#all glittery and hopeful and trusting of their industry

[crehador]

man after ep2 i found myself thinking a lot more about this first scene with sakurama and suzukiri, because i think it finally became clear to me why their designs were one of the first things that really grabbed me

like it was specifically their eyes in these close-up shots that i couldn't stop thinking about—

something about this was just delightful and so so so compelling to me, and at first i wasn't sure what it was, because yes their eyes are drawn in very unique ways but it's not like these design choices (glitter gem eyes and dead inside eyes) are ones i've never seen before

but i think it's the fact that they're shown side by side that really made them so striking to me, kind of like showing the two faces of the hero industry at once

anyway. still chewing on this very much. the character designs are all just so good to me

[mishkakagehishka]

Like we'll never make proper progress bc too many women have internalised misogyny and are quite happy with it bc they see their successful conforming to gender roles as something they should be proud of and other women's "unsuccessful" conforming as something to shame. Why? My assumption is bc they also don't want to have to conform 24/7 and are bitter when confronted with women who have decided they won't bother anymore. I like to think that bc then there's at least some hope for them.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 18)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 5308 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Wedding weekend starts now and I know you’re all very excited! Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 17 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Sweat trickles down your temple as you climb up the stairs from the subway, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air. It was a little thick but a thousand times better than the overwhelming stench of sweat and other odors from those that didn’t understand the concept of deodorant. The sun was pounding on you for the rest of the walk home, as your heart and mind raced, calculating if there was enough time to pack and eat something before you had to leave. This weekend may not bring a reprieve from the heat but at least things would be able to slow down.

In preparation for the wedding this weekend you had been working as much as possible, spending most of Memorial Day at the hospital to get a jump on making up for some hours, and getting to Stark Industries a bit early each day in order to get your proposals for an upcoming project completed. You weren’t drowning yourself in work to avoid Bucky, nope, that definitely wasn’t it.

Technically you weren’t avoiding him, he kept in touch during the week through messages, making sure you were all set for this weekend. When he asked if you wanted to grab food you told him the truth, that you couldn’t because you were too exhausted. If he asked last week you would have gone out with him despite your exhaustion but ever since you witnessed one of Bucky’s thousand hookups in your face this past weekend you weren’t in any mood to see him.

It was better to keep the distance, allowing the time you spent apart to let the logical side of your brain take the reins from your heart and stop it from falling for someone you know you shouldn’t. None of this was new. You knew exactly who Bucky was before you even met him, hearing the revolving door of women screaming out every night. He was a nice person, a good friend, but someone to date? Never.

Bucky: hey.. the trains @ 4:19 so you wanna head out a quarter to?

Somehow he always texts when you’re thinking about him… or maybe you just think about him too much.

You responded quickly, taking advantage of the time you didn’t think you had to make something quickly. In between bites of a sandwich you ran around your apartment, gathering together the things you would need through Sunday.

“Fuck!” you barked in response to the knock at your door. It wasn’t even three o’clock, did you read Bucky’s text wrong?

With worry settling on your brow you opened the door, relieved to find Wanda standing there instead.

“How’d you get in?” you asked curiously, letting her inside your apartment.

“Hello Wanda. How was moving, Wanda?” she said, mocking with sarcasm.

Your hands came up in playful defense, “Sorry, sorry.” You laughed, giving Wanda a real greeting as you pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry I haven’t checked in. How was moving? Are you all settled in at Sam’s?”

“Hell no,” she laughed, making herself comfortable on your couch. “Unpacking is like fighting a hydra, empty one box and two more take its place.”

You offered her something to drink along with your services to help unpack her never ending boxes when you get back.

“That would be great!” she said, taking the glass from your hand. “Anyway, Clint let me in because you didn’t respond to my texts. I thought maybe Bucky was here and you might have been… busy.”

The smirk her mouth pulled into made you roll your eyes. “Wanda, no… just no. There is nothing between me and Bucky, okay? You saw that girl last weekend. That’s what he wants. One and done, nothing more.”

Her lips pressed together as her head shook ever so slightly. “Mmmhmm.” With a hand digging in her bag she spoke, “Well, all I’m saying is you should be prepared, just in case.”

Wanda threw whatever she pulled out of her bag towards you. Catching the small box in your hands your eyes widened at the logo. “Condoms? Really?” you huffed, throwing them back at her.

“What? I want you to be safe!”

You turned away from her, taking a moment to compose yourself. Wanda didn’t know how bad you were feeling this week, you really were too exhausted to reach out to anyone. Maybe if you had a chance to speak she would have known not to joke about you and Bucky.

It’s not completely unreasonable, the idea that you could have sex with him but you didn’t want to be another girl on his mile long list. You wanted something he could never give, and the fact that your hopes were up and subsequently crushed in front of you didn’t make any of this easier.

“Take those back Wan, I promise you I won’t be needing them.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

Wanda helped you go over what you packed to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, razor…”

“Oh shit, yes. Gotta shave my legs tomorrow.” You grabbed the bag that held your toiletries, taking it to the bathroom with you to pack your razor and anything else you might have forgotten.

Wanda looked over your bag pulling out the clutch you packed, staring at the glittery reflection of sunlight on your walls. “You should wrap this in something,” she called out, waiting for you to return towards the bed. “If not, the glitter will get everywhere.”

She made a good point. You searched through your closet for something you could place in it and handed it to her, thankful that your dress was still hanging up and unaffected by the ubiquitous glimmering speckles.

“Oh shit I almost forgot!” Wanda went back into her bag to dig out something you actually wanted.

She handed you a beautiful gold necklace meant to wear down the open back of your dress, with four diamonds spaced out evenly along the dainty chain. “You’re going to look incredible. Bucky won’t be able to keep his– ”

“Wanda! Nothing is going to happen between me and Bucky!” you shouted, cringing at the fact that he probably heard you through the walls. With a groan you squeezed your fists tightly, releasing them with a heavy breath. “Those condoms better be in your bag, okay? I’m serious.”

She pulled the box from her bag, scrunching her face with her tongue slightly sticking out at you. A smile broke the hardened look on your face, you could never stay mad at her. Before she left Wanda hugged you, wishing you a nice weekend and thankfully she didn’t mention Bucky anymore.

Everything but your dress was packed so you texted Bucky to let him know you were ready. He was bringing a garment bag for his suit so he offered to put your dress in there as well. A few minutes later you heard the knock at your door and remembering you locked it after Wanda left you had to open it up for him.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, staring wide-eyed at Bucky who sported a new look– short hair!

His head hung down, scrunching his eyes shut to avoid any more of your reaction. He hadn’t cut his hair in years and honestly he never really planned on it but something changed over the week and Bucky knew exactly what it was.

Last weekend surrounded by all of his friends who were happily coupled up really showed Bucky what he was missing and the run in with Whitney reinforced everything about how he’s been living his life and what he wants to change. Bucky wanted a relationship and he was desperate to start one with you.

He couldn’t believe that after all these years of screwing around and closing off his heart that he was able to find someone he could trust with his heart. It’s a crazy thought, for Bucky Barnes, the man who thought he’d live life as a bachelor to have these desires but he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. His revelation came with a need for change.

If Bucky wanted a fresh start he needed to let go of the past, cutting away the dead ends in more than one way. He deleted all the numbers from his phone from the girls he has no interest in sleeping with any more. He deleted the apps from his phone because he didn’t want to meet anyone else, he already found the perfect person and he was sure he had seen sparks in your eyes, the same ones that set off fireworks inside of him anytime you were together.

But this weekend wasn’t going to be about convincing you to date him. He was genuinely happy to have you as a companion to his cousin’s wedding but if there is something between you (and Bucky really hopes his suspicions are true) he would let things happen naturally. And if it’s not meant to be he’ll be there like he always was, as your friend that wants to see you happy, no matter how badly it hurts.

“You cut your hair!”

He grimaced, clenching his teeth together with worry. “You hate it right?” He ran his hand through the short crop, what used to be long strands now a fluff of brown on top of his head.

“No, no, I think it looks great. It’s just… you look so different!” His anxious smile made you clarify your words. “You look great Bucky, honestly. I really like it, I just have to get used to it.”

The soft smile on your face reassured Bucky that his haircut wasn’t a mistake. Deleting apps is one thing but he couldn’t reattach his hair.

You placed your dress in his garment bag, still a mystery to Bucky as it was wrapped in white plastic and then you were off to Penn Station. A large crowd rushed down to the platform of the Long Island Railroad when the train was announced and you had to walk fast down to a further train car to get seats.

Bucky hung the garment bag on the rack above before settling down beside you. He was all prepared with tickets on his phone, declining your offer to pay him. He insisted everything was on him this weekend since you were his guest so you didn’t argue much.

During the long train ride Bucky began to tell you about the people whose wedding you were attending. His cousin Scott was marrying Hope Van Dyne, the daughter of his new employer.

“This is Scott’s second marriage actually. He got divorced after he went to prison.” Your eyebrow quirked at Bucky’s remark. “Scott found out his company was stealing from customers so he hacked their system to pay ‘em back. He did a good thing, shouldn’t have gone to jail in my opinion but anyway, it didn’t help his marriage, ‘specially since he couldn’t see much of his little girl.”

Scott had a daughter named Cassie who he was now able to see regularly since he and his ex Maggie had reconciled and according to Scott she’s going to be the cutest flower girl ever. Bucky isn’t sure how many people would be at the wedding, only that it was taking place on the North Shore of Long Island in a beautiful venue off the water. The hotel Bucky found was about twenty minutes away, something moderate and comfortable for the weekend.

“So, my parents offered to drive us to the wedding, if that’s okay, but I’m assuming they’ll leave early so we’ll probably have to Uber it on the way back.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” you replied. “I was going to meet them at the wedding anyway so we might as well get the awkward introductions out of the way first.”

“About that…” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, feeling goosebumps prick at his skin. “They actually wanted to pick us up from the train and go for dinner.” He turned to face you, biting his lip as he tried to sense how you were feeling about it. “I can tell them no if you don’t want to.”

Bucky appeared to be more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before and it finally hit you why, he’s never had his parents meet anyone before. Do they know about his lifestyle? Running through women like fire through a haystack. Your curiosity took the lead, wanting to see Bucky sweat a little under the heat of his parents' possible interrogation.

“No, I’d love to!” you answered, trying to hide the sly smile that started to creep its way on your face.

“Cool, yeah…” Bucky responded with failing confidence at trying to hide the fact that he wished you would have declined.. “I’ll text them now.”

More people filed into the train at the next stop, sharply dressed white collar workers looking to get a jump on the weekend even if it was just before rush hour. A man squeezed into the seat beside Bucky, making him encroach on your space a little.

You could tell he was uncomfortable in the middle seat, his muscles stiffening to keep his legs as close together as possible and also not play accidental footsie with the woman in front of him. By shifting your body you were able to give Bucky a little more space at the cost of getting closer, leaning into his shoulder.

With a few more adjustments you both found a comfortable position though Bucky can’t say his nerves had gotten any better. You spent most of the ride that way leaving Bucky’s brain to imagine several scenarios of you snuggling close to him; his arm tucked around you, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses from your temple, down your cheek until he reached those perfect lips.

“Is that our stop?” you asked, breaking him from the trance where he was indulged in fantasies.

“Uh yeah, comin’ up.”

Grabbing your bags you made your way towards the doors waiting to exit. Bucky checked his phone, finding a message from his parents that were already there. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his stomach sinking like an anchor as he realized what was about to happen, and worse he hadn’t told you something important.

You began walking ahead of him down the stairs from the platform and Bucky rushed behind. With his hand on your shoulder you turned around to find worry written all over his face. “I have a confession to make. He sighed, “My– ”

“James!” A soft bubbly voice called out and Bucky turned his head to find a woman on the next block waving both arms in the air and calling him over.

“James?” you questioned under your breath as you walked over to the woman who was clearly his mom.

She was half a foot shorter than him, with shoulder length hair that reminded you of Bucky’s but with a slightly brighter color. Her eyes crinkled with her mouth opening to a huge grin.

“Your hair!” she exclaimed, cupping both sides of his face to examine his new look up close. “You look so handsome.”

She lifted her heels to bring herself closer to him and Bucky met her halfway for the distance so she could give him a kiss on the cheek. You stood there smiling as you watched the cute exchange.

When they pulled apart her gaze came to you, another smile stretching across her face. “James, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously, “Uh, yeah sorry Mom, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mom Winifred.”

“Call me Winnie dear. It’s a pleasure to meet you, James told us all about you.”

“Oh really?” you replied, cocking your head towards James who clearly had some explaining to do.

Bucky swiftly changed the topic as he saw his father’s SUV approaching the curb. As he opened the passenger door for his mother you wondered if he was showing off or not. Then again Bucky had no reason to try and impress you. Your friendship from the start has been completely platonic, except for a shared kiss on New Years.

Considering the first encounter you had, where you awkwardly told him his “guests” were always so loud, Bucky had probably figured there was no point in barking up that tree with you. And he was right, there wasn’t. You’re not interested in becoming another notch on his belt.

Bucky’s father George turned around to greet you after you settled in and he bore a striking resemblance to Bucky, sharp jawline, cleft chin and piercing blue eyes. His smile was different though, still a very warm and friendly one but there was always something about the way Bucky smiled that makes your heart skip a beat. Made. It used to do that but not anymore.

In no time you were at a diner, being seated next to Bucky in a booth across from his parents. Right away they began asking about The September Foundation; apparently Bucky really has told them a lot about you.

“That sounds like a wonderful opportunity to enrich so many young lives,” Winnie said.

“And speaking from the social work field, it’s a great alternative to keep kids active and away from harmful situations. A lot of the programs are STEM based but since that doesn’t appeal to everyone I’ve also worked out a homework help program, where kids can connect with a teacher on-site or through video conferences for extra help.”

Lost in the joy of discussing your work you completely missed the way Bucky was staring at you, seeing your face shine brighter than the sun. Winnie didn’t miss it though, as her eyes flitted over towards Bucky’s, catching him in the act which caused him to look away as an embarrassing shade of pink dusted his cheeks.

“October is our official opening even though we were aiming for September, not because of the name but to coincide with the start of the school year. Though we plan on keeping it open all year round, if we can get the donations of course.”

A proud smile spread across George’s face, as if he was listening to the accomplishments of his own child, “I have no doubt that you will.”

Bucky’s blush deepened knowing you had his parents' approval, not that he meant for this. He told them you were just friends, neighbors, that’s all, nothing more. Despite the details of your life he couldn’t help but tell them; how incredibly devoted you were to helping people, how smart, talented and funny you are… how beautiful. Yeah, he may have let that one slip out but it didn’t matter, you were only friends, sadly.

His thoughts were interrupted by a server coming around to take everyone’s order and thankfully the conversation had changed to his sibling Rebecca, giving his cheeks time to return to their normal shade.

“They’re coming tomorrow, right?” Bucky asked.

“Flying out in the morning and has to be back for work Monday,” Winnie began, “Rebecca was just promoted to Director of Avian Care.”

“That’s great ma.”

“It is, but it means they’ll be even busier than before, so next time when they’re in town James you better stop what you’re doing and come over. It’s bad enough you didn’t come over for Thanks– ”

Bucky interrupted with a vomit of sounds to stop his mom from completing her sentence, revealing the lies he had told everyone about his plans for Thanksgiving. “I promise from now on when Bex is in town I will always make time to see them, okay?”

Nervous inflection took over and he cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to clear it away. An opportunity to change the subject had come up as his mom took out her phone.

“You got a new one?” he asked, nudging his chin towards the device in her hands.

“She didn’t need it,” George added, ranting about the high price. “Your mom thinks she’s a photographer now.”

Winnie playfully nudged his arm, cracking a smile as she told him to knock it off. “I can become one if I want to. The camera has a lot of new features... if only I can figure out how to use them.”

You and Bucky shared a smile, an unspoken look that remembered previous conversations about your parents and technology.

“Hang on, let me try something,” Winnie whispered quietly under her breath and before you realized it she had taken a picture. “Look how good that came out!” she beamed, showing off her phone to George who smirked.

She revealed the image to you and Bucky, the moment you just shared, gazing at each other with a smile that shined all the way through your eyes. A lump settled in the back of your throat as you stared at the picture; somehow seeing it from an outside perspective opened your eyes to the truth. The feelings you had for Bucky were written all over your face, no matter how much you tried to hide them and the fact that his expression mirrored yours made you feel conflicted.

His parents knew things about your life that you never expected him to share with them. Does he do that with all his friends? Probably, right? Because you were just his friend. Bucky doesn’t date, you repeat in your mind over and over. But friends don’t look at each other like that.

The jarring thoughts battled in your mind as you stood silently, an innocent bystander in the war for truth with your heart on the line. Looking back at George and Winnie didn’t help at all, not when he leaned in to peck a kiss on his wife’s lips, crinkles surrounding his eyes as he looked at Winnie in a similar manner, the way lovers see each other.

As dinner finished his parents insisted on picking up the check, and after another short drive they dropped you off at the hotel, with plans to speak tomorrow before picking you up. Walking into a hotel with Bucky was something you never expected to be doing but you tried to keep the awkwardness inside.

“Uh, hi,” Bucky said to the man behind the counter, placing his bag on the ground, still holding the garment bag over his shoulder. “Checking in, James Barnes.”

How can you even think Bucky likes you if he wasn’t even telling you his real name? Your thoughts were interrupted seeing Bucky struggle to take out his wallet with only one hand. You offered to hold the garment bag as he handled the check in process.

“Alright Mr. Barnes, we have you staying for two nights. Check out is eleven, breakfast is available in our lobby from six to nine-thirty. Your room is number 342. If you need anything please don’t hesitate to call the front desk.”

He thanked the man and took back the garment bag from your hand as you walked towards the elevators, stepping inside as the doors opened with a ding. He pressed the button for the third floor, looking around everywhere but to you. The silence was quickly broken as you spoke.

“So… James is it?” You turned towards him as a smirk pulled at your lips.

He sighed, smiling as he shook his head. “I knew this was coming.” He swiped at his chin, chuckling under his breath before he began. “My name is James but no one calls me that. Well, except for my parents.”

“So where did Bucky come from? Is that your stage name?” you teased.

“Ha ha,” he said dryly. “I grew up with a friend named James and since my middle name is Buchanan I sorta became Bucky.” A boyish smile crossed his face.

The door opened and Bucky followed your lead to find the room. The card unlocked the door and you stepped inside happily surprised that there were in fact two beds. You didn’t think Bucky lied when he said he was booking this but the scenario did play in your mind. There must have been a mistake and now there’s only one bed, I guess we’ll have to share. At least Bucky didn’t pull anything scummy like that.

The garment bag was hung in the closet and then you threw your bags onto the bed closest to the window, laying back on the moderately soft blanket that was meticulously tucked in.

“You up for a walk?” Bucky’s question prompted you to lean back on your elbows. “There’s a CVS down the block, I wanted to grab some drinks and stuff.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You popped up from the bed, ready to go, taking the extra room key to place in your bag just in case. The white and red illuminated sign was visible from when you stepped out onto the street, and beyond it was a beautiful sunset, the fiery orange sky licked at the clouds above, with blue trickling through like a stream of water.

“I’m in the mood for chips, you want some?” Bucky asked, as you entered the store.

“Yeah, chips sound good and maybe cookies?”

The exaggerated batting of your eyelashes combined with the innocent smile that stretched along your face made Bucky let out a chuckle of laughter.

“Fine, but you’re eating the cookies in your bed. I don’t want crumbs in mine.”

“Oh and chips don’t make crumbs? I guarantee you’ll get tiny flecks of potato chips all over that bed.”

“No, you’re wrong Y/N,” he said, placing his hand on your shoulder, “‘Cause I’m getting Doritos.”

You laughed along with him, browsing the aisles until you found what you needed. Doritos, chewy chocolate chip cookies, a few protein bars and a small package of almonds (to stay healthy of course), along with some Gatorade and flavored water, split between a few bags, with Bucky carrying the heavier items.

“My water’s going to explode if you keep swinging the bag like that Bucky.”

