#started laundry and came home to the entire lower floor flooded

[leviachad]

I'm so Levi kin I accidentally flooded my apartment 💀💀

[luulapants]

Stories We Tell

When I was eight years old, my parents split up, and my dad, as divorced dads are wont to do, got a shitty apartment in a weird neighborhood.

The building was two stories with sixteen units. There was an in-ground pool out back, unheated in the shade, so the temperature hovered just above arctic. Half the time, instead of swimming, you ended up fishing a dead squirrel out and changing your mind. The laundry room in the basement flooded every time it rained. The appliances were junk, constantly breaking. The doors and locks, too. The landlord never fixed anything.

I didn’t give much thought to the neighbors until I was fourteen, when my dad got full custody. Someone broke into our ground floor apartment around the same time (and by “broke in,” I mean waltzed through a door with a broken lock) so we moved to the second floor, where it was a little safer. Our new balcony looked out over the rodent graveyard pool.

Over the next few years, I developed a colorful picture of our neighbors:

--

Across the hall was Doris, a madam and a raging alcoholic. She was in her fifties or sixties, but there were always astoundingly attractive young women coming and going from her apartment. She threw parties where she was the oldest woman by about three decades.

On quieter nights, Doris would sit on her balcony and get wine-drunk. If my friends and I were walking past, she would lean over the railing and shout super appropriate things at us like, “Izzat yer boyfriend, honey? R’you two using protection?!”

One time, my dad did some legal work for Doris. She paid him with two cases of wine.

(My dad doesn’t drink wine, but somehow, it was still gone by the end of the summer. I dunno, Dad, it’s a mystery to me. Couldn’t tell ya.)

--

Next to Doris was a big old dude that used to stand on his balcony in whitey tighties and watch me and the other kids while we waited for the bus. I never learned much about him, except he was creepy with a capital “Eeeugh.”

--

Across the hall from Captain Underpants were the Five to Eight Guys. So called because there were at least five of them living in that two-bedroom apartment, but no more than eight. They all looked vaguely the same: twenty-something stoners with a lot of tattoos and piercings and a fashion sense that hovered somewhere between Hot Topic and PacSun, while somehow managing to be worse than either.

I don’t think all of them were drug dealers. But at least some of them were. Absolutely. People would go into the apartment and re-emerge thirty minutes later in a veritable cloud of smoke. Our coat closet shared a wall with them, and my coats always reeked of pot. I mostly started smoking because people assumed anyway.

The summer after my Freshman year, they hung blankets up around their balcony to create an extra room. I told my dad, “That’s smart – there’s so many of them living in there, so they made an extra bedroom.”

My dad looked up at the tell-tale red glow of a grow lamp peeking out through the cracks of the blankets and told me, “Kiddo, I don’t think it’s a bedroom.”

--

Below the Five to Eight Guys were two elderly nuns.

Yes, really.

They never had a mean word for anyone: not the madam, not the drug dealers, not the creepy old man standing outside in his briefs. That wasn’t to say they had a kind word for them. Their go-to was smiling and minding their own fucking business.

I liked to think of them as our building security. Because, sure, we had no real security to speak of. The doors were always propped open, and I don’t think there was a functional smoke alarm in the entire building.

But surely God wasn’t going to let anything too bad happen to a building with nuns living in it, right?

--

Next door to the nuns was the strangest of the whole lot: Crazy Cat Man. He was Russian, in his seventies, and had lived in the building since before the landlord added the ‘no pets’ rule to the lease. And I’m pretty sure Crazy Cat Man was reasons A through Z for that rule.

I never got a real count on the cats, but it was somewhere in the ballpark of ten. But ten cats wasn’t enough to sate Crazy Cat Man’s love for animals. Oh, no.

One winter, he decided to feed the geese, and hangry geese laid siege to the building for weeks.

Another time, I heard the landlord’s voice downstairs. He was screaming, “What the fuck is the matter with you!”

And Crazy Cat Man was yelling back, “I no let squirrel in the apartment! I never!”

He had. He had spent weeks feeding the squirrels, getting friendly with them. Then he started cracking the patio door to lure them inside.

Crazy Cat Man was married. His wife had albinism and was photo-sensitive, so I only ever saw her outside once.

See, once a year, Crazy Cat man delivered phone books. It was his only job. He spent the rest of the year trying to fix his van up so it would run well enough to deliver the phone books. He was constantly working on it. Every part he put in, the van attacked and destroyed like a body rejecting a donor organ.

One day, he hadn’t pulled the van quite far enough into his garage, so when he lowered the garage door, it hit the back bumper and got stuck. That day, I learned that his wife’s absolute favorite thing in the world was watching her husband be incompetent, because she came out of the apartment for once. He couldn’t get the door back up, so he had to try to crawl under it to get inside the garage, and she was standing there shouting, “My husband is an idiot! My husband is an idiot!”

My dad and I stopped to watch this seventy year old man crawl under a mechanically compromised garage door. My dad said to her, “If he’s not careful, he’s going to be a dead idiot.”

The albino wife turned to him and hissed, “I should be so lucky.”

--

My senior year of high school, the recession hit, and my dad’s law practice went under, and my older brother died of a brain aneurysm. A week after I graduated, my dad told me we were going to be evicted, and I’d have to find somewhere else to stay until I went to college.

We moved everything out of the apartment, so nothing would be trashed when they evicted us. My dad ran off to the mountains to contemplate suicide (as one does), and, for about a month, I had this big, empty apartment to myself. My friends and I threw parties, got drunk. Hot boxed the bathroom.

And I slept in a sleeping bag on the floor in the living room, because it felt too weird to sleep in my old room with none of my things in it.

Late one of those nights, alone in my empty apartment, I heard screaming outside. I went on the balcony. All the neighbors were coming outside to see what the noise was.

On the property behind ours, across from the squirrel-killing pool, there was a huge cottonwood tree, maybe fifty feet tall. On the end of this long branch near the top, there was a raccoon. Closer to the trunk were two more. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard a raccoon scream, but it’s almost human sounding.

One of the two at the trunk rushed at the third, and forced it farther to the end of the branch. Then the two raccoons started bouncing the branch. The one at the end screamed.

I think we all realized what was happening at the same time, because I heard someone downstairs say, “What the fuck,” at the same time I thought it.

It took a long time. Pushing the raccoon back, then bouncing the branch, then pushing it back again. By the end, the one raccoon was hanging from the end of the branch, which was pointing straight down. It was screaming continuously.

When it finally fell, you could hear the thud.

I heard the same person say, “What the fuck,” and I had no idea who it was.

--

If found out years later that the rumor in the complex about my dad was that he’d been a lawyer for the mob, and he got on someone’s shit list, and that’s how he ended up so broke. And it’s why he had to disappear so suddenly.

The truth was, my dad was a good lawyer, but a terrible businessman. His clients were mostly small businesses and everyday people. When they didn’t pay him, he assumed it was because they didn’t have the money, and he didn’t want to rub it in by asking.

When I heard that theory, it occurred to me that I had created characters out of our neighbors with no real regard for what was true or logical, only what was interesting. I think that night with the raccoons was the closest I ever got to any of them, as real people. Standing in the dark, faceless, watching something horrible that we had no control over.

I’m not sure what the rumors about me were, but here’s the truth: by all logic, I should have been a pretty miserable kid. My dad had untreated depression, and sometimes he stayed in bed for days. When there was no food in the fridge, I assumed it was because we didn’t have the money, and I didn’t want to rub it in by asking. I went to friends’ houses to eat. That guy that broke into our apartment when I was fourteen? He had a brain tumor, and he thought I was his girlfriend. And I should have been scared shitless that a forty-something year old man had tried to get in bed with me before my dad woke up and beat the bajezus out of him in front of me.

But instead, I started making these stories about the weirdos we lived with. I loved them. I was obsessed with them. I talked about them all the time.

“Say, Julia, how are things at home?”

“Well, you’ll never guess what the Five to Eight Guys were up to yesterday, let me tell you!”

--

I saw Crazy Cat Man two years ago. He’s still delivering phone books, and he looks nothing like I remember him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night 🌙 1

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (to be warned later in series); consensual sex (one night stand, dirty bathroom sex)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

Based on these lyrics:

‘It's New York, baby, always jacked up (Hey) Holland Tunnel for a nose, it's always backed up [Sniffing] When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus (Uh) In a black dress, she's such an actress [Sniffing] Driving me crazy, but I'm into it, but I'm into it I'm kinda into it It's getting crazy, I think I'm losing it, I think I'm losing it Oh, I think she said "I'm having your baby, it's none of your business" "I'm having your baby, it's none of your business" (it's none of your, it's none of your) "I'm having your baby, it's none of your business" "I'm having your baby, it's none of your, it's none of your...’ 

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: I haven’t written Andy yet but here’s the first part of a short series! The darkness will come slow so warnings will be given on all chapters just to protect people. Anyways, let’s get started.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Warmth hazed your vision. A stronger heat radiated from your chest. You were so deliciously drunk you barely noticed the smell of piss that undercut the dusky cologne of the man against you. His short beard tickled you as he kissed your neck hungrily.

You clung to the top of the stall as he pinned you against the metal divider. Your legs wrapped around him as your skirt bunched up around your thighs. Well, you'd borrowed the denim atrocity from Felicia but that didn't matter much.

He hiked your skirt higher, rolling it around your waist as his large hand stretched over one half of your ass. His other hand fumbled between your bodies as he struggled to undo his fly.

His breath shuddered and his deep voice whisked over your lips as he looked into your eyes. Your eyelids were heavy with liquor and you felt like you were floating. He was drunk too, his cheeks flushed red with rye.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

You grabbed the back of his neck with your free hand and pulled his lips to yours. You kissed him sloppily as your hand snaked down his shoulder and around to his chest.

Lower, you grasped the top of his pants and slid down his zipper. You reached into his boxers and pulled your head back with a giggle. You stroked him and tugged the front of his pants and boxers below his dick. He groaned as you turned your hand and fondled his sac.

"I'm sure," You breathed as you grasped his length again. "I want you."

You pulled aside your panties and rubbed his head along your folds. You teasingly guided him to your entrance. You squeezed him tighter with your legs as you welcomed all of him. He gasped and kneaded your ass as he slapped the stall with his other hand.

"Oh god!" He groaned as he pushed himself as deep as he could go.

You purred and tilted your hips into him. He lifted you and began to rock, gliding you up and down his cock. You bit your lip as you gripped his shoulder tightly. 

A toilet flushed but you barely noticed the slosh of water. Your other hand stayed hooked around the top of the wall as the man worked in tandem with you.

His hot hand left the wall and he pushed it between you. He pressed his thumb to your clit as he stepped back slightly. You hung at an angle between him and the side of the stall as he watched himself play with you. Watched him slide in and out of you, faster and faster.

Your thighs tensed around him as your voices mingles in a drunken melody over the beating of your flesh.

"You cumming?" He asked gruffly and flicked his thumb faster.

You let out a strangled moan and your eyes rolled back. You gasped, ‘yes’, and the waves rolled under your skin and crested in a great deluge.

"You gonna make me cum?" He growled. "Yeah, baby, I'm gonna cum."

You tried to blink away your dizziness as his words cut through your drunken haze. He kept your body bouncing against his. You wanted him to stop but couldn't think of why. More, you wanted him to keep going.

"Here it...comes," He jerked into you several times as he hung his head back. He grunted and slowed to halt as his entire body trembled. A long sigh escaped his lips.

He pulled out of you slowly and lowered you back to the floor as your legs fell from around him. You braced the metal wall and wobbled in your chunky heels. 

His cum leaked down your leg and you drunkenly reached for the roll of tissue. You wiped yourself with the rough one-ply and missed the toilet bowl as you tossed it. 

His zipper was loud as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt straight. He sniffed and puffed his chest.

"That was..."

"Fun." You finished for him. "My friends are gonna start looking for me."

"Ah, yep," He nodded. "Luckily, I don't have that problem."

"Shouldn't drink alone," You murmured. "You'll get in trouble."

"Think I already did," He laughed and unlocked the stall door. "You okay?"

"I think I'm great," You grinned dopily. 

You nodded past the door and he returned the gesture. He left as you waited there. You stumbled out of the stall shortly after the bathroom door closed.

You crossed to the mirror and stared at your reflection. Through the alcohol burning the pit in your stomach, the shame began to seep through.

You hadn't expected a night at the bar. Didn't expect to be dancing on a stranger to old 90s jams. Or to be riding him by the toilets.

You also hadn't expected to have your hours cut at the diner. The job you'd worked forty hours a week for almost ten years gave away your hours to the owner's daughter so she could "pay her own way". 

You shook your head and stepped away from the sink. Your drunken antics had already led you to stupidity, it would do no good to get yourself worked up. Not in this state. Not here.

Best to go find Felicia and tell her it was time to go.

🌙

Usually you worked Saturday breakfasts but Brittany had that pleasure now that she was saving for college. All the better as you didn’t even roll out of bed that morning. You were so hungover that your mom even came in to check on you. She left a bottle of tylenol and a glass of water beside your bed. And you didn’t miss the look she sent your way.

