#but I’m getting it on the hand that replaces my knee cap on monday

[georgeromerosanalcavity]

One knuckle tattoo that says “TOMAPOLOGIST” and another that says “SIOBHANAPOLOGIST” then a third from the arm that extends from my chest that says “TOMROMANTRUTHER”. Then a fourth—

[heartbreakgrill]

Serious; Luke Hemmings (Pt. 2)

a/n: I have so much drama in my heart❤️

description: he came with the fall of the leaves and left with winter cold. maybe, this time, he’d stay.

It didn’t feel like five days had passed; but they did.

Luke came each morning, every single one. The first one, a Tuesday, he was bearing coffee and donuts- your favorite flavor of each. The fact that he remembered surprised, as well as the gentle kiss he lay upon your forehead when you answered the door.

You hadn’t expected him that early- 7 am. He’d remembered you woke up at that time, too. You’d slept for nearly 12 hours, exhausted from your reunion on Monday, and already feeling the emotional distress you’d experience in a week. When he knocked, you were still in bed, having naturally woken, but snuggled up in your phone. The sheets still smelled like him, so you slept on the side in which he’d lay. It was warm when you first moved, not long after he’d left, but the heat slipped into your bones and replaced itself with the shape of the air in your apartment.

You fumbled out of bed, slipping on the forgotten socks from yesterday, a random t-shirt- his, random, Van Halen shirt- and pajama bottoms. You hastily tied your hair back as you neared the door, barely peering through the peephole before swinging it open.

He smiled softly at you, adored by the way your face was flushed and puffy, sleep in your eyes and a yawn creeping up your throat. He stepped in, hands full of a bag of donuts and a holder for two coffees. Luke stepped inside, towering over you, and kissing your forehead. You blushed, shutting the door softly as he found his place at a stool at your kitchen island.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he finally spoke.

You burned under his stare, carefully removing your coffee cup and accepting the donut he held out to you. “G’morning.”

“Did you sleep well? You fell fast in my lap,” he laughed a little bit, but his voice was gruff from obvious exhaustion.

You shrugged and sat next to him. He turned on his still to face you, knees knocking against your own. There were slits in his black jeans, allowing the white skin beneath to kiss your own. It was a simple gesture, but your heart swooned.

Why was he being so affectionate?

“Yeah, I did,” you furrowed your brows, teeth biting off a hunk of donut.

As you chewed, he replied, “Good. I’m obviously still tired. Jet lags a bitch.”

Luke watched as you ate, drank every once and again, your eyes boring into the kitchen floor and feet swinging back and forth. Your brows stayed drawn together, expression full of something he couldn’t quite reach.

“You okay?” His voice dropped in volume, stepping carefully around you.

You swallowed firmly before meeting his gaze, head turning up. “Why are you being so affectionate?”

Luke grinned at this. You automatically bit your lip, face scrunching up in a, ‘oops.’

He reached for your hand, twisting the fingers between his own. “I wanna make last year up to you. It was a shitty thing to do, when I stopped messaging back. I mean, everything I did was shitty. So I’m trying to redeem myself.”

You frowned deeply, “So it’s...pity?”

Luke suddenly looked shocked, his face that of a heartbroken puppy dog. He had changed so much; the strong, guarded heart of a rockstar had morphed into a confident, yet somewhat vulnerable sweetheart.

You firmly gripped his hand, as he stuttered. “No-no. I’m sorry it seems like that. It’s not like I’m doing this just because I feel bad. I do have feelings for you, I-“

“Feelings?” You braced yourself, a smile inching up your neck.

Luke flushed this time, the heat prickling the tips of his ears which stuck out from the hair tucked behind them. He shrugged, “Yeah. I’ve always had feelings for you and just being around you again brought them back.”

“And this time you’re not completely taken up,” you mumbled. You stood from the stool and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

He embraced your waist, thumbs circling into your hipbones. “I’m all yours.”

“Okay,” you scrunched your noses before leaning into a kiss.

You didn’t believe him.

-

On Wednesday, you decided to actually go out and do something. He had to be back earlier today for an extra long sound check, because at yesterday’s show, his mic was screwed up. So, you got dressed before he was even there, messages from last night planning out your day.

He’d unblocked you on Snapchat, followed you with his private account on Instagram. Luke had sent you dozens of videos and photos from the night prior: A mirror selfie with the caption, ‘I kinda wanna do makeup onstage;’ a video of his outfit, the crowd from backstage, when he was out drinking afterwards. You sent back just as many selfies, feeling elated by the attention and affection (pretty girl, baby, heart eyes, kisses, blushing emojis.)

You were trying to grasp into the moments as best you could because you knew it would be over. Yeah, you’d talk for a month or two, and then he’d get back into the LA nightlife and fall back into step with his groupies for the rest of your. You would take what you could, knowing you could never have his entire heart.

You took Luke to private locations most tourists wouldn’t frequent: Underground coffee and record shops, trying way too many frappes and kissing foam off his lips. He wore a baseball cap, sunglasses, and an all black outfit, trying to just fit in with the rest of the crowds. At one point, someone pointed at Luke, but you watched to see him and his friend seemed to agree that it wasn’t Luke.

Your day ended at 1 pm, on the steps leading up to your apartment building. You were on the step above him, bags hanging off your wrists from the things he’d insisted on buying you. Luke had a hold on your waist, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips.

Though you were giggling, leaning in for more, you felt so out of place.

After he left, you unpacked the few things he bought you and showered. Your skin felt loose, like it was void of a brain and skeleton, yours hanging up in the closet. You scrubbed at it just to feel a little bit of stinging as if it would ground you.

It was an awful feeling, being a stranger to yourself.

But this was so unlike you.

You, adult you, mature you would turn him away and tell him to fuck off. You’d been a side chick without even knowing it until he went back home, and continued to put out for a taken man until he turned you away. And he broke your heart, telling you he couldn’t leave his girlfriend for, ‘some fling he’d had.’

Yeah, ghosting you didn’t mean he didn’t give you his two-cents before doing so.

But you were so, so lonely. And men like him came once every lifetime.

So, on Thursday, you woke up with the intentions of going to his show.

He’d texted you to let you know he couldn’t bring you coffee today because the guys were suspecting him of something. You sent back a frowning selfie in his tshirt, teasing him with skin and lips.

He came over an hour later.

Hands, hips, perfume and cologne infused into bare skin and transferring between oils and kisses.

He’d told them he was meeting a friend, even had someone to cover for him, and got out just to see you naked beneath him.

It felt good being his priority, even if it was only for three percent of his life.

When your chest returned to a normal breathing pattern, you curled into his side again, let his hands cover your back and hair, his lips your own in lazy patterns of some sleepless song. Your lips formed words now, exchanging secret dreams in the morning.

“I don’t know how you handle the fame,” you’d said after a few words exchanged about his career.

Something about guitars splintering his fingers (which you knew, you’d felt them) and being exhausted all the time, unless he was home for more than two days.

Luke huffed, “I don’t know either. I can’t even get a fucking slice of pizza without being followed.”

“I almost,” you hesitated, “I almost feel bad for you.”

His warm breath rolled over your skin and it shifted in rhythm when you said this. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you wiggled around slightly, “I just wish you could have your career without all the crazy fans.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Luke agreed. “Don’t get me wrong, I love them. Without them, I’d have nothing. But the ones who come to the airport and follow us around and spam our inboxes on Twitter make me want to give up everything just to have a normal life.”

“I know I could never do it,” you laughed.

But the air froze. “What do you mean?”

“I,” you began and moved in his arms to look at him better, “I could never give up my privacy for fame. For anything, honestly. I wanna be able to go on dates or walk down the street without photos being taken. God, how do you even have a private relationship like that?”

Luke sat up, his arms lightly pushing you off of him. You hugged the sheets to your body, taken back by his attitude.

“So you couldn’t be in a relationship with me?”

Your brows furrowed, fingers lightly resting onto his bicep. “What?”

“You couldn’t bear all that, sacrifice all that, for me?” Lukes faze was fierce, sharp.

Luke suddenly stood, shoving on clothes and shoes in a flash. You stood, following him to the door, “Luke! Luke, what’s going on?”

Your mouth hung open, grasping for words that wouldn’t come. “I...I don’t know that you can ask that of me.”

He stopped at the front door, hand grasping the handle so that his knuckles were white. Luke turned to face you, his expression making your shoulders roll forward in vulnerability.

“What are doing this for, then? You just using me for a couple days?”

You scoffed, anger fueling confidence you wished you didn’t have. “Oh, be fucking honest to yourself, Luke. Do you really think this is going past next week? You’ll forget about me again, or you’ll suddenly tell me you’re in a relationship and my time will have been wasted. Thanks for the sex, but maybe it’s my turn to break your heart.”

“Oh, so it is just for these two weeks, then? When did you plan on telling me you didn’t want me like I want you?” Luke spat back.

You laughed sardonically, “Oh, come on! When are you going to lose the facade? Luke, we haven’t spoken in a year, and when we did speak, it was for maybe two months. You barely know a thing about me. You don’t know my mannerisms or where i even want to be in five years. But, hey! Maybe you’ll stop by again, every year, make it a fucking tradition. Come back when you’re in New York or simply when you’re horny, I’ll get you off, and you can ask me how the careers going.”

Luke went quiet. He cleared his throat, but the simple noise cracked from the tears in his eyes. “I have to go to sound check. Can we just stop this for now? Please.”

“I don’t think I can come to the show tonight,” you replied, backing away with a few steps.

Luke nodded, “I figured.”

Despite the tension, the unfinished argument, the inevitable heartbreak, you both reached for the other and embraced a tight ‘for-now’ truce. He kissed you and left.

And he came back the next day, and the next.

TAGLIST: @mantlereid , @boxofteenageideas @dinosaursandsocks , @ashhdaniellee95 @stephaniemelvie @zhangyixingxing1 @verlaneswiftie13 @kingxnichole

[slafkovskys]

yeah, we’ll be alright / p. moynihan

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from you and me by niall horan

mentions of vomiting and rude names

-

you heard your bedroom door open and shut before a knock sounded against the bathroom door, “y/n?”

“i took it already, p,” you said, letting your head thump against the door. you hear him sigh before you hear another thud against the door and him sliding down. “i’m scared.”

“me too,” he mumbled.

your eyes don’t leave the white stick with the pink cap that rested on your sink. your heart pounds against your chest as you pull on the strings of the hoodie you were wearing, “you don’t have to stay, you know, if it comes out positive.”

he scoffs, “i’m not leaving you, y/n. whether it’s positive or negative, you’re stuck with me.”

your phone starts ringing, signaling the end of the timer. your entire body stiffens as you hear patrick breathe deeply on the other side of the door. your shaky hand reaches for the plastic and you close your eyes as it wraps around it.

you count to three four separate times before actually opening them. your eyes read the single word multiple times before a sob rakes through your body. you hear patrick stand and start jiggling the doorknob, pleading for entry. your hand raises and twists the lock, moving so he could open it.

he doesn’t say anything. he just squats down and picks you up, carrying you over to your bed. you were still clutching the positive test in your hand as he tucked you into his chest, assuring things would be fine. you don’t know how long you lay there sobbing, but when you finally stopped, the sun had already set.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, voice scratchy from all of the crying you had done.

he wrapped his arms around you impossibly tighter as he pressed his lips to the top of your head, “please don’t be. if anyone’s at fault, it’s me.”

“we’re gonna have a baby,” you look up at him and he cracks the smallest grin and nods.

“yeah, we’re gonna have a baby.”

-

at this point, you couldn’t tell if it was your hand that was sweaty or his. you watched his knee bounce through the corner of your eye, biting your lip between your teeth. “can you stop doing that? please?”

“sorry,” he mumbled, squeezing your hand. you crossed your legs before uncrossing them and then crossed them again.

you were the only two people sitting in the waiting room. apparently, people had better things to do at eight a.m. on a monday than be at ob/gyn’s office. both of you should be in first period by now, but this was a priority.

when the door opened and your name was called, you both stood. he followed behind you, waiting as they took your height and weight. the nurse, named kara, shut the door behind her and looked at you with a smile, “this is your first visit, right?”

“yes ma’am,” you said, biting your lip and kicking your feet back and forth where they dangled off the bed.

she explained what would go on, how they were just going to check and verify the pregnancy and let you hear the heartbeat if you wanted. she did her thing, drew some blood and asked about both of your histories and before telling you to lift your shirt over your stomach, “oh! you’ve already got a little bump.”

you’d noticed it yesterday after you’d stepped out of the shower. your stomach had started to jut out at the bottom. you sent patrick a picture and he said ‘i love you. and bean.’

she turned out the lights before putting the gel on your stomach. she pointed towards the screen and you watched as a little blob came into view. “there’s your baby, mom,” she said and tears well up in your eyes, “and there’s the heartbeat.”

she presses a button and the most amazing noise you’d ever heard fills the room. you choke out a laugh as you process the ‘thump thump thump’ that was inside of you. you hear kara say, “are you okay, dad?”

you turn to look at patrick. the usually stoic, cocky attitude boy was replaced by someone who was crying. in the nearly two years you’d known him, you’d never seen him cry. you reach out your hand and he stands, walking over beside you. he brings your hand to his lips.

kara cleans off your stomach and excuses herself, but leaves the picture up for you to see. “hi bean,” you mumble out, watching as the blob shifts slightly, “we’re your parents.”

-

you didn’t ‘pop’ until four months in. leggings became your best friend along with big hoodies and sweaters.

you’d been able to keep the whole thing on a need to know basis. there had been rumors spreading about you and you heard them, but just chose to ignore them. your parents, though disappointed, supported you and wanted you happy. patrick’s parents and siblings all flew in the weekend after you broke the news and had pretty much the same reaction as your parents. the boys, though utterly shocked, were excited and already calling godfather. “if i die,” patrick had stated, “i don’t want any of you responsible for my child.”

one day in the middle of the week, you had decided you actually wanted to look half decent. you slipped on your maternity jeans and a sweater that didn’t hug the bump, but made it obvious that you were pregnant. you arrived that day and walked straight to first period, not immune to the whispers that followed you. you made it to second before your hand shot up and you asked to be excused.

you ran to the girls bathroom and hurled your breakfast into the toilet before leaning back against the stall wall. the tears start to fall as you replay the things that you’d heard that day:

‘she just wanted to trap him, i bet.’

‘she’s ruining a career that hasn’t even started yet.’

‘skank.’

you hear the door open and the hurried footsteps of someone. you watch as the door flies open and patrick’s looking at you worriedly. he squats down in front of you, hands framing your face as his thumbs wipe your tears. “what happened, gorgeous?”

and you tell him. you tell him everything and he holds on to you as you do so, just like he’s done almost everyday for the past few months. he pulls you up and walks you over to the sink, drying your face for you. he presses a kiss to your hair, “i’ve got a sweatshirt in my car with your name on it if you want it?”

“please.”

-

during the prime of your pregnancy was also the last few months of patrick’s time in the ntdp. so that meant he was gone, a lot, and he missed a lot, too.

when you first felt the baby kick, for example, you were in the middle of science class while patrick was in the middle of a a game in sochi. your body stiffened as you felt the nudge against your midsection, before a grin took over your face. you place your hand where it kicked and pushed, receiving another.

all day, you’d been pushing that spot and always received a nudge in return. when you got home, you dropped down on your bed and lifted up your shirt, watching as your stomach jutted out with another kick.

you called patrick a short time later and told him the news. he was visibly upset, but had a very serious conversation with the bump that they had to do it when he got home. a week later, patrick barged into your room and dropped onto your bed, “do the thing.”

you giggled before sliding up your sweatshirt and poking your tummy. you didn’t get a reaction so you poke it again before sighing, “they might be sleeping, p.”

“they’ve got four more months to sleep, y/n. daddy’s home and wants to see them kick.” he grumbles moving so that his mouth is beside your rounded stomach. he clears his throat, “hi baby, it’s me, patrick, your dad. now, i know that i was gone for a little bit and you had to hear me through a phone, but i’m back now and i was hoping you could do that thing you did for your mom? please?”

you giggle at the way patrick is staring at your stomach, not blinking. he sighed before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the skin. as soon as he moved back, a lump forms in the side and you grunt. patrick looks elated as he kisses the spot again, you getting another particularly hard kick to the side.

“that’s enough,” you pout, shoving his head away. he laughed before placing his big, warm hand over your stomach. you place yours on top of his, “i love you.”

another kick.

-

everything wasn’t always perfect, though.

one night when you were in your last trimester, you woke up from a nap to sharp pains in your stomach. you screamed for you mom and she darted in. they felt to strong to be braxton hicks, you insisted, and she drove you to the emergency room.

it was the one night patrick had gone out in months and he wasn’t answering his phone. you called alex, who thankfully answered on the second ring. “what’s u-”

“put patrick one the phone. now!” you shout squeezing your mother’s hand. you hear him mumble a panicked ‘ok’ before there’s distilling and patrick’s voice comes through the phone. you cut him off too, “you need to get to the hospital. like, right now.”

“is- is it time?” he stutters a sudden haste in his tone as he starts swearing. “where’s my fucking- i need someone to drive me!”

he gets there twenty minutes after you do and runs into your room. your mom explains that they have to run some tests and that you’ll be here for a while. they did turn out to false contractions and you were sent home a few days later with an order to stay on strict bedrest.

patrick swore he wasn’t leaving your side again.

-

at first, you insisted on patrick going to the draft. it was such an important day in his life, but with you already a week past your due date, it just wasn’t gonna happen. and you were glad he didn’t go.

your water broke just past two o’clock in the morning on june twenty second. you rushed to the hospital for the second time and not two hours later, just before five, loud cries reverberated around the hospital room.

they laid all eight pounds and seven ounces of her on your chest and that’s when you started crying. patrick kisses your head repeatedly while they wipe her off. the doctor hands him the scissors to cut the cord before they take her away.

that day, you received an endless amount of calls from the boys. they were already booking your daughter’s time and asking what kind of presents she would like to receive. “trevor, dude, she’s six hours old.”

that night, you sat your laptop up on the table and streamed the draft. patrick held onto your daughter as his name was called. you look up at him with the biggest smile before glancing down to the baby in his arms.

“hear that? daddy’s gonna be a devil,” you smirk tiredly, “but we already knew that, didn’t we amelia joy?”

[manrocket-mo]

Worth Waiting For - Morgan Rielly

requested: yes (by anon)

word count: 3,893

author’s note: a long one for you all on a passionate subject of mine - DaddyMo! Hope you all enjoy this! Working on posting again in the next couple days so be on the look out and check out my masterlist for all the fics I’ve written to date! Don’t forget to send in Mo requests to my ask or drop by and say hi!

“What was that Hank? You want me to blow kisses? You want kisses?” You lifted Henry up in the air and pressed big, sloppy kisses to his tummy causing him to squeal and giggle.