With a mischievous gleam in his eye he said, “Oh, like this?” He shook the bag that held the carbonated water as you pleaded for him to stop.

“I’m gonna make you open it!” you said through laughter.

You didn’t, insisting that it would be fine if you let it sit until tomorrow, but it did mean Bucky would have to share his Gatorade tonight. He poured two cups, placing them on the nightstand in between the beds and tossed the package of cookies onto your bed.

Opening up your bag you pulled out pajamas, along with a bag of toiletries you took to the bathroom to set out. While you were in the bathroom Bucky got comfortable, toeing off his sneakers, and changing out of jeans into loose basketball shorts. He kept his t-shirt on even though he felt a little hot.

He saw your reflection in the mirrored closet opposite the bathroom door, smiling as he noticed your pajamas, a plain shirt, not too loose worn with pink cropped bottoms decorated with happy smiling faces on all types of breakfast foods; a smiling stack of pancakes with a syrup spilling over the edge, a happy frosted donut, bacon and eggs holding hands with beaming smiles.

“You have to wear those when we get breakfast,” he said, a smile pulling even wider across his face the closer you got.

“No way!” you laughed. “You wear ‘em.”

“I think I will,” Bucky grinned.

Propping up the pillows on your bed, you sat back, pulling back the foil of the package to take out a cookie. The remote was on your side so you flipped through the channels to find anything that might keep you both entertained.

The bag of Bucky’s chips crinkled as he opened them, digging his hand in the bag. It wasn’t long after that he craved something sweet. “Cookie?” he asked, sucking the orange powder off his fingers.

“I thought you didn’t want crumbs in your bed.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah yeah… well I like cookies more than I hate crumbs.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Fine, but only if I can have some Doritos.”

Bucky scooted over from the center of the bed. “Fine, c’mere. Might as well have just one bed covered in crumbs.”

You smiled, tossing the remote to him as you climbed out of your bed and into his. Only when you were sitting so close did you realize how weird this felt. It shouldn’t though, you’ve been close to Bucky before, closer even, but since you’ve acknowledged your feelings you’ve become more aware of how being near him makes goosebumps prickle across your skin.

But this was nothing, just an easier way to share snacks. Nothing more.

“Go back!” you said, as Bucky was flipping through channels. “Look! It’s you!”

The Music Man was on, Bucky’s namesake for when he first moved in. Bucky looked past your finger that was pointing towards the screen towards the main character “Professor” Harold Hill.

“You think I’m a con man?” he questioned, his brows furrowing as his lips pulled down into a sad pout.

Though he looked concerned you saw the smallest twitch in the corner of his lips and decided to tease him some more.

“You didn’t even tell me your real name so…”

His frown broke out into admitted laughter. As Bucky stared at the way your smile reached your eyes he felt his own lips form a soft one, letting out a sigh that made his heart skip a beat. “You know it now.”

The gaze between you was held for longer than you should have let it, your heart urging you to lean in and press your lips to his again, to feel the sweet relief of the way his soft lips caressed your own. Against your wishes you felt your eyes break contact with his for a brief moment, glancing at his lips, your tongue delicately sneaking out to wet your lips… that is until your mind took control of the reins again.

Clearing your throat you dug your hand into the Doritos, keeping your mouth busy in a different way and Bucky shrugged off whatever was about to happen. He grabbed a few chips for himself, knowing he was not going to push you into something you didn’t want.

A hint of tension lingered in the air but Bucky diffused it quickly, joking, “And anyway, Harold Hill can’t even read music so that was a pretty poor choice of a name to call me.”

A smile eased its way onto your face again. “Well I didn’t call you Harold Hill, I called you the Music Man, which was a shorter way of saying ‘my annoying new neighbor that plays every instrument known to man through our thin walls every night.’”

“Not every instrument.”

You chuckled. “Right, right. You don’t do horns.”

Bucky laughed back, the boyish smile on his face retreating slowly as he asked, “Am I still annoying?”

Your answer was halted as you appraised him, eyes narrowed, lips pursed tightly in an attempt to make him nervous, but you couldn’t hold a straight face for very long.

Breaking out into a smile you couldn’t hide the truth, “No, definitely not.”

It’s amazing how far you’ve come with Bucky, from silently cursing him out in your mind everyday to forming a friendship, one close enough that brought you to this situation that has your heart and mind dueling in a battle for the path you should take.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, when all you wanted to do was hop into Bucky’s bed, lay your head on his chest and cuddle. Instead you wrapped the blanket around yourself and rolled over, knowing that no matter what side won a part of you would still lose.

PART 19

[alienisticxo]

X Angel - Chapter Two

Elon Musk x Reader

{Authors Note} Thanks to some encouragement on AO3 I will be continuing this strange little story. So if you happen to come across it, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: An uncomfortable instance.

Bright white camera bulbs flashed in every direction, the shrill ringing of screams filling my ears until I couldn’t hear myself think anymore. I was blinded by the light that flooded with every rapid click, snapping away at my every move as I exited the Cybertruck I’d been driven in. I was already fashionably late to a discreet -or maybe not so, now- meeting set up by the head representatives of my record label, Astra Records. My manager had decided to tip off the media, and my publicist decided to make it an event without it exactly being one.

It was a complex task, staring into those brazen flashes without so much as a flinch, but that was what was required of me. That was my job and life’s mission for as long as I held the position I did. The ‘drugged out’ smile I was known for never faltered as the flawless chrome of my body reflected every photographer's shining glamor shot right back into their lenses. Despite being surrounded by personnel, security and otherwise, people still clawed and clamored their way forward in an attempt to invade my space as I walked toward the large building before me.

“{Y/N}, over here!” one yelled.

“Give us a wink, will ya?” yelled another.

“I’d fucking die for you!” a shriek made itself heard over everyone else in the roaring crowd.

I just smiled and continued to trek, my {H/C} hair drifting around my face and behind me. I concentrated on my gait, my posture, the way my expression felt as I stepped past my adoring audience.

One misstep and it’s all over, of course.

Occasionally I thought about what a strange thing fame was. People would die or kill for you, just to see you or speak to you. We were all the same, deep down. No matter the wiring or blood that ran under our skin, or chrome. The only ones who seemed to place others on pedestals for no true reason other than a little talent that thousands of others had and would never get the chance to share, were other lifeforms. What really made someone want to know me more than another being who can do the same things, maybe even better? The only difference between myself and someone who possessed the same talents was that no one except the other party’s close circle of friends and family knew of their capabilities. We did it to ourselves, really. If only everyone were looked at the same way.

My security guards pushed against me then, catching me off guard in a crucial moment that could’ve been dangerous for me in more ways than one. They were blocking a rogue fan who’d been dying to ‘feel me.’

I tensed up in the absolute slightest manner as I followed Jett, my manager, into the tall metallic building that was made up of glass, but reflected the entire city skyline on its exterior, catching the neon glow, Saturn and the twinkling stars above with it. Privacy was a must, of course. Being able to see out but not being able to see in was imminent for any corporation’s design. The large double doors that disappeared with a glitch as we approached, reappeared behind us as we stepped further into the lobby of Astra Records. The noise of the rowdy crowd just beyond the front steps of the building sounded as though it was sucked back outside and muffled, like someone had put a lid over the heaps of people screaming my name.

“You’d think they wouldn’t need those old school cameras anymore,” I commented, the exasperation in my voice clear as I relaxed a bit more from escaping the masses, disappearing deeper into the lobby until the sound was no longer audible at all.

“{Y/N}, how else are they going to send the pictures back to Earth?” Jett asked me, a hint of condescension in his tone before pausing.

“People sure are different here aren’t they? They worship you celebrities like gods, worse than little fangirls back on Earth.”

I stared ahead, continuing my trek to the teleportation pad without entertaining his thoughts.

“Fuck, I’m in the wrong business,” he continued in slight disbelief to himself. “Maybe I’ll figure out how to go chrome and become a star instead of managing all you shitheads,” he joked snidely, a nasty grin on his metal-grilled teeth as he turned his head over his shoulder to look at me.

Jett had come to X from Earth after having no luck finding any clients to manage once the great exodus of the rich and famous began. Places like Los Angeles, New York City, London and Tokyo had already been cut throat with the industry players. Once everything fell out, no one trusted a soul to handle their affairs anymore.

It wasn’t hard to see that Jett wasn’t exactly a clean cut looking person to begin with, either.

It was my luck I’d be stuck with him at Astra, but I knew in all aspects I was just that— lucky. I didn’t complain. How could I?

However, as he put it, he hitched a ride on the next flight out and got to work right away with the record label. It was just that easy, and he was just that good.

Sure.

“It doesn’t work like that,” I finally responded in a flat tone to his statement, my eyes scanning the confines of the space as we stood a few feet from the pad. Jett pulled the oversized and black-reflective shades from his eyes then, turning his body to look at me. He lecherously stepped closer before running his -what I assumed to be- warm fingers down the side of my cold cheek slowly, his eyes raking up and down my frame. My jaw clenched unbeknownst to him, and I kept my gaze straight ahead.

“You are a sweet design, I’ll give them that… If it weren’t for security on your ass all the time…”

His eyes moved to the front doors in the near distance behind me as my security team approached us from their previous position handling the crowd, and with that, he let out an abrupt howl, snapping his fingers against the palm of his hand and turning back to lead me upstairs with a cocky gait.

It was moments like that that made my stomach churn. I had to deal with the disgusting remarks and actions, to take them like a champ without even indicating that I acknowledged them at all.

If I did, it was my life on the line.

I was just glad that was the extent of it from him. Even more grateful that that was the extent of it from anyone.

With a silent exhale, and no outward show of disapproval, I swiftly followed behind him onto the teleportation device, ignoring everything he’d said like it simply never happened. With one quick scan of our bodies, as fast as I blinked my {E/C} eyes, we were standing outside of the boardroom I’d only seen twice before. Once to meet the representatives, and the last time to sign myself away to them. As my security team entered next, I searched my surroundings again. The whole floor, who’s exterior wall overlooked another angle of Drax City and a beautiful moon above it, felt familiar as I caught sight of the usual decor. It was dark save for the neon buzzed along the walls, palm trees that were coated in a glittery powder that grew on the leaves as per a new gardening experiment sat in pots in corners next to chrome coated lounge couches and translucent coffee tables. A muted holographic television screen played Astra’s channel on it against a wall, and I saw myself there, giving the last corrupt public service announcement that the Planet X Space Association worked with the label for so long and so hard to have me release to the masses. PXSA was our form of government and space flight. An odd combination, but one nonetheless. I didn’t necessarily believe in the things they forced me to read aloud; fill the heads of the unwise and naive with. But the check was nice, and I was in no position to decline their wishes.

The large area was cast in purple, blue and pink light as nostalgic pinball machines blinked from a short distance away, offering a “glimpse into the past.” Another client, brand new, sat on a couch and played a video game through the latest virtual reality headset, the images they saw being cast across another holographic screen while they waited. It was all very pretty, really, very modern and yet fantastical as I had remembered it from before. But despite the ethereal atmosphere, I still felt uneasy.

I had no idea who I was meeting and what I was meeting them for this time. No one ever seemed to feel the need to tell me much of anything when it came to business affairs. I was told where to go, I showed up on schedule or a little late, and I did what I had to do as I learned what that was upon arrival. The rest was simply code and programming to the people who ran my life; there was no room for error, and I had to learn fast and according to the individual's expectations of me-- or better. I followed Jett down the long purple hued hallway just off of the lounge area, his sleazy demeanor seeping from his pores as he stalked his way to another pair of double doors and stopped as it scanned his body. He looked back over his shoulder at me once more with a smirk before turning and walking through them dramatically, announcing my presence as though I were some prized show pony come to a town where nothing ever happened.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the one, the only, Drax City’s own, {Y/F/N}... {Y/L/N}!”

That was my cue.

He stepped aside, his hands reaching out and over to exhibit my presence once I made my way through the doors behind him and stopped in my tracks, my heels still seeming to echo through the large room. Holding my head up high -chin slightly in the air like the small, but statuesque figure I was- was expected from me. And as I held my position, I immediately noticed eleven pairs of eyes sitting around an iridescent boardroom table that were set on nothing other than me as they quickly and quietly gasped and gawked.

“Her figure, the quality,” one drew out.

“I didn’t expect her to be so… so lifelike, in person,” said another.

“Oh yeah, she’s a real beauty,” said Jett, stepping around me then, his hand tightening around the metallic surface of my waist before raking through my hair as though I were a child’s doll. “X hasn’t seen a model like this… Ever. She’s the most famous pop star on our planet— They can’t get enough, eat her up like candy. That’s why she doesn’t come cheap, boys.”

He patted my side then, making me feel like a used car being sold by a greaseball salesman.

That caught my attention, though. My head turned just a hair, but I caught myself before anyone could realize my reaction. I ground my teeth, trying to compose myself through the abrupt shock I was facing. Quickly fixating my line of sight on a neon lamp in the shape of a star that burned in the corner, I desperately attempted to hold my composure. My ears seemed to have failed me however, my thoughts taking front and center as the men briefly discussed things amongst themselves.

Are they going to sell me? To who? Why?

“Oh, we know all about her on Earth. That’s why we want her. We can imagine she’s a planetary treasure here on X, but she’s interplanetary. Labels, execs, people, would just kill to get their hands on her,” one man said, looking at me with a fever in his eye. I guessed he might’ve been the catalyst for my… purchase. The word tasted bitter on my tongue even as a mere thought.

“They’d listen to anything she tells them to do.”

Jett smirked, lifting a shoulder and asserting dominance in his own way.

“She goes to the highest bidder,” he responded blatantly. “And none of this ‘cash’ bullshit. She’s obviously makin’ us a lotta crypto. No one else can afford her. That’s why she’s still with us here at Astra.”

I allowed myself to slowly absorb the situation, then. Astra was trying to deal me away to Earth, the very place I’d almost died trying to escape, all for monetary gain. It wasn’t unheard of, stars being sent to Earth and even back again, but I was X’s golden girl. Or maybe chrome…

They needed me. More than they thought, I now realized. They couldn’t replace me.

Or maybe I was the one mistaken, maybe they could.

As my eyes scanned the area, I also noticed the nature of the collective individuals that sat before me. All in black and gray pressed suits, all male. They’d come here solely to make a deal, an offer Astra couldn’t refuse, and they weren’t leaving without a signed contract, empty pockets, and my life. Fight or flight kicked in, hitting me like a brick, but I couldn’t react. Everything was in slow motion, and it was killing me from the inside out, not being able to protest. It wasn’t in my nature, but I had to play ball now, and well.

One of the suited men stood up from a chair that floated behind the iridescent glazed table, which I now noticed held the reflection of the cityscape that could be seen through the windowed exterior wall as well. He walked over to me with a drilling stare, his stride confident and assertive.

“And this is 100% cybernetic?” He asked Jett, as though I weren’t even in the room.

“Yes,” he spat incredulously.

“What model is she? From who?”

The man stood before me, eyeing me from top to bottom. I wanted to scream.

“That’s the thing,” Jett began again, moving to lean against the table. “We don’t know. She was left at our doors with a letter to the CEO, like some orphaned child. Said she had no recollection of anything other than her programming. We’re lucky her programming was to be a singer,” he finished with a snide grin.

The man snorted then. The tale was unbelievable, sure, but they had no choice but to believe it. There was simply no other excuse for me. A.I. was common, but I was as human as they were going to get, at least for the foreseeable future. That alone made me quite the commodity, something to be revered by other corporations, enterprises and record labels who needed a workhorse without the demands of humans. People saw themselves in me, they felt they could relate, or become just like me someday. This kept them eating out of the palm of whoever’s hand I spoke for and persuaded them to.

Still, the way my mind worked was not the same way as other A.I. beings. I had real demands in order to work, not lifting a finger otherwise, and I made sure they learned this once it was too late— once they couldn’t let me go anymore.

Unless you had enough crypto, apparently.

The older man examined what he could of my body with no regard for my own thoughts on the matter, looking everywhere for any indication of a branding or a code. His brow furrowed when he found none.

“Who are you?” he asked me then, seeming quite perplexed.

“{Y/N},” I smiled. “Drax City’s very own.”

“Where are you from?”

“Planet X, sir. Made and programmed. It’d be an honor to work with you and your people,” I lied. “This city gets kind of boring when you’ve done it all,” I finished exasperatedly.

“Very realistic,” he commented to Jett, his eyes still studying my face. “A.I. just keeps getting better and better. This is incredible. She’s so… human.”

“Did you think we were fuckin’ lying to you? I’m sure you’ve seen her all over TV, she might as well be a person. She thinks, she feels. Hell, I think I’ve seen her cry before,” he said, taking an apple that sat untouched and forever ripe from a bowl on the table. “And she doesn’t even rust.”

They conversed between each other then, deciding my fate with nothing more than cryptocurrency hanging between us. I wasn’t listening anymore, maybe it was a coping mechanism. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the notion that they would just sell me away to Earth. Maybe I just didn’t want to think they would. They used me for everything they did, advertisements, sold out shows, records— even virtual reality experiences. They made crypto over crypto, dollars upon dollars, thanks to cutting government deals as long as I told everyone to listen. I showed up to every event, knew everyone who was anyone, and then a few more people. If they needed something, I’d do it. If I needed something, they’d do it. That’s just how this worked.

Until now.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when a man standing near the corner closest to the window that I hadn’t noticed before, finally spoke up.

The lights from the city beyond cast a glow over his features, mixing with the neon that lit up the room itself. I knew exactly who he was the moment my attention turned to him, not only by his face, but by his deep voice as well.

Attractive, tall, dark haired and with a presence that could command a room despite the quirkiness that he was often known for, it took everything in me to keep from going slackjawed and wide-eyed. His eccentricities were a staple of his personality, and enigmatic wasn't a word enough to describe him and the aura that surrounded him. Anyone would’ve recognized the man, no matter where they hailed from, and yet, his presence certainly caught me off guard. He was even better than the photos.

He was Elon Musk.

Elon was one of Earth’s most influential people, if not the most influential person. But on X, there was a mixed opinion of him that wasn’t exactly warranted. Though he had helped humans become an interplanetary species, among so many other things, as artificial intelligence became more prevalent, it began to turn on its creators. This caused quite a rift between the cyber world and the human world, lending more firepower behind the crime that had already begun to lace the streets due to the advancement that kept average people struggling to make ends meet and survive in the new world.

Elon was blamed for the downfall despite the warnings he’d cautioned the public with for years. It wasn’t until Neuralink was released to the public for use that humanity began to appreciate him again on a grander scale. He seemed to single handedly salvage humanity, curing medical issues that otherwise had no solution, allowing humans to live for much longer with far better quality of life. Of course, until Earth fell apart again.

Planet X, though, was built on technology; on futuristic ways of existing that he himself had paved the way for, thus causing its inhabitants to maintain far less respect for him. To Xians, futurism was par for the course. Elon wasn’t special there anymore. They ate advanced technology and cybernetics for breakfast, and spat it out into something better for lunch.

But to me, he was still a hero. Though we’d never so much as come close to each other, he had never let me down before. From electric vehicles to space travel, to underground tunnels and mock flamethrowers, his creative and profound mind was something I’d always admired from the moment I learned of his existence.

He had his share of blunders like much everyone else, but overall, I knew he was a decent man. No one had ever made it their life’s mission to help humanity on such a large scale with the capability he had, especially in some of the worst times of what we knew to be Earth’s existence. He valued helping humanity, and he was always honest about doing so. Elon Musk’s intelligence was beyond comprehension, in a way that made anyone want to sit down and pick his brain. And, well, he had a sense of humor on top of it all that made him feel more real than the idea of him even seemed.  

I wasn’t sure what to think of him on a personal level, most people had good things to say, others horror stories. I never thought about it too much or imagined him to be any kind of way, not wanting to tarnish any of the admiration I already had for him. I never expected to meet the man himself despite my position in the galaxy. I was a star, but he was far beyond me. Deep down though, I just hoped he was kind, nice; even if they say to never meet your heroes, because they’re usually quite the opposite.