You were too old to be drinking like that. Too old to be living in your parents house. Well, that wasn’t entirely within your control.

The day was spent in the dark. Still, silent. 

Sunday you woke up, mostly recovered. You did your laundry, a hamper full of clothes formerly strewn across your bedroom floor. You dropped the denim skirt in last, a string of semen dried across the hem. Felicia didn’t need to know. 

As you wasted time on your phone, you still had a shadow over you. You could barely remember the night. Only glimpses of the bar and the bathroom stall. The vibrant sensation which had overwhelmed you. The soft tickle of a thick beard and eyes bluer than the ocean. Eyes a deep and ominous as the harbour.

Monday saw you back to work. You served coffee to the regulars as the small flat screen mounted in the corner played the news. You went to grab the order from the window and returned to Brenda and Leah; the two widows who argued over soap operas and ogled the cook.

As you set their plates down you glanced up at the screen. You froze as you saw the familiar face staring back at you.

‘...Barber’s wife and son were found a year ago today. His wife lost control of their vehicle and crashed into the side of an overpass. While his son, Jacob, remained on life support for only a month, his wife, Laurie remains in the hospital. Doctors await Mr. Barber’s decision as he returns to his position as Assistant District Attorney for Newton.’

You blinked and felt a warmth on your hand. Leah’s creased fingers cupped yours.

“You okay, sweetie?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah, I just… Did you need more coffee?” You cleared your throat.

“Oh, no, doctor says I need to cut back on the caffeine.” She said.

“We have decaf.” You offered.

“I’m good with water.” She smiled.

You nodded and backed away. You went to the large industrial coffee machine and replaced the filter for a new pot. You made another round of the diner as you offered refills and tried to outrun your own thoughts. 

That was the man. You knew it. It all came flooding back as his picture shone on the screen. That night, in your drunken trance, you’d sworn you recognized him but you also had half a bottle of sambuca burning out your brain. You were sure now as you recalled the stall, the feel of his body against yours, the heat of his flesh, the sheer pleasure etched across his face. You knew it because that tickle formed in your core and did not relent.

You checked the clock. Only nine. You had a whole six hours left. You just couldn’t focus now as you avoided looking again at the television. He was married. Worse, his wife was in a coma. Sure you two were drunk but that wasn’t an excuse. 

Had he taken advantage of you or was it the other way around? Either way, you wouldn’t go to that bar again. Thankfully, you’d likely never see him again. Newton was a big enough town for that.

🌙

Your shift at the diner ended and you raced to the cafe three blocks down, barely dodging a car as you crossed the street. You had less than ten minutes to get in and change into your other uniform. Two months since the diner pared down your hours and your second job offered just enough to augment what you’d lost, though your days often lasted more than twelve hours and your nights were shorter and shorter.

You felt sick at the smell of the quiche baking in the oven as you entered. You slipped behind the counter and into the back room. You passed the racks of empty muffin tins and dipped into the storage room. You quickly exchanged your minty green shirt for the plain black one with the golden name tag.

You rubbed your stomach as you clocked in and tiptoed out behind the counter.

“Am I on cash?” You asked Taylor as she plated the quiche for her customer.

“Dishes,” She said staunchly and turned back with a fake smile to serve up the smelly egg tart. “You’re late.”

“No, I punched in on time,” You argued.

“Yes, but you should be on the floor five minutes early. We’ve had this conversation.” She smiled as another customer entered. “Now go do the dishes.”

You went to the end of the counter, where the sink was hidden next to the espresso machine. You ran the hot water and dumped the stack of square plates into the deep sink. You took the hose and began to scour each before setting it into the silver rack above. Your stomach flipped again and you gulped back the mouthful of bile which rose suddenly.

You shook it off and kept on. When you finished you dried each plate, bowl, and mug carefully and set them along the pristine shelves. You went back to Taylor and she huffed.

“Take the other till,” She said as if you were clueless. “It’s almost six, that’s mean the rush is coming.”

You nodded. You saved your retort as it threatened to come up with your lunch. Maybe those leftovers weren’t as fresh as you’d thought. You went to the other machine and greeted a customer. As you took their order, you struggled not to spew and repeated it back to them, each word measured and fearful.

“I’ll just get that coffee,” You said and turned to fill a paper cup from the machine. “I just need to pop back to grab cinnamon.”

You spun, not awaiting a response and rushed into the back. You flitted through to the back door and opened it just in time for your guts to spill over the tarmac. You wretched, mindful not to dribble any on your apron, and stayed bent over your mess. You waited, making sure it was all out and stood.

You let the door shut heavily and tore a wad of paper towel from the wall and wiped your mouth. You shuddered at the curdle in your stomach. You grabbed a bottle of cinnamon and headed back out. You didn’t need to give Taylor anymore reason to be a bitch. You’d rather nausea than her attitude.

🌙

When the nausea didn’t persist for a week, you caved and went to the clinic. You spent your day off in a waiting room and cursed yourself. It wasn’t a flu, you had no coughing or sneezing, or any other outstanding symptoms. 

After a round of questions, there was one that caught you entirely off guard. ‘Are you sexually active?’ Not exactly.’ ‘Well, when’s the last time you had sex?’ ‘Two months ago’.

You stared at the doctor. Dumbfounded. It couldn’t be. You couldn’t recall if he had... inside of you. Had he? Had you let him?

“Okay, well, we’re just going to take a blood sample and rule out pregnancy before we proceed.” Doctor Neshi was short and her dark hair was greying at the roots. She never smiled but wasn’t unkind.

You nodded and she set aside her clipboard. You made yourself sit still as your blood was taken and you were left to wait in purgatory. Please, please, please. You couldn’t be pregnant. And with a stranger’s baby. Well, you knew who he was. Most of Newton did. But you didn’t know him.

You swung your legs as you sat on the bed, hands folded in your lap. You felt your stomach. Was it bigger? Was it all in your head? Too many croissants from the cafe? The door opened and you sat straight, dropping your hands to your side.

“Miss,” Dr. Neshi closed the door softly and turned to you. “It would seem you are pregnant and that is likely the source of your illness.”

You shook your head and sighed. You touched your forehead and held in a sob.

“I can prescribe you anti-nausea medicine safe for pregnancy and it is our policy to provide all those in need with resources on their options in this situation.” She went to the counter in the corner and gathered a handful of fliers from the stand there. “These will be good to start with. I would suggest a visit to the hospital, they provide counseling service as well as several others offered in these.”

She held out the brochures and you took them from her stiffly. You hopped off the table and swallowed.

“Thanks,” You said breathlessly. 

Her expression was almost sympathetic. Almost. 

“Sorry, dear,” Her voice showed more than her face as she showed you out of the room.

You walked out onto the street and shuffled through the pamphlets. Adoption, abortion, pregnancy care, home birth… 

You were going to be sick. Again.

[shreddedparchment]

Colocataire Pt.02

The Surrender

06/29/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader x Steve          Word Count: 7,138

Masterpost     Warnings: angst, drunk sex, smut, unprotected sex, cute Thor

Prompt: Colocataire - Roommate

A/N: This is for @cametobuyplums ‘s writing challenge. Okay...this was supposed to be two parts but I wasn’t able to fit in the other half of this on here so...three parts. That’s it! THREE PARTS! No more. New part coming soon. I hope you all like this one. I’m not sure how well the part at the end works. Hopefully it works okay. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You’re all alone for two weeks.

Mr. Stark, or Tony as he insists you call him, puts you up in a hotel while he has your building rebuilt.

You’re not sure how he cuts through the red tape to get the site cleared for renovation, but he does.

Usually, as the building was the site of a crime it would have been roped off for months if not years.

Sleeping in a bed that isn’t yours but massively comfortable is confusing. You miss home but you’re grateful for the fancy room and the bed that helps soothe your aching body.

The golden silk sheets are soft and more expensive than anything you could ever afford. So, as you sit on the end of the large king-sized bed, you allow your hand to trail along the fabric, relishing in its cool and smooth texture.

The beige carpet and the gray walls are awash in the orange and pink flames of the setting sun.

You watch it, daring your eyes to burn and blind, as you attempt to feel something. Anything other than the internal pain in your chest. It’s not physical pain. So, you can’t really even heal it the way you’re healing the rest of your body with time and rest.

This pain comes from the keen absence of two very blue pairs of eyes.

“Y/N?” The voice filters in through the opening door.

Tearing your eyes away from the sunset you jump to your feet and scurry out into the sitting room and stop just at the edge of the small kitchenette.

“Hey, you look so much better.” Nat observes, shutting the door behind her.

She’s holding a bag of Stefano's. Your favorite Italian place. You can already smell the risotto and hearty meat sauce for the spaghetti.

Disappointment floods your system, making you slouch.

You have no reason to expect them. They didn’t even come see you in the hospital.

You’re nothing to them, remember? The mission is almost over.

“How’s your arm?” Nat wonders, pushing past you towards the small breakfast table by the shuttered balcony windows.

You haven’t spent a lot of time out of bed, so you’ve kept the sitting room in semi-darkness.

She drops off the bag and begins to pull out the recyclable boxes, setting it up for devouring.

“Fine.” You sigh. “My arm’s fine.”

You raise your left arm. You’re still wearing the sling for the sprain but it’s almost all better now.

Considering the fact that an entire building fell on you, a sprained shoulder is nothing.

Well, aside from the assorted cuts and bruises.

“Well, come eat. I didn’t stand in line for an hour to have you mope through dinner.” Nat gives you a knowing look.

You’re not looking forward to being seen through. Nat reads you easily.

You take the seat across from her and prop up your leg on the seat.

Wordlessly, Nat finishes setting the table. When she’s sitting across from you, only then does she spare you a knowing smile.

“What?” You ask, nervous.

“Your apartment’s done.” She says, popping open her own risotto tray while you sit in stunned silence.

“That's not possible. It’s been two weeks.” You’re stunned. Is this the power of money?

She tilts her head; a smirk thrown your way as she forks up some spaghetti and fills her mouth.

You stare at her, speechless, as she chews.

“Three weeks. You were asleep for like four days, remember? But Thor and Steve were highly motivated to get you back somewhere that’s not a hotel room and Tony was eager to help out. He feels guilty for asking me to ask you to borrow your place.” She lowers her hand onto the table, her fork nimbly balanced between her thumb and forefinger.

The mention of your blue-eyed boys makes your ears buzz.

In the last few weeks since the bombing, Nat hasn’t mentioned them once except to say that they’re out chasing the Late-Night Bomber.

“Have you heard from them?” You ask, maybe a little too eager because Nat narrows her eyes and tilts her head once more.

“Yeah. They’re out in California, still chasing the bastard that blew you up.” She grins at you but takes another bite. “They were both really upset about you getting hurt.”

“So were you.” You remind her.

“Mm, I was but not the same way.” She leans forward, elbow on the table, her chin balanced in her palm. “Something going on there?”

“What?” You ask, incredulously. “No. Why would you ask me that?”

“Just a hunch.” She teases but goes back to her food. “Please eat? It’s really delicious and if we’re gonna move you back in tomorrow, I need you strong.”

She allows you to open your own containers. As the rich scent of thick tomato sauce and the heady aroma of earthy mushrooms assault your nose, Nat gives you one final glance before she takes her final blow.

“Which one?” She asks, gently so as not to offend you.

You bristle anyway. “What?”

“If something was going on, between you and…those two…which one would be the one something is more likely to go on with?” Her green eyes glitter as she waits in tipsy anticipation.

She’s so giddy it makes you sick.

Are you really this obvious? Or maybe they’re the ones who…no. Not possible. The guys don’t…they’ve never actually…they’re not interested in you. Right?

“Ugh, Nat.” You put your fork back down and bring your hands to rest on your lap. Gripping your napkin tight to keep from giving yourself away.

“Come on!” She chuckles, “You have to have thought about it. You’ve been living with them for almost half a year.

Holy—has it really been that long? No wonder you’re so attached. And horny.

Fuck, you need a life.

“In passing maybe?” You relent, stuck thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve been with anyone much less on a date.

“I knew it! The moment you called me all flustered that first day. So, which one?” She presses, shoveling more noodles into her mouth.

Your mind thinks back to Thor’s heated hand. His fingers, affectionately laced around yours. The scent of his breath all tangy from the lemonade he'd been drinking before as it wafted towards you. It had grown closer and closer in the darkness with the promise of a kiss that never came.

Then there’s Steve with his hand on your knee. Those strong, roughly calloused fingers trailing up against the soft flesh of your thigh. He’d snaked them underneath the hem, pushing higher and higher so that you could hardly breathe as his eyes sparkled when you’d told Nat you’d have to thank him for being so helpful.

His touch was also not meant to be.

Both times you’d been interrupted but both moments fill you with the same thrilling excitement. The same possibilities burst forward fresh and your desire for them is renewed.

“I-" You start but you know you can’t finish. “I can’t choose.”

Nat nearly chokes on her Risotto. “Wait, what?! Okay. This is too good. If and I say this with as big an IF as I can fucking manage because I am well aware of how uninterested both of them are in forming romantic attachments right now, but IF you manage to wrangle them both, you’re gonna need to give me details.”

