreed, rolling his eyes and yanking Steve’s arm until he came along to Joyce Byers’ half-buried car.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

“Oh yeah,” Billy told her. “You got your jumper cables, Harrington?”

“Always do,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows, before leaning to sweep the snow off her passenger window. “Uh, hey, Mrs. Byers.”

Billy was considering his holidays with Steve as he’d planned them—naked the whole time, and no cooking at all—and sighed, remembering Steve agonizing over the selection of potatoes. He knocked on the roof of her car. “We’ll bring his car ‘round, okay?”

“I’m the grown-up here!” she wailed, then closed her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah,” Billy told her, before walking around to put an arm around Steve. “So,” he said, talking in his normal voice, but it was like a whisper with all the wind.

“Sorry,” Steve told him. “I know you wanna get back, but I can’t just leave her there—”

“Hey, I called you over,” Billy hissed, and Steve grinned at him, his gaze dropping to Billy’s lips as he licked his own. Billy’s whole body warmed, and he wanted to just grab Steve Harrington and haul him behind the building and—he took a slow breath, willing himself to think about something else. “Uh, so. You don’t—you got no idea how to cook all this food.”

“I can figure it out!” Steve protested. “I can read—”

“And her kitchen just got smashed by a tree,” Billy continued. Steve’s mouth dropped open. “She’s got no power, and it’s cold, she said.”

Steve’s eyes were wide and worried, and Billy smashed the lid on the coffin of his sex weekend.

“Isn’t that kid of hers, like, ten? You gonna leave him with no heat on Christmas?”

“No!” Steve breathed. “Uh, that okay, though? I know—I know you wanted…” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows with a grin that was unfair, given the situation, and Billy elbowed him.

“I want you to have your damn turkey,” Billy growled. “Ham. Whatever.”

“I did also buy a turkey,” Steve admitted guiltily, and Billy kicked his ass lightly as it walked away.

When they got back to Joyce, she was starting to turn blue, so Steve bundled her into his passenger seat while they ran his engine. “Come for Christmas,” he said.

“What?!” she squawked.

“Bring...everybody,” Steve sighed, and Billy realized too late he’d doomed them to a whole day with the man Steve’s ex was dating. “Show me how to cook a turkey?”

Joyce opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, then groaned, tipping forward to lean against the glove compartment. “I invited Hopper,” she finally yelled, flailing her arms, and Billy started snickering at Steve’s frown of determination.

“But you don’t have heat,” Steve pointed out. “Invite ‘em over, I got a big-ass turkey. Eleven can hang out with Will.”

“I’m supposed to pick Will up from Dustin’s place,” she sighed into the door of the glove compartment, and Billy bit back a snicker, glancing at Steve—sure enough, when the pay phone rang through to the Hendersons, Dustin was appalled.

“You sayin’ I’m not invited, Steve Harrington?” he hissed. “You know what my mom’s got planned? I’m gonna be on the floor next to the cat, choking down some goddamn Fancy Feast, because you can’t invite your best friend to come to your stupid—”

Steve pressed the phone to his chest, and frowned at Billy, wedged against him in the relative warmth of the phone booth. “Dustin wants to come,” Steve said, as though Billy hadn’t heard him. Or met Dustin Henderson.

“So invite him,” Billy shrugged, rubbing his knuckles along Steve’s ribs, and wishing Joyce Byers wasn’t watching them from the car, blowing on her fingers. Steve licked his lips, watching him back, and Billy hissed, “Steve.”

“Right,” Steve said, jerking back to Earth, and lifted the phone again. “If you’re coming, you gotta bring food.”

“Mom’s not gonna let me make a mess, that’s why I gotta—”

“Bring food,” Billy yelled into the receiver, and hung up. He turned his face so Joyce couldn’t see, kissed his fingers, watching Steve’s face, and saw his adam’s apple jerk as he swallowed. Billy reached up and brushed the kiss over Steve’s jaw, and then elbowed the phone booth door open, stumbling back out.

“Love you,” Steve whispered, and Billy shushed him, bumping their shoulders together.

He’d been with Steve Harrington since the previous morning, and his cheeks hurt from smiling.

When they got back in Steve’s car, Joyce was starting to uncoil, going limp like her strings had been cut as she sprawled in front of Steve’s heat and defrost. Billy climbed in behind Steve, listening to Steve try to convince her to bring her kids over that night, to where there was heat.

Billy had a sudden thought. “Harrington,” he hissed, pushing himself forward to grab the back of Steve’s seat, “—we don’t have a tree.”

“Oh shit,” Steve whispered, his eyes wide, and Joyce started snickering at them. “Go get everybody,” he told Joyce, his jaw set. “We’ll get a tree.”

She just smiled at them, cocking her head, and then took a deep shuddery breath and rubbed her face. “Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll get Jonathan to bring some lights. We got a ton of Christmas lights—”

For some reason, Steve winced at this, but she reached over and squeezed his arm. She held it for a long second, then cleared her throat, and climbed out of the car.

Steve nodded, gripping the steering wheel of the car, and Billy barely waited for Joyce to turn away before he hugged Steve from behind, seat and all. “What’s your problem,” he asked, but Steve laughed softly.

“Just wanna kiss you,” he said, grinning in the rearview mirror.

Joyce’s car behind them sputtered to life, and they climbed out to disconnect the cables.

“Maybe don’t turn off the engine ‘til you make it to our house,” Steve told her, yelling as a car went by, and Billy’s heart thudded in his chest, sending his blood to his face and dick and nowhere else when Steve said our house. He tried to hide his face by turning back to Steve’s car and lighting a cigarette.

“Oh,” she laughed a little jaggedly. “It, um, it’s usually...fine. I just should have started it on my lunch break, you know. In this weather. I was a little…”

“We’re going to go get a tree,” Steve told her, firmly. “You have to bring everyone tonight and help us decorate it. I think I made ornaments in school once,” he muttered. “We could make ornaments?”

“You really don’t have to,” Joyce laughed, shaking her head, poised halfway in the car. “Just get a tiny one!”

“I’m getting a huge tree!” Steve hollered back, his feet spread like he was ready to fight for his ginormous tree, and Billy crunched closer through the half-packed snow on the sidewalk and grabbed him around the waist.

“Let’s go,” he whispered. “We gotta go actually buy it.”

“Bring lots of lights!” Steve was yelling at Joyce, who had her head on her steering wheel. It looked like she was...laughing, Billy hoped.

By the time Billy got the ENTIRE GROCERY STORE Steve had bought into the kitchen, Steve was in the front room with the twelve foot tree, trying to get the door they’d had to take off back onto its hinges. He’d drug out six dusty boxes labeled things like ‘galand’ and ‘ligt stands’ and Billy was wondering whether they were stands or strands when Steve came up behind him, sliding his arms around Billy’s waist, and kissing down his neck.

“Thanks,” he whispered, and Billy leaned into it, letting his head fall to the side.

It was warming again, with the door back in place and closed against the snow, and Billy squirmed around to face Steve, pulling him closer to kiss him open-mouthed before everyone showed up. “What’re you thanking me for,” he whispered.

