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dontshootmespence · 4 years

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A Good Business Transaction

Summary: Desperate for money after getting into trouble, Y/N enters into a ‘business transaction’ of sorts with resident Thrombey asshole, Ransom.

Pairing: Ransom x Reader

Word Count: 2,368

Warning: Gambling problems, paying for sex, p in v, blow jobs and gagging, fingering, squirting, name-calling, biting, creampies, canon divergent. I really went all out on this one. See below.

A/N: You can all blame my horny-for-Chris gf @heycasbutt for this.

You have money - not Thrombey money - but you have it. While waiting for Meg to finish with the will reading, you step outside the palatial Thrombey mansion to light up a cigarette, hoping it will quiet your nerves. Unfortunately, you probably have to smoke the entire pack in ten minutes and subsequently die to feel like you aren’t on edge anymore, but hey, that’s life.

With shaky hands, you tap the lighter and watch the flame ignite, hoping that maybe you’ll spontaneously combust and not have to deal with your looming money problems.

“You know that shit’ll kill ya, right?”

There goes the cigarette taking the edge off. “Eat shit, Drysdale.” Taking a drag, you let the smoke go into the subtle breeze making its way past the mansion. “What happened with the reading?”

“Family business,” he replies as the corner of his lips turns upward. “You can ask Meg. We’re all fucked.” Something on his face doesn’t read like he’s fucked - like he has something up his sleeve.

Meg’s been your best friend for years, despite you being a few years older, so you were hoping that she might be able to help you with your money issue, but if the whole family is fucked, you assume the entirety of Harlan’s money went to his caretaker Marta. “Well, fuck.”

You put out the half-finished cigarette on the side of the house and pull another one from the pack, quickly lighting it up as you try to wipe away a tear. Last thing you want to be doing is crying in front of Ransom Drysdale. Meg is the only reason you’ve ever met him. He’s sexy as hell but all the looks and money in the world can’t stop Ransom from being the world’s biggest asshole.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, the smallest note of caring entering his voice before he continues with his usual self. “Can’t milk Meg for all the money she’s not getting?”

“Fuck off, Ransom. Meg’s my best friend. I don’t do that kind of shit to people.”

“Everyone does when money’s involved,” he said confidently. “You got money problems?”

“I’m into it with a bookie, alright?”

“How much?”

“Fifty large, and my dad’s basically cut me off because he’s got a new whore he spends all his money on. The child he never wanted from the now dead mother isn’t his priority anymore.”

“What a cocksucker.” Ransom seems genuine for one of the first times in his life. “I can help you out.”

The red ember of the cigarette draws your attention for a moment. You know what he wants. He’s made no secret over the years. “With what money, Drysdale? You just said you’re all fucked.”

“I’ve got my ways.” The glint in his eyes said he was about to fuck his whole family in the ass, including Meg, but you had bookies on your ass and if he was about to come into some money, you needed it.

You take a step toward him and take another drag. “I don’t what you’re about to do, but you really mean that? You’d keep the bookies from killing me? Because I’m headed six feet under if I don’t pay up by the end of the week.”

“Yea, I’m not completely heartless. My family can eat shit and die, but you-”

“You don’t want me to die when you haven’t had the chance to sleep with me yet.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“When do you expect to come into this money?” Despite Meg being your best friend your need for self-preservation trumps all. You’re about to fuck Meg over and yet you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Few days. A week tops.”

“How about I give you a hint of what’s to come if you get me out of this?”

A raised eyebrow tells you that you’ve got him on the hook. He could be bullshitting about money, but your gut says he isn’t. “Any good business transaction needs some good faith, right?”

What an asshole. Grabbing him by the coat, you guide him behind the house. With his family losing their minds inside, no one will notice if you indulge Ransom’s dirty mind. You back yourself into the wall and slide down, feeling your hair catch in the roughness of the reddish brick.

“You think about this a lot?” He asks. “You got down on your knees pretty quickly.”

You glare at him through hooded eyes - the ‘eat shit’ implied. As you fumble with his belt, you hear him chuckle. God, you hate him. You pull him free of his boxers and run your tongue along the tip, catching the little drop of pre-cum that sits there. Despite his cocksure attitude, he shivers and slips his hand into your hair. “You gonna suck my cock, little girl?”

“I’m going to gag on your cock, Drysdale. Let you fuck it like it’s my pretty little cunt.”

Groaning, he grasps either side of your head and braces his forearms against the brick wall. “Open.”

You do as he says, sticking your tongue. “Fuck my mouth, Drysdale. And if you come through for me, you’ll get so much more. After I get paid of course.”

“Of course,” he says suredly.

Reaching out, you grasp his balls with your dominant hand and guide him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around the velvety smooth skin. You moan around him and watch his jaw drop. This is gonna be the best head he’s ever gotten, if only to ensure that he pays up when the time comes. While his family fights somewhere in the distance, you take him over and over again, making a point not to swallow. If Ransom is anything, it’s dirty, nasty and messy.

A trail of spit drops onto your shirt. “Look at me,” he demands. “Stay still. It’s my turn.”

He places a hand behind your head. At first, you think it’s the act of a gentlemen, but then you realize it’s just Ransom ensuring that if he fucks your brains out he won’t actually fuck your brains out against the brick wall. It’ll be hard to get his money if he’s a convicted murderer. Ransom steps closer to the wall and guides his cock into your mouth again, unrelenting when he feels you gag. Your reflex forces him out and you laugh. Against your better judgement you have thought about his cock in your mouth more times than you care to admit.

Arousal pools between your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that you need money, and the fact that Ransom would 100 percent fuck you senseless and then go back on his promise, you’d be him to fuck you right here, right now. As he thrusts in and out of your mouth, his cock heavy on your tongue, you hollow your cheeks and try to look up at him. You want to watch the cocky bastard lose his damn mind.

When he sees your unfaltering gaze, he picks up the pace, his cock getting harder and harder with each pass. “I’m going to come down that pretty little throat.”

You swallow him down and grab his ass, anchoring him there as he pulses down your throat. You hate how turned on you are, shaking as you come. His right hand slinks around your neck so he can feel himself in your throat. “Little slut likes getting her throat fucked?”

“I do,” you reply, swallowing the last of his come as you rise to your feet. “Come through for me next week and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

As you walk away, you wipe the remnants of your ‘business transaction’ from your lips, confident that he’ll deliver.

----

Meg’s been crying to you all week. Marta had the inheritance for all of a couple of days when she was found to have killed Harlan. She didn’t. You knew it. Something to do with Ransom you’re sure. But with your deadline to your bookies looming, you can’t bring yourself to care.

As you knock on Ransom’s front door, you glance around, hoping that no one sees you, especially Meg. She knows about your money problems, so if she sees you’re still alive after walking into Ransom’s place she’ll put it together. She’s a smart girl.

“Come in,” he says, swinging the door open unceremoniously. “You got the account you need it routed to?”

“Yea,” you say, handing over the paper.

He says something about routing the money through various accounts so it’s safer, safer for him obviously; he wants to make sure your bookies can’t come after ‘his’ money. “Alright, call your guy and make sure the debt is paid.”

With shaky hands, you dial the number and wait for him to pick up. “Got my payment?”

“Close call, girl. Don’t let it happen again.” The disembodied voice responds.

“It won’t.” Because you don’t plan on being here much longer than you have to. You’re going to pay your debt to Ransom, because he’s hot so why not, and then you’re planning on stealing what you can from your father and bouncing before he can do anything about it. Shouldn’t be a problem considering he doesn’t pay attention to anyone but his new whore. “Done,” you say, turning toward Ransom. “I appreciate it. I’ll be out of your hair soon. But I am ready to pay my debt if you’re so inclined.”

“You wear the type of lingerie I asked for?”

Unbuttoning your top, you show him a peek of the nude, see-through lace bra you’re wearing. “Panties match, too.”

“Good girl.” There’s a glint in his eyes that makes you weak in the knees. You’ve had plenty of sex in your life, but something about Ransom’s brash demeanor, give no fucks attitude and search for his own pleasure and his alone gets to you in the best way possible. You have no misgivings about your relationship with Ransom. It’s a business transaction. Money for sex. You got your money and you like sex, so why not follow through? “Strip. Leave the lingerie on though. I plan on destroying it.”

His red gaze remains fixed on you as you let the shirt drop to the floor and your jeans pool around your ankles. “Best 50k I’ve ever spent.”

“Bastard.”

“You like it,” he says as he begins to circle you.

Behind you, he pulls off his light blue sweater and throws it who knows where. All you hear is its soft thud on the ground before he spins you around and pushes you back toward the couch. You fall into it and watch him reach for what appears to be condoms. “Don’t,” you say. “I’m on the pill and I was just tested. I want you to come in my tight little cunt.”

“You are a little slut.” Happily, he throws the box to the side and drops to his knees in front of the couch, pulling the lace to the side so he can lap at your arousal. “I’m going to make you squirt. Scream my name. I plan on ruining you for every man that comes after me.”

His tongue slides up and down your slit a few times before he slips two fingers inside. With his other hand, he rips the panties to shreds and discards the material on the floor next to him. You grab his head and silently beg for more - faster, harder - anything. When you clench your legs around his head, he starts to fuck you with his tongue, his hands clasping your thighs like his life depends on it.

Pulling away, he leaves you wanting as he rough fucks your pussy with his fingers. “Squirt for me, slut.”

Your orgasm crests in an instant and then you’re doing what you haven’t before, crying out his name as you squirt. He laps it up like a man starved as you shake, his fingers still inside you. “You’ll never find another woman like me either, Hugh. Every woman you fuck until the end of time. You’ll wish she were me.”

He says nothing. You use his real name, knowing it’ll anger him, but he’s speechless. You’re right and he hates that. Pushing his pants down, he kicks them off and spreads your thighs with his roughened palms, bearing all his weight on you.

With no ceremony whatsoever, he plunges into your wet heat, groaning at the fit. “God, your pussy is perfect.” Each slam of his cock makes you cry out, back arching into the couch, nipples taut against the thin, but confining fabric of your bra. Whether he senses your frustration or just wants to see all of you, you don’t know, and you don’t care, because he pushes the lace above your breasts.

As he pounds into you, he bends down to take one of your nipples between his teeth. “Fill my pussy up Ransom. I want it.” You wrap your legs around his waist and use your heels to push him into you harder and harder.

His sweat-slick skin meets yours as he bends down to take your mouth in a searing kiss. It’s filled with lust and hatred and leaves your head spinning as another orgasm threatens to turn you to jelly.

Each groan and growl says he isn’t far from coming himself. He grasps your inner thighs and scratches at the skin, pulling out all the way before pumping back in. When he comes, you cry out, “Ransom!” You rub your clit and arch up, muscles spasming as his cock twitches inside you, hot thick ropes of come pooling inside you.

“Fuckin hell,” he breathes. “I’ll be thinking about this pussy for a long time.”

You dip your finger into your pussy and feel his come, bringing it to your mouth for a taste. You make a point of not breaking his gaze. Sure you’re leaving, but you want to make a lasting impression on the asshole. “Take a picture, Ransom, it’ll last longer.”

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he finds his phone and replies, “You know what? I think I will. For posterity’s sake.” He smirks.

Blissed out and filled with come, you smile for the camera. “Eat shit, Drysdale.”

#ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #ransom x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #dontshootmespence #a good business transaction

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Episode 9- On The Low

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: Steve and Katie face work whilst trying to keep their relationship under wraps, and a familiar face enters the team for one day only...

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) and mentions of inappropriate behaviour with animals (nothing graphic, we promise!) NO UNDER 18s!!!!

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Song for Episode: Don’t Stop Believing by Journey

A/N: This is a LONG chapter guys, but it’s starting to ramp things up in the investigation so…bear with us! And yeah, we have no idea how suspect banking accounts work so roll with us here…this is all a load of bullshit for fan-fic purposes and humour anyway so…give it us as creative license!!! Oh and get ready for another Chris character to make an appearance… whether or not you’ve seen The Losers, we hope this makes you laugh as much as it did us when we wrote it!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List // Main Masterlist

Streetlights people, livin' just to find emotion. Hidin’ somewhere in the night

The door to the briefing room flew open and Steve turned to see Katie walk in, dressed in her usual jeans, button down and vest top combination along with those damned boots. Her badge which was round her neck on the issued chain swung slightly as she turned and shut the door.

“You’re late.” Steve said a little harshly. She looked at him, arranging her face into a contrite expression and nodded.

“Sorry, no excuse. I didn’t get much sleep last night…”

Steve kept his face straight as she sidled into a seat at the large table next to Bucky who was smirking slightly.

“Where the hell have you been?” Tony looked at her “Kiddo, I ain’t seen you since Saturday morning.” “Busy.” she replied.

“Doing what, or should I say who? You been with Storm?”

“No, Narnia…” she replied simply.

“Narnia?” Tony frowned, looking puzzled.

“Yeah, Narnia business….” The rest of the team sniggered and Steve didn’t miss the look on Wanda’s face as she eyed Katie up and down, a soft smirk flickered across the red head’s face. Deciding he needed to take control as Tony and Katie had now started to bicker, Tony pointing out angrily that he wasn’t running a bed and breakfast for her or whatever biker gang she was running around with, he coughed and raised his voice.

“I’m not interested in your lack of sleep or your domestic arrangements Stark.” he said sternly, crossing his arms in front of him, levelling her his best Captain’s look as the room fell quiet “I’ll see you in my office after. You can explain yourself then.” She made a show of rolling her eyes before she shrugged “Yes Captain.” but he caught the unmistakable flash in her eye and he hastily looked away before certain parts of his anatomy reacted a little bit inappropriately.

He handed over to Tony who gave a bit of a briefing on what they had found on the latest body, which as usual didn’t give them much. Then Katie and Natasha told everyone what they knew about Schmidt so far and how it was looking likely that the case was linked to Rumlow’s, but that they would know more once Jensen had been up to take them through what he had found on the phones.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that this needs to stay on the low.” Steve said. “I don’t want the press getting a sniff of this being connected to the old case, certainly not until we can 100% make that connection.” “I’ve also been thinking…” Katie said, looking at Steve “We need to speak to Sara Klein. Just to see if she’s heard or seen anything. I know the pattern so far is all about males and we may not have any logical reason to assume she’s in any danger but…well…” Steve looked at her and nodded “Ok, you do what you need to do and track her down, I’ll speak to Holt seeing as the case was originally the Nine-Nines, give him the low down on what we’re dealing with and that we’ll be digging around again.” “I know this might sound like a stupid question but is there any merit in going to speak to Rumlow?” Clint asked, lounging back in the chair he was sat on “I mean he might be able to help…” Katie snorted “There’s no way he’ll help us.”

“But it might be worth a shot?” Clint looked at her “I mean, if this is connected to his case, he’s bound to know something. Doors open both ways…”

“It’s a good point Clint.” Steve said “Something to bear in mind for the future, but for the time being, until we can one hundred percent confirm a link we’ll keep it on the backburner.”

Clint nodded at his Captain and then Steve glanced round.

“Anything else?”

Silence.

“Ok Avengers, dismissed.” Everyone began to file out, Katie walking with Natasha talking about something. Steve headed back to his office, gave it 5 minutes before he emerged, casually rolling the dial as he did so ensuring that the blinds which adorned the window that looked out into the main area were closed enough so that no one could see inside. It wasn’t unusual for him to do so if he was concentrating on something and didn’t want to be disturbed, so no one would give it a second thought.

“Stark…” he barked. She looked up and he gestured into the room.

“Yes Captain, right away Captain…” she said sarcastically, standing up and walking past him. He shut the door with a loud slam and made sure to raise his voice as she stood in his office, arms folded.

“I’ve put up with your lack of care for time keeping and general attitude for long enough, it stops now…” he said, and she raised an eyebrow the corner of her mouth twitching up a little as he mouthed the word sorry, and grimaced a little. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Very clear, Captain. It won’t happen again…”

“Good, now, run me through what we have on Schmidt in more detail…” he said, walking towards his desk.

“I don’t have more detail…” she dropped her voice.

“Yeah I know.” he grinned, “But they don’t…” “Uh huh…” she smirked up at him “You know your performance out there and just then was worthy of an Oscar, you’re such a Drama Queen. And for the record, I don’t appreciate being chastised for something that technically isn’t my fault. You made me late…” “Sorry.” he shrugged as she took a step towards him “Guess I need to apologise somehow.” “Thought you were done looking for forgiveness?” she quipped and he raised an eyebrow.

“Well I also recall saying I’m way past asking for permission so…” he reached out and grabbed her hips, spinning her round so that the back of her thighs hit his desk. She smirked up at him slightly as she perched on the edge, his hands cupping her face before he bent down and gave her a long, soft kiss.

“You do know the rest of the team are out there, right?” she looked at him as he pulled away.

“Yeah, you’re right…” he said, stepping back “Ok fine, you can go now. Dismissed.” Her mouth dropped open and she looked at him, blinking for a second as she stood up “Seriously?” He shrugged and moved round to the other side of his desk.

“That’s how it is?” she pressed.

“That’s how it is…” he smirked, extremely pleased with how clearly antsy he’d gotten her.

“But Stevie…” she whined, stamping her foot “That’s not fair…” she turned her eyes on him, fluttering her eyelashes, those goddamned eyes that could get him to do whatever the hell she wanted and he felt the front of his trousers suddenly becoming slightly too tight.