“God I love that laugh so much.” You bring Henry down so that he’s seated atop your hip and turn to Lucy. “You and Jake are so lucky to have such an easy-going little dude.” Lucy smiled mischievously as she set the spatula down on the marble countertop. “Maybe you and Mo will be the lucky ones soon enough.” She winked at you, taking a bite out of the freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. You roll your eyes and set your attention back on her son. Your fingers go to dance along the underside of Henry’s little double chin sending him into another laughing fit. “We’ve been trying... for months, almost a year! Actively trying and nothing.” You frowned, readjusting Henry so that he sat up on the counter. You placed yogurt melts in his hand and watched as he sloppily ate with chubby fingers and drool dribbling down his rosy cheeks. “We just want our own little Henry. And it’s been so stressful lately that I’ve been feeling so sick to my stomach and I’m sure it’s been messing with my hormones and I’ve been crying so much at everything that it’s been worrying Mo.” Lucy laughed, placing the cookies onto a plate and pushes them toward you. You take a bite and moan, savoring the warmth and sweetness on your tongue. “Sounds like a big S-H-I-T show... or you could be pregnant?” You choked and tried your best to breathe. Lucy came around and patted your back, barely breathing herself as she laughed at your expense. Henry looked up at you with big blue eyes, a yogurt bite dangling from his cheek, his chubby hand reaching. “I’m fine, Henry,” you mumbled, catching your breath. “I’d be better if your momma didn’t try to just KILL ME.” You glared at Lucy before reaching for the glass of milk she placed in front of you. “Hey, I’m just saying. You just described the prime symptoms of the beginning of a pregnancy. You described it, not me.” Lucy leaned down onto the counter and opened her mouth for a yogurt bite which Henry happily and sloppily obliged. “Luc, I just took a pregnancy test on Monday and it was a negative.” Lucy rolled her eyes before disappearing into the living area. “Sometimes, your momma is crazy,” you sighed, going in for another bite of a cookie. You placed the cookie down before picking Henry back up at his demand when he shoved his arms up at you. “Come on, little guy.” You wandered over to the huge French doors overlooking the backyard. “Look, there’s a little squirrel and little birdy and some disgusting left over snow...” you pointed out. Henry’s little fingers followed poking at the glass panes and leaving his fingerprints everywhere. The footsteps falling along the stairs got your attention and you turned around just in time for Lucy to appear into view a box in hand. “Come on... just humor me.” You walked back to her and see that she’s holding a First Response test in her hand. You huff but snatch it out of her hand to her delight. “Trade!” She takes Henry into her arms with animated granny hands and ushers you to the nearest bathroom. “Five minutes, you know the rules,” Lucy yelled through the door as you sat there on the toilet grumbling. You replaced the cap on the test, placed it on the countertop and opened the door, nearly hitting your friend in the face as she leaned up against it. “Trying to eavesdrop on me peeing?” You question, an eyebrow raised. “I hope you’re not as disappointed as I am when it comes back a negative.” You go back to sitting on the counter with Lucy trailing behind you, bouncing Henry, keeping him occupied as you waited. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just...” “That’s alright, Luc...” you picked apart at the cookie on the plate. “I just can’t tell you how ready Mo and I are to become parents. It’s something we’ve dreamed of for years and we’re finally ready. We got our own place and we already picked out a little room for the nursery and I’d be lying if I said Mo and I haven’t already gotten a little 44 jersey for our future little one. We’re just... antsy. These negatives have really taken a toll on me emotionally. I feel like I’m letting him down.” You thought to every time the results didn’t pan your way, how Mo would hold you, his arms around your chest as his lips found the skin of your shoulder, kissing it, whispering that it’ll be okay. His hushed whispers promising that one day soon, you’d be parents to a little baby Rielly, cherub cheeks, blonde hair and all. That’s all you wanted.   Lucy reached out and stilled your fidgeting. “You’re 23, Y/N. You and Morgan have more than enough time. If you do get pregnant soon, then that’s great! But if not, that’s fine too. You have more than enough time to get to know each other before a little one comes along and poops and pees on everything.” She tickled Hank and he twisted away, giggling, his little fingers in his mouth. “And the trying part is the most fun, so...” You flushed at the point she made, turning your head so that your hair created a curtain in front of your embarrassed face. “I know Jake and I enjoyed it—“ “Okay, okay, Luc! I love you and I love Jake but I don’t have to hear that!” Lucy howled at your bashfulness, which caused you to ripen like a tomato. “Oh would you look at that, five minutes!” You stood up and practically ran to the bathroom before remembering what you were actually doing. You stood there and breathed in deeply. “It’ll be okay,” you whispered to yourself. “We have time.” You pushed the door open and glanced at the test sitting uninterrupted on the counter. You could hear the rustling veins you as Lucy stood in the doorway, Henry tucked into her side, watching over you. You closed your eyes and held your breath. Although this started as a joke, it felt like every other time. The want for a baby hit you deep. You could feel the swelling in your chest, the anxiety at the tips of your fingers as you pulled the test up. Your heart was racing in your chest. Your blood was rushing in your ears. Your eyelids brushed open and you took in the result. The silence that overcame you was enough to alert Lucy and she came over apologizing and hugging you to her. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” “It’s a positive,” you murmur, almost in shock. Your hands shook as you clutched the test to your chest. Your cheeks ached from the wide smile that tore across your face when it all settled in. “Luc, I need to take another test. This-this has to be—“ and before you could even finish your thought, Lucy was dragging you down the hall and up the stairs to the bathroom she shared with her husband. She handed you Henry as she got on her knees and searched under the sink and produced two more tests of varying brands. “Are these good? They’re all I have.” You nodded and placed Henry back safe in his mother’s arms before setting off for the toilet. After thirty minutes of waiting for the sequential actions needed to complete a pregnancy test, you were buzzing with excitement. Your heart was galloping in your chest as you stood in front of the vanity, staring at your reflection. The signs on the test would confirm that your life, your life with Morgan would never be the same again. The reflection in the mirror wouldn’t be the same again. “Are you ready?” Your best friend asked you, standing by your side. You nodded quietly before bringing up the tests into your line of view. Pregnant. Loud and clear. And there it was, the confirmation of life, the perfect mix of you and Morgan, growing within you. You couldn’t help the shaking of your hands as they dropped the tests to the counter and moved to settle on your belly in amazement. “I’m going to be a mom,” you whispered in absolute wonder. “I-I’m having a baby with Morgan.” You look up to Lucy with no words, your body frozen, the only thing moving being your thumbs running a circuit over your skin. “I—“ Lucy squeals, being careful not to jostle the baby in her arms as she jumped excitedly. “You’re gonna be a momma, Y/N!” “I’m going to be a mom,” you repeat slowly. “I can’t believe it... that’s little baby Rielly in there.” The smile on your face could light the darkest of trenches, you were sure. No one could possibly be happier than you in that moment. “...How am I going to tell Morgan?” You started to panic and had to count slowly to calm yourself before you had a full on anxiety attack. A lot of things were happening and going through your brain for you to process at once. “I can’t just TELL him! We’ve been trying for so long and it has to be special and—“ “Y/N, breathe!” Lucy laughed. “Let’s go and talk about this anywhere but my bathroom.” You nod in agreement and gather the tests in your hand before following her downstairs. “So we have two and a half hours before we have to go and pick up the boys from the jet center.” “I have to tell him tonight, Luc. I don’t think I can wait any longer.” You reach out for Henry, seeking the comfort that the little baby boy always seemed to bring you. You brought your legs up and cradled him to you, your fingers running through his hair as he started to settle down. “So we have two hours to figure out what you’re going to do.” You got to brainstorming, Lucy doing most of the talking as you focused on lulling the baby boy in your arms to sleep. “Christmas is in two days... how about getting something from the Christmas market?” You gasp before apologizing to Henry, rubbing a hand down his back. “I saw this Christmas ornament when Mo and I went when it first opened for the season... he said it’s be perfect for our baby’s first Christmas. Let’s go.” And two hours later, you were sitting in Jake’s SUV, full of hot chocolate and chocolaty churros, turning the little Christmas ornament in your hands. “It’s perfect,” you murmur, tears trailing down your cheeks again. “Ugh.” You quickly wipe the moisture away and place the little ceramic ice skate back in the box atop the tiniest Leafs jersey and replace the cover. Lucy grabbed your hand from across the center console and squeezed it gently. “I’m so excited for you. You and Mo. I know how much you both want this. You’re young but you’re ready. Hell, you’re more ready for this than Jake and I ever were and we were married and older. But you’re going to be a great mom, Y/N and Morgan... that man was born to be a dad. That little Rielly is so lucky to have you both as parents.” You signed contently before leaning your head on her shoulder, showing your thanks. “Think Hank and our little one will be able to play in the same age groups if he turns out to be a baby boy?” You wonder as Luc drives you to your awaiting boyfriend. “I’m sure they will. We’ll make sure of it. If not, I’m sure your little one will be playing up in no time with how natural and competitive Mo is. Completely hereditary. If it’s a girl, we’ll conspire to get them married.” She gives you smile before turning her attention back to the road. “Hank and baby Rielly will be built in best friends, just like their daddies.” You smile at the thought. “I can’t wait to share the excitement with Mo,” you breathe as Luc puts the car on park as Jake and Morgan approach the car. “He won’t know what to do with himself,” she winked at you before pushing the car door open and meeting her husband outside of the car. You twist in your seat and place the gift box on the floor of the car in front of Henry who was sleeping soundly in his car seat before following suit and catching Morgan in a tight hug. “Hey there,” Morgan greeted, pressing his nose into your hair. “Missed you,” you whisper as you squeezed him tightly, your hands wandering into his coat and along the thin layer of his dress shirt. His warmth against your fingertips, your hands, calmed you. “I missed you, too, baby girl.” He pressed a kiss along your temple before pulling back and giving you a proper kiss which turned pretty passionate with how eager you were with the news you held. “Wow,” he chuckled, pulling back. “That’s. Wow. You really missed me, eh?” You got back on your tiptoes and pressed one last kiss to his warm lips, mumbling a “shut up,” before dragging him back into the Gardiner’s warm car. “Keep it G-rated back there, eh? Hank is only a few months old,” Jake teased. From the look on his face and the wink he gave you, you knew Lucy told him in the short time you were tongue wrestling with his best friend. You rolled your eyes before settling back against Morgan, your head falling along his shoulder. “I love you, Momo,” you sigh, playing with his fingers. “You make so happy.” Mo hummed, his arm holding you close. “I love you, too, Y/N.” You sigh contently and rest in his arms, the sound of Christmas music softly playing in the background, wrapping you up in warmth. The warmth only grew into a hot ember as you watched Morgan hold Henry as he slowly came around from his nap, running his hand up down his back comfortingly, singing along to the Christmas music as he paced the Gardiner’s living room. “He’s going to be such a good dad,” Jake mused as he drank his hot chocolate and sitting back. “I know,” you agree. “I still can’t believe it’s happening. We’ve been trying for months.” Your eyes watered as you watched Morgan lean down and press a kiss to Henry’s little head. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.” Jake smiled at you and patted your hands that were resting on the throw pillow you hugged to you. “I’m so glad Lucy convinced you to talk to him at that party years ago. I don’t think he could’ve found anyone else more perfect for him.” You smile to yourself, recalling that night. “You pushed a shot of tequila at me, told me to pucker up and the rest was history.” “And we found you two sitting up in Morgan’s room still talking late into the night, even after the party ended and everyone left,” Lucy giggles, sitting between you and her husband. “Oh how I wish I could have a shot of tequila forced my way before I tell him...” “Oh, we’re talking about how you forced Y/N to talk to me that night we stupidly hosted a party at our apartment?” Mo chuckled, offering Henry to Lucy and dropping down by your side. “Best roommate ever.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and smiles at you warmly. “You owe me for much for than that, Mo Daddy,” Jake cackles much to Lucy’s displeasure and you flush in response. Mo laughs along completely unaware of what that meant and takes your hand in his. “Ready to go home, baby girl?” He wonders, bringing your hand up to press a kiss to the back of your hand. You nod, pressing a kiss to his hand in return. “Okay, love birds. Time to fly home. Mating season is in full effect.” Lucy slapped Jake’s chest and huffed in annoyance. You grew even more red. “Jake, I think Henry needs a diaper change. You’ve got the next ten changes,” Luc scolded, giving him his baby boy. Mo chuckled at his best friend’s expense and helped you up. “We’re gonna get going, guys. We’ll be by later tomorrow to exchange gifts before Christmas Eve dinner.” “Sounds good. Jake, let them say goodbye to Hank and go set the table for dinner. I think Mo has had enough of you for the week.” Jake rolled his eyes before handing over Henry to you and setting off for the kitchen. “Drive safe, man. You got precious cargo on board.” One last jab. “Hey, little guy. We’ll see you again tomorrow okay?” You smiled down at Henry as he looked up at your with big blue eyes, his hand in his mouth. You kissed his hand and cheek softly. “We’ve got lots of presents for you, Hanky. Aunt Y/N and I went all out for Christmas for you. Can’t wait to see you drool with how excited you are.” Your heart grows at Morgan’s love for Henry, how good he is with him. You can barely contain the smile ripping across your face, the sense of pride you have for your boyfriend, the father of the baby growing within you. “We love you, little man,” Morgan murmurs as he presses a kiss to Henry’s forehead. You hugged the little four month old to you and pressed one last kiss to his temple before handing him back off. “I’m going to go grab your coat.” “Ahh, I can’t wait for you to tell him!” Lucy hugged you to her. “No matter what, Mo is not going to know what to do with himself. Don’t worry too much. You have your gift ready, nothing will go wrong!” “Thank you for everything. I’m glad that when I found out, I had you.” You pressed a kiss to her cheek and hugged her close. “Love you and see you tomorrow.” You tickled Henry one last time before finding Jake and Mo in the kitchen. “Let’s get you all bundled up.” Morgan came around and held your coat open for you and bundled you up with your big blanket scarf. “See you tomorrow, Jakey,” you mumbled, hugging him. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He squeezed you gently and whispered, “you make my best friend so happy. Thank you for that. You’ll be an amazing mom.” You hugged him tighter for a second, whispering your thanks in return. You captured Mo’s hand in yours, tucking the gift box that he handed you under your arm and walking back out to the car in content silence. The drive home was rather quick considering the holidays and the Toronto traffic which you were thankful for. As the minutes passed, you were becoming more and more anxious. “You okay, baby girl?” Mo asked, his focus on the road but his hand around yours, his thumbs running calming circles on the back of your hand. You nod quietly before leaning your head on his arm, wrapping your arms around his. “Little Henry is growing up so fast, huh? Now he’s quickly become the giggliest, little happy cuddle bug in what? Four months time?” Morgan mused. You could see the absolute wonder in his eyes. “I can’t wait until we have our little one on the way.” You almost told him right there in the middle of what little traffic was left leading to your shared townhome but you held back and just replied with a simple nod. “I know it’s been hard, Y/N, but the wait will be so worth it.” Morgan pulled your hand up for another kiss as he pulled up the drive to your home and you smiled up at him. “I can’t wait to have babies with you.” And you left it at that. As Mo took a shower, you couldn’t help but examine your belly in the full length mirror in the corner of your room. You pulled Mo’s oversized shirt up and examined it from this angle and that, catching the faintest outline of a bump already beginning to peek out from between your hips. You beam and run your hands over the little bump, overjoyed at the secret you held. You melted when Mo’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his hands settling on yours, his lips pressing to your neck. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin. You smile into his embrace and just take you in, your hands settled over your growing baby, your skin against his. “I love you, too, Morgan.” And you truly did, for everything he was and everything he made you. A confident woman. A loved girlfriend. A mom. Your heart picked up at just the thought of that. The baby resting, cradled underneath your hands was real and yours, created out of love by you and Morgan. And that was everything. After a few more quiet moments, Morgan pulls you toward the bed and cuddles up to you, his lips resting against the base of your neck. You gather his hands in yours and place it back on your belly, where it felt right, where they felt they fit, where they were always meant to be, cradling your baby in the safety of his grasp. “Morgan... I’m pregnant,” you murmur, unable to hold it in anymore. You feel his lips turn up against the sensitive skin of your neck and the flood of his breath as he spoke the words, “Y/N, you’re pregnant?” The wonder was evident in the three words he spoke, so much emotion conveyed in one question. Unable to speak, you turn in his arms and press your lips to his, communicating through the only means you could manage at the moment. He pulls back and the twinkle in his baby blue eyes are undeniable, even in the darkness of the room. “A baby? Our baby?” He asks again. You nod happily and it’s his turn to kiss you, so passionately and so full of love. “We’re having a baby!” He whispers gently, his eyes full of tears. “I love you so much! Both of you!” His hand goes down to your belly as he stares back at you. “This is the best—you make me the happiest man alive, Y/N... I love you so much.” “A baby!” He practically screams causing you to giggle. “God, only you can find a way to make me fall in love with you more and more every day... This is the best Christmas gift I will ever receive. “This was worth waiting for. You were worth waiting for, little one.” You sniffled and pull him to you, wanting nothing more than his embrace. “Merry Christmas, Morgan.” “Merry Christmas, Y/N.” It had been a long, emotional journey, full of hopelessness and yearning but it turned out that the wait was worth it. The very best gifts were always worth waiting for.

[chwetuan]

All of You - Park Jinyoung x Reader (a, f)

1. Requested: YOU TAKE REQUESTS????? OMG OMG OMG Yes hi I would love to read something with Jinyoung where he's falling for the reader but the reader has low self confidence or body issues and doesn't think they deserve him so he serves her some fluff. Feel free to change it up if you feel necessary I just love me jinyoung fluff in my life (anon)

2. Summary: Everything with Jinyoung seems too good to be true. You can’t see yourself the way he sees you. (1.7k).

3. Warnings: self-image/body issues, insecurity, soft angst, language (possibly).

Jackson’s family owns a cabin on the other side of town. You learn this information sitting on the couch of your boyfriend’s tiny apartment, knees pulled to your chest under the warmth of a fleece blanket.

Jinyoung sits on the floor in front of you, glasses on, highlighter in hand, and notes and textbooks scattered out in front of him. You like him best like this, you think, a white t-shirt, sweatpants and stubble shadowing the contours of his jaw.

You meet Jinyoung at a frat party that neither of you are interested in. It’s your first year of college, and you think this is how it’s supposed to be — boys with bad breath and houses with red cups and cheap alcohol. You think it’s supposed to be fleeting, one-night stands and blackout Saturday nights followed by hungover Sunday and possibly Monday mornings. That it’s all supposed to be the smell of vodka and loud music.

But Jinyoung is different. He’s all soft touches and strong grips, the smell of fresh coffee and detergent, the feeling of tired eyes and slow kisses. He’s beautiful, and you can’t believe you met him at a frat party.

Parts of Jinyoung seem too good to be true, like when he shows up to your apartment with your favorite takeout and when he calls his mother every Sunday morning.

Sometimes, your relationship with Jinyoung seems too good to be true; when he kisses your cheeks and holds you in his arms and whispers how pretty you are.

Sometimes, it all seems too good to be true, and you can’t bring yourself to believe him. Not when the mirror tells you otherwise.

It starts when you notice another stretch mark or two. You blame it on the stress of assignments, papers, and exams. But then, your favorite pair of jeans don’t seem to fit like they used to, or your skin flares up. Or your hair just seems too frizzy, and no matter the number of products you buy and use, it never seems to lay just how you want it.

You don’t feel as pretty as Jinyoung says. Not when your nephew pokes the pudge of your stomach or when your mother comments on how you must be eating healthily.

You don’t feel as pretty as he says, but you’ve never voiced that to him. You feel bad sometimes, when you won’t sit on his lap and when you push his hands from your hips, or when you don’t let him take pictures of you.

You feel bad for coming up with excuses last minute for why you have to cancel dinner reservations or group outings.

But regardless, he keeps talking about the cabin. And you know you can’t fake your way out of this one.

~~~~

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?” Your sister asks, voice shrill will confusion. Your phone is on speaker, rested on your dresser as you stare at your reflection.

“I mean just that,” You huff, turning sideways and tugging at the hem of your skirt.

It’s a Friday night, and the street outside of your apartment is busy with people walking, bustling through bars and restaurants. There are buskers in the street, there always are on Friday nights, and you can hear the strum of guitar strings through your cracked window.

“And this skirt is too short.”

“Forget the skirt. I can’t believe you don’t want to spend a weekend with your perfect boyfriend in his equally attractive friend’s cabin. Are you kidding me?” The shrill in her voice has died down, replaced with disbelief. You cringe inwardly at her sly comment about Jackson.

“It’s just... awkward.” You reply again, “Things are still new with us.”

“Sis, I don’t want to be that person, but it has been 9 months. Do you know what could happen in 9 months?”

She continues when you don’t respond.

“A whole fucking lot, I’ll tell you that. People have babies in 9 months. Aren’t you tired of taking things slow with him? Once again, I don’t want to be that person, but don’t you think it’s time to... you know...”

“Time to what?” You snap, annoyance seeping into your tone as you shuffle through your drawers for a different skirt to wear.

“Let him hit. Before he gets bored. Not that you’re boring, it’s just-“

“Seriously? We are not going to talk about this-“

“Hey, I’m just saying. The guy has never seen you wear anything shorter than knee length, and honestly-“

“I have to go.”

~~~

The drive to Jackson’s cabin is loud, and you and Jinyoung are cramped uncomfortably in the backseat of Jaebeom ’s car.

Mark sits in the front seat, because he’s privileged, while Youngjae and his girlfriend are as equally cramped next to you and Jinyoung. And 6 other suitcases.

“Can you even see out of the rear window?” Wheein asks, clutching onto Youngjae as he adjusts the cap on his head.

JB can’t really hear her over the obnoxious music coming from the radio, and you aren’t paying much attention as Jinyoung lets out an irritated sigh and pulls you into his lap.

You panic.

“What are you doing?” 

~~~

The cabin is gorgeous. It’s surrounded by tall, lush trees, and in front of it is a beautiful dock that tempts you into an emerald lake.

It’s beautiful, but you’re sure the view from your bedroom isn’t doing it any justice. You can hear the laughs of everyone outside, watching them as your swimsuit mocks you from your suitcase.

“Aren’t you gonna come down?”

Jinyoung’s voice suddenly snaps you out of your moping.

“Maybe later, baby.”

“You said that when we first got here,” He starts. You can hear the frown on his lips as you feel his presence behind you. You turn to him, head tilting upwards as your eyes meet.

His lips are turned downwards as he scans your face, palms coming to rest at your waist. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” The smile on your face is hopefully reassuring as you feel your stomach drop. “Don’t worry about me.”

His hands squeeze your waist, and a pang of insecurity hits your chest. “What’s wrong?”

A few moments of silence pass between you, but you know Jinyoung better than to think he’ll drop it this time.

“I want you to have a good time,” He says, voice low as a pout forms on his lips.

“I am-“

“You’ve been cooped up in this room since we got here.”

You feel guilty, watching the way the twinkle in his eyes dwindles looking at you.

“I don’t feel good, that’s all.”

His eyebrows furrow in concern. “Do you need me to get you something? I can take the car there’s a pharmacy up the street, why didn’t you say-“

You take a deep breath, the guilt settling in your stomach beginning to get far too much. It’s months of built up fear, and insecurity, slowly spilling over as you look at the man in front of you. He’s worried, concern clouding his face as he looks at you like you hold the world. It’s too much, to be with someone as kind as him. It’s too much, to feel someone care about you the way he does.

“Not like that, Jinyoung. I don’t feel good about,” Another sigh leaves your lips as you shut your eyes. It’s too much. “Myself.”

“Baby, why?”

You feel like you’ve seen every emotion etch its way into Jinyoung’s face since he’s entered this room — Confusion, concern, and sadness.

“I don’t know Jinyoung, you’re just so good to me, and I treat you like shit all the time. I don’t understand why you’re even with me. Why you even want to be with me. You’re so handsome and smart and everyone looks at you like you’re the closest thing to perfection, because you are. Even the things you don’t like about yourself are so beautiful. Your ears, and nose -- You’re so beautiful, and I’m just... none of that. I am none of that.”

You try to turn away from him, but he doesn’t let you, and suddenly tears are welling in your eyes and your throat feels tight as you try to hold them back.

He says nothing for awhile as you feel his thumbs swipe away at some rebel tears that flow down your cheeks.

“I don’t know why you talk like that,” He starts, sighing and pulling you into him.

“You talk like you’re so terrible. You talk about how other people see the people around you, but you never talk about how people see you. Every little part of you is so damn gorgeous, it makes me nervous sometimes. Your laugh and the way you smile when you think no one is watching you. I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Not because I think the freckle under your eye or the way you wear your hair up is so endearing, but because even when all of this going on inside you, you treat people with such kindness. You’re so beautiful and you can’t even see it.”

It feels like he’s rambling and you can hardly hear him over the sound of your tears, but you know he means it.

“Regardless of how you look on the outside, you are so beautiful, and I love you with so much of me that I don’t even know what to do with myself. I love you so, so much. I never want you to feel like you aren’t enough when you’re with me. You make me better. And I know this is still new, and we’re still young, and we still have so much to figure out. But you’re so beautiful and I have no clue how to express that to you.”

~~~

A few days later, when you’re curled up against Jinyoung’s side in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of socks, you finally feel like enough, not for him, but for yourself. You will always have your flaws, your blemishes, and your imperfections, but at the end of the day, they are what make you who you are. And at the end of the day, Jinyoung is in love with you. All of you.

[igottheissue]

This Time Around 3

A strange woman Bucky is sure he knows but can’t fully recognize, picks him up after the fall of SHIELD. She claims to be friends with Steve and that she is here to help him. He can’t help but keep wondering where he knows her from; it’s definitely not through Steve Rogers. Can she help him be the man he wants to be or will the all too familiar struggles of being a super human overcome him?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X OC Rowan O’Connor Word Count:4,154 Rating: M Masterlist Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Taglist: @xmarveled @spidey-the-killer-queen

Rowan and Bucky had stayed one more night in the cozy Chicago apartment. Not much conversation filled the studio flat. Some awkward mumbles from Bucky asking Rowan how to work the shower was about it.

The next morning, they headed out the back door of the three story building. Bucky had his shoulder length brown hair mostly hidden under a Family Business Brewing Co. baseball cap, with the remainder of it sticking out the back in a small bun. He had shaved his face, giving him more of a five o’clock shadow rather than a bordering-on-homeless look. 

Rowan was dressed in green leggings and a pink tank top; a black oversized beanie covering up her auburn hair. She opted out of hiking boots, unlike Bucky, and sported a pair of comfortable running shoes instead. To any passersby, they looked like a young couple heading out to go camping for the weekend.

Rowan pressed a four digit code into a blue garage door and ushered Bucky inside. She grabbed a set of keys off a hook by the door. Bucky’s eyes scanned the low clearance ceiling, wondering which vehicle Rowan would choose. Bucky raised his eyebrows a bit at the car that Rowan led him to.

“Don’t judge me, I know its cliché. It’s not my normal choice but it’s the only one that has fuel in it right now. We don’t have time to stop for any until we get out of the city. I’m pretty sure by now Nat will have figured out which home I was talking about last night.” Rowan filled the back seat up with the few duffel bags she had carried downstairs, along with some empty ones. 

She had planned to find a clothing store on the outskirts of the city for Bucky. The raglan shirt and jeans she had given him were a bit too small. Luckily the boots were on the perfect side of snug for him.

Bucky wasn’t sure how, the information must have been hidden in a part of his mind from working for HYDRA, but he recognized the car. A blue Camaro. An older style with some rust. Had he driven one while on a mission?

“Where’d you get this?” His eyes wandered over the black leather interior as Rowan fished a cell phone out of a purple duffle bag and crushed it in her palm before letting the pieces fall to the ground.

“Souvenir from a mission.” Nothing more was said as Rowan and Bucky fastened their seatbelts and pulled out of the garage. Bucky stayed silent as Rowan shifted gears and slowly pulled out of the garage into the bumbling suburb streets. By the sun, he figured they were heading west.

-TTA-

“Got her.” Steve’s head snapped up, blue eyes following Natasha’s voice over to a group of large screens decorating the south wall of the room. They currently showed different angles of a back alleys and brick buildings. The location at the bottom right of the screen read “BUCKTOWN”. 

A small neighborhood hugging the Kennedy Expressway in Chicago. Steve’s eyes roamed the different camera angles when finally, they landed on two figures walking casually to a garage down a narrow alleyway off of West Webster Avenue.

To anyone else, the couple appeared casually dressed, like they were running errands or going on a trip somewhere, if the duffel bags were any indication. The woman was tall, nearly six foot it looked like, even in running shoes. She had a black, oversized beanie covering her hair. 

The man was over six foot, wearing a baseball hat with brown hair sticking out the back. His stride was large and his stature was rigid. His head never moved much, but to trained eyes, one could tell he was skillfully scanning the area.

“Are you sure Nat? I’m not going to be running around on a wild goose chase every time we see a couple and the guy has long brown hair. The man bun thing is in now you know. We can’t even see their faces right now. And that woman’s hair could be any color. Hell we can’t even see it under the beanie she has on.” Nat blew a warm breathe of air out her nose in slight annoyance, or maybe it was scolding, Steve couldn’t really tell most of the time, but he knew an explanation of why she was right was on its way.

“When Rowan was in the Sector she was on a mission to eradicate a biochemical warfare research facility in Chechnya. The building exploded and her right leg was crushed at the knee. They almost had to replace it with an enhanced prosthetic. 

“It healed most of the way. If you know what to look for you can see that her right leg from the knee down swings out just a few degrees wider than her left leg as she puts her foot down, almost like she’s bow-legged.” Natasha rewound the footage of the couple walking from a brick apartment building to a garage a few meters down the gravel alley. Steve looked closely this time. His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing in frustration.

“She lied. God dammit why did she lie to us Natasha?”

“Language Capsicle. Princess Leia probably has a reason to keep your BFF to herself.” Tony strolled in casually, bag of blueberries in his hand. He popped one in and looked at a smaller computer screen sitting on the desk nearest to him. It had a small blinking red light on it, text zipping quickly across the screen.

“You know she hates when you call her that. And Tony is right Steve, like I told you earlier, there’s probably a legitimate reason for her not coming in with him.”

“No reason is good enough for him not to come back! Don’t you get that? He’s been gone for years and he needs someone he knows and trusts! I can help him through this; I know I can. I owe him that much.”

“You sure about that Cap? Because it seems like you wanting to find him has more to do with your inner demons than you think. You don’t owe him anything; what happened to him wasn’t your fault. He’s a soldier, he knew the risks when he signed up. ”

“He didn’t sign-“

“Not the point I’m trying to make here Steve.” Tony closed his eyes for a long moment before putting the blueberries on the computer desk and walking up to stand next to Steve and Natasha. His posture was no longer casual, but a bit pinched at the shoulders.

“After Afghanistan, hell even after New York, I had a lot of problems. You guys know how hard it was for me to be around everyone. Sometimes it takes being around a stranger, someone who’s been through what you have but doesn’t really know too much about you personally to really be able to get to the bottom of the issue and work it out. I know that’s what helped me, going to the Vet meetings at the church.” And talking with Rowan till all hours of the night at the top of Stark Tower. Though Tony left that part out. Rowan was adamant she “wanted to keep her badass black soul reputation fresh.”

