#but its why these might be short and sweet until i hit 200 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cassiopeiassky · 4 years

Text

Black Velvet

Alright everyone, it’s finally here. I’ve been sort of salty about the lack of tall!reader fics for awhile now or maybe it’s just the ubiquitous short, petite, drowning in his sweatshirt descriptions that get under my skin but just couldn’t get a decent amount of inspiration to write one. I have been known to throw in a mention of height randomly in my fics, but my usual workaround to avoid physical descriptions of the reader is to just write Bucky as like six and a half feet tall. Hes a damn super soldier, he should be taller anyway he did not start out as short as Steve. So one day I stumbled across this post by @invisibleanonymousmonsters and for some reason I can’t explain, an idea was finally unlocked in my brain later that same day. (Inspired by a song? Me? No. Never.)

It’s kind of all over the place, so buckle in. It does take a sharp right into smutsville but also ends up flipping a u and landing in flufftown. I don’t know. I just write what the muse tells me to write.

I would like to thank the incomparable @scottish-pepper for her amazing help and support while I wrote the thing - I couldn’t have done it without you, darlin.

Bucky x Tall!Reader

Modern day AU - think of a 40s prewar Bucky if he got a chance to grow up and lived in a small town

Plot: You have a terrible day of epic proportions but a beautiful stranger in a small town helps to make it better.

Warnings: Swearing (as per usual), smut, mentions of alcohol/drinking/bars, a brief mention of potentially disordered eating, mentions of a thunderstorm, and a very specific shitty family member.

Word count: 12K Yep. Knda got away from me

One last author’s note: This fic includes some ASL dialogue; it is expressed in italics without quotation marks. ASL is an incredibly beautiful and expressive language, and it’s in 3D!! It also has its own grammar structure, rules, nuances, and regional differences, just like any other language, and it can be a challenge to fit it into a two-dimensional space. Taking this into consideration, I’ve decided to write the dialogue with spoken English grammar because my ASL is really rusty and I don’t want to mess it up.

It’s hot. Like 100 degrees in the shade with 95% humidity hot. The trees are wilted, flowers are drooping, and there isn’t so much as a glimmer of hope for a cloud in the sky to interrupt the sun’s torture of earth’s inhabitants. The air is thick and still – there’s no movement at all – yet dangerously unsettled. It’s the kind of weather that if you sneeze, you might cause a tornado in the next county over. Of course your cousin would choose today of all days to get married. And of course her mom pressured her into going black tie, increasing everyone’s suffering tenfold.

“I can’t believe I rented a room for this. I can’t believe I spent $200 on a dress. Why am I even here? What did I expect?” There’s no answer, but of course there wouldn’t be. You’re alone in your car, driving back to a motel that you might not even stay the night in. You’d rented a room because you figured you’d have a few drinks at the reception – you wanted to celebrate the bride, she’s one of your best friends – but at this point you might as well just make the hour drive back home.

About a block from the motel you notice a bar tucked behind a gas station. According to the clock on the dash, it’s only 5:25.

Fuck it. You deserve a goddamn drink after today.

You pull into the parking lot and are surprised by the number of cars, farm trucks, and motorcycles already parked. There’s only one redneck limo, thank God – a pickup truck with a 10 inch lift kit and truck nuts hanging off the hitch, and in your experience driven only by incredibly insecure men – so that’s a good sign, right? It must be a decent place with decent drinks if it’s this busy so early in the evening. Maybe some of your day can be salvaged after all.

The hot, sticky air rushes in as soon as the car door is opened. “Gross,” you mutter; the heat hits even harder after the air conditioning in your car. Glancing over to the passenger seat, you see the hideous shoes your aunt Lydia pressed into your hands upon arriving at the wedding. “You know what, Lydia? Fuck you and fuck your ugly shoes.” You put your heels back on just to spite her.

It’s a small-town watering hole, so of course all eyes are drawn to you when you enter. And they stay on you as you find a seat at the bar – perhaps it’s because you’re a stranger, perhaps it’s because you’re overdressed.

But probably not.

The bartender approaches while drying his hands. He’s got dirty blonde hair in a sloppy undercut, a wide, flat nose, and is wearing a concert tee shirt with the arms cut off to show off his full sleeve of tattoos.

“Do you have blended drinks?” He nods. “Strawberry daiquiri, please.”

“Sure thing.”

You pull out some cash, tipping generously because your drink is a pain in the ass to make, then look around while you wait.

The bar is cool but not cold, not brightly lit but also not uncomfortably dim, is bigger than it looks, and is even busier than the amount of vehicles in the parking lot would lead you to believe. On one side there’s a jukebox next to a small stage with an empty but decently sized dance floor. There are a few high tops, then a gaming area featuring pool tables, dart boards, and a few pinball machines. On the other side of the bar you see a window with someone selling pull tabs, a station set up for calling bingo, a door to what’s probably the kitchen, and a popcorn machine filled with freshly popped popcorn. Behind you and scattered generously throughout the building are tables, some with 4 seats and some with 6, and over half of them are occupied.

“Here you go, miss.” The bartender places your drink in front of you with a polite smile. “Would you like a menu? The full kitchen is open tonight.”

The thought is nauseating. “Mmmm…maybe later.”

“Too hot to eat?” At your despondent nod, he grimaces and places a tall glass of ice water next to the daiquiri. “Thought as much. I’ll check back in a bit.” You didn’t notice his name tag until now – his name is Clint, and according to the hand illustrations under his name, he’s fluent in ASL.

Unsure if he’s Deaf and fluent in lipreading or if he’s hearing, you both sign and murmur, “Thank you,” before bringing the drink to your lips. It’s on the edge of being burned – just the way you like it. Sipping on the sweet slush is pure bliss, cooling you down from the inside out as it tempers the heat of the rum.

You sign? He doesn’t speak this time. It’s not an uncommon reaction.

Yes. I’m an interpreter.

His eyebrows rise in interest. What made you go into that?

My high school offered it, and I ended up becoming really good friends with the teacher’s daughter, who is Deaf. I made a lot of friends, got involved with the community and immersed in the culture, and I just loved it, so I figured, why not do this for a living? My dreams of being a Triple Crown winning jockey went out the window by the end of 5th grade so…

He laughs, but not unkindly. Yeah, I suppose you are a bit too tall for that. But 5th grade? Damn. His face lights up, Hey, have you heard of PATH, International? They’ve got a campus about half hour north of here. If you like horses, it might be right up your alley.

PATH International, or Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship, is an organization very close to your heart. Yes! I volunteer there every Tuesday night.

The look of surprise on Clint’s face is priceless. No shit? I’m there on Thursday nights! You must be the other interpreter the kids are always talking about - they LOVE you! And so do the horses. You know, I was Ace’s favorite till you came along. Now he won’t even look at me unless I bribe him with a treat.

You look again at his name tag, and the name clicks. Wait, you’re Hawkeye! The one that does the archery demos on horseback for the kids’ birthday parties.

He takes a theatrical bow. The one and only.

Clint “Hawkeye” Barton is nothing short of a legend at PATH. Profoundly Deaf yet impossibly accurate with speechreading, he manages to blend both worlds perfectly. He’s also a master archer both off and on horseback, which basically makes him a superhero in the kids’ eyes. There are whispers that he travelled with a circus as a teenager, that he raises horses, and that he moonlights as a vigilante, but nothing has been verified and from what you’ve been told, he will neither confirm nor deny. It’s very likely that there’s at least some truth to the horse raising rumor – Ace is technically his horse, he just loans the chestnut gelding to the program. You’d been dying to meet Clint for a few years now but hadn’t been able to make it work.