It took every ounce of control to remain the composed little package they all expected me to be in the moment.

“I’d like to see her on my own,” he stated, every head in the room turning to face him as he did so.

[artificialqueens]

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter Four (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: The Games grow closer, and so do Denali and Rosé as they start their plan, finally going public at the interviews.

A/N: I know it's been a while, but I'm so happy to be back to this fic! Thank you all so much for the love and support, not just on this fic but in general, with everything going on lately. It really means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please leave some feedback if you'd like!

Read on AO3.

Rosé is early to dinner that night, because Denali’s words had gotten to her. She wasn’t just letting Denali down. She was letting herself down, both the younger version of herself who wanted to protect Jan and go home, and herself now, who still wants to go home. She has to help Denali, or it could kill them both. Just because she couldn’t save the tributes she mentored doesn’t mean she can’t save herself now. She can’t go into the Games blind, as much as she wanted to hide behind her sword and snarky comments, and it took Denali—someone Rosé had mentored and given advice to—to help her see it.

And it’s brought them to pretending they’re in love for Capitol favor. It’s a good idea, admittedly. So good Rosé wishes she’d thought of it. There’s nothing the audience loves more than drama, and this is the best you could get.

But alliances are hard, and an alliance with someone she knows is even riskier. Maybe this isn’t a good idea, because what if they work so well together that they’re the last tributes standing? If Denali is the only thing between Rosé and home, can she kill her? Can she kill a friend, someone she’d tried so hard to keep alive in her last Games? Can she--

“Rosé. You’re…early.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Rosé mumbles as Denali sits across from her.

“It’s a nice surprise,” Denali says, and Rosé takes it.

“So, about this plan…” Rosé is ready to suggest calling it off. But Denali tucks her hair behind her ears, and it makes her look so young, so hopeful, and Rosé can’t take her hope. Not when the world has taken so much already, leaving the energetic, fun-loving Denali in the dust. However risky the alliance is, they’re stronger together. Her close-combat skills perfectly balance Denali’s bow and speed. Together, they could really do this, and Rosé lets the strangeness of hope bloom in her chest.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Rosé says quickly. “I think we’ll be great.”

Denali beams as they browse their menus, food rushing up into the compartment next to them.

Rosé grabs the pickle off her plate. “Want this?”

“Sure.” Denali crunches happily. “Why’d you get it if you don’t like it?”

“Because I was pretty sure you liked them.”

Denali points at Rosé in approval. “See, you’re already doing relationship stuff. We got this.”

Rosé nods, but she wasn’t thinking about the fake relationship. She just wanted to see Denali happy.

---

Denali goes to meet their stylist with dread pooling in her stomach at what horrible outfits they’ll be forced into. Each district’s outfits represent their industries, which means District 1 glimmers in jewels and District 12, shafted as always, resembles a coal miner. It’s the same every year. Today, though, a new stylist sits among racks of clothes in the dressing room. She’s young, with soft skin that absolutely glows. She introduces herself as Symone, and somehow Denali hopes she might not look like an idiot this year.

“First year as a stylist?” Denali asks while Symone takes her measurements. She does her best not to flinch, reminding herself Symone’s hands aren’t an attacker’s hands.

“Yep,” Symone says. “About damn time. I’ve been trying for years, but sometimes people aren’t ready for real talent, you know?”

Denali laughs despite herself.

“I hope so,” Rosé says. “Because no offense, Symone, if you want me to wear another coal miner outfit, I’ll go out there naked.”

Denali’s cheeks are on fire, brain short-circuiting at the image of Rosé’s words.

Symone just laughs. “Well, as fun as that might be, I’d never put you in something that ugly. I’m breaking the rules a little this year.”

“What do you mean?” Denali asks.

“I think the outfits should be less about the district and more about you, since this year’s Games are about the victors. Let the Capitol see not just where you’re from, but who you are.”

Where she’s from is who Denali is--the coal dust coating everything in town; the hungry eyes of nearly everyone she passes; the harsh winters burrowing in raggedy blankets--but she gets what Symone is saying. Instead of being another faceless statistic from a district the Capitol owns, let them see Denali and everything she is.

“What did you have in mind?”

Symone almost drops her sketchbook in excitement. “Well, you both had animal nicknames in the Games, did you notice? The Lion and the Fox. I want to play with that, do some animal-inspired stuff to reference your history and present you as a union. One, instead of two.”

Denali meets Rosé’s eyes. It’s almost eerie how it worked out, how easy it’ll be to present themselves as a pair in Symone’s outfits. Like it was meant to be.

“Do you not like the idea?” Symone asks in worry, mistaking their silence.

“No, I love it! It’s brilliant, Symone,” Rosé says quickly. She’s such a big sister, Denali thinks fondly. She always praised Jan and Lagoona for their drawings no matter how hideous they were. Symone’s sketches, though, are some of the most beautiful things Denali’s seen, and she has no trouble nodding her approval.

“Great.” Symone beams. “I have samples for you to try on, to test colors and stuff.”

Rosé goes first, disappearing behind a wooden screen and returning in a ruffly pink dress, arms twisting all over to find the zipper among the ruffles.

“I got it,” Denali says. She pulls the zipper, not breathing as her hand runs up the curve of Rosé’s spine, letting her touch linger.

Symone shifts ruffles aside and takes more measurements, continuing as Rosé tries on dress after dress, with sequins and stripes and even more ruffles.

“Do a spin!” Denali says.

Rosé rolls her eyes, but she does, her red hair waving behind her as she twirls.

“Faster!”

Rosé laughs and keeps going until she stumbles, and Denali doesn’t even think before reaching out to catch her, running her hands up and down Rosé’s sides.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Denali stammers as Rosé retreats behind the screen.

“This should be illegal,” Rosé mutters, emerging in a hot-pink zebra dress with matching hat.

Denali can’t resist her laughter. “You look like Manila!”

“Shit, Denali, don’t tell me that. Let me pretend it’s not that bad.”

“Trust the process, darling!” Symone says grandly.

“Easy for you to say,” Rosé grumbles.

Denali laughs again.

“Just wait, Denali. It’s your turn, and I can’t wait to call you Manila.” Rosé’s smirk is too adorable for Denali to care about what’s coming.

Sure enough, Denali’s paraded behind the screen and given a bundle of clothes. There’s a neon nightmare, with green pants and a yellow shirt, plus a glittery orange jacket with puffy sleeves. Rosé laughs and teases her and frees her from a skin-tight red dress, and Denali gives in to it. The Games are days away, and who knows if she’ll have fun like this again. It’s nice to have her biggest worry be dresses, and she finds herself striking ridiculous poses to hear Rosé laugh and see her smile. It’s been years since they've laughed or smiled this much, and Denali’s going to treasure each one.

Symone ushers them into a group hug, and Denali can’t believe how good it feels, arms intertwined, warm bodies pressed together. She’s really missed hugs all this time on her own.

“You two are perfect,” Symone says. “With my outfits, you’ll be the talk of the Capitol.”

“As long as there’s no zebra print,” Rosé says, and Denali spends the day wishing she could hug her again.

---

The days go too fast.

Rosé hates this place, but now she’d give anything to stay at the Training Center, working out and eating with Denali, rather than go to the arena. She feels like a kid dreading being dragged back to school after summer vacation. She’s been talking to Denali more, bantering back and forth, and she’s starting to like it. But this, like summer, has to end.

They prowl around the training room every day, getting stronger, faster, better. When Denali hisses for Rosé to watch her, make the contestants see how in love they are, the command is useless. Because Rosé already can’t look away from her arms pulling the bowstring taut, how she nods to herself as she aims and lets the arrow fly, a bull’s-eye in each target. Her cheer and hug are genuine, and she revels in the surprised looks on the tributes’ faces.

They eat together every day, passing food back and forth for each other to try, working their way down the menu. Denali laughs until she cries after tricking Rosé into eating chicken in a sauce so spicy Rosé gulps down a gallon of water, and Rosé gets revenge by telling Denali to press a shower button that produces fruity bubbles, bursting into laughter when Denali shows up to breakfast smelling like a perfume store exploded on her.

And it continues, day after day, until other tributes watch them in envy, until Rosé doesn’t have to tell Denali to fake laugh at something she said, because she trusts Denali enough to say it, and Denali likes it enough to laugh.

---

The first sign of the end is their private sessions with the Gamemakers, where they show their skills and get a score. The score doesn’t mean much--people average in the sixes, and a lot purposely act mediocre to fly under the radar. The arena is a great equalizer, and Rosé’s seen tributes score a nine and die the first day. She won with a score of seven. Part of her wants to beat that score now. Plus, with her and Denali playing the romance angle, all eyes will be on them anyway. What’s the harm in Rosé showing off, getting a high score that reinforces how good she is?

There’s no point appearing weak on purpose, and Rosé enters the training room confidently. A dozen Gamemakers have a long table set up on the track, food spread from end to end, forks in hand.

“Sorry to interrupt lunch,” Rosé calls to them. “Think you could make me a take-out box?”

The group jumps, and Rosé snorts when one woman spills wine on herself.

“Go ahead,” a man says, his gaze on the basket of rolls.

Rosé sighs, and she takes the anger boiling in her and uses it like Denali said. She annihilates a training dummy with her sword, then grabs three knives and makes three bulls-eye’s on the wall target. She does the same with three spears, the little red circle not even visible around her accuracy.

The same man dismisses her, and Rosé leaves without another word, annoyed and clueless on what her score will be.

Denali paces the hall outside. She looks expectantly at Rosé, who shrugs.

“They’re having lunch,” Rosé says. “They barely paid attention. But you make them pay attention, okay? I believe in you. Good luck.”

Denali smiles and heads in. Rosé can’t hear anything, but Denali comes out much faster than she did, breathing sharply.

“I fucked up,” Denali says, pacing circles and wringing her hands. “Shit, I fucked up.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Rosé soothes. “What happened?”

Denali mumbles something that sounds like shot an arrow at the Gamemakers.

Rosé blinks. “Did you say you shot an arrow at the Gamemakers?”

Denali hums miserably.

“What happened?”

Denali huffs, coming to a stop. “They weren’t paying attention! Someone brought out a roast pig, and they were literally slicing it while I practiced. So I took an arrow and shot the apple out of the pig’s mouth.”

Rosé bursts into laughter. “That’s so badass!”

“No!” Denali shakes her head, and Rosé sees fear in her eyes. “Rosé, I’m sorry. They’re probably gonna punish you because of me and make things extra miserable for us in the arena.”

“Like they aren’t gonna do that already?” Rosé asks, and Denali cracks a smile. Rosé’s touched that she’s Denali’s first concern, but she won’t let her worry. “Look, it’s fine. They’re supposed to watch you, and they didn’t. That’s on them. I’m not worried, Denali. It’ll be okay.”

Denali nods.

“How did they react?” Rosé asks, because Denali needs more cheering up, more reassurance that she hasn’t done any harm.

“Well, one lady dropped her wine glass. One guy spit out his roll. Another actually screamed and tipped over in his chair.” Denali cackles, and Rosé joins her, laughing until their stomachs hurt. It really is okay.

And when they each receive scores of ten that night, Rosé believes it.

---

Denali’s gotten so used to training that she could pretend the Games weren’t coming. Until it's interview day, with the Games the next morning. The countdown is officially at hours instead of days, and her stomach churns like waves.

She grunts her way through the prep, a trio of people waxing her and fixing her nails, like preparing a doll for the Capitol children. At least it keeps her mind off things. Like how Rosé feels like a friend again, like when Denali and Jan and Lagoona would run up to her after school, babbling about a million things and begging for gossip on the older kids. Like how they both earned the highest tribute scores, labelling them as threats, and how Denali almost likes being seen as a threat. Like how tonight, they’re going to confirm their ‘relationship’ on live television. There’s no turning back, and she almost wishes Rosé was here instead of in her own prep room. At least Denali wouldn’t feel as alone. It’s strange how quickly she’s come to enjoy talking with Rosé again, when they’ve barely talked all their years as mentors, everything they share just too wide a bridge to cross. But they’ve crossed it now, and having Rosé again was worth the journey.

Symone runs in, a beautiful turquoise dress flowing behind her, and helps Denali into her outfit. It’s softer on her skin than the scratchy burlap she’d worn eleven years ago, and Denali hopefully peeks in the mirror.

She’s gorgeous.

The dress is long and white, made of tiny strands of fabric that reflect the light and twinkle in every color of the rainbow, like sun bouncing off gleaming snow. Like the fur of a white fox.

“Do you like it?” Symone asks.

“Holy shit,” Denali mutters, and it’s answer enough.

“I’m gonna get Rosé,” Symone says, but Denali hardly hears her. She can’t look away from how beautiful she looks, with her dress and pale blue eyeshadow and her hair in its familiar braid. She’s the Fox.

And Rosé is the Lion.

Denali gasps when she sees Rosé’s golden dress, the fabric shifting under the light and revealing soft tones of amber. The lion pin over her heart is a little too beat-up to shine, but it does anyway. She’s beautiful, beautiful in a way Denali can’t ignore anymore, beautiful in a way that Denali never wants to look away from again.

“You look amazing,” Rosé says, watching Denali with wondrous eyes.

“So do you.”

Symone hugs them, and they head to their chariot.

Denali hated this last time. Her fellow tribute was bigger than her, and they were stuffed into this thing, Denali crammed against the side trying not to fall out. And she was in a hideous coal miner outfit on top of it.

Tonight, she’s in control, and she's beautiful. The chariots pull through the City Circle one by one, past masses of people. It’s the biggest crowd Denali’s ever seen, a blur of color and cheers. The crowd is screaming when District 1 pulls out, and they don’t let up for District 12. People are already rooting for them, and it’s so bright, so loud. Almost too much. Rosé stiffens beside her and Denali knows she’s thinking the same thing. But they have to do this. Denali squeezes Rosé’s hand, the touch easing the ringing in her ears.

“Don’t let go of me,” Denali whispers.

Rosé doesn’t.

---

After the chariots, they’re lined up by the stage. District 12 is last of course, and Denali has to listen to 22 other tributes be charming and witty and lovely. Nina West, the Capitol interviewer, is unavoidable in a rainbow dress, and Denali winces against its brightness. She wishes a quiet good luck to Rosé before she takes the stage.

Rosé waltzes on stage with the spin Denali made her do in the dressing room and becomes a star in an instant, joking about how the Capitol just had to have her back, about how she still presses the wrong shower buttons and filled the room with bubbles last night, and everyone rolls with laughter. But when Nina’s face turns serious, Denali knows the tide has turned.

“Now, you volunteered for your sister last time.”

“Right,” Rosé says quietly, and Denali remembers her saying that she didn’t want anyone using Jan against her.

“I see you’re wearing her pin again.”

Rosé nods. “I gave it to her as a birthday gift when she was a kid. When I said goodbye, she gave it to me and made me promise to bring it home to her. To me, it’s...it’s a symbol of love and home.”

It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop. People volunteering like Rosé is extremely rare. Denali remembers how people back home had whispered about her last time. Some people called her selfish, said she was the oldest daughter and shouldn’t have left her parents. Some said she was an idiot and should have sent her sister to the Games, a pig to the slaughter, and counted herself lucky that she was spared. But many people, Denali included, thought that Rosé was brave, almost certainly saving her sister’s life even at the risk of her own. A kind of brave, a kind of love, that you don’t see much anymore. Everyone in the Capitol held the same belief, and it was why they loved her so much, in awe of her devotion and kindness. Why they love her still, if the adoring gazes are any indication.

“And did you make the same promise this time?” Nina asks.

“I did.”

Nina nods solemnly. “It’s wonderful to hear about your family.” Her smile is genuine, and Denali wonders how someone so nice ended up doing this. “While we're on the subject, is there anyone special back home?”

Denali holds her breath. This is it, practically served on a platter. All Rosé has to do is take it.

And boy, does she.

She smiles mischievously, fixing her hair while the audience holds their breath, wondering if she’s taken or if they somehow have a chance with her.

“Well, Nina, I do have someone. Except she’s not home.”

Nina’s eyes light up. “Are you saying--”

Rosé nods. “Yes. The woman I love came here with me.”

People actually scream. Some gasp, some cheer, while Nina tries to hush them and ask Rosé more questions. Even Denali smiles in surprise and she knows the camera catches it. Rosé is every inch the lovestruck woman she needs to be, and Denali listens as she explains how they’d gotten together.

“Denali was like a little sister to me, you know? She was best friends with my sister Jan, and they were always following me around. Little terrors,” she jokes, and the audience laughs. “She was always so funny, so strong and brave. I saw that firsthand when I mentored her. She’s amazing, isn’t she? Everything she does with her bow--I’d poke my eye out.” Another laugh, more smiles. Rosé’s face softens as she continues. “We lived nearby after the Games, but I always kept my feelings secret. I was just too afraid to tell her. But after the Quell, I had to. We stayed awake all night on the train here, and I finally told her. We agreed to work together for the Games, and Denali...she gives me a lot of hope going into them.”

The crowd is on their feet, clamoring for more, but they’re past the time limit, and Rosé exits to applause that goes on for over a minute.

By the time Denali takes the stage, they’re absolutely rabid. Nina asks her basic questions first, stringing things along and making everyone wait. Denali has no idea what she answers, because she’s still reeling from Rosé’s interview, goosebumps on her arms at how much Rosé admires her. She sounded so genuine. Someone hopelessly in love and afraid to confess her feelings, finally doing so in the face of danger. It didn’t happen, there was no love confession on the train, but Denali almost feels like there was, because Rosé made it that real. But this is just a game; she can’t forget that, no matter how in love Rosé seemed. They’re just friends.

“Now, I have to ask what we’re all waiting for.” Nina’s cheerful voice cuts through her thoughts. “Tell us about you and Rosé!”

Denali puts on a smile. “Well, like she said, me and her sisters followed her around all the time. We probably were little terrors.” Nina smiles, and the crowd follows. “I always admired her. I watched her Games all day and night, because I just had to see her win,” Denali says, heart tingling at the memory of her joy when Rosé won. “And then I had her as a mentor, and she helped me so much, with whatever I needed. She never gave up on me, and that respect and awe I had for her turned to love over the years. I didn’t know she felt the same way.”

The words feel real, simple and close enough to the truth to be believable. Denali smiles and bats her eyelashes, a woman in love. Nothing is a lie except for the love part, and Denali could leave it at that, but a memory pops into her head. One to really seal the deal, a thought she hates an instant later, because Rosé is her friend, not just some pawn.

“When I was eleven, my father got hurt. He was fine, but he was out of work for a few weeks, and things were...hard. I was really upset. And Rosé—I don’t even know if she remembers this—she stuck a cookie in my bag every day on the way to school. Just to help me feel a little better. She never brought it up, never wanted attention or thanks for it. She just wanted to help.”

Denali swallows as the audience awws. The camera is surely panning to Rosé, but Denali can’t look at her. The memory hit harder than she expected. She never lets herself remember it, because she hates even acknowledging that she’d needed charity. But it was never like that with Rosé. She never made it seem like charity, never wanted power over Denali by helping her. Rosé just wanted to help. She’s the only person who ever helped Denali when she was a kid, and real tears prickle in her eyes.

“I never forgot that,” Denali continues. “It shows how kind and caring she is. That’s why I fell in love with her.”

Nina wipes her eyes. Everyone is yelling their names, clapping and blowing kisses, and Denali knows.

They’ve won this round.

Game, set, match.

---

Rosé can’t sleep.

It should come easy, after how well the interviews went, how beloved they’ve become overnight. Yet it’s 1am and sleep isn’t coming. She can’t spend another minute in this room, staring at the ceiling and suffocating under thousand-thread-count sheets. She heads to the common room on their floor, and she’s not the only one awake.

Denali’s on the couch, watching footage from her Games.

“Can’t sleep either?” Denali guesses, turning off the TV.

Rosé shakes her head. “Okay if I sit?”

Denali nods, and Rosé takes the end of the couch, afraid to breach the gap between them even if she wants to, wants to feel someone human near her before tomorrow. But they’re not on camera, and maybe Denali won’t want that.

