#stuff to her room then hustle to get to her job before she finishes at 12 get there a few minutes to spare shes not ready to go yet anyway

[nerdie-faerie]

This has got to be the worst move out yet

[xerith-42]

My Street Stoner Headcanons

This is part 1 in a series of posts I wanna make about different characters in the Aphverse who partake in the devil's lettuce.

Important disclaimer, I don't really like My Street! It peaked with season 2, it's got a lot of problems from day one that remain problems in it's sixth season, they manage to have TWO beach SEASONS and neither one has someone who was easily one of the main characters of the series it was based on, and it really lost the plot. Like way faster than MCD did. But there is stuff to love about it.

I love the idea of My Street as it was initially promised. A slice of lice modern AU of MCD that is a SLICE OF LIFE. No grand stakes of the universe, nobody's getting blown up (unless it's for comedic effect), and nobody's dying. It's about a bunch of young adults, some of whom have known each other since high school or longer, all living on the same street together and the day to day shenanigans they get up to. So basically Season 3 but the entire series is like that. This is my very long winded way of saying that none of the "lore" of My Street matters to me and when you read my headcanons, know that I ignore the canon of My Street more than I ignore the canon of Minecraft Diaries. I don't care about the angels, I just want to get high with my friends.

Anyways wanna smoke some weed?

Blaze is the main weed dealer of My Street. Man has both an indoor and outdoor garden with multiple plants. He and the werewolf trio all live together and they actually help him out with his business sometimes. It's the main way Blaze pays rent on their place and also just a great side hustle. Like Blaze never has to worry about money, and he's constantly giving free stuff to his friends if they want it.

His first ever costumer in the friend group was actually Aaron. The two got high in High School like once when Aaron was inexplicably at Blaze's house. He's still not entirely sure how he got there to this day, the whole experience feels very surreal and liminal. But he remembers how freeing it was, how much stress he was able to let go of. So when college is kicking his ass, he hits up Blaze expecting to just like share half a blunt like they did before, and then they hotbox Blaze's dorm with a gravity bong.

If it wasn't already clear, Blaze is the top stoner of the entire My Street Universe. Some characters are definitely more frequent users than others (we'll get to Travis), but for Blaze, I mean... C'mon. His birthday is literally April 20th. He's the stoner friends to end all stoner friends but he also gets weirdly emotional with people when they're high and basically makes his friends process their shit every now and then by offering to get them high as a stress reliever. It all started with Aaron showing up in his door, getting baked enough to see God, and then randomly confessing that he was actually a werewolf the entire time. Even though. Blaze already knew that.

And then Aaron confesses it to Irena (C!Aphmau) while they're late night gaming. Like she mentions that Katelyn's room smelled funny when she went into it the other day and Aaron instantly jumps to "I've gotten high with Blaze before." So she tries it out of morbid curiosity, and while she enjoys it, she ultimately decides it's not something she wants to do on the regular. Maybe for celebrations of like finishing a semester of college or finally getting that fucking promotion.

Katelyn definitely smokes it the most when she's living with Irena and Nana. Not having a solid job for a few months really fucked with her stress levels, even if she managed to make it work cause her roommates are awesome. But, she'll only do it outside or in her room and then instantly light a candle to clear out the smell, but they both eventually figure it out. Nana literally walks in on Katelyn lighting a blunt in her room when she's just trying to ask Katelyn what she wants on her pizza. There's a pause, Katelyn answers, and then Nana gives her a thumbs up and leaves.

The next morning Katelyn opens up the fridge and finds a small tray of brownies with her name written on the post-it note slapped onto them. Another note reads "For when you want to be subtle about it ;)"

Nana learned that she could put weed into butter and therefore she could make edibles from one of her sisters randomly showing up in town, dropping a bunch of life lessons and also useless bull shit on her, and then leaving and never elaborating. And the thing Nana mainly got from it is to make her own edibles because it's way cheaper than buying them. Nana doesn't smoke because she has asthma so this is like game changing for her.

She doesn't realize that she even has a chance to know who her dealer is because she's super paranoid about buying it. So she like goes through all these extra steps to hide it and hide her privacy and Blaze literally knows what she smells like and knows who she is, but he gets that people can be hesitant for others to know. Just strange that she's getting all weird about it when he and Katelyn were just hot boxing his car when she texted him.

Most characters have an experience like this. Trying it out for the first time, usually with Blaze or on their own, trying to hide it, only to stumble upon one of their roommates high as balls watching Lord of The Rings at 3 am and realize they're all a bunch of pothead losers and that's fine.

Blaze knows all. Like, he has heard everything. People feel randomly prompted to just start telling him stories from their childhood, confessing in the way of like "haha you wanna know something funny I never told anybody?" and then Laurance confesses he's been in love with Garroth since they were freshman. Or Zane confesses to really liking My Little Pony. Or Dante reveals that he's questioning his gender identity. Blaze just knows all these people on deeper levels than most of them realize if they don't frequently hang out with him.

And if they do, then they know that Blaze is no low level just grows for his friends and accepts tips. No, he's a full blown dealer. he's really strict about rules of wherever he lives, especially when he started dealing to raise money so he could pay tuition at PDH, he didn't want it effecting his family at all. and Blaze can literally chuck you through a window so it's hard for anyone to really pressure him into doing stuff he doesn't want to do. And all he wants to do is grow quality product for everyone to enjoy.

It's why his friends don't mind helping him out sometimes. Like Laurance comes over to his house to ask if he can use Blaze's three foot bong so he gets high enough his body stops cramping, but when he gets there Blaze has some classic rock on and he's just packaging orders and Laurance sits down at the table and joins him.

And while hanging out with Blaze, he always has just the most random wack ass stories. He meets so many strange people in the world, he travels a lot because he's technically unemployed, and he has the wildest adventures that people love hearing about.

Travis and Dante's house always smells different. If they're expecting company they'll use some kind of air fresher, or light candles or incense, or do something to get rid of the smell. But if they have nothing going on? If Travis is on break from classes to get his masters and Dante has the weekend off of work? That house is going to fucking reek for three days. They always take care of it eventually, but when they go on what they jokingly call their benders, they don't bother.

Due to this most people would assume one of the two of them is the biggest stoner on My Street (that isn't Blaze). Or maybe Katelyn and Nana. It's actually Vylad. He's just really good at hiding it.

Vylad got insane stoner rng and is able to be tripping balls and have no visual effect on his eyes. Like maybe they look tired, but they aren't bloodshot, even while he's sitting in a freshly hotboxed room. So Vylad likes hiding it because it confuses his friends and that's just always fun to do.

Despite being so judgemental, Zane oddly never makes any comment about this. If someone's room smells funny or Nana slips a special kind of butter into a batch of cupcakes and insists those are her batch, he doesn't say anything. It's not clear whether he's chill with it or not? Both his brothers smoke, even if Garroth is more infrequent about it, so maybe it's becuase of them? But even then he'll get upset at someone for something but not upset at his brothers when they do the same thing so??

Garroth asks Blaze if Zane smokes one day, and Blaze is just in shock because "You didn't know? Why do you think he wears the mask?" "Because he has facial dysphoria?" "Well, that, and because he can take a sneaky hit from his vape when no one's looking."

Zane has never forgiven Blaze for revealing his secret because now Vylad and Garroth keep asking him for hits.

If you have any specific MS characters that I didn't mention in here, or more in depth headcanons, feel free to send me an ask! I have. A lot. Of these.

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Dog Tags

Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr​ : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations.    The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week.  The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.  

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

—

“…I’m here to see William Russo”. 


With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place.


He only crossed the line once. 



You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.  

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.  

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.    

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday. 

Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was. 

You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again. 

Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction. 

Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along. 

“We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).  

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on. 

Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.  

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)  

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.  

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?  

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. “Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer. 


As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence. 



Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.  

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”

 Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy. 
You just couldn’t. 
You couldn’t leave him. 

There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him. 

Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.



That chest…



…was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.

Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock,  he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it? 


Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion. 

He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?  

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”

You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”



Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.

“…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him. 



A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.  

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

[fighterkimburgess]

Home

Summary: Stella is finally home

Words: 1k

Warnings: none

AN: I've had a few requests for Stellaride reunions and this kinda just...poured out of me. There'll be other reunion stuff coming soon I reckon, but I needed some stellaride fluff!

Wanna join my taglist?

--

The flight from Boston to Chicago was just over two hours, and every single minute made Stella just want to get off the plane. She was so fed up of the humidity, of the weirdly laid out streets, of the accents that hurt her ears because there was no more Midwest drawls. Instead it was trying to parse words as they were said, answering slowly so she could understand it fully.

But finally Girls On Fire East was set up, and she was going back home. Officially she could have been there another week, but she hadn’t extended her furlough any longer, deciding instead to head home as soon as possible.

The distance was hard. Matt leaving was a shock to all of them, and she hated that she hadn’t been there for her fiancé and her best friend as he went. She hated that she never got to say goodbye. It had been the right move career wise - she was going home having turned down an offer to move to Boston - but Chicago was home. Kelly and Sylvie and Molly’s and everyone she loved was there. The thoughts of leaving it all to move to the East Coast wasn’t worth it.

“We’ve just landed at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, where the local time is six thirty. Thank you for flying with American, and we hope to see you on board soon.”

It was a hustle to the terminal, but her checked bag was one of the first off the belt. She had just over an hour to make it to 51 for her shift, and she couldn’t wait to be there. It felt like a dream, getting into the cab and watching the cabby get confused at where she was sending him, but it worked. She made it on time, opening her locker and pushing her backpack in. She felt at home, and it was wonderful.

Voices were coming around the corner and she hid in the bathroom, standing in the shower stall until they faded and the coast was clear. Everyone was in the briefing room, and she watched Kelly leaning against the wall on his own. God she’d missed him. She missed his strength, his light. She missed how he made her feel like she could do anything.

So before anyone else walked into the room she opened the door, watching the faces change as they realised she was back. Kelly was the first to react, a grin breaking through as he saw her there, almost disbelieving. It was ten steps each, meeting in the middle of the room with his arms around her waist, smiling into a sweet kiss that was just ok enough for their workplace, proof that they’d made it through eight oh too long weeks and she’d missed him so incredibly much.

They separated before Boden came in, holding hands as they leaned against the wall together, her head in his shoulder as the briefing happened. She paid attention, trying to ignore Kelly’s thumb rubbing a slow circle on her hip, just happy for the connection they had together. She was home. She was back. She was in Kelly’s arms and it felt so right.

Once the briefing was finished Boden called her back to his office, so she let go of Kelly with a squeeze and followed him. He indicated to the chair, Stella nodding as she spoke.

“I hear good things from Boston. The Deputy Commissioner there called me, said he offered you a job and you turned him down? It would have been a good career move.” She nodded before speaking.

“It’s like we said. 51, this group of people? It’s a family. Chicago is home for us, and I don’t want to leave. I can build my career here.”

“That you can. We had an interim Lieutenant on 81 while you were gone, Jason Pelham. I offered him the position.” Her heart sank. She didn’t think she’d be offered 81, not with being gone, but hearing someone else had taken it still hurt.

“Pelham refused it, said he appreciated the offer but he enjoyed being a floater, he likes moving between locations. Stella Kidd, will you be the next commanding officer of Truck 81?”

“Yes.” It came out of her mouth before she could even think. “Yes, Chief. I’d be honoured. From when?”

“This shift?”

“Definitely.”

“I took the liberty of picking this up for you.” He passed a plastic bag across the desk, and Stella opened it to two grey polos there, her Lieutenants bugles shining in the collar. Truck 81 was embroidered in navy thread on the right breast, the CFD logo opposite it. There were tears in her eyes as she lifted the first one out.

“You’ve got new turnouts as well, go change and we can announce to everyone?” Boden asked, Stella nodding and wiping her tears away. She’d never imagined she’d get this chance.

It was a minute later when the polo was on, tucked into her pants. Lieutenant Stella Kidd of Firehouse 51, it sounded so good in her head. She came back into the office and Boden went to the common room first, everyone sitting down to eat.

“Folks, I wanted to let you know that Lieutenant Pelham rejected the position on 81. He thanked all of us for working with him, but he’s happy floating and learning at different houses. I want to introduce the new commanding officer for 81, Lieutenant Stella Kidd.”

Stella walked out from behind Boden, a wide grin on her face as the common room whooped and hollered in celebration. Kelly was the first to reach her, dipping her into a kiss in front of everyone with a grin on his face while wolf whistles went out around everyone. Sylvie was next, hugging her closely and kissing her cheek. It was hugs from everyone until the bells went off, calling them to a structure fire. Stella was handed her new turnout coat with Lieutenant Kidd on the back, before going to the drivers seat in 81. She’d teach Gallo to drive the rig soon enough, but for today she was back in control, giving instructions to her team. And when she heard the “Yes Lieutenant” response, she had to stop herself from smiling.

Taglist: @aruzlover @amandarrollins @morganupstead @brookerz122493 @redpoodlern @everythingaddictxx @write4life13 @tuxieboy101-blog @planecrazylex @stellarideofhouse51 @sophiatellerrhodes @xxxjocexxx @thestarrynightslover @etamne @torreshalstead @itsnotpersonalbut @kellykidd @blehblehblacksheep @stephanie708 @sylvieshay @dedlund82 @upsteadlovingheart @ittybitty-tittycommittee @thewannabewriter @brockreynolds @detective-buttercup @bila1011 @angelsjedi @multicouple-lover @keenmarvellover @takemetooneverlanddd @oracle23 @sylviebrettisaswiftie @thedefinitionofendgame

[nerdy-simp-7120]

hi! if you're comfortable writing this, could i ask for a scenario? this has been in the back of my head for a while.

what would be the reaction of the brothers + dateables of watching mc play resident evil in the dimitrescu castle? who would be down bad the most

thank you! feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write this ofc

I love this ask (stan tall vampire lady). The only thing is that I accidentally turned it into a “how they feel about the game.” I managed to add in some parts with MC playing as well to make up for it

Update: I literally finished the request yesterday but my wifi went down and I lost everything  😩 😩

I also wrote this in the middle of the night so sorry if there are any errors! Enjoy!

Warnings: cursing.

How the OM! characters would react to you playing Resident Evil (Dimitrescu Castle edition)

Lucifer

Will not care at first

"I hold no interest in such trivial simulations."

His weakness? Being a simp for you.

He decides to look into the game a bit more in private later on.

Will lowkey practice the game

If you ever catch him playing it, do not say anything because he will stop immediately, deny everything, and might not ever do it again

With time, however, Lucifer will come to master the game.

Here comes the showing off.

When you're rambling about the game with Levi, Lucifer will join the conversation and you two will be like "wow, boomer knows something for once--"

Or when you're struggling on a part of the game he will be like, "hand it over"

Before expertly getting through that part.

Can defeat Lady Dimitrescu if you ask him to but be careful cause he might make you beg

sadistic bastard

or you can be a badass and show him your skills

Will be a tad shocked at how easily you handled it but won't let it show (okay Elsa)

Also proud though

Lucifer's internal monologue: “That’s right- show them how it’s done, Y/n.”

Mammon

Scared.

Will watch you play and cover his eyes during every battle

"wHAT IS THAT?!" at everything you come across

I hope you're good at playing one-handed because you'll have to use the other hand to hold his throughout the entire thing

Admires you're bravery but would never admit it

"You were horrible! ...N-nice job beating the game, not that I c-care or anything. You sucked anyways!"

Not even 10 seconds later...

"Can I watch you play again?"

Comes to find that the faces you make are adorable: when you're concentrating on a battle, when you win, find a valuable item, etc

He loves being able to see how you're feeling up close.

If you catch him staring when you take a break or something he'll blush and either ask you if you have a staring problem or that you have something on your face

He may or may not buy cheap merch (a tiny key chain of Lady Dimitrescu or your favorite character) for you, all the while spewing lame excuses

Please bear with him- he's trying.

Leviathan

"YOU ALSO LIKE RESIDENT DEVIL?!?? Ah! I-I mean..."

Congrats, you just found yourself someone to discuss the game with

Is open to cosplay the characters with you

You two will have competitions to see who can beat the game faster.

You both also share theories with each other all the time

Or simply discuss the characters together

He purposefully stays quiet to hear you ramble on and on- dude finds it adorable

You two also sometimes argue debate over a character name or event in the game

Because while you have Resident Evil

He only knows Resident Devil

This is the equivalent of Devilgram and Instagram

I mean

They’re the same,

But a couple things were altered, y’know, to prevent copyright

So yes, there are definitely a few quarrels here and there

But all in all, it’s a fun gamer bud experience

Don’t tell him I told you but he thinks it’s hot when you show off your badass skills in a boss fight

Satan

He plays it on the lowkey.

Not because he’s embarrassed

But because he partially takes his anger out on the characters

During gory scenes, he imagines it’s him torturing Lucifer, fueling his determination to win

A calculated person, Satan is a smart player

But there are times when he’s particularly angry and he becomes a reckless one, jumping into fights impetuously

This is where you come in and beat the enemy for him

He may get angrier, thinking you are underestimating him

But, for the sake of the person he loves, he calms down knowing you didn’t mean to offend him

A small part in the back of his head also admires you for being able to handle the fight a ton better than he did

Congratulations, you just earned yourself the great Satan’s respect (resident evil-wise).

Asmodeus

“Oh my, I never knew you were into such gory games! Does this mean you’re into blood play, because I know many things about--”

He may look carefree on the outside

But on the inside?

Let’s take a look, shall we?

Holy shit

What the fu--

Jesus christ, can you pull a move like that in real life?

He needs to be careful to not piss you off.

If you can handle this, who knows what you could be capable of?

Hold on.

Wait, you look so concentrated

Eeep! How cute!

Anyways, it ends with him snapping a bunch of pictures 

Keeps them for himself and may brag to his brothers about how he got some “special” shots of you

Obviously never elaborates on what the special part means to keep his dear siblings on edge because, what the hell, they want to know what these special shots are

Would not play the game because there’s “tOo MuCh BlOoDsHeD”

We all know he’s most likely seen his fair share of bloodshed

“What if the adrenaline gives me acne?”

He’s probably just bad at the game--

Verdict: Asmo is a simp and not afraid to flaunt it.

Beel

...Are you okay?

Do you think about homicide--?

Oh, that lady looks nice.

Huh, she’s 9′6″??

What’s her name? Lady Dimitrescu?

Okay-- WAIT WHY IS SHE TURNING INTO THAT??

Not scared, just a tad bit concerned 

Poor Beel, concerned for Lady D :’)

Also, seeing the death’s of Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra hit different

Because he know what it’s like to lose a sibling.

Safe to say he understands Alcina’s pain when she raged about her children being dead.

Also concerned about how the gore could affect you

Because isn’t stuff like this supposed to traumatize humans?

Would support you regardless though

And thinks that you’re really brave for playing the game and still being able to stand strong

On another note, Beel decided to make small flower graves for the three sisters and Alcina because he’s adorable and kind like that

Belphegor

Likes the game but is too lazy to play himself

Regularly watches Satan play (or at least as much as he can before deciding it’s nap time)

I hope you enjoy Belphie using you as a body pillow and watching you play from now on 

Makes small comments here and there to help you out

“To your left... Oh, and open the window- yeah, that one.”

Will smirk, impressed, when you deal with the fights and win yourself without his comments.

“That’s my Y/n”

(Sorry I don’t know what else to put for him :’))

Diavolo

“Is this a human trend?” meme

Will watch excitedly and “oooo” whenever you do something cool

Be careful though, because the questions will not stop as you play

“What’s that? I see. What’s it for? How do you win the game? Who’s that character? Why can’t you do this? What about--?”

Diavolo, you’re awesome and all, but please

shush

On the inside, is also one that might be a tad concerned about your mental health because doesn’t that gore traumatize humans?

Wait, you do this for entertainment?

...