It’s so good to finally meet you!

Likewise! I’ve been meaning to swing by on a Tuesday to see who it is that stole my favorite horse’s heart, but I’m usually here. His face lights up, Hey, I’ve got some ideas for a field trip for the older kids and adults but I need to team up with an ASL interpreter since I can’t technically work as a Deaf interpreter on my own off PATH’s campus. You know, rules and shit. You interested?

Absolutely! Just let me know. You dig a pen out of your purse and write your number and email address on a napkin. You know, I’m sorry, but I’m really not sorry about Ace. He stole my heart, what can I say.

He’s a shameless flirt, but I never thought he’d actually prefer someone else over me. But now that I’ve met you, I guess I can’t be too sore about it. He seems to have good taste. He takes the napkin with a grin and folds it up before putting it in his pocket, then looks to his left when a waitress waves for his attention and nods. Duty calls. Let me know if you need anything.

Well, that improved your day considerably.

For a few minutes, anyway.

“That’s an awfully girly drink for a woman like you.” A cloud of stale cigarette smoke with an obnoxious sounding man in the middle of it takes the seat next to yours.

You don’t turn to face him; you don’t even acknowledge him. If that’s his opening line, then you really, really don’t have the patience to interact with him today. This is the guy that owns the jacked-up truck. You can feel it in your bones.

Clint makes a face from behind the drink he’s making, notices your annoyance, and shakes his head. “Dude, she’s got more alcohol in her glass than you and your four buddies combined, so don’t knock her drink of choice. She’s also clearly not interested, and way, way out of your league. Go back to your pull tabs and leave the lady alone.”

You can feel the guy’s eyes on you, but Clint keeps glaring daggers at him and he eventually leaves. You can overhear him tell his buddies, “Thought she’d be an easy lay, but you know what? Even I have standards. How do you fuck someone that tall anyway? I’d need scaffolding!” They laugh, but you continue to hold your head up high. It’s nothing you haven’t heard some version of before. He’s not clever.

Ignore them. They’re lonely, small little men.

I know. Thank you. His protective gesture is touching and completely unexpected. This kind of thing doesn’t happen very often because most people assume you can handle yourself. You can – but it’s nice to not always have to be on the defensive, and today you’re at your limit.

No worries. You look like you had a rough day, I figured you didn’t need Chad making it worse. Clint winks and turns back to his drinks.

Well, he’s not wrong, but the day can only get better from here, right? Right. You nod to yourself then sit back and enjoy your drink. Clint stops by periodically to chat, but otherwise you’re left alone.

Eventually it’s time for a trip to the ladies’ room, and you do your best to ignore the stares and chuckles that inevitably follow you. In your semi-formal black dress you certainly stand out in a bar filled with cut off shorts and tee shirts, but that’s not why they’re staring.

In your black satin and lace, modestly platformed stiletto heels – affectionately known as your ‘fuck me shoes’ – you’re well over six feet tall. Are they uncomfortable? God yes, but they’re also beautiful and totally worth it.

The bathrooms are at the back of the bar, past the dart boards and pool tables. You’re almost there when you hear something ping off one of the pool table lamps and see it ricochet across the aisle and onto the top of the glass and wood cabinets housing the pool cues.

“How – how the hell did you manage that, Rogers?” A man with dark hair and a jawline that could cut glass heads in your direction. “You were supposed to throw the chalk to me, not your imaginary friend standing thirteen feet behind me.”

“Sorry, Buck,” a blonde joins him, looking appropriately apologetic. “My aim was a little off.”

“Ya think?”

You slow your pace to watch them. The guy with the dark hair is gorgeous – well, they both are, to be fair – but the one…damn. His maroon tee shirt is fitted enough to show off his beefy physique, and his jeans hug his thighs and ass like they were made for him. He throws off an air of cocky confidence with just a hint of danger, lending a genuine feel to his bad boy image. Should you…maybe? No. No, you absolutely should not. You’re not in the right mindset to try to soothe a man’s threatened masculinity just for a bit of company.

He and the blonde reach for the wayward chalk, but it’s just out of their reach. It’s amusing to watch them try to grab for it, but you take pity on them eventually.

Time for your good deed of the week.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Stepping between the two, you reach up and effortlessly pluck the blue cube from its spot before dropping it into the dark-haired man’s hand with a smile. “Here you go.”

Wide blue eyes look up into yours, but he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even smile. He just stares. Figures.

The blonde looks between you and his companion before clearing his throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The unspoken rejection from the brunette stings. Normally it wouldn’t get to you, but after today? It does. It really does. So you swallow against the burning thickness in your throat and force back the tears with a fake smile. “You’re welcome.” A few more steps and you’re in the ladies’ room, which only serves to make matters worse when you step into an open stall. As you turn around to lock the door, you can see your entire head in the mirror, poking out above the top. A pair of women walk in and they giggle, so you quickly sit down. There’s no point in taking it personally – it actually happens quite a bit in older buildings and you can fully admit that the sight is pretty funny – so you compose yourself and do what you came in to do. You slouch when you stand in order to avoid accidentally looking into one of the neighboring stalls and go to the vanity to wash up.

Even the sink mocks you by making you bend almost in half to reach the water.

A woman with dark hair and bright red lips exits the far-right stall and joins you at the mirror. “Oh wow, your shoes and dress are so pretty!”

“Thank you.”

“Did you come from the wedding at the ballroom?”

“Mmm hmm.” You glance at her shorts and flowery sleeveless top and swallow your sigh – you feel like a fucking behemoth next to her. “I think maybe I should have stopped by my motel room to change.”

“No, you look really nice!” She smiles up at you, “It’s really not unusual to have people dressed up in here on the weekends, you’re just earlier than we usually see it. I’ll give you a tip, though, in case your feet start to hurt. I know the place looks kinda crusty, but the owners take a lot of pride in it. The floors are clean if you choose to go barefoot.”

Her unexpected kindness surprises you; you’re usually shunned by other women when you’re at a bar because all they see is your height, which they erroneously perceive to be an advantage in attracting men. “Thank you. That’s really good to know.” She turns to leave but you stop her when you notice something wrong with her shirt. “Hey, hon, you’re missing a button.” The poor girl is busty, and she’s likely been flashing an unintentionally generous amount of cleavage for who knows how long.

She looks down and immediately sees the gap in her shirt. “Well, shit. I just bought this shirt. No wonder some of the guys couldn’t look me in the eye. Stupid boobs, always trying to pop out. Why can’t they just make clothes that fit real people?”

“I feel ya,” you mutter as you start digging through your purse. “Hold on, I’ve got something…here, try some of this.”

“Scotch tape?” She looks confused as she takes it.

“Double sided tape.”

Her eyes get wide as she gazes up at you. “You’re a genius. And an angel. An angelic genius!” She takes some and fixes her shirt, smiling brightly. Thank you so much!!”

Despite your incredibly shittastic day, you find yourself warming to her. She’s nice. “You’re welcome! I didn’t want a bunch of creeps leering at you. In a world of Chads, we women really need to stick together.”