“Helping me with this shit,” Steve whispered back, kissing him again. “Helping Mrs. Byers.”

Steve’s kisses always went straight to Billy’s dick, and he groaned, stepping a few inches back and clearing his throat. “Damn,” Billy said, hoarsely. “Well. You said it was our house,” he told Steve, smirking. “Gotta back up my man, right.”

“Oh shit, right,” Steve mumbled, and sighed. “Wish it was our house. They don’t need to come back,” he laughed, and it had the wistful note in it that had had Billy just about willing to climb out a window every damn day and just take whatever his dad dished out. “I’d rather have you,” Steve said, grabbing the back of Billy’s neck to yank him in for a quick peck on the lips before he stalked over to stare down at the boxes. “Next Christmas I just want you.”

“...careful what you wish for,” Billy told him, crouching to open a box. It contained cassettes, and Billy smushed the lid closed fast, but not fast enough, and in moments Steve had the house filled with John Denver and the Muppets.

“I’m going home,” Billy muttered into the next box, and then Steve grabbed him and spun him around on the hardwood floor of the front room, and Billy yelled “Fuck! Augh! Fuck you!” but Steve laughed, dancing around him until Billy submitted to ‘dancing’, trying to avoid Steve’s elbows, and not get his stockinged feet stomped by Steve’s bare ones.

“Don’t go home, babe,” Steve told him, laughing, and Billy sighed in his arms.

“...like I would.”

There were ornaments. Glass, mostly, and some cut-out plastic ones of Peppermint Patty and Charlie Brown. There was a glass stork that said ‘Baby’s first Christmas, 1966’, and one with a picture of Steve on Santa’s lap staring at the camera with huge stricken eyes like he was being flashed in a different sense of the word.

“Come on, help me get the tree up, first,” Steve told him, and Billy nodded, pulling one out with a picture of Steve’s mom and dad, maybe. They looked like movie stars in a glamor shot for a magazine, and Steve looked maybe four, staring into the middle distance. “Billy Hargrove,” Steve called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Billeeeeeeeeeee.”

Billy bit his lips as he got to his feet, and threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders, squeezing him hard. “I’m here, I’m here. Too bad we can’t get the wood stove going.”

“Oh,” Steve blinked at it. “That’d be nice, huh. There are probably pellets somewhere. Now,” Steve said, leaning back into Billy’s chest. He steepled his fingers, and Billy registered that he’d dumped three of the other boxes out in a mess of stockings, lights, and a hollow light-up snowman.

“Our tree is too big for the tree stand I found,” Steve said, like that was a normal problem to have, and Billy started snickering again. “No, no, it’ll work,” Steve mumbled, eyeing the tree and the ceiling, “—I’ll hang it from the ceiling. On a wire. And—and we can stick it in a bucket. It’ll last longer,” he announced, “—like cut flowers!”

“When is Christmas, Harrington,” Billy whispered back. “Today is Christmas eve, so how long does the tree need to last? One day, Harrington. One.”

“It’ll work,” Steve hissed back, and Billy waved as his boyfriend went off to war, a soldier searching the garage for weapons in the fight against a twelve-foot tree.

“Be brave,” Billy called, and Steve flipped him off, shutting the garage door on “—our prayers go with you!” While Steve was gone, Billy ran his fingers through his hair, and sat down to check the lights, plugging each strand into the wall. He groaned at the two that didn’t work, and considered testing every bulb...and then tiptoed to the kitchen, and wedged them into the very bottom of the trash.

Steve returned triumphant, drill in hand, and Billy got the hell out from under the ladder, stomping off to the garage himself to find an extension cord for all the lights. When he returned, Steve was trying to balance the tree on top of the bucket, and Billy tossed the extension cord aside and ran to help, so Steve could climb the ladder and wire the damned thing to the ceiling.

It looked ridiculous. “Feel like I’m in a fucking Macy’s,” Billy growled, and Steve beamed at him.

“Yank on it!” he suggested, and Billy kicked the ladder. Steve swore, glowering down.

“I’m not yanking on your monster tree, you think I wanna die like a vampire, stake through my chest,” Billy muttered, and Steve jumped down and hugged him, his sweater warm, his face cold from the air in the garage. Billy groaned into his shoulder. “...we’re boning under this thing, right,” he asked, long-suffering, and Steve blinked, then nodded.

“Yeah, I mean,” he cleared his throat, biting back a smirk. “Of course.”

“Okay,” Billy sighed again, and set his shoulders. “Okay, then.”

“Fucking love you,” Steve said fondly, and Billy glared at him, and then the piles of lights.

“Yeah?! Yeah, you—you fucking better,” he hissed, when the knock came at the door.

Jonathan and Will Byers wandered in with sleeping bags to stare at Billy’s armload of lights, and he could hear Joyce’s horrified voice when she saw the massive ham in the kitchen, next to the turkey they could have shoved Will inside of.

“Steve’s possessed,” Billy broke it to them, and Steve yelled back something about the spirit of Christmas. Billy nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows at the Byers’, and saw them realize they were as doomed as he was.

“Uh,” said Jonathan, clearing his throat. “Lemme help with the lights?”

Here’s part two!

#Harringrove #found family #Steve wants Christmas #Billy wants him to have everything #Smooches under the tree

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cherryyharryy · 5 years

Text

Burning Words

Chapter Two: Lunch, Library, and Lady Liberty

WC: 7,400

Previous part

Songs for this chapter

The prickling scratch of my highlighter dragging across a strip of text reminds me of how naïve I really am. I hate the sound, hate how uneven the lime green line sits, jagged over the inked words, with a pool of color where the pen sat at the beginning of the sentence.

It’s raining outside, and rain in New York is not like rain anywhere else. It’s purposeful, like a painting, like it belongs here. The only difference is that nothing changes—not like back home. In Georgia, people would come out afterwards, drive ten miles to the nearest pit and screw their trucks through the mud. Kids would run outside and look for worms and slugs, puddles to jump in. Dogs would dig holes in the softened earth. But here, no one stops. No one bats an eye, not even the people who forget their umbrellas. I wish rain was still life changing.

I sigh, close my notes, and cap my highlighters. “Any ideas for lunch?”

Jessie dips her head back in thought. I see her lashes flutter and her lips pinch, but then she shrugs. “We could order pizza?” She’s sat cross-legged on a patchwork armchair, laptop balanced across her thighs with a pen teetering between her teeth. I have to tip my head over the back of my chair to see her, upside down. “I’ve got a coupon for that place down the street.”

“We always order pizza.”

“We could learn how to cook.”

I click my tongue. “Bingo.”

The far wall of the apartment has a generous sized window. The floor creaks like we’re torturing it every time we move across a room, the bathtub faucet leaks when it’s hot out, and I know more about my neighbors’ lives than I really need to. But the window....it’s like a movie. My chair sits beside it. I try to count raindrops but there are too many.

“Chinese?” I offer.

“You and your egg rolls.”

“They’re the only thing I want when I don’t really wanna eat. I didn’t eat breakfast. And I only had a handful of popcorn for dinner last night.”