Another warning: he will shower you in merchandise from the game

I am not above the fact that this man has a game room 

And he will try to master the game

Casually pushes all his paperwork over to Lucifer so he can play Resident Evil

RIP Luci

Unfortunately, Diavolo will have trouble grasping the game and how it works

You will have to explain many things to him

Good luck- he’s a bit of a boomer (but willing to learn) and may or may not get distracted staring at you

But anyways, he enjoys engaging in the competitions you and Levi have

Whether it be playing as well or simply watching

He just loves to see you happy

Barbatos

Oh my, what’s this?

Will watch you play

and constantly criticize how filthy the Dimitrescu castle is

“Do they have any idea how many rats this can attract?”

Barbatos, your weakness is showing.

Seeing you so happy while playing the game helps him relax from his daily troubles tasks

He rewards you with a pat on the head any time you beat a foe

When Diavolo goes over to the HoL or when you come over to play in he silently cheers you on in the background.

Solomon

Yuh

Is educated on the game and knows his shit as the only other human 

Maybe knows a bit too much of the game

You will later come to find out that, somewhere in his mass tangle of shady connections, he knows a developer

Might give you tips and tricks to get on higher levels

But never, and I mean never, challenge him like you would with Levi to see who can beat the game faster

Because he will beat you by a seconds on purpose, just to piss you of

all the while doing that dark, shady chuckle

Asshole

But anyways, if you manage to finesse and beat him, he will be 

So confused

“I thought I did it all right, what went wrong...?” he thinks to himself.

On the outside, however, he’s smiling

Will hand over some praise to his little apprentice, but if you look carefully you will see a spark of annoyance

We get it Solomon, you’re a sore loser.

In the end, he will still leave somewhat impressed at your skillz

Simeon

w h a t

Is a little scared

“Is this one of them video games you kids play nowadays...? Just kidding. What are you playing-- oh my”

Might try to figure out how to play

But alas, 

Simeon is yet another boomer

So he will have quite some trouble even figuring out how to move

And why does he hold the controller like that what

If you’ve seen that one picture of him holding his phone sideways you know what I mean

On another note, if you look through his poem book, then you may or may not find a few poems describing how amazing and badass you looked hustling the entire game

Luke

about to bomb this master hill

No literally is considering bombing the computer or whatever you’re playing on because wHAT IS THAT

He is just

So 

So 

Scared

This will give him nightmares for weeks

Apparently Alcina reminds him of Lucifer so he kinda

Hates her

Says he will protect you

--as he runs out of the room in fear

Irrelevant but the one he hates the most is fetus baby

Michael have mercy on this poor boy--

[cixthotshit]

A Cup of Rose Americano

Pairing: Bae Jinyoung x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Poor Girl/Rich Boy, Coffee Shop/Gangster AU (IDEK how I got here, just go with it)

Summary: There's more than meets the eye with every person, including Bae Jinyoung, the world's finest barista at Personal Barista Cafe

Word count: 4.7k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content: Porn With Some Plot, Kissing, Mirror Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie

Author’s Note: I wanted to write a fluffy Coffee Shop AU but NGL something else has been preoccupying my mind and the world building to this fic kind of went off the rails and transformed into a completely different story. Enjoy this smut, readers! I really want to explore this world a lot more but IDK if I can commit to anything beyond this RN. So please, please enjoy this! Sorry in advance for mistakes! I don't always catch everything when I proofread.

I always appreciate some feedback on my writings!

"Really, it'll be a...new coffee experience," Hyeon assured Sandy. She handed Sandy a green card. It felt like an expensive platinum credit card, the card made of metal, feeling heavy and cold in her hand. "All you have to do is fill out a survey after you get your free coffee. Once you make it inside, hand the card over to your barista."

"Aren't you supposed to find actual volunteers?" Sandy asked, looking at the shiny card. The only thing on the card was the name of the new test cafe, PB Cafe.

“Trust me,” Hyeon said with a grin. “You’ve never had coffee like this. This is free, too. You’re going to say no to free coffee? And I swear, this is really me saying it, their coffee is really good.”

“Fine, thanks for the free coffee.”

“Enjoy!” Hyeon turned her back to Sandy, most likely scanning for potential test subjects for her new marketing event. Being her best friend, Sandy was always her first test subject. She didn’t know if Hyeon’s bosses approved of her taking advantage of all the free stuff she was receiving.

Sandy walked over to a shop that was setup at the southwest corner of a 3 story building. The walls were white and the windows were covered by white curtains. “PB Cafe” was written in black on the front door, though there were no door handles. Standing in front of the door, Sandy noticed a black square pad beside the right side of the door. She pressed the green card to the black pad and jumped slightly as the glass door slid open. A short piano tune played, sounding old but familiar, reminding her of old Hollywood movies from the mid-20th Century.

Tentatively, she stepped in. Walking past the white curtains, she found herself inside a small room. At the back end of the room was a small bar with one wooden chair in front of it. It only took her 4 steps to reach the chair, so she pulled it out and sat down. The wall behind the bar slid down to the floor and a broad shouldered man walked out from what looked like a bright white light before the wall slid back up behind him.

Too shocked to react, Sandy set the green card down onto the smooth marble countertop. Her eyes couldn’t leave the face of her barista. He was very handsome and his small grin softened his masculine exterior. Wordlessly, he took the green card and placed it in the front left pocket of his black apron.

“Welcome to Personal Barista Cafe,” he said in a soft, sultry voice. “My name is Bae Jinyoung, your Personal Barista today. How shall I address you?”

“Uh, just call me Sandy, I don’t like formalities much.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sandy. If you don’t like formalities feel free to call me BaeJin or BaeBae.” She gave a soft chuckle and threw her hand over her mouth, feeling her cheeks warm up. Such a sultry man telling her to call him something as cute as BaeBae tickled her. “Is this your first drink with PB Cafe?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t know anything about this cafe, except that you have good coffee.”

“A Personal Barista will make you a personalized drink,” he explained, pulling out a menu form. “Whatever you order, I will make it in front of you. If you want to know how I prepare your drink, please let me know and I will explain as I go. If you want small talk instead, I enjoy a small conversation as I prepare you a drink. If you want silence, for any reason, please don’t feel pressured to speak if you don’t want to.”

“Can I get an Americano?” she asked, after glancing at the long list of coffee drinks. The menu was simple and elegant, the writings were in cursive but the paper was black and the ink white. She liked the seemingly simple attention to detail. “How long have you been a barista, BaeJin?”

“Almost a year,” he replied. He poured fresh ground coffee into a metal contraption with a long neck. She pressed her lips together as her eyes were fixed on his skilled, large hands. He was using a device to compact the coffee grounds.

“Do you enjoy being a barista?”

“I do. It allows me to be creative. My regular job is stressful.”

He put the coffee grounds into the machine and pressed a few buttons. She watched him place a small white espresso mug under the spout of the machine. He grabbed a large white mug of coffee, and looked at her with a soft grin.

“This is your side hustle?” she asked. PB Cafe seemed like it paid well.

“Most people have more than one job these days,” he replied.

“That’s true,” she replied. “I have a day job and a night job.”

“What are your jobs?”

“I’m interning at a law firm, helping a paralegal out. I’m hoping to get my private investigator’s license soon.”

“You want to be a private investigator?” he asked.

“I want to be a lawyer,” she answered, “but having a private investigator’s license helps me pick up skills. Research is the true gift of being a good lawyer.”

“Research. You must be very smart and hard working.”

“You are sweet,” she said, resting an elbow onto the counter, leaning forward. “I wish my smarts and hard work were enough to give me success. I’m lacking in luck lately.” His eyes drifted away from the espresso machine and looked into her eyes. She felt her cheeks turn hot, realizing she had overshared. It’d been a sad thought, too. “I feel very lucky right now.”

“Sandy, I don’t mean to make assumptions about people but if I were to guess you are someone with expensive tastes,” he said. He pulled out two small brown glass bottles from a drawer. “But, you settle for less.”

“I..” she breathed out.

She should have been insulted, but her barista BaeJin was right. Sandy had always been envious of people who could afford designer things or had the means to go on extravagant vacations, but all of that had always been a dream. The closest she got was free shit from Hyeon. A drink from PB Cafe was likely three times that of a drink from Starbucks, and Sandy could only afford Starbucks for special occasions.

“Why are you saying this?”

“I want to make you a drink in which you will appreciate,” he replied, pulling out a single stemmed pink rose from under the counter, and handed it to her. She felt her cheeks flush with heat as she accepted it. “Refined, seemingly ostentatious, but simple and hopefully, delicious.”

He poured hot water from a glass kettle into the mug. She felt her cheeks turn hot again as he reached over and plucked a single petal from the rose she held. He tilted a single drop of liquid from one of the brown bottles onto the petal.

“Rose water,” he said to her as he locked eyes with her for a second. He placed the rose petal into the mug, letting it float in the hot water. He poured the espresso into the mug of water, and took a spoon to scoop out the wilted petal, tossing it away before handing the drink to her.

She gave it a sip, and shut her eyes, a smile on her lips. Using a flower as aromatic as a rose was difficult to pull off in cuisine. Oftentimes the rose aroma was too overpowering, reminding one’s nose of perfume instead of food. Baejin’s Rose Americano, though, was the perfect balance of a good cup of coffee elevated with some elegance, refined by the subtlest hint of a rose’s sweet scent. The warm breath she exhaled after a hot sip of Americano filled her senses with flowery comfort.

“This is the most...beautiful cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted,” she replied, setting the mug down when she was half finished. “It tastes...beautiful.”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile any wider than she already was. He was incredibly cute, grinning in reaction to her compliment. How could a man exude the amount of sensuality like BaeJin yet be so cute that she wanted to squish him like a marshmallow?

“You like it?” he asked.

“I do,” she replied. “I didn’t know a cup of Americano could be improved. Thank you for this cup of coffee. You’re a gifted barista.”

“Thank you. I would love to make you another drink.”

“I’ll try to come back one day,” she said earnestly.

She sipped her drink and glanced at her phone. Thanking her talented, handsome (and cute) barista BaeJin one last time, Sandy finished her drink and sprinted out of the odd, surreal cafe. She had to get ready for work. Smelling the pink rose in her hand, Sandy smiled to herself. Who knew her barista would be the first man to give her a rose?

--

“Diamond! Malibu was accidentally double booked,” Danielle called out into the dressing room. “Can you give a lap dance in the Blue Champagne Room before going home?”

“Wait,” Sandy said, holding the gold hoop earring she’d just taken off her left earlobe, “I’m not going to chase Malibu for the flat fee. The last time I covered for her, not only did her John not tip me but I had to chase her for 4 days before she gave me the cash.”

“I have a hard time chasing her down, too,” Danielle said with a heavy sigh, handing her purple vape pen to Sandy to hold. She dug into her pink and purple Bedazzled fanny pack, and fished out a few bills. She handed a bag of clothing to Sandy. “Let me know if this John is handsy or out of line. He’s a new customer. You have five minutes, babe. Fix your makeup.”

Handing the vape pen back to her boss, Sandy put the cash into her purse before shutting and locking the drawer to her vanity. She put her earring back on and retouched her eye makeup and lipstick. Her locks of hair looked good as she combed her fingers through her hair, looking into the mirror before getting up to change.

Sandy hadn’t exactly planned on becoming a stripper, but during her freshman year in college, she took a class on feminist studies, specifically on sex work. What started out as a learning experience in respecting sex work, and educating herself on the legal struggles of sex workers’ rights, Sandy soon found herself stripping as a means of extra income. She herself was in need of money, and recognized her beauty was valued enough that she could make capital from it.

Having walked out on her dysfunctional family as soon as she turned 18, Sandy had been hustling on her own for years. She was still working towards a career in law, but in the meantime, she was balancing between her day job as an unpaid intern at a shitty law firm and her night job as a stripper at a club called Blue Paradise. Giving lap dances were only nice when she received good tips, but they didn’t happen often enough. All she wanted was a good tip.

Pulling out the outfit Danielle handed to her, she took off her clothes and put on her new outfit. She wore a neon pink G-string bikini bottom with her matching lace bra under a black pencil skirt and a white costume button up office dress shirt. She put on a loose blue tie around her neck, and put on a pair of thick black framed glasses, matching it with her black leather knee high boots. Apparently, this new customer had a librarian kink.

Walking down the hall, toward the other side of the back of the club, she entered the room with the blue door at the end of the hall. The Champagne Rooms, where customers received their private lap dances, were color coded. The Blue Room was where the clients with specific kinks went.

Opening the door, Sandy pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and looked up to see her John seated on the black couch. The dim lighting of the room cast a shadow over his body, making it hard for her to make out his face. She blinked, and closed her mouth, realizing that her customer was her barista from PB Cafe, BaeJin. It had been days since she had her cup of Rose Americano.

He was wearing a loosely worn grey sweater with black denim jeans. She didn’t think it was possible but he looked more handsome than she last remembered. Perhaps, with her body so close to his, knowing that he was there for devious reasons, her face flushed and her nipples hardened as heat rushed through her body from head to toe.

“BaeJin!” she said, forgetting her sexy librarian character.

“Don’t move,” he said, looking alarmed. She stood completely still, one hand on the door handle. “You’re a stripper, Sandy?”

“You...you remember me?” He nodded. “Stripping is helping me pay for my law degree.” She licked her lips and tilted her head, pushing her chest forward slightly. “I can give you what you want.”

“I can’t do this,” he replied, crossing his left leg over his right. His eyes left her, and diverted to the ground. Her ego was bruised. Not only did she need the money, but her vanity made her feel upset that he didn’t want a lap dance from her. “I should go.”

“I have to try to keep you here,” she said shyly, pressing her back against the door. “If I don’t, that means I’m not good at my job.”

“How long should we be in here for you to be considered good at your job?” he asked, his eyes returning to meet her gaze.

“You don’t want a lap dance? Am I not cute? My tits too small?”

He gave a chuckle, and looked away when his eyes moved to her chest as she talked.

“You’re very cute,” he replied, “but that’s the problem. As a barista, I don’t date customers. Since you didn’t actually pay for your drink, I thought it’d be OK to ask you out if I ever saw you again. But if I pay for this lap dance, I wouldn’t want to ask you out. It’s not fair for me to proposition you while you’re working.”

“You’ve been thinking hard about me?” Her cheeks felt hot and goosebumps formed on her arms. “Would you accept my invitation if I asked you out after this? I’m actually supposed to be off work by now, but this is my last job tonight. If I don’t give you a lap dance, we didn’t cross any lines, right?”

He nodded, and she gave a nervous chuckle.

“You said that being a barista was your side hustle,” she said, noticing the expensive watch and ring on his left hand. Sex workers had to know street codes to keep themselves safe, and watches and rings were how gang members communicated their loyalties and rankings. “What’s your main job? You said it’s stressful.”

His right hand wrapped around his platinum watch, the case of the watch encrusted with diamonds. The C9 Gang was a wealthy gang with origins in Tokyo, Japan, platinum was their calling card. BaeJin’s gold band emerald ring sat on his middle finger, indicating he was a made man of high rank. Sandy was impressed; BaeJin had acclimated to a high status in a gang at a young age.

“How long have you been working here, Sandy?” he asked in response.

“Diamond,” she answered, her grip remaining firm on the door. “My stage name is Diamond.”

“Sandy...Diamond,” he said with a grin. He stood, and she took a deep inhale of breath as he took a step forward and pressed his body against hers, his left arm wrapping around her waist as his hand gripped onto her wrist. Her hold on the door handle loosened. “You are the diamond in the rough in Blue Paradise. You still want to invite me out on a date?”

She took a gulp of breath, staring deeply into his dark brown eyes. He licked his lips and her eyes drifted to his mouth. Giving the most gentle nod of her head, she said, “Yes.”

“I drive a blue Ferrari F60 America,” he said as the tip of his nose touched hers.

“I don’t know anything about cars,” she replied, shutting her eyes. His breath was warm, making it hard for her to breathe. He chuckled and she felt his head rest onto her shoulder.

She opened her eyes when she felt a hand touch her chin.

“I drive a blue car,” he said, his eyes drifting down her face to her lips. His thumb ran across her bottom lip gently, sending heat deep into her groin. Her stomach ached at the touch. “It’ll be the most expensive looking car you’ll see when you walk outside.” He looked directly into her eyes again. “I’m a dangerous man, Sandy...Diamond. I have to ask you one more time, do you want to keep talking to me?”

She chewed on the inside of her left cheek nervously, and furrowed her eyebrows. Given how close she was to getting the paid job as a paralegal at Johnston’s &Partners, Sandy was one step closer to her dreams of becoming a lawyer. Would it be ethical to date a gangster?

“Will you take me home or will we be going to your place?” she answered. Life was too short not to take risks.

--

Upon his request, she left work wearing her costume. BaeJin’s description of having the most expensive looking car was accurate. The navy blue car shone brighter than any other car, and the curves of the body created an elegant design to the car. He’d opened the passenger door for her. She realized her skirt barely covered her ass as the cold leather from the seat hit the back of her thighs.

He drove them up a curvy hill to get to his expensive mansion, placed behind a small forest. It sat atop of a mountainous hill, overlooking the bright lights of the city far below. BaeJin was a man of very high rank by the looks of his home. It was large and designed with multiple floor to ceiling windows. Sandy took a soft gulp of air as her mouth felt dry.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said when he led her into his home, the hallway lined with expensively framed paintings. The jade vase that held 3 white lilies beside the coat hanger looked like it was worth more than everything she owned, including the small amount of cash she had in her bank account.

BaeJin’s home aesthetic was minimalist, though each room had a piece of furniture that popped out, like the jade vase in the front entrance. In his bedroom, he had a rose gold encrusted full length mirror sitting at the foot of his bed. It was shameless, but did not surprise her. Their eyes locked as BaeJin sat down at the foot of the bed. Their fingers intertwined when she reached her left hand out to his outstretched right hand.

“I spent a week trying not to think about you,” he said, pulling her easily onto his lap. His free hand wrapped around her waist. “The closest thing to you was trying to get a stripper to dress up like a sexy librarian.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” she said, squeezing his hand. “You went to Blue Paradise wanting a fantasy. Instead, you left with your fantasy.”

His hand released hers and she felt his hand between her legs, sliding up against her slit. Shutting her eyes she gave a soft moan, surprised at his swift movement.

“You deserve the best in life,” he said into her ear before grazing his teeth gently against her neck. “Don’t ever settle for less.”

He kissed her, his lips warm and firm. His tongue parted her lips and she gave a soft hum. She pushed his tongue out of her mouth, appreciating the taste of floral green tea from him. Her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him closer to her. He tasted better than the beautiful cup of Rose Americano.

With a clouded head, she helped him pull his sweater off as he aggressively pulled her top off of her, the cheap buttons popping loudly as they flew into the air. Her skirt failed to exist when he ripped the zipper and tore the fabric apart with his bare hands.

“Are you going to rip me apart?” she asked breathlessly when his fingers found their way under her bra, fondling her erect nipple. She gave a soft moan and he grinned as he pinched her sensitive bud.

“I’ll be as hard or soft as you want,” he assured her. The pad of his thumb grazed against her nipple. Her back shivered as a sharp heat rode up her back.

“I like a bit of both,” she said, her cheeks hot. It felt like a dream to have BaeJin telling her he would do as she wanted. “You ruined my skirt.”

“The cheap costume skirt?” he asked, his hand returning to rubbing her slit. “You don’t have to settle, remember?” She shut her eyes, her hand grabbing his arm as two of his fingers pressed against her clit. “I like you best without clothes anyway.” The heat intensified as his fingers moved down lower, moistening her panties with the slick heat coming out of her pussy. Her back shook again as his fingers moved up against her slit, and then back down. “Your voice is lovely.”

She moaned as she rested her head against his chest, his fingers continually creating more heat between her legs. One finger slipped under her panties, pulling the fabric away from her wet cunt. The back of his knuckle pressed against the engorged bud of her clit, and she mewled as he rubbed up and down against her.

“BaeBae,” she could only speak with a shaky breath, “BaeBae, I’m going to come.”