Neither of them has tried anything again and you haven’t even seen them since the explosion.

“With the mission almost over, they won’t be at my place anymore.” You hope you don’t sound as sad as this fact makes you feel but part of you knows it can’t be hidden.

“Oh, yeah. Damn. You’re right. Oh, well. Count yourself lucky. Steve never really got over Peggy and I think he sleeps around, but he doesn’t do relationships and Thor, well, this is the longest he’s ever stayed on Earth.

“You’re better off. They’ll both break your heart.”

The apartment looks almost exactly the same.

Tony walks ahead of you, pointing at certain things to bring your attention to them. As if you hadn’t noticed them yourself.

Your floor is still chocolate brown wood, walls a new midnight blue teal. Your new sofa is modern, in soft gray, your favorite armchair—to your surprise—is right here it belongs looking just as it did before it was blown to smithereens.

“Put in this island. Updated your counters. Appliances. I had to put in a much larger fridge.” Tony moves around the new modern island towards the dining area and then past it to where your desk resides, just as it did before.

“Had to?” Why did he have to put in a larger fridge?

“This is new.” He says, sliding a large glass door sideways.

Warm summer air drifts into the room negating the cool of the air conditioning. Sounds of the city greet you as you cross to the open doors and step out onto a wooden slat balcony with a dark steel and glass banister.

“There’s another door that leads to your bedroom…which is bigger.” He leads the way and your bedroom is indeed larger.

A beautiful lavender wall, deep plum cored sheets with black pillows and silver nightstands decorate your previously much smaller room.

The bed has to be twice as big.

“King sized bed.” Tony says, pointing at it before sauntering towards the bathroom. “And a nice big tub.”

“Mr. St-Tony,” You adjust with a throw of his scowl. “Why make it bigger? I didn’t ask for a bigger room or a bigger bed or a bigger tub.”

Your jaw nearly drops as you lean in behind him in the bathroom’s doorway to get a look at the large and deep smooth cement tub. It could fit four people! Or…two very large people with room to spare.

“Holy-"

Tony turns slightly to look at you, his brow knit in what must be exasperated confusion.

“What?” You ask, suddenly self conscious.

“Nothing.” He turns and walk to the door then points at your guest bedroom as he passes it. “Laundry's a little bigger too. Better machines. Guest room has more space. But most importantly, there’s a panic room at the end of the hall.”

You freeze and turn to look down your hallway which ends with a simple padded bench underneath a large empty picture frame, flanked by two thin modern sconces.

“There’s a button on the back of the sconce on the right. Press that, it reveals a small panel underneath the frame. You press your finger in there and it opens up the room.”

“A panic room?” You don’t want to admit it but it does make you feel better to know it’s there. “But why-?”

“They asked me to put one in.” He sounds exasperated again. “Do you notice nothing? Do you have no insight?”

“Hey,” You huff, offended.

“Where did you go to school again?” He cuts you off.

The question throws you off. “What?”

“You almost went down the same path Natasha did, right?” He shoves his hands into his pockets and turns to stare at you as he hover near the front doorway.

“Yeah.” You admit.

It’s not exactly a secret.

“Who pulled you out? I heard you narrowly escaped enrollment.” Even though he’s asking, it almost sounds like he already knows.

“Your dad did. And your mom. Howard and Maria, right?” You move closer to him, curious about the son of the people who’d given you a new lease on life.

“Why would they help you?” He asks, this time genuinely curious.

You shrug your shoulders and shove your right hand into the pocket of your oversized navy hoodie. One guess who it really belongs to.

Your other arm is still in its sling.

“They knew my grandma. She worked with Howard and Peggy during the war. My parents were…like me. They preferred to stay out of the fight.

“Dad did his part helping with bomb building. Mom too. Grandma introduced them all after you were born, I think? I don’t know. I don’t remember the story exactly.

“Only thing I remember for sure is grandma telling me how the world is out to get me and that I should make sure I have a Stark in my corner.” It feels weird that she’d been right.

Had she known all that time ago that you’d need Tony?

Tony stares at you, assessing your words before he clicks his tongue then gives you a quick smile.

“Smart woman.” He moves for the door and pulls it open. “Stay outta trouble kid. Panic room has a button that links up directly to my phone. Push it if you gotta.”

“Wait, Tony?” You call out and hurry to catch up.

He turns and stops with his left hand on the knob, waiting for you to speak.

“Thanks. For…everything.” Your cheeks burn. You’re very grateful even if you’re not so great at showing it.

Tony just makes you defensive for some reason.

He smiles and nods. “You should take a shower. You stink.”

With that he shuts the door and leaves you completely befuddled.

The first week after moving back in is quiet. You have no neighbors yet.

People are afraid to move into the building.

The usual stigma of tragedy in places of residence stick to your renovated building and those who hadn’t lost their apartments completely moved out anyway.

No one wants to live where someone has died.

It’s a sad time though you’ve been almost numb to it since Nat had you stashed away from all forms of media.

You’re finally able to enjoy the freedom of your arm without its sling but watching the nightly news reminds you of how lucky you actually were.

No one else that had been in the affected floors had escaped with their lives.

You’re dubbed the Oakstone Survivor, named after the building that had crumbled around you. Your face—or rather a picture of you off your office website—is plastered on every channel.

You feel exposed and vulnerable. And alone. Mostly you feel alone.

The next night, the news story changes. Finally, you aren’t on the screen but instead you find yourself watching your blue-eyed boys.

They look beautiful. Dirty, grimy Gods. Tired. This battle had been long.

They walk beside a man with graying brown hair, hazel eyes, and aging white skin.

Compared to your heroes, how did he give them the slip for so long? Alien tech.

The Late-Night Bomber Finally Caught the news reel says.

Your heart is in your throat as you wistfully wish they were here. However, now that the mission is over, they won’t be back.

There’s no need.

Your apartment was a cover. A ruse. A safe space for them to keep watch. Now they don’t need it.

They don’t need you. They’ll never be back. Ever.

The click of your front door brings you to your feet and you stare over the back of your TV as it swings open.

You’re sure you’re seeing things. There’s no possible way that Thor and Steve are stumbling through your doorway.

They look cleaner than they did on TV just now. Freshly washed. They bring with them a manly musk of sandalwood and oranges, clean laundry, and that familiar bite of ozone that you know can only come from Thor.

They’re chatting quietly. Thor chuckles at something Steve said as he lets him in and then shuts the door behind him.

There’s no air in the room. The chatter from the TV fills the large room as they stop and finally notice you.

Steve’s storm blues meet your eyes first. Then Thor’s electric sapphire. The atmosphere changes instantly. A stifling charge in the air makes your blood run hot.

Rage. That’s what it is. Utter upset at being abandoned for nearly a month.

They must see it because they exchange one of those loaded looks then move towards you, one down your left, one down your right.

By the time Thor rounds the TV stand he’s smiling again.

When he reaches you, his hands cup your cheeks and he stares down at you with what is clearly affection.

This is so confusing.

“Look at you. You look much better.” He states, and behind you, you can feel Steve’s hand caress the back of your head.

His hand trails down along your neck before coming to rest on the center of your back as he moves around your right to look at your face too.

“She does look less black and blue.” He says with a smile and it’s so heartbreakingly beautiful you frown at him, then at Thor.

“How do you know what I looked like? You didn’t even come to see me.” You tell them, irritated and confused.

“Yes, we did.” Steve says, slightly miffed. “We didn’t leave your side until Helen said you’d be alright.”

He caresses the back of your head again as Thor’s burning touch moves down along the sides of your neck then stop to rest on your shoulders.

“We wanted to wait until you woke up, but we had to pick up the trail. We could not let the bomber do to others what he did to us.” Thor’s soft expression shifts towards his own anger as his passion bubbles up. “We got lucky.”

“Yeah.” Steve agrees and they look at each other. This is a conversation they seem to have had before. “We need to get changed. You’re coming, right?”

He’s addressing you and you’re not aware of that right away. It’s only when Thor’s eyebrows shift up towards his hairline that you realize Steve’s asking you.

“Me? Coming? Coming where?” You look between them as Thor releases you and wanders off down the hallway to the spare bedroom, pulling his t-shirt off as he goes.

Your eyes linger over his exposed perpetually sun-kissed skin before he wanders out of sight.

You hadn’t even thought to go in there and rifle through the drawers to see if they had any clothes here. You could have saved yourself some heartache.

“Tony’s throwing a small party. Mission’s over, so it’s time to celebrate. It’s kind of a tradition.” Steve says, sitting himself down on the sofa.

Now that their greeting seems to be over, he crosses his large arms over his chest, bulging muscles of peach skin. He’s not going to touch you again.

Fuck. What does all this mean?

You sit beside him leaving the usual foot of space between you, but you sit so that you can face him.

“You want me to come?” Astounded, you look towards the bedroom as Thor’s voice chimes in.

“Of course! This is as much your celebration as ours.” He exclaims.

“He’s right. You have every right to party with us.” Steve smiles, a hopeful curve of his lips.

“I…I don’t know.” You hesitate, thinking about the amount of people that will be there.

Although you don’t want to admit it, loud noises are still a little hard to deal with. Crowds. Erratic music. Drinking.

You wrap your arms around yourself and shake your head. “I don’t think I can handle it yet.”

“Oh.” Steve’s face falls, his eyebrows gather in a pucker as he searches your expression for a giveaway.

Does he think you’re lying?

“I’m sorry.” You sigh. “I just…maybe next time. I kinda just wanna sit in here and get my bearings. Is that okay?”

Steve continues to stare at you, the sadness in his eyes growing larger and more pronounced the longer he looks at you.

You nearly choke out a Never mind. I’ll go. When Thor walks out of the guest bedroom buttoning up the wrists of a midnight blue dress shirt.

“Of course, it is.” He assures you, smiling at you widely. “You still need rest. It’s not easy what you went through.”

Steve looks at Thor before rising to his feet and wordlessly walking away towards the bedroom to probably also change out of his jeans.

Thor moves over to you and plops himself down beside you, taking up Steve’s spot. He sits closer however and his hand finds your knee.

“No worries, my princess. There are always more revels to be had and I will take you to every one if that is your wish.” He promises.

You almost smile but the look on Steve’s face keeps Thor’s words from settling your heart. A glance towards the bedroom has you biting your lower lip.

“Do not worry about Steve. He just hates to part with you so quickly.” Thor whispers.

Does he really? You’re not so sure.

“And you?” You ask him, hating that they’d been gone for so long and now they’re going to leave you again.

“I have missed you.” He says, deep voice nestling into your chest to warm it up.

Flutters roll around the base of your tummy as Thor’s smile burns into you. He gets up with a squeeze to your knee.

“Shall I prove it?” He asks.

“How-?”

With four large steps he’s at the light switch. With a flick of his finger the room plunges into darkness and you’re reminded of that first night under the stars.

Instinct drives your eyes upwards and you gasp audibly as your eyes meet a heaven of glow-in-the-dark starlight. However, this display is so much more brilliant.

It really feels as if you’re staring up at the night sky. Somehow Thor was able to find itty-bitty stars that he’s placed around larger ones. There are huge clusters in certain places and hardly any in others.

This had not been here all week. You know because while you’ve missed Thor you’ve come out to stare at your bare ceiling.

“How did-?” You ask, pleasantly surprised.

“I came by last night. After we got the bomber processed. You must really be exhausted because I kissed your cheek, but you did not wake. They’re in every room again. Just as you had them.” The appraising look he gives the ceiling shines with pride.

He’d been here and you’d slept through it?!

“Not just as I had them.” You point out, because this setup is more amazing.

“Well, I might have gone a little overboard.” Thor says.

You jump slightly as his fingers spread yours and he clamps his large hand around your own. He tucks you into his side and with a somersaulting stomach, you finally allow yourself a smile.

“It’s beautiful, Thor. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He whispers and his lips are on your temple.

You wanna kiss him.

You turn to look up at him, to meet his lips, but the light flares on and he releases you instantly.

“I’m ready.” Steve says, forlorn.

He’s not looking directly at you anymore but rather focuses on your feet.

“Right.” Thor says. “Let’s go.”

“Lock the door behind us, Y/N. And don’t open it for anyone. Thor and I have a key.” Steve assures you, sparing you a fleeting glance before he’s out the door.

What happened to that bold Captain who’d slid his hand up your shorts in the bathroom? Why is he being so cold?

“Bye, princess.” Thor waves and shuts the door behind him.

Once again, you’re all alone.

Sleep doesn’t come easy. You toss and turn. The soft cotton of your high thread count sheets does nothing to help you find rest.

No. You’re itching to see your boys again.

As soon as that door had shut behind them after not seeing them for nearly a month, you’d known that that’s what they are. Your boys.

Men.

Who are you kidding? They’re large as houses and perfect and confusing. You’ve seen them dirty and ragged, dripping with grime and sweat, smelling bitter and tart from days of fighting and hard work. Then clean and fresh. Soft patches of skin and free-flowing hair.

You’ve seen them eat like they’d never eaten a proper meal before in their lives and then clean up after themselves because they couldn’t bear to see you slave after them.