“Stop being a brat.” he warned her in a low voice.

She cocked her head to one side before she raised her eyebrows and simply smiled “Fine.” He tone was calm, and collected, and he couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved.

“Honey…” he started but she simply smiled at him, before turning and leaving.

***** Bucky saw Katie coming out of Steve’s office with an unreadable expression on her face, but she certainly was not contrite. He knew all too well Steve was playing the offended Captain when his reprimand to Katie could be heard all over the main office. They would probably have been groping each other while Steve did what he was supposed to do with anyone who arrived late for briefing. Which, in fairness to Katie hadn’t actually been her fault. They’d stayed up late drinking and talking and then this morning she’d barrelled out of the apartment early doors to get home and changed. In fact, Bucky was amazed she’d managed to do it all and make to briefing only 10 minutes behind time.

Thus, he raised an eyebrow at her when she passed by his desk and he motioned his head slightly on Natasha's direction. The red head was scrutinizing Katie like she was the main suspect in a first-degree murder case.

"Asshole" Katie said plopping on her chair. And Bucky saw her looking at him for approval, so he nodded discreetly.

"Did he give you the Son, just don't talk?" Clint, who was throwing pens into an empty pencil pot he had placed over a deck of files and notepads, asked mimicking the Captain's voice.

"Yeah, kinda." Katie scoffed.

"Well, he can be a dick sometimes but you did arrive a bit late. By the way..." Natasha drawled and was about to ask something when Wanda cut in.

"He's only doing his job. I don’t think it’s very professional to show up late for a meeting when everyone is waiting for you. Especially on a Monday after having spent all weekend who knows where and who knows with"

"And that concerns you, because? Go on, enlighten me." Katie said trying to sound as calm as possible but glaring at Wanda.

"Wanda." Natasha warned.

"What? I'm only saying..." Wanda started.

"Yeah well don’t. I'm not interested in what you've got to say. And don't you have reports to file or whatever it is you do?" Katie snapped.

"Burn." Clint quipped, fist pumping as another pen landed in its target.

"Oh and by the way, how was your weekend, Wanda? Have any luck on Friday night?" Katie continued her counter attack, making Bucky choke on the chocolate bar he was munching.

"All right, I need my Frappuccino and it's your turn buying, so you'd better get going coz you're already late for that as well." Bucky told Katie trying to divert her attention from Wanda whose nostrils had flared angrily. “And a Danish…”

Wanda was being a total bitch if you asked him, but he needed to deactivate vicious Katie before things went South. Meaning a slip of the tongue on Katie's part or an inappropriate gesture on Steve's part when he tried to defend his girl from Wanda. Man, this was gonna be a tough job keeping this quiet.

And he was hungry when he was under pressure.

"You're right. And I need to get out of here. Tell Captain Ass-hat I went to grab coffee, be right back." she said to Bucky as she put her jacket on.

Just as Katie was grabbing her purse, her phone rang and she answered the call.

"Hey, Johnny. Hang on a sec, I'm on my way out..."

Natasha and Clint darted a quick glance at each other and then at Bucky who shrugged. To tell the truth, he was as clueless as they were.

"Guess we have our answer there." Wanda said, a smug smile on her face.

"Was she really with Storm?" Clint asked Bucky.

"How would I know?" Bucky replied trying to avoid looking at Natasha who was watching him with squinting eyes.

"Who cares?" Wanda said "She's a total whore who has slept with God and their mother."

"Alright that’s enough!" Bucky hissed jumping up from his seat. "Wanda go to your desk and do some work before you put your foot in your mouth, again." Bucky ordered her in complete Sergeant mode.

Wanda rolled her eyes and did as told by Bucky. She was in no position to protest, he wasn't Steve but he outranked her and she knew that. To be fair, Katie outranked her as well, not that the red head cared as Bucky still heard her mumbling something about Katie fucking him too. He decided to let it be, he didn't want to spur Wanda against Katie, at least, not more than she already was. He made a mental note to talk to Steve about Wanda again, though.

Natasha waited until Wanda had sat on her spot behind the counter at the reception desk before sitting on the border of Bucky's desk arms crossed.

"Barnes? We are having a nice chat in the kitchen you and me. Clint, you're coming too." Natasha commanded and made a sign with her hands for both men to follow her before sitting up and heading for the kitchen.

"Why the kitchen?" Bucky asked, foreseeing a third-degree on Clintasha's part.

"Because I want a coffee. But mainly because I don't want snitchy witchy hearing what I have to say." Natasha offered as she and Bucky entered in the kitchen followed by Clint who was now twirling a pencil through his fingers.

"OK, Barnes, spit.” Natasha urged Bucky to speak as she poured herself some coffee.

"What? I don't know what you mean." Bucky tried to dodge the question.

"Not it, Barnes." Clint said plopping himself up on the kitchen counter and grabbing an apple from a bowl.

"All right. Let's start from the beginning. What was that call from Storm about?" Natasha sighed.

"How would I know?" Bucky protested.

"She hasn't seen him since Friday, has she?" Natasha insisted.

"HOW. WOULD. I. KNOW, Romanoff?” Bucky repeated leaning his elbows on the table and making a dramatic pause between each word.

"Drop that one, Nat." Clint intervened "Guy doesn't know."

"Well, yeah. How about that? Why didn't you reply to any of the fucking thirty text messages I sent you yesterday?" Natasha hissed glaring at Bucky while she straddled a chair next to him.

"Twenty-six." Bucky deadpanned holding Natasha’s stare.

She wanted to play cat and mouse, Bucky thought. Well, watch out for a loyal mouse who wanted the cat to believe he was being cornered.

"Dickhead." Natasha spat.

"By the way, have you talked to Wanda about Friday? Will she stop chasing after Steve now he rejected her?" Bucky asked trying to get some information he could sneak to Steve and Katie.

"She won't let him of the hook. The idiot seems to think that he only rejected her because he's her boss and there were a lot of people from work there. She's delusional." Natasha said rolling her eyes.

Bucky shook his head, he definitely had to warn Steve.

"Good one. I'll give you that, Barnes." Clint chuckled.

"Yeah. She was there when you arrived home yesterday, wasn't she?" she asked with a half-smile.

"You bet she was." Clint added biting the apple.

"Who's she again?" Bucky asked faking a frown.

Natasha groaned and was about to strike back again when they heard steps and Wanda's voice chatting with someone approaching the kitchen.

"Saved by the bell, Barnes" Clint quipped

"Oh fuck, Wanda. This moron is giving me everything." Natasha muttered before standing up and putting the chair back on place.

"I don't... give everything." Bucky said sarcastically.

"Natasha? Ah, there you are!" Wanda said entering the kitchen. "Jake is here."

Bucky turned to look at the man. He had met Jake Jensen on one occasion the team had needed his assistance to crack into some big fish computer. But after Katie's confession they had been more than friends just the previous day, he looked at the man from a different perspective. He would be lying if he said Jensen didn't remind him a bit of Steve. And that was clearly Wanda’s thinking because she was making goo-goo eyes at the man.

"Wanna coffee, Jensen?" Natasha offered.

"Yeah, that would be great. Thanks" Jensen said as he left his briefcase on the table and greeted Bucky.

Bucky observed as the man approached Natasha, who was tinkering with the coffee pot, and leaned on the counter beside her

"S- ... Where are you from originally?" Jensen asked, giving her his best flirty pose and look.

"The Russian steppe." Natasha deadpanned without taking her eyes from the coffee pot.

"Wow, so that must have been..." and he hesitated, searching from something clever to say.

Natasha lifted her head to look at him with a serious expression as she open a drawer to grab a coffee spoon.

"…Frosty." Jake grimaced the moment he uttered the word finishing his sentence, but Natasha continued getting his coffee ready.

"Do you have any hobbies?" Jensen tried again.

Bucky shared a glance with Clint. It was amusing watching Jensen struggle to chat Natasha up making a fool of himself.

"When I was little, I collected human ears." Natasha replied playing with him before handing him a coffee mug.

"Good times." Jensen said taking his coffee and faked a chuckle. "But it's...” he didn't finish. Instead he went to the table to grab his briefcase nodding his head.

"Is that a crossbow tattoo you have there." he said pointing at Clint's left arm.

Clint nodded moving his arm to show it to him.

"Cool." Jensen said admiring Clint's tattoo. “I like crossbows, I used to have one, bitches.”

Natasha looked at Clint with an amused smile and he shrugged. Bucky simply blinked in disbelief. This guy was like a watered down version of Flash Fire Dude. Katie really knew how to fucking pick them.

Frogs and princes…

"Ok. Let's go do some work. See what you have for us." Clint said jumping from the counter.

"Yeah. Katie must be back now, surely." Bucky added standing up.

"Katie?" Jensen asked looking between Bucky and Natasha, his eyes wide open with excitement.

"Ok. There you are! I was beginning to wonder if I was alone in this office." Steve’s voice cut across the room and everyone turned to look at him where he was stood leaning on the kitchen doorframe.

"And, where's Stark?" he asked scanning the room searching for her.

"She went out when she got a call from Storm and never got back." Wanda quipped as she walked past Steve out of the kitchen.

"What? She-“ he started to ask, looking at Bucky for answers, but he was interrupted by Jensen.

"Hey, Captain Rogers! How you doing?" he greeted Steve skipping formalities and slapping him on the back. "When did Hottie Mc Hottie get back?" he added leaning over Steve's ear, dropping his voice.

Steve shot a glare at him before commanding everyone to resume their work at the briefing room.

"We need to talk." Bucky whispered to Steve as they both followed the team down the corridor.

Steve frowned at his friend and spotted the concern written all over his face. He sighed and nodded.

"Later. We have to sort this out first." Steve said nodding towards Jensen who was walking ahead of them escorted by Natasha and Clint.

Steve had begun his day in high spirits. He had woken up with Katie in his arms for the first time ever (which was the reason she’d had to then make a run for it once they’d realised the time) and the weekend had been an absolute blessing, but his day was beginning to descend into a nightmare. What was that Wanda had said? Storm had called Katie and she was nowhere to be seen.

Of course he trusted his girl, he knew she wouldn't do that to him, more over after everything they had gone through. But he had seen Storm flirting with Katie, up close, and he definitely didn't trust him.

God, his nerves were on edge. The little love bubble he and Katie were in had burst the moment he had set foot at the station and it was more than Bucky’s teasing that they had to deal with. Add to that the fact Jensen had been thrown into the mix. And although Steve had known he would be showing up today, actually seeing him and having to put up with his comment about Katie being back was really testing his limits. That said, he knew Jensen was a great asset if they wanted some progress in the case. Besides, if he hadn't been the world's leading authority on waiting too long to go get his girl, Jensen wouldn't even be in the picture. That one was on him.

And now Bucky was saying they had to talk, which was the icing on a very shit cake. He didn't like it. He was sure it had something to do with Natasha going all Perry Mason down on Buck. Or at least that's what he hoped. He didn't want to even think it involved Wanda. She had been suspiciously calm and resigned after he had pushed her away on Friday. But then again, what could she do? He was her boss and it wouldn't be wise to pick up a fight at the station.

His head was a whirlwind of thoughts and mixed emotions by the time everyone was gathered in the briefing room. He could feel a head ache brewing at the back of his eyes already, and it wasn’t even 10 am. He tried to focus himself back on track and was watching Jensen pull some documents and a laptop out his briefcase when Katie entered the room, three cups of coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag with Shuri's deli logo printed on it.

Steve saw her flash him a swift smile before handing him his usual order, her fingers deliberately and discreetly brushing his, before she set Bucky's one and the paper bag on the table in front of the Sergeant.

"Thanks." Steve said. And he was sure Katie had read relief in that word.

“Oh my God…” Jensen said, looking Katie up and down “Hi.”

“You know that only works once?” Katie said with a laugh, folding her arms.” “Well can you blame a boy for trying?” he quipped cheekily “How’s it hanging Stark?” “You tell me.” she smirked back.

There was a pause before Jensen grinned. "Come here." he said approaching Katie with arms open to hug her.

"How you doing, Jakey doll?" she asked hugging him back.

Steve saw Bucky look at him, he could clearly read What the fuck, man? on his friend's face. He just shook his head and sipped from his cup. Let them do their thing, he thought, they had to lay low and Jensen was just, well, being Jensen.

"Damn, you look good, girl." Jake said grinning "You cut your hair." he added waving his hand to his shoulder.

"Good observation, J. You don't look bad yourself." Katie smiled at him fondly.

"Why thank you. Liking the dangle of the dangle?" Jensen asked cheekily, hands on his hips.

Katie burst out laughing, shaking her head “You’re an absolute idiot…” Steve could hear Wanda sniggering and Bucky muttering “Oh, for fuck's sake” and that was enough to make the Captain snap. He might not be able to publicly declare she was with him but he was damned if he was letting this carry on. It ended, now.

"Yeah, can we push whatever angle you dangling to one side for a moment and concentrate on the phone records?" Steve asked, his voice a little louder and harsher than he intended.

With that Jensen explained that he had cross referenced the phone records from the 3 victims and found a few things that were puzzling. The first one being that 2 hours or so before the stated times of death all 3 men received a call. Whilst everyone agreed this was far too much of a co-incidence to be purely innocent, the unfortunate news was that they were from 3 different numbers. All pre-paid burners.

“So no point in trying to trace any of them?” Clint asked.

“Well if you get me a warrant I can have a trace and monitor set up on the numbers” he said, “If they do get used again, we’ll know about it…but chances are slim”

“No offence, but what exactly are you doing here?” Bucky frowned “Surely you could have told us this on the phone?”

He saw Katie smirk but Jensen completely ignored him and instead turned to Natasha. “You asked me to look at anything unusual…contacts in common that type of thing…” Natasha nodded.

“Well it’s your lucky day.” he smiles “seems that all 3 of our victims knew each other…” At that Katie instantly perked up “all 3…you got us a link to Ross?”

“That I did gorgeous.” he smiled and Bucky heard Steve exhale loudly. He nudged the Captain gently in the ribs as a warning to chill out as Jensen continued “So it turns out that about 10 minutes after getting the call from our mystery number, Ross called Sitwell. The call lasted for about 5 minutes… and then Ross called a different number which, unfortunately, was also a prepaid service that I can’t trace.”

Steve watched Katie jot something down on her pad of paper as Jensen continued to talk.

“However, when I cross referenced that new number to Sitwell’s records turns out he made a number of calls to it too, over roughly a month’s period…”

“Dates?” Katie looked at him. Jensen slid over the printed phone records which she picked up and looked at the lines which he had highlighted. “The month between Ross’ body turning up, and his…”

“And Schmidt also called and text the number several times over a week too…” Jensen said as he once again slid a pile of paper over to her and Katie picked it up “Specifically the week before his death.” Bucky looked at her “That’s your link. That’s proof that the 3 of them had something or someone in common…”

“Doesn’t prove that it’s Rumlow…” Katie said, chewing on her lip

“So that’s the phone records….” Jake said “Like I said, if you get me a warrant I can arrange to have all the numbers monitored, so the next time any of them are used we’ll be able to track and trace via GPS…” “Ok.” Steve nodded “Nat, can you get the paper work drawn up and we’ll get it out to Judge Hill ASAP.”

“Now, do you want the really interesting discovery Baby-cakes?” Jake winked at Katie and Steve rolled his eyes. The guy was a fucking nightmare. Katie merely arched an eyebrow at him and gestured for him to carry on.

“Ross also received a MMS from our mystery man…a photo…” He pulled a piece of paper out of the file in front of him and took a deep breath “Now be warned, it’s fucked up…”

“I’ll take it.” Steve instructed. Jensen nodded and handed it to him. Steve glanced down at it before his mouth dropped open and he gave a disgusted snort before he handed it to Bucky.

It as a picture of Ross…or more specifically a picture of Ross…

“Fucking a goat!?” Bucky spluttered, his mouth hanging open before his face scrunched up in disgust, “What the hell…” “I warned you.” Jensen said, as Bucky grimaced, handing it to Katie. She instantly recoiled in horror before slamming the photo face down on the table. Natasha reached for it, turned it over and arched an eyebrow as Clint leaned closer.

“Well I guess that solves the issue of where the hair came from…” Clint shrugged.

“Was there a message with it, or just the photo?” Steve looked at Jensen.

“It was accompanied with the words ‘I’ve still got copies of this don’t forget. So I suggest you think twice about blowing the whistle…do what he wants.” Jensen said, sliding another piece of paper over the table.

“Someone’s been blackmailing him…” Natasha said, looking up.

“Well, that’s for you to say, not me.” Jensen said “I’m just the techy genius…but if you want my opinion, then yeah.” “There was nothing unusual on Ross’ bank accounts.” Katie frowned before her mouth dropped open and she looked up at Steve who felt that sudden rush wash over him, the one when a piece of the jigsaw dropped into place.

“The Animal Food Company…” he said, striding over to the wall where all the paper evidence they had was tacked. He pulled the item he was looking for down and handed it to Jensen. “Green Bale Animal Feeds…we marked this for further investigation, but didn’t think it was particularly relevant…”

“You got a warrant for this or…” Jensen looked at him.

Steve nodded, before he hesitated a second “Well, we have a warrant to search all three victim’s banking transactions…”

“That’s good enough.” Jensen said “I can trace the account and find out who it belongs to. Give me a few hours…I’m free this afternoon so I’ll stay here and work it live if that’s ok, but I’ll need access to another computer, it’s hard work trying to run a trace on just one laptop.”

