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strangermarvelss · 2 years

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second best- e.m (pt 2)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cunningham!Female!Reader

Summary: with chrissy now off to college with her boyfriend, jason, eddie turns to you and wants to begin a relationship, making you feel a certain way about being his second choice.

Warnings: angsty angst, second choice, eddie being dumb, confrontation, crying, steve being the best mom friend

Request?: No

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: i got the most amazing request to do like a little women type of thing between chrissy, eddie, and chrissy’s sister inspired by the jo, laurie, and amy relationship and i thought it was absolutely brilliant, so here it is! also i’ve aged chrissy up to about 19 and reader is 18, while eddie is 20 :) enjoy! -sava

part one | part two | part three

One week.

One week has passed by since you’ve seen your best friend. The man you’ve been used to sharing stories with during spontaneous sleepovers in his stain-filled bed and falling asleep on his shoulder during your movie nights. One week since that same man crushed your spirits, stomping and pulverizing them in front of you. No calls, no visits, just the empty house you’ve known since your parents brought you home from the Hawkins hospital.

Your parents decided to extend their trip a bit with Chrissy overpacking and needing some more help getting adjusted to living on her own for just a little longer. You weren’t complaining, as with the circumstances that left you being alone overnight for the first time ever made you well adjusted. Plus, you felt as if you needed some more time to wrap your head around everything, and your parents finally coming home won’t help the headspace you needed to avoid. The comparisons would start the minute they walk in the door and the absence of Chrissy settled in.

As much as you loved your sister, it hurt to be constantly in her shadow. She was your parents favorite child, star athlete thanks to being captain of the cheer squad, and now going on to do great things at a great university, while you weren’t sure what it was you wanted to do with your life yet. You loved running the paper and being in debate club, but you weren’t sure if those would still stick with you once you walked the stage of the Hawkins High auditorium. That was what you admired most about Eddie, his determination and drive towards his ultimate goal.

He knew he was going to be a big rock star since he was in middle school, he would remind you and Chrissy of that any chance he got. He wand his band were going to take off any minute now, soar the charts and become overnight sensations, selling out a world tour and headlining every venue and music festival. You vowed the moment you became his best friend you’d be by his side and support him during his entire journey. Now, you weren’t sure that was still a possibility.

Being second best to Chrissy was something you had grown used to, but never did you think it would happen with Eddie. You had accepted the fact that a romantic relationship was never in the cards for the two of you, opting to stay happy and content with a friendship that couldn’t be broken by anything, at least, that’s how it used to be. But then he tried to kiss you and settle for you, as if it was just some thing that needed to happen now that she was off to college and out of Hawkins for good, settling for the crumbs that were leftover from the delicious Thanksgiving dinner. And it hurt.

It fucking hurt.

On top of everything, you felt as if you had no one to really go to about this. Only a few people knew about your crush on Eddie, and you had no desire to spill your guts about your dilemma at the moment. In most stressful situations you encountered, Chrissy was always the person you’d go to. Being your big sister, she always knew exactly what to say to get you to think clearly or point you in the right direction. But with this situation involving her directly, and her off at college living her new life, it wasn’t an option. So here you were, left to your own devices, a week of thinking and stressing about the future between you and Eddie, platonic or not.

You park the car in front of Family Video and make your way towards the entrance. The allotted time for the videos you rented to your movie night with Eddie was up, and maybe seeing your friends would cheer you up a bit. Steve and Robin always knew what to say to get your spirits high, or even higher if you just wanted to hang.

“Welcome to Family Video how may I-oh! Hey Y/N,” Steve greets you, his smile stretching from ear to ear. You return his smile, your lips tight and teeth remaining behind the barrier of your mouth as you approach the counter. You place the tapes in front of Steve and tap your nails against the surface.

“Just here to return those,” you say simply.

“How’d you and Munson like them? I’ve been meaning to check out this specifically,” Steve asks, picking up the tape that had just began to play when everything went down between you and Eddie. You look down at your hands, trying to avoid eye contact with the man known as ‘the hair’.

“We, uh…we didn’t finish that one. Some stuff came up,” you let out lightly. You sigh to yourself as the silence around you and Steve begins to thicken. You hear the gears and ringing of the cash register as you continue to look away, all around the video store.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks you. You knew Steve had grown into quite the understanding person within recent years, finally growing out of the asshole popular kid who only cared about reputations and looks. You knew it had something to do with the kids he looked after, the kids you had grown closer to since they became friends with Eddie last year through Hellfire. You always appreciated his advice, but you were still in a funk about the entire thing, not in the mood for talking much.

“Nope, just need a distraction. Any new movies come in since last week?” You deflect.

“Unfortunately no, but I know you said you wanted to finally check out the Star Wars trilogy, and the person who had Return of the Jedi just returned it, so I saved all three movies for you,” He tells you, reaching beneath him and pulling the three tapes onto the counter. You gasp and jump a bit, excitement surging through your body for the first time in a week. You were so thrilled that you didn’t hear the bell to the door chime, alerting everyone that someone new had arrived.

“Steve! You shouldn’t have. This is going to be amazing,” you exclaim, beating your fists in excitement against the counter.

“What’s going to be amazing?”

Suddenly, you felt your blood turn cold and shivers run up your spine at the sound of that familiar voice. You turn slowly to see the frizzy curls that you to fill you with as much excitement as just felt with getting to watch Star Wars. All happiness that you were temporarily experiencing was gone, taken away by the sheer sound of his voice.

“Uh, Y/N is going to finally watch the Star Wars movies, that’s all,” Steve says, trying to break the tension in the room.

“That’s great,” Eddie says, faking enthusiasm. You hear his heavy footsteps walk around the other side of the counter and off to the horror section. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in, shifting your attention back to Steve. His features soften at the sudden change in your demeanor.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re ok-“

“Just ring me up, Steve. Please?” You mumble out. He simply nods and begins to process of ringing you out. You keep your head low, but every so often you watch Eddie walk about the store. You had no idea what was going on in his head, but his lack of reaching out to you made your heart sink. Did he not realize what he had done to you? Or did he just not care?

“Alright, Y/N, you’re all checked out,” Steve tell you as he passes you the tapes. He gives you a soft smile and you just look at him as you grab the tapes.

“Thanks Steve. See ya later,” you tell him quickly, before running out the door and towards your car. You’re quick to open the driver’s side door and jump inside, tossing the tapes gently on the dash. You jump out of your skin when you see the passenger door flip open, but quickly calm yourself when you see Eddie jumping in and slamming the door shut.

“Get out of my car Eddie.”

“No, not until we talk,” he tells you, his body facing you and eyes boring into you. You know you have to be strong and talk things out with him. He’s been part of your life for so many years, but he also broke your heart when he called you by your sister’s name, essentially settling for you while still thinking about her.

“Spit it out then,” you say coldly. Your keep your eyes ahead of you looking out towards the hood of your car. You hear him sigh and the clanking of his chains as he shifts around a bit.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he begins, letting out a sigh. “I know you probably hate me for what happened last week, and I’m sorry for the way things went down. I shouldn’t have had that much to drink and I shouldn’t have put your feelings on the line,” he tells you. His voice was soft and you felt as though it was sincere. You turn to him and look at his big, round, brown eyes, the ones that always left you in a puddle on the floor.

“I could never hate you, Eddie,” you tell him simply. You watch the serious look on his face creep into a smile, his eyes gleaming at your words.

“Really? Good, because I was thinking-“

“I’m not done,” you tell him, holding your hand out to try to stop him. “Just because I don’t hate you, doesn’t mean I don’t hate what you did. Eddie…you really hurt me. The feelings I had for you, they were real and strong and clouded all my judgement most of the time. I thought I could handle you having a crush on my sister and pushing my own feelings aside in order to be your friend-your best friend. But when you said what you said last week, it broke me in ways I can barely fathom into coherent words. You called me Chrissy for crying out loud Eds,” you explain to him. You watch him nod and look to your floorboard, the look of shame and guilt you hadn’t seen much from him seeping into his features.

“Had?” He asks, quirking a brow at you.

“I’m sorry?” You question, confusion smeared across your face.

“You said the feelings you had for me. Do you not think of me that way anymore?” He asks, turning his body towards you once more and looking back into your eyes. You let out a soft sigh and shake your head.

“I don’t know. I’ve been in pain for a week and it’s given me a lot of time to think about the situation, how it all went down, and so many outcomes from how we can go on from this,” you tell him. You feel your eyes prick with tears and you swallow down a sob, the raw emotions coming from this conversation really hitting you. “I don’t think I can continue loving someone who doesn’t truly love me the way that I love them. Hell, I’m not even sure I can move past it and be friends.”

You watched Eddie’s face fall at your words, his eyes full of sadness and his jaw hanging open. He grabs your hands and holds them in his own.

“Y/N, please. I-I can’t lose you, I need you. Please just listen to me-“ he begins to say, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“Eddie, I’m sorry I can’t. Not right now. A-and I’m not sure when. But I do know I need you to get out of my car because I can’t take this anymore right now,” you explain, letting the tears race down your cheeks as you choke out the words to him. You’re breaking your own heart at this point, but it might be better this way.

Right?

“Y/N, please-“ he chokes out, tears of his own welling in his eyes.

“Eddie, please let me go.”

He slowly lets go of your hands and sits in the passenger seat for a moment, his head hung in defeat. You turn to look out the driver window, trying to muffle your sobs by putting your hands over your mouth and choking them back more. The passenger door opens once again and you feel the movement spread throughout the car, and the door closes softly. You watch as Eddie walks around to your side and hops in his van that was parked in the space beside you, starting his engine and speeding off down the road, not caring if he’d get pulled over or crash the damn thing.

You finally move your hands away from your mouth a grip your steering wheel as you let the cries escape the barrier that is your lips. Resting your forehead against the wheel, your whole body shakes as you let your true feelings out, screaming and tears streaming down your cheeks. No one ever said heartbreak was easy. Maybe it would for the best that Eddie wouldn’t be in your life anymore. Or maybe it wouldn’t.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #steve harrington

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tintagel-or-cockleshells · 6 months

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Tagged by @cha-melodius and @orchidscript today, but a big thanks to @kiwiana-writes and @rmd-writes for their tags this weekend while I was insensible.

“How did your mum take it? When you came out?” Henry asks suddenly, looking right at Alex with those baby blues, and Alex is thrown back in time. Sophomore year. Liam, who answered ‘yeah, they wanted me to visit, but Alex asked too’ when his mom enquired about what his own parents were doing for Thanksgiving. He’s fairly sure she never asked outright, but when Alex returned at Christmas with a new haircut and a broken heart she’d made him cocoa every night for a week. And she sat through Love Actually with him. “I never did,” Alex says quietly. “I just… just brought a guy home. Maybe she asked June about it, and June might have said something about me dating both girls and boys, but… she knows. I told her about you. I mean, when I thought you were Harry. I told her there was a guy.” “Oh,” Henry says thickly, almost in lowercase, and then he’s pressing a gentle kiss to Alex’s lips, his hands on the back of Alex’s head, and it feels so perfect but Alex can’t take it, not now.

Tagging @clottedcreamfudge @dumbpeachjuice (pls for CRUMBS of witchy fic, pls) @gloriousclio, @welcometololaland, @sherryvalli, @everwitch-magiks!

#wip wednesday

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billyhargroveinaponytail · 2 years

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A Broken Boy and A Camaro: "We both know the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man got you all worked up."

"You're obviously not from here.." I glanced up from my cigarette to meet her eyes. There stood a dark haired girl which her eyes matched perfectly with. She dressed in dark colors and flannels, her jeans had spots of oil and grease displayed across them. High school in California every girl looked the same, they wore the least amount of clothes possible and always smelt like whatever gut wrenching perfume was trending at that time.

This girl was absolutely nothing like them, she wasn't dressed up to impress everyone, she wore what was comfortable and still looked absolutely gorgeous doing it. She stood very confident when talking to me and even the girls around her were blushing for her. Her hands stayed clutched around her crossbody strap and while I spent all this time staring and studying her, her eyes remained on my vehicle I stood leaned against.

"You'd be correct." I reached out my hand to shake hers, pulling my cigarette from my mouth and pushing the smoke towards the sky. "I'm Billy, my little sister and I just moved here." I repositioned myself on the car's trunk and glanced behind her at the girls huddled behind their friend. She even stood out from her friend group, they were all in white washed jeans and jeans jackets to match with brightly colored stripped shirts underneath, that the scrunchies holding up their hair matched.

"Well welcome to Hawkins, Billy. I'm Jo!" She shook my hand in return, moving her eyes right back to my vehicle staring down the wheels and across the bumper. The sound of the school bell ringing across the parking lot brought me from my daze.

"Nice to meet you, Jo. I'll see you around." I watched her walk inside the building her group trailing behind her. She stood tall over all of them and glanced back in my direction before disappearing from sight.

---------

"Do you understand what I am saying?" Neil, my father spoke to me in a harsh voice. He's always been tough on me, I often questioned if he even loved me by how harsh he spoke to me and how he treated me. My mom was always the sweet, loving one, she would be proud of me owning my own mechanic shop. I miss my mom a lot more than I talk about, my father treats her like she's dead but, I know she did what was best for herself by leaving my abusive father but I think she forgot about her damaged son and started a new life elsewhere.

"Yes, I hear you." I scoffed under my breath, shoving more food into my mouth. Susan always made large exquisite meals like every day was thanksgiving. There was usually only four of us eating but once in a while Jocelyn from next door would join us. She was very sweet, she made sure to compliment Susan on everything she made and thanked Neil repeatedly for allowing her to come over.

Max wasn't allowed many friends over but Neil and Jocelyn's dad got along so he trusted Jocelyn to be a good influence around Max. He was hoping she'd get Max into girly things and away from the gaming and skateboarding. Jocelyn wasn't much help though, I could hear them talking through the walls late at night and they spent hours talking about boys and playing video games.

"My sister's back home from college now, I think she dropped out or maybe they kicked her out. I'm not completely sure but she's back!" I focused in on what Jocelyn was saying, realizing it had a few years since I had seen Jo, I assumed she had married her boyfriend Travis by now, but I am curious how she's been.

"I'm sorry to hear that!" Susan spoke quietly, patting Jocelyn's thigh. "I'm sure it's just a bump in the road for her, your sister's very smart." Susan looked to Neil waiting for his response, but he continued to look at his plate picking at the last remaining crumbs.