Her hips thrust haphazardly against his knuckle as a small flash of heat washed over her, goosebumps forming up the back of her neck. Her orgasm disappeared as soon as it came and she breathed through her mouth. Her pussy felt wet as her slick heat dripped out of her.

“I was just playing with you,” he said with an amused smile, his eyes locked onto the mess between her legs, including his wet fingers. He spread her juices onto her folds, and moved the pads of his index and middle fingers to draw small circles onto her clit. She mewled, shutting her eyes, as her hips rutted against the motions of his fingers. “But with you this wet, I can fuck you right now.”

“BaeBae,” she breathed out, opening her eyes.

Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at him. Wordlessly, she stood as their hands began removing each other’s clothes off. His expensive jewelry remained on as he pulled her back to his front, making her stand between his legs. His hand went between her legs and he massaged the inside of her thigh. She hummed a soft moan, enjoying the way his hand relaxed her muscles.

Both of his hands wrapped around her waist, and his lips kissed her neck. He requested she trust him, and one hand reached down to her right knee and had her stretch her leg out to rest over his. As his other hand went to her left knee, she understood what he was doing. He wanted a full view of her pussy so she sat on his lap with her legs hooked over his.

“Ready to put this to use?” he asked, his hands kneading her hips. His reflection from the mirror was staring at her. She saw the cheeks of her flushed face turn a bright red, and she tilted her head down to look away from the mirror. The blood coursing through her chest up to her head clouded her vision. “Look at us.”

His right hand cupped her face, and she felt his wrist press up against the front of her neck. The pulse from his wrist beat rapidly against the pulse on her neck, and she struggled to breathe as her eyes locked onto his from the reflection in the mirror. Hot blood rushed to her groin and her hips jerked forward, out of her control. His left arm wrapped around her waist had her firmly in his hold, so all she could do was wiggle in his lap. Feeling the muscles of his thighs flex under her made her buttocks tighten, her body anticipating his cock.

“If you let me take you raw,” he said softly against her ear, his eyes locked with hers through the reflection of the mirror, “that’ll make you mine.”

His hold on her face was gone as his hand grabbed his cock. He rubbed his hard cock against her slit. She bit her bottom lip as his heat caused more juices to pool out of her cunt. It made her nerves shake, itching her skin in unbearable heat. He blinked, and his eyebrows furrowed as she opened her mouth to breathe loudly.

“I’m yours,” she said clearly. He groaned as he pushed the tip of his cock into her entrance. “Give me everything, BaeJin.” Pleasure blinded her vision as she saw nothing but white and gold flecks of stars. She gave a loud gulp when she felt his hand grip onto her chin again, his wrist pressing against her throat. Her grip on his arms tightened as she held onto him for leverage. His cock pushed in deeper, and the walls of her pussy trembled as heat filled her body in overwhelming waves. “I’m yours.”

His lips were on her neck and when her vision cleared all her eyes could focus was on the way his cock was fucking her pussy. He started with shallow pushes, the rhythm steady as she bounced on his lap. She came and she gave a gentle mewl, blurting out his name as her walls squeezed his cock. A gentle chuckle escaped her lips as she saw him shut his eyes tight.

“You’re so easy to please,” he said as he pushed in deep. She gave a loud groan as he pulled out roughly before pushing in fast, going in balls deep. He started a steady, deep rhythm and she cried as she was filled with undiluted pleasure.

“You fuck so good,” she moaned, her hand reaching back to grab his hair. He sucked on her neck, leaving a red mark before he kissed her shoulder. “BaeJin, fuck me. I’m gonna - I’m - I’m gonna come.”

His grip around her waist tightened as he pushed faster into her, and they bent forward together as he came into her in deep pushes. Her fingers dug into his skin as she shut her eyes, taking in the sensation of his hot seed filling up her insides.

“Come,” he panted out heavily as she felt him withdraw from her. She whimpered as she felt his middle finger push into her come-filled cunt. His thumb rubbed up against her clit, making her nerves dance in hot waves. She cried out a soft orgasm as she came again. She breathed heavily as she rested against his body.

“We barely know each other,” she said after a while. She didn’t know how long they sat together, staring at their reflection before she finally spoke.

“We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other,” he said, running a hand up and down her thigh, sending heat up and down her back. “You are mine now.”

He pulled her off his lap, and they laid in bed together. A shiver went down her back as he kissed her shoulder. They were facing each other, her left leg locked between his muscular thighs.

Giving a laugh, she watched him grab her wrist. He kissed the inside of her wrist before kissing the inside of her elbow. She shut her eyes as she felt his lips on her shoulder. Every kiss sent a vibrating heat under her skin. His mouth sucked on her neck and she grabbed onto the back of his hair as his teeth grazed against her skin. The muscles in her stomach tightened. The world ceased to exist as BaeJin’s embrace consumed her.

[marvelhero-fics]

Snowman

Series - Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re a HYDRA assassin that’s worked closely with the Winter Soldier, to each of your dismay you’re reunited with Bucky after the blip. 

A/N: I haven’t posted in like 300 years, but I hope you guys enjoy this new series! This follows parts of TFATWS so expect spoilers! (Also I’m sure all the Russian is absolutely wrong, if you’d like to correct it please send me a message!)

Word Count: 1,815 (future chapters will be wayyy longer)

Snowman Masterlist || Full Masterlist

New York

2023

“So tell me about this-” the therapist looked down at her notes briefly, “(Y/N).” She finished.

Bucky paused momentarily, “No.”

“James, for these therapy sessions to be effective, you need to open up to me. I can’t help you if I don't know what’s wrong.” His therapist responded, laying her pen carefully on her small notebook.

Bucky thought for a moment, taking in the ambience of the room. What would he even say about (Y/N)? He hadn’t seen her in years. Bucky was kicking himself for accidentally bringing her up in his session last week. “I- uh-” he stammered, shifting his weight on the couch, “I met her in 2011. At least I think it was 2011. Date’s get kinda fuzzy sometimes, with all the cryo.” Bucky’s hand pressed against his head, feeling dazed as he tried to think back. “It was at the big HYDRA base outside of Moscow. We had to go on a mission together-” he was cut off,

“Did she work for HYDRA?” Dr Raynor interjected.

“Yea. She was an assassin too. She went by the alias the Viper.” Bucky pretended not to notice his therapist tense up. Anyone who knew anything about HYDRA knew who the Viper was. She was one of the most prolific assassins after the Winter Soldier.

“Tell me more about when you met her.”

“We were instructed to take out a terrorist organisation forming against SHIELD. Which was ironic because we were working for a terrorist organisation. But at this point SHIELD was being run by HYDRA and they couldn’t risk any slip ups, so they put 6 assassins on the job. HYDRA usually didn’t have their assassins working together, we were all too volatile. But we had to take out over 70 people in one night. It was (Y/N), a few assassins from the Red Room, and a few agents that HYDRA had trained personally, and me.” Bucky stopped.

“Where was (Y/N) trained?”

“At a secondary facility run by HYDRA. She was trained from a really young age. It’s all she’s known.” Bucky seemed somber. But his therapist continued,

“What happened on the mission?”

“Nothing. It went exactly to plan. The targets were taken out and we all left without a trace. But (Y/N), she- she kept trying to talk to me, or get to know me. I was the Winter Soldier. No one in their right mind ever tried to ‘get to know me’.”

“Why do you think (Y/N) did that?”

“She told me she was bored.” He replied bluntly.

Moscow

2011

The poorly lit conference room was filled with a myriad of assassins and officials. The only illumination came from old LED lights hanging from the concrete ceiling. The mossy green paint on the walls looked as if it hadn’t been patched up in years. The only new-ish part of the room was the large, oak conference table, surrounded by black, leather seating. It was difficult not to notice the red HYDRA symbol holding a spot on almost every piece of clothing in the area.

“TITAN terroristicheskaya organizatsiya, formiruyushchayasya protiv nas. (TITAN is a terrorist organisation forming against us.)” Kuznetsov spoke, “Izbrannyye budut otpravleny segodnya vecherom v Ukrainu dlya vypolneniya postavlennoy zadachi. Uberi ikh. (The chosen ones will be sent to Ukraine tonight to complete their given tasks. Take them out.)”

That was all it took. You stared at the file in front of you. You had read through it multiple times, going over every single name, every single skill set your targets had. You were more than certain you could complete this job on your own. But you had no choice on the matter.

Your eyes darted around, taking in the faces of the assassins that were to accompany you on your mission. Two youthful females, dressed in black leather sat next to each other. The older, grimacing woman behind them was Madame B., the head supervisor of the Red Room. You moved your gaze to the two agents in dark green uniforms and red, soviet berets. Neither looked particularly menacing.

You finally landed on the last assassin. His dark hair fell like curtains around his face. Gloomy blue eyes searched their way through the room. His sharp jaw seemed tense through his stubbled cheeks. He was large, extremely built. Covering his frame was an amplitude of black clothing and gear.

“Play nice.” Your mentor spoke softly over your shoulder, breaking you from your train of thought.  

“I always do.”

~

Your padded snow boots ripped through the thick snow covering the ground. The six of you had hiked your way to the set point on your GPS systems, the clouds of snowfall covering your vision held the illusion that there were absolutely no structures nearby. A large helicopter had dropped the group a few miles out from the hideout to ensure nothing was compromised. The trek was in utter silence, fighting against the harsh temperature in mid February.

The waypoint became closer on your map, a tiny building slowly appeared in your vision against the foggy downfall. It was a small, wooden cabin. Everyone hustled their way through the unlocked door. It was barren, it held no furniture, no blankets, no means of any life. There appeared to be a few doors that led to small, empty rooms. The entrance only held a small fireplace, filled with old cut down logs that had been eaten by bugs.

The group quickly dispersed, you headed to one of the rooms alone, throwing down your belongings onto the floor. The bag you carried was mainly filled with weapons and ammunition, along with a very warm sleeping bag. You knew too well you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, but you would need the extra heat for now.

There was no chatter anywhere in the house. Your mission would begin in 6 hours. Everyone was likely putting together their artillery. You decided to cozy up in your navy sleeping bag for a moment of comfort.

Someone had lit the fire in the lounge. A warm, orange light crept through the cracks in your door. The ambiance was strangely calming for a shitty cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Snow continued to fall against the tiny glass pane of your room. You weren’t a fan of assassinating in the snow. It was low vision, harsher climates, and it lessened the ability to move. Snakes weren’t creatures of the cold. Conveniently you’d been grouped with someone who called himself ‘The Winter Soldier’. I’m sure he loves the cold, you thought.

You’d heard a lot about him. Everyone had. He was the perfect assassin. He never failed a mission, his body didn’t reject cryo, every form of enhancement HYDRA had used on him had been a success. He was what every assassin had aspired to be.

Without thought, you grabbed the glass bottle laying next to you and walked off to the room the Winter Soldier had claimed for the night.

“Privet (Hello)”. You announced, pushing his door open with a creak. His head didn’t turn towards you. He sat on the floor, the sound coming from him indicated he was sharpening knives.

“Khochesh' vypit'? (Want a drink?)” You asked, motioning the bottle towards him.

He stayed silent for a moment. Finally he turned, looking up at you from his position on the floor. “What is it?” His dark tone asked back. The amber light from the fire crashed against his features. His strong jaw was covered with a dark stubble, his brunette hair tucked behind his ears. His most obvious feature was the hauntingly blue eyes that sat in sunken sockets, he looked drained.

“It’s vodka.” You stated, honestly. You were surprised to hear he wasn’t Russian, he sounded… American?

“You’re drinking before a mission?” He queried.

You shrugged. “Alcohol doesn’t freeze.” You sat down next to him. “Plus it takes the edge off.” A faint clinking noise announced as you placed the bottle on the floor between you two. He stared at you for a moment, before quietly going back to his knives.

“Wanna play 20 questions?” You interrupted the silence.

“No.”

“What about truth or dare?”

“I’m not 14.” the soldier replied, his eyes not leaving his handy work.

“How old are you?” You shot back,

“Why are you trying to get to know me?” He dodged your question.

“I’m bored.” You shrugged, taking a deep swig of the vodka. “And by my calculations,” you peered down at your watch, “we still have 3 hours and 27 minutes until the mission starts.”

He gave a shallow sigh, “93.”

“What?”

“I’m 93. How old are you.”

“93?! You were born in 1917?”

“Mhm. How old are you.”

“25. You look great for 93.” You chuckled.

“You look old for 25.” He jabbed back. His knife sharpener still grinding across a 6 inch blade.

“You flatter me.” You replied sarcastically. “So what’s your story? How’d you make it to 93?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Why would I ask if I didn’t want to know?”

Bucky looked over at you. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to know.”

“C’mon old man,  I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” You smirked. He once again, went back to his knives. It almost seemed as if he was trying to threaten you, pulling out larger knife after larger knife.

You huffed, opening your mouth to speak, “I was born in Hungary to a drug abusing mother, and an absent father. I was kidnapped and sold to HYDRA when I was 6. I was placed under the care of the Kraken. Not sure if you’ve met him, he’s this large guy-”

“I’ve met him.” Bucky stated, interrupting your spiel.

“Right, well, he trained me for years. Eventually HYDRA got involved again and I was tested on, experimented on, messed with, ya’ know, all that fun stuff.” You explained.

“Are you enhanced?” Bucky asked, almost as if he was actually interested.

“Yea. I have this whole snake venom trick. It’s great for up close combat. The experiments really should’ve killed me though. But maybe that’s what makes us so good-” Bucky looked over at the woman next to him, her bright eyes stared back at him as she spoke “ya’ know, the best assassins are the ones living off borrowed time. Because we’ve met death before, so we’re not afraid to do it again.”

Bucky quickly grabbed the Barrett M82 rifle next to him, his metal arm making faint whirring noises. “I’m going to scope out the base.” He stated bluntly. And with that, his large black boots walked him out the bedroom, and out the door.

You let out a faint sigh, creeping back to your room to sort out your weapons. You were sure it was something you said that scared him off. I guess at 93 you have to be living off too much borrowed time, you speculated. You absentmindedly set up your pistols, your mind not being able to wander from the Winter Soldier. Maybe annoying the Red Room girls would get your mind off it.

[endlich-allein]

Interview with Till about his life: he fought with his father, killed his beloved dog, swam on a wild river and worked on suffering. How Till Lindemann's mind works

"I will finish you off" and why you fought for the German army.

Werner Lindemann wanders around the room, interrupting the silence with strange questions, writing something down. His motive is to get to know his son and make him a friend. But it's complicated. Generational conflict.

"My island of tranquility is shaken every day. The day before yesterday, a guy pulled on my socks because his were torn. Yesterday he didn't put out a single lamp in the house. Now, with voluptuous delight, he spits cherry pits into the cat's fur. Is this grown boy really an adult?"

The apprenticeship in Rostock, where you have to do window production after graduation, is the limit of boredom. Till Lindemann moved to his father in the countryside so that he could forget about the hustle and bustle of the city and not fall under the article for anti-social attitudes. He thought of a new life, in which there was no pointless work, and arranged an attic in his father's house.

In the mornings over coffee, he scolded life that everything went according to schedule. And listened very loudly to music - electronics and metal. My father didn't understand and grumbled: “I matured late. Naturally, I wanted to listen to the music I liked, but I could not get my hands on these records. For example, my father did not understand when I bought the Alice Cooper record for a month's salary.

Werner Lindemann was a children's writer who went through the war.

At the height of his career he disappeared for weeks on literary tours - his fame spread to teachers and librarians across the country. His father pecked at Lindemann for refusing to work and promised to turn him in:

"My willful child. What doesn't fit his standards is rejected as nonsense or crap." So he took a job as a carpenter, where he made shovel cuttings and cart wheels. The head foreman constantly drank vodka during the day, didn't want to be annoyed with questions and addressed the long-haired Lindemann with the nickname: "Mozart!" This suited him.

Werner Lindemann talked about war, hard existence and limitations. For example, about a grenade splinter that remained in his body. Lindemann did not believe in all these stories - but categorically did not accept service, war and murder:

“After that I objected: “I would hide, I would not go to war. Why did you even let yourself be dragged into this? You could have hidden."

And he said: “It didn't work out. They searched for it and it took away."

Then I said: “I would rather go under arrest. Never in my life, I would go to the front line to shoot people. It's against my nature. It would be better if I went to jail."

Much of the time father and son were simply silent, even while watching television.

"He regularly made me feel guilty, to say the least, he placed himself on a pedestal towards me: I shouldn't complain. At your age, I ran barefoot through the stubble, and in my stomach - a potato in a uniform."

The only acceptance is Mike Oldfield's music: "One day my father came to grumble again. At that moment I was listening to Mike Oldfield, and he sat down and said: "That sounds interesting."

For me it was like a quantum leap: my father sits in my room, listens to my music and thinks it was good. Probably because of melancholy. He was sitting in a rocking chair that I made myself - at the time I was working as a carpenter on a farm. I, too, always sat in an armchair, immersed myself in music and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes."

The conflict was intensified by a fight. Lindemann bought a Trabant car, installed speakers in it and tested the sound - loud as usual. “Then my father came and I had to turn off this fucking music. It was kind of loud for him. He was then fiddling around his cases of flowers, and then suddenly the situation escalated. I think he slapped me while I was still in the car.

He leaned toward me and hit me with the back of his hand. I made some bullshit remarks like, "Leave me alone," something like that. That was a provocation to him, and he said: "If you do that again, I'll hit you for real." And I said, "Then you'll get it back. Because you're crazy. Don't you dare to hit me anymore."

And then he hit me with his palm again. He wasn't controlling himself.

He was exalting himself. Instantly he introduced himself as a boxer - he had boxed in the Hitler Youth - and I just... I thought I didn't hit him, I just pushed him away. And then he stood in front of me again, "Come on, I'll finish you, you haven't got a chance!" Somehow. After that, he went up to the attic and threw all my stuff out the window.

It happened over the weekend, my sister was there, a lot of screaming, serious drama. Then I packed my things, put them in the car, went to a friend's house and never went into his house again. At first I lived with this friend, and a week later I bought myself a house in the village."

His father's book is about his son, which the son will only open up after the death of the father.

Lindemann is a late child. He was born when his father was 36. The gap in their relationship was felt in everyday life and perception of the world. Werner Lindemann woke up early in the morning, worked with the circular saw under the windows and did not understand when his son slept until noon after a working week.

Lindemann's parents then lived separately, but kept in touch. Mom worked as a journalist and discussed her texts with his father. "She still lived in Rostock and always came to see him only on weekends. Mostly on Sundays she came back quite early, because she couldn't stand the stress of being with him, either."

In 1988, the book “Mike Oldfield im Schaukelstuhl Notizen eines Vaters" In this book, Lindemann Senior describes the relationship with his son (whom he calls Timm in the book), who settled with him at the age of 18. The book was written in the 80s and laid on the table until the German Democratic Republic and the Federal Republic of Germany were reunited.

Werner Lindemann wanted his son to take up writing too. But this only amused him, although as a child he wrote poetry. At the age of 13, little Till Lindemann and his father were returning home along the bumpy road to Mecklenburg. They talked about career self-determination:

"You should already have thoughts about what you want to become, boy." My answer: "I don't know yet, maybe a fisherman on the high seas."

But immediately, no matter what I said, objections arose: “But then you have to get a certificate of maturity. But then you will be away all the time. But then you won't be able to start a relationship."

There was always a “but”.

At some point it got on my nerves, as usual. And I said: "Worst case scenario, I'll just become a writer.

I still remember how alienated his face became. "And what do you think then, what do I do! It's a very hard job! In fact, it's not even a job, it's a passion. And it's a job that's supposed to be enjoyable."

I said, "I don't know anybody who works with pleasure."

"Yeah, that's the problem. You have to look for a job that gives you pleasure." Then I say again, "But some people never get to choose..." This gigantic discussion happened because I didn't take his profession seriously. At the same time, he was completely lost, funny!"

