#like a fucking goldfish left on top of the radiator

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

hey so uh about your boyfriend. yeah i accidentally whumped him too hard and he regenerated. sorry

#i killed my 14 😭😭 #like a fucking goldfish left on top of the radiator #i pulled his guts out again and he couldnt take it #occupational hazard #ive got one ongoing unpublised fic thats missy whump #theres been like 7 missies in that #shes changed names 5 times #little mermaid voice: ive got suicides and 'accidents' aplenty #self-destructions and -sacrifices galore #anyway she looks suspiciously like bill now she LOVES life and she remembers Absolutely Nothing #im sure that'll sort itself out but for now it's very fun #doctor voice: regenerated?? whats that mean?? #yaz: uhhhhhhhhhhhh #doctor voice: you seem to know a lot about this place (the tardis) and everything. do you know.......who i am? #yaz: UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #they will figure it out its fine its gonna be fine <3 #yaz is gonna run into the house like CALL EVERYONE WE KNOW WHOS SEEN THE DOCTOR REGENERATE WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO

[katsu28]

i LOVE ur writing smmm could you please do jj maybank x reader where u guys get sent to go grocery shopping and end up getting kicked out because u were messing around 🫶

ur the sweetest ily!!! <3 i enjoyed writing this so much, thank you for the amazing request!!

supermarket shenanigans

pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

summary: see request! 

warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos, allusions to sex, inappropriate behavior for a grocery store lol 

masterlist + taglist

(gif found on pinterest!)

“Yo, d’you think John B would notice the difference between regular cheddar and extra cheddar Goldfish?” You glanced over at JJ from where you were scanning the shelves for the brand of popcorn Pope had asked for, where he was holding two almost identical looking bags of the tiny fish shaped crackers. “Like, I know he asked for extra cheddar but I kinda wanna get the regular one just to fuck with him.” 

“You really wanna get between John B and his Goldfish, don’t come crying to me when he cuts your dick off in your sleep,” You replied, to which JJ’s eyes widened, and he instantly tossed one of the bags back onto the shelf. 

“Copy that. What else do we need?” He asked, making his way over to slide his arms around your torso as he peered over your shoulder to look at the list on your phone. 

You and JJ were on grocery duty this week, and seeing as the only thing left in the Chateau fridge was the stale butt end of some old bread, the two of you had quite a shopping trip ahead of you. 

“Frozen pizzas and…Eggo waffles.” You recited off the list, maneuvering the shopping cart towards the frozen foods section with JJ hot on your tail. 

The blast of cold air from the freezer as you yanked the door open raised goosebumps on your arms, but was a cool escape from the sticky heat of a summer day in the Outer Banks. You’d stay inside this air conditioned store forever if it weren’t for the impatient blond teenage boy currently sagging against you with his entire body weight. 

“I’m bored,” He whined, digging his forehead into your shoulder. 

You inhaled a sharp breath through your nose, because although you loved JJ, the heat radiating off his body was stifling. “Get away from me, J, you’re too hot!” 

“Don’t I know it, babe.” 

“Not what I meant.” You groaned, unpeeling yourself from him. “Why don’t you head over to pick up some fruit? Sarah wants white peaches and grapes.” 

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone. Holler if you need something off the top shelf, short stuff.” JJ huffed, but you knew he was just poking fun at you. 

“Kie said she also wants strawberries and bananas for smoothies!” You called after his retreating form, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the haphazard hand he waved over his head in response. JJ disappeared around the corner, and you went back to browsing the frozen pizzas. 

It didn’t take long before you heard pounding footsteps coming back your way, then JJ’s voice. 

“Babe, babe, look,” He sounded a tad too gleeful for your liking, and you already knew he was about to show you something he wasn’t supposed to. Turning around, your eyes clocked in on the eggplant he was holding over his crotch, then flicked up to his shit eating grin with a raised brow. “Look at my schlong, babe!” 

“You wish it was that big.” You snickered. 

JJ looked immediately offended, head cocked and nose wrinkled in maximum offense taken at your words. “Not cool.” 

“Sorry.” 

“So not cool.” He muttered, chucking the eggplant into the cart with a childish pout. You stifled a laugh, letting the freezer door swing shut before following JJ as he stomped back to the produce section. Grabbing a few produce bags, you milled around, picking up some fruits and veggies to toss into the cart for the week’s dinners. Free food from The Wreck was nice, but you were starting to feel a little bit guilty about freeloading off the Carreras for so long. 

JJ was still moping around from your earlier jest, and now you felt bad, so you came up with your own way to cheer him back up. 

“Hey, J,” You lilted, attempting to get his attention. No response. “Wanna see my melons?” 

That got him good. His head whipped around so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d given himself whiplash, eyes wide at the chance of possibly seeing your boobs. His shoulders slumped in disappointment, however, when he saw that you were in fact not flashing him, but holding two mini watermelons in front of your chest. 

“Funny.” He deadpanned. 

“You didn’t actually think I was gonna show you my tits, right?” You snorted, making your way over to him with your hands on your hips. He shrugged, letting his hands slap against his sides disappointedly. “We’re in public, baby.” 

“That’s never stopped you before.” 

Your face grew warm, and you reached over to shove his chest lightly. “Shut up.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re shy now, Y/N,” JJ smirked, catching your hand and bringing it up to kiss your palm. “What was that thing you were asking me to do last week at the beach? Wanted me to take you in the back of—” 

“Oh my god, stop it.” You hissed, wrenching your hand back. 

“Gimme a kiss and I will,” He countered, puckering his lips at you. You shook your head with a snort, shoving your palm into his face instead of granting his request. 

“Get a grip, dude.” You moved to walk away, but JJ lunged at you, grabbing you and spinning you around in a circle before setting you down again. “JJ!” 

“I’ll get a grip on you, sweetheart,” He growled, biting at the side of your neck gently. 

“Did you just bite me?” You exclaimed incredulously, scrunching your nose in confusion. JJ mumbled something unintelligible, planting a soothing kiss over the spot he’d just bitten instead of answering your very obvious question. 

“Kiss. Now.” 

“JJ—” 

“Please?” He pleaded, squeezing your hip. “I’m dyin’ here, woman, gimme something!” 

You braced your hands on his biceps, craning your neck to brush your lips against his ever so gently, and JJ’s eyes fluttered shut in anticipation for your sweet kiss. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to knee him in the balls—not too hard, you still needed those working for later—and then scamper away. 

“Jesus fuck—ow!” He swore, doubling over in pain. “Baby, what the fuck?” 

“Come and get me, blondie,” You taunted, winking at him before disappearing around the corner of a shelf. JJ only faltered for a second before he took off after you, heavy boots pounding on the tile as he chased you through aisle after aisle, dodging some very annoyed shoppers with his barging across the store. 

You, on the other hand, were a little more polite about it, weaving through carts with a ‘so sorry!’ to every person you passed. In hindsight, inciting a chase in the grocery store wasn’t your best idea, but now that you’d started it, there was no going back. Not until JJ caught you. 

Skidding to a stop in the pet food aisle, you bent over, bracing your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. You didn’t see or hear JJ anywhere, which was a good sign. It meant you could take a break and—

“Gotcha, sweetheart,” JJ’s breath was warm against your neck as he collided with you out of nowhere, snatching you up around the waist and nearly bowling you over in the process. He squeezed you impossibly tight, so tight that your attempts at wriggling out of his arms soon proved a wasted effort. “Thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe.” You lilted, winding your arms around his broad shoulders with a sheepish smile. 

“Solid effort, I’ll give you that.” He hummed, mirroring your grin. “Now can I have my kiss? Please?” 

“Yeah, alright,” You’d barely gotten the words out before his lips were moving against yours in an eager kiss. As always, you melted right into him, the feeling of his hot mouth on yours turning you into putty in his muscular arms like it always did. 

“Excuse me, ma’am, sir,” Your kiss with JJ was interrupted by a sharp, nasally voice cutting through the atmosphere, causing you to pull away from your boyfriend with a start. Behind him was a severe looking man in a shirt displaying the store’s logo, frowning at the both of you like you were merely the gum on the bottom of his shoe. 

“Hi. So sorry,” You felt your cheeks flame embarrassingly hot at being caught making out in a random aisle, pushing one hand against JJ’s chest lightly to stop him from going for another kiss, drawing a pout from the blond boy. “We were just—” 

“We’ve been getting some complaints from other shoppers about disturbances to the shopping environment and concerns of inappropriate behavior from the two of you. We’re going to have to ask you to please leave the store.” 

“Come on, man, we were just messing around,” JJ sighed, shifting around to face the guy with a half-assed shrug. 

He didn’t look amused. “Please make your way out of the store, or I’ll be forced to call the police.” 

“No need for that, we’ll go,” You said quickly. Another run in with Peterkin and Shoupe was definitely something neither you nor JJ needed. “Sorry again for the disturbance.” 

Before anyone could say another word, you tugged JJ out of the grocery store and back into the sweltering heat of the parking lot, not stopping until you were safely making your way to the Twinkie parked crookedly towards the back. 

“That was so embarrassing!” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. 

“Disturbances to the shopping environment, my ass,” JJ rolled his eyes, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “Those folks got sticks up their butts.”

“We were being a bit disruptive.” You admitted, smiling guiltily. 

“Only because you wouldn’t give me a kiss. If anything, this is your fault.” 

You shot a playfully pointed look at him. “Whatever.” 

“So…how do we tell everyone we didn’t actually get any groceries?” 

“That is a very good question.” 

taglist!

@scenesofobx @purple-flamingo @milkiane @tenaciousperfectionunknown @strawberryforks @vesperluvsbillie @fearthewalkingbitch @like-gabriel-and-castiel @eichenhouseproperty @dpaccione @directioner5lifw @liltimmyst @lilygreennn @mrstealuregirl @izzymaybank @bubsonnobx @laylasbunbunny

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x fem!reader #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank one shot #outer banks netflix #obx netflix #outer banks imagine #outer banks one shot #rudy pankow

[fruitcoops]

did i miss something or when did Hestia tape loops’ face back together? i would read the heck outta that

Hello anon! One of my first fics was called Blood On the Ice, and it was about Remus getting injured in a game when he got hit in the face with a stick. It ended before I went into specifics about the recovery, so here’s a sequel to clarify! Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for blood, bruises, swelling, mentioned panic attack (previous fic)

“Easy, Loops,” Hestia murmured as she carefully taped the gash on his lip. He clenched his jaw to suppress a wince, but that just made it hurt more. His whole face throbbed with pain and he really couldn’t feel where she was touching him anymore—his left eye was completely swollen shut, and the right was on its way to join it.

“No concussion, right?” he managed around his puffy lip as she pulled away.

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.” Remus tentatively prodded his cheekbone and flinched at the swollen heat. “Oh, ouch.”

Hestia batted his hand away and handed him an ice pack. “Don’t poke it, dummy! You know better.”

“I do. Thanks.”

“Drink water. I’m going to get a snack and then load you up with tylenol, alright?”

“Sounds good.” His jaw was starting to ache from moving it so much, and he still tasted blood whenever his tongue touched his lips. The TV was too far away for him to make out much more than vague shapes, but the reddish blobs seemed to be doing well. “Are we winning?”

“Yep. Sirius is one away from a hat trick.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm.” Hestia pressed an open packet of goldfish into his palm. “You can still chew, right?”

“Yep. Teeth all feel fine, it’s just my…” He gestured to his general facial area and she laughed.

“Good to hear. Eat, you’ll feel better.”

He cracked a smile, or at least his best imitation of one. “Hey, that’s my line.”

Hestia kept a running commentary on the game like the absolute angel she was while he ate and took his medicine, then changed out his ice pack and made sure he didn’t accidentally fall off the PT table as he laid down. “If you wake up with anything more than a moderate headache, or if you start feeling nauseous, tell me immediately. No toughing this out, Remus.”

He gave her a look out of his less swollen eye. “Come on, H, I’m the last person—”

“You are the first person who would try to shake off a stick to the face.” She flicked him playfully on the shoulder. “I’m not falling for any of your bullshit.”

The relief was instant and magnificent as she guided the ice pack over the upper half of his face once again. “You are literally my favorite person ever.”

“That’s the tape and Tylenol talking. Take a nap. I’ll wake you when the game’s done.”

“No, you won’t.”

“True. You need rest, so go to sleep.”

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and settled back against the soft pillow, letting the rustling sounds of her moving around lull him into drowsiness. The smell of the PT room was familiar and comforting, if a bit different than before; he couldn’t smell much, though, so it may just have been in his head. Easy does it, Loops, he reminded himself. You’re going to be fine.

The panic attack had been embarrassing, to say the least. His shoulder was completely untouched, but the adrenaline and dull ache radiating through his head set his whole body on fire. His nose still pulsed with pain if he concentrated too hard.

But Hestia had been kind, and careful, and smart. She worked quickly, taping up the scrapes and his split lip before feeling for any breaks. She gave him another piece of gauze for his nose, though he didn’t really need it. First rule of PT: keep the patient’s mind off their injury. When he started hyperventilating again, she stopped working and held his hands until it passed.

Something warm laid heavy in his palm when he dragged himself back to the land of the living; his vision was still blocked out by the ice pack, but he could tell it was someone’s hand. “You’re the best PT,” he said, giving it a squeeze.

There was a low laugh. “I’d be a terrible PT.”

“Sirius? Hey!” Remus tried to smile, but stopped as soon as his face screeched in protest and the cut on his lip began to sting. It was at a horrible in-between point of numb and prickly still. “Hey, baby, did we win?”

“We did.”

“Did you get a hat trick?”

“No, I was one off.” He folded his other hand over Remus’ and rubbed his fingers gently. “You sound like you have a cold.”

“Just my nose. And cheeks. And everything else.” They both laughed and he waved toward his face. “Could you take the ice pack off? I wanna see you.”

