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bucky-at-bedtime · 3 years

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Stucky Fic Recs

So basically I went through all of my ao3 bookmarks and collated a list of some of my favourites (I couldn't fit all of them on this list, so if anyone shows interest there might be a part two).

Please read tags and descriptions of the works before reading, some of them are pretty dark or extremely horny so just make sure you check that the fic is for you!!

Please please please send me your favourite fics in return! I am always happy to hear fic recs, headcanons and any other ideas/comments you all have!

Without any further ado, here are a few of my favourite Stucky fics:

‘Not Easily Conquered’ series by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFear

Rating: M, Words: 117,692

https://archiveofourown.org/series/115516

“I told you, you heard me: I told you never to follow me into Hell. Now I’m not vain enough to think that’s why you’re out here now — if there’s any person in what’s left of this God forsaken planet who’s part of a bigger picture, it’d be you. But I’ll keep saying it until it sticks. You got nothing to prove. I’m not worth much, I damn well know that, but I’ll ask you anyway: Stay for me. If you leave me alone in this world I’ll turn into something terrible. I’ll turn into the nasty creature that’s growing inside me. This war, it’ll swallow me whole”

[To me, this fic is like the classic Stucky 101 fanfic – if you're a Stucky fan and you haven't read this, I highly recommend it. The authors explore the Steve/Bucky relationship in such an interesting, tragic, emotive way and I cry every time I read it. I couldn't praise this work enough.]

‘Ain’t No Grave’ series by spitandvinegar

Rating: M-E, Words: 131,789

https://archiveofourown.org/series/426577

"Yeah, he never calls me by my name," Steve says. "It's always champ, ace, hotshot, that kinda thing."

"Man, that is flirting," Sam says. "That nicknames thing, he is flirting with you. He's just working his way up to calling you baby or something."

Steve goes redder than a damn coke can. Sam pumps his fist. "Yes, I am so right, I am wise as hell. He did, didn't he?"

"He called me sweetheart," Steve says grimly, "because he's a drug addict with brain damage."

"Or because he looooooves you," Sam says. Captain America throws a cookie at his head. Sam eats it, because he deserves a treat for being so damn wise.”

[I'm currently re-reading this fic and absolutely loving it. The way spitandvinegar writes Bucky's road towards recovery and Steve's entire characterisation – it's all just so good. It's another one that covers some pretty dark themes, so make sure you're checkin those tags!]

'Einherjar' by thecommodore_squid

Rating: M, Words: 71297

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157024/chapters/16249814

But Steve was fine.

Sure, he hadn’t seen Bucky in months, and sometimes he was at the punching bag so long that his skin started to peel off to expose the bones of his fingers, and sometimes he couldn’t find the energy to drag himself out of bed, and sometimes he went weeks without sleeping, and sometimes he thought about throwing himself head-first off the nearest tall structure, but he was fine.

He was absolutely, perfectly, one-hundred percent, fucking fine.

AKA In which Steve learns how to deal with his shit, and Bucky learns how to stop leaving.

[basically the definition of a recovery fic, I absolutely adore it. This is tragic and amazing and makes me cry and smile. It’s got a bunch of fantastic cameos and It really just ticks so many of my boxes.]

‘Like real People do’ by 2bestfriends

Rating: E, Words: 67,775

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887376/chapters/47103217

“"Ask me what?" demands Bucky. "I didn't hear a question."

Steve licks his lips. "Will you stay with me? Will you come back home, Buck?"

"Home," repeats Bucky in a small voice, and then he's crying for real.”

[Basically soft lumberjack!steve and lonely twink!bucky being horny and in love. This is a comfort fic for that’s really just about my favourite boys falling in love.]

‘This City Bleeds it’s Aching Heart’ by anonymous

Rating: E, Words: 34,537

https://archiveofourown.org/works/835829/chapters/1591736

“The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.”

[The plot in this one is just a good time and i think it’s just a really fun take on the fake relationship trope. Also some really great characterisation.]

‘Home is Wherever I’m With You’ by cydonic

Rating: E, Words: 88,570

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868081/chapters/44783077

“Bucky kisses Steve and Emma goodbye before they leave for school, which is why – partway down the road – Amelia turns to him and asks, “why are you and Daddy kissing?”

Which is definitely a conversation Bucky’s been expecting since Steve just did it, but it still takes him by surprise. Again, he thinks he should wait for Steve, but Amelia’s not the sort of kid to let anything rest. Plus, Bucky’s taking her to school where she will undoubtedly share the story with anyone who’ll listen.

He also stops to think that Steve’s asked him to stay, which means Bucky must be trusted with their happiness and well-being, at least in some small capacity.

Bucky clears his throat and searches for some explanation that will help Amelia make sense of this sudden turn of events. “Because we love each other,” is all he comes up with.”

[Bear with me, this is a House Flipper!Bucky Au. And dad!Steve. I just love a found family trope I’m not gonna lie to you. Another comfort fic that warms my lil heart.]

‘Lucky Seven’ by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves)

Rating: E, Words: 94,364

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033105/chapters/16002481

“Back from where--?” James says, the sentence ending in a distinctly undignified squawk as Steve sweeps him up in his arms, bridal-style, and starts carrying him upstairs.

James tenses momentarily then relaxes into Steve's arms and throws back his head and starts laughing. The laughter peals out of him, his body shaking, his amusement occasionally broken by little gasps of pain.

“What's so funny?” Steve frowns.

“You are,” James says, still giggling. “You're ridiculous, Steve Rogers.”

“Behave. Or I will drop you,” Steve growls.

[The shrunkyclunks modern AU of my dreams featuring Mechanic!Bucky and cap!Steve and some really beautiful writing.]

'Dishonor On Your Cow' by mandarou

Rating: E, Words: 111695

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659162/chapters/23589582

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Oh, hell no, don’t call him that, man,” Sam warned.

“Captain Fuck Off!” Barnes shouted over him. “Fight me!”

Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or just slink away. He managed to combine the two by pacing two steps and snorting instead. Like a bull.

“I’m gonna need you to calm your ass, Barnes,” Sam said as he went limp again, obstructing Barnes’s struggling under him. “This is so undignified. That is Captain goddamn America.”

“Captain goddamn America!” Barnes repeated, louder. And angrier.

Steve cleared his throat again. “I’ve been looking for you,” he told Barnes.

“I hope you brought lube this time!” Barnes shouted.

[I’m not gonna lie it took me a minute to get into this one but by the end I was crying with them, laughing with them, and just really in my feels. Some very insane things happen so here’s a few of my favourite tags: ‘Seargent Barnes is done with your Shit Steve’, ‘blatant disrespect of a man’s motorcycle’, ‘Steve you ding dong’ and ‘PR nightmares in the form of Supersoldiers’.]

Propietary Information by Notlucy

Rating: E, Words: 85141

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964402/chapters/27054777

“Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.”

[We were never gonna get through this list without a Sugar Daddy!AU (I have a weakness). This one is… saucy and sexy and sweet and uh pretty kinky so read the tags and all. I’ve read it a few times, and I love the way the author has written Steve in this one, he just makes my heart go '!!!']

‘Roots Have Grown’ by AustinB

Rating: M, Words: 17280

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912451/chapters/15767941

“Bucky is a mildly agoraphobic veteran with funds to spare, who becomes enamored with the cute blonde guy in his building.

So when Steve mentions needing a roommate to cut down on rent costs, Bucky decides it would be a good idea to volunteer.”

[Another weakness of mine is Roommate AUs, and this one is phenomenal. I tend to go for post serum!Steve stories more often, but this is a pre-serum Steve that I just adore.]

‘The Cold Never Bothered me Anyway’ by icoulddothisallday

Rating: E, Words:75562

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728869/chapters/26425530

“Bucky Barnes has spent his whole life in a state of mild hypothermia. Steve Rogers has spent the last 70 years in the ice. The two things aren’t related until, suddenly, they are. Shrunkyclunks soulmate AU (AKA the awkward bb au).”

[I think this is the only soulmate AU in my bookmarks? I would totally be down to read more though! This one is really fun and really enjoy Bucky’s characterisation here!]

'War, Children' by Nonymos

Rating: E, Words: 106615

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373050/chapters/12409394

“After Bucky was released from the hospital, it only took him a couple of weeks to give up on himself. Difficult to believe in any kind of future when the simple act of staying alive was almost too big an effort.

Out the frosted window, across the street, there was a tiny homeless guy burrowing under an awning.”

[An interesting exploration of Bucky’s PTSD with a trans!Steve which was a cool take on his character too!]

'The Company You Keep' by orbingarrow

Rating: G, Words: 51191

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468605/chapters/7613072

“Hurt, hungry, and on the run, the Winter Soldier doesn’t have a lot of safe options to go to for help. Figuring that any friend of Captain Steve Rogers is unlikely to be HYDRA, Bucky takes a chance and reaches out to the first Avenger he can find.

It works out better than anyone could have expected. Eventually.”

[hurt/comfort, recovering Bucky, protective Steve, found family and domestic avengers, need I say more? I absolutely loved this one]

#stucky #stucky fics #stucky fic recs #fic rec

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meltwonu · 3 years

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| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 17]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, intercrural sex, lots ‘o teasing, dirty talk/the absolute tiniest bit of degradation, some cum play/cum eating, seungcheol having a kink for thighs/thigh highs 😳😗 welcome to the weekend my bbys!! I hope yall are having a good day/night!! Also again, another inbox roundup tomorrow(also an updates post)!! 💕 Might be a regular thing for the next 4-ish weeks ‘cause I have been so busy this month 😭 and I can’t believe there’s only 3 more chapters of CB left!! 😭😭 some bangers on the way tho LMAO 🤣 As always, thank you so much for the love and support!!💕💕 Have a great rest of your weekend and enjoy ch 17![cheol voice] seventeen right here 😌💕🍒

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - x - x - x

Seungcheol doubles over in laughter, tears blurring his vision as his laughs turn into quiet wheezes.

“God, this is so embarrassing.” Seokmin mutters; cheeks burning crimson when he glances over to Jeongguk who shrugs back. “Maybe I really should quit…”

Jeongguk scoffs jokingly, “Maybe you shouldn’t have lied. No offense, but all the staff here probably have at least seen her before and you just so happened to lie to her actual boyfriend. That’s honestly really lucky if you ask me! You should buy a lotto ticket!” Seokmin whines back, shifting on his heels as he watches Seungcheol start to wipe the tears away.

“Hyung, can you please take this Edible Arrangements I got you so I can go ask Namjoon-hyung to fire me?” This only causes Seungcheol to laugh harder and this time, Jeongguk can’t help the giggle that bubbles past his tightly pursed lips.

“Please!” Seokmin begs, shaking the basket of skewered fruit at the older male. “I heard the diner across down is still hiring, I can still save the rest of my dignity if I leave now!”

Seungcheol shakes his head, eyelashes wet with tears when he takes the gift from Seokmin’s hands to place it on the countertop of the concession stand. “Hate to break it to you but she works there and one of the staff is also one of her regulars so I think your best bet is workin’ here. Embarrassment and all.”

“So, okay… But you’re not mad?”

Jeongguk peels the cellophane off of the basketed fruit, looking to Seungcheol for permission before he takes a skewer. “Go ahead. And no, I’m not mad. If anything I should apologize too, I shouldn’t have let you keep lying when I already knew. But also, to be fair, we weren’t really… official ‘til recently.” Seungcheol shoots the younger male a sheepish smile; cheeks a pretty pink of their own. “And it’s kinda been nice meeting you guys too. It’s great to know you’re not all weirdos.”

Seokmin laughs lightly, breathing a sigh of relief. “Okay, cool, ‘cause this place pays really well and I’d hate to stop working here and you guys are a lot cooler than the coworkers I had before.” He rolls his eyes jokingly, leaning up against the countertop as he picks off a strawberry from the basket.

“Don’t even get me started on this coworker I had at the last place. His name was Mingyu, I think? Suuuuuch a kissass. I had to move to manning the register at all times just so I could avoid him pickin’ his nose in the backroom and then pretending like he was doin’ shit.”

“Hey, Seungcheol-hyung?”

Seokmin’s inquisitive voice has Seungcheol turning; setting the rollerskates in his hand down onto the bench. “Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s weird that we’re, like, watching your girlfriend?” He tilts his head in thought, eyes blinking up to the ceiling. “I don’t want to overstep or something if it’s weird, y’know? I’ve been thinking about what Jeongguk said earlier...”

Seungcheol grins back at him, eyes twinking. He’d also thought about that before too, when he first found out that Jeongguk had also watched your streams.

“I don’t really mind ‘cause at the end of the day, it’s you watching me fucking my girlfriend.”

“Well, I’m glad he took it… well?” You giggle, tugging the white thigh high up your leg.

Seungcheol pulls off his shirt as he sits on the edge of the bed; tossing the wrinkled material onto the floor as he laughs under his breath.

“He did give me an Edible Arrangements while I laughed so hard I cried. I think he’s learned his lesson.”

xcaliburDK: good news, i didnt quit!!

chwenon: i was gonna say

chwenon: u literally started like last week

universe_WZ has donated $75

angelhan has donated $75

therealchan99 has donated $50

therealchan99: u look rly pretty in ur white set!!!

“Aww, thank you! It’s one of my favorites~ And ‘xcaliburDK’, I’m glad you didn’t quit!” You wink at the camera, giggling softly in Seungcheol’s lap as he peppers kisses along your shoulder.

A shiver runs up your spine at his gentle touches and you easily melt under his soft kisses and roaming fingertips. He ghosts them across your breasts, teasing you through the thin lace as you mewl and squirm against his cock that’s pressed firm against your ass. “A-ah, S--Seungcheol…”

tangerine_kwan: she looks so happy now that she can call ur name out lol

alphagyu97: now i cant pretend its me tho

gentleman_josh95: i mean i guess but are u even built like him

alphagyu97: well

Your body slowly starts to fill with warmth; soft stuttered breaths falling from your lips when he drags his fingers down your torso until they play with the hem of your panties. “M-more… tease me m-more…” He grins against your shoulder; hooking a finger around the waistband of your panties and tugging it away from you before letting it snap against your skin.

“‘Cheol!” Whining, your legs snap shut on impulse as you feel a gush of wetness soaking into your panties.

“Ah, ah, ah, part those legs, princess. Don’t make me have to punish you.”

kitty_junjun: no thats what the shibari stream is for right? Right? 😩

artist8hao: is that really happening bc i want to see it

alphagyu97: u guys should do it and think of it as like a rebrand of the channel ykwim

hoshi_tiger_xx: jdfkjhf like a grand re-opening under new management

therealchan99: what is this, a restaurant?

chwenon: u guys should come up with a new channel name too or sth

Seungcheol manages to read off a few of their comments; committing some to memory knowing that your eyes were still sealed shut as you focused on his soft touches.

He drags his fingers down further, humming when he can already feel how wet you were getting. “Hmm~ Already soaked through your pretty panties, baby~” Your head rolls back against his shoulder, nodding gently as you start to grind against the fingers that he uses to press into your clothed, wet folds.

“F-feels good w-when you, ah, t-tease me…”

Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol smirks, eyes twinkling at the camera. “You really like it, huh? When I just touch you gently like this. Not enough to get you off but just enough to get you soaking wet until you’re begging for my cock.” He pauses; pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “I wanna try something with you, pretty baby~”

You gulp as you raise your head from his shoulder and he retracts his hands from your body as you shift your body and slightly turn to the side to face him.

Seungcheol’s eyes are blown wide with lust and you can already feel his cock throbbing against your lower back as he smiles dreamily at you.

“I think you’ll like it too.”

A stuttered moan falls from your lips as Seungcheol’s cock slides past your tightly clasped, yet shaky, thighs.

“O-oh, ‘Cheol, this--this is…” The words die on your tongue as your head falls forward and Seungcheol is quick to reprimand you, just as he draws his hips back.

“Baby, I want you to watch yourself on the screen. I want you to see your cute face while I tease your pretty body.” He moans; thrusting between your wet thighs as your hazy eyes peer at the laptop’s screen. Your lips are swollen and your pupils are blown wide when you catch yourself and you can see the head of Seungcheol’s cock only just breaching past your clamped thighs when he thrusts forward.

You let out a guttural moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he alternates between thrusting between your thighs and letting his cock slide against your soaked, panty-clad mound.

He hadn’t bothered to undress you at all, but you didn’t mind. The material of your panties only added onto the pleasure with every drag of his cock against you.

Seungcheol teases you even more; dragging his hands down to your thigh highs and letting his fingertips play right underneath the hems before pulling the material away from your thighs and letting them snap against your skin, much like he’d done with your panties.

“Ah, fuck, m-more! P-please…” He repeats the action a few more times, playing with the sheer fabric of your thigh highs before he draws his hips back. Except this time, when you expect him to thrust back between your legs, he wraps a hand around his cock instead, guiding himself until the head of his cock is rubbing up against the sheer fabric.

“Fuck, you’d look so pretty with cum all over your pretty thighs. I should cum all over your panties and your white ‘lil thigh highs and get them all soaked. Don’t you think they’d be cute? Sticking to you like a second skin? Translucent ‘n soaked through with my cum?” He laughs under his breath, watching through the laptop screen at the way you bite your lip and furrow your brows at the thought.

“I--I want t-that… I want S--Seungcheol t-to make, ngh, a m-mess…”

angelhan: i kno we say this all the time but can u upload some pics of that later

angelhan has donated $75

universe_WZ: seconded cuz thatd look so fuckin hot

universe_WZ has donated $50

alphagyu97 has donated $75

alphagyu97: fuck, like a lil angel covered in cum

Seungcheol teases you and himself at the same time; rubbing his cock against your fabric-clad thighs. He spreads precum onto the material, licking his lips when it already becomes translucent and sticks to your skin.

He positions his cock back between your thighs once he’s had his fill and quickly finds himself doubling his pace when he sees how wet you’re getting his cock without even having taken your panties off. “God, look at you. I don’t even need to fuck you to get you this wet. You just need to rub your ‘lil cunt against my cock and it’s enough for you, huh? I should make you sit on my lap, rub your pretty ‘lil pussy on my cock ‘til you’re cumming over and over again.”

“Ngh, yes! Fuck, Seungcheol! I--I can feel your c-cock throbbing between my l-legs… Please, please c-cum, mmh, all over my s-skin…”

“That’s right, baby. So fuckin’ desperate to be covered in it too. And always so fuckin’ pretty when you are.”

You let out a whimper as you try to focus on watching yourself just like Seungcheol had asked you to. Your lips are parted in soft breaths and you can’t seem to unfurrow your brows as Seungcheol chases his pleasure behind you.

angelhan: what if

angelhan: seungcheol in thigh highs lmao

universe_WZ: sub.cheol

sleepy_wonu: sub.cheol

universe_WZ: jinx

sleepy_wonu: fuck u

You lick your lips at the thought; although you knew Seungcheol would have a hard time relinquishing his dominating nature.

But your mind wanders as you continue to think about it; various images of Seungcheol tied up underneath you while you fucked yourself on his cock running through your mind. You let out a shaky moan, to which Seungcheol hums.

“What are you thinkin’ about, princess?”

“Um… ah, n-nothing…” He thrusts between your legs hard, making you jolt forward as you yelp.

“Princess...”

“I--ah! J-just thinking a-about… y-you tied up, ngh, to--to the bed and m-me fuh--fucking myself on your c-cock… ‘n me u-using, mmh, my toys o-on you...” Seungcheol smirks, pulling his cock from between your shaky thighs as he slightly pushes you over until you're on your back.

He spreads your legs as you look up at him and he’s quick to wrap a hand around his cock as he jerks himself off above you. “Oh, I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d be so cute trying to be the domme for a night.” Seungcheol teases.

You find yourself clenching around emptiness as you think of the possibilities. You definitely wanted to try it if Seungcheol was willing.

“Fuck, but first, gonna cover your pretty body with my cum.” He groans; thrusting up into his palm as he chases his high.

“C-cum all over me, Seungcheol…”

The donations and comments sound off in the back as you maintain eye contact with Seungcheol who’s brows furrow when he starts to feel himself about to cum. He scoots back a little; growling when his cock throbs in his grasp and he cums all over your, already, soaked panties.

You let out a moan when rivulets of cum hit your lower abdomen and you’re quick to reach down and scoop some up to bring to your mouth, smearing the warm substance against your puckered lips before licking it off. Whimpering, you dip your fingers into your mouth; this time pretending they were Seungcheol’s instead of your own.

He guides his cock until the head is aimed at your thighs; streaks of cum settling into the sheer material of your thigh highs. “God, you’re so damn pretty...” Groaning, he milks his cock for every drop of cum before he’s stopping to catch his breath.

“You came so much but I didn’t cum yet, ‘Cheol~” Pouting, you turn your head to the side to face the camera. “Tell him he has to make me cum now~”

kitty_junjun: well u heard the lady!!

hoshi_tiger_xx: make her cum and let her cream her cute lil panties even more

therealchan99: oh fuck yeah, get her off without fucking her cute cunt

Seungcheol leans over your body until the two of you are almost face to face, eyes twinkling with playfulness when you feel his sticky hand playing with your thigh highs again.

“D’you hear that? Let’s give them what they want, baby.”

The sounds of donations and comments once again get lost as Seungcheol finds himself on his knees between your legs.

“Ready?”

When you slide into bed after your camshow’s ended and Seungcheol has properly taken care of you, he’s quick to tug you into his chest.

The two of you let out soft sighs at the warmth that envelopes you both as you finally start to settle in for the night.

After a few minutes, Seungcheol clears his throat, catching you just before you drift off to sleep.

“This is so random but have you considered, I dunno, rebranding your channel… with me? I was thinking about it and kinda wanted your opinion...”

You blink up curiously at him, urging him to continue. “I mean, yeah, of course! I don’t really know where to start though since it’s always just been me. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to either so I never brought it up.” You snuggle into his warmth, yawning as the sleep threatens to take over.

“But let’s talk about it later, ‘cause ‘m tired now, ‘Cheol. You really didn’t have to make me cum twice…” You mumble, “I can still feel my legs shaking...”

His soft laugh reverberates in your chest and he’s quick to press a kiss against your hair as he tugs you in closer.

“It’s ‘cause I like to spoil you. And okay. I’ll remind you when you’re more conscious.”

“G’night, ‘Cheol...”

“Goodnight, baby.”

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #scoups scenarios #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fic #scoups #seungcheol

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years

Text

5e Ezreal, the Prodigal Explorer build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Suke “hugehugesword” Su. Made for Riot Games.)