“Oh, God, you met Chad?” She grimaces and shakes her head, “I’d like to apologize on behalf of the entire town. He and his friends are not a good representation of the rest of us, I promise. They don’t even live here, they were just permanently banned from the bar in the next town over and now they’re our problem, apparently. But I promise, the rest of the people here are alright.” She sticks out her hand, “I’m Peggy, by the way.”

You shake her calloused hand and give her your name. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. If you feel like some company, just come find me. My friends and I will probably be here for a while, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, I might just do that.” You flash a smile, genuine this time, and go back to your seat at the bar. What the hell, maybe you’ll take her up on her offer after you finish your drink.

A minute passes, maybe two, before someone takes the barstool next to you.

It’s him. The gorgeous brunette.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” You want to roll your eyes at your reply. Smooth. Real smooth.

“My uh, my friends pointed out that I was rude earlier, so I wanted to apologize.”

You turn to him quizzically, giving him your full attention. Is this really the same guy that was playing pool? The sexy one that projected ‘bad ass’? “For what?”

His cheeks grow pink and it throws you off guard. “It’s not nice to stare. My ma taught me better than that – she’d slap me into next week if she saw how I acted. I ain’t usually like that, I’ve just never seen, uh…”

Here it comes. The ‘I’ve never seen such a tall woman’ comment that leaves you feeling like a roadside circus freak show.

“Well, you just got an amazing smile.”

Wait, what? “Huh?”

“I’ve never seen such a pretty smile.” He shrugs and studies the bar top. “Your eyes looked sad, though. I dunno. I guess I was tryin’ to figure you out.” He turns back to you with an almost obnoxiously handsome grin, “My name’s Bucky Barnes. Can I make it up to you? Buy you a drink?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to gauge his intent. He seems genuine enough – he’s either a brilliant actor or you seriously misjudged him, which, in your current cynical mindset, is entirely possible.

You look up to see Clint watching as he dries some glasses. Maybe he has some insight. Is this guy decent? He’s gorgeous but does he have a personality?

Clint snorts, glancing at Bucky then back to you. Yeah. He’s a pretty good guy. He’ll treat you right.

Bucky looks like he’s swallowing a smile when you turn back to him. “Yeah, I guess you can make it up to me.”

“Really?” He seems genuinely happy at the prospect.

“Sure.”

“Great!” Apparently that’s all the invitation he needs to turn on the charm. “So what’s a gorgeous girl like you doin’ in a dump like this?

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh.

“No,” he shakes his head sheepishly, “It’s not. Guess I’m really off my game today. I can usually flirt, I promise.”

A beer and another daiquiri appear on the counter. “Thanks, man,” Bucky nods to Clint. “Hey, you wanna grab a table?” He nods his head to the side of the bar by the jukebox. “It’s quieter there. We can chat and I can show you that I ain’t, in fact, the dumbass I’ve made myself out to be.”

“Yeah, okay.” Why not? Even if you don’t know Clint enough to trust him, the kids that you work with do, and you trust their judgement. So if Clint says that Bucky is decent, you’ll believe him.

***

It ends up being a good choice. Bucky turns out to be more than decent – he’s really nice, funny, respectful, keeps his eyes where they belong, and doesn’t ask if you play basketball.

He asks the basic questions and learns that you live about an hour north of here, that you’re an interpreter, you love to read, write, and draw, and yes, you were at a wedding. Tired of talking about yourself, you take advantage of him pausing to drink his beer and flip the topic.

“So what do you do?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and sighs. “I’m a mission systems engineer with NASA.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry, you’re what?”

“A mission systems engineer with NASA. I know, I –“

“Do you have top secret clearance?”

He looks thoroughly confused. “That’s your first question?”

“Do you? Or would you have to kill me if you told me? Have you been to space? Does the government have a plan for if an asteroid comes our way, or would we have to do like the movie Armageddon and wing it with a bunch of oil rig operators?”

Bucky appears to be absolutely delighted at your string of questions. “Well, yes, no, unfortunately no, and I can’t tell you that because has to do with national security.”

“Fascinating.” You sit back, thoroughly intrigued by the man sitting across from you. “What the hell are you doing in a podunk town like this? Shouldn’t you be in Houston? Or D.C.?”

“I live here.” He chuckles at your unimpressed stare. “Yeah, I know it’s a small town – we got a bar, three churches, a motel, a gas station, and a diner that closes by 7 pm every day. Our biggest draw is the ballroom on the lake shore and the hunting grounds in the fall. It ain’t exactly the heart of modern technology. But I grew up here, my family and friends are here, and I stick around to help out on their farm. I fly into Headquarters a few times a year, but otherwise I work remotely.”

“So what do you do?”

“The general gist of it is that I lead a team that designs, develops, and deploys missions.”

“To space?”

“Well, I mean, I work for NASA…”

“What are you working on now?” You can’t help peppering him with questions – this is so fucking cool.

His eyes sparkle. “You got top secret clearance?”

“No.”

“Sorry. Can’t tell you anything,” he shrugs with a smirk.

“I…yeah, I guess I kind of walked right into that. Wow. So you’re really freaking smart.”

“I hope so!”

“Do you like it?”

“Being smart?”

“Your job, dipshit.”

He laughs, freely and openly, and it’s an amazing sound. “I love it.”

You can’t help but stare at him. “Wow. That’s…that’s just really, really fucking incredible.”

Bucky gets quiet. “It is really incredible. Thank you for thinking so.” He looks up, then back down as he starts peeling the label off his empty bottle of beer. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve told about my job that didn’t either tell me I don’t look smart enough to be a mission systems engineer or ask me how much money I make.” He meets your eyes again. “Or both. I get that a lot, too.”

You certainly know how shitty it feels to get those kinds of unsolicited comments based solely on appearance. It’s one thing to have an impression, but to just say those things out loud? “Well, they suck. And they’re truly shallow if they think intelligence has anything to do with how you look. But hey, at least they show their true colors right away so you can save yourself some time.” You lean forward, chin in hand, “Okay, so I know you can’t tell me about your actual projects, but can you tell me about your job? What are your responsibilities? What does a mission systems engineer do?”

Bucky lights up like New York City and spends the next 40 minutes going into detail about what he does, and you hang on every word; it’s impossible not to, really. His enthusiasm for what he does is so evident that even if the topic weren’t interesting, you’d still be entranced. And you thought he was gorgeous before? His animated passion makes him absolutely breathtaking.

You’ve both finished your drinks and, perhaps not so surprisingly, he switches to soda when you do. When unordered appetizers arrive with your new drinks, you both look over to Clint, who just winks and shrugs.

“Well I ain’t gonna complain. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.” Bucky shoves an entire ham and cheese ball into his mouth, but then has to hasashafahasa because it must have just come out of the fryer. “Ish hot! Rearry hot!”

Bursting into laugher, you slide your ice water to him before cautiously taking a bite of your buffalo wing. Considering how much fun you’ve had in the last hour, it isn’t all that surprising that your appetite has returned. “Me neither.”

The hours fly by as the conversation eventually turns to other topics, and you find yourself talking about things you wouldn’t expect considering you’ve just met. Bucky seems so open and honest that it’s difficult not to reciprocate, and if one doesn’t go into detail about what the other asks, it’s only because there’s so much to cover.

Bucky dips the last bit of pretzel into the beer cheese sauce and pops it into his mouth. “So if you don’t mind me asking, what made those pretty eyes of yours so sad?”