“Does it get tiring?” Rosé asks suddenly.

“What?”

“Watching the Games over and over. Your workouts,” Rosé explains. She never talks about the Games--hell, until this year she’s never talked about anything big with Denali. But something is coming undone in Rosé tonight. Maybe the threat of tomorrow. Maybe how close she and Denali have become. Maybe how everything she said about Denali on stage is lingering in her heart. Maybe how Denali remembered Rosé’s childish attempts to help her with cookies all those years ago, how Rosé’s heart warms at the memory. Whatever the reason, the words are flying out past everything Rosé uses to keep them inside.

“Does it get tiring trying to ignore it all?” Denali doesn’t sound mean, just curious.

“Yes,” Rosé says bluntly. “I just...wouldn’t know what else to do.”

She learned early on that the only way to get out of bed and function was to put all the thoughts and feelings and horrors of the Games deep inside herself, seal them tight, and pretend they weren’t there. They come back sometimes. In nightmares. In certain smells that take her back to the arena, muscles instantly clenching. In the time she got a papercut and was frozen in place when Lagoona found her, because of the blood, the blood. But for the most part, she has a handle on things. Living like Denali--going on runs, watching the footage, talking about it constantly--would just be inviting it in, breaking the seal on the memories. And that’s undoubtedly worse than Rosé’s method of dealing.

“It gets tiring for me too sometimes,” Denali admits, playing with the couch cushion. “I guess I’m trying to fight it. Like if I keep running, memorize the Games, then I’ll beat it and it can’t hurt me.”

“Does it work?”

Denali just shrugs.

“Sometimes I think they want us to forget,” Rosé says. She’s never voiced it to anyone, but she’s safe with Denali.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean …” Rosé tugs on her shirt, exposing her left shoulder. “In my Games, that boy’s axe got me here. I felt it, Denali. My shoulder was torn open, the blood was everywhere. I woke up in the hospital without a mark on me.”

“My knee too,” Denali says quietly. “I saw the bone when it happened, and now there’s nothing. Like it never happened. It just gets stiff sometimes.”

“It’s like the Capitol wants us to fear the Games, but forget how bad they were. They erase the scars and give us nice houses and expect us to be grateful. Perfect little victors,” Rosé spits. There’s an anger there she usually ignores, the deep hurt of the Capitol parading her around as a victor but not actually caring about her.

“I think it’s another way to control us,” Denali says. “Who’s gonna speak out against them when they fixed us up and gave us a nice house with heat and indoor plumbing, y’know?”

Rosé nods. “I guess I just want—“

“You want a life they don’t own. A life that’s yours,” Denali guesses. A guess that flies out so easily because it’s something she wants herself, something no one else understands. When Rosé left for the Games, Denali was still young enough to have that wish. She had the freedom to not know what she wanted to be when she was older. No one dreams of becoming a Hunger Games victor.

But somehow they both did.

“Yeah.” Rosé sighs. It’s something she never really lets herself imagine—a normal life with her family, with easy sleep and no Capitol obligations—but something she longs for just the same. And Denali understands. Rosé wonders if it could’ve been like this all the time if she had the courage to talk to her.

“Are you scared?” Denali asks suddenly.

“Fuck, how could I not be?” Rosé mutters, her honesty continuing. “I mean, I’m scared to go back, sure, but…but I’m also scared that if I come out, I might not be me anymore. I don’t want the Games to make me something I don’t want to be.” She doesn’t know how to explain it, only that she doesn’t want to lose herself to the Games, to what she might have to do. She never wants to become so soaked with blood that she can’t recognize herself.

Denali nods. “You still want to be you at the end. Not just a piece of the Games.”

The words strike Rosé’s heart like she thought them herself. “Yes.”

“It scares me too.”

It shouldn’t do anything. It’s just a simple confirmation that they feel the same way, recognize something in each other. But it proves to Rosé that she’s not alone, that someone understands her, and after she and Denali say goodnight around two, she falls asleep easily.

---

The sun dawns bright the morning of the Games.

Denali moves in a daze, stomach knotting over a silent breakfast with Rosé.

She needs to focus. She needs to let go of last night, of how real Rosé’s love seemed, of how she let her guard down and talked with her, of how close they’ve gotten. This is a game, and it’s about to start. Time seems to malfunction, and one minute she’s picking at her food and the next Manila’s leading them to the launch room. This is it.

Denali’s heart pounds as they get ready. She’s in all black--boots, pants, shirt, and jacket--and Rosé is dressed the same. Her lion pin roars on her jacket, while Denali has her mother’s necklace. She hopes it protects her.

Manila dabs her tears with a bumblebee handkerchief, and Denali would roll her eyes, but she’s pretty sure it’s genuine.

“Remember,” Rosé says hoarsely, “we get our weapons and run.”

Denali nods as they step on the plates that take them to the arena. Denali closes her eyes as the platform shoots up, her head spinning as she tries to breathe. Everything stops, and the announcer’s voice declares the 75th Hunger Games have begun.

Denali opens her eyes.

[ciarawritesmarvel]

baker’s dozen - [bucky x reader]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: like it’s just fluff i don’t know what to tell you

A/N: I’m in such an autumnal mood and this is the result of that. As always, let me know what you think and I love you all v v much :)

masterlist in my bio and tags in the reblog! please drop me an ask to be added to any tag lists!

---

September 1st - the first day of autumn. And incidentally, one of your favourite days of the year.

In the bakery, the swirling smell of pumpkin and cinnamon was thick in the air and there was a rising heat from the ovens that forced you to shrug off the oversized cardigan you’d worn to work this morning. There was definitely flour on your forehead, you could feel the niggling sensation, but there was so much flour and batter on your hands and forearms that any attempt to remove it would only make the problem worse. If you took a breath through your mouth, you could taste the rich dark chocolate.

You grinned, and took a deep breath through your mouth.

“Knock knock!” came an all too familiar voice, along with a knock on wood that really would’ve done the job without the verbalisation.

You grinned regardless and rushed over to the side door to let the voice in.

“Happy autumn!” you exclaimed happily upon sight, arms stretched wide in both a gesture and an invitation for a hug. Bucky laughed.

“Happy autumn yourself,” he said back, far more mellow as he moved inside and hugged you to his frame with one arm, the other carrying something that you had to step backwards to see.

“Is that-?”

“The finest hot chocolate in all the land? Why yes it is. Special drink for a special day,” he said, handing you the packet and you thanked him profusely, walking over to load it into the hot chocolate machine.

“You want one now?”

“I’ll make one for the both of us,” Bucky explained, heading over to the whiteboard and reading the schedule you’d written on there, with the times of everything in the oven so far and everything yet to be baked, “You’ve been busy already I see?”

There was a hint of worry in his tone, as there always was when he got to work on time and found that you’d been in for a few hours already. You waved him away, wiping your hands on the towel over your shoulder.

“I couldn’t sleep anyway, thought I’d come in and get a headstart. You know excited I get about today!”

“I do, doll,” he chuckled, grabbing his stripey apron from the peg, the peg that had his name written in glittery gel pen above it, upon your insistence. He made the hot chocolates in record time, threw in a few marshmallows and swirled an expertly crafted swirl of cream on top, “For the lady.”

He handed it to you with a flourish and you took it with a grateful thanks, taking an immediate sip and laughing as you felt yourself gain a cream moustache. Looking at Bucky and seeing he had the exact same one left the two of you in fits of giggles, until you winked at him and licked away the cream.

Bucky gulped.

A hop back over to the board and another glance at your schedule had him getting to work on the snickerdoodles that you had been about to start on.

You switched your attention to the maple cupcake frosting that had to be made for the current batch cooking away in the oven. Just as you were adding a splash of water to the mixture in one of your industrial sized bowls, you felt Bucky’s presence behind you and smiled as you turned to him.

“Can I help you?”

“That’s exactly what I was going to ask,” he grinned, holding up a cloth and your eyes narrowed suspiciously to which he simply rolled his eyes and said - “Hold still.”

He moved closer with a single step. Lifting the cloth to your forehead, he paused for long enough for you to stop him if you wanted to before he gently wiped away the flour on your head, with soothing circular strokes and eyes that sparked with concentration. Your gaze flittered downward and you briefly noticed his teeth grazing his bottom lip before you forced yourself back up to his eyes.

“There,” he said softly, almost sweetly and you smiled up at him only briefly before he’d gone and the warmth that came with him went too. Probably a good thing, you reminded yourself. This kitchen was already warm enough.

You continued with the frosting and Bucky resumed work on his snickerdoodles. A quick check of the clock told you there was an hour until opening time. You were only a little behind schedule.

“How quickly do you think we’ll sell out today?”

“I’m going for a record two hours,” Bucky replied, using a cookie cutter on his snickerdoodle mix.

“That would be amazing!” your voice betrayed your excitement, “I suppose it depends how quickly we can get through the queues.”

“We get quicker every year, Y/N,” he reminded you, “This is going to be our best September 1st yet, I just know it!”

You knew, somehow, that he had turned to you and so you glanced over your shoulder and grinned at his hopeful expression.

September 1st may not have been a big day in most calendars, but it was one of the biggest in yours. Every year, you and Bucky closed the bakery on August 28th, took one day off entirely and then set to work preparing for the new Autumn Opening. You removed all of the pastels, iced teas and fruity flavours from your menu and started fresh with warm spices, hot beverages and freshly baked snickerdoodles. It was a quick turnaround but one you loved nevertheless.

Autumn was the best time of year.

It meant coming into work in cozy jumpers, but no cumbersome coat, with a styrofoam cup warming chilly fingers. It meant reds, oranges and yellows came alive within the display counters. It meant cinnamon and chocolate lingering on your tongue throughout the day from that bit of batter you couldn’t help but try.

Just as you were getting into work mode and blocking out everything around you, even wistful thoughts of fall, music began playing from the radio in the corner and you didn’t need to look up from your work to know who was the culprit. The soft sounds of the 1940s did that for you.

“Music helps me work,” Bucky said by way of explanation and you shook your head fondly.

“I know. And you know that as long as it’s soft and slow, I’m all for it.”

Bucky made a show of twirling around to you and squeezing your shoulder before twirling off to his end of the kitchen. You didn’t look up at him, because you were concentrating, but also for fear of looking too fond or glancing too furtively, a fear that often plagued your mind as of late. The fear that any look in his direction might betray you, that any glance might let him know.

On the other hand, what with your hopeless obliviousness, Bucky was given free rein to glance with the reckless abandon of a man in love for the first time in a very long time.

The former Avenger had fallen in love with his new lifestyle almost as much as he had fallen in love with you. After a few years of being one of Earth’s mightiest heroes, Bucky realised he hadn’t given nearly enough time to being one of Earth’s actual citizens. So, with Steve’s hearty blessing and Tony’s gift of a modest apartment in the heart of Brooklyn, he set out on his own for the first time in his life and learned how to live a normal life.

It was about a month into this normal life that he met you.

He’d been walking along the street, an early morning walk he often took to get him out into the world, dreadfully hungry and too far from home to simply wait. A distinctly sweet smell came at just the right time and without much of a second thought he was entering the bakery and came face to face with...nobody. He took a longing glance at the array of cakes and biscuits on display then edged further into the shop, looking around for anyone who may be in charge.

All of a sudden, you popped up. Quite literally, as you appeared from behind the counter, pushed your hair back into place and put on your best smile, which ended up only looking 60% manic.

“Hello! Welcome to Baker’s Dozen! How can I help you?”

And somehow, Bucky couldn’t help himself.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked, the question completely taking you by surprise. You quickly collected yourself though, to your credit, and deflated before his very eyes.

“Well, no. I’m just having a bit of a breakdown-” you looked back down at the floor longingly as if you wished you could get back down to it and the thought crossed his mind that you might have been lying down on it, defeated. You quickly bounced back though and your customer service ready smile returned in a flash, “-but it’s nothing to worry about! Can I get you something?”

But Bucky was far too immersed now to go back. As he looking back on the memory now, he realises that even then his subconscious had noticed the kindness of your smile, however tired it was, and he could see the beauty of your past features in his minds’ eye. Though he would never have known it then, he knew now that he had been incredibly attracted to you, almost magnetically so, and it was that which drove him to push the conversation.

“You want to talk about it?”

“...Really?”

Bucky shrugged. Leant an elbow on the counter.

“I’ve got nowhere to be.”

You hesitated, wondering whether or not to confide in this total stranger of a customer, one that you’d never even seen in your bakery before, but whose eyes betrayed a person of trust, a person that seemed vaguely and pointedly familiar.

“It’s just that - well, my new hiring called this morning to say she no longer wanted the job, on the day she was supposed to start,” you laughed, hollow and empty, a laugh of someone who feels they have nothing left to laugh about but needs to laugh anyway, “So unless you know a keen amateur baker, I’m afraid there’s no point in talking about it.”

You sighed, raising a hand to your face and rubbing down it with a harsh touch.

And it didn’t take Bucky long from there to awkwardly offer up his services, for a peg to be cleared for his apron, for him to up to his elbows in cupcake batter in the back kitchen with a recipe by his side and you floating in and out from out front.

Nothing much had changed since then. And it had been three years.

You were still the main face at front of shop, with Bucky coming in and out with fresh batches and special smiles for regular customers used to seeing him around. One difference was that you now knew where you had recognised him from, of course, but none of his past was even a slight concern once you’d tasted his brandy snap recipe. You’d been joined at the hip since, an inseparable pair, an unstoppable team, a force to be reckoned with.

Having a former Avenger around only helped your business flourish, anyway.

You finished your final swirl of frosting with your piping bag and carried the tray out to the front of house, already seeing a small line of people outside the door fifteen minutes early. The mere sight made you grin and run back into the kitchen.

“There’s already people, Buck!” you nearly squealed, running over to him and jumping on his back, laughing at his little sound of indignation at the action. He quickly regained his bearings though, and spun on the spot until you fell from his back and back onto the floor, feet stumbling slightly and he held out a hand ready to steady you just in case.

“That’s great, Y/N,” he said sincerely, his smile radiating, “I think we’ll have a couple of high profile customers this morning too.”

He waggled his eyebrows and you hit him on the chest as you giggled. Bucky often called in a few of his Avenger friends on new season opening days, just to create a buzz and add to media attention. At first, you resented it, not wanting to use him for fame or anything of the like, but when you’d been assured that they actually loved what you two baked anyway, you didn’t mind so much anymore.

The renewed energy helped you to carry all the baked goods you’d made this morning and over the past days into the front area, arranging them neatly in cabinets and windows, exchanging waves and smiles with those you could see waiting in line through the glass out front. Bucky finally took his fresh snickerdoodles out of the oven just in time and brought them in, filling the room with the smell of sweet cinnamon and you helped him arrange them on a specific section you’d left empty especially.

“Finally finished,” you muttered happily, startling just a little at sudden arms encircling your waist from behind and a firm chest pressed against your back. Your breath hitched.

“You have no idea-“ a little content sigh in the middle of your sentence as you shuffled your head so it sat comfortably against his chest, “-how glad I am you asked me if was okay three years ago.”

“Well, I could hardly let you lying on the floor slip past me.”

“You could have. But you didn’t,” you replied happily, squeezing his forearms and turning around in his hold. You were far too close to him to be doing it, but the excitement of the moment and the tenderness held after tears of such close friendship made you throw caution to the wind as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, lingering more than you should, “Love you, Buck.”

He paused. You were already moving on, pulling away from his hold to go over to unlock the door, not wanting to acknowledge the moment for what it was and he decided to go along with that. He smiled fondly to himself. One day.

“Love you too, doll.”

The customers began flooding in and Bucky spotted Nat and Sam in the throngs of the crowd. He shot them a quick wave and a smile, turned to you to do the same then cracked on with the job at hand, contenting himself with his loving glances of reckless abandon for now.

[rosymaeflower]

Idolize Me! CH 1

Summary: Idol!MC whos scummy as hell, follow her as she navigates Devildom from an idols perspective. Lotta plot, fluff and MAYBE smut as we go *wink wink* btw its harem af

I also post of Ao3! 

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"MC!"

My manager calls out to me as a team of stylists flutter around me, teasing and pulling on my hair and touching up on my makeup.

"Yeah?" I call out blindly to him as my eyes stay shut to allow a nameless hand to pad on another layer of shimmer atop my eyelid.

"After makeup and wardrobe, u should test the fitting of your mic and in ear piece, you don't want them falling out on you on stage!" He nags. It's so like him to remind me of things I've done thousands of times, but it seems to help him more than me so I tend to just humor him.

“Yes yes I got it!” I call out once again. The stylists around me slowly disappear one by one till it’s just my manager left, letting me know that makeup and hair has now officially completed. He presses the in ear piece into my hands and fiddles with the wires for a while, muttering about how we’re running late as usual.

I stare back into the reflection I see in the mirror. The girl before me has transformed completely from the regular me to a completely polished and idol worthy me. I barely recognize myself, but I don’t need that to do my job.

“Alright, done, get up!” My manager hurries again, signalling for the stylists to check me over once more. Their hands are on me again, pulling and tugging as they go. My eyes stray towards a screen showing a boy group nearing the end of their performance, the chants of fans vibrating through the thin walls doing nothing to soothe my ever present nerves.

“Are you ready?” My manager asks, now finally calm as I’m moving into position behind the curtains.

I chuckle, "Of course, how could I not?” The boy group bows collectively and file off the stage, the emcees of the award show returning to the stage to announce the winner of some other award I can’t remember. How much did I get for pawning off my trophies anyways? Not much if I recall, so the awards are basically worthless to me.

“Remember, make this a blast and you could get a ton of CF opportunities if your stage goes viral, we could even up your asking price!” My manager yaps, clearly off in fantasy land. I’m actually pretty comfortable with my current popularity as a soloist. My albums sell out regularly, I’ve done both local and international tours, I’ve never been in a scandal (except for the chicken wings commercial one but it was clearly the directors fault!) and public opinion of me as a person is a-okay. But of course, earning money is this industry’s driving force, it doesn't hurt to have a few more dollars lying around…

With a thunderous applause, the winner has accepted their award and has given an emotional speech of thanks. And now… It’s time.

I vaguely hear my stage name being announced before the curtains slowly peel apart, revealing a sea of colorful lights and shrill screams. I take a step forward only to fall. Fall through the ground, wind swirling around me and through my hair as the lights bend and shift into something else completely. My eyes squeeze shut and I let out a fearful scream before-

*THUD*

My eyes fly open, I'm now laid sprawled on some cool tiled floorings. The lighting is completely different, the stage and crowd is gone, my backup dancers are gone.

What the-

I whip my head around only for my eyes to lay upon an imposing figure seated atop a majestic golden throne. Tanned skin and fiery red hair, wrapped in deep red clothes that could only be described as royalty, the man smiles warmly down at me. My head is still spinning from the weird vortex I just experienced but I can tell he calls the shots around here. I'm laid right by the steps before him, which makes me feel more vulnerable than ever.

Something about him is off. Otherworldly. Despite his harmless smile, I know I shouldn't trust him right away. Besides, who the hell is he? Where the hell am I?

With my attention initially focused on him, I almost failed to notice the other figures standing in what could only be described as ‘throne room’.

A green haired man with an unreadable expression who stands by the left arm of the throne. A tall black haired man who has his arms folded and is looking at me with…. Uh, polite disinterest? Or is that malice? Honestly I can’t even figure it out. I don’t even know if I should be scared or happy right now!

By the side of Mister Dark Scary Pants, there's a lean blonde guy with striking poison green eyes, his left hand absentmindedly laying on his chest. He looks decently normal, except for the ever present wrinkle between his brows. His eyes seem to flicker in recognition as he stares at me. Beside him, a beautiful peach haired man with an even more beautiful smirk chuckles as he stares right at me, his eyes unashamedly roaming down from my head to my bare legs.

“My my~ What have we here?” He croons in my direction. Well then. Looks like he's a classic pervert.