I can see a park from here, and in the winter when the trees are bare, a neighboring tennis court. Flowers hang limply from their stems along the sidewalk. A cat scrambles across the road, sporadic, and suddenly I envy the lack of knowledge animals have, lack of responsibilities, sense of time, unspoken contracts. At times I wish I were a depressed cat soaked to the bone, thinking if I move quick enough I’ll escape the rain.

“What?” I miss half of what Jessie asks.

“How’s your class been?”

“Which one?”

Jessie pauses her movements to assert me with a knowing glare. “You know what class. How’s the British babe?”

“Ugh, Harry.”

“Harry,” she tests his name before I continue. A few students have called him by his name, but he’s quick to correct them, surely enjoying his authority.

“He’s most definitely not a babe. A jackass. And he’s been as jackass-y as ever.” I join Jessie when she starts to laugh. “He calls on me every chance he gets. And I swear it’s just to humiliate me.”

“Well at least he’s nice to look at.”

“That means nothing when he’s a jerk.”

“True.” Jessie shrugs. “What about Truman’s...it’s near campus?”

I loll my head back and narrow my gaze. They don’t have egg rolls. “Yeah that’s fine.”

“My treat.”

***

In Hungarian, there are two words for the color red. Piros and vörös, with different times to use them, and should be used accordingly. When I was a kid I got them wrong; called my mom’s hat vörös, and got a slap on the wrist by my grandmother.

I spent that evening hiding in my closet, using the sleeve of my Winnie the Pooh pajamas to soak up the cascade of tears. When my cousin found me, I begged him to explain what I’d done wrong.

“Piros is blood inside the body. Vörös is when it comes out.”

That’s all I was left with. And I never did understand the difference. For years now that night resurfaces in my brain, and I think, I’m older now, I’ll be able to get it.

But now, as I stand on the sidewalk, peering through the window of Jessie’s lunch choice, I’m swarmed with the overbearing realization that age has nothing to do with it.

Harry’s in a striped button down, a sea foam green that reminds me of how different candy felt when I was younger, and high-waisted navy blue pants that couldn’t decide between flaring out or forming to the shape of his legs. I watch him balance plates and glasses, stacking forks and knives, spoons and mugs, soiled napkins and empty Splenda packets. He shovels his tip into his pocket and then disappears out of view while someone else wipes down the table.

“We can go somewhere else.”

“No.” I drag in the humid air, freshly washed, and hold it in my lungs until my head starts to spin. “This is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. We’ll sit in the back. At Brigette’s table.”

I’m not sure if you can call Truman’s a restaurant. It isn’t fast food, fine dining, or even a bistro. It’s always dark. The chairs are pink and the tablecloths are green. There are flowers everywhere, I thought it was a flower shop and was sadly mistaken when I came in for the first time to buy Jessie a bundle of roses for her birthday. Strumming violins fill any silence between tables. It’s old but new, rooted woods, lamps from the 90’s, curtains from the 80’s, cooks from the 60’s and 70’s.

“Brigette’s not on today, but that table is available if you want it.”

Me and Jessie both blink at the hostess, unintelligible utterances coming out until we give up, give in, and sit ourselves down at the small tea table under the back window.

“I hope the rain doesn’t start again. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

I hum, more preoccupied with trying to find a better distraction than my ripped cuticles.

“He’s up front,” Jessie assures, “I think I saw that guy I dated the summer after freshman year...Mack something or other...busing these tables. I’m sure he’ll wait on us.”

“Whitaker.”

“What?”

“His name was Mack Whitaker.”

“Yeah, him. It’ll be fine.” She shrugs like it’s nothing. I can’t imagine being her.

The place is busy, rightfully so on a bleak Saturday afternoon. The sun pokes through the clouds occasionally, carving streams of golden light across our table, Jessie’s face, and I assume mine as well. She compliments my eyes and I thank her, then proceed to detail a hundred abstract thoughts as to why she must pity me enough to lie. Someone—who isn’t Mack Whitaker—brings us each water and apologizes for the wait. They’re swamped, understaffed, and had barreled through a visit from the health department early this morning.

“Anthony’s pissed again,” Jessie mumbles, pursing her lips when I look up at her. I raise my brows so she’ll continue. “I missed his call the other night. But I was busy, so…” she shakes her head and scoffs a laugh.

“It’s sweet though, that he wants to talk to you everyday.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighs.

“He’ll get over it,” I assure her. “He did the last time.”

“I just hope he’s over it before he comes up here.”

“Good afternoon, have you had a chance to look at the menu?” A girl from my class ends our conversation. She wears the same outfit as Harry. When she smiles I have to blink, her teeth whiter than heat, slightly crooked, and I imagine she overdoes the stinging gel against her gums to make up for it. It works. Her lips and cheeks look as if she’d became too friendly with strawberries; a character face, full and round, structured like magazine models with skin to match. I remember her from the previous year: pretty, even at eight in the morning. Boys like her, professors like her. Head of the Spanish club but I bet she can’t count past diez.

“Two turkey on ciabatta with tomato soup. No mayo on one. Diet Coke aaand…” Jessie raises her brows at me.

“My water is fine, thanks.”

“No mayo,” our server draws out the syllables while jotting down our order. ”Well my name’s Danielle, if you need anything just—” She points her pencil at me and squints, as if that clears my image and her memory. “You look familiar…” She hums to herself, taps the end of the pencil against her lips before her eyes light up. I gulp. “Oh! You’re in my class aren’t you? The early one on Monday and Wednesday!”

I nod. “Yeah, World Lit.”

“Yeah! How are you doing on your book report?”

“Um, good I guess. Haven’t gotten too far into it yet.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty stupid right? I heard it was the TA’s idea. I mean, I haven’t done a book report since high school.” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “So—oh! Speak of the devil.”

My face feels as though I’m being stung by a thousand bees. Harry sidles up beside Danielle and nods to each of us.

“Afternoon, ladies.” He’s holding a pitcher of ice water and flicks his gaze down to my glass.

I regret how much I drank when he fills it back up to the rim. I scrape my teeth against my tongue before I’m able to say anything. “Thank you.”

He nods, opens his mouth, but Danielle beats him to it.

“We were just discussing our class.”

My veins are filled with wax, dripping at a pace so unoriginal, hardening, crystallizing. I grab my cutlery wrapped in a mauve pink napkin to occupy my hands, twisting and prodding and jabbing.

“Yeah,” she continues when all he does is nod. “So what are we doing on Monday?”

“I have a surprise for you all, something I’ve been working on with Dr. Pierce—”

“Oh!” Danielle interrupts. “What is it?”

Harry raises his brows and laughs. “Well I can’t tell you, now can I? Won’t be a surprise.”

“Ohh, yes you can. We won’t say a word.”

Harry denies her once more. His eyes flicker down to me. “I’m sure you won’t. But you’ll have to wait for class to find out.”

“Oh my God! Your hand!”

I follow Jessie’s voice to see a small pool of blood decorating the table, my napkin having soaked up some, my skin a bit more. Red reflects in the sparkling silver of a fork and spoon, glistening on the blade of a knife I have carelessly sawed against the tip of my ring finger. I didn’t feel anything until I saw the cut, and now it stings.