Sirius paused. “There’s no ice pack, sweetheart. Your face is just really swollen.”

“Oh.”

“Did Hestia do a good job?”

“Of course she did,” Remus scoffed. “She’s Hestia.”

“True. Did you lose any teeth?”

“Not even one. My only badge of honor is a face full of bruises.”

“It’s quite the badge,” Sirius said under his breath. One of his hands disappeared and Remus felt something brush his cheek a moment later; he turned into it, pressing against the familiar warmth. “Can you get up? I think we should go home.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Sirius gently held on to his forearms as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Remus stumbled a bit when he stood, but Sirius was steady and pulled him close to his side.

“Alright, this way.”

“Is Hestia in here?” Vague shapes of light made their way into his vision.

“I’m over here,” she said, touching his elbow.

“You’re the best PT ever.”

“Thanks, Loops.” He could hear a smile in her voice and gave her hand a quick pat.

Two steps later, Sirius let go of him. Startled fear bolted through Remus; the world wasn’t much more than black and blobby colors, and while the floor was solid beneath his feet, he had no guide wall. “Sirius? Where’d you go?”

“Shit, sorry.” His hands returned to Remus’ arm and waist in a smudge of motion. “I was just opening the door.”

“Don’t let go, please,” he said quietly as they walked into the hall. He was tired, in pain, and completely disoriented—he didn’t want to be alone as well.

“Hey, Loops, how’re you—holy fuck.” Kasey. Rapid footsteps and a new blur of lighter colors came closer. “Shit, man, are you alright?”

“Never better.” There was a beat of silence and he sighed, reaching out to smack Kasey on the arm. “You guys can stop talking about me while I’m right here, you know. I’ll be fine in a couple days, tops.”

“You do realize half your face is taped together, right?”

“It’s not half­—”

“It’s enough,” Sirius and Kasey said in unison.

“Hestia said two weeks.” Sirius wrapped an arm further around his waist and began walking again. Not having peripheral vision was making Remus dizzy and he pressed a hand to Sirius’ chest.

“Slow down a bit, babes.”

“Sorry.” A door opened up ahead and he heard a few new voices whispering.

Remus sighed. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey,” James said tentatively, drawing out the word. “You okay?”

“If one more person asks that, I’m going to throw something,” Remus grumbled. “Yes, I’m fine, just bruised.”

“Do we need to go beat up that rookie?”

“Please don’t, I’m sure it was an accident.”

“Alright, drive safe.”

One, two, three, four hands landed on his shoulder as the group walked past, murmuring well-wishes and clearly sending Sirius looks. He caught a flash of red and some blond—Finn and Leo, and maybe Kasey if he hadn’t left. The last person was just a blob, but Remus didn’t have the brainpower to play ‘Guess Who’ with all the brunets on the team.

The cold of the outside world was a welcome reprieve; he took a deep breath and let the chill soothe his skin, lacing his fingers with Sirius’ as they crossed the parking lot. “Sorry I’m so slow,” he said as the car’s lock clicked.

“You don’t have to apologize, mon loup,” Sirius half-laughed. “I’m just glad you’re up and moving.”

He carefully buckled his seatbelt and leaned his head back in the seat. “I look like a mess, don’t I?”

“Pretty much. You’ll heal, though.”

“Thanks for being honest.” He fumbled a hand over the gearshift and rested it on Sirius’ thigh.

“Sugarcoating never helps. Do you want your ice pack?”

“You carried it?” Remus asked, surprised. Sirius turned his hand over and placed something cold in his palm. “Thank you.”

“Ne rien.” There was a shuffle, and then the soft brush of lips over his cheekbone.

“Kissing it better?” Remus teased, pressing the blessed cold against his eye.

“Always.”

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome and Heavy Body

Chapter Four: How to Disappear Completely

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count:  2,670 (not very long but I’m getting back into the swing)

Author’s Note: I know it’s been like freaking two months but this felt nice and I remembered how much I actually enjoy this fic. You can find the first chapter here!

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird) bonus: I’m 19 and a humanities major so obviously I don’t know anything about medicine so I’m doing my best out here

I'm not here I'm not here This isn't happening I'm not here I'm not here

She’s not allowed to go with him to treatments-- radiation treatments, he never said anything about chemo. You’d think she was the ex-lawyer but really she’s just mastered the art of annoying him. “That’s a straight flush, eat it!” She lays the cards out for him to see, grinning as his face falls and he realizes that he’s lost to her, again. “We totally should have played strip-poker.”

He rubs a hand over his face, digging his fingers into his eye socket. “That’s the last thing I need,” he mumbles, leaning back against his chair. He’s exhausted and freezing his ass off despite the long-sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing under his flannel and the blanket Emily’s tucked around him. There’s no point in bringing it up, no point in talking about it. No one can do anything about it. He’s just cold and he can handle the clump of hair that fell in the sink this morning and the fact that all foods, even foods that he’s considered safe for decades, betray his body. This being cold all the time thing though? It’s pissing him off and it makes him feel even more helpless because he can’t control his emotions.

Nevermind, most of his control over everything is gone. He’s stuck in this chair until the toxic whatever they have hanging above his head enters his body. The whole bag and a two-hour, maybe longer, wait. For comfort, he’s got an endless supply of blankets, all as thick as paper, and a popsicle. He likes popsicles but he’s certain he’ll throw up anything he eats right now. So he sticks to lightly sipping his water. At least he gets to control the water most of the time. Occasionally they even get to veto his decisions there.

“I’ll give you a break,” she offers. She can see he’s having a hard time. He knows he’s lucky to have her as his shadow but that doesn’t do much for the temper he’s struggling to control. “I’m going to go call JJ,” she knocks her hand against his knee and he hums his understanding. He’s moved his body up, sitting up enough to tilt to the left, his head in his palm, and his fingers moved to block her view of a pained grimace. Trying and failing to keep her distracted with his silence.

Knowing that crouching down beside him would create far more attention to his discomfort that is such grave importance to him to hide, she just lowers her voice and quietly asks, “do you want me to get some more water?” He shakes his head, just rocking his forehead into his palm. His attention lost to a sea of pain. “Okay,” she mumbles, feeling utterly helpless. A feeling she’s becoming quite familiar with.  

The worst part is knowing there’s nothing she can do physically for him but there are some people that never fail to draw a smile to his face. So she texts Spencer and Penelope, hoping Reid will numb Hotch out with never-ending conversation and Garcia will lighten his sludge. She hesitates to ask Jessica to bring Jack over. After the night they watched the Chronicles of Narnia he’s been a little outwardly disruptive. Acting out and it’s to be expected, this isn’t easy for anyone and it’s impossible for a child who has already lost his mother. But it will be good for Hotch and Jack so she risks it and Jessica seems to agree.

“You’re back early.” What she does not account for is Derek Morgan beating them back. They walk in and hear a racket, and though their training should have them reaching for guns not strapped to their hips, they both just glare at the direction in which it’s coming from. Derek stands up, eyeing them both over, and motioning to something out of their sight. “Was just fixing the sink.” He’s covered in dirt and sweat, it’s evident he was fixing something though the state of his shirt looks more like he breaking something.

Emily is opening her mouth to inquire but Hotch beats her to it. His tone and his mood are not in a good place and if she’d known Morgan was here ahead of time she would have warned him. Morgan has no warning when Hotch’s already firmly placed scowl turns even crueler and he grumbles, “the sink wasn’t broken.”

She’s stuck standing between them, Hotch walking away and Morgan watching his back and looking hopelessly at her to explain what just happened. She’s not sure if she’s allowed to follow Hotch or if she’s better here explaining his behavior. It’s just like old times, she thinks bitterly. To Foyet and his pain and she can’t say she’s surprised, he really held out. She can’t blame him for being in a bad mood, he’s in pain. It’s his cancer, he’s allowed to be pissed about it.

“He okay?”

She is surprised to find that Morgan isn’t angry. That he looks nearly sad standing there, torn between going after him and being reassured by her. “He’s…” she won’t tell him about the drive back. Hotch silent but in so much pain he’d been restless, incapable of sitting still in the car. Or this morning how he’d needed her help just putting on a shirt. The hair she’s noticed falling out but he’s not commenting on it so she certainly won’t breathe a word. That they’re up all night, the sound of Hotch’s pacing making her too worried to rest or barreling through the house to find him curled around the toilet looking miserable. That he’s losing weight rapidly and she doesn’t struggle to help him up anymore-- but she tells herself it’s because she’s getting stronger because she has to.

“He’s Hotch,” she reasons, foolishly. “Of course, he’s okay.”

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

Garcia would lay her own life down in a heartbeat to protect the team if they’d let her. She owes them all so much for the quality that they have given her life over the past few years. They have built a family around her, from the ground up, and accepted her through all her flaws and misadventures. No one as much as her suit-clad, knight in shining armor boss. Hotch has been there for her since before there was even really a team. When no one else would, he gave her so much more than a chance-- he believed in her. When no one else, when no one had even tried since her parent’s death. Even when time and time again she made mistakes, pushed rules, and on his last nerve. He never tore her down.

He commends her strangeness, even if she suspects he doesn’t fully understand it. Smiles good-naturedly when she brings him holiday-themed ties so they can match and allows her silly days out for conventions beyond his own taste. He’s never grasped a full understanding of her but he’s never given up trying. He commends her abilities to do this job and also reminds her how proud he is of her, to have her on his team, and to call her a friend. So, yeah, if Hotch needs a little pick-me-up, she’s his man.

“Are you two fucking?”

Garcia freezes. The key Hotch gave her half-way in its retreat from the lock and the door only slightly opened. She’s technically coming in unannounced but Hotch had given her this key under the same pretenses as the one that gave her access to his and Haley’s house-- in case she needs him. The situations are flipped now, he needs her, but the sentiment is still the same. She’d prepared for the Hotch’s thousand-word frown upon entrance just not the verbal assault of “are you two fucking”.

She hesitantly makes her way into the room, peeking around the corner of the wall that separates the kitchen from the living room. Emily and Morgan are standing there, both looking equally disgusted and annoyed. She watches Emily fluster, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “What?” she barks out in pure surprise. “He’s-- NO!”

Morgan reciprocates his own franticness, waving at Emily’s clothes, “you’re-- you’re... matching!” He’s grabbing at straws for the most part. His own anxieties and fears coming into play to create this monster of a beast he can’t stop thinking about. To distract himself from the panicked thoughts he has about watching his friend die he’s conjured a reality in which it makes sense that Emily and Hotch would be boning. Really, it’s only bothering him because he has no idea what he would do if the two of them were… doing something. It’s just-- just disgusting. Hotch is Hotch, he doesn’t… do that.

Emily rolls her eyes, “Derek, I see him every day. I live with him.” She makes an exasperated throwing motion with her hands, tossing them upwards. “It’s going to happen occasionally, alright? We own similar articles of clothing.” She motions down to her clothes, “we’re ‘matching’ because we look a lot alike and he knows green is his color just like I know it’s mine!”

Of course, that’s what she says now but this morning when she was working the tiny ass buttons of his shirt together she’d given him endless shit about managing to pick out the one shirt the two of them both own. He couldn’t change-- that day’s appointments needed full access to his chest and the easiest way to do that is to wear easily opened and shut clothing. She could change but simply refused-- it was far more entertaining to tell him they looked like those preschoolers whose parents dressed them to match.

He wasn’t amused.

“Besides,” she adds just to a rise out of him, “he’s not supposed to be doing anything strenuous until the rash on his chest clears back up.” She tucks a strand behind her ear, nonchalant. “Even then I would have to be on top.” She smiles as he sputters, satisfied with her own work.

Morgan frowns, “No!” He momentarily covers his ears, shaking his head. “Why do you even-- How do you know that?”

Emily shrugs, “Oh… well, his doctor thought we were… you know.”

Garcia isn’t sure where her allegiance should be. If Hotch and Emily are… she’d prefer not to know the details. Well, she’s interested because it’s Emily but it’s also Hotch. She makes a face, the thought… it-- Hotch needs to lighten up. He needs someone back in his life that can bring some fun but Emily is, well she’s Emily! It f-

“Is she done tormenting Morgan, yet?”

Garcia reels around, caught off guard by a sudden deep but unimpressed voice behind her. When she turns, she finds Hotch. He’s dressed down, out of the attire Morgan and Emily had been talking about. Now, in a simple Hanes t-shirt and black sweatpants. Comfortable-- she likes the way he looks. It may not be his usual attire but it makes him look more… dad-like. More himself.

Garcia looks back over her shoulder and finds herself grinning. Her boss may seem like a boring, hardass but he can have his fun too. No doubt, he either gave Emily the idea to go torment Morgan (never direct but planted the seedling idea) or, at the very least, gave her permission. “I don’t think so,” she answers honestly. “She’s not going to let it go if she knows it bothers him that much.” Which is completely true.

Hotch smiles, softly. A dimple making a guest appearance as he shakes his head. Only Emily Prentiss. He looks Garcia down, lifting a brow at the sight of all the things in her arms. “Can I help you with that?” he offers, motioning to the filled Tupperware clutched to her chest so that they don’t topple over.

She remembers, suddenly, the armful of goodies she has. “Oh yes, sir!” She lets him take a few off the top, telling him what they are as he acquires them. “Those are macadamia nut cookies! This really nice woman--” she follows him as he takes the containers and directs her to the kitchen. “She moved in across the hall from me. She loves to bake and so she’s been giving me all these little recipes.”

He moves right past Emily and Derek, smiling to himself at the panicked raise in Derek’s tone as they catch sight of one another. He directs his attention back to Garcia, making sure she knows he’s listening. Though he doubts his own abilities to dig into the delicacies Garcia has brought, he knows that Jack and Emily will rip them to shreds. Which is the honorable way Garcia’s cooking should go, straight into very gracious mouths.