Lindemann thoughtfully read his father's book, in which he comprehends their relationship, after his death. Faked for hidden anger and indecision. For example, in a situation where their dog Kurt was bitten by a fox. The father was frightened because of rabies: “At the same time, we did not even know whether he was bitten by a fox or not. The father immediately called the huntsman. But I said: no one will enter this courtyard and shoot the dog. I'll do it myself if I really need it. At some point I really had to kill the dog."

Lindemann is not a monster. The animals he fiddled with are an important attribute of childhood. He had an aquarium and hamsters, brought mice and rats home, and was friends with dogs. “Like many children of new buildings, he felt the need for someone alive, in need of love,” said Werner Lindemann. Sometimes the appearance of an animal in the house was surprising:

“This guy will never say what he's up to. He appears on the doorstep at the same time as me. He gets out from his vehicle, throws his coat open and puts a young black shepherd in my hands. "Your Christmas present!"

Till's father is speechless. My son stands before me like the sun's little brother. Touchingly concerned, he directs me into the house, working out a plan for the animal husbandry, accommodation and diet of our new pet housemate.

With confusion, a question flies from my lips, "Wheredid you get the dog from?" "Timm" is gibbering, "Imagine, the mason in the barnyard wanted to hang him, simply wanted to strangle him with a rope, said he was a worthless eater..."

Werner Lindemann died of stomach cancer in 1993, when his son was 30. They didn't finally reconcile, but Till visited him in his last days and was there for him with his mother: "They couldn't be without each other, even though they lived apart. Unreal, but my mother never had another man afterwards. To this day she can't let go of him."

- Not going to the Olympics in Moscow and ending up in the German ghetto

Lindemann had the knowledge and the potential to be a swimmer. And a shyness that pounded harder three days before the competition than concerts in front of crowds of thousands. "I know how difficult it is to develop willpower and stamina and instill those attributes. In the GDR this was instilled in us by coaches and so-called functionaries."

Lindemann came to swimming at the age of eight and devoted his entire youth to the sport. He would get up for training at five in the morning and pass out in the evening. His grandmother watched him from the stands. At a competition in Leipzig she shouted at the coach, who told Lindemann off for a poor result. The grandmother took the coach by the ear and said: "How do you talk to my grandson?"

Sports tightened up his upbringing and developed self-discipline. “Drilling - probably the boy has already received this experience as a swimmer,” Lindemann's father wrote. - Once he had to take second place in a competition, but by no means first place. Of course, he got carried away, forgot about it, became the first, thanks to which he received a shouting for indiscipline. And whenever he lost in the future, his coach would torture him at practice for a long time and yelled at him: "Even if you win, you're not a winner yet!"

Lindemann swam the 1.5 km freestyle and could have gone to the 1980 Olympics in Moscow. Everything was ruined when he left the hotel without permission during a competition in Florence: "I didn't want to run, but just wanted to look at the city. Cars, bikes, girls. I was caught and kicked out of the team, but then I didn't give the required results either."

Lindemann competed at the European Junior Championships, but did not go any higher. After the story in Florence, his career in sport slipped away. Perhaps an abdominal injury influenced his departure. Lindemann is gone, but he doesn't yearn: "I was relatively young. There were no good [memories] left. I was glad it was over."

"The hardest part was getting back to normal. I fell into a real hole. My home was no longer a sports school, but a ghetto in Rostock. Now I stood out through drinking and fighting. I used to be surrounded only by beautiful ladies who were interested in swimming. Now I had fierce women standing in front of me asking, "How come you don't drink?" When I was shy about approaching a girl, it was interpreted as: "Are you gay?"

Lindemann now works with a coach and swims a few kilometers before his tours to get in shape: "When I exercise, I feel a certain lightness - not only physically, but also mentally. I just feel better. The main problem is staying in shape. That's where self-discipline comes into play. Teeth grinding is important."

- Three weeks in the wild and loneliness as a creative tool

Emotionally, concerts = sports:

"How do I go on tour? Hungry. And happy. It is good to compare concerts with sport. You don't want to do both at first. You don't want to go on stage. You don't want to go to the pool. You don't want to go to the boxing ring. It all happens with reluctance. It has to be accepted somehow, that's life: spring, summer, fall, winter.

When it's done, winter's gone, the blooming begins, greenery appears, it gets bright, and you start to get a taste for it. When it's over, you feel happy. Then the body produces a sea of chemistry, a lot of happiness hormones. I think the body rewards itself."

The stage, like sports, is an embarrassment, but a necessity. Lindemann wore dark glasses in order to collect fewer views from the audience. Therefore, a couple of steps before the water, he looked at the pool with a shiver. You need to cope with yourself in order to open up to new emotions.

Lindemann's gut requires solitude and moderate solitude. This is the point:

“Loneliness is always good for a creative push - you drink a glass of wine and you feel even shitier. Art is not complete without suffering; art exists to compensate for suffering."

With his friend Joey Kelly, Lindemann spent three weeks on the Yukon River. They paddled through the wilderness in a kayak for eight to 10 hours each and lived in a tent. Lindemann didn't take a tape recorder with him, so he transferred the lyrics wandering in his head on paper.

They were catching inspiration and atmosphere:

"There were times when we wouldn't say a word for hours, but then: look there, look there! It was breathtakingly beautiful. These relatively fast-changing panoramas and skies, layers of clouds, the colors.

Except for a few bears and wolves, it's hard to see anyone else out there, it's exhilarating. Along the way we saw two hunters setting traps. No one else.

I grew up in the countryside, and I have a very strong connection to nature. I love fishing, hunting. It's an archaic experience that I like to revisit over and over again. When I'm in the city for too long, I start to miss it."

To recreate situations in the Yukon, Lindemann and Kelly trained for nine months on the Rhine river in Germany because of its liveliness.

"We went down the Rhine to where the transport ships create huge bow waves. If we hadn't had a coach with us, we probably would have been sunk by the side wave impact already during our first attempt," Lindemann said.

Together with Kelly, he had four sessions with two coaches and swam from Cologne to Koblenz [more than 100 kilometers by car]. Lindemann trained separately each week on the lakes in Mecklenburg. It's both physically challenging and savage identical to being natural.

In 2015, Till started his solo project Lindemann. On the album Skills In Pills, the song Yukon was released, in which the lyrics appeared first, and then the music.

- "My lyrics come from pain rather than desire."

The country boy is big and not much of a talker. That's how the Rammstein members saw him at the start, when they were hanging out at home. "He looked cool, like a big peasant talking one sentence an hour," keyboard player Christian "Flake" Lorenz recalled. - He always had food and vodka. He'd just steal a couple of ducks somewhere and cook them on a tray. And then, frozen like in Sleeping Beauty, there were people lying in corners and on trunks in his house."

Lindemann loves and appreciates home gatherings. This came from my father, who always had guests. “In my opinion, this is the little bit that I inherited from him. Throwing parties and gathering people. Throwing parties and getting people together. He just enjoyed being a good host. The house was always full of guests from Leipzig, from Rostock, foreign guests, even from Kazakhstan.

It was always exciting for him. He stood at the stove, cooked, bought an abundance of wine, and there was always a fire in the garden. At some point he stopped drinking, then he left the party at 21:00 and the whole company continued to feast. And in the morning he got up at four, cleaned and tidied up."

Till Lindemann is about self-digging, overcoming and childish shyness, which is covered by a pumped-up figure of a swimmer. This is how Lindemann decrypts himself:

• “And I really am like a big child - ill-mannered, but harmless. People think that I am always strong, explosive. This is not true. I am sensitive and easily hurt, but in love I am romantic and passionate."

• “At the very beginning, you sit somewhere in a dark room, open a bottle of wine and figure out how to make the lyrics popular with the music. At first you only have a vague idea of ​​what it could be.

And when, three years after recording, mixing, and more mixing, developing the artwork, all this nonsense, then you stand on stage, and what you came up with then really works, when you manage to get 20 thousand people to raise their hands, then you experience incredible sensations."

• “Art is a kind of therapy.

When I feel that something is arising inside me, domineering and is most often dark, I need to give it a way out, otherwise it will simply crush me. So destruction and self-destruction are the two pillars on which my creativity is based.

But everyone chooses this for himself.

• “My lyrics arise from feelings and dreams, but still more from pain than by desire. I often have nightmares, and I wake up at night sweating, as I see terrible bloody scenes in my dreams. My lyrics are a kind of valve for the lava of feelings in my soul.

We are all struggling to hide behind good manners and outward decency, but in fact we are governed by instincts and feelings: hunger, thirst, horror, hatred, the desire for power and sex. Of course, there is also additional energy in us - this is love. Without it, all human feelings would fade away."

- "When you're constantly living someone else's life, it's very hard to get back into your own skin. I like that in principle, but sometimes you start to get confused - are you out of a role or not yet. You're already Till, or you're still a homicidal maniac."

- "I hate the noise. I hate the chatter. I expose myself to it, which is pure masochism. And then I have to protect myself from it. Noise makes you crazy. You die in it."

• “I think there is no God. And if he is and actually allows all the misfortunes on this earth, then he must punish me along with other sufferings. I will not pray to such a god."

This is how the members of Rammstein see Till - flexible and with a split personality:

Guitarist Paul Landers: "Till is so good that when you let him know that his lyrics should go in a different direction, the very next day he brings a new version of the song."

Guitarist Richard Kruspe: “He's a hell of an extreme man. He dives very deeply into situations where I cannot follow him. Everything he does is very extreme; I don't know anyone who does it. "

Drummer Christoph Schneider: "I would not want to be in Till's shoes: his soul is tormented by doubts and contradictions, he is equally a moralist and a monster."

June 1, 2021 - Translate by Lindemann Belgium

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

More Important | Bucky Barnes

✦ pairing — Bucky Barnes x female!Plus Size Reader with ADHD

✦ word count — 1.2k

✦ request — Can i ask you pretty please just whenever you're available to and have some free time do like. Bucky has a soft spot for reader and she has ADHD but isnt on meds and so one day is really bad and she cant seem to do anything right and she gets frustrated with herself and really upset and then Tony or Bruce snap at her and it just upsets her more and so Bucky defends her and takes her out of the situation by either going to her place or out to a dinner or something?

✦ warnings — some angst, Tony snaps at reader, fluff that can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic.

✦ author's note — this is the first time I’ve depicted a neurodivergency in my writing so I would really appreciate some feedback.

════════════════════════

Bucky smiled at you through the glass wall, greeting you as he always did. You waved at him, eyes widening when you saw Sam walking beside him. The sight made you remember you were supposed to fix Sam’s wings.

Shit, why couldn’t you just use the reminders app on your phone? Palming your pocket, you groaned — of course you had forgotten your phone too.

As Bucky and Sam made their way to the lounge, you hurried to the other side. You hoped Steve wouldn’t need Sam for a mission soon, at least not until night.

About to reach the elevator, you crashed against someone. Gasping, you gripped Natasha’s shirt to keep yourself from falling.

She held you by the waist, frowning as she looked at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m great! Never been better.”

Not believing you, she tugged on the hem of your top. “Your blouse is backwards.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you hummed. Yeah, sure, that had to happen to you the same day you ruined your favorite blouse with coffee. You forgot that you had stored your clothes the right way for once.

“I’ll fix it,” you mumbled, fluttering your eyes open. You let go of her shirt, yet Natasha didn’t let go of you immediately.

“If you need anything…”

You nodded. “I know, Nat, thank you.”

The bathroom was empty, floors still wet from cleaning. You washed your hands, happy to know Tony had bought coconut soap again. Finally looking at yourself in the mirror, you fixed your blouse. Happy with the outcome, you breathed out in relief.

The tiles around you made the outfit look nice even. You were tempted to stay there, admiring the way the colors complimented each other. It was a pretty sight, calming, startlingly different yet mundane.

Pumping the soap dispenser, you inhaled the coconut scent of the liquid soap and rubbed it over your wet hands, lathering it up. The bubbles lightly tickled their way between your fingers, barely popping as you rubbed your right digits between the left ones.

After washing the remaining bubbles, you dried your hands against your pants and left the bathroom.

An empty laboratory greeted you. The sight was too rare, you were used to being welcomed by Tony — usually with a sarcastic comment and a warm smile.

Approaching your workspace, you heard the code being punched in.

Bruce stuck his head inside the lab, asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was about to start working on Sam’s wings,” you explained, pointing to the wings on the table.

“Everybody is in the meeting room. We’ve been waiting for you.”

You walked toward him, hesitating to come out of the lab before following him. Bruce’s steps were hurried which meant the meeting was serious.

Natasha followed you with her eyes as you took your seat next to Tony who tightly smiled at you.

You placed your hands on your lap, joining your fingers. Rolling your thumbs over each other, you fixed your eyes on Steve.

Steve uncrossed his arms and started talking, looking at every single one of you as he did so. His words stopped making sense rather quickly, the topic changed drastically and you weren’t able to follow up — not today.

Tony snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Can you pay attention for two minutes?”

“W— yeah, sorry.”

“I was telling you that I will need you and Bruce to clear your schedules.”

You nodded. What schedule? He surely had faith on you using the planner he gave you, and your reminders app, and the daily email he made FRIDAY send you.

A loud sigh slid past Tony’s lips and he exploded, “I need you focused for this project! Can you do it or not?”

You jumped at the shift in his tone.

"Tony," Bucky warned harshly.

Tony rubbed his hand over his face, growing more and more frustrated. "I know you have a soft spot for her, but this project is important. You just heard Steve, everything depends on that antidote."

"Then get somebody else to help too, it’s not more important than her. She's about to explode!"

“I’m fine,” you croaked, too embarrassed and frustrated to put up with people talking about you as though you weren’t in the room.

Not able to bring yourself to stand up, you made yourself small on the chair and waited for them to continue talking about the mission.

Tony's gaze softened as it fell on your form. “You need a day off?” he asked, ashamed by his outburst. He should’ve known better than anyone how hard some days were.

You shrugged. Bucky answered for you, “Yes, she does.”

Bucky stood up, rounding the table and walking toward you. "Come with me," he told you in a soft voice, offering his hand to you.

“Go,” Tony mumbled.

Knowing that was the closest to an apology you would get from Tony, you dropped your palm on top of Bucky’s.

Bucky helped you stand up even though you didn’t need him to and then opened the door for you to walk out of the room first.

The sun had already set when you left the building. Bucky didn’t let go of your hand yet his grip wasn’t too tight — thankfully because the hustle and bustle in the streets was ringing in your ears.

You wanted to crawl into your own skin and never get out of your flesh cocoon.

“Do you wanna go anywhere in particular?”

“Home,” you managed to say.

He looked at you for a short moment, nodding as he assessed the situation.

════════════════════════

You fiddled with the loops of your jeans as you waited for the brown door to open. The building was quiet in contrast to the busy streets yet the ringing in your ears lingered.

The small door in front of you opened. The old man in front of you smiled in greeting. “Keys?”

You tiredly nodded. “Again,” you said with frustration.

“It’s alright,” the man said, walking past you and leading the way toward your apartment.

Bucky trailed behind you, eyes scanning the area out of habit. He thanked the man at the same time you did for unlocking your door and softly rested his hand on your back to lead you in.

Closing the door, he asked, “Lights on or off?”

“On, but dimmed.”

“Why don’t you change into some—“

You interrupted him, “Sam will need his wings, won’t he?”

“Don’t worry about that now. Tony can fix them.” He then added, “Sam isn’t stupid either, he can fix them on his own. You’re just better at it than him.”

“But Tony is busy already and Sam probably has other stuff to do that isn’t fixing his wings which is my job.”

Bucky draped his now discarded jacket on the arm of the couch. “You had a bad day, okay? That happens to all of us, you think Sam won’t understand?” Before you could answer, he said what you didn’t let him finish earlier, “Change into something comfortable and I’ll order us some food.”

“You don’t have to make me company if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he assured you. “Tony was right when he said I have a soft spot for you. Now go.” He nodded upward at the door he knew to be your bedroom’s. “Take your time.”

[semistable17yearoldgirl]

You're like me (bucky x amputee reader) part 3/?

author's note: thank you!! This was my first ever note in my inbox and this means so much to me! I work really hard on my pieces so to have someone complement them is incredible. Enjoy the long awaited part 3!!

As Steve ran to get banner, Bucky was able to take a closer look at Y/N's arm. He could tell just by looking at it that it was clearly a hack job, and was done semi-recently. It was healed to an extent but the surgical (if you could even call them that) were still puckered and red. He felt a similar ache in his shoulder as he ran his fingers along the suture line of the wound, before remembering a horrific thought. Hydra was never a fan of anesthetics. It hit him like a bag of bricks as he remembered his own screams as they worked on his arm without any form of pain killers. It was then that Steve walked in with Bruce.

"Hey, you okay punk?" Steve asked seeing him. When Bucky turned around however, it was clear something was worse than he thought. Steve kneeled down to be beside him on the floor next to the medical cot. "Hey you're okay man, you're okay. Just breathe with me alright? I need you to tell me what's wrong" As Bucky gulped for air with a hand on his chest, he managed to explain in little increments. "Hydra... no... anes... anesthetics.. I... I remember" He whisper shouted before giving up on explaining. "Oh my god" Steve stood up as he rubbed a hand through his hair. He made eye contact with Banner who had the same look of shock in his eyes. “Steve I need you to carry her inside. I’ll deal with Buck, but we need to get her into a real medical bay fast. If what Buckys saying is true to her case, her body is most likely in shock and isn’t presenting symptoms that could be vital to us helping her.”

Without a word, Steve scooped up Y/N and started towards the medical wing without even looking back. He knew that Bucky would eventually follow, but that he was in good hands with Dr.Banner.

Bucky’s POV

Bucky unclenched his eyes to see Steve running out of the jet holding Y/N bridal style with her head resting on his shoulder. “NO!” He shouted, but Steve was already long gone. “I need.. I need to see her!” He said in a highly panicked voice, looking at Bruce with wild eyes.

“Okay, but I need you to listen to me first. Can you do that?”

Bucky nodded in response, allowing Bruce to continue.

“We need you to calm down so we can go into the med bay to treat her. We won’t be any use if we can’t stay calm for her sake. It’ll just make her more anxious if we walk in shaking. Okay?”

With a few deep breaths, Bucky finally trusted himself enough to respond without gasping in-between words. “Okay, okay I can do it” He stood up, and with the help of Banner, they picked up a quick pace up to the med bay.

Steve and Y/N’s POV

He tried to run with as much steadiness as possible, but he knew his efforts were futile. “Steve?” A quiet voice asked as her eyes fluttered open, only to clench again at the harsh jostling of his running. “It’s okay baby, we’re gonna get you to the med bay okay? It’s almost over I promise. Just keep those eyes open okay doll?”

Her breathing was coming out in short pants, as she kept her eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t long before she felt herself being laid on the bed, and Bucky and Bruce hustle in.

Back to normal POV

Bucky sat in a plastic chair next to her bed, holding her remaining flesh hand as Banner ran around gathering supplies. It’s gonna be okay baby doll alright? I promise” Bucky whispered as Banner pulled a tray to her bedside.

“We’re gonna treat the burn first because it’s the easiest to take care of okay? It shouldn’t be that painful, just cold. I’m just gonna spray some water on it and put a bandage over it. I won’t rap anything around your neck I promise.’

She nodded feebly and gripped Bucky’s hand, and turned her head to face him, exposing her neck and burn to Bruce.

“You’re doing great love, you’re so strong.” Bucky kept whispering sweet things to her as Bruce finished patching up the burn.

“Hey Buck, Steve? Can I pull you guys aside for a second?” Bruce asked. Seeing the worried look on Y/N’s face, he turned back and added “nothing bad, just work stuff” Seeing her face ease at this, the 3 man walked just outside the med bay doors.

“I’m gonna need to clean the wounds on her arm and I can tell by the looks of it that it isn’t gonna be pleasant or pretty, so heres what we’re gonna do” Bruce explained. Bucky cringed remembering when he had doctors touching around his wound after his amputation. “Buck I’m gonna get you to lay on the bed behind her, and im gonna raise the bed to a sitting position. She’s gonna sit between your legs and lay with her back on your chest to keep her calm, and keep her head from looking at her arm while I clean it.” Bruce continued. “Steve, you’re gonna sit where Bucky was and hold her hand, and be back up. Got it?” Everybody nodded and they returned into the room.