“We have a first aid kit in the back.” I hear Harry say but I look to Jessie. “Here,” he pulls a handful of napkins from his apron and cups them around my finger. “Is this okay?”

I nod without looking at him. He tells me to come with him, and I oblige, weighing my evils as the entire room is now focused on our table and the girl bleeding out right before their eyes. As I walk with him, I selfishly hope I do lose enough to earn a transfusion, amputate my finger, something, anything, so I can leave. If I get to stay in the hospital, I won’t have to go to class Monday.

“Don’t worry!” Danielle whispers as she passes by us. “He’s great with his hands.”

I see vörös everywhere.

***

It burns. Really burns. But I’m thankful. It’s the only thing keeping me aware that I’m alive, that I can’t hide away, that I need to mark my movements as always. He rinses my finger under an ice cold water bottle he pulled from a tiny fridge below the staff’s sign-in computer. Someone yelled at him—Ralph. His name is on the bottle.

“This is cleaner than whatever comes out of the sink.”

He slips his foot around the leg of a metal chair and drags it over by the sink; the closet door it had held open falls shut. With a nod he tells me to sit. I say nothing, just watch him care for the small wound like my life really is dependent on it.

“Can I have your hand—er—can I see it? Your hand?” He rolls his lips in and clears his throat when I extend my arm to him. His touch is almost nonexistent. I barely feel his fingers splaying my hand flat and wide while he rinses the blood off. He uses a towel tucked into his waistband to dry me off, and then pops open the lid of the first aid kit.

“This is just an antiseptic...don’t think it should burn.” He smooths a small bit of opaque gel over the ridiculously tiny split in my skin. “I think the head and the hand...always an extreme amount of blood. When I was a kid, my sister’s cat scratched me, right under my left eyebrow. It felt like someone poured water down my face. Mum thought I was goin’ to die.” He folds a purple band-aid over my finger, frowning when it’s not smooth so he starts again. “There. Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Good. Okay. Um, well I guess I’d better get back.” His hand lingers on the bandage, running his thumb over it one last time, and then he finally pulls away.

“Yeah.” I’m shaky when I stand, and curse myself when I almost trip over the chair when I turn to leave. I pause to speak over my shoulder. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The walk back is long, and I have to fight the urge to look and see what he’s doing. I don’t hear the chair scraping against the floor or Ralph complaining about his water. I’m thankful I threw on my good jeans this morning.

Jessie is bouncing in her seat when I return—the table beside ours. “Is it bad? It was a lot of blood! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It was really small. The cut I mean.” I look down at my bandage like it’s a secret. “Where’s my stuff?”

“They’re replacing it all,” she waves off. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it throbs a little bit—”

“No, not that! I mean him. Did he say anything to you? Was he mean? Because I’ll go back there if you need me to.”

“No—no, sit down, would you.” I hold back a laugh; she doesn’t need the encouragement. “He was nice.”

“Good. I tried to follow you but the manager came out and asked me what happened. We get our meal free, by the way.”

“Well then I guess this was worth it.”

Our food comes quickly, served by the manager herself.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

I stir my soup. I can see the reflection of my eyes in the red pool, and I watch myself blink once before rippling my image away. “M’not that hungry.”

Jessie leans over the table and lowers her voice. “What happened?”

“What?”

“With Harry, in the back.”

“No, nothing.” I sigh and slump back into my chair. “I’m just tired. And I have a lot of work to do. That stupid report. And I have a quiz in another class on Tuesday. I’m fine. And he—”

“How are we doing? Is there anything I can get you guys?” Danielle looks prettier each time I see her. I shake my head while Jessie answers, keeping my focus on my untouched food. “Did Harry take care of you?”

It’s a good thing I wasn’t eating or else I would have choked. “Uh, yeah. He did.”

“I knew he would. He’s a sweet one.”

“Mhm.”

How easy it would be, to tell her my name. Tell her that her teeth are too white and her shirt is too tight. I could tell her that Harry’s sister’s cat scratched him when he was a kid and that’s where that tiny little scar above his eye is from. Did you know that Danielle? Or were you too preoccupied with what his hands were doing?

“Alright, well just holler for me if you need anything!”

I ignore her but she doesn’t seem to notice, waltzing off. Harry’s counting menus when she approaches him at the front. I think I hear her call him an angel, but I know I see him smile. I tell Jessie I want to leave. If I’m going to throw up it’s going to be in my bathroom with my best friend holding my hair back.

***

I've had the Arctic Monkeys stuck in my head all morning. Every clink of the spoon against my bowl of cheerios, every step I took rushing to school because I decided to spend my time in the shower crying, every yawn from everyone stumbling into class.

And I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky,

Yours, until the rivers all run dry.

It’s five past eight. Dr. Pierce stands towards the corner, pointing at paperwork another professor is showing him. Each time a student cracks the door open they smile and hurry to their desk like they’ve won something. Freshmen. He told us twice that he doesn’t care if we’re late, it’s our grade not his, which I appreciate. My pen taps across my notebook.

And I'll be yours until the sun no longer shines,

Yours, until the poets run out of rhyme

In other words, until the end of time

He is late, however. I try to refuse my need to look up at the door each time it opens. I want to dismiss the anxiety of waiting for him.

I'm gonna stay right here by your side,

Do my best to keep you satisfied

Nothin' in the world could drive me away

'Cause every day, you'll hear me say

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry apologizes, bustling through the door. He did his best to fix the upturned collar of his rose pink button-down, subtly, albeit he fails miserably when a smudge of maroon is revealed. “I uh,” he clears his throat, “had some things to take care of. Got carried away.” He directs his excuse towards our professor, scrambling to pull out today’s materials from his bag.

Dr. Pierce bids the professor goodbye and welcomes Harry, offering him time to gather himself which he does rather quickly. His lips are pressed together until he’s the center of attention, scanning the room as he always does, finalizing on me and I swear his eyes glisten.

“So, uh, today we’ll be—”

“So sorry I’m late.” Danielle hurries through the door and takes her seat at the front.

“Right, um, welcome.” Harry’s gaze is trained on the paper in his hands. His brows furrow and he clears his throat before continuing. “As I was saying, we’re doing something a tad different today. Dr. Pierce and I have been talking, and we decided to break up our usual routine And with your reports due soon, offer you all a little added support. So we’ll be heading to the library where you all can work, ask questions, get mine or Dr. Pierce’s advice—whatever you need to finish the final touches before you hand anything in.”

Most everyone appears pleased with this news, proceeding to sling their bags over their shoulders and get out of their chairs.

“Hold on, hold on,” Dr. Pierce interjects the flow. “You must work on your report and your report only. This isn’t a free-for-all. And I don’t want to hear that you’ve finished it, because I can guarantee that there’s room for improvement from each of you.”

Danielle is the first to make it to the front. She passes Harry on her way to the door and straightens his collar. His face matches the rose colored stain she thumbs over and I think about how if I veer off and go home, no one will notice.