"All right, everybody get back to work. And, Bucky..." Steve said turning to look at him "...get Jensen a desk and another computer."

Bucky turned to look at Steve as Jensen gathered his things and the rest of the team started to make their way out of the briefing room. Steve could see he was clearly annoyed.

"Why me?" Bucky mouthed.

"Do I have to explain it to you?" Steve whispered, raising both eyebrows and nodding his head in the direction of Jensen, who was now chasing Katie out of the room.

Bucky groaned and followed them without giving much of a reply to Steve. He caught up with Jensen, who was showing some pictures of his niece he had on his phone to Katie, and slapped him on the back.

"Come on, pal. Follow me, we'll get you a desk." Bucky told the man.

Jensen shrugged and winked at Katie before following Bucky to his own desk so that he could leave the case files Steve had ordered him to revise.

Bucky started looking up in the station's intranet the availability of a spare room with a computer in it. He wanted to get rid of the annoying man's presence and keep him away from Katie. And he cursed internally when he saw it wouldn't be easy as the only room with a computer available was the incident room and he didn't want anyone outside the team seeing their conclusions and thoughts on the case.

He was thinking about getting him a spare laptop and leaving him in the briefing room when he lifted his head only to see Jensen observing Dot with curiosity.

"Is that a llama?" Jensen asked.

Katie's roar of laughter could be heard from Manhattan and it made Wanda raise her head from the book she was reading and look at her mischievously. Steve, hearing her loud noises of glee peeked his head out of his office door, finding Katie sprawled out on her chair, her head laid back and her chest raising and lowering with laughter. Steve decided to ignore the fuss in the main office before the sight of Katie's cleavage and breasts bouncing got him in an awkward position.

"Shut up, Stark." Bucky roared.

"Thank you for that, Jensen." Clint quipped, snorting.

"She says Dot looks like a llama." Bucky explained to Jensen who was looking around the office clueless as to why Katie was howling.

"Oh. I get it. Dot, not a llama. Cool" Jensen said raising his thumbs up as a way of apology.

"Don't worry. Sam says it's a cat." Bucky deadpanned.

"You know that cats can make a thousand different sounds and dogs can only make ten?" Jensen asked Bucky who looked at him baffled. "Cats. Not to be trusted." he continued as a way of explanation.

"Whatever. It's not a dog either. Dot is a goat." Bucky said starting to walk towards the supplies room, signalling for Jensen to follow him.

"Ouch. Sorry to hear that man. You must be upset about that photo. Are you? I mean that guy... Ross, was it? He did weird stuff to goats. Anal stuff." Jensen continued rambling walking behind Bucky.

"Don't you ever shut up?" Bucky asked turning to look at him before opening the room of the supplies room to look for a goddamned laptop so that he could get rid of the man for a while

******

To his credit, annoying little spiky haired jerk he might be, Bucky had to concede that Jensen knew his shit. By the end of the day he had revealed that the Company the bank was set up in the name of didn’t exist. The bank had been set up in Switzerland, and the name attached to it was a Mr Paul Ross. Clint made a comment about what a dumbass Ross was, as it wasn’t really covering his tracks, but Natasha pointed out that unless someone really went digging, it would look on the surface of it to be a simple transaction. Katie then snorted and said that she didn’t care what a dumbass Ross was, because it worked for them.

Jensen also discovered evidence of several cash deposits of $9,000 into the suspicious account the very day after Rumlow’s arrest. Unfortunately, as Jensen pointed out, they were untraceable as you don’t need to supply a name or ID to deposit under $10,000, so unless they could get the bank CCTV, which Bucky pointed out was a no go as they wouldn’t have kept it that long, they were none-the wiser. What they did know, however, was that the cash was then withdrawn in quarters every 6 months for the next 2 years by Ross.

Whilst there was still nothing to link the transactions to Rumlow, or indeed the other 2 victims, it was certainly more of a lead than they had that morning when they started.

"So, I believe that my work here is done…" Jensen announced, as he shut the spare lap top down. He turned to Katie as she stood up from the chair she had been in as they had all crowded round Bucky’s desk. “Fancy catching up over a beer, princess? For old times' sake?"

Bucky could tell the man was trying to sound as casual as possible after his failed attempts with Natasha earlier that morning.

"Thanks for the offer, Jake." Katie said and scrunched her nose before adding "But actually, I'm seeing someone."

"Oh. That's...." he hesitated “Good for you."

Bucky shook his head, he was feeling embarrassed for the man. He then noticed Wanda was watching the exchange like a crow perched on a tree branch. Bucky had seen her eyes shine with excitement when Katie had confessed she was seeing someone. If she only knew it wasn't Storm. He had even spotted the exact moment she realized Katie and Jensen had been a thing in the past and he hadn't liked the expression on her face. Sometimes being a well-trained detective was a pain in the ass.

"Why don't you ask Wanda?" Katie offered Jensen, her voice raising, as her honed investigative skills had clearly also led to her realising they were being watched. "She has a thing for throwing herself at my past partners..." she added as nonchalantly as possible as she knew that would rile Wanda up.

Ok, so that's payback for earlier Bucky thought, fighting back a smirk. Typical Katie, chill and wait for the right time to strike back. He would be lying if he said he wasn't proud of her.

"Maybe another time." Jensen said looking at Wanda and then at Katie "Tell Captain Rogers I said goodbye." he added before saying his farewells to the rest of the team and heading out.

"So, you and Jake?" Wanda asked Katie no sooner was he out of sight.

"Oh. So it's Jake now?" Katie asked as he typed on her computer ignoring her.

But Wanda wasn't gonna let sleeping dogs lie. She was determined to make the dogs bite. Bucky could tell so he discreetly took his phone and texted Steve.

CODE RED.

"Looks like you've made your way through all of New York.” Wanda continued scathingly.

"Nope, only Boston." Katie bit back as chilly as possible, though she was visibly getting annoyed at having to discuss her love life with Wanda.

"And Africa and Hong Kong." Bucky quipped trying to attract Katie's raising rage against himself.

Come on, Steve. Look at your phone, punk! he thought.

"Yeah, cheers Bucky." Katie snorted when she heard Clint and Natasha sniggering.

"How do you keep track of them? You put pins in a world map?" Wanda asked, arms crossed narrowing her eyes at Katie.

"Listen you little..." Katie started to growl standing up from her chair, but no sooner had she done that Steve’s voice rang out across the main room.

"What the hell is happening here?” he boomed and everyone went silent. Bucky watched as his eyes roved from Wanda to Katie and then back again.

"Wanda. I need you to pull the file for me on the Simpson case so I can review it before Court tomorrow, then you can go home." he said hastily before turning to Natasha and Clint.

"Barton and Romanoff, you can go as well. Good work today." to which they nodded and started getting ready to leave.

"Barnes and Stark, briefing room. Before you go I need you to take me through what Jensen found." he finished, and Bucky noticed the worried expression he looked at Katie with.

"I need to go to the restroom, if that's ok. I'll meet you there in 10." Katie said and shook her head to appease Steve's concern as she walked past him.

Steve looked at Bucky who only glared at him. "I told you we had to talk, punk."

“Later…” Steve grumbled back, before he headed towards the kitchen

Just over half an hour later Bucky, Steve and Katie were in the incident room running over what they had learned.

Steve rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses. He hadn’t had to wear these for a while, but today he’d had that dull threatening ache associated with tired eyes. Jensen being there pretty much all day hadn’t helped either. Whilst he hadn’t done anything more than simply being Jensen, there was something about how the spikey-haired techy bastard had been looking at Katie that had rubbed him up the wrong way today.

He watched as Katie stood looking at a print out from Jensen that they had tacked to the wall- the wording attached to the horrific goat violating photo. He could tell she was mulling things over, her teeth worrying her lip.

“What is it?” he asked her softly and Bucky glanced up from where he had been making notes on some of the other sheets of evidence to see Steve was stood watching Katie intently.

“The wording on the text…do what he wants, not pay what he wants…” Katie frowned.

“What about it?” Steve asked.

“Well, that sounds to me like the blackmail Ross was being subjected to wasn’t him paying monies…it was to do something…something specific…”

Steve waited as she began pacing in front of the board, a thing she always did when her mind was ticking 10 to the dozen. Suddenly she stopped and looked at him, then Bucky…

“Ok, so, this…it’s a wild one, and a really wild one but I always thought there was something off about the way Sitwell just appeared…what if he was paid to give Rumlow an alibi?”

“By Ross?” Steve frowned, folding his arms.

Katie nodded “But on behalf of someone else. Perfect way to keep yourself out of it, blackmail someone else into doing it for you.”

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance. “It’s a stretch…” Bucky said after a pause “A real stretch…”

“I know, and probably a load of bullshit too.” Katie said, “But, like witchy out there said…profiling and Detective work is just fucking theoretical until the evidence backs us up isn’t it?”

Steve paused again. It was a long shot, a real long shot but he knew Katie had a sharp mind, and this was what he had brought her back from DC for in the first place. What did they have to lose by following it up?

“Ok, I think that we need to make arrangements to talk to Rumlow.” Steve said. “I’ll get Clint onto it first thing tomorrow and I’ll call Fury. In the mean-time I suggest we call it a day. It’s getting late.” “I’ve got a few things to do first.” Katie nodded “I’ve still not tracked Sarah Klein down so…” “Ok, well, once you’ve done that go home.” Steve looked at her softly, “And that’s an order. It’s been a long day.” She smiled at him and stood on her toes to gently peck him on the cheek.

“Love you.” she said softly before she left the room.

"You reckon this is a good moment to talk." Bucky asked Steve once Katie was out of earshot.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. If truth be told he wanted to do anything but, however he knew if Bucky was pressing it had to be serious.

"Wanda is a pain in the ass. She's being a total bitch to Katie. She has no regard whatsoever for hierarchy." Bucky ranted and Steve sighed.

"That bad, huh."

"Worse, pal. I talked to Natasha. She says Wanda is so chill with you ‘coz she thinks you only turned her down because everyone from work was there and you wouldn’t want anyone to know. Which is funny in a way if you think of it." Bucky scoffed.

"Fuck." Steve groaned, hands dropping to his hips.

"Fuck indeed. She's delusional man and that makes her dangerous. If she susses you're with Katie, the whole thing is going to blow on your face." Bucky paced the room.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. That damned head ache wasn't merely a threat anymore. His eye sockets were pounding.

"What should I do? Shall I speak with Wanda to get things clear?" Steve asked more to himself than to his friend.

"I think you should stay away from her. And if she makes another move then talk to her. But never, ever tell her it's because you're seeing someone. She already thinks Katie is with Storm and has had her fair share of fun bickering at her about Jensen too. Let her believe what she wants to believe for now." Bucky explained.

"Yeah. You're probably right." Steve mused before he took a deep breath "You know, now you mention Storm….I’ve had have this feeling on the pit of my stomach all day. I mean, Katie's exes or whatever have never bothered me that much before, but today, I don’t know what it is but Jensen…"

"That's jealousy, because she's your girl." Bucky said and smiled at him.

Steve laughed shaking his head, getting what his friend had just said.

"What? No She's not my girl now?" Bucky chuckled before leaving the room.

******

Steve pushed his glasses up from where they had slid down his nose as he was bent too close to his laptop screen, which was probably why his headache hadn’t improved yet despite taking painkillers. After talking to Bucky before, he had decided he needed to sort out taking Katie on a date, and he had spent the last half an hour pondering where to go. It was definitely going to be Manhattan as they had less chance of being spotted, meaning maybe they could simply walk down the street hand in hand. He’d promised Katie a meal, few drinks…but as he sat there and glanced at the screen on his computer he was suddenly hit with a much better idea…that is, if there was still availability. Sitting up straight he pulled his laptop further towards him and opened up the web-browser. After about 10 minutes or so, a huge smile spread across the Captain’s face as clearly the God’s were shining down on him, or lady luck was on his side, whichever it was he didn’t care. He completed his purchase then pulled up the next page he needed and finalised his plans.

“Not bad Rogers…” Steve praised himself, sitting back in his chair, a little smug that he’d not only had the idea but was going to actually be able to pull it of…

“What are you looking so pleased with yourself about?” Steve looked up and saw Katie leaning in the doorway to his office.

“Hey Sweetheart.” he watched her for a second. “You get what you needed to do, done?”

“Sort of. I didn’t manage to speak to Sarah Klein, but I did track her down. She no longer lives in the area." Katie said, stepping into the room, closing the door behind her "Apparently, after she dropped the charges she headed back to Germany. Packed up and just went..." her arms dropped to her side. “I left her a message to call me when she can but…”

"Well, at least we know she's safe."

“I've had Clint start making the arrangements to get us an audience with Rumlow...not that he's gonna give us anything but, well, right now it's as good a shot as we're gonna get." she said, walking towards him. With a gentle movement she straddled him on his chair and his hands automatically fell to her hips as she studied him for a moment.

"You ok?" she asked as she dropped a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Yeah…” he said, leaning back in his chair. She eyed him suspiciously and he sighed “No, not really. If I’m being honest, Jensen before, the way he was with you…oh, which reminds me…what did Storm want?” “Johnny?” she frowned, “How did you know-“ “Wanda.” “Bitch.” she glowered, “It’s none of her business.” “No, but its mine.” he pressed “What did he want?” “Nothing, just to check I was ok after I ran out on him Friday.” she looked at Steve “Are you jealous?” she finished, her mouth curling into a grin.

Steve shot her a look to tell her he wasn’t in the mood for games and to her credit she looked suitably contrite and sighed softly, simply looking at him for a moment.

“Do you know how good you look with these on?” she said, pointing to his glasses, her finger tracing a circle in the air in front of his nose

“It’s not something I think about on a regular basis, no.” he smiled softly “They simply serve a purpose…” “I’ll say…” she muttered, gently moving both her hands up to gently pull them off his face. “You know, I don't know why GQ bother with their sexiest men polls…blatantly obvious I got him right here..."

He rolled his eyes but a smirk tugged at his mouth. ““Flattery will get you everywhere” he grinned as she pressed her lips to his giving him a deep kiss.

“Good to know.” she muttered against his mouth as she pulled away.

“So…” he said, his hands sliding down from her hips to smooth up the outside of her thighs, Storm and Jensen forgotten seeing as she was straddling his lap and clearly after something, that he was seriously considering giving her right there and then “What you doing tomorrow night?”

“Nothing, why?”

“I owe you a date” he said with a smile

“Yeah, you do.” she agreed before she quirked an eyebrow “Where you taking me?”

“Surprise.” he said, grinning to himself. There was no way he was telling her what he had in store, not least because she’d be like a total kid all day if he did. “But we need to be in Manhattan for 6:30 latest so I suggest we go straight from here for the Subway.”

“Interesting…” she pondered “you gonna give me a clue?”

“Nope.” he shook his head, grinning as she pouted at him.

“Not even a little one.” “No, so you can stop asking me.” “What do I need to wear?” she asked, looking at him with a smirk “You gotta tell me that at least.”

“Smart casual is fine.” he said, smirking again as she frowned, clearly hoping that the dress code would have helped her get some idea as to where it was they were going. “Just, let me surprise you, please, no digging or detective work.”

“Ok.” she agreed after a pause. “You win.” “Sorry, say that again…”

“You heard me.” she teased, her hands resting on his shoulders whilst his gently moved from her legs to her hips

“You coming home with me tonight?” he asked her softly.

She groaned “I really want to but I need to go home. Tony’s done nothing but bitch and moan at me either in person or on the phone all day about where I’ve been.” she looked down and Steve was surprised to find she looked a little upset, forlorn even. “It fucking sucks, living with my brother after having had my own place for so long. He actually told me before he was gonna give me a curfew, I mean…”

“You know if you want, only if you want…” Steve said, tilting his face up to look at him “You can come stay with me. At least until the case is done and then, well…” He let the sentence drop for two reasons. One, he didn’t want to make her feel obliged and two, they hadn’t decided what was going to happen post the case. Whether she would return to DC for the rest of her secondment or stay. Neither of them had thought that far. Steve knew which one he wanted, but he also wasn’t going to push her either way. That was her decision.

“Yeah that’s gonna look really good that Stevie!” she shook her head “In a bit Tone, moving in with Captain Bad Ass who’s guts you think I hate…”

Steve observed her for a moment as she dropped her eyes again “I hate this.” “What?”

“Having to keep this on the low…” Steve sighed and reached up to brush the longer side of her hair behind her ears. “It’s only until this case is sorted…” “The rate it’s going that could be months.”

“Ok, well how about…” he asked, his right hand gently cupping her cheek “If it goes on past another month we’ll come clean.” “And I’ll get taken off the case.” she groaned.

“Throw me a bone here Doll…” Steve’s tone was equally as exasperated “I’m trying to come up with some form of solution.”

“I know, sorry…” she said, leaning forward and giving him another soft kiss before she pressed into him, forehead on his chest and he rest his chin on her hair. He pondered something for a moment, before he had an idea that might make it a little easier, certainly out of work anyway.

“Come clean to Tony.” he said, and he felt her still slightly as his hand softly ran up and down her back. “He won’t rat us out, he’s your brother and won’t want you to get in any trouble.” “Suppose not.” she mused, before she pulled back again slightly so she could look at him “You do realise that he’s gonna hit the roof.” “Yeah, and I’m expecting he will threaten to murder me in my sleep or something to that effect.” Steve shrugged “What else is new?”