After I finished eating I removed myself from the table and rinsed my plate in the sink. Jocelyn and Max handed over their plates and I rinsed theirs as well.

"How's your sister and her boyfriend, uh, Travis?" I questioned, acting like I had forget his name but in honesty I hadn't forgot him at all. Travis was a good guy he seemed to really like Jo but it was obvious he wasn't her type. Travis was introverted and kept to himself. It killed me to see them together, a fire grew in my stomach whenever they kissed.

We were a few months away from graduating and Travis had announced to us that him and Jo had started dating and it left me shocked I had never thought she would date someone like him but they always say expect the unexpected.

"They broke up." Jocelyn spoke with a mouth filled with chocolate chip cookies. She didn't explain any further so Jo probably hadn't told her anymore than that.

"That sucks, he was cute and I liked his hair." Max sighed, pouring herself another glass of milk and crushing up the empty gallon jug and throwing it away. Max hadn't ever had a boyfriend that I've known of, she had a crush on the Lucas kid at school but I knew the instant that my father would find out about that he would be furious. Let's be honest, Neil was defiantly racist and no matter how Max felt he would absolutely refuse their relationship, let alone her ever talking to him.

"Ew!" Jocelyn made a disgusted face, sticking her tongue out. "He was annoying, he used to flick my nose all the time!" Jocelyn shook her head in disagreement.

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

"Dammit!"

The sound of a metal clanging against the concrete brought my attention around the old rusted up vehicle that sat in the middle of the neighbor's garage. I had spent many nights over here sitting in lawn chairs looking up at the stars with Jo.

We would talk about family, school and where we could see ourselves in the next few years. Jo would always talk about owning her restaurant. It would be the perfect fit for her, she was so hardworking and such a people person.

It was in this garage that Jo had kissed me for the first time. We had been drinking a lot, Jo was helping me change the oil on my car and she was telling how much she enjoyed spending time with me and working on the cars with me. I stood up and wiped the remaining oil onto the bandana hanging from my back pocket, when she quickly leaned forward placing a hand on either side of my face before pulling me towards her planting a soft and gentle kiss on me. We had kissed for a few minutes before I felt her stiffen against me and blurting out an apology. I didn't reply I only kissed her back in response. The smell of oil and fuel smelt so good on her, being around her was just hypnotizing.

Every time I had changed someone's oil in the shop I had thought about her and that moment, but being in this garage again brought back all those memories and had my entire body aching for her.

"Hey Jo you alright over there?" I leaned against the garage door entrance and gave her a soft smile. I could tell she was stressed, her brows were furrowed and she looked lost in thought, I leaned down picking up the dropped wrench placing it back onto the work bench.

"Billy? Billy Hargrove? Hawkin's heart throb is talking to me?" She placed her hands to her cheeks, faking a shocked look. Jo use to tell me about all of her friends drooling over me in high school, her friends even came over every weekend during the summer and sat in the garage pretending to help her but stood around watching me cut grass, which I obviously did shirtless.

Shut up," I laughed shaking my head, "Jocelyn said you were home now so I thought I'd come say hello and welcome you back. I see you still have this old piece of shit on wheels, you ready to sell it yet?" I raised a brow slapping the hood. Jo brought this car home 4 days after her grandfather passed it was rusted completely and she spent all summer sanding it down and cleaning out the interior, she loved this car and the memories it brought her. She had her mind set on getting it running again and in perfect condition, why? I had no idea but she was determined.

"Thanks for the welcome back, where's my big welcome home sign? Hell, no I'm not ready to sell this thing, sooner or later I'm going to get it up and running!" She shoved my shoulder moving me away from the old mustang's trunk. We had made out on this trunk shortly before her and Travis started dating, I always knew Jo wanted something more with me but I was too busy being stupid and thinking I need to play around with all the high school bimbos before settling down. Just before our family's big forth of July party we worked some in the garage and one thing led to another and we were making out on the trunk of her car, her hands clawed at my back while I leaned us back against the car pressing myself against her completely.

We were moving and grinding deeply against each other. I knew things were moving along quickly but I stopped them before they could go too far. We were both breathing deeply, trying to catch our breathes. Again, she began apologizing profusely. She had nothing to apologize about, I wanted her just the same or even more but I was nothing but a piece of shit and she deserved better than me.

I placed my hands up in a surrender motion, fighting back my laughs. "I apologize there's no welcome home sign, I promise to have that ready next time. And I'm sorry for harming your garbage-" I stopped myself clearing my throat and then beginning again. "Harming your 'antique' " I made air quotes around the word.

"That's right! She's an antique!" She crossed her arms, attempting to act insulted by my comments. We have had many rough nights with this vehicle and she has called it many colorful names but she loved this car and would never part with it.

"How about that gorgeous Camaro of yours? You keeping her cleaned up nice for me?" She winked, wrapping her flannel around her waist and leaning into the passenger window to grab out her tool box.

It had taken me a while to finally let her drive my car, she was constantly begging me to let her drive it the pool or the convenient store but I always refused, until the night of her 20th birthday. We had gone to eat and then the drive ins, she had sat in my passenger seat eagerly watching the movie, I couldn't even remember what we were watching I just remember how excited she got over the action scenes.

Right after the movie had ended I had finally decided to give in and let her drive, she was so excited she almost drug me from my seat and yanked the keys from my hands. She was surprisingly a really talented driver.

"She's spotless and waiting for you to take her for another ride!" I lit up a cigarette, offering it over to her after taking a long drag. She took the cigarette and I watched her lips sensually wrap around the tip taking in a deep drag herself.

"Do you remember the first time you let me drive it?" She handed the cigarette back in my direction, then moving over to the hood and opening it up. Her grandfather taught her everything she knew about working on vehicles. She told me he use to tell her to never rely on a man. He taught her how to change her own tires, change her own oil and every other need for owning a vehicle. He didn't want her to ever depend on anyone for anything, I wonder what he would have thought about Travis? She always acted so weak and timid around him.

"Of course I do. It was the night of your birthday, we had a great night that night didn't we?" I leaned over the motor watching her tinker around inside. She blew my mind how talented she was, I always thought she would have joined me in the mechanic shop.

Old man Sampson owned the shop since he was 18 years old, his father had given it to him and when I was 18 I had started working there after school. I absolutely hated being home and did everything I could to stay away from Neil so, I spent all my time in the shop working on anything I could get my hands on. Sampson saw how hard I worked and how much I loved the shop so when he got sick he wrote up his will leaving the shop to me.

I renamed the shop in his honor after he passed and I was proud to say business was doing really well and I was eager to take Jo there and show her around.

She nodded, glancing up to me, then returning to the motor. "It was a great night, we fell asleep on the couch in the garage watching Ghostbusters together."

I had tried so hard to get Jo to let me throw her a party for her 22nd birthday but she insisted on it just being the two of us. She wanted dinner, a drive in movie and then to just hang out and that's exactly what we did. I bought her a tool box with all brand new pieces inside for her to use in the garage and she was so excited about it, she gave me a tight hug and thanked me multiple times for it.

After returning to her house from the drive ins we sat on the couch in the garage together watching the first Ghostbusters movie, we originally sat on opposite ends but once I noticed her shivering I motioned for her to move closer. She placed herself between my legs and laid against my chest, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. Every fiber in my body wanted to pin her down on this couch and cover her in kisses, I was craving her taste.

I adjusted myself multiple times that night, trying to make my erection less noticeable. I swore she could feel it and I swore she was even pressing against it more and trying to turn me on, I continued to fight it though.

About an hour into the movie she had fallen asleep, my left leg and arm had both fallen asleep too but I was in such bliss having her laid against me there was no way I would be moving. It was roughly 7 in the morning when I woke up and realized she was no longer laying with me, she was coming down the stairs as I stood from the couch stretching. She greeted me with a plate of pancakes and the sweetest morning smile.

"Is that the night you go a boner on me?" She looked up again smirking, then moving over to the work bench. Her words caught me completely off guard, I began choking on my cigarette. I had assumed she forgot about that or maybe didn't know at all.

"Oh um," I stuttered, trying to catch my breath. "Yeah, I don't know about that, maybe."

She continued smirking, knowing we both knew exactly what she was talking about.

"We both know the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man got you all worked up. So speaking of boners, are there any pretty ladies in your life, Hargrove?" She opened the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers handing one in my direction.

I had the occasion hookup but nothing like I had in high school, I had actually calmed down within the last few years. Tiffany worked at the local bar as a waitress and whenever I found myself a wasted mess she was occasionally fun to bring home but she was a talker and I had absolutely no interest in listening to her talk. My father was always trying to set me up with a guy he worked with's niece but she was a hardcore lesbian and everyone knew it, I think her uncle was just trying to turn her down a different road and that wasn't happening here.

I laughed at her 'boner' comment, before shaking my head. "No, nothing too serious. What about you? How's Travis?" I didn't want to bring up that I asked Jocelyn early about them and that I already knew they were separated.

"I'm not surprised, I don't think you could ever do 'serious', and for Travis we broke up a few weeks ago. We really didn't see eye to eye."

The 'serious' comment hurt but it was so true, Jo had such a good way of putting things and I knew what she meant by 'couldn't see eye to eye'. Travis was boring, he never wanted to go places and see things. Jo wanted to go and explore the world she had talked about it any chance she got.

The first week Jo and Travis started dating, it was Halloween and our buddy Tommy was throwing a party. I was shirtless and had just worn a leather jacket and my fingerless gloves but Travis and Jo were dressed like Goose and Maverick from Top Gun. Jo had on a skin tight green jumpsuit the shorts ending right by her ass, leaving a small amount to hang out the bottom. Her top was very low cut and her breast were spilling from it, under the shorts she wore black fishnet tights and she looked mouth watering. I complimented her at least 5 times that night but Travis did nothing but embarrass her.

Travis said she went over board, he wanted her to wear a similar outfit to his, a green baggy jumpsuit) but Jo was confident in her body and liked dressing to show it. Travis was constantly covering her and asking her to 'be more modest'.

I wanted to take her home and strip her down to nothing but those incredible fishnets and screw her ever loving brains out. I fucked my own hand that entire night after the party thinking of her body riding me.

"I'm sorry to hear that," That's a lie.

"You're better off anyway." I picked up a few pieces of garbage off her bench and threw them in the trash.

I wish I could tell her how much I missed her while she was gone and the nights, I spent lying awake in bed thinking of her. I closed the bar down many nights trying to drink away the reoccurring thoughts in my head, she was just so intoxicating.

**CHECK OUT THIS STORY ON WATTPAD**

https://www.wattpad.com/story/307499530-a-broken-boy-and-a-camaro?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=anythingwitha_j&wp_originator=lQ7WbOZHXISOYtp%2BVs3cfnSSAezAuHqasrQC80BYNjNBOO5HDZRafUb9b7AcqL78QqfJPrTx35X6aaXDFnyimiAygKgX%2B1soFP3025WCdfA9a5SYCaj2uFDt09BKqwzJ

#strangerthings #billyhargrove #hargrove #strangerthings4 #wattpad #steveharrington

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modularelevatormanufacturing · 4 months

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Ghosts of Christmas Elevators

Ghosts of Christmas Elevators - With this Thanksgiving being one of the weirdest in holiday history, I felt moving right into Christmas was a great idea. By the way, be patient I will get to elevators. One of my favorite collections of holiday movies comes from the time tested Charles Dickens classic, A Christmas Carol. Whether it is Bill Murray in Scrooged, George C. Scott, Reginald Owen or Scrooge McDuck it is a great story. It tells of a bitter, greedy and disillusioned Ebenezer Scrooge and the four apparitions that visit him. The ghosts are charged with the last ditch effort to reclaim Ebenezer's soul from an eternal, tortuous walk in chains around the earth as penance. It is a story of hope and reclamation. “I am here to-night to warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate." Marley said. But would Scrooge heed the words of the mercurial spirits that came to sway his life decisions? Can You Change? We all would like to think that we have the ability to change our minds or reform our thinking. However, part of the appeal of Scrooge is it hits closer to home that we would like to acknowledge. Ultimately, we all tend towards intransigence in our lives. Unfortunately, much like the lead character of the book. We walk the same paths, and make the same decisions over and over. In other words, we start doing something a certain way and there we are, stuck in the mud just like good ol' Ebenezer. Change? Bah-humbug! In my shortened version of the "movie" in this blog, I get to play the part of Marley. There I am wandering about with an over-sized ring of elevator keys jangling from my waist as I materialize in your presence. "You will be visited by elevator consultants of the past, present and future at the stroke of one, two and three." I moan with my mouth agape. Unlike in the classic you get to decide whether you will change your mind or perspective on the past, present and future of the elevator industry, and thank goodness not the fate of your potentially wandering soul. And so it begins. The Clock Strikes 1 As the clock strikes one, you feel a nervous sweat drenching your brow. What will the early morning hold for you and your visitors or was the first visit all a dream just brought on by a bit of "undigested beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese or a fragment of an underdone potato"? Could it all be true? But then with great fanfare enters the Ghost of Elevator Consultants Past. This jovial spirit reminds you of the elevators of years ago and how you were once filled with joy at the prospect of considering new and exciting technology in the industry. Thinking outside of the box was a delight. Now it seems the business is the same old, same old, cut and paste and you are part of it. The life of exploring a better technology and improved methods was not something to hide from just a few years ago; it was something to embrace leading to newer and better. You are then shown through the spirit, that the old-fashioned conventional elevator model as a broken down relic of times past and a new faster, safer, greener and less expensive alternative, off the building project's critical path is available if you are willing and able. You are reminded that elevators have not changed in how they are built since the 1860's...or have they? 2 AM - Ghost Number 2 At the strike of two the Ghost of Elevator Consultant Present takes you by the hand and whisks you away to elevator projects in the midst of the building process where unsafe conditions of heavy lifting, scaffolding in hoistways and open shaft entrances make for unnecessary injuries. On that conventional job-site the sounds of drama and argument fills the air as bickering constantly exists between various trades. They squabble over pit ladders, electrical runs and limited site storage. But, then in a flash, you see with your own eyes a complete elevator set in place (hoistway and all the components installed inside) in a couple hours, up and running in a couple of days. No arguing, no waste and no unsafe conditions. You can't help but shed a tear over the waste of time, materials, general costs and resources when you compare one with the other. Last But Certainly Not Least Finally, at the strike of three the third ghost appears. He quietly points a bony finger to the factory where modular elevators are manufactured. You effortlessly glide overhead to see there is less waste and more efficiency. The team on the factory floor work together in harmony on the production line with jigs, templates and quality control measures that ensures a plumb and square hoistway every time and easy installation of components. The only heavy-lifting is done by cranes and forklifts making everything safe and easy. Time then passes forward in a blur revealing the elevator being trucked to a job site and swung into place. The process is done in a flash; safer, faster, greener and less expensive. Is this future just a dream? As you and the apparition drift weightlessly over the job site and back towards the factory, you see smiling faces of the elevator technicians, the building owner, the architect the project manager, and GC. They have seen all the benefits of the high-quality commercial elevator made in a most unconventional way. Modular elevators have changed their lives for the better. It is a reality. You release the robe of the last phantom and realize it is again the present day and now you recognize where he has placed you, at the door of MEM the most experienced and best modular elevator manufacturer in the world. Now the choice is yours, do you reject the past and embrace the future of building today? It is not too late! You still have time! Merry Christmas! And if you choose modular as it says in the Christmas Carol (with my changes), "some people may laugh to see the alteration in your thinking, but let them laugh, and heed them little; for you were wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset." But in the long run they and others as well will come to know that for any low or mid-rise building a modular elevator is the absolute best choice. If you are curious, but don't want me to show up in your bedroom with three ghosts or if you are ready for a change feel free to contact us for more information. And for a Fast Track budget number click the button below. Hope you liked the story! - Happy Holidays from your MEM - Quality elevators taking you to a higher level. Request a FAST TRACK QUOTE Read the full article

#ChristmasElevator #elevatorconsultant #ElevatorGhosts #futureelevator #Scrooge

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multiversal-pig-outing · 5 months

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*At a poor tavern a monstrosity event was taking place. Lina going all out on thanksgiving.