And I'll be yours until two and two is three,

Yours, until the mountains crumble to the sea

In other words, until eternity

Baby, I'm yours

***

Our library is something out of a medieval storybook. Rich, haunted woods and six tier windows where dust sparkles through the light pushing in. You can lose aged pennies against the floor and get lost behind dusty shelves if you want to. There are microfilms, typewriters, and a spirit machine downstairs and two velvet couches on the second floor.

I spent the majority of my first semester here, back when Jessie brought a different boy home every Friday night. I’ve missed the smell, the quiet, the disturbed alteration of reality inside its doors. But when I look around at my class tossing their bags on tables and hollering for Dr. Pierce or Harry’s attention, I’m not sure if I’ll make plans to come back.

Ms. Bortnick, the head librarian, is a stout woman who barely sees over the front desk, but somehow always knows when I’ve come in. When it’s raining, she knows the shake of my umbrella from everyone else’s. And when it’s spring, she knows my sneezes from everyone else’s. She is like a grandmother, only she’d never had kids, so not quite so in that you can’t get away with stuff. She has a bad eye and one good kidney, and sometimes she mixes these two things up, but I gave up on correcting her long ago. That’s how long I’ve been here.

She is Ukrainian and her accent is thick and aged, much like her mind. “Hello nyuszi,” she says before I’m fully inside. It’s bunny in Hungarian. A nickname from my mom, who tells everyone because she thinks it’s cute. Everyone, including the tiny librarian during the campus tour we took forever and a day ago.

“Hi Ms. Bortnick,” I say, lagging, like I’m embarrassed, because I am.

She just waves with a big grandmother-like smile that makes you miss home.

I take a seat at a small table, behind a section of Virginia Woolf. Most of the voices die down, the clicks of keyboards taking their place, and I pull out the research I’ve started for my report. The Tropic of Cancer, slightly tattered and worn, lay open beside my notebook, and my laptop sits adjacent.

“You coming along well?”

Shit. I jump, my ears ringing. “I’m fine.”

Harry nods and paces behind me to look over my shoulder. The air below his body weighs down against my back, so suffocating and harnessing that I’m sure I feel the waves and vibrations his heart emits. I try to swallow but my tongue gets in the way. I should’ve stayed home.

“I actually did an analysis on Henry Miller a couple years ago. If you wanna pick my brain, you’re more than welcome to.”

“Oh uh, thanks.”

His voice is grumbly, like rocks turning over beneath tires. Yet smooth, like washing sand off your body. I’m perplexed for a moment, at how these two things meet together so well, but that’s always the case with people. Like how Ms. Bortnick can’t remember anyone’s actual name, but sews that wound up with a pet name she picks out just for you.

“Yeah, I think I might even have an essay on my laptop. You can look over it if you’d like,” he says.

“Thank you, but I think I’m fine with what I have.”

“Well if you need anything, just let me know.”

I nod. My eyes blink once he steps away, and it takes me a moment to remember where I am and what I am doing. I’m a bit separated from most of the class, at one of the outlying tables apart from the student section where Harry ambles around everyone. Whenever he bends over to look at someone’s work, the muscles beneath his shirt ripple and contract. I can see his shoulder blades from here, and I’m failing to recall a time when the definition of someone’s spine has ever called for my attention.

I shake my head, naïvely expecting that to clear my mind. Google is pulled up on my laptop, but instead of searching for The Tropic of Cancer, I press the keys in Harry’s name.

The first couple links that pop up are social media accounts. I avoid these and move on to the next option, a link going back to our school. It takes me to his name under the directory, nothing more than a profile picture and his credentials.

Harry Styles

Received his Bachelor of Arts in English Literature at New York University in 2016. He completed a one year internship at the Ann Rittenberg Literary Agency Inc. in New York in 2017, and in 2018, spent a year abroad in France and Italy studying classic literature surrounding the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries. He is currently working on his graduate degree, assisted professional teaching placement, and his thesis on the cultivation of the Renaissance era in regards to English literature.

I read over everything three times. That’s how long it takes me to grasp it all. He’s accomplished more in three years of his life than I have in my entire existence. It’s weird, being in my twenties and already feeding off the desire of wanting to be young again. It’s not fair how some people are prone to achievements and winning, while the rest of us are left to scramble around, years later to piece together a life that offers a sliver of satisfaction.

I close the window and ineptly click on one of his social media accounts, and for some reason my stomach twists. There’s a picture of him on twitter, from this weekend. He’s at Truman’s with his arm around Danielle, a smile on his face, and a caption thanking her for getting him his job. They’re both pretty; perfect for each other really. The only thing I can think of being thankful for in this moment is that I was not included in their picture. No one needs to see that comparison; I provide myself with enough pity to feed an army.

And maybe it’s stupid, but I navigate to Danielle’s account. There’s a weird fraction in the self-loathing lifestyle, like my brain needs a reminder of where I stand in this world. It keeps me in check, I believe. I cannot imagine thinking I look good, only to be reminded that I don’t in fact, look anything close to good. That’s a big fall to take, and I prefer to spend my time at the bottom. I’ve earned my place here.

I zoom in to every picture. Have you ever compared your wrist to someone? Or the space where your neck meets your shoulders? She has a big, red birthmark on her hip, but she makes it look necessary. And I’m sure Harry probably likes it. And I’m sure she’s told him how she’s no longer ashamed of it, and she’s not afraid to wear bikinis because she doesn’t care what people think. And she probably thinks that’s what makes her different and that’s the story she tells, how she overcame insecurity and loves her body now. And she would probably tell me that I just need to learn how to accept my flaws and learn to love them and then I’ll finally be happy like her. But that’s stupid, even stupider then me scrolling through her account to find some awkward picture, maybe one where her nose and lips are less perfect and I can start saving up for surgery too. Because if I looked like her, I’d have no problem being happy. I’d post pictures on the beach, and find a boyfriend, and not feel like a pathetic loser who’s done nothing with her life.

“Are you writing your report on Danielle?”

I lurch with stiff bones, and now I can’t remember if I’ve had this headache all day or if Dr. Pierce’s voice triggered it. Shamefully, I close the browser. “No, I’m sorry.” I hope that’s enough, because it’s all I can afford to give right now. Maybe if he knew I was seconds away from crying he’ll leave me alone.

“Get back to work please.”

Just make it ‘til you get home. You can cry there. Not here. Not here. Not here.

***

I tediously lower my body so that the water pulses right below my chin. My knees are covered, but only if I remain motionless, or the water will break against my skin and then my knee caps will appear suddenly. I inch my feet further across the acrylic until they are hidden once again.

There is a window extending from the floor beside the tub all the way up, over my head so I have a view of the street below as well as the sky, and it’s always quite a contrast. If the street is busy, then the sky is not. But then if the sky has a heavy to-do list, then it’s the road below me that becomes shallow, except when rain is falling in a race to its demise against the concrete.

I suck in a breath that’s full of my shampoo and bodywash and the rose oil I dropped in twenty minutes ago. I can taste it in my lungs, so before it becomes too much, I push against my heels, my knees forming mountains as they break the surface and my head becomes consumed a moment later. The pressure is light, just enough; I’m more aware that I’m living than I did when oxygen was flowing through my lungs. I count to ten and then release the burn as I crash upwards. It’s a bit dramatic and cinema worthy, but there’s no one watching; even the city-goers are too far below me to care that I live here.