Katie chuckled slightly, he hands sliding up his chest before they came to rest on his shoulders and she gave a gently squeeze. Steve gave a soft sigh of satisfaction, cracking his neck slightly as she began to work at the muscles softly whilst he sat still.

"God your shoulders are so knotty." she mused and he left out a breath through his nose moving his head to the side and cracked an eye open to look at her.

“Yeah well, I did a lot of exercise last night…” he quipped back as her hands continued to work at his shoulders.

“I’ll say…” she grinned. “You know that thing you did with your mouth is actually illegal in several countries.” “Which is part of the reason I’m so glad we live where we do…” he said, voice low as he felt himself relax under her touch and she carried on working at his muscles in silence for a moment as his hands gently flexed on her hips, his eyes closing again.

Fuck this was heaven.

"You know, when all this is done…we should go away.” Katie spoke, rousing him a little.

“Anywhere in mind?”

“Always wanted to go to Italy.” she said, “Although I wouldn’t say no to a trip to Disney Land either, but the on in California…never been before.” “Running around a Theme Park all day isn’t exactly relaxing…” he opened his eyes and arched his brow at her.

“No, but it would be fun.” she said, “And we can have a few days at the beach or by the pool…” “Yeah, maybe.” he said, noncommittedly. “Not really my scene Doll…”

“Reckon I can convince you otherwise…” she grinned cheekily.

“Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that?” he looked at her, the flash in her eyes evident and he felt the familiar pull of desire in his stomach.

“Reckon I can think of a few ways……” she said slyly, as one of her hands slid from his shoulder around the back of his head to tangle in his hair and she used it to pull him forward to connect their lips. Steve kissed her back immediately bringing his hands up to wrap around her back and pull her closer. He groaned involuntarily when her tongue touched his and his hands moved down, gently squeezing at her ass.

“Convinced yet…?” she murmured.

“Not exactly the word I would use…” he raised an eyebrow.

She grinned back and then began to rock her hips on top of him grinding down on his growing hardness and he sighed slightly, tipping his head back as she kissed him harder, pushing down again. He raised his hips, rocking up to meet her and it was her turn to groan as he pushed harder, rubbing harder. His hands were now firmly holding her hips, sitting just under the hem of her top and his mouth moved to cover the spot under her ear that he knew drove her to distraction. She tilted her head to the side as he trailed kisses down her neck, across her jaw until his mouth caught her lips again.

“Baby…” he muttered softly “This is only gonna end one way if we don’t stop.” She sighed and dropped her head softly, resting it against his “I know, I know…sorry.”

Her movements stopped and he felt her breathing even out and she took a deep breath before her hands slid to his arms. She gave his biceps a soft rub before she moved to stand up. “I should go.” Steve hated this. He hated the fact they had to sneak around. He watched her for a second as she stood up and smoothed her top down before something inside him snapped.

“Fuck this…” he muttered, and in a swoop he was on his feet. She gave a surprised squeak as pushed her back against the desk, forcing her to sit down with a thump. With a hasty move of his arm he pushed everything to one side, vaguely aware that paper and pens and fuck knows what else were sent flying as he kissed her, fiercely, his hands roving under her top.

“I don’t know what’s got into you…” she said, her voice raspy as he moved his attention to her ear, her hands fumbling with the buckle on his belt “But I like it…” “Yeah, well, give me a minute and I’ll get into you…” he said as he swatted her hands away and quickly undid his belt and his flies himself. She gave a snort of a laugh as he moved to undo her jeans. She lifted her hips slightly, allowing him to pull them down as far as her boots would allow, which wasn’t far enough. Giving a curse he dropped to his knees, slid the zips down on each before he tossed them aside, pulling her jeans off in a movement so fast he was almost a blur. He stood up quickly and pushed her shoulders back so she was led flat on the desk. Shoving his jeans down over his hips, he grabbed at her knees, pulling her legs apart and sliding her towards him. In a swift movement he was buried inside her, both of them letting out a groan as he began to move, setting a fast hard pace. Her hands flew to the side, more stationery flying off the desk but neither paid it any attention, his thrusts deep, fast, hard.

“Fuck…” he heard her groan, as he pounded into her over and over. “Steve…”

“God you feel so good…” he mumbled, unable to articulate much else. Up until now their sex had been fairly tame to date. Amazing, yes, but this…this was carnal, the frustration of the day and the situation had been simply too much for the pair of them. But he wanted to slow down, love his girl, he really did, so he summonsed every bit of self -control he had and taking a deep breath he slackened his pace slightly, and rolled his hips deliberately making her cry out softly. He reached down and hooked his arms around her, pulling her up so she was facing him, wrapping one of her legs round his waist as he continued to grind into her. Her head dropped back, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

“Don’t stop…” she pleaded, looking back up at him “Please Captain…” Fuck, that word…her saying it in such a way did things to him that, frankly, nothing else could and he began to pick his pace up again slightly as her hands flew around to his back, clawing at him, fisting into his shirt. It wasn’t long before he felt the tell-tale flutters of her tightening around him.

“Come on doll…” he groaned “Come for me…come on…”

“Fuck…Stevie…I’m…” she gasped she let out a low moan, that was almost a growl, a noise he’d never heard from her before, a primal, raw lament as her hands tightened their grip, her legs spasmed and her head tipped back again before she collapsed forward, her head on his shoulders.

“Shit, Doll…” he groaned, and with a final few sloppy thrusts he followed her right over the edge, his thrusts slowing to a stop, the force of his own release leaving him clinging to her like his life depended on it.

***** Bucky shuffled some papers that were scattered over his desk, looking for his phone. He had already been half way home when he noticed he had left it at the station. He found it under a folder, no wonder he hadn't seen it before leaving for home. But then again it had been a demanding day and the sight of Ross fucking a poor, innocent goat was still haunting his mind. What kind of degenerate could do that to a goat? Cows existed for a reason, right?

He turned to go but stopped, frowning as he realised there was light on Steve's office which he hadn’t noticed when he had walked back in before. Mind you, the blinds on his office window were closed, they been all day, he was sure of that. But still he could see a beam of light sifting under the door.

Typical Steve move, he thought, send everyone home while he stayed late finishing whatever reports he had to send Fury the following day, or as he suspected in this case, reading over the case notes for his Court appearance tomorrow. Bucky had hoped the accident would teach his friend something but apparently it hadn't. Still, he had his hopes on Katie's influence now.

He approached Steve's office to tell him he was back but heading out again and, while he was at it, force him to call it a day and go get some rest. It had been an exhausting day for his friend too.

He was about to knock on the door when he heard Steve. At first, he thought he was talking to someone on the phone and he had his other hand already over the door handle when he froze in his spot.

"Come on doll. Come for me... come on..."

Bucky heard Steve groan. He closed his eyes and grimaced. Was Steve having phone sex?

"Fuck....Stevie... I'm..."

Oh holy Jesus fucking Christ!. Nope. Katie wasn't on the other side of the phone line. She was right there with Steve, probably under him actually…

“No, no, no Buck, stop thinking those things!” He mumbled to himself before fleeing the office as fast as he could, scarred for life, vowing mentally never to touch anything in Steve’s office ever again…

#csi rogers and barnes #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #csi au

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one-spidey-boii · 4 years

Text

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch seven

read ch six here

masterlist

an; you guys, i hit 100 followers. that’s crazy. 100 may seem like a bitch ass number compared to other accounts, but i couldn’t be more proud. thank you!! i hope you continue to enjoy this story and leave feedback.

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 5.1k+

edie's pov

i tried to help peter clean up, but he wasn't having any of it. so i was left to my own devices while he scrambled to get everything in order. after he leaves the room for the first time, i try to stand up. i wrap the blanket around my body and move towards to edge of the bed. everything is going just fine until i put weight onto my legs and attempt to take a step. my feet crumble beneath me and i snap a hand up to my mouth to stifle any noise that threatens to come from the pain. so for a while, i just sit. on the floor. waiting for peter to come back.

when footsteps sound off from down the hall, i brace myself for whatever reprimand i'm going to get from peter, but what comes through the door makes me sigh with relief and choke up with fear. not the kind of fear you get from jump scares or creepy noises, but the kind of fear you get when you know you've been a disappointment.

"what the hell are you doing on the floor?" tony asks as he waltzes over to help me up. his voice is unreadable. i let him wrap an arm around my upper back and lift me up onto the bed, but i'm too afraid to say anything. he pulls a chair over to sit in front of me and he rests there awaiting an answer, but i choose to avoid it altogether.

"where's peter?" i ask shyly. yeah, it's a good way to change the topic, but a part of me really does want to know.

tony raises one eyebrow and pauses to take in my features before replying, "i told the kid to stay out of the room until i got here. he's sitting in the living room like a lost puppy."

my head tilts at his words. why would he do that? wouldn't he want peter here with me?

"i wanted to talk to you without mr. parker in the room. and when i ask you this- i don't want you to think about him when you answer, got it?" i nod my head reluctantly, and he continues on with a sigh, "kid, do you wanna go home?"

"w-what? no! absolutely not." my insides tense up at the thought of being sent home after only a couple of weeks. mr. stark said he needed me here, why is he trying to send me home?

"just listen to me, okay? you've already gotten hurt for reasons i don't understand. and... i gotta be honest- i don't want to send you home, but i don't want you going back out there either."

"what happens to peter if you send me back?" my question comes out as a whisper, i want to challenge him somehow. surely he won't take this away from peter too. tony just sighs and shakes his head.

"don't worry about him right now. what we need to talk about is if you're-" i cut him off.

"you're going to send him home too." i accuse, borderline horrified at the idea, "how could you do that? you know how much this means to him." i take in a sharp breath of air as pain shoots up and down my side. it's silent for a few seconds.

"i don't want any of that. who else am i gonna have to protect all my toys?" he asks with a playful smile, but i know he's still hesitant about all of this, "i'll cut you a deal, alright?" i nod, "you don't go out until you are one hundred percent healed up. let peter handle all that. and i'm making happy stay here until you're ready to patrol again."

i immediately shake my head in protest, "happy hates babysitting! don't make him do that!" i plead, trying to pull the guilt card for happy's sake- and to be honest, i don't want anyone worrying about me and watching over my shoulder until i'm better, "peter can look after me. he got me this far." i say lightly, trying to make the situation a little less of a bummer.

tony takes in my features again, analyzing my words. he brings his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but to my luck he eventually nods his head.

"fine, fine. but you'll keep me updated on your recovery and only go out again when i say so, alright?" he bargains once again. this time i take his deal and nod my head with a smile. tony slaps his knees once and stands up.

"now lay back down and rest, young lady. i'll be expecting an update when you get up." tony says with a playful twinge to his words, but i know he's completely serious. before he's entirely out of the room, my mouth begins to move before i even realize it, "you know, peter does take good care of me."

i don't know why i just said that.

tony stops by the door and takes once last look around the room, "yeah, yeah," he pauses, "i know he does." and with that, he's gone.

it didn't take me long to fall asleep after mr. stark left. my body was tired and weak after working to heal as fast as it could. if only i was peter and i could heal on my own.

when i wake up, i panic slightly when i can't see anything. the light of the room is subdued and i can't even make out the ceiling above me. i move a hand to my face to find a piece of paper. it's taped to my forehead and covers my entire face. i peel it off and take in the messy handwriting scrawled across the page.

'left for patrol. mr. stark said to set out some fancy healing cream for you. it's next to your bed. he also said to leave it on for 5 minutes at most cause blah blah i don't remember why. be back before you know it -peter'

at the end of the note by his name, there's a faint 'x' next to it. the letter had been hastily erased, but my stomach jumps at the gesture. i wish he didn't feel like he had to erase it.

i fold the note carefully and set it on the cart next to my bed, next to that is the cream i assume he was talking about. i look over the text on the tube and read the directions. on the back it says something about enhanced cell regeneration, remove after five minutes, and does not diminish the appearance of scars.

i swallow thickly, nervous about applying this weird stuff to my skin. my fingers slowly twist the cap open and i squeeze a small amount onto my hand. the cream is clear and almost jelly-like as i rub it along my side. it stings at first, making me inhale with clenched teeth, but almost instantly it numbs my entire side along with my hand.

i'm afraid to keep it on my hand so i hop out of the bed and walk over to the sink to wash it off. only then does it occur to me that i hopped out of bed and walked over here. thank goodness for tony stark and his high tech, well, everything.

looking in the little mirror above the sink, i take in my tired appearance- complete with bags under my eyes and sunken cheeks. it's hard to look at myself this way, i have never fallen so low. i have never been hurt so badly before.

i just rest my now wet hands against the sides of the sink and let my head drop. i take notice i'm still in my bra and underwear, but since i'm alone at the moment i'm not worried about being seen. my cheeks do flush at the idea of peter seeing me this way, clad only in a dark purple bra and mismatched pale blue underwear.

after what feels like five minutes, i grab a hand towel and wet it under the running water of the faucet. the numbing properties of the cream are working surprisingly well- i don't feel anything as i wipe it away and wash it off.

still, my heart drops at the sight of the scar, now partially healed, but still red and angry. the line of it is jagged and violent looking. with hesitant fingers i run them along the length of it. it's horrible and ugly and for the first time in a long time- i feel ashamed. i now have to sport a scar for the rest of my life, one that i never saw coming.

i force myself to look away and tuck my hair behind my ears. my hair is riddled with sweat and it sticks to my neck, making me yearn for a shower. i let my feet carry me to the bathroom connected to my room. there i make the decision to take a bath instead when i spot the bubble bath under the sink.

after preparing everything, i slide my remaining clothes off and slip into the hot water of the tub. the bubbles are already everywhere and they easily cover the surface of the water. i close my eyes and let out a sigh.

my thoughts drift to peter, and i let myself think of him. i know something is going on inside his head, and i know it's because of me. it tugs on my heart every time he avoids or ignores me even during the slightest of encounters. i never wanted our friendship to turn into this and it bugs me beyond belief that i can't figure out why it's happening.

my eyes shoot open when i hear my name being called throughout the compound, followed by the sounds of something crashing. i sit up in the water and wait for it to stop sloshing around so that i can listen closer.

"edie?! oh my god mr. stark is going to kill me. i'll be dead by morning- edie! where are you?" it's peter, and from what i can tell he's freaking out, obviously. i let out a sigh of relief and call out to him.

"i'm in my room! it's okay, peter." the loud noises stop at my bedroom door.

"oh thank goodness. c-can i come in?" he asks, out of breath. i take in my current position— very naked and taking a bath; but covered completely by bubbles.

still a little hesitant and increasingly nervous, i call out again, "uh yeah. come in."

before the last words leave my mouth, a loud crunch and thud comes from the front of my room. i can barely see it through the crack of the bathroom door, but i know something is broken. it's silent for a hot second.

"um. oh yikes. i, uh, broke your door. not on purpose though! but it is, uh, not on the hinges anymore." he utters nervously. i can't help but laugh.

"what? who knew you were sooooo strong!" i tease, stretching out the words. some shuffling comes from my room.

"wait, where are you? what's going on?" his confused voice make me giggle. ew, giggle? really? i stifle the thought and take on a serious face.

"i'm in the bathroom, parker. stop freaking out." i reply, not at all annoyed despite my words and tone.

the shuffling behind the door stops, "you're pooping? and talking to me at the same time?" peter asks hesitantly. okay, now i’m annoyed.

"no you dipshit, im taking a bath. and everyone poops by the way, there's a children's book about it!" i yell. most of the time his innocent demeanor is endearing, but right now it's just making both of us uncomfortable.

suddenly the door creaks open wider and peter pops his head in the room, one hand covering his eyes. he still has his mask on and i roll my eyes. what is it with this boy and wearing his mask all the time?

"i just wanna make sure you're okay...a-are you okay?" he asks with a shaky voice. i can't help but smile at how nervous he is, but then again, so am i.

clearing my throat, i speak, "you can move your hand. i'm covered by, uh bubbles." peter slowly parts his fingers and peeks at me through them.

"hi." he whispers from the door.

"hi, peter." i whisper back.

he lowers his hand down to his side and steps completely into the spacious bathroom. he shuffles for a moment and decides on leaning against the doorframe with one arm up by his head. i eye him up and down, trying to get a feel for what is going through his head. he looks ridiculous standing in my bathroom, still clad in his spiderman suit that clings to his body like a second skin. it outlines the muscles in his arms, chest, and legs- truly not leaving much to the imagination. i feel my cheeks flush.

then for the second time that day, words are coming out of my mouth without my permission, "do you wanna sit?" i pull my hand out from beneath the water and tap the edge of the tub. the eyes on peter's mask widen and his arm slips from its position on the door frame. i just smile at him, despite my brain kicking me for saying anything at all.

to my surprise, he nods and settles himself on the edge of the tub down by my legs.

he whispers again, "hi."

a rush of heat floods my body at his new position and it's my turn to stutter, "hi." i'm suddenly all too aware of just how naked i am, only a thin layer of bubbles separating peter's eyes from seeing every bit of my body. and a tiny part of me doesn't hate the idea. an even smaller part wonders if peter is thinking the same thing.

"i'm glad you're okay." he says, a soft confidence laced within his words. his hand comes up to rest by my shoulder on the tub, just barely touching my skin. i nod my head and look down at the suddenly very interesting bubbles. i forgot that peter was the one who caught me when i fell in through the doors. he was the one to take care of me while we waited for mr. stark to arrive. he was the one who had to watch me bleed. with that thought, i look back up at him and gently rest my head on his hand, happy to find his eyes on mine.