“Hey honey, can I sit with you?” Bucky asked as they walked in. Oblivious to what was about to happen, you nodded and got off the bed so he could sit where he wanted. He offered for you to sit between his legs and you took it, leaning back onto his chest, looking for any kind of comfort you could get.

Bruce scooted beside you on your left side on a wheel-ie stool with a syringe (minus the needle of course) of saline and a sad look on his face. “Okay darling, I know this won’t be fun but I have to clean your arm. If I don’t all the dirt in the wounds will get infected.”

“NO!” You screamed and started thrashing, trying everything to get away. Bucky rapped his legs around yours, and rapped his medal arm around your torso, as Steve held your flesh arm down. “NO PLEASE!!! PLEASE!” You sobbed, not being able to breathe from pure terror. The sight shattered all 3 mens’ hearts as you begged for them not to touch your arm.

“Shhhh” Bucky cooed, trying to calm you down. “I know it’s scary baby doll, but if we don’t do this it’ll only hurt worse later down the line”

You had stopped thrashing at one point, simply too tired to continue. Bucky held one side of your face, stroking your cheek to turn your head away from your left side, as Steve stroked soothing circles on your remaining arm. “It’s gonna be okay baby, I promise” Steve whispered, afraid his own tears might start to fall.

“I’m gonna start okay Honey?” Bruce cautiously asked.

“O…Okay” You hiccuped, still gasping for breath.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Only the Good Die Young (Part 7)

Summary: There were just a few more hoops you had to jump through before you and Bucky could be happy

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment, harmful relationship with parents, smut references

Author's Note: This is the Time. It’s always the time for Billy Joel. No, I haven’t taken this too far. If anything, I haven’t taken this far enough. You’ll see. You’ll all see.

This part is dedicated to the anon message I got earlier which simply read ‘UPDATE OTGDY ITS SO GOOD’, cause the mix of affection and vaguely threatening demand absolutely made my day. I love you, whoever you are. 

---

You spent the whole next day researching places you could move to. Something small, cosy and close to the beach would’ve been ideal, but anything a significant distance away with four walls and a roof would do. 

You tried to get some preferences out of Bucky, but he insisted that he wasn’t picky, and that he’d be happy as long as you were. 

When he got back from work you cornered him in the kitchen, enthusiastically telling him about everything you’d found. He’d had a pretty long day, but your excitement seemed to cheer him up a bit. 

Not long afterwards, the two of you were curled up on the couch, flicking through beautiful, unbelievably expensive beachfront properties and dreaming about the kind of future in which you could afford them.

Your current situation, however, was presenting issues of its own- the most pressing one being that most of your belongings were still at your parents’ house. 

There was a vague plan in your head for how you were going to retrieve them but, in all honesty, you were really trying not to think too much about it. You had a terrible tendency to overthink, and doing that would only cause you to put it off for longer.

Unfortunately, you’d completely forgotten to tell Bucky all this, so he decided to bring it up casually while you were doing the dishes.

‘So, when are we paying your folks a visit?’

‘We’re not.’ He flung the dish cloth over his shoulder and shot you a confused frown. ‘I still have a key, so I was thinking we’d sneak over on Sunday morning while they’re at church.’

‘Damn, that’s a shame. I’d really like to get to know them better.’

‘You’re such an ass.’ You grabbed a handful of soap bubbles and blew them at him, laughing as he tried to protect his hair. ‘They’d only call the cops on you anyway.’ 

‘That’s half the fun of it.’

You spun round and playfully pointed your finger at him. ‘I thought we’d established that I am not cut out for being a prison girlfriend. For one, I couldn’t pull off the juicy couture tracksuit.’

A mischievous smile spread across his face. ‘Oh you definitely could.’

---

Sunday came around a little too fast for your liking. 

The two of you walked to your parents’ house, but only after you’d taken an unbelievably long time convincing Bucky that he wouldn’t be able to strap two suitcases to the back of his bike. 

He’d also suggested towing them on their castors, like trailers. 

You were moving in with this man.

The closer you got, the tighter your grip on Bucky’s hand became. When the house came into view and you saw that the car was gone, you calmed down a little, but still stayed extremely cautious in your approach.  

As long as you’d been alive they’d never missed Sunday mass, however, by this point, you’d completely given up trying to predict their behaviour. You wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d both stuffed themselves into the mailbox, waiting to jump out at you.

With the coast seemingly clear, you unlocked the house and scurried inside.

Bucky stepped through the door and immediately couldn’t hold in his laughter. You weren’t sure if it was all the crucifixes, the bible quote plaques on the kitchen wall or the plastic coated sofa cushions, but he was endlessly amused. 

After letting him have his fun for a while, you gestured for him to follow you upstairs. Reaching your bedroom door, you turned to warn him about how your mother’s taste had inexplicably worsened while decorating in there, but he’d disappeared. 

You heard faint chuckling coming from your parents’ bedroom. 

Rolling your eyes and huffing, you trudged through to see him holding their bedside bible, flicking through it amusedly. 

‘What are you doing Buck?’

‘I’m trying to find the bit where it tells you which sex positions are god-approved.’ 

He caught you off guard, making you burst out laughing. Your mother would absolutely flip her shit if she found out Bucky had been in her bedroom, but knowing that made you much less likely to drag him out. 

‘Try Leviticus.’ You strolled over and rested your chin on his shoulder. ‘That’s where all the weird stuff is.’ 

He raised a cheeky eyebrow and started skimming faster through the book, stopping occasionally to read a few lines, feign disappointment at the content, and rip the page out. You tried to grab it from him, but he moved it just out of your reach and carried on.

‘Oh here it is.’ Still holding the book with one hand, he suddenly grabbed you round the waist with his other arm and pushed you onto your parents’ bed, climbing on top of you. ‘Let’s give some of these a try.’

You laughed as he threw the bible onto the floor and started kissing down your neck. Brushing your hand over his hair, you almost got lost in the moment, before remembering how little time you had before your parents got back. 

‘We really don’t have time for this Buck.’

‘We always have time for something that’ll piss your mom off.’ 

You shoved his shoulders playfully, making him reluctantly push himself back onto his feet and pull you up after him. 

The two of you walked through to your room, leaving the bed sheets messed up and bible pages scattered all over the floor. You didn’t mind her thinking something had happened, even though it hadn’t. You just wished you could’ve seen the look on her face. 

Time was ticking but, thankfully, you’d never had the chance to properly unpack anyway. All you really had to do was grab one or two things and zip your suitcases back up. 

‘Jesus Christ, are your clothes made of lead?’ Bucky’s only job was to help carry the cases downstairs, yet he still found cause for complaint.

‘Oh that one is mainly textbooks. That’s why you’re carrying it.’

He frowned, still bent double, dragging the suitcase into the hallway. ‘Can’t you just leave those here? You’re not gonna need them.’

‘I know, but my parents paid for them, and I’m gonna resell them. Will probably fetch a decent chunk of our first month’s rent.’ 

He stood up straight and gave you a proud smile. ‘I knew there was a reason I liked you.’

He disappeared down the hallway as you finished gathering your last few things. You zipped up the second case and rolled it out of your bedroom, endlessly relieved thinking about how you never had to come back here. 

Even if your current plans didn’t work out, you were determined that this severing of ties was permanent. 

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you saw Bucky on the sidewalk outside, sitting on your suitcase and lighting a cigarette. He looked up towards you, but his attention was immediately caught by something else, making his face drop. You stepped through the door and followed his gaze. 

It was your parents’ car, pulling up on the driveway. 

They must’ve left church early. Of course that’d happen on the one day you really needed it not to. 

You tried to come up with some course of action, but all that was going through your mind was fuckshitfuck. 

You heard the fast clicking of heels against stone and your mother appeared from behind the car, storming towards Bucky with her usual venomous expression. 

‘Get off of my property.’

He looked down. ‘Um, I’m pretty sure this is a sidewalk.’

You yanked your suitcase over the threshold and slammed the door behind you, drawing her attention.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She screeched, probably waking up every baby within a five-mile-radius.

You didn’t respond, marching away from the house as fast as possible and keeping your gaze fixed on the ground. Before you reached the sidewalk, you felt a hand grip your arm tight and yank you back, almost pulling you off your feet. You turned round to see your father, looking like he was ready to kill someone. 

Before you could really process what was happening, Bucky had planted himself in front of you, giving your father’s shoulders an almighty shove. Your arm was released as they squared up to each other, your mother in the wings encouraging her husband to start throwing punches- cause that’s what good Catholics do. 

Then something happened that you wouldn’t have predicted in a million years. 

Bucky walked away. 

He reached for your hand and led you back to the sidewalk, grabbing the other suitcase without breaking stride. The two of you hustled away from the house as fast as you could, not looking back or responding to anything shouted after you. 

Despite what’d just happened, you couldn’t help but crack a smile. You’d never seen him walk away from a fight on his own before. 

---

The walk home was quiet once your parents’ voices had faded into the distance. You kept glancing over to see if he looked angry, but he seemed alright. 

Was this… progress?

When you got home, Bucky dragged your suitcases into the middle of the front room and unzipped them both. By the time you’d made it through the apartment door, your clothes were littered all over the place and he was wearing a pair of your best underwear stretched over his jeans.

‘I like these.’

You were pretty shocked at how good a mood he seemed to be in, but you weren’t about to question it.

‘It’s a shame you’ve stretched them beyond all recognition, then.’

You chased him round, trying to yank them off him for a while, but he was a slippery little fucker when he wanted to be. 

You debated properly unpacking all your clothes, eventually figuring that you were moving soon anyway, so there was really no point. 

So, your overflowing suitcases ended up piled in the corner, and you and Bucky ended up tangled together on the couch for the next couple hours. It was so nice just being able to relax and decompress after such a shitty situation, usually you’d just be arguing or cleaning his wounds. 

You were almost at the point of nodding off, when Buck unceremoniously jolted you back awake by jumping up and proclaiming his next great idea.

‘Alright, there’s gotta be somewhere nice in this stinking town. I’m gonna take you out on a proper date.’

‘Yeah?’ A warm, sleepy smile spread across your face. 

‘Yeah.’ He lifted you off the couch and threw you over his shoulder. ‘C’mon let’s get you dressed.’ 

You dug around for something nice, half-dreading what Bucky had planned for the evening. He was great in so many ways, but you were struggling to forget that the last time he took you for a night out, he ended up leaving in a cop car.

---

You kept trying to guess your destination from the route Bucky was taking you, but you came up with nothing. The only time you’d been to this part of town was when you were fourteen and your dad brought you to help collect a life-size, wooden virgin Mary statue that he’d bought from a seedy guy at church. 

Sometimes you wondered if your childhood was actually just a series of really vivid fever dreams...

Bucky pulled you into his side as you were walking. ‘We’re nearly there.’ 

‘If this is another dive bar I swear to god-’

‘You think so little of me.’ You raised an unamused eyebrow. ‘Yeah, fair enough.’

You turned the corner, and almost had to double-take. It was a little Italian restaurant, tucked between some vague office buildings but lit up like a golden Christmas tree. It looked like it couldn’t seat more than ten people, but that just added to its charm. Bucky led you inside and the waiter sat you at a little table in the corner. 

He’d really nailed it, the place was beautiful.

You both ordered and sat in comfortable silence for a minute, taking in your surroundings. Maybe it was more than a minute, you weren’t too sure, you’d gotten a little lost in your thoughts.

‘What’s up?’ Bucky snapped you back to reality. ‘That’s your deep thinking face.’

‘I dunno, it’s just... I keep forgetting that we’ve only properly known each other for a few weeks. It feels like we’ve lived through a lifetime.’

He leant back, smirking a little as he thought about it. ‘I guess someday we’ll look back and have to laugh.’

‘Someday?’

‘Oh yeah. I've got plans for you.’

You smirked and narrowed your eyes a little, leaning towards him and whispering ‘I know it probably wasn’t intentional, but that sounded vaguely threatening.’

He chuckled into his glass, wincing slightly before swallowing the wine. You told him you really wouldn’t mind him sticking to beer, but he insisted that he wanted to go the whole hog with this fancy dinner-date. It was just a shame that the bottle he’d ordered completely at random ended up tasting like ass, bless him.

You’d been meaning to bring up what’d happened earlier on the walk over, but you’d struggled to find the right moment or to come up with wording that wasn’t unbelievably patronising. 

Well done for not punching my dad by the way, really proud of you kiddo. 

‘I also wanted to say.’ Here goes nothing. ‘What you did today, I really appreciated it.’

‘What, wearing your underwear?’

You gave him a playful scowl before smiling and reaching over the table, placing your hands on his. 

‘I know sometimes you struggle to control this self-destructive streak, but you walked away from a fight today. I’ve never seen you do that before, it really meant a lot.’

His smile slowly dropped. Shit, had you upset him? That was about as diplomatically as you could have worded it. Maybe you should’ve just kept quiet. 

‘It hardly makes up for all the other times, though.’ His eyes flicked away from yours, moving down to stare at your hands. ‘Y’know, before you came back, the stuff I did… it was some kind of miracle that I survived.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘It’s true. It was more than a self-destructive streak, I really just had nothing to live for.’ 

Jesus, that knocked you back. You felt like you’d been winded. The worst part was that he didn’t even look upset, he’d just fallen into this heart-breaking expression of sunken acceptance.

You squeezed his hands hard. ‘Things are good now, that’s what matters.’ 

He nodded, looking back up at you and forcing a smile. 

Now more than ever, you realised how important it was for you two get away from this town and start again. Maybe it wouldn’t be enough to completely disconnect him from the guilt of his past, but it would at least make it all seem a little further away.

You just knew that you were desperate to help him, and you were willing to try anything. 

---

Part 8

---

@shawnie--jo @brilliantbellesoares @livingoffsavvyillusions @noiralei @bebeyeni @kingkassam @newyorkgoddess @sir-lili @im-squished @dancer3205 @thefallenbibliophilequote @supernaturalwintersoldier @adriannajackson

---

[hopelesshawks]

Physical Fatality Part 10- Salve

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings for brief mention of background character death and description of unprotected sex

Masterlist

“The first person I ever loved was named Kiyomi.”

It’s certainly not how you expected Hawks to start this conversation but it had taken nearly half an hour of him pacing for him to sit down next to you on the bed and spit out even that much so you decide to just let him talk.

“I was 18, fresh onto the hero scene and still in that post-debut hustle trying to prove myself. She was a college student. She told me that we’d make it till she graduates. I told her heroism would be worth the wait but she wanted me in an office with a 9-5. We didn’t last. The next girl I fell in love with was Yua. I thought it’d be better because she was a hero too so she’d understand, but before I could ask her out she died in a villain attack. Then there was this one girl with an attitude I met on a mission up north. We never told anyone we were together and in the end we both had way better things to do so we didn’t last long, but I always think about her when I’m in the area.”

“Hawks why are you telling me all this?” you finally ask, starting to get impatient for him to reach the point. You didn’t relish in hearing about his past lovers even if you figured he was telling you for a reason.

“I’m getting to the point I promise. The last one before you was Mirko. I loved her but I lost her because as great as things were going she wanted more time from me and I loved work more than I did her. But when I met you? Fuck (y/n) it was like every single person before you was suddenly meaningless. That night at the gala I was looking for Mirko but the moment I laid eyes on you I forgot all about her. You are genuinely the first person I’ve ever loved more than anything else and I’m sorry I hurt you baby, I am. It’s not that I don’t love you, I’m just bad at love,” he finally finishes.

“If you’re so bad at love then why are you here right now?” You ask. “Can you blame me for trying to be better? Look I could lie and say you’re the one that will finally fix me but the truth is I don’t know, ok? I just know that I want you to be. I want so badly for you to be. Can’t that be enough?” he asks, no pleads, of you and it breaks your heart. “It’s not my job to fix you Hawks. Especially when I’ve got my hands full keeping my career from going to shit,” you reply. “You’re right. Fuck, sorry, you’re right that’s not what I meant. I just...,” he sighs running frustrated fingers through his hair before turning back to you again with a desperate but determined look in his eyes. “For the first time I don’t want to be resigned to being bad at this. I’m asking for patience and a second chance,” he clarifies. “I’m scared,” you finally admit and immediately Hawks is kneeling in front of you, his hands gently cradling either side of your face as he forces you to make eye contact with him. “I know that you’re afraid I’m gonna walk away again but I won’t. I swear to you I won’t,” he promises and his eyes are so full of conviction that your resolve finally crumbles. There’s no denying how genuine he is in this moment and you are so, so tired of hurting him. So you let go of the anger and the hurt you’ve been clinging to for dear life since the moment you read that damned article. “I believe you Keigo,” you confess and it’s one less weight on your shoulders.

You’re shocked at the desperation with which Keigo surges up to press his mouth to yours, his once gentle grip tightening possessively. He pulls away just a bit, his forehead still pressed to yours. You’re both out of breath and panting already and you’re about to close the distance between the two of you again but Keigo pulls away. You whine your disagreement as your hands go to his shirt to try and pull him back into you but he insists. “Say it again,” he commands, his voice shaking. “What?” you ask dazed. “I need to hear you say it again. Please.” “I believe you Keigo.” “Again.” “I believe you Keigo.” “I love you. I’m so sorry.” “I love you too.”

Finally his hands move to your waist, slipping underneath your shirt to find bare skin, and it’s like cool salve on a burn. You hadn’t even realized how deeply you’d ached for him all this time until he was laying you down against the bed. His body baring down on you as he presses you into the mattress. Your lips connect again and all you can think is that you need more of him. You open your mouth in an invitation he gladly accepts to slide his tongue in and tangle it with yours. The kiss lacks finesse, it’s probably the sloppiest the two of you have exchanged, but now is not the time for gentle, tantalizing skill. Not when the two of you have been denying each other all this time. The two of you separate only for brief intervals in order to shed clothing and underwear until there’s nothing left keeping you apart. Finally, finally it’s just skin on skin, your hearts pounding in your chests as if trying to escape and finally be together. “Need you,” you murmur against his lips and he immediately nods, his yearning for you just as overwhelming as yours for him. He presses his throbbing erection into your tight, wet heat so slowly and carefully as if you might break. Or perhaps more accurately as if you might disappear. You realize that every kiss, every touch, every movement he’s made has carried an element of disbelief, as if he cannot fathom that he’s finally with you like this again. By the time he’s fully seated inside you Keigo is absolutely trembling. The two of you stay like that for awhile, just breathing each other in, appreciating the intimacy of being so connected. One of your hands caresses Keigo’s cheek. “Baby why are you shaking?” you ask, even though you’re afraid of the answer. “I just thought I’d never have this again,” he confesses. “I’m so sorry Kei,” you whisper but he shakes his head. “I deserved it.” “No you didn’t. Not all of it.” “I’m the reason everything’s fucked now.” “Faced with Endeavor and the evidence you had, I probably would’ve done the same thing if I were in your position. And the paparazzi stuff I played a part in too.” “But I hurt you.” “And then I hurt you right back.”

It’s quiet for a moment as the two of you let the words hang in the air. You expected the admission to feel heavy but you actually feel the lightest you have in weeks. “We really are a mess aren’t we?” you finally chuckle with a slight shake of your head. “I’d rather be a mess with you than perfect with anyone else,” he swears. “That’s a bit corny isn’t it?” you tease. “Oh absolutely. But I mean every word of it,” he replies easily before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. It doesn’t take long for it to become heated again. “I’m gonna need you to start moving baby,” you whisper into his ear as one of your hands drifts to the base of his wings to spur him on. “Shit Love, well I guess if you need me that bad,” he smirks but a quick tug on his feathers has him hissing instead. He gives a quick roll of his hips in retaliation before starting to move in and out of you in earnest. God how you’ve missed this, missed him. For the first time since everything went to shit you’re not worrying about your career or All Might or the press or anything else. With each languid thrust, each muttered curse, each lust-filled moan, Keigo cleanses you of the worries and anxieties that have haunted your every waking moment. In him you find relief and bliss and ecstasy, such sweet ecstasy. When the two of you reach your climaxes your moans sound more like sobs as you cling tightly onto each other, scared to let go and risk discovering this was all a dream.