You’ve watched them toss their clothes on your sofa, uncaring and lazy. Then wrinkle their noses and smile bashfully when you’d griped and groaned about their lazy habits.

They’ve whined at you for leaving your books all over the place and glasses of unfinished tea on tables and the floor. Then teased you for not being as clean as you pretend to be after.

They’re complex and irritatingly confusing. Desirable and adorable. Soft and protective. You want to know them completely. You want to know them well. You want to know what they feel like in those most sacred of moments when desire becomes more than just wishful thinking. When their walls come down and they’re laid bare for you to worship.

At some point you drift off, dreaming about their supple bodies. Rock hard abs. Bulging biceps. Sweet smiles. Easy chuckles and teasing, shining eyes. You dream about Steve’s long looks out at the sun as it sets and paints the sky with fire.

You know then that he’s thinking about her and it makes you sad for him but also sad for yourself because you want him so desperately to think about you.

You dream about Thor’s sad smile, always a smile despite the pain and the tears that you see fill the brim of his eyes as he thinks about the home and family he lost. The mother he can never see again.

He’s so full of love to give and he’s showered you with his easy affection so many times that you want the rest. You’d gladly shoulder the responsibility of loving him back. He deserves soft caresses and tender kisses.

Small bounces shake you awake.

Despite the depth of your longing, you wake up normal. No tears. No sadness. Just a small ache at the center of your chest that you realize has been there since almost the moment they both moved in.

You’re on your left, staring at the center of the bed. You’d gone to sleep with it empty but now it’s full. One large bulky body settled on your large soft mattress, sheets pushed down towards the end of the bed and out of the way.

You’re still covered, your blanket having fallen to your waist.

“Hello.” He says, and you smile softly.

“Hi.” You adjust your head, shifting it against your pillow until you can prop yourself up to look at him a bit more easily.

His electric sapphires transfix you, silver gleams in the darkness of your room.

“Do you like your ceiling?” He asks, and you can smell the sweet tang of honeyed liquor on his breath. It’s sharp and it cuts through your sleep, alerting you to the easy flow of his words as he speaks.

“Are you drunk?” You ask, a chuckle passing through your lips as you adjust on your pillow some more.

You have never seen Thor drunk before and this is definitely something you want to be a conscious witness of.

“No.” He shakes his head, a little too enthusiastically but then he chuckles completely countering his flimsy argument. “Of course not. I don’t…I don’t do that thing. That. Drunk?”

He chuckles again.

“You’re drunk.” He tells you.

You laugh once and push yourself up onto your elbows, shifting onto your stomach so that you can look at him properly.

“You’re so drunk.” You accuse.

“No.” He protests. “I might be a little…what was it they were calling it? Tipsy?”

“Ah, I see.” You relent, allowing him to have his moment.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He accuses you, smiling with those drunk, twinkling eyes.

“What question?”

“Your stars. Do you like them?” He presses.

“I told you, Thor. I love them. They’re beautiful.” You shift onto your back, hating to look away from him and his disheveled long blonde locks, but you want to prove that you love the stars. “They’re better than mine were. It really does look like the night sky now.”

As you settle in beside him, shoulder to shoulder, he brings his arms up and crosses them over his chest. The two of you stare up at the fake sky in silence for five minutes.

When you can’t take not looking at him anymore, you turn away from the stars and you take in his form. He’s wearing those same dark gray slacks he’d been wearing when he left and that navy button up shirt. He looks so good though the sleeves of his shirt have been rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons have been undone.

His dirty blonde hair had been laid in a low careful bun but now it’s spilling out, falling loose around his head with several strands framing his face.

He looks down to meet your gaze and does what you just did and gives you a once over.

Your neck burns, realizing that you’re in those ratty sweats again. A plain white tank top pulled on top. No bra.

His eyes linger there, and your ears are added to the burn of your neck.

“You’re wearing those pants you’d been wearing when we first came here.” He points out.

Fuck.

“Yeah. They’re…ugly. But comfortable.” You explain, hoping that they’re not too terrible on you.

Thor unhooks his right arm and reaches down to give them a small tug where they’re peeking out from beneath your blanket. “I like them.”

You clear your throat, trying hard to restrain the smile that desperately wants to curve your lips.

“Um…it’s a little early. Is the party over? Where’s Steve?” You throw the questions out rapid-fire style to try and distract from the way he’s still giving small tiny tugs to the thinning fabric of your sweats.

“No. The party was still going. I simply wanted to see you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you here alone at home. So, I came.” He smiles softly. “Steve could not come. He has obligations there that I do not have.”

Shit. Obligations? A girl?!

Thor reads the shaky scowl on your face and just grabs the fabric of your sweats up in his fist to pull you a little closer.

“Interviews for the news people. Reports to finish. He wanted to come but he could not get away. That’s all.” Thor explains.

Relief calms you but then you wonder why Thor would care to put you at ease about Steve. Before you can ask, Thor sighs.

“You have no idea how glad we were to find you alive and well that day. We’re both so sorry that we left you alone.” He admits, his smile waning.

“It’s okay.” You assure him, “You two had a job to do. And I’m alive.”

“We got lucky.” He says. “No. Next time, I will carry you on my back into battle if it means that I will know you are safe.”

Drunken ramblings. It has to be. You laugh again, feeling lighter.

“What?” He asks, smiling at the sound of your laugh.

“Carry me on your back?”

“Yes. Like the primates I see on the Animal Planet on TV.” He smiles wide. “You can be my little monkey. Cling to me tight and I’ll keep you safe, my princess.”

Holy fucking hell. You swoon.

With your stomach in tumbles and your chest burning, you push yourself up and let that instinctual pull in your chest take over.

Leaning over him, you rest your hands on his chest and he moves his arms to make room for you. He traces your arms from elbow to bicep, staring up into your eyes with those impossible blues.

“How drunk are you, Thor? Like, on a scale of one to ten on how aware you are of what’s happening, what are we looking at?” You ask, eager for him to say a low number.

“I told you, I am not drunk.” He insists.

“So…if I kissed you right now, would I be taking advantage? Because I don’t think I can wait anymore. I’m going crazy over here.”

His smile vanishes completely as he takes in your pained but determined expression. Calloused fingers dig into the soft flesh of your underarm before he trails the left one up the center of your back until it finds the back of your head.

With strong hands he pulls you down and your lips crash against his with a heated fervor.

“Mmph.” You moan against him, the hot flow of his lips as he parts them and tastes your own.

Something comes over you, passion? Need? The crazies? Something. Because you reach up and hold the sides of his face as you tilt your head towards the right and coax his lips open with your tongue.

He rumbles beneath you, pleased by the brazen move but opens up for you. You rush forward, tasting his tongue with your own. You’re nearly dizzy with the taste of the alcohol in his mouth.

It gets worse as he wraps you up in his arms, pulling you down into his chest, crushing you to him as if he’d been wanting this just as long as you have.

There’s a click. A shift. Something changes and you’re pulling back. You straddle his hips, blanket tossed aside as you continue to kiss him but work the buttons on the front of his shirt. The last two are annoying and you rip the shirt open, sending them flying. They clatter against the wall and then on your floor.

Greedily you roll your hands over the hard mounds of his chest, the cut muscles of his stomach, the slice of V on his hips.

Thor groans and you break the kiss as he pulls your shirt up and over your head.

“Take these off.” He pleads, meaning your sweats.

You sit back between his legs, pushing your pants down along with your underwear before tossing them behind you onto the floor.

Thor quickly undoes his belt, his button, his zipper and begins to push his pants off before you mount him and reach between his legs to hold his big and gloriously hard cock.

It’s hot, like the burning iron that had fallen over you during the explosion, caging you in.

You’re right on him, slick folds pressed against the long stiff shaft of him. You roll your hips, riding him bare. Coating him in your wetness.

Two swift strokes is what you get to give him before he’s grunting and thrusting up into your hand.

He comes undone at your touch and yes, he must have wanted this as much as you have been wanting it because he comes right then, splashes of his release settling onto your stomach and his.

“Oh.” You gasp, flattered and somewhat smug.

“Damn it.” He gasps. Startled by his quick release too.

“It’s…it’s okay.” You assure him.

He gives you an exasperated look and without ceremony wraps his arm around your waist and flips you over onto your back.

You squeak at the rush of movement as you settle into a small bounce on the bed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, princess. I am nowhere near finished.” He declares.

You laugh excitedly, watching with pleasure as he strips his shirt off and then his pants with you still pinned beneath him.

Slowly you trace the lines of his muscles, down to that delicious dip of his hips.

You squeak again when he catches your hand and pulls you up towards him. Moving you like you’re nothing but a ragdoll.

He sits, pulling your legs up around his waist before he lines himself up at your core. Both hands grabbing hold of your rear, he pulls you towards him, impaling you on his cock.

Nails dig into his shoulders as you’re rocked by the size of him. You shudder, not expecting to take him in so quickly.

It’s been too long and the fill of him is stupefying.

He growls at your nails. Though you know it can’t really hurt him, you pull your hands up to float by his head as he pulls you back and towards him again. Your hands shake, eyes shut tight as he fucks you hard.

Two more rough pulls where his fingers bruise your bottom and his cock spreads you wide then he stops, and his lips kiss tender circles between your breasts.

They trail all the way up to your lips where he kisses you softly. His tongue traces your lips before he pulls back to look at you, eyes searching.

“I’m sorry. Was that too fast?” He asks, worried at the way your body keeps twitching and trembling.

“No.” You assure him, your body adjusting to his girth. “It’s j-just been a while.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’ll be gentler.”

“No!” You gasp, your yearning doubling. “No. Just-just like that, Thor. Just like that.”

He grins, a quick smirk of a smile, as he reaches down between your legs to flick your clit.

“Like this?” He asks, and you shudder.

“Yes.”

He gives your bottom a squeeze. “Move for me, princess.”

You reach back, hand on your mattress as you pull yourself up off his lap a few inches to give you space to move. You slide back then thrust forward.

Both of you groan, the stretch of him intoxicating as you move faster and faster.

He helps guide your hips forward, nipping at your breasts as you bounce on his cock.

After a while our arm, the right one thankfully, begins to grow tired. Thor notices this and he rolls your right breast in his left hand a few times before hooking his hand behind your neck to pull you in for a kiss.

He pushes you forward, laying you down on your back as he keeps you connected with his lips. He settles over you, then crushes you into the bed. He lays down on you, skin to skin, chest to chest. No space between your bodies as he lines himself up once more and thrusts his cock into your soaked core.

The roll of his hips as he plunges himself into you swirl around your clit, pounding against it as he fills you over and over.

“Sh-shit…” You gasp, reaching down to hold the toned curve of his ass, your legs spread and up in the air.

You pull him down harder, impossibly close.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.” He confesses in the heat of his passion. “I’ve wanted you like this. Moaning beneath me.”

The two of you held back for so long that now the sex is crazed. Frantic. It’s a tangle of legs and arms and sweaty flesh. Your dripping pussy and Thor’s swollen cock. Rapid fucking in desperate need for release.

“Oh, Thor.” You moan, giving him what he wants.

“Do you like it?” He throws out, panting as he moves faster. “Do you like it when I fuck you? Have you wanted it as much as I have?”

“Yes.” You gasp, a keening cry as he rails into you harder. “Yes, Thor…never stop.”

He finds your mouth, tongue first, licking and tasting. Lips in a frenzy as his hips begin to stutter.

He slams into you and your body spasms. You’re hit with release. Your body twitching and shaking beneath him as he continues to ram into you despite your climax.

Your nails rake into his back again, pulling and dragging as he pulverizes your clit into another orgasm as he pushes himself up for more leverage.

He growls as he chases his own release, staring at your bouncing chest as he fucks you fast.

With a final thrust, your toes curl as his hands rip into your sheets, his hips quivering against you as he empties himself into you.

His collapse is expected, and you hug him close as he falls on top of you, holding his heaving, sweaty body against your own as the high makes you both feel like you’re foating.

You’re humming with satisfaction and Thor groans, a small chuckle escapes his throat as he trails his hands down along the sides of your body before wrapping you up in his arms.

He kisses your neck, your shoulder, your chest. He licks your nipple then trails back up to bury his face against the side of your head in the shampoo fragrant mess that is your hair.

With both hearts steadily thrumming, the two of you begin to relax.

“I’m sorry that took so long to happen.” Thor says, his deep voice so close to your ear that his whisper fills you up, making your chest burn.

“Why did it?” You wonder, swallowing as you catch your breath.

“Steve and I we…we wanted to see who you would choose. We swore not to do anything that might sway you in one direction or the other.”

Your heart beats rapidly again. Guilt and fear fueling it instead of passion.

Choose?

“I couldn’t wait anymore.” He confesses.

“Thor?” You ask, fearful but determined. “Do I have to choose?”

Thor’s chuckle shocks you and you push his large body up so that you can look up at him to see his face. He tries to shift off you, but you lock your ankles behind his back to keep him in place. You’re not done with him yet.

Inside of you, his cock begins to stiffen once more.

He stares into your eyes, reading something before he shakes his head.