Tearing into everything and not leaving a single crumb left. Any turkey that comes near is strip of all it's meat in the matter of seconds. plates of mash potatoes were clean off the plate. With the gravy being use to wash it down. Any food you can think off it was there being obliterated by Lina.*

Hey guy narrating this if you can narrate me eating then you can help the others get me food. Come on chop chop.

*Fearing my life I did I was told and brought in more food for Lina to eat.*

#fat #muse:lina

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salvalaa · 1 year

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Thanksgiving

I lived on the edge for years. My family wanted me to lie, so I did. Truthfully I shed more tears than I can count. I used to be so hard on myself, but recently I’ve started putting all the pieces together.

None of them will speak to me.

It’s dawned on me, It’s all I can think about. I’ve chewed a hole in my cheek, my jaw is killing me. They always treated me like an outsider, but the fault was always put onto me for being one. I was the weird one, my entire life, and now I’m something to gawk at.

What do they think of me?

I’m afraid of everything turning into my fault again, it always tends to around them. I’ve been the ass of this family since I was brought into it… with the Colorado Springs shooting just days ago… I’m afraid of what will be said to me. I’ve never accepted being ran through the mud like they love to do to me. In fact, In the past I’ve always tried to correct their wrongs, but I think this go it will be far more stressful.

“We’re still getting used to it.”

I’ve heard that so much, it makes me sick.

“You need to be less hard on us”

…“Whatever”

They always throw their hands up with that one. Even my gracious sister, who tries to defend me, gets tired at times and just joins them. It’s easy for them to dismiss me, it’s all they’ve ever done. Even when I was a kid, they never took my feelings seriously. I’d be told to be less sensitive. my adult uncle, the husband to my aunt, used to bully me for being “too feminine”. He drank too much around that time, but I’m not sure what he’s like now. I think he avoids me.

They all avoid me, and if they don’t, they make it very clear where they “stand”. To them, the mention of my name is radically changed. I’m seen as this symbol of American social failure, a beacon of the far radical left, an enemy of Christ, a freak of modern medicine… a tranny

I’m tired.

They don’t know what girls like me go through, everyday has to be a good day for us. Women like me don’t get days off, we are forced into perfection, even our attempt at perfection isn’t enough to be approved into womanhood, then we are punished. Punished for trying, punished for “failing”, and punished for successfully blending into their social spaces. Nothing is ever good enough, and it gets made worse by family. Salt in the wound.

And here I am, my moms couch, rain on the roof, the pain of my mothers words ringing in my ears, seeking family, left with crumbs and misunderstandings.

#thanksgiving

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sunprodigal · 2 years

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On recent heartbreak

I wish I would write from safe places. I feel guilty coming here only when I’ve dealt myself enough damage to necessitate this outlet. Even now I find myself suffering shame-induced writer’s block, but I would like to finish at least one of the drafts I’ve started.

The orange sun hung over the Pacific for what felt like an eternity before dipping below the horizon, almost tricking us into believing we were in a broken simulation. “We’re such emotional people, my family and I,” I sobbed to someone I barely knew. Strong psychedelic trips sharpen my emotional toolkit, granting me scalpels to make deep cuts into the problems that have made home within me. “I want to write, I want to make art.” was one of the conclusions I came to in my heightened state. In recent years, I’ve often yearned for worlds in which I pursued creative paths that allowed me to see and be seen viscerally. Melodramatic me would say I am often “buried under the weight of all the lives I am not living”. When I feel the rare gust of inspiration at my back I should at least try to walk if not run with it. Too bad it most often arrives on the tails of pain.

I was hurt a week ago by someone I didn’t realize had that power over me. A sucker punch that knocked the wind out of me. I still haven’t regained my breath. I met her at an electronic music concert, the type of event me a year ago would’ve scoffed at. Our first meeting was magnetic. The chemistry was some of the strongest and most instantaneous I’ve ever felt. I drove her down to Stanford the next morning and we held hands throughout the car ride. I kept stealing looks at her sitting in my passenger seat. She was quippy and passionate about the environment. The daughter of two physics professors, she was an academic with the cutest dimples I had ever seen. I was smitten. After spending a few listless months on dating apps, I felt like she was my big break. Unfortunately the following months brought with them a string of failed expectations and frustration.

The next time she returned to the city, I took her out to a bar in Dogpatch. In a tipsy state, she acknowledged that she had commitment issues. She wasn’t looking for anything serious. I tried to keep my space and temper my emotions, a doomed effort in retrospect. I found more things that drew me in, from the way she superstitiously wore mismatched socks to the way her eyes betrayed how she felt in moments of surprise. Most of all, I became enamored with how she looked when listening to music she loved. Almost inevitably, she would purse her lips and begin to bob her head. One afternoon I left her alone in my room momentarily to talk to my roommates. My speaker was left on autoplay and I returned to her sprawled across the bed, looking dazed. I asked her what had happened to put her in such a state, and she responded that a good song had just come on. I never realized how watching someone earnestly enjoy something they love would pull on my own heartstrings. When someone is moved by a thing, it can be hard not to feel similarly compelled. This became the case for me and electronic music. Going to events with her and feeling catharsis in movement for the first time, the wistfulness in the whining of a synth, the punchiness of a kick, anticipation of a drop, led me towards a novel relationship with the electronic genre. Though I quickly began to see the ways in which the reality of our pairing grievously drifted from my idealized conception, attachment continued to grow and I continued to unwittingly invest pieces of myself in her. Regrettably, I took every crumb of reciprocity I could get and would often get frustrated at the distance she maintained between us.

After a particularly turbulent prelude, we found ourselves in the middle of Death Valley on a Thanksgiving trip. In an afternoon I’ll never forget, we tripped together sitting on this boulder of near cosmic significance that overlooked a desert highway. I brought my speakers and we shared music that moved us. For those hours, we watched the landscape evolve from day to night. Back at the campsite under stars that only the desert seems to bring out, I told her this would probably be the last time I saw her. I couldn’t reign in my feelings for her and I just needed more than she could provide. For the first time since meeting her, she began to cry. She wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe I had had power over her in a way she hadn’t realized. Somewhere through the prior months, she had developed feelings in return. This confession was bittersweet, a tragic sentiment only surfaced in response to a fear of hurt by abandonment, lubricated by an entire bottle of red wine. In what felt like a movie crafted moment, Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie played on in the background. “I need you so much closer” is the echoing line that repeats and closes the song out. I held her and we cried before we slept. I still can’t listen to the intro of this song without crying.

We spent the next few months in a messy push and pull dynamic. For various reasons, it was never meant to work out. Towards the end, we began to see other people and we finally stopped our involvement to make room for those others. It was mutual and polite. Done deal right? Then I saw her last weekend for the first time in weeks. She was seeing someone new.

I’m not sure why I am writing all of this, an overly emotional and unfocused stream of consciousness. I promise this started off as a more analytical post on the relationship between intimacy and hurt but I guess my heart had other plans tonight.

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wolfmadefromash · 3 years

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Mega Prompt List

I have brought together a few different lists and have over 300 prompts. I love getting request, it’s great, but they don’t always flow in. So the idea is to use a random number generator and have that pick the prompt for me. I have a ton of WIPs so I really shouldn’t be looking to add anything but...Well it’s like trying not to buy a new book. I can’t do it.

Feel free to send me a request from this list if you’d like! And as always, expect a Sterek fic, because that is all I know anymore...

1. I need you.

2. You’re family.

3. I care about you.

4. Can I join you.

5. You made your choice.

6. This isn’t fair!

7. How could you do this?

8. Do you hate me?

9. I could never leave you behind.

10. Come with me.

11. That’s sweet.

12. You look great.

13. Where are you going?

14. That’s new.

15. Let me help you.

16. Drop the attitude.

17. Are you okay?

18. I’ve got you.

19. I’m worried about you.

20. You don’t seem like yourself tonight.

21. Do you like it?

22. You smell nice.

23. They didn’t deserve you.

24. I trust you, do you trust me?

25. Karma is a bitch.

26. What the hell?

27. Son of a bitch.

28. I hope your day gets better.

29. I’m here if you need to talk.

30. Are you listening to me?

31. Sorry.

32. Why are you doing this?

33. Why are you acting like this?

34. How do I look?

35. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

36. What is this about?

37. You look like hell.

38. I haven’t seen you in a few days.

39. It’s good to see you.

40. You know, you can stay if you want to.

41. I’m not pissed, I’m hurt.

42. Truth hurts, doesn’t it?

43. I almost feel bad for you.

44. What you did was stupid.

45. No. You listen to me.

46. It doesn’t matter.

47. I know you’re scared.

48. You’re a terrible liar.

49. You’re not helping.

50. It’s not safe here.

51. You should leave.

52. Everything is fine.

53. I’ll keep you safe.

54. I hope you know what you’re doing.

55. Just go away.

56. You don’t have to act like you’re okay.

57. I’m only here to help.

58. Don’t mind if I do.

59. Don’t you think you’ve done enough?

60. Thanks for nothing.

61. I’m done.

62. You think that this is easy for me?

63. I hate seeing you like this.

64. You make me so mad.

65. I brought you dinner.

66. Say what?

67. You’ll be fine.

68. You’ve got me on your side.

69. I don’t like you…. I love you.

70. I don’t want you… I need you.

71. What are you doing here?

72. It’s okay to cry.

73. I can tell you’re lying.

74. You’re in danger.

75. You deserve better.

76. You’ve changed.

77. I think I’m in trouble.

78. You always find a way to surprise me.

79. You did what you had to do.

80. You have no idea.

81. Why am I not surprised?

82. This is just great.

83. You’re here late.

84. What’s on your mind?

85. I wanted to apologize.

86. It’s just you and me.

87. I’m just looking out for you.

88. I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did.

89. Calm down.

90. Why didn’t you tell me?

91. Oh come on.

92. No one is perfect.

93. You’ve been quiet.

94. What did you just say?

95. I’ll always be there for you.

96. Fair enough.

97. When you fall, I’ll always be right there to catch you.

98. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.

99. You’re not crazy.

100. I’m not leaving.

101. I hope you’re happy.

102. You’re the only person I wanted to be with tonight.

103. Don’t worry about it.

104. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

105. You’re not going anywhere.

106. You believe me, don’t you?

107. Regardless of what they think, I know you’re an amazing person.

108. Shhh… You need to be quiet.

109. Fuck you!

110. You don’t even know me.

111. That’s starting to get annoying

112. Hey, hey, calm down They can’t hurt you anymore

113. You can’t just sit there all day

114. I’m too sober for this

115. I’m not here to make friends

116. I need a place to stay

117. Well, that’s tragic

118. You’re seriously like a man-child

119. You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!

120. The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids

121. Dear Diary, …

122. She’s hiding behind the sofa

123. I lost our baby

124. They’re so cute when they’re asleep

125. I’d kill for a coffee…literally

126. You’re getting crumbs all over my bed

127. Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion

128. What’s the matter, sweetie?

129. You’re Satan

130. I don’t want to hear your excuse You can’t just give me wet-willies

131. I’m bulletproof…but please, don’t shoot me

132. Did you just hiss at me?

133. Do you really need all that candy?

134. It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka

135. I swear, I’m not crazy!!!

136. The diamond in your engagement ring is fake

137. No Regrets

138. How drunk was I?

139. How is my wife more badass than me?

140. Be you No one else can

141. I haven’t slept in ages

142. I locked the keys in the car

143. Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?

144. You work for me You are my slave

145. Take your medicine

146. They’re monsters

147. Welcome to fatherhood

148. Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?

149. It’s your turn to make dinner

150. The kids, they ambushed me

151. Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!!!