“I really hadn’t been able to test them out,” she continues. “So, I thought why not try them all right now and bring them to you!” She smiles cheerfully up at him, their height difference more apparent when he looks down realizes she’s not wearing her signature heels. She’s wearing pink converse, perfectly complimenting her pink sweater and pink glasses and jewelry. He thinks she looks positively amazing but knows any compliments will have him smothered in kisses and, well, he’s already been accused of sleeping with one coworker...

Mind still wandering off on the subject of his height and when the last time he saw Garcia in shoes other than heels, he settles a soft smile on her. She keeps talking, showing him each container's contents. It’s the exhaustion that leads him down the path beaten path of dissociation, his mind simply slipping out from beneath him. Someplace warm and fuzzy where his body doesn’t ache.

“Aaron--” He blinks, startling at the sudden touch to his shoulder. He looks down to find Emily and an anxious-looking Garcia. He’s sure Emily and Derek’s conversation about their relationship is now going to seem more damning as her hand slips into his. She squeezes his fingers, “you okay?” Her eyes flick between his, searching for an answer that’s going to be far more honest than the one he produces on his own.

He clears his throat, forcing himself not to blush. “Yeah,” he croaks. “I don’t… I don’t know what that was.” He bashfully averts his eyes to the kitchen floor, very aware of their attention on him now. Too much attention. It’s impossible to hide the way he shivers, the paling, near purpling of his arms. He knows it’s inevitable that they’ll notice but… he’d like to think himself some mastermind. Impervious to the tests of cancer and his treatments. That they don’t affect him. He can hide the central line under layers of clothes. Wear hats to hide the hair. Fake a smile and force his way through the day.

But he’s failing miserably. They see it. The radiation rash now sitting at the base of his neck, red and angry. Peaking out through his shirts. The bulge of the central line under his normal shirts. The nose bleeds that never stops, he’s scarred Reid and Morgan for life with those. The tinnitus that’s recently come back with a vengeance. He’s affected, good and proper, and he hates it. Hates that he has to be so blatantly mortal in front of everyone. Never gets a say in if today is good or bad. If he’ll be too weak to get out of bed or too sick to eat. He hates it.

Garcia is the first person to properly break the tension. She playfully knocks Hotch in the shoulder, more of a tap than anything. It’s careful and his throat tightens with the realization of how weak he must look to make Garcia afraid she could hurt him with a simple tap.  “It’s all good, sir.” She settles a small smile on him, “but you can make it up to me by eating?”

Eating. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, swallowing thickly around the sick twist of his stomach. “Okay,” he answers softly, forcing a smile to match hers when she beams. Thinking she’s won against his unruly stomach. 

Emily glances at him but ignores it. 

He just wants to be normal again. 

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan, @lazyhater (Just lmk if you don’t want to be tagged anymore)

#tw cancer #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 8

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Sunday (cont’d)

Rose’s nails dug into her palms so hard it hurt, as she tried desperately to focus on the pain rather than the stream of words coming from her mother’s lips.  Doesn’t she get it? she raged, glaring across the table.  Why can’t she just leave me the fuck alone?

Malcolm’s warm palm on her knee was all that was keeping her from lunging across the table, the intimate touch setting her on fire, or at least the bits of her mind that weren’t tied up in rage.  He’d never touched her there before, and the slow drag of his thumb against the sensitive skin on the side of her knee made her want him to move his hand upwards and inward.

The fantasy played out for just a moment until the words nice widower punctured her daze and she tuned back in.

Are you fucking kidding me?  This is bullshit.

She didn’t plan it.  She hadn’t made up her mind.

She just wanted her mother to stop. talking.

“Malcolm and I are getting married.”

The words slipped out effortlessly, and she didn’t know what she was saying until they were out there like Pandora’s Box, unrecoverable.

Malcolm’s hand squeezed her knee tightly for just a moment before relaxing, and as much as she wanted to check his expression she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her mother’s stunned face, mouth opening and closing silently like a goldfish, looking for all the world like she’d walked into a wall.

“You… what?” Jackie asked faintly, her voice sounding loud and out of focus to Rose’s ear.

“We… we’re getting married.  Two weekends from now.  By a judge.”  Despite the oddness of the words it felt right, natural, and by the way Malcolm wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, he at least somewhat agreed.

“You’re getting married?” her mum whispered, and she nodded, catching the movement of Malcolm’s head as he mimicked her.

“Are you pregnant?” her father asked neutrally, and Rose startled, having almost forgotten he was there, anyone was there, with as intent as she’d been on Jackie.

Before she could answer, though, Malcolm spoke up, voice unusually rough.  “Of course not.”  They stared off for a beat, before Pete sighed and nodded.  For the first time since she’d heard about the will Rose remembered one glaring fact – that Malcolm and her father had been friends and quasi-business partners for almost twice as long as Rose had worked for him, had known each other long before Rose and Clara met at uni.

Oops.  That could be awkward.

Her father turned his eyes on her, and not even his unusually serious expression was enough to distract her from the sudden heat of Malcolm’s hand taking her palm, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently, a warmth in her chest at his quiet show of support.  “Is this what you want?”

It was, desperately, though not how.  Among many other things, she’d imagined that, were something to ever happen with Malcolm, he would be as irrevocably in love with her as she was with him.  Be careful what you wish for, she thought sardonically.  Unable to open her mouth, afraid if any words came out they’d be accompanied by tears, or worse her real feelings, she just nodded, gripping Malcolm’s hand tightly.

After several moments that felt like lifetimes, her father gave a sharp nod.

And then burst into a great big grin.

“That’s wonderful!” he crowed, pushing back from the table and coming around to kiss Rose’s cheek before shaking Malcolm’s hand.  “Welcome to the family, son,” he joked, clasping Malcolm’s shoulder.  “I’ll get the champagne.”

“I-”

He was back in a flash with an ice-cold bottle, and she wondered dimly why they’d had one chilled, watching with a strange sense of detachment as Pete opened the bottle, sending the cork flying.  The pop seemed to startle everyone else back to life, as Clara began to squeal from her place on Rose’s left, throwing her arms around her and hugging her tightly.

Rose slowly turned her head to face Malcolm to find him already watching her with an impossibly soft and tender expression, one that was almost enough to move her to tears with the gentle awe radiating from him.

Really? he mouthed, arching an eyebrow, and she studied his face, committing this moment to memory.

Then, slowly, with a shy smile, warmth in her cheeks, she nodded.

-

Their afternoon cookout quickly devolved into an impromptu engagement party, though Malcolm didn’t miss Rose’s careful machinations to keep them from being split up.

Given it was her family he was content to let her do most of the storytelling, not wanting to contradict whatever she did- or more specifically didn’t- want them to know.  Instead he watched her, using the cover of ‘adoring fiancé’ to study her, allowing his eyes feast to upon her as his heart ached to do.

“So, why now?” Pete asked, only able to get a word in edgewise after more than an hour.  “Why the rush?”

Rose shrugged, leaning closer to Malcolm and peering up at him.  “Well…”

Guessing she wanted him to jump in, he said, “Wallace’s death put some things into perspective, I think, about what really matters in life.  I’d say that’s a large part of it.”  He had to elbow Rose when she snorted at the bit he left unsaid.  “It just… seems right, is all.”

“And when did you know?” Jackie asked, hauling Tony up onto her lap and cuddling him.  “That something was there.”

Malcolm tensed, unsure of what to do.  “Me?”

Half a dozen expectant faces stared at him, and he sighed.  “Right- well…” When Rose didn’t jump in to save him he realized he was going to answer the question; but how?  If he lied, they would likely see through it, but if he told the truth… he was worried it might be too convincing, and tip his hand.  Fuck.  “It was gradual,” he said, honestly enough, “but… I don’t know.  One day I looked at her and saw something I hadn’t before.”  His impromptu audience didn’t look satisfied, so he shrugged.  “To be perfectly honest, I think we were arguing over pizza toppings.”

Rose stiffened beside him, a peculiar expression on her face; almost as if she knew the evening he was talking about.  “The night before the Charitable Earth Gala,” she murmured, proving that she did.

He had no idea what to do with that.

“Yes,” he said softly, before clearing his throat and turning back to their observers.  “Anyway, that was… when I started seeing her a new light.”

Jackie nodded, mouth pursed, before turning back to her daughter.  “So, have you gone looking at dresses yet?”

-

Eventually her mum had to put Tony down for a nap, allowing Rose to escape to the library for some much-needed silence and alone time.

She had only just flopped down onto the couch when the door creaked open, and she tensed; if she stayed still and quiet and the person didn’t actually enter the room she wouldn’t be seen, and she prayed they would move on.

“Rose?”

I suppose he gets a pass.  “Yeah?”  She struggled upright as he entered the room, carefully shutting the door behind him before taking the seat next to her.  “Hi.”

“Hey.”  He sighed, stretching his feet out on the coffee table and leaning back.  “And to think Clara spent the entire ride over to pick up Danny lecturing me about causing trouble.”  He rolled his head to the side to face her, grinning.  “Kid’s never gotten so lucky in his life.”

Rose considered the lingerie she’d helped Clara buy for Danny’s birthday the month before, and smirked.  “Not sure that’s true.”

It was adorable, watching his expression cycle through the various emotions of confusion as they graduated to understanding and then horror.  “I didn’t need to know that,” he said in disgust, making her giggle.

“You said it.”

He nudged her with his elbow, and she shifted on the cushions to avoid it, turning her body more towards his.

“So…”

“So,” she mimicked, pulling her legs up under her.  “I guess it’s official.”

Malcolm nodded, expression turning serious.  “Listen, I understand why you said it- believe me, I do- but… is that what you really want?  I hate to think of you putting your life on hold for this, no matter how good a cause.”

Rose shrugged one shoulder, toying with the corner of the afghan spread along the back of the couch.  “Oh, come on,” she said quietly, “we both know it was always going to go this way, don’t pretend.  And it’s not like I’ve got a serious boyfriend whose life will be affected by this.  I want to do this, I do.  What we have- I can’t lose it.  Professionally,” she added in a hurry, realizing how close it came to a confession.  “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeated, his tone a bit too flat.  “Are you-”

“Yes.”  She couldn’t help but smirk.  “Just think how badly this will piss off Missy.”

That got her a laugh.  “She’ll be furious,” he said fondly, “which for me is reason enough.  Now, when do you want to discuss this in detail?”

“Tomorrow?”  Pulling her mobile out of her back pocket, she opened the calendar.  “We’re both free at eleven- want to talk then?”

Malcolm nodded.  “Let’s order takeaway and talk over lunch- I’d take you somewhere nice, but it’s not exactly a conversation we want overheard.”

“Chips?”

“Anything you want,” he laughed, before briefly touching her knee.  “Really- anything.  For… all of this.  Name your price.”

Rose tilted her head, propping it up with an elbow on the back of the couch.  “Hmmm… well, you mentioned there would be actual duties and work and stuff with this, right?”

He nodded.

“Then a raise- not an extravagant one but something reasonable- would be fitting.”  She bit her lip, wondering if she should bring up her idea.

“What is it?”

“Clara said she and Danny are talking about getting a flat,” she said slowly, “something bigger and more centrally located than they have now.  You mentioned spare rooms… it would certainly be convincing if we were living under the same roof, which would leave my flat empty- which happens to meet all of their needs.”

Malcolm grimaced at that.  “Your logic is sound,” he allowed, “but I’m not sure how I feel about facilitating my daughter living with her boyfriend- even indirectly.”

“Probably about the same as she does about this.”

“Fair point.”  He reluctantly grinned.  “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’re not asking for much, though you certainly could.”

Rose rolled her eyes.  “I don’t need your money,” she reminded him, “and I’m getting plenty of benefits- a title, a raise, to live in a nice Townhouse, not losing my job…” not losing you, she let go unsaid, but she wondered if he could hear it in her tone anyway.  “Point is, you don’t need to bribe me, or feel guilty.  It could all be a lot worse.”

“It could.”  He grinned.  “I don’t know if you know but Jo was training a temp for about a week before you started.  Nice bloke, smart enough, but I don’t think anyone would buy that.”

She had to laugh, trying to picture that.  “I met him on my first day,” she snorted.  “Didn’t really seem your type, to be honest.”

“He just didn’t have the legs.”

“Oh, you’re a legs man!” Rose crowed, whacking his chest.  “I should’ve known.”  She thought she’d caught him staring a few times, and resolved to never wear trousers to work again unless absolutely necessary.

“What can I say, it works for me,” he protested, lips curling up.  “Can’t be explained.”

Lifting up slightly she uncurled her legs in favor of draping them over his lap.  “Mhmm, well, if you promise not to get too pervy, you can give me a foot massage,” she said innocently, wriggling her toes.  “These dogs are barking.”

“You’re barking.”  He laid a palm over the tops of her feet, and she enjoyed the innate warmth as much as the spark of their skin meeting.  “But I suppose I’m stuck with you now.”

“I suppose you are.”

And they shared bright smiles.

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

[itsallavengers]

Take Me For A Spin

Commission for @fd1922 , who asked:

Steve is a Police Officer and pulls Tony over for speeding. Tony has no luck charming or bribing him and swears to make Steve’s life hell for giving him a ticket, however nothing works as he plans.

This comes in at 10k

Tony had to admit, he probably hadn’t thought this through.

 It was late. The roads were empty. And come on, he’d just finished touching up the sports car he’d been painstakingly hyperfixating on for God only knows how long. That thing was his baby. He loved his car. He’d missed business meetings and weapons demonstrations and charity galas and sex in order to finish this car- that was how serious he’d been about it. And when it had been finished, his first thought had simply been ‘how fast will this thing go?’

And, y’know- the empty roads that winded around the coastline next to his house were right there. In his mind, the idea of taking it all the way to some racetrack for testing was just stupid.

Except for the fact that racetracks tended not to have cops that would chase after you if you started going fifty-odd miles over the speeding limit. That… probably should have been something he had taken into consideration, really.