“Is my phone in there?”

I drag my eyes open and sure enough, Jessie’s phone sits on the counter. “Come in!”

“Oh thank God, thought I left it at that party.” She picks her clothes from last night off the floor and throws them in the hamper. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“And why’s that?”

I shrug, but she doesn’t see me, now straightening up the mess she made of her toiletries, her back to me while she shoves everything into her drawer.

“Just one of those nights I guess.”

She peaks over her shoulder and hums. “You have a lot of those.” She turns fully, looking at me like she is a mother. I rack my brain for an excuse but I can’t find one. If I did, I would’ve tried it out on myself years ago. “Y’know I’m here to talk. I’m your best friend...that’s part of my job.”

I smile at the water, but turn away when I see my reflection. “I’m fine. Just getting used to the semester.”

She lets the defeat show on her face, and I’m glad I know how to mask mine. “Alright then. Well just text me if you need me. I’m always here for you.” Her voice is soft and patient and I feel guilty for lying to her. “I’m late for cello practice.”

“I’ll be fine. Gonna enjoy my day off.”

“And actually enjoy it! No studying, no flash cards!” She laughs when I roll my eyes. “I mean it. Go to the park, eat a pint of ice cream, masturbate, please, anything outside of those notebooks of yours!”

“I’ll add those to the list,” I laugh. “I’m probably just gonna stay home and relax. Watch Uptown Girls or something. Eat cookie dough.”

“And—”

“And masturbate I know.”

She kisses my head and grabs her phone, heading out the door, her voice fading as she leaves. “You can tell me all about it later.”

The tile is cold beneath my feet, and slick with warning as I pull the plug on the drain and take a moment to scan the world outside. The sun is in attendance today, some of its beams make their way into the bathroom and have crawled across the floor all morning. I decide to stand there, on the beams to warm my toes slightly. It’s probably more in my head, the warmth, but I’ll take it either way. The tiles are black and white, a classic checkerboard, and I gave up on choosing a color to step on not long after we moved in.

The mirror is foggy and I work fast to wash my face and brush my teeth, keeping my towel tight around myself until the last possible second, trading it’s warmth for a sweater and jeans. I slip into my shoes. I haven’t read much for leisure, and pick up my copy of Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl from my bookshelf before I leave. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it, but each time never fails to reward me with something I didn’t catch the last time.

***

There’s a park within walking distance from my apartment. I like to go there in the rain sometimes, under my green umbrella, and read literary magazines with a thermos of coffee Jessie made me. I look like the adult that I’m supposed to be. I don’t think anyone ever notices, which isn’t much different then the expectations I lay out for myself the night before.

Today, however, I am not walking to the park. I am taking a train to the park. The park—Central Park. And it’s not raining and I forgot to bring coffee, but I need today. I need to do something for myself. Something outside my comfort zone. That’s how you become a better person, right?

We don’t have subways back home. There isn’t much of anything back home other than high school football games, car washes, and stray cats that everyone feeds. The first time I rode the train I cried. Jessie told me that it was okay, and that’s why I did it the next time, and the time after that. I’m not going to cry today, though. I am not going to get overwhelmed and worry about when to get on and when to get off and who’s looking at me and how I wouldn’t be able to help anyone if they get mugged or how if I trip and fall on the platform, I’ll start praying for death.

Light flashes at a rhythm I’m unfamiliar with, but I manage to keep my focus on my book. It shakes in my hands but I keep reading. I’m not really reading, in its true form, that is. I’ve marked this book up so much I could use it as confetti, and those are the parts I’m reading. The parts that meant something to me at each stage of my life: I used a green pen at age eleven, red sharpie at fifteen, blue highlighter at twenty, and ripped sticky notes at twenty-three. It’s less of a commitment this way, but when the screeching travels up my spine and I can smell something other than people when I’m back on solid ground, I wipe my cheeks and they’re dry.

When I lie in bed at night and think over the many sins and shortcomings attributed to me, I get so confused by it all that I either laugh or cry: it depends on what sort of mood I am in. Then I fall asleep with a stupid feeling of wishing to be different from what I am or from what I want to be; perhaps to behave differently from the way I want to behave.

I have a plan in place. One that I didn’t feel comfortable telling Jessie even though I know she’d be supportive. That’s the conundrum; having a best friend who loves you so much they want to fix you. She would have tagged along today, asked me how I’m feeling a million times and try to rationalize everything. She’d tell me all the ways I can be happy. But she can’t do that. No one should be allowed to, really. Because if you say can then there also has to be the option of can’t. And if people had the choice to pick what state their mind was in every day, I wouldn’t be strolling around parts of New York I’ve never been in, trying to scrounge up some off-handed version of self-love.

I bought a bath bomb and candles, stopped at a stationary store to pick up pens and notebooks that I don’t need, another Beatles t-shirt and chocolate. A farmer’s market was selling fresh fruit and I bought a tomato and ate the whole thing right there. I don’t care that it’s cheap retail therapy. It’s blocking out school and certain people and my age and my lack of success as an adult. And maybe it’s not working, but it’s New York—there’s distractions everywhere. And that’s exactly what I’m doing today.

***

Liberty Island. That’s where the Statue of Liberty is. I am stupid for thinking Staten Island, but in my defense, that’s where everyone outside of New York thinks it is. When I moved here I wanted to see it. It was going to be this defining moment that solidified me in my new home, this incredible rebirth that validated me leaving my parents. I was going to buy cheap postcards and send them to my mom and I’d say See, I’m here and I’m happy. This was the right choice. I fit in. Please stop crying. At least I didn’t think it was Ellis Island.

I’m on the right ferry heading towards the right island. Soon, I really see her and I start crying. She’s green but she’s not green, and she’s copper but also not really. She’s this woman and that’s fucking cool, except I know had she not been a gift, she would have been a man. There is someone with a microphone talking about her but the wind burns my ears so I pull up google on my phone.

The Babylonian Ishtar, Imperial Rome’s goddess Libertas was Papal Rome’s “Mother of the Harlots and abominations of the earth” and the template for America’s Statue of Liberty.

I paid to visit the pedestal but not the crown. I don’t trust my body to climb twenty stories. I don’t wanna know what I’ll think about that high up. I saved up and bought a reservation and now that I’m here, I wish I’d brought Jessie along. I wish I had more people to choose from to bring along because this isn’t Jessie’s thing. But that was the idea, after all, to keep this day to myself, venture out, mark something off a bucket list I haven’t started yet. Distractions, distractions, distractions.

My bags are heavy and it’s hot, but I manage to read a lot of plaques and stroll around intentionally. I do, at certain moments, feel a sort of liberation with myself. Kind of like the first time you go out driving on your own. It’s scary, and a part of you still wishes your mom was behind the wheel, but that kind of being alone is freedom. It’s not the car or the license, it’s the option to be fully by yourself at any time.