152. Stop being so cute

153. I feel like I can’t breathe

154. You need to see a doctor

155. You’re getting a vasectomy That’s final

156. I was a joke, baby I swear

157. Dogs don’t wear clothes!

158. I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…

159. Safety first What are you? FIVE?

160. This is girl talk, so leave

161. There’s a herd of them!

162. Do you think I’m scared of a woman?

163. They’re not your kids, back the fuck off

164. You’re a nerd

165. I’m late

166. Just get home as soon as possible, okay?!

167. You smell like a wet dog

168. I could punch you right now

169. Are you going to talk to me?

170. Welcome back Now fucking help me

171. If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?

172. Flea markets don’t carry fleas, you know?

173. Here, take my blanket

174. I don’t want you to stop

175. How could I ever forget about you?

176. You’re bleeding all over my carpet

177. Run for it!

178. We need to talk

179. Not everyone is out to get you Stop thinking that It’s annoying

180. I want a pet

181. Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now

182. I’m not wearing a dress

183. I’m not wearing a tie

184. Quit beating me up!

185. Please put your penis away

186. Don’t argue Just do it

187. I hope I’m never stuck with you on a deserted island

188. Hold still

189. I just ironed these pants!

190. Enough with the sass!

191. Show me what’s behind your back

192. I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor

193. Fine, don’t say anything and make me worry

194. Stay awake

195. STOP INTERRUPTING ME!

196. You’re not interested, are you?

197. I’m not buying Ikea furniture again

198. Tell me you need me

199. Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you

200. I’m telling you I’m haunted

201. I had a bad dream again

202. Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween

203. It’s Christmas, don’t be mad at me

204. You’re not going to starve yourself on Thanksgiving

205. The store ran out of Easter eggs

206. How could you forget your son’s birthday?

207. You can only suffer through my whining for so long until you get up and make me a sandwich

208. Come over here and make me

209. Have you lost your damn mind!?

210. Please, don’t leave

211. Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?

212. Wait a minute Are you jealous?

213. Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?

214. I almost lost you

215. Wanna bet?

216. Don’t you ever do that again!

217. Teach me how to play?

218. Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!

219. I think we need to talk

220. Kiss me

221. Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always

222. So, I found this waterfall…

223. It could be worse

224. Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…

225. This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had Of course I’m in

226. The paint’s supposed to go where?

227. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you

228. We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?

229. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice

230. Just once

231. You’re the only one I trust to do this

232. I can’t believe you talked me into this

233. I got you a present

234. Marry me?

235. I thought you were dead

236. It’s not what it looks like…

237. You lied to me

238. I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified

239. Please don’t do this

240. If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed

241. You heard me. Take It Off

242. I wish I could hate you

243. Wanna dance?

244. You fainted…straight into my arms You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes

245. Hey! I was gonna eat that!

246. Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?

247. You did all of this for me?

248. I swear it was an accident

249. YOU DID WHAT?!

250. If you die, I’m gonna kill you

251. Tell me a secret

252. Hey, have you seen the? Oh

253. No one needs to know

254. Boo

255. Well this is awkward…

256. We’ll get through this, I promise

257. You make me feel You make me feel and I hate it

258. Why are you so jealous?

259. Please don’t cry I can’t stand seeing you cry

260. If I leave now, I won’t come back

261. I would honestly die before I let anything happen to you

262. Don’t fucking touch me

263. I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for

264. I know for a fact that you’re not ‘fine’

265. You absolute fucking… I’m so angry I can’t even insult you!

266. You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me

267. I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just… really tired

268. You didn’t call You didn’t text Nothing

269. I’ve never hated you, you just make me feel things I don’t understand

270. I would never do this to you if I didn’t have to You know that right?

271. You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love

272. Calm down! You’re scaring me!

273. Hey, I know you’re hurting… but, you’re not alone, okay?

274. Why do you run away from your problems all the time?

275. Please talk to me about it

276. Shh, it was just a bad dream Just a dream, okay? None of it was reality

277. It’s not bad to cry. In fact, I think it makes a person stronger

278. I’m not going to leave you You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise

279. Why are your eyes so red?

280. We’re not just friends and you fucking know it

281. I don’t know who you are anymore

282. Can you at least promise me that? - I don’t think I can, not this time

283. Do you even still love me?

284. Get out I am done with you

285. I can’t sleep when you’re not beside me

286. You hurt me

287. I don’t know how to exist in a world without you

288. You make me feel alive. For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe

289. I don’t want to feel this way anymore

290. Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know

291. Nobody’s seen you in days

292. Don’t cry

293. You haven’t lost me

294. Why are you crying?

295. We could…take a nap together?

296. Nothing is wrong with you

297. You keep that photo of us in your wallet?

298. Sssh. Stop fussing I’m just braiding your hair

299. You’re comfy

300. Not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend

301. Sleeping with you was the best sleep I’ve gotten in years

302. You smell really nice

303. It was a joke, baby I swear

304. You’re the best part of me

305. No, like… It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes

306. Aw, you’re blushing

307. Your hair is really soft

308. I promise I will never let anything bad happen to you

309. Can we just lie here for a moment?

310. I don’t care if you’re sick, catching a cold from kissing you is worth it

311. I think you might be my soulmate

312. Can we stay like this forever?

313. I don’t want to be your partner either, but we have to get this assignment done

314. I’ve got you

315. I can’t sleep, can I stay here?

316. You’ve been pouting ever since I went out on that date, what’s up?

317. I’m not sure when it happened, but I fell in love with you, and it was the best thing I’ve ever done

318. I can’t sleep

319. Sometimes I really don’t like you

320. Can I hold your hand?

321. You look like you could use a hug

322. You make me feel safe

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stolethekey · 3 years

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i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side

hello! this is for the (final!) @b99fandomevents—i can’t believe how far these two (and this show) have come, and i’m gonna miss them so much. i got to write this for @amydancepants-peralta, who wanted a fic where jake and amy have a disatrous first date, and then amy decides to transfer to chicago—jake has three days to convince her to stay.

enjoy! (you can also read this on ao3.)

It’s their first date, and it’s a disaster.

Neither of them has said anything in the ten minutes since they’ve sat down. Jake buries his nose into the menu, hoping that he looks occupied enough with choosing an entrée to excuse the heavy silence that has settled over the table. A few feet away, in the other side of the booth, Amy does the same thing.

A young man in a pressed suit and tie approaches their table, a small, nervous smile on his face. “Are you all ready to order?”

“Yes!” Amy nearly leaps at the chance to talk to someone who is not Jake. Jake tries not to feel too hurt by the desperate excitement in her voice. “I’ll take the chicken piccata, please.”

Jake lingers around the chicken parmesan but ends up going with a steak, because he’s determined to show Amy and maybe himself that he can eat like an adult. They pass their silk-embossed menus to the waiter, sip their waters, and suddenly it’s too quiet again.

“You got a haircut,” Jake notices, wringing his hands nervously under the table.

“It looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

There is a beat of silence that stretches just a little too long, and then Jake says, “This is awkward.”

Amy chokes out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Another moment passes. Jake swallows the non-existent saliva in his mouth. Their waiter, mercifully, returns with their food a few minutes later. Jake doesn’t want him to leave. He does, of course, and then they’re left in that terrible silence again.

Jake makes it through half his steak before speaking again. “Should we, um, just get really drunk?”

Amy grimaces, reaching for her water. “I don’t think so.” Her voice is quiet, almost defeated. “If we can’t do this sober, what’s the point?”

Something twists uncomfortably in Jake’s stomach, but he stabs his fork into his a piece of broccoli anyway. - It’s the day after their first date, and Amy asks for a transfer.

Jake learns about this through a wail from the evidence lockup that he hears from a good twenty yards away. He bursts through the door, frantic, to find Charles curled in a ball on the ground, rocking back and forth.

Charles gets out the details in between sobs, or at least enough details that Jake gets most of the picture. Amy put in a transfer to Chicago, it’s been granted on account of an emergency vacancy that needs to be filled, and she has three days left at the Nine-Nine.

“Three days,” Charles gasps, tears streaming out of his eyes. “Three days, you have to convince her to stay, Jake, you have to—”

“Hold on,” Jake says desperately, watching Charles dab at his face with a completely saturated tissue. “Let me get you another box of Kleenex.”

He opens the door to leave and runs straight into the source of Charles’s despair, in the flesh.

“Oh,” says Amy.

Jake closes the door behind him before Charles can see her and have a heart attack, then crosses his arms. “Is it true? Are you leaving?”

Amy has the grace to look self-conscious, shuffling her feet and shoving her hands in her pockets. She nods, and Jake feels strangely like the walls are swimming around him.

It just makes sense, she says. She has family there, and New York is too crowded, too expensive, and maybe Chicago is a better place to live anyway.

“Is this because of me?” Jake demands. “Because of…you know…our date?”

“No, of course not.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it.

Jake scoffs before stalking past her into the bullpen, ignoring her half-hearted call of his name. He blinks back the hot, furious tears forming in his eyes, and internally he starts a calendar. - On Day One, Jake calls in sick to work.

He responds to the “r u ok??” texts from Charles, Rosa, Gina, and Terry with a copy-and-pasted “I’m ok. Just feeling gross.” He ignores the ones that mention Amy. He also pretends like he doesn’t notice that Amy hasn’t sent him anything.

The morning is spent mindlessly scrolling through his social media beneath his blankets, with no regard for time or his grumbling stomach.

At noon, Charles posts a picture of the squad from Halloween with the caption “Gonna miss my favorite Halloween-hater. #SayonaraSantiago.” Jake decides he’s had enough Instagram for the day and finally hauls himself out of bed.

He orders a pizza, then turns his phone off and the TV on. Inadvertently, the pizza becomes both lunch and dinner and one Die Hard movie becomes a marathon—and before he knows it, the sky outside his apartment is dark.

“Well, that was productive,” Jake mutters, brushing the pizza crumbs off his lap before standing up to toss his trash into the garbage.

On Day Two, they aren’t talking to each other.

Amy looks up almost timidly as he walks out of the elevator, then waits until he reached his desk to let out a small, hesitant “Hi.”

Jake grabs the file waiting for him on his desk and walks out of the bullpen without looking at her.

So, strictly speaking, this is mostly his fault.

That fact does not do anything to quell the mixture of anger and hurt writhing in his stomach. He spends the day furiously completing paperwork in an empty interrogation room, jabbing his pen so furiously into the paper that he rips a hole in an I-918 and has to start over.

At noon, Rosa stops by with a turkey sub, which she drops wordlessly on the desk in front of him before sliding back out the door.

At five, he has completed more paperwork than he has in the last month combined. He drops the stack of files on Terry’s desk, forces a smile, and says, “Finally caught up on all those forms you’ve been hounding me about.”

Terry, his eyes piercing and slightly concerned, does not laugh. “Dismissed.”

It’s Day Three, and Holt has had enough.

He assigns Jake and Amy to label evidence in the lockup together, much to Jake’s chagrin. Amy turns and speeds off without a word. Jake turns towards Holt with a big, reproachful protest on the tip of his tongue but is cut off by Holt’s raised eyebrows and stern expression.

“Peralta, you need to get over yourself.”

“What?”

“You need to get over yourself,” Holt repeats. “Your partner of six years is leaving tomorrow, and you haven’t spoken to her in three days.”

Jake snorts, crossing his arms defensively. “Yeah, well, she’s leaving because of me, so—”

“I’m not sure that matters,” Holt says, not unkindly. “If you let her leave like this, you might never get the chance to talk to her again.”

Jake stares at the ground, furiously attempting to dig a hole in the ground with his toe.

“I know you don’t want this to be the way things end.” Holt’s voice is gentle, and Jake can’t bring himself to look up. “It would be unwise to let your pride get in the way of your last chance to save your friendship.”

“Whatever,” Jake mutters irritably, but something uncomfortable has begun to form in his gut. “Gimme that Sharpie so I can go write case numbers on a bunch of ziplock bags.”

Jake does not, in fact, get over himself—at least not for the first few hours. He chooses to instead label evidence in the same furious silence that has occupied his past three days, pretending he doesn’t see the furtive, almost timid glances Amy throws his way every few minutes.

Then he walks to a bodega for lunch and realizes mid-chew that this is Amy’s last lunch at the Nine-Nine, and the uncomfortable thing in his stomach grows a lot bigger.

He finally swallows his pride on his walk back to the precinct, and when he re-enters the evidence lockup the thing in his stomach has started feeling a lot more like guilt.

Amy walks in a few minutes after him, tossing a balled-up sandwich wrapper into the trash, and notices that he’s watching her. “You have something to say to me?”

“Yeah, actually,” Jake says quickly. “I do.”

She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, and Jake’s heart sinks a little.

“I—uh—I’m sorry,” Jake says. “For how I reacted, and for icing you out the past few days. It was immature of me, and stupid, and I should’ve been an adult about it, but—well, I guess we both know I suck at that sometimes.”

Amy snorts, but her expression has softened slightly. “Thank you.”

“And I’m gonna make it up to you,” Jake continues, almost determinedly. “We’re gonna make this the best day you’ve ever had at the Nine-Nine.”

Amy laughs slightly. “I don’t think that’s possible, given the amount of work we have left.”

“Who cares?” Jake shrugs. “The best part of work has always been the people anyway.”

And for all the organizational skills Jake may lack, he sure knows how to delegate. All it takes is a couple text messages to a new, Amy-less precinct group chat and the rest of the Nine-Nine is off. Gina cashes in on a favor and gets Shaw’s to close its doors for the evening. Rosa makes a last-minute motorcycle trip to a local party store and uses a sizable amount of cash and her surprising aesthetic skill to acquire a large box of decorations. Charles says, “leave the food to me,” and no one is brave enough to question him about it.

Jake stays with Amy on the floor of the evidence lockup. They talk and laugh as they work, reminiscing about their years at the Nine-Nine and the particularly memorable perps they’ve brought in.

There’s also a supercut of the stuff that wasn’t work at all—the precinct parties, Charles saving Thanksgiving, the Boyle-Linetti wedding. There are the Halloween heists, the Jimmy Jabs, and there’s the Bet, with a capital B. Neither of them mentions the last one, but Jake is definitely thinking about it.

“Remember that time Terry tried to do the full bullpen and almost knocked a tooth out?” Amy asks, grinning widely. “I thought Sharon was gonna pull him out of the force immediately.”

“You have no faith,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I knew she’d let him stay.”

“You did not.” Amy points at him, narrowing her eyes. “You were so scared when she came to pick him up.”

“I was not—”

“So scared. I’ve never seen a grown man visibly tremble like that, but—”

“God, shut up.” Jake throws a balled-up piece of tape at her, and she laughs. It’s a real one, this time, one that’s bright and infectious.

They let it fade into a gentle silence, one that’s more comfortable than the ones of the past few days.

There’s a beat, and then Jake says, “Don’t go to Chicago.”

He expects Amy to be surprised by this change of subject—to recoil and give an affronted, “what?”

Instead, she sighs, long and slow, and closes the manila folder in front of her. “Jake—”

“I mean, I know it’s your decision, and I respect that,” Jake says quickly. “And if you truly meant what you said to me earlier, about how it’s important to be near your family and it’s a better place for you to live and you’ve grown out of New York—if that’s really the reason you’re leaving, then that’s fine. Just tell me, and I’ll shut up about it and we can just have a big blowout goodbye party and you can leave.”