“I know you want him too. I can see the love in your eyes when you look at him.” Thor says.

“I love you, too.” You tell him, reaching up to tuck his long blonde hair behind his ear. You scratch his scalp as you do, and he shuts his eyes.

“I know.” He whispers. “And I have loved you, since almost the moment we met. So, no.”

He opens his eyes and traces your side down to your hip.

“With me, you do not have to choose. You can love us both. It will not be the first time I have shared a love. However, I cannot speak for Steve.” He cups your bottom, reaching up higher between your legs to feel the slick of your folds.

He’s hard again, stretching you once more. Ready to go.

“He is more reserved. I do not know what he’ll do.” Thor admits and you know that he’s right.

“Give me more.” You plead and he leans down to kiss you, tonguing your mouth as he pulls his hips back and this time lovingly strokes into you.

You kiss him back and try to focus on only this love, his love. But the thought sneaks in as Thor shows you that he can make love as well as screw you silly.

Have you lost Steve by surrendering to Thor?

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[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 10

~*~Sebastian~*~

 I parked next to Emma, grabbed the food, and followed her into the condo. The door opened directly into the family room. There were wood floors with a large patina gray and blue area rug. She had one of those couches with a chaise on one end. There was an oversized chair with an ottoman in the same dark gray. Tables sat at either end of the couch. Natural light flooded the room from a window on one wall and French doors on the other. A TV hung in the corner of the front door and window wall with a fireplace between the TV and windows. Pillows in a blue to match the rug and a dark berry were tossed on the chair and in the corner under the TV were a stack of three big floor cushions. My guess was they were for sitting in front of the fire. The room felt comfortable. I wanted to jump onto the chaise and hug one of the berry pillows.

I followed Emma's lead and kicked my shoes off in the entry. I don't wear shoes in my place either. New York streets are disgusting. I don't want that shit tracked through my home.

 She headed left to the kitchen. It was an open floor plan with a breakfast bar separating the two rooms. Grey fabric bar stools tied the areas together. Lower cabinets where black, uppers white, Carrara marble counter tops, and black appliances. There was another window over the farmhouse sink.

 "Wow. I love your kitchen." 

She smiled at me over her shoulder, "Thank you." 

I almost lost the ability to breathe. Her shy smile dropped my heart to my knees. She looked so beautiful with her hair messed up from where she'd pulled it out of the ponytail. Seeing her against the backdrop of her house... breath taking. 

I put our food on the bar, "Can I use your bathroom?" 

"Of course." She pointed to a door in the far corner of the kitchen. "Ignore the clothes." 

I closed the door behind me. Laundry room and bathroom. Convenient. There was a pile of folded clothes on a long counter across from the washer and dryer. 

When I came out, she had lunch set out. I sat on the stool next to her and put the roll I'd grabbed for her in the top of her take out container, "For you." 

"Thank you." 

I jumped in where we left off at Whole Foods. "It's really thoughtful how you use people's names."

 "I think everyone likes to hear their name and most people don't even look at the person checking them out or bringing their food." She looked over from her salad, "It may sound naive, but I hope that small nicety makes their day better."

"Wouldn't be surprised if it did. I don't think it’s naive. It's nice. Lots of people don't think to do the nice thing. Those small acts of kindness can change the world for someone." 

"Our brains involuntarily respond to the sound of our own names, even if we're unable to respond to or act on anything else." She smirked, "Can you ignore it when someone yells your name?" 

I'd just shoved a forkful of salad in my mouth. I chewed and shook my head. "Nope." I pointed my fork at my ear. "I wear earbuds a lot." I cringed, "Don't take that the wrong way. When I'm at an event or on a stage and people are screaming my name it's... fantastic and humbling. I'd be crushed if they stopped. But when I'm going about my day it's easier. I know people who can ignore hearing their name, but I can't. So, if I hear my name I look over and usually it’s taken as an ok to come over and talk." I cringed again. "It is. I like talking to fans. I love hearing stories. Most people aren't rude." My shoulders slumped, "Sometimes I just want to get to the subway and go to my friend's place." I shrugged and tilted my head, looking at her, "Earbuds." 

She nodded, "I get it. Those guys at the restaurant weren't rude and didn't stay too long." 

"I don't like when someone interrupts when I'm eating. They waited and, like you said, didn't stay too long." 

She looked curious, "What if they had?" 

"The hostess recognized me, so management knew we were there. Usually, if someone stays too long or lots of people start coming over, management will clear them away. If they hadn't, I would have gotten us out of there." 

She laughed, "Do you always know an exit route?" 

"Not even close." I laughed too, "I'm good at winging it." 

She ran her hand down my bicep, "If I made you uncomfortable, l'm sorry." 

I'd done a lot of cringing in the last few minutes. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'd rather you ask." Pretty sure I was looking uncomfortable again. "I don't want you to think I don't realize how blessed I am." 

Emma stopped me with another touch on my arm, "Not at all, Sebastian. Privacy shouldn't be the price you pay for doing what you love." 

This would also be a perfect time for a kiss. However, one of us had a mouthful of blue cheese and spinach. 

It wasn't me.

 We laughed and talked about the gym while finishing eating. There was a lot to laugh about from the yoga class. The woman who kept shushing us scared me. It was a good thing Emma got us out of there. She didn't believe me and laughed. When she laughs, she gets the cutest dimple in her cheek. Just one. Left cheek.

 Emma closed the lid on what was left of her salad, "You were right. The roll was delicious." 

"I would never lie about bread." I was finished too and closed the lid.

 Emma stuffed the containers back in the bag then into a garbage can under the sink. She came back around the breakfast bar, "I'll get you towels and show you where everything is."

 I grabbed my bag and followed her up the stairs. The bathroom was the first door on the right. Emma opened the second door, pulled out a set of towels and a washcloth, and handed them to me. "Thank you."

 "No problem." She pointed to the third door. "That's the guest room. You can use it if you want. I'll meet you back downstairs."

 I nodded and walked into the bathroom. When I pulled my phone out of my shorts, I noticed the blinking light. My mom texted asking what time I'd be home and when I was leaving tomorrow. Fuck. I was taking the train back to the city tomorrow morning. I leaned on the counter and looked at myself in the mirror. I watched myself start to smile. I rolled my eyes. I wasn't taking a train anywhere in the morning.

 Naturally, I over thought this in the shower. There were tradeoffs to be made. I felt guilty blowing off helping my parents to go to a festival with Emma. If I stayed through tomorrow it would negate skipping out today. I could leave Monday morning. But that was the holiday. Schools are closed. Wonder if Emma has plans? I had plans Monday, but nothing I couldn't skip out on.

 I realize I've only known her twenty-four hours and I'm making decisions based on the rest of the day going well. I don't know why it wouldn't. This has been good and fun. Who the hell knows where it will go, but there's a little voice telling me not to go home yet.

 I beat her downstairs and sent a few texts updating my plans while stretched out on the chaise. The remote was on the table next to me. I hit the power button and brought up something like Netflix, but wasn't.

 I heard Emma come down the stairs and looked over, "Hey, what's this Plex thing?"

 She sat down on the other end of the couch. Too far away. "You look really good in that color, Seb."

 I looked down to see what I'd put on. Dark red t-shirt. "Thanks."

 Emma smiled and nodded to the TV, "My father digitized his entire movie and TV series collection. Plex organizes everything. It's like your own personal Netflix."

 I'd been poking around for a little while, "This is cool. How does it group things into collections?"

 "We do it. I can sign into the server and add things to favorites or fuck around with Amy's."

 I clicked on Fave-Emma. "You like a lot of reality TV."

 Emma laughed, "That’s Amy messing with me. I hate reality TV. It's like the worst parts of people sensationalized for the masses. I don't like watching people be horrible to each other. I don't like people being put in prescribed situations and rewarded for being nasty."

 It was cute how worked up she was. I must have smiled.

 "What?"

 I raised my shoulders, "No Survivor or Keeping up with the Kardashian's for you."

 She understood I was teasing, "Or Big Brother or American MasterChef. Australian MasterChef is good. I like Great British Bake off and The Repair Shop. Polite British reality TV."

 "What about movies?"

 Her demeanor changed to wide eyed excitement. "Oh, they're completely different. They're not real people being horrible. It's scripted. I love in movies what I hate in reality TV. One of my favorite movies is 'Closer' and it's," she shook her head and cringed, "harsh."

 I startled, "With Natalie Portman?"

 She nodded, "Love it. It's one of the most honest movies I've ever seen."

 I sat up, threw my head back, and put my hand up, pretending to be exasperated. "Honest? Everyone in that movie was a big fat liar." Her smile let me know she recognized the quote from the movie.

 "Everyone is incredibly unlikable, but Larry didn't lie."

 I raised my eyebrows.

 She stuck her tongue out a little and pointed at me, "He was a horrible person, but not a liar. He was so hurt when Anna cheated."

 I leaned forward, "No, no, no. That scene was horrifying."

 "Yes, but it was real in how people can destroy each other. The whole interchange where he wanted to know all the details. Where they were, what they did. He even asked what the other guy's cum tasted like." She fell back onto the couch. “In a movie full of lies that was the most honest thing I've ever seen." 

I leaned back, mirroring her. Partly because I wanted to pounce on her. The back and forth had been fun with both of us fervently involved in the conversation. Then she used the words “what his cum tasted like” and my brain short circuited a little. I laced my fingers on my chest and thought. I turned my head to look at her, "You're right. I remember sitting in the theater with my mouth hanging open. I thought it was the language, because it was almost obscene. Only now... I wonder if it was because it was a brutally unsanitized version of a break up."

 She smiled and shrugged one shoulder, "Made you think."

 "It's the teacher in you."

"Occupational hazard."

Important question. "Are first grade teachers allowed to say the word cum?"

She drew her eyebrows down with a look of disgust, "Not in front of the children."

 I laughed so loud I startled myself.

Emma shook her head, stood up, and held out her hand to me, "Let's go play, Sebastian."

 I took her hand, letting her pull me up. I put up enough resistance for her to drag me out the door. As soon as I closed the vehicle door behind her, I realized I'd missed the perfect moment. When she pulled me off the couch, I should have pulled her back, taken her in my arms, and kissed her.

I fucking missed it. Again.

 We pulled out and Emma told me which way to go. “One of my favorites is similar. Husbands and Wives. It’s funny and tragic. It’s real too. You'd probably like it. Godfather. Lots of classics for the acting and film making. I loved Boogie Nights.  Life of a male porn star. I enjoyed seeing how the porn industry worked."

"Tempted?" Mischief was in those green eyes.

 "Porn and acting aren't always so very different. Scum bags in both."  I wanted to hear more from her. "What do you love besides fucking cavemen?" Another quote from Closer.

 "Um, Sliding Doors. Princess Bride. I like trilogies. Lord of the Rings is the best thing ever. The extended cuts. Dad is a huge Tolkien fan. He read us the Hobbit when we were little. We couldn't focus on reading the Fellowship, but the movies worked. Loved The Force Awakens.”

I could tell by what she didn’t say she wasn't in love with number two, "Opinion on Last Jedi?"

 "Hated everything about Canto Bight. They made Poe both stupid and sexist." She growled, "Fucked up script."

 I nodded. I was biting my tongue. I wasn’t a stranger to fucked up scripts. I wanted to ask. She would tell the truth, which was good, but I didn't know the way she'd go. Next stoplight I looked over, "Dare I ask?"

 She laughed, "Don't care for the Hulk. Like Spiderman and Ant Man only in ensemble movies, not the solo films. Love Tony's genius and arrogance. I almost peed my pants because of fat Thor. Love Wanda and Nat. Love everyone in Guardians except Peter Quill and not just because he could have stopped Thanos. I thought I just didn't like Pratt because I didn’t like him in 10 Years and Parks and Rec, but loved Jurassic World. So its Peter. I can watch baby Groot dance all day. Did I miss anybody?" Her eyebrows were pulled down with the question she was facetiously asking.

I went with it. "Falcon. Hawkeye, Vision." Left out a couple of major players. The one’s I really wanted an opinion on. I put the ball back in her court.

"Snarky fun, steady, a bit over bearing." I just nodded and we were quiet. A few seconds passed before she put her hand on my arm, "I can't keep this up. Seems mean."

"A little teasing never hurt me."

 She smiled and went on. "At the beginning Steve and Bucky were all boy. They ragged on each other and I didn't really care for either. I know they were best friends, but I didn’t like how they interacted. Bucky was cocky and dismissive of Steve. Steve was annoying in his earnestness. I liked how the characters grew. Beautiful bad boy, who’s not really bad. I like broken characters. Bucky is definitely broken. Was broken. We'll see."

 I was good with her take on Bucky and Steve. I don’t completely disagree. "I hear there are plans for Bucky."

"You would know."

I nodded, "You thought Bucky was beautiful?" I said this with a straight face and looked at the road.

"Wanna know a secret?" 

I guessed she didn't want to answer, "Sure."

"Bucky is much hotter than Steve."

"I think I'm glad to hear that." Yeah, more than good with her opinion.