"take your mask off peter." i whisper, still feeling foggy inside my head.

he shakes his head, "no."

"no?" my eyes widen at his words.

"no, e."

"come on, pete. it's not like i haven't see you before. what's the big deal?" as i say this i lean up in the water and stretch my hand to graze the edge of his mask. just as i'm about to pull it upwards and off his head, peter grabs my wrist roughly and holds it in his hand.

"if i take my mask off, all of this becomes much more real...and i don't want to see you like this." he says and looks away from my gaze. my stomach drops and i pull my hand away from his grip. all the comfort and confidence is instantly replaced with horrible, ugly nerves.

"what do you mean 'like this'? what- you can't look at me now? is it the scar? or is it because i invited you in and god forbid i'm naked under all these fucking bubbles? you didn't have you come in here, parker." my heart hurts and i spit out his name like it's venom on my lips. i can't stop my mind from reeling. peter looks at me and scoffs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he questions as he stands up from his spot.

i sit up farther in the water, eyes glaring into his, "get what?"

his eyes widen as he rushes to put both his hands on my shoulders, shoving me back down into the water with unnecessary force. my head hits the back wall as water sloshes out of the tub, "for fucks sake, edie, cover yourself up!" his voice booms and i stay put. then it dawns on me. does he think-?

"i wasn't trying to-" i plead but he cuts me off.

"it's not that i don't want- fuck!" he pulls his mask off his head and stares at me with fiery eyes, "i do want to..." then he makes a growling noise that comes from the back of his throat, "what do you want me to say? what am i supposed to think coming in here?" he rambles on. i draw my eyebrows together and sink down into the water even more.

"i wasn't trying anything, peter. i-i'm sorry if you got the wrong idea," i whisper, defeated by how this whole thing is turning out. my head throbs from hitting the wall of the tub and my heart hurts from peter's words.

"yeah. okay, edie. i'll see you in the morning." and with that, he walks out of the bathroom, leaving his mask on the edge of the sink, the eyes glaring back at me.

my vision becomes blurry. just the idea of him thinking those things about me is enough to make me shut down completely. i stand up and step out of the tub, bubbles still clinging to my body. i walk over to the full-length mirror and my eyes lock on the scar. it looks the same as before, ugly, and a single tear runs down my chin.

peter's pov

i'm so unbelievably angry with myself. i can feel every part of my body on fire due to the complete and utter rage coursing through it. when people say they're so angry they see red, they aren't lying. there’s no way to erase what just happened between edie and i. the look on her face and the fast beat of her heart will forever be burned into my head. but above all my anger, that one thing i feel the most, is fear.

the fear i’ve ruined my relationship with edie all together because i'm too much of a coward to speak the truth. the fear that she now sees me as someone who would think those awful and cruel things about her. the fear that she thinks i don't want her just because of a scar.

none of it is true. sitting there, inches from her body made my head spin and my heart jump around my chest. i wanted to touch her, to feel her soft skin underneath my fingers as they danced down her neck and shoulders. instead, i panicked and said things so far from the truth.

i discard my suit and stand in the annoying thong that mr. stark insisted i wear to avoid having a visible panty line. he said it would be more embarrassing to have that than wear a goddamn thong. whatever, it doesn't even matter now. my brain is practically swimming in my head and making me sick to my stomach. i strip completely and prepare myself for a cold shower.

the next morning is quiet. i wake up earlier than usual for no good reason. maybe my brain just doesn't wanna give me the satisfaction of sleep. i step out of bed and tug a pair of sweatpants on over my hips along with a white t-shirt over my head. taking a deep breath, i make my way to the kitchen for some sort of breakfast, coming up with toast and a glass of orange juice.

my thoughts drift to edie, probably fast asleep in her bed. i hope she got to sleep last night, after everything that happened. that's the least she deserves.

something in my gut twists and i'm overwhelmed with the need to do something about this shitty situation. i'm fucking tired of walking on eggshells and making things worse, none of this is worth it.

with a deep breath, i allow my feet to carry me across the hardwood floors to edie's room with a glass of orange juice in my hand. the door is still off the hinges from when i ripped off accidentally. and there she is, sitting on her bed with a book in her hands. she looks peaceful and for a second it loosens the knot in my chest.

i clear my throat, "orange juice?" i extend my hand with the glass towards her.

her head snaps up and she meets my gaze. with an unreadable expression on her face, she sets the book down in her lap and gently closes the cover. my arm starts to shake from holding it still for too long and i pull it back to my chest. her head tilts the slightest bit at me, her eyes wandering over my body.

i shiver under her watch, suddenly extremely self-conscious about my clothes and my hair and the small pimple forming on my chin and-

"will you go to the store and get me some paint?" she asks, her question throws me off, "i can't stand these blank walls anymore. i'm thinking a soft yellow color will do just fine," she finishes. i bob my mouth like a fish and can only nod my head at her.

before i go to leave the room, she makes one more request, "leave the orange juice?” there is the smallest hint of a smile on her lips, and that’s enough for me.

edie's pov

when peter got back from the store, i had just finished the book i started last night. with no intention of sleeping, i pulled it out of the suitcase i had yet to unpack and got comfortable on the bed. just as i set it down, peter skid to a halt right outside my doorframe.

out of breath, he says, "i got two gallons of paint and a couple of brushes and those wheely things and...uh here." he holds the buckets of paint and bags out in front of him.

i smile at the boy. after last night's events, i've come to a conclusion; everything that happened up to that point was just a weird fluke in our friendship. all the strange feelings and awkward glances could be boiled down to one thing; us being alone in the compound. it was just hormonal teenage tendencies and it's truly nothing to worry about. every one of my feelings were just the result of built up emotions that showed themselves in weird ways. things can go back to normal now.

"thanks, pete. could you help me pull the bed away from the wall?" i chirp at him. for a second it seems like he's frozen in place, then a smile spreads across his face and he lets out a breathy little laugh.

"uh, yeah. of course." he replies and grasps the opposite side of the bed that i'm on. with a simple tug, the frame scrapes across the floor and comes to rest in the middle of the room. we both stand up straight and his eyes meet mine, he smiles wider.

"alrighty, let's get going then, yeah?" i huff out. with that, we each pour out paint into our respective pans and get to work. i take the south two walls and peter claims the north. i find myself enjoying the silence that falls between us.

every once in a while, i feel his eyes on me. i know when the other side of the room is completely silent, he's watching me. it doesn't bother me, i know he must feel bad about last night. that person wasn't peter and i know that. i just hope he'll forgive himself.

when i get to the parts of the wall i can't reach, i drag a stool in from the kitchen to stand on. unfortunately, it isn't enough height to allow me access to the top of the high ceiling. with a huff, i hop down and look around my room for something else to use. peter has turned his attention back to his side of the room and seems to be having a much easier time reaching the top, he’s much farther along than i am too.

after finding nothing else that could help, i climb back up on the stool and stand on my tiptoes, stretching as far as i can, giving me just enough height to get the job done. i smile at my victory and continue with a sense of pride. throughout this whole time, not one thought drifted to the scar on my side.

peter's pov

she looks beautiful, her frame stretching to reach the remaining white spots on the wall. i just finished the first coat on my side of the room when i set my paint roller down and stand back to admire her. the cotton fabric of her shirt is riding up her side, showing enough skin to let me see a part of her scar. i haven't seen it since it was first being mended back together by the fancy laser pen. it looks a lot better than it did, without the blood and all.

yet, it's still hard to look at. the line of it stretches along a good portion of her body. the marred skin still red and bruises are starting to form around the edges. my mind flashes back to the feeling of her in my arms when she collapsed, then to the sight of her in the tub. two contrasting events that made my feelings for her change.

edie's pov

"gotcha bitch!" i yell in triumph as i finally reach a part of the wall i was working on longer than i'd like to admit. the victory doesn't last long though as i survey the remaining sections of white. hiding my annoyance, i hop off the stool and move it to a new area, heart set on staying positive during these...trying times.

i'm back to painting for a few minutes and the other side of the room has gone silent again. i try to hide the small smirk that creeps along my lips, knowing what the silence entails. i know i vowed to forget everything that happened last night, but i'm growing to like the new attention from peter, whatever it may mean. i continue painting.

warm fingers brush against my exposed side and my body flinches at the contact, causing the wandering fingers to pull back. i squeeze my eyes shut and lower my hand holding the paintbrush. i don't want to turn my head. i don't want to move at all, but knowing the fingers belong to peter gives me a sense of relief, he's just curious. so i let him be.

peter slowly lifts my shirt ever so slightly and places one finger at the top of my scar, right under my ribcage. he drags it down along the jagged line, slow enough i'm not even sure it’s actually happening. his fingers feel nice on my hot skin, making my body shiver. he continues to run a single finger around the outline of the wound. every time he reaches my hip, his touch lingers just the tiniest bit longer.

this is okay. he's just curious. it isn't scary, it's...nice.

when he presses his lips to my skin, my heart explodes. i want to stop him, to tell him he doesn't have to do this. he doesn't have to touch me this way. i don't want him to touch me this way.

oh, but that would be a lie.

"peter..." i whisper, hands shaking along with my legs that still stand on the stool.

he trails soft, wet kisses down my side and hums a 'yes' at the sound of his name. each kiss is placed delicately on the edge of the scar, following the sharp line of it.

"what are you...?" i trail off when he lets out a soft hush between kisses. my head is reeling and my heart is beating faster than i ever thought possible. once peter reaches my hip, i force myself to slowly turn my body towards him. he's now eye level with my torso and i tentatively slide my fingers through his soft hair. he tilts his head up to look at me with his warm brown eyes. he wraps his arms around my body hesitantly and rests his hands on the small of my back.

"hi." he whispers sheepishly.

i let out a sound that can only be described as a sad laugh that got caught in my throat. i'm simply beyond words as i just stare down at the sweet boy with the widest, brightest smile i can manage. he breaks our gaze and peppers more kisses across my stomach. his touch is so gentle, so soft and careful.

"so so beautiful," he mumbles each word between every perfectly placed kiss. his lips linger in all the right spots, igniting a fire in my belly- among other places. the feeling is intoxicating. he is intoxicating. i want more. more of him and his sweet words.

i grab his fingers and thread them through my own. his lips break away from my skin and he peers up at me again, the smallest smile on his face. he takes my hands and wraps them around his neck, then he does something that throws me off my feet, literally. his hands slide down my body to take hold of my thighs and with one quick motions he lifts my feet off of the stool, making a gasp rise from my throat. peter lowers me down to his level and taps my legs with his fingers, whispering a soft come here, prompting me to wrap them around his waist.

i suck in a deep breath, staring into his dark eyes, "what is going on?" i ask in disbelief. he lets out a deep chuckle and kisses my forehead as he simply shakes his head. i furrow my brows at him.

he carries me over to the bed, still in the middle of the room and sits down on the edge, holding me tight in his lap. i'm in awe at his strength. and the way he treats me like the most precious thing in the world. peter leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. after a few long seconds, he whispers gentle words against my lips,

“i’ve wanted to do this ever since we got to this stupid compound.”

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rimmers-swimming-certificate · 4 years

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Red Dwarf fanfic - Comatose (12/19)

Rimmer carefully examined the two guitars, one leaning against the wall of their sleeping quarters and the other, right next to it, doing a reasonably convincing impression of the same thing.

“No,” he said. He shook his head. “No no no, Holly. It’s totally different. You need to make it look the same.”

They had been at this for over an hour and for some reason Holly still wasn’t getting it.

From the viewscreen, Holly appeared to look from one guitar to the other. In actual fact, Rimmer knew that she was looking from the microcameras positioned around the room, and around the whole ship. They were always on, always aware, giving the computer a 360 degree view of everything that happened on board. There were no secrets from Holly. Rimmer tried not to think about that too hard, because thinking about it reminded him that Holly knew exactly what he had used to get up to with Inflatable Ingrid when he had been alive, and he would rather not think about that, thank you very much.

She looked for a long time, eyes flicking from right to left as she appeared to switch her gaze from one guitar to the other. Finally she sighed in exasperation. “They’re the same, Arnold,” she told him.

Rimmer, crouching on the floor near the two instruments, shook his head. “No they’re not. They’re completely different.” He pointed to the first guitar, the original. “This one here, it’s black, yes, but it’s more of a charcoal black, whereas this one,” he pointed at the second instrument, “This one is very clearly onyx.”

“Clearly,” Holly said. Rimmer caught the sarcasm in her voice, and he didn’t care for it.

“And you see the damage on this one? The cigarette burn on the front there? On this other one, it’s about a millimetre too far to the left.”

Holly sighed. “It’s the same. I did a complete three dimensional scan of the thing. I can guarantee with 101 percent certainty that they are identical.”

“Er… 101?” Rimmer frowned. “You can’t have more than 100 percent certainty, Holly.”

She frowned. “Can too,” she said. “And I’m 106% certain of that.”

Rimmer placed his head in his hands and wondered, not for the first time, how the universe could have been so cruel as to sentence him to an eternity in deep space with these idiots. “I don’t care if you think it’s a million percent accurate, Holly, they’re not the same. Come on! You’re a supercomputer with a reported IQ of six thousand. I mean, granted you lost a couple of zeros from that figure over the years, and to be perfectly honest I was never convinced by that whole ‘six thousand’ boast in the first place, but despite all that, surely a computer should still have a better eye for detail than I do.”

Holly rolled her eyes theatrically. “Well yeah,” she said. “I do. That’s how come I can see they’re the same.” She sank into silence for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, look. You’re right, I should have a better eye for detail than you. So there’s only two possible explanations for why we disagree.”

“Go on then,” Rimmer told her.

“First one is, I can’t see any difference because there is no difference. They’re exactly the same and you’re the one that’s wrong.”

“No, that can’t be it,” Rimmer told her dismissively. “What’s the other possibility?”

Holly frowned. “I’ve forgotten,” she said. “Funny, I knew it a minute ago.”

Rimmer raised his eyes upward in a ‘give me strength’ gesture to a God that he didn’t believe in, and who, if he ever had existed in the first place, had almost certainly long since abandoned the remaining crew of a long-forgotten mining ship. “Great,” he said. “Fine. Let’s agree to disagree. Just move the cigarette burn one… no, one point five millimetres to the left, and adjust the colour.”

“If you say so,” Holly intoned. The cigarette burn shifted to the correct position. Rimmer looked at it again, and frowned. Actually, now it was too far to the right. Maybe Holly had been right after all.

Well, there was no way he was going to tell her that. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Great,” he said. “Just one thing to check.” He reached out with one hand and strummed his fingers across the strings of the holographic guitar. The sound was hideous; a discordant mess that made him cringe in discomfort and wish that he was deaf. “Perfect,” he said. “Where is Lister anyway?”

“About twenty metres away, heading in this direction,” Holly told him.

“What? I said warn me when he’s on his way.” Rimmer jumped backward, away from the door, and sat down on his bunk at the exact same moment Lister entered the room. Either Lister sprinted those twenty metres, or Holly had miscalculated again.

Lister looked around the room before settling a suspicious gaze on Rimmer. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Going on?” Rimmer said. “Nothing. What makes you think anything’s going on?”

Lister’s suspicion appeared to deepen. “Because when I walked in here, you leaped back like you’d been doing something you shouldn’t, and then sat down on the bunk trying to look nonchalant.”

Rimmer nodded. It was Holly’s fault of course. If he’d had just a few more seconds to prepare, he could have been much more convincing. Luckily, it wasn’t as though he was saving the gift for a special occasion. It was done, or as done as it was going to be.

He got to his feet. “Well, something was going on, as it happens,” he said.

Lister nodded. “I know. That’s what I said. So, what were you up to?”

RImmer folded his arms. “I resent that, actually,” he said. “I resent the fact that you just assume I’m ‘up to’ something, like I’ve always got some nefarious scheme on the go like some cartoon bad guy on one of those terrible TV shows you like to watch.”

Lister sighed. He sat down and shook his head. “Will you relax? It’s a figure of speech. When you say ‘What are you up to’? it means ‘what are you doing?’ It’s like when you bump into your mate unexpectedly and you go ‘Alright?’ it doesn’t mean you think there’s something wrong, it’s just a way of saying hello.”

Rimmer frowned. Was it? He wondered what the correct response was in that case. He suspected that maybe he shouldn’t have been saying “fine thanks’ all those years. “Yes, I know that. Obviously,” he said.

“So, what were you up to?”

Rimmer straightened up proudly. “I was making something, actually,” he said. Keeping his eye on Lister to see his reaction, he indicated the guitar with a wave of his hand.

Lister looked confused. He glanced around the room, then back to Rimmer “Okay. What were you making?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? The gui…” he stopped. The guitar had disappeared. “Er, Holly, where did it go?”

Holly appeared back on the screen. “Where did what go?” she asked.

One of these days, he was going to send one of the skutters into Holly’s inner wiring and have them perform a lobotomy. The result couldn’t possibly be any worse than what they had now. “You know what, you stupid computer. The thing that we just spent an hour making, and that you have now blinked out of existence. Put it back.”

“Oh, right,” Holly said. “Why didn’t you say?”

The holographic copy of the guitar reappeared next to Lister’s real one. Lister looked at it, then back to Rimmer, and then to the guitar again. “Is that…? He said. He took a step forward, toward the guitar, then hesitated. “Is it real?” he asked.