Natasha kept reading the computer screens, typing fervently trying to get a better angle on the suspected Bucky and Rowan. She understood where Tony was coming from, and figured he might be able to get it through the super soldiers thick head about why Bucky might not come running home.  Steve looked down at his boots guiltily. Tony grabbed his blueberries and started for the door.

“And you both know how much I hate going to church. Oh and better get a glimpse of them while you can. JARVIS shows that the scrambler Rowan has on her car is about to finish calibrating.” Tony turned, posture casual once again, and walked out the metal framed door. Natasha slammed her fist on the desk as all the camera angles turned to black screens. Steve fell into a chair and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars.

-TTA-

“How do you know we’re out of sight? We’re still pretty close to the city. There’s camera’s everywhere.” Bucky tried to remain casual in the passenger seat as Rowan struggled to find a parking spot outside of a Kohl’s on the southwest side of Chicago. It was busy for a Monday morning but Bucky needed new clothes and she’d rather get everything before they start their road trip than have to stop halfway through.

“All of my vehicles are equipped with Stark scrambling technology. Tony is aware but he won’t let Nat and Steve know about it. We had a little chat last night.” Bucky pursed his lips and gave a short nod as Rowan parked and turned off the car.

As they walked into Kohl’s, Rowan clicked a button on her key fob to lock the Camaro. As Bucky heard the car beep to signal its lock, all the store lights went out for a few seconds before turning back on. Bucky looked around cautiously as the employees mumbled about the systems rebooting.

“There’s a scrambler in my key fob too. Stark really likes me.” Rowan had a cheeky grin on her face as she grabbed a cart and strolled to the men’s section, grabbing Bucky’s arm along the way.

About an hour later they had checked out and were on I-80 heading west. Old school rock drifted quietly out of the speakers. It wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but Bucky hated it. He found himself wanting to speak. About something, anything. He didn’t really care.

“So, uh Rowan, where exactly are we headed?” He kept his gaze shifted out the window, watching the gargantuan white windmills as their propellers gently lulled through the air, creating energy for who knows how many homes out here.

“Faith, South Dakota. After we load up on supplies we’ll head out to the Cheyenne River Reservation. I figure we camp out there for a couple weeks then head up to Vancouver. I’ve got a safe house up there no one knows about. We can grab my other passports and have some made for you. Then Juneau to a charter plane that will take us to St. Lawrence Island and last but not least I’ve got a friend who owes me a favor. He said he can get us as far west as Japan. 

“We’ll have to figure out the rest of the plan from there. It’s the third of April. I figure by the end of this month we should be touching down in Japan. That should be enough time for them to already do a big sweep overseas.” Bucky was impressed by how in depth Rowan had already planned their travel. He still had a few concerns though.

“Won’t they be searching everywhere until they find us? If Steve is still the same as I remember, he won’t stop.”

“You’re right Mr. Barnes, Steve isn’t gonna stop, and as much as Nat loves me I doubt she’ll actively try to stop him from finding us. Tony is pretty complacent for me to work with so if I need him to throw them off our trail I’ll call him. But it’ll be fun to see how long that’ll take.”

“Why are we camping out in South Dakota for half the month? Why don’t we just get out now while we have them scrambled?” Bucky figured she was going to answer the same way his own thought process was heading, but he just wanted to see how aligned their thinking was. 

His brain was still itching every time he tried to think too hard about how familiar Rowan was. He was getting better at ignoring the alarm going off in his head when he saw her face, though he still wasn’t confident that was the best thing to do.

“Barnes, seriously? I know you know why I’m doing this. Is this some sort of trust test? Wouldn’t it be more entertaining to do some trust fall exercises instead? I promise I won’t drop you.” The teasing in her voice deepened her accent. 

It was a pleasant sound Bucky decided; not like some of the other women’s voices he recalled from his time in HYDRA. The thicker accent and her playful banter lightened his mood. Rowan eyed him. From this view she could see the edges of his eyes crinkling up ever so slightly; a tell-tale sign that he was about to let out a smile.

“Letting you drive is enough trust testing I can handle for any twenty four hour period.” Bucky rubbed his chin with his flesh hand. The crinkles moved from his eyes to his forehead.

“Hey! I’m an excellent driver.” Rowan took her eyes completely off the road when Bucky didn’t have a response. She had been trying to come off as less edgy than she was accused of being in the past. Sometimes she got too into the mission on hand. 

She kept reminding herself this wasn’t technically a mission or a job. She was helping someone. When her emerald eyes met the downcast face of Bucky she turned off the radio. He was glaring at his left hand, rubbing his fingers from his right hand over the silver palm.

“I can’t tell if I can really feel anything with it, or if it’s just my brain playing tricks on me since I know what my other hand is doing.” Rowan could hear the disparity in the man’s voice. She hopped over a couple lanes to catch the visitor’s stop just in time, narrowly missing getting clipped by a semi. Bucky sat rigid in his seat.

“Come on, out we go.” The tall woman held Bucky’s door open expectantly waiting for him to emerge. She grabbed his flesh hand and led him down the dirt path into a small cluster of trees, hitting her key fob as they went. She slowed as they passed the cluster of young birch trees and turned, grabbing Bucky’s left hand.

“Close your eyes. Go on, we haven’t got all day you spoon.” Bucky raised a thick eyebrow at the odd insult before closing his eyes slowly.

“Take a deep breath. There you go. Just relax.” She released his right hand from hers and it dropped softly to his side. She only held his left hand. It was a weird sensation. He could feel her hand, the warmth. 

It was a little sticky with sweat. He grasped it and ran his thumb over her palm; softly at first, then a bit harder. He could almost feel the creases in her hands. He felt where the ridges from the plates caught on Rowan’s callouses running along her palm and fingers, hard from years of action, like his remaining flesh hand.

She took his arm and led him to a patch of day lilies. He outstretched his hand carefully. He could feel how delicate they were. He lightly brushed his hand through the patch of flowers and the edges of his eyes creased in an almost smile at the feather light sensation. They were cool to the touch. He was sure he could tell they were supposed to be velvety smooth. But again, he just wasn’t quite convinced.

“See, you can feel. It’s not your mind playing tricks on you. I reviewed all your files. They connected your nerves to different parts of the arm. It’s pretty much your own, just a different color... And material I suppose, but that’s all semantics. Personally I think you pull off silver over gold any day.” Bucky looked up at Rowan’s teasing voice. 

Her eyes were bright in the mid-morning sun. Her auburn hair fell over the right side of her face, she brushed it back and outstretched her hand to Bucky’s own. He took it with his left, the urge to try to feel everything with it stronger now. Rowan pulled Bucky up swiftly from his kneeling position and let go as he brushed dirt off his knees.

They walked silently back through the small wooded patch in a content silence. Rowan was staring ahead, in deep thought it seemed. Bucky wondered what she could be thinking about. Did she still not know if going all over the world with him until he regained his memories was the best idea? If she didn’t, he couldn’t argue with her. He didn’t even think it was a good idea. He was still on the fence about it himself. 

She seemed like she had good intentions, and she claimed to be a friend of Steve’s. Something he wasn’t entirely sure of, Steve and Rowan didn’t seem compatible. Steve was a straight-laced guy. Rowan seemed a little… off the deep end on some matters. But people changed. Last time he remembers interacting with Steve he was a bit edgier.

Bucky shook his head. He was starting to get a headache from all this thinking. He closed his eyes briefly as he walked, the warmth radiating off Rowan half guiding him through the small trees. He heard birds chirping, Rowan’s leggings making a soft swooshing sound as her thighs brushed against each other as she took otherwise silent steps next to him; a little further off he could hear the droning of the cars and trucks zooming down the interstate. 

How simple their lives must be compared to his. He wondered how that would feel; worrying about mundane things like how much it would be to fix the car, what to make for supper, how much the next doctor’s office trip would run him. He also heard a low male voice coming from their twelve o’clock. It seemed Rowan caught it a few moments after him.

Rowan looked towards Bucky, semi-alarm running along her features. There was no way any cameras pinged their location. No way would she or Bucky not have noticed someone following them. 

And while she was sure every agent of SHIELD, HYDRA, FBI, CIA, or any other flavor of government agency had been alerted to Bucky’s status, she doubted they’d have people actively driving cross country looking for them. The only person besides herself and Bucky who knew about the Camaro was Tony Stark. He’d helped her rebuild the engine a few years ago on a slow weekend.

Bucky rounded the corner first, putting himself in front of Rowan. Instinct he supposed, though he didn’t think it was from his Winter Soldier days. Rowan poked her head around Bucky’s shoulder, not having to reach much at all, already being almost his height already. They saw two men walking around the Camaro, trying to nonchalantly peek inside. 

Bucky assumed the black Jeep Cherokee idling in park next to the Camaro was what they pulled in on. The two men, who looked to be in their late twenties, wore dark hoodies, with beanies pulled tight over their heads. One had a handgun tucked into the back waistband on his jeans and the other had one on the side of his right hip, tucked into a holster, hoodie doing a poor job of concealing it.

Bucky rolled his shoulders and grabbed for the glock he had secured under the waistband of his pants. Gripping the gun with his right hand, the gears of his left arm whirred lowly as it calibrated, something he figured happened when he told his arm to flex when he was preparing for a fight. 

Rowan laid a firm hand on his forearm, effectively stopping him from charging the two men. She put a slender finger to her lips before she motioned for them to keep listening and watch them. Bucky took a deep breath and let it out quietly through his lips. He tried to stop the shaking throughout his hands.

“You sure it’s just been sitting here? No one has been here?”

“No dude, this chick and her boyfriend headed out to the woods like twenty minutes ago. Probably just fuckin’ around. Let’s get it and go before they come back.” The guy turned towards the woods, keeping an eye out for anyone walking back. Rowan and Bucky ducked behind the thick brush by the opening of the trail.

“Shit, okay let’s hurry then.” Rowan and Bucky exchanged a relieved look. Weight seemed to be lifted from both their shoulders as they realized the two men were merely low life car-jackers. No special agents from either side of the law coming to get them, yet at least. 

The day was young. Rowan pulled her fob out of the small pocket from the inside waistband of her leggings and hit a button. A loud, shrill alarm went off. Both men threw their hands over their ears and turned around quickly. Rowan stopped Bucky from coming out of the woods.

“Your face is all over social media and the news. I can handle these guys. I won’t even need your gun.” She winked his way then stepped out, conveying the posture of a scared woman. The men grabbed their guns when they noticed Rowan all alone. She didn’t even give them a chance to put their fingers on the trigger before she pressed the fourth button on the key fob. 

One Bucky hadn’t seen her press yet. A light blue surge of energy exploded from the undercarriage of the Camaro, knocking both men to their feet. Rowan turned slightly and motioned for Bucky to come forward. As he drew nearer he made the assumption that both men were unconscious.

Producing two sets of handcuffs from a hidden compartment in the truck, Rowan tossed a set to Bucky. He followed Rowan’s actions and pulled the man into the back seat of the Jeep. He cuffed one arm before looping the short metal chain through the ‘oh shit’ handle and securing the man’s other arm. Rowan produced a cell phone from somewhere Bucky didn’t want to focus too hard on and dialed a number she knew by heart.

“Hey Tobey. Yeah I got a couple of guys out your way who were trying to car jack me. No not the Impala. It’s still safely tucked away in New York. My Camaro. Yeah that one. No I’m not getting his autograph for you. I just need to make sure the cops get them but I don’t have time to wipe my prints and such. I’ll take care of everything else for you. Great! Thanks Tobes. Yeah I’ll get with you soon. Bye.” Rowan hung up and tucked the phone away. 

Bucky stood with his back to the Jeep, facing the woods. He was still trying to subdue the shaking in his hands. He almost jumped when Rowan sidled up beside him. She kept her gaze forward.

“Ya know if I didn’t know any better I’d say we need to get your blood sugar up some. My hands get shaky when I don’t eat often enough. There’s a McDonald’s at the next exit. Sound good?” Bucky knew his blood pressure wasn’t low, and he knew Rowan knew that too. But he still appreciated the gesture.

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” Truth was, he was itching for a fight. His body was shaking slightly, his head on fire. It was almost as if he could physically feel the painful urge to end those men’s lives. 

He was ashamed of himself. He wasn’t on the battle field, this wasn’t a professionally trained operative coming to kill him. This was an every-day petty crime event. Childs play compared to some of the things he was used to being around.

He took a small step towards the Camaro before he staggered a bit, a dull throb encasing his head. A dim memory made its way to the forefront of his brain. A little brown-haired boy, with a smaller brown-haired girl next to him, sat in a well-lit living room. Bucky felt himself stretch and pop his neck as he kept his eyes on the children. They were playing checkers.

“Haide, soldat, nu avem toata noaptea. Acesta este jocul copiilor. Finalizati-le.” The harsh Romanian voice cut through the earpiece, like gravel sliding across glass it ended the silence that had been surrounding him. He lifted his sniper rifle, eye piece easing into place a few inches away from his alert blue eyes.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of that memory, and moved to open the car door as a white hot pain travelled from behind his eyes down his spine. Lighting up every nerve ending as if they were being electrocuted individually. He opened his eyes wide and frantically searched for Rowan over the top of the blue car.

“Rowan, I… something’s wr-“ He tried to finish his sentence but everything went black.

[dashielldeveron]

A Prologue in Venom

Part One of the Viper AU: a Mob!Tom Holland AU in which you are a political author, Tom’s personal lawyer, and eventually his consigliere. 

Warnings: violence, swears, the law.

Summary: an introduction to the ongoing AU of you working for the mob tirelessly out of your innate sense of justice and thirst for the mob boss. You have an incredible mentor who is pushing you down a path of crime in order to do the right thing. Your mentor forgot 1) to mention that your new employer is so fucking charismatic and 2) that you’re a dramatic little bitch.

From: Tracey Prine To: epiales@epiales.com Subject: article attached

Thought you might want to see this. You’ve made the papers for your real job for once, although your name still isn’t mentioned—but I expect you enjoy that. It’s all over the news stations, and NPR is currently airing the story. Congratulations. There’s a nice quotation from Polson near the bottom that you’ll get a kick out of.

Additionally, I’m going to need your piece on the refugee crisis within twelve hours if it’s going to be published this week.

Thanks, t.

[attachment]

FALSELY ACCUSED, JULIA LAURENS ACQUITTED

In the late afternoon of October 17, the protracted trial of Julia Laurens came to a sudden end in light of new evidence. Laurens, on trial for the murder of Moira Herrington, daughter of celebrated actors Jay and Melissa Herrington, walks as an innocent woman this morning.

As Moira’s violin teacher, Laurens would have had access to the Herrington residence during lessons on Mondays, but, it turns out, she was not the only one. It seemed like an open-and-shut case when Moira’s body, dismembered, was found in various black bags in Laurens’s garbage bins, along with the ice pick used to gouge out Moira’s eyes under the seat in Laurens’s vehicle on the day Laurens was stopped on the route from the Herrington residence. Laurens had said that she had driven to the lesson without being able to find Moira and was returning home, but the body had already been discovered.

However, as the defence exposed, all supposed evidence was a plant by perpetrator Johnson Mays, a colleague of Laurens who had a secret, unhealthy obsession with the underage Moira. Mays, a mechanic, had attended the weekly game night at Laurens’s apartment on Sunday and had sabotaged Laurens’s car and planted an ice pick similar to the one used. With this setup, Mays would have time to commit the murder during the scheduled violin lesson, while Laurens would have to attend to her car.

You kicked your feet up on the coffee table and flicked through the article. Fucking yes. You’d made national news for being a lawyer, for once. You were the one who’d done the intricate research to discover Mays’s connections, and when Dr. Prine gave you leave, you had driven upstate to investigate Mays’s house under warrant, posing as a general lackey. You had felt the need to see his place with your own eyes, and you had struck gold: not only had you found the real ice pick in his wood pile, but you had found one of Moira’s contacts stuck to the back of his freezer. Her fucking contact. When the lab reports came back, complete with the drop of blood on the ice pick matching Moira’s, you forwarded everything to Dr. Prine, and she sent it to her attorney acting defence in the trial. Mays wasn’t even a player in the game before you, and now the rightful murderer was going to jail. An innocent woman walks free because of you.

Justice felt fantastic. Your work being in the national headlines felt a little better.

You scanned the rest of the article until you reached the quotation Dr. Prine had told you about.

…Out of the clamouring press following the trial, only this was squeezed from a fuming Prosecutor James Polson: “I [redacted] had them. Whoever dug up the dirt on Mays, they’re a [redacted] viper, sinking their fangs into the status quo and letting their venom spread.”

Grinning, you took another bite of Ben and Jerry’s, straight out of the carton. Dr. Prine was right. You were going to have to find a hard copy of the Times so that you could post this on your bedroom wall. You had to bite your lip you were smiling so hard.

You set your ice cream on the coffee table and lay back on the couch to compose a response to Dr. Prine, but you called her instead. As your phone rang, you kicked back and stared at the ceiling fan, its pull making small circles as the blades spun.

“Dr. Prine,” you said when she picked up, “Holy fuck! Holy fuck!”

“Congratulations,” she said, her smile coming through over the phone, “I’m proud of you. You did some really solid work.”

“I didn’t think this would happen! I saved someone’s life! Julia Laurens can go to fucking Hobby Lobby, and no one will accost her. It’s my fault, and she doesn’t even know me,” you said, sitting up to grab your ice cream again.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Well, yeah,” you said thickly through a chunk of frozen brownie, “It is. I wish I could tell my mother, though, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Is she still doing all right?”

You swallowed, choking a bit to get it down. “Yeah. How’s work for you?”

“The freshman students write the worst papers I’ve ever seen,” said Dr. Prine with a clattering in the background, “Damn, I just—hold on. Dropped the binders.” A door creaked shut on her end, and Dr. Prine spoke more loudly after. “I miss your work. It was nice grading it, since I didn’t have to mark it up much. These kids can’t even handle a mock trial yet. I worry for your generation.”

“Don’t worry. We’re all just tired,” you said, “Speaking of my work, I’ve almost finished the refugee piece. Once I get a solid closing statement, I’ll send it your way.”

“Well, don’t procrastinate. Your deadline’s soon. You got anything lined up this evening?”

Scrunching your eyes shut, you winced. “Don’t remind me. Polson’s got me doing menial work again. Something totally useless with spreadsheets and the expenses of the fucking break room and secretarial offices. If he knew what I was capable of—”

“If he knew you worked against him in the Laurens trial? I know,” said Dr. Prine, her voice softening, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. It’s your ticket out of Polson’s firm. I’ve found a place where your talents would be…much more appreciated. You could start within the week.”

“Say more right now.”

***

2,132.

2,132 rejections via mass email, starting in your second year of law school. All from different firms that didn’t want you. Rounds upon rounds of interviews, competing with your friends and total strangers who held themselves like they were Croesus, reaching the final interview, only to get rejection emails three days later from firms you would have quite literally killed people to work for. Years of working for and studying under Dr. Prine, editing her national law journal, diligently dotting the is of her excruciating cases late into the night. Getting a taste of the allure of wealth and entrenched power, and never having it want you outside of the knowledge that you were her student. All of it—from the cases you and she never could crack and stood outside in the rain pulling your hair out over, to the parts of your life you missed out on, like your best friend’s wedding and your mother’s last birthday before you started growing apart—leading up to this: walking into a high-rise building with mirror-like windows in the middle of Manhattan and staring up at an embossed, brass nameplate on a door that read Harrison Osterfield.

The next chapter in your life, and it sank like a stone in your stomach. You raised your fist to knock, but before you could, someone snatched it away.

“Ripley,” said the bony man maybe a decade older than you, pulling on his collar and dropping your hand, “and you’re not getting my first name. We’ve got to get upstairs before they see you. No time to lose. I’m the lawyer you’re replacing.”

Glancing back at Osterfield’s door, you followed behind Ripley up a few floors (the elevator was too risky, he told you.) and into a crusty, windowless office with water damage dripping in a back corner. After closing the door, he sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk (one leg was propped up by a book) and gestured for you to do the same.

“You’re Dr. Prine’s student, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you said, sinking into the leather, “She also told me that you’d be waiting for me, but considering this business belongs to a Mr. Thomas Holland, one would think I’d be meeting him on my first day.”

Ripley pulled a leg into his lap, resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “With any luck, you won’t have any direct interactions with him. Nasty man in a nasty business.”

“Being in an IT consulting company can’t be that bad,” you said, head snapping towards a bucket against the wall once water dripped into it from the ceiling. “What’s with the, uh…?” You nodded your head towards the leak.

“They shoved me down here while the real office is getting renovated, or so they say. Doesn’t matter,” said Ripley, “You and I have a lot of work to do. You’re one of Dr. Prine’s. So am I. They’re working me to death here, and apparently you’re a masochistic workaholic. I need to get out, and this is—well, what we’re about to do is going to be easiest for everyone in this room.”

You tapped your fingers against the split leather, each landing with a dull thum. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be needlessly complicated?”

“Please, trust me, or at least trust Dr. Prine,” he said, untwisting the cap of a nalgene from his desk, “It was her idea. I can call her up, if you want.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Shaking your head, you said, “I’ve already seen your credentials. Dr. Prine gave me more information on you than I need to know, Jerome Ripley. I know you’re trustworthy. What’s the plan?”

“I hear you’re into anonymity.”

You always were a dramatic little bitch, so you agreed to the plan: you and Ripley would collaborate on the job until you knew much more of the rope of Osseous Enterprises, and Ripley would fade out as you took on the job by yourself. The plan was sketchy, and everything reeked of ulterior motives. You found yourself addressing stranger and stranger things sent to you in the emails (a lousy lawyer@osseous, how lame) right up until you opened an email from Holland before Ripley could get to it.

Inside were photographs of a human skeleton with the flesh freshly ripped off of it, and that lay to the side of the bones. Boss shot him through the neck, it was labelled, Had me skin it. Wants you to send it along to H. Jones in Queens and cover the death. Victim lived in… And then addresses, social security, et al.

You were supposed to cover up a murder. A murder committed by—oh, um. Hm. You didn’t sign up for this.

Ripley walked into the office right as Dr. Prine picked up on your phone call, and he slapped the phone out of your hands.

Both of them talked you through. The mafia. You were working for the mafia. Not the whole thing, obviously, but you were working for the most prestigious mob family in—fuck, they covered multiple countries, but their base was right here in New York, in the very fucking building you’d been working in for a month—oh, fuck. Were you in the mob? No, you had to be inducted, and to be inducted, you had to be trusted, or at least, even fucking noticed. Osseous Enterprises was a front corporation for Holland’s dealings in the mob, even though it made a lot of money—but significantly less than what was officially recorded. No wonder Ripley was taking certain tasks. He was easing you into it, letting you deal with the surface level shit before you really knew what you were getting into (an aside: this explained why Dr. Prine seemingly sent you to work in business when you specialised in criminal law).

It took hours and hours of skype calls with Dr. Prine and talking with Ripley outside of work to convince you to stay. Dr. Prine appealed to your better nature, damn it, and talked about how even though Holland worked selfishly, he confronted people and solved problems the government was too scared to commit to. All she had to do was talk up your innate sense of justice, and you started changing your mind, albeit with extreme reluctance, especially with the threat of returning to Polson’s firm. Not to mention your first paycheque had your head spinning, and that didn’t hurt your cause.

So, you worked for the mob, and no one knew you did, not even the mob. If Holland knew Ripley were leaving, Ripley would have a knife in his back within the next minute. It was safer for Ripley to phase out, with you proving your worth secretly, until you deemed it time to reveal yourself, after Ripley left.

“It’d be odd if all areas of your life were perfect in tandem,” Dr. Prine would remind you, and you’d affectionately flip her off and get back to writing your next Epiales piece. Deadlines were always too soon.

***

The Epiales project was the only thing going for you right now, aside from the sudden income from Holland. It began your final semester of law school, when you shouldn’t have been taking on anything new at all. You had written, quite frankly, a fucking astonishing article on modern feminism as it functions in the government and in law, and Dr. Prine had featured it in her law journal. You hadn’t wanted recognition, because your views differed drastically from your family’s, and you didn’t want your peers making fun of you, either. You’d decided on Epiales as your penname, because, even though you wanted to follow in the footsteps of political authors throughout history, you couldn’t find a Greek philosopher whose views you agreed with. So, you went with the personification of nightmares, just because it’d be your family’s worst nightmare if they knew you were this politically different from them.

Just as a joke.

But then, the New York Times had bought your article from Dr. Prine and published it on the front page. Eventually, through repetitions of this and an endless string of emails, you had a monthly feature in the fucking New York Times, so long as the article was original to their newspaper and not a republished one from the law journal. They conceded to your continued posting to the Epiales website on the basis that you posted online after they began selling that day’s edition. You didn’t care. You were in the New York Times, for Christ’s sake.

And no one knew it was you. You were completely safe, from hecklers, from your family, from disgusting men threatening to ruin your life and/or end it. You had taken too many precautions. Hell, if someone tried to trace your IP address, it’d relocate to the middle of a sulphur pit in Yellowstone.

Through a series of accidents, you garnered respect.