Amy picks at the edge of her boot and says nothing.

“But if it’s not—if you’re leaving because of what happened on our date—I don’t want to be the reason you give this up, Amy. I know how much you love it here, and this place loves you too. Captain Holt is a phenomenal mentor to you, we both know that, and you might not get that in Chicago—you’ve done so much good work here that I know you’re proud of, and I can’t be the reason you don’t have that anymore.”

Amy looks at him, her eyes a stormy mix of unreadable emotions, but still doesn’t say anything.

“Look,” Jake says, splaying out his hands in front of him. “That date was kind of a disaster, we both know that. And I think it’s because we were both trying too hard, because we cared too much. Because we’re friends, Amy, and that’s what’s most important to me.”

He takes a deep breath, then says, “I don’t care if we never date. I don’t care if I never get to hug you, or kiss you, or do any of the things I’ve so desperately wanted to do. I just can’t lose your friendship. You’re the best partner I’ve ever had, and an even better friend, and I would be more than happy to just be friends with you for the rest of my life. God knows it’s more than I deserve.”

“You deserve plenty,” Amy says softly.

Jake swallows the way that makes his chest flutter. “I’m just saying—I’m laying my cards all out on the table, here. I want you to stay, and I respect it if you don’t want that. But please don’t let me be the reason for you leaving.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Amy gives him a small, wistful smile that says everything Jake needs to hear.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Party at Shaw’s it is, then.”

Amy slaps the last label on a duffle bag, checks her watch, and stands. “I’m actually taking off early—I need to clear up some stuff at City Hall before I leave. I’ll meet you there?”

“Oh,” Jake says, a little dumbfounded.

Amy notices his expression and shakes her head quickly. “No, it’s not—I mean, this has been settled for days, Holt knows, I was always leaving at three today. So it’s not, like, spontaneous, you know. I would’ve told you earlier, but—"

“I was being an ass. Yeah.”

Amy gives him that little sad smile again, and Jake wants to kick a wall. “I’ll see you at the bar,” she says, almost gently.

Jake forces a smile and nods. “Yeah. Looking forward to it.” - When he pushes through the doors of his favorite bar a few hours later, Jake is expecting loud music, streamers, and—if Gina’s Instagram stories were credible—possibly Mario Lopez. Instead, the bar is completely empty.

There are no balloons, no decorations—the only set table is in the middle of the floor, and on it sits a pizza, two salads, and two glasses of water.

“What—what is this?” Jake mutters, mostly to himself.

“A dinner between two friends,” Amy says, emerging from behind the bar. She gives him a small, slightly nervous smile. “And if it goes well, a second date.”

Jake blinks.

“You were right,” Amy tells him, carrying a bottle of wine and two wine glasses to the table. “Our friendship is the most important thing, here, and it means a lot to both of us. I mean, that’s why we were trying so hard in the first place, right? Neither of us wanted it to fail.”

Jake nods in silent assent, not trusting whatever his mouth would say if he let it.

“But it did fail. Miserably.”

“Uh-huh,” Jake says, somewhat stupidly.

“So the worst thing that could happen has already happened, and we’ve gotten through it. And I think—I think, now, having gone through the past few days, we know enough to give it another shot. As long as we set very clear boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Jake repeats. “Boundaries are good.”

“Yeah,” says Amy with a slightly amused smile. “So, we’re friends. Really good friends. And that’s what we have to protect, above anything. So this is not necessarily a date. It’s a dinner, and we’re a pair of very good friends who are gonna eat it. And if we want to, afterwards, we can decide to call it a date.”

“Can you do that?” Jake asks. “Label something a date after it’s already happened?”

“Who cares?” Amy smirks. “Since when have you followed rules?”

Jake swallows and shrugs.

“Anyway, if it’s awkward, or weird, then we move past it. It’s a slightly awkward moment between friends that doesn’t have to mean anything. No more silent treatment, no more rash decisions, just two friends who are still friends afterwards. Got it?”

“Afterwards,” Jake says slowly. “So—Chicago—”

“Yeah, I’m not going,” Amy says, her eyes sparkling. “That was a dumb thing I did to avoid this guy I went on a terrible date with.”

A broad grin starts to make its way across Jake’s face. “He sounds like he sucks.”

Amy laughs, then pulls out a chair and points at it. “So—pizza?”

The grin on Jake’s face softens into something smaller, something gentler. “Definitely.”

They each take a slice, then a bite, and Jake will never admit it—but it’s the best Meat Supreme he’s ever tasted.

#b99 summer 2021 fic exchange #this one was fun i hope u guys like it!#i can't believe this show is almost over #i'm gonna miss it very much #my fics #my b99 fics #jake peralta x amy santiago #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #b99

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magnumdays · 3 years

Text

Magnum PI - 3.03 - No Way Out

So this week episode was...well, I don’t know.

I guess I enjoyed it and we got some fun moments. But over all I just... I just didn’t like anyone (weird because they’re my babies) . Everyone were just acting so not cool with each other. The bickering was annoying rather endearing. Seriously some of the most enjoyable bits were the Rick-being-worried-mother-hen ones.

Also where was the Miggy? There was barely any! (yes I’m saying that about the episode where we got this)

and an end scene like this

This little squint-y thing when she’s texting Ethan and smiling? We see you Magnum.

(And how can Jay just get hotter and hotter? I mean, seriously, someone call the fire department already!)

Magnum “keeping tally” of her dates....because of “the over under” that was pretty great too! And him pulling her out of the elevator. And her giving him a ‘mmmm nice’ look when he was wearing the sexy black commando outfit...

IDK, maybe there was some Miggy crumbs and maybe my slight ‘meehewh’ experience was it was just because I was watching this at 5 am and the streaming site kept buffering (and I just got so spoiled with 3.01-2). But I don’t know. It did feel a little flat. Maybe low stakes because I didn’t feel like no one was actually in danger, which is really weird during a hostage situation.

Plus point for the fact that they brought up / it caused problem that Higgy switched to TC for her Fake-Fiance! That was just so stupid I’m glad it actually came back to bite her. I would however have liked them all to be blaming themselves, rather than each other, because that just wasn’t cute.

Still, I mean some of the biggest reasons I watch Magnum because of good (and oh so pretty) characters, friendship and brotherhood (and partnership), Miggy, beautiful scenery and cool cars. I didn’t get much of any of that other than a minute at the end. Like seriously, there was not even one shot of the Ferrari this week...*tears*

Having some almost-personal-experience (one of my best friends is currently appealing her work visa and was possibly going to have to leave right before Christmas) it’s really tough to not know what’s going to happen. My friend is really broken up about it and I’m really bummed out too. It’s real terrifying to be at the whim of some government person who don’t know you or your circumstances other than from a sheet of paper. A person, that have the power to separate you from your new family and home.

So I kind of get why Juliet is upset and lashing out. She hates that she has no control. So I can forgive her.... for half of it.

But these guys all did this illegal thing for you Juliet, because they wanted you to stay so bad!

Magnum is easily as upset as you Higgy and TC isn’t happy either. They love you! Try to remember that!

(I mean TC lied badly and awkwardly for you girl, come on!)

Blaming them might be a cooping mechanism (and I actually love the fact that we got her fake crying about her ‘daddy issues’ because we all know that she probably got some. At least my head cannon Mr. Higgins isn’t winning dad of the year awards) but it’s also going backwards for her character (but when have they ever really cared about that?).

I figure it’s for the drama but it could have been equally dramatic if Higgy had just gone ‘I guess that means I’m going home for good’ and started mentioning all the things she was going to miss and Magnum was being all, ‘I’m sorry I fudge it up’ (even though I’m not sure I actually think it’s more Magnum’s fault than anyone else’s...)

Or they could have kept it all the same, but at some point actually had Juliet admit that she said yes to the proposal, she’s at fault too and maybe that she really should just have married Magnum. I mean that would just have been the simplest and most likely to succeed thing to do to succeed with the fake visa. Her switching messed it up and even with the ‘I own a business’ visa it’s still causing problems.

This could also finally have given them a moment to talk about WHY she did that (because they would be less likely that things went wrong with TC? Wouldn’t he go to jail if they found out same as with Magnum? How did switching ever make any sense?), maybe we could even have gotten some Miggy feels hinted at - of course interrupted by Bad Guys coming to shoot them.

I feel like this was maybe how it went in the original script - because of the whole “and I didn’t have to marry either one of you” comment at the end. I feel like that might have been meant to tie in with a scene like that. But that’s probably just my shippy sleepy brain making stuff up!

Despite this all I did enjoyed Magnum little speech about how it’s all his fault. It’s totally stupid and illogical for him to make it and if the immigration guy hadn’t been all ‘lets just forget about this because you saved my life, welcome to America’ it would maybe even have led to Magnum losing his license, them all getting arrested and Higgy deported. It’s still really cute and heartwarming and if Juliet keeps calling him immature man-child after this I’m gonna be annoyed.

The “welcome home” at the end and generally good feeling of things being some what settled with the visa (or so I’m assuming) is really nice. Higgy is finally actually home and we got a lovely family dinner with the whole gang, Juliet saying thank you and some Miggy puppy dog eyes to finish it all up with. Over all it felt vaguely like this might have been meant to air around Thanksgiving or something originally.

I guess I can’t complain too much. Little sad we didn’t get any kind of Christmas feels (but with the filming scheduled weird due to corona I get why no one would even have considered it) but I really hope we get a X-mas themed episode in season 4!

#magnum pi #magnum pi cbs #magnum pi season 3 #miggy #thomas mangum #juliet higgins #tc

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serahsanguine · 3 years

Note

Fucksgiving prompt #4 :) so cool that you are participating in it!! Love your smut fics !!

NC-17 Explicit Story

*************************************************************************************

What Are You Thankful For Scully?

Rating; Nc-17

Summary; Fucksgiving prompt #4 prompt; Dom Mulder. They had their Thanksgiving meal. Mulder makes Scully say what she is grateful for while he face fucks her. then they have sex on the dining room table

Tagging; @today-in-fic @xfpornbattle @skullsmuldon @karinanic

read here on Ao3

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What Are You Thankful For Scully?

It was Thanksgiving evening. Both Mulder and Scully had visited Maggie earlier and spent a most wonderful meal together. They had arrived at Scully’s apartment and what Mulder didn’t know was Maggie had secretly given them some pecan pie yesterday to share between them in the evening.

“Mulder, go sit at the table, I have a surprise for you.

“Oh, yeah, I like surprises.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. Scully rolled her eyes before going into the fridge and retrieving their pecan pie.

He looked confused but extremely happy with what she brought over to the table.

“For me?”

“For us, from mom.” She beamed at him.

Half an hour later there was barely a crumb left on either of their plates.

“It’s a Thursday,” he stated.

“So it is,” she replied. The realisation sunk in and it sent a pool of desire between her legs.

“Only if you’re sure,” he confirmed.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, smiling seductively.

“Do you remember your safe word?”

“Pickles,” she affirmed.

“Good girl, now I want you to undo my trousers and give me a treat,” Mulder ordered.

“Yes, Master.”

She sat on her knees on the carpet and licked her lips. She could easily see how hard he was at the mere mention of this game of theirs.

She raised her arms and unclasped his belt buckle, which felt heavy in her hands. The rough of his jeans rubbed against her t-shirt, which caused amazing friction against her breasts, making her nipples pucker and harden. She let out a soft moan; she couldn’t tell what he did to her.

“Oh, Scully, we haven’t even started yet.”

She continued by undoing his zip and lowering his jeans to his ankles. Slowly, he stepped out of them and she threw them onto the sofa. She placed her hand under the hem of his boxer shorts. His skin was red hot and smooth under the palm of her hands. She did the same to his boxers as she did to his jeans.

“What are you thankful for, Scully?”

She didn't answer. Instead, she blew cold air onto his extremely red penis, straining against the air, begging to be touched. But he never did the begging — that was all her. She inwardly smiled.

She licked the rim of his tip before she used the flat of her tongue to lick down his shaft to his balls. She always loved his taste and smell. She loved to defy his orders in some small way because sometimes the punishment was worth the excitement and exhilaration.

“Fuck, Scully, I want you to take all of me.”

She looked up at him, her eyes ablaze with desire. She slowly lowered her mouth onto him inch by inch. By the time she had finished his whole penis was in her mouth. Thank god for her nonexistent gag reflex.

“What are you thankful for, Scully?” he asked again.

She swished and swirled her tongue around his girth. He let out a loud, deep groan, so she sucked in her cheeks and started bobbing her head. She was using her tongue, her teeth and her hands — touching the skin on his stomach, making the pleasure intensify with every stroke of her tongue.

“God, Scully, I want you to swallow me take all of me.”

She did as she was told and within a few strokes, she felt him stiffen and explode into her mouth. Swallowing all of him, the hot white liquid flowed freely down her throat.

He had finished and stood up abruptly. She had barely licked her lips when he pulled her up, swiping the empty plates to the floor and hearing them crash. He lowered her jeans, leaving them hanging around her calves before he bent her over the table and ripped her small red panties with a growl before entering her. They both knew how dripping wet she would be so he knew they wouldn’t need lube. He placed his chest flush against her back, kissing her exposed shoulder and clavicle. Kissing, nibbling, evening biting at one point before he started pounding into her. Theirs was usually sweet and sensual sex, but every now and again they liked it hard and fast.

He slipped in and out with little effort, the table was scraping against the carpet, making little marks that would never go away. He started to feel her getting close, with the clamping of her walls and the sounds of her moans escaping her throat.

“You can’t come until you tell me what you’re thankful for.”

Scully shook her head and she refused to say a single word. He licked from her shoulder to the sweet spot under her ear. With one hand running down the expanse of her stomach, he found her clit sticky and sweet in between their bodies. He rubbed his fingers ecstatically against her clit.

“What are you thankful for, Scully?” he whispered low in her ear.

“You, Master, oh god. You, Sire— Fuck—”

And with that, he felt her body spasming into an epic release of endorphins, her walls clamping around his cock. It wasn't long before he came as well.

He brought her to the floor, so at least she would not fall after she came back to reality.

“Good girl,” he whispered softly.

He noticed she was still in that little space after a really big orgasm, so he picked her up and removed her clothes before placing her in bed. He undressed before sliding into the bed next to her, joining her in a blissful sleep which he knew she would soon arrive at.