He flicked his eyes up to the mirror and frowned as the motorbike with the flashing blue lights tried to catch up with him. Tony glanced down to the dash to see- whoa, okay, yeah, perhaps 110 mph was a little bit speedy. He was pretty sure the limit on this road was like, 65.

Whoops.

What cops waited around on empty roads like this one anyway? At 4:56 in the God Damned morning? Come on, this was hardly Tony’s fault.

Groaning in annoyance, he put his foot on the break as slowed himself down. Not that he couldn’t just pay the fine with the spare change in his pocket right there and then, but the cop might talk about removing his licence or something, and then he’d have to jump through all these damn hoops and he really couldn’t be bothered with that at 5 in the morning.

 Well. 110 wasn’t that bad, really. And Tony had charmed his way out of worse.

 Pulling over, Tony shut his eyes and sighed as he leaned back against the headrest. He hoped it was a woman. Power of averages usually meant that women were easier to flirt with, and he could use a little bit of luck right about n-

The motorbike pulled up behind him, and Tony could see immediately that nope, today there would be no luck for him. That was a guy. That was… a built guy, damn, Tony could see that from all the way back in his damn car.

The man dismounted effortlessly from his bike, and Tony watched as he pulled off his helmet and let it rest on the seat. The only thought that really popped into his mind after that was ‘wow’.

Adonis-Cop marched over, his back straight, his blonde hair sticking up at all angles from the helmet he’d previously had on, and Tony simply watched him through the rear-view mirror, mouth going dry. Okay, yeah, he was definitely changing his mind- he had to thank whatever God was watching him right then and there that this was not a woman, and was in fact a hunky 6-foot beauty. Holy shit. Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so attractive in his life. And that was saying something; he worked alongside Pepper Potts.

He refrained the urge to rev up the engine as Adonis-Cop made his way over to the driver’s seat. That would be crass.

Tony rolled down the window and looked up, smiling at Adonis-Cop with his white teeth. He’d shaved earlier that night, too, so at least he didn’t look scruffy. “Well hello, Offic-“

“Do you know how fast you’re going, sir?” Adonis-Cop cut in swiftly, arms folded, entirely unimpressed in front of him.

Tony stopped, glancing at his dash and then looking back up with another smile. “Well right now, Officer, I’m currently at zero.”

The cop didn’t even blink, but the look on his face made Tony certain that he was going to be one tough nut to crack. Tony couldn’t even blame him- anyone out at this time on the worst most boring shift in the whole world would undoubtedly be in a pissy mood. Tony would be lucky to get anything out of this at all except a hefty fine and some points added to his damned license, again.

“That was over 100 miles an hour back there,” Adonis-Cop waved down the road and then turned back, a dry look on his face. “The limit is 65.”

“Oh, my bad.” He shrugged, and then shot the Greek God-like cop a quick onceover. “What’s your name then, handsome?” He chose wisely to ignore the cop’s previous statements as he tapped his fingers against the wheel and grinned. “And how, may I ask, have I never seen you in these parts before?”

The cop looked at him, jaw clenching. “Rogers, sir. Officer Rogers. And I don’t see why you would be seeing me, unless you’re used to getting stopped by cops on a regular basis?” Rogers raised an eyebrow and hummed.

Tony was about to open his mouth and respond when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Behind Rogers was his bike; the ugly yellow painting that signified he was a cop standing out like an eyesore against the craggy roadside. It seemed fine to the average eye- but Tony was no average eye, and his brow creased as he zoned in on the machine.

A second later, he opened the door and stepped outside, neatly sidestepping Officer Adonis and shuffling toward the bike. Rogers turned with him, and Tony guessed there was a slightly confused look on his face. “Uh- sir-“

“Please, call me Tony,” he crouched down next to the bike and trailed his fingers across the metalwork. “I hate being called sir.”

“Okay then, Tony, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from th-“

“Did you know you’ve got a part of the exoskeleton just hanging off up here?” Tony gestured to a piece toward the back of the bike, around where Rogers’ feet would usually sit, and frowned in concern. It was slightly elevated away from the rest of the bike, and when Tony pressed against it, it creaked back into place before falling down again once his fingers left.

Rogers spluttered a little bit, and then when Tony turned to him, he noticed his cheeks had turned a little pink under the half-light of dawn. “I- Sir, Tony, that is none of your concern, I think we should focus on the matter at hand here-“

“Uh, the matter of hand here is that if you turned too sharp and this hit the concrete, you’re dead, buddy.” Tony shot him an incredulous look. “Why haven’t you gone to get this fixed?”

There was the sound of shuffling feet, and then Tony watched Rogers’ enormous shoulders shrug up and down. “I… uh, I’ve already broken two other bikes. Precinct said if I did it again I’d be paying from my own wage. Can’t exactly… afford that. It’s fine. I make sure to be careful around bends.”

Tony gaped at him, and then scoffed. “Well that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever fucking heard.” He stood back up and then marched forward, pulling open the door of his car and then slipping in before looking back up to a thoroughly bewildered Rogers. “Come on. You’re coming with me.”

Rogers blinked. “No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, Tony, I am not. I need to give you your ticket and you need to be on your way-“

“You can give me the damn ticket back at my place, but for now, I’m telling you to come with me so I can sort out your bike before you fall off and die.” He fluttered his eyelashes dramatically and tilted his head. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Rogers just huffed incredulously. “Sir, I like to make a point not to drive home with strangers who I’ve just had to give speeding tickets to.”

Tony watched him for a moment, before it clicked into place and his eyes widened in shock. “You don’t know who I am, do you,” he stated blankly.

Rogers seemed almost amused by that, cocking his head and holding back a smile. “Should I?” He asked.

Tony paused for a moment, and then in answer, he pulled out his wallet from the back of his pocket and handed over his licence to Rogers, before turning back and staring out into the road. He waited the two seconds it took for things to suddenly click in Rogers’ mind, and then he heard the audible gasp and muttered curse from outside the car.

“Tony Stark,” Rogers read out dumbly, “uh… oh. You’re the… the genius guy. The one on the news all the time. Oh.”

Tony turned his head back around, smiling as brightly as he could. “Am I allowed to fix your bike and possibly save your life now, Officer Rogers?” He asked.

The man open and shut his mouth like a goldfish for a few seconds, before looking back to his bike. “I can’t afford it, I already-“

“What, you think I’m gonna charge for this? It’ll take me like, two seconds. And if you hadn’t already gathered, I’m kind of rich as fuck. It’s fine. Freebie.”

Rogers frowned, as if that was just a little too good to be true. Tony figured it probably was pretty unusual, not the usual kind of scenario Officer Rogers would be having to deal with on his nightly shift.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of contemplation from the other man, Rogers threw up his hands in surrender. “Fuck it. Alright. I’m still fining you for speeding though, alright? This isn’t like, bribery. I’m just letting you do me a favour.”

“Don’t worry, your morality is still intact,” Tony rolled his eyes and slid a hand through his hair, gesturing to the motorcycle. “Just drive behind me until we get back to my place- and please, no sharp turns.”

“If you don’t speed, then we have a deal.”

Tony flashed a grin, turning back to the road and then revving up the engine like he’d wanted to do at the very start. “No promises, darling.”

    *

    He ended up sticking to the speed limits, if only to stop Rogers from following him and then crashing his faulty fucking bike. He got the feeling that the man would be petty enough to try it, even if it meant his death. Officer Rogers just seemed to radiate that sort of pettiness.

They pulled up to his mansion ten minutes later, and Tony got to watch as Rogers took off his helmet and released that floppy hair all over his face again. It truly was a wonderful sight to behold.

Rogers looked to him, shuffling a little awkwardly on his feet. “This is a… big place,” he stated in the end, looking up at the grand architecture with something akin to awe on his face.

Tony grinned, slipping out of the car. “Sure is,” he said airily, “gotta fit my big personality in there.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Rogers said, a wry note to his voice. Tony glanced at him once, before shaking his head and then walking over to the bike. He got down on his haunches again, stroking the machine gently.

“What’s the nasty cop done to you then, hmm?” Tony asked it softly, whilst Rogers just snorted up above. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll get you fixed in no time.” He looked up, and then glanced to the keys in Rogers’ hand. “I can ride it over to the transport deck and then you can just wait up in the lounge area if you want. Shouldn’t take more than half an hour-“

“I’d rather be there, if you don’t mind.” Rogers told him with an air that spoke of no argument. Seemed he was still a little bit tense about the whole thing. “I can ride it over, don’t worry.”

Tony just shrugged, gesturing the way. Rogers mounted swiftly, and Tony got a lovely view of the rather perfectly formed ass of his as he went, which was certainly a plus. They both made their way down to Tony’s garage where he kept all his tools, and as soon as Tony got inside, he instantly shucked off his jacket, knowing he would probably ruin it completely if he kept it on for a moment more. He clapped his hands once, and all the lights in the room flickered on. Rogers turned in surprise, and that look of awe was back on his face as he stared around the room at all the fancy cars and shining equipment that surrounded them. Tony hid a grin- nothing better than showing off to a pretty blond. And really, officer Rogers was the prettiest blond Tony had seen in a long time.

“Get comfy,” Tony gestured to the couch in the corner of the room, “entertain yourself for a while.”

“What are you gonna do to it?” Rogers asked, walking over to his bike with curiosity instead of the couch.

Tony made a vague gesture. “Solder it back up, nothing much. Looks like your suspension is a little worn-out too, so I might have a mess around with that.” He turned to Steve and shot him a little wink. “If this doesn’t get me out of points on my license, I really do not know what will.”

Rogers huffed and rolled his eyes. “Make no promises, Stark.”

“Ah, well that wasn’t a no, was it?” Tony tilted his head and then turned around to the bike, sitting down on his ass with his legs crossed. He glanced behind and spotted Rogers smiling at his back, face somewhat incredulous.

He settled down into his work, vaguely aware that Rogers was on a stool behind him, fiddling with a pen and paper on the desk as he watched Tony work.

“This feels kinda surreal,” Rogers admitted after a while, and Tony laughed a little as he wrenched a bolt into place. “And also wildly unprofessional.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s a shit job anyway.”

“I…” Steve audibly sighed. “Yeah, it’s true. You’re the first person I’ve even seen on that highway since I got the damned job.”

Tony paused, looking toward Rogers pityingly. The man just shrugged, and his smile was a little weary. “Something’s gotta pay for my apartment, Mr Stark. The early morning shift on a road no one even drives down just happens to be the thing that’ll get me the money.”

I’ll pay it, Tony almost said for a moment; a throwaway comment in the back of his mind. He didn’t, of course- he hadn’t even known Rogers for more than an hour and he already knew there was no way the man would take it. Far too prideful for that. Plus, Pepper had warned him that doing things like that tended to freak normal people out, and that wasn’t exactly what he wanted here. He’d moved on past charming himself out of a ticket to downright wooing techniques here, ever since he’d seen Rogers smile. It was a very, very nice smile. Tony wanted to see it more.

“My name’s Steve, by the way,” Rogers- well, Tony supposed it was Steve now- told him after a moment of silence. “Figured I should probably be on first-name basis with you now, seeing as you’re doing this for me.”

Tony waved a hand. “No problem, Ro- Steve. I could do this in my sleep, honestly.”

Steve chuckled, fiddling at the hem of his uniform. His damn shoulders could barely even fit into the thing, and Tony could see the buttons stretching around his chest. It should just look ridiculous, but it most certainly did not. Tony wanted to rip the damn thing right off him.

Maybe he’d keep the hat on, though.

Some time passed before he noticed Steve moving around the garage, and as he turned his head to check what he was doing, he saw the man looking down at the car that Tony had been speeding around in that night. His eyes were curious, and he had a face like that of a child in a candy shop. Tony got the feeling that Steve Rogers rarely got see expensive cars like that.

“What make is this?” Steve asked after a second, when he realized Tony was looking. “It’s stunning. I’ve never seen it before.”

“That’s because it’s not on the market,” Tony spun around and grinned, unable to stop the flutter of pride. “It’s mine. I built it.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You’re joking. Seriously? All of it?”

“All of it.”

Pale fingers brushed over the dark purple paintwork delicately. “Wow,” Steve breathed, turning to him. “That’s amazing.”

Tony couldn’t help but preen, and he sat up a little straighter. “Zero to sixty in 1.9 seconds,” he winked again at Steve’s sharp exhale. “You see why I wanted to give her a spin as soon as I could?”

“You’re bullshitting,” Steve shook his head firmly. “No way. Fastest car in the world can’t even get that far.”

“Well darling, that’s not the fastest car in the world any more, is it?” Tony leaned forward on his elbows and grinned wolfishly, feeding off Steve’s disbelief. So sue him, he was a bit of an attention whore when it came to impressing people of the likes of Mr Adonis Rogers. “Anyway, Bugatti bought blueprints for the engine they used off Stark Industries, AKA myself, anyway. So technically, I was just breaking my own record.”

Steve said nothing, but then he laughed somewhat hysterically. “I cannot believe this is happening to me at-” he glanced down at his watch, “-six in the morning. I feel as if I might be dreaming.”

Tony turned back to the motorbike, a smile on his face. “I’ll let you ride it if you agree to drop the speeding ticket.”

That brought on a longer pause, and Tony almost thought he’d got it, but then Steve scoffed. “No chance, Stark.”

Tony just laughed. Stubborn fucking bastard.

 They talked through the rest of the night (or, Tony supposed, early morning), and next time Tony looked up, the morning sun was filtering through the basement windows. He blinked, looking down at the motorbike under his hands. He’d fixed up the loose attachment in the first twenty minutes- since then he’d just been tinkering and making upgrades as he talked to Steve.

Huh. He wasn’t sure when the last time had been that he’d managed to talk to someone that long, with barely a pause.