You take a long sip of your Coke Zero as you debate your next move. Deflect or come clean? You surprise yourself when you blurt out, “My aunt, Lydia.”

“Your aunt?”

You squirm a bit at the uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability, but you keep going. “Yeah. It was her daughter that got married today. Marie and I grew up together – Lydia is my mom’s only sister, so she was the one that took care of me when my mom had to work double shifts, which was a lot. She did the best she could, and she means well, she really does, but she’s just so caught up with appearances. My height is a, uh, a definite sore spot with her.”

“Really? Why? What does it matter?”

“I think it comes down to the appearance thing. Tall women are generally seen as less feminine, even straight up masculine. Lydia is tall, too – not quite as tall as me, but close. She claims that she got her husband through making herself appear daintier. She only wears flats and follows all the newest fad diets to make herself as small as she can because she feels that being a tall woman puts her at a distinct disadvantage.” You shrug, “She was one of the primary examples I grew up with. And to be fair, it’s not like she’s completely wrong. In my experience, guys tend to feel emasculated by me. And it’s not just men that seem to see me through a distorted lens. Even from a young age – I’m talking 4th grade – I’d hear teachers tell my mom that I seemed so much more mature than my peers, that I didn’t need as much support, emotional or academic, as everyone else. I got additional responsibilities and higher expectations. The thing is, I wasn’t more mature. I was just tall, so I looked more mature. Eventually it kind of came true, though. Other than my mom, who was single and working 2 jobs to keep me housed and fed, I didn’t really have anyone that would protect me or support me. I guess no one thought I needed it, so I just got used to doing it myself.”

Bucky shakes his head, and you can’t tell if his expression is one of pity, sadness, anger, or something else.

“But Lydia made everything a hundred times worse than it needed to be. I already knew I was outside the norm, I didn’t need the reminders. But every time I’d hit a growth spurt she would share some nasty comment on it, as if telling me that boys didn’t like tall girls would somehow stop my bones from stretching.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Mmm hmm. Despite my mom’s efforts – and the fact that being tall is actually pretty awesome – Lydia’s words really got under my skin, and even now they undermine my confidence sometimes.” You gesture to yourself and the bar, “Obviously. I should be at my cousin’s wedding right now. I don’t go to many family functions anymore, because of her. It just…it puts my head in a bad place. You know, they say it takes five to seven positive comments to balance out one negative comment? The negative is in everything she says. Everything. I love my family to pieces, but I just can’t handle her.”

“What did she say to you today?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Bucky is getting pissed.

“She met me at the door of the chapel with a pair of her ugly black penny loafers. Said that she told the photographer that I wasn’t allowed in any family pictures unless I was wearing them, because she didn’t want my Amazonian ass towering over everyone else and ruining the aesthetic.”

“Your…your ‘Amazonian ass’?”

“Eh,” you shrug and wave your hand dismissively. “It’s not the first time I’ve been called an Amazon and far from the worst thing people have said. I mean, people say it to be cruel, but Amazons were fearless warriors. I just think of it as being put in the same class as Wonder Woman. The part that hurt was that she was prepared to make sure I wasn’t in the pictures, that she thought she could just erase my existence, simply because I’m too tall for her liking.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. “I might be overstepping here, but what a heartless bitch. No one should ever try to erase you, what a fucking idiot.”

“She browbeat Marie into dyeing her hair blonde for the wedding. Marie hates it, but did it for her mom’s approval.” You release a deep sigh, “But that’s Lydia, and that’s why I took my Amazonian ass out of there the second the ceremony was over.”

“Hmmmm.” He gazes at you. “You know she’s a princess, right?

“Huh?”

“Wonder Woman. She’s a princess. You know…Amazon Princess…it actually kinda suits you.”

“Seriously?”

“Damn right I’m serious. You’re tall? So what. You’re fuckin’ royalty. Own it, Princess. Correct ‘em. Make ‘em say it. Amazon Princess.”

“What?”

“Yep. Say it with me. Amazon Princess.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, but there’s something undeniably sweet about the way he’s pressing the issue. It’s not good enough for him that it doesn’t bother you – he wants it to be seen as a term of empowerment and to let people know that’s how you see it.

The moment is interrupted when a booming voice comes through the sound system. “Alright everybody, it’s ten o’clock!” Someone stands on the stage, holding a mike and looking more than a little tipsy. “You know what that means!”

The bar cheers, “Free jukebox!”

A line forms immediately, and the music starts.

“Wanna dance, Princess?”

“Really? You’re going to call me ‘Princess’ now?”

He shrugs with darkening eyes and a suggestive smirk. “If it’s okay with you.”

If he keeps looking at you the way he’s looking at you right now, he can call you whatever he damn well pleases. But he doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah,” you murmur. His gaze is so intense that you have to look around the bar to break it and gather your thoughts. You happen to see Peggy; she’s standing next to the blonde that had been playing pool with Bucky, so she must know him. She catches your eye, sees who you’re with, and gives a thumbs up with a huge grin. Well, alright then. You grin back and remember what she said. “Let’s dance.”

Bucky stands, stopping when he sees you toeing off your heels. “Woah, what’re you doing?”

“Taking off my shoes?”

He shakes his head, “Princess, you don’t need to do that. I ain’t too fragile to dance with a woman taller than me.”

“I know,” and you do, “But I can’t dance in these. And my feet hurt.”

When you stand, you’re almost eye to eye with Bucky; if he were barefoot as well, you would be.

People are still lined up at the jukebox, selecting their favorites. It’s exactly the mix you would expect from a place like this – classic songs like Brown Eyed Girl, Summer of ’69, and Footloose with more modern tunes sprinkled in – the kind of music that gets everyone up and dancing.

Bucky is a great dance partner, and you’re having an absolute blast. You don’t think about your aunt, the wedding that you’re supposed to be at, or how you are, without a doubt, the tallest woman in the bar. He laughs, showing off the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, obviously enjoying himself, too.

The jukebox switches songs again, and on comes the relentless, even rhythm of Black Velvet. For the first few measures, you just stare at each other. It’s the first song to play that isn’t upbeat, and you don’t know what to do until he makes the first move and pulls you close – close enough to breathe each other in. He stares as Alannah Myles’ smokey voice drifts over the steady bass, then spins you so your back is to him.

If Bucky’s a good dance partner for upbeat music, he’s even better when it’s slow like this, when every move counts. He’s enough to handle you, and more than confident enough to do so.

Bucky stays behind you, mirroring you with his hands resting gently at your waist. Your back is against his chest, but his hips keep their distance. Just to experiment, you press yours back and hear a guttural “fuck” before he intentionally shifts.

Bucky is absolutely nothing that you expected. “You’re a gentleman.”

You can feel the dark chuckle rumbles through him. “I wouldn’t say that, Princess.” He spins you around, pulling you close but not too close, and runs his thumb along your neck. “I just ain’t in the habit of taking what ain’t mine.”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine. Fuck. You like him. One night stands aren’t usually your thing…but that’s not what this feels like. He feels familiar. Safe. You like him, and he sure seems to like you. Your mind is already made up – you’ll take the chance and see what happens. You hardly recognize your own voice when you ask, “Do you want me to be?”

“Thought I was makin’ it obvious. Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate and his eyes don’t leave yours. “Are you offering?”