In my constant and continued effort to deny Ezreal’s existence I finally had to get around to building him. Again it’s not that I don’t like him... I mean I don’t. But I kinda forgot what I was going to build him as. Lol.

Dorans & Dragons also made a build for Ezreal back in like... early 2020. Christ that’s before the world went to shit, ain’t it? Well regardless they also made their build before Tasha’s Cauldron came out and I think I can make a build that is different enough to warrant my build existing alongside theirs.

In short: this is an elaborate excuse for me to make another Artificer build.

GOALS

Gawk at this! - We need many a glowing projectile to spam at foes before blowing them up. Ezreal isn’t the type to just autoattack.

I always know a shortcut - Flash on a 15 second cooldown is nice. We’ll need to be able to blink around constantly throughout the entire fight.

Time to show 'em who's best - Nothing’s more dangerous than a well-placed Trueshot Barrage sniping through the entire enemy team.

RACE

Back to good ol’ Variant Human. As a Variant Human you can increase two of your ability scores by 1: increase your Intelligence and your Charisma, to be the hot smart twink you are. You also learn a Language of your choice along with a Skill of choice. You spent plenty of time studying The Void so Abyssal would make sense as a language, and for your skill Perception would help you spot traps or incoming ganks... as long as you remember to ward.

For your feat we’re going to be grabbing Arcane Shift as fast as possible with Fey Touched so you can start Flashing. (Not like that!) You can increase your Intelligence score by 1 and also learn the Misty Step spell. You can also add a Divination or Enchantment spell to your list and a little Heroism never hurt anyone. You can cast both of these spells once without spending a spell slot, and can then spend spell slots on them after the fact.

ABILITY SCORES

15; INTELLIGENCE - Archeology is a lot of history and facts... If you do it the boring way, that is!

14; DEXTERITY - Repeat it after me: “something something Medium armor.”

13; CHARISMA - You’re a pretty boy twink who got at least two girls on the Rift to fall for you.

12; WISDOM - Traveling through ancient temples and traps takes a degree of common sense. Not necessarily common sense you have, but a bit of boost never hurt.

10; CONSTITUTION - You’re an ADC, which means you’re squishy.

8; STRENGTH - Twink.

Feel free to swap Constitution around with another stat for better health but worse roleplay.

BACKGROUND

“Archaeologist” is just the nice way of saying Tomb Raider, which is the mean way of saying Adventurer! You get proficiency with History and Survival (hey you’ve gotta tough it out in the desert sometimes!) You also get proficiency in a language of your choice (I went for Dwarvish because Dwarves seem to have built most ruins) and proficiency in either Navigator’s Tools or Cartographer’s Tools... “Who needs a map?”

You spent enough time in ruins to pick up some Historical Knowledge on ancient dungeons and temples to know who made them. And if you find anything that belongs in a museum you know how much it’s worth to the museum!

(Artwork by Sangsoo Jeong. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ARTIFICER 1

Starting off as Artificer to “borrow” a few inventions. But also because you get training in Arcana to know your magical artifacts, Investigation to find said magical artifacts, and Calligrapher’s Tools to slay Ascended and Darkin alike in one blow. You also get Magical Tinkering to wave that gauntlet of yours around on some Tiny objects, making them glow or play sounds or do all sorts of things that Prestidigitation would probably do better. But at least you can play your own theme music too!

But of course the main appeal of being an Artificer is the Spellcasting. You can learn two cantrips from the Artificer list like Message to coordinate with your support and Guidance to help yourself find treasure! (Or help others I guess.) You can prepare a number of spells equal to your Intelligence modifier plus your Artificer level (rounded down.) Cure Wounds will let you summoner spell Heal yourself or your Support. Faerie Fire will serve as a more basic version of your Essence Flux, making an enemy easier to hit (therefor making them take more damage!) And Feather Fall is always useful in a pinch!

Also yes you don’t have your gauntlet yet so you’re going to have to use a Light Crossbow for now. Feel free to take a combat cantrip if you want but you don’t really need it.

LEVEL 2 - ARTIFICER 2

Second level Artificers can make Infusions, special definitely-not-stolen magical treasures that make them more awesome than everyone else. For a little more AD an Enhanced Weapon is useful to have. You can also put those goggles on your head to use by making Goggles of Night to see with your dumb human eyes. A Mind Sharpener may feel like a cheat, but I’m not going to say no to keeping Concentration in check. And for your final infusion? A Rope of Climbing might be useful? Honestly the more impressive stuff comes after you’ve done a bit more exploring.

You can also prepare another spell like Alarm, just in case someone’s planning to steal your... legitimately earned treasure.

LEVEL 3 - ARTIFICER 3

Third level Artificers get to choose their specialty and Armorers don’t have to wear an entire suit of armor; just a gauntlet! Along with proficiency in Smith’s Tools you can turn any suit of armor you find into Arcane Armor. The armor has a variety of benefits: no Strength requirement, the inability to have your armor removed against your will, the ability to take it off or put it on as an action, and some replacement limbs. But notably it works as an Artificer spell focus!

There’s two different Armor Models and we’ll be going for the Infiltrator variant for a Lightning Launcher. This makes your Gauntlet a weapon that deals a d6 of lightning damage, with a regular range of 90 and a long range of 300 in case you want to go for long ranged snipes. Additionally once per turn you can pop Essence Flux to do an extra d6 of damage on hit! And I didn’t even mention the best part: this works off your Intelligence! So no more need for the crossbow.

You also get your boots for Powered Steps, increasing your movement speed by 5 feet. And thanks to your Dampening Field you can hide in bushes with free Stealth advantage! I’d recommend trying to get a Breastplate because that’s the best armor you can get that doesn’t also impose stealth disadvantage, but even with Half Plate you can still be sneaky! Heck, you can even wear Platemail if you want! "And my boots are not waterproof. Fantastic."

Oh and you get some Armorer Spells! Magic Missile will autoaim for you like your Arcane Shift projectile, and Thunderwave is helpful for some self-peel.

LEVEL 4 - ARTIFICER 4

4th level Artificers get an Ability Score Improvement: seeing as we have uneven Intelligence take the Observant feat for +1 Intelligence and a boost to your passive Perception and Investigation to watch the minimap for people to snipe! Additionally you can spy on the bad guys if you want and read their lips to gain knowledge of all their secret plans!

More Intelligence does also usually mean more spells prepared but I’m going to wait for...

(Artwork by Xu “Crow God” Cheng. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 5 - ARTIFICER 5

5th level Armorers up their Attack Speed with Rising Spell Force, gaining an Extra Attack with the attack action!

You also get Mirror Image and Shatter added to your list of Armorer Spells, and can prepare spells like Rope Trick for a safe place to rest for awhile, and Heat Metal to really lay in that Essence Flux.

LEVEL 6 - ARTIFICER 6

6th level Artificers get more Infusions which is what I was waiting for! A Radiant Weapon is all the fun of an Enhanced Weapon but it also doubles as a flashlight for your dumb human eyes! And Boots of the Winding Path will let you Arcane Shift back to safety in case you accidentally run into danger.

Feel free to swap some of your old infusions around too. A Lantern of Revealing or Cloak of Elvenkind would be helpful... and Gloves of Thievery never hurt anyone.

And finally you can prepare Aid, as your natural awesomeness rubs off on your allies. "Oh, please, don't die. I can't lose a sidekick. Not again."

LEVEL 7 - WIZARD 1

You didn’t think this would just be a pure Artificer build, did you? Even if that would’ve been stronger I’m legally obligated to needlessly stick multiclass levels into all my builds. And Wizard is definitely a good multiclass for more slots to do Spellcasting! You learn 3 cantrips and six leveled spells as a first level Wizard:

CANTRIPS

To help your allies land their shots take Mind Sliver to weaken an enemy’s saving throws.

Prestidigitation will let you do a bunch of simple magic, and if you want you can have your own hero music too!

Finally Friends is good to make friends you don’t mind losing after they tell you where the ancient ruins are.

SPELLS

I basically just took everything with the Ritual tag. Alarm (yes you have it as an Artificer spell but you can swap that out), Comprehend Languages, Detect Magic, Identify, Tenser’s Floating Disk... and sure why not Find Familiar too? Seeing as you can ritual cast at will most of your early level stuff is going to be reserved for Ritual Casting, as you’re probably going to be spending most of your first level slots on Magic Missile and Faerie Fire anyways.

You also get Arcane Recovery, letting you recover spell slots equal to half your Wizard level (rounded up.) So right now you can get a first level spell slot back at the end of a Short Rest! And later on you can get more!

LEVEL 8 - WIZARD 2

Second level Wizards get to choose the school that their parents left them in before disappearing in the jungle, and the School of Evocation has a surprise tool that will help us later. Along with being an Evocation Savant (allowing you to copy Evocation spells into your spell book with half the time and cost) you can Sculpt Spells so that they only hit the bad guys: when you cast an Evocation spell (from any class, not just Wizard!) you can choose a number creatures equal to the spell’s level + 1. The chosen creatures automatically succeed on their saving throws against the spell, and they take no damage if they would normally take half damage on a successful save. This will be really useful when we get our (pseudo-)Global ultimate; wouldn’t want to fry your pals now would you?

We may as well grab some of those Evocation spells, right? Earth Tremor will let you hit an AoE Mystic Shot because Riot decided that Tiamat should have a cleave I guess, and I mean... Shield is never a bad thing to have?

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 9 - ARTIFICER 7

Back to the big brain plays: 7th level Artificers can make the biggest brain plays thanks to Flash of Genius, letting you boost an ally’s skill check or saving throw with your own natural perfection. The boost is equal to your Intelligence modifier and you can use this reaction a number of times equal to double your Intelligence modifier.

LEVEL 10 - ARTIFICER 8

8th level Artificers get another Ability Score Improvement? Well seeing as Intelligence still controls just about everything we do it would do good to increase that by 2! That does mean you can prepare more spells (both as a Wizard and as an Artificer) but I’m going to wait for...

LEVEL 11 - ARTIFICER 9

Every ADC dreams of being six-slotted; now you can be with Armor Modifications! Your Armorer armor counts as 4 separate items for the sake of your Infusions: the chest piece, boots, helmet, and the armor’s special weapon can all be infused. Far more importantly however you can have two extra infusions! Those infusions have to be on your armor, but you can put the Radiant Weapon (weapon) and Goggles of Night (helmet) onto your armor and save your other infusions for your allies! Or for yourself; yourself works too.

And we can’t forget the third level spells! You get Hypnotic Pattern from your Armorer Spells for an AoE stun, but far more importantly you get Lightning Bolt which will serve as Trueshot Barrage! And since you’re an Evocation Wizard you can shoot past your friends without blowing them to bits. "Oh, a plan. Yeah, I totally have one of those."

You can also prepare spells like Haste for more DPS (just don’t get stunned), Blink for some Duskblade invisibility, and replace Alarm with Revifify... Ya know: just in case.

LEVEL 12 - ARTIFICER 10

As an ADC it would be good to get six-slotted, and Magic Item Adept lets you get your 4th Legendary item! That’s because you can now attune to 4 magic items at once! (And can also craft Common and Uncommon magic items more easily.)

Speaking of Infusions, we can make more of them, such as a Cloak of Protection or Winged Boots! These are just generally useful but not really Ezreal specific; they’re mostly for your allies. "The gauntlet's for show... the talent's all me."

You can also prepare another spell like Fly which is just universally useful, and holy shit you get another cantrip. Take Mage Hand and maybe try to be a little more cautious when tomb raiding?

(Artwork by Bo “chenbowow” Chen. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - ARTIFICER 11

Do you want a lot more Mystic Shots? 11th level Artificers can make a Spell Storing Item and put an Artificer spell of first or second level inside. What’s cool about this is that anyone can use it, allowing them to cast the spell as if they were you!

My recommendation? Give them Mirror Image. It’s an amazing buff that doesn’t require Concentration. Even a low DEX Paladin will appreciate the chance to not be hit, and a high DEX ally can really get value out of Mirror Image. Yeah the Barbarian technically can’t cast while raging, but they can use this before going into a Rage to be very hard to hit!

And speaking of spells you can prepare another one, so how about you grab Create Food and Water to keep yourself sated on longer archeological trips. "Why didn't I eat before I got here...? Ezreal, why?!”

LEVEL 14 - ARITIFCER 12

12th level Artificers get another Ability Score Improvement... we got all we need in terms of stats (Intelligence lol) so now it’s time to really make some impressive trick shots: the Sharpshooter feat will let you attack at long range without disadvantage and ignore cover bonuses, but most importantly you can take a -5 to your attack roll for a whopping +10 to damage! Don’t use this on high AC targets obviously but if you think you’ll hit why not go for the one-shot? "No applause, please. ...Okay, maybe just a bit of thunderous acclaim. ...A little?"

LEVEL 15 - WIZARD 3

I do still want more spell slots, as well as more spells known! Truthfully there isn’t too much I want from second level, so take Locate Object to find hidden treasure and Augry (added to the Wizard spell list thanks to Tasha’s!) to know what to expect in the next dungeon... sorta. "No plan survives first contact with me."

LEVEL 16 - WIZARD 4

4th level Wizards get an Ability Score Improvement: we got all the abilities we wanted really, so why not Get Lucky? The Lucky Feat will give you a bit of anime protagonist power to guarantee that you make the perfect daring escape. Feel free to take Warcaster or just increase your Constitution however; by this point Ability Scores don’t matter too much.

You can also learn two more spells like Melf’s Acid Arrow for another Essence Flux-esque DoT ability and See Invisibility, in case you need a Sweeper Lense to deal with any clowns.

LEVEL 17 - WIZARD 5

Ima be honest I kinda just wanted third level for Thunder Step to get an Arcane Shift that does damage. Artificer 18 / Wizard 2 (or even just Artificer 20) would’ve been a fine build for Ezeal too, if you don’t think this one spell is worth a 5 level class dip.

Anyways you also learn another cantrip and I mean... you may as well take Shocking Grasp for some defense up close? You also get one other spell and I’m gonna suggest Galder’s Tower this time which is like Tiny Hut... but awesome. And really small. This is mostly just a way for me to talk about a fun spell and also recommend my homebrew fix for it.

(Artwork by Alvin Lee. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 18 - ARTIFICER 13

You got third level spells as a Wizard, you can now prepare 4th level spells as an Artificer! Fire Shield and Greater Invisibility are both available as Armorer Spells, one of which is far more useful for you than the other one. Bro imagine how crazy Evelynn would be with Evelynn’s passive. But yeah feel free to swap around your prepared spells a bit for more 4th level spells, since you definitely have the slots to do so.

LEVEL 19 - ARTIFICER 14

14th level Artificers are Magic Item Savants who can attune to 5 magic items at once, meaning that along with your boots which are technically magical but whatever you can finally be properly six-slotted! But far more importantly you can attune to any item, regardless of any class or race restrictions tied to the item! "I can't get hauled into wizard court again. Technically I don't have a permit for the gauntlet."

Speaking of more attunement: more Infusions. An Amulet of Health will let you boost your bad Constitution from a 10 to a 19, giving you a solid 76 health boost near max level! Other than that more movement speed is never a bad thing, and Boots of Speed may give you more value than your other magic boots.

But holy shit forget all that because you finally get your 4th Artificer cantrip! Grab Mending because somehow we don’t have that yet; gotta keep your outfit in check! Oh and you can get around to preparing another 4th level spell! Truth be told though the 4th level spells for Artificer are kinda... bad? But at least Tasha’s gave us Summon Construct which is a surprisingly strong summon!

"Last time I was in Shurima, I decoded some glyphs. Something about a jackal head... End of times... The usual. All I wanted was this ruby scarab. It looks great on my mantle."

LEVEL 20 - ARTIFICER 15

Our final level is the 15th level of Artificer for the Perfected Armor Armorer capstone. When you shoot an enemy you mark them with Essence Flux, giving them disadvantage to hit you. In addition the next attack (including your own I’m pretty sure!) has Advantage against the enemy while they’re marked with Essence Flux, and if they’re hit they’ll take an extra d6 of Lightning damage!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Blast 'em, gauntlet! - With your capstone ability you do 4d6 + 10 damage with your Lightning Launcher, and that’s before using Sharpshooter. Even without your capstone 3d6 + 10 is still really good damage output, especially when you can cast spells for big bursts of damage.

See if you can handle this! - Speaking of spells your slots go all the way up to 7th level, and while you’ll mostly just be upcasting a 12d6 Lightning Bolt is nothing to sneeze at! Not to mention other options like a 7d8 Fire damage Heat Metal or +30 HP Aid.

If anyone asks, I didn't see any of these priceless artifacts for sale - It goes without saying that having two more attunement slots than the average character is massive, especially when you can stick infusions onto your armor to maximize the amount of treasures on your person.

CONS

I wasn't strong enough? - Investing fully in INT gives us maxed out combat stats but it leaves a lot of our other abilities lacking. We’re nowhere near Charismatic enough to sell (somewhat) illegitimately gotten gains, and while Infusions can help augment our health (and even our Strength if you grab a Belt of Giant’s Strength) your Wisdom and even your Dexterity are rather mediocre, which is bad for both skill checks and saving throws.

Impossible comebacks are sorta my specialty - Most of your coolest stuff is tied to spell slots and other Long Rest dependent mechanics, and while you have a lot of spell slots (as well as Arcane Recovery to get some of them back) they are still quite limited. You’re perfectly viable as just an auto-attack and Q spammer, but who doesn’t want to shoot lasers and explosions, ya know?

Never met a problem that I couldn't blast away with magic... that I don't even understand - 5 levels in Wizard give us big spell slots but that’s about it, and yeah a 7d6 Lightning Bolt (that won’t hit your allies) is nothing to sneeze at but for the most part you are more of a Martial character. Just saying that level 18 of Artificer would’ve given you Magic Item Master for a whole 6 attunement slots! And level 20 of Artificer would’ve given you Soul of Artifice, essentially operating as a +6 to all saving throws and a 6 time use Guardian Angel.

But if a teamfight breaks out you’re more than a capable ADC. Artificers are the masters of magic items and it doesn’t matter if you make them yourself or “borrow” them from an ancient tomb; you can be the hero mom and dad always wanted you to be! Just concentrate on your farm in the early game and don’t take unnecessary risks. You may be the perfect man of magic but you’re not immortal, despite what the ADCs I’m forced to support always seem to think.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuesting. Made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #League of Legends #League of Legends Ezreal #you belong in a museum #dnd artificer #dnd wizard #twink

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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mob boss billy falls for trust fund brat Steve

I’m going combine this with an anon request I got that’s similar.

anonymous asked:

Mafia Boss Billy fucking his worst rivals aka Mr Harringtons son, Steve, them both knowing who they are, but not giving a shit about it. Steve just really loves to get fucked by that thick cock of Billy’s and he doesn’t care that his own father hates the guy 👀

So there’s some fucking, some general violence, bad things happen and are bad, murder boyfriend energy.

Read on ao3

Billy Hargrove was infamous around Chicago.

The Hargrove Family was well established, ran the fucking streets for decades the title of Boss being handed father to son.

Neil Hargrove had groomed his son from a young age, kept him in the room to observe as he spoke to his dogs. Explained the precise techniques he used for torture. The first time he made Bill kill a man, hold a gun to his head and pull the trigger, Billy was twelve.

Billy was Neil’s favorite attack dog.

He could just say his name and strike absolute fear in the hearts of anyone who heard it, anyone who was threatened with it.

Billy was known for having cold eyes, a heart of steel. Rumor is, he killed his own father to take over the company, had an expensive funeral for him.

He took over the large office, headed up the businesses they used as a front.

Pictures would surface of him in expensive clubs, doing lines of coke off strippers, letting twinks sit in his lap, suck him off while he lazily sipped expensive whiskey.

Steve Harrington was a brat.

The Harrington family ran Indianapolis, Cincinnati, and were building themselves in St. Louis.

They were the Hargroves’ biggest rivals, had been encroaching on their stake in Chicago, had plans to take over as much of the midwest as possible.

Mr. Harrington had never been afraid to use his son as a bargaining chip.

Steve was pretty, but he was a simpering idiot according to his father. Only good to be thrown to the enemy, with a promise he’d do anything.

He’d been fucked over plenty of desks, had been tied up in grand penthouses, choked on the cocks of the bosses his dad wanted ally-ships with. The Harrington Family owed the establishment of their branch in Cleveland to Steve’s asshole and his willingness to be choked.

When Steve first met Billy, they were unaware of the other.

Steve had been on a bender, blowing through his father’s money after the settlement of a partnership in Detroit. He was in Chicago, being watched by two of his father’s men, the two had been assigned to Steve when he was young, keeping a close watch on him.

Billy had watched the pretty boy stumble into the club, the lights dim, the music low, base-heavy.

Steve was out of his mind when he slammed into the broad chest, had gazed up into sharp blue eyes, tugged a blond curl that had escaped the bun at the crown of his head.

Billy took him home that night, had fucked the rich brat in his silk sheets, on his dresser, on his bearskin rug, over his desk, against the shower wall.

They exchanged phone numbers the next morning when Steve hunted down his clothes, called his car around.

They started meeting up every time Steve made his way to Chicago, happening more and more often as he started to want Billy more and more.

But after a few months, Steve noticed some mail, envelopes addressed to William Hargrove.

“You’re, you’re a Hargrove.”

“You know the name?”

“You know the Harrington name?”

“Course I do, those assholes keep creeping on my turf.”

“Yeah well, I’m one of them.” He held out his hand. “Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you.” Billy just laughed, pulling Steve into him by his outstretched hand.

“Unfortunately, I don’t care. Wouldn’t give up that tight little hole for nothing.”

They kept fucking, keeping it behind closed doors, in secret. Steve didn’t want his father to know, thought he’d try to use him as leverage to get Chicago. Steve was happy, letting himself be in something close to a relationship for the first time in his entire life.

But then his father had a request, was ready to send him to Columbus to reason with a client.

He had opened his mouth, complained to Billy and the man he was supposed to meet with was found dead in Lake Erie two weeks later, the mangled body had to be identified by dental records.

Mr. Harrington is livid.

He knew Hargrove had something to do with this, thought maybe he had sabotaged the deal, not that he had killed to protect whatever was left of Steve’s honor.

Steve was in Chicago the next day, booked a flight the minute he heard the news of the body in the lake. Had shown up at Billy’s apartment in a long coat, nothing underneath. Billy slammed him against the closed door, kissed him fiercely while peeling the coat off him.

“Can’t believe, can’t believe you killed a man for me.”

“That freak you out?” He lifted Steve up, his legs wrapping around Billy’s waist as Steve fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

“No. It’s, God that’s so hot, Bill.”

“He begged for his life. I really took my time, made sure he knew he was gonna die just for thinkin’ about touchin’ you.” Billy set him on the leather couch, settled himself between Steve’s legs. “I’m the only one that gets to touch you. Gets to fuck you.” He ground his hips down, biting at Steve’s ear, growling in it. “You’re mine, Princess.” Steve moaned as they moved together, their cocks sliding together, hard and hot.

“Bill, want you to fuck me. Claim me.” Billy stood off the couch, forced Steve down onto the floor, face pressing into the soft rug, ass in the air, silver plug visible.

Billy pulled it out, loved watching the way Steve stretched around the thickness of it, the way his hole fluttered when it was gone, leaving him empty, wet with lube.

Billy spat on it.

“This little hole is mine. Mine to open up, mine to fuck.” He pressed his cock in, sighing at the velvet heat around him. He went hard and fast, hands rough on Steve’s hips to keep him steady, slammed into this hard enough to bruise, the sound of their skin slapping together, Steve’s loud moans, his own grunts all he could hear. “Would kill for this hole, have killed for this hole. For, for you, Princess.”

Steve came on the rug below him, hand flying over his dick, crying out as he tightened around Billy, muscles going stiff before collapsing, breathing heavily into the rug. Billy never slowed his pace, kept slamming into Steve, chasing his orgasm.

“Come inside. Only, only person I’ve, ever let fill me up.” That threw Billy right over the edge. He shoved his way in a few more times, cumming deep in that fluttering little hole. He flopped next to Steve, chest heaving as Steve rolled on top of him.

His fingers drifted down, two pressing back into Steve, keeping him full.

“You really never let anyone cum inside you?”

“No. Didn’t trust anyone enough not to use a condom. “

Billy’s mind short-circuited at the idea that Steve trusts him.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve looked at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What, what’s wrong?”

“I think I fucking, love you.” Steve’s face was blank.

“No shit, Idiot. You tortured and killed a guy that was hypothetically going to fuck me.”

Billy laughed, Steve shifting around on top of him as his chest moved with it.

“God, Stevie. I really went ham on the guy too. Like, really went to town.”

“And the whole time you were doing that, you didn’t once think maybe this about more than fucking?”

“I really didn’t.” He was giggling. “How long did you know?”

“When I heard they pulled that body out of Lake Erie. Your family has no ties to the Camorra family. There was no reason for you to off him, except me.”

“Was it too big a gesture?”

“Nah. Don’t mind a little death. it’s all part of the gig.” He put his head back down. “For the record, I love you too. In case you didn’t already know.” Billy kissed the top of his head.

“I almost went after your father, too.” Steve was quiet for a moment. Billy was worried he’d gone too far, said too much.

“Let me know if you do. I wanna watch.”

#yikes writes #holy god this is my 900th post #lemons #harringrove #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #mob au #mob boss billy #bratty steve

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

Text

in support of Black Lives Matter, an anonymous reader donated $30, and requested ‘wincest + belly bulge kink ’. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

The third time they pass through the town, Sam feels it coming on slow. Something tugs in his belly, like a little flinch of memory, as they pass the standard faded Welcome To--! sign. Been a while and he doesn’t know why they used this road, why Dean didn’t make a huge curving detour around it like they have in times past. Dean makes a little, cut-off noise, when they’ve passed inside city limits, but when Sam looks across the bench seat Dean’s jaw’s all squared-off like he’s ready for an argument, and he doesn’t really feel like giving him one. It’s been a good day. Who knows; maybe it’ll get better, for once, instead of worse.

There’s a motel on the edge of town that they stayed in, before. Dean passes it and they end up at a bar. Kind of scuzzy but that makes it feel homey. Little fleet of motorcycles parked out front, gleaming in the setting sun, and Dean whistles at one. “Classic,” he says, admiring, and Sam shakes his head but smiles, too, because Dean’s smiling. Whatever’s coming--well, he’s not that worried about it. They can handle it. They can handle just about anything, together.

Bar’s warm, dim, crowded. Dean leads the way to an empty high-top, hitches his ass up on the seat. His face squinches, in an odd way, but then there’s a waitress smiling at him, sweet, and giving Sam an open up-and-down. She brings their beers fast and hugs her tray up to her stomach in a way that pushes her tits high, round and tan peeking out of her tank top. “Anything else?” she says, over-the-top, and Dean raises his eyebrows at Sam when she’s sent on her way.

“What, are you putting off pheromones?” Dean says, under the music. His pupils are a little wide. Sam licks his lips, looking at him, and Dean’s eyes drop immediately to follow the movement, and Sam wonders. He might be. It’s not as--strange, this time around.

First time they were here it was ridiculous--both of them transforming, Dean turning into a tiny high-pitched twink and Sam a caveman--and the second it was just embarrassing, with Sam going what Dean insisted on calling a ‘boohoo pathetic emo-boy.’ Not a bad description, but not flattering. Sam didn’t think they’d ever be back, thought they’d agreed even if silently that this was just dumb, but here they are. Dean watches his mouth for another few seconds and then seems to notice that Sam’s watching him right back, and he looks away, up to the bar televisions. His ears are already pink. Sam drinks his beer, wondering.

Different motel, on the other side of town. They get a room around midnight from the night clerk and they’re both a little loose, though of course not drunk. They have to actually work for that, these days. Sam still feels--mostly the same, his personality and body not shifting, at least as far as he can tell. He’s just relaxed, and kind of horny from watching Dean get clearly turned on even if he doesn’t know why, and when Dean shuts the door behind them both and they drop their bags, Dean says, “Okay, so,” but before he can continue Sam catches his wrist and reels him in, and kisses him.

Soft. Sweet, nearly, which isn’t what Sam usually associates with five beers and a dinner of wings and fries. Dean makes a soft hurt sound against his mouth and clutches at him, curving up into the kiss, letting Sam lick as deep as he likes. “Mm,” is the sound he makes, when Sam pulls back, and he drags his hands down Sam’s chest, slow, like he’s savoring it.

“Dean, you know where we are,” Sam says. Is his voice deeper? It sometimes is, when he’s turned on, and god, he really is. Dean nods, tipping his head so it’s half-tucked under Sam’s chin, his hands going to Sam’s belt to get it open. “Dude. What are you thinking? You want to be another--what, trope?”

“A what?” Dean says, and Sam would explain but Dean’s got a hand on his dick, all of a sudden, slipping in under the waistband of his jeans, and Sam clutches the back of Dean’s head and sighs, feeling it. Familiar, good. Sweet, the adjective coming to mind again, but that’s not really all that out of the ordinary either, if he lets himself go there. Dean’s his brother, but that word’s never really been sufficient--not enough to explain what they are, together. Dean kisses Sam’s collarbone, jerks him slow, and Sam presses his hips into it, feeling--feeling--

He grunts, surprised. Dean’s breathing heavy, against his chest, and Sam pulls him away a little, looking down between them. Dean hasn’t pulled him out of his jeans and so his dick’s lengthening in an awkward trapped curve under the denim, and Sam feels that usual tight urgency, his balls wanting him to push into something, to fuck, but it’s... bigger, somehow. More. He feels his gut tighten, warm, and his dick--it’s--

“Fuck,” Dean says, fervent, and he slides his hand down to follow the bulging line, pressing an almost grotesque shape down the inside of Sam’s right pantleg, bigger than it’s ever been. He squeezes, down by where the head’s finally stopped, and looks dazed. “God, it’s even bigger than I thought it’d be.”

Sam feels almost lightheaded for a second. He undoes the button, the zip, and Dean takes a step back to give room--because when Sam shoves at his jeans, gets them to his knees, his dick flops out like--like a fucking monster, thicker and darker and almost grotesque. It’s standing out from his body, eager and ready. Horse-dick, Sam thinks, dry-mouthed, but when he looks at Dean he’s just greeted with Dean flushing rose-red, his lips wet and dark like he’s been biting at them. “Jesus, Sammy,” he says, sore and faint, and when Dean finally looks up at his face he’s nearly drunk-looking. He strips in record time, shoving off layers and boots until he’s naked in the lamplight, and he’s--paler, maybe, than usual, and Sam can see his freckles better than usual, but he’s still Sam’s brother, still recognizable, his dick still heavy against his thigh, his body still muscular where it needs to be and soft, where Sam loves it.

Dean reaches out almost tentative, his fingers tender when they skim over Sam’s dick. He grips Dean’s shoulder, pushes reflexively into it. He doesn’t know how big he is normally--Dean claims he measured once when Sam was sleeping and got seven inches soft, which may or may not be true--but he’s usually a shower, not a grower, so this is...

“What is this, a foot-long?” Dean says, rough-voiced. He grips and his hand goes around, but only barely. “Baker’s dozen?”

His face, and him pushing up against Sam. He drags his hand up to the big purple-dark head and Sam squeezes his eyes shut, his self-control fraying. He knows what Dean wants but there’s no way. “It won’t fit,” he says, trying to hold on. He can imagine, trying to shove in. He squeezes Dean’s shoulder, balls aching. “I don’t want to--I don’t know what story this is supposed to be, but I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Dean’s hand, on his jaw--breath--and he tips his head down in time to meet the kiss, Dean combing his fingers through Sam’s hair, calming him down. It’s good, the way Dean’s mouth is always good--practiced and familiar, knowing just the right amount of give-and-take--but then Dean peels Sam’s hand off his shoulder, taking control. He slides it down, along his back, and over his ass, and he sucks at Sam’s lower lip when he guides Sam lower, lower, until his fingers brush--metal?

He pulls back, startled. Dean blinks at him, eyes almost black. “Felt it go in when we came into town,” he says, and tugs Sam backwards until his legs hit the bed, and when he falls back and spreads his knees wide Sam can see it. A plug. Jesus, a plug, with a thick circular base pressing Dean open, and Sam goes to his knees, spreads Dean’s legs wider to look. Dean breathes shaky just from him looking, his erection twitching heavily against his hip, and Sam has to touch, gripping the plug, twisting. Dean makes a tight weird noise, his hips lifting, and he grabs Sam’s wrist. Not stopping him. “Fuck--Sammy. It’s been--stretching me out, all night, and I’m--feel, I’m so fuckin’ wet.”

Sam’s jaw’s been slack; his mouth’s dry. He gulps air and grips the plug, pulls, and watching the fat silver base of it bloom out of Dean’s asshole is--jesus, jesus, he didn’t--he didn’t know Dean could get that wide. He could fit his fist in there, he thinks, unbidden, and just for thinking it he ducks down and sucks in Dean’s dick, the familiar bitter-salt replaced with--sweet, fuck, he’s so sweet, and Sam goes down to the base and fucks the plug in and out, his fingertips gauging the fat slide of it, how it’s stretching Dean wide, getting him slack and ready.

Dean grips his head, thighs cringing up either side of Sam’s shoulders--groans, and whines, and says fervent Sammy, Sammy please, and it’s--not that different, not that strange, and Sam slurps off his dick with a wet gulping noise and lets it slap back against Dean’s belly, and Dean looks at him down the stretch of his body and says again, “Please, come on--just do it,” and Sam sits back on his heels and pulls the plug all the way out, gleaming, imagining--it sitting heavy up in Dean’s guts, all night, while they drank and watched the game, while random faceless women flirted with Sam, while they wanted him, and Dean knew--the whole time, he knew--and when the plug’s finally out Dean gushes, clear lube-slick wet pushing out of his asshole, dripping onto the bed, and Sam knows what he’s meant to do, how this story is supposed to go, and he grabs Dean and pushes him up further onto the bed, pushes his legs wide and kneels up high, and he pushes in without needing to ask, without pausing, because Dean’s--built, for him. Dean wants him. Dean needs him, deep, and Dean responds instantly, moaning wild and loud, one hand grabbing Sam’s arm and the other flashing down to the inches of his dick, holding the fat pole of it as it pushes deeper, deeper, spreading Dean even wider than the plug did.

“Fuck, you’re gonna bust me open,” Dean says, frail, and Sam moans and shoves forward, past any resistance, and Dean yelps as his hand gets knocked away, his whole body arching so that only his shoulders are left on the bed, his hips caught up in Sam’s grip, and--and--

“Holy shit,” Sam says, breathless. He’s throbbing, his balls pressed up against Dean’s ass. He pets Dean’s hips, soothing, but his attention is somewhere else. He pulls back a few inches, pushes back, and he’s--he’s not imagining it. “Dean,” he says, and he grabs one of Dean’s hands, rough, presses it against the low pit of Dean’s belly, just under his navel where Dean’s always had that softness, that plush skin that Sam’s bitten up, on wilder days. Dean’s hand fits smaller, under Sam’s, and he presses it flat and tight against the skin, and when he hauls his hips back and then shoves back in Dean feels it and his mouth falls wide, his hips flattening against Sam’s. “You feel?” Sam says, fuck-stupid, and Dean nods just as stupid back, feeling the girthy fat head of Sam’s monstrous dick pushing up inside him, insanely deep, deep enough that it’s pressing Dean’s belly out like he’s a hundred-pound twink. Sam does it again just to watch Dean’s face flinch, their knuckles grinding together, and then he can’t hold back anymore and grips Dean’s ass and shoves in, shoves again, long deep in-and-out fucking like he almost never indulges in, and Dean cries out and squirms and grips at him, his insides splitting wide around Sam’s colossal length, but Sam--he knows it’s okay, knows that Dean’s open and wet and hungry for him. Means he has permission, down to the bones, and he kneels up and fucks up into Dean’s guts and makes Dean wail, makes him cry, makes his dick spit up against his tummy where Sam’s shoving him full.

Dean comes first, his legs tightening around Sam’s hips and his hands pushing against the headboard, shoving him down deeper onto Sam’s cock, and he’s so wet it gushes out of him at both ends, his dick creaming up his belly and his ass spasming tight enough around Sam’s girth that the wet slides down, drips off Sam’s balls onto the mattress. He sobs for air, grips at the pillow, and Sam leans down and hooks his arm under Dean’s hips and hitches him boneless into just the right place for Sam to cram in deeper, deeper, and Dean moans and shakes and lets him, lets him, his body pummeled into a soft sweet new thing, something that he can bury his face into and push up inside and own, deep enough that he’ll never leave.

Almost a surprise, when he finally comes. His hips flinch, against Dean’s sore open ass, and he unloads for what feels like a full minute, his balls clutching up and pouring themselves out, Dean moaning like he can feel it. Sam presses down hard against his belly, where he’s bumping the shape of himself out of Dean’s skin, and he can almost feel the twitch. His dick, doing everything it can.

It’s a slow, heavy slide out. He watches, doesn’t pretend otherwise. The fat dark girth of him, slicking out. The way Dean’s rim is all creamed up, stretched so wide it’s totally smooth. When his head finally pops free Dean gapes a little, a punched-out dark circle, and when Sam pumps Dean’s limp wet dick Dean gasps, and his asshole spasms, trying to tighten but hardly able to. A gush, then--cream, Sam’s jizz spilling free, and Sam doesn’t think before he dips down, licks up the spill. Dean moans harder, says breathless up somewhere north Sam, what-- but Sam doesn’t listen, just licks soft and as gentle as he can, slurping up the mess, the taste of himself mixed with Dean’s unnatural creamy sweet.

He holds it in his mouth, thick. He kisses Dean’s tired nuts, and his soft shaft, and licks up a thick gobby pool of Dean’s own come that’s caught in his navel. Dean’s skin shudders, all over. Sam crawls up, kissing his sternum, and his nipple, and when he props himself up so they’re level Dean’s--a wreck. Sweaty, fucked-out. Sam smiles at him, close-lipped, and then dips in and kisses him wide, and when their shared load pours into Dean’s mouth he shudders, again, his fingers curling helplessly against Sam’s stomach.

Sam looks at him, when he’s done. His dick’s still fat, mostly hard, dragging against Dean’s small soft shaft. “You knew,” he says, and watches Dean open drugged-looking dark eyes. “Dean. As soon as we came into town.”

Dean bites his lip. His thighs splay weak around Sam’s hips, his whole body open. “I sent a girl a message,” he says, finally. His voice has gone rough, low. “With an idea. I didn’t know if it’d--it might not have worked.”

A little red, in his cheeks. Sam tilts his head, something a little weird curling under his gut. “You want more?” he says. They have--when they’re not here, in this bizarre town--good sex, he thinks. Fun sex. He didn’t realize--

Dean shakes his head, though, and his knees come up enough to squeeze Sam. “Just a fantasy,” he says, firm, and Sam believes him. He looks down between their bodies. “Crazy, right?”

Sam studies his face. He braces on one arm, and slides his other hand down, pressing deep and low against Dean’s belly. “I was right here,” he says, and Dean’s lashes flicker. He rocks his ridiculous dick against Dean’s, and then tilts his hips enough to slide past Dean’s balls, between his split-open cheeks, the fat head catching against where Dean’s still open. Wet. Dean blinks, looks up at him. Sam licks his lips, wondering. “Want me up there? All up inside, Dean. Like fucking a baby in there, making your belly all big.”

A flinch--Dean’s eyes opening, in real surprise. Sam’s hardening up fast, rubbing against Dean’s wet, and he dips in for a kiss. “Want me to?” Sam says, and Dean breathes hot in his face, and nods, and Sam rolls him over, gets his knees up underneath him. Sam presses four fingers into him, presses him wide, his fat dick nosing up into the gap. Dean groans, grasping at the bedcovers. “Gonna stretch you out,” Sam promises, and when he pushes inside he has Dean’s hand right in his, ready to batter his palm when he shoves out his belly from the inside. Sam doesn’t know whether this town is cursed or not, or why this happens always when they’re here, but he pushes in and makes Dean gasp, and thinks--well--maybe they won’t try to break the spell this time. Not until morning, at least.

#fffb #wincest #wincest fic #curse fic #my writing #fanfiction town

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cagestark · 5 years

Note

Ok here's my prompt: college winterironspider, established winterspider and they want to do a trio costume with Tony as a way to show him they want him 💕💕

A late Halloween Prompt whipped up in thanks for boosting my friend’s rpg. Thank you! (Also you all say that Halloween is a 365 day event so 3 days late shouldn’t stop you right? ;)

Warnings: homophobia including slurs, some mention of smuttiness but nothing explicit, foul language. WinterIronSpider. 3.6k.

Tony flings open the dorm room door, already toeing off his sodden shoes. New England weather could turn on dime, and it had a habit of turning unfavorable on the 15 minute trek from the Chem labs back to his dorm room. His shirt is sticking to his skin, jeans heavy with rain. He can feel his hair, getting just this side of too long for how Howard likes it, dripping down the back of his neck.

Mother Nature hates him, and she’s not the only one, because Peter Parker is lounging on Tony’s roommate’s bed. Bucky is nowhere in sight, but the bathroom door is closed, so deductive reasoning is barely required. They’ve probably been fucking; the room has that musty scent that makes him twitch in his wet pants. Parker lays among the mussed sheets and blankets like the pillow princess he must be, curls riotous, beaming at the sight of Tony.

“Hey, Tony,” says Parker in the softest, cracking voice that Tony’s ever heard come from a nineteen-year-old. He blinks dazed, whiskey-colored eyes. “Y’re all wet.”

“I know. Where’s Barnes?”

“Bathroom.”

Tony hums. Barnes liked to take ridiculously long showers, conditioning his ridiculously long hair, moisturizing his ridiculously huge and attractive body. The guy was the antithesis to his boyfriend, large where Parker was small, dark where he was light, brooding where Parker was a goddamn ray of sunshine sneaking in through a crack in the curtains and blinding Tony. With Barnes in the shower, Tony is stuck shivering in his wet clothes, wishing he’d stayed out in the downpour and smoked a cigarette. Instead, he just sits on his bed—his sheets have seen worse than some rainwater. Opening up his bookbag, he sees that his textbooks are unscathed. Thank fucking God.

All the time, he feels Parker’s eyes on him. The kid is too pretty for his own good—both he and his boyfriend. When he came to MIT, he had envisioned dozens of nightmare scenarios regarding roommates. Maybe they’d steal his clothes, eat his food, leave their hair in the drain. Instead, he’d gotten a goddamn Calvin Klein model and his twink. Sometimes, Tony had to lay awake facing the wall on his side of the dorm room, pretending he didn’t hear the breathy giggles and dirty, foul whispers as the two fooled around while their roommate was ‘sleeping’. It left him unbearably hard, determined not to rut into the mattress lest they find out that he was still awake (and stop, God, please don’t stop—).

It was all very, very fucked up: how much Tony liked them; how much it made him hate them.

“You’re gonna catch pneumonia,” Parker says.

“What do you want me to do about it, kid?” Tony asks. He’s only three years older than Parker, but the kid seems so young—the enthusiasm, the naivete, the buoyancy. Tony can’t help but call him kid.

Parker raises his eyebrows. “It’s your room. Take off your clothes.”

Tony stops where he’s flipping through his textbook. He lets it fall closed with a thud, assessing Parker’s gaze. He looks innocent enough, maybe a little sleepy, but he wasn’t dumb by any means (a full ride to MIT proved that). Surely he had to know how that sounded, for him to tell his boyfriend’s roommate to undress in front of him.

“In front of you, Parker? I’ll take the pneumonia.”

The kid just grins, shaking his head. “Whatever. Are you going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi?”

“Everybody is going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi,” Tony answers flatly.

“Are you going to wear a costume?”

“Fuck no.”

“Because you have no idea what to wear, right.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re a shit, Parker. So, what if I don’t? I’m an engineer; what do I need to dress up for?”

“I’m dressing Bucky; I could dress you too.”

“Yeah,” Tony snarks. “That’s just what I want.”

The bathroom door opens. Bucky appears in nothing but a towel around his hips. His abs violate state and federal laws—or at least if they don’t, they should. His hair is wet and up in a bun. Eyes like the ocean iced over drag up and down Tony’s body, making him feel heated despite the goosebumps on his skin. Tony is keenly aware of how his nipples have hardened, somewhere between the icy downpour and the sight of Parker looking fucked out on the twin-sized bed.

“Took you long enough,” Tony mutters. He grabs some clothes from the drawer and disappears into the bathroom, cranking the shower (and the drain is spotless because Barnes is a fucking good guy who cleans up after himself, the asshole) up to hellish proportions and peeling his wet clothes from his body. On the other side of the door are warm voices that are easy enough to tune out, or to tune into when he’s standing under the burning spray with a hand on his cock.

When he gets out of the shower, Parker is gone back to his own dorm. Bucky is eating a bowl of cereal, still shirtless. The words come out of Tony’s mouth before he can stop them: “Barnes, I think your boyfriend hit on me when you were in the shower. I just thought you might want to know that.”

Barnes stops chewing. He’s got the best poker face Tony has ever seen, no hint of anger or jealousy or surprise. His jaw closes again with an obscene, sugary crunch. After he swallows, he says, “Thanks, Tony. You’re a good friend.”

The first package arrives two days later. It’s for Tony, with no return address. He rolls his eyes—that’s just like his mother to be so dramatic as to not even say she’s sending him anything nor leave her mark. When he opens it though, there are no deliciously baked treats, no heartfelt (maybe a little distant) cards with carefully crafted handwriting, no trinkets that are hideous which he will be forced to cherish. Instead, it’s the ugliest pair of pants he’s ever seen: straight-legged and a size too big for him and a dirty gray.

“The fuck, mom,” Tony mutters. He tosses them aside. “Really off your game, crazy old bat.”

But when Barnes gets out of class and spots the box sitting on Tony’s desk, he points to it. “Did you get the first part of your costume?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your costume?” Bucky enunciates more, the fucking asshole, like Tony didn’t hear him the first time. “Peter told me that you said you were cool with him getting you a costume. He gets really fucking into Halloween. I saw this picture of him up in his Aunt’s apartment in Queens—”

Tony holds up a hand. “Stop. Rewind. I in no way told Parker he could dress me up for Halloween. Period.”

Barnes just raises his eyebrows. “That’s not what Peter thinks.”

“I couldn’t care less what he thinks, I’m not some doll for him to play with.”

“Next time he’s over, you can tell him so.” The guy’s pale eyes fucking glitter—glitter—like he knows that’s not going to go over well for Tony. And maybe it won’t, maybe Tony’s going to have to break some fucking hearts, but there’s no chance in hell he’s going to be caught dead in a costume, especially not one picked by a doe-eyed little twink like Parker.

But when Parker arrives for his date with Bucky two hours later, pink-cheeked from the windy cold, he’s got another little box tucked under his arm that he thrusts into Tony’s hands.

Tony thrusts it back. “Nope. Don’t want it.”

Parker frowns, looking up at Tony with those flat brows curled in confusion. “What do you mean? It’s for your costume.”

Barnes watches everything through the reflection in the mirror he keeps by his bed. He’s currently combing his hair like a schmuck (fuck, he looks so handsome), mouth pressed into a flat line, though Tony suspects that it’s more from holding back laughter than expressing any discontent. Tony chooses a point on the wall above Parker’s head and stares at it. The kid’s got eyes like vortexes, and Tony isn’t getting sucked in, no sir, not today.

“No costume. I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Sure you are, I’ve already bought the stuff. It’s started to arrive—did you get the pants?”

“Pants? Is that what they’re called? They’re hideous—” Barnes makes a noise in the corner that has Tony throwing a fuming glare his way. “I’m not going to wear them, or anything else. So return the stuff, kid.”

Parker stares down at the small package in his hands. “I—I can’t. I had it expedited so that it would get here in time for Halloween. No returns.”

“No re—? Well, fuck. That’s not my problem. I didn’t ask you to buy me stuff for a costume. What the hell were you going to dress me up as, anyway? A corpse from the 80’s?”

When Parker looks up, his eyes are a little misty. He rubs at one with his forearm, probably scratching himself with the wool from his coat. “It was gonna be a surprise.”

And yep. There it is. That does Tony in, because as much as Tony wishes he was the no good cruel piece of shit that plenty of people around MIT and the New England area like to label him as, he’s a sucker for tears. He’s seen his mom cry too many times, it just—it gets to him.

Tony snatches the package out of the kid’s hands. He points a finger at him. “No cartoon characters. No cross-dressing. No dorky inanimate objects, like a fork or a wet floor sign. Got it? Swear to God, kid, if you embarrass me in front of the whole school, I will never forgive you.”

“Why would I want to embarrass you?” Parker asks. He holds out a pinky. “It’s not embarrassing. Promise.”

“Fuck your pinky, man. Go on your date. Get out—you too Barnes, I don’t want to see either of your faces for like, two hours or something. Swear to God. I’m at the end of my rope, do you hear me? The end of my fucking rope.”

In the box is a scarf, long and plain and red. Tony rolls his eyes and sets it with the pants.

That night when he returns from his evening class, he finds that Barnes and his boyfriend have dragged all the blankets off of Bucky’s bed and onto the floor creating the warmest, coziest looking nest Tony’s ever seen. It looks like a slice of Heaven after coming in from the brutal cold. The best spot of all looks to be somewhere in between Barnes who is sprawled on his back, one arm behind his head and the other outstretched, and Peter who lays with his head cushioned on that ridiculous bicep. The size different between the two of them makes Tony’s mouth go dry.

On the wall, a Star Wars movie plays: The Empire Strikes Back.

Parker leans his head up, blinking at the sight of Tony in the doorway. He smiles, so soft and sweet that it hurts. “Hey Tony,” he says. He pats the blanket beside him. “Want to join us? There’s room.”

Tony hasn’t the slightest idea what to make of that. Not even a little one. Doesn’t Parker know how awkward that would be? For Tony to just cuddle in a pillow fort with Barnes and his boyfriend? Doesn’t Parker know how much that would hurt—

“No, I’ve got somewhere to be,” Tony lies. He steps out the door he had just came through and shuts it behind him. The library is always open on campus, and Tony falls asleep bent over the table there, cheek pressed into a book about the latest breakthroughs in Artificial Intelligence.

The next day arrives a plain white t-shirt in a plastic bag. Begrudgingly, Tony tries it on. It clings to his chest and the gentle six-pack he sports (nothing like Barnes who spends five days a week at the on-campus gym and drinks protein shakes in the morning). Turning sideways, he eyes himself in the mirror. At least this doesn’t look bad, certainly not with the way it clings to his biceps, but he will be fucking freezing.

Barnes comes in and catches Tony checking himself out in the mirror. For a moment, Tony thinks that maybe Barnes is checking him out, too, but—

“Looks good,” Bucky purrs. Making fun of Tony, surely.

Tony flips him the bird, but the guy just laughs.

“What is he dressing you up as?” Tony asks. Purely out of curiosity. Knowing how whipped Barnes was, Peter could dress him up as anything and he’d take it. Even something embarrassing or emasculating.

Barnes just rolls his eyes. “You know him. It’s a secret.”

The comradery with which he says it, like of course Tony knows how Peter is—something about it itches at the back of Tony’s brain, a mosquito that has landed and started to suck at his blood. But it’s no surprise that Barnes and his boyfriend are weirdos who like to spend more time having ‘dates’ in their dorm room with Tony rather than at a restaurant or the movies or any fucking where else.

But, like all things that Tony doesn’t want to wonder about, he pushes to the back of his brain.

The next day, it is a denim jacket and hideous combat boots.

“Fashion homicide,” Tony mutters.

The day before Halloween brings Tony a red flannel shirt.

“Goddamnit,” he says, holding it up so Barnes can see. “What is he dressing me up as, a lesbian?”

It isn’t until he’s assembling it all in the bathroom that he puts it together—and okay. It’s not bad. Bender was easily the coolest character in the Breakfast Club, though his fashion sense was nothing like Tony’s. The layers—white shirt under flannel under denim—are a little stifling, but out in the cold fall air, it would be perfect. He even combs his hair back.

All in all, Parker could have done far, far worse.

But when he comes out of the bathroom and finds the two of them in the dorm room, he sees that Parker has done worse.

Matching costumes.

Parker is Brian through and through. He looks like a total scrub in his khakis with Nike sneakers on, the long-sleeved sweater that clings to his thin frame. A ballpoint pen is tucked behind his ear, wrist-watch circling the delicate little wrist, and to top it off, a pair of sunglasses are looped over the collar of his sweater.

And Barnes? Forgone are his goth threads. He sits on his bed wearing blue jeans that hug his broad thighs, the whitest shoes that Tony’s ever seen, and a goddamn blue wifebeater that shows off his arms, both heavily muscled. Folded on his pillow is a letterman jacket, and Tony doesn’t even like jocks, but his cock twitches at the sight, thinking of slipping it down off of Bucky’s bare shoulders.

“No—we match,” Tony says.

Peter lights up. “Yes! You got it! The Breakfast Club is a classic.”

“I should have said no matching costumes. We look like—” like boyfriends, Tony thinks, “—like queers. I’m not going out like this.”

“Watch the slurs you throw around,” Barnes says, his mouth an unhappy, flat line.

Tony winces. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. But this is taking it to a whole new level that I’m not comfortable with. Not to mention, three gays all going out in matching costumes? Isn’t that a little suggestive?”

“Suggestive of what?” Parker asks. He’s holding fingerless gloves—the last part of Tony’s costume. It’s the cherry on top. With the cigarettes that Tony plans to be chainsmoking thanks to the stress of this whole event, he’ll be method acting his character all night.

“Come on. Suggestive, suggestive. Like we’re all—” Tony mashes his hands together.

Barnes reaches out, hand flat, arm flexing nicely. He doesn’t even look at Parker and Parker doesn’t look at him, but they slap hands in a high five.

“Am I speaking in tongues? I’m not fucking leaving like this; I’m not going to have the whole campus thinking I’m your loser third wheel.” It would be too painful, when there’s a shameful part of him that would gladly be the third wheel to them, that’s desperate to be between them. This feels like the crudest parody.

��You wouldn’t be,” Peter says.

“Pete, maybe we shouldn’t do this right now,” Barnes interrupts.

“No, Bucky, this was supposed to—supposed to be cute!” Parker turns away from them, towards the wall by Tony’s bed. He drops the gloves there and crosses his arms. It would be petulant if it wasn’t so heartbroken, the curve of his shoulders, his head drooping down morosely. Instead, the kid just looks like he’s trying to hold himself together.

Tony sighs. It takes Herculean strength not to roll his eyes. “Kid. I’m sorry. Clearly this meant a lot to you. Fuck knows why, but—”

Peter turns around, eyes tearful and flashing with anger. He reaches up to his ear, fiddling with the lobe with trembling fingers. Grabbing Tony’s wrist, he puts a little diamond earing in his palm, just like Claire did with Bender.

“What’s this?” Tony says, shoulders hunching. “My ears aren’t pierced.”

“Yes they are,” Peter says through his teeth. “You probably got them pierced five or so years ago, but your dad was an asshole about it and made you take them out. It’s been ages and the holes are hard to see but they still won’t close.”

Tony blanches. He can still hear the way Howard demeaned him, spent the whole dinner talking his Tony’s mother about how ridiculous the boy looked, how it gave people ideas about him, because pierced ears are for women and the only men who have them are faggots. “How the fuck do you even know that?”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” This is the loudest Peter’s ever been, his usual fragile voice replaced by this one that is sure and angry and doesn’t crack. “One: I spend every moment that I’m not looking at Bucky looking at you. I’ve got eyes; I know what a hole in an ear looks like, thanks. Two: your dad is an asshole about everything. He’s probably the reason why you don’t drink mixed drinks, why you call us queers even though you’re bi, why you lie and say you’re going to spend the whole holiday break at home but then come back and spend it here alone in the dorm. Because your dad is an asshole.

“He’s probably the reason why you’re such a fucking dunce too. A thick skull must run in the family, because Bucky and I have been hitting on you the entire semester and even though you go into the bathroom to jerk off every time you come back to the dorm and catch us making out, you won’t make a move or, or let us make the move, and—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tony says, his own voice rising to a shout. “You’ve been doing all this bullshit on purpose? Blowing Barnes when you know I’m awake? Skipping around here in your underwear because, what, you know it turns me on? Because you want to out me? Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“No,” Peter shouts, slapping a hand flat on Tony’s chest. “We like you, fuckface!”

The force of Peter’s tiny hand barely makes Tony sway, but the words—those might as well knock him to his knees. He feels like the scarf around his neck is on too tight, like there’s not enough air in the room. He licks his lips, his eyes moving between Peter’s red-rimmed eyes and nose (he’s an ugly crier) and Bucky who is still sitting on the twin bed watching them, his face white and afraid.

“You like me?” Tony asks. “What does that even mean? You two are together.”

“It means,” Peter says, taking Tony’s fist, coaxing open the anxious fingers to wear the diamond stud earring still rests, cutting into his palm. Peter presses his thumb against it, tenderly. “That we like you. We want you. To get to know you. You—and not your hang-ups.”

Tony shakes his head, taking his hand from Peter’s burning grip. “I—I can’t do that. My dad—”

“—is an asshole,” Bucky mutters.

Tony snorts softly. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“We don’t have to go home with you at Thanksgiving or Christmas or ever, if you don’t want,” Peter says. “We just want a chance. We want you to do something for yourself. Not your dad. Does that make sense?”

The silence lingers around the room. Somewhere in the distance, Halloween music is playing, ghoulish noises and moans and witch-like cackling. Mouth dry, Tony takes the backing off of the stud earing and reaches up, feeling for the holes in the lobes of his ears. It’s been years since he wore them, and his hands are trembling so badly that he can’t even find them—

“I’ll help you,” Peter says tenderly, taking the earring. He has it in in a moment and leans back, taking Tony in from head to toe.

“Well?” Tony asks. He clears his throat—there’s something stuck in it, some lump that he has to swallow away. He holds out his arms. “How do I look?”

“Gay,” Bucky says from the corner, smiling.

“That’s it!” Tony shouts. “I’m not going! Thanks for nothing! I’m out!”

“Tony,” Peter groans. “He was just joking, he’s—”

But Tony is already stalking to the dorm room door and pulling it open. He stops to glance over his shoulder at Bucky and Peter who are watching him with wide eyes. “Well?” he says. “I’m all for being fashionably late, but if we don’t get going, there’s not going to be anything left of the keg—”

The two scramble for their jackets and follow him out the door.

#winterironspider #tw: homophobia #tw: f slur #tw: q slur #college!winterironspider #Halloween prompt #cagewrites #longfic

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trashcanalienist · 4 years

Text

On spoilers

It's not as simple as "if you can't enjoy it anyways it's a bad movie/show/game". It's about emotional investment and payoff.

For example, I watched the original Star Wars trilogy knowing the whole Vader twist. I'm sure not a few of us did. As a result, when Vader said "Luke, I am your father", I felt nothing. Luke was like "what" and I was like "twink" and that was the end of it. I had absolutely no emotional investment in Luke's whole quest to Inigo Montoya Darth Vader, because I knew how it would turn out, and instead of connecting to Luke, I ended up unintentionally spending the whole time just waiting for it to happen.

Imagine watching the movies as they came out, back in the day, with no spoilers. Imagine the joy and triumph you would feel when the long-awaited confrontation finally took place. Imagine the horror, the sick tragedy you'd feel when Vader's identity was revealed.

Are they still good movies? Of course! Their objective value is not lessened at all by mere cultural osmosis. But their emotional value is. Would I still watch them again? Probably, I did enjoy them a lot, but emotionally they were underwhelming because the one plotline that was threaded through the entire story was already known to me.

It's the same way for the original Friday the 13th. Fortunately, that's not a movie that relies on emotional connections to the characters, so it doesn't affect how much I care about it.

Compare that to...say, Jordan Peele's Us, or The Sixth Sense, or Bad Times At The El Royale, all of which I watched without spoilers ("I see dead people" isn't the real twist in The Sixth Sense, guys). Because I was experiencing everything as it played out, I was fully invested in everything going on, because I had no idea what would happen next - what would be revealed next, how it would all play out. I don't think very often about Star Wars, despite wholeheartedly enjoying the movies. But I think about those three movies, and hundreds of others, regularly, and with vigor.

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jemej3m · 5 years

Text

What Now? (p2)

andrew and neil get protective over their respective kids: kevin is a history nerd. robin is an exy junkie. we meet allison, nicky and renee. (also yes, ms danielle wilds and headmaster matthew boyd are trying their best to remain professional at work but they be havin a BANGIN good time together ya know)

“...And I’m sorry for cutting your hair with craft scissors, and I’m sorry for drawing on you ini permanent marker when we were meant to be napping, and I’m sorry for saying your stupid history books are stupid, and I’m sorry for putting grapes into the bottom of your bag, and I’m sorry for telling Thea that you have cooties so that she wouldn’t kiss you, and I’m sorry for scribbling on your things, and calling you bad names, and pushing you.”

Neil Josten sighed. His daughter still sounded rather petulant, which meant none of this had truly gotten through. They’d written this speech at the dinner table last night, and he’d been almost impressed at the antics she’d described to him.

Matthew Boyd looked pleased, sitting back in his chair. “Okay? Are we all happy?”

Andrew Minyard - all it’d taken was a quick search for articles to flood Neil’s feed - said nothing, watching Neil from under his eyelashes. Neil had no clue what he wanted from him, and had stubbornly avoided looking in his direction as both kids read their apologies. Kevin was brooding, looking out the window. Robin’s hand was tugging on Neil’s sleeve.

“Thank you for your time, Neil, Andrew.” Boyd stood. “I hope both of you will continue to remind both Kevin and Robin how important civility is.”

Neil was sure that all four of them grimaced at the idea of civility. If Andrew was going to use Neil’s past to degrade his worth as a parent, he’d have to try a little harder than that. Besides: He was being hypocritical. Neil had never been arrested, let alone sent to court and convicted - Andrew had. Twice.

Shuffling Robin out, they stood next to one another on the pavement, Robin holding his hand. The whole ordeal was over now. Time to forget Andrew Minyard and his arrogant son.

"Off to class?” He tipped Robin’s chin up carefully.

She nodded, but tears were welling in the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill. Neil knelt down immediately.

“Robin, what’s wrong.” He took her cheeks in his hands.

“I didn’t really mean to push Kevin.” She blubbered. “Is that why you’re going away tonight?”

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” He drew her in, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

Tonight, Robin would stay with Allison Reynolds. She was the parent of Laila and Jeremy, who’s daughter had long moved on from Exy, but who’s son remained on Neil’s A-Grade team. They were close friends. Robin had grown to adore Laila, doting on her like a little sister, taking time to teach Robin to bake, play backyard Exy, or even help with homework. She stayed with them when Neil had to travel out of state with his team.

“I don’t want to.” She sniffled. “Why don’t you take me with you, like you normally do?”

“Because they’ve skewed the scheduling, Robin. I don’t want you to miss school.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead whilst she was being unresistant, revelling in the affections that Robin had grown comfortable with. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, I promise. Allison has your things, and your nightlight: The guest bedroom always has its locks. Laila will keep you safe, okay? Maybe she’ll bake you those brownies that you love.”

She perked up slightly, nodding and taking off: Her glittery backpack bounced on her back. “Bye Dad!” She called over her shoulder, waving. Neil closed his eyes as his chest squeezed.

It always pained him to see Robin go.

With shaky hands, he drew out his pack of cigarettes and shook out the lighter. His fingers were trembling, making it difficult to spark one. Frustratedly, he threw the lighter into the bin on his left and rubbed his eyes, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“Want a light?”

Slowly, he peeled his eyes open.

Andrew Minyard was stood to his right, offering a sparked lighter.

Andrew watched Neil Josten light his cigarette and take a slow drag, hollowing his scarred cheeks. His eyes were the same spectacular blue of the sky, his hair almost the colour of blood. Fitting, for the Butcher’s boy. It would be shocking, if Andrew wasn’t incapable of being shocked, that Neil would be here. It was always strange to see people you heard of in the news when you were younger.

What a quiet life he’s arranged for himself, here.

Andrew could say the same. Only moments ago had he carted Kevin off to class, books under his arm and a sullen set to his frown. His son was a miserable nerd. It was hilarious.

“I know about you.” Neil offered. “I don’t want your son near my daughter.”

“And I know about you.” Andrew rebutted. He couldn’t deny he didn’t appreciate the honesty. Most parents at this school were conniving fuckwits. “I don’t want your daughter near my son.”

“Good.” Neil huffed. “That’s settled, then.”

Andrew wasn’t finished. “What do you do?”

Neil rose a single eyebrow, keeping his gaze on the stagnant carpark in front of them. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon: Andrew hated the humid, electric storms of South Carolina’s summers. “I coach the junior state Exy teams. You?”

“Criminal prosecutor.”

At least Neil had the audacity to laugh. Andrew hid the twitch at the corner of his mouth behind his hand, watching as Neil dropped his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with his heel. He looked at Andrew one last time, and really, fuck him for looking like that. “Keep your son away from my daughter, Minyard, and we won’t have any problems.”

“Shove your attitude up your ass, and then we’ll have no problems.” Andrew left with his mocking salute, walking towards his car. He was sure Neil continued glared at him until he’d driven well out of his range of vision.

It was a big enough school that he’d most likely never run into Neil Josten and his pretty eyes again.

That was fine by Andrew - but oh, boy. He’d been very wrong.

Neil was extremely uncomfortable. A big banner across the auditorium read Bring Your Parent To School Day with dozens of exclamation marks: Around him were a chaotic cohort of children and parents, gathered into small groups and chattering excitedly. Robin had disappeared five minutes ago, and he was anxiously looking for her to return. Allison was supposed to be here, but she was nowhere to be seen, and Andrew Minyard was across the room.

Socialising wasn’t his thing: Everyone here was discussing their jobs, college, high school, reminiscing, all that shit. Neil had spent his elementary years home schooled, his high-school years running, his college years in perpetual fear and his occupation fighting the prejudice established against him.

This place was a rumour gold-mine.

“Neil! Neil!” Robin barrelled into him. “Look! These are my friends, Abby and Bee!”

One was blonde and pink-cheeked, who looked very shy. The other was grinning madly, her chubbiness endearing. Their mother rushed after them, skidding to a stop before she could barrel into Neil head-first. They all wore matching silver necklaces, crosses hanging daintily at their necks. The mother’s silver hair, however, was streaked through with many colours. It was confusing.

“I’m Renee,” She said apologetically. “You must be Neil.”

Neil shook her hand uneasily. “I’m sorry that Robin dragged your kids off.”

She waved off his concern.

“Abby is my cousin.” Bee explained to Neil. “But she lives with me now. And Robin told me that she hasn’t always lived with you. Is that why she doesn’t call you Dad?”

“Or he’s gay,” Abby chided. “And it would be confusing to call both her dads Dad.”

Neil flushed, but the girls were all giggling. Renee mouthed an apology, hiding her face behind her hands. Neil shook his head.

“Don’t worry. I get these questions all the time.”

“Which questions?” Allison’s familiar, chiding tone could be heard over the din easily. She appeared by his side, Laila and Jeremy in tow. Neil watched fondly as Robin hugged Laila hesitantly, and introduced her Exy friends to her classmates.

“That I’m gay.” Neil provided. “Allison, this is Renee. Renee, this is Allison. Don’t mind her being a bitch: She can’t help it.”

“The children.” Allison hissed. Renee waved it off.

“They’re not listening.” Momentarily, they watched their kids bonding together. “My daughter and niece were just being very invasive. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, Neil.”

“Oh,” Allison snorted. “He gets asked if he’s gay all the time. It’s not your kids’ fault. He’s just an absolute twink.”

Neil shoved her lightly and she elbowed him back.

Renee was about to ask her a question, but was promptly hooked by a middle aged man and his judgemental glares towards both Neil and Allison. She threw an apologetic glance over her shoulder towards them and the kids as she dragged her daughters off.

“It’s not like you to introduce yourself to strangers.” Neil hedged. “What about your whole all parents are beneath me attitude?”

She examined her nails. “Can’t blame me for knowing when someone’s hot and eyeing me up. Not your fault you can’t read signals.”

“She was what?” Neil shook his head. “Whatever. I want to get out of here. Can’t we just take them all to a diner?”

Allison clucked her tongue, looking at where Renee was being introduced into a new circle. “Not tonight, blue-eyed boy. Go get some kids into that program of yours. Be productive. Find a single parent to complain with. Or flirt with.”

“You are a single parent to complain with.” He grunted, crossing his arms. “Alright. Fuck off with you, then.”

She grinned and pinched his cheek, before sauntering off.

God, Neil hated school functions.

“Neil, it’s loud in here.” Robin tugged on his sleeve. “Can we go outside for a bit?”

“Do you want to go home?” He hedged.

She paused; then shrugged. “I want to play with Abby and Bee. But I’m not sure.”

“Let’s make that decision outside.” He conceded, and guided her outside. His anxiety was making him itch for a cigarette, but he never smoked around Robin. Instead, he crouched down next to her, letting her put her hands on his shoulders and hoisting her up onto his back. He grinned over his shoulder at his daughter. “Comfy?”

She nodded into her shirt. They walked around the edge of the building, away from the entrance and the cacophony of noise. Cars were crammed into every parking space. Across the way was the administrative building, where Neil had last spoke to Andrew Minyard. Neil’d seen him only briefly tonight. Had he already left?

Why do you care?

They both leaned on the brick wall of the auditorium’s exterior, Neil crouching to Robin’s eye-level.

“Dad,” She said hesitantly. “Why are everyone’s families older?”

Neil brushed an eyelash off her cheek. “It’s their choice when they have children, Robin. I was lucky to get you when I did.”

“But I don’t have a mom.”

“She’s out there, somewhere. We’ve talked about this, Robin.” Neil tapped her nose. “Did you want to find her?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. I don’t want to leave you.”

Neil’s heartstrings were being yanked in all different directions. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She blew a raspberry at him. “Can we go home?”

“Fine, you rascal.” Relief released the tension that had curled his shoulders all evening. He took her hand. “Let’s go.”

He threw himself into the car with enthusiasm, after strapping her into the backseat, and put the keys into the ignition.

And then: Of course. The car wouldn’t start.

“What’s wrong with the car, Neil?”

He was so tempted to whack his head against the horn of the stupid steering wheel. Instead, he gave Robin a reassuring glance and swung himself out of the car.

It was probably just his battery: He’d get Allison to jumpstart his car and then they’d be sweet. Or she could just give them a lift home.

Cranking open the hood, he checked that nothing was about to explode, before calling out to Robin: “Can you try turning the radio on?”

She scrambled into the front. He could see her little flushed cheeks shaking her head after she’d fumbled for a minute or so. He drew in a deep breath and reached for his phone.

“That’s a shitshow of a car.”

Neil’s eye twitched. He turned around. “Not all of us are lawyers.”

“And yet, you could have been a professional Exy player.” Andrew - who else would it be, honestly - pointed out. “Seems slightly more lucrative than this.”

Neil seethed. “What do you want?” He could see Kevin, standing a little ways back with his arms crossed. Sullen brat.

“To offer my jump cables?” Andrew rose his eyebrows. “Unless you want to walk home in the dark.”

“And you care, because?”

“Because I’m such a caring, affectionate person, Josten.”

Neil snorted. Right. “I have my own cables, thanks.”

“Always prepared, runaway.” Andrew rose his chin. “You’d still need a battery.”

Neil ground his teeth. Whatever angle that Andrew was attempting, Neil just couldn’t figure it out. “Fine. Fine. God, I’m going to hate owing you. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Neil, what’s happening?” Robin called.

He leaned over the opened front door. “You’re going to have to wait a little out here, okay? Kevin’s father’s helping us start the car.”

She thought about it for a moment: Neil expected a fight, not wanting to be around Kevin, not wanting to stand outside in the cold and the dark. Instead, she merely said “Okay!” and shuffled out of the car feet-first. Neil watched as Kevin didn’t move from where he stood, even as she approached.

Odd.

Andrew swerved his car up as Neil unloaded his cables - its sleek exterior and leather lining screaming pretentiousness. Neil sat behind the wheel after they’d connected their engines.

“Feel free to electrocute yourself any time.” Neil offered, before starting the car. It revved to life with a rather guttural screech of protest.

“Missed opportunity.” Andrew agreed. “Then I wouldn’t have to stand the sight of you any longer.”

“You offered to help.”

“Technicalities.” Andrew leaned his elbows onto the rolled-down window sill of . Neil’s car. “You owe me, Josten.”

“Thanks.” He gestured to his engine. “For that.”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Don’t make a habit out of it.”

Neil almost smiled, rubbing the twitch at the corners of his lips away with his hand. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Bye, Kevin.” Robin waved to Andrew’s son as they drove away.

“What’s that about?” Neil eyed her in the rear-view mirror.

His daughter wriggled suspiciously, cheeks pinked. “Nothing.”

Neil huffed. Surely a daughter of his would be better at lying than that.

i have no idea how i want to get them together in this

#single parent au #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #child!kevin #child!robin #dad!andrew #dad!neil #the foxhole court #part 2 #jem writes

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mentalmimosa · 5 years

Text

quite so impossible

Prompt: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics.

It doesn’t go so well the first time.

All right, it doesn’t go well at all.

It’s not as if it was the first time for either of them, by any means; over the years, Bucky’s had enough to fill a stadium--sometimes by duty, not choice--and Tony, well… He worked hard for his reputation, back in the day, and even though it’s been a while since his bed saw anything headline-worthy, the metaphorical notches on his bedpost don’t lie. Alphas are usually the ones who preen over their scoreboards, as it were, but then Tony’s always made a point of thumbing his nose at convention, especially other people’s morays, so why not have a go at biology and the social construction of sex, eh? Besides, back in the day, it really pissed people off to see an omega act like a slut (their word, not Tony’s)--which has always been Tony’s favorite incentive; he’s spent his life making outrage an art.

So they’d both danced the mambo before, is the point, many, many damn times, and it’s understandable, then, why they thought having a go at each other in bed would be a simple if mutually delightful exercise.

Imagine their surprise when it wasn't.

Oh, everybody comes. That's not the problem. Balls are wrung dry, a knot tied; thanks to Bucky’s warm, metal fingers, his semi-felonious tongue, Tony's never been so wet in his life. But in the matter of the deed itself, the actual act of penetration, something doesn’t feel right.

“What?” Tony says through slim teeth, pushing back the scrum of Bucky’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky’s perched above him, arms trembling. His body is covered in sweat and the low smell of Tony’s come and he’s the same divine leonine who’s haunted Tony’s dreams for months, ever since he walked into the offices of Carbonell and Co. training a scent that send every omega on the floor scrambling to their respective doors to gape at him ambling by. But it was Tony’s door he was heading for; Tony with whom he sat for an interview for the new Head of Security post; Tony who had to battle back every hard-wired desire to actually listen to what James Buchanan Barnes was saying instead of a) hiring or b) climbing the man on the spot.

In the end, he’d behaved himself and hired Bucky because he was the best fit, not the hottest, but that gorgeous tension he’d felt the first time they shook hands--without gloves, because Tony was old enough to make his own dumb decisions, thanks, and that’s just how he rolls--the thing that had made Bucky’s nose flare and those ridiculously blue eyes sweep up to his slow (cue the music), it continued to linger, to keep Tony up at night in the nicest possible way. And sometimes, when he managed to sneak a peek at Bucky in a meeting or on the plane or in the back of the car at night when Jarvis was taking the long way home, he imagined that he’d catch that look again, Bucky’s, like he had that first day: a look that said I see you, omega; a look that said I want you; a look that said And I mean to have you, someday.

Never mind that Bucky was 30some and stunning, a magazine model of an alpha walking through the world in real life, while Tony was inching past 50, a little longer in the tooth, gray hair fighting black and skinnier than he’d been back in the day. Bucky was muscle, Bucky was fine, and Tony had always been handsome, that he could still hang his hat on, but he wasn’t the picture of omega twink all the kids seemed to go for these days, that’s for sure. When he was young and dumb, that had worked for him, being different; he loved being everybody’s flavor of the month. But now that he was older and slightly more wise, the pictures on the newstand, on the TV, of good-looking and scantily-dressed omegas stuck with him more than they should have; anyway, now that he was of a distinctly different demographic, they were a lot harder to ignore.

Loneliness, though, had its privileges, and one of those were the hours between lights out and dawn when he could imagine Bucky beside him, those strong, scarred hands stroking his chest; that soft, pursed mouth on his neck, on his nipples, turning up in a chuckle as Tony shivered and rocked.

That Bucky might really want him didn’t seem quite so impossible, in the dark.

Fast forward then to that night, this one, when Bucky had come up to the penthouse late bearing plans for the trip to Rio that couldn’t wait and they’d ended up like this, naked and greedy in Tony’s bed, Tony wrung dry twice already (fuck that, over 50) and Bucky growling (or he had been), biting at Tony’s neck and promising more.

Except something had changed once he’d given Tony his cock, once he’d spread apart Tony’s knees and damn well mounted him and shoved that big, beautiful dick up inside.

Now, his face is shuttered, his eyes dim. It’s as if a curtain’s been drawn. Oh, he’s still hard, still poised to give Tony the fuck of his life. But something’s wrong; Tony can feel it, smell it, see it when Bucky looks down at him at last.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he croaks. God, he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “Not for me, Tone. Want me to stop?”

Tony’s whole body curls at the words, almost like a command: hold him in don't let him go. Stop? Now? Oh, hell no.

He tries to say that but at that comes out is a groan, like something supernatural, a ghost welling up and out of his throat, and with that, Bucky’s hips shove and he cries out and then the bed is shaking, quaking, as Tony throws his head back and holds on for dear fucking life.

And it's good. Oh, fuck is it ever. Coming with Bucky groaning in his ear is Tony's new favorite kink.

But after, when Bucky’s tied in and pulsing steadily into the condom, the smell’s wrong, something in the air is; as good as Tony’s idiot body feels, something, his gut tells him, is seriously wrong.

“Bucky,” he murmurs. They’re on their sides now, face to face, Bucky’s hands folded around Tony’s ass, keeping himself mounted firmly inside. “What’s the matter?”

“Shhhh,” Bucky says. He kisses the sound in Tony’s mouth once, and then twice. “Everything’s fine.”

Yeah, but it’s not, though, Tony wants to say, means to, but the hormones flooding his system are a lot and it’s been a decade since he’s come three times in one night and he’s tired, exquisitely so, the sort of tired that only comes when he’s been fucked like this, used and bred and filled and never mind the condom, the small but pertinent fact that Bucky isn’t his mate; in the moment, as Bucky keeps coming, keeps whimpering, a small, desperate noise at the back of his throat, Tony’s idiot body doesn’t know any better. All it knows is that he’s full and he’s made an alpha happy and it’s not so far a leap, is it, to believe that all that warmth, all those sweet, sticky feelings his pheromones are feeling mean that he’s safe and he’s loved and that Bucky--beautiful, wounded Bucky who’s seen shit that Tony can’t bring himself to imagine--will stay there with him, in him, always.

In the stale light of morning, though, Bucky’s gone, and that odd smell of something unsettled lingers, deepens. It’s louder than the smell of Bucky’s come. He’d spilled some on the bed, Tony remembers vaguely, when he’d finally drawn himself out and peeled back the condom and--

“Holy shit,” Tony had said, sleepy, tottering on the edge of good sense. “You always give it up like that? Fuck. I’m surprised the damn thing didn’t break.”

Bucky hadn’t looked at him. Had kept his eyes on the weight of the condom, the bulging, wet stretch. Said: “Been awhile for me, that’s all.”

“Mmmm, hurry up and get rid of it.” Tony had stretched out his leg, nudged Bucky’s back with his calf. “Need you back.”

“Can’t. I have Ops in two hours.”

“You can sleep here, alpha.”

Bucky had turned back to face Tony, the condom shaking in his hand, and they’d both heard the seed spill on the sheets, smelled it. Which had only, apparently, made matters worse.

“I have to go.” The words gruff, abrupt. The bed shaking as Bucky shot up. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Tony had said, remembers saying. “You know what, Buck? I don’t think you are. Not one damn little bit.”

Bucky stood up, a long line in the shadows. “Think what you want.”

And that was it, poof; condom in the trash and clothes gathered and not so much as a kiss goodbye.

“Your briefing’s at two today,” Bucky had said at the door. “I’ll have the Rio options we talked about drawn up for you to review.”

“Fine.” He’d sounded hurt because he was, damn it; saw no reason to hide it. He deserved better than a fuck-and-run. Didn't he?

Bucky had lingered for a moment. “Tony," he said finally. It sounded like a question.

“What?”

He heard Bucky take a deep breath. “Forget it. It's nothing. I'll see you this afternoon. Goodbye."

Now, sitting up alone in the light a few hours later, the sheets stink of Bucky, the whole room does: the pillows, the covers, Tony’s skin--they all reek of alpha, and if he weren’t so fucking old, if Bucky hadn’t drained him dry, he’d be hard again, Tony thinks; he’d be rutting into the sheets, acting like a teenager the morning after they took their first knot.

But he has years on him now, miles, experience, and his dick isn’t ready for that trick. Plus, it just makes him sad, because what lingers too is the sense that something he didn’t understand had gone sideways, very very wrong, and what it was and why it shut Bucky down, he has no goddamn clue. Not at all.

So it’s good that he’d old, he tells himself as he pads towards the shower. Never mind that his ass aches and his back’s strained and that there are bruises on his hips, big ones, from the power of Bucky’s flesh and metal hands. It’s a blessing this morning that his cock’s too tired to stand up, even to the scent of an alpha. It’s a good thing, it is, because if he was hard and alone instead of just being alone, floating on the feeling of the night before instead of standing under the spray to wash it off, then his eyes might not be dry, then he might be hurting. Then he might even let himself be fucking sad.

He’s not, though. This is what Tony tells himself. He’s fine. Bucky fucked him nine ways to Sunday. That’s all that he’s wanted from the man, right?

It isn’t, of course. And Tony knows that.

But Bucky, twisting in an office chair across town as his Ops Team files in clutching coffee and shooting the shit? Does not.

Yeah, Bucky, master tactician, former (unofficial) assassin, has no grip on his situation with Tony. But then, to be fair, how would you tell a guy that you slept with but also signs your paychecks that, oops, sorry, turns out that you think he’s ideal mate, that you came two shakes from claiming him without his consent, that it took everything you had in the tank not to hold him down on your dick and bite your desire into his the soft skin of his neck until he was yours, period full stop, whether he liked it or not?

He should have pulled out, Bucky thinks miserably, gnawing on the end of his pen. No, he shouldn’t have kissed the man in the first place. But he’d looked so unspun, Tony had; tie off and shirt open, the gray and black hair underneath. And his smell--god, Tony always smelled good, but ensconced at home, in his own sacred space, his ease and contentment had made the air ache from the smell of spring, of blooming flowers and green cut grass and when he’d smiled at Bucky, smiled and patted his knee and tried to hand him a drink, Bucky had taken the glass and shoved it at the table and reached for Tony, at last, instead.

Since the first day they'd met, he'd wanted to do that: to stretch his arms across the table or the aisle or the seat and tug Tony against him, nuzzle the sharp gray turn of Tony's beard, lick the pale stretch of his neck. Even during his interview, all he could think about was what Tony would look with his back on the desk and his pants down, his face writhing as Bucky stroked his fingers inside. And then Tony had shaken his hand at the end, palm to palm, and he'd gotten so hard in the elevator he'd had to find a bathroom before he made it to the car and worked one out into his palm. And then last night, fuck, it was Tony's come that he'd cupped there, wasn't it, that sweet omega heat spilling over his knuckles before it had gone sideways, before he'd--

“Sir?” one of the guys says, Rogers, he of the big, earnest eyes that lead the troops to look in Bucky’s direction. “I think we’re all here.”

“Are we? Good. Fine.” Bucky rubs the bridge of his nose and picks up his notes. “Hill, is that you over there by the panel? Hit the lights.”

#winteriron #a/b/o dynamics #age difference #first time #that doesn't go so well

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suburban-satan · 5 years

Text

shit my friends say

So I made a list of all the wild shit my friends say, started in January 2018 and still going. It's one year old I guess? Well, enjoy what I have so far!

2018 -d a d d y w i s e -well there’s chains on the ground so that must mean this was a kinky sex dungeon -GORSH MICKEY NOT MY G SPOT -I can wait until I turn 40 so I can troll Japanese Girls on roblox -what if we all looked like mike wizowski but our heads were the same size as they are now -I wanna give pot to a bird -I take pills without water -daddies cummie wummies are the best cummie wummies -enjoy your nonexistent stomach acid -cum glaze -I hope you choke on MY meat -who hasn’t been on pornhub -(wipes tears away and starts belting despacito) -MY GAY IS BEING TRIGGERED -that omelet looks delouse -is semen a liquid or solid -iTs nOt aQuaNauTs yOu uNculTurEd fOoK -vaginas are scary -what is menstruation -you should change your name to pussy something -my gay has been activated -“have you ever owned a vibrator?” “No” “would you like to rent one” -“do you like glazed or cream filled” -wHaT dOeS cUm sOuNd LiKe -he is on too much fertilizer -sometimes cum is hot I know from experience -if you jerked off at the speed of sound would your dick be on fire -I don’t have a sonic fetish -can your dick ignite because of the heat of your cock -aren’t dicks like cannons -who the fuck draws a glowing peepee on a skeleton -honey Freddy freaker is dancing in the living room -does penis smell like garlic -she don’t swallow in this household -*downloading garrison nudes* -don’t you realize that tentacle porn is just using octopus arms as a dildo -frickle my nipples -Minecraft porn consists of the male genitalia replaced with a stick -OOPSIE WOOPSIE!! Uwu We make a fucky wucky!! A wittle fucko boingo! The code monkeys at our headquarters are working VEWY HAWD to fix this! -“I’m big for an asian” -cockilicous -“His anal glands need milking” -fready flipper -FREADY FAPPER -daddy better make me choke -does Freddy freaker have a mutated alien dick -sonic breaks the sound barrier by beating his meat -the sun looks like it’s gon vore you -bootyhole exploration -is megalovania sex music -i like to drink cock -cum is just genital snot -penis musk -Shid piz and farbt -Bull + shit = sis it don’t add up -Hey don’t tell me at least once in your life you haven’t thought about being gently caressed across the genitalia by the kraken -I swallow boba like i swallow cum -I wuv fungus kun, the way he waps a awond my tosie wosies so tight! He’s gibing me a huggie!!!! Fungus kun gibes my tosies a new color too!!!! Wat a good fungus kun make my doki doki go “ UAU” heeheehee -eating banana with the banana peel -orang juce -father I want cheddar -don’t you just look at someone and think about how long their neck is -breathing is just boneless vaping -get outta here juuling criminal -yall ever succ a dick for juul pods -unironically drawing miss piggy -“Jack don’t let go 😱🤭🤭, jack sweetie 😐👀 if you let go 🙊🙈 you’re weave 🙀🙀 gone 😇😘💅” -I've been watching spooky movies for 5 hour -omg it’s daddy sans undertaker!!! -bröther -I ate my sister -are you'd's't've kidding me? -oh youtube please don't show me the shrek movies rn -My brother is calling me out on the family group chat for eating a bowl of peanut butter -Hamilton is best girl -get outta here you fuckin loyalist -what doesn’t cum have -drink flex seal and you won’t have to worry about a marriage -I feel water. -“Superfood or supergross? Is Sperm good?” -coochie hands gucci bands -just imagine trying to cast a spell and then you get disturbed by a banjo -toto africa is sex music now and everytime they say rain it’s just cum -y'all ever burp in your mouth and exhale it through your nose like a vaper -how dare them make my green senpai an honorable member of society -If you didn’t search big boobs video on google at least once are you really a Gen Z kid????? -laugh pussies -i’m watching the history of japan on pornhub -we have the same name because we are secretly the same person -what if you eat your phone and it’s all in your tummy -why would you ever think i’m not serious all the time you silly dragon but we’re both (my name) so we can be the silly dragon together -why would you wash your face before you go to bed when your tears wash it off for you *wooshing noises* -I want to drive a bus because I like busses -my shoe broke -why does everyone talk about the drugs i’m eating -i’m going to break her because she’s talking about smoking cocaine and I don’t like drugs -(stage whisper) metal heads live among us but we don’t know because they look like normal people -oh bye mr music teacher -the pussy? designer. cucci, if you will. -DID I HEAR S A N S P O R N -"i'm about to nay nay on your dead fucking corpse" -alert alert the toes are coming -you got a fucking problem with my 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐬? -imagine using an oven for something designed for a microwave this post was made by the doesnt have much motivation gang -Please take my Minnesotan snow Wait that sounds like Minnesotan cocaine -when you funny scream -"dating the Bill of Rights for fun" is now exactly how I'm going to describe my hyperfixations -the penguin from fruit loops is a twink (bitch its a toucan) -if white cheese exists is there black cheese -What’s rosum opossum -whale cum -dicko mode -(GETTIN SOME CHRISTMAS SPIRIT UP IN THAT PUSS) -pennies more like penis amirite -It’s Sunday don’t forget to squeeze cheese on the cat -the grinch is dr seuss’s fursona -everyone is gangster until the trees start speaking vietnamese -big chungus is my dad -“if the apocalypse happened what would you do” “eat bees” -I'm tired as fuck but I gotta wait until it's 4:20 to go to bed -mom: you need to be reasonable and wait two hours before having another brownie me, stuffing my mouth full of brownie: br o w n y s -This honey in whole foods is in fucking comic sans -it's more likely that I'll guess someone is gay before I remember the existence of women -im gonna say it again for the people in the back:

i eat bees -Thanos penis, it's actually called a thenis -yort -uwu its the mowst thorstiewst time of the yeaw uwu -It is I Teh gromc -The gronk is here to say eat all the dish soap in the house -the grinch but he's wearing crocs the entire time -answer my question or else i will establish sans porn -You make him doki doki uwaaaaa!!!! -birdbox but all the bird sounds are replaced by cardi b noises -THE GROMPK IS TOO POWERFUL -consume ocean sauce -square up in judge judys court -half consumes ocean sauce -ice juce -frick stick -you guys wanna read undertale fanfiction -2019- -it might be 2019 but thats not gonna stop me from terrorizing my family's groupchat -(pineapple voice) first date idea: digest eachother -Wait dennys will arrest you for doing illegal things?? -pls purify me -my toes are very succulent today -two succs having flex two succs having sex my muscles my muscles involuntarily checks -f u r r y , N a s h . -Perfect for all occasions! Spill something on your nice shirt, give a messy blowjob, and sphagetti!!! -Do you want cum on your nice shirt??? -it would be nice if i had cum on my shirt -cocc succ machine -I KNOW TONGUE JUTSU -I feel like i’m in a meat prison -hi you obese elephant -plant porn is just flowey porn -We all love the out of the box 4am messages we get -YOU LIKE SNAS PEEPEE

#shit my friends say #shitpost #please help me #sans #I guess???#theres a lot of sans sorry #too many about peepee #enjoy #please dont be offended #bees #thanos #so sorry

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stupidtwinkmac · 6 years

Text

you asked for my full psychology notes so here they are

i rewatched the entire series and wrote down all the things i thought were relevant to the characters’ psychology, theres probably some stuff missing so message me if you think i should add anything

S1e1- “The Gang Gets Racist”

Dennis wants paddys to stay a gay bar bc he likes getting validation from gay boys

“They’re really more of a blue-green”

S1e3- “Underage Drinking: A National Concern”

Dennis talks about how popular he was in high school and cries a bit when mac and charlie tell him that tim murphy slept with his prom date which is like pretty normal but it foreshadows the high school reunion episode

Dee goes out with a high schooler just for the validation and to live out shit she couldn't do in high school

“Wait but ive never statutory raped anyone before”

Mac and charlie give high schoolers a keg bc they said that mac and charlie were cool

Mac gets jealous that everyone got asked to a high school prom except for him

S1e7- “Charlie Gets Molested”

Mac gets jealous that he didn't get molested

“If the McPoyles got blown, and Charlie got blown, then why didn't I get blown?”

charlie got molested by his uncle

S2e4- “Mac Bangs Dennis’ Mom”

Dennis gets pissed that people's moms wont fuck him

“Is everyone getting laid but me?”

S2e7- “The Gang Exploits A Miracle”

Dennis starves himself for three days because Dee said his face looked fat

S3e1- “The Gang Finds A Dumpster Baby”

Dennis pretends to be a hippie just to fuck some guys girlfriend because he insulted his quaff and called him a narc

S3e2- “The Gang Gets Invincible”

Dee pretends to be a guy to try out for the eagles just to prove that she can

s3e5 - “The Aluminium Monster Vs. Fatty Magoo”

Dennis goes on a Whole Thing to prove that he’s a winner and that he hasn't peaked

“I haven't even begun to peak”, “make it work dennis… make it work”

S3e6- “The Gang Solves the North Korea Situation”

Dee does the talent show every year to validate herself

S3e11- “Dennis Looks Like A Registered Sex Offender”

Dennis obsesses over his jawline and his weight when people tell him he looks like wendell

Mac’s dad gets out of jail and we can see how neglectful his parents are

S4e3- “America’s Next Top Paddy’s Billboard Model Contest”

Dennis desperately tries to prove that he’s still hot enough to be on the billboard

“I was sculpted to the proportions of Michelangelo's David”

“I realized that i don’t need validation anymore”- proves that he was just doing the billboard stuff bc of a bpd need for validation.

S4e4- “Mac’s Banging the Waitress”

Dennis gets unreasonably upset when he finds out that Charlie doesn't think he’s his best friend

Mac bangs the waitress to get back at Charlie for smashing his project badass tapes

S4e5- “Mac and Charlie Die Pt 1”

Dennis gets more upset that Mac and Charlie didn't include him in their suicide pact than he is about them being “dead”

S5e2- “The Gang Hits The Road”

Charlie doesn't want to go on the road trip because he’s never left philly before, he asks dennis to comfort him about his fears of bad things happening and people being assholes, he eventually freaks out and asks the hitchhiker to drop him back off at the bar

S5e10- “The D.E.N.N.I.S System”

Dennis believes that his manipulation actually makes girls fall in love with him

S6e2- “Dennis Gets Divorced”

Charlie gets real uncomfy when uncle jack tries to hug him

S6e5- “Mac and Charlie: White Trash”

Dennis tries desperately to prove that he’s high class

S6e6- “Mac’s Mom Burns Her House Down”

Charlie’s mom has OCD and Charlie also starts to pick it up

“Why are you doing everything in threes?” “Oh. So Charlie doesn't die.”

“...just playing it safe. She's been doing it. I'm still alive. Can't be crazy” “ It does feel good to do stuff in threes.”

S6e8- “The Gang Gets a New Member”

Dee gets incredibly insecure when she opens the time capsule and hasn't done what she wanted to do when she was a kid

Charlie gets super insecure when he thinks smitty is replacing him

S6e10- “Charlie Kelly: King of the Rats”

Charlie doesn't like leaving the bar and going out into the world

“Dee, I go to a movie or a spaghetti place with you, and out there, I'm the rat.”

Charlie has a panic attack in a sauna

“I'm trapped like a rat, aren't I?” “No, you're not, Charlie.” “ I'm a rat in here! I'm a rat! I'm trapped like a - I gotta get out of here.” “I'm tired of being in weird places, Frank, 'cause I'm trapped like a rat.” Just bash me like a rat! Bash me like a rat and get it over with!”

S6e11- “The Gang Gets Stranded in the Woods”

Charlie has to be knocked out with a sack over his head to be able to go to Atlantic City

“This is why i don’t leave philly alright cause when you leave philly, bad shit happens”

Mac starves himself for chase utley

“If animals have taught me anything it's that you can die at any time very quickly by the side of the road”

S6e12- “Dee Gives Birth”

Dennis yells at a nurse about Dee’s stories like he’s a god

“I will come down on this hospital like the hammer of Thor. The thunder of my vengeance will echo through these corridors like the gust of a thousand winds!”

Dee berates guys until they have sex with her

S7e1- “Frank’s Pretty Woman”

Mac gains a ton of weight and calls it packing on mass

“I went from tiny twink to the muscle bound freak you see before you”

Dennis admits to starving himself and literally constantly working out

“I may look relaxed but im incredibly tense at all times”

S7e2- “The Gang Goes to the Jersey Shore”

Mac knocks carlie out with chloroform to get him to the jersey shore

S7e6- “The Storm of the Century”

Dennis writes a contract for the girls he plans to invite to his rape bunker

S7e7- “Chardee Macdennis: The Game of Games

Mac says that Dee tried to kill herself

S7e10- “How Mac Got Fat”

Charlie gets overwhelmed and goes in the crevice

Mac blames everyone else for making him fat

Dennis does dumb shit because he’s self conscious about getting old and looking bad

“I was just trying to live up to all of your expectations of me” “what expectations?” “physical perfection”

The entire chemical peel scene is a good representation of his mental disorders

S7e12- “The High School Reunion”

Dee tries to be friends with the popular people from school to validate herself

Mac got bullied and dealt drugs in high school

Charlie got bullied in school and huffed glue in the bathroom

“Everyone wants dirtgrub i'll give them dirtgrub okay i'll get high i'll get sad people can laugh at me i hate highschool man”

S7e13- “The High School Reunion Part 2: The Gang’s Revenge”

The entire golden god meltdown

“Its fetish shit i like to bind i like to be bound”

“You would just come around saying shit about being a golden god or some other insane crap and referring to all of us as your minions” “You always acted like you were better than everyone else but then you would just go and hang out with ronnie the rat or dirtgrub under the bleachers”

S8e5- “The Gang Gets Analyzed”

Dennis tries to analyze the therapist

Mac has some real severe mood swings

The therapist talks to him about body dysmorphia

Dennis giving mac “size pills”

Dennis keeps psychology profiles on everyone in the gang, he started dee’s in the 2nd grade

Dee’s entire “tell me i’m good” scene

S8e6- “Charlie’s Mom Has Cancer”

Dennis having trouble feeling throughout the entire episode until the “my mommy’s a skeleton” “i feel to much” scene

Charlie being incredibly overwhelmed the entire episode, (rubbing his head at Dr. Jinx’s, Getting real upset at church)

S8e7- “Frank’s Back in Business”

Dennis pretending to be brian lefevre

“I want you to get off with me” “This is about crawling into another man’s skin”

S8e8- “Charlie Rules the World”

The entire “I Am God” sensory deprivation tank scene

Dennis blowing himself could also be symbolic but it could also just be a bit

S9e3- “The Gang Tries Desperately to Win an Award”

Mac getting really defensive about slight banter “i've had tons of orgasms i've had one with your mom”

S9e5- “Mac Day”

Mac is not okay with being upstaged by country mac when he jumps off the bridge and offers people weed

“there's nothing badass about breaking the law”

S9e6- “The Gang Saves the Day”

Macs fantasy is about everyone admiring his badass karate skills and dennis crying over his dead body saying that he loves him

Dee’s fantasy is about killing every man in the room and finally being appreciated for her acting skills and marrying someone who doesn't call her a bird

Dennis’ fantasy is about surviving a bullet to the head at point blank range and killing his idea of the perfect woman

S9e7- “The Gang Gets Quarantined”

Charlie’s mom got him vaccinated way too often and made him wear bubble boy suits during flu season, Charlie also still has the suits for some reason

“I am in perfect control of my body, if i felt myself getting sick i would simply say SICKNESS BE GONE”

*sustains a perfect G5* “does that sound like a man who needs to be in the hospital”

S10e2- “The Gang Group Dates”

Dennis obsesses over his star rating on a dating app

“I AM A FIVE STAR MAN”

Dee has one night stands with a whole lot of guys that she’s not really into just to give them one star ratings

S10e3- “Psycho Pete Returns”

Dennis does a whole psychopath monologue about skin luggage

“You haven't thought of the smell you bitch”

He gets diagnosed with BPD and gets medication

S10e6- “The Gang Misses the Boat”

Dennis’ whole range rover speech

S10e8- “The Gang Goes On Family Fight”

Dennis breaks down crying because of the buzzer

Dee starves herself to look good for the camera

S10e10- “Ass Kickers United; Mac and Charlie Join a Cult”

Dennis tries to prove that he’s the best at manipulating people

S11e3- “The Gang Hits the Slopes”

Charlie brings up his agoraphobia shit again

“See, this is why I don't like leaving Philly, man. This is nuts.”

S11e4- “Dee Made a Smut Film”

Dennis got raped by a librarian in high school when he was 14

“I was in an older woman that’s cool right?”

S11e9- “The Gang Goes to Hell”

Dee manipulates guys into having sex with her

“So ill insinuate that it would be a shame if my account of what happened was different from his and he got a call from the sheriff”

S11e10- “The Gang Goes to Hell: Part Two”

Charlie has a panic attack about the boat sinking and dennis calms him down

“I knew I shouldn't have come on this cruise. I knew it! I mean, it used to be I would never even leave Philly! And then, you know, you guys drag me to this, you drag me to that, and next thing I know, I-I'm stuck in a box on a sinking ship!”

Dennis keeps onions in his pocket so that he can cry when he needs to

S12e3- “Old Lady House: A Situation Comedy”

Bonnie doing everything in threes so that charlie doesn't die

“I just can't enjoy it when the people being filmed, know they're being filmed”

S12e7- “PTSDee”

Charlie and dennis bonding over their trauma

Dee tries to ruin a guys life bc he said she was his rock bottom

S12e8- “The Gang Tends Bar”

“I have big feelings, and it hurts”

#iasip #It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia #its always sunny #iasip charlie #iasip dennis #iasip mac #mac mcdonald #dennis reynolds #charlie kelly #frank reynolds #Danny Devito #charlie day #Rob McElhenney #kaitlin olsen #dee reynolds #glenn howerton #psychology #nobody cares mia

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maxhoemo · 6 years

Note

i really have no idea how you're gonna make this work, but how about maxian pornstar au?

Max felt hot underneath the big studio lights on set. The entire crew surrounding him as they set up the shot, he suddenly felt extremely nervous. He had never “performed”, so to speak, in front of people before. At least, not anybody he could see. He had been camming for a few years now and had grown quite a following. He had a high sex drive, as he assumed most young guys did, but was always too scared to hook up with anybody. But the idea of being a porn star always did seem kind of glamorous. Being on web-cam though, it was so much less nerve-wracking. The people were just numbers on the screen, or usernames in the chat. He could still get positive re-enforcement without having to fully commit to being intimate. It was fun. Not to mention a great source of income. He knew he was gaining quite a following, but he hadn’t been expecting an offer to appear in an adult film. $4000 for a two day shoot, he’d be crazy to turn it down. He’d been putting himself out there so much, he figured he’d be able to do it. But now he was thinking that maybe he didn’t think his decision all the way through.

The director was whispering something to a PA, pointing at Max. was he doing something wrong? He decided to check over his script again to distract himself. He was playing Max (guess they wanted to cash in on his internet following), a rich, slutty (of course) teenage twink with a crush on his pool’s lifeguard. How creative. He half expected to be playing a college student ordering a pizza….

“Okay, lighting’s good.” He heard a crew member say, causing him to look up.

“Thanks for standing in, Max,” the female director smiled. “Why don’t you get your wardrobe and we’ll meet back on set in 10.”

God, even the crew looked like porn stars… He didn’t look nearly as perfect as these people, he felt a little inadequate. When he peeled off his t-shirt in wardrobe, he gave it a sniff. Phew. He wasn’t sweating. At least not much… He tossed it on a chair, hearing someone entering. “H-hey! I’m in here…”

“Dude, you’re gonna be sucking my dick later,” the guy laughed. “You’re really concerned with me seeing you changing?”

Max had to laugh too. When he put it like that. “Guess you’re right. So, you’re Ian Hardik, huh?” He had seen the guy in porn before. In fact, when he was younger and first discovering his sexuality, he had a bit of a crush on the guy.

“That’s what they call me. You’re the camboy?”

Max nodded. “Yeah. I feel kind of out of place with you guys though.”

“Hey, don’t worry. I know a lot of us have the whole Barbie and Ken look going on, but you’ve got that boy-next door thing. People like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“They wanted you to be here,” Ian smiled.

“Yeah. Guess I’m just a little nervous,” he shrugged, looking around for what costume was labeled his.

“Don’t be. Tasha’s really cool. If you gotta take a break or whatever, just say so.”

That wasn’t exactly what he was nervous about, but it was too complicated to put into words. So, he just nodded. It would seem the only costume piece layed out for him was a pair of high-waisted, gold booty-shorts. “These look like they’re right out of the seventies….”

“Actually, I think those are left over from a disco thing we did.”

“Really? Come on, I thought this was supposed to be like, a billion dollar industry.”

“Most of that goes to the talent,” he explained. “So production is pretty cheap. Lucky for us though.”

“Haha, yeah.”

….

When filming began, Max was actually surprised. He was starting to find it pretty fun. Dressing up and reciting cheesy lines, it was actually a good time. But then it came time for the first sex scene. The blowjob scene. Max did as he was instructed, sinking to his knees on the pool deck and pulling down Ian’s red lifeguard trunks. His erect cock now inches from Max’s face. It was the first time he had seen another man’s dick in real life, and it was practically touching his nose. He knew what to do, more or less. He’d done it to dildos on his livestreams hundreds of times. The real thing couldn’t be much different. But he found himself overcome with stage fright. He sat there on his knees, like an idiot, just staring awkwardly at Ian’s penis.

“Max, something wrong?” Tasha asked.

“I umm… Could I just… Get some water or something?”

“Sure.”

A PA handed him a plastic water cup in just a few minutes, not really giving Max enough time to psyche himself up. He gulped it down, handing the cup back. He would just have to do his best…

As the cameras started rolling again, Max took a deep breath and counted to three in his head. He took Ian’s cock with one hand, and slid it into his mouth. Just like he did with the toys. As he started to work it, he thought he was doing pretty well, until…

“Owe! Fuck, stop, stop…”

Max took Ian’s dick from his mouth, looking up at him. “Sorry! Did I hurt you…?” He felt his face heat up, wondering if anyone could tell.

“Just… Try not to drag your teeth on my skin.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry! I didn’t realize…”

“It’s okay.” He could tell Ian was trying to be understanding, but he couldn’t help feeling humiliated. These were all professionals, and Max had probably just given the guy the worst blowjob of his life.

The crew decided to break for lunch and pick up filming after.

….

“I’m really sorry…” Max told his co-star at lunch.

“Max, really, don’t worry about it. Everyone fucks up their first time.”

“You could tell it was my first time?”

“I meant on camera… Wait, was that your first time blowing a guy?”

Max didn’t answer, choosing instead to take a large chomp from the end of his carrot.

“Here, want me to show you?” Ian asked. Max looked over, not quite sure what he was getting at. “Look,” he went on. “Just, kind of, fold your lips over your teeth like this.” He demonstrated.

Max laughed. “That looks fucking stupid…”

“I know,” Ian returned the laugh. “But it looks better with something in there. Look,” He took his corn dog from his plate and demonstrated the technique for Max. It was ridiculous. He was sitting next to a porn star, blowing a corn dog. Yet, the way he slid it in and out of his mouth, coating the wiener in saliva. It made something in Max stir. He pulled the food item from his mouth with a pop, and then took a bite. “You try.”

Max put his lips over his teeth like Ian had showed him. It felt uncomfortable, honestly. He took his carrot and practiced like he’d been shown, locking eyes with Ian. Looking for re-assurance. He seemed to approve. Max removed the carrot, giving Ian a side-smile.

….

Ian pulled down Max’s shorts, as he was bent over a lawn chair. Even though there were lights and cameras and people all around them, when Ian touched him it felt like they were the only two people in the world. No wonder Ian was so popular. Even just grabbing Max by the hips made Max crave more and more of him.

He could feel Ian’s tongue teasing his hole. He licked him, eating his ass like a professional (which he was). Max’s eyes glazed over, becoming half-lidded. He melted into the soft cushion of the lawn chair, letting out a soft “Mmmm…” His asshole twitched. Ian was a thousand times better than when Max fingered himself. He always assumed professional porn like this was more like going through the motions. But Ian really seemed to be putting his all into it, working to pleasure Max. Maybe he was doing it especially for him, to put him at ease…. He bit his lip, letting a moan slip out. Suddenly, Ian stopped. He felt his mouth leave his behind, leaving Max bent over with his ass in the air. Disappointment showing on his face. He wiggled his ass a little, hoping Ian would start again, but he soon figured out that part was over. He frowned.

Although, what happened next he was not prepared for. Nor expecting. Filming stopped. Max looked around. “We just do this so you don’t get hurt, okay?” the director told him. He looked behind him. A PA in a latex glove was squirting a generous amount of lube from a bottle onto her hand. She began to slather it on Max’s ass, sliding her finger in and out. It was cold and surgical. Uncomfortable, and frankly, Max found the whole process bizarre. (And maybe even a little embarrassing. But he was too proud to admit it.) He focused his gaze on a particular spot on the chair. Right where one of the polk-a-dots met a seem, splitting the pattern in half.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to go straight back into filming a sex scene, but these guys really liked to move things along. Still bent over he chair, he lifted his face, shaking some hair from his eyes. Ian didn’t waste any time entering him. He thought his first time with a real person might be painful, but fucking himself with a dildo on webcam every weekend seemed to have prepared him for the experience. He closed his eyes, wanting to once again forget about everybody else. So that it could feel like only he and Ian were in the room. With every thrust, he found it easier to do so. His asshole quivered and clenched around Ian’s massive dick. Being fucked by a real-life cock was so much more pleasurable than he could have imagined. Especially considering that cock belonged to a professional. Without thinking about it, he found his hips jerking back to meet Ian’s thrusts. He moaned, feeling his own dick beginning to leak. Ian was just so fucking good at his job. He once again had to wonder if Ian wasn’t putting extra effort in to making the experience as good as it was. Knowing it was Max’s first porno shoot and all. He hadn’t expected to get any genuine pleasure from such a rehearsed scenario. Much like the experience with the lube had been. “Oh fuck…” he heard himself say. No. The way Ian was fucking him, so good. It had to be intentional. Maybe he really was attracted to Max and wanted to make a good impression. Max was starting to think maybe he was attracted to Ian too.

By the time they were filming the blowjob scene again, Max was positive he liked Ian. And he was sure Ian must like him too. The way his hand rested in his hair was just too gentle to be pretend. As Max sucked Ian off, just like he’d been taught, he kept his big green eyes open. Looking adoringly up at the porn star. He didn’t even hear the director praise his choice, and how well it fit his character. Ian soon came down Max’s throat, and again on his face when he pulled away. Max was directed to lick up as much as he could, and he happily obliged. Gazing up at Ian as he did so. He licked his cum coated lips. Wiped what was on his face with his fingers and fed it to himself. Then he licked Ian’s dick clean. He had certainly never pulled a move like that before.

“You missed some…” Ian pointed to a small drop on the tile. Max, with a grin, bent down and licked up off the ground. It was slutty, and totally degrading. And he fucking loved it. He would happily be the cumslut to a gorgeous porn star who fucked him senseless every night.

And it wasn’t just that. Ian was funny, and he’d been so kind and understanding towards Max. He liked him. And he was sure Ian liked him too.

As Max showered and got dressed into his normal clothes, he thought about asking Ian out. Or maybe Ian would even ask him. He never had much want for a relationship before, but the idea of having Ian as a boyfriend seemed very appealing. If he was going to have one, he wanted it to be a guy like him.

He put his t-shirt back on and checked himself in the mirror. Walking down the hall of the house they had filmed in, he wondered if he should just ask.

“Hey, babe.” For a split second Max thought Ian might be talking to him. Of course he wasn’t though. Max could see that clearly when he was he was talking to someone on a phone. “I’m on my way home,” he went on, kissing whoever it was through the phone. Max felt his stomach drop, and his cheeks heat up. How could he be so stupid? Ian had a boyfriend… Or a girlfriend already. He fucked for a living, he probably was completely emotionally numb to it now. Or more likely, an expert at compartmentalizing. He had someone. He just saw Max as another co-worker. Not like stupid, naive Max. Unable to fuck without some stupid emotional connection forming.

On the cab ride back to his hotel, he stopped feeling sorry for himself. Instead, he began to feel a rage building in his chest. An intense jealousy at whoever Ian had been speaking to. Ian was probably perfect for Max and now he would never even get a chance with him! All because some stupid idiot met him first! He hoped they broke up. But as soon as he did, he felt bad. Ian was probably happy with this person, and Max didn’t even really know Ian. He shouldn’t feel this way, but he couldn’t help it. He was sure in another universe, he and Ian would make a great couple. He had been Max’s first crush (or at least, the first intense one he could remember) and now those feelings had returned. They’d just had sex about 30 minutes ago after all. No matter what logic told him about the situation, he couldn’t help feeling depressed that he’d never get to experience being with Ian. He felt empty and helpless over the situation. But guilty for feeling it.

When he got back to his hotel, he flipped open his laptop and sat in bed. It may seem strange, but his audience of adoring fans were always a pick-me up when he was feeling down. The stereotype was that only perverts and weirdos watched cammers, but he always found that everyone was so nice. He read a couple of comments on his profile. He had a perfect five star rating.

tokendrunk: ★★★★★ Max is the perfect combo of sexy and funny! Makes his shows really fun and intimate :)

zanyherpes: ★★★★★ great streamer. feels like hanging out with an s/o or fwb. Best camboy on here.

daddy_gamer: ★★★★★ a really hot and cute male streamer. quickly became a fave of mine ;)

Max smiled to himself. Reading his nice comments always helped his anxiety. He slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving only his long shirt and socks. He decided he’d start a stream right now. Fuck it! He hit ‘stream now’, giving the camera a wave. Already, he saw the numbers start to rise. “Hey, guys,” he smiled. “I know it’s not scheduled, but I just felt like getting on camera for a little while. He glanced over at the chat. They obviously didn’t have a problem with that. He shifted the camera angle, so that more of his body was visible. He sat so his t-shirt covered him up (for now).

MannyPad: Why are you in a hotel??

Nirmala: where are you?

“Remember when I told you guys I got asked to be in a porno? I was filming that today…” he explained, a grin involuntarily growing. It was still pretty cool he’d been approached, there was no denying. He made small talk with the chat for a few minutes, as he normally did.

Tigletonmain tipped $25

“Thanks, Tigletonmain. That guys always giving good tips.”

Tigletonmain: Use the vibrator ;)

“Aww, guys. I didn’t bring any of my stuff. I wasn’t planning on streaming. I was just feeling kind of down to be honest….”

SexIpecac: noooo :(

Sin30_3Gross: what why??

TechCunt: max sad makes me sad

Max sighed. “Do you ever just…. Have you ever felt sad for something that wasn’t even real? Like, you know it’s stupid but you just can’t help but feel like it? You know, it’s really hard to have sex with someone and completely remove your emotions. People say fucking on camera is hard but no, that’s the easy part. Fucking without feeling anything at all, that’s what’s hard.” He remembered back in high school. All the stupid things kids used to say about sex. Particularly, that girls get permanently attached to who they lose their virginity to because of some kind of female chemical. It was obviously all bullshit, but Max felt like that was exactly what had happened to him. Ian was just a guy living his life, and Max had projected all kinds of stupid thoughts and feelings on to the guy. All because of some stupid scripted sex scene which happened to be Max’s big virginity loss. Filmed for the whole world to see. “I feel so stupid. I’m all depressed and shit over nothing. But I can’t help it.” He glanced at the chat. “Yeah, very true. Human emotions are complicated…” He slipped a finger inside his mouth, absentmindedly sucking on it. Even this really seemed to get his audience excited. He smiled at that fact. “You know what I did today? I gave my first real blowjob.”

Co0kieCute: Hot!

daddy_gamer: Can’t wait to see that!!!

“Yeah. I think you guys’ll like it. You guys wanna see something I learned today?” Of course the chat got excited. Max smirked, adjusting the camera again. He pulled the end of his shirt up, spreading his legs and lying down on his back. He began to masturbate. No fancy toys, just his hand. It reminded him of his early days camming. He made sure to thrust his hips, sensual and slow. Running his hand along his dick in a paced, teasing manner. Putting on a show like this was second nature to him now. It wasn’t too different from what he had done in the past. That is until the big finish. Instead of cumming cleanly into his hand like he did normally, he finished all over his own stomach and chest. Making sure it was in frame. He caught his breath for a moment, then shifted so his face was on screen. Using his hand, he smeared the substance across his lips and licked it off before cleaning off the rest of his fingers. One at a time. What was left on his body, he rubbed further into his skin and over his hardening nipples. “Do you guys like that?” he moaned. The amount of hearts in the chat and donations coming in, it was obvious they had.

…..

When Max went to pick up his check the next day, he was a little anxious over running into Ian again. He just hoped he didn’t let anything stupid slip. At first, it seemed like maybe he’d avoided him. But just as he was leaving with his payment, he spotted Ian coming through the door.

“Hey, Max,” he smiled. “I didn’t get a chance to talk toy you after the shoot yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I hope it wasn’t too much. Your first time in porn and all.”

“Oh no, it was actually fine. You’re really good.” Oh fuck, why did he say that? Ian didn’t seem to mind the comment though.

“Thanks. You too, I can see why you’re so popular.”

Max laughed. “Yeah. I guess people see me as kind of a chill dude who also does sex stuff.”

“Oh, I can see that for sure. You ever wanna, like, grab a drink sometime? Or just hang out?”

“Yeah,” Max smiled. “I’d really like that.” He didn’t care what his stupid emotions said. He would love to have Ian as a friend.

#requests #maxian #writing

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mxrvelfreak · 6 years

Text

spideypool fic; pt 2

hello my children, you’ve waited enough

if you haven’t read pt 1 GO DO THAT ! alright i hope you enjoy

---------------

After a brief nap, and basically eating everything in the fridge, I put on my suit and sneak out the window. I do basic patrolling, like helping people cross the streets, or help carry bags to someone’s car. Of course, something goes wrong real quick.

I walk into a tunnel to continue the full circle I always take when I’m patrolling. I get my spidey tingles and my head instantly turn to the left. I hear clunking and yelling. I sprint to the area that I sensed. I see a gang with guns, and that oh-so familiar red suit. Wade’s swinging his katana to try and take a hit on these guys, but they’re shooting their SMGs relentlessly.

I sneak up on them and start to web them. I rip their SMGs out of their hands and smash it into the other side of the wall. Wade slashes into one of the guys’ arm, and the guy falls down, screaming. There are three guys still standing, and I kick one to the floor and web him.

The next thing I know is a terrible shooting pain near my hip. I cry out and fall to the ground.

-----

[Wade Wilson]

“Peter!” I scream. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he got shot. I slam my katana in the guy’s throat that shot him. He falls down weakly. The other guy looks scared and I motion him to run. He does. I run to Peter and shake him. He doesn’t respond. “Peter, please,” I whimper. This is my fault. This is all my fucking fault.

But, fortunately, Peter groans and rolls over to me. I pick him up bridal style and run out of the scene. My place shouldn’t be hard to run to, so might as well. I sprint to my house, and I finally get there.

It’s an apartment, so I have to sneak in. I walk over to my room and laying Peter down. I don’t want to take off his mask, because I know I’d kill someone if anyone did that to me, but I can see blood seep through. I hesitantly take of his mask and--

Damn. Is he a fucking angel? Because he looks like one. His brown curls are plastered to his face from sweat. His eyelashes are really long and his lips are slightly parted. Thank god, he only scraped the side of his head. I run to the bathroom and shuffle through the closet and find the first aid kit. I get back to Peter and open the rubbing alcohol to clean his wound. I press the cotton ball into the wound and bandage it.

I go to working on the gunshot wound and peel his suit off until I get to his waist. Goddamn, he was fit as fuck. I feel my face get a little hot, but I convince myself that I don’t like this twink. The gunshot went completely through his hip, which was good so I didn’t have to try and fish out the bullet. I clean it with rubbing alcohol, and Peter starts to groan and whimper. My poor baby boy. It must burn like hell. He’s still unconscious, so I wrap it up with another bandage.

I figured I’d take off his suit to change him into more comfortable clothes that I have. ‘We’ll finally see him naked!’ the yellow boxes sparkle. ‘Well, close to naked. That’s the closest we’ll ever get to see him naked,’ the white box huffs. I ignore the boxes and grab a loose grey shirt. I go back to Peter and already my face seems to go red. I’m not gonna look. I’m just gonna put on this shirt and leave him be. I look to the side and pull off his red suit. I focus on his torso and put on the shirt carefully. As I pull down the shirt to his hips, my mouth goes dry.

This fucking guy is wearing a thong. I’m can’t think straight. I lick my lip and clear my throat. ‘Put boxers on this twink!’ ‘No, no, let us enjoy the view!’ Shut up! I scramble to find something to put on his lower half. I grab boxers and put it over his thong. Holy shit.

I leave the room and sigh. I just did that. The fuck is my problem? I can’t breathe properly, but I don’t discard my mask. Guess I’ll sleep on the couch.

---

[Peter Parker]

Uuuuugggghhhh. Everything hurts in my body. I open my eyes, and I feel a little panic set in. Where am I? I try to sit up, but I can’t everything hurts. I let out a little panicked yell and whimper. My suit is on the ground too. Someone fucking undressed me?!

After a second, I remember what happened in the tunnel. Wade. He had to have done this. That means he saw me without my mask. And I’m in his bed right now.

Wade bursts in the room.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panickly says. He’s still wearing his stupid mask?!

“Everything hurts, you big idiot. I got shot,” I grunt. He runs to me and pull the blankets down. Fuuu-- I’m wearing one of his shirts? That’s what I’m assuming because it smells like him. And-- boxers?! I nearly have an asthma attack. He lifts it up and checks my bandages.

“It seems fine. Just wait it out, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” I look at his dumb mask. “Wade, can you take that off?!”

He pauses and look up at me. “No.”

“Seriously? You saw me basically naked, and I can’t even see your face?”

“Peter, it’s not because of my face. I have bad scars. I look like a fucking scrotum.”

“I don’t care!” I say, trying to get up and snatch it from his face. Instead, I make my wound worse. I feel a little rip and I feel something warm. I look down and the bandage soaks up.

“Lay down,” he commands. He pushes my chest down and I groan in pain. I swallow my sad frail cries. My eyes water and I bit the inside of my cheek not to bawl. “Shit,” I can hear Wade mumble. “Don’t cry--fuck.”

“I’m not crying,” I say, my voice cracking many times. That wasn’t convincing at all.

“If I take off my mask, will you stop crying?” Wade says reluctantly. I smile and nod my head a little too fast. I can hear him sigh and start pulling off his mask. I can see his chin and his lips. It is really badly scarred. He pulls it completely off in one motion.

He isn’t ugly. At all. Yes, he’s scarred and bald, but crap, he still looks good. His jawline and the way his face is sculpted makes me even more weak. I completely forget about the pain when I’m looking at his face. His eyes dart anywhere except my eyes. “See? Scrotum.”

I laugh a little and say, “No. I don’t see it.” I shift closer to him and touch his face with my palm. He finally looks at me. I trace the scars with my fingers. His skin isn’t rough, it’s fairly smooth, but you can still feel the indents in his skin.

Suddenly, a beep goes off. We both get startled. I retreat my hand and he stands up.

“I forgot about the chicken nuggets, shit!” he yells, sliding through the hall to the kitchen. I let out a breathy laugh. I lay back my head on the pillow.

“Hey, Wade?” I call.

“Yeah, baby boy?” Glad to know he’s back to normal.

“Can I have your phone so I can call my aunt?”

Wade giggles and soon comes back with chicken nuggets and a phone. “What’s so funny?” I ask. He hands me the phone and sits down with the chicken nuggets. He leans on his hands and bats his eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” he slurs. I shake my head and laugh. I dial May’s phone number and she answers on the first ring.

“Hello?” she instantly says over the speaker.

“Hi, it’s Peter, I’m--” I start.

“Where the hell were you?! I was worried sick!” she yells over the phone. I flinch automatically.

“I’m sorry! I ended up at a friends house and I have to stay there for a while.”

“A ‘friend’? Who is this ‘friend’?” she interrogates me. Wade looks at me and winks.

“I’m his boyf--” Wade taunts.

“YOU DON’T KNOW HIM, he’s from a different part of New York!” I yell over him. I can hear her pause and then she lets out a little laugh.

“Alright. Just be safe, sweetie.” I say goodbye and end the call quickly. Wade takes a bite of his chicken nugget and sighs in content.

“God, you are adorable,” he comments.

“Shut up and give me a chicken nugget,” I wail. Wade giggles and kneels up to come eye to eye with me. Wade laughing face makes me want to reach up and kiss him. His smile lines are so cute and it’s more than what I imagined his face to look like while he’s laughing.

“Open wide,” he coos while aiming at my mouth with the chicken nugget. I press my lips together in a tight line. “That’s not the first time I’m gonna say that to you--”

“Can you go a day without saying shit like that?!” I hiss. Wade just smiles and pushes the nugget on my lips. I hesitantly open my mouth and let him feed me. I know for a fact I’m blushing, but I ignore it.

“Good boy,” he laughs. I look away and huff. After him eating a couple more, and me asking for one, but him feeding me anyways, I ask him to help me sit up. “You’re going to make the gunshot wound worse!”

“Please, I can’t even feel any pain!” I lie. I do feel a little pain, but I’m sure I’m fine.

“Okay, but if you start whining, it’s your fault,” Wade scolds me. I roll my eyes. I start struggling to get up and he helps me prop up the pillows in the right way and he lifts my body easily. Surprisingly, no pain. Maybe it’s because I’m focused on how softly he’s holding my hips. “No pain?”

For reasons I don’t want to admit, my words seem to falter, so I just shake my head. He raises an eyebrow and lifts up my shirt. The bandage is soaking with blood. Shit. “Jesus fucking christ!” He runs off to probably get a new bandage.

“It doesn’t hurt though,” I mutter, inspecting it by myself. He comes back with a cotton pad, a cloth, and surgical tape. He unwraps my bandage, which slightly hurts, but I can deal. Blood just pours. Wade grabs the cloth really quick and mops it up. That hurts like hell. I shriek.

“Sorry, sorry, I know.” I grit my teeth and groan. He places the cotton pad and starts to tape it. I lift myself up so he can go to my back and tape it all the way. He’s basically hugging me now. He goes fully around and tears the tape off. I rest on the pillows now.

“Hey,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“You smell like sweat,” I comment.

“Fuck you too, Peter.”

I grin. “Fine, if it bothers you so much, then I’ll change,” he says. Wade goes to the closet and finds a old, probably bought at a thrift store, shirt that looks ugly, but also ridiculously comfortable. He grabbed basketball shorts too. He starts to strip off his suit, and I make a weird noise in my throat.

“WoAh-- uh, you’re changing now and here?” I say, my voice being stupid and crackling every word. He turns to me and laughs.

“What, you can’t handle my body?” he winks. I roll my eyes and shake my head. He continues to take off his shirt and my subconcious self forces my eyes to stare. Damn. His body looks like some kind of greek god. My mouth goes dry and I have to lick my lips. He basically naked now, with only his boxers covering up. My eyes dart to his bulge. Something is very wrong with me, but I’m too zoned in on him. “Aren’t you a thirsty spider?”

My eyes trail up to his face and Wade looking at me with a smug look. I open my mouth to say something to protest, but nothing comes out. Here we go again.

“Please shut up, okay?” I plead.

“Whatever you say!” he winks for the hundredth time today. He puts on the shirt and shorts. I’m an idiot.

-----------------------

that was far longer update than i expected ppffft. thank you sm for reading and wait for pt 3 ! <3

#spideypool #spideypoolfanfic #spideypoolfic #spiderman #deadpool #peterparker #wadewilson #marvelfanfic #fanfiction #gayfanfiction #marvelfanfiction #spideypoolfanfiction #gay #auntmay

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whiplashed-maximoff · 7 years

Text

Angel With a Shotgun

Peter Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: Supernatural/X-Men crossover where Reader is an angel - a very unconventional, non-standard angel - that hunts with Sam & Dean and falls in love with Peter.

Editor: @fetus-twink-howell

Beta Reader: @nerdy833

A/N: Assume this takes place over the course of about 6 months to a year, I suppose. Sorry if the lyrics make it choppier, it just... felt wrong to leave them out. Also, please don’t kill me.

Get out your guns, Battle’s begun. Are you a saint or a sinner?

Your eyes were closed the first time you ever heard his voice. It had been eerily silent in the forest that day, the dense quiet disturbed only by the sound of your footsteps. You didn't mind, however. It was not often that you experienced the pleasure of true silence within the human world - or heaven, for that matter - and you were taking the time to enjoy it. Even if the silence meant that whatever you had been hunting was not hunting you.

You thought about calling the Winchesters, but disregarded the idea, almost with distaste. They had their own problems to attend to, and this small vampire clan was the least of them. Besides, you were an Angel of the Lord. If you could not handle these simply creatures - ones who probably could not even kill you - you had fallen far, indeed. You paused then, your ears having picked up a sound in the distance. That was when the vampires made their first mistake. They did not stop moving quick enough, and you heard one of them move.

You hadn't whirled around, hadn't bothered to even look, you'd merely slipped your angel blade into one hand and gripped your shotgun in the other. You held still, listening to the perfect silence. Listening for the mistakes.

CRACK

You whirled, throwing the blade - with enough precision and accuracy to scare any being - and firing the shotgun after it. Both projectiles met their mark. The vampire, most likely a fledgling, was too slow, too clumsy, to evade, and its head toppled to the ground within five seconds of you throwing the blade. One down, you thought, retrieving your blade, four to go.

Just as you began to move further into the forest, you heard a scream. You whirled once more, turning in the direction of the sound and moving toward it quickly and quietly. It did not take you long to find the source.

There were five of them - all roughly around the age of your vessel - standing back to back in a circle. They were seemingly armed with nothing but their fists against the four vampires surrounding them, but you knew better. These were not humans, but mutants. Despite this, you were not stupid enough to believe that these mutants who were clearly in over their heads, could handle four vampires. They were used to fighting their own, not the monsters of the Earth, and though vampires had similar abilities to many of their kind, vampires were a great deal more likely to rip them to shreds.

If love's a fight Then I shall die With my heart on the trigger…

You slipped quietly into a better position, preparing to leap at the nearest vampire. You released a silent breath, then leapt, throwing your blade at one vampire and firing at another. The vampires lunged, the mutants dove. Chaos erupted, not that you minded. You were chaos. You thrived on it.

Your blade found the head of one vampire, but your shotgun blast missed, hitting instead a tree. You swore, retrieving your blade as the three remaining vampires began to encircle you. You could see the mutants out of the corner of your eyes, watching, waiting, tense. Prey turned predator. Good, you thought, training your eyes back on the vampires, they at least know how to fight.

You tightened your grip on your blade, preparing to swing. You knew you did not have much longer before the vampires attacked, and you knew that once they noticed the mutants, that's who they would attack. The mutants were more likely to die than you. You also knew that your best odds of a quick fight was to make the first move. So, in order to keep their focus on you, you did the closest thing to a distraction that you could. You punched a vampire.

Was it a wise move? Not at all. Did it startle the vampires? Immensely. Honestly. All this magic everyone uses and no one remembers that there are other techniques. You may as well have been fighting dirty. You grinned, eyes gleaming. That was one thing that set you apart from other angels, and ensured your friendship with the Winchesters. You lived for the hunt, for the fight. Unlike many angels, you had value for human life. And mutant life. To put it simply, you practiced basic human decency.

You swung your blade at the stunned vampire, feeling the resistance as the blade bit through muscle, tissue, and bone. Three more. The others were already moving toward you as the head toppled to the floor, and you dropped to a crouch, sticking your leg out and tripping up one before springing up and firing your gun at another. The first avoided your blade, but the second was not so lucky. The vampire caught the shotgun blast to the face, the creature’s skin ripping and tearing with each piece of shrapnel, and stumbled backwards. Right into the arms of the mutants.

They pinned the vampire with ease, giving you the freedom to focus on the other two without worrying too much. This would definitely be interesting.

They say before you start a war, You better know what you're fighting for.

You glanced back at the mutants one more time, catching a blur of silver out of the corner of your eye before turning your attention to the vampires fully. They could handle one vampire, no problem. You could handle two. No problem. You grinned, tightening your grip on your weapons. Then, you did the one thing that would be considered the stupidest move you could make. You closed your eyes. The vampires moved.

Your fight was over in the next twenty seconds, but your eyes were still closed when one of the mutants screamed in pain.

“Behind you!” You whirled, your eyes flying open and your blade swinging through the air with such force that it creates a sound. You felt claws connect with your arm, digging into your flesh and tearing at your muscles, but the sensation did not last long. The claws fell away as the vampire's head toppled to the ground, landing with a distinct thud. You lifted your lowered head, eyes locking on the owner of the voice. You knew instantly this was the blur of silver you’d seen earlier. He was not silver, as you’d expected, but he was wearing quite a bit of it. Even his hair was silver, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if he was made of the stuff. And he was more attractive than any of the humans you’d seen so far. At least in your opinion.

You tilted your head as the other mutants raised up from their hiding spots, mouths agape at the carnage you’d wrought.

“You… you killed them!” One of the mutants, a younger one with brown hair and a slim figure, exclaimed, her voice seemingly an octave higher than it should have been.

“Well, yes. What else would I do with vampires?” The girl stared at you for a moment, horror on her face. Another girl, a redhead, answered for her.

“We were taught never to kill. To always leave alive, and-” One of the others, a mutant with blue skin, a tail, and devilish features, piped up and interrupts the girl.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his accent prominent, “did you say vampires? As in… fantasy creatures?” Oh, this would be so much fun to explain.

Well, baby, you are all that I adore. If love is what you need, a soldier I will be.

You sigh, leaning back against the peeling wallpaper of the motel room and listening to the static drone of the TV as Sam and Dean discuss their latest hunt. Your mind was still on the group of mutants you'd helped in the forest, the way most of them had simply accepted the news of the existence of monsters. Then again many humans considered mutants monsters, so perhaps they were familiar with the concept. You let your mind wander further, let it land on the silver haired mutant, Peter.

I'm an angel with a shotgun, Fighting 'til the war's won,

“Forget them, they're shell-shocked. Thank you for intervening, we'd be dead if you hadn't.” He extends a hand, and you tentatively take it. “I'm Peter.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats your name absentmindedly, presumably committing it to memory, “we're X-Men. This is…” He introduces the group behind him, dark eyes focused on you. You studied him, wondering why this particular mutant was so bold. Then again when Dean Winchester met Castiel he shot him several times, so perhaps there were some with a streak of boldness. “... and I presume you aren't a mutant?”

“No.” You would have left it at that, but you could feel the question coming. “I'm an angel.”

“An angel?” Peter repeats, dark eyes narrowing slightly. “As in… white, fluffy wings, a harp, and pure souls, angel?” You let out a soft bark of laughter, shaking your head.

“Angel of the Lord, yes. Pure soul? Christ, no. We're more like… warriors. Wrath of God, ‘I will smite thee’ beings.” Peter flashes a grin, eyes raking over you.

“I suppose I should've guessed that. Are all of you so…?” He waves his hands in a general motion, clearly struggling to find the proper word. For someone whose brain works faster than even yours, he doesn't seem to try to hard to apply it to his vocabulary.

“So grounded?” He nods, and you continue. “Blood of Christ, not at all. You're actually kind of lucky it was me, not one of the others. Most angels are very high and mighty.”

“How so?” The redhead from before chimes in, eyes studying you with interest. “And why aren't you?” You stare at her for a long moment, considering her question.

“Perhaps because I gave up my position among their ranks a few years ago,” You answer the second of the girl’s two questions, ignoring the first completely. Peter stared at you with interest, opening his mouth to presumably ask yet another question. However, before he can continue, your phone rings. Dean. “I have to go,” you tell him, answering the phone, “if you need me, just pray to me. Angel Radio will pick it up.”

You fly away, disappearing without further explanation and leaving the mutants to their shock.

You bring yourself back to reality, eyes focusing in on Sam and Dean once more as they turn to you for advice. It was something they did not do often, despite their clear need of help in certain situations. You answer them obligingly, giving various details on the species and how to kill them, as well as how to contain them for short periods of time. Suddenly, in the back of your mind, you hear your name. You pause, tuning into Angel Radio and listening carefully. The name of the caller comes to you instantly. Peter. You nod at Sam and Dean, then disappear once more, flying swiftly toward Peter’s location.

I don't care if heaven won't take me back. I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe.

“Holy shit,” Peter steps back a few feet as you appear in the room with him, eyes wide, “it worked!” You tilt your head, crossing your arms.

“Did you really call me here to see if it would work?” He grins triumphantly and you sigh, shaking your head. “You do know I told you that so that you could use it when you were in danger, correct?”

“But I am in danger,” he whines, and you raise your eyebrows, “of dying of boredom.”

“I have a feeling, Peter Maximoff, that you’re completely impossible.” His grin widens.

“Probably. Are you going to help, or not?”

“You do realize that I have monsters to kill, right? Kind of helping hunters save the world?” You stare at him, eyebrow still raised.

“But I’m more important!” Peter exclaims, snatching a piece of paper from the bed not far from him. “I mean, just look at me! I’m a catch!” He pauses, staring at you for a moment. “Plus I need help with my calculus homework.”

“What makes you think I can do calculus?”

“So you agree I’m a catch?” He asks, eyes glinting slyly. You eye him up and down carefully.

“Not bad. Now, for fucks sake, focus.”

“Not bad? Not bad? I’m a hell of a lot better than not bad!” You sigh, shaking your head. You clearly weren’t going to be getting out of this interaction anytime soon, even if you really wanted to. You make a mental note to apologize to Sam and Dean later. “And I thought angels didn't swear!”

“Do you want help with your stupid calculus or not?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t do calculus?”

“Shut up and give me the paper.” He laughs, handing over the paper and running around grabbing two pencils and some scratch paper. You sigh, sitting on the messy, unkempt bed and staring at the paper. Of all of the useless things you learned from Metatron, you never thought you would use calculus, of all things. “You’re lucky I wasn’t on a hunt, dipstick.”

Don't you know you're everything I have? And I wanna live, not just survive tonight.

You visited Peter more times than you expected in the following three months, roughly 47. Not that you were keeping count… Okay, maybe you were. But that was besides the point. You slowly grew more and more fond of the mutant and his friends, even going as far to teach some of them the basics of hunting in case you were not available to help in a situation, but most of your time was spent with Peter himself. You even took him with you on hunts sometimes, introducing him to Sam and Dean.

The two of you argued frequently, seeing how far you could push each other’s buttons before Peter cracked a joke and sent you both into a fit of giggles.

“You know, for an angel who’s supposed to be serious, you’re very much a flirt.” You glance at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Me? Flirt with you? Hell no.” He laughs, and you shake your head.

“Was that supposed to be a pun, or…?” You stare at him for a long moment, the grin on his face making it impossible to concentrate for long. Stupid human feelings. I thought angels weren’t supposed to have these.

“Would you stay on topic for five seconds, Maximoff? Just five seconds.”

“If I stare at your pretty face for longer than five seconds, does that count as staying on topic?” You felt your face heat up and suddenly wished you were more like Castiel.

“No.” He pouts playfully, barely hiding the satisfied grin on his face.

“It counts.” You swear, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Shut up and let me finish this.”

Sometimes to win, you've got to sin. Don't mean I'm not a believer. And major Tom will sing along. Yeah, they still say I'm a dreamer.

As more time went on, your friendship with Peter grew into something… less appropriate for being just friends, much less for an angel to partake in. You weren’t sure you cared, however. Your comrades in Heaven, however, did care. You just didn’t know it yet.

Sam and Dean begin to take notice of yours and Peter’s relationship and tease you on a regular basis. Even Castiel joins in sometimes, commenting on how angels, by definition, shouldn’t have a relationship with a human of any sort. They all shut up rather quickly, however, when you point out the dance that Dean and Castiel do around each other. The X-Men were taking notice as well, but made no mention of it. The only one who dared address it was Charles, who merely winked at the two of you in passing.

“All I’m saying is that if the Wendigos were smarter, they wouldn’t lead you straight to their caves.” Peter crosses his arms, staring defiantly at two men and an angel. “This stinks of a trap. It’s probably not even a Wendigo.”

“The kid has a point, Dean.”

“The kid is a kid, Sam. And he has ADHD. Does he look like he’s taken his meds?”

“That’s the superspeed, dumbass,” you chime in, crossing your arms, “and I agree. This is all too staged, too convenient.” Dean sighs, crossing his arms.

“Who would go to all this trouble?”

“Who wouldn’t?” No one says anything, and Peter smirks smugly. “Exactly. As much as you two don’t like to think about it, more than one thing has a vendetta against you. Including most angels.”

“Fine. So what do we prepare for then?” The annoyance at relinquishing victory clear in Dean’s voice.

“Everything,” Sam says, sighing, “absolutely everything.”

“I’m going too,” Peter says, stepping forward.

They say before you start a war, You better know what you're fighting for.

“Oh no you aren’t! If this is a trap, you are definitely not coming.” The conviction in your voice takes Peter aback, but he continues.

“Why not? You’ll need all the help you can get.”

“Not from you, Peter. Not this time. I don’t want you killed.”

“I won’t be-”

“You don’t know that! You aren’t me, and you aren’t those two dumbasses!”

“But I can-” You cut across him for a second time, eyes set dangerously.

“You aren’t coming, Peter. And that’s final.”

“Why not?” He asks angrily, eyes blazing.

“Because I said so, dammit!” The words are a roar, and even Sam and Dean cringe away. “Just this once,” you say, your words shaky, “would you listen?” He crosses his arms angrily, and you turn away, walking toward the door.

“You should listen to Y/N, kid,” you hear Dean say quietly, “angels tend to know what they’re doing.”

“I don’t get it, you need help, so why-”

“You really are a dumbass, aren’t you?” You close the door behind you, leaning against it. Dammit.

Well, baby, you are all that I adore. If love is what you need, a soldier I will be.

You hover at the entrance to the caves, angel blade ready. You glance back at Sam and Dean, nodding slightly. They signal behind them, and Castiel appears. None of you are sure what lies within the cave, but you were all ready for just about anything. You slowly let out a breath, closing your eyes briefly before stepping into the cave. It was time for the fun to begin.

The four of you make it through the first set of tunnels without incident, which only increases the unease that has settled over you. Something was here, waiting for the four of you, you could feel it. You knew this wasn’t going to end well, and suddenly felt a rush of relief knowing you’d left Peter behind. Hopefully he wouldn’t be dumb enough to follow.

As the four of you set foot in the near-pitch darkness of the main cavern, then freeze. Something’s off, and all of you can feel it. Suddenly a bright light fills the room, briefly blinding the four of you before dimming down to a manageable brightness.

“Hello Castiel, Y/N. Sam and Dean. Nice of you to show up.” In the center of the cavern stand several angels, the centermost being one with whom you are very familiar.

“Jophiel,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes, “what the hell is this?” You’ve known Jophiel for a millenia, fighting by his side in many battles, yet his presence here only increases your anxiety. There's only one reason he would be here.

“An intervention,” he purrs, sauntering forward, “it appears that your superiors aren’t very happy with the way you and Castiel have been acting, Y/N.”

“Tell our “superiors” to go fuck themselves,” you growl, your grip on your angel blade tightening, “they can rot, for all I care.”

“Ah, see, that’s precisely the problem.”

“The only ones with a problem are you assholes,” you spit the words, and Castiel places a warning hand on your shoulder.

“The two of you,” Jophiel points his blade at Castiel and I, eyes gleaming, “have been cavorting with humans, and it will by extreme pleasure to drag your sorry asses back to Heaven to face Raphael’s judgement.”

You take a deep breath, glancing back at Sam, Dean, and Castiel. They glance at each other and nod, their grips on their weapons tightening. You grin wildly at Jophiel, slipping into a fighting stance.

“What makes you think you’ll win, Jophiel? I always was more talented than you.” He sneers, eyes filled with malice.

“There are seven of us and four of you. Besides, the light of Heaven will always prevail.” Your grin widens, and Jophiel narrows his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, asshat.” You pull out your shotgun and fire into the line of angels.

I'm an angel with a shotgun, Fighting 'til the war's won, I don't care if heaven won't take me back.

By the time the four of you manage to take down four of the seven angels you’re all tired and wounded from constant movement, but your eyes are ablaze from the adrenaline of battle. Three left, you think, swinging your blade at the nearest angel, just three. You leave two of them to Sam, Dean, and Castiel, moving purposefully toward the third: Jophiel. His maniacal grin taunts you, and you know you won’t be able to leave him alive. Old friend or no, he was your enemy now. An enemy who clearly hates your guts.

You aren’t sure exactly how long the combat lasts before Jophiel knocks you to the floor, but you do know that once you’re down your energy pours out of you. So this is where it ends, you think, staring into the hateful eyes of Jophiel.

“Don’t feel bad, Y/N,” Jophiel grins arrogantly, pointing his blade at your face, “you never stood a chance.”

“Think again, dickwad!” You hear his voice just before a silver blur tackles Jophiel to the ground.

“What the-” Jophiel never finishes his sentence, because Peter has his blade before he as any time to even counter the attack.

I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe. Don't you know you're everything I have? And I wanna live, not just survive tonight.

Peter sinks the blade into Jophiel’s chest, and the angel lets out one final screech before dying. The other two follow suit, Sam and Dean sinking their own angel blades into the chests of the angel’s they’re battling. You eye Peter, a strange mixture of livid and overjoyed. Peter offers you his hand, and you take it.

“I can’t believe your dumb ass followed us after I told you not to! You could have died, Peter! You could have died and it would have been my fault you fucking dumbass! I hate you so much!” He stares at you for a moment, the angry expression written on your face, and then grins. “Stop grinning, dumbass!” You elbow him in the ribs and he doubles over, but the grin stays.

“Nice work, kid.” Dean approaches, followed by Sam and Castiel.

“Don’t encourage him, he-!” You don’t finish, for Peter presses his lips to yours, wrapping an arm around your waist. When he finally pulls away, you have tears streaking down your face. “Dumbass,” you mutter.

“Did I do something wrong, babe? I’m sorry-”

“Just shut up and kiss me again.” Peter rolls his eyes, grinning.

“If you insist.”

“I thought angels weren’t supposed to have feelings, Y/N,” Dean teases, and you flip him off with joy.

“Fuck off Dean, you’re just jealous I’m getting more action than you.” Castiel, to his credit, leans over and kisses Dean on the cheek, grinning spitefully at you. You look between Castiel and Dean and Peter, then shrug. “My boyfriend’s still better.”

I'm an angel with a shotgun, Fighting 'til the war's won, I don't care if heaven won't take me back.

You lean against the wall of Charles’ office, Sam, Dean, Castiel and Peter scattered across the room. The five of you had shown up unexpectedly about ten minutes ago, bloody and tired, so of course chaos ensued. There had been a massive commotion about the amount of blood dripping from the various wounds of Sam, Dean, Castiel, and yourself, but you told them not to worry with you or Castiel, for as soon as you had more energy you could heal yourselves.

You stared expectantly at Charles Xavier, waiting to hear what he had to say about the whole situation. You'd explained as much as possible through telepathy, and he heard the rest from Peter, Sam, and Dean. You needed a place to lie low for a while, and this mansion is the perfect place.

“Of course you can stay here,” Charles says, eying the various people in the room before grinning at Dean, “however you'll find we have no alcohol.” Dean groans and you grin, shaking your head.

“Thank you, Xavier.” He nods, and you slip out the door with Peter as he continues to explain more about the mansion to Sam, Dean, and Castiel. You turn your eyes to Peter, watching as he closes the door. Watching him move. You were going to miss him.

You recoiled at the thought, trying to shove it away, but something in you knew that you were right. You were going to have to leave him, taking his memories of you as you went. It was the only way, you reasoned, if Raphael was coming for you - and Castiel - the he would go for Peter, for all your friends here. And he would kill them to break you if you didn't go with him. The best thing you could possibly do was erase his memories and go, but you didn't want that. How could you? You were pretty sure what you were feeling was what humans referred to as love, and that scared you.

“Y/N, you coming?” You snap back into reality, eyes focusing on Peter. He’s halfway down the hallway now, looking back at you. You nod, wiping the momentary look of sadness from your face and replacing it with a smile.

“Yep, sorry. Got lost in thought, I guess.” You move over to him, eyes searching his face. For once, you can’t read his expression.

“Angel Radio saying anything?”

“They can’t find us,” you shrug, “and it’s driving them insane. The way the Professor has this place protected is preventing them from locating us.” You follow Peter to his room, head swimming. This wouldn’t end well, you could feel it.

I'm an angel with a shotgun, Fighting 'til the war's won, I don't care if heaven won't take me back.

You stare at the ceiling through the darkness, listening to Peter’s breathing next to you. It’s been about a week, and you can’t get it out of your mind that you have to leave. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, opening them again as you slide out of the bed and out the door. You need to move, to do anything to distract you. Angels don’t technically need sleep, and, while you had slept during some of your nights in the mansion over the past week, it still felt odd to sleep. Although sleeping did give you a nice distraction from your ever-present thoughts.

You move quietly down the halls without a destination, wandering aimlessly and listening to the night noises. It wasn’t fair to Xavier for the four of you to hide out here, you knew. It would be better if you disappeared quickly and quietly, leaving no trace. Castiel would be fine, you were sure. He was more respected than you, and more skilled. Besides, he’d managed to fall for one of the most unkillable hunters in history; you have no such luxury. Peter is far from invulnerable, and therefore could be used to get to you.

What scared you the most about this, was the fact that you knew that you would throw your own life away for his. WIthout a moment’s hesitation.

You think too loud, my dear. The voice rings through your brain, interrupting your thoughts. Xavier.

Sorry, Xavier.

Would you like to talk? Properly, I mean. You sigh, considering your options. Then again, Xavier had once erased his love’s memories to protect her, so perhaps he could offer some sort of advice.

Yes.

Meet me in the library.

You move quickly to the library, wondering how you’d managed to get yourself into this mess in the first place. Feelings, you think, I let myself have feelings.

You enter the library, eyes searching for Xavier. It doesn’t take you long to find him, and you seat yourself across from him without a word. There’s a long silence before the Professor finally speaks.

“You really believe erasing everyone’s memories is the answer? That leaving will save them?”

“They’re safer if I’m gone,” you mutter, looking out the nearby window at the night sky.

“You’ll regret leaving him like you plan, you know. You’ll regret it until the day you die.”

“The way you regretted Moira?” Your eyes find his. His silence is answer enough. “It’s the only way, Xavier. The angels will just keep coming for him, for all of you, and I refuse to let any of you die for me. That’s something I will not allow, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did.”

“Would you want me to…?” You can hear the hesitation in his tone, the skepticism as to the practicality of your plan.

“Not Peter. The others, yes. But Peter… I’ll do that myself.” There’s a long silence as you and the Professor stare at each other, a grim sort of understanding passing between you.

“Are you going to tell him?” Xavier finally asks. “Or even ask him what he thinks?”

“No,” you whisper, “because then he will tell me to stay and I will. Then both of us will be dead.”

I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe. Don't you know you're everything I have?

“I’m telling you it might be the only way-”

“And I’m telling you it’s not! This has to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever considered, Y/N.” You stare at Peter, making an effort to fight against the sheer anger exuding from him. All because you’d accidentally let slip that leaving might be the best option.

“No, what’s ridiculous is you not considering the fact that if I stay here you will never be safe. There will never be a time when you can leave the mansion without being on guard.” You were absolutely positive that half the mansion could hear this screaming match, but you didn’t care anymore.

“So? What’s the point of being safe if I can’t be with you?”

“The point is being alive, Peter! You’ve heard of the word alive. It means living, not dead. There is absolutely no point in you dying for me!” He stares at me, eyes a painful mixture between hurt and anger.

“You’re telling me that you would-”

“I’m telling you that I’d rather be away from you and have you live than be here and have you dead.” Your voice barely passes above hearing volume, but the anger is there.

“Who said I’d die?” His voice is no more than a faint, harsh whisper, and it cuts into you like a knife. Why, you think, did I have to develop feelings? All they bring is pain. You breathe in sharply, eyes searching his face.

“The angels will come for me, and they will not stop until I’m dead or in their hands - which is a death sentence anyway - and they will use anything they can get their hands on to ensure my destruction. You… you they can get their hands on. I will not have you or anyone else here hurt because they were protecting me.” This argument may never end.

“What good is it going to do any of us if you leave and get yourself killed, then? Then where will we be?” Alive.

He’s never going to agree to this, and I’m not going to let him be killed.

“Fine,” so I might as well end it here, “I’ll stay.”

No, a voice in your head whispers, you won’t.

(I'm an angel with a shotgun) And I want to live, not just survive (Live, not just survive) And I'm gonna hide, hide, hide my wings tonight

A month. That’s how long you gave yourself. A month to pretend to stay. To prepare. A month that’s now coming to a close. People always told you how a month was such a short amount of time. They were wrong. A month is an eternity. A painful, painful eternity. Sam, Dean, and Castiel left halfway through, disappearing to who knows where after you told them you were going to stay. You’d told them if they ever needed you simply to call, but that it wasn’t likely they’d ever see you again.

Outside of that, the rest of the month had been relatively uneventful. Though you could feel the impending doom above your head. You look over your shoulder at Peter, who is playing PacMan. It’s not fair to him, you knew, you fell in love with him. You should’ve known from the start that this would crash and burn. Then again you should’ve known a lot, but you’d thrown yourself headfirst into your relationship with Peter. And now you have to deal with the consequences of following human desires.

You sigh, turning back to look out the small window at the Institute grounds below. You were going to miss this place. Miss the students, the noise, Professor Xavier. Though you would miss Peter the most, you knew.

Suddenly, arms wrap around your waist, turning you around. Peter. You raise an eyebrow at him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders.

“You know what I just realized, Y/N?” His dark eyes are focused so intently on your face, so filled with adoration, that you almost look away.

“What’s that?”

“That I love you.”

Oh, Peter, why did you have to say that?

They say before you start a war,

You stare at Peter, mouth slightly agape from the shock. Why did he have to say that, and now of all times? You wrap your arms around him, not wanting to go through with your plan. Not anymore. God, you’d almost been ready. You could’ve left during your argument and it would be less painful than this, but if Peter was to live then it was the only way. There was no other choice; the archangels were coming for you, and they would not hesitate to kill Peter to get to you.

You pull away from the hug, planting a kiss on his lips before you could talk yourself out of it.

You better know what you're fighting for.

“I love you too, Peter Maximoff.” His eyes widen, lips turning into a frown.

“Babe, of all of the thousands of times I’ve told you that, this is the first time you… what’s wrong?” You swear internally. Another thing you should have known: Peter knew you better than anyone else, of course he would see.

“I have to go, Peter,” you whisper, looking away, “and I couldn’t leave without saying it at least once.”

“Please, Y/N, you can’t leave, not after… not after that.” His voice is desperate, breaking.

“Do you think I want to leave?” Your tear filled eyes meet his, your voice barely a whisper. “Do you really think I want to leave?”

“Then don’t… Please.” You close your eyes, shaking your head.

“I have to, Pete.” You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his hair. “I love you,” you whisper, pulling away slightly, “I love you so damn much, Peter Maximoff.” His arms tighten around you, the desperation in his eyes growing.

“Please.” His voice breaks.

“Goodbye, Peter.” You press your fingertips to his forehead, and his eyes turn glassy for a moment, then close. His arms fall to his sides and by the time his eyes open, you are gone. Along with his memories of you.

Well, baby, you are all that I adore.

Sometimes you watch him from afar, making sure he’s still alive, unable to stay away from him. It hurts you to see him, but you watch anyway. You watch him laugh with his friends, have fun, live his life. You watch him fall in love with another, watch even as the sorrow and jealousy and regret swirled within you like a tempest.

If love is what you need,

And, sometimes, you weep for what you lost, what you destroyed to keep him safe, and when you weep, so does the sky. The sky cries and screams with you, a storm of hurt and regret. And sometimes, though you would never know, Peter wakes up and remember the ghost of your lips or the feel of your hands in his hair. He remembers the smell of your hair and the shape of you underneath his fingers.

Sometimes, you wish to go back and change it all, but you know you can’t. And so you remember the silver boy, and he remembers the angel with a shotgun before it slips from his memory again, and you both weep.

A soldier I will be.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #please don't kill me #angel with a shotgun #songfic

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