I’m no stranger to beauty, god knows I meet many extremely attractive people in my line of work, but something about them all seem... off. Just like the Throne Guy. They're all impossibly gorgeous but I feel like I should be running for my life right now, which I would but I am currently busy being plastered to the floor.

My thoughts are then interrupted by Throne Guy, who sweeps open his arms in a shameless welcoming gesture.

“Welcome to Devildom!” He announces, his voice surprisingly friendly. "Sorry if we startled you Miss MC, I'm afraid we couldn't be sure of your whereabouts before summoning you here."

I eye all of them cautiously, unsure if I’ve died or just am in a coma. “Ah yes… Devildom yes…” I say absentmindedly, slowly getting to my feet. Did my manager arrange for me to perform for the devil? First of all, major breach of contract! Secondly, how much am I getting paid? I reckon I could fetch a high price down here...

Finally standing, I realize just how naked I feel in this vast empty room. The dress I'm wearing is an off the shoulder long glittery blue piece, definitely suited for my scheduled stage but NOT for an audience with sketchy handsome men! The green haired man beckons me up the low steps and wraps a coat with strange symbols around my bare shoulders.

"Um…" my soft voice echoes through the loud room, making me cringe but I'm way too confused and worried to care. "So where am I? And who are you people?" I wave my hand at the surrounding men. "Am i… dead?" I asked tentatively, wrapping the coat tighter around me.

If I am, how on earth did I die?? Stage piece fell on me? My manager stabbed me? My backup dancer stabbed me?? A deranged fan?? As my thoughts raced a mile a minute, the Throne Guy’s deep laugh brings me back to the present. While surprisingly warm, I can’t help but feel like I’m some sort of prey here… And the men are all definitely predators.

"No, Miss MC, you're far from it!" He puts his hand to his chest. “My name is Diavolo, I am the crown prince of Devildom,” He then gestures to the man on his left, green haired man. “This is Barbatos, he serves me as both my butler and advisor,”

His hand waves towards the other 3 men on his right. “These are the Avatars of Sin, immediate to my right is Lucifer, then Satan and Asmodeus.

A strained smile finds itself on my face at his words. Is this some sort of prank? I shifted my eyes around, hoping to spot a secret camera, a boom mic, anything that would confirm my suspicions but I found nothing. Those names… I was never religious but everyone knows the name Satan and Lucifer right? The rest of the names sound familiar as well, biblical yet demonic at the same time…

I eye Diavolo, my eyes hoping to catch something that could help me figure all this out. "So Diavolo… If I’m not dead, why am I here?" I ask tentatively, still not believing most of what’s going on.

"Why there's no need to be scared, pretty girl!" Asmodeus purrs at me. "Just look me in the eyes…" His hand reaches out to turn my face towards his before a black gloved hand reaches out to smack it away.

"Control yourself, Asmo," Lucifer says sternly, nearly stepping right in between us.

“Aw you’re no fun Lucifer,” Asmodeus laughs, shooting me one last wink before leaning back. It seems like this Lucifer has some sort of authoritative power over them too?

Diavolo clears his throat, bringing my attention to him once again. “Well to answer your question, you’re here on a student exchange programme!” He says cheerfully. “You will be attending RAD, the Royal Academy right here in Devildom to learn the customs and culture of us demons here.” He explains.

My mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “Uh huh?” I ask, a little in shock.

“Worry not,” Barbatos finally speaks, his voice light and lilting. “Your disappearance back home will be dealt with accordingly and you will be given all the help you need to adjust to your 1 year stay here.” He says, stepping forward to press a mobile like device into my hands. “ This is your D.D.D, it operates similarly to a regular human cellphone where you can contact people, complete your tasks for school and even operate social media.”

My jaw drops. “Wait so… I can contact my friends and family? And even post from hell??” I ask hopefully. “And wait, did you say ONE YEAR??” My brain finally caught up to everything he said.

“Let me correct myself, you can contact residents here only, and you will only be able to access Devilgram for social media purposes, it won’t impact your account back on the human realm.” Barbatos explains patiently. “Also, this place is officially called Devildom but yes there are humans who call it ‘Hell’.” He says, a little amused. “And yes, the exchange programme lasts a year.”

Well then. There goes whatever social standing I have left. People forget stars as quickly as they come, a year without comebacks? Or posting? Or shows? I’m basically jobless for the next whole year! Where am I gonna get my money! Also not seeing my family? Not to mention me never signing up for this anyways!

“But I have a job!” I exclaim, eyes flitting back and forth between Diavolo and Barbatos. “I didn’t sign up for this either, you must have the wrong person-”

Barbatos shakes his head calmly. “We most certainly have the right person Miss MC, you may not have signed up for this but your file was picked out of tens of thousands, you are incredibly lucky to have this opportunity.”

I made a face at him, finally regaining my nerves. I also don't have to worry about cameras here so I don’t have to worry about scandals anytime soon! “Listen, my job-”

“Ah yes, you’re an idol back in the human realm correct?” Diavolo interrupts me now, his teeth glinting under the chandelier light. “Not to worry, we have made it so that you’re taking a hiatus from performing to go back to school, we have made sure your family is aware of that too,”

The beautiful man gasps suddenly. "Oh my god! I knew I recognized you from somewhere!" He grabs my hand, leaning closer into me. "You're (stage name)!" He exclaims, eyes roaming over my face in childlike wonder. Once again, Lucifer moves forward to pull him back, this time with a disapproving glare.

I grin a little shakily. So demons can recognize me after all… "Ah yes but that's just a stage name… My real name is MC," I explain.

Satan, the blonde man, taps his fist into his palm in realization. “No wonder you looked so familiar,” He says. “I’ve heard of you and your songs,”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Demons… know idols?” I ask curiously. This could be a huge plus for me, I could rack up tons of cash down here, maybe even convert whatever demon money I earn into human money!

Barbatos finally smiles at me, his face looking way less mysterious with it now. “Yes Miss MC, you’ll find that you have a bit of a fanclub down here in Devildom as well.” He says.

“Oh!” I must say, in my 4 years of being an active idol, I never expected a portion of my fans to be made up of demons. But a welcomed surprise… I can hold concerts, fansigns, maybe even a high five event? Just thinking about all the money I could get from this is exhilarating!

“During your stay here you will be living with us,” Lucifer interjects through my money driven thoughts. “By us I mean my brothers and I, the Avatars of Sin.”

Asmo snickers, “You and I will have plenty of time to get acquainted with one another then, I’ve never been with an idol before!” He says almost giddily, licking his lips.

“and you never will.” I say firmly, frowning slightly.

“Please excuse my brother, he’s the Avatar of Lust after all,” Satan says, folding his arms. “I’m the Avatar of Wrath and Lucifer over here is Pride but I’m sure you can tell that by the pompous way he speaks and acts-”

“Satan please,” Lucifer grits out, “We have guests and we are in the audience of Lord Diavolo, mind your words,” He narrows his eyes at his brother, who shoots him an equally dirty look back.

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh which earned a smug smile from Satan and a piercing glare from Lucifer. “Haha yes… So is that all I have to know?” I ask finally, rolling my shoulders back to ease a bit of the tension that’s been building up since I got here.

“Ah since this is an exchange programme, you aren’t the only human here,” Barbatos says. “Solomon, a human sorcerer, will be taking the same course you will be as well at RAD,”

“A sorcerer?” I ask in wonder. Hmm, I definitely should get to know him, I can’t just be with demons all the time can I? And he may be a fan… How much would he pay for a signature hmm?

“Yes but he will be living in the Purgatory Hall with the angels from the Celestial Realm,”

“I’m sorry what now?”

“You’ll be living in the House of Lamentation with the brothers as explained,”

“Why, pray tell?”

Diavolo lets out a laugh. “I assure you this wasn’t on purpose, the Purgatory Hall just doesn’t have enough space for all 4 of you,” He explains. “Now Lucifer, about her caretaker?”

Lucifer clears his throat and steps forward. “We Avatars of Sins are in RADs student council, so we will naturally be looking after you during your stay here in Devildom but I have also assigned one of my brothers to be your primary caretaker for any of your immediate needs,” He pulls out his own D.D.D, taps on the screen a few and then hands it to me. “You may call him down here, his name is Mammon” He said. “Put it on speakerphone,” He adds, his brows knitting together almost in preparation for disapproval.

I gingerly take his D.D.D and tap on Mammons name. Since they’re all assigned to one of the 7 deadly sins, I wonder which is Mammons? The dial tone is steady for a long while and before I wanted to give Lucifer back his phone, someone picked up.

“Whaddaya want?!” A males voice rings through the air.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see Lucifer's hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Uh hi?” I ask, a little awkward. I look incredulously at Lucifer who isnt looking at me, why’d he hand me the phone so abruptly?! Asmodeus and Satan look on with little smirks on their faces, Satan probably enjoying Lucifer's despair more than the actual phone call.

“Wait you ain’t Lucifer!” Mammon shouts through the phone. “Whyddaya sound like a gir-” Mammon gasps loudly. “Are ya a gal he’s seein’?!!”

I splutter as Asmo and Satan laugh openly now, clearly enjoying this all too much. Lucifer lurches forward as if to grab his D.D.D. back but Diavolo holds out a hand to stop him, hiding a smile behind his palm with the other.

“Wait why’d I hear Asmo and Satan too?! Are ya with ‘em too? Lucifers gonna be real mad if he finds out ya know?!” Mammon shouts urgently at me, as if giving me holy advice.

“I- What? NO!” I trip over my words trying to get my point across. “No, god no, I’m a human from the exchange program?” I say, glancing up at Barbatos to make sure I’ve said the right thing but his unreadable expression tells me nothing.

The line goes dead silent for a bit. “LUCIFER’S SHAGGIN’ A HUMAN?!?!” Mammon bellows through the phone.

I blush wildly at his words, not knowing what to answer. Satan and Asmo laugh openly now, Satan falling to his knees as he grasps at his stomach. Lucifer hisses, grabbing his phone back now that Diavolo’s too busy laughing to stop him.

“Mammon, I’m giving you 1 MINUTE to come down to the throne room or I’ll have you hung from the ceiling for the rest of the week,” Lucifer says lowly into the phone, his voice dark and uh.. Scary as hell? Remind me not to get on his bad side thank you!

The line goes silent again. We all settle into silence as we hear thuds echoing through the walls, gradually growing louder before the big grand doors burst open to reveal a huffing and puffing figure collapse on the carpeted floor. Tanned skin with snow white hair, Mammon is as attractive as all of his brothers, except for the fact that he seems to be dying right in front of us.

“38 seconds, not bad,” Lucifer tuts, glancing at his watch.

“ARGH,” Mammon groans. “What was that for Lucifer?! I wasn’t gon’ tell nobody!” He complains, getting to his feet and dusting off his pants.

“You dare forget that we are supposed to welcome the new exchange student today, jump to such conclusions and embarrass us in front of Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer seethes, crossing his arms, his eyes glowing redder by the second.

“Relax Lucifer, he’s here now so it doesn’t matter,” Diavolo drawls from his throne. He seems to be enjoying this little show we have unknowingly put on.

Mammon eyes me with distaste. “So ya a transfer student? Why are ya all dressed up like that anyways?” He asks suspiciously.

“MC here is an IDOL,” Asmo claps his hands in glee. “Come on MC, let’s bounce! I can’t wait to show you all the makeup we have down here!” He links his arm with mine, pulling me towards the large doors left ajar by Mammon.

Mammon whips around towards us suddenly. “AN IDOL?! Hang on are ya (stage name)?!” He nearly shrieks, eyes as large as saucepans. A fan maybe?

“Yeah that’s right! And you aren’t getting your scummy hands on her cuz I claimed her first!” Asmo brags, yanking my arm tighter towards him.

“I mean if you want a signature, you can pay me for one,” I offer with a sly smile, shrugging Asmo off. How could I pass up such an opportunity? Maybe I could even inflate what I usually charge at fansigns back on Earth…

Mammon's jaw grows slack as he stares at me. “Are ya… chargin’ me?” He whispers, grasping at his heart.

Satan lets out a sharp laugh, walking towards us. “Turns out she’s as scummy as Mammon,” He comments, eyeing me with newfound interest.

“Ridiculous,” I scoff, “I’m scummier.” With that, I relinked my arms with Asmo and we marched out of the hall with Satan, leaving Mammon standing there stunned.

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like/reblog if ya like ^-^

[leeholtwrites]

Magical Girl Reunion Tour - C5

Chloe

Chloe wiped away the sweat on her forehead and neck with a towel as she turned off her sound system with the remote she left laying near by. Her morning work out was great and necessary, considering her career, yet there were moments that she wished she could just sit on the couch with a giant cinnamon roll and lush coffee with all the fixings. With the towel around her neck, she stared out her loft window and took a swig from water bottle.

Her loft was still relatively empty, brown boxes stacked along the walls, some of them open. She'd only really taken the time to dig out her work out equipment and some of her living essentials like plates and sheets. Today she would really start to unpack.  She hadn't booked any clients, and it wasn't like she needed it to help pay her inflated rent or buy food with the alimony her ex was paying her.

After a shower, she blew out her straight, black hair and applied some mascara. Despite being a personal trainer who spent most of her time a sweaty mess, she was honest with herself about how incredibly vain she is. Her focus on her appearance used to be far more intense, involving heavy foundation to cover the light dusting of freckles along her nose and cheeks. Aging has led her to embrace them. She loved her freckles now and thought them one of her best features.

Her walk in closet was one of her favorite rooms of her loft. She had ensured she took all her clothes in the divorce - as well as everything else she loved - because she adored every piece. For now, only a handful of items had been unpacked and she selected a luxuriously soft matching set of cotton pants and a short sleeve shirt.

Once dressed, she retrieved coffee and a protein bar from the kitchen before returning to the closet to unpack. Unpacking her closet was relatively easy. She had invested in cardboard wardrobes to prevent having to take some of her more sensitive clothing off the hanger. After she hung everything in its place she moved on to the boxes with her shoes and socks and accessories.

She moved a steady rhythm, preparing her closet in exactly how she wanted it. One, two, three empty boxes. Chloe had fallen into her zen. And then she saw it, The Box. She had forgotten where she packed it.

In the bottom of the box under her collection of athletic shoes, was a glittery purple plastic Caboodle with a clear handle and clip. It was so painfully late nineties she immediately got flash backs to her Lisa Frank trapper keeper and the Backstreet Boys. She didn't even know why she had kept it so long since she became a Rainbow Defender at the turn of the new century. There had been so much hope for her future and the future of their world. It was the perfect vessel to stash her wand.

Chloe left her closet for the loft's kitchen where she placed the purple box on the counter. According to the stove, it was much later in the day than she thought. Once she got into the groove, she didn't even bother checking her phone. There was no reason to now. If she got any messages, it was probably her ex begging for mercy, or a client. They could both wait another hour. Then her phone rang, the screen lighting up to say "Shonda."

With a swipe of her thumb, she lifted it to her ear. "Hey. I didn't expect a call from you today."

"Can you open the door? I’m in the hall. I have a surprise for you."

Chloe couldn't keep the confusion out of her voice. "Besides yourself? You should have told me you caught a flight. I would have picked you up at the airport."

Shonda paused for a moment before saying, "I didn't fly."

The purple box seemed to loom from the counter. "What do you mean you didn't fly?"

"Please, open the door and let us in. It's best I tell you in person." Then she hung up.

Against her thoughts, Chloe immediately ran to the door and tore it open. There in the hall way, just like she said, was Shonda and a dark haired woman she didn't recognize. Then she saw a white robot cat with vivid green eyes wound around the dark haired woman's ankles. Viridian. So that must mean the woman was, "Maggie?"

The woman waived sheepishly. "Uh, hi, Chloe."

What Chloe did next she would try to blame on all the current betrayal in her life, the breaking of her trust by those closest to her. The truth was she was angry and it needed to go somewhere.

Chloe punched Maggie. Or tried to. The other woman had obviously been keeping up with her training somewhat because she easily blocked it before falling into a defensive stance. Chloe tried to take another swing at her, but Shonda shoved her back in to her loft.

"Jesus, Chloe! Use your words," Shonda shouted.

On the counter next to her, she spotted the purple Caboodle. She snapped it open and reached inside. The moment she touched her wand, energy coursed through her. The handle was the green of nature in Spring, the pommel gold like the sun. The fogged crystal on the top was patterned with little gold shields. She held it out and shouted, "Reveal your true form!" It flashed and she held a small shield in her left hand. It was narrow at the bottom and broad at the top, white with gold along the edges,  a green four pointed star in the middle. Only this time, the pommel of a short sword stuck up over the top of the shield, sheathed along the back.

It gave her pause as the other women stepped into the room, their hands up, closing the door behind them. She almost relaxed, but her anger bubbled up at the sight of Maggie. She drew the sword and pointed it at her. "What the hell are you finally doing back?"

"Omira has returned," Maggie said carefully. "I'm sorry I haven't called in years. I was not aware that some of you thought I was dead," she said, glancing at Shonda. "It's looking like today is the day of assault Maggie, and honestly, I just want to apologize and get something to eat. We've got bigger concerns right now. If you want to fight later, then fine." Maggie put her hands down and dropped her purse on the counter, the end of her wand peaking out. "At least it looks like you got a sword out the divorce." She looked around. "And this sweet loft. I love the exposed brick."

Was this the Maggie she knew? Sure, it had been almost twenty years, but there was an edge peaking out from the dry jokes and resignation. She was having difficulty imagining the high energy blond girl with this dark haired woman in jeans and a t-shirt that had seen better days. So, instead of trying to fit the images together, she addressed Shonda, lowering the sword. "You told her about my divorce."

"I didn't give her any specifics. Just caught her up."

"Yeah, I can't believe competitive Chloe became some asshole's hot Asian trophy wife. I always thought it would be the other way around. You, the high powered corporate lawyer, and your hot piece of ass."

Chloe glared at Maggie. "I wasn't talking to you."

Maggie shrugged. "So, what was it? Did he have a tragic dick-slip accident?"

She couldn't help the snort that escaped her. Chloe reigned in the mirth and schooled her face into a stony expression. Still, she answered, "Many times."

"And he's still alive?"

"I made his pocket book cry out for mercy."

"Nice. I never married. I'm a concierge on the Strip in Las Vegas. Live alone. No pets. No kids."

A feeling of disappointment settled within Chloe, tamping down the rage she felt at Maggie's abandonment. Maggie, who had so much promise, lived alone and worked in the service industry. The truth was, Chloe thought Maggie would always be someone in charge, leading the way for anyone who found her light. But that light, it wasn't there anymore.

Chloe sheathed her sword and changed the shield back into her wand. She would question the change in her wand's form later.  "What do you guys want to eat? We can order in." She paused for a minute before adding, "No price limit."

After a brief discussion, Maggie's suggestion of lobster rolls sounded the best to them all, and Chloe put a delivery order in at her favorite place. She would have preferred to go out so that the lobster rolls were fresh, but with the news she'd just heard, being in public didn't appeal to her. While waiting for their food, Chloe gave them a quick tour of her loft. It was one of those high end ones in a converted mill, and she absolutely adored it. She could tell Maggie was a little envious, but for the most part she seemed to enjoy it.

"So, are you living off your husband, or do you do anything for a living?" Maggie finally said.

Chloe felt a flash of irritation, but from her tone, she sounded genuinely curious. "I'm a personal trainer to rich people." She didn't mention she started the business to have something to do when her husband started to ignore her, or that she had used her already existing contacts to get her elite clients.

"That explains all the lycra and tennis shoes. And yoga mats. And all the healthy food."

Shonda rolled her eyes. "No one wears lycra anymore."

Maggie shrugged. "Look, its easier to say than moisture wicking organic stretchy cotton that cost ninety dollars despite that you sweat in it."

Chloe snorted again. She'd forgotten how funny she found Maggie. When they first met, Chloe had thought her glib, thoughtless. A mouth without any substance. Then she had learned that Maggie was all substance. She felt deeply, and believed everything she said to her core. If she said sorry, she meant sorry. Trying to punch her suddenly felt like the exactly wrong response.