The next morning, Scully woke up to Mulder staring at her through the rays of gold and orange. “What time is it?”

“7:30, but don't worry, we weren’t meant to be in work today, remember? Skinner gave us the day off.”

She nodded in affirmation, remembering the night before and smiled at him. “I’m never going to get that pie out of my carpet.”

He laughed. “I’ll pay for a cleaner.”

He winked at her knowing that only meant Scully in a maid outfit for the next playtime. He smiled wickedly before giving her a quick kiss and exiting the bed to go make coffee.

The End.

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snarkythewoecrow · 3 years

Text

Silver Tipped Wings and Black Feathers

By: Snarkymuch

Part 13 of the Broken Wing Verse.

Summary: Peter sees Steve and Bucky while patrolling, and he comes back to talk to them the next day as Peter. Peter realizes they all have more in common than he originally thought.

Read on AO3

Peter’s senior year was going well, and he’d been dividing his time between studying at home and going to the lake house to hang out with Tony, Pepper, and Morgan. It hadn’t left much time for Spider-Man, so this weekend Peter planned to stay in the city and do some good, swinging around and helping the little guy. It would be nice to get back to his roots.

Big fat snowflakes fell lazily from the overcast sky, melting on the pavement as soon as they hit. It was still early winter, not even Christmas yet, so the snow wasn’t likely to stick. It was chilly, though, and Peter had to turn on the heater in his suit, as the cold air seeped through the thin fabric.

“Karen, is there anything else going on since I’m here?”

He was sitting on a fire escape in Brooklyn, feet swinging back and forth, having left his usual patrol area when Karen had said police were engaged in a standoff at a bodega nearby. Thankfully, once Peter had arrived, he was able to sneak in the back and web up the criminals. It was all over in a matter of minutes, and the police even thanked him for the help. He still expected people to shy away from him since the world knew Spider-man was a raven, but it was always nice when people proved him wrong.

“There’s nothing on the police bands, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t find someone to help.”

“Thanks, Karen. I take a swing through the streets and see what I can find. Maybe I can stop a grand theft bicycle.”

“Excellent plan, Peter.” Karen’s voice almost sounded teasing. “Maybe this time you can do it without getting tangled in your webs.”

“Haha. I see Mr. Stark didn’t skimp on the sass.”

Peter grabbed the railing and pulled himself to his feet, then dove from the platform, shooting out a web just in time to swing down to the street, skimming over the tops of cars. Even with the snow, it was busy. New York always was. It wasn’t like the quiet upstate town Tony had moved to.

Peter made his way to Brooklyn Heights, nearly falling when he saw the familiar face of Steve Rogers walking down one of the brownstones' steps. At his side was someone Peter had only met once before, during the airport battle. The Winter Soldier. His golden, metal-tipped wings and were unmistakable. Just the sight of them sent a shiver down Peter’s spine. They were dangerous. Peter knew the man could use them as a weapon, sharp metal cutting through the air when he spun, ready to slice flesh. Between his altered wings and his metal arm, the Winter Soldier was not to be underestimated. He could do a lot of damage.

But then, as Peter stopped on the edge of a building to watch the pair, he didn’t look dangerous at all. His shoulders were up, and his head ducked. His hair fell around his face like a shield. Steve kept a hand on his back, shielding him from the outside world as they walked. Peter followed on the rooftops, watching them closely. He still wasn’t sure what they were doing living in Brooklyn. For some reason, Peter thought they would be somewhere more official. It seemed strange to see them so domestic.

Peter followed the pair all the way to Prospect Park, and in that time, he watched how people shied away from them and stared at the Winter Soldier’s deadly wings. His trial had been on the news; his crimes had been laid bare for the world to judge. His wings were recognizable, even if his face wasn’t. Due to the metal tips that had been grafted on, it was said he couldn’t hide his wings. Peter felt a pang of sympathy. That couldn’t be easy.

Peter was a curious creature, something May always said would get him in trouble, and he found himself planning out a visit to see Steve and the Winter Soldier in his head. He could make it work. Maybe he could linger on the street and casually bump into them. Steve would remember him, wouldn’t he?

He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to meet them. Perhaps it was how people stared at the Winter Soldier that made Peter want to reach out. He knew a thing or two about people looking at you in fear.

Leaving them to stroll the park, Peter headed back towards Queens and thought up a plan.

The next day, Peter still didn’t have a plan, but when did that ever stop him? He took a quick shower and threw on some clothes, going to the kitchen to grab a snack before he left. May was in the kitchen, sipping her coffee as she looked at her phone.

Her eyes lifted from the screen when he walked in. “Hey, kiddo, you’re up and dressed early. Heading anywhere special?”

Peter opened the cupboard, grabbing the box of pop-tarts and taking a package out. He opened it with his teeth, tossing the wrapper and taking a bite. He answered about the mouthful of pastry. “Not really. Well, kinda. I’m not sure.”

“That’s very… vague, and that’s never a good thing with you. Does this have anything to do with Spider-man?”

Peter swallowed, wiping the crumbs off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Uh, no? I guess not really.”

“Peter, what’s going on? The last time I saw you dressed and willingly leaving your room before noon on a Sunday, you called me from jail later that day.”

“That’s not fair. I wasn’t arrested, not really. It was just a little light protesting anyway.”

May took a sip of her coffee, raising her brows. Setting her cup back on the table, she curled her hands around the mug and leveled her gaze on him.

Peter sighed. “It’s nothing bad, but I guess it might not be well thought out?”

“Is that a question?”

Peter scrunched his nose. “I’m going to Brooklyn to see Captain America and the Winter Soldier.”

May’s eyes went wide. “Well, that’s something, but I got to ask Peter. You told me what Mr. Perfect said about your wings last time you met, and I can’t say I want you around him.”

“We worked it out, mostly. And it’s not really him I want to see. It’s Bucky, well, the Winter Soldier. You know, I don’t really know what to call him?”

May sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sure Mr. Barnes would be fine, It’s always nice to be polite, but I got to know why you are meeting them. Do they know you’re coming?”

Peter frowned, nibbling on his pop tart. “Eh, not really. I just saw them yesterday when I was patrolling, and Mr. Barnes looked so sad. People avoided him, and I just… I know what that’s like. He looked like he could use a friend.”

“It’s not your job to fix everyone.”

“I know, but I can’t just pretend I didn’t see them. I want to say hi.”

“Mr. Stark might not like this plan of yours.”

Peter winced. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m not telling him.”

“Okay, Peter, but promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

With a loose plan to go loiter around where Steve and Bucky were living, Peter headed to Brooklyn. Since he wasn’t in his suit, it took him a little longer, having to take the crowded subway.

He made his way to the posh neighborhood, standing on the corner near Steve’s building, watching. He didn’t have to wait too long. Across the street, walking toward the brownstone, was Steve, canvas grocery bags in his hands. He jaywalked across the street, and Peter kicked himself into action. He jogged down the sidewalk to intercept him.

Steve’s sharp eyes caught Peter quickly, his brow furrowing as he recognized him. Then he smiled, nodding his head to Peter.

Peter returned the smile and waved awkwardly in his direction. He walked up to meet Steve by the steps of the building. Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to say. His reasoning for wanting to see him seemed weak. He bit his lip, trying to think of something to say.

Thankfully, Steve saved him from making things weird.

“Hey, Peter, right?” Steve asked, adjusting his hold on the bags.

“Yeah, um, we met at the tower. You probably remember my wings more than me.”

Steve frowned a little. “I’m sorry about how we met. I really put my foot in my mouth. It was disrespectful of me.” He shook his head. “Would you like to come in? I’m about to make some lunch unless you would rather not. I understand given how we met.”

Peter smiled. “It’s fine. I told you then. I forgive you, and yeah, I can eat. If you don’t mind feeding me. I’m not picky, so whatever you make is fine.”

Steve nodded, a crooked smile on his face. He nodded toward the steps. “Live right here, so we don’t need to go far. Follow me up. Oh, uh, I should say.” He paused, looking a little nervous. “My friend, well, he’s more than that, but um, he lives with me, and his wings.” He stopped, biting his lip. “You probably heard of him as the Winter soldier, but he goes by Bucky.”

Peter tried to look surprised, like he hadn’t stalked them the day before. “Oh, that’s fine. I’ve, uh, seen the news, but I’m not scared. I think I know more than most what it’s like to have people judge you on sight.”

Steve pressed his lips together but nodded. “Come on, he’ll be happy to meet you.”

“He doesn’t—he’s not like you were, right? Does he have problems with ravens?”

Steve’s face softened. “No, I don’t think he does. He’s not the type to judge people by their wings. I guess it’s just me who’s that stupid.”

Peter followed Steve inside, stepping aside once he was inside so Steve could lock the door.

“Buck, I’m home, and I brought company, so you better be wearing pants.”

Peter’s eyebrows went up. “Does he usually not?”

Steve chuckled, leading the way down the hall into the kitchen. “More often than you’d think. I don’t think he even wore pants for Thanksgiving dinner. He basted the turkey wearing an apron and his boxers.”

Peter laughed. “That’s, um, really different. I would probably be the same, though, but I live with my aunt, and I don’t think she’d like it.”

Steve set the bags down on the table and started unpacking them. He loaded his arms with yogurts and walked over to the fridge. Peter ran toward it, opening the door for him. Steve smiled and thanked him. Peter went to the table and started passing things to Steve to put away. It didn’t take long for them to put everything away.

Steve got out some lunch meat, lettuce, tomato, and mayo from the fridge, setting it all on the counter. He called over his shoulder for Peter to grab the bread from the top of the fridge. Peter grabbed it and tossed it to Steve.

“So, Peter, what brought you to the neighborhood?”

“Oh, I was out for a walk.”

“You live near here?” Steve asked.

“I’m from Queens, actually.”

Steve hummed. “How are things with you and Tony? I hear he had a little girl.”

“Yeah, her name’s Morgan. She’s pretty great. I guess you could say I’m like her brother. It’s kinda weird. I was always an only child, you know, but I wouldn’t change having her in my life for the world.”

“I was an only child, too. My mother raised me.”

Peter leaned against the counter. “I only have my aunt.”

“I bet she’s a strong woman to raise such a good kid.”

“Yeah,” Peter breathed. “She’s pretty great.”

He watched as Steve finished assembling the sandwiches, then looked to the doorway when his sharp hearing caught the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall. People couldn’t stop his eyes from going a little wide at seeing the famed Winter Soldier in red flannel pants, a tank, and fuzzy slippers. His hair was sticking up a little like he had just woken up. His eyes narrowed when he saw Peter and his head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

“Steve, why is there a teenager in the kitchen?”

Steve turned, mayo covered knife in his hand, threatening to drip on the floor. “Oh, this is Peter. Peter, meet Bucky, my sometimes better half.”

That only seemed to confuse Bucky more. “But why, Steve?”

“He’s a friend of Tony’s?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked between Peter and Steve. “You don’t sound sure.”

Steve sighed. “He’s not a threat, Buck. You can trust him. He’s like a son to Tony.”

That made Peter jerk back a little. He wondered if Tony had said those words? Not that they weren’t true. Tony and Peter were close, really close, but it stirred something in Peter’s chest to think of Tony referring to him that way. It made it more real somehow.

“Yeah, right.” Bucky grabbed a stool and sat, his metal-tipped wings clinking on the tile floor. “That doesn’t really clear anything up, but okay. Did you put extra tomato on my sandwich?”

Steve just rolled his eyes and turned back to their lunch. Peter tried not to be obvious about it, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Bucky’s wings now that he was so close. The metal feathers that were grafted on looked razor-sharp. He made himself tear his gaze away from he got looking, turning instead to Steve and accepting his plate from him.

“Go grab a seat, kid. Bucky doesn’t bite.”

Peter hesitated for a second, and Bucky seemed to notice, looking uncomfortable. Peter immediately felt terrible. The last thing he wanted to do was make Bucky feel bad about his wings.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, kid. I’d hide them, but well, that doesn’t work for me anymore.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m not scared of your wings. They’re actually really neat.”

Bucky raised a brow as he shook his head. “Neat, huh? Can’t say I’ve heard that one yet.”

Peter shrugged, taking a seat across from Bucky. “I, uh, don’t like to judge people because I don’t like it when people judge me. I know what it’s like to have people be scared of you.”

Bucky scoffed, while Steve frowned, chewing a bit of his sandwich.

“He probably understands more than most, Buck,” Steve said after he swallowed.

“I don’t see how some kid could know a thing about what it’s like to have people rather jump into traffic than cross your path.”

Peter dropped his gaze, chewing his lip. When he looked up, Bucky was deconstructing his sandwich, mayo on his fingers. “I know because—”

“You don’t have to say, Peter. You don’t owe us anything.”

Peter frowned, considering his words. “Yeah, I know, but I don’t want to hide anymore. I’m tired of it. When Morgan was born, I knew I had to be better for her, a role model.” He glanced at Bucky and then stood, making both men look at him. Reaching into himself, he braced himself and then let his wings fall onto his back. The plumage rustled at being released. A stray black feather drifted to the floor. “So, yeah, I’m a raven.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, and then his expression sobered. “I guess you do know.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” His wings twitched as he shuffled his feet. Deciding to leave his wings out, he sat back down and picked up his sandwich. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him. Peter wondered what he was thinking. He knew Steve had said Bucky was understanding and not one to judge, but saying and doing were two different things.

Peter flicked his gaze up from his sandwich to see Bucky and Steve in a silent conversation. Steve’s mouth twitched, and so did his eyebrow, while Bucky’s head tilted to the side like saying, “Really, Steve.”

Peter dropped his eyes back to his plate and chewed his food. His stomach felt knotted, and his hunger was gone. Setting his sandwich back on his plate, Peter cleared his throat and glanced at Steve. “I can go.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “What? No. It’s fine. You’re fine, Peter, really.”

“Then why the…” He waved his finger between them. “You were making faces.”

“It’s not about you, not really,” said Bucky. “I was just surprised Stevie here took it so well.”

“Oh, yeah.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “He, um, didn’t really. He saw my wings before, at the tower. That’s how we met.”

“You don’t need to beat around the bush. The way I reacted was despicable. I had no excuse, especially after seeing how people treated Bucky.”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Bucky sighed, sitting his hands on the table, mayo clinging to his fingers from where he’d peeled the tomatoes off, even though Peter was pretty sure he had asked for extras. “Don’t be too hard on the punk. He can be a little slow, but for the record, I wouldn’t ever judge you, kid. I think your wings are pretty neat myself.”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’m starting to think that, too.”