And I can’t help but wonder, compare, really, myself to the woman who I’m wandering around below her dress. She does lonely well. She does it right. All by herself she stands, a beacon, a purified symbol. And this is where I’m at, apparently, scrutinizing my abilities at making loneliness look mature and comparing myself to a statue.

Truly, this is my day.

I take pictures of everything around me and it must be the sea air, because I do contemplate asking this dad of four kids to take one of me. I push that out of my head rather quickly. I switch the filter to black and white and angle my phone to get a photo overlooking the harbor once I’m back outside, but stop right in my tracks, when a familiar face is in the frame.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re here! What a small world!”

Dozens of names swim around my head, and my courtesy smile eases into a real one once one of them starts flashing, matching this person’s face before I make a fool of myself.

“Devon, hey, s’been a while.”

“I know, God,” she shakes her head in disbelief, “high school feels like a century ago.”

She looks the same, only like a new version. Not exactly older or more mature, but like she stopped experimenting with makeup and her acne finally calmed down. All of her features sit on top of her face, warm, eyes just as piercing as when we were seventeen. She was always cute and that quality has followed her over the years.

“So what are you doing?” she asks and I squint because of the wind, imagining her words rearranging in the breeze into something easier to answer.

“Um, just sightseeing.”

“Well I figured that,” she laughs. “I mean, your life, what’s up?”

I know my face looks resistant. Everyone pulls the same look when your stuck explaining something that is going to automatically lower the standard in which the other person sees you: nearly closed eyes, barred upper teeth while your top lip pulls up in thought, sucking in a short breath before speaking, stiff neck and chest.

“I uh, well I’m still in school,” I nod along and loosen my volume to sound like I’m happy. “And uh, working.”

“Oh are you working on your masters?”

“No just um, maybe one day, but not right now.”

“Okay.” It is that ‘okay’. The you-are-turning-pathetic-right-before-my-eyes Okay. She smiles anyway. “I’m thinking of going back next year to get my doctorate.” She shrugs. “So do you live here, or…”

“Yeah, yeah, I got a scholarship—”

“Oh well that’s good!”

“Uh huh.”

“We’re just visiting. Trying to hit all the hot spots though.”

“We?”

“Me and my fiancé. She’s—” she cranes her neck and points to somewhere behind her, “on a work call at the moment. Y’know it’s beautiful here, I wonder if we could have the wedding right here,” she laughs.

“Yeah that would be something.”

“So, are you seeing anyone?”

“Not at the moment.”

She gasps like she’s discovered something and points at the air between us. “Wait, weren’t you dating that guy, the uh, really smart one who graduated early? God, what was his name, Mark or Matt?”

“No that uh, that wasn’t me.”

“I could’ve sworn it was,” she laughs.

“Nope.”

“Aw, bless your heart, well you’ll find someone. The city’s big!”

I am done with this conversation. I force a smile and excuse myself, heading off in the opposite direction so if any tears fall she won’t see, and keep to myself until it’s really cloudy and mist pricks my skin. Not soon enough, we’re boarding the ferry again.

I wave to Lady Liberty and imagine her waving back when we leave. If I squint, it kind of does. Whether she’s saying goodbye or good luck, I don’t know.

***

Dinner is one of those meals that either means everything or nothing. Tonight it means nothing. I walk past Truman’s, slowly. Harry isn’t in there and I stop right outside the plated glass window, now decorated with orange and yellow leaves, and try to figure out if I would’ve gone in had he been there. A band is setting up along the back wall and that’s where I see Danielle. She’s got a tray of drinks that each member takes. When she spins around she’s smiling and she smiles as she walks towards the hostess’ podium and she smiles when she squeezes the hand of some guy that comes up and she smiles when she sees me.

I wave because what else am I supposed to do. If I flip her off, she might strangle me with her extensions, or tell Harry that I was a bitch, or spit in my food the next time I come in. I wait till she’s distracted, and then I leave. I stop at a food truck and stuff my face with a taco. Nothing.

Back down the street, back on the train, back to my apartment.

“I didn’t cry this time.”

Jessie glances up from sliding the bow across the strings, the last note stinging the air. She looks so small next to the instrument.

“On the train. I didn’t cry.”

****************************************************************************************

Next Chapter

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mrjstories · 4 years

Text

Part 2 - We Meet Again

A couple of weeks had passed since I had my meeting with Mr. J, but not a day had gone by that I didn’t think of him.

I knew it was against my better judgement, but I really wanted to see him again. I couldn’t come up with a valid reason other than I just wanted to see him. He fascinated me. His mannerisms, strength, confidence, and overall charisma were too irresistible for me to stop at just our one meeting.

So, I went to the only place where I may find someone who, perhaps, would know where I could find him.

It was late afternoon and I went back to the alleyway with the unmarked door. I knocked twice, like he had done, and Vi opened the door.

“What?”, she said rather bluntly.

“I don’t expect you to remember me, but two weeks ago myself and Mr. J were here”, I said sheepishly.

“Oh yeah – you and that bum – you’re not welcome here”, she said and started to close the door.

I interrupted and said, “I’m here to pay for the drinks he tried to stiff you on”.

“OK, then give me the money”, she said holding out her hand.

I pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to Vi. She took it quickly and started to close the door again.

I put my hands against the door and said, “Have you heard anything about where Mr. J is these days? I need to talk to him.”

Vi paused, and then looked at me surprisingly, “Oh, then you haven’t heard? A couple of guys from Gambol’s old gang jumped him and beat him up pretty good night before last. Well deserved in my opinion. They have been bragging around town about it. I don’t know where J is. Whether he’s on the street, the hospital or in the morgue. Hope that answers your question.” She closed the door in my face.

I felt my heart in my throat. I didn’t know who Gambol was or why this happened to J. That really didn’t concern me. I was worried about his well being. He showed a kindness to me that probably very few people ever saw from him. I didn’t know where to begin to look for him, but I thought I should start retracing where we went that day I met him.

I stood at the closed door or Vi’s for a few minutes and headed down the alleyway toward the bench where we sat two weeks ago. It was still light outside and the city streets were very active.

I sat on the bench where we sat together and surveyed the area. He obviously knew this part of town well, so as slim as the odds were, I thought I might be able to find him in this area. I’d look anyway.

It wasn’t the best part of town, but during the day, I felt somewhat secure walking in the area. There were several alleys and parking lots on the block. I walked the street looking down these dingy side areas wondering if I would see him lurking in the shadows.

I must have spent over an hour just meandering around the area and finally headed back to the bench that I was so familiar with now. I turned to walk down the alley that lead back to Vi’s when I saw a figure from the corner of my eye. It was him. He wasn’t far behind me, head down, a slow walk that seemed to take a lot of effort. He slowly made it to our bench. I heard him make a labored sigh as he finally sat down.

I cautiously approached the city bench where he was. He was looking down. Oblivious to his surroundings. His suit was extremely dirty and I noticed rips and blood on the coat. His hair was matted and anyone could tell he was in a very bad way.

I sat down beside him, but he didn’t move. I mustered up the nerve to say, “Are you all right?”

He didn’t respond. I then said, “Mr. J, do you remember me?”