***

The day you should have been waiting for comments to roll in for your latest instalment on the refugee crisis, Tom Holland needed his lawyer present at a tennis match in the Hamptons. Holland intended to ensure political ties with Senator Hernandez, whose daughter was playing in the tennis tournament. A sizable crowd at a public outing, all distracted and getting steadily drunk? Holland could make his move easily.

Thus there you stood under the scant shade of a pine tree in the ninety-seven-degree heat, sweating through your jet-black blazer, sucking on a piece of ice, and damning Tom Holland to his grave. You glared daggers into the back of his pretty head as he leant against the railing of the pavilion, laughing with the crowd and swirling an old fashioned in his palm against the muted sounds of rackets hitting the ball in the background. When Harrison bent in to whisper to Holland, Tom took off his amber-tinted sunglasses and cleaned them on the inside of his suit jacket, and once finished, he nodded and started weaving his way through the spectators.

Holland wanted his lawyer here yet wasn’t doing anything worthwhile, you thought bitterly. You were too good for him, really, because you’d planted yourself near Senator Hernandez’s bench as he watched his daughter. While Holland flirted, you were eavesdropping and sweating your fucking skin off.

Near the end of the second set, you caved and shrugged off your blazer when you caught the latter half of something Hernandez was saying: “—read it? It’s brilliant. Next time Congress is in session, I’m bringing in that Epiales article.”

Your jaw dropped, and so did the ice from your mouth. Your blazer hung limp from one hand, and you steadied yourself against the tree, your high heels sinking into the earth. Fumbling around for your phone, you barely had time to get to Dr. Prine’s contact entry before someone gently nudged your arm from behind with a glass tumbler, condensation sticking to your skin.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else but here,” said Tom Holland, his voice hot in your ear, while he’s standing a little too close for comfort and holding out an old fashioned identical to his, “I can offer a distraction, at the least.”

You don’t drink, but you took what was offered. “Am I that transparent?”

“Like glass, sweetheart. What’s bothering you?” He leant against the tree trunk, slumping a little, and tapped his index finger against his tumbler.

“Afraid I’ve been dragged here for work.”

“On a Saturday?”

You met his gaze, completely fixated on you through the amber sunglasses. “My boss is a bit of an ass.”

“Sounds like it,” Tom said, cracking a grin, “Forcing you to come to some silly tennis match on the hottest day of the month and flat-out ignoring you.”

“It’s better than putting me in a sundress and having me on his arm.” Like Polson did once that summer. You had kicked his ass, verbally, about it, but since he threatened to smear your name through the mud for the rest of your life, which he was capable of doing, it had to be done. “At least I’m here for a reason, supposedly.”

“Who treats his employees like that? Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tom brought his glass to his mouth as his eyes flicked up and down your body, taking his time about it. “Though I’d put you in a green sundress. Something that shows off your shoulders.”

“And I’d put you in navy, in something with a high neckline. Anything to accentuate those pretty-boy cheekbones you’ve got,” you said.

At this, he ran his tongue over his lower lip, pushed off the tree, and took a step closer to you. He may be enjoying it now, but this motherfucker would regret this conversation in about five minutes. To be honest, you were enjoying it a little too much. To have someone as powerful, confident, and attractive (the grey tweed suit buttoned over a tight, white button-down was doing things to you) as Tom was having his complete, unadulterated attention on you? It was a taste of something you denied yourself. But no matter how fast his charisma held you, it was time to wrap it up. You planned to work for this man a long time.

“Listen,” said Tom, “Why don’t I give you a tour of the country club?” He trailed two fingers from your wrist over the back of your hand to take your drink. “It’s not much, but we’ll get you into some air conditioning. We could find a place to talk without anyone overhearing, if you like.”

You rolled your shoulders back, and for the first time, you began to smile. “Hardly professional, Holland. To think I expected better of you.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Shouldn’t you be giving this attention to Senator Hernandez’s daughter? It’ll be easier to get to him through her.”

And there it was: his face hardened, his eyebrows furrowing and lips puckering very slightly, the brief clenching of his jaw and the flush around the tops of his ears—the face your opponents got in court when your research that would pack the case into a tight box was brought to the stand. “Who are you?” Tom asked flatly.

“You’re going to have to work for that information, Holland,” you said, “Be careful about how you respond. As much as you should like to, you can’t make a scene with so many witnesses.”

“I own all of these people,” he said through his teeth.

“Go ahead, then,” you said, and you clasped your hand behind your back, waiting.

After a beat, Tom sighed exasperatedly and grabbed you by the wrist to pull you somewhere, but before he could take two steps, you yanked yourself out of his grasp. He didn’t even bother looking over his shoulder. “Are you going to follow me?”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

He turned his head enough to look you in the eye. “You’re going to talk.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You appear to know who I am. Use your imagination.” He jerked his head towards the country club’s restaurant, not far from the tennis courts. “C’mon.”

Death sounded good at all occasions for you, but since someone needed to feed your cat this evening, now wouldn’t be the best time to die. Not to mention you still had half a croissant left over from that morning, and you couldn’t let that go to waste. You followed behind Tom at a couple of paces, checking to ensure no one was watching you leave, because it sure looked like you were sneaking off to give him a blowjob behind the ice machine.

He made you go first once you reached the stairs to the upper storey restaurant, and he cornered you at the far end of the balcony, trapping you against the iron railing with the metal pressing into your back and his hands planted on either side of you. Tom stood close enough that you had to lean backwards a little over the railing, and you had to grip the railing just inside of his hands to stay upright.

His mouth twitched. “Why are you here?”

Your gaze flashed from his lips to his eyes. “I’m here to supervise the contract you’re making with Senator Hernandez, and I’m ensuring that he does sign it.”

“And why’s that?” When he jerked forward in an attempt to make you lose your balance, you stifled a cough at the wave of the oversaturated cologne that hit you.

“Like I said, my boss is a bit of an ass.”

“Damn it,” Tom said, breaking eye contact for the first time. Freshly determined, he moved closer, his hipbones poking into you with one hand gripping your waist. “Who’d be stupid enough to provoke me? Who do you work for? Fletcher? The Fratellis?”

“You,” you said, and you left your lips pursed as he flinched away from you and bent over the back of a wrought-iron chair, pressing his fist to his mouth.

“I’m your lawyer,” you said, stifling a smile, “I wrote the Hernandez contract. I’ve also been managing your affairs for some time now, specifically covering your tracks for fucking murder—”

“What’d you do to Ripley?” Tom straightened up and removed his sunglasses. He tucked them over his collar.

“Ripley’s gone,” you said, “of his own free will. Or of his will, at least, since he wasn’t free to leave under your—”

“Where is he now?”

“Sorry. Privileged information. What matters is that Ripley’s gone completely off-grid so that you can’t find him. Even I’m not able to reach him.” You tentatively slid from your corner along the railing nearer to the chair he had propped a foot on. “I’ve been working for you for over a month now. You really should keep better tabs on your employees—though, I suspect, that’ll be part of my job soon.”

Tom snapped his fingers twice. “Name.”

“Paul McCartney.”

He narrowed his eyes, his nose wrinkling in the process, and said, “Your name.”

You didn’t hesitate in saying it, a first for you, and as he mouthed the syllables slowly, you said, “And don’t bother looking me up. I don’t have any social media, nor do I have an online presence at all.” Under your real name, that is. “You can find me in a list of interns for a certain renown professor, but I’m about to give you that information, anyway.”

Tom stared up at you, a curl dangling in front of his eyes. “A freely given piece of personal information?” His fingertips pressed above his left lapel. “I’m touched,” he said, his voice dark.

“My mentor for the better part of my life now,” you said, stepping closer to drag the back of your hand over the iron pattern in Tom’s chair (he jolted backwards, just barely, but you caught it), “has been Tracey Prine.”

He tilted his head, and his jaw hung open slightly, his tongue lingering on the edge of his top incisors before clicking it against the roof of his mouth. “No, she hasn’t.”

“Want me to call her?” You dug your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it to her contact entry, just where it had been before Tom started talking to you. Your thumb waited above the call button for his decision, but whatever. Fuck with him. You pressed it anyway and put it on speaker.

It rang twice before she picked up, and at the sound of her voice stating your name and telling you she’s got a class in two minutes and to check on the Times (you didn’t react to that part), Tom inhaled sharply and straightened his shoulders.

“Not much, Dr. Prine, but I’m here with my employer,” you say, the phone lying flat in your palm between you and Tom, whose gaze flickered from it to you.

“Tell Mr. Holland I appreciate his work ethic and that he should value yours to no end,” she said, “I’ve got to go. Tonight?”

“Tonight,” you said, and you hung up on her.

“What’s…?” When you shook your head, he held out his hand. “Let me see your texts.” He swore under his breath as he scrolled through them, going through months and months of casework for notable trials, and he read the attachments you had sent recently. “Lab work, blood results. An ice pi—holy shit,” Tom said, the hand with the phone falling limply to his lap, “The Laurens trial. You.” The corner of his mouth twitched before breaking into a smirk. “You’re the one that solved everything. You’re that viper.”

Oh, my fuck; he’s heard of you. Tom Holland has heard about you. He’s familiar with your work. Oh, holy fuck. You held it all in for the moment, but if you made it home alive, you were going to marathon Star Wars and call in for takeaway. “That I am,” you said coolly, accepting your phone when he offered it, “and what does that mean for you, Mr. Holland?”

Any evidence of doubt about him evaporated, and his charisma returned almost instantly. He was smiling now, his teeth on display, and he leant towards you. “I want you at my side, Viper,” he said, his hands dangerously close to yours on the back of the iron chair, “I want you to do for me what you did for Laurens. Exclusively. I’ll be your only client. I want you to tear apart my enemies and pick their bones clean. I want you to be merciless, and I want you to be mine.”

That’s a lot of subtext you’ll be thinking about in the shower later. But show nothing; be nothing. “You want an awful lot.”

Tom took a deep breath and moved to sit on the wrought-iron table. “That’s why I’m giving you an out,” he said, crossing his arms loosely, “before you’re in. Because once you’re in, you can’t leave. I’ll make sure of that.”

You took a moment before clasping your hands behind your back and taking a step around the chair towards him. “I want my privacy.”

“I can’t guarantee that. I’ve got to keep a close eye on you, since Ripley slithered away,” he said, “You’re a shot in the dark despite your accomplishments.”

“You will guarantee it,” you said, leaning against the table with the iron pattern pressing into your palm, “Addresses, bank accounts, social security, everything that I don’t give you.”

Tom shook his head. “I can’t—”

“You will. It’s all I’m asking. I’ll be covering your dirty work from the world, so why can’t I hide mine?” It was your turn to be too close, for your breath to be hot against his skin as you said softly into his ear, “Tell me, Holland: are you afraid of the dark?”

tags: @presidentbttrflyfreak @magstorrn @imstarwarstrashokay @infamous-webhead @starksparker @starksmile @pparkerwrites @softspideys @spidereyhes @bi-writes @iron-spiderr @laurfangirl424 @wheremyotpat @valar--m0rghulis @upsidedownparker @hollandroos

[jellybeanforest-a-go-go]

So, the spouse has been gone for two days on a business trip. In that time, I wrote 7500 words for my upcoming fic “Pillow Talk,” so that’s quickly becoming a thing. I have no idea how long this is going to be, but I’m having way too much fun describing an even shittier version of the apartment I moved into after the breakdown of my first long-term relationship. 

Anyways, here’s the Summary: Billionaire playboy Tony Stark pisses off his latest one-night-stand, who plans to turn him into a Beast until he learns humility and compassion for his fellow man. He can already visualize Pepper’s disapproving glare as she’s forced to add yet another person to the security watch list. It figures he would eventually stick his dick in bonafide crazy.

“Is that really the best you got?” he scoffs. “That would be utterly unoriginal. Uninspired even.” He has already seen that movie and the remake.

…Maybe Tony should learn when to keep his mouth shut.

Or: A spurned lover turns Tony into a mattress.

Based on a Cap-Ironman Kinkmeme Prompt

Here’s an expanded snippet:

The man is handsome, tall and well-built, with a chiseled jaw line and dirty blond hair uncombed and stuck up at different angles. If Tony had been human, he might have invited the man back to his place on the thinnest of pretexts for a roll in the sheets. He looks like he could lift Tony with little trouble, and that sort of thing is always a good time. However, circumstances being what they are, Tony is currently comprised of quilted fabric, wire, and what he suspected might be heavy-duty foam, and he is completely mute. Ergo, he has no chance of charming the stud currently manhandling him.

These facts didn’t stop his internal monologue.

Your place or mine? He imagines himself asking, but the answer is self-evident. Mr. Large Hands is already carting him off to his humble abode on what has to be the fifth floor of a building with no elevator (Was that even legal?) for what was likely to be some G-rated bedtime fun, considering Tony’s size. Based on his recent string of bad luck, the man had probably acquired him as a replacement for the bed Little Timmy, his budding serial killer son, had slashed in a fit of rage.

He can see it now. Cause of Death: Murdered by a sociopathic kindergartener.

And so ends the life of one Tony Stark. Genius. Philanthropist. Scoundrel. Monster. War Profiteer.

All in all, a crummy excuse for a man and an even crummier mattress. Seriously, he wasn’t even memory foam. Gifting him in his current state to a kid must constitute child abuse.

Having rounded the fifth floor stair case, Father-of-the-Year lifts him up and walks down the short darkened hallway, stopping in front of his unit. He puts him down and fiddles with the door – God, he didn’t even bother locking it. What if Little Timmy got out and murdered a kitten? – before it swings open, revealing a… huh, this must be the parlor room. Tony didn’t know apartments in Brownsville had parlor rooms to receive guests.

Maybe-Daddy proceeds to angle Tony through the door, then straightens him out as he clears the back wall of the hallway. Tony observes his new home. In the kitchen to his right, unpacking a paltry number of items into a cupboard is another man with a scruff of facial hair and long dark hair drawn up in a messy man bun. Probably The Boyfriend™. Which didn’t explain what Tony was doing here. Not that he would mind having two gorgeous men on top of him, but Tony is clearly meant for single occupancy.

Mr. Not-a-Father pushes Tony across the threshold, and Tony realizes with startling clarity, that this is not a parlor room. The room containing the currently-scowling boyfriend is not a kitchen. If Tony is feeling generous, he would call it a kitchenette. There is a small fridge, dual hotplate, and a microwave but no oven nor is there a dishwasher. Not that Mr. Not-a-Father-But-Definitely-a-Daddy, Esq., and his disgruntled boyfriend need one as Tony can now clearly see the cupboard contains only two dishes, a single bowl, a tall thermos, and four mismatched mugs (one of which bears the wildly-inaccurate title “#1 Grandpa” in Darlin BTN font). Just beyond the kitchen is a lumpy couch covered clumsily in what looks to be a blue fitted sheet next to a set of free weights. There’s a bathroom door open to his left, through which he can see a narrow sink, chipped mirror and the rim of the toilet bowl on one side with a small corner shower across. Hell, if Steve aimed just right, he may be able to piss into the toilet from the shower.

Living the dream, Tony thinks, rather unkindly.

Of course, this hellscape is accompanied by a fitting soundtrack appropriate for its distinctive ambiance: the unmistakable low, ever-present buzz of florescent lighting joined in terrible harmony by the gurgling toilet that only stops when Steve leaves him propped up in the doorway to go jiggle the flusher. This short respite allows Tony a nice close-up of the plaster walls, pitted and cracked over semi-exposed brick. Across the way, almost lined up with the door is a single window with a third of the cheap metal blinds missing and another third bent at odd angles to prevent proper operation. It’s bad feng shui all around, but that’s the least of Tony’s concerns. The largest, most pressing of which is that what he’s seeing is literally an entire apartment for two full-grown adult humans.

“Ugh, seriously Stevie?” The Boyfriend™ seems disgusted with Tony’s presence, which is rich coming from someone who lives like this.

#1 Grandpa – Stevie, apparently – pauses halfway in their trek to the far left corner, looking sheepish.

“So it’s a little…” he looks up and rolls one hand, clearly searching for a charitable word to describe his curbside acquisition, “Used, but the padding is intact and no springs are poking out of it.” He shrugs, lifting Tony up the rest of the (short) distance to drop him into position.

The Boyfriend™ crosses the room in four strides to sit on the couch along the opposite wall. “Several generations of rats have likely lived and died inside that thing.”

Hey now, the cat urine scared off Ratatouille and friends, Tony thinks, a little hysterically.

Stevie rolls his eyes. “I already checked it for holes.”

“It’s filthy,” The Boyfriend™ counters.

“It’s a pillow-top.”

“But it’s a twin! I know things have been tough since–”

“Bucky.”

Ah, a name…

“Since, well, you know,” Bucky, who is definitely not The Boyfriend™, finishes lamely. “But one day, you’re going to want to put yourself out there again, and a twin mattress screams, ‘I don’t think this dating thing is really going to work out for me.’”

“…It’s perfect.”

“Steve…” Bucky runs his fingers over his hair, pulling loose some strands from his man-bun. “Look, I’ll buy you a new bed. A real mattress. One that hasn’t seen at least half a dozen litters of stray cats and two near-fatal overdoses. Consider it a ‘welcome home’ gift.”

Stevie – or Steve, probably Steve – gathers a spray bottle and powdered enzymatic cleaner before walking towards the sink. “Neither of us has the money.” He adds some powder into the container then fills it up from the tap.

“I’ll find the money. I’ll pick up extra shifts at the bar. I’ll sweep hair at Bill’s barbershop. But that thing you dragged in here? It’s unsalvageable. It’s making me depressed, and I’m not even the one who has to sleep on it.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Save your money.” Steve returns to Tony’s side, armed with the spray bottle. He doesn’t even look in his friend’s direction, ignoring his clear disapproval.

“You could always move in with me and Nat, you know?” Bucky offers softly. “I already cleared it with her. Seriously. We have a couch, a real one that isn’t a sheet over a stack of discarded gym mats.” He pats Steve’s ‘couch’ and eyes the far corner where the fitted sheet isn’t quite stretched over enough to cover. Tony can now see the elastic hugs the edge of a mat two up from the floor, the tip sagging forlornly over the flaked plastic coating of the bottom-most ones. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You don’t have to live like this, Tony hears him plead.

Steve remains stoic, unmoved. “Thanks for the noodles and the company, Buck, but I think I should finish unpacking.”

Bucky isn’t even subtle as he surveys the tiny studio. Steve obviously owns very little, and what little there is has already been unboxed and put away with the exception of a duffle bag and suitcase spilling out of a small closet under a row of empty wire hangers and a new plastic sleeve of beige polyester-blend sheets from a generic brand popular in dorms.

Bucky doesn’t challenge his lie. “What are you doing this Monday?” he asks instead.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine. I asked if you had plans. Nat’s on a business trip in an undisclosed location – I’m thinking Eastern Europe, but you know how cagey she gets when I guess – and I’ve got the run of our place. Was thinking we could go out, you, me and Sam.”

“I don’t–”

“Okay, we can stay in,” Bucky interjects quickly before Steve can cement his refusal. “Watch a bootleg and drink a couple six-packs, just like the old days. What do you say?”

“I’ll think about it,” Steve says in a voice even Tony can tell means he won’t.

But the man is relentless. “I’ll give you a call later. If you don’t pick up, I will be hurt – devastated, really – so much so that I’ll have to come over and drag you out for milkshakes to get over it.”

That seems to do it. Steve chuckles. “Alright, alright, I got it.”

Steve sees Bucky out shortly after, but his friendly, borderline-jovial façade crumbles upon the click of the lock. His shoulders slump ,and he turns, leaning his back against the door as he sinks heavily to the ground, kicking his feet out in front of him and drawing one knee up. He covers his face in both hands and breathes in deep and audible, rubbing his closed eyes with the heel of his palms when his breath hitches on the exhale.

Tony is infinitely grateful when Steve manages not to cry.

[bloodiedskirtts]

Love & War | Part 10: Rewrite The Stars

Summary: Y/N is reunited with both her boys in England

Pairing: Bucky xReader x Steve

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Smut 18+. Soz

A/N: Come on, we needed some smut with post-serum Steve and Bucky.

If you want to be tagged please let me know x

Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading. I hope you guys like it! Also gif is not mine, credit to owner.

Love & War Masterlist

‘See you Monday,’ she called, pulling her coat around her as she left the building for the weekend.

Despite the war efforts, she managed to get some free time from trying to break Hydra codes. Over the weekend there was a skeleton team working, which rotated to make sure everyone got some time away from the dank basement. Thankfully, Y/N had this weekend off and she even got to leave early on Friday, even if was just by twenty minutes. Not that it meant much, she had been living in England for the last few months and hadn’t made any friends that she wanted to spend time with. She rarely spoke to anyone outside her team of codebreakers, and Howard Stark and Peggy Carter, the rare times they came to visit. Almost a month ago, both of them arrived and Y/N was over the moon. However, Peggy’s face made her heart drop, she knew something was wrong the moment she saw her.

She solemnly told her that both Steve and Bucky had gone missing behind enemy lines. Steve AKA Captain America, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at this whole thing, had went on a rescue mission after Bucky’s unit had been captured by Hydra. Neither of them had been heard from in weeks. Of course Steve would have risked everything to save Bucky, but this meant that she had now lost both of them. Neither Peggy nor Howard stayed long at the Allied base in the UK during their visits. The war kept pulling them both away from her. Howard asked how things were going in the codebreaking area and she were eager to fill him in.

And now she was eager to try and figure every single coded message the organisation sent just in case there was some word about her boys. But there of course had been no luck, although the team were able to crack some of the messages. Just nothing about where Bucky or Steve could be - although she had known that Hydra wouldn’t waste time on sending messages about them.

‘Y/N?’ a voice called, causing her to spin around. It was one of the very pretty blondes who worked upstairs, her lips were curled into a cheeky smile.

‘Hey, Lorraine,’ she replied. ‘What’s up?’

‘Did you hear that a plane just touched down full of soldiers on leave for the weekend?’ she smirked. ‘I even heard Captain America is back from the dead and right here.’

While she didn’t care about a group of sexually deprived soldiers hanging around the base, the mention of Captain America caused her ears to prick up. 

‘I...But everyone said he’s dead?’ she gasped.

Lorraine laughed, ‘I know right. But clearly ya can’t kill that man and he saved all these men. It was truly amazing, apparently! I was gonna head over, see if I could bag the great Cap himself. But I’m stuck in the office.’

This caused her heart to soar what if he had managed to save Bucky too? She had moved her engagement ring from her finger, adding it to the chain that held her locket. She wanted both of her boys close to her heart when she thought she had lost them. But now they could both be alive?

‘Where are they?’ she gasped out.

‘You think you can woo Captain America?’ Lorraine asked, her eyebrow cocked in disbelief.

Y/N tried to fake a smile at her comment, ‘Just wanna know, Lorraine.’

She shrugged, ‘The plane came in an hour ago. So I’d say in the pub?’

Without bothering to say goodbye, she turned on her heels and started to make her way to the pub. She didn’t care that she was still in the dress she wore to work or that she was carrying her handbag filled with work notes. She pushed any loose hair behind her ears, a woman on a mission, as she marched towards her boys.

It wasn’t a long walk from the army base to the pub and she barged through the door. Rolling her eyes at the wolf whistles that came her way from the horny soldiers, her eyes scanned the room. The pub was filled with soldiers and smoke lingered in the air making it difficult for her to maneuver through the establishment. Her heart was slowly sinking, what if Lorraine had got her information wrong? She was all but ready to go when she heard it. That laugh, she would recognise that laugh anywhere.

Steve Rogers, looking like a god in his brown army uniform while Bucky Barnes sat by his side surrounded by a group of men.

‘Room for one more, Captain Rogers?’ she said as she walked over to him, one hand on her hip. 

Both Bucky and Steve’s head snapped up at her words, eyes widening as she stood in front of them. Neither of them could believe that she was there, close enough to touch. Bucky nearly threw his chair back as he got up and grabbed her waist pulling her into a needy kiss, that was all tongue and teeth. She could hear the cheer go up in the pub as the dozens of soldiers saw the two love birds. Neither of them seemed to care.

‘Well, hello Sergeant,’ she breathed out when he finally pulled away. A fat tear rolled down her cheek as she looked up at him.

‘I thought you were dead,’ she whispered.

‘So did I,’ he replied, a smirk forming on his lips. But she noticed that something was different about him, that carefree attitude he had before he left Brooklyn was gone, replaced with something much darker.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him, but he had pulled away, introducing her to the group of men around them. They called themselves The Howling Commandos. She smiled and laughed along with them, sipping slowly from the Gin and Tonic that appeared in front of her. Suddenly she felt a hand slip up her skirt and settle on her thigh. Her eyes widened as she realised that Steve was the one who had made the very bold move.

But before she could say anything, he stood up. ‘I’m sorry guys, but I’m calling it a night!’

There was groans around the table, but suddenly Bucky was on his feet, 

‘Steve’s right,’ he shrugged. ‘It’s late. I’ll walk you back to your apartment, Y/N.’

She narrowed her eyes knowing that this was not simply as innocent as they both made it out to be. But she nodded, pulling her coat on before she threw back what was left in her glass.

‘Barnes, I see why you like this one,’ one of the men called out, as she blushed slightly. 