 Parking was a bitch. The positive about parking so fucking far away is I got to walk a couple of blocks down the street holding my date's hand. It's amazing how sometimes the simplest things make me happiest. Right now, I'm pretty damn happy.

[redriotzero]

Old Friends || Park Chanyeol

Genre: Fluff with angst at the beginning. 

Word Count: 1,497

Warnings: None

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: You caught your boyfriend of two years with another woman, so you turned to the only person you trusted. 

Notes: This is my first imagine on this account and I’m really happy with how it turned out. I wanted to wait until Chanyeol’s birthday to post this so I hope you like it!

Your hand gripped the metal handle on your bedroom door with such force, your knuckles were turning white. The scene before you wasn’t something you expected, but at the same time, you weren’t surprised either. You felt disappointment flood your senses as your eyes took in as much of what had obviously happened in your very bed.

Your boyfriend of two years lay naked under the cream colored sheets embracing a woman you had never seen before. You felt hurt that the man you had trusted your entire heart to had lied to you straight through his teeth. He manipulated you and made you believe he actually loved you.

In the back of your mind, you knew something like this was coming, but you had pushed it away, not wanting to believe anything would corrupt the comfortable relationship the two of you had. In the end, your gut feeling was proven right and the hurt and disappointment were hard to bare.

A strange sense of relief washed over you as you moved to put as many of your clothes in your suitcase as quietly as possible. As horrible and hurtful as the situation was, you couldn’t help but feel like you were finally free. Maybe you wouldn’t have to settle for just comfortable anymore.

Once you had enough clothes to last you for a few days and all your important belongings were packed away, you walked out of the bedroom and shut the door quietly. On your way out of the apartment, you managed to grab little things that belonged to you but left behind things that weren’t that important; you would come back for them another time.

You walked along the sidewalk, heading towards the closest bus stop so you could get as far away from that apartment as you could. When you took a seat on the cold metal bench that was sheltered only slightly by a thick piece of plastic, the wind picked up and only moments later it began to rain.

You chuckled dryly, the weather seemed to match the situation so perfectly. The only way you could describe how you were feeling was with the weather, gloomy, gray, and cold. The only thing you could focus on was your need to get out of the city. Everything around you felt like it was suffocating you and you wanted to get away from it, so when the bus came and you paid the fare, you sat in the back and headed for the only place you knew you could go without any consequence.

-

The ride was only thirty minutes, but that felt like an eternity to you. You got off the bus in the small neighborhood you hadn’t seen in a while and began your short walk to the cute little white house you knew so well. The rain wasn’t as bad there, only a slight sprinkle, but you were still soaked from head to toe and you had no doubts most of the clothes in your bag were too. You found it hard to care as you took of breath without feeling the heaviness in your chest.

You walked up the wooden steps, admiring how they had been painted a beautiful shade of red since the last time you had visited, and a soft smile broke out on your lips as you knocked on the front door that had obviously been neglected due to the chips in the black paint.

The door swung open revealing the tall and handsome man who never failed to take your breath away when you saw him. His hair was dyed back to its original dark brown color, but it was slightly longer than last time. His eyes widen slightly as he took in your appearance, the makeup smudged all over your face and the wet dripping clothes were slightly concerning.

“Chanyeol.” His name left your lips softly as you took in the sight of him. Just the sight of him after so long almost made you forget why you traveled all that way in the first place. He was the most important person in your life and you were forced to leave him behind for someone who didn’t even care for you in the end.

His eyes were full of worry as he grabbed your wrist softly and pulled you out of the cold and into the warmth of his home. “What are you doing here, Y/N, what happened?” His words were only slightly frantic as he struggled to get your coat off. You simply shrugged, pulling your arms from the wet fabric as Chanyeol held it.

“He cheated.” The statement was soft and simple, but the expression on his face changed immediately as he caught your words. He didn’t comment, knowing how much you hated pity and false encouragement, so instead, he left a sweet kiss on your forehead and took your soaked luggage from your grasp. “You’re soaked. Come on, I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes while I wash your stuff, okay?”

You followed him to his bedroom after removing your wet shoes and leaving them next to his by the door. He set your things off to the side and immediately went to his closet to find you something to wear. You took the time to admire his room, smiling at all the pictures of the two of you that he still had sitting on top of the dresser and the bedside table.

He was truly your best friend. Even after all the time the two of you spent apart, he still kept his favorite pictures of the two of you in his bedroom and took care of you in your time of need without a second thought.

Finally, Chanyeol laid out a fluffy towel, one of his white t-shirts, and the smallest pair of fuzzy pajama pants he owned. “Here, change into these and bring me the wet clothes when you’re finished, okay? I’ll make us some tea after I get your things in the wash.” He smiled gently before picking up your bag and leaving the room almost silently.

You carefully peeled off the wet clothes that had clung to your body and left them in a small pile on the floor, then immediately dried your wet skin before putting on Chanyeol’s oversized clothes. They smelled just like him and it was very calming to you.

You gathered the wet clothes into the towel and took them to the laundry room where Chanyeol was putting the clothes from your suitcase into his washing machine. You smiled at him when you handed him the clothes and he smiled back, showing off his gorgeous teeth.

You were happy as you made your way to the couch in his living room, enjoying the faint scent of vanilla that always seemed to be in the air in the cozy home. You were finally away from all the bad your relationship brought you, and you were ready to start focusing on the good feelings Chanyeol gave you.

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until Chanyeol gently shook you from your dreamless slumber. He had a sad smile on his face and a hot cup of tea in his hand as he looked at you. “Do you want to go lay down?” His words were quiet, but you heard them and gave him a tired nod.

He placed the mug on the coffee table and pulled you up from the couch, leading you to his bedroom with his hand placed protectively on the small off your back. Your cheeks flushed slightly at the feeling of his hand on your lower back, but you controlled yourself and allowed him to help you into his bed. He made sure you were snug under the covers and disappeared through the bedroom door only to return moments later with the mugs of tea.

He placed one on the nightstand next to you and the other on the bedside table on the other side before climbing into the bed beside you. He situated himself, making sure he was comfortable before he pulled you closer to his body and wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace.

Your head rested on his chest, the steady beat of his heart relaxing you more than you already were. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head before finally resting his chin there and closing his eyes. “You can tell me everything tomorrow, okay? Let’s get some sleep first.” His voice was already slightly groggy meaning he could fall asleep at any time.

You surprised him slightly when you lifted your head to leave a sweet kiss on the side of his neck. “Thank you, Chanyeol.” Your voice was soft and thick with sleep as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep once again. The last thing you felt was Chanyeol’s lips in your hair once again before you finally allowed yourself to fall asleep comfortably in his arms.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Murder (or a Heart Attack)

Part Three

On the plus side, Bucky had taken an awful fucking lot of pictures of the damn cat. Between just the adorable things that U did, and wanting to show them to Tony -- wanting to share them with Tony -- he had a plethora of photos to chose from for the reward posters.

He did, apparently, own a few pairs of pants, so he pulled one pair on and actually talked to the neighbors. Hung signs around the neighborhood. Combed the streets. Whined at Steve until Steve came over and drove him around the block a few times.

Swallowed down several huge gulps of fear and called the various pet shelters, animal control, the police department. He didn’t know if Tony had his cat chipped, but he’d heard things about chipping companies and how they went out of business and didn’t sell their databases to anyone, so there was no way to get in touch with the pet’s owner if a chipped pet was discovered.

“What the hell are you doing over here?” Steve demanded, pushing past the chocked-open door into Tony’s apartment.

“Don’t remember inviting you in,” Bucky protested, looking up from his spot on the sofa. It was still hot as hell in Tony’s condo, but especially now that Bucky had the windows and the door open, he didn’t want to turn on the AC. Bad enough that he’d probably have to pay to get the space treated for bugs.

“You’re just over here asking to be murdered, with the door open, the way you get all tangled up in your writing and aren’t paying attention to what’s going on around here,” Steve scolded him,

“Heard you coming,” Bucky retorted, ignoring the fact that his heart was racing. Because Steve was a hundred percent correct. The only reason he had heard Steve at all was because Bucky knew the door was unlocked and open, and that he was too on edge to get himself as lost in words as he usually did.

“Have you been productive?” Steve demanded, turning the whole thing around.

“Strangely, yes,” Bucky said, furrowing his eyebrows a little. “Bit stuck here, though -- take a look, see if you can give me some ideas to get myself out of this corner I’ve painted Grant into.”

Steve blinked, then put his hand on Bucky’s forehead. “Are you feelin’ okay-- did you get a haircut?”

“Steve, can we not make this a big deal, okay?” Bucky asked, plaintive.

“No, actually, I don’t think we can,” Steve said. He didn’t sound angry, so, maybe that was good. He didn’t sound a lot of the things he normally sounded whenever the subject of Bucky being a hermit came up. Bucky was used to wheedling, or pleading, or indifferent-seeming suggestions that Bucky find some help, this wasn’t good for him. He needed to get out more. Those things were all the furthest from Steve’s voice. Instead, Steve sounded almost… wondering. Surprised. Happy. “You’ve been running around like someone with the Check Engine light on and hoping if you ignore it hard enough, your car won’t break down. I think maybe we need to talk about the fact that you’re not doing that anymore, pal.”

“Look, Steve,” Bucky started, that familiar panic crawling up his throat again. He did not want to talk about his PTSD. He really did not. He was coping. Hell, he was a New York Times famous author, what the hell more did people want? He’d survived a train crash that had taken his entire family from him, pinned in the wreckage for eighteen hours, nearly buried among the dead bodies and pieces of dead bodies before he and three other survivors had been found.

Bucky lived. He lived and eventually he got about seventy-percent use back from his mangled left arm back. He’d done all the Physical Therapy, he’d gone to a shrink, but when all that was over, he’d retreated. He didn’t want people close to him. He didn’t want to take the risk of getting close to people again. Threw himself into writing because he could do that. But goddamnit, he did not want to talk about it.

Because he knew. He knew what he was doing wasn’t normal. It wasn’t coping. It certainly wasn’t living.

And being reminded of that didn’t make it any easier to change any of it.

It just made it worse.

More below the cut, or catch up at tisfan’s a03 page

So they didn’t talk about it, and now Steve was violating the shit out of their unspoken agreement that said we do not talk about this and we can stay friends.

“I’m not criticizing, pal,” Steve said. His voice was actually shaking. “I’m just looking at what you’ve done recently, and thinking maybe you need to acknowledge that you’ve taken some significant steps recently.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, holding up his hand, trying to ignore the way he could suddenly feel the scars and the muscles in his left arm, the way the scar tissue pulled when he stretched. He was good at ignoring that, except when he wasn’t, and those days that he drowned in pain medication and sometimes booze, but he wouldn’t admit that, because admitting that would mean knowing that the problems weren’t getting better, that they might never get better, that this level of pain was something he might be dealing with his entire life, and even at thirty, the rest of his life seemed a long damn time to be dealing with the pain.

Except… except he hadn’t been, recently, had he?

It’s not like his arm didn’t hurt; it always hurt. Sometimes he could forget about it, when he was writing. But it was always there, like a fifty pound bag of shit that someone said, “here, you have to carry this for the rest of your life.” It never went away, but sometimes he could forget about it.

Had he even taken a pill, in the last few days? Even walking around the neighborhood, looking for the cat. Knocking on doors? Hanging up signs?

He tried to trace it back.

The last time he’d reached for that orange and white bottle was… almost a month ago, when that bad thunderstorm had rolled through and the air pressure had sizzled against his nerves, giving him muscle cramps and his bones had ached all the way to the core and his joints had felt compressed, somehow.

Huh.

“That’s a hell of a cat, Buck, is all I’m saying,” Steve said.

Bucky woke up with a warm, heavy weight on his lower back. The light was all wrong in the room and he blinked several times, trying to figure out where he was. Without bothering the cat -- CAT!

“U,” he said, sleepily, reaching around to feel at the weight on his back.

“Mppprrr?”

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky said. He didn’t really want to bother the cat, not right now, and his stomach returned to its former unknotted stage, heat spreading in his blood. Thank god. “Where have you been, honey?”

Suddenly, the cat shifted, uttered a contented chripping sound, and thudded to the floor, trotting across the room. Bucky sat up and reached for the bedside lamp. Which wasn’t where he expected it to be. He groped around for a moment and then the room flooded with light.

“I must say,” Tony said, eyebrow up, “while I’ve entertained fantasies of you being mostly naked in my bed, I was usually in my bed at the time.” He had one of the Missing Cat posters in his hand.

“Oh, god, Tony,” Bucky said. He flushed, dragged the blankets over himself, realized they were Tony’s blankets, and blushed harder. “I’m so, so sorry. U got out, and I wanted to make sure that if she came back, that someone was here, so she didn’t wander off again, and, oh, god, you’re home, I forgot you were coming back today, oh, Jesus, I am talking too much here, I’m…”

How the hell was he supposed to ever look Tony in the eyes again? He’d let the man’s cat get away, he’d been sleeping in the man’s bed, and while, yes, he had intended to do the laundry before Tony got back…

“I was wondering what was going on, actually,” Tony said, sitting down on the bed. U uttered a completely content chirp and jumped into Tony’s lap, snuggling up to his chin and making biscuits on Tony’s thighs. “You haven’t texted me all week.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. He eyed the heap of his clothing on the floor, halfway across the room, wondering if there was any possible way to get to it without… without Tony seeing everything. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I admit that less worries were probably better than being frantic,” Tony said, cuddling with his cat. “It was a hell of a presentation, and I didn’t need to be distracted. But… I’d appreciate it if you tell me the truth next time.”