“Well, no,” Rimmer told him. “It’s a hologram.”

“No, I mean can I…” Lister reached out hesitantly, as though he expected for the guitar to disappear, or for his hand to pass through it as it would the genuine instrument. When his fingertips connected with the neck of the guitar. His eyes widened in surprise, and his hand closed around it.

“You did this?” he asked.

Rimer tried to look modest. “Well, Holly helped. A bit. But basically, yes.”

Lister plucked one of the strings with the well-chewed nail of his right index finger. It reverberated unpleasantly around the room, and Rimmer tried not to cringe. Lister plucked each string in turn, eyes closed and an expression of pure joy on his face. When he opened his eyes to look at Rimmer again, he was smiling in a way that Rimmer didn’t remember seeing in… well, since the accident.

“Why?” he asked.

Rimmer frowned. “What do you mean ‘why’?

Lister strummed the guitar, the fingers of his left hand pressing the strings to play a chord. Or they would have, if the guitar had been anything close to in tune. It occurred to Rimmer that perhaps he should have asked Holly for it to be slightly less true to life in that regard. “You hate my guitar. You’ve threatened to have the skutters smash it up more times than I can count. You said it was noise pollution, hazardous to health. You said it should have a warning sign on it.”

It was a fair point. He had said and done all of that. One one occasion, before he had died, he had come within inches of actually snapping the damn thing in two. Until Lister had jumped down from the bed in a panicked attempt to save it, and crushed Rimmer’s foot. He’d limped for a week after that.

He looked away, feeling awkward suddenly. The truth was, Lister had given him something, when he had placed his arms around him and allowed him to experience his first real hug in… well, he wasn’t sure, but it had been a hell of a lot longer than three million years. When he had kneaded the tension out of his neck and shoulders, when he had let Rimmer touch him and not recoiled in revulsion. Lister had given him something, and he had wanted to give him something back.

Not to mention, there was a chance that he might feel a teensy bit guilty for something he had thought a few days earlier. It wasn’t his fault, of course; it wasn’t like he could be held accountable for the thoughts that popped unbidden into his head, but after Lister’s seizure, he had, briefly, hoped for worse news. It wasn’t that he would exactly be happy if Lister needed to stay as a hologram, but he definitely wouldn’t have been unhappy about it either.

He shrugged. “I didn’t have anything better to do,” he said.

Lister gave him a look, and Rimmer was certain that he understood. He understood the first reason, anyway, though he was frustratingly perceptive and there was always a chance he had picked up on the second one too. “Thanks man,” he said. “Come ‘ere.” Still clutching the guitar to his chest, Lister wrapped his arms around Rimmer. For a moment, squashing the guitar between them.

Rimmer hesitated, before he put his own arms around Lister. It felt so good. He tried to remind himself that it was Lister that he was hugging. Slobby, revolting Lister whose dirty laundry set off the chemical waste alarm on two separate occasions. Lister, who he had once watched wake up, strain five cigarette butts out of a warm can of lager with a tea strainer and chug the drink for breakfast. He was disgusting, and right now, Rimmer didn’t care one bit.

“You don’t know what this means to me,” Lister added.

No, Rimmer supposed. He probably didn’t. He had never been musically gifted. Of course, neither was Lister -- in fact, if there was such a thing as the opposite of musically gifted, that was Lister -- but he enjoyed it. He could lose himself in it and forget his troubles. Rimmer had always envied him that ability, and he knew that being cut off from it, whether it was temporary or not, had been difficult for him.

Finally, Lister patted Rimmer on the back, the universal signal for ‘that’s enough hugging now’, and took a step back. Holding the guitar reverentially in his hands, he brushed his fingers over the smooth surface of its body and the rough damage of the cigarette burn.

“It takes a lot of power to generate,” Rimmer told him. “Keeping you and me going at the same time is taxing enough on power reserves as it is, so Holly tells me it’ll disappear when you’re not using it, so she can use the power for other things. You’ll need to ask for it when you want it back.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lister agreed, still stroking the guitar like it was some kind of pet.

“And don’t spend too long playing, or we might need to skimp on light or heating.”

No reply.

“Lister, did you hear me?”

Lister wasn’t listening anymore. He had sat down on Rimmer’s bunk and started to pluck the strings one by one, a faraway look on his face.

Rimmer nodded, satisfied. He backed away a couple of steps, then headed for the door.

“Hey, where are you going?” Lister asked him.

“Away,” Rimmer told him. “I’ve done my good deed for the day. Just because I gave you that thing doesn’t mean I should have to suffer though listening to you play it.”

(next)

(Thanks once again to @norwegianpornfaerie for betaing)

#red dwarf #red dwarf fanfic #my fic #dave lister #arnold rimmer #in which rimmer no only tries to be nice #but actually suceeds

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dlwritings · 5 years

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It Wasn’t Supposed to Snow | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 2,044 warnings - A/N - I really wanted to have a good Christmas, I really did. Instead, I spent about 5 hours with family I don’t fit in with, thinking about the fact that I got a letter from my school yesterday kicking me out of the program I’m in because I have a GPA 0.02 under the requirement, and that I told myself that if it snowed today I would tell the guy I liked that I liked him. It snowed. I didn’t tell him. This is how it would’ve happened in my dreams if I did. In other words, my day has been absolute shit and I’d love to sleep and not wake up for a while.

summary - You would never say that your life was cliche, but when London gets a statistically improbable white Christmas, you feel like you’re living out a Hallmark movie.

The following four statements were true:

It hadn’t snowed in London all month.

There was a zero percent chance of a white Christmas.

Tom Holland, your childhood best friend, would be spending Christmas in Kingston.

You were absolutely, irrevocably in love with him.

So while laying in bed, two days before Christmas, you made a promise to yourself. If it snowed on Christmas day, you would call Tom and tell him you loved him. You felt very comfortable in your chances. All the meteorologists had been saying for weeks that it would be a green Christmas. Even if it did snow -which it wouldn’t- the most you could do would be call Tom as you weren’t going to travel 45 minutes just for him to laugh in your face.

You would’ve been content never telling him, but after watching Love Actually and crying when Mark told Juliet he loved her (despite the fact that you’d seen the movie a million times before), you kind of figured that deep in your subconscious, you needed to confess. Your friends had been telling you to do so for ages. That, even if he didn’t like you back, you’d at least be able to get it off your chest and move on. It had taken you over two years of being madly in love with him to realize that they were right. Someday you’d need to tell him, otherwise the feelings would eat you alive.

On Christmas Eve, you woke up to a light dusting of snow on the ground. You sat up in bed, blinked harshly, and looked out the window to see the snow coating the grass in your yard. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mumbled to yourself. Immediately, your brain started coming up with conditions. The snow on Christmas morning couldn’t just be on the ground. You’d have to actually physically see it snowing. And it couldn’t be the gross snow that looked more like rain. It’d have to be the fluffy, white, pure snow -the kind that only happened in the really cliche moments during a Hallmark film. Because that was what your life had come to: a wannabe Hallmark film.

On Christmas Day, you woke up to the same light dusting of snow. You smiled to yourself. No snow falling from the sky? No love confession. A Christmas success.

You went over to your grandparents’ house that day with the rest of your family. You didn’t exactly love your family, so you were only really half aware of everything happening around you. It wasn’t until one of your particularly loud aunts shouted, “Look at the snow!” that you sat up and started paying attention.

Snow. Beautiful, white, picture-perfect snow. Your mouth was ajar in shock. You hardly even realized that you had stepped outside until the flakes started landing on your eyelashes. You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “(Y/N), what are you doing?” you heard your mom call. You turned around to see her standing in the doorway with her arms crossed at her chest. “Come inside! It’s time for presents.”

“Sorry,” you called back. You jogged up to the front door and shook the snow off the top of your head. As you took your shoes off, your mind continued to wander. You didn’t really have to tell him. It’s not like you made a deal with a real person who would hold you accountable. All you did was say it to yourself one night late in your room. There was no need to follow through on this promise.

And yet, you knew you had to.

The whole ride back to your apartment was stressful. Your mind was overflowing with stressful thoughts. What the fuck were you supposed to say? Hey Tom! Merry Christmas! How’s your day been? Your family good? Have I told you before that I’m in love with you? Nope. Not gonna happen. Not the way to do it.

You were getting a headache.

On the upside, it was Christmas. The chance of Tom actually answering his phone was slim. He would be far too busy with family. He probably didn’t even have his phone on him. Tom prioritized family over everything. That made it better. All you’d have to do would be leave a message. The message could be stupid and it’d be fine. You wouldn’t have to face hearing what he had to say back because he’d probably just never speak to you again. Yes. This was good.

Before you could give yourself a chance to reconsider, you reached in your pocket and pulled out your phone. You clicked Tom’s contact name and pressed the phone to your cheek. You could feel your hands shaking and you kept taking heavy breaths to stabilize yourself. Your palms were clammy and your head was pounding. You decided to pace the room because you were too antsy to sit in one place.

“Hey, this is Tom! Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message and I’ll ring you back when I can!”

You took a deep breath, waited for the beep, and left your voicemail.

“Hey, Tom. Uh, Merry Christmas! I know it’s weird that I’m calling today and, well I kind of figured you wouldn’t pick up so that’s fine. I really just wanted to leave a message anyway. You don’t have to worry about calling me back or anything. I just want to say what I’ve got to say and then… well I haven’t really figured out what’ll happen after that. God, okay I should probably hurry up because I don’t know if the machine’s gonna cut me off. I don’t usually leave people messages so I don’t know… sorry okay, ahh okay. Did you know it hasn’t snowed in London all month? The people on the news have been saying for weeks that we were going to have a green Christmas. Like, they were 100% certain of it. And then, well I woke up this morning and there was snow on the ground and, and when I visited my grandparents it started actually snowing. Like, it was soft, white snowflakes just coming down. And, okay so basically, ah fuck okay. What happened was I was so certain it wouldn’t snow that I told myself that if it did, I would call you and tell you I love you. So, so I guess that’s what I’m doing. Something out of a stupid Hallmark Christmas film, I guess. I didn’t actually think stuff like this happened in real life, but here we are. So. Yeah. I guess that’s all. You don’t, please don’t call me back. We don’t have to talk about this. I hope you don’t hate me or anything because I still really want to be your friend. You’re my best friend. If this is going to make things weird then we’re just going to pretend I didn’t send this and we’re gonna move on. Okay. Yeah. Merry Christmas, I guess. Okay. Yep. Bye.”

You hung up your phone and threw it on your bed before covering your mouth with your hands. Reality hit you and you shouted, “What the fuck did I just do?”

You quickly grabbed your phone again and shut it off. As long as you pretended this didn’t happen, it didn’t happen. You’d keep your phone off for the rest of the night, cuddle under a blanket with hot chocolate and Christmas films, and pretend like you didn’t just make the worst mistake of your life.

You started with Arthur Christmas. It was one of your favorite Christmas films. Cute, simple, sweet, wholesome, funny. Everything you needed to keep your mind from imploding. Once it was over, you hopped up from the couch, went over to your DVDs, and put The Santa Clause in the player. You hadn’t even sat back down when the doorbell rang. You furrowed your eyebrows. Surely it wasn’t Christmas carolers. It was always Christmas carolers on TV, but you had never actually gotten any before. The doorbell rang again so you called, “Coming!” and jogged over to the door. You knew you looked silly (you were wearing a snowman print onesie and your hair was up in a bun) but whoever it was was just going to have to deal with it.

You did not expect “whoever it was” to be Tom.

Your jaw dropped a bit when you saw it was him, but you tried to quickly recover. “Hey,” you said slowly. You folded your arms across your chest and stepped back slightly. “Uh, what’re you doing here? Thought you were with family in Kingston?”

“I am,” he said. “Er, well, I was.” He scratched the back of his head. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you said quickly, stepping aside to let him in. He smiled and did so, taking off his jacket and shoes before heading into the kitchen. “Do you want any hot chocolate or tea or anything?”

“I’m okay,” he said. You could feel your breath catching in your lungs.

He knew. He heard the messages. He knew. So why was he here?

“I, I got your message,” Tom said softly. You closed your eyes and hung your head. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, but Tom was still standing in the doorway to the room.

“I’m, yeah, I’m sorry?” you said. You didn’t know what else to say. Fuck. This is exactly what you had wanted to avoid.

“Don’t, why’re you sorry?” he asked.

“Tom, look, I shouldn’t have said anything,” you said. “And I shouldn’t have said it over the phone, let alone a voicemail message. This is weird. I put us both in a weird place and now you’re here which I didn’t expect you to come and be here, like, I kind of assumed you’d send me to voicemail and then maybe listen to it and then pretend-”

Tom cut you off with a kiss.

He had taken a few steps closer to you whilst you were rambling and you hadn’t even noticed, too wrapped up in your own worrying thoughts. But when he kissed you, he had taken one massive step towards you and grabbed your face in his hands. The kiss was soft and hesitant. When you didn’t kiss him back, he pulled away from you. He kept his forehead pressed to yours. You looked each other in the eyes for a moment, both of you breathing very heavily. You were the one who grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for another kiss. You kept your hands around his neck while he laid his on your hips. He stood so that his legs were on either side of yours and his hands squeezed your hips tightly, holding you impossibly close to him.

When you both pulled away again, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. “What just happened?” you whispered. You closed your eyes and hung your head, only looking back up at him when he put his finger under your chin and made you.

“I love you, too,” he said. He laughed, “Fuck, I love you. I always have loved you. When I listened to your voicemail, I left my family right away.”

“Really?” you laughed.

“Straight away,” he laughed back. “Everyone was so confused but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I just kept saying I gotta go. I gotta go. So I left.” He paused and furrowed his eyebrows for a minute. “Should probably ring them and tell them I’m okay.” You laughed and leaned your forehead against his again.

“Can’t believe you really love me,” you said quietly. “I guess, I guess I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

“I probably should’ve said something too,” he laughed. “I’m just as at fault as you are. But.” He paused and smiled. “None of that really matters now, does it?”

“Nope,” you said simply. “Doesn’t matter at all. I am sorry I ruined your family Christmas, though.”

“Ah, don’t be,” he said with a grin. “I’ll tell them later. They won’t mind. Probably be thrilled actually. And anyway, fuck ‘em. This is the best bloody Christmas present ever. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #marvel #this is the worst christmas of my life and out of it I have written this average imagine #here we are

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theattainer · 4 years

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THE TEN WORST THINGS YOU CAN DO IN A NEGOTIATION

https://files.admin.agorafinancial.com/images/jamesonthestreet.png

http://theattainer.com/the-ten-worst-things-you-can-do-in-a-negotiation-2/

THE TEN WORST THINGS YOU CAN DO IN A NEGOTIATION

The best negotiator I knew always acted like an idiot. He acted so well that I thought he was really stupid. I also thought at the time that he was my best friend.

That was probably an act also. Just two years later he stopped talking to me forever.

I ran into him in the street the other day. He smiled and shook my hand. I felt warm, like he liked me again. Then he was gone.

Negotiation is first about warmth. Two sides deciding if they want to be friends with each other. If they want to be in the same tribe, fighting side by side in this harsh world.

After that it’s about vulnerability. Making yourself into the type of person someone else wants to take care of.

This is not a mystery. When a baby is born the negotiation begins. It lasts until at least the baby is an adult.

My oldest turns 16 tomorrow. She negotiates with me every day. I love her. But maybe that’s what makes her such a tough negotiator.

I’m not so good at realizing where all the boundaries are.

Between the outer me and the inner me. Between the me that always loves her and the me that wants her to love me back.

I guess that’s how I am with everyone. If they don’t love me back, I’m afraid, I’ll be less happy.

If I’m honest where the boundaries are, then we can begin to set up the rules. Then love begins.

Tricky!

I’ve probably seen over 1000 negotiations in action. I’ve probably been directly involved in 100 or so.

Every day life is a negotiation. I’m not talking in this post about the every day negotiations although the same rules apply. I’m talking about negotiations where careers and money and reputations and maybe love is at stake.

For me, that latter is the hardest. So take my advice with a grain of salt. In fact, I’d rather tell you all the ways in which I’ve messed up in negotiations. Because this is really the classroom I learned in.

A) IF YOU HAVE A SMALL LIST OF TERMS, YOU LOSE.

Let’s say you are selling a company. One side is usually focused on the final price. That side will henceforth be called “the loser”.

Make your list bigger: what are the terms of the non-compete, what is the length of the earn out, what are the salaries of the new top executives, what are the perks, what are the options packages.

Or if it’s a job: what are the responsibilities, what are similar people being paid, what is the path to higher promotions, what are the details of health, vacation, moving expenses, reviews, etc.

The side with the bigger list can give up the nickels for the dimes to the loser.

B) IF YOU DON’T GET ENOUGH SLEEP, YOUR WILLPOWER WILL BE ZERO.

Carl Icahn, one of the best investors in the world, uses this technique.

He schedules his negotiations for the early evening.

Our peak mental ability (according to Dan Ariely, author of Predictably Irrational, and many other books) is approximately 2 hours after we wake up until about 4 hours after we wake up.

And then throughout the day, our willpower slowly leaks away until we sleep again. That’s why we watch TV and eat donuts at night rather than when we first wake up.

So Carl Icahn will sleep until 4pm and then go to the negotiation at 6pm.

On the other side of the table are exhausted lawyers who have been working all day.