When you both come down from your highs Keigo doesn’t let go, just cuddles you close to him and let’s his feathers tuck you both into your bed. “Do you have any other plans for tonight?” he asks. You shake your head no as you bury yourself closer against him. “Good,” he responds before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Hours pass the two of you by as you simply hold onto each other, barely speaking, just reveling in each other’s company. You don’t even notice yourself drifting off to sleep, it’s just one moment you’re listening to the quiet sounds of Keigo’s breathing and the next you’re slipping into the first restful sleep you’ve had in a long time.

You wake up to the sound of Keigo’s alarm. He shuts it off quickly but makes no move to extricate himself from your hold or otherwise get out of bed. “You gonna get up and go to work?” you ask. “Don’t really want to,” he sighs, “I’d rather stay in here with just us.” “We can’t stay in here forever,” you point out. “You sure about that? It sounds infinitely more appealing than dealing with Monoma this early in the morning,” he groans. “Believe me I wish we could too, but you have terrorists to catch and I’ve got people to save so,” you gently remind him. “Five more minutes?” “Fine, five more minutes.”

Five minutes passes by all too quickly and soon the two of you are forcing yourselves out of bed. It’s oddly reminiscent of that first night together. Both of you getting redressed without nearly the urgency you should. Both of you ignoring the dread building at the thought of stepping out of the little bubble you had created. Once you’re both dressed and ready you link hands again and step out of your room. Almost immediately you feel the weight of your responsibilities land heavily on your shoulders once again. The two of you move through the apartment to your front door and it feels like that crossroads moment in the hallway when both of you had run opposite directions without so much as getting a name. You hope he’ll understand why you’re going to once again choose to part ways. “You go on ahead Love, I think I’m going to wait to head to the office until closer to my shift,” you tell Hawks as you hesitate in the doorway. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’m sure. You go ahead though, tell the others I say hi,” you insist. He gives you a worried look but agrees, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before leaving. “Looks like you two are doing better,” a voice comments behind you. You turn around to find your new roommate standing watching you as he eats cereal out of a bowl nonchalantly. “I’m gonna be honest I have already forgotten your name again,” you confess. “Denki.” “Right, Denki. Thanks I guess.” “You’re welcome. Why didn’t you go with him to work?” “All of my coworkers except for the ones who will be busy working with him think I’m a traitorous slut.” “Yikes.” “Yea.” “Anyway I can help?” “You could make me breakfast to make up for picking the lock on my door.” “Fair enough.”

Author’s Note: This was difficult to write tbh because the content from the song it’s based on tapped out pretty quickly and I needed to figure out narratively where else it needed to go, especially considering what’s coming down the pipeline. I hope the result was satisfying and you guys enjoy it though

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead

[jawritter]

When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 11

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word count: 2203

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a douche bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Character death, talk of character death, language, angst, some fluff maybe if you squint?, I think that’s about it. 

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

The SUV came to a stop in front of an old cabin, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. You had left New York behind at least an hour ago, and you had no Idea where you were now, other than this was a “safe house”, and this is where everyone was meeting to go over Dean’s plan to handle this threat against his family. 

Benny opened the door for you, and Dean came around the car on the other side of you, both men caging you in as the three of you made your way to the front door of the older looking cabin, both men holding a gun, and looking around the tree line as if they half expected something to jump out of the woods and start shooting at you.

The very sight of the guns, and the thoughts that accompanied them, made your heart rate spike to a dangerous level, and you were grateful to reach the small porch, and have the door swing open wide, revealing Sam Winchester, and Jess close over his shoulder.

“Sammy, did Bobby update you on the status of our situation?” Dean said as you were hustled into the cabin. People were standing everywhere, some faces you had seen before, some you had not. Some looked more menacing than others. None of them, except Jess, really made you that comfortable.

“Yea, I’ve updated everyone here as well.” Sam said, taking a seat on the couch next to Jess, who gave you a tight smile before wrapping her hand around Sam’s. Dean sat you down in an armchair close to the top of the room, and stood behind it with his hands on your shoulders. 

You could have heard a pin drop as everyone fell immediately silent in the room, all eyes on you and Dean, as they waited instructions on what to do next. 

“I know you're all reeling, just as I am, just as Sam and Jess are. Our father will be missed, and mourned for many days to come. Right now is not the time to mourn unfortunately, that will have to wait. Right now, we need to deal with the threat that’s staring us dead in the face.”

You could feel Dean’s hold tighten on your shoulders as he continued to address the room.You could only imagine how hard this was for him. The pressure, and the responsibility of all this was too much for one person. He shouldn’t have to carry it all. He hadn’t even allowed himself time to grieve really, but here he was, leading the pack, and you had a feeling that this had been a constant throughout his life, even when John was still alive.

“Azazel is very dangerous. Not because of what he can do, but what those mindless idiots that follow him are willing to do. My father knew this, and he also knew that one day, we would have to deal with Azazel, and put a stop to The Knights Of Hell once and for all. Tonight is that night.” Dean circled the room, going over to a small bag that had been carried in by a man you didn’t recognize, and placed on the chair. Lifting the bag and sitting it in the center of the room before continuing. 

“They will all be at the club owned by Azazel, a club called Hell’s Gate, in downtown New York. Tonight, we finished what my dad planned years ago.Tonight we take them all out.” 

Reaching into the bag, Dean produced what looked like a pipe bomb, and started to pass it around the room so that everyone could get a look at what they would be working with. 

“At midnight, myself, Sam, Cas, Benny, and about six other volunteers will sit pipe bombs through the exterior of the building, while three of you go inside.

Mick, Terry, Steve, that will be you three, and plant pipe bombs at the two back entrances, and the bathroom located pretty much at the center of the building.”

There was a sudden buzz of conversation throughout the room. Some in agreement, some obviously a little scared of the outcome of this plan.

“Easy guys, I know, this is dangerous, but they will all be gathered in the back room, Bobby and I can take care of the two idiots by the door. They are the only guards in the place. Once all the bombs are placed, and everyone has cleared the building, I will send the text with the words, “lights out” to Ash, who will detonate all the bombs at once using his computer here.” 

Rufous stood up at the back of the room, making his way closer to Dean, but not close enough to seem like any sort of a threat.

“And what happens if one of them survives this attack? What if we fail?” Rufus says, and a few others murmur their agreement.

“Look, I’m not saying it’s a foolproof plan. I can’t guarantee a complete success rate, but with that many pipe bombs going off at once, I don’t see anyone surviving that blast.” Dean said, his face hard as stone as he stood there staring at the older man in front of him.

“Dad knew what he was doing guys. He’s the one that mapped out the building all those years ago. He wouldn’t have put this plan in place all those years ago, and then told Dean about it, if he wasn’t sure that it would work.” Sam said, and a few others murmured their agreement. 

“The women will remain here. I want three of you outside the safe house guarding it, and two inside the doors. If anyone that’s not ours shows their face here, shoot it.” Dean said, looking down at you. His eyes had a hard unreadable mask that made you uneasy. 

“This woman means everything to me, and has the high possibility of becoming my wife one day. You are to treat her with the same respect you treat myself and Sam. Understood?” 

When he was satisfied that everyone was in agreement, and knew what they were supposed to do, he gave Benny a nod, who then started to get the teams together for the job at hand. 

You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel. 

You had just actively sat in a room, while your boyfriend discussed murdering only God knows how many people by blowing up the building they were meeting in. 

Then, on the other side of that, there was this sickening, twisting fear buried not so deep below the surface, that said this may be the last time you ever see Dean.

Grabbing your hand, Dean leads you through the small cabin, and into the back bedroom, closing the door, and pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you as tight as he could, before his lips collide with your own in a deep kiss, full of emotions you didn’t understand, and things that made you tremble with fear. 

Did he think he might not come back from this either?

When he finally pulled away, his eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned his forehead against yours. 

“Y/N, if this goes sideways, and something happens to me, I want you to stay with Benny, understand?”

“Dean, don’t talk like that, please!”

Dean put his large, warm hand to the side of your face, catching the tears that were freely falling with his thumb, before brushing his lips against yours in a barely there kiss to stop you worrying. 

“Listen Baby, please, I’m confident this is going to go just fine, and I’ll be back before sunup, and we can go home like none of this ever happened, but I need you to promise me that IF something doesn’t go like I’m playing it out in my head, and I don’t make it back, you will stay with Benny. I need to know you're going to be safe if I’m not here to protect you. Can you promise me that?”

Trying hard to swallow the nothing that seemed to be clogging your throat, you nod your head before his lips collide with your own again. 

“Now, it’s your turn to promise me something, Winchester. Promise me you will come home to me.” you tell him bluntly, his green eyes boring into yours as if he was trying to tell you everything he felt, but couldn’t bring himself to say in that moment.

“I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get home to you baby girl.” 

A loud banging on the door made you nearly jump out of your skin as Benny’s voice boomed from the other side. 

“Ready to go boss!”

Giving you a quick kiss, Dean gave you one last look before slipping out the door, and leaving you to sit down on the edge of the bed, your heart beating a thousand miles a second, praying to whatever God may, or may not exist that he would come home to you tonight.

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

To say that it was the absolute longest night of your life wouldn’t have been an accurate enough description. 

You alternated from pacing, to standing staring out the window, to laying on the bed curled up in a ball of worry, and Jess was doing no better than you were. Both of you were a wreck. There was no word from Dean or anyone else yet, and you were starting to think that something had gone horribly wrong.

Anxiety pulled at you like a weight trying desperately to pull you under. Your chest felt tight, and your hands were shaking so hard as you checked your phone for the thousandth time, you almost didn’t successfully unlock it.

“Still nothing?” Jess asked as she flopped down on the bed next to you dramatically.

“Nope.” 

“This is the hardest part, the waiting,” she tells you, giving your shoulder a sympathetic pat. 

You were just about to try and sit up to go back to staring out of the window, when the sound of tires on gravel sounded throughout the cabin. The two of you held your breath as you waited for the sounds of someone coming through the front door, and you were just about to say fuck it, and go look out the window, when the bedroom door opened, revealing a dirty, and tired looking Dean, with Sam hot on his heals. 

Getting off the bed you practically run to him, and jump on him. The relief that flooded your body at the sight of them was almost enough to make you pass out. 

“It’s over,” he kept telling you, brushing your hair back away from your face. You didn’t care at that moment, for the moment he was standing here, alive, and well in front of you, and that’s all that mattered. 

Sam made his way to Jess, and pulled her into him as well. 

“The threat is passed for now, but others will come.” Sam said, looking at his brother, who gave him a knowing look before pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“We will let tomorrow's problems worry about themselves for now. Tonight I’m tired, and I want to get home with my girl. We still have a funeral to plan, and a change of headship through the high table ahead of us.”

The three of you made your way towards the door, and to Benny, who was still waiting in the SUV to take you back to the Winchester Estate. Once you were inside the safety of the car, and wrapped tight in Dean’s arms sitting in the third row, you realized just how tired you were.

“It’s gonna be strange, Dad gone, that big old house is gonna feel pretty empty.” Sam said, his body half turned in his seat to look at his older brother. 

Dean just shrugged, and placed his lips to the top of your forehead that was resting on his shoulder. 

“It’s gonna be different, but we’ll adjust.” Jess said, giving Sam’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“So, Azazel is gone?” You asked Dean, looking up at the piercing green eyes that you loved so much in the dark car. Dean gave you a tight smile.

“Azazel is gone, but others will come, that’s part of this life we live. There’s no rest for the wicked sweetheart.”

You buried your head in Dean’s shoulder, and let him drop his suit jacket over your body like a blanket, letting exhaustion finally grip you like it had been trying to do since you crawled into the car.

You knew Dean was right. There would be other threats, and there was no going back to your old life now. There was no leaving Dean  and Sam Winchester, or anyone else you had met during your short time with them. You were completely sucked in, and you didn’t care to be pulled out.

Your old life was boring, same old seven and six, no meaning, just the same old struggle everyday. Yes, this isn’t a life you would have exactly chosen for yourself, but now that you had it, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

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[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 17

Word Count: 3,216

POV: Sid

Warnings: Language, Smut, NSFW

Notes: This is sort of a filler going into the next part, but I really wanted to write this smut part...haha! So I hope you guys enjoy. Happy Reading!

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

Two days after the incident with the new recruits, you were loading (Y/N)'s suitcases in the car for the flight in the morning to Cole Harbour. "Geez, (Y/N), do you think you packed enough?"

 "Don't start. We're going to be gone for like two months. I'm trying to be prepared for every occasion."

 "You know I do have a washer and a dryer at my house." You teased as you loaded her third suitcase into the car.

 "I am not a light packer Mr. Crosby."

 "So I've noticed."

 "Oh stop whining, you needed a good workout today."

 Grabbing her by the waist you hauled her close before whispering in her ear. "I know of a better workout I'd like to do." She giggled as you nibbled on her ear.

 "You'll have to wait for that. I need to drop off a key to Meg so she can get my mail and you still need to finish packing." She wiggled out of your arms and checked inside the house one last time before locking the door.

 "It won't take long to finish, plus whatever we forget we can just buy."

 She shook her head at you as she got inside the car. "Like it's just that easy if I need a cocktail dress or something."

 "Babe, it is. Whatever you need we'll just go to the store and I'll buy it."

 "You don't need to buy me things; I have money, you know."

 It occurred to you then, that you'd yet to buy her anything. By now you should've bought her flowers at the bare minimum. In fact, if you actually thought about it, she was the one who was always getting you stuff; even if it was part of her job. You would definitely need to rectify this before you declared your love for her. "Well, what if I want to buy you something?"

 "I suppose." She said reluctantly. "Let's just hope I packed everything I need."

 "Well with the amount of luggage you have, you'll be fine." She swatted at your knee, but you grabbed her hand and brought it to your lips to kiss her knuckles. "I'm so excited to show you Cole Harbour." It didn't have the hustle and bustle of the city, but you still wanted to experience all your favorite things about your small little town with (Y/N).

 "I can't wait to see it, and all the baby pictures your mom promised to show me."

 You groaned and rolled your eyes, just thinking about your mom showing (Y/N) album after album. Your mom would be in her glory. "Just tell me you're still going to date me after you hear all her stories?"

 "Oh stop, they didn't scare me away a couple weeks ago. I'm still here, aren't I?"

 "Thank god." The rest of the night was pretty much a whirlwind as you spent it packing, and (Y/N) went through her stuff again making sure she had everything. At eight in the morning, the car pulled into the drive to take you to the airport.

 (Y/N) leaned over as you got closer to the airport, to whisper over to you. "Sid, I think the driver is going the wrong way. The airport was the last exit."

 She was right, but you were using the private airport, the same one you left from with the Pens for all away games. "No, he's right. We're flying private."

 "Is that why you wouldn't let me pay for the ticket?"

 "Well partly, I always take a private jet home. There aren't any direct flights into Halifax from Pittsburgh, so this is easier." Her mouth formed a little O, as the car pulled next to the plane. The pilot came out and shook your hand to welcome you both onboard, while your bags were loaded onto the jet.

 "I guess I don't have to worry about paying extra for my bag." She quipped as she took a seat.

 You took the one across from her, before answering. "So are you trying to say if you knew we were flying private, you would've taken more? Because if that's the case I'm glad I didn't tell you."

 She laughed. "You know I just might have."

 "We would've never got everything in the car." She fiddled with the seatbelt as the plane got ready to take off. "You know we can sit on the couch together if you're nervous. I know you're used to Beau making jokes and stuff. I'm not as funny as him, but I'm good at holding your hand."

 She smiled over at you as you reached over and grabbed her hand. "Hey, I was fine for the last several flights. I don't know what my problem is today." You rubbed your thumb back and forth across her knuckles as the plane soared into the air. She tensed a bit, but as soon as you were in the air, you could feel her relax.

 "Better?" She nodded and soon the captain came across and told you, you were at cruising altitude. "Did you want a water or anything? It's usually stocked with drinks and food."

 "No, I'm good right now." She relaxed into the seat then sat back up. "Do you always fly private?"

 "Yeah, pretty much have for a while now."  She nodded and you could tell she wanted to say something, but then she sat back again. Her mouth opened then closed one more time and it was killing you to know what she was going to say. "Ok, spit it out. I can tell you're dying to ask me something."

 "Have you…" she stopped, then closed her eyes as if trying to find the right words. "Have you ever…you know?" and you shook your head because truly you didn't know what she was asking. "Joined the mile-high club?"

 Your eyes widen at her words. "No." The word slipped out before you had a chance to even think about it. Was she suggesting she wanted to? You definitely weren't opposed to it. The problem was you couldn't read her mind at the moment. So instead you said, "have you?"

 "No, this is the first time I've even flown private… well besides when we fly with the Pens. Though I suppose people find a way to do it on a commercial flight." She was probably right; it did happen, but would it happen right now was the question on the tip of your tongue. A mischievous smile appeared on her lips and you knew that you didn't have to ask anymore. "So…do you want to?"

 "Is that even a question?" You unbuckled your seatbelt before she could even think about answering and then you noticed she was doing the same. When she was unfastened you hauled her onto your lap, her legs straddling your hips, while her mouth came down on yours. You tore off her long dark gray cardigan, then worked on removing her cami.

 "Wait, the pilots aren't going to come out or anything?" she asked when you started to unclasp her bra.

 "Never have," you breathed out and then her mouth was back on yours, while her hips ground down on yours. She gathered your polo in her hands then broke the kiss so she could toss it off to the side with the growing pile of clothing. "Stand up, so I can get these off." You told her needing her leggings off as well. She shimmied out of the pants as you pushed her panties down to join them. Grabbing her hips, you guided her back to the small sofa in the plane which gave the two of you a bit more room to move. She fell back against the leather, and you followed her down, your hands working on the buttons of your jeans so you could free your cock to be inside her. That's when it hit you. "Fuck," you whispered out harshly.

 "What's wrong?" (Y/N) asked when you started to rebutton your pants.

 "I don't have any protection." You'd packed condoms in your suitcase for when you got to the house, but hadn't thought about putting any in your pocket or wallet.

 Her hands reached out to cover yours at your waistband, undoing the work you'd just done with the zipper. "It's ok, I've got us covered."

 "Oh," and you got up going over to her purse.

 "Sid, that's not what I mean." She sat up grabbing your hand and pulling you back. "I have an IUD. I've been meaning to talk to you about it, but it's always well you know…in the heat of the moment, but I'm clean if that's what you're worried about, and I haven't been with anyone but you."

 "I didn't think that you had, considering we've spent like every minute together for a while." She giggled at that. "And I haven't been with anyone either, in case you were wondering. Honestly, it's been a long time since I was with anyone before you, but like you everything's fine. Though if you don't believe me…"

 She stopped you then. "I believe you, Sid." (Y/N) tugged on your hand pulling you down with her as she leaned back against the cushions. You quickly removed the rest of your clothes then settled in between her legs before kissing her once more. Your tongue mingles with hers, lips molding together as your hips rocked into her. She whimpered into the kiss, and so you slid a finger inside her to find her wet and ready for you. You toyed with her a bit until she started to squirm underneath you.

 Slipping the head of your cock between her fold, you almost lost it being able to feel her around you without any barrier. Inch by slow inch her heat engulfed you and you found it hard to breathe. It took you a minute before you could move as you tried to get yourself under control. (Y/N) reached up and tugged on the back of your neck drawing your lips down to hers so she could kiss you tenderly. As you laid there, buried deep inside her you couldn't help feel your love for her bubbling up inside. You'd never felt this way before, never wanted to tell someone how much you loved them at that moment but you also knew it wasn't how you wanted to tell her the first time. So instead of verbalizing your feelings, you started to move in and out of her body. One of her legs wrapped around your waist as she used the other for leverage to meet each of your thrusts. She felt like heaven as you could feel her pussy clench around your cock with each push into her. "Fuck, babe…I'm not gonna last long." No matter how much you wanted this to be good for her, the feel of her warm wet pussy surrounding you was throwing you closer to the edge.