You move your hand to the back of his neck and lightly scratch, watching with satisfaction as his pupils dilate even more than they were. His lips part when you pull him closer, but he waits for you to close the kiss.

The second you do, his hands slide down to your lower hips before he tightens his grip. He’s not timid; he kisses you as though you’re a well-known lover, deeply and intensely, without bothering with introductions.

Bucky suddenly breaks the kiss, spinning you around again to pull your back against his chest. This time, though, he allows his hips to rock into yours with the rhythm of the music, slow and steady and insatiable. The way he moves makes it impossible not to think about fucking him; hell, you’re practically halfway there already. His hands alternate holding you tightly to his body, maximizing contact, and running up and down your sides. Your head falls back when his mouth finds your neck, and your legs go weak when his teeth nibble that spot beneath your ear.

You’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His voice is thick when his lips find your ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

You nod, taking his hand to lead him back to the table to collect your things. “I’ve got a room at the motel a block away.”

“Good.”

When you take one last look around, you see Clint, still behind the bar, grinning at you like an absolute idiot. Have fun!

“Oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, but you can’t completely hide the smile.

You step outside to find that the unbearable heat of the day has eased somewhat now that the sun has set. It’s still warm as the humid air kisses your skin, but with the breeze it’s sultry rather than oppressive.

You and Bucky look up at the same time – the stars are barely visible through the haze of clouds. There’s a thunderstorm rolling in on the western horizon.

Bucky walks you to your car, making sure you’re in safely before getting in his own truck and following you to the motel. He jumps out of his vehicle and pushes you against the car the second you’re out of it, kissing you like it’s been days and not 2 minutes since his lips were last on yours.

He doesn’t stop until the first few raindrops hit your skin. Bucky looks up while you grab your purse and your aunt’s shoes out of the car, gathering them clumsily before locking the door. It takes a minute for you to get your room key out of your purse, but you finally manage.

“Looks like the storm is already here. Gonna be a good one if it got here that fast.” He takes your hand, “Which room are you in?”

“Up the steps, furthest door on the left.”

Bucky leads you to the stairs as you both laugh while trying unsuccessfully to dodge the increasingly fat drops of rain. He doesn’t let go of your hand until you need to unlock the door, and the second you hear the click of the lock, his lips are on yours again. He pushes the door open and guides you through, closing the door behind him with a well-placed kick. You drop your purse and the loafers, then step out of your heels as he toes his shoes off. Still connected at the lips, he doesn’t see the things on the floor and trips over one of your stilettos.

“Oh shit!” His eyes are huge, staring up into yours when he realizes he isn’t going to hit the floor because you’ve caught him by the arm. “Good catch, Princess.” Both of you start laughing as he stands up straight, but the laughter dies out when his mouth find yours again. Hungry hands roam your body while you reach beneath his shirt so your fingers can explore the taut muscles you just know are hiding beneath it. Bucky grabs the collar behind his neck and pulls the shirt off altogether, and you are not disappointed. “You like what you see, huh?”

“Damn right I do.” You’re breathless, pressing your lips against the salty skin of his collarbone.

“You sure know how to use that mouth of yours, don’t ya?” He groans, then reaches down to grab the hem of your dress to lift it over your head before tossing it to the side. “Goddamn, darlin.” Bucky eyeballs you like a starving man at a feast before his mouth is back on yours, then moves his lips to the top of your breasts while he reaches around to unclasp your bra. It joins your discarded dress as he pulls you close, groaning at the feel of your naked breasts pressed against his chest. “I don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve you walkin’ into that bar tonight,” he bites your neck and you can’t stop the light whimper, “but I ain’t gonna complain. I’m gonna make you feel so good, Princess, I promise.”

You believe him. And you cannot wait.

The two of you somehow manage to take a couple of steps toward the bed. “I’ve wanted to do this since you smiled at me after givin’ me that chalk. Those eyes, that smile, that dress, those fuckin’ sexy shoes.” His hands find your hips, hooking your panties with his thumbs to push them down so you can step out of them. “When we started dancin’ all I could think about was what it would feel like havin’ your legs wrapped around me, I want you so damn bad.”

You unbutton his jeans and fumble with the zipper, then pull his jeans and boxer briefs down at the same time, freeing a fully hard cock that is nothing short of glorious. “Then either figure out how to multitask or stop talking and fuck me already.”

Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.

He kicks off his remaining garments before pushing you against the nearest vertical surface – which happens to be the middle of the window, where there’s a strip of metal supporting the two panes of glass. You aren’t sitting on the ledge, just leaning against it to keep your balance. It occurs to you that maybe you should close the curtains, but you’re too far gone to care enough to do anything about it.

“Don’t you worry, Princess. I can do both.” His arm is looped around your waist to hold you steady while your upper back presses against the cold strip of metal. You’ve got one arm hooked around his neck and the other steadying yourself on the edge of the windowsill. Bucky reaches down, takes hold of your thigh and lifts it to his hip. He lets go of your waist just long enough to guide his cock to your entrance – and he can slide right in because you’re so damn wet – and fuck, the way he stretches you is delicious.

“Christ, you’re so damn fuckable,” he moans in your ear, sending shivers throughout your entire body. “So fucking perfect…don’t need a bed or a chair, I can fuck you anywhere I want. I could just bend you over, wouldn’t even need a wall.” Between his thrusts, which are as maddeningly steady and slow as his dancing, the cool metal of the windowpane at your upper back, the flickers of lightening, and the crashes of thunder, it’s almost sensory overload. He’s holding you so tightly that you can’t move your hips much, so you’re completely at his mercy. And he knows it.

Each move he makes is a sin; the angle you’re at all but guarantees he’s stroking your clit with every move. Delirious with the sensations flooding your brain, you can only babble nonsense.

“What’s that, Princess? Use your words, darlin,” Bucky

“So…so good…I, huh…”

He chuckles darkly, “What was that?”

He’s not playing fair but you really don’t mind – his confidence with you is a rarity and is such a fucking turn on. “More.”

“More? You want me to fuck you harder? Is that right?” He waits for your nod before flashing a wicked grin lit by lightning, then adjusts his grip on your thigh. “Anything you want, Princess, you get.”

His thrusts come harder and faster, multiplying your pleasure tenfold. Then he shifts his hand on your thigh, changing the support from holding it up to pushing it back, opening you further and allowing him to go even deeper.

Oh, oh fuck…

Your entire body clenches with your orgasm, so tightly you can’t even breathe, and your mouth opens in a silent scream.

Bucky follows you just seconds later with a growl of your name against your neck and a few last ragged movements.

He releases your thigh as he gently pulls out, but he doesn’t take his arm from around your waist. You lift yourself onto the windowsill, pulling him between your legs as you hold each other close and catch your breath while the storm rages outside. He keeps his face buried in your neck as you run your fingers up and down his back, calming you both. The thunder rumbles violently while lightning dances in the sky, but it doesn’t worry you. You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of a storm.

Eventually your legs start to fall asleep, so you begin to move. Bucky notices and hikes both of your thighs up to his hips before guiding your arms up around his neck. “Hold on, Princess.” He reaches down and lifts you, carrying you the 5 feet to the bed. After laying you down, he begins kissing you again, then starts exploring your body. “I love being cradled in your thighs like this, but there’s something else I wanna try,” he whispers as he starts crawling down. “Now I can take my time with you.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he’s going. “Really? Um, maybe I should shower first?” You’re sweaty from the heat of the day and just had some really incredible sex, so there’s no doubt in your mind that things are less than fresh down there.