 “Done,” he clapped his hands and shook the thought from his head, looking over to Steve who was now lounging over the desk and stroking the pencil over a pad of paper absently. He had beautiful hands, Tony noted. Agile. Strong. And God, the man’s biceps were probably bigger than Tony’s entire head. He really was… beautiful.

“Great!” Steve beamed at him, sitting up straighter, and Tony blinked as he snapped back into focus. Don’t think about Steve’s biceps. Don’t think about Steve’s biceps. Don’t think about Steve’s biceps. “Thank you, Tony. Really, this was great of you. I really appreciate it.”

Tony watched Steve as he inspected the bike in curiosity, his hands moving over the bike fondly. Steve probably wouldn’t notice any of the other modifications until he actually rode the thing, and so Tony kept his mouth shut about it. He preferred surprising him.

They brought the thing out from the garage, still chatting as they went. By that time, the sun was up and sending golden bursts of light over Steve’s face, his hair. He glowed under the sunbeams. His eyes were like oceans.

Oh God, since when had Tony become Shakespeare? This was just embarrassing.

“Well, I should probably get going,” Steve gestured awkwardly toward the gates of Tony’s mansion. “Thank you again. You did me a really big favour there. Oh, and before I forget-“ he shuffled around in his pockets, before pulling out the ticket pad with a wry smile.

Tony’s face fell, and he sighed loudly. “Really? After everything we’ve been through, Steven?”

“This was always the deal.”

“Oh, come on, I cannot believe-“

“110 miles per hour, Tony. 110. I have to do my job, unfortunately. I’m sure you’ll be able to scrape together the funds.” Steve shot him a dry look and then glanced over to Tony’s larger than life mansion, before breaking out into a small smile and then tearing off the ticket, holding it out for Tony to take with a look on his face that was far too smug for his liking.

Tony glared at him for a moment, before pinching the paper between two fingers and snatching it down, glaring at it mutinously. “I’m very offended at this betrayal,” he declared sulkily.

Steve beamed at him. Tony ended up grinning back. Damn it.

“Don’t let me catch you at that speed again, you hear me?” Steve called out behind him, mounting the bike once more and slipping the helmet onto his head. Tony folded his arms and watched him.

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I mean- I could get you arrested, so technically-“

“Alright, alright, don’t pull me up on technicalities, I’ve been awake for two days.” Tony waved him off with a huff, catching the man’s blue eyes through the visor and tamping down a smile. He opened his mouth, trying to figure out the right way to ask the officer who had ticketed him for speeding if he wanted to go get coffee sometime- somehow it felt harder than just asking your average Joe, really. Plus, he didn’t even know if Steve swung that way. He’d been getting that vibe, maybe, but that wasn’t exactly conclusive proof, and Tony didn’t really fancy getting rejected by what was probably the hottest and strangely genuine man he’d ever met in his entire life-

Of course, he was so lost in thought that by the time he managed to snap out of it and just ask, Steve was already revving up the engine and looking back down Tony’s driveway.

“Thanks for everything, Tony! Stay safe on the roads!” Steve called, waving a hand- and then he was gone, zooming down the concrete in what Tony was certain was over the speed limit.

Bastard.

He watched Officer Steve Rogers’ back as it disappeared around the corner, mouth still half-open with words he’d never been able to speak, and felt himself deflate a little. Not that he’d really been expecting anything from that, but…

Well. He’d had a nice night, that was all.

    *

    It was three days later until Tony had his idea.

 Halfway through a mouthful of lucky charms he’d been eating directly from the box, he inhaled sharply and then shot a look off to the clock on the counter. 4:13am. Insomnia was being a bitch again- but in this one instance, it may just have been his silver lining.

“JARVIS, I’m going out,” Tony declared, jumping off the counter and brushing crumbs from his shirt.

“Of course you are, Sir,” JARVIS answered, somewhat despairingly. “May I ask what the nature of this trip is?”

“True love.”

“That does make perfect sense. Will I need to have the Emergency Services on standby?”

Tony paused, before thinking it over and shrugging. “I don’t think so. I am merely going to do my best at wooing a particularly sarcastic Police officer who booked me for speeding a few days ago.”

“In that case, I wish you the best of luck, sir,” JARVIS told him, before adding in a quieter tone, “and will inform the fire services that something may possibly explode.”

Tony looked at the security camera, unimpressed. If JARVIS had a human body, he would’ve shrugged. “I am simply thinking ahead. Your track record with ‘wooing’ people has been almost comically disastrous so far.”

“Shut up, you stupid robot,” Tony groused, grabbing his keys and sticking his middle finger up into the empty room. JARVIS may have had a point there, but that didn’t mean that he had to say it.

Anyway. This time was going to be different. Tony was going to woo the fuck out of Officer Steve Rogers.

 Slipping into the car that had got him into this mess in the first place, Tony sped out of the gates and onto the road, fingers tapping against the wheel as he drove. It was a bit earlier than it had been the first time, but Tony figured he could just spend some time going back and forth down the highway if he had to.

He kept his eyes peeled as he drove, this time making sure to keep just slighty over the speed limit as he went. No need to piss Steve off further, after all. And this time, he wouldn’t be able to soften him up by fixing his bike. That piece of machinery probably wouldn’t need fixing for the next ten years now that Tony had messed around with it.

What could he say? He never did things by halves.

Turning the corner, he spun onto the road that followed the edge of the cliffs and couldn’t help but grin to himself as he felt the power in the engine. He fucking loved cars- he’d always wanted to work in a garage when he’d been a kid. There was just something intrinsically thrilling about them.

He wanted Steve in this car. Now that would be a thing of true beauty.

The powerful headlights lit the way for him, and he checked out his reflection in the rear-view mirror as he cut through the terrain. He’d gotten back from a late-night meeting a few hours earlier, so he was still in a semi-decent state. Small coffee stain on his chest, but that would probably go unnoticed, right? Unless Steve was observant, which he probably was, because, y’know, cop- should he go back and change? Was Steve going to think he was a clumsy unhygienic idiot if he didn’t? God, the shirt wasn’t even nice anyway, who the hell even wore Armani these days-

He spotted a yellow and blue motorcycle come into view under his headlights, and quickly slowed down before Steve caught him. Honest to God, he hadn’t even been that far above the limit that time- just been a bit tied up in his own thoughts.

With a sly grin, he pressed down on the horn and then watched Steve jump wildly up ahead, head turning to face the sound of the noise. He was lit up by the lights for a moment before Tony braked rapidly and then ground to a halt directly in front of Steve.

The look on the other man’s face was priceless.

“Hey, Officer,” Tony cocked his head and shot Steve a once-over. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“Tony,” Steve said his name dumbly, before blinking a few times and then huffing in surprise. “What are you- why-“

“I was bored,” Tony shrugged absently, pulling off the road and then cutting the engine. “Figured no one else would be awake at such a ridiculous time other than my favourite police officer.”

“I- I gave you a speeding ticket and made you fix my bike at 6 in the morning.”

Tony just rolled his eyes, slipping out of the car and then brushing against Steve’s shoulder as he hopped onto the hood of his car. Steve’s hand half went out as if to stop him before he caught himself and just curled it into a fist. Tony grinned. “Worried about the paintwork?”

“That paintwork probably costs more than my whole apartment, so yes, you could say I am,” Steve told him, leaning back on his bike in a way that made Tony’s mouth go dry. Oblivious to that fact, Steve simply grinned, looking over to Tony in amusement. “What are you really doing here, Tony? Trying to land yourself another ticket?”

Tony lay back on the hood, hands pillowing behind his head as he gazed up at the stars. “I wanted to see you again,” he admitted bluntly, “you interest me.”

“Is that so?” Steve asked him, voice sounding as if he was simply humouring Tony. “Because yeah, I am definitely one of the most interesting things you could be engaging with in Malibu.”

Tony looked up at him. “Pretty much, yeah,” he shrugged, flopping back down. “You make me laugh. And you didn’t take my bullshit. Kinda dig that, not gonna lie.”

He watched Steve shake his head and smile, looking away. When he rested his hands behind him and on the bike, Tony watched his muscles tense with a riveting sort of fascination. God, Tony wasn’t even sure what he was doing- it was almost impossible that someone like Steve wasn’t already taken. The notion of Tony even having a shot was just ridiculous.

Ah, well. Tony was going to try anyway.

“What’s your favourite colour?” He asked when the silence got a little too long, and Steve turned to him with a small frown, thrown by the randomness of the question.

“Orange,” he said slowly.

“Why?”

Steve turned his head, and looked toward the horizon, where the first few rays of light were just beginning to wake the world around them. “I love the sunlight,” he said simply. “It’s the most beautiful thing in the world that is available to the masses, for free, every day.”

Tony couldn’t say he’d ever thought about it like that. Sun was just that star thing that told him it was time to get some fucking sleep. But he liked how Steve put it. “What about your favourite number?”

Steve turned to him, half amused, half confused. “Why are we playing twenty questions?”

Tony sat up, rubbing absently at the coffee stain on his chest. When he looked up, Steve was staring at him. “I want to get to know you,” Tony told him simply.

A small crease popped up on Steve’s face, before smoothing out into a bashful smile. “Eight,” he said, “my favourite number is eight.”

“Favourite food?”

“Street Vendor corndogs.”

“God, I knew you were a New Yorker!” Tony pointed a finger accusingly and Steve laughed, “absolutely no one except New Yorkers would ever say that, ever.”

Steve’s laugh was lovely. Tony wanted to record the thing and then just listen to it, or bottle it and then keep it on his desk or something equally ridiculous. Over the course of their conversation, he got to hear that laugh a handful more times, and each time it just seemed to get better and better. As time went on, Tony noticed that the way Steve moved was entrancing as well- he was huge, but fluid. Almost graceful. And his hands, God, Tony couldn’t stop looking at them, he was pretty sure he was developing an obsession. As Steve moved them up to run through his hair, Tony caught a fleck of something purple crawling around his thumb. There was some green too, just under his cuff.

“You paint,” Tony blurted in surprise, and then watched as Steve paused, looking at Tony in surprise. In response, Tony gestured to his wrist. “You’ve… there’s paint on your hands.”

Steve looked down, and then rubbed at the marks. “Oh,” he said slowly, “yeah. Yeah, when I can afford to.”

Tony watched him; the way his face clouded over for just a moment, before he hid it away again and smiled. Tony guessed that Steve rarely got around to affording it. There was a reason he took this boring shift, after all.

“You should meet Pepper,” he said firmly, “she’s an art freak too. She’d love to have someone to gossip with it about. Gotta admit, it goes right over my head, but I’m sure I’d love whatever you drew anyway.”

Steve smiled and looked down, adorably bashful. God, it was slightly concerning how fast Tony was swooning over that. “I’d like that,” he murmured, “you- y’know, seeing it. If you want.”

Tony smiled, his heart ratcheting up a few beats. That was definitely an opening. That right there was definitely an opening, and Tony needed to take that, right now-

 At that moment, a car rounded the corner revving loudly, and way over the speed limit.

 Of fucking course.

 Steve jerked his head up, and then a second later he was stumbling onto his bike, ramming the helmet onto his head. “Sorry, gotta go!” He yelled, before kicking off the brake and turning onto the road after him, lights flashing.

Tony watched him, bemused as he rode off after the poor speeder. Well- that had been a very abrupt ending to what had almost been a date. He huffed in annoyance and kicked a rock that was too near to his foot. It didn’t really help vent his frustrations much.

With a small sigh, Tony checked his watch. 6am. He’d been talking to Steve for two hours, again. And he still hadn’t ballsed up and just asked the guy on a goddamn date.

 “Next time,” he hissed to himself, sliding back into his car and pouting at his reflection in the mirror. “Next time, Stark, you hear?”

    *

    Steve hadn’t shown up the next day when Tony drove down.

Obviously, it hadn’t been guaranteed that he would. But Tony had been sort of expecting to be able to ask him, and so he’d stayed up all night preparing, and then when no Steve had appeared, he could admit he’d been a little disappointed.

But no matter, Tony thought as he drove home at seven that morning, rubbing his eyes tiredly. There was always tomorrow.

So he went home. Didn’t get more than an hour’s sleep, mind you- too busy working on projects and thinking about how best to ask Steve for coffee in a way that didn’t sound ridiculous. It was surprisingly difficult. He just… he really didn’t want to mess this up before anything could even begin. He really liked Steve. Like… really liked him. It was weird. Tony didn’t usually feel this strongly toward people he had only met a handful of times. But there was just something about the guy- like Tony had said earlier, he didn’t take any of Tony’s bullshit. He was genuine. Kind. Funny, but in a way that you would easily miss if you didn’t look hard enough.

It had been less than a goddamn week, and Tony was smitten.

Fuck.

He sighed, knocking his head against the desk and shutting his eyes. He could feel a headache forming behind his eyes from the lack of sleep, and he could barely focus on any of the work in front of him. Pepper would probably kill him when she next saw him. That was, if he didn’t die of blue balls first.

“May I point out that it has been 68 hours since your last proper rest, and in that period of time you have yet to consume a product that is not coffee or Twinkies, Sir,” his AI spoke up above him, his voice calmly exasperated. Like he always did, Tony felt himself taken back to his childhood; to the real Jarvis, who’d taken exactly the same tone with him when he’d been pulling shit like this back then. It brought a wave of soothing fondness over him and he smiled against the tabletop, pushing himself back up.

“Coffee and Twinkies have all the nutrients my body requires, J.”

“I’m afraid to tell you that you are absolutely incorrect.”

“You don’t know my body, JARV- I am a temple of health, of knowledge-“

“With your best interests at heart, Sir, I must say your body is more akin to a wasting pile of garbage than a temple of health right now.”

Tony stopped, and then shot off a dirty look to the security camera. “You are the worst, most unsupportive Robot ever.”

“Merely trying to keep you alive, sir,” JARVIS replied primly, and Tony just huffed, rolling his eyes. He was being bullied by his own AI- this was really what his life had come to. Being called a pile of human garbage by your own supercomputer. This really was a new low.