Bucky shot him a cheeky grin before dragging her through the crowded pub after Steve.

‘So are ya gonna tell me how both of you are still alive? After going behind enemy lines into a Hydra base?’ she asked as they began to walk.

Steve chuckled and began to tell her exactly what happened, from jumping out of a plane, to escaping the burning building. Bucky held her tightly as she listened to his words. Her face covered in shock.

‘Are you sure you’re the same skinny idiot who couldn’t walk in a straight line without tripping over his feet?’ she asked, as they rounded the corner to her apartment building.

Stark had set up the America codebreakers very nicely. She had presumed that she would be living with a group of other girls, like most women involved in the war efforts did. But working for Howard Stark had it’s perks, so he had made sure they all had their own apartments to themselves. They all lived in the same building but at least she had her own space. It was extravagant and she hadn’t had guests in it before. But as she turned the key in the lock, looking back at both Steve and Bucky’s faces she knew that they didn’t care what her apartment looked like.

As soon as the door closed behind them Steve’s lips crashed against hers, while Bucky kissed down her neck, his chest pressed to her back.

‘I thought I’d never see you again,’ she whispered as Steve pulled away. ‘Peggy told me you were both dead.’

She shook her head, trying to fight the tears that had been threatening to fall ever since she saw them both. Bucky kissed her shoulder softly, his lips ghosting up her neck to her ear.

‘You’ll never lose us again,’ he promised, before spinning her around to kiss her.

Steve’s rough hands slowly untied her dress from her waist, before pushing it down onto the crowd. She shivered softly as his lips trailed down her neck and across her shoulder. Bucky’s tongue was still exploring her mouth, soft gasps falling from her lips as both men’s hands ran across her exposed skin. Bucky’s hands wrapped around her to unclasp her bra.

‘You boys don’t waste anytime?’ she asked, as he finally let go of her mouth. Just for his lips to fall to her breasts.

Steve chuckled darkly behind her, ‘If this war has thought me anything, you never know when it’s your time to go.’

His hands dipped to her ass giving it a hard squeeze, she could feel his erection press against her back. Bucky’s eyes flicked up to hers as his tongue danced over her nipple, as his left hand toyed with her other one. She let out a soft moan, her head falling back against Steve’s chest.

‘I think we need to go into my bedroom,’ she gasped out. ‘And as much as I love those uniforms, they need to go!’

They both chuckled at this as she pulled them by the hands into her bedroom. It wasn’t very big but neither Bucky nor Steve were concerned about the size of her room, as they pulled off their jackets and ties. Looking up at Bucky, she sank to her knees slowly, undoing his belt and trousers. Her fingers took their time to free his hardened cock, she loved teasing him. Usually Bucky would let her, but this time he gripped her hair tightly causing her to gasp out before he guided her mouth to his waiting cock.

She looked up at him as she began to take his length in her mouth, opening her jaw as wide as she could to take the thickness of him. About half way down his dick, she could feel him push against the back of her throat. Using her hand she gripped the rest of him to pull him off she hollowed out her cheeks to suck him. He groaned slowly as her eyes found his, never breaking eye contact as her head bobbed back and forth.

Suddenly she felt Steve’s hand grip her hair, causing her to stop. He smirked up at Bucky, as his free hand snaked around to play with her tits.

‘Do you want Sergeant Barnes to fuck that pretty mouth?’ Steve asked, causing her to shiver.

She nodded eagerly, which was enough for Bucky to thrust into her mouth with such force she would have fell backwards if it wasn’t for Steve. Neither of them seemed to care that tears ran down her cheeks as his cock hit her gag reflex over and over, until he suddenly pulled out. 

‘On your knees, doll,’ Bucky demanded, pulling her onto the bed.

She did as she was told, pushing her panties off as she climbed onto the bed. 

‘You’re gonna suck Captain Rogers’ dick, while I fuck that pretty pussy,’ he hissed in her ear. ‘Then he’s gonna fuck your cunt, because from what I’ve heard he can go all night. You want that right?’

She nodded eagerly, looking up at Bucky. Steve chuckled as he pushed his trousers off and got on the bed in front of her.

‘Gonna need to hear,’ he told her, his blue eyes darkened with lust.

She had to saw this more confident and demanding Steve really got her worked up. Thank God for that serum.

‘Yes, I want that.’

‘Yes who?’ Bucky snapped.

‘Yes Sergeant.’

‘And?’

‘Yes Captain,’ she moaned out desperate for one of them to touch her. 

She was already soaking wet from their hands on her tits, it had been so long since she was touched. She didn’t expect any of them to last very long and when Bucky pushed into her, she thought she would cum straight away.

Steve rubbed the tip of his head over her lips, before she parted her lips in a moan as Bucky’s hand began to play with her clit. Steve took his chance to push his dick into her mouth. Her moans were stifled around his length as he began to fuck her mouth in the same rhythm as Bucky was fucking her soaking pussy. Both men’s moans began to fill the room, as her muffled screams fell from her lips.

She was so turned on by the sight of both of them and it was the first them all three of them had been together since Steve became the great Captain America.

Without warning, Steve came hard in her mouth, cum hitting the back of her throat as she swallowed him up. The taste causing her head to spin, Bucky’s thrusts were growing more erratic his hand on her clit growing harder. 

‘Cum on Sergeant Barnes’ cock, Y/N,’ Steve demanded, and his words pushed her over the edge.

Her moans fell from her lips just as Steve pulled his dick out of her mouth. She could fell her pussy pulsate over Bucky’s cock. Her eyes growing fuzzy as she came hard for both her boys. It wasn’t long before Bucky was following suit, she felt the hot spurts of cum fill her pussy. 

He pulled out of her letting her fall on her back, as she tried to catch her breath. She threw her hands over her eyes as she felt the bed shift.

‘Oh, darling, I’m not finished with you yet,’ she heard Steve say just as he pushed into her.

She screamed out.

‘I don’t think we’ll be leaving this bed all weekend,’ Bucky purred.

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[2ptonpt]

This Time Around Ch. 3

A strange woman Bucky is sure he knows but can't fully recognize, picks him up after the fall of SHIELD. She claims to be friends with Steve and that she is here to help him. He can't help but keep wondering where he knows her from; it's definitely not through Steve Rogers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ OC(Rowan O'Connor)

Word Count: 4,154

Rating: M

Masterlist

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Rowan and Bucky had stayed one more night in the cozy Chicago apartment. Not much conversation filled the studio flat. Some awkward mumbles from Bucky asking Rowan how to work the shower was about it.

The next morning, they headed out the back door of the three story building. Bucky had his shoulder length brown hair mostly hidden under a Family Business Brewing Co. baseball cap, with the remainder of it sticking out the back in a small bun. He had shaved his face, giving him more of a five o’clock shadow rather than a bordering-on-homeless look. Rowan was dressed in green leggings and a pink tank top; a black oversized beanie covering up her auburn hair. She opted out of hiking boots, unlike Bucky, and sported a pair of comfortable running shoes instead. To any passersby, they looked like a young couple heading out to go camping for the weekend.

Rowan pressed a four digit code into a blue garage door and ushered Bucky inside. She grabbed a set of keys off a hook by the door. Bucky’s eyes scanned the low clearance ceiling, wondering which vehicle Rowan would choose. Bucky raised his eyebrows a bit at the car that Rowan led him to.

“Don’t judge me, I know its cliché. It’s not my normal choice but it’s the only one that has fuel in it right now. We don’t have time to stop for any until we get out of the city. I’m pretty sure by now Nat will have figured out which home I was talking about last night.” Rowan filled the back seat up with the few duffel bags she had carried downstairs, along with some empty ones. She had planned to find a clothing store on the outskirts of the city for Bucky. The raglan shirt and jeans she had given him were a bit too small. Luckily the boots were on the perfect side of snug for him.

Bucky wasn’t sure how, the information must have been hidden in a part of his mind from working for HYDRA, but he recognized the car. A blue Camaro. An older style with some rust. Had he driven one while on a mission?

“Where’d you get this?” His eyes wandered over the black leather interior as Rowan fished a cell phone out of a purple duffle bag and crushed it in her palm before letting the pieces fall to the ground.

“Souvenir from a mission.” Nothing more was said as Rowan and Bucky fastened their seatbelts and pulled out of the garage. Bucky stayed silent as Rowan shifted gears and slowly pulled out of the garage into the bumbling suburb streets. By the sun, he figured they were heading west.

-TTA-

“Got her.” Steve’s head snapped up, blue eyes following Natasha’s voice over to a group of large screens decorating the south wall of the room. They currently showed different angles of a back alleys and brick buildings. The location at the bottom right of the screen read “BUCKTOWN”. A small neighborhood hugging the Kennedy Expressway in Chicago. Steve’s eyes roamed the different camera angles when finally, they landed on two figures walking casually to a garage down a narrow alleyway off of West Webster Avenue.

To anyone else, the couple appeared casually dressed, like they were running errands or going on a trip somewhere, if the duffel bags were any indication. The woman was tall, nearly six foot it looked like, even in running shoes. She had a black, oversized beanie covering her hair. The man was over six foot, wearing a baseball hat with brown hair sticking out the back. His stride was large and his stature was rigid. His head never moved much, but to trained eyes, one could tell he was skillfully scanning the area.

“Are you sure Nat? I’m not going to be running around on a wild goose chase every time we see a couple and the guy has long brown hair. The man bun thing is in now you know. We can’t even see their faces right now. And that woman’s hair could be any color. Hell we can’t even see it under the beanie she has on.” Nat blew a warm breathe of air out her nose in slight annoyance, or maybe it was scolding, Steve couldn’t really tell most of the time, but he knew an explanation of why she was right was on its way.

“When Rowan was in the Sector she was on a mission to eradicate a biochemical warfare research facility in Chechnya. The building exploded and her right leg was crushed at the knee. They almost had to replace it with an enhanced prosthetic. It healed most of the way. If you know what to look for you can see that her right leg from the knee down swings out just a few degrees wider than her left leg as she puts her foot down, almost like she’s bow-legged.” Natasha rewound the footage of the couple walking from a brick apartment building to a garage a few meters down the gravel alley. Steve looked closely this time. His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing in frustration.

“She lied. God dammit why did she lie to us Natasha?”

“Language Capsicle. Princess Leia probably has a reason to keep your BFF to herself.” Tony strolled in casually, bag of blueberries in his hand. He popped one in and looked at a smaller computer screen sitting on the desk nearest to him. It had a small blinking red light on it, text zipping quickly across the screen.

“You know she hates when you call her that. And Tony is right Steve, like I told you earlier, there’s probably a legitimate reason for her not coming in with him.”

“No reason is good enough for him not to come back! Don’t you get that? He’s been gone for years and he needs someone he knows and trusts! I can help him through this; I know I can. I owe him that much.”

“You sure about that Cap? Because it seems like you wanting to find him has more to do with your inner demons than you think. You don’t owe him anything; what happened to him wasn’t your fault. He’s a soldier, he knew the risks when he signed up. ”

“He didn’t sign-“

“Not the point I’m trying to make here Steve.” Tony closed his eyes for a long moment before putting the blueberries on the computer desk and walking up to stand next to Steve and Natasha. His posture was no longer casual, but a bit pinched at the shoulders.

“After Afghanistan, hell even after New York, I had a lot of problems. You guys know how hard it was for me to be around everyone. Sometimes it takes being around a stranger, someone who’s been through what you have but doesn’t really know too much about you personally to really be able to get to the bottom of the issue and work it out. I know that’s what helped me, going to the Vet meetings at the church.” And talking with Rowan till all hours of the night at the top of Stark Tower. Though Tony left that part out. Rowan was adamant she “wanted to keep her badass black soul reputation fresh.”

Natasha kept reading the computer screens, typing fervently trying to get a better angle on the suspected Bucky and Rowan. She understood where Tony was coming from, and figured he might be able to get it through the super soldiers thick head about why Bucky might not come running home.  Steve looked down at his boots guiltily. Tony grabbed his blueberries and started for the door.

"And you both know how much I hate going to church. Oh and better get a glimpse of them while you can. JARVIS shows that the scrambler Rowan has on her car is about to finish calibrating.” Tony turned, posture casual once again, and walked out the metal framed door. Natasha slammed her fist on the desk as all the camera angles turned to black screens. Steve fell into a chair and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars.

-TTA-

“How do you know we’re out of sight? We’re still pretty close to the city. There’s camera’s everywhere.” Bucky tried to remain casual in the passenger seat as Rowan struggled to find a parking spot outside of a Kohl’s on the southwest side of Chicago. It was busy for a Monday morning but Bucky needed new clothes and she’d rather get everything before they start their road trip than have to stop halfway through.

“All of my vehicles are equipped with Stark scrambling technology. Tony is aware but he won’t let Nat and Steve know about it. We had a little chat last night.” Bucky pursed his lips and gave a short nod as Rowan parked and turned off the car.

As they walked into Kohl’s, Rowan clicked a button on her key fob to lock the Camaro. As Bucky heard the car beep to signal its lock, all the store lights went out for a few seconds before turning back on. Bucky looked around cautiously as the employees mumbled about the systems rebooting.

“There’s a scrambler in my key fob too. Stark really likes me.” Rowan had a cheeky grin on her face as she grabbed a cart and strolled to the men’s section, grabbing Bucky’s arm along the way.

About an hour later they had checked out and were on I-80 heading west. Old school rock drifted quietly out of the speakers. It wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but Bucky hated it. He found himself wanting to speak. About something, anything. He didn’t really care.

“So, uh Rowan, where exactly are we headed?” He kept his gaze shifted out the window, watching the gargantuan white windmills as their propellers gently lulled through the air, creating energy for who knows how many homes out here.

“Faith, South Dakota. After we load up on supplies we’ll head out to the Cheyenne River Reservation. I figure we camp out there for a couple weeks then head up to Vancouver. I’ve got a safe house up there no one knows about. We can grab my other passports and have some made for you. Then Juneau to a charter plane that will take us to St. Lawrence Island and last but not least I’ve got a friend who owes me a favor. He said he can get us as far west as Japan. We’ll have to figure out the rest of the plan from there. It’s the third of April. I figure by the end of this month we should be touching down in Japan. That should be enough time for them to already do a big sweep overseas.” Bucky was impressed by how in depth Rowan had already planned their travel. He still had a few concerns though.

“Won’t they be searching everywhere until they find us? If Steve is still the same as I remember, he won’t stop.”

“You’re right Mr. Barnes, Steve isn’t gonna stop, and as much as Nat loves me I doubt she’ll actively try to stop him from finding us. Tony is pretty complacent for me to work with so if I need him to throw them off our trail I’ll call him. But it’ll be fun to see how long that’ll take.”

“Why are we camping out in South Dakota for half the month? Why don’t we just get out now while we have them scrambled?” Bucky figured she was going to answer the same way his own thought process was heading, but he just wanted to see how aligned their thinking was. His brain was still itching every time he tried to think too hard about how familiar Rowan was. He was getting better at ignoring the alarm going off in his head when he saw her face, though he still wasn’t confident that was the best thing to do.

“Barnes, seriously? I know you know why I’m doing this. Is this some sort of trust test? Wouldn’t it be more entertaining to do some trust fall exercises instead? I promise I won’t drop you.” The teasing in her voice deepened her accent. It was a pleasant sound Bucky decided; not like some of the other women’s voices he recalled from his time in HYDRA. The thicker accent and her playful banter lightened his mood. Rowan eyed him. From this view she could see the edges of his eyes crinkling up ever so slightly; a tell-tale sign that he was about to let out a smile.

“Letting you drive is enough trust testing I can handle for any twenty four hour period.” Bucky rubbed his chin with his flesh hand. The crinkles moved from his eyes to his forehead.

“Hey! I’m an excellent driver.” Rowan took her eyes completely off the road when Bucky didn’t have a response. She had been trying to come off as less edgy than she was accused of being in the past. Sometimes she got too into the mission on hand. She kept reminding herself this wasn’t technically a mission or a job. She was helping someone. When her emerald eyes met the downcast face of Bucky she turned off the radio. He was glaring at his left hand, rubbing his fingers from his right hand over the silver palm.

“I can’t tell if I can really feel anything with it, or if it’s just my brain playing tricks on me since I know what my other hand is doing.” Rowan could hear the disparity in the man’s voice. She hopped over a couple lanes to catch the visitor’s stop just in time, narrowly missing getting clipped by a semi. Bucky sat rigid in his seat.

“Come on, out we go.” The tall woman held Bucky’s door open expectantly waiting for him to emerge. She grabbed his flesh hand and led him down the dirt path into a small cluster of trees, hitting her key fob as they went. She slowed as they passed the cluster of young birch trees and turned, grabbing Bucky’s left hand.

“Close your eyes. Go on, we haven’t got all day you spoon.” Bucky raised a thick eyebrow at the odd insult before closing his eyes slowly.

“Take a deep breath. There you go. Just relax.” She released his right hand from hers and it dropped softly to his side. She only held his left hand. It was a weird sensation. He could feel her hand, the warmth. It was a little sticky with sweat. He grasped it and ran his thumb over her palm; softly at first, then a bit harder. He could almost feel the creases in her hands. He felt where the ridges from the plates caught on Rowan’s callouses running along her palm and fingers, hard from years of action, like his remaining flesh hand.

She took his arm and led him to a patch of day lilies. He outstretched his hand carefully. He could feel how delicate they were. He lightly brushed his hand through the patch of flowers and the edges of his eyes creased in an almost smile at the feather light sensation. They were cool to the touch. He was sure he could tell they were supposed to be velvety smooth. But again, he just wasn’t quite convinced.

“See, you can feel. It’s not your mind playing tricks on you. I reviewed all your files. They connected your nerves to different parts of the arm. It’s pretty much your own, just a different color... And material I suppose, but that’s all semantics. Personally I think you pull off silver over gold any day.” Bucky looked up at Rowan’s teasing voice. Her eyes were bright in the mid-morning sun. Her auburn hair fell over the right side of her face, she brushed it back and outstretched her hand to Bucky’s own. He took it with his left, the urge to try to feel everything with it stronger now. Rowan pulled Bucky up swiftly from his kneeling position and let go as he brushed dirt off his knees.

They walked silently back through the small wooded patch in a content silence. Rowan was staring ahead, in deep thought it seemed. Bucky wondered what she could be thinking about. Did she still not know if going all over the world with him until he regained his memories was the best idea? If she didn’t, he couldn’t argue with her. He didn’t even think it was a good idea. He was still on the fence about it himself. She seemed like she had good intentions, and she claimed to be a friend of Steve’s. Something he wasn’t entirely sure of, Steve and Rowan didn’t seem compatible. Steve was a straight-laced guy. Rowan seemed a little… off the deep end on some matters. But people changed. Last time he remembers interacting with Steve he was a bit edgier.

Bucky shook his head. He was starting to get a headache from all this thinking. He closed his eyes briefly as he walked, the warmth radiating off Rowan half guiding him through the small trees. He heard birds chirping, Rowan’s leggings making a soft swooshing sound as her thighs brushed against each other as she took otherwise silent steps next to him; a little further off he could hear the droning of the cars and trucks zooming down the interstate. How simple their lives must be compared to his. He wondered how that would feel; worrying about mundane things like how much it would be to fix the car, what to make for supper, how much the next doctor’s office trip would run him. He also heard a low male voice coming from their twelve o’clock. It seemed Rowan caught it a few moments after him.

Rowan looked towards Bucky, semi-alarm running along her features. There was no way any cameras pinged their location. No way would she or Bucky not have noticed someone following them. And while she was sure every agent of SHIELD, HYDRA, FBI, CIA, or any other flavor of government agency had been alerted to Bucky’s status, she doubted they’d have people actively driving cross country looking for them. The only person besides herself and Bucky who knew about the Camaro was Tony Stark. He’d helped her rebuild the engine a few years ago on a slow weekend.

Bucky rounded the corner first, putting himself in front of Rowan. Instinct he supposed, though he didn’t think it was from his Winter Soldier days. Rowan poked her head around Bucky’s shoulder, not having to reach much at all, already being almost his height already. They saw two men walking around the Camaro, trying to nonchalantly peek inside. Bucky assumed the black Jeep Cherokee idling in park next to the Camaro was what they pulled in on. The two men, who looked to be in their late twenties, wore dark hoodies, with beanies pulled tight over their heads. One had a handgun tucked into the back waistband on his jeans and the other had one on the side of his right hip, tucked into a holster, hoodie doing a poor job of concealing it.

Bucky rolled his shoulders and grabbed for the glock he had secured under the waistband of his pants. Gripping the gun with his right hand, the gears of his left arm whirred lowly as it calibrated, something he figured happened when he told his arm to flex when he was preparing for a fight. Rowan laid a firm hand on his forearm, effectively stopping him from charging the two men. She put a slender finger to her lips before she motioned for them to keep listening and watch them. Bucky took a deep breath and let it out quietly through his lips. He tried to stop the shaking throughout his hands.

“You sure it’s just been sitting here? No one has been here?”

“No dude, this chick and her boyfriend headed out to the woods like twenty minutes ago. Probably just fuckin’ around. Let’s get it and go before they come back.” The guy turned towards the woods, keeping an eye out for anyone walking back. Rowan and Bucky ducked behind the thick brush by the opening of the trail.

“Shit, okay let’s hurry then.” Rowan and Bucky exchanged a relieved look. Weight seemed to be lifted from both their shoulders as they realized the two men were merely low life car-jackers. No special agents from either side of the law coming to get them, yet at least. The day was young. Rowan pulled her fob out of the small pocket from the inside waistband of her leggings and hit a button. A loud, shrill alarm went off. Both men threw their hands over their ears and turned around quickly. Rowan stopped Bucky from coming out of the woods.

“Your face is all over social media and the news. I can handle these guys. I won’t even need your gun.” She winked his way then stepped out, conveying the posture of a scared woman. The men grabbed their guns when they noticed Rowan all alone. She didn’t even give them a chance to put their fingers on the trigger before she pressed the fourth button on the key fob. One Bucky hadn’t seen her press yet. A light blue surge of energy exploded from the undercarriage of the Camaro, knocking both men to their feet. Rowan turned slightly and motioned for Bucky to come forward. As he drew nearer he made the assumption that both men were unconscious.

Producing two sets of handcuffs from a hidden compartment in the truck, Rowan tossed a set to Bucky. He followed Rowan’s actions and pulled the man into the back seat of the Jeep. He cuffed one arm before looping the short metal chain through the ‘oh shit’ handle and securing the man’s other arm. Rowan produced a cell phone from somewhere Bucky didn’t want to focus too hard on and dialed a number she knew by heart.

“Hey Tobey. Yeah I got a couple of guys out your way who were trying to car jack me. No not the Impala. It’s still safely tucked away in New York. My Camaro. Yeah that one. No I’m not getting his autograph for you. I just need to make sure the cops get them but I don’t have time to wipe my prints and such. I’ll take care of everything else for you. Great! Thanks Tobes. Yeah I’ll get with you soon. Bye.” Rowan hung up and tucked the phone away. Bucky stood with his back to the Jeep, facing the woods. He was still trying to subdue the shaking in his hands. He almost jumped when Rowan sidled up beside him. She kept her gaze forward.

“Ya know if I didn’t know any better I’d say we need to get your blood sugar up some. My hands get shaky when I don’t eat often enough. There’s a McDonald’s at the next exit. Sound good?” Bucky knew his blood pressure wasn’t low, and he knew Rowan knew that too. But he still appreciated the gesture.

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” Truth was, he was itching for a fight. His body was shaking slightly, his head on fire. It was almost as if he could physically feel the painful urge to end those men’s lives. He was ashamed of himself. He wasn’t on the battle field, this wasn’t a professionally trained operative coming to kill him. This was an every-day petty crime event. Childs play compared to some of the things he was used to being around.

He took a small step towards the Camaro before he staggered a bit, a dull throb encasing his head. A dim memory made its way to the forefront of his brain. A little brown-haired boy, with a smaller brown-haired girl next to him, sat in a well-lit living room. Bucky felt himself stretch and pop his neck as he kept his eyes on the children. They were playing checkers.

“Haide, soldat, nu avem toata noaptea. Acesta este jocul copiilor. Finalizati-le.” The harsh Romanian voice cut through the earpiece, like gravel sliding across glass it ended the silence that had been surrounding him. He lifted his sniper rifle, eye piece easing into place a few inches away from his alert blue eyes.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of that memory, and moved to open the car door as a white hot pain travelled from behind his eyes down his spine. Lighting up every nerve ending as if they were being electrocuted individually. He opened his eyes wide and frantically searched for Rowan over the top of the blue car.

“Rowan, I… something’s wr-“ He tried to finish his sentence but everything went black.

[chrisvarneyus]

Coronavirus & Its Impact on the Multifamily Industry

I want to start off by saying that this is just an opinion piece. I am not a doctor nor an economist and am far more of a generalist than a specialist in many areas. It is also worth mentioning that this content is far from evergreen. It’s quite tied to the next 24 hours (today is March 16th, 2020), since the pace of change, i.e. changes in the data we receive, political responses and central bank policy, is currently unimaginably fast. 