“If you want to.” He keeps on his slow descent, kissing everything in his path, “But I’m happy with you just like this. I want you, right now, as you are.”

“But don’t you –“

“No. I don’t.” There’s a challenge in his eyes when he looks up from his destination. “I don’t care.” And then Bucky dives in, devouring your pussy like he’d devoured your mouth. He’s got you writhing in moments, all worries gone. But he’s a goddamn tease now that the initial urgency has been satisfied, bringing you to the edge and then backing off again and again in a beautiful torture.

You can’t do dirty talk to save your life, but you’re about to start begging when he finally looks up, chin glistening before he wipes it away with the back of his hand. “Fucking delicious.” Between the sight of him, his voice, and the sensations you’re feeling, your brain just about short circuits. Then his fingers start to circle your entrance, teasing you, making you want more before he slowly pushes two in and curls them to press against that spot, and fuck it can’t feel any better, but then somehow it does. You pull a pillow over your face but he shifts, reaching up to yank it back off and throw it across the room. “No way, Princess, I wanna hear what I do to you,” he rasps, watching you with hungry eyes and a feral grin. You’re almost there…almost…and then he puts his mouth back on your clit and your universe implodes.

One orgasm blends into another and you allow him to push your limits until you can’t handle it anymore. “Stop,” you gasp, and he does immediately. “I’m – it’s too much. I…wow.” You’re so oversensitive at this point that if he breathes too hard, you might jump out of your skin.

Bucky crawls his way back up to you, dropping kisses on your hot skin as he goes. “You’re incredible, you know that? I love how your body responds to me, I fucking love it.”

He kisses you again, and despite your sensitivity, your hunger for him grows. Sitting up, you pull him with you then push him down to the mattress. “Fuck yes,” he whispers hoarsely when you straddle him and slide down, pausing to glide your pussy along his hardened cock, but then you slide down a little farther before spreading his legs so you can kneel between them.

It’s impossible not to groan aloud when your hands find his thighs; thick, tight, and incredibly well formed, they look like they were sculpted by a generous god. “I might have to ride one of these later.”

“Please –“ Bucky swallows hard and licks his lips as he watches you in the dim, sporadically flickering light, “Please do.”

One hand moves to palm his balls while you part your lips to take him in as far as you can, reveling in his heaviness on your tongue while using your hand to stroke the base of his cock. You give it a bit, waiting until he’s writhing beneath you before you pull off and redirect your attention. His eyes grow wide when your fingers start moving down beneath his balls to his taint, pressing gently to find the very root of his cock which will then lead you to the spot you’re looking for. Pressing firmly when you find it, you begin rubbing tight circles.

“What are you – oh. Oh. Oh, fuck, Princess, oh fuck!”

It’s ridiculously satisfying to see him reduced to the same whimpering, quivering puddle you were not so long ago. You make him come once, twice, three times without ejaculating, just because you can.

Bucky’s got his forearm resting over his eyes as he shakes his head, and you take advantage of his distraction to shift your body into position. “Holy shit.” He’s breathless, shaking, “I did not know I had a spot that could do that. Fuck. I – oh Christ…“

You slide onto his cock, smiling when his hands automatically reach to grip your hips – the biology and technique can be explained later. Leaning over, you kiss him deeply then stretch your arms above him to grip the headboard. Rocking your hips slowly, so slowly, you watch him watch you.

Bucky’s lips form words but nothing comes out except for sighs and soft moans as you become more and more intoxicated by his need for you. His hands wander up and down, touching your breasts, hips, ass, and everything in between until he pulls you down for another kiss. “Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are? You feel so good. So fucking good. Wanna make you feel good. As good as you make me feel.” Bucky kisses you again, sloppily, then wraps an arm tightly around you before flipping you both.

Now that you’re on the bottom and he’s back in control, he picks up the pace considerably.

You certainly aren’t about to complain.

His hands are grasping yours, holding them over your head, and your legs are locked around his hips as his thrusts eventually begin to lose their impeccable rhythm.

Now neither of you are in control.

The pleasure has been steadily building, an inevitable tidal wave on the horizon. Maybe it’s his confidence, maybe he’s naturally gifted, maybe it’s that his body seems to fit with yours just right. Whatever it is, this is by far the best sex you’ve ever had, and despite already having multiple orgasms, your appetite for him seems to be insatiable because you’re greedy for the next one.

“Fuck, Princess, it feels so good having those legs wrapped around me,” he pants, “Goddamn, I can – I can feel you’re right there. I ain’t gonna last much longer, come for me, darlin, give it to me now. Oh Christ yes, that’s right, just – just like that.”

Your body obeys, giving him exactly what he wants. The velvet sound of his voice, his incessant dirty talk, the way he smells and tastes – everything about him adds to your pleasure induced stupor. The orgasm is so powerful that everything but Bucky goes black, and the only thing keeping you tethered to this world is the way he chants your name as he comes.

His body continues to cover yours as you wait for your racing pulse to slow. He presses kisses to your neck, cheeks, lips, and eyelids, and finally your forehead before he gently lifts himself off to lay next to you. “C’mere,” he pulls you to him, and when you rest your head on his chest you can hear how fast his heart is still beating.

Thoroughly sated and soothed by the feel of his fingertips on your skin, it’s tempting to give in and fall asleep. But not yet. Not if you want to sleep through the night.

Reluctantly, you rise. Maybe, if you’re really fast, maybe he’ll still be here when you get back. It’s probably not the sane thing to do, but you really, really want him to stay the night.

“Where you going?” Is that trepidation you hear in his voice?

You smile as you take in the sight of him lying in the bed, disheveled and clearly satisfied. “I need to shower. And wash my face – I need to get my makeup off. My eyes are getting itchy.”

“Can I join you?” He laughs at your raised eyebrow, “No, Princess, not like that. I’m gonna need some time to recover.”

“That’s good to know,” you smirk, “I was starting to wonder if you were a god wearing a mortal’s skin.”

Bucky blushes. It’s adorable. “Nah, no god here. Just a man that’s never wanted a woman so bad before. Still do,” he shrugs, “Just too worn out at the moment to do anything about it. You’re somethin’ special, I hope you know that.”

It’s your turn to feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but you hold out your hand to help him up.

The shower is tender and sweet, full of soft kisses and softer touches. This man just keeps surprising you.

He’s toweling off his hair when his eyes meet yours in the vanity mirror. “Is it okay if I stay?”

A slow smile spreads across your face – you couldn’t stop it if you tried. “I’d like that.” You slip into fresh panties and a tank top, turning to face him fully to admit, “I’d like that a lot.” Bucky beams at you before pressing a soft kiss to your lips and heads to the bed. You finish up a few minutes later and crawl in, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. There’s nothing to hide behind – no makeup, no cocktail dress, no drink. It’s just you, and this is a state that very few people see you in; no one you’ve ever dated has seen you this vulnerable until months have gone by. Some didn’t see you this way at all. “Don’t look too close. I’m very unglamorous and monochrome without makeup.”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare in yours. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.” His fingers trace your freshly moisturized skin. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Outside, the thunderstorm has exhausted itself. He pulls you close and breathes you in, and you both fall asleep to the sound of gentle rain.

***

When the sun peeks through the gap in the curtains at 6 am, you’re not even mad that you’re awake. The sight of Bucky lying peacefully next to you is something you’re thoroughly enjoying.