He leaned back and stretched like a cat, feeling the vertebrae pop in his spine. He’d been hunched over the desk for far too long, he needed to get out. Go for another spin or something- maybe just drive by the road Steve worked on, just to check. Plus he’d tweaked the engine a tad whilst he’d been sulking, and so he might have even shaved off a little bit of the pretty much non-existent lag. Had to test that out, right?

“Okay, I’m going out,” Tony declared to the empty room, getting to his feet clumsily and grabbing his keys from the desk, “don’t wait up, JARV.”

“Sir, are you really sure that it is a good idea for you to be in control of the wheel right now?” JARVIS asked him in exasperation. “You run the risk of falling asleep on the road-“

“I have never in my life fallen asleep behind the wheel,” Tony held up a finger pointedly, “except from one time, and it was barely even a car. It was a dodgem, and I was slightly intoxicated at a fair-“

“-Heavily inebriated at a children’s party, you mean?”

Tony glared. “You are the worst. I told you not to mention that day. And it wasn’t a children’s…” He shook his head and turned on his heel. “You know what, never mind. I do not have time for this. I need to leave and find the official love of my life, Officer Steve Rogers.” He lifted his chin haughtily and stalked out of the workshop, keys clutched in his hand. If JARVIS could have rolled his eyes, Tony knew he would’ve. It was the reason he hadn’t built a body for the asshole- he wasn’t sure he could bear that level of sarcasm thrown his way on a daily basis.

Jumping up the steps two at a time, he checked out his appearance in the reflective chrome surface and pulled a face. He could probably do with brushing his hair. And putting on socks.

Ah, well. He was sure Steve wouldn’t mind, right?

He jumped into the car without a second thought, rubbing his eyes and then slapping his cheeks a few time. He had to be on top form if he wanted to woo Steve. Steve deserved a quality wooing.

Fuck, he was tired.

He shook his head and tried not to think about how it probably wasn’t a good idea to try seducing a cop whilst severely sleep deprived. He was Tony Stark- he could totally seduce a cop whilst sleep deprived. It would be fine. And Steve liked him- Tony was pretty much sure of it. It’d be a piece of cake.

Without a second thought, he put the keys in ignition and then revved the engine, pulling out of his drive and into the night.

    *

    He’d been driving for ten minutes, and he could already feel his eyelids start to droop.

 Whoops.

 Sighing heavily, he turned on the overhead lights and put the music on blast in an attempt to attack his senses enough to keep him conscious. But when that failed to help, he admitted defeat and pulled over with a loud groan.

Great. Now he was going to miss Steve, again.

He was still a mile or so away from where Steve was usually stationed. Tony would miss him; too busy napping on the side of the damn road. Maybe JARVIS had been right thirty hours ago, when he’d suggested Tony got some rest. Sure was coming to bite him in the ass now.

Well. He was here now- he might as well get in a small amount of rest before the sun rose.

Leaning forward, he braced his forearms over the wheel and then sunk his head into the crook of them, letting his heavy eyelids droop and shut completely. The overly loud rock music was nothing more than background noise in his ears, and he could already feel the first pull of sleep begin to wrap itself around his mind-

 “Sir, are you oka- wait, Tony?”

 Jerking upright rapidly at the sound of that familiar deep voice, he blinked in surprise and turned his head to the window. Above him, Officer Steve Rogers was leaning over the car in concern and surprise, staring at Tony as if he’d just grown a second head. “What the hell are you doing at the side of the road playing Bohemian Rhapsody loud enough to wake the dead?” He asked incredulously.

Tony zoned back in to the sound of echoing voices all screaming ‘Galileo!’ obnoxiously loudly. He blinked again. “Oh.”

“Tony?” Steve sounded concerned now. “Are you okay?”

“Mm,” Tony nodded his head and rubbed his eyes, hand fumbling for the volume and turning down the classic but also slightly grating music. “Sorry. I was just… catching some sleep. Tired.”

Steve shook his head. “Why were you out at this time driving if you’re so…” he broke off and then widened his eyes, cocking his head. “Were you coming out to see me?” He asked.

Tony sighed, leaning back and smiling. “I was going to woo you with my seductive charm,” he said, the words jumbling into one another in their haste. “You know how it is. I’m Tony Stark- I don’t need sleep. But you didn’t show up yesterday. I didn’t go to sleep, I was too busy plotting. And then… it’s been 70 hours? Ish? I’m kinda tired.”

Steve paused, trying to process the stilted and pretty much nonsensical words that fell from Tony’s mouth. Then the tiniest, most tentative smile began to crawl over his face. It was lovely. “You were trying to woo me?” He asked slowly.

Tony just nodded. He was too tired to think of any other bullshit. “With my seductive charm,” he clarified.

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment- but then he laughed. A surprised little snort that sounded absolutely wonderful. “You’re mad,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re absolutely… so what? You haven’t slept for three days because you kept trying to catch me?”

“Pretty much?”

“Oh God.” Steve held his head in his hands and chuckled, head still shaking back and forth. Tony was unsure of the signals he was receiving here- was Steve happy or despairing?”

“I’d say a little bit of both,” Steve told him, and oh- Tony must have been talking out loud. “Tony Stark, you are… absolutely ridiculous. Do you know how stupid that was? Driving whilst sleep deprived is completely idiotic. You could easily have fallen asleep at the wheel, and no amount of Freddie Mercury would’ve helped that.” He sighed, and then stepped back, hand going for the handle of Tony’s door. “I’m going to have to ask you to exist the vehicle, sir,”

Uh oh. That never boded well. Tony looked up at him in concern, trying to discern whether or not Steve was frowning or smiling. “Uhhhh- why?” He asked curiously.

Steve folded his arms, pulling open the door and then gesturing Tony out of it. “Just get out of the damn car, Tony,” he said through a fond sigh. His eyes were twinkling under the half-light of dawn again, and Tony thought about how beautiful he looked. God, Steve could do so much better than some shitty nightshift on a road no one even gave a fuck about. He should be a model. Or- or an artist. Tony hadn’t seen any of his stuff, but he bet that he was good. He had the hands for it. And the temperament. Yeah- he’d make a call to Pepper, have her introduced to Steve, and then he’d see what they could-

“Tony?” Steve asked, waving a hand in front of Tony’s face, and he jerked a little in surprise, coming back to the present.

“Right,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Out the car. Got it.”

With a small stumble, he slipped off the black leather seats and then stood upright, straightening out his collar self-consciously as he did so. Steve looked at him as if he were holding back a smile, and then he took Tony by the arm with gentle fingers. His touch was warm, skin soft. “Come on,” he said slowly, beginning to pull Tony around the hood of the car.

Tony frowned, looking up at Steve in confusion. “Where are we going?” He asked, searching around them for a sign. Steve just shook his head and turned his head again, trying to hide the smile that Tony knew was on his face.

Well. At least he was making the guy laugh, he supposed.

Steve walked them around to the other side of the car, and then opened the door of the shotgun seat, one hand still around Tony’s bicep. He made a gesture, and then soft hands moved from his arm to his head, pushing down gently. “In you go,” he said in amusement, and Tony obeyed, ducking under the roof of the car and then plopping clumsily into the passenger seat. Steve shut the door with a soft click and then straightened up, walking back around the hood until he got to the driver’s seat. Without hesitation, he slipped in and put his hands on the wheel before turning to Tony. “I’m taking you home,” he said with a smile. “Any arguments will be considered an obstruction of Justice and I will arrest you.”

Tony blinked at him as Steve stared, completely serious except for the twinkle in his lovely blue eyes. Eventually, Tony just grinned, leaning forward against the dash and winking. “Only if you cuff me first.”

At that, a wonderful pink blush crawled up the side of Steve’s face, and his hands spasmed against the steering wheel. “Careful what you wish for, Stark,” he muttered, before pressing a foot down on the accelerate and then pulling out onto the road. His eyes widened in surprise, and he whistled under his breath. “Oh, wow,” he looked at the dashboard, awed, “this thing has a hell’uva kick.”

Tony smiled, turning his body so that he was facing Steve on the seat. “That’s what it is,” he clicked his fingers clumsily. “Brooklyn. I fucking knew it was Brooklyn.”

When Steve turned to him, Tony waved a hand at Steve’s face. “Your accent,” he mumbled in response, “it’s a Brooklyn accent. I’ve been trying to discern it ever since I met you.”

Steve laughed again, and Tony felt the car speed up a little more on the road. He glanced at the dash- any faster, and it was going to be Steve who was breaking the limit, which sure would be fucking ironic. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Well, that’d be no fun, would it?”

Steve shook his head again, and when he glanced over to Tony, his gaze was remarkably soft. He opened his mouth a fraction, words on the tip of his tongue- but nothing was said. Steve closed his mouth again, simply sighing. “You can nap in the car if you want,” he said, “in fact, I recommend it.”

Tony didn’t want to. He wanted to look at Officer Steve Rogers for as long as physically possible. “’M’Good,” he said, hitching his legs up and then resting them on the dash- or at least, until Steve leaned over and slapped them off. Tony glared at him as the man just looked out onto the road and hid another smile. “You do realise this is my car, right?”

“Your very expensive car. Anyway, I’m driver for the night. Shotguns have no authority over car control.”

“That’s complete bullshit.”

“Check the highway code, I learned that at Police Academy.”

Tony spluttered. “I’m pretty sure they don’t teach that at Police Academy, Steve.”

“Out of the two of us, which one has been to Police Academy?” Steve challenged with a raised eyebrow, before nodding resolutely when Tony said nothing. “See. Your silence means I’m right.”

Tony just rolled his eyes and flicked Steve behind the ear. His heart felt warm and full. It was an unusual feeling- then again, Steve was an unusual person. An anomalous. Tony didn’t know why he had the effect he did on Tony, but whatever the reason, Tony was falling for it. Hard. Steve was… great.

Despite his best efforts, he must have drifted off sometime during the ride, because the next time he opened his eyes, Steve was in the process of getting out of the car and walking over to Tony’s side. Once more, dawn was just beginning to throw some light on the world, and the milky light made Steve’s face glow like an angel’s. Tony could look at him all day. He watched all the way as Steve moved over to him, and when he opened Tony’s door, he smiled.

“Home sweet home,” Steve said. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Tony unbuckled once more and stumbled out of the car with all the grace of what he could only really describe as a demented seal. Steve didn’t seem to mind though- he was still smiling. Tony would take that as a win. And of course; when Steve wrapped his hand tentatively around Tony’s waist and pulled him a little closer in order to ‘help him get inside’, Tony decided that yes, his wooing had definitely worked.

Leaning in further to Steve’s warm side, Tony felt his eyes begin to droop once more. He really was exhausted. And Steve was comfy. Like a big, muscly pillow. Tony would definitely like to fall asleep on Steve at some point. Hopefully soon.

He heard JARVIS greeting them quietly as they walked in, and quickly explained the basics of him to Steve before he could freak out about it. Steve seemed thoroughly impressed by it, and his hand squeezed against Tony’s side. Tony got the feeling that Steve was going to be very good for his ego.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been grateful for getting a speeding ticket before,” Tony mumbled against his shoulder, whilst trying to force his eyes to remain open.

He heard Steve’s laughter vibrating through his throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever been grateful for giving out a speeding ticket before,” he responded softly. “Now- I am just wandering aimlessly through your building right now, so you mind telling me where your room is?

Tony waved a vague hand, allowing JARVIS to take over and lead Steve toward his room on the other side of the mansion. As they walked through, Tony watched Steve’s fascinated gaze roam through every art piece that Pepper had made him put up on the walls. To him, they just looked like mismatched splotches of paint, but apparently to Steve they meant something else entirely, because the man seemed enthralled by them.

“You can have ‘em, if y’want,” Tony mumbled into his skin, looking up. “Prob’ly appreciate ‘em more than me.”

Steve spluttered, shaking his head. “Tony, these are way too expensive. They’re beautiful. They’re… true art. They might belong in your mansion, but they sure as hell don’t belong in my apartment.

Tony scoffed. “You’re beautiful art, and you’re living in your apartment. They’d fit right in.”

Steve froze for a moment, and then he guffawed loudly. He turned down to look at Tony with a huge smile and pink-coloured cheeks, and Tony wanted to kiss them so bad. “Wow. That was smooth, Stark.”

“See- totally got the wooing thing down. You just… throw me off sometimes.” Tony pouted, pushing his hair away from his eyes. “But I am totally cool. Really. Like, I’m talking a completely suave, professional dude. I can charm the pants of a rattlesnake, that’s me-“

“You just stayed awake for three days in order to try and ask me on a date,” Steve told him wryly. “I found you drooling over your steering wheel and playing Queen at 4 in the morning.”

Tony didn’t really have anything to say to that, so he settled for simply shoving Steve into the wall. Which, of course, failed- Steve was built like a brick. He actually ended up falling back himself, stumbling over his own feet at the momentum gained from trying to push Steve away. It was okay though, because before he could land on his ass, a quick pair of hands grabbed his waist and held him in place. Tony’s arms wrapped instinctively around Steve’s neck, and then suddenly they were almost nose to nose, Steve’s beautiful blue eyes staring intently at Tony’s own for a moment, before dropping helplessly down to his mouth.

Tony licked his lips, and then before he could even process it, Steve had spun them back upright and had Tony pinned against the wall, one hand braced above Tony’s head, and the other pressing down on his chest firmly. He was still looking at Tony’s mouth.

“Please can I kiss you?” Steve asked quietly, because of course Steve was the type of person to ask that sort of question in a situation like this. It wasn’t exactly like Tony could have been any more obvious, save for painting ‘I am nuts for Steve Rogers’ on his forehead- but apparently that wasn’t good enough for Mr. Morality over there.