BAM! Who do you think will win that negotiation.

C) MOST PEOPLE THINK SHORT-TERM. BE THE VISIONARY AND YOU WIN.

Applied Semantics didn’t want to sell to Google in 2001. They had raised some money and thought they could make it.

A few months earlier I had made the mistake of turning them down when they were raising money. “The search engine business is dead!” said the greatest prophet of modern times.

Me.

Larry Page told the CEO of Applied, “I’m not getting off the phone until you say yes”.

So Applied Semantics sold themselves in exchange for 1% of Google. ONE PERCENT.

This was before Google went public. So it was a total unknown what those shares would be worth. Larry Page had the vision of where they would be.

Applied Semantics became the Adsense division of Google. Which now accounts for 99% of Google’s revenues.

Are they upset? Shouldn’t they have sold for more?

Of course not. They sold for over a billion in value and created the end goal of making one of the best companies in the world.

You can only get rich once. Don’t worry so much about maximizing your percentage of something. One percent of $250 billion is better than 100% of nothing, as the saying goes.

I’m going to take a break for a second and say something that has saved me considerable stress.

NEVER WORRY ABOUT WHAT IS IN SOMEONE ELSE’S POCKET.

Let other people do well. Then you will do well.

Ok, back to what you shouldn’t do in a negotiation.

D) DON’T SAY NO.

I say this even though I wrote the book, “The Power of No”. What I really mean here is, bury your NO inside of a YES.

I was negotiating with one company once. They wanted me to be an advisor. I said, “no”. But not like that. What I really said was, “You have a great company and I am happy to give advice.”

What a great way to say no! They kept calling. They really wanted me. I said, “Here’s what you should do without me” and I totally laid out the plan they should do. I did it for free. That was another way of saying “no”.

This made them want me as an advisor even more. Eventually they offered enough that I said, “yes”. They followed my advice exactly. The advice that I had already given for free.

There’s a well-known improv technique of “Yes, and…”

In improv, the first performer creates the premise. The second performer can’t change it or reject it, he can only build on it.

In a negotiation if someone says, “well, you’re only worth $1 because you have X” you can say, “yes, and we also have Y so let’s take that into consideration.”

Suddenly your value is higher because you didn’t start a fight. You agreed and added.

E) MANY PEOPLE NEGOTIATE WITH THE WRONG MATH.

This is the part many people don’t get right and it’s hard to explain. I’ll take a simple example. I don’t know if the negotiation took place this way but it describes what I mean.

Why did Facebook buy Instagram for $1 billion. Instagram had 11 employees and zero revenues.

On that basis, maybe Instagram was worth…nothing. Or close to it.

But maybe the negotiation went something like this:

Instagram: Let’s agree to a formula first on how we should value our company.

Facebook: Err…Ok.

Instagram: Forget about our revenues for a second. But let’s just assume we can earn $X for every user you have (call that number $Y). Pay us $X * Y.

Facebook: Err.Ok.

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Watch This Stock Market Celebrity Do Amazing Street Magic… On Camera

Just a few weeks ago, we got a strange invitation.

James Altucher, the famous ex-hedge-fund manager, financial author, and frequent contributor seen on CNN, MSNBC, in Forbes and the Wall Street Journal, and Financial Times…

Asked us to come up to New York and, as he said, “bring a camera.”

We did. And what happened next was absolutely incredible — live, on camera, this famous celebrity conducted what we can only describe as “a magic income experiment.”

I’ve never seen anybody do anything quite it… click here to see what happened.

Instagram probably then showed how they could add $1 in value for every customer Facebook had. Facebook has a billion users. So a billion dollars.

Come to the negotiation with your formula. Know how to fill in the variables before the other side does. Every good negotiator does this.

The reason I know this? Because this is how I’ve lost many negotiations to good negotiators. I’ve had very good mentors on this one aspect of negotiation.

Because we all negotiated the formula, but not the price, in advance, then everyone has already said “Yes” to something and they basically have to stick with it.

(Well, they don’t have to. But it’s high stakes and you don’t want to seem like you don’t live up to your word.)

F) IF YOU HOPE FOR ONLY ONE OUTCOME, YOU NEVER GET IT.

I really wanted my company, Stockpickr, to be bought by Google. I threw everything I could into the basket. I would send them love notes in the middle of the night.

Seriously, I was in love with the woman doing the negotiating.

I didn’t have a technical team was the problem. We built the whole site for a few thousand dollars. I had one partner. We had 99% margins on our revenues but Google likes technical teams.

Oh well.

I then focused on getting alternatives. I called AOL, Yahoo, Reuters, Forbes. Then thestreet.com bought us.

Sometimes people write me and say, “I sent my ten ideas to my favorite company but they haven’t called back. Should I call them again?”

That’s the wrong question. The right question is: “What’s the next 100 companies I should write to?”

It’s no secret that being able to walk away from a negotiation is the best starting point in a negotiation.

G) SMARTER PEOPLE LOSE.

This is what I like to say: you guys are the experts at this, we’ve just been focused on building our product, company, art, whatever.

Then I say, “if you were me, what would you ask for?”

I ask them advice. Because they are the experts. It’s not a lie.

If you are applying for a job with someone more senior than you, why not ask the more senior guy for advice? He knows more than you.

Very often they give very good advice.

H) IF YOU NEGOTIATE WITH A LOSER, YOU LOSE.

If two sides are negotiating, you need at least one champion for what you are doing on the other side.

One time I was working with a company and GE offered us a billion dollars for the company. Yes, a BILLION.

They laid out the time frame. “The deal will be closed by November 15” said the highest ranking person in the room from GE.

I went back to the CEO of the company I was advising and told him that.

He said, “Who were you talking to?” I told him.

He said, “100% chance this deal doesn’t happen”.

But they offered! I told him. They actually made an offer.

“Trust me. No way. There’s no real champion for you on the other side who is close to being a decision maker. She is 5 rungs below the decision maker and she’s your only champion.”

And he was right. That deal did not happen. They found a better way to get what they wanted for 1/200 of the price.

You can only cross the bridge to the other side if someone strong is there holding out their hand to pull you in.

I) THE DEAL IS NOT THE FINAL DEAL. DON’T RELAX!

People think when they agree on a deal, that’s the end of the negotiation.

I’m sorry to say, that is only the beginning of the negotiation.

There’s agreeing, there’s signing, and there’s closing.

The final two steps are equally important and everyone assumes they are easy.

They aren’t. They are excruciatingly painful. The honeymoon period lasts for two days after you agree. Then there can be another six months to go.

Agreeing is easy. “I’ll buy your product or business for $X.”

Signing a deal involves all the little things that are the nickels and dimes (see above).

Closing a deal means both sides delivering everything they represented in a deal.

At each stage of this is buyer’s remorse and seller’s remorse and often things have to be renegotiated.

So every day after agreement, make it a point to stay in touch, be friends, keep focusing on the vision (particularly with the champion for your deal on the other side), have just as much energy to close all the details, keep in touch with the lawyers to make sure paperwork is going through, keep working on the alternatives (since the negotiation is not done til it’s DONE), and so on.

So many deals fall apart after agreement. You don’t need this pain in your life.

LOVE IS A NEGOTIATION.

Taking another break here in the post. Please forgive me for not laying it out all perfect.

When I used to go on a first date I was both scared and excited. I’d get excited first, “she wants to date me!” And then I’d get scared. “Ugh, what do I do now?”

I’d literally do homework for the date. I’d find out her interests and read books on them. I’d watch comedy beforehand. I’d think of things to say and questions to ask. I’m not saying preparation is bad.

One time I was an expert on Kaballah. Another time I had to be an expert on Al Gore (long story). Another time I had to bribe the counter girl to pretend she knew me before my date arrived.

I’d be too scared to show my real self so I’d have to get her to like my fake self long enough for me to feel comfortable showing the real me.

Sometimes that never happened. In many cases I never had a real me. I was always jumping through hoops to keep the fake me going. I had to keep bribing the counter girl everytime we went for yogurt.

This is the difference between agreeing on a deal (the first date) and closing (trust, love, real compassion). This is a problem I’m afraid I will always have. I hope I am getting better bit by bit.

J) MOST DEALS DON’T WORK OUT.

You agree, you sign, you close, and STILL it’s not the end.

Don’t be the guy (or woman) who falls apart now that all the energy of the deal has been expended.

It’s a negotiation and a deal because NOW there is work to do. There is a common vision to be achieved. There is a fantasy that must be made into reality.

Be that person. Be the one who delivers. You have a new baby in your hands as the result of this negotiation.

Now the hard work begins. Raise that baby to be a good adult.

What do you think?

#All #Money

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obscurehistoricalinterests · 5 years

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P.J. Ransone on finding himself through Generation Kill

Twenty-seven is a strange age in the most Joseph Campbell sense of the number, especially for the male persuasion. It is the time when you realize you’re not 20 anymore, that whatever clever antics you may have done at a younger age now make you cringe. You’re also coming up hard on 30 and I think you start to evaluate the path that you’re on. Twenty-seven is the age when rock stars die and become legends, but to me it marked the death of my youth, when my past caught up with me and punched me in the head.

I weighed 115 pounds, was about 30 grand in debt and had developed a pretty healthy heroin habit. I had a few accomplishments under my belt as far as my career was concerned: I had been in some successful movies and television shows, and a few almost-successful rock bands. I was “cool” (in my mind at least) to a handful of downtown Manhattan degenerates. Things got so out of control in my head, that at one point I remember being offended when my agency would send me scripts for roles as “the junkie.” Looking back, I was far from the person I wanted to be. I was quickly on my way to being a 30-year-old adolescent. Twenty-seven changed that.

I was involved in a five-year relationship with a wonderful woman who I loved very much. It had run its course. Or to put it more succinctly: she got fed up with my bullshit and finally decided to leave. Let’s face it — junkies don’t tend to make the best boyfriends.

This set off a chain of events that led me to sober up and step up to the table as far as being a man was concerned. There were a lot of things going on inside me that I hadn’t faced, or at the very least, refused to acknowledge for a long time. There were a lot of hard corners in me that needed to be softened. I had no idea what the results were going to be as far as taking some responsibility for my past, but the outcome has been pretty remarkable.

It’s funny what happens to you when you decide — or are forced to decide — to make positive changes for yourself, because in my experience it starts a nuclear chain reaction. Change is painful no matter what form it takes. I’ve learned that the only constant in this weird life is, in fact, change. If I’m not going through it, something is wrong.

I feel like I evolved into the human being I had hoped to become while living in Africa working on a miniseries for HBO called Generation Kill, based on the book by the same name written by Evan Wright about his time embedded with a battalion of reconnaissance Marines during the initial six weeks of the invasion of Iraq. The book is basically an apolitical, true-life account of what it’s like to be on the ground as an enlisted serviceman in modern warfare. Ostensibly, it’s a road-trip story. Writers David Simon and Ed Burns adapted the screenplays with Wright, and I had worked with the pair previously on HBO’s The Wire. When I arrived in Namibia — where I was to live for seven months while filming the show — I had no idea what to expect. I had landed the part of Cpl. Ray Person, the sped-up Marine who drove the point Humvee in Iraq in March of 2003. The role itself was much bigger than I had anticipated. The amount of work cut out for me had yet to sink in.

The day I turned 28, I was participating in a simulated night mission that marked the end of a boot camp that all the actors were required to participate in before we began filming. It was kind of unreal how much had changed in a year. Part of the catalyst for growth was the job itself, but much of the credit can go to the people with whom I got to share the experience. During this time, I became acquainted with two guys who changed my life.

Eric Kocher and Jeff Carizales are two Marines who fought together in OIF1 (Operation Iraqi Freedom). They had been brought to Africa to be military accuracy advisers during production, and their input was instrumental to the credibility of the show. Not only are they Marines, but they are two of the actual guys about whom Evan Wright wrote in his book. So here are these two dudes, reliving the drama of their lives, watching actors interpret their stories so that they are portrayed as accurately as possible. I think the word “trippy” comes to mind. I had no idea that I was going to end up loving these guys as much as I do.

Eric Kocher is imposing in the most terrifying sense. Imagine a shorter version of the Incredible Hulk with Tom Selleck’s face and a brain filled with an encyclopedic knowledge of military history and modern warfare tactics. By age 28, he had served in the Marine Corps for close to 10 years and done more than five combat tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. While on a combat mission in Iraq, his Humvee was hit by a rocket- propelled grenade that nearly blew his arm off. Another member of his team, who was in the back of the truck, lost both of his hands in this same attack. Later, he would tell me that he himself pulled out the pins that had been surgically implanted in his hands so that he could get back to combat sooner. When people ask about the insane scar on his right arm he usually tells them it’s from an old “skateboardin’ accident.” He is one of the funniest people I know. For as intense as his appearance is, he’s one of the most loyal and kind-hearted human beings I have ever met.

The other Marine I befriended was Jeff Carizales. He drove the same Humvee that Eric was in during the invasion in of Iraq. He is 100 percent Texan, through and through. He is the type of person who will insult you within seconds of making your acquaintance, only to test your resolve. It’s hard to sum up Jeff in anything short of an epic poem. When I first met him in a bar in Africa, I wanted to punch him in the face within about three minutes. He insulted my clothes, the city I lived in and my general way of life. We only started to bond after we opened up about the demise of both our long-term relationships and our mutual disdain for most actors. Certain anecdotes can paint a better picture. For example, while traveling in Europe recently, he would meet other international backpackers and tell these elaborate stories about what he does for a living. He liked to regale these people by telling them that he was a small-arms dealer training guerilla forces in northern Africa so they could overthrow their governments. The truth is, he is an engineering student at Texas A&M. When he flew home from Europe, he thought it would be funny to dress up in Chechnyan mujahedeen garb, thereby convincing airport security that he was a terrorist. Yes, this is the man I spent seven months with.

These guys introduced me to a side of life with which I had been unfamiliar. In some way, they reconnected me to myself. As a shit-bag junkie who lived in New York, I rarely came across servicemen unless they were sailors visiting the city during Fleet Week, in which case they were usually just in the way on my way to the bar. My father is a Vietnam vet, and my natural inclination towards people who would volunteer for that life could politely be described as “resistant.” I just never understood why someone would knowingly sign up for something that seemed so conformist, in my opinion. I was way off base in this assumption.

Let’s start first by saying that I don’t support this war or the reasons why we are over there. I am of the school of thought that we should clean up our own yard before we start to clean up someone else’s. Having said that, the people I have met who are in the armed forces are doing a uniquely un- American thing. It’s unique in the sense that we grew up in a country of excess, to the extent that in this post-industrial, post-sexual-revolution age in America, my generation gets to live off the fat of the land without developing a work ethic that generations before ours seemed to have had. In the age of short attention spans and reality television, Marines are a group of people that actually strive to go against that excess. As Wright points out in his book, “they have chosen asceticism and assimilation over the idea of being an individual” who can dream big and be the next American Idol winner. Out of this, it seems, comes maturity.

There is a school of thought that seems to imply that as Westerners, we have lost a certain amount of our identity because the rites of passage into adulthood are viewed as archaic. There is no tradition for sending boys out into the wild, not to return home until they came back men. To a large extent, the Marines seem to have experienced these rites, and for a short amount of time, I did as well. While living in Africa, Eric and Jeff forced me to grow up,to look at things differently.

We forged this bond by taking long road trips while filming the series. The production itself was grueling. We had six-day work weeks, but anytime that we would have more than 24 hours off, we would plan these insane adventures and take off on a whim with little more than half a tank of gas and a change of underwear. Most weekends we would drive 10 hours to Cape Town to blow off steam. On longer breaks we would look on a giant map of the continent, pick a spot and point our car towards it. We would have made Hemingway proud.

I can’t tell you how many times Eric and Jeff got me nearly killed, whether it was while we were breaking into Botswana, nearly drowning in the Zambezi river, or avoiding getting trampled by elephants. Our road trips got to be so infamous that the producers would send out memos specifically targeted at our little tribe, letting us know that we were an insurance risk. It’s generally considered a bad thing if one of your actors dies during production — from a business perspective, anyway. In fact, Eric and Jeff always wanted to know the location of the closest U.S. Embassy in case I did die so they could fly back to the states and not get sued by HBO.

During these trips, I really felt alive. My brother (who was with us on some of these adventures) pointed out that it was because these guys have truly lived. They have been around more death and destruction than I could possibly imagine or cope with, yet their vitality is undeniable. I don’t remember a time that my stomach didn’t hurt from laughing. I dealt with more insults and put-downs from them than anyone could imagine, but after a while I came to realize that they were forcing me to examine my shortcomings and actually do something about them. They have a fraternal bond that I envy. For a little while, I got to experience it. They treated me as a brother and tenderized me like a piece of steak, because, at the end of the day, they wanted me at my strongest.

Living in Africa with Eric and Jeff was the best experience of my life so far. The art that imitated life was imitated by life again on our road trips. The irony was that after a breakup forced me to re-examine myself, some of the most romantic moments I have had in my life were with these psycho jarheads — but not in a “gay” way.

It’s been a year since we started production on Generation Kill. I recently turned 29, and by the time this article comes out, the show will be airing. I talk to Jeff and Eric regularly. I miss them and that time in my life. Regardless of whether the show is popular or not, I am a stronger human being because of the experiences I had with them and what they taught me. I will have that for the rest of my life. This August, I plan on taking a motorcycle trip in Mexico with them. There is part of me that hopes not to return, knowing that it wouldn’t be any fun if those two weren’t trying to get me killed somehow every day we’re on the road. I think I can honestly say that while I do not support this war, I do support our troops.