The spread of COVID-19, along with the related panic and rapid economic contraction, has created an air of fear (and subsequent volatility) rarely seen in public markets. If you’re reading this though, you probably aren’t looking for advice or opinions on the stock market or math around how quickly an infectious disease could spread, i.e. what happens if you double a penny every day for 30 days.

I’m going to break this down into something succinct and tangible while trying to steer clear of the pandemic itself (including the health, supply-chain, and broader macro-economic repercussions) and instead just focus on the way it touches those in the multifamily sector.

The Pros

10 year treasury yields are unbelievably low.

The Federal Reserve cut its benchmark interest rate to almost 0%.

Debt in some cases is meaningfully cheaper than it was a month ago. 

Sustained low rates may create downward pressure on cap rates.

The Cons 

Tenants may fall behind on their rent. Employees of all types, particularly those touched by the trickle-down effect of travel restrictions are at risk of shouldering a substantial economic burden reflective of reduced hours, or worse, terminated employment. Lost wages coupled with the precipitous drop in equity values (a metric tightly correlated with consumer savings) creates a significant risk to multifamily property net operating income and therefore, from an income capitalization approach, value. A second order outcome could be a fracture in the implied security of what has historically been perceived as a recession-proof asset. This is not to say that multifamily, as an asset class, will not be incredibly resilient but the effects of declining occupancy and net operating income directly impact valuations and can easily snowball to affect capital markets, as less owners would qualify for conventional financing and the risk of defaults would loom.

Agencies are pushing up floors and spreads to hedge against volatility and potentially fear of blowing through their caps because of the knee-jerk inundation of loan applications when 10-year treasury yields broke below 1.00%. Today, March 16th, 2020, Fannie and Freddie pushed up baseline spreads while Fannie held its 90bp treasury floor and Freddie remains at the greater of 75bps or -15 from the treasury at time of quote. Freddie SBL increased coupons by 25bps across the board this morning as well. 

Multifamily property buyers may get spooked, we’ve already seen this, which could create a widening between asking prices and bids and a (temporary) reduction in market liquidity and transaction velocity possibly leading to price reductions. 

The Unknown 

The biggest issue in my opinion is the unknown. It is the element of uncertainty that is driving up the price of sovereign debt and driving down yield. It’s what’s causing a flight from equities. It’s what pushes out credit spreads and it's what keeps everyone on self- or government-imposed quarantine. As the great minds of our generation put their heads together and aggregate data, this uncertainty will inevitably pass. This is not to say that we will not have a big problem on our hands. It is to say that as we continue to aggregate and translate the data, we will know better what we are dealing with and have sufficient evidence to create an actionable plan. As we become more informed, panic will be replaced by prudent precaution. 

What are the repercussions of continued QE (quantitative easing)? I floated this in a LinkedIn and email post recently: is this next round of QE sufficient to help us through this sudden, worldwide economic bottleneck? I can’t imagine it is. What are the long term impacts of the continued printing of money and throwing it at our problems? We don’t really have a reference point. This sovereign debt bubble is a new thing. The word bubble is quite intentionally chosen here. Again, I’m not an economist, but I feel like more than a few countries in South America have tried printing their way out of economic cycles… How did that go? I am not saying this is an apples to apples comparison, but it feels like oranges and tangerines? Botanists, forgive the crude metaphor. 

The Fed is out of bullets. That 100BP drop was our last piece of likely meaningful ammunition in the face of a recession. Now what can the Fed and the US government do if we face a real, long term recession? I don’t necessarily fault them (or not fault them) for this QE and rate-cutting decision but I do wonder if it’s the use of a sledge hammer in lieu of a scalpel, or as I’ve mentioned in other posts and articles, pushing a string. Will we be forced to negative interest rates in the future? Negative interest rates did not have the desired effect in Japan.

What Now

Well, for starters, wash your hands and don’t sneeze on anyone, right? I don’t want to give any direct advice but I’d like to share some anecdotal notes. Markets run in cycles, irrational exuberance is often followed by similarly irrational panic. If you’re in equity markets, the bulk of us normal humans have this weird tenancy to buy tops and sell bottoms. Over time (and I certainly can’t say how long it will take) this too shall pass. If you’re thinking about refinancing multifamily or commercial real estate debt, rates may be higher than they were a month or two ago with agencies, and lower with FHA and banks. They may be static. The primary thing right now that is static though is the very non-static nature of credit markets. I’d probably be pulling the trigger on something if there is a looming maturity afoot. We don’t know how long this will last or the medium-term repercussions on capital markets. If you have a good deal and you’re waiting for the best rate ever, you may just want to go ahead with it because if tomorrow is unknowable, so is Q2… and Q3. Finally, be responsible but don’t panic. 

Was this helpful? If so, please share with colleagues. Do you have suggestions or comments? Email me at blake@janover.ventures and I’ll do my best to be as responsive as possible. Wishing everyone a safe and hand-sanitized Monday. 

from Loan News https://www.multifamily.loans/apartment-finance-blog/coronavirus-and-its-impact-on-the-multifamily-industry

[jlynnhiddles-blog]

Chapter Two: The Living Daylights

Set in the present, this is a fairytale about a girl making her own way in the world whose work leads her to the man she’d cast as her Prince Charming. Will she try on those glass slippers or will she find out she’s met The Beast? Can two people from different realms risk everything to make it across The Bifrost? Can endings ever be happy? Join me on this adventure, send me a message or a poisoned apple and enjoy!

She thought it was impossible to be more embarrassed. Quickly, she prayed for a hole to open under her or an asteroid to crash down from space. Heck, she'd take a Chitauri invasion. Instead, with what she hoped was a convincing voice, she said, "I just like the suit.”

Tom nodded at her, his lips smiling almost shyly. Was he embarrassed? He must be used to things like that. But Jamie saw the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck.

"Shall we get to work?" he asked her, rubbing his large hands over his thighs, seemingly happy to change the subject.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Hiddleston."

"Tom. Please. You're going to have your fingers in me in a moment so we don't need to be formal."

There it was again! As he realized what he'd said, the red crept further up to behind his ears. Jamie turned her face away as to not reveal what she saw and opened her kit.

"First of all, if you don't mind brushing your teeth and rinsing well. That'll make sure I get the best shade match."

She handed him a zip top bag with a boxed toothbrush, travel sized toothpaste and a small cup.

"I actually have my own toothbrush here, but thank you,” he replied.

"Of course you do. Sorry. I always see patients at my office and they obviously don’t. I'll just get a few things ready. Wait, isn't someone from Dr. Kline's office supposed to be here as well?" She quickly glanced around the room despite knowing they were alone.

"I believe there was some sort of emergency. I'm sorry, I thought you had been made aware. Are you able to do your portion without them?"

"Yeah, I think I’ve got everything. Strictly speaking, I'm not allowed to do any medical work on you. I'm not licensed. But, I don't think that I will actually have to. I will have to touch you quite a bit more that I'd planned. It’s completely fine if you’re not comfortable with that. No hard feelings.”

"I'm sure I'm safe in your hands. I'll be right back." He nodded at her and walked out.

Jamie moved one of the chairs to face a window and pulled a small table in front of it. She filled a bowl with warm water from the kitchen and grabbed a roll of paper towels. She’d been hoping not to have to do this part.

Tom returned as she was getting out a bag of powder.

"The ashes of fallen Avengers?" he asked blandly. Half of the superheros had been turned to dust and blown away at the end of the last film.

"How many people made you take pictures with dead Avengers in plastic bags last weekend?" she asked, her eyes on what she was doing as she pulled on neoprene gloves.

"Seb and the other Tom had the worst of it by far. Bags with their own ashes in them. At least Loki didn’t..." His voice trailed off.

"That is just morbid and unkind," she replied. “But what I have here is impression material I'm hydrating. Have you ever had a mold taken of your mouth?"

Tom's blue eyes crinkled as he thought.

"Yes, for 'Lovers' when they made my vampire fangs."

Jamie already knew that. Only Lovers Left Alive was one of her favorite movies.

"This'll be the same. Have a seat. Normally, the dentist would do this, but I'm naturally overprepared so I brought impression materials just in case. She gloped the thick paste into the mold and gestured towards him. “Any allergies or other ways I could easily accidentally kill you right now?”

He laughed. “I’m fairly hearty, but thank you for your concern.”

"Is it okay if I put this in your mouth?"

Tom nodded and opened widely to accommodate her. She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she fit the mold against his teeth.

"Now, bite down completely. Okay, great. It'll take about an hour to set up, so just relax."

His eyes widened in panic and she couldn’t help but laugh loudly at his expression.

"Kidding! It'll be like three minutes and I already spent thirty seconds of them scaring the living daylights out of you."

She checked the time on her Fitbit and sat down across from him, gloved hands clasped. He looked absolutely ridiculous with the plastic form in his beautiful mouth. He glared at her but she knew it was without malice.

"Silver tongue betraying you?" she asked, lightly. Loki was known for his use of words.

He rolled his eyes. Jamie leaned forward and checked the edges of the material.

"I think it's ready. I'm going to pull it out. It won't hurt but it'll feel weird."

Gently, she pried down on the handle and it pulled free. She held it up to the sunlight and, with an expert eye, saw that it was an excellent impression.

"I guess I should have told you that I've never actually done that to anyone besides myself.”

"Well, I survived. Excuse me while I rinse that taste out."

Jamie sprayed the tray in the kitchen sink and wrapped it in damp paper towels and then in plastic. She put it back in her bag and pulled out her shade kit, loops and flashlight.

Tom returned and sat back in the chair.

"I'm afraid we're going to be even more intimate for this part," Jamie said, as she scooted her chair closer. "Actually, you're still much taller than me. I'll need to stand over you. My office has a proper dental chair that leans back so I don't usually need to be in the patient's...lap. Sorry."

"It's fine," he replied. "You're the one being put out by having to come here. Remember, I'm used to people doing hair and makeup and costumes for me. I don't have much of a sense of personal space. Even for a Brit."

She pulled her magnifying glasses over her eyes and clicked her flashlight.

"Please open your mouth and turn so you're looking at my left ear. Relax your jaw. Excellent. Just like that."

With a practiced eye, she examined the chipping on his tooth. Her initial treatment plan would work.

"I'm just going to take few very close pictures. I'm almost done."

Tom made an agreeable noise in his throat as she still had one hand on his mouth. She took just a moment to appreciate the situation. She was currently straddling one of Tom Hiddleston's very long legs and she was touching his face. This was the weirdest day of her life.

"You'll just need a small veneer to replace the chipped portion. Actually. Your dentist should have been able just to bond the chip back in place. It wouldn't last forever but you wouldn't need a replacement yet." She frowned a bit down into his handsome face, appreciating the angle.

"Actually, I don't have the broken part. I, uh, swallowed it."

"Oh, well that happens all the time. I can't tell you how many crowns we need to replace because the patient swallows them while they're being put on."

Tom chuckled and she felt it in her body because of how close they were.

"Thanks, that makes me feel a bit better. When should it be completed?"

"I can fabricate it over the weekend and have it on Monday for you."

"That fast?" he asked. "Do you normally work on the weekends?"

"Well, no, but I don't mind taking care of it for you. Some of it is just time in the oven. I'll do the design and shading by hand. It's really not a challenging fit."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate that. Monday would be wonderful. Will you be coming back to put it in?"

Jamie blinked at him. Do this again? Assuming she survived this time?

"That's something the dentist should really do. They'll be able to pick it up from me."

"If it's all the same to you--and you said it's easy. I'd be more comfortable if you did it. I mean, what if they send someone here and she's this Hiddlestoner who climbs in my lap and takes pictures of the inside of my mouth?"

"Hey buddy, those were for me to get the shade right."

“Then why are you still in my lap?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Yes, of course I'll do what I can to get you fixed up,” she said, stepping back from him. She began to pack up her tools.

"Excellent. What's next?" he asked her.

"I'm actually done with my part. Everything else I'll do at the lab. Or at home. I really can't tell you how much I appreciate your being so kind when I'm obviously completely a bag of cats."

"You were completely professional and only scared me slightly. Luckily for you, I don't scare easily. I'll grab Luke and we'll get you a ride back. Excuse me."

As he walked out of the room, Jamie sank into an armchair. She was almost out of here. She'd just barely managed to escape with some dignity.

Jamie stood as both men walked back into the room.

"Would you mind terribly if I rode back with you?” Tom asked, putting his hands together in prayer. “I'm getting stir crazy in the hotel and it's not like I can just pop out to the pub. But a drive would be just the thing."

"Sure. Yes. Of course," she said, hoping her voice sounded convincing. "I'd like that a lot. Do you mind if I freshen up before we go?"

"Right through there," Tom pointed behind her to another room. “Take your time.”

She nodded and walked through the door into the next bedroom and into the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub and put her head between her knees. Pull yourself together, Birch. He was just another guy. Yes, so, he was the guy of her dreams. But it's not like he would ever see her like that. I’m just here to do a job and he's being nice to the help. After smoothing down her hair and rinsing out her own dry mouth, she returned to Tom, who was standing by the elevator. Her two bags were slung over his broad shoulder. He'd put on a leather jacket and black ball cap, a loose curl peeking out behind his ear. It took all of her willpower not to tuck it back in.

"You're sure you don't mind?" he asked again, noticing the glossy gaze that had come over her eyes, before pushing the button on the elevator.

Jamie stepped in as the doors opened.

"C'mon," she said. "Maybe we'll see some dolphins."

This trip in the elevator wasn't back to the lobby, but to the basement garage. The doors opened and Bruce was waiting with the Navigator. This portion of the garage was sectioned off with its own set of doors. One additional black Navigator was parked behind the one waiting for them.

"Hiya, Bruce!" Jamie greeted him like an old friend.

"Miss Birch." He nodded.

Tom opened the rear door and offered her a hand to help her up and passed her her bags. She put them at her feet then leaned over to push open his door. Her eyes caught the surprise in his to find her arm out over towards his side.

Bruce slid in to the driver's seat and checked the mirrors.

"We're good to go, sir, if you're ready."

"Yes, thank you. Back to your office, right Jamie?"

She looked at her watch. This whole thing had taken up the afternoon and it would be early evening by the time they got back.

"Yes, please. I'm sure everyone is gone by now but I need to get some stone material so I can make molds from the impression. I'll just do it at home tonight."

"Do you work from home a lot?" Tom asked, leaning back as they pulled into downtown traffic.

"No, not really. Most of my work needs to bake in specialty ovens so I can't do that part. I don't usually do the designs but I'll be doing yours. That's easy enough do at home. I'm happy to, really. I'll pour the stone models and they can dry overnight and boy this is incredibly boring and yet I keep going on about the process. Sorry." Her voice trailed off.

"No, please don't apologize. I asked. I'm genuinely interested. I'm going to sound like a tosser, but I always have to talk about myself. It's really nice just to...honestly just listen to your voice." There was the redness creeping up his neck again.

She turned to face him. "I listen to your narration of Octopussy and The Living Daylights a few times a week. I love how you voice James Bond. So, I guess it's fair for you to listen to me for a change."

His face slightly downward, he looked up at her through his long eyelashes. "And High-Rise?"

She sighed. "And High-Rise."

"Good," he said firmly.

As Tom watched Jamie point out things over the water, including a lucky sighting of a pod of dolphins, he couldn’t help but hear his own voice, as Bond, in his head. Somewhere, within easy reach, that girl lived. Was she married? Did she have a lover? Anyway, to hell with it. She was not for him.

Bruce brought them back to the lab. Dusk had fallen and the security lights  illuminated the building. No cars were in the parking lot. The place always cleared out early on Fridays. Tom got out and walked around to her door. She said her thank yous to Bruce and took Tom's hand as he helped her out.

"Are you sure you'll be okay here, alone?" he asked, looking around.

"Oh yeah, absolutely. I work late plenty of nights. I like to be alone."

Still looking around, he frowned.

"Where's your car?"

"Oh. Yeah well I only live across the street so I walk."

"Nope."

"Nope?" she asked, incredulous. "Yep. I walk. It's a safe neighborhood. I like the time to think."

"There's no way I'm leaving you here alone and then letting you walk home in the dark just because you were late helping me. Bruce and I will drive you. When you're ready." He closed the door behind her with finality.

There was no point fighting about it. She wasn't worried about walking home at night but it would be nice to spend a few more minutes with him.

"Okay, I only need about five minutes to grab some things."

"There’s no rush. May I come in with you?" Tom asked her.

"I'll be perfectly safe!" she replied, not hiding her exasperation.

"I'm sure you are. I just wanted to see it. I've never been in a dental laboratory."

Internally, she swooned at his pronunciation of laboratory. Externally, she nodded and dug through her bag, feeling for her badge. Pulling it out by the lanyard, she touched it to the keypad on the door. She heard it unlock and Tom reached past her to pull it open. In her hand, he saw himself in miniature. She followed his eyes and grinned sheepishly. There was a small, plastic keychain cartoon version of Loki, daggers drawn, on her lanyard.

"You like that suit, too?"

She shrugged. "Gold, for his mother," she replied, factually.

He nodded approvingly. They walked through the dimly lit lab and she pointed out this and that. She grabbed a container of stone model mix, a few plastic bowls and an electric handpiece.

"Where's your desk?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't need anything from there. Just this stuff."

"Maybe I want to see it," he replied. So they walked over to her little corner. It had some succulents and a few pictures taped the window. He ran his fingertips over the counter where she sat, as if to memorize the space.

"The ovens are back here. Be careful not to touch anything because some of them may be hot."

The warm room hummed loudly. Usually there was an overnight staff, but not always on Fridays. Jamie was happy for this because he seemed to be enjoying the tour. He watched her mouth as she explained the dull details of the lab and he'd gently brushed her back with his hand a couple of times as they'd walked. She thought it was her imagination when she felt his gaze on her while she slid her timecard through the timeclock.

"Okay, we're ready," she said brightly. She'd caught him looking at her. Probably making sure that I don't knock him out and keep him prisoner here, she thought. But secretly, she was flattered and flustered.

Tom opened the lab door and then her car door, helping her up again. She told Bruce how to get across the road to her apartment and they were there in a few minutes.

"See, I told you it was close," she said reproachfully as Tom opened her door yet again.

"But thank you for the ride, Bruce. Maybe I'll see you on Monday?"

"If not sooner," he said quietly, turning back to wink at her.

"I'll let my boss know to let your...people know to set things up for Monday,” she said to Tom as she grasped his hand.

He helped her down, took her bags from her and started to walk the path to her apartment.

"You don't need to walk me up!" she said, trailing after him. He didn't slow down. Climbing the concrete stairs two at a time with his impossibly long legs, he held open the screen door for her. She pulled her keys from her bag on his shoulder and reached out to take the bags he carried. He didn't move.

"Have dinner with me." He'd meant to say it more elegantly. He'd meant to ask.

"I--what? You can't go out.” She didn't really know what to say, but it wasn’t that. She knew, though, for absolutely certain, he could not come inside her apartment. Nope. Not happening.

"No, I can't and I'm sorry for that. I just don't want to go back to my hotel and eat with my team again, as much as I enjoy them. I wouldn’t be fair to drag you back across town. So, do you think maybe we can get a takeaway and eat it here? I really can't believe I'm saying this out loud because you don't know me and it's terribly inappropriate but I just--I don't want to leave you." He sighed. "It was a long weekend in Seattle and working again now when I thought I was done. I love my job. I just want to continue this normal conversation with you. And I'm hungry."

She stared into his blue eyes. He really did look like a sad golden retriever.

"Listen, Tom. I want you to understand completely. If you come in. We will not have sex."

He laughed loudly and brushed her hair back from her ear. He couldn't help himself.

"Can we have pizza instead?"

She could hear her cats meowing on the other side of the door. He took her keys from her and turned the lock. They bounded out and then right back in when they saw the stranger.

"I thought for sure they'd recognize me!" he said, laughing at his own joke.

"Not without the horned helmet!" she threw back.

He hung her keys on the hook next to the door as if he did it every day.

"Where can I put these?" he asked, gesturing with her bags.

"Kitchen counter, please," she replied.

"Alexa, we're home" she said to the speaker.

"Welcome home. I hope you're having a good day." Alexa replied.

From the moment Tom took her keys, Jamie knew she was completely screwed. He'd see her apartment and he would nope out of there, probably not even making a polite excuse. This had been fun, but it was over. His dentist would put in the crown and she'd never see him again. He might pursue legal action preventing it.

Tom set the bags on the counter next to the black refrigerator. It had the usual magnets and take out menus. And his face. He mouthed the words, quoting himself.

"Well, do you?" he asked her.

"Do I what?" Her voice was shaking.

"Do you like potatoes?"

She turned to him, her face now fiery red. Tears swam in her eyes.

"I am so, so sorry."

She covered her face with her hands. It was one thing to have a sexy picture of a celebrity on your phone. But to have a silly screenshot printed out and on her fridge from a video he’d made about potatoes for UNICEF? Like he was a friend.

She didn't hear him close the distance between them. She felt his strong arms around her.

"Shhhhhhhh," he whispered, rubbing her back as he held her tight. "Please, don't cry. Please. It's a happy day.”

"You're here and on my fridge and on my walls and you just can't be and I'm sorry,” she said, her shaking voice muffled through her hands and his chest. “I've been trying so hard to be cool and calm since I saw Luke in the lobby but I'm not. I'm sorry."

"Hey. Look at me."

He leaned back and forced her chin up to meet his gaze. Her face was red hot with embarrassment and tears.

"Is there a shrine with candles and locks of my hair purchased from eBay?"

She shook her head.

"Is there a life sized nude painting of me hanging in your bedroom?"

"Not...nude." she sniffled, half a smile coming up.

He beamed at her.

"Let's get some food and we can talk about my work, if you want. Or any other topic. Or I can go. This is your home."

"Stay."

[florenceisnottrash]

Pose for me (M) Kihyun x Reader

Bonjour!  When I saw this one pic of Kihyun for their “beautiful” comeback, I knew I had to. Please keep in mind that my first language is french, I’m fluent in english, but don’t be surprise if some sentences sound weird. This is the FIRST time I’m writing something like this so please, bear with me. I still tried my absolute best to give you some quality content so please enjoy! Any feed back is appreciated :) 

-Flo

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As someone who’s been passionate about photography all my life, I’ve never thought that I would be able to make a living out of my passion. For the longest time, I was fascinated about how the beauty of the world, stories and memories could be stored in a little box. I was seven years old when I got my first camera from a box of cereal Kellogg’s. To be honest, I remember the pictures being kind of blurry and filled with my little thumbs but, for a seven years old, it was plenty. My mom soon became aware of my interest in photography and for my 10th birthday, she and my dad got me a Kodak DC3200 which was pretty much the Holy Grail for me. After receiving such a gift, I started to take it more seriously by reading books about technics and lightings and taking pictures of everything around me, such as my cat, flowers and people coming by our family house.

And I’m now 20 years old, freshly graduated from college with a diploma in photography and desperately sending out resume to get a dream job in something I’m passionate about.

“Y/N! Come to the kitchen!” Said my mom from downstairs.

“Stop yelling so loudly in the morning, Jesus!”

“It’s 1 o’clock so I can yell all I want! Now come to the kitchen there’s something for you!"

I could barely keep my eyes open when I was fumbling my sheet in search for my phone. My mom was right. It really was 1 in the afternoon! I grabbed the same clothes from yesterday that I left on the floor in a hurry to go back in the warmth of my bed and went downstairs.

“What’s the thing you got from me?” I said while rubbing my eyes and gradually adjusting to the bright sunlight and making my way to the fridge.

“Good afternoon Y/N, this letter just came in and I thought you would want to have a look” Said my mom with a big smile on her face.

“Who is it from?” I asked pouring myself a glass of orange juice.

“I don’t know but…” My mom said playfully.

I raised an eyebrow and looked at her in confusion.

“It’s from Korea.”

It took me a moment to understand was she just said. When I came back to my senses, I dropped my glasses and took the letter from her hand and ran like I never ran before across the house to go to my room and shut the door close with a loud “BOOM”.

“Oh, my god, it’s really happening! After months of sending resumes at different agencies they finallyyy replied!”

My hands were shaking like hell and I couldn’t get my heart to calm down. I ripped slowly the side of the letter and wonder which Korean agencies would reply to someone like me. I kind of decided to send my resume to Korean entertainment agencies just in case they would call me back of send an e-mail or a letter but, I never thought they would actually reply. I’ve been a fan of K-pop for the longest time and I thought it would be a dream to work as a photographer for BigHit to shoot the 7 lovely boys or for JYP to get a glance at how dreamy Got7 look in real life or work for my all-time favourite k-pop group, Monsta X.

I took a deep breath while slowly sliding the letter out of the envelope. After the letter was out, I turned it over and looked at the logo on the top left of the page.

“MOM!” I yelled while running down the stairs as quick as when I got up earlier.

“MOM! It’s from Starship Entertainment.”

“And? What did they say?”

The smile on my face said it all but I still gave the letter to my mom, who was looking dumbfounded, and said, “I’m starting Monday!”