Next time? “Next time?”

“Well, yeah,” Tony said. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many people would have just let U be missing? You went through a lot of effort to try to find her, well above and beyond what I might have expected. And, well, U likes you. I know when you’re here, you take good care of her. You love her.”

Bucky was almost in tears. He didn’t feel worthy of that sort of praise at all. After all, if he hadn’t been careless, the cat wouldn’t have gotten out in the first place. He opened his mouth to express any (or all!) of this to Tony.

“Hey,” Tony said, putting an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, which should have been weird, right? Because Bucky didn’t have a shirt on and his arm and its ugly scars were on full display, and -- “She’s gotten out before, I didn’t think to warn you. And she came home, that’s the important thing, right? What… I can’t believe what you did for us, I’m really grateful.”

Bucky let himself be drawn into Tony’s embrace. It wasn’t until U stretched out across both of their laps that Bucky realized that he was mostly naked in Tony’s bed, with Tony’s arm around his shoulder. “Oh, god,” he managed. He nearly knocked the cat onto the floor, scrambling for his clothing and yanking his pants on hurriedly. “I am aso, so sorry, I’ll just… get out of your -- and I should close the windows!”

Bucky turned himself around in a complete panic to find Tony with both hands across his mouth.

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, smile stretching out his cheeks, “I’m not laughing at you…”

Bucky wasn’t sure why that made everything all right, except it kinda did. He stopped moving, holding his shirt in one hand with his pants still unzipped.

“You’re totally laughing at me,” Bucky pointed out.

“Okay, I kinda am,” Tony said, “but usually when someone’s scrambling to get out of my bed--”

Bucky felt the blush creeping up his throat. “I really should go.”

“If you want,” Tony said, leaning back a little on his bed. “Do you want to go? Or, you know, I could put on coffee and make us some breakfast.”

Bucky blinked. “Um?”

“Oh, come on, Bucky, surely someone’s hit on you before in your life?”

“Um… not in a while, no,” Bucky said. His shirt slid out of his fingers and ended up on the floor again. And he knew if he bent over to get it, his pants were going to fall down. “Do I look like someone who’s got their life together enough to have a lover?”

Then it was Tony’s turn to blink. “Well, I gotta say, you’ve looked worse,” he said. Was Tony leering at him? Bucky thought he probably couldn’t turn any redder without qualifying as a supernova.

“I… uh…” Bucky zipped his jeans, scrambled for the rest of his clothes. “I should go.”

“Okay,” Tony said, a little wistful. “If that’s what you want.”

Bucky got most of the way to the door before his brain really kicked all the way in. “Wait, wait, wait a minute,” he said, turning around. “Were you --” and there he was talking to no one but the cat, who’d followed him out of the bedroom. Tony… had not. Bucky backed up a few steps and turned around. “Are you seriously hitting on me?”

Tony was sprawled out on the bed, his arms wrapped around the pillow that Bucky had been using. “I thought you were leaving,” Tony said, pushing the pillow aside hastily as if he hadn’t been cuddling with it, breathing in whatever remained of Bucky’s scent on the sheets.

“You were.” Bucky’s voice came out soft, almost inaudible.

“Was I not clear enough when I said I’d thought about you undressed in my bed, except that I was supposed to be in it?”

“I’m not at my best before coffee,” Bucky offered, hesitantly. “You--”

“Want me to put on some coffee?” Tony scrambled out of his bed. “I can make coffee. I’ll make pancakes, waffles, hashbrowns, bacon, whatever you want, just… stay, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said. “But you know, I’m only staying for you.”

Tony stopped moving, then turned around, scowling. “Are you making a pun about my cat?”

“Only if you think it’s funny.”

“Hey, babe,” Tony said, pushing in the front door. Bucky looked up from his desk, tapped the keys a few more times. Tony wheeled his suitcase in, dodging cat paws as Jarvis scrambled to try to escape. “Not you. Kitties do not go outside.” He gave Jarvis a little toss onto the sofa as U pounced on his shoe laces.

“You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?” Bucky asked, leaning back in his chair. Dummy stretched in his lap, claws digging into his jeans.

“Never,” Tony said. He crossed the room to give Bucky a kiss. “After all, if you hadn’t been sleeping with the door open, hoping my cat would come back, we wouldn’t be together now.”

Bucky slid his hand into Tony’s hair, letting the kiss linger. “Oh, hey,” he said, “while you were gone --” He grabbed the book off his desk and handed it to Tony.

“Is this your new best seller, babe?”

“Well, it’s not a best-seller, yet,” Bucky cautioned. “But yeah, it’s the new one.” He hadn’t changed that much. Tony wasn’t allowed to see the manuscript until the editors had a couple go-rounds and the whole thing was in print.

Tony flipped the cover and glanced down at the dedication page.

To my cat Nothing would be the same without U

[claraxbarton]

Better Be

For @kangofu-cb. Thanks for all of the  beta reading and all of the late night chats and all of the everything. 

Some semi-smutty 2x3 semi-angsty goodness under the cut.

Never again, Duo promised himself as he dug into his pocket for his dorm room key. Never again.

Four hours on the train had been hell. Absolute, unmitigated, frozen hell.

Four days at home with his parents had been worse.

He wasn’t doing it again.

This was it.

No more.

Who the fuck was he kidding?

Of course he would go back - Winter break was only a few weeks away and the University had denied his petition to remain on campus. Apparently starting work on his thesis project wasn’t a thing.

The realization made Duo even more depressed, and when he finally found his roommate he gave a heavy sigh and slid it into the card reader.

As he opened the door, he was immediately hit with a wave of acoustic music.

Shit.

He hadn’t thought Trowa would be back yet. When they had last texted two days ago, Trowa had said he wasn’t coming back until late Monday night. And Duo, desperate to escape his family, had taken the five a.m. train Sunday morning.

He had thought he would have the room to himself, had planned on throwing himself onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling and wallowing. Alone. He had -

Duo pushed the door further open and caught sight of his roommate.

Trowa was on his own bed, propped up on his elbow and reading, wearing nothing but a bulky cream sweater and Pokemon briefs.

Duo stared.

And Trowa stared back at him.

“Door?” Trowa finally said, and the slight curve of his lips jarred Duo out of his trance.

“Right. Sorry.”

Duo slammed the door shut and dropped his bags to the floor.

He couldn’t help but look at Trowa again.

They had been roommates since Freshman year, and Duo had seen Trowa half naked before - had seen Trowa naked before, actually - but not… none of those times had been like this.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He finally had to ask.

Trowa’s cheeks colored the slightest bit and he looked down at himself. He self-consciously plucked at the sweater, which pulled it up high enough to expose a band of flesh above the waist of the briefs.

“Laundry.”

Duo arched an eyebrow.

“Sure, okay, but… are you hot or cold? I mean, obviously you’re hot, but -”

Duo caught himself and felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as Trowa’s smirk grew.

“You think I’m hot?”

They had danced around it, two months into the fall semester of their first year. They had been drunk off their asses and laying on the quad together, looking up at the stars and absolutely not doing their Astronomy homework. Trowa had said something - something clever and Duo had laughed and rolled over and looked down at him and they had been so close to kissing, close enough that their breath mingled and Duo had actually closed his eyes. And then Trowa whispered one word. No. And then another. Don’t.

Duo had scrambled away so quickly he scraped his hand on a rock. They hadn’t spoken for months, after that, not until after Winter Break ended and they came back and Trowa introduced Duo to the perfectly handsome, perfectly kind, perfectly funny sophomore, Quatre Winner, who he had started sort of dating during finals week.

Ever since, they had been careful to keep their distance, physically. Emotionally - that ship had sailed long ago. They sat up late at night, getting drunk and talking through all of the shit with their families. With relationships. With the future. With the past.

Trowa was Duo’s best friend, and he was the recurring star of so many of Duo’s fantasies that it was almost laughable.

“Um, I mean, yeah. Of course you’re hot.”

Trowa’s smirk, if possible, grew broader and more self-satisfied. He slipped a bookmark between the pages under his fingers and then closed the book.

“Of course,” he agreed.”

Duo rolled his eyes and gestured at the Pokemon briefs.

“Except for those. Pokemon? Really, Trowa?”

Trowa was still smirking as he reached down and shoved the briefs down his thighs and kicked them free. The sweater was large enough to cover his naked groin. Just.

“Better?” Trowa asked.

“Um.”

“Or would you prefer this angle?” Trowa rolled over to show off his bare ass.

Duo could only stare, but then Trowa looked over his shoulder, still smirking, something like a dare glinting in his eyes.

His hands were cold, and Trowa shivered when Duo touched his calf.

Duo hesitated.

"Are you- is this okay?" Because it was one thing for Trowa, who didn’t give a flying fuck when his clothes were stolen from the shower last year and just walked back to their room completely naked, towel over his shoulder, whistling what Duo was positive was Bach, to tease Duo. Another thing for Duo to act on it. "Yeah." Trowa's voice was lower than normal, a little rough. A lot sexy. Duo ran his hand over Trowa's long leg, muscles flexing under his touch, until he reached Trowa's thigh and he hesitated, digging his fingers into the firm flesh as he eyed the crease of Trowa's ass. What are they doing?

What is he doing?

Trowa looked at Duo, chin propped on his shoulder, sweater hiding his mouth and hair hiding half his face. All Duo can really see is one brilliant green eye and the curve of his nose.

“This is… this would be breaking a Commandment,” Duo had to say.

Trowa snorted a laugh and rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow in a smooth motion that momentarily distracted Duo.

Of course, the fact that his hand was still on Trowa’s thigh, now the front of him, and tantalizingly close to the bulge of sweater over Trowa’s crotch, was an even bigger distraction.

“It wouldn't be the first one we’ve broken,” Trowa pointed out.

Duo rolled his eyes.

The Commandments - rules that the RA their freshman year had posted all along the halls of their dorm - had been a ridiculously extensive list of things they weren’t supposed to do if they wanted to get along with their roommate. Things like Do not steal from your roommate. Do not spy on your roommate. Do not leave your shit on your roommate’s half of the room. Do not have sex with your roommate. Do not have sex with your roommate’s boyfriend or girlfriend. Do not look at your roommate’s porn. Do not get involved in your roommate’s personal life. Do not get drunk with your roommate. Do not get high with your roommate.

The list had been a running joke almost immediately - Trowa had found a copy somewhere and he and Duo had managed to work their way through most of the commandments by the end of Freshman year - going to absurd lengths when it came to breaking the commands of ‘not stealing’ or ‘not spying’ - Trowa had taken Duo’s too small, too tight and too short Captain America t-shirt and worn it to classes one day; Duo had found a pair of binoculars and set himself up with a bag of popcorn two feet away from Trowa and Quatre in the dorm lounge and ‘spied’ on them doing their homework.

But there were a few they hadn’t broken - they hadn’t had sex with each other’s boyfriends. And they hadn’t had sex with each other.

“No,” Duo agreed. “It wouldn’t.”

He met Trowa’s gaze as he inched his hand upwards, until he could finger the hem of the sweater.

Trowa swallowed, throat working, and his lips parted as Duo’s thumb grazed over his inner thigh. He barely made a sound, just the softest gasp, but his legs parted further, dragging the sweater up, and Duo felt his entire mouth go dry.

“Tro.”

He didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t even begin to think about what a bad idea this was, how much they were going to regret it when -

Trowa grabbed the front of Duo’s shirt in his fist and pulled Duo down on top of him, meeting his lips in a kiss that was clumsy and a little painful as Trowa’s nose bashed against Duo’s cheek and -

And then Duo tilted his head. And Trowa opened his lips. And their tongues met. And Duo was scrambling into Trowa’s lap. And Trowa was fumbling with Duo’s belt. And then they were tugging at sweaters and the kiss had to end, they had to breathe and -

Trowa face and chest were flushed, his eyes wide and his lips parted and Duo couldn’t look away.

“Tro,” he said again, and this time he didn’t care about what had happened before and what would happen after.

The search for a condom put a momentary halt to things. The cold tile under Duo’s feet and Trowa’s muttered fuck as he came up empty put a further damper on the mood. By the time Duo unearthed a condom from the back of his sock drawer and Trowa found lube, their erections had wilted and it felt a little silly, a lot stupid, to stand there naked, Trowa holding a nearly empty tube of KY in one hand and Duo holding a crinkled foil wrapper.

The rush of arousal, the flood of holy fuck and what the fuck and fuck this had passed them by.

Duo offered Trowa a lopsided grin. He waited for Trowa to distance himself. Waited for Trowa to put his clothes back on. Waited for Trowa to say those words again. No. Don’t.

“Come here.”