Before Chloe could say anything, there was a knock on the door. Their food. Shonda opened it and tipped the delivery guy. They settled on the floor next to her couch covered in boxes and dug in.

"I think we should tell Sarah next. She should be done with her morning classes after we eat."

Maggie nodded, her mouth full of lobster roll. That, more than anything, reminded Chloe of Maggie in high school. She had always consumed food with the goal of putting as much away in a short period of time as possible.

Chloe picked at her fries. It had been so long since she ate fried anything. Normally she just ate the sandwich only when she was feeling indulgent. In the chaos of the almost fight, Chloe had forgot to ask why they were here. "Wait, what do you mean see Sarah? What the hell is going on?"

Viridian straightened, giving up on batting at a crumpled napkin. "I was wondering when you all would stop dawdling and realize there was a purpose. I understand you haven't seen each other in some time. I'm especially ashamed of you Shonda, you have usually been the most diligent task master."

Shonda didn't look amused. "Says the cat robot who was just playing with a napkin."

"Yes, well, I can't do all the mental work." He cleared his throat. "Omira is back. You must all take up your wands, and defeat her once and for all."

Dread seeped through Chloe, making her feel grosser than any container of fries ever could. "Wha-what? Why didn't you tell me that on the phone?"

"I meant to tell you once you let us in the door," Shonda responded. "But we got a little sidetracked."

Chloe ran her hands over her hair. "I'm assuming, that because you two are here, we don’t really have a choice. Like, there aren't any teenage girls coming to the rescue?"

Maggie and Shonda both shook their heads.

"God fucking damn it."

"Pretty much my reaction," Maggie said.

Chloe put her face in her hands, placing her elbows on her knees. Just what she needed, to stop the end of the world. She was still getting over the betrayal of her ex, her divorce, the looks of pity some of her clients gave her. And, her clients. What was she going to do about them? They could be pulled away at any time. Not if they were more active. Not if she only dedicated her life to stopping this woman.

She lifted her head. "Okay, we've got to this as quick as possible. I've got a business to run. Can we get this handled in a month? Do we have somewhere to start?"

"She hasn't struck yet," Viridian said. "I managed to get to Maggie here before an attack."

"He interrupted my dinner yesterday."

"We're lucky for the heads up. Thank you, Viridian." Shonda said. "I also agree we don't have a lot of time. Maggie and I have about two weeks, tops."

"Paid time off," Maggie managed around a full mouth.

It was amazing to Chloe that they were even having this conversation. How do you defeat an evil queen on a schedule without losing your home or your family? Sure, she was living off her alimony for the most part, but Maggie had never been married, let alone to a rich guy, and Shonda helped pay her mortgage and had a husband and kids. How were they going to handle this? Sarah and Kelsey had yet to be told. They too would have to make some kind of arrangements. Sarah would probably have the hardest time with her schedule. She had classes to teach, some to TA, and an dissertation to write.

"So, we have two weeks to take vacation from our lives to defeat Queen Omira, or there is no way in hell our lives aren't going to get completely wrecked trying to juggle everything, am I right?"

"I don't understand," Viridian said, sounding flustered. "Your going to try and schedule your lives around defeating Omira? That is not how this works."

Maggie swirled a fry in some ranch. She took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. When done, she addressed Viridian, all humor gone. "It has to. We're not kids anymore. We don't have our moms to clean up our rooms or pay the bills. We're entirely responsible for our lives now. We don't have the luxury of some prolonged magical war. I know it took three years last time, but we've defeated her once. We've lived that experience, and we can learn from it. We're older now. I’m sure there are some things we learned."

"Wow, you've come a long way from throwing pillows at me yesterday."

"It was a pillow, and you didn't knock."

They finished eating, deciding it was best to call Sarah before they showed up. Maggie especially liked this plan because she was very tired of getting attacked. Chloe couldn't really blame her after she mentioned that Shonda truth mirrored her, which earned a very strange look from Shonda that was half peeved that Maggie had said anything and half shame. Chloe could relate, she felt the same way about trying to punch her.

When done, Chloe slipped on some tennis shoes and grabbed a cute little leather hip bag out of her closet that had a strap for her thigh. She loaded it up with all her essentials - lipstick, mascara, hair ties, tampons, wallet, phone - and met the other two in her living area, camel colored leather jacket in hand. In her other she held a black sweatshirt. She threw it at Maggie. "You're going to need that. It'll at least hid that awful t-shirt."

"Ah, there's Chloe. Couldn't make it a day without insulting my fashion sense. I suppose it was laundry day isn't a good excuse?"

Chloe snorted, repressing her laughter, and pulled out her phone.

[chimeras-and-company]

For the character thing: Byakuya Togami!

Aaaay, thank you very much Anon! I’ve been wanting to ramble about him since Void’s question. 

~~~~~

Favourite thing about them:Where to start? He’s my DR1 fav for a reason; he holds a lot more genuine spine than what you expect from the ‘prissy uptown boy who talks hot shit’ we see in media (especially Western fiction.) He’s shown (especially in DR:AE and DR3 Future) that he is fully capable of fighting and commandment. He’s much more world-weary and strategic than people give him credit for; where while he will not jump into every single fight (like how he was waiting for the ample time to win the Killing Game, before chapter 4) there’s also this manner of genuine courage and power to him when he does attack. He knows it’s all about timing the blows, and the few times in canon it implies those blows hit hard. I find that a lot more interesting than other characters who talk all that only to just baulk and cower if someone had it with them. TL;DR: Byakuya really is a Lavaheart, with actual weight and security of his skills.

Least favourite thing about them: He’s a dramatic egotistical prick who won’t care who he’s talking to in the flesh, let’s be honest here. Thankfully character development has him learn to tune it down as he matures; but that dramatic prickly gene is still there.

Favourite line: “It seems… I must fight alongside you all for a little while longer.”

BrOTP: I said the Mystery Trio already with Makoto SO… I really like Byakuya&Sayaka friendship too. I feel like the two have similar ambitions and worldviews; and maybe can help each other with the similar childhoods they have. It has this sense of gossiping duo going on here that do have a layer of appreciation only the two alone know.

OTP: Togafuka. Longest yeah boi ever. After character development from chapter 2 the two can really learn to improve themselves with the help of one another (canonically even! Who was the one who gave Touko the stun gun in DR:AE again?) As well as both of them learning how to trust and how to heal from such shadowed childhoods, to the point where it can just blossom into romance. Platonic appreciation works too! 

NOTP: Already mentioned Makoto. So another one is ByakuyaxJunko (I have no idea if people even ship that. Sure hope not.) They’re enemies. He wanted to murder her, she wanted to break him into insanity or death through despair, all this through DR1. Makoto couldn’t even finish the word ‘mastermind’ around him before he sees red. Although, I really do enjoy ‘hate-shipping’ them as the blood-soaked enemies to begin with anyway.

Random headcanon: He may be a prick while awake but he’s also the blessed sleeper ever. When falling asleep, his body simply curls up and would even hug or spoon something subconsciously. It can give his significant other an image of a sleeping cat. No snoring, no sudden movements, no pushes; and is even warm to the touch. He is completely unaware of any of this when awake.

Unpopular opinion: My unpopular opinion with the Imposter holds here, and I expand that by basically saying that I despise his tag on Tumblr. Enough with the ‘lol long legs!’ jokes, and definitely enough of the ‘money!!’ jokes. He doesn’t give two shits about money. Along with that, the use of sparkly glittery gold or money in any aesthetic/moodboard/whatever posts is getting really tiresome. Get creative! Use tarnished industrial metal (yes, industrial gold is a thing. It’s in your phone or laptop right now,) whatever! Just quit following after the very tip of the iceberg of his character that’s so rampant in the fandom.

Song I associate with them: Bite to Break Skin by Senses Fail (Legion of Doom remix) 

Favourite picture of them: 

(Commission art drawn by @voidsvessel for an AU blog of mine! I really miss that blog, I should get back to it.)

~~~~~

[positivetransmessages]

Beauty Brands Want to Sell Queer Expression, But It Shouldn’t Be for Sale

Writer Riley R.L. on the risks that come with cosmetics brands capitalizing on queer narratives.

Riley R.L

In this op-ed, nonbinary writer Riley R.L. shares the impact of makeup on their identity, and the risks that come with cosmetic brands capitalizing on queer narratives.

October 21, 2019

“They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Lady Gaga declares in the launch video for her new makeup line. “But at Haus Laboratories, we say beauty’s how you see yourself.” The video features Gaga surrounded by a racially diverse, gender nonconforming group of models showing off glittery eye makeup and bold lip colors. Its message is about freedom, specifically the freedom to express your identity however you want to. “We want you to love yourself,” Gaga concludes, and she’s got just the thing to help us do it: For $49, you can get a trio of lip products in a variety of color combos, which the brand’s website calls “tools of self-expression and reinvention.”

The Haus Laboratories launch is just one of many examples of how the cosmetics industry has been using identity narratives to market their ads with LGBTQ consumers in mind. Through pride campaigns and inclusive marketing, brands like Morphe, Milk Makeup, and M.A.C are trying to push the cultural conversation around makeup forward by bringing queer, trans, and gender nonconforming faces to the forefront, apparently as a way to help normalize the varying expressions of our community.

This mirrors a larger shift in the beauty space. LGBTQ creators like Gigi Gorgeous, Jeffree Star, and Nikita Dragun have gained huge audiences online and created successful product collaborations, while major beauty publications like Elle, Cosmopolitan, and Allure have covered the rise of queer beauty influencers and gender-neutral cosmetics brands. It’s clear that the world of cosmetics is trying to move away from the conventional standards it was previously associated with to promote an aesthetic of freedom, however ambiguously defined that may be.

For many LGBTQIA people, makeup can play a valuable, if not complicated, role in exploring gender, something that rings true in my own story. The first time I wore eye shadow out of the house, I still largely identified with the gender I had been assigned at birth; I spent most of that night worrying about what wearing makeup while presenting as male might open me up to. I feared ridicule, harassment, even violence — things that, fortunately, had not been an average part of my day-to-day life. Wearing makeup that first time was the most aware I’d ever been of the grip that gendered expectations had on the way I lived, and that realization made me feel weak and unfulfilled; all my life, I could suddenly see, I’d been under the control of beliefs about gender that I didn’t agree with, and that I had internalized without ever choosing to.

Thankfully, nothing out of the ordinary happened that night. As a kind of resistance to those feelings of weakness, I made an effort to start wearing makeup more often, and became increasingly comfortable with choosing to present and express myself in a way that was more unconventional. Ultimately, makeup was one of many things that helped me come to terms with the fact that I felt more at home outside of traditional gender roles than I did within them, and that my identity fit better under the umbrella of nonbinary than it did under male.

For me, that revelation came with a reduced emphasis on how I presented. Nowadays, I rarely wear much makeup (neither do most of my trans and nonbinary friends). But as queer identity seems to become more and more intertwined with the cosmetics industry, I find myself shying away from sharing the role that wearing makeup—a purely aesthetic part of a deeply internal process—played in that time of self-discovery. When I watch someone sell makeup under the auspices of queer self-love, regardless of how well intentioned they might be, I can’t help but feel as if a story like mine is being packaged and sold to young queer people desperate to find confidence in their own identity.

“Sometimes beauty doesn’t come naturally from within,” Gaga muses on the Haus Laboratories website. “But I’m so grateful that makeup inspired a bravery in me I didn’t know I had.” The narrative is clearer than ever: If conventional aesthetic “beauty” is no longer a marketing team’s focus, then something like “bravery” must be; rather than encouraging consumers to fit in, it’s now about using makeup to help reveal “who you are.” These brands are leveraging LGBTQIA narratives to maintain relevance in a competitive market, thanks to the very real and very complicated relationship that trans, nonbinary, and gender nonconforming people like me have with cosmetics.

An example like Sephora’s “Identify As We” campaign, full of ethereal imagery and moving ideas about freedom and identity, is certainly a progressive alternative to the kinds of advertising I was exposed to growing up. It’s easy to recall the history of hypermasculine marketing for products like Axe, whose goal was to play on conventional gender roles to make sales. Today, some brands would like us to believe that they can do better, and that by focusing on the expansive understanding of gender the LGBTQ community provides, companies can push progress forward rather than reinforce tired stereotypes.

Recently, Jonathan Van Ness, one of Queer Eye’s fab five, revealed that he’s nonbinary to Out. “[Gender is] this social construct that I don’t really feel like I fit into the way I used to,” Van Ness shared. Couched in this personal revelation was Van Ness’s sponsorship with nail polish brand Essie, something he hopes will help inspire young people: “I always used to think, Oh, I’m like a gay man, but I think any way I can let little boys and little girls know that they can express themselves, and they can, like, be... making iconic partnerships with brands like Essie no matter how they present is really important and exciting.”

Van Ness and Essie, like many of the brands mentioned, seem to operate under the assumption that visibility alone can bring much needed change in how our culture regards gender nonconformance. And maybe they’re right; but as a nonbinary person, I can’t help but question: Would my self-perception really have been different had I seen someone like Van Ness wearing nail polish on a billboard while growing up? Would I have come to understand my identity sooner had I seen a gender nonconforming person on a cosmetics display?

Many queer people grow up with a longing to be seen and validated by popular culture in the way our straight and cisgender peers are. When we come to adulthood, I worry that lingering desire may leave us with an inability to protect younger generations from the potential risks that putting value in “visibility” can conceal. If we place our trust in advertising to advance our cause rather than sharing our stories on our own terms, we’re passing them over to those whose primary goal is to profit from them. These sanitized, corporate narratives run the risk of leading young queer people to believe that embodying their identity is as simple as buying the right lipstick or wearing the right nail polish, instead of expressing themselves in whatever way feels true to them.

By creating a narrative of self-actualization based on a product, it’s easy to erase the pain that can come too. For many queer and trans people, embodying your gender is not always fun, freeing, and transformative; it can also make you a target of discrimination and violence. Every time I choose to walk out the door with makeup on, I’m choosing to do so in spite of the world I’m walking into. At its best makeup was often a grounding ritual that helped me come to terms with my own experience of gender. At its worst the reactions it caused — condescending compliments, strange looks, yells of “faggot” from passing cars — could make it feel like a way of inscribing the dissonance between my body and identity on my skin. Those experiences, like those endured by many in my community, are the ones you aren’t so likely to hear about in a beauty ad or the next big pride campaign, because they don’t fit the right narrative. We can’t ignore that these brands are more invested in their own survival than they are in ours, and we owe it to ourselves — and to those who’ll come after us — to be careful with how we allow others to use our stories.

- - -

Source: https://www.teenvogue.com/story/beauty-brands-queer-expression-makeup

[gothify1]

Trends and It products come and go—we know this. It's part of the gospel truth pertaining to the world of fashion and beauty. But when certain cool-girl products and trends from our elementary and high school days become suddenly cool again, we can't help but brim with excitement. The cozy feelings of nostalgia are a force to be reckoned with, and when hair accessories we glorified thanks to the Spice Girls and jars of spacey body glitter we hoarded from Claire's become not only acceptable but encouraged, we're the first to pounce. We're very much embracing the trending onslaught of products previously dubbed outdated, and right now, there are a lot of them. From nail and hair trends to makeup and skincare product musts, there has been a resurgence in outdated beauty trends. In fact, brown lipstick and butterfly-bedecked strands are practically taking over our Instagram feeds and, by association, our shopping carts. To celebrate (and because we're secretly hoping they never fall back out of vogue), we're highlighting all the must-try viral beauty trends we previously considered outdated. Keep scrolling! Sure, the crimped-hair trend has taken on more of a beachy (versus small and compact) identity in 2019, but the resurgence of crisp mermaid bends and S-wave hot tools is impossible to ignore. We don't have to remind you of how important your collection of glitter-crusted rainbow butterfly clips was back on the playground in fifth grade. But we are here to remind you that a more subdued take on the outdated trend is currently blowing up on IG in the prettiest and most whimsical of ways. Hairstylist Justine Marjan created this mesmerizing look using paper butterflies she found at the craft store (before attaching them to clear string and pinning into the hair), but there are also tons of cute clip-in options available right now as well if you're not feeling super crafty. Remember how happy you used to be when your headband gained you an extra few inches on your elementary class's height scale? Same. In 2019, however, we're more here for the trend in regard to how fun and playful it makes any outfit. To be honest, we didn't see the pastel and rainbow hair color trend lasting more than a few months or a year tops. Alas, we're still seeing so many of our favorite influencers and celebrities trying out different shades on their strands—even if it's just temporary. The below is the exact formula behind Zendaya's recent red streak, and the brand also has other playful tones, from teal to rose gold to magenta to green. Remember the fake hairpieces you'd buy complete with tinsel, tiny braids, rhinestones, and maybe even a streak of blue for good measure? Well, they might not be quite so ornate, but statement-making faux ponytails have had a major comeback and are actually a two-minute solve for a bad hair night pre–going out. Another hair trend that's had surprisingly long legs? Scrunchies. In fact, the fervor only seems to deepen as more and more brands are getting on board and debuting the prettiest looks. We're collecting them faster than we collected Pokémon cards on the kickball field, especially since the trend has graduated from ho-hum silk to velvet, crystal, sherpa, and more. Lizzo, we love you. Sure, chunky glitter was all the rage a few years ago during Coachella (still a little scarred, TBH), but right now, the glittery hair trend is more about bold tinsel looks (like this amazing moment from Kacey Musgraves) and sheer mists of fine glitter all over. We're obsessed with trying something like Musgraves's look for Halloween, but for your basic night out, we suggest one of these hydrating shimmer sprays for a barely there glimmer that's still stunning and perfectly on trend. This one from IGK is still my fav. Yep, you heard it here first. Demure (and not-so-demure) French manicures are making a comeback. However, unlike our burn-worthy prom vibe complete with press-ons, our nails aren't long and squared-off. Instead, we're keeping this previously outdated beauty trend fresh with bold colors as additional options to chic white while also playing with your nail shape. Try short and rounded or long and almond. Or try a reverse French mani as shown above! Of course, dove and navy blue nail polish are iconic staples we always have in our kits, but metallic blue? Eh, we haven't seen it as much since we toted bottles around in caboodles. That said, the tides are changing and metallics in cooler hues like purple and blue will be big for fall and winter. Just take Smith & Cult's gorgeous fall edit for example. Of its three new hues, we're by far the most obsessed with the shade Ice Tears. Yep, we're serious. Brands such as LeChat are resurrecting color-shifting nail polish, and trust us when we say it's way more elevated than the stuff you'd chip off in a matter of seconds back in grade school. Nail stickers were cool, and then they became quickly outdated for a spell with the influx of cool freehand nail art and other embellishments like crystals, pearls, and rhinestones. Now, however, luxe brands like Olive & June are making stickers cool again and reminding us how handy they are for making our nails look like a professionally perfect paint job in less than 10 minutes. Remember when our favorite '90s women like Naomi, Drew, and Winona wore blue eye shadow, and we thought it was so, so cool? The trend didn't last long, and quickly thereafter baby-blue and pastel-purple were pretty much the most outdated shadow shades you could sport on your lids. But then, a resurgence! We've been seeing the color family all over the internet and in the talented hands of some of the industry's most illustrious makeup artists. And, of course, it's become way cooler in the form of bold graphic shapes and lines. Juicy Tubes: We loved them then, and we love them today. Though, now our favorite glossy tubes come in less sticky consistencies and slightly less saccharine scents. You know, so you get a hint of nostalgia without feeling like you need to go out and buy book covers and Lisa Frank pens. We're happy the lacquered shiny lip is here, and we're hoping it's here to stay. Even before the makeup hysteria spurred by Euphoria, glittery eyes were having a major moment on the celeb and makeup artist front. We couldn't be more excited that it now feels especially socially acceptable to wear chunky AF glitter during the day, and we're pretty sure it's one previously outdated trend that might actually stick around for a while. Brands like Stila and Lemonhead.LA were ahead of the curve and make some of the most cult-loved glitters and glosses on the market, but now more and more major makeup brands are catching on and pretty much each line has its own version of a disco-ready eye in a jar. Pick your poison, but we still hold Lemonhead.LA as the crème de la crème of wearable glitter. In case you didn't know, '60s Hollywood icons like Diana Ross were the queens of graphic liner. Almost 50 years later, the graphic-liner trend has come back with the most exciting surge of vengeance. Every makeup artist is doing it, every celebrity is wearing it, and every makeup brand is debuting cool new pencils and pens to help us achieve it. Up-and-coming stars such as Ella Balinska are favoring the trend as of late. Her makeup artist, Vincent Oquendo, used Shiseido. Like it or not, brickish-brown lipstick is a major trend for fall and has been wheedling its way into our hears for a while now. Yes, it feels painfully '90s but paired with glowing skin, luminous hair, and lots of lashes, it's fresh, not outdated. Gigi Hadid has made an art of it, and mass-loved brands like Huda Beauty keep churning out more and more lippie options for us to choose from. Glowing, healthy-looking skin is always in vogue, but we'd go as far as to say that we've surpassed "glow" at this point and treaded into very shimmery, very glittery, very glossy territory. And, honestly, we love it. It's fun, it looks damn good in photographs, and all of our favorite brands taking part—Dior, Huda Beauty, Patrick Ta Beauty, and Fenty—are spiking their glimmering products with good-for-your-skin ingredients to boot. Up next: The Exact Products Makeup Artists Use on Celeb Clients to Make Their Skin Glow

[lizartgurl]

Suited Up (Young Justice Outsiders, OCs)

Willow Lance returns to high society, now with her girlfriend, and tries to get her parents to talk to each other. Bruce Wayne, however, may throw a huge damper on her night.