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It’s been now a year since I’ve received the letter from Starship entertainment. I did my best at that time to be ready for my first day. I managed to find myself a plane ticket to Korea and a small apartment quite close to my new workplace and all that in less than 2 weeks! It took a few weeks for my parents to get used to me being at more than 10 000 km away from home but, with me calling every day to reassure them helped a lot for sure.

As for me, it’s been quite of an emotional roller coaster. I had to get accustom to a new culture, new people, new language, new job. However, it’s all in the past, I’m totally in love with my new place and my job and I couldn’t be happier.

This morning, I woke up to my phone ringing loud as a truck in my ears making me wonder why I didn’t turn it off before going to sleep.

“It’s my fist day off in a while, can’t they leave me alone?” I mumbled still half-asleep.

It keeps ringing.

“Give me a break…”

Still ringing.

“I give up” I picked up my phone which was left on the nightstand “Hi, what can I do for you?” I said with my sleepy voice and my eyes still shut.

“Good morning Y/N! I hope I didn’t wake you up. I know it’s your day off today but I think what I’m about to say will interest you.”

It’s uncommon for my boss to call me on my phone, in fact, I think it’s the first time he ever called me on my phone. Usually, it’s his secretary that’s calls me to inform me of anything about job-related stuff. This surprise phone call from my boss got me to sit straight on my bed with my eyes wide open, the exact opposite of 10 seconds ago.

“One of the photographer from our agency suddenly got sick and can’t come to work today. Since you’ve been working as a photographer for the group Boyfriend for a year now and been showing skills exceeding our expectation, we thought about you right away. So, if you are up to, come to work in 2 hours and we will explain the job when you’ll get there.”

I cleared my voice after I took all the information in and said determined: “You can count on me I’ll be there on time, thank you for your consideration!”

I quickly jumped out of bed to get ready for my day. I couldn’t believe the agency thought about me for a replacement and said all those nice things about my work. Although they didn’t specify the job I’ll be doing today, I surely couldn’t deceive them and I absolutely got to do the best I can to make sure they can count on me for future opportunities like this one.

Exactly 2 hours after the phone call, I reach for the entrance of the building of Starship entertainment and with the help of my key card I went inside. As I was waiting for the elevator to take me to the shooting studio on the 5th floor I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and the only reason for this was because I was really excited to hear what my boss will make me do today! I’ve been shooting for Boyfriend for a while as their exclusive photographer, don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy working with the boys as they are sweet and talent but, I still want to try something new for once.

“Are you coming in or not?”

I suddenly came back to my senses, I was so immersed into my though I didn’t realize the doors of the elevator opened and someone already went in.

I raised my eyes to lock them with Kihyun’s, who was looking at me with a mocking smile.

“Ah… hum… yeah!” I said taken aback by the situation.

“looks like someone is still a bit half-asleep this morning” Said Kihyun with a smirk on his face, pressing the 5th button of the panel of the elevator.

I can’t deal with Kihyun. I don’t know what he did to me but, since the first time I locked eyes with him a year ago, on Monsta X’s shooting set, when the staff introduced me to them, I just can’t get him out of my head. Every time I feel like I’m in control of my emotions he comes out of nowhere and makes a mess out of me. When he passes by to come say hi to Boyfriend, I can’t help but to follow his every movement closely and when he looks my way, I avert my eyes quickly and continue to work in hopes he didn’t notice me until he leaves.

He too, looks like he just woke up. His hair was still messy underneath his cap and he was wearing a simple white t-shirt that made his skin look stunning and some black pants with holes on the knees. Even like this, he looked extremely handsome. The way his slender fingers made their way to his front pocket, his shoulder leaning on the elevator’s wall, his tongue licking softly on his perfectly parted lips…Before my heart was beating because of the work that awaits me but now, it’s beating for a completely different reason.

“See you around”.

I came back to my sense and realised I was totally staring at him once again.

“Oh! Yes… have good day!”

When the doors closed, I crouched and took my head in my hands wondering how I could’ve looked so stupid in front of Kihyun. He certainly thinks I’m having a crush on him or even worst, that I’m a crazy fan that took this job only because I could be close to Monsta X. The cringe continued till I reached the floor where I was supposed to meet my boss.

My boss was sitting in front of his computer when I knocked on the glass door. With a single hand gesture, he tells me to come inside with a smile. As I while taking a seat he greeted me with a good morning and a quick apology for making me come on my day off.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s my pleasure to come and help when one of my colleagues is sick. What was the job you were talking about earlier on the phone?”

“So, as you know, we are currently working on Monsta X’ comeback. We are almost finished but there’s still some of the boys that didn’t have their photoshoot yet. Since Min Soo Ri called in sick this morning, we were looking for someone to replace her. I immediately recommended you since the work you do is always impeccable. So, what do you say?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Me? Working with Monsta X? My boss trusted me enough to let me be part of this photoshoot. This is an incredible opportunity for me to prove that I’m someone who’s hardworking and skilful.

“I’d be happy to take part of this photoshoot! Thank you for your consideration.”

“It’s my pleasure, thanks to you Y/N. The rest of the team should be preparing the set on the 5th floor, they must be waiting for you to start!”

I bowed to my boss and made my way out of the office and suddenly thought about something.

“Sorry to disturb you again Mister but, who will I be working with today?”

He told me to wait a bit as he was looking through his documents and when he got hold of his agenda, he told me what I was anticipating the most since I got the call this morning but I eventually shoved the though in the back of my head every time it came to my mind.

“Today is Thursday so, it’s supposed to be… Kihyun.”

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I was waiting for the elevator to come down when all sort of thoughts came to my mind. How I am supposed to have a photoshoot why Kihyun when I can’t even look at him in the eyes without getting flustered? Even the lenses between us won’t make any difference. And with the way I acted this morning, he must still think I’m a freak with ulterior motives.

I opened the doors of the studio and what I saw was stunning. The concept of this photoshoot had the be related to mirrors because of the abundance of those in the room. With the hints of blue on the walls and the light directed perfectly on the set, it made it look like I was in some sort of dream which would be difficult to come back from. Everyone was ready to start but across the room I could see Kihyun, whose back was facing me, still getting his make-up done.

I went to greet everyone to make sure I was being professional and immediately started to get my equipment in place to be ready to start by the time Kihyun will be done with his touch ups.

After I put up the last pieces of my equipment in front of the set and let out a slight sight. I was genuinely hoping everything was going to unwind neatly. I was here to do a great job, not only for myself and to prove I was capable of any task I was assigned but, I had to do an unblemished job for all the Monbebes out there waiting impatiently for those photos. If something were to happen, I would be feeling responsible for the rest of my life. I did a last check through my stuff to make sure I was perfectly place for the first set of pictures that’ll be taken. The first set was simple yet, breath-taking. A dark blue wall in the back, a chair and a single mirror topped table. It was perfect for Kihyun, simple things put together to make something purely wonderful.

I looked through the lens on last time to ensure the camera was in focus and at the exact same moment what I was seeing through the lens became clearer I saw Kihyun, calmly sitting down on the chair in the centre of the set, beside the mirror-table. My heart clenched a little when I saw how beautifully stunning he was. The red sparkly patterns on his sweater matched perfectly the dark of his deep eyes and the soft pink of his lips. His hair resembled the way it looked this morning but, this time, instead of a bed-head look, it was more of a “bedroom look” which was making Kihyun look extremely sexy.

I moved back from the camera and looked at the stunning view with my own eyes. It was simply mesmerizing. I was wondering how I could convey the feeling I’m getting right here and right now, into photographs. Several people started gathering around Kihyun, indicating how he had to pose, where he had to look and fixing his make-up one last time before I start taking pictures.

I went back behind my lens and waited patiently for them to leave the set. They finally backed off and told me quietly that I could start doing my job. At first, they told Kihyun to simply put his arms on the table, to look turn a bit to his right and to look straight forward. With this pose, it was easy for me to take amazing pictures. His side profile was no joke. The lighting made his skin look flawless and charmingly dewy, and his jawline look sharp as a knife.

The shoot went surprisingly well and was about to come to an end. There was only one last pose to try and hopefully, it’ll come as good as the other pictures. During the break, I looked through the ones I took and I was totally impressed by the work I did. I gained a lot more confidence for the other half of the shoot and I’m sure it’ll show up in those photographs.

As Kihyun did his last pose, I was totally mesmerized. His head was laying softly on the mirror topped table and his hand was placed in front of his peaceful-looking face without covering the whole of it. Some strands of hair were beautifully shielding his forehead. Even with the camera between us, the look in his eyes at that moment were powerful yet soft. For a second, a shiver went down my spine and made its way between my legs, making them squeeze together. I could feel myself getting wetter every time I locked eyes with Kihyun through the lens and the feeling was unbearable. It might just be in my head, but I could feel that, with every shiver that came through my body, the look in his eyes becoming even more alluring and… thirsty.

We wrapped the shoot after about an hour and a half. It not only went well because everyone knew what to do and were adequately prepared but, also because Kihyun showed modelling skills that I never expected to see in him. Everyone, including me, were truly amazed. Before packing, I decided to through the photos again. I couldn’t believe they came out so nicely! As I was lost in thoughts, I didn’t realise that the entirety of the staff was long gone and that I was alone in the studio. I felt really bad about taking my sweet time while others were cleaning up so I started tidying my spot.

“You’re so obvious, Y/N”

I turned over to see someone looking at me a giggling a little, back against the wall.

“… Kihyun? You’re still here?”

“I couldn’t leave without bidding you goodbye, not with the way you were acting during the photoshoot”

My heart was racing like crazy. What was he talking about? Just how does he think I was acting that was “so obvious”?

“What are you…”

“When I went visiting Boyfriend’s set, when we crossed each other in Starship’s building, this morning in the elevator, and just now during the photoshoot.”

As he talked, he was slowly walking in my direction which made me step back till I reach the table with my things spread on top, making a small noise.

“You’re always staring at me with your lustful eyes. You thought I didn’t know?” He was saying that with a mischievous look on his face, which made me extremely self-conscious. “You were so obvious all those times, I’m 100% sure that all the staff knows, and my members.”

He was getting closer and closer, I needed to get out of here, I felt so ashamed and powerless in front of Kihyun. And to add to all this, he was completely right. I did look at him lustfully, I did think about lewd thing just now, during the shoot. Which made me feel even more vulnerable toward him.

“I’m sorry, but I really need to go my boss wants to see the photos of today’s shoot.” I dodge Kihyun and began to make my way to the entrance.

“I am sorry, but you’re not going anywhere Y\N.” He pulled me and pushed me against the wall.

He grew closer to me.

“Before it was easy for me to hold back, but today, seeing you lick your pinkish lips…” His thumb caressed them softly.

“seeing you squeeze your legs tightly together…” A shiver ran down my whole body when his slender, yet muscular tight slowly found its way between my legs.

“But today, I guaranty you that they won’t stay close tightly.”

My lips and his were only centimetres away from each other, and even though I was reluctant at first, the warmth of his body meeting mine, the smoothness of his fingertips brushing my demanding lips… I felt my last will to fight leave the moment his lips crashed onto mine.

Despite myself, I imagine sharing a kiss with Kihyun countless times. So many times. Thinking about it would make my heart go wild and my body ache. But the kiss he gave me wasn’t like I imagined it to be, not at all. It wasn’t sweet and tender like his character, instead it was fierce and playful. The way he teased by kissing my lips, suddenly dodging them only to make them meet mine again was driving crazy.

By the time his right hand cupped my ass and closed the gap between us, my hand was already brushing his hair and I was deeply kissing Kihyun, as if I needed him more than anything at this moment.

“How dare you kiss me like that without warning.”

I lifted my head to lock eyes with him. He wasn’t the only one that likes to play that game. “You should’ve known, since I’m “so obvious”, am I right?”

“… Fuck.”

The teasing game was over for Kihyun the moment I said that. His kisses became thirstier and the motion circles his tight made on your sensitive spot would definitely leave a wet spot on his black pants. The hand that was earlier on my ass was now making its way to my breast, making sure no skin was left untouched. The other hand travelled from my nape to my tight, lifting my skirt to reveal my panties.

The hotness of his fingers on me, dangerously coming close to my core made my heart beat uncontrollable and my breathing was desperately trying to maintain stable.

“…Kihyun”

He then left my lips to look at me, quietly asking for my consent to continue further. Being unable to think straight I took his hand and directed it where I needed it the most. He softly brushed my weatness through my panties and his touched left your knees weak.

“Y/N… Are you always this wet thinking about me?” He shifted his head to kiss my neck. “In the elevator, this morning…”  He pushed my panties down with his other hand. “Have you thought about me…” He nibbled my ear and quietly whispered. “fingering you?” As the last word left his lips, one of his finger penetrated me sharply yet, easily due to how dripping wet Kihyun’s dirty talk made me.

I felt my whole body become numb as he motioned his thumb on my clit and pumped his finger, that eventually became two, inside of me. My back was arching every time his fingers hit deeply in me. My moans became louder and uneven. I was struggling to stand and when I stood close to my limit, the weight of my body was pressing against his.

“Kihyun… I’m so close”

“Fuck Y/N you’re so hot but…we’re not finished yet” To my extreme disappointment he withdrew the fingers that were giving me so much pleasure and removed my shirt to have a better exposure of my breast. I did the same with his, and another wave a pleasure stung me down there when I felt his toned chest. The bulge in his pants rubbed my tight urgently as he approaches his lips from mine.

“Kihyun… I need you” I said out of breath, unzipping his pants eagerly. “Kihyun I need you, now.”  

“That’s the words I was dying to hear for a long-time Y/N”

His two big hands left my body to pull down his pants and almost instantly, my hand went to caress his manliness, ready to pleasure him like he previously pleasured you.

“Let me take care of you Y/N, since you need me that much.”

Kihyun lifted my leg and made sure my back was properly leaning on the wall before entering me in a single push, making me moan his name louder than before and scratching his bare back with my nails. The feeling of Kihyun was exalting, as if it was making me feel whole. With every thrust he granted me with, my mind became blank and I couldn’t think straight. The hotness of our bodies intertwined blurred my senses and everything became pointless. My mind was solely focused on how good Kihyun made me feel and the thought of him being one with me drew me closer to the edge.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful Y/N”

“Kihyun I’m nearly there, please!”

As if he had read my mind, the speed increased and the friction became intolerable. I clenched onto Kihyun harder and contracted all my muscles as the overwhelming feeling of my release made its way from my core up to my entire body. My sudden tightness lead Kihyun reaching his own climax simultaneously. As we regained our calm, we slid on the floor, Kihyun’s back on the wall and my head resting on his chest, the two of us out of breath.

Without leaving me a chance to talk, he stood up and left me here, sitting alone and naked on the floor. I laughed to myself thinking of how foolish I was thinking he really cared.

I took my clothes spread across the studio’s floor only to find Kihyun coming to me with a worried sight on his beautiful face.

“What are you doing?” He seemed do worried about my body hurting. “Don’t get up just yet. Rest for a bit and I’ll clean you up, alright?”

I haven’t felt this relieved in such a long time. With only a sweet smile and some caring words, Kihyun made my worries disappear.

“Now that I got you Y/N, I won’t let you go.”

[avengerofyourheart]

The Lucky One Pt 4

Characters: reader, Marjorie (reader’s mom), Bucky (James), OC Kevin Jenkins, OC Caleb, mention of a certain other Avenger.

Summary: As a single mom with a jerk of an ex-husband, you’re doing your best to run the family business all on your own when your mother hires a mysterious man with a troubled past to help out. He just might be what you need in your life, but will his secrets bring you together or tear you apart? (Events occur shortly after Captain America: The Winter Soldier)

Warnings: a little angst, SO MUCH FLUFF, ex being a jerk. Super light violence? Maybe? Tiny cliffhanger. 

Word Count: 3.7k (this one got away from me, but you’ll see why :D )

A/N: Eee!! So excited about this part! Originally for Stark Tower’s Movie Challenge, which has ended, but I’m continuing on my own just for fun. I chose the movie “The Lucky One” and I’m really excited about it! Please let me know your thoughts, whether you’ve see the movie or not, I appreciate your feedback!! :)

Tags are at the bottom (Permanent list is closed, but tags for THIS SERIES ONLY are open)

<<<Part Three   Part Four   Part Five>>> 

The Lucky One Series Masterlist

____________________________________________________

Previously:

“I don’t know much about my family. They’ve been gone for a while.”

Feeling a tug at your heart, you felt badly for bringing it up. “I’m sorry.”

He put on a brave smile, meeting your eyes. “It happens. Thanks again. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” you replied, offering a smile in return. You watched his figure retreat into the dark and then closed the door behind you. It was only after he was gone that you realized tomorrow was Sunday and his day off. Would he actually show up and refuse a day free from work again? You couldn’t allow that. There were labor laws, after all. And yet…part of you hoped to see him sooner than Monday. Knowing him only a few weeks, the man was still a mystery, but each clue given had you aching for more.  

_______

The morning sun rose crisp and clear on Sunday, your ears tuned to any outdoor noises. Unexpected disappointment creeped into your mind to find silence. You had become accustomed to the early sounds of James sawing, hammering, or tossing bales of hay onto the ground outside the stables this early. You weren’t really surprised, given that it was Sunday, but the promised words of “See you in the morning” echoed in your mind from last night.

Shaking off this odd feeling, you climbed out of bed and pulled on a cozy sweater before descending the stairs toward the kitchen. Soon you had pancakes on the griddle and all the other breakfast fixin’s on the table. The delicious smells roused the rest of the house, soon hearing your mother’s shuffling feet along with the frantic scamper of your energetic boy approaching.

After breakfast, you all dressed for church and headed out the door. You weren’t particularly religious, but your mother attended every week and couldn’t get around on her own very well, so you and Caleb tagged along. An hour-long service was all your mother’s poor back could handle, what with the sitting on those hard pews and all the getting up and down constantly. Stepping outside the church, you lingered with Caleb as your mother thanked the pastor and chatted with the ladies she played Poker with. Any other aging mother would be playing Bridge, but not yours. She needed the thrill of taking the whole Jackpot, even if no actual money was exchanged.

You waved at a few friends as you pulled your sweater tighter around you. The dress you wore was one of your favorites, but it wasn’t particularly warm. Caleb had settled on the steps with the small sketchbook he brought almost everywhere. Glancing down, you noticed that he seemed to be sketching the storefronts across from the church. He then looked up and pointed, drawing your attention, “Mama, look! It’s James! Can I go say hi?”

Following his gaze, you saw that it was indeed the long-haired brunet. He was exiting the hardware store with a few bags in each hand. Shielding your eyes from the Autumn sun, you could see he wore his usual baseball cap, jacket, and gloves. You saw him looking around briefly, then he did a double take and paused upon spotting you. Caleb waved enthusiastically, standing from his crouched position while you hesitantly raised a hand in greeting. “You’ll see him tomorrow, honey. Let’s not bother him on his day off, mmkay?”

The blond-haired boy exhaled in disappointment, “Okay.”

James had transferred all his bags to his left hand and raised his right in response with a smile. He then looked away and continued on down the street. Turning back toward the open church doors, you saw your mother was finally approaching, ready to leave.

________

The repetitive sounds of hammering woke you on Monday, oddly bringing a smile to your face. Another morning began with a quick breakfast, forgotten homework, and a mad rush to meet the school bus before you returned home and visited the stables. A ladder rested against the outside wall while sounds were heard up on the roof. Glancing inside, you could see that all the horses had water and food already so you passed by each stall, saying hello to every horse and nuzzling their soft noses. Jasper snorted and stamped his hooves at your approach, a frown tugging at your mouth with worry.

The sounds above were muffled from inside and you suspected James was hitting softly so as to not spook the horses. So considerate. Walking back outside, you rounded the corner toward the ladder and climbed up. You stood on a rung only about 8 feet off the ground with the roof visible. At the top you saw James on his hands and knees replacing shingles.

Waiting for him to pause in hammering, you finally spoke, “Good morning, James.”

He turned your way with a smile, “Good morning, Y/N.”

“Today’s project, I see?” you asked, gesturing toward the work he had already accomplished.

He shrugged, “I saw a few places where it was rotting through. Seemed like a Monday project.”

You grinned in approval. “It was nice to see you in town yesterday. Did you have a restful Sunday?”

Sitting back on his heels, he adjusted the bill of his cap. “As restful as I get. Worked on the house mostly.”

“Hence the hardware store, I suppose.”

He just nodded, giving you a warm, but conservative smile. He was a bit more liberal with those lately and you were definitely a fan, bringing out a grin of your own.

“Well,” you glanced around, “I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll be back out with the training schedules in a while.”

“Sounds good,” he responded, lifting his hammer again to strike.

Climbing down, you headed for the house and stepped onto the porch, then looking back for a different view of James. Even from a distance, you could see that he filled out those jeans rather nicely in the back. You flushed and chastised yourself with a shake of your head before stepping inside.

________

Monday and Tuesday passed by as scheduled, both days busy and productive. Wednesday disrupted the flow, but in a mostly positive way. Caleb attended school in the morning, but a field trip in the afternoon involved visiting a local wheat farm, which of course your son was allergic to, so you picked him up and brought him home around noon. You were preparing some lunch while your mother rested, seeing Caleb on the grass out front from the kitchen window. He was trying desperately to practice his karate moves before lessons that night but was having trouble on his own and you were no help. You cursed Kevin once again for never being the father Caleb deserved.

Unexpected warm weather brought an Indian Summer, prompting you to open all the windows for fresh air. Across the lawn, you spotted James walking out of the barn and taking a seat on the tailgate of your pickup truck. He had just unloaded about 20 bags of oats and horse feed in no time, now taking a break for lunch. He didn’t need reminding now to stop midday for a meal, which you were glad about. He deserved a break.

Pulling items from the fridge, you busied yourself preparing the meal. Returning to the sink to wash your hands, you glanced out the window and was surprised to see that James was approaching the house. He paused, talking to Caleb who had collapsed on the grass in defeat. Reaching for a towel, you observed James walk closer to the boy, who stood at the man’s approach. James reached Caleb, then facing him and widening his stance with his fists raised close to his face. You watched, heart in your throat, as the muscled man gently instructed your son on his foot placement and what looked like a way to block a punch.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. This hard-working, kind, handsome, near-stranger volunteered to spend time with your son on his down time, when his own father couldn’t even bother. Lunch was ready, but you didn’t want to break the spell so you tackled a few dirty pots and pans left over from last night’s dinner that you’d left soaking. Once the sink was filled with soapy water, you dipped your hands in and started to scrub.

Another glance out the window, you saw that James had removed his jacket, sweater, and baseball cap leaving him in a long-sleeved Henley and his ever-present gloves. He knelt down to meet Caleb’s eye level and raised his fists, gesturing for the boy to do the same. In slow motion, the man demonstrated the correct movement for a solid punch, putting his weight into it, and then inversely taught him how to block it.

You felt a flutter in your chest, seeing for the first time an unrestrained smile on James’ handsome face, his white teeth gleaming in the sun. Utterly captivated, you grinned with your hands still moving under the soapy water.

Caleb successfully blocked one of James’ very soft punches, jumping around in triumph as he aimed to high-five the man, then completely missing his hand. James barked out a loud laugh, throwing his head back, while Caleb’s higher giggles drifted through the open window to you. Quite possibly the most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard, your heart swelling at their joyous interaction. A wide smile reached your lips as your own happiness bubbled up in that moment.

“Well, that pot’s as clean as it’ll ever be,” you heard a voice speak behind you.

Startled, you dropped the pot in the water and stepped back as water sloshed onto the floor. You whirled around to see your mother leaning against the kitchen’s entrance with a knowing smile on her face. Pulling the sink plug, you drained the water and rinsed the pot as you spoke.

“I was, uh…um…lunch is ready. Have a seat, I’ll go call Caleb in,” you stated, attempting to keep your voice casual.

“Uh huh,” you mother responded with a smirk.

Drying your hands, you walked through the entryway and stepped out onto the porch, seeing the two still gently sparring.

“There you go! See? You’re getting it!” James complimented the boy with enthusiasm.

He had his hands up to block when he finally noticed you on the porch, relaxing his stance with a smile. In that moment, Caleb’s punch swung wild, making contact with the edge of James’ jaw. The man threw his head back in surprise, not pain, but he exaggerated the momentum and let himself fall to his back on the grass.

Your hand flew to your mouth, rushing forward. Fairly certain he wasn’t hurt, you still wanted to be sure.

“James! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, please don’t be mad,” Caleb scampered to his side in worry.

The man let out a laugh, rubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw as he rose to his feet. “You pack a mean punch, buddy, but I promise I’m okay. And I’m not mad. That was an honest hit, I let down my guard so It’s my fault. I’m more worried about your fist, though. I can be pretty hard-headed.”

Caleb looked down at his hand, “I think it’s okay.”

Finally reaching the pair, you gathered the boy’s hand in yours, seeing there was barely a mark on his knuckles. A little redness, but that could very well be a beard burn from James’ stubble. You kissed it and pulled him into a quick hug.

“Alright, I think that’s enough excitement for today,” you declared. Caleb whined, but you insisted. “I know, I know, but it’s lunch time anyway so go wash up. And brush the grass out of your hair before you get inside,” you hollered the last sentence as your son rushed toward the house. “Hey! What do you say to James?”