“You’re staring.” His voice, deep and gravelly, rumbles lightly into the silence as he opens his eyes. “It’s because I’m decent and gorgeous with a personality, right?”

“What?”

Bucky smirks as he stretches and sits up. “I should probably come clean. The bartender from last night? My parents took him and his sister in after their parents were killed in an accident. Clint and Carrie were lucky to survive – he lost his hearing and six months of memories and she was in the ICU for 3 weeks. He and I have practically been brothers since grade school.”

It takes a minute, but you finally put the pieces together. Oh. Well, shit.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop; I was just really surprised to see you sign so I didn’t look away fast enough. I’m sorry.”

You sit up and slap him lightly on the shoulder. “So, you knew what I asked him?

His smile broadens as he gives you puppy dog eyes. Yes. Please don’t be mad.

You try not to smile back as you think about it but lose the battle and shrug. “I’m not mad. Maybe a little embarrassed, but we’ve known each other for what, 12 hours? It’s not like you can tell me everything about you in that short amount of time.” You give him some serious side eye, “Although you could have mentioned that when I told you what I do for a living.”

He studies your eyes like he’s trying to see into your soul. “I told you a lot, though.”

“You did. We both did.” It surprises you, more than a little, that you aren’t horrified at how open and honest you’ve been with him.

Bucky reaches his hand up to cup your cheek and he pulls you in for a kiss. “Good morning, beautiful.” It seems like he doesn’t want to part, because he rests his forehead against yours.

Somehow your hand finds his neck, and you gently rub your thumb along his jawline. “Good morning, Bucky.”

His stomach grumbles. Loudly. “Wanna grab some breakfast, Princess?”

It makes you a stupid amount of happy that he’s not ready to leave you just yet. “Yeah. I just need a little bit to get ready.”

A half hour later, Bucky opens the passenger side door of his pickup. “Your chariot, Princess.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking his offered hand and climbing in. It’s an older truck, one with a bench seat, and it smells of hay, Bucky’s cologne, and sweat. It’s not what you’d expected, but it suits him.

In this tiny little town nothing is open at this hour on a Sunday morning, so Bucky pulls his pickup onto the interstate to head to a fast food restaurant a few miles away. You take the time to look around – the area is really pretty and reminds you of the drive to your grandparents’ house, all farmland and pastures. Of course, you can’t help but stare at the horses whenever you pass them. “Whoa. They must breed Appaloosas.”

Bucky takes a quick glance out your window. “Yeah, that’s the Carter farm. They raise Appaloosas and alpacas.” He’s quiet for a moment. “You like horses? Not everyone can randomly pick out that breed.”

“I love horses,” you murmur, smiling broadly when you spot a few foals among the herd. You’re too busy looking at them to notice how he looks at you.

***

Breakfast is simple, just something picked up at a drive thru window, but that’s perfectly fine with you. Bucky doesn’t pull back onto the interstate though, he instead starts driving the winding country roads. You don’t mind in the least; you simply sip your coffee, content to be exactly where you are. Considering the hour, you aren’t even grumpy. Stealing glance at the reason why, you hide your smile and take another sip.

Bucky’s fingers drum almost nervously against the wheel, then he seems to make a decision as he brakes sharply. “Sorry, Princess,” he smiles sheepishly, “You up for a picnic? I know a spot.”

His smile is infectious. “Yeah.”

He takes the left he stopped so quickly for, and then another left onto a dirt road, and a mile later he turns onto what looks like a seldom used service trail leading up to a fenced in pasture. “Just a sec,” he pulls the truck to a stop, then gets out to open a gate. Bucky quickly climbs back in, drives the truck through about 20 feet before turning in a tight circle to face the road, and closes the gate behind him before stepping up to your door. “I got some blankets, do you want to sit in the truck bed with me?”

“Of course.”

He gets the blankets and spreads them out while you grab the food and coffees, handing them to him before you climb in after him.

“I would’ve helped you in, Princess.”

“Bucky. I’m not five feet tall. I can get into the back of a truck.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m fully aware of that. But unlike the other shmucks you seem to have come across in your life, I ain’t gonna make you do something by yourself just because you can. You deserve consideration and chivalry, too.”

What do you even say to that? He’s the exact opposite of pretty much everything you’ve ever known. It’s nice.

He sits down against a box that is attached to the back of the cab. “C’mere. You look cold.”

It was hot when you’d packed your overnight bag so you’ve only got a tee shirt and shorts on, and luckily a hoodie that just happened to be in the backseat of your car. “I am, a little,” you admit as you curl into his side, allowing him to cover your legs with another blanket that he’s pulled out.

He eats one handed, keeping an arm around you to keep you close and warm.

Everything smells clean and fresh now that the storm went through, and the morning air is chilly but fresh with the light breeze. The radio plays softly, drifting through the open windows as you and Bucky eat and watch the fluffy white clouds drift by. It’s the best picnic you’ve ever had, hands down.

“So where are we? It’s beautiful here.”

“My parents’ farm.”

You turn to stare at him. “This is where you grew up?”

“Yep.”

“Lucky.”

“I am. Hey, I wanna introduce you to someone.” He stands suddenly, not waiting for a reply. You’re in the middle of a pasture, who the hell is there for you to meet? Bucky brings his fingers to his lips and lets out the sort of piercing whistle that you’ve never managed to master.

And then…and then…

“Are you fucking serious.” Eyes wide, you bring yourself to a kneeling position as a steel grey Percheron comes galloping full speed towards the truck. “Bucky!”

He turns toward you, face almost split in two by his grin. The horse slows down, circling the truck and whickering before coming to a full stop right at the tailgate.

“I’d like you to meet Sergeant.”

“Oh my God, Bucky, he’s stunning,” you breathe, unable to help yourself as you slowly move forward to sit at the edge of the open tailgate. Intelligent eyes take you in before a velvet muzzle finds your hand. “Sorry buddy, I don’t have any treats for you. But I do have ear scratches,” you murmur, firmly stroking the planes of his face before scratching behind his ears. You giggle when he sighs, and again when he mouths gently at your hair.

Bucky beams with pride as he pulls an apple out of the box you’d been leaning against, feeding it to Sergeant before sitting on the tailgate next to you. “I’ve had him for 20 years. I got him when he was just a colt. Trained him myself. He’s one of the reasons why I choose to work remotely – I just can’t imagine not getting to see him.”

“I don’t blame you at all, I don’t think I could’ve left this sweetheart either.” Sergeant blows gently in your face, then nuzzles you hard enough to push you backwards. “Oh my goodness, you are just a big baby, aren’t you, Sarge? Oh, you like that? That spot right there?” You laugh lightly as the giant horse stretches his neck toward you, seeming to thoroughly enjoy how you scratch just beneath where his mane grows.

“He likes you.” Sergeant looks over when Bucky speaks, but then turns back to you.

“Well, I like him.” Feeling eyes on you, you turn to Bucky. “What, are you jealous?” you tease.

“Yes.” Bucky cradles your face in both his hands and begins kissing you. Before you know it, you’re lying in the truck bed with him, making out like a couple of teenagers out past curfew. Time slows even as it moves, and you’d swear the minutes stretched into a blissful forever as you lay in his embrace. But the real world likes to force its way in, and the distant sound of a car’s horn brings you both back to your senses.