Trowa held out his free hand  and Duo took a cautious step towards him. Trowa slid his hand along Duo’s waist and pulled him close, until their bodies were flush.

Their gaze caught and held as Trowa lowered his head, as he brushed his lips over Duo’s, the touch light and almost hesitant. Duo kissed him back, followed Trowa’s lead and kept it light, held himself so still it was almost painful.

But then Trowa was smirking against his mouth, was teasing him, sucking Duo’s lower lip into his own mouth, catching it between his teeth in a gentle nip, and Trowa’s hand was squeezing his ass, and Trowa’s cock was stirring against his own.

Duo pushed Trowa down onto his bed, straddled him again, and as they kissed and touched and rocked together, Duo let go of all of those fantasies. All of those fears.

Trowa arched under him, rolled them over and whispered Duo’s own name against his skin, kissing and licking and biting and mapping Duo’s body until Duo was crying out and twisting his hands in the sheets and feeling nothing but pleasure. Nothing but Trowa’s touch. Nothing but everything.

Afterwards, spent and sticky and sweaty, they lay side by side on Trowa’s bed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Trowa asked him.

“The sex?” Duo felt dread creep into all of the wonderful emptiness he had been floating on.

Trowa snorted.

“No.Not the sex. The sex was perfect.”

“Yeah,” Duo hesitantly agreed. He felt relief. But if not the sex, then what -

“Your parents?” Trowa prompted.

“Oh. Them.”

Duo sighed and he rolled over so that he was facing Trowa.

“I don’t really want to talk about it. You?”

Trowa shrugged, still on his back, but he turned his head so he could meet Duo’s gaze.

“Not really, no.” Trowa hesitated. “I didn’t think you were getting in until later.”

“I didn’t think you were coming back until tomorrow night.”

Trowa’s lips twisted, slightly bitter, slightly vulnerable.

“I couldn’t stand to be there any longer. I hoped…”

He trailed off and Duo kissed him.

That went on for a while, long enough for them to end up stickier and sweatier, long enough for the darkness to recede and long enough that all Duo wanted to do after was hold Trowa.

Long enough for that to be all either of them needed.

-o-

So here’s the photo that inspired this.

[travelingtheusa]

UTAH

26 May 2019 (Sun) - I apologize.  We have been so busy with the caravan that I have not had a chance to write anything in this blog.  The caravan will be over on June 11.  Things should return to normal then.

 We have been rafting on the Colorado River, driven a UTV through the desert, and hiked/driven some of the most incredible landscape imaginable.  This has been an incredible experience.

 20 May 2019 (Mon) – We pulled up stakes and left Torrey at 9 a.m. with four rigs in our group.  One member of the caravan, Hank & Brenda, had to dive further south to Freightliner to get their rig repaired.  They’ve been having problems with power trying to go uphill.  Hank changed the fuel filter but it didn’t help.  Hope they can find the problem quickly and they can get back with us.

     Another member of the caravan, Shirley, broke down just after leaving the campground.  Our tail gunner, Jon, and another rig driven by Jim & Lida stopped to help.  Group four and five were combined and sent on. Shirley had her 19’ class B RV towed to a repair shop.  

 19 May 2019 (Sun) – We did the laundry this morning.  We went to one building but it was locked (reserved for housekeeping – they wash the linens for the cabins).  We went to the second building which had two washers and two dryers stacked one on top of the other.  Both washers had laundry in them.  As we started to leave, Steve (a fellow SMART member) came up and moved his clothes to the dryers.  We loaded our clothes in the two washers and when we put in the coins, one machine broke down.  We had to unload that washer and just let the one washer go.  When we came back, we moved the wash to the dryer and put the second batch of clothes in the washer.  It took longer to do the wash than usual.  Ugh.

     At noon, we drove down the road to the general store.  We couldn’t find most of what we wanted so we just got travel tissues and post cards for the grandsons.  Then we went to the Wild Rabbit Café for lunch.  They had a very limited menu – two sandwiches or a salad. We both got BLTs.

     It was back to the campground and finishing up with the caravan materials.  At 5:00 p.m. we had a potluck dinner.  Paul managed to hang a tarp over one of the open doorways to cut down on the wind. Jon brought over his propane fireplace, which added a nice warmth to the pavilion.  The food was, as usual, good and plentiful.  At 6:30 p.m. we had our travel meeting.  The weather turned nasty and cold.  Some kind of cold weather system blew in.  Brrrrr.

 18 May 2019 (Sat) – At 9:00 a.m. we pulled out of the campground with 8 cars following; 19 of us looking forward to a great day of exploration. The temperatures were warmer than yesterday and most of the clouds were gone.  With John Denver songs playing on the stereo, we led the group down Route 12, America’s Byway.  The scenery was very lush.  As we moved into higher elevations, forests of pine and aspen lined the roadway. Soon, whole sides of the mountain were filled with quaking aspen waiting to explode into their springtime bloom. We stopped at several overlooks to admire the grandeur spread before us.

     When we reached the end of Route 12, one couple turned back and four stopped to tour the Anasazi Village Museum.  Four of us turned left onto the Burr Trail.  John Denver done, we slipped in a CD of music of the American Southwest. The sound of screaming eagles and howling coyotes joined in with flutes and drums.  We drove along the two lane road, admiring the ever changing scenery before us.  The variety of colors and shapes was incredible.  After about two hours of driving, we pulled onto a turn out that overlooked the Black Canyon and had lunch.  For half an hour, we gazed out over the land below and were filled with awe at the Creator’s handiwork.

     Lunch all done, we continued on the Burr Trail.  That’s where things got really interesting.  A little after turning heading out, the pavement ended and we were driving on a dirt road.  A little further on, we came upon a series of switchbacks with deep downgrades.  It was an adrenaline pumping ride!  We turned off Burr Trail on to Notom Trail and the road soon found pavement again. The entire ride was about five hours long.  

     At 5:00 p.m. we all drove to the Capitol Reef Inn & Café. There was some confusion and the group wound up arriving too early and ordering things that were different than the pre-ordered food.  Most of the food was good and the service was excellent.

 17 May 2019 (Fri) – We packed up and left Bryce Canyon City at 9:00 a.m.  We led four other rigs on a 110-mile route to Torrey.  The scenery was absolutely beautiful!  We had free range cows wandering in the road, there was a skunk walking on the side of the road in the bushes, cows grazing in wide open grasslands, and hawks flying overhead.  The weather was cold when we started out and got colder.  Eventually, we had sleet and snow in small spurts.  The wind was really cold.

     When we arrived at the campground, I went in the office to pay the bill.  The clerk gave me campground maps to hand out to everyone and informed me that ten sites were 50-amp and eleven were 30-amp.  That is bad news in the camping world.  You always want 50-amp.  I waited until Jon got in and then we went in to talk to the manager about the situation. I couldn’t believe she didn’t see any difference between 30-amp and 50-amp sites except if you needed to use air conditioners.  Ugh.

     The group tried to have social hour at 4:00 p.m. but the weather was cold and the wind was blowing so we all retreated to our rigs.  I hope tomorrow is nice for our ride on Route 12.

 16 May 2019 (Thu) – Paul and I drove part of the route for tomorrow’s move just to ensure everyone would be able to negotiate it alright. There were two herds of cows wandering on the roadway and a creek was very full and touching the roadway.  If we get rain tonight, the road may be flooded when we try to drive it.  Otherwise the drive was pleasant.  We stopped in Panguitch and looked at the boyhood home of Butch Cassidy.  It was just a log cabin with a storyboard outside. Not much to see.  We had lunch at the Cowboy Café.  Their roasted red pepper soup and cole slaw were so good that we bought more to take home.

      We had social hour at 4:00 p.m. and travel meeting following.  The wind was blowing fiercely and the temperatures have dropped dramatically.  We have a freeze warning for tonight.  Also, it rained heavily for an hour.  Paul will have to get up early and drive tomorrow’s route to make sure the road is open. Otherwise, we will have to use an alternate route.

     After the meeting, we went to dinner at Ruby’s Inn Restaurant with Rick & Brenda and Hank & Brenda.  The food and company were good.

 15 May 2019 (Wed) – The National Park Service provided a special bus for us to take a tour of Bryce Canyon.  The bus arrived at 10:00 a.m. and we took a three hour tour.  The driver drove all the way to the end of the 17-mile loop then stopped at various overlooks on the way back.  He was a retired vet and provided an entertaining and informative ride.

     At 7:00 p.m. we went to a cowboy dinner show at Ebenezer’s Barn & Grill.  There was food and music and lots of clapping and singing.  We had a very good time.

 14 May 2019 (Tue) – We moved from Zion to Bryce Canyon City today. We packed up and left at 9 a.m. with four rigs following behind us.  The ride was easy and we arrived around noon.  The campground is very nice.  We are in a new part where the campsites are very roomy and each has a large grassy plot. The interior roads are nicely graded.

     Bryce Canyon City is an interesting town.  It is owned entirely by the family of the original founder. The entrance to the National Park is just a block away.

13 May 2019 (Mon) – We got up at 4:30 a.m., fed the animals, and packed up for a sunrise hike to Zion Canyon Overlook.  We met Rick & Brenda at 5:30 a.m. and they drove us up the route through the Mount Carmel Tunnel.  We climbed up the trail

     We had a potluck dinner and travel meeting today.  The food was so plentiful.  It was a delightful day.  The cell phone serve and wifi in this area sucks!  Whenever I try to send a message, I get an error message saying the message could not be sent.  The jet pack can’t connect to the internet.  I have been unable to connect to Tumblr or to post anything on Facebook. I don’t know what it’s so bad. It’s hard to try to download anything or to make calls.  I can’t wait to get out of this area.

 12 May 2019 (Sun-Mother’s Day) – Jan & Nancy gave all the ladies a red rose this morning.  We all drove into Zion National Park today.  Some hiked trails and others drove scenic routes.  We rode with Rick & Brenda into the park.  We left the car at the visitor’s center and caught the shuttle to stop 6 where we hiked to The Grotto.  Then we hiked to the lower Emerald Pools.  The upper Emerald Pools and Kayenta Trail were closed due to recent flooding.

     I checked in at 12:15 and got tickets for everyone.  At 12:45 p.m. everyone gathered at the foot of the stairs to the Red Rock Grill.  I turned in the tickets to the head waiter and we were all seated on the second floor. The restaurant served a taco salad bar. The choices were plentiful.

     Afterward, we returned to the campground and worked on caravan stuff.

 11 May 2019 (Sat) – We left Boulder City, NV, at 8:00 a.m. and drove 170 miles to Zion Canyon.  We are staying in Zion River RV Resort in Virgin, UT.  It is a very nice campground with pool, spacy sites, grass at each site, concrete pads, picnic tables, fire pits, wifi (poor), and asphalt roadways.

    We had group 4 follow their GPS rather than the prescribed route and they wound up driving through Las Vegas.  Sadly, they missed a very scenic route through Lake Mead National Recreation Area.  Everyone was finally arrived by 3:00 p.m.

[planetarduino]

Honey, When Did We Get an Indoor Pool?

Is it too much to ask for a home to have a little ‘smart’ built-in? If you’ve ever woken up (or come home) to your dwelling being flooded, you’ll know how terrible it feels, how long it can take to recover from, and how stressful it can be. Yeah, it’s happened to us before, so we really feel for [David Schneider]. He woke up one Sunday morning to a whole lot of water in his house. The inlet valve for his washing machine somehow got stuck in the open position after putting a load of laundry in the previous night.

[David] took progressively complex measures to prevent a broken water feed flood from happening in the future. First, he lined the entire floor of his laundry closet with a steel tray. OK, that’s a good start but won’t prevent another disaster unless it is caught very quickly. How about a simple audible water alarm? That’s good and all if you’re home, but what if you’re not?

Next, he installed a valve with a mechanical timer on the water line for the washing machine which closes automatically after 2 hours of being opened. Much better, but what about all the other thirsty appliances around the house? After searching online a little, he found plenty of whole house systems that would work for him, but there were 2 problems with these. First, most were network-based and he didn’t want to IoT-ify his house’s water system. Second, they were overpriced.

Of course the solution was to put together his own system! First, he purchased a few mostly inexpensive things — a wireless alarm, some water sensors, and a motorized ball valve. Then he collected the last few things he needed from what he had on hand around the house, and got to work connecting the 4 LEDs on the alarm to 4 analog input pins on his Arduino. Next, he added a relay between the Arduino and the motorized ball valve.

If a sensor detects water, it tells the alarm about it (wirelessly), which triggers the Arduino to energize a relay that is connected to the motorized ball valve, causing it to shut off the main water line for the entire house. Disaster averted! Sure, it’s a fairly simple hack, but it works, meets his requirements, and now he sleeps better at night knowing he won’t wake up (or come home) to an indoor swimming pool.

It’s surprising that we haven’t seen more hacks like this given it’s such a common problem. The closest thing we can remember is an overflow sensor for an aquarium. If homes came standard with a water main shutoff system, it would remove a stressful event from our lives and maybe even lower our insurance premium.

Filed under: Arduino Hacks, home hacks

Honey, When Did We Get an Indoor Pool? was originally published on PlanetArduino