The boy whirled back around and ran toward the man, gripping him in a hug around the waist. “Thank you for teaching me, James!”

“You’re welcome, pal,” James responded with a grin, less startled by the hug this time.

Watching your son enter the house, you turned back toward James. “Thank you for that. Really. It means the world to him that you would take the time,” you told him sincerely.

“It was my pleasure, honestly,” the brunet replied. “He’s a great kid. He, uh…he actually reminds me a lot of a friend of mine growing up. Always one of the smaller kids with struggling health, he still managed to be the toughest guy I know. Constantly getting into fights, but only for noble reasons, so I taught him a thing or two about self defense. I don’t know anything about karate, but maybe some of this will help Caleb out.” He smiled, eyes unfocused as his mind traveled back through memories.

Still in awe of his generosity and the fact that he just spoke more at once than he had the entire time you’d known him, you quietly observed him for a moment before speaking. “What was his name?”

“Steve,” James said at a whisper almost, avoiding your gaze.

You sensed it was a sensitive subject, so you let the moment pass in silence. Out of curiosity, you then took a step toward him, lightly gripping his prickly chin and turning his face to the side.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” you asked, looking for a mark from his unexpected strike from a small fist.

You brushed your thumb over the area and saw nothing, caught unaware when he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Instinctively, your palm cupped his cheek with a gentle caress. The moment was gone as quickly as it came, though, as he shot his eyes open, quickly taking a step back. Burying hands in his jeans pockets, he avoided your gaze. You crossed your arms over your chest, still feeling the remnants of a spark that flowed between you.

He cleared his throat, “I, uh…I actually came up here to ask you something.”

“Okay. Ask away,” you encouraged him.

He steeled his nerves with a deep breath. “I’ve been spending a fair amount of time with the horses…even reading up on certain subjects on my down time. Training, behavioral patterns, psychology, all of that.”

“Wow. That’s amazing,” you replied, then letting him continue.

“So, I was thinking…I’ve built up quite a bit of trust with Jasper and I was hoping I could maybe take him on a walk with a lead rope? Get him away from the stables? Just for a short time and within the fence. He’s been cooped up so long, I bet he’d love to stretch his legs a little.” You started to protest, but he stopped you. “I know, I know. It’s a risk. But I promise it’ll be fine. And should anything happen to myself as a result, I take full responsibility. I think I can handle him, though.”

You were silent a moment, considering his proposal before responding. “You’re sure about this? You’re confident that he trusts you and you won’t endanger yourself?”

“Yes. I’m positive,” he assured you, hope shining in his greyish-blue eyes.

Another beat of silence, then you nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

A bright smile split across his handsome face, causing that flutter in your chest to reappear.

“But,” you interjected, “I’d like to supervise, from a distance. And it has to be after regular training hours, so later this evening when all the other horses are in for the night. Deal?”

“Yes! Absolutely. Thank you, Y/N” he smiled.

“Okay then.”

“Okay,” he echoed, a look of glee upon his face. “Well, I guess my lunch time is over. Better get back to it.”

You gave a nod, shooting him a smile. “I’ll be back to training after lunch.”

“Sounds good,” James replied, gathering his jackets and hat before heading for the stables.

You watched him go for a moment and then climbed the steps into the house.

_________

That evening, you stood outside the fence of the paddock, eyes wide in wonderment. You couldn’t believe that James had been able to slip the reins over Jasper’s head and was now leading the horse around the perimeter of the fence. They’d been at it for almost an hour and by now James had gotten the thoroughbred animal up to a gallop, the man running alongside. No saddle attempted yet, with riding too much of a risk at this point.

As the day’s last light faded, you gave the man a wave, indicating to bring the horse back in for the night. He followed your instructions and walked Jasper back into the stables through the side entrance. You walked around the long way toward the main doors.

A few hours earlier, you had sent Caleb off with his father to yet another karate lesson. Your stomach clenched each time you thought about it, especially with his returning with a split lip a few weeks previous. Kevin still insisted Caleb needed this, but you let your son know that he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to. The boy assured you it was fun, but you knew at least part of him was doing it solely to please his father.

Huffing a frustrated sigh as those thoughts whirled in your head, you entered the barn to see that James already had removed the reins and was brushing Jasper’s chestnut coat until it gleamed. Still keeping your distance, you watched the man as the animal seemed to be completely at ease. James had removed his hat and hooked it on one of the posts, leaving the stall door open. You could hear him talk to the horse at a low tone as he brushed.

With a quiet voice, you gained his attention, “Wow. That was…incredible. You have the touch, James.”

He turned toward you with a grin, “It felt good. Thank you for trusting me.”

“You’ve earned it. I still don’t know how you did it. And what were you saying to him a moment ago?” you asked in curiosity.

“Come here,” James beckoned to you with a gloved hand.

You stepped forward cautiously, entering the stall. James offered his hand and you took it as he led you to Jasper’s side.

“I like to talk to him about random things sometimes, but mostly I tell him what I’m doing. You know, ‘I’m going to put the reins on now, it won’t hurt’ or ‘I’ll be brushing your neck first and then down to your legs’. Stuff like that. Could be just my tone of voice but I like to think that he understands me. Here,” he gestured, placing your hand on Jasper’s neck while placing his hand on top of yours. “I think he’s just scared sometimes. Even more-so in a new place, he needs reassurance.”

James offered you the brush and you took over, running your hand across the smooth yet coarse hair of the animal’s neck.

“Also, I noticed something when I was brushing him yesterday. Right here by his leg…” he took your hand again, placing it just in front of the horses’ right rear leg. You could feel a slight lump there, taking care not to press too hard.

“Ouch,” you spoke softly in sympathy. “If he’s in pain, then that explains a lot of his behavior. I’ll have the vet come out tomorrow and check it out. Hopefully Jasper will cooperate with you there, too.” You stepped out of the stall and James followed, closing the stall door. “Thank you. For caring and for paying attention to his pain…for doing what I couldn’t.” You spoke sincerely, placing a hand on James’ arm and letting it rest there.

He gave a bashful smile,”No, thank you. For trusting me with these animals and showing me how to care for them. It’s an incredible new experience.”

You let your hand brush down his arm to let go, but James clasped your fingers lightly instead. Meeting his eyes, you tightened your grip and stepped toward him. His gaze flickered to your lips, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine as he closed the distance between you. Placing his right hand to side of your neck, he licked his lips and leaned forward. You met him halfway, pressing your mouth to his lightly at first but the spark quickly caught fire, heat consuming you both. Releasing his hand, you looped your arms around his neck, bodies fused together in passion. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, testing the waters, the floodgates then opening as you allowed him entrance. His strong arms against your back held you tightly to him, your hands grasping at the roots of his long brunet strands.

Lost in each other, you nearly missed the sound of tires on gravel as a car approached. Breaking apart reluctantly, your chest heaved against his, foreheads touching. You took a step back, slowly releasing his hand as you backed away toward the door without breaking eye contact.

“Um…I have to, uh…” you gestured behind you as a car came to a stop. He nodded, running a hand through his hair.

You whirled around and left the stables to see Kevin and Caleb exiting the patrol car. Your son’s shoulders were slumped with his head down as he walked toward the house.

“Hey, kiddo. How was practice?” you asked, hoping to sound optimistic.

“Fine,” he answered flatly without even turning.

Frowning, you let him go before turning to your ex-husband. “What happened, Kevin?”

“What makes you think something happened?” the burly man asked defensively. “Okay, so maybe one of the kids noticed Caleb blocking a few of his hits for once and got upset…might’ve given him a shove. He fell a few times.”

“What? Kevin! This is what I’m talking about! I’m not against Caleb learning to defend himself, but kids can get mean and I don’t want him being singled out because he’s small. I really think he should stop…”

“Well, that’s really not up to you. Don’t forget, I could call a judge and get custody in a week. You’re lucky I don’t cause I’m nice,” he sneered.

Fuming, you held your tongue once again. Losing Caleb was your greatest fear and you just couldn’t let that happen.

“Fine,” you curtly replied. “Can you just make sure he’s paired up with someone closer to his size next week? Please?”

Smiling at your complacency, he shrugged, “I guess. I’ll talk to the teacher, or whatever he’s called.”

“Thank you,” you felt ill, thanking this man, but it’s what he wanted to hear. “We’ll see you on Saturday, then, right?”

Perplexed, he furrowed his brow, “For what?”

“Kevin!” you exclaimed, almost losing your cool again. “It’s his birthday! Please, just be there, okay? He wants you there.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there,” he muttered, climbing into his car. As his tail lights disappeared, you tried to release the tension your body held.

You felt a hand against the small of your back and turned to see James beside you. Even the sight of him made you feel better.

“What does he have on you?” he asked quietly.

“What?” you questioned in shock.

“It’s the only explanation. You’re a strong, independent, successful business owner and an incredible mom to Caleb. The only reason that asshat would think he’d have a leg to stand on in court was if he was holding something over your head.” He said it so matter-of-factly.

You were stunned, but sighed in surrender. “He is.”

___________

Part 5>>>

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Hmmm. I wonder what it could be? :D And how bout that heated moment?? Finally!!!! A lot of slow burn, hope it was worth the wait! I appreciate all of you for the support and comments!! Thank you!! I love to hear from you, whether it be message, reblog, ask, reply, whatever. You’re all amazing. I’ll work on part 5 as soon as life allows. :) 

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[blepbean]

Ethan/Tythan angst thing fanfiction thing

Stuff: Angst and fluff? Idk Hey Guys, trying fanfiction with angst. Sorry if like it’s really bad trying it out lol Words: 1413 ——————————————————————- Ethan fanfiction thing angst thing

Ethan is in a dark, empty cool space. Only able to see a few feet in front of him. He saw something in front of him. A reflection of the metal blade caught his eye, Ethan walked towards it. He picked it up. It felt cold, like it was made of ice. Like an ice shard.

Suddenly his body forced him to move. The metal blade began to get closer to his skin. 5 inches away, 4 inches then 1. It finally touched the skin, the air around him started to get colder even more. A tear ran down his cheek as he begun to pierce his skin…

“Ethan!” Yelled a voice. It snapped him out of his dream. It was the same dream last night, then the night before and the night before. What was happening to him? He knew what the voice up and dragged himself out of his bed and managed to stand up. Then Ethan heard the same rant from his mum everyday. About his failing grades, responsibilities but in the end they both know nothing I’d change.

He’s sick and tired of everything and everyday. Everything felt like an effort. Getting up, showering, getting dressed then starving him self by skipping breakfast and going to school. Even leaving his bed felt like something he would never do. Ethan doesn’t feel like Ethan. And he knows it. “Morning, Monday again yeah?” Said the bus driver as he got on, the driver smiled. “Yeah.” Said Ethan, he smiled back. He doesn’t want anyone to find out that he is not okay. He can just ring the number about self harm or anything, anyone to call to tell that he isn’t OK. It’s just that simple. But to him it isn’t.

Ethan sat in his usual seat in the bus. Near the window to see the strangers going by their lives. But even that felt like an effort. I’m not okay, I’m not okay He said in his mind. Over and over again. Then a thought made him stop. A happy thought, a cheerful thought. Like the happy thought was a patronus being cast to protect the wizard from the dementors. The patronus being the thought, and the dementor being the sadness. Casting it away.

“Hey Ethan.” Said Tyler as Ethan got off the bus. He put his headphones around his neck and took of his jacket. “Hey Tyler, how are you?” “I’m good, have a essay due in two weeks. How are you?” How am I? I’m not okay. I always feel tired and miserable. Even though a happy thought made me stop thinking about doing self harm. I feel like I’m worthless, hopeless, replaceable. Going to school is an effort, telling my self it’s all going to be better but I’m lying to my self. Because it’s not. Tell me if it’s OK, look me in the eye. Please. “I’m OK, a little tired.” Lied Ethan, he laughed. Because he just lied to himself. “What’s so funny?” Asked Tyler “I want to do self harm.” Jokingly said Ethan. Tyler stopped walking and looked at Ethan. “Only joking Tyler, you know I’m never sad.” Lied Ethan, again. “Yeah… I gotta go actually. Presenting something.” “OK Tyler, bye.” God Ethan, can’t you just say that you’re not okay. But I’m sure Tyler will just… will just… think of me as a freak

As Ethan turned left the thought came back, in the darkness, with a knife and cutting him self. It’s like he simply can’t get away from the thought. He quickened his pace, wanting to be alone. This was the start of every single day. Going to the toilets to isolate himself and crying and sobbing about how his mind is forcing him these thoughts. But something new happened as he washed himself and looked at his own reflection. Though he dreaded seeing himself.

“Ethan.” Said a voice as he managed to stop sobbing. It came outside. Mark came into the toilets, his usual outfit of him looking like the cliche douche/ jock in every high school. “Hey Mark, great to see you. Are you here to ruin my morning even more? Because now is a good time.” Ethan sighed and grabbed his bag. Heading towards the exit. “Wait, Ethan.” Ethan stopped and turned to look at Mark. He doesn’t looked like himself, like he’s known what’s been happening with Ethan. Mark took a step forward and took of his baseball cap. Ethan looked intimidated, with Mark look tall and wearing his sport jacket. “Ethan, look. I know you’re not okay. You’ve been acting… strange.” Said Mark. “So you care about me know all of the sudden? Is this going to be a sudden prank?” His tone sounded more annoyed than usual. “Ethan, look I’m sorry. I-I was sorry for all of this. I just want to make it up to you.” As Mark said it, he offered a sign to help Ethan. Reaching out for Ethan’s hand. Ethan quickly backed away. “How am I supposed to know you’re just going to reject me like the rest. Look I’m going.” Ethan walked quickly out of the restroom, wanting to get out of there. Many times Ethan trusted Mark, and many times it backfired. “I don’t trust him anymore.” He mumbled as he got out. “I don’t trust anyone anymore.” Ethan walked through the hallway, he remembered when he was all happy and cheerful. Now, now he fighting for the light, the happiness. Everyday, he’s tired of living life, Ethan just want to stop existing. It’s like he can feel the eyes, watching him behind his back. Judging him with every action he makes. It’s like he can almost hear them whisper stuff about him. He walked faster to get to his locker, then hid behind his locker, hiding his face. He quickly put his bag and went to class.

At lunch he sat alone, throwing away his lunch as he felt like he did not deserve it. Starving himself and getting some junk food in the canteen and sitting alone. Listening to music, then the thoughts came back, the horrid thoughts, they were like memories, like it was a part of him, leeched into his mind. “Hey Ethan.” Ethan looked up to see Mark. Clutching a books in his hand, Ethan stood up and left. “Leave me be, Mark,” Said Ethan. Mark ran towards Ethan, standing in front of his way. Ethan rolled his eyes and sighed. “Seriously.” “Ethan, just tell me the truth.” Ethan walked in front of Mark, bumping his shoulder. He doesn’t care that Mark is yelling his voice. Or that a massive fight is happening near him… Ethan skipped a heartbeat as he saw Tyler and someone unfamiliar. Lean, strong. Wearing a blue jacket, his shorts reaching up to his knee. No, Tyler He rushed over to take a closer look. People surrounded the fight, people with phones out to video the fight. Murmurs and bets were heard. People just stood there, not doing anything. Then Ethan’s eyes saw Tyler, bruised. On the ground and helpless. He looked battered. Tyler took another hit, he cried in agony. Then Ethan’s eyes met Tyler, like he was depending on him… “Tyler, what happened.” Said Ethan after the fight. Tyler groaned as Ethan put an ice pack into his eye. “I can’t remember Ethan, there was something about an disagreement and it went out of control. Then I ended up here.” He smiled as he said that, he was still himself. “This is like your second time being in a fight Tyler, you know I’m always not here. I could have just left you here. Lucky you didn’t get caught.” Although Ethan is a depressed mess right now, he’s not letting Tyler get hurt. He’s the only thing Ethan cares about.

“Ethan I’m fine, it’s getting late. You can go.” “You sure-” “Ethan.” Interrupted Tyler.“ I’m fine, really.” He said, then chuckled. Same old Tyler. As Ethan got home and went to bed he realised something. He actually didn’t hate himself. He went to bed, took care of himself. And the thought, the thought didn’t bother him. As Ethan got to bed he felt something vibrate under his pillow. It was his phone. And Tyler messaged him. Thank you for taking care of me Ethan smiled, today wasn’t such a bad day.

[texanredrose]

RWBY + Frozen + no self control = this. I know I’m late for Monochrome Monday but I honestly don’t know what day it even is anymore my schedule’s so fucked. Have a cookie and forgive me, please. Based on @dashingicecream‘s Frozen!AU 

Blake sighed heavily, scrubbing at her face with one mitten and flicking her ears to dislodge the flakes of snow clinging to her ears. They were replaced the next moment by new snowflakes from overhead. She wasn’t surprised of course; the closer they’d gotten to the mountain’s summit, the heavier the storm had become, but it was nothing compared to the blizzard that had swept over the land and buried them all in several feet of fresh powder in the middle of spring; no, this seemed almost light and playful by comparison, and if it weren’t for the fact that her very livelihood was at stake, she had half a mind to actually play in it.

Well, her livelihood, and the life of a very stubborn Princess.

“What are you doing?” Her ears cocked back in slight exasperation as she watched the woman attempting to scale the sheer cliff face do so with marginal success.

“For the last time, I’m going to find my- urgh- sister!” Princess Weiss Schnee snapped back, turning to look over her shoulder for only a second before her grip threatened to slip, forcing her to refocus all her attention on finding the next handhold. “I’m going to find her, explain that this whole thing’s a- hmph- misunderstanding, ask her very politely to end the snowstorm, and then- whoa- and then we’re all going to go back to the castle and pretend none of this ever happened.”

“Is that before or after you tell her you’re intent on marrying some Prince you hardly know?” Where before the point had curled her lips into a slight smile- because, really, it was more than a little amusing that this whole mess started over some flight of fancy from the younger of the royal sisters- now the Faunus was a tad more serious, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the Princess’ slow ascent. “Because I have the feeling she might not really be okay with that, still.”

“I’ll have you know- ack, that hurt- that Neptune is a perfectly fine...” She paused, either to catch her breath or find the right descriptor, it was difficult to tell, but Blake was willing to bet ‘both’ was the correct answer. “Perfectly fine gentleman!”

“Right. Sure. Perfectly fine.” Rolling her amber eyes, she turned her head away to look out over Atlas, how the whole kingdom was blanketed in such a way that she rarely saw even in the coldest depths of winter. Living outside the capitol’s walls meant she was more accustomed to nature in all its forms, but this didn’t even look natural. But it was pretty, she’d admit that much.

As Weiss continued to struggle, a strong gust of wind blew, at once prompting the woman to cling tighter to the cliff face and drawing the Faunus’ attention to the strange sound the wind was making, as if it were passing through a narrow opening. A quick look around confirmed there was a small passage hewn from the rock by millennia of strong winds and, curious, Blake took a few steps away to investigate. Quite frankly, if there was an easier way up the mountain, she was all for it; without her sled and a reindeer to pull it, getting this far was taxing enough.

She swore, once she found Gambol after all this was said and done, she was going to chew him out for a while; she still couldn’t believe he had the gall to abandon her with the task after one measly wolf attack and a near avalanche.

The snow crunching underfoot was much easier to hear after the wind died down, allowing her to peek around the corner without fighting the sting, and what she found was a blessed relief. There, standing tall and proud and looking magnificent was a palace made of pure ice, catching the weak rays of sun trying to break through heavy clouds overhead. Although she’d never met Queen Winter, Blake had to admit the woman had quite the eye for architecture; ice sculptures weren’t half as impressive, and she’d seen quite a few over the years.

Tearing her gaze away, the Faunus started walking back. “Princess, I think I found your sister.”

Blue eyes snapped to her from Weiss’ impressive height- a whole six feet off the ground, and she wasn’t even being facetious with that thought considering the woman had no experience to speak of- and hope lit up expression. “Really?”

“Right around the corner,” Blake said, her expression morphing from amusement to panic as the Princess’ hand slipped. “Careful!”

She only had time to let out a short squeak of surprise and alarm before her hands, nearly numb inside her gloves, lost their precious grip and she fell back. Weiss closed her eyes and braced for the cold impact awaiting her but the Faunus rushed forward, nearly tripping herself in the thick snow and barely catching the woman in time. She was off balance, forcing her to her knees, but she curled both arms to secure her companion and ensure she didn’t end up sprawled in the snow, cringing slightly as she awaited the reprimand that was undoubtedly heading her way.

“Princess, are you okay?” She ventured after a moment, shifting both ears forward as she looked down, meeting the woman’s gaze.

“I- I’m fine.” Weiss cleared her throat, looking away for a moment. “Thank you.”

“Yeah. Um. N-no problem.” Thankfully, the cold and the wind had granted her a nigh permanent rosy tint to her cheeks because she otherwise wouldn’t be able to hide the rising blush. Not wanting to open herself up to questions, Blake pushed herself to her feet, mentally congratulating herself for not staggering as she turned and started walking towards the natural opening in the cliff face.

“Blake? You can put me down, you know.” There was no harsh edge to the woman’s voice, and it sounded more like a suggestion than an order, but really the Faunus was a bit too distracted to really notice that immediately. “I can walk.”

“O-of course.” Honestly, she hadn’t thought about it; Weiss was smaller and near freezing when they first met, stubbornly trying to make her way past Tukson’s Trading Post and Spa without so much as a thought to proper protective gear, and she still worried that the Princess would ignore her own well being as she tried to find her sister. At least this way they could share warmth but Blake hurriedly set the woman on her feet, brushing off imaginary snow from Weiss’ shoulders and then from herself- anything to avoid eye contact.

She was a Princess, and dead set on marrying some Prince besides. They had nothing in common- she was a Princess- and this was just her performing a service in expectation of payment. That’s it. That’s all.

“Anyway...” Weiss seemed to lose track of what they were doing, readjusting the snowflake broach holding her cloak in place. “We should- talk to my sister. I’m sure Winter will be able to set everything right again and we’re almost there.”

“Right.” Blake nodded, pulling her hat a bit further down and shaking her head. “This way.”

They both walked through the thick snow towards the opening, ducking through one at a time until they stood side-by-side a few feet from the bottom of a beautifully intricate staircase leading up to the castle proper. Once again, the Faunus found herself entranced by the sight but she snapped out of it quicker, looking towards her companion and surprised to see the expression of pure wonder on the Princess’ face.

“It’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning.” She let out a half laugh, leaning towards Blake as if she were imparting a secret. “Ever since we were small, I always knew she had a gift. I didn’t- well, I didn’t expect this of course, but... somehow, I always knew anything she touched would be perfect.”

The Faunus shrugged, shunting her urge to agree aside for a moment. “It’s alright, I guess.” Carefully, she leaned over slightly and nudged the woman’s shoulder with her own. “I’m sure you’re just as talented in something else.”

Weiss let out a brief laugh, though this one didn’t seem as happy, and shook her head. “No. I’ve always been the spare. Winter’s never treated me as such, though, but Father made it very clear. My sister was destined to rule and I... well, I was the back-up plan.”

The Princess started forward, mentally working out how she’d make it up the stairs, when she was stopped short.

“No, I don’t believe it.” Blake waited until those curious blue eyes were upon her before continuing, setting her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side. “You’re trying to tell me that there’s not one thing you can do better than your sister? I find that impossible to believe.”

“Excuse you-”

“Believe me, I’m excuse,” she replied, the corners of her lips tugging into a small smile. “I highly doubt the Queen’s better at climbing rocks than you, for instance. Or being as stubborn- she did run away after your argument, after all.”

“Do not insult my sister like that.” Weiss paused, reaching up to push a lock of pure white hair back under her cap before relenting. “And... if you must know, I suppose I’m better at singing. Winter seems to think so, at any rate.”

Ears perking at her impending victory, Blake took a step forward. “Well, then, I’m changing my price. You have to sing a song for me.”

“What?”

She held up her hands with a smile. “You can’t say you’re a better singer and then not prove it, Princess. Besides, I reserved the right to change the fee for my services at any time, and I did save you from unnecessarily climbing a cliff.”

“You are impossible, Blake Belladonna.” The woman huffed, glaring at her guide. “If I’d known you’d change your mind at every turn, I’d have hired someone else to bring me up the mountain!”

She raised a brow, offering in a flat tone. “Like the wolves?”

Weiss made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat before throwing her hands in the air as a sign of surrender. “Fine. One song of my choosing. Now, can we go retrieve my sister or do you have more demands to make?”

“After you, Princess.” Blake even made a slightly mocking bow, smirking at the muttered ‘ridiculous’ she heard before falling into step beside the woman.

“And I’d better hear nothing about a refund if you don’t like the song.”

“You won’t; I can already tell you’ll be perfect.” The Faunus fought the urge to smile. Despite the woman’s naturally pale complexion, Weiss’ cheeks were undeniably tinted pink by the wind and cold, the same as hers, but she liked to think they’d turned a bit darker just then and a result of her words. Maybe she wouldn’t have a chance to see the Princess once this mess was all said and done but she wouldn’t trade these few precious moments seeing the woman beyond the picture of royalty for anything.