Word Count: 3132 

“Diggle,”

“Miss Lance. Welcome back,” The ex-navy seal-turned-bodyguard for Queen Industries smiled warmly as he opened the door, holding it wide open as I stepped out of the backseat, and then as I helped Serene out of the car.

For a moment, the cameras stopped flashing as the paparazzi scrambled to recognize either of us. They returned in full force, screaming my way. With Serene’s arm in mine, I ignored them, making my stride quick and purposeful as I led her into the venue.

The glass geometric dome was bordered with gardens, plants cleverly hiding the speakers for music and raffle announcements. On the far side of the room were tables, piled high with every rich delicacy you could think of, next to the bar, which led to the kitchen (and bathrooms).

The entrance, where we stood, was a grand staircase, which led down to the dance floor that made up the majority of the venue.

Much like the paparazzi outside, many people stopped what they were doing, eyes on us in silent wonder.

I could feel Serene’s grip on my arm tightening.

“You ready?” I asked her.

“So long as you are,” She laughed lightly.

By the time we’d reached the floor, the live orchestra had started back up again, and all the donors had gone back to their own business, except for the two middle-aged blondes who hurried to greet us.

“Willow,” Dinah gasped, hugging me tightly.

“You look stunning,” I told her. Dinah’s hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her slim, midnight-blue dress sparkled with a thousand glittery stars.

She smiled, wiping something from the corner of her eye with care not to smudge her eyeliner. “You too.”

“Hey chickadee,” Oliver hugged me too, “Glad you could make it.”

He glanced at Serene, “That you both could.”

I smiled at my girlfriend, sliding my arm around her. “Mom, Dad, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Serene. Serene, my parents, Dinah and Oliver.”

Dinah grasped Serene’s hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Serene.”

“You as well, Mrs. Lance.”

“Call me Dinah,” She insisted.

“How’s Olivia?” I asked.

“With Will and Lian for the evening,” Oliver grinned, “Why? Were you hoping to get away with babysitting duties? After that entrance?”

“Maybe,” I teased right back.

I could see it in their blue eyes, in their aching smiles. They had millions of questions pressing at their polite appearance, but I couldn’t get away with explaining everything now. It would have to wait for a quieter time, where we weren’t surrounded by the well-to-do of society.

“If you’ll excuse us for a moment,” I led Serene over to Emma, watching me with a huge smile to go with her brother’s trollish grin.

“Wow,” Emma couldn’t stop smiling, looking me up and down, “Just...Wow!”

“You like it?” Serene lifted my arm to give me a spin.

“I think you rock a suit better than any guy,” Emma shook her head.

“Even me?” Rick begged.

“Especially you, Mister Fashion Disaster,” Emma hummed in satisfaction.

“Why, if it isn’t Little Miss Willow!”

I winced, vaguely recognizing the creaky voices of Gretchen “Granny” Goode, of Goode World Studios, the same studios that produced the Logan twins’ show, and once upon a time, M’gann’s ancient favorite: “Hello Megan!”

“Good to see you, Mrs. Goode.”

She gave a hoot of laughter, “As if I haven’t heard that one before. And call me Granny, Willow. And that goes for all of you as well,” She pointedly eyed Richard, Emma, and Serene. Funny, I don’t recall giving her permission to call me by my first name.

“How’s the fundraising going, Granny?” Emma asked, handing Granny a glass from a passing waiter’s tray.

“Oh just wonderful! I only wish Bruce could be here, he always brings in such a haul,” Granny sighed melodramatically.

“He’ll be here. You know Bruce, fashionably late as always,” Rick promised her.

“As if any entrance he made could top Willow’s!” Granny held out her arms, as if she expected a hug from me.

“Thank you,” I nodded awkwardly, holding out my hand to Serene instead.

“Would you care to dance, my love?”

She smiled softly, eyes glittering and reflecting the lights, the bubbles from the champagne, everything in the room all at once. It felt like the whole world was contained in her eyes.

“I would love to.”

I swept her up with the swell of the music, both of us floating across the floor, lost in each other’s arms. And that’s how most of the evening was spent, dancing with my girlfriend to avoid awkward rich people who tried to claim some sort of connection with me in an effort to rebound off the attention I received from entering with Serene. We finally managed to catch Emma and Rick by the appetizer buffet after they’d successfully ditched Miss Goode, loudly laughing at inside jokes to drive away any intruders.

“Bruce is gonna kill me for being so rude,” Emma snorted into her small plate of shrimp.

“Nah, he’ll think it’s hilarious,” Rick said, now on the lookout for anyone making a beeline for our table.

“Dinah’ll be mad, but she won’t go as far as grounding.”

Serene shrugged, “My dad would be the one hiding from everybody.”

We all fell into laughter again, and I waved over the waiter for another flute of champagne.

“This is definitely the most fun I’ve ever had at a gala,” Emma sighed happily.

“Even more than when Mara, Livvy, and Stephanie stole all the cream puffs?”

“I was panicking for half the evening wondering where they were before we found them. Under the bar of all things.”

Richard shrugged. “Miss Serene, would you mind to terribly if I asked you to dance?”

“Oo, watch out, Will, Rick’s gonna steal your girl.”

“As long as you understand that I am taken,” Mister Richard,” Serene giggled, taking his offered hand.

Emma shrugged, the two of us alone at the table with four empty plates, and Carmine Falcone heading straight for us.

“Wanna dance?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” We ducked into the crowd, leaving Falcone scratching his head in our wake so that we were almost laughing too hard to joined in the foxtrot they were playing.

“You look so much happier nowadays,” Emma observed.

I nodded, “Serene says I’m even better now that I’ve started talking to you guys again.”

Emma tilted her head back and forth, “Well that, and you look so much better in a suit than you ever did in a dress.”

I snorted softly, “You sure?”

“Well, it could be a combination of that and you don’t look nearly half as awkward dancing with Serene as you did with Kaldur.

“That was seven years ago! And he was your boyfriend!” Emma giggled as I spun her.

“Are you happy with him?” My tone serious as Emma came back to land in my arms again.

Her face serious, but with a smile slowly etching into the corners of her mouth, Emma nodded. “I love him, Willow. And he loves me too. I see it every day.

“We’re thinking of getting married.”

“Married?” My voice squeaked, too late to stop us from running into six-foot-four Bruce Wayne, immovable and unfazed.

“Bruce,” Emma gave him a quick hug, “How is everything?”

“It’s all well, Emma, Barbara has things well in hand.”

His gaze looked up from his adopted daughter, focusing in on me now. “Miss Lance.”

“Mr. Wayne,” I folded my arms across my chest, as if he were Superman with the x-ray vision and could see right through me.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your dance, Emma, but I need to speak to Willow.”

“Alright,” I shrugged, and leaned back on my right leg.

“Alone, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I do,” I growled, following him back by the bar. I glanced back over my shoulder, seeing Richard and Serene stopped by Emma, watching me retreat after Bruce.

“Two bourbons, please,” Bruce asked the bartender, taking a seat at the end of the bar, away from the gossiping drunks. A Batman-esque glare was enough to drive anyone else away.

My drink came, but I refused to drink it, watching Bruce drink his first.

“What do you want, Wayne?” I asked.

Bruce downed the last of his glass, but when he went to put it down, he winced and nursed an area by his ribs momentarily.

“Where have you been, Willow?” He asked with a grunt, struggling to breathe evenly.

“STAR Detroit. I’m surprised you don’t know that.” I huffed.

“When you left, you said you needed space. I decided to give you that, so long as you didn’t go crazy and burn down Lexcorp headquarters in Metropolis.”

I was surprised that he’d actually managed to stay in his own business for two years, but annoyed that he thought so little of me. Then again, my tantrums over the teams first few years didn’t give him much reason to.

“So, still in STAR Detroit. I assume with Doctor Silas Stone?”

I glared at him.

“He is the leading expert on alien technology, two fields you are uniquely familiar with. And after all, you are here with his daughter.”

“I thought you said you stayed out of my business.”

“I did, but I make it a point to background check anyone who the league trusts with alien technology such as a Father Box.”

I froze, hand around my glass.

“It was only decided last night. When Jeff returned from deep space after what happened on Rann over the summer, he brought with him a Box Diana and her team had captured from a fleet of parademons they’d fought.”

He held up his phone, showing me security footage one of the Leaguer’s off in space had recorded of a dark Father Box healing a parademon’s half-missing limb and repair the staff he was holding. I felt a surge of pride in my chest noting Doctor Adam Strange in the background, having master his jetpack and his laser gun as he fought alongside Alanna, daughter of his scientist friend.

Bruce only played the clip once, on silent, before hiding it back in his pocket. “When Steel and the Lanterns couldn’t figure out how to make it work, Kaldur decreed that it would go to STAR to be studied. Of course, with Strange in space and Dorado now managing the metahuman youth center, that leaves Doctor Stone. And you, as his brilliant underpaid internist.”

I sighed. “What do you want, Bruce?” I emphasized again. “How do you even know all this? Emma says you quit the League, and so did Ollie.”

“I had a hand in creating every piece of technology that the League uses. I modified everything on the Watchtower myself.

“But this isn’t just for me, Willow, it’s for the League, for Richard and Emma’s team, for all of us still trying to make the world a better place. We don’t know Stone like we know Strange, and we know he’s a little...irrational at times. Rationalizes too much, loses himself in his work. We need you to keep him on track, to keep him from using the Father Box in the wrong way, or at all.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do since I became his intern?” I snapped suddenly.

“Excuse me-” I spun about to tell whoever was interrupting us to buzz off, when I saw Ollie smiling at me.

“I’m sure you won’t begrudge me the opportunity to dance with my own daughter, Bruce. Would you?”

Bruce sighed heavily. “Think about it, Willow.” Without gracing Ollie with an answer, he left a sizable tip for the barkeep and disappeared into the crowd.

“What was that all about?” Oliver asked, offering his arm.

“Just Bruce being Bruce,” I sighed.

Oliver chuckled, bringing us into dance position for a waltz, “Figures.”

“Anyone else I should be worried about running into?” I asked, trying to remember the lady’s steps instead of the gentleman’s this time around.

“Well, Granny insisted on inviting Luthor, but he declined, insisting that his focus was needed on the UN’s efforts to eradicate meta-human trafficking.”

The short bark of laughter that painfully tore itself from my chest drew the attention of several other dancing couples for a second.

“You look happy, Willow.”

“I am happy.” I told him.

“I’m glad,” He smiled beneath his dopey goatee, eyes crinkled sadly.

“What about you? Are you and Dinah happy?” I asked.

“That...” He sighed, spinning me around. “That’s a tough question to answer, Willow.”

“Why’d you leave?” I asked, a sudden edge to my voice, “I could’ve told you and Bruce years ago that Luthor was going to make things harder for the League. The people love him too much, you’ve seen it.”

He nodded stoically. “But that doesn’t mean we stop trying, chickadee. When we told you and the team to stay behind in the cave, did you guys listen?”

“No,” I said. I stared down at my feet to make sure I was putting them in the right spots.

He smiled again. “You have a heart for good, and a smart head on your shoulders. You’re going to do whatever you need to make sure that people get the help that they need, in whatever way that may be.

“With the League, we were able to keep reaching people on a wider range, at least for a while. That tsunami in Rhelasia was the last straw for me, personally, and when Bruce offered a way to keep reaching those people, I had to take it.”

“So why didn’t you tell Mom?” I begged, “Olivia called me the night you left the League. She saw Dinah drinking, and she’s terrified that you two are going to get a divorce.”

Oliver’s face was slightly pale in the already white lightning of the dome.

“I’m not sure, chickadee,” Ollie sighed. “I love your mother, I always have. I don’t want to leave her, but she cares about you guys so much, I couldn’t ask her to betray Kaldur. At least until it was too late.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Bruce seems to think you’re still working with the League,” I glared over at the bar, my face hot.

Oliver chuckled, “Bruce thinks a lot of things, not all of them true.”

I sighed, resting my head on his chest.

“What are you thinking now, chickadee?”

I pressed my lips together. “I’m just glad to have a dad again.”

The dance ended, and Oliver kissed my forehead. “I’d love another dance with you, but I think your gal pal is a little anxious to talk to you.” He attempted to grin, and gave me a little push toward Serene, who waited at a table with a glass of champagne and one solitary cream puff.

“May I?” I asked.

She slid the plate towards me with a giggle.

“I spoke with your mom, you know,” She nodded over my shoulder, and saw that Ollie had headed in Dinah’s direction. She stood on the edge of the dance floor, surveying everything while swirling her glass, which had a potent lipstick stain on the rim.

“Did she interrogate you or anything?” I asked.

Serene chuckled, “No, no, she was very nice. In fact, she told me a very fun story?”

“Oh?” I raised my eyebrow at her.

She nodded, smiling slyly. “It had Emma in it too, I think, about the time that she got sick and you tried to make her a pot of soup to make her feel better?”

I shoved the cream puff back her way, hungry no longer. “She swore she would never tell that story.”

Emma and Richard, having a drop too much to drink, danced past us, twirling elegantly. “She comes bearing soup!” Emma laughed.

“You’re all awful and you know I can cook much better now.”

“Yes, but can you make soup?” Richard wiggled his eyebrows before dancing off with his sister again.

Serene giggled, “Is that why you never make soup?”

“Come on,” I took her hand, “Let’s dance over there, there’s more room.” Serene laughed as I led her across the dance floor, and sure enough Emma and Richard followed us, but fortunately for me, not another word was spoken of soup for the rest of the evening.

-------

“She’s very happy,” Oliver said as he approached Dinah.

“I can tell,” Dinah said stiffly.

Oliver gently lifted the glass from her hand, letting a waiter take it away, before bringing his wife onto the dance floor. Though she didn’t resist, she seemed determined to stare at the floor, at the ceiling, at the bar, anywhere but at his face.

“I spoke to Serene. She’s a brilliant woman, and she loves Willow very much.”

“Dinah, we’ve been married for almost ten years now. When are we going to talk to each other?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Dinah quipped.

“Dinah,” his hand left her back, coming up to hold her cheek, “I couldn’t ask you to leave the kids.”

“You could have told me what you were planning.”

“I could have, and I should have.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

It was Ollie’s turn to look away. Across the room, Willow and Serene were spinning around, and emma was probably recording it on her phone.

“It was Bruce’s idea, of course.”

“Since when do you listen to Bruce?” Dinah huffed.

“He had some pretty good reasons. He was asking each of his potential recruits one on one, and he didn’t want them to join just because of peer pressure. And he never said it outright, but I don’t think he wanted Kaldur to get wind of it either.”

“Why not? We don’t have the power to keep people from leaving the League.”

Oliver shrugged. “And this one’s more personal, but I didn’t want you knowing that I was leaving to drive us apart so soon.”

“Some good that did,” Oliver spun Dinah around, bringing her back around to land in his arms.

They stopped dancing.

Dinah gripped his lapels. “I...I know that you look out for the little guy. You always have. That’s why I fell for you in the first place.”

She held up one finger to keep him from interrupting, “I can’t leave the League. You’re right. I won’t abandon Kaldur when so much has already gone south for us.”

She glanced over at Willow and the others, “And second, you need to talk to me. No matter what, if we really love each other, we can’t be keeping things like this from each other.”

“Deal. Anything else you’d like to get off your chest, Pretty Bird?”

A wicked grin etched itself into Dinah’s mouth. “Oh, I can think of a few things, Mr. Green.”

[thegirlfromoverthepond]

At the Zoo - Chapter 6

There it is, the last chapter of this story – there’s a small epilogue coming on next Monday but it’s mostly done:)

thank you to you, reader, thank you for bearing with me through this difficult story. It hasn’t been a fun ride for Peeta, but there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

Trust me when I say it had been a very difficult story to write too.

My deepest respect goes to the every single person who suffers from PTSD, or panic attacks. Know you’ll always find someone willing to listen to you if need be. Just reach out.

This story wouldn’t have been out without the help of the incredible @xerxia31 who took on the job of betaing this whole story.

This story wouldn’t have been the same at all without the help of the amazing dandelion-sunset who insisted that I keep the PTSD scene when I wanted to delete it. She also beta-ed.

And to @akai-echo – her art, her aesthetics echo (pun intended) the story – her images are a strong companion to my words. Her vision on my stories is a gift I cherish.

Well, let’s do this, shall we ? Let’s go see another animal … I hope you liked my little game with the names of the chapters:)

Here on AO3 // FFN

Comments, reviews, asks, reblogs are always welcomed :)

6. Panthera Leo.

It had been weeks since Peeta last went into the zoo. Three weeks and two days to be precise. Since the day he had spent walking around the park like any other visitor, taking the time to look at the animals, to watch their movements, his fingers itching to draw them on paper.

Which he did as soon as he got back to his flat, spending days trying to recreate the face of a monkey, the movement of a bear, or the cuteness of a baby giraffe galloping around the corral. Each stroke of the pen or the brush on the canvas unlocking ideas, colors, motions.

Suddenly, a whole new set of images were in front of him to paint. Or draw. Or film.

All that thanks to a show. In a zoo.

That night, though, he was coming back to the zoo after the park was closed. He was supposed to meet Cressida and Castor, as well as the other teams of journalists, to watch the first episode of the show airing on  Capitol TV.

“Peeta! Good to see you again!” Castor’s voice welcomed him as he got out of his car, being careful to place his leg on a stable spot, so he wouldn’t fall.

“Good to see you too, guys!” he answered, before Castor hugged him.

“Been a while, right? I missed working with you, we make a good team!”

Peeta nodded at his friend’s words. It had been a good shoot, indeed. Not only for work, but more importantly for himself. He had been able to do his job properly, without his fears getting in the way, without his PTSD interfering…

Only Katniss had seen him at his worst.

Twice.

Yet she hadn’t run away.

He was still amazed by her reaction to him.

He had - barely - been able to keep away from her for three weeks and two days, wanting some distance to be able to think about her, about them.

He hadn’t been able to keep her out of his mind for long. She was everywhere he looked. In the soft feathers on the pavement, in the grey of the sky, in the laughter of children. Almost everything he saw or heard, felt or tasted reminded him of Katniss.

He had no clue, though, if she felt the same way about him. Sure, he could have asked her out during those three weeks, but something had held him back.

They had exchanged texts, little everyday chats about their lives. Even if he had enjoyed seeing her name on his phone on a very regular basis, he never wanted to push his luck, just being glad to have any contact with her.

Maybe one day he would have enough courage and strength to tell her how he felt about her.

Because Peeta Mellark was pretty sure that along the line, he had fallen in love with Katniss Everdeen.