“Go for it, Officer,” Tony said with a grin, and then before he could even take another breath, Steve’s mouth was on his, hot and heavy and absolutely delicious. Tony felt a big hand wrap around his neck, and his own fingers curled across Steve’s chest, felt all that glorious muscle under his digits, wow-

Steve made a low noise in the back of his throat and pressed Tony further into the wall. Tony breathed in sharply, tracing the seam of Steve’s lips with his tongue and then barely holding back a whine as Steve suddenly bent down and hefted him up into his arms, hands curled around Tony’s ass.

Oh wow.

It was only when Steve pushed Tony against the door and then fumbled it open that Tony realised they’d reached his room, and immediately his excitement rocketed. So, Steve counted this as third date, huh? Brilliant. Tony was absolutely, utterly down for that.

Steve walked them forward a few more steps, his mouth working against Tony’s own with boundless enthusiasm, and once he’d reached the centre of the room, he threw Tony on the bed as if he didn’t weigh a thing- and okay, yeah, this time Tony groaned. So fucking sue him, Steve was strong as shit-

He was rather surprised, of course, when instead of covering Tony’s body with his own, he yanked at the blanket at the bottom of Tony’s bed, and then placed that over Tony instead.

 He stared at it for a moment, and then at Steve- breathing slightly heavily and with dark eyes, but a shit-eating grin on his face- and then it clicked.

 “Oh you teasing bastard,” Tony hissed, starting to sit up- but Steve pushed him back down again, his hand firm against Tony’s shoulder. “I cannot believe- no, this is not allowed-“

“You need to sleep, Tony,” Steve told him through a smile, leaning closer as he whispered in Tony’s ear, “now get some, or I swear I will cuff you to the bed. And not even in the sexy way.”

Tony paused, before cocking an eyebrow and tucking his head against Steve’s cheek. “Darling, there is no way I will not find that at least a little bit sexy, come on.”

Steve just rolled his eyes. His hand was still running along Tony’s shoulder, and it was pretty soothing- and now that he was lying horizontally in his bed, he could admit that his eyes were beginning to get heavy again.

Dammit.

“I hate you,” Tony muttered, already feeling the pull of sleep begin just under his eyelids. “Hate you so much.”

Steve chuckled, hand moving to stroke though Tony’s hair, which was the worst decision, really, fuck, that just felt even better- “No you don’t,” he whispered, leaning over and then pressing a soft kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Get some sleep, Tony. Then we’ll talk, okay?”

Tony grumbled incoherently, pushing his head into Steve’s touch. His eyes shut of their own accord, and he savoured the feeling of hands in his hair whilst it lasted, because at this rate he knew he was going to be out any second- God, Steve was good, and he’d only known Tony for a handful of days, what the fuck-

 “Goodnight, Tony,” Steve said softly, and that was the last thing that Tony got to hear before he clocked out entirely, drifting off into a well-needed sleep.

    *

    He woke up slowly, to sunlight streaming through the windows behind him.

His face was smushed into the pillow uncomfortably, and his hair covered his eyes. With a few blinks, he nudged it out of the way and then opened his eyes painfully, squinting against the brightness of the room.

He felt… strangely well-rested. Huh.

Sitting up slowly, he yawned and then palmed a hand over his face. It was a beautiful day outside, and he could see the bright blue waves crash into the beach down below him when he peered out of the window.

When he checked the clock on the bedside table, however, he had to do a double-take.

13:09. What in the fuck?

“JARVIS?” Tony asked incredulously, “have I just slept through the entire morning?”

“It appears so, sir,” His AI replied wryly, and Tony choked, because no way, that never happened. He was an early riser and late sleeper- he must have been absolutely exhausted for him to sleep for that long.

A second later, however, everything from last night came rushing back, and he gasped audibly into the empty room.

Steve. Steve had taken him home after he’d found him asleep by the side of the road. Steve had kissed him, Shit, Tony could remember how good that had felt. And then he’d been thrown on the bed and somehow bamboozled into falling asleep, though God knows how, not when Steve had been pressing up against him like that.

“Is he still here?” Tony got out of bed hurriedly, looking around the room as if expecting Steve to pop out from behind the curtains or something.

“I’m afraid he left a few minutes after you fell asleep, Sir,” JARVIS responded, and Tony stopped, sagging in the middle of the room. Oh. Right. “He did, however, leave something for you on the dressing table, if you would like to see it.”

Tony paused, and then turned to the piece of furniture on his left. Walking over to it, he looked around for something out of place, and found it pretty sharpish. He noticed, with a huff of surprised laughter, that it was the speeding ticket Steve had given him the first time they’d met. Tony had been keeping it on the dash of his car ever since, and Steve must have spotted it whilst he’d been driving Tony home.

Picking it up with two delicate fingers, he held it up to the light and then saw that there was writing on the back of it. He turned it around, and then felt his heart speed up at the sight of what could only be Steve’s phone number, sprawled out in pencil. Underneath it was a short note:

‘Sorry for leaving you hanging last night. Call me when you feel a little bit more alive- hell, I’ll probably go over the limit in order to get to you faster.

65 is a shit speed anyway. Especially with a car like that’

 Tony burst out laughing. “JARVIS?” he asked into the room.

“Yes, sir?”

“Remind me to take Steve to a racetrack for our first date.”

AO3 // Donate to my ko-fi!

#itsallavengers writes #no power au #stevetony #commissions #this was actually great fun to write I loved it thank you so much for the commssion!

[letmeletmetrashyourlove]

Careful

Part Two of the Four Horsemen Collab! 

(gif credit dutsyharrington)

Summary: Reader struggles balancing her home life and school.

Welcome to the Four Horsemen collab fic! Each of us will be writing and posting parts of this story, but you never know who is going to post the next part, so keep your eyes peeled on all of our blogs!

Dot: @stevesdacre

Emma: @hairringtonsteve

Lidi: @letmeletmetrashyourlove

Rachael: @dacrethehalls

PART ONE

PART TWO (This one!!) 

PART THREE (tba)

PART FOUR (tba)

“Like I said, no worries.” He grinned at me. “So how was your lunch?” 

        “It was fine.” I lied, adjusting the papers in my arms and rifling through the pile to find my schedule.

He must’ve noticed my shaking hands as he placed his hand on top of mine,

        “Hey. Slow down.” He murmured, his voice smooth and even.

        “Sorry,” I breathed, “I just am still trying to figure out my schedule and where all my classes are and I don’t know which room I should go to for this class because it says the teacher’s classroom is number 137 but it says to go to the courtyard so I don’t know if I go to the courtyard or the classroom because I went to the courtyard and nobody was there so I left but now I can’t find the class-” I blabbered, my mind running a thousand miles per minute.

        “What did I say about slowing down?” He cut off.

        “Sorry.”

        “I was lost when I got here too, stop apologizing.” He reassured.

        “Sorry.”

He raised his eyebrows at me,

        “Shit. Sorr- Dammit.” I sputtered, feeling a burning blush rise up on my cheeks.

        “Anyway. It’s Mrs. Danver’s English class. She’s some old hippie, so if it’s nice out, they hold it in the courtyard, but since it’s winter they’re having it in her classroom. Two doors down,” He directed, pointing over his shoulder.

        “Thanks.” I sighed, “Sorry for running into you. Shit. Dammit. Fuck.” I stammered, shaking my head. Stop saying sorry. Stop talking. Just stop talking and walk down the hall. Don’t embarrass yourself any more.

Billy let out a soft chuckle,

        “No problem, doll.”

I scurried down the hall and into the classroom. The teacher gave her “Please make our new student feel welcome” speech before allowing me to introduce myself.

        “Hi. I’m Y/N. I’m from California.” I recited, all but sprinting to an empty seat before the teacher could say another word. I sat down beside a floppy-haired boy,

        “Hey, I’m Steve. Welcome to Hawkins.” He greeted, showing me a lopsided grin.

        “Oh, yeah. You bought my lunch earlier… Thanks again, by the way.”  I whispered, tucking my hair behind my ear and pulling out my notebook.

I struggled to focus on the board and what the teacher was writing, but at this point in the day, I was thoroughly drained. Emotionally and physically. The pit in my stomach from the night before never really left and the stress of uprooting my life was catching up with me after several weeks of trying to force it down.

Murmurings of my name from beside me pulled me from my trance,

        “Huh?” I questioned, looking over at the brown haired, brown eyed boy.

        “I said you should come to the basketball game tonight. Make some new friends.  Pretty much the whole school comes.” Steve suggested.

        “Oh, I don’t know. I might have to watch Matty tonight…”

        “Matty?”

        “Oh. Sorry.” I shook my head, “My little brother. He’s six.”

        “Bring him along! He’ll love it.” Steve smiled.

        “He’s not much of a sports kid,” I smirked to myself, recalling the last time he tried to play soccer, he wept when the kid from the other team took the ball away from him. He was far too sensitive for his own good.

        “Come on, it’s at 6:30. You should come!”

        “I’ll think about it.”

The final bell rang and I darted out of the building, for once embracing the winter breeze through my hair. I breathed in the frosty air, filling my lungs a few times as I tried to calm myself. I continued up the sidewalk.

When I arrived home, Matty was sitting on the front porch shivering. His arms were wrapped around himself in an attempt to maintain whatever body heat he had left.

        “Matty!” I hollered, rushing over to him.

        “D-d-d-doors locked.” He chattered through cold lips.

I let out a groan, digging into my backpack for my keys. The car wasn’t in the driveway, telling me that mom wasn’t home. Her new job didn’t start for another week, god knows where she had run off to. I pulled the boy to his feet and ushered him inside.  

        “Go take a hot shower,” I instructed.

He stripped off his layers, running into the bathroom on cold, stiff legs. I let out a sigh, hanging his damp hat and gloves above the radiator to dry out. I remained by it for a few moments, rubbing my chilled hands together before digging into my backpack.

I pulled out my biology ‘notes’. And by notes, I mean the few sentences I had managed to scribble about how… the human body reacts to bacteria? I think? To be honest, I could hardly read my own handwriting.

Thankfully, we had already gone over it at my old high school so I dug out my old notes and began my homework.  

Matty returned from the shower a few moments later, his skin flushed from the warm water. 

        “Better?” I asked.

        “Mhm.” He hummed, making a beeline to the pantry and digging out a bag of goldfish. He crammed his face full of the crackers, leaving crumbs all over the counter.

        “Hey. Slow down, piggy.” I teased.

        “The cold makes me hungry!” He declared through a mouthful.

        “You have any homework, kiddo?”

He nodded, running to his backpack and pulling out a red folder. He dug out three pieces of paper, one on math, one on spelling, and one that was an ‘about me’ page.

I sighed as I looked at the papers, missing the good old days where I only had to do basic addition and know how to spell four letter words. 

I grinned at him as I watched the gears turn in his head, holding up his fingers as he added up numbers. His face would light up as he realized what the answer was.  

I continued to work on my own homework until I felt him tug on my sleeve. I glanced over at him to see him staring at his about me page in confusion.

        “Need help, bud?”

        “How do you spell giraffe?” He questioned, pointing to the line on his page that asked what his favorite animal was. 

“G-I-R-A-F-F-E.” I spelled out. 

He scribbled it down on his paper before glancing back up at me.

        “What about this part? Should I write down daddy?” 

The question was who he lived with. He wrote down Mommy, Sissy, and Gizmo (his imaginary friend). 

There was still no word of if dad was going to join us in Hawkins. My bets were on no, but Matty didn’t need to hear that, not on his first day at a new school.

        “Yeah. Go ahead.”

After a few more moments of silence, he sprang up from his stool and put his homework back in his bag.

        “Can I watch some cartoons now!?” He begged, holding his hands in front of him in a praying position.

        “Go ahead, munchkin,” I responded.

He grinned widely before taking off into the living room.

The front door opened, revealing mom standing there with a couple of paper bags. From the shape of them, I could tell they held bottles of liquor. Her eyes had faded from their bright red color this morning and instead, her exhaustion appeared in the bags under her eyes. 

        “Hey, mama.” I greeted, offering her a pitiful smile.

        “Hi.” She murmured, setting the bottles down on the counter.

She silently reached for a glass from the cabinet, pouring herself an entirely too large glass of whiskey. Straight whiskey.

        “Uh. Mom, you might want to take it easy.” I suggested eyebrows cocked as she downed the glass in a few brief seconds.

        “Mm fine.” She hummed, pouring herself more.

        “Mom,” I warned, dismay written all over my face as she filled up another glass and didn’t bother to mix it with anything. I hadn’t seen her this bad in a long time. I wondered if the call she had gotten last night was confirmation that dad wasn’t coming to Indiana after all. I decided not to press her on the subject, the discussion not being one that should be had unless she was sober.

        “Mommy!” Matty screeched as he came flying in from the living room, his socked feet slipping on the dingy linoleum floor. He threw his arms around her middle, nearly knocking her off her feet.

        “Hey, baby. How was school?” She inquired.

        “Good! I met this really cool boy named Arthur! He likes Scooby Doo just like me!”

        “That’s great, buddy.” Mom offered a feeble smile, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

She and I had come to an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t let Matty know what was going on with dad. To be completely honest, neither of us really knew what was going on with him either.

So we put on a brave face for Matty, he didn’t need to know the real reason that dad wasn’t here yet. Or that he might not ever show up. It was hard enough for the boy to be ripped away from his friends in California. The only home he’s ever known.

When mom found out that dad was cheating, she gave him a choice. She said that we’re moving out to Indiana for a fresh start, and he could either come with us or stay with the other woman, rip our family apart.

It had been months since this threat, and dad showed no signs of turning up in Hawkins anytime soon. He only called once a week, and only to talk to Matty. He kept telling him that he was gonna be here soon, but I just wished he would rip off the band-aid. Neither mom nor I could stand to do it. She didn’t want to accept that dad had made his choice and I couldn’t bear to be the one to break the news to Matty.