- Source

#generation kill #genkill #pj ransone #hbowar #essay #article #eric kocher #jeff carisalez

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thekrawra · 5 years

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the marvel vs sony deal

so tradegy struck when it was announced it looks like spiderman will be leaving the mcu as sony and marvel have not succeeded in remaking a deal.

big disclaimer here: i’m in school studying film production and generally studying to be a producer myself and have some rudimentary knowledge or business, corporations, film financing and stock markets and IP and all the stuff that’s going into this. i’m no genius and this is just where my minds at as a loyal mcu and spiderman fan and how i see this issue shaping out after readying like every article i can find. another note is that there is tons of conflicting information about what deals were proposed and who said no to who. so it’s hard to get a read on it and put someone at fault without that. but yeah, this is just my thoughts on the situation based on what i think makes the most sense but like honestly who knows when company executives are involved.

—

there’s been a lot of talk over who should be blamed for it and really: neither side can be defended right now.

on the one hand there’s marvel/disney: who came in asking for a huge increase on their portions of the profits from these movies. we don’t know the full details of the deal they proposed but most of what i read seems to suggest marvel wanted to up their current percent of profits (it’s 5 or 10%? i’ve seen conflicting reports) to 50%. i’ve also ready though that with this in mind, marvel’s deal included marvel sharing production costs with song rather than sony paying the full bill, and also opening doorways to tie sony’s spinoff works — their spiderverse — into the mcu. is 50% a lot? yes. but in marvel’s défense they do bring a lot to the table. so we’ll get back to that.

on sony’s end: yes disney asked for a lot. but reports also say sony didn’t offer a counter offer, and that a 70/30 deal in sony’s favour had been offered was also turned down. at this point, we don’t have any confirmation on what’s true and what isn’t — but we do know that sony wanted to keep the deal the same, and really wasn’t convinced that they needed marvel to continue making billion dollar spiderman movies (which we will also get to). and ultimately, i do think disney should be getting at least a bit more of the profits: as long as they are willing to take on production costs as well that is.

so who’s wrong? who’s to blame? and who stands to lose the most if they can’t work out a deal?

first thing to clarify: disney/marvel is 100% being greedy. they don’t need a larger financial stake in these films and the deal would’ve work fine. they just believe sony stands to lose way more if disney backs out of a deal. disney never would’ve pushed for more money otherwise. they see the position sony is in and are trying to take advantage.

disney is no saint in this deal. and it’s no surprise that like all big corporations, disney is basically trying to intidmidate sony into giving them more money.

so is disney right? does sony stand to lose if they don’t make a deal.

i mean, kind of.

disney will be fine, there’s no doubt about that. yes they will most likely be throwing more work at kevin feige to retcon every spiderman story thread he had planned out, but the mcu is big enough it probably won’t take a huge hit, especially now that they’ve acquired xmen and f4.

so sony will definitely lose out on more, but is it enough to make a deal with disney worth it?

maybe.

the issue sony’s facing is they are facing a massive risk. they either sacrifice profit to keep spiderman in the mcu, something that has been going very well for them or they go at it alone, which their track record suggests isn’t a great plan.

yes, they’ve gotten a taste of how feige works and have had modern success with their spideyverse films. and there’s no doubt into the spiderverse was a success critically - but didn’t do as well financially, more of an underrated beauty than a huge hit. sure it once the oscar, but it made less money in the box office than ralph breaks the internet or incredibles 2 its biggest competitors. and venom was a success, but not on the same scale marvel movies tend to be - black panther and infinity war both made more money that year, and all three of marvel’s releases this year have made more.

and there’s no doubt spiderman made as much as it did because of endgame. ffh is a good movie but it’s box office dollar benefited from when it was released. i’m almost certain that had it not been the release right after endgame it wouldn’t have made a billion. marvel placed it right after their biggest movie ever, and ffh got to ride out the endgame hype. people wanted to know what happened next, so they went to see ffh.

taking that into account: sony can’t reach the success of the mcu without it. the numbers and track record don’t match. but can sony settle for a bit less money if they get to keep more of the profit. perhaps.

but here’s where we get into the thing that will be sony’s downfall: longevity.

it’s something the mcu offers to sony that i just don’t think sony can achieve on their own. the mcu has ten years under their belt and is clearly showing no signs of slowing down. by pairing with the mcu, that’s another 10 years of spiderman movies and spinoff that get that mcu treatment: the hype, the connections and from that, more money. even if they don’t connect their spinoffs to the mcu, people will still watch sony more closely. be more interested. because of ties to the mcu. not only are spiderman fans going to see spiderman movies, but mcu fans are too. and while often one in the same there’s a huge boost in profits by being tied to the mcu.

sony could maybe make a couple blockbusters and make some money over the next couple years but i just don’t see a way for them to successfully compete against the mcu, and the mcu is a much better friend for them than it is an enemy.

so now sony’s choice is make less movies with more profit, or make more movies with less profit of the overall profit. and originally they seemed to feel the former was true. they’ll work with disney if the deal stays the same but they felt like they could walk away and be fine.

so disney makes a play: leave negotiations. tell sony to have it their way and let the fans do the work for them. let sony sit on it and get a taste of what the backlash of pulling spidey from the biggest film franchise pretty much ever would do.

and it’s started. people are angry at sony, not disney. people want spidey in the mcu. sony’s stocks drop. all the response has been negative. no one likes this news and it’s only going to hurt sony.

i’m sure disney is trying to wear sony down. make it so sony is desperate to salvage the situation and then disney can get some more money.

so sony can stand down and accept a deal disney has proposed, or at least make a strong counteroffer. or they can ride it out and take a major risk at likely ruining their most profitable franchise.

neither company has played all their cards and right now, i feel like calling of negotiations is really just a strategy to make the other sweat for a while.

and also there’s a huge factor of publicity. this falling out has been the talk all over the place, it’s huge news. it seems like a bad time and negative publicity but people are panicking and reading and watching and trying to stay updated. people are tuned in.

and in result they are tuned into the mcu. and they are tuned into sony, for better or for worse.

people who are mad at sony know all the sony movies being released in the next while and have shared it. mcu fans are desperately looking for announcements of what comes next after this fallout.

now think of what happens if they announce a deal for spiderman again. it’s the hype from 2015 all over. and people care, people are invested, people are happy again. presumably stocks go back up (it’s hard for a read because i’m basing this all of my rudimentary knowledge of these subjects, but they could even jump higher—you really don’t know with stocks though) and both companies are talked about and got a bunch a free advertising basically.

so i think talks definitely aren’t over: because both companies are overall better if a deal is worked out. my best guess is what this is right now, is them just seeing what sides fans take and how much they can make the other guy sweat. this is a case of who cracks first.

all mcu fans can do is hope someone does.

#spiderman #marvel #sony #disney #ffh #spiderman far from home #marvel sony deal #this is why corporations suck

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hanzi83 · 5 years

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Suspended from Twitter Again from Organized Harassment

The thought of catching up scares me and it keeps me going back to check what happens on reddit etc and then I fucking just don’t want to write even though I am acting irrational on twitter more than usual. I then start commenting on twitter more than focus on my personal journal and I am prompted with people trying to trigger me because they sense vulnerability in me, and I feel these people are employed to do this kind of behavior, as you can tell from my plethora of videos, blogs, tweets, instagram posts etc. I have angered so many people in this world, where there is a team dedicated to fucking with me and tarnishing my image, and instilling paranoia in me, and since the Stern Show, I feel is responsible, even though I cannot confirm 100 percent, they have dedicated an obscure subreddit dedicated to me claiming they are working to get me banned from twitter, and other social media outlets, hinting my family and friends are in connection with government agents, because I am technically on a watch list, or at least that is how I see it, and they have limited my movements and since I have angered people in my life with jabs because I feel a lot of them are in connection with people behind the scenes. I know it sounds crazy that this type or organization is going on for an individual, but there are teams dedicated to doing this to others. People in the system, mostly public figures, have been targeted, and some of them behind the scenes are organizing teams for employed fandom to take over the internet, depending if that person is supposed to be popping.

I have been pointing out this for the last several years how this is going down or at least putting theories, that have not been officially backed up specifically, but there are plenty of articles in prominent news and media outlets that have shown you what the capabilities are based off what has happened in the past, and because I am not partaking in sports tribalism, and people knowing it might bother me because this type of pretentiousness bothers me when people make these sporting events seem like some great moment for history, as we are currently becoming America light, and since a lot of this is predetermined and is supposed to propel this city into the upper echelon, I feel like people are blinded by this, and not focusing on the political shit involved with all of this. I am glad Toronto is in the championship, it is cool, despite me being irrational and wanting to hate it because people who love it have contributed into hurting me behind the scenes and stumping my growth, and have stolen everything from me.

I am not allowed to even express any of my irrational behavior to help me to cope because by letting me speak out, people see me as a threat because I bring transparency into the system, and even though the people in charge, hypothetically, have tarnished my image from being credible, and being seen as someone in his mom’s basement who spews out conspiracies and is obsessed with pro wrestling, and he doesn’t want to get laid because he feels he is not mentally capable to satisfy women, and also believing some of them could be agents, but they will label me an incel, when the people they work for in the upper echelon are the ones who treat women horribly and basically bribe them to give them good PR and then when they are allowed to disclose a horrible scenario involving one of those men, then they are seen as crazy. These people have been entitled, and hell they don’t put men or women on a big stage unless they had to compromise themselves physically and mentally. I point that out and I am seen as the bad guy, and now that people are still tuning into seeing me, even by suppressing the views, so people can watch it by other means, in a group setting, because a lot of people online are a part of groups that gossip how to fuck with people, because they are given incentive, the system has bribed these people with perks and access and makes their lives a lot more comfortable, when they can’t suppress my views they will actively cut short some of my periscope sessions. I will do 20 plus minutes and these people will somehow make it 4 minutes or something.

More Whack Packers are dying and the ones alive are dealing with harassment are prompted to kill themselves and being harassed with the worst type of shit imaginable, and threats of doxing and instilling fear that Howard is going to kill me or that Vince McMahon will kill me, because I speak out on horrible things they may be accountable for even though they will never take accountability and they are protected, and so are the people who are attached to them, and now I feel they have constantly being fucked with me because they want me to be put in a hospital or they want me to attempt suicide, and the movements and transparency in my life seems people who are supposed to be close to me help in that regard, and it is much more important to be connected to what everyone else is doing that is popular, and stick by the official narratives, they would do it at the expense as someone who is supposed to be their friend. Social Justice Warriors, who claim to stand up for injustice, and some of them put their money where their mouth is, but others are just there for the limited narrative and they act outraged when they are told to, so it looks like they are speaking out against racism, when they ignore the larger chunk that is going on systemically. I spoken out how other Whack Packers could be sacrificed for their fame or what they contributed to the system, and Tan Mom and Marfan Mike are hospitalized, and people capitalize on that conspiracy and hint that I am the next Whack Packer who will die.

I have one asshole who is clearly obsessed with every move and speech I make and talks about it nonstop and misrepresents it and if I don’t give this dude and his group of people the entertainment, and for me to take the barrage of harassment about where I am in my life and how everything I am saying is delusion, but then I analyze them and this person in particular about what his life must be like, because he has made grand announcements he was done watching anything I do on periscope, but then constantly does it and then hints that people are after me, and it is clear this person is bought off because I can’t imagine anyone being this obsessed with me for fun. He is obviously protected and he makes claims that people in my life had people look into him for harassing me, just to make it seem like he is dealing with some harassment to take the fact off that I am dealing with the real deal.

No one with a platform is allowed to speak, and even anything that I write, this particular agent just takes everything I say and misrepresents it as delusion grandeur when I am not the only one going through this and the ones that are, are too afraid to address it because it makes them look crazy and I am a bigger target because I was on of the biggest radio shows in the history of radio. I got active mob bosses in this system trying to silence me, and they know by suspending my social media, I will implode, and I know people in my life are probably hoping for that too since everyone fucking hates me.

I know when I write this blog, barely anyone will care because people are only invested when I am mentally breaking down and not being able to fucking handle any of the backlash and it becomes great entertainment for them to get to interact with a whack packer from the Stern Show because they are more invested in harassing me or harassing Wendy because it does not have to focus on their shitty lives so they attack people within the system, even wrestlers go through this targeted shit, but I don’t know if they realize they system they are emboldened to, are probably the ones organizing it since the people in charge exploit anything while pretending they care about these social issues and mental issues, while helping perpetuate the harassment, and when people like me speak out, and even as irrelevant I seem to be, I still anger a good chunk of them and they are constantly coming for me. and they will not stop until I am completely self destructive and kill myself, and the fact that people in my life could be helping with that just so they can have access to these institutions and all the industry sex workers they could ask for because they are that easily compromised, but they are doing it at my expense, when me being a public joke for the Stern Universe and the Wrestling Universe to get a hold of, they have profited off of it behind the scenes more than anyone and will never admit anything.

They will never stop and it is fine if 10 people read this, I hope that some people who do read this actually know what is going on and please let it be known that this is happening as no media outlet will fucking care about this, because they are told when they can start going after stories, even as truthful some of the leftist ones are, they have to be compromised a little bit, even with the conspiracies, you would think someone on the Stern Show would attract these people to see what I am thinking right, but even they are limited. Only when some vindication occurs, or if I implode and something horrible happens, then after the fact they will care, they will not see my growth and exposing the way the system has manipulated us into hating each other and being more racist, misogynistic, homophobic, and presented it as the cool thing to do because I bought into it for a good portion of my life, but these people who have the chance to do it, don’t because they would limit their discussion and not have nuance and pretend they are speaking out on something big and powerful, when it is merely just calling out one person in the system who said something racist, and people behind the scenes don’t care, it is meant for a limited narrative and because I am sick of the status quo, and have constantly spoken out on shit that I have to say are theories, because I can’t prove a lot of it, they still see me as a threat and will continue.

Normally I write down my thoughts privately but even that is not 100 percent private, it is constantly hacked and people move my cursor around when I spew some venom just to get it off my chest and since I have not written down anything it is getting difficult to know what is in my fucking mind. They will keep fucking with my mental health and it will never stop. I am clearly not high on anyone’s list to help out, even though I have taken on big wigs like Stern. I don’t care how irrelevant he seems to be to the culture, he has pull behind the scenes, even the negative he still controls I think, he can easily have it seen as the people who hate him are the republican Trump supporters, while also being a secret Trump supporting, but somehow on this endearment tour he is going out on, he has convinced people he has secret information about Trump not wanting to be the president, which would beg the question, why did he not say anything before the election? He is in bed with Trump, and he is protected as long as Trump is in power, but no one can see this and the ones who can, are not allowed to say anything. They have managed to censor me during the Raptors game, because it hurts people locally to know that I point out that this is all predetermined, and maybe it is my irrationality and insecurity that I did not connect with my city, and someone who has sold their souls have more respect in this city than someone like me, who did not want to partake in rituals that compromised another life, and then later on have a rabid fan base attack those people and make them seem crazy. Maybe with all my flaws, I still have a fucking soul and actually don’t want people to be discriminated against or oppressed.

People will sacrifice their own loved ones to be part of the upper echelon and it makes me not want to be part of this world, because as far as I am concerned I was never loved, all through my life they have made it known how they treat me, even back in high school or now because Stern has allowed them to be trolls in the system who can put me down because they resent me for being someone who blew up and I can see what their intention is, and when they got what they needed, they sold me out and exclude me from anything that does not benefit them because they secretly hate me. So why don’t you just end me, you won’t though, because I have been told I am needed here, I need to be mentally tortured and limited, as long as pretentious people in the system and in my life prosper and can control me. I don’t want any part of it. Let me die. Come on Howard, sacrifice me, like you supposedly sacrifice other Whack Packers, and then your sick fan base can claim “HE GAVE THEM FAME AND WITHOUT STERN THEY WOULDN’T BE KNOWN” while allowing a sick fan base to treat us like shit and then you make all the fucking profits. Fuck you.

Anything I have said I don’t have factual proof. I will never have it, and if I did they would certainly fucking kill me, and until then they are hoping they fucking I fucking kill myself because it would fit into their narrative better, maybe pat themselves on their back for feeling bad for this torture while they helped create it. They torture everyone in the fucking whack pack and no one cares. We are all lower than filth to these pretentious snobs. Fuck each and every one of you that have allowed this to happen. I hope you catch and become riddled with herpes from all the orgies you sold your souls for. I hope everything around you crumbles, and even if I will never become vindicated from any of this and continuously be mocked by an obsessive troll who is showing off the harassment he can do under the guise of “calling me out on my bullshit” since I did not embrace him, because these sick people want to be producers of mine for a podcast or be a co host, and I don’t want to be with anyone, because I think you are all government agents. Fuck each and every one of you for doing this to me. It makes no difference because you will be coddled within your group chats, where you sick fucks are taking bets on which whack packer is going to die next. Fuck you all.

#Hanzi Stern Howard Show Sternshow Zionist Illuminati WWE Vince McMahon trolls paid subservient shills racism sexism harassment misogyny #secrecy transparency assholes NBA raptors toronto tribalism irrational hatred associates friends loved ones #media outlets mainstream leftist right wing power limited narrative

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