 "Almost…there," she panted out, before reaching down and playing with her clit. You just needed to hold out a little bit longer. You shifted her leg and sped up your pace, the action hitting her g-spot as she moaned out and you hoped to god that the pilots couldn't hear anything through the door. It wasn't long after that, that she was screaming out your name in ecstasy. With one final thrust, you followed her, reaching the high your body so desperately craved as you soared above the clouds. It felt amazing to just spill your seed inside her, and as you lay there trying to catch your breath; you realized your cock was still semi-erect and instead of going soft, it only was getting harder as you stayed inside her, but you knew the two of you didn't have time for another round. While it was the last thing you wanted to do, you pulled out from inside the haven that was (Y/N); you were both a sticky mess. You sat up on the couch and (Y/N) followed you up.

 "So do we get a card or something now that we're members?" You asked as you kissed her forehead and pulled her close still needing some form of contact with her.

 "I'll make you a card that says 'Mile High Member' when we get home." You both just laughed, then you finally pulled your boxers on and walked back to the small restroom to grab a towel for (Y/N).

 "I gotta be honest. I wish this was a longer flight." You told her when came back to the main cabin.

 "Oh really?" You nodded your head, before capturing her lips again; your cock rock hard with thoughts of being inside her again. She picked up her panties and leggings, struggling to put them on as the plane made a turn. "Well don't expect this to happen on any of our Pens flights."

 "Aww come on, you always bring that blanket. I'm sure we can make it work." You teased her.

 "Nope, not happening, besides you sit with Flower, not me."

 "Well, I was thinking I might have to change my seat next year."

 "No way!" She was fully dressed now and you found yourself a bit disappointed as you both sat on the couch, you'd just made love on. "You're keeping your same seat, just like you always have. I'm not changing that superstition."

 "Well, we have time to talk about it." She rolled her eyes as if it was not a point for discussion. Checking the screen, you noticed that you'd be landing in the next few minutes. "So my parents are picking us up at the airport. It's about a twenty-mile drive to the house, but I think my mom wants us to stop at their place for lunch if that's ok."

 "Yeah that's totally fine, maybe she'll show me some of those baby pictures she was talking about."

 It was a little over an hour later and your mom was doing exactly that along with showing her your childhood room. She was literally showing (Y/N) every embarrassing photo she had of you. You had to beg her to stop, telling her that she had plenty of time to tell (Y/N) every humiliating story she had over the next few weeks. The only bright spot was that it gave you a few minutes alone to prepare a surprise for (Y/N). After lunch, the two of you headed to your house promising that you'd have dinner with your parents in the next couple of days.

 You watched (Y/N)'s expression as you pulled down the long drive to the summer house. It was buried down under a canvas of trees; not as massive as the house in Pittsburgh yet you loved it all the same. "It's so beautiful Sid." There was a note of awe in her voice and you felt the same way every time you came here.

 "I'll get the bags in a bit. Let me show you around first." You jumped out of the Suburban and went around to get (Y/N). The inside of the house was nice, but it was the outside that you really wanted her to see. The long dock which held a small boat for you to take her out on, caught her eye first. "Maybe we can go for a ride later tonight." You told her.

 "That would be nice. It's so peaceful and calm here. I can see why you love it." You stood on the patio with your arms wrapped around her waist and there was no place in the world you'd rather be. "What's that over there?"

 "Oh, that's the shooting pad. It's like the one in the basement in Pittsburgh."

 "Gotcha, I couldn't quite make it out from here."

 "I thought about putting a pool in, but I don't know. Just decided to stick with the hot tub." The house in Pittsburgh had a gorgeous pool and you loved watching her swim in it, so you might have to rethink putting one in. "That building over there is my workout room."

 "Oh so if I ever can't find you, I'll look there first." She gave you a little wink and you tickled her under her ribs. "Ok show me the rest." You punched in the code to the house and proceeded to give her the grand tour, saving the master bedroom for last. "It's gorgeous, Sid; it really is."

 "It's not bad."

 "Not bad? It's more than that and you know it."

 "Well maybe. There's lots of room in the closet for your stuff, but move anything you want. I want you to feel at home here."

 She flopped back on the bed, then looked up at you. "Hmm, I think I could get comfortable right here if you'd join me." Your knee pressed into the mattress so you could hover over her body and just as you were about to press your lips to hers the doorbell rang. "Who could that be?"

 "Guess we'll have to go see." You took her hand pulling her off the bed with you as you headed downstairs. You were prepared for what greeted you, but (Y/N) was not.

 "Is there a Ms. (Y/L/N) here?" A young gentleman asked and you could see the questioning look on your girlfriend's face.

 "That's me." She answered as he handed over a beautiful bouquet of roses. You pulled out your wallet and tipped the man before closing the door. "Did you get me these?"

 You shrugged, but replied, "I don't know. You'll have to read the card."

 She carried the six dozen roses into the kitchen, setting them down on the island. You knew you'd gone a bit overboard but wanted to make up for not getting them sooner for her. She plucked the card out from amidst the blooms. You knew the words she was reading but watched as she read them in silence.

 (Y/N), I have yet to take you out on a proper date, but I'm hoping to change all that. I hope that you love Cole Harbour as much as I do and that we'll be spending many more summers here together. Yours always, Sid.

 There was so much more you wanted to say in the card, but yet you tried to keep it as brief as possible. "They're beautiful Sid, but you didn't have to do that, let alone so many." She went up on her toes and kissed you.

 "I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to." You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close to your chest. "So, how about we go on that official date then?"

 "When...tonight?" She asked pulling back slightly to look up into your face.

 "Yeah, why not?"

 "Well, we don't have our bags inside the house yet for one thing."

 "I can have that taken care of in ten minutes. Ok, twenty with the number of suitcases you brought." She swatted your chest. "So is that a yes?"

 "Umm…how can I say no?" She teased.

 "You can't. I'll go grab the bags and then we can get ready for our date." You planted a kiss on her nose then headed out for the bags, excited that you were finally getting to take her out on what would be your first official date.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Have you seen the post going around about the zoom class with one guy and his full streamer setup vs the guy whose just in the middle of the woods? I know you have a prompt list rn but I’m just saying there’s a sternclay fic in there somewhere...

It is! Here you go!

Life is better with order. Or, at the very least, with some attempt at patterns, organization, or consistency. 

Which is why Stern has carefully arranged his desk, his chair, and his equipment in the background. Streaming as a hobby and a side hustle means he has some (okay, a lot) of practice making his digital self look just right. He needs to make a good impression on the first day of the semester.

Unlike some people. 

“Holy shit man, are you in the woods?” Duck, the guy in a “Monongahela National Forest” shirt, grins as he asks this of another student whose screen consists of a forest clearing, a log, and the name “Barclay.”

“Yeah. Hang on, lemme finish getting the phone balanced.”

“Dude, that’s like, way better than my background” this comes from Jake, in front of a poorly rendered half-pipe. 

“Can’t really take credit for it, just where I ended up.” Barclay sits down, and Stern gets his first look at a man so tall he barely fits in the frame, with a short, coppery beard and an honest-to-god man-bun.

Damn west coast schools. 

“How is your battery going to last long enough for class?” Stern leans back in his chair, certain Barclay will have “battery trouble” halfway through as an excuse to cut out early.

Barclay smiles, lifting up a small green and black rectangle, “solar battery. Not everyone needs fancy gadgets for school.” He aims a pointed stare at Sterns set-up. 

“It’s important to have the right equipment.”

“Whatever you say, man.” He lifts a cup of iced coffee into the frame, sipping it through a straw. It’s the picture of relaxation, as if nothing is wrong in the world. As if this is all totally normal. 

Stern wants to reach through the  screen and slap some sense into him. Preferably while he’s shirtless.

He chalks that thought up to not having gotten laid since last December and pulls up his note taking software as Professor Chicane enters the room.

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

Private Chat 9/20/20

Duck (he/him): I timed it, we’re already at ten minutes of arguing.

Indrid (he/him): I know Ned enjoys their demonstrating the different modes of rhetoric, but this is a bit extreme.

Duck: To be fair, Joe does seem kinda uptight.

Indrid: Yes, but Barclay should know by now that zeroing in on him during our practice debates only results in this.

Duck: Yeah. Oh shit, are they for real wrapping up you think?

Indrid: We can only hope. Skype me tonight?

Duck: Of course, sugar.

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

What is Joseph’s problem? He’s got a set-up that would make a pro-vlogger jealous, what looks to be a well-lit apartment with some houseplants and the kind of coffee-cups that are weirdly lacking in personality. His clothes are immaculate, his hair slicked back as if he;s in a business meeting rather than an online class in the midst of a chaotic world. So why is he acting like everything is terrible? And why is he always arguing with Barclay, when there are plenty of other people in the class to disagree with?

“Now” Mr. Chicane’s voice booms through the tiny speaker on his phone, “if you all had a chance to read over the instructions, we will begin the first mock debate. Do we have any volunteers?”

He and Joe raise their hands at the same time. Mr. Chicane raises an eyebrow.

“While I appreciate your eagerness, gentlemen, I would like two other volunteers this time.”

That’s fine by him. It’s not like he likes listening to Joseph get all wound up and passionate, making everyone on the call sit up and take notice of him. It’s not as if he enjoys being the center of his focus. 

Nope, not at all.

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

Private chat 10/11/20

Jake (he/him): Dudes, did you see who got paired up on the final project?

Aubrey (she/her): Chicane must be getting them back for all the times they’ve hijacked discussions. 

Duck (he/him): Man, for their sake I hope it works out.

Indrid (he/him): This is going to be a disaster.

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

“Are you out of your mind!” Stern is talking before Barclay’s video is fully on. 

“Nope. And you don’t have to yell, my speaker works just fine.”

“You’re outside, for all I know there’s a ton of ambient noise.”

Barclay, phone obviously in his hand as he walks through the trees, groans.

“And don’t try to derail this; how can you possibly suggest I come out there so we can do the project in person? We’re supposed to be limiting travel and gatherings.”

“Look, Joseph, we both agree that trying to generate our own cryptid hoax is the best way to demonstrate all the techniques Ned wants us too, right?”

“Yes” he hides his answer behind the rim of his coffee mug. 

“We’ll do a way better job if we work in the same space. And if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t had any human contact in three weeks; all quarantined up, unlike whatever you’ve been doing in the city.”

He sets the mug down with a thunk, “I haven’t been out in a month. And before that was only for one grocery run and a hospital visit.”

“Uhhh-”

“I cut my hand cooking. So. Yeah.”

Literal crickets chirp, courtesy of Barclay’s end of the line, as the silence stretches on.

“If it helps, it’s real easy to stay isolated here, and I’ve still got utilities and everything.”

“And you’re not subsisting only on MREs or granola or something?”

A deep chuckle, the kind that makes his skin prickle, “Nope. That much I can promise.”

Stern glances around the studio apartment, clean and empty. 

“What’s your address?”

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

Look, all Stern is going to say is that he’s seen and read plenty of stories that start with a cabin in the woods and none of them end well. Which is why he’s still sitting in his car, parked beside a beat-up Subaru, rather than knocking on the door. 

Breathe in, five counts. Out for four. Repeat four times. 

Waiting for him on the door is a note.

Joseph,

Key under mat, make yourself at home. 

Barclay. 

He brings in his bags (a matching set of three, a gift from his aunt last year), placing them in the tiny guest room. It’s not much more than a bed, a dresser, and a tiny table. But there’s a heating unit below the window looking out into the woods, which is pretty pleasant. He’ll be keeping the blinds closed at night, though; he hates the thought of something being able to look in. 

Stern’s busy evaluating the laundry closet when the front door opens. 

“Hey, glad you found the place okay.”

Barclay stands in the doorway, a basket full of fruit in one hand. He’s remarkably kempt for a man living in the woods and that, combined with the deep voice being even richer in person and the fact Stern has to actually look up to meet his eyes, has him stumbling for words. 

“Your directions were very thorough. Thank you. Um. I put my things in there, should I, um-”

“I can give you the grand tour.” The taller man sets the basket on the dining table, notices Sterns puzzled expression “there’s a piece of property about a mile thataway that has orchards they don’t really use. They let me come and pick whenever i want, less for them to clean up.”

Barclay keeps up a steady monologue as he shows him the cabin. The lower level is the living room and dining area, a kitchen which leads onto the back deck, Sterns room, and a bathroom. As the cabin is A-frame, the upstairs is Barclay’s room, all dark wood and pine colored plaid. It’s as Barclay is telling him about the woodpecker that sometimes nests in the eaves that he realizes why he’s talking so much.

He’s nervous. 

Neither of their nerves improve when he gets to his last point of order. 

“Uh, so, the bathroom downstairs is only a half-bath.”

“So...if I want to shower, which I do, I have to come up here.”

“Yeah.” Barclay scratches the back of his neck, “sorry. I don’t, like, sleep naked or anything so we should be fine.”

“Disappointing.” Stern sighs, only to sail past sarcastic and land face first in sincere. 

Barclay blushes, then shrugs, “Trust me, after the first night, you’ll see why.”

Stern does. He’s warm as long as he’s in bed, but the moment he ventures into the bathroom in the middle of the night he’s cocooned in cold. 

The morning brings cinnamon and coffee on the draft coming under the door. He plods into the kitchen in search of caffeine, finds Barclay in an pron, the counter covered in trays of dough. 

“Morning!”

“Morning. Coffee-”

“Right there, sugar and stuff’s in the cabinet above it, cream and such is in the fridge.”

Blessedly, there’s heavy cream to be found, and soon he’s sipping from an enamel mug emblazoned with a UFO made of veggies. 

“Is this all for your job?” Barclay mentioned he was a cook during an icebreaker. 

“Yep. Way it works is I bust my ass baking once or twice a day, and Thacker, who works with Mama at the Lodge in town, comes and takes them over there. Normally I’d just be there but, well, y’know.”

“Everything is on fire? Figuratively, I mean.”

“Sometimes literally too, but yeah.”

As he’s turning to grab his clothes and head showerward, Barclay adds, “You a scone man, coffecake man, or a cinnamon roll man?”

“Coffeecake?” It comes out hesitant. 

“There’s no right answer, man.” Barclay sounds amused, “what do you want?”

“Cake, definitely.”

“Cool. I’ll save you a slice.”

Once he’s showered and on the wi-fi, his day runs like normal; one lecture, reading, a research paper, his initial half of their project, and working either his copy-editing or transcription job in between, and planning his next stream. Barclay comes and goes, stops now and then to see if he needs anything, leaves a sandwich in front of him around dinner time. Then it’s time to crawl under the covers and dream of a less-stressful world. 

The next day, just before one, Barclay taps him on the shoulder. 

“Ready for class?”

“Yes…” He gestures to his laptop and notebook. 

“C’mon, join me out here, it’s way nicer, and we can share the phone.”

“Barclay, it’s  a nonsensical way to attend class, just stay in here with me! Even this set-up has to be better than the woods.”

“This set up. You mean my house?” All the friendliness leaves hi voice. 

“Yes. Look, I agreed to come out because you’re right, if we want to ace this thing that’s worth sixty percent of our grade, this is the place to do it; I don’t have to go along with the whole self-sufficient woodsman aesthetic while I’m here. “

“Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty far from self-sufficient. See you in class.” 

Stern stews through the entire session, but where he’d usually find something Barclay says to latch onto, he instead gnaws on himself. Why didn’t he just go with him? Why snap at someone who’s been nothing but nice since he got here?

Whatever the answer, how can he fix it?

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

Barclay tromps back through the twilight, done with his second class of the day. If Joseph is in the main house, he plans to ignore him until tomorrow morning. That all goes out the window with the clank of dishes from the kitchen. 

Peering in reveals the other man bent over, pulling a casserole from the oven. He waits to announce his presence until Joseph is out of the danger zone, enjoying the view as he does. 

“Smells good.”

Blue eyes flick over to him as Joseph opens drawers, “it’s mostly cheese and chips, so I’m not surprised.”

“Servers are in that one.”

“Thank you. Nacho pie?” He scoops some into a bowl, holding it out. 

“Sure. Uh, look, Joseph I-”

Joseph holds up the server, “Wait. Before you apologize I, um, I wanted to say I’m sorry for my comments. And for being so...me-ish.” He sighs, staring at the utensil in his grip, “I’ve always been a little bit tense, tried to be polite and effective and friendly in spite of it. The last six months made that harder to do. I don’t love it when I can’t be organized, when normal systems go out of place. But that’s no excuse for being rude to you, even before you invited me here. You’re just so...you’re always so calm and relaxed, like nothing was wrong and I just honed in on that way more than made sense. I’m sorry.”

“If it makes you feel better, I kinda did the same thing. You’re always so put together, it looked like you had this organized life in the midst of this whole shitstorm. I feel lik everything is slipping away, like my world is just this cabin. I mean, I assumed you were seeing friends in the city, while I haven’t seen Mama in person since April. So” he sets the bowl down, rests his hand on Joseph’s shoulder, “I’m sorry too.”

Joseph laughs, softly, “turns out we both had failures of imagination, huh?”

“Yeah” he runs a hand over Joseph's back, “now come on, this dinner’s not gonna eat itself.”

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

“You sure you don’t wanna wear the bigfoot costume?”

“Positive. Besides, it suits you.” Joseph finishes styling the fur on the head of the costume to look more realistic, “I just hope we get this done before that storm comes in; as mush as the rain would add to the mood of the scene, that’ll be hell to dry and you’ll be miserable. So, go lurk over there while I finish up getting the camera settings where they need to be.”

“Yes sir” Barclay pops the head on, leaves crunching as moves to his appointed tree. He smiles as he watches Joseph fiddle with the camera; things have been so much better between them these last two weeks. They trade off cooking dinner, study side by side, and watch movies or play games in the warmth of the heater. They have a similar sense of humor and taste in books, and are tidy to boot.   Joseph’s even come with him to listen to lectures in the woods, the pair sharing a thermos of coffee under the astonished gaze of their classmates. There’s just one problem. 

Barclay’s buried crush is now blooming in every direction. Animated, argumentative Joseph was attractive. Joseph, in all his moods and mannerisms, is devastatingly enchanting. He’s come close to telling him this, but the other man is his guest and also only here for another two and a half weeks, so a confession is setting himself up for heartbreak at worst and awkwardness at best. 

He almost blew it last night when they were washing dishes (Joseph scrubs, Barclay dries and puts away). 

“Last one.”

“Thanks, blue eyes.”

“What was that?”

“Uh, blue eyes? Like a, uh, a nickname?”

Joseph laughs, “Sounds like something from a Raymond Chandler book. I like it.”

On the plus side, if Joseph thinks it’s just a nickname and not a pet name, maybe Barclay can keep using it.

“Are you ready?’

He sticks up a hairy thumb and calls, “you know it, blue eyes.”

That same laugh as Joseph takes up his position. Maybe it’s the weird film over the costume’s eyes, but Barclay swears he sees a blush.

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

Stern trawls through the search results. Their video is getting some traction, with two cryptid hunter sites claiming it’s credible footage. He’s making note of how the information spread, which threads lead to belief and which to doubt, when Barclay calls from upstairs. 

“Joseph? Little help?”

The other man is in the bathroom, and when Stern knocks he says, “Think the pilot light on the water heater went out again, all I’m getting is cold water. Can you go relight it?”

“Sure.” He gets to the stairs then, stops, “where’s the key to that closet?”

“Huh? Oh, shit, right, hang on” Barclay says at the same time as Stern’s “don’t worry, I can find it.” 

Which is why the instant he turns back into the bedroom is the same instant Barclay steps out of the bathroom, blue towel around his waist. 

Any blood that doesn’t head south goes instantly to Stern’s cheeks. 

“You okay there, blue-eyes?”