So mom started to drink every night, numb the pain and deny that dad was really gone. I recognized her struggle, but sometimes I just wanted to scream at her. Tell her that he was gone and she needed to pull herself together for Matty’s sake. He doesn’t need to see his mom getting drunk every night, hear her sobbing at two am, puking the whole morning from a hangover.

As the bottle of whiskey dwindled, so did mom’s capacity to pretend to be sober. She staggered into her bedroom before it was even five o’clock. I exhaled, calling it a night for my homework and tucking it back into my bag. I wandered into the living room where Matty sat on the couch watching cartoons. I sat down beside him, letting out a sigh as I watched the brightly colored characters go about their shenanigans.

        “Is mama okay?” He asked, looking up at me with apprehension.

        “Yeah, buddy. She’s just got a tummy ache.” I lied, ruffling his hair.

I glanced at the clock, rethinking Steve’s suggestion to go to the basketball game. It would do Matty some good to get out of the house, get him away from mom for a little while.

        “Hey, bud?”

He glanced up at me,

        “Wanna go to a basketball game with me?”

        “Basketball? You like basketball?” He asked, confusion all over his face.

        “No… I mean… I guess. A couple of my new friends play on the team.”

        “Oh…” He paused, looking back over to the TV as he evaluated his options. Stay home and watch TV or go out…

        “I’ll buy you whatever candy you want from the concession stand.” I bribed.

        “Hmm. Okay!” He exclaimed, surging to his feet and dashing to the door to slip on his tennis shoes.

         “Alright, kid. Pick your poison.” I instructed, picking up Matty so he could see over the counter. He placed his hand on his chin, deliberating his options for candy.

        “Can I get two?” He asked.

        “You can get one.”  

He pouted for a moment before deciding on Skittles. I paid the girl behind the counter before letting the boy slide off my hip and onto the floor. I clutched his hand as we entered the gym.

The team was already on the court warming up. I realized that Billy was also on the basketball team, running up and down the court with Steve.

        “Hey, are you Y/N?” A girl with rosy cheeks and dark hair asked as she bounded over to Matty and I.

        “Uh yeah… Hi…” I greeted.

        “Hey! I’m Nancy! Steve said you’d be coming and that I should keep an eye out for you.” She introduced, “Come on, I saved you a seat.”

        “Oh. That was nice of you.” I smiled.

Matty’s grip tightened on my hand as Nancy led us over to her second-row seat. In the front row were a bunch of kids, maybe in their early teens. Beside Nancy was a boy with sandy brown hair and an expression on his face that told me he’d rather be anywhere else.

        “This is Jonathan.” Nancy told me, “This is my little brother Mike. These are his friends, Dustin, Max, Lucas, and Will.” Each of the kids turned to wave at me.

I tried to keep their names straight in my head, but I knew I would likely forget by the end of the night,

        “I’m Y/N. This is my little brother, Matty. We just moved here from California.”

        “Max is from California!” Lucas beamed, nudging the red-headed girl on the shoulder.

        “What part of California?” I asked.

        “San Diego.”

A lightbulb went off in my head, recalling that Billy mentioned he was from San Diego.

        “Do you have an older brother?” I asked.

        “Yeah.” She replied.

The rest of the kids rolled their eyes and scoffed.

        “Billy,” Lucas growled.

         “The mullet headed prick.” Mike spat.

The game went by pretty quickly, although Billy had fouled out by the end of the second quarter. Hawkins got their ass beat, considering he was the only one making any baskets before he eblowed a kid in the face and nearly broke is nose. 

        “Thanks for letting us sit with you guys.” I smiled to Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids just as Matty pulled on my arm. I leaned over to listen to him as he cupped his hands around his mouth and leaned against my ear. 

        “I gotta go potty.” He whispered.

        “Okay, let’s go find the potty,” I murmured back, taking his hand and leading him out of the gym.

I waited outside the boy’s room, leaning my back against the wall. A figure appeared beside me, resting his hand on the wall behind me. I glanced up to see Billy smirking at me.

        “Enjoy the game?” He questioned, resting his hand on my upper arm and essentially trapping me against the wall.

        “I did… But I think you were playing football instead of basketball.”

        “Oh come on, those guys were totally faking it.” He chortled, passing his tongue over his bottom lip as he grinned down at me

        “Even the one with the nosebleed?” I rebutted.

Billy let another laugh, glancing over his shoulder as the rest of the team exited the locker room. Steve and I met eyes momentarily and the smile on his face dropped as he approached us.

        “Hey, is he bothering you?” Steve asked, looking between Billy and I.

        “If anything, Harrington, I would say you’re bothering us,” Billy countered.

        “I wasn’t talking to you, shit brains.” Steve snapped, stepping in closer to Billy and holding up an accusing finger to him.

        “No. He’s not bothering me.” I piped up, not wanting to be caught in the middle of whatever… this… was.

        “Are you sure?” Steve pressed.

        “You heard the lady, buzz off.”

Steve gave us another look up and down before heading off to talk with the group of kids that was sitting across from us.

        “What was that about?” I asked.

        “Nothing. Harrington… he’s… he’s just got a jealousy problem is all.”

        “Of you? What’s he got to be jealous of?” I teased, feeling an odd twinge of confidence hit me.

He started to reply when I heard Matty’s little voice from behind me. I stepped away from Billy to take Matty’s hand. He hid behind me as he stared up at Billy.

        “This is my brother.” I introduced.

        “Hey, little man. I’m Billy.” He greeted.

        “Hi.” Matty murmured, peering out from behind my legs.  

        “Don’t be shy, bud.” I encouraged.

        “What’s your name?” Billy kneeled down on Matty’s level.

        “Matty.” He replied.

          “Nice to meet you, Matty.” Billy smiled, holding his hand out for Matty to shake.

He cautiously put his small hand in Billy’s larger one. He gripped my brother’s hand in both of his, giving him a gentle shake.

        “You have fun tonight?”

Matty nodded,

        “It was awesome because Y/N bought me Skittles!” He perked up, gradually drifting out from behind me.

        “Skittles!? That is awesome!” Billy exclaimed.

I glanced up to notice every person left in the hallway was gawking at us. They all quickly looked away when they noticed I was observing them. Soft murmurs started as they went back to their conversations, but their eyes still darted from their friends back over to us.

Billy and Matty continued their discussion, but all I could focus on was the chattering.  What was it about Billy that made heads turn? Sure, he’s hot as hell. That can’t be denied, but there was something else.

Something that made Mike call him a prick. Something that made Steve ask if he was bothering me. Something that made the thundering hallway go silent when Billy approached Matty. And I couldn’t even begin to guess what it was.

        “Alright, kiddo. We better get home.” I sighed, shoving Matty’s hat on over his disheveled hair.

We both waved goodbye to Billy before starting our trek through the cold and to the car. I opened the door to the back seat, helping Matty strap in before closing the door and rounding the car to the driver’s side.

        “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Steve asked, his breath turning to fog in the cold air.

        “Yeah, sure,” I replied, wrapping my scarf tighter against my face as the frigid breeze nipped at my skin.

        “Just… uh… Watch out for Billy, okay?” He murmured, resting his gloved hand on my upper arm.

        “What do you mean?” I questioned, tilting my head.

The honking of a car horn interrupted our conversation. Steve whirled around to look behind him. 

        “I’m coming, shitheads! Calm down!” He hollered at what I assume was his car. It was full of the kids I sat with during the game

        “He’s… He’s trouble, okay? And I… I just don’t want you getting hurt… finding that out the hard way.”

        “I think I can handle myself, Harrington.” I retorted, crossing my arms.

        “I know… I’m not saying you can’t.” He smirked, “But… Just… Be careful, okay?”

         “Okay…”

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[bionic-buckyb]

White Lies: Part 3

A Bucky x Reader / Fake Dating AU Series

Master List

A/N: I’m so glad you guys are liking this series. I love reading your replies, reblogs, and asks. Please, send as much as you like. It really helps me to want to write more, and improve. I really appreciate all the love. I hope you guys like this part! Let me know what you think. ♥

Word Count: 1,312

Warnings: - language.

Tags: (at the end)

*gif is not mine.

As Bucky led you along into the kitchen of his childhood home, he never let go of the grip on your hand. You could still feel the weight of his lips on your own, and your head was spinning with emotions.

Now is not the time to act like it meant anything, Y/N. Get a hold of yourself. This is an act, nothing more…

What proved difficult for you seemed easy for Bucky, as his perfect smile cast a light on the entire room. He sure was convincing, and you found yourself hoping you were acting in the same manner. Quickly, you put a smile on your face you hoped looked legitimate, remembering Bucky telling you affectionately that you suffered from ‘resting bitch face’.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be there, finally meeting Bucky’s parents and helping out your best friend, but it was proving harder than you thought. The entire ride here you had prepared yourself for instances like this, and yet the kiss played over and over in your mind, like a broken record.

The inside of the Barnes home was even more beautiful on the inside than it was on the outside. Everything was perfectly decorated, and reeked of country charm. It was definitely homey, and you were glad it was where you were going to spend the next couple of days. As you were taking in your surroundings, and Winnie was grabbing a jug of homemade lemonade from the fridge, a man lumbered into the kitchen.

“Hi!” you exclaimed, finally letting go of Bucky’s hand and taking initiative. “You must be Mr. Barnes. My name is Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he looked taken aback for a brief moment. George Barnes was balding at the top of his head, and soft crinkles appeared by his eyes as he smiled. You could tell he had a quiet demeanor, like Bucky, and this made you instantly warm up to him. Scanning his features you noticed that Bucky looked so much like him, and how handsome he was for his age. George extended his hand to you and shook yours.

“Ah, so you’re Y/N. Bucky has told us so much about you. It’s nice to finally put a face to a name. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you, sir,” you answered, as Bucky beamed brighter than ever next to you. If he smiled any wider, his face was going to get stuck that way. “It’s a pleasure to be here. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Have you eaten?” Winnie asked, scooting a glass of lemonade towards you. You took a sip, letting the perfectly mixed sweet and sour liquid coat your dry throat.

“No, Mom. We haven’t. I’m starving. How about you, Y/N?” Bucky asked, as he placed his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. For added effect, his leaned down and kissed the top of your head. You felt a warm, numbing sensation rocket down to your toes.

“Starving,” you choked out, putting down the glass of lemonade on the island before you dropped it.

“Wonderful!” Winnie exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Please sit. I’ve already prepared dinner.”

Dinner of honey mustard grilled chicken and cobb salad was insanely delicious. Small talk was exchanged between the four of you, and you were honestly more comfortable now than you had been since you arrived. Bucky had advised you that you could be honest about yourself, as he’d told his parents all about you anyway. Except, of course, for the fact that you weren’t actually dating.

As the night wore down, you found yourself yawning into your hand. It had been a long day, and your eyes were growing tired.

“Come dear,” Winnie said, getting up from the table, as George also stood and started to clear the plates with Bucky’s help. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Slinging your duffle bag over your shoulder, you followed Winnie up the stairs. She was awfully spry for her age, and you found yourself winded at the top of the stairs. Leading you down a long hallway, she stopped at a room with a bathroom adjacent.

“Here you go, dear,” she said, swinging open the door. “I hope you and Bucky will be comfortable.”

Your heart skipped as you remembered you and Bucky would be sharing a bed. You had cuddled, kind of, on the couch at home, but never slept side by side. Wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans, you set your bag down.

The room was a decent size, with a small television mounted on the wall, a dresser, and a large, queen sized bed in the middle of the room. As was the rest of the house, this room was beautiful.

“Thank you so much, Winnie,” you said, giving her a small hug. “I can’t thank you enough for being so kind.”

“Not a problem at all,” she replied with a smile, patting your shoulder. “Now get some rest. Bucky will be up shortly, I’m sure.”

With a wink, she closed the door and was gone.

You changed into your pajamas and walked next door to the bathroom to brush your teeth. When you returned, Bucky was in the middle of changing himself, right in front of you. The best part is, he had no idea you were there.

You watched as he peeled his shirt off, the muscles in his back rippling under his skin with each movement. The soft light made his shoulders seem more broad than they already were. You swallowed hard, jumping to action as he moved to take off his hands.

“Hey, woah!” you cried out, even though you wanted to see what lied beneath. “My eyes!”

Closing the door behind you, you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” he joked, taking his pants off anyway to reveal tight as fuck boxer briefs, which left very little imagination to the eye. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me in swim trunks before.”

“Underwear are much different than swim trunks, Buck. I said I’d pretend to be your girlfriend. I never signed up to see your twig and berries.”

But Lord knows I wouldn’t protest...

Bucky chuckled and threw on a pair of loose basketball shorts. He walked towards you and took your hands again, making you float up from the bed. He pulled you to him in a tight hug, before pulling you away to look at him.

“You did amazing today. My parents are totally convinced we’re a couple. I think after this week, they’ll stop trying to set me up with random women.”

You felt your face burning with heat, and your eyes scanned away from his. It hurt too much to look into those baby blues. You felt like he could read your mind, and you didn’t want him to know your true feelings.

“Hey, you’re the star of the show. I mean, that kiss would convince a blind person.”

“That was great improvising, huh? I know I said it was for emergencies, but it felt right.”

You swallowed hard again, hoping he didn’t see.

“Don’t go catching feelings, alright?” he winked, punching you lightly on the shoulder. A lump formed in your throat, as you struggled not to cry. Little did he know, the love bug had already bitten you years ago.

All you could do was awkwardly chuckle, as you got into bed. Bucky slid in closely next to you, and turned off the side table lamp, throwing you both into total darkness. He was so close you could feel his body heat radiating into you.

“Goodnight, girlfriend,” he whispered, as he laid his arm across your stomach, as if all of this was normal. It was a good thing he couldn’t see your face.

“Goodnight… boyfriend,” you replied, as a single tear streamed down your cheek.

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Part 4

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