Sergeant is about 50 feet away, grazing peacefully as Bucky pulls out his phone to check the time. “We, uh, we should get going. I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands to myself, and my folks will be drivin’ by on their way to church in about 15 minutes.”

“Don’t feel like scarring them forever with the view of your naked ass?” You sit up and start pulling up the blankets to fold them.

“Honestly?” He shakes his head, “They’d probably cheer and then invite you over for dinner.”

Pausing your movements, you let that one sink in. “…Oh. Well that would be just as awkward as the alternative.”

He shrugs. “They’ve been dropping some not so subtle hints that they think I should settle down. They’d be thrilled just to know I spent the night with you.”

You tilt your head a bit as you watch him. “Don’t you date?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Really? Why not?”

He shrugs again as you hand him the blankets, then he turns his back to you as he puts them in the box. “I dunno. I guess I just hadn’t found anyone I wanted to actually spend time with.”

“Huh.”

“What?” There’s a challenge in his eyes when he turns back around. “That so weird?”

“No, I get it. You definitely shouldn’t settle. I guess…” he’s staring at you now, waiting for you to finish, “I guess I’m just a little surprised that someone hasn’t snatched you up yet. Where I come from, you’re quite a catch.”

“You think so? How’s that?”

Is he baiting you? Teasing you? Genuinely curious? It’s impossible to tell. “I know so. You’re smart, kind, funny, and a stupid amount of gorgeous,” you pause to level a look at him, “but I suppose you already knew I thought the last part.”

Bucky barks out a laugh but at least has the good grace to look sheepish.

“You have an absolutely beautiful horse, which wins points with pretty much every person I know. Your parents took in a couple of kids when they needed a family, and you learned a new language so you could keep communicating with your friend. You have every opportunity to move to another city, but you stay here to be close to those you care about. And,” it’s dumb, really, how you’re suddenly too shy to meet his eyes, “You’re really good in bed. Like, really really good. You’re the whole damn package.” When you finally look up, he’s staring at you again. “There’s a perfectly real possibility that you’re a total asshole and that you’ve been acting this whole time – I’ve only known you for a day – but I haven’t seen any cracks. I get the definite impression that I met the real Bucky, and he is one hell of a catch.”

“Huh.” He hops down and turns, holding out his hand to help you down. Do you need to take it? No, but you love that he offers anyway. He doesn’t let go after he helps you out, instead choosing to hold your hand as he walks you to the passenger side. Bucky only lets go because he has to, and once the gate is secured behind the truck, he takes your hand and holds it for the entire drive back to the motel.

***

Ever the gentleman, Bucky walks you back to your motel door.

“Do you have to go?” The words are out before you can think too long on them.

He’s shaking his head before your entire sentence is out, “No. Not if you don’t want me to.”

You don’t even care if you sound needy or clingy. “Please stay.”

Just like you learned last night, Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.

At least the drapes are closed this time.

***

A sharp rap at the door and an equally sharp call of your name interrupts your post-lovemaking bliss. It’s your aunt.

“I don’t wanna,” you whine.

Bucky bristles, sensing your distress. “That her?”

You nod before pulling a pillow over your head. “I’m just going to pretend I’m still asleep. Maybe she’ll go away.”

“Don’t worry Princess, I got you.”

You feel the bed shift and move the pillow. “Bucky!”

He turns back to you, eyebrows raised, as another insistent knock echoes through the room.

“You’re naked!” It comes out as a stage whisper, making you both snicker.

He flashes a shit eating grin. “So?”

Is he really gonna…

With a dramatic huff, he stops to find his boxer briefs and quickly tugs them on. Kind of. They’re sitting awfully low.

First there’s the sound of the door swinging open, then Bucky’s voice, bored and borderline intimidating. “Yeah?”

The following silence is deafening and you almost wish the room was set up so you could see your aunt’s face, but all you can see is the back half of Bucky’s sensational body leaning in the doorframe.

“Uh, hi? I’m looking for my niece? I thought this was her room?”

“You mean the tall, gorgeous drink of water? About my height? Killer smile? Was wearing, uh, let’s see, what was she wearing? It’s been awhile and she ain’t wearin’ much of anything now.”

The blood rushes to your face, but you can’t even imagine how embarrassed Lydia is right now. The thought is nothing short of glorious.

“Uh,” he snaps his fingers a few times, feigning concentration, “Oh! A black dress with the sexiest heels imaginable? Sound about right?”

“Well, yes, but –“

“Yeah, she’s here.” His tone is still bored, but you think you can pick up on an edge of amusement. Your aunt must be squirming by now, and it’s all you can do to not start cackling.

“I thought…well…the gift opening is in an hour. I thought she was going to meet us for breakfast before –“

“She won’t be goin’ to the gift opening. Or breakfast, but don’t you worry, ma’am. I made sure she ate something.”

The not so subtle innuendo almost makes you choke on your own spit.

“You can’t – are you holding my niece hostage or something?”

He laughs darkly but yells out, “Princess, am I holding you hostage?”

Your own laugher, unable to be contained any longer, bursts out. “Nope!” you call out, absolutely feeling as gleeful as you sound.

Lydia is practically apoplectic by now. “But what about the gift opening?”

“She doesn’t. Want. To go,” he growls, stooping down. “And here, she doesn’t want your fucking ugly shoes, either. Stop projecting your insecurities onto her – she’s perfect the way she is.” Bucky closes the door – perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary – and you hear the sound of the lock sliding into place before he saunters back to the bed.

“Thank you for doing that, Buck. I – holy shit, I cannot believe you answered the door like that.” Your eyes are glued to how low his boxers are sitting – he’s showing more than just his happy trail.

“What? Everything’s technically covered.”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, Princess?”

“I – I’m not even sure how you managed it, but you basically turned your boxers into the dick version of a pasty.”

He grins, “Like I said. Everything’s technically covered.” Bucky moves closer, crawling into the bed until he hovers above you. “But not for long,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your neck. “Now, the way I figure it, we got another two hours till checkout.”

“Mmmmm…” you’d rather not think of the time. It’s necessary if you don’t want someone from housekeeping to accidentally walk in, but you don’t want this to end.

He kisses you deeply before pulling back, looking just a little hesitant. “And then, if you want, we could continue this back at my place? If you’re not in a hurry to get home?”

He’s kept his lips to himself for a few seconds, so your head manages to clear enough to process what he just said. “What? Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I get it if you have to get back. But,” he shrugs awkwardly, his current vulnerability at stark odds with his usual confidence, “I like you. I’d like to spend the day with you if you’re free.” He kisses your neck again and nibbles your ear. “We can do more of this. I like this, too. A lot.” He pulls back to look you in the eye. “But we could also do some talkin’. Maybe you’d let me take you out to a nice dinner before you head home?”

A smile, broad and genuine, stretches across your face. “I’d like that. I’d really like that.” Even if you never see Bucky again after today, you’re hungry for whatever time you can get with him. He’s addictive and you’ve never in your life felt more satisfied and safe than you do right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His borderline cocky confidence returns as his hands resume roaming the landscape of your body. “Good,” he mouths against your throat, and resumes his worship of you. “It’s gonna be a good day, Princess. A good fuckin’ day.”

Tags: @hellomissmabel @howdoesoneadult @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest @shifutheshihtzu @passiononfire @learisa @widowvinter @kaaatniss @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @denialanderror @k-nighttt @