Bucky smiled, picking up a piece of lettuce and popping it in his mouth. “The way I see it, kid. People like me and you, we got to stick together.”

“I think what Bucky’s saying is, if you ever need a friend, someone who understands, you know where we live.”

Bucky licked his finger. “Yeah, just maybe don’t tell, Stark.”

Peter didn’t know all the details of what happened, but he did know from the news that the Winter Soldier had killed Tony’s parents. Peter didn’t know if Tony had forgiven him or not, but he found himself agreeing with Bucky. Maybe it would be best not to mention it.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter said, scrunching up his nose as he looked at the disaster that was Bucky’s plate. Bucky raised his brows. “Um, what did the sandwich ever do to you?”

“I’ve been asking myself that since we were kids. My ma hit him with a spoon the first time she saw him do it.”

Bucky huffed. “The shit I put up with.”

Peter laughed. Maybe he should have been a little scared, sitting at the same table as the former Winter Soldier, but Peter didn’t see a dangerous assassin, a deadly arm, or razor-sharp wings. He saw a guy who picked apart his sandwich and laughed with his friends. He saw a man that didn’t judge him for being a raven, and that meant something to him.

Peter thought that if Tony saw this side of Bucky, maybe he would forgive him. He wasn’t scary like this. He was human. It might not be easy, but Peter decided then that he would try to mend the rift between Bucky and Tony. It was the right thing to do.

XXX

Peter rang the doorbell and waited for Bucky or Steve to answer. It had been two weeks since he’d first come over for sandwiches with them. After lunch the first day, Peter had programmed his number into Bucky’s phone before he left. He hadn’t expected to hear from him again soon, but a few days later, he had called Peter to check on him.

Today Peter was stopping for a purely selfish reason. He had a report due for AP History on World War Two and the Commandos, and who better than Steve and Bucky to help him write it.

Bucky opened the door, thankfully wearing pants, and let him in. They went to the living room and sat on the couch. Setting his bag on the coffee, he pulled out his notebook.

“Is Steve here, too?” Peter asked, digging for a pen. Once he found one, he set up his phone to record.

Bucky turned, shouting over his shoulder. “Hey, punk, your presence is requested, and bring snacks. I’m hungry. I think there’s a box of those burnt Cheez-it things on the counter.”

“Burnt Cheez-its?” Peter asked.

“Extra toasty or some shit. They’re addicting as fuck.”

“Language, Bucky. He’s a minor,” Steve called from the kitchen.

Bucky rolled his eyes, and Peter laughed.

“So, where do you want to start?” Bucky asked as Steve walked in with the crackers, taking a seat in the chair.

“From the beginning, I guess. Tell me what it was really like.”

Steve passed the box to Bucky. “It was nothing like I ever imagined, but maybe I should start with how I got there. It began with a man named Abraham Erskine.”

Peter listened, recording on his phone and taking notes as Steve and Bucky recounted their time in the war. Four hours and a box of Cheez-its later, Peter had a pile of notes, and the three of them were laughing over stories of the Commandos.

No one mentioned when Peter showed his wings as he got up to get a drink, and Peter stopped noticing the sound of Bucky’s clinking when he moved. He was starting to see that people were complex, and maybe no one ever had it easy. Tony struggled with what was left of his wings, Bucky’s had been changed into weapons, and Peter’s were considered a bad omen, but they were all marks of strength in their own way. If only the rest of the world could see it that way, too.

#Peter parker #spiderman #wingfic #MCU #snark writes

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monst · 4 years

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T’is the season Day 25 pt2

Day 25 (extra) Grinch! (The main three’s reaction to a Grinchy s/o!!!)

The holidays may be about warmth and coming together but sometimes there are situations in life that sap the joy out of you. Lucky for you these men are always up to making your heart grow a few sizes.

Midoriya Izuku

You weren’t exactly thrilled for the holiday season this year. For starters you had gotten a part time job at a department store to help you make ends meet and have a little extra cash in your pockets. What you weren’t expecting as how exhausting and soul sapping working on the front lines really was.

You dealt with a plethora of shitty customers during the black friday and the next day was worse. Then came the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers. You were ready to tear out your hair. Sure there were bearable days but the small amount of cash and dull ache on your legs always made you question whether it was really worth it.

The green haired pro-hero wasn’t privy to your ever growing distress. There wasn’t much he could do to help you as you had mentioned that you didn’t want to burden him by asking him for monetary help. So he could only sit by and give you encouraging words as you were forced to work double or triple shifts.

He was really understanding of your moody behavior. He knew how stressful the holidays could be. So when you exploded at a customer at work he was quick to come and pick you up from the precinct. You were on a tangent yelling at the officers at how stupid the holidays were and, how selfish people were only caring for matericlatic things and treating everyone with disrespect.

Just as you were swearing off the holidays the number one hero walked in. It came as a shock to the officers to see him and seeing as you didn’t do anything harmful you were allowed to leave. You walked in silence; As Midoriya escorted you back to your apartment. That was until you decided to apologize for bothering him.

“It’s really no problem (Name). I get it. You’re under a lot of stress. You’ve been working too hard is all.” You really hated how nice he could be. “I’d be worried if you weren’t the least bit grouchy.”

“I really hate the holidays.” You groaned.

“You got fired right?” He asked.

“What do you think?�� You sassed.

“....Maybe, You should come work for me?” He proposed. “I-I mean you don’t have to but it’s b-better pay and not as taxing, you’ll have good hours so that you can get better grades and stuff.. I mean if you want to!” He blushed rubbing the back of his head.

“Izuku...Your a fucking angel.”

Bakugou Katsuki

His vermillion eyes would drift towards your form often. He had noticed something was off immediately. Your usual expression seemed to morph into a scowl as you did mundane chores. Your peeved silence was starting to get on his nerves. And, when he had heard you saying ‘fuck Christmas’ he decided to break the silence.

“The fuck is wrong with you.” He could have worded it better he mused, but it was enough to grab your attention. He was not expecting the nasty glare you shot him. As a matter of fact the look pissed him off.

Before an argument could commence you sighed and brought your fingers up to your head to massage your temples. “It’s not you Katsuki… I just can’t with the fucking holidays right now. Fuck I just want a drink. I just want it to be over already you know.”

He didn’t like your disheartened expression. He motioned you over and when you were in range he snatched you onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed his head to your back. “Talk” was all he said and you immediately began to vent.

“It’s just so fucking annoying!?!” You huffed tears coming to your eyes as you recalled the conversation you had with your folks. “There assholes. I hate them and these stupid dumbass holidays.” You grit your teeth in frustration.

“Why can’t they just accept you!?!” You shouted. “Don’t bring that fake ass hero! The fucking audacity!!”

“It’s fine (Name) not everyone likes me.” He reminded.

“So?!?! They could at least make an effort! Your my fiance for fucks sake! Like I could excuse the shit they did on Thanksgiving but blatantly telling me not to bring you or dump you. That’s too fucking much.”

You had felt him sigh into your back. “And why the fuck is this bothering you?” He asked making you ignite.

“Why? Why!?!? Katsuki what the fuck of course it’s going to bother me. I love you and I obviously love them I just want them to accept you.”

“And, if they don’t? Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. I don’t want to make you choose between me or them. They love you. Hell even I would tell you not to be with me. I’m not exactly ideal not to mention that I’m a pro-hero, one of the best. You do know what fucking happens to those close to top heros right? Targets they become fucking targets or worse they get left widowed.”

“Fuck Katsuki why do you always have to do that.” You cried.

“I’m not telling you to abandon them or me I just want you to see both sides of the picture.” He added. “At the end of the day their going to have to accept whatever you decide for your life.”

“....I’ll tell them that we’re both going. They need to understand that this is my choice, that your my choice.”

“So long as we’re doing it together I’m good.”

Todoroki Shoto

He was summoned by the loud sounds coming from the kitchen. Along with the clashing of pots and pans he heard you swearing up a storm. When he peeked around the corner he found the source of your distress. It was your worst nemesis. Cooking.

Todoroki knew you were a disaster in the kitchen and, he had tried dropping various subtle hints that you shouldn’t take up the task of cooking for him and his family for the holidays. Sadly you didn’t pick up on them. Not that they were good hints to begin with….

When he saw ou he noticed how frazzled you looked. Your hair stood on end and dark circles were threatening the skin underneath your eyes. You had stayed up late watching food network in order to figure out what to prepare. You didn’t realize how hard it was till you began. Hell it just dawned on you that you needed to cook for a whole group of people and that they would be judging your food.

There was so much to prepare!! When todoroki had tried getting your attention you had brushed him off with a scowl. You were only growing more frustrated as your pie crust kept on crumbing. “Fuck it!” You seethed tossing it to the trash. “We don’t need fucking pie!!”

Todoroki felt bad for being amused but slowly you were becoming a menace. Hell you hung up on Uraraka the three times she called. When Iida came over you had slammed the door in his face and told him to ‘fuck off’. Hell he could have sworn you let out a ‘bah humbug’

He didn’t step in until you were at wits end. That was the only time you would listen. You were surprisingly stubborn. You were crying over an onion when he decided to approach the rabid dog you. “Are you okay.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic babe!” You seethed between your teeth. “Never better.”

“You don’t look like your fine.” He pointed out.

“Of course I'm not!! I’m a shit cook and, everyones gonna get food poisoning and, your gonna leave me because everyone wants someone who can cook!!”

“Then does that mean your going to leave me too?” He asked. It was then that you remembered that Todoroki couldn’t even boil water and you cracked a grin.

“I’ve ruined all the dishes.” You admitted.

“So.” He replied.

“Your family’s coming over what the heck are we gonna feed them?” You sighed.

“Take-out?” He smiled pulling out his phone and credit card.

“......I think it’s for the best…..”

#Amari's TDS #bnha ficmas #mha christmas #bnha christmas #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #Todoroki shoto #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #midoriya izuku #bnha deku #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnah fluff #bnha angst

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

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Watch What Happens - Chapter 9

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Swearing, Angst

Words: 3,977

"Ms. McPhee, thank you for the tea and cookies," Y/N said, putting her mug on the small coffee table between them. "They were delicious. But keep the box of tea cakes I brought, all right?"

In the dark green overstuffed chair across from her, Ms. McPhee gave her a warm look. "They were no problem. It's nice to have company." She hesitated before speaking again. "Do you think you'll be able to help?"

Y/N reached to pet the cat lying next to her on the worn, gray sofa, searching for an answer. Getting the woman’s hopes up would be unkind. But with all the hours Y/N was working, and what she believed she was finding, she was stubborn enough to try. "I don't know what the outcome will be," she started. A soft smile crossed her face in an attempt to encourage the older woman. "But I'll do everything I can. How long did you and your husband live her?"

Ms. McPhee crossed her ankles as she rocked her chair. "Let me see."

While Ms. McPhee pondered, Y/N's eyes surveyed the apartment. It was tiny, and the living room had an open, cream color kitchenette on the end. A mini-fridge was under the short counter. There was an old oven, but the stovetop must not have functioned, because a hot plate sat on it. Half the cabinets were missing knobs, and the drawers no longer fit in their slots correctly. There wasn't room for a table; a folded TV dinner tray was leaned against the wall. Y/N exhaled sharply. This woman had so little - and here she was, having to fight to keep it.

"We moved here in 1942," Ms. McPhee continued, breaking Y/N's train of thought. "After Phil got hurt at Ace."

"Ace Chemicals? What happened?"

"Industrial accident. He had burns on over seventy percent of his body." Ms. McPhee took another sip of tea. "There was no way for him to keep working. And social security didn’t exist yet. Back then it was harder for women to get a job. I was a secretary for a little while, then an operator. But we still struggled, especially with our daughter on the way." Gesturing towards the ceiling, she continued. "This place was a godsend. Most landlords didn't accept housing vouchers. We were lucky."

Y/N wasn’t sure that was the word she would have used. Luck would have been not having an industrial accident in the first place. Or at least having had to struggle less when misfortune had knocked them down. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but admire Ms. McPhee’s resilience.

“You’ve been through a lot.” Gently, Y/N asked, "When did he pass away?"

"Four years ago. Heart attack." Ms. McPhee's lips pursed. "We went through a lot together. I know it's not much, but I don't want to leave. It was difficult but we built a life here."

That Y/N understood. Her parents had lived in the same house for almost fifty years, and had, as they had continuously reminded her, "held onto it during the depression, so don't take it for granted." And, before he'd completely lost himself, the home's familiar walls, carpets, and furniture had soothed her father. If some faceless corporation had tried to push them out, he would have raised hell.

Blinking the memory away, Y/N grabbed another chocolate chip cookie. "You mentioned earlier that people had come by to talk to you. Did they give you any sort of card?"

"They were so neatly dressed, I thought they were Mormons." They both laughed at that, Y/N coughing softly on a crumb. "But when I opened the door, they just had questions about my apartment," Ms. McPhee said. “I asked for ID, but they just gave me a Renew Corp. card. Then the letters started coming."

"And how long ago was that?"

"About eight months."

Digging into her canvas bag, Y/N found a pen and paper. She took the cap off her pen with her mouth and started writing as she spoke. "Eight months..." When she got back to the office tomorrow, she'd have to check the dates the Wayne Foundation started filing with the court. She felt Ms. McPhee's eyes on her. "Don't worry," Y/N said. "I'm not writing your name down."

Ms. McPhee chuckled. "I'm not worried, dear. I'm too old for that.” She leaned towards Y/N, then, as if she was spilling a secret. “I think those men wanted to scare me. But they just made me mad. Use my name however you want."

Y/N couldn't stop the corner of her mouth from turning up. "I admire your spunk, Ms. McPhee. You're a tough old bird. That's a compliment."

"Well, then, I'll take it as one."

Y/N stretched her arms and leaned forward. "Do you have anymore of those letters, like the one you gave me when we first spoke?"

Nodding, Ms. McPhee stood and left the room. Rising from the couch, Y/N perused the photos on the opposite wall, hanging over the small TV set. She recognized Ms. McPhee, with whom she assumed was her husband. Pictures of Thanksgivings and Christmases with undersized turkeys and tiny trees. Seeing the memories this one family had created in this undersized apartment, knowing how many more people were in this exact same situation, made her more determined to find out what the hell was going on and who was behind it.