“Yeah, it was….” he finally answered Pollux, a smile on his face. “It truly was….”

“Man, I never imagined I could care about the life of a lion… and look at me now, I only want to go see all the animals and be sure they are well. Next job is going to be tough to top….” Pollux shook his head, as he started walking towards the gates of the park. “You know what you’ll do next?”

“Na, not yet. I keep hoping the station will ask for more and we get to go back, you know?”

“Gotcha. It feels good to film something heartwarming for a change. To be part of something… good? I don’t know, the rushes I saw were pretty good and so… different. I hope people will watch.”

“Me too, really. The guys here, they all deserve it.” Peeta pushed the door to the gift shop open, letting himself in.

The two men were immediately greeted by one of the vendors, a perky blonde who had caught the attention of almost all the men in the filming crews during the weeks they were there.

“Pollux! Peeta! So happy to see both of you! Effie’s waiting for all of you to arrive! She’s by the offices, if you remember the way?”

Peeta nodded before walking to the other door of the shop, shaking his head as he heard Castor’s attempts at flirting with the blonde girl.

He knew the way. Past the flamingos, follow the river to the chimps, turn left in the middle of the monkey zone, then follow the brick road to the main building, where the offices were.

Music lead him to a wooden terrace, where keepers were already standing, talking to one another. A large screen had been put up at the back, with technicians working around, pulling cables, testing the sound for the projection that would take place later.

Peeta looked around, nodding or waving at the keepers or technicians he had met - which turned out to be almost everyone present - but keeping himself apart from the growing crowd.

He knew he was hoping to spot a dark braid or silver eyes in the crowd, but was instead met by Finnick’s green eyes, a small smile on his lips.

“Find what you’re looking for, man?” the keeper winked, before turning around, searching the crowd until he spotted Finnick near the buffet. “Care to join us? Effie says the food is amazing.”

“I don’t know, Finn, I–”

“And I know for sure Katniss will be onto the buffet first thing,” Finnick interrupted him.

Peeta let out a sigh, before looking at the keeper. “Am I that obvious?”

“Na, don’t worry. But the red pandas are in my sector, remember?”

Peeta did remember the first time Katniss took him to see the small animals - the cutest in the zoo as per the visitors opinion - it had been an almost magical moment to see those balls of fur in the sunset. He might or might not have drawn the scene several times already.

“Come on, Peeta, she’ll be there. And they have cinnamon rolls… “

Peeta chuckled. “I hope they aren’t industrially made….”

“You’re not one of those food snobs, right?”

“No. I might come from a line of bakers though.”

“You do? Why haven’t you told us that before?” The rich, feminine voice took Peeta by surprise. He hadn’t heard anyone approaching Finnick and him, or felt a shift in the air at the presence of the woman he’d been looking for. Guess real life wasn’t like the movies, after all.

But Katniss was there,  standing right next to him, looking at him as if she expected something - right, she had asked a question, if he could just remember what it was. He looked at the table in front of him.

“You never asked,” he finally answered. “I thought nobody cared.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Peeta. We care. We always have,” Katniss answered.

“You do?” He couldn’t help the question coming out of his mouth. Did she care enough?

“More than you–”

“Attention, please!” Effie’s voice broke the moment. Somehow, Finnick had disappeared in the crowd, but Peeta was completely unable to tell how and when. “If you would please gather and take a seat, we’re going to show you the first episode of the show! It’s called “At the Zoo!” Come, come!”

Effie’s enthusiasm was a perfect match to her outfit - s, pink and glittery, reminding Peeta of a European song contest he had caught on the internet a few years ago. He had needed a few drinks to get over the craziness of it all.

“You must be eager to see the footage you shot, right?” Katniss asked him as she started walking towards the makeshift stage in front of them, before noticing Peeta wasn’t following. “You don’t want to come?”

He could almost hear the words he craved lingering in the quiet… with me.

“Sure,” he answered instead, taking her lead, until she reached the rows of seats in front of the screen.

“Anywhere you want to sit?” Katniss asked him, again.

Wait - she was asking him where he wanted to sit?

“I thought we could be in the back?” she added, in a whisper, for his ears only.

“You want to sit together?”

“You don’t?” Katniss turned to face him, a scowl now apparent, as if she had heard something she didn’t like.

“Of course, but…. You’re not…” Peeta was looking for the right word. Disgusted, afraid, anxious passed through his mind, a constant reminder of who he had become.

Warms skin on his hand tore him apart from his thoughts. He lowered his eyes, to see it was Katniss’s hand, small and callused. He looked back at her, surprised by the intensity of her silver eyes.

“I’m not afraid of you, Peeta. Or whatever word crossed your mind right now. I want to sit with you, but only if you want to.”

He watched as she tucked a lock of wild hair behind her ear, as she  lowered her eyes, shifting on her feet, as if she were unsure of him, of herself.

Peeta felt his brain working a mile a minute. She wanted to be next to him, even after everything. After seeing him break down not once, but twice… she touched him, in the dark, doing what he hadn’t dare initiate.

He felt something else surging through him. Something good, something he could name.

Hope.

–

They finally settled into two seats in the back, side by side. So close, but Peeta was itching to get even closer, to discover who Katniss was, to uncover every secret she had.  She smelled like the wind, a mix of trees and flowers and something he couldn’t place, something utterly… Katniss. He wanted to bottle her scent and keep it with him forever.

A man was standing on the platform, in front of the screen, explaining that the station was trying a new format, with no interruption for commercials, that the program was kid-oriented and that he hoped they would enjoy the show.

The lights went out, he only illumination came from the stars above them.

Silence fell.

On the screen, colorful images and happy music accompanied the main theme, introducing some of the keepers and their animals.

As the first few minutes passed, showing the different keepers, their everyday tasks as well as the main animals, Peeta found himself smiling slightly at the images he knew were his own, recognizing a cut here and there, happy to see his footage again on the screen.

He felt like he was able to express himself, after so long. As if he had found his voice again.

Even if it was only for a kids’ zoo show.

His breathing became a bit deeper, a bit easier. As if a weight had been lifted from his chest. A weight he didn’t even know he was bearing.

He almost jumped out of his chair when he felt something brushing the side of his pinky finger.

He was barely more prepared when it happened again.

He didn’t dare move, in hopes he would feel it a third time.

He couldn’t focus on the screen anymore. All his attention was in the skin of his little finger. He closed his eyes as he felt it again, skin on skin, heat on heat.

Three times the charm, they say.

Maybe it was time to take a chance on life.

The panthers were roaring on the screen when he let his finger brush along Katniss’s for the first time. They were playing with an ice cube when he twined his fingers with hers.

–

Peeta didn’t want to leave the zoo.

The screening has been a success, the crowd cheering at the end, purely out of pride and joy of seeing the animals, the park and the keepers on screen.

He had spent the remainder of the screening holding Katniss’s hand, letting his thumb caress her skin repeatedly, until they both had to stand and follow the others to celebrate at the buffet.

They had been separated by the crowd, by their own coworkers who wanted to talk to them about the show, to celebrate, to think of what they could feature for another season if the public wanted to see more.

Peeta only wanted a few more minutes with Katniss.

Alone.

He could see her, lingering on the edge of the makeshift stage, in a conversation with Gale and his girlfriend. He wanted to get closer to her, talk to her, hold her hand again.

He didn’t dare hope for more.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone. He couldn’t see her anywhere.

Regret fell on him, as he realized she had left the scene, maybe even the park. Him.

His phone buzzed.

Two words shone in the night.

Panthera Leo.

He smiled.

Peeta excused himself quickly, before heading into the night.

He wound his way through the labyrinth of the zoo, until he reached the familiar pen.

The lion was sleeping peacefully under the stars, his broad mane spread around him, the very picture of the king of animals.

“Took you long enough…” her voice whispered in the dark. She was somewhere around, in the shadows of the bamboos around him

“I thought you had left.” He hoped his voice wasn’t shaking.

“I thought you weren’t coming…”

“Katniss…. Where are you?”

She didn’t answer. He was looking around at the trees, squinting to try to find her.

He didn’t need to.

He felt her hand on his shoulder, slowly sliding down his arm, until her palm met his, until her fingers linked with his, again. He felt the joy spreading in his body, as he turned, taking her all in. Eyes shining in the grey of the moon, hair glistening with the rays of the stars, her skin glowing.

He only wanted to get even closer to her.

He leaned into her, until his forehead touched hers.

He knew he should pull away, he really did try to step away from her embrace. Something was holding him into the now and then, into the moment. Maybe it was her hands on him, maybe it was his treacherous heart, maybe it was his mind, so much clearer now after his weeks at the zoo, after his weeks next to her.

She didn’t let go of him, though, looking straight into his eyes.

“What are we doing?” Peeta whispered, to the night, to the stars, to her. “I’m… I’m damaged goods, Katniss… We shouldn’t…” he stuttered, not sure what to say anymore. “I shouldn’t be here, with you…”

She shut him up, putting her index fingers on his lips. She didn’t break the connection they had, their foreheads still touching, as if she didn’t want to break the bubble they were in.

“We’re all damaged, Peeta. I was broken once too. Am I damaged goods?”

“No!”

“Then why do you call yourself damaged goods?”

“You don’t know what I went through, Katniss…” he whispered. He could hear the pain in his voice.

“Then you’ll tell me. Not today, when you’re ready. You don’t know what I went through either…. But someday, I’ll tell you.”

“Are you sure you will want to know?” he whispered.

“Yes.” Katniss said, a definitive answer as he felt her hair, like a caress on his skin - her braid had shifted with the wind, whispers of hair touching his jaw.

“You really want to know?”

She didn’t answer. He felt her hands, small, warm on his cheeks, anchoring him more to the moment.

He could see through the will in her grey eyes, the spark, and something more - he wasn’t sure what it was… he did not dare… hope.

Hope.

To have a life back, starting there, in the zoo, with her.

He thought Afghanistan had burned all his hopes.

Turned out a dark-haired falconer could just restore them.

“I want to know, Peeta,” she whispered. “But only when you’re ready - and if–” she looked him straight in the eyes, “if you want to tell me. If… if you want me?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper - meant for his ears only. Not for the quiet of the night, or the animals nearby. Not for the birds in the trees, singing their laments to the sun, or for the moon, appearing in the shadows of the sun.

Just for him.

She asked if he wanted her.

Her.

There was nothing he wanted more.

He nodded - just a simple move of his chin.

She smiled.

She took the final breath of air between them, pressing her lips firmly to his.

Just a whisper of a kiss before she pulled away.

He knew he was selfish, wanting more. So much more. Peeta wanted her lips on him forever, wanted to live in her mouth - that’s where he knew he belonged.

He lifted his hands to cup her face, using his thumbs to caress her cheeks, giving her plenty of time to move away from him, if she chose to. He let his eyes meet hers, let himself got lost in the grey that was shining, expectant.

This time, he was the one who pressed his lips to hers, who tasted the beer on her, who started mapping her mouth, taking his time exploring, tasting, teasing. He was drunk on her, she was becoming an addiction he never would be able to give up.

He let his tongue taste her too, surprised when she immediately opened her mouth to him, swallowing her moan, losing himself in her a bit more.

He kissed her until his lungs screamed for oxygen.

Then they kissed again.

[lovelyparanormalbooks]

Book Blitz: Grand Finale: The Man She Knew by Loree Lough (Giveaway)

On Tour with Prism Book Tours.

Book Tour Grand Finale for

The Man She Knew

By Loree Lough

We hope you enjoyed the tour! If you missed any of the stops you can see snippets, as well as the link to each full post, below... Launch - Note from the Author

Researching this novel was different from any other I’ve written, because Ian Sylvestry is my first ex-convict hero! A very troubled teen, Ian got involved with some bad dudes, and didn’t realize just how bad they were until, one rainy night, he goes along with them as they commit a felony. He had plenty of time to think about his unwise, immature choices while he served ten years for the crime. Plenty of time to think about all the people his imprudent decision had hurt. Upon his release, he works tirelessly to become a respectable citizen, and earns the respect of family and friends. But is it too late to win back the heart of Maleah Turner, the love of his life…?

Rockin' Book Reviws - Review

"The story is a very good one. The characters were portrayed well, the scenes easily visualized from familiarity, and had a steady smooth flow throughout most of the book. A few real social problems are addressed. It is also a story of strong family relationships and support, and of dysfunctional homes. It is often uplifting and has a few twists which adds to the drams. I truly enjoyed the quite predictable tale."

deal sharing aunt - Interview

What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your book?

For The Man She Knew, I learned that everyone, no matter what terrible thing is in their past, deserves a second chance. I also learned a whole lot about life in prison, and what it’s like to return to a society that flat-out doesn’t trust you. Those who succeed in life after serving a prison term are to be commended, because my research and interviews proved…it ain’t easy!

Booklove - Review

"Amazing, beautiful and captivating with strong and lovely characters and a flowing and engaging plot. I loved it and would recommend it to everyone."

Beck Valley Books - Excerpt

Those final moments in the courthouse were as vivid now as they had been that dreary morning: Ian, looking like a terrified boy as one guard slammed the prison van’s side door and another put the vehicle into gear. He’d raised a hand to wave goodbye, but the chain connecting handcuffs to leg irons stopped him. Tears filled his eyes, and unable to watch, she’d closed her own. By the time she opened them again, the driver had already made the first turn onto Lombard Street and started the hour-long trip Lincolnwood Correctional of Central Maryland…

Hearts & Scribbles - Character Descriptions

Ian Sylvestry:

Mid-30s, 6’2”, 190 lbs.; green eyes, dark hair (ponytail), diamond stud in left earlobe, tattoos; former convict, now owns a popular bistro in historic Fells Point.

Janice's Book Review - Review

"Loved that beside that he owed and ran a restaurant that he also did search and rescue with his dog. Love the families on both sides and closeness. I definitely recommend this book."

Katie's Clean Book Collection - Introduction to the Series

“By Way of the Lighthouse” features heroes and heroines separated by hurt, anger, and disagreements.

Falling Leaves - Excerpt

Was this it then? The end?

When they tell her I’m gone, will she cry?

Ian hoped not. He’d only seen her cry once, on the day the carted him off to Lincoln.

Most awful thing ever…

Because he’d caused her tears, and it shamed him, even now.

If the powers that be decided to give him one more chance, he’d make things right.

Somehow, I’ll make things right…

Brooke Blogs - Character Interviews

Interview with Ian Sylvestry:

Q: So Ian, tell us what led up to your arrest…

A: I was a dumb kid with a big chip on my shoulder. After my mother ran off to England with another guy, my dad turned to alcohol to hide from what she’d done to us, leaving me to pretty much raise myself.

Q: And that’s how you got involved with what you’ve referred to as “some bad dudes”?

A: It makes no sense to me now, but back then, they were like brothers, there for me no matter what.

Reading Is My SuperPower - Review

"There are a lot of things going on in The Man She Knew – and it all combines to make a great read! An inspiring story of second chances, forgiveness and family, this novel more than lives up to its ‘heartwarming’ brand. It never gets sappy, though, or saccharine; instead, Lough has given us warm characters, a compelling plot, and a tender romance."

Cinnamon Cindy's Book Blog - Excerpt

It had been a mistake, asking Andy to drop him this far from her grandparents’ drive. Walking on flat ground had been a challenge with crutches, and then the cane. He took his time, but tromping through deep snow made him wince with every step. If you put yourself in the hospital, you’ll only have yourself to—

Becky on Books - Interview

Where did the inspiration for this book come from?

For some reason, I kept hearing stories about how difficult it is for the newly released—men and women—to return to normal lives. From reuniting with family to finding a job, they meet obstacles of every variety. Now, I’m no Pollyanna…I realize some of these people are hardened criminals that will return to their old ways and probably end up right back in prison. But some of them honestly want to leave that life behind, and do everything in their power to start fresh and stay on the right path. So I wrote a story featuring a guy like that, who made a stupid mistake—and paid for it—and wanted little more of life when he left prison bars behind than to prove himself a changed man.

Christian Suspense Author Mary Alford - Review

"This is a heartwarming story of love overcoming all obstacles. I thoroughly enjoyed the romance and the characters that Ms. Lough created in this epic story and I can’t wait to read what she has in store for us next."

It's All About the Romance - The Setting

All stories in the “By Way of the Lighthouse” series are set in and around Baltimore, and feature the quaint, picturesque, and historic streets, shops, and homes.

Bookworm Lisa - Review

"This book dealt with some real emotional issues. I was impressed the Loree Lough took a tough subject matter and turned it into a positive. There are so many psychological issues that had to be overcome for this book to succeed. I felt that it was done well.

If you like books about second chances, success in spite of obstacles, family loyalty, and honor, this may be a book for you to dive into."

Heidi Reads... - Excerpt

He’d forgotten how good, how right she felt in his arms. If she kept looking up at him that way he’d kiss her, long and hard and…

Ian cleared his throat. “You look pretty good in an evening gown.”

“And you look pretty good in a tux.”

“Good thing it didn’t snow, like Marty Bass said it would.”

“In his defense, he said might.”

“So he did…”

“But you’re right. If it had snowed, I’d break my neck in these shoes.”

Nicole's Book Musings - The Song that Changed Everything

On the night of the big charity ball, Ian and Maleah shared a dance. Just one dance. But it was enough to remind them both how perfect their young love had been…

Getting Your Read On - Review

"The whole premise of the book is such an interesting one and I was caught up in Ian's struggle. There is just something about a story of second chances, especially one in the extreme like this one. It wasn't just a second chance at love but a second chance at life."

Thoughts of a Blonde - Review

"Redemption, turmoil and undying love are brought to life in Loree Lough’s latest release! We meet Ian, a tarnished man who has gone to great lengths to turn his life around and is such a joy to grow to adore throughout the book. The heroine however, is not easy to love. She’s a kind and generous soul to everyone else, but to him, she’s self-righteous and hurtful. In the end, we have to find forgiveness in our heart as well as we make our way through the story towards that happily-ever-after..."

underneath the covers - Excerpt

He missed hearing her sweet-yet-sultry voice. Missed those big glittery blue eyes, too. Once, that cheery smile had the power to light every dark corner of his life and make him forget that his mother had chosen another man over him and his dad.

Inside the Mind of an Avid Reader - Review

"This book has every thing you could want from a clean contemporary romance. You have heartache, love, laughter, and of course the Happily Ever After. If you looking for something to just make you feel good while your reading it and keep a smile on your face this book is perfect for you."

And don't forget to enter the giveaway below...

The Man She Knew

(By Way of the Lighthouse, #1) by Loree Lough Contemporary Romance

Paperback & ebook, 384 pages June 1st 2017 by Harlequin Heartwarming

Don't they both deserve a second chance? Fourteen years ago, one reckless act cost Ian Sylvestry everything, including the girl he planned to marry. Since then, he has fought hard to turn his life around. Returning to his Baltimore town after serving a prison term was the first step. Winning back Maleah Turner's trust is a far more daunting challenge. From their first sparks-flying reunion, it's obvious they still have powerful feelings for each other. In fact, they might be even stronger together now. But if their second chance is going to work, Maleah has to believe that Ian is a changed man. She really wants to believe…but she simply isn't convinced.

Goodreads│Amazon│Barnes & Noble│Harlequin

About the Author

Bestselling author LOREE LOUGH once sang for her supper, performing across the U.S. and Canada. Now and then, she blows the dust from her 6-string to croon a tune or two, but mostly, she writes novels that have earned hundreds of industry and "Readers' Choice" awards, 4- and 5-star reviews, and 7 book-to-movie options. The Man She Knew, #1 in her “By Way of the Lighthouse” series, her 3rd for Harlequin Heartwarming, is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Harlequin.com.

Website│Goodreads│Facebook│Twitter│Pinterest

Tour Giveaway - Two winners will receive a $10 Amazon eGift Card (open internationally) - Two winners will receive an ebook of THE MAN SHE KNEW (open internationally)

- Two winners will receive a print copy of THE MAN SHE KNEW (US only) - Ends June 13th a Rafflecopter giveaway