“It’s completely unfair how good you look without a shirt.”

He clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Idn’t ean to ay at out oud” The mumbled explanation makes Barclay smirk. 

“You like this, should see what’s under the towel.”

The unusually bold statement from Barclay kindles his own confidence.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, big guy.”

“Who says I won’t.” Barclay sits down on the edge of the bed, nonchalant and leaning back on his hands, “got plenty of time to make good on them.”

“We literally don’t. I go back in a week and two days.”

Barclay toys with the lint on the towel, “you could stay. Through break, through next semester, for however long you wanted.”

“Do you mean that?”

A shy nod, “I like having you around, Joseph. Even beyond the huge fucking crush I have on you I...everything is a little better when you’re around.”

“I, um, I guess it could work. We know next semester is online too, and so is work, so…” there must be variables missing, something he’s not seeing, some reason this is too good to be true.

“You want some space away from shirtless me to think about it?”

“That’d be great.”

Barclay stands, hesitates, then plants a quick kiss on his forehead, “take all the time you need, blue eyes.”

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

Private Chat log 1/11/2021

Barclay (he/him): Did you see the look on Duck’s face when we turned up in frame together. 

Joseph (he/him): Yes. Pretty sure Aubrey yelled something about him needing to pay up. I wonder what the bet was. 

Barclay (he/him): Whatever it was, pretty sure I came out the biggest winner. 

Stern snorts, trying not to blush on camera, and leans over to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. 

[riversofmars]

Hello Fam! Time for another update on this epic, we're heading for a big confrontation!! Thank you everyone so much for your lovely comments <3 Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Familiar Faces

Edinburgh, 2021

“He’s due to give an address right now, should finish soon.“ Jack explained as they walked up to the convention centre.

“Let’s hope it goes differently to the last one…“ Ryan winced at the memory of it. They had very nearly all been turned into braindead data storage.

“Martha and Gwen will be in the auditorium, Mickey and I will stay outside, we've got you backstage passes.“ He handed them lanyards with laminated passes. They would get them through some doors, though perhaps not all of them. “You approach him after the speech, push his buttons.“

“That should not be difficult.“ Graham said, which was a fair assumption. They had no way of knowing how he would respond to seeing them again but it wouldn’t be pleasant. They had been surprised to find he was even still giving speeches. His spin doctors had had a tough time explaining everything away as a media stunt but that was a while ago now, and VOR still held a ridiculous amount of power in the world.

“We got you covered.“ Jack reassured them. “Just stay in contact.“ He tapped his ear to remind them of the surveillance equipment they were wearing.

“He’s just wrapping up, better get in here.“ Gwen’s voice came over the radio and they nodded.

“Let’s do this.“ Graham agreed and Ryan answered Gwen:

“We’re on our way.“

“Good men!“ Jack grinned. “We will make Torchwood agents of you yet!“

——

Demon’s Run, 52nd Century

“Keep running scans.“ Vastra advised Dorium over the intercom as they made their way to the airlock one deck below the bridge. They had found a good spot underneath the asteroid, where they could access a seemingly empty section of the space station.

“They haven’t detected us yet, no life signs anywhere nearby.“ Dorium reported. He had remained back on the bridge and Yaz couldn’t be persuaded to stay behind this time around. There would be no need to operate a teleport so Vastra’s excuses didn’t work. She had given in eventually.

“Mr. Strax, if you please.“ Vastra nodded towards the airlock as the others kept back.

“With pleasure.“ Strax grinned and engaged his helmet. He stepped on the other side of the heavy door and the airlock closed. It was hard to make out what was happening through the small window in the door but they gathered around to watch their friend. Strax attached himself to a tether so he wouldn’t be dragged into space as the airlock opened into space on the other side. He leaned out and with two precise shots of his rifle he took out the force field generators that powered the shields in this section. There was a gap between the ship and the space station as there was no docking bay on the other side but they had no need for it. Not when Strax threw a small grenade across the distance to the metal hull of the space station. The explosion wasn’t particularly loud as it wasn’t about the force of it, but it was big enough to douse the area in powerful acid. Strax gave them a thumbs up, and Vastra and Jenny returned the gesture.

“He’s not been as happy as this in months.“ Jenny observed with a chuckle as they watched Strax wheel out an air corridor towards the hull breach on the other side.

“Very efficient.“ Yaz commented, impressed at the effectiveness of the plan. She could only assume that this was something Sontarans were very good at.

“I have no idea what we’re going to find when we get onto that space station.“ Vastra turned to Yaz, making sure she understood what she was letting herself in for. She would much rather she stayed behind but Yaz wasn’t having it.

“Hopefully we will find the Thirteen and work out what they’re up to and save the Professor. Easy, right?“ Yaz asked and checked the charge pack on the blaster Strax has supplied her with.

“Sounds about right.“ Jenny smiled and looked to her wife with a proud smile, Yaz had certainly found a firm place amongst them.

“Keep your guard up, don’t do anything stupid, we can’t take any risks with the professor’s consciousness at stake.“ Vastra implored them as she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. The airlock opened, safe to cross, as Strax waited for them on the other side, rifle at the ready.

——

Edinburgh, 2021

“Sorry, we’re looking for Mr. Barton, he should have finished his address by now?“ Ryan stepped up to a porter, flashing his ID.

“Backstage area is through there.“ The young man gestured to a door at the far side of the room. “I’m not sure he’s keen on visitors though…“ He frowned.

“He’ll make an exception for us, old friends.“ Graham smiled and before the porter could protest, they marched to the door.

“We’re backstage.“ Ryan informed the others on the radio as they made their way through a long corridor, the hustle and bustle of the main area falling away.

“Here we go…“ Graham elbowed his grandson, spotting Barton up ahead. “Mr. Barton!“ He called out, and they picked up the pace before he could disappear into a dressing room.

“Oh no…“ Barton recognised them immediately.

“Long time no see. Sorry, didn’t catch the speech, fascinating I’m sure.“ Graham said a little out of breath as they came to a halt in front of him, baring his way.

“Who let you in here?“ Barton asked curtly, then called: “SECURITY!“

“Nah, we got backstage passes, mate, it’s all good.“ Ryan grinned holding up his lanyard. “Surprised they’re letting you out in public again after what happened last time.“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ Barton tried to push past them but they wouldn’t let him.

“Sure you do.“ Graham said. “What have you been up to lately? 'Cause there’s some really weird stuff going on, people being experimented upon, people dying? Sound like someone you know?“

“SECURITY?“ Barton called again and this time two burly looking men came stalking down the corridor. “Get these men out of here.“ The VOR founder gestured to them.

“Sorry, actually, we’re Scotland Yard.“ Ryan announced and pulled his psychic paper from his pocket, flicking it at the security officers as he’d seen the Doctor do so often. “This is a homicide investigation.“

“You’re not Scotland Yard, you’re…“ Barton started to protest but Graham held his psychic paper out to him in turn.

“Check the paper, Mate.“ He grinned and the security officers kept their distance, unsure of what to do.

“Fine, I’ll be going then.“ Barton snapped. “Have my car brought around!“ He shouted to the security guards and started back in the direction he’d come from. His men hurried after him.

“He’s on his way out.“ Ryan tapped his ear to give the other’s the heads up. “We will have a look around his dressing room.“

“Well done, we got it from here.“ Jack’s voice came through the radio, and Ryan and Graham high-fived before walking into the dressing room.

——

Demon’s Run, 52nd Century

“This way.“ Jenny indicated for them to turn right. She was holding a scanner, charting the way up ahead.

“It’s eerily quiet…“ Yaz observed looking around. They hadn’t encountered anyone yet.

“This place is big, fifty people would barely fill a deck…“ Vastra mused but she had to agree, she didn’t like the quiet either.

“They seem to be gathered on the main deck…“ Jenny explained, interpreting the scanner readings.

“Then that’s where we’re heading.“ Vastra decided. It was their best bet.

“Right into the lion’s mouth for glorious battle.“ Strax sounded extremely pleased with the course of action.

“It’s our best chance of finding the Thirteen and in turn, Professor Song…“ Vastra explained upon seeing Yaz’s doubtful expression.

“Do you not think it’s strange?“ Yaz asked as it wasn’t the direction she was unsure about.

“What is?“ Jenny retorted.

“That no-one had noticed us yet…“ Yaz looked around the empty corridors. “I mean, I know this place is big but Strax knocked through their shields… punched a hole in their wall… loss of air pressure, surely they should have had alarms for those things…“ She carried on explaining, and none of them could argue.

“The lad is right, it’s too easy.“ Strax grinned excited at the prospect of a dangerous situation.

“All we can do is be on guard, we will have to face them eventually, whether it’s with the element of surprise or not.“ Vastra decided that it was too late to worry about it now. They were all more than capable of defending themselves, they would be fine. “Now, which way to the main deck?“

——

Glasgow, 2021

“His car is being brought around.“ Jack’s voice filled the Torchwood Two hub where Kate and the Osgoods were watching a video feed of what Jack and Mickey were seeing. “He’s taking off…“ Jack carried on and they watched Barton head towards a black car. “And he’s making a phone call!“

“See if you can get a trace on that call.“ Kate turned to the Osgoods who were already working the controls. One was zooming in on Barton while the other attempted to hack the phone call.

“Yes, Ma’am.“ They retorted in unison and there was a crackling noise until finally Barton’s voice echoed through the hub:

“I thought you said there was no way of things getting back to me.“ Barton was growling while slamming the door shut on his car.

“What are you talking about, Mr. Barton.“ The voice on the other end of the call was male, and none of them recognised them.

“The Doctor! Her friends are here, asking all sorts of questions. Now, I have no idea what exactly you’re doing and frankly I don’t want to know. Plausible deniability, do you even know what that is?“ Barton barked, clearly unsettled. They had done a good job of rattling him. “Do not contact me until you have results. You have your resources, the facilities, everything else is up to you!“

“Get a tracker on that car!“ Kate instructed quickly as the car started up and Mickey was quick to shoot a transponder to the back of it as it was driving off.

“What did they say?“ The voice of Barton’s contact was still loud and clear in the Torchwood hub.

“What?“ Barton snapped back.

“The Doctor’s friends, what did they say?“ The other man pressed on.

“They know about the experiments.“ Barton growled, his voice low and angry.

“Is that all?“

“I didn't exactly stop to chat.“ Barton sounded exasperated now. “Don’t contact me until you’re ready.“ The call ended abruptly without another response from the other side.

——

Demon’s Run, 52nd Century

“What’s that noise?“ Strax stopped dead in his tracks and the others halted as well, nearly running into him.

“Oh yeah, I can hear it, too.“ Jenny agreed listening out. There was a faint clicking noise, like bottle caps being opened somewhere far off.

“Let’s move along, I don’t have a good feeling about this…“ Vastra urged them on, looking up and down the corridor. Something wasn’t right. There was a change in the air, it suddenly grew stale and heavy. “The air circulation…“ Vastra realised what it was and glanced anxiously ahead to the end of the corridor where a large bulkhead was just rolling shut.

“What’s happening?“ Yaz asked, unsettled by the sudden stillness around them.

“Run. To the bulkhead, we need to open it up!“ Vastra exclaimed, they didn’t have a moment to lose and without questions that would have delayed them, they sprinted forward. An ear piercing alarm sounded and emergency lights started flashing along their way.

“Evacuate this section, the deck will be vented in t-minus two minutes.“ A computer voice announced across the intercom.

“The bulkhead is sealed shut.“ Jenny announced and Strax took a couple of shots at it for good measure. It didn’t budge.

“What’s happening?“ Yaz asked.

“They’re about to vent this entire section into space.“ Vastra explained quickly. “We need to get out of here, otherwise we will be sucked into the vacuum.“

“Well, well, well, what have we here, uninvited guests.“ A voice boomed over the intercom.

“I know that voice…“ Yaz breathed in disbelief, shuddering involuntarily. They all looked around. Yaz was first to spot the camera directed at the bulkhead they were standing in front of.

“The Doctor’s merry men, I presume? Or merry women? He does like to surround himself with the fairer sex, doesn’t he. No, offence, Sontaran.“ The voice carried on with some amusement. “Is he here, too? Oh I really hope he is…“

“It’s the Master.“ Yaz exclaimed, shaking off the initial shock.

“What?“ Vastra frowned as they all looked to Yaz in surprise. The Master was the last person they would have expected to find here. They had presumed him to be on Gallifrey still. Perhaps Dorium’s memory of who had saved him from the Transept had been correct and it had been the Master after all.

“I’d know that voice anywhere, it’s him alright!“ Yaz squared her jaw.

“Is he working with the Thirteen?“ Jenny asked and Vastra replied:

“Wouldn’t surprise me.“

“Now, would you stop talking, that’s just plain rude! Did you really think you could break in and no-one would notice you?“ The voice boomed across the speakers again, he seemed to be able to hear them.

“Kill them now! I want to see them floating through the airlock.“ There was another voice too.

“Patience, the countdown is so much more dramatic. Also, I have questions! How did you find us? Why are you here? And where is the Doctor?“ The first voice carried on.

“The Doctor knows we’re here!“ Yaz exclaimed. It was a bluff of course but perhaps it would make him think twice about killing them.

“Release Professor Song to us!“ Vastra demanded turning glaring at the surveillance camera to whoever was sitting on the other side of it.

“The only thing I’m going to release is you… into space.“ The voice snickered in amusement.

“Ma’am.“ Jenny mumbled, catching her wife’s attention and Vastra looked around, following her wife’s eyes to a maintenance panel on the wall. Yaz noticed it too and without a moment’s hesitation, she raised her gun and shot the surveillance camera above their heads.

“Now that’s not very nice of you!“ The voice snarled.

“Quickly now!“ Vastra urged and Jenny quickly pushed her sword behind the panelling to wedge it open.

“Whatever you’re planning, it won’t work!“ The voice carried on. “You will be dead in a few minutes!“

“Get in!“ Vastra gave her wife a leg up to the maintenance shaft. Strax refused her help and launched himself up with surprising force, nearly getting stuck in the small shaft but Yaz, who followed after, pushed him on.

“Fine, let’s get this over with, if you’re not going to play…“ The air was sucked out of the corridor and Vastra gasped, grabbing hold of the edge of the shaft as the force of the outside vacuum tried to rip her away. Yaz was quick to grab her arms and pull her inside as the air continued to get sucked out. Vastra turned quickly and closed the panel, keeping the vacuum at bay for the time being.

“That was close…“ Yaz leaned against the side of the shaft to catch her breath. It was wide enough to move around in and turn but only if they stayed crouched down.

“We have to be careful now that they know we’re here. We have to find the Professor and quickly.“ Vastra said as they climbed along the shaft. “Chances are, the Thirteen will have the data stick, or whatever he’s using to store her consciousness, with him…“

“You’re sure that was the Master, Yaz?“ Jenny asked, looking behind herself to make sure the others were close behind.

“I’d know that voice anywhere.“ Yaz nodded.

“Then we are facing even greater odds than anticipated.“ Vastra mused, concerned. Perhaps they were out of their depth without the Doctor with them, particularly now that they had lost the element of surprise.

“It will be a glorious battle. I’ve not had as much fun as this in years!“ Strax didn’t seem to mind at all and Yaz nearly bumped into him when he stopped crawling as Jenny had done up ahead.

“Which way?“ Jenny asked, as the shaft split in two directions.

“We ought to split up, cover more ground. We will be harder to track that way as well.“ Vastra said after brief consideration. “Jenny, you and Strax go left, Yaz and I will go right.“ She decided.

“Are you sure about that?“ Jenny asked, sounding insecure for a moment as Strax moved to her side and allowed Yaz and Vastra to pass through to the right.

“It will be fine, my love.“ Vastra gave her wife a soft smile and reached for her hand. “We will rendezvous back at the ship. If you run into trouble, just get back there.“ She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Okay.“ Jenny smiled, gathering her courage. “Be careful.“ She gave her wife a stern look, and Vastra nodded.

“Come on, lad!“ Strax called out, already halfway down the left hand shaft.

“Look after her, Strax.“ Vastra called after him and got a “Yes Ma’am…“ for an answer.

“More like, I look after him.“ Jenny chuckled. “You be careful too, both of you.

——

Demon’s Run Holding Cells, 52nd Century

“The Doctor’s merry men, I presume? Or merry women? He does like to surround himself with the fairer sex, doesn’t he. No, offence, Sontaran.“ The Thirteen’s voice carried through all of Demon’s Run, echoing through empty corridors and to the cell River was being held in. “Is he here too? Oh I really hope he is…“

River tried her best to stay calm, not get her hopes up but there were only so many people she could think of that would steal aboard Demon’s Run with a Sontaran in tow. Someone had noticed that she had been taken from the Library, and they were coming for her, they had to be. He had to be.

“I wouldn't get my hopes up. We’re just venting the entire section into space.“ Kovarian snarled, stepping up to the forcefield that kept them separate.

River hugged her son to her chest, running her fingers through his short fluffy curls that had grown a little longer since she had last seen him. They must have taken him maybe a couple of weeks after she had dropped him off at Paternoster Row, and now it seemed her dear friends had come to their rescue.

“Do you think Daddy might be coming to get us out of here?“ She hummed to the infant and pressed a kiss to his head. “He’s going to be terribly cross when he finds out about you… but not as cross as he’s going to be with them .“

“The Doctor isn’t here.“ Kovarian retorted and River gave her a condescending smile.

“As far as you know.“ She retorted, returning her attention to her son. She had missed him so much. She had had no idea of the danger he had been in, but for now, she was just grateful to have him back in her arms. Her time in the Library had felt like an eternity and she had missed him every second of it.

Kovarian turned away from the cell and pressed her hand to her ear, seemingly receiving a message.

“I’m on my way.“ She announced and turned back to River. “Don’t go anywhere, Melody, dear. Not that you could.“ She snarled and River smirked.

“Better run and hide, Madame Kovarian. A storm is coming for you.“ River stepped up close to the forcefield, regarding the other woman with nothing but distaste and pity. “There are no Gods, no force in the universe, that will save you when my husband finds out what you’ve done.“

Kovarian lingered for a moment, seemingly considering her response. River was sure there was a little bit of something in her eye, the one without the eye drive anyway. Something akin to a flicker of fear. Kovarian turned and marched away without another word before River had the chance to point it out.

“Right then, dear, time for mummy to get to work.“ River hummed when Kovarian had departed and she walked up to where the control panel for the force field was. “Your daddy is good but so am I, let’s make our own way…“

——

Demon’s Run Main Hanger, 52nd Century

“Ah, there we are…“ The Master stepped out of the TARDIS first upon the Doctor’s request, just in case he was taking them somewhere dangerous on purpose. He knocked against a large computer console and the Doctor realised immediately that it was a TARDIS with a functioning chameleon circuit.

“I know this place…“ The Doctor realised as she looked away from the TARDIS at the surrounding area and a feeling of overwhelming dread took hold of her.

“Oh?“ The Master looked around as well but waited for her explanation.

“This is Demon’s Run.“ The Doctor said and she was sure of it. The battle of Demon’s Run still stuck in her bones despite numerous regenerations.

“Oh I see, I’ve never been but I heard it was quite the party.“ The Master pushed his hands into his pockets as he had a look around. “Where is everyone?“ He asked, then called: “HELLO! ANYONE HOME?“

“Will you shut up?!“ The Doctor slapped her hand to his mouth, shutting him up. “We have the element of surprise here!“

“You really don’t, you know.“ A voice called from the other end of the hanger.

“What…“ The Doctor was at a loss for words. She looked to the Master next to her, then back to the person advancing towards them. Same frame, same dark hair, same face. They even wore the same purple suit.

“Now this is a surprise.“ The other man grinned, proving that their voice was the same too.

“Maybe you were right, Doctor, maybe I’m not as innocent as I anticipated.“ The Master hummed, sounding intrigued as he sized up the man in front of them who, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be him. “Now, my loyalties might get a little… conflicted.“

The same mad smirk played on both their faces as the Doctor stood stunned, looking in between the two Masters.