He slowly turned his bowed head toward me and said, “Who the hell are you?” He did not look at me.

I said, “We were together here a couple of weeks ago. Remember, I was going to hire you.”

With is head still bowed, he glanced at me and said, “We never met. I told you then and I’m telling you now, we never met”.

“That’s not going to cut it. You look like you could use some help and, if you will let me, I’d like to repay the favor you did for me. Will you let me help you?”, I pleaded with him.

Silence. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak. He just sat there, humped over, looking toward the ground.

I put my hand on his gloved hand and said, “Please let me help you”.

He looked up at this point and I saw the blood and dirt on his face and his swollen eyes.

“Do you see that hotel across the street? Let’s go there. I will get you a room where you can rest and clean-up. Will you let me do that for you?”, I asked.

“If you insist”, he said.

All I could imagine is that he must have been in a lot of pain not to object to this offer.

Considering the part of town it was located, the hotel was a solid 3 star. Clean, efficient and comfortable. We walked into the lobby and he waited near the front door, back facing me, while I registered the room. He followed me to the elevator but every step was such an effort for him. I would hear little moans and groans as he made himself move forward.

He hadn’t said a word since we left the bench. I opened the door to the room, he walked in, and fell, face first, on the bed. It was like he hadn’t slept in days. I felt so sorry for him. I didn’t bother him, I just let him lay there. There was obviously a feeling of relief and safety he hadn’t had for quite some time.

I untied his shoes and slipped them off of his feet. He didn’t move. I’ve never seen anyone as exhausted as he was. He laid there virtually motionless for several hours. I didn’t leave his side. Eventually he started to stir. He opened his eyes and saw me sitting there. “Thank you”, was all he said.

“Would you like to get out of those clothes, take a shower and go back to bed?” I asked.

“Yes”, he said in a soft voice.

I helped him off with his overcoat, sport coat, tie and vest. There was a robe in the closet, so I took it out and laid it on the bed.

“Mr. J, I’m going to step into the other room and please finish undressing and put this robe on, ok? If you need help, I’m right here”, I said.

“I could use some help with this shirt”, he said. I unbuttoned the shirt and saw his chest. There were more scars than could be counted and his ribs were black and blue. As if he had been kicked. He was surely in a lot of pain and moving his arms was agony for him.

“You take care of the rest”, I said to him.

I walked into the other room and waited a few minutes.

“Are you decent?”, I asked.

“Of course not”, he said with a giggle. That was the first sign of the person I knew.

I walked back into the room and the clothes were in a pile on the floor. They were bloody and filthy.

“I know you’re going to feel better once you get your shower and come back to bed”, I said.

He held out his arms toward me and said, “Come here”. As much as I knew it physically hurt him, he hugged me and whispered, “Thank you”, and then headed toward the bathroom.

He was in there a long time and when he came out, he was unrecognizable from the man who had walked into the room. The greasy hair was clean, the make-up was gone, and the odor was eliminated. He didn’t even acknowledge me as he headed straight toward the bed. He was finally clean and relaxed. He unashamedly dropped the robe and crawled under the sheets. Within a few minutes of his head hitting the pillow, he was sound asleep.

There was a recliner in the room, so I found a blanket, made myself comfortable and decided to stay there with him.

This was an errand of mercy for me. I dare say few people have shown him much kindness or mercy in his life. Maybe I was a fool for trying to help this so-called “monster”, but I know my heart. But I also knew I needed to guard my heart and emotions when being around him as well. I had heard he was a master of manipulation so every word needed to be scrutinized before believing. I fancy myself rather good at that art myself, so as the old saying goes, you can’t con a con.

The sun started peeping through the curtains around 6:30am and I heard him stirring. I opened my eyes and saw him sitting upright in the bed.

“Good morning”, I said.

“What’s so good about it?”, he quipped.

“Well, for one thing you’re not dead”, I answered.

“Why did you do this?”, he sternly said to me.

“Because I saw a man that needed help and I wanted to help you”, I said while he stared at me.

“Ouch - I think I’ve got some broken ribs”, he said as he tried to twist his body.

“Do you want to go to a doctor?”, I asked.

“No, no, no. I’ll heal up on my own. Always have. Did I ever tell you how I got these scars?”, his voice seemed to lower a bit as he started his story.

“I had a girlfriend. Beautiful, like you. All she wanted to do was change me and make me into someone I was not. She never accepted me for who I am and said I needed to smile more. She wanted me to be more acceptable to her friends and family. One day her parents invited me for Thanksgiving dinner with the family. As we sat down at the table for dinner, her father asked me to do the carving. She looked up at me in disgust and whispered for me to smile, so, with everyone watching, I carved this smile on my face and then stuck the knife into the turkey. I haven’t eaten turkey since then and can you believe we broke up? I gave her what she wanted, I’m always smiling, but it wasn’t enough I guess.”

“Why did you tell me that? That’s not what you told me a couple of weeks ago”, I said looking at him puzzled. He was obviously a man with serious psychological issues or he was playing with me.

“My scars, my story”, he said sternly. “Where is my make-up and my clothes?”

I had tried my best to hand wash his clothes and folded them and placed them on a chair near the bed. His pockets were filled with various knives, a small pistol, a little pocket money, a watch, white face paint, black eye shadow, and a red lipstick. There were many scraps of paper with notes stuck in all of the pockets. In the vest pocket was a picture of a little girl and on the back of the picture was written, “Angel”. I was not intending to be nosy, but to clean these filthy clothes, I had to empty the pockets.

“Your clothes are on the chair. They’re as clean as I could get them.” I said.

“So this was your chance to go through my pockets and things?”, he snapped.

“Listen, I’m not here to be interrogated by you. All I have done is tried to help you and I don’t expect anything from you. Take your time to get dressed and then get out of here, but I think I will leave now. You have the room until 11am.” I said as I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door.

“Wait! Please. Don’t go”, he anxiously said to me as my hand grasped the door knob.

I hesitated at the room door, took a deep breath, and turned back toward him. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes and, although he didn’t have his signature make-up on, it appeared as if he had. He looked like he was about to lose his last friend. Whether I should believe this or not was debatable, but I turned around.

He was sitting upright in the bed, bare chested, as I walked toward him and said, “Please get up, get dressed, and let’s get some breakfast, ok? I know you must be hungry.”

He cocked his head, made a clicking sound, pointed at me and said, “Deal”.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby”, I said as I walked out of the door.

In about 10 minutes the elevator doors open. A young couple walked out of the elevator and he followed. The couple glanced back at him in disbelief at this strange man they had shared the ride with. He was still limping a little but not nearly as badly as the night before. For as much as he had been through, he looked pretty good. He had reapplied the messy make-up and had all components of the purple suit back on and in their proper place. He looked left and right trying to find me and when he saw me, he smiled. Maybe he thought I had left, but he looked genuinely happy to see me still there.

His gate seemed to pick up a bit as he got closer, “Come on, doll”, he said as the gloved hand took mine and we walked out of the hotel to the street.

#Heath Ledger Joker love swoon romantic tension Joker Heath Joker

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