Ms. McPhee came back, holding two shoe boxes. "Here. You can have them both."

Taking them from her, Y/N lifted the lid of one and carded through the red envelopes. There must have been close to fifty. "You got all these?" she asked, trying to hide her slight alarm.

"Some are from neighbors. You wouldn't know it, looking at me, but I can be persuasive."

Y/N snorted, remembering their first encounter. "These are very helpful. Thank you. I'll keep in touch, all right?"

Ms. McPhee nodded gratefully.

"Now," Y/N said, closing the box. "Can you tell me where Anderson Avenue is?" She pondered on to say next. Was Arthur her boyfriend? They hadn’t discussed it. But she thought it would seem odd not to know where her boyfriend lived. "I want to visit a friend before I head home."

"What's the address?"

"225a."

Ms. McPhee pointed as she gave directions. "It’s close. When you leave here, go right, then take another right at the corner."

"Thank you," Y/N said.

Passing her, Ms. McPhee opened a kitchen cabinet. "Let me get a bag. You can take some cookies with you."

~~~~~

Stretching her shoulders, Y/N hastened up the sidewalk. The shoe boxes were tucked safely in her bag, making it cumbersome to carry. It felt funny, knowing she'd have to keep evidence, at her apartment. But that was the only way she'd know it was secure. If Matt found the letters, she didn't think he'd kick her out on her ass. There was a good chance he'd shred them, though. That was too big of a risk. Tomorrow, she'd have to invite Patricia over to talk about the bullshit she'd found and, hopefully, enlist her help.

As she approached the courtyard of Arthur’s building, she ran her hand through her hair, then smoothed her pencil skirt with her palm. She wondered if he appreciated pop-ins. It was early Sunday evening and most places were closed, so it seemed unlikely he’d be out. Maybe she was being too impulsive. But it had been nearly two days since she'd seen him. It felt like two weeks. They'd had their nightly phone call, but it wasn’t enough.

After their dinner, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. For most of the evening, he’d seemed comfortable, needing reassurance only once or twice. The conversation had been enjoyable, even when it got heavy (though he still didn’t talk much about himself), and his company a warm presence. She loved how he'd tenderly held her as they'd danced, with her trying not to step on his feet. And the way his hesitancy had temporarily fallen away when he’d kissed her with what felt like his whole body.

If she was honest, she’d been forcing herself to see him less than she wanted to. Having him around her everyday would have been too much for her to think clearly. And clarity was what she needed. She didn’t want to rush into a fling that would flame out in a week. Their connection had become too important for that.

He’d worked his way into her heart so quickly, faster than she could have predicted. When she was at the office, a sarcastic remark or joke brought him to mind. She would recall the feel of his lips on hers at random. When shopping, she sometimes saw an item he might like, a sweater she thought would actually fit or a fancy lighter, and have to fight the impulse to buy it. She didn’t want to freak him out by showering him with gifts before they were a couple.

She took a deep breath to clear her head as she entered his building, then went to the mail area to find his apartment number. It didn't take long: "P. Fleck, 8J." When she went to the elevator, she paused. It looked rickety. But she had enough reading material if she was stuck for an hour or two. Stepping into it, she pushed the button for the eighth floor. The lift thought it over before closing and starting its slow ascent.

Once she arrived, she went the wrong way down the corridor and had to double back. She laughed at her mistake. At least the extra steps helped build her excitement. When in front of Arthur’s door, she bounced quickly between her toes and her heels, then pressed the buzzer.

"Coming!"

The sound of his soft, raspy voice, the anticipation of knowing he'd be with her in a few seconds... She smiled. As she heard the chain lock being slid over, she bounced again, once, feeling simultaneously ridiculous and perfect.

The door opened quickly and Arthur stood there, a dishtowel over his shoulder. Y/N didn't miss how his gray thermal shirt clung to his torso and arms, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He braced himself against the door, his eyebrows creasing in the middle. "Oh, hey. What are you doing here?"

She stared at him, his slicked-back hair from what she assumed was a recent shower, his eyes piercing hers. It took a moment for her to process his question, and she swallowed before answering. "I was working in the neighborhood and wanted to wish you luck before your show."

"On a Sunday?"

She gave a shrug. "It's unusual, but it happens."

"I thought you'd call," he said.

That wasn't what she'd expected. Ugh, he had been busy. She scrunched up her face. "Am I interrupting you? I wasn't sure if I should just show up. I can go if-"

"No." Arthur shook his head and looked down, sighing. "That's not what I meant."

She saw his shoulders tense as his hand moved to the doorknob, which made a jiggling sound when he fiddled with it. Y/N took a step towards him and leaned against the frame. "I've missed you since Friday."

A smile came across his face, slowly spreading from cheek to cheek. "Really?"

"Really." She dug into her bag, then, and held out the bag of cookies. "The client I was with gave me these. They’re for you and your mother."

Eyes flicking to hers, he took them. "That’s sweet." His hand was so close - he hadn't drawn it back completely.

Y/N pursed her lips, a tad frustrated. He wanted her to touch him - hell, he'd come right out and told her. And she hadn't missed the feel of his erection against her when she’d been in his arms. "May I kiss you?" she asked.

A breath of relief came out of him as he chuckled. "Yeah." The cookies were quickly put on the side table. He leaned into her a bit, his voice lowering. "You don't have to ask, Y/N."

"Good to know," she said, grinning at him. Her bag fell to the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It only took a second for his right arm to pull her closer, his hand splaying on the small her back. “You don’t have to ask me, either.”

He tilted his head, nuzzling at her cheek before their lips met, his left hand going to her hip. The warmth of his lithe form against her went straight to her core. A low moan left her throat. The way his lips pulled at hers, a bit clumsy but eager, made her arch against him. She could tell he was holding back, causing heat to settle deep in her abdomen.

He tasted of nicotine and coffee, neither of which were particularly pleasant, but were definitely him. The artificial fragrance of the shampoo he'd used smelled like cheap musk, but was nice nonetheless. And she could have sworn he was wearing aftershave. She sighed happily as their lips parted. "Mm. You smell good."

"Thanks," he answered, backing away, his face flushed. He turned his body so she could look into the apartment. "Come in?"

"I'd love to." After stepping through the doorway, she put her bag down next to the side table and hung up her coat. "I can't stay long, though. If you peek in my bag, you'll see paperwork waiting."

He stepped to the kitchen sink. "I was just doing dishes," he said, indicating the dish rack with his hand.

She went to his side as he put his hands in the water, and took the dish towel from his shoulder. "Let me dry." As they worked in tandem, Y/N heard the radio on the windowsill was playing at a low volume. He had been listening to an oldies station. She wondered if he always had music on when doing housework.

Arthur’s expression was content. He looked her way every so often, his dimples showing when he did. "How's your job?” he asked.

"It's fine." She started drying the cutlery, and putting it on the opposite counter, unsure of where it should go. "My boss called yesterday. I have to go to some benefit on Thursday at Wayne Hall. I'm going to have to find something decent to wear."

His response came quicker than expected. "You always look nice."

She blushed. "Thank you." Grabbing a plate, she continued. "I wish I could bring you with me. I hate these things. Thank god there's an open bar.” She scooted a bit closer. “How about you? Have you had any clown gigs?"

His face remained steady. “It's slow this time of year.”

When Y/N put the plate on the counter, a row of prescription bottles caught her eye. They all had Arthur's name on them, and they were mostly empty. A couple of the drug names were familiar to her: Ahenelzine, Diazepam... Those were for depression and anxiety. She'd taken something for depression herself for a time when she was back home. Without that extra help, she wouldn't have been able to deal with being a caretaker.

She flushed, turning away before she could read the rest. Apart from what was on his laminated card and his terrible smoking habit, she'd simply assumed he was healthy, if a bit tired. Maybe he had a thyroid issue - that would help explain his figure, though she adored it. Or perhaps he just needed help dealing with his mother.

Guilt welled in her. His medicine and medical history were none of her business this early on. She wanted to give him that respect. Until there was a problem, if there was a problem, it wouldn't matter. Not unless he wanted to share that part of himself.

But there were quite a few bottles...

Y/N watched him as he washed a bowl, thinking of the isolation he'd described on their first date, his excitement at being able to show her around his city. The happiness she felt when she was around him, even if he constantly second-guessed himself and was often unsure of what to say. The way he’d tried to comfort her when she’d started crying on her couch. Her heart did a little flip.

He was the same Arthur as sixty seconds ago, before she’d spotted the prescriptions. The medication could wait.

"After the show, I was thinking we could get something to eat,” he said, putting a glass in the drying rack.

She sidled up next to him. "I'd love to. Pogo's is in Chinatown, right? Kao Wah is pretty good. It'll be my treat."

He let the water out of the sink, then took the towel from her and dried his hands. "But I'm asking you out.”

She leaned back on the counter, facing him. "Yeah, but it's your night. It can be a congratulatory dinner and a date."

He turned to look straight at her, his hip against the sink's edge. A small smirk was on his mouth as he shook his head. Y/N saw amusement and disbelief in his gaze. With his arms folded over his chest, he still held himself with reservation, even after taking her breath away at the front door.

She took his hand; it was still warm and damp. It opened as she brought it to the dip of her waist. His eyes dropped to her mouth before a bashful smile took over and he looked away from her. He was so hesitant, it felt like he was teasing her. She cleared her throat. "In case I hadn't made it clear earlier, you can touch me, Arthur. I want you t-."

His mouth was on her almost immediately, and groaned softly in this throat as she brought her palm to his chest. She felt his other hand grasp at her side and pull her close, while at the same time he turned to pin her gently against the counter. Giggles bubbled up in her throat as his kisses changed, surprising her when he pressed soft pecks on her cheeks and forehead. He hugged her close, then, and buried his face in her hair, sighing.

As she ran her fingers up and down his back, she closed her eyes. All right. That display had provided some clarity. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "How did I get so lucky to run into you at the store and the donut shop, hm?" she asked, squeezing him tighter. "And on the train?"

Grip loosening, he stepped away, frowning. "You're not the lucky one." He reached for his cigarettes and lighter, which were behind him on the breakfast bar. He rubbed his fingers together, then put a cigarette in his mouth. "I wish I-"

"Happy? Are you home?" a voice from the bedroom sounded.

Arthur plucked the smoke from his lips, putting it on the counter. "Hold on, mom."

Y/N winced. "She won't be upset I'm here, will she?"

Shaking his head, he turned towards the living room. "I just need to help her get up. Give me a couple minutes."

She watched his form until it disappeared into a hallway to the side of the apartment. Stepping further into the it, she checked out the living room. The place would have been something twenty-five years ago. Now it was run-down, but clean and well kept. The plaid wallpaper, stained from cigarette smoke, wasn't one she would have chosen. Her eyes roved over the furniture. A brown notebook was on the coffee table. And the pillow, bed sheet, and blanket on the couch made her brow furrow. Arthur didn't have a bed of his own? How long had he been sleeping on the sofa? At least she'd had a room in Boonville.

It occurred to her, looking around, that apart from an ashtray and some shirts hung haphazardly in the corner, nothing in the apartment said Arthur. Not the ugly cat candle on a nearby bureau, not the paintings on the wall behind the TV, not the wax fruit on the weirdest metal stand she'd ever seen. It was like he was an afterthought in his own home.

Arthur's voice caught her attention. "Here you go."

The sight in front of her was well-known. He guided the older woman to an easy-chair, one arm under her shoulder, the other holding her hand. She looked at Ms. Fleck's face and faded red hair. It was obvious she'd been beautiful when she was younger. Arthur looked nothing like her, but Y/N thought he must have gotten whatever genes made him handsome from her.

Once settled, Ms. Fleck turned to her. "Who's that?"

"She's Y/N, mom. The woman I told you about." He flicked on the TV.

Y/N approached her and crouched down to be at eye-level. "Hi, Ms. Fleck. It's nice to meet you. Arthur's said such nice things about you." She stuck her hand out to the woman and flashed a smile at Arthur. He grinned.

Ms. Fleck didn't respond at first, almost looking through her. Then she lifted her hand and took the one proffered to her. "I never thought my Happy would find a girlfriend. Especially one so pretty." Her lips turned up. "He talked about you, but I don't know where his head is sometimes."

Y/N flinched. Gently, she let go of Ms. Fleck's hand, then rose to stand and look at Arthur.

He looked as if his mother had struck him, standing stock still in front of the TV with his eyes shut. Y/N had never seen him angry before, but his clenched jaw and the fists at his sides made it obvious.

Ms. Fleck spoke again. “Happy, did you check the mail?”

Arthur’s face fell. “There’s no mail on Sundays.” His answer came softly, voice low and trembling.

Y/N reached and took his hand, then guided him back to the kitchen, away from his mother. "Don't listen to her. It's her illness talking," she said. It was an assumption, but it felt right.

He braced himself against the archway as he lit a cigarette, staring at the floor.

Not wanting to cause him pain, but needing to know what was going on, she asked her next question carefully. "Why does she keep calling you 'Happy?'"

Smoke left his mouth and nose as he spoke. "She's always done that. She's always told me to smile and put on a happy face." His shoulders shook as soft laughter escaped him. "I don't want to be angry around you. I'm sorry." The hurt in his eyes betrayed the smile he wore.

"Arthur, stop, stop," she said, bringing her hands to his face. After kissing him firmly, she put her forehead to his cheek. "It's all right." She carded a hand through his now nearly dry hair. "I'm sorry she said that."

He didn't put his arms around her, instead standing stiffly against the wall. "You should go. I know you have work to do." He said it quietly, almost a whisper.

She worried her lip, wishing he would let her comfort him instead of shutting her out. "Do you want to come back with me? Have some space?"

"No," he said. "She hasn't eaten."

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah. I'll give her dinner and she'll want to go back to bed. Murray Franklin isn't on tonight."

Reluctantly, she let go of him. "Okay." He followed her to the door and helped her with her coat. Her throat clenched - he was still being thoughtful, even through his upset. She grabbed her bag and gave him a quick peck. "I'll call you when I get home. I already can't wait to see you. Pogo's at eight?"

Opening the door, he nodded, his eyes darting to hers for only a moment. "Pogo's at eight."

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @clowndaddyfleck @stephieraptorr @rommies @sweet-nothings04

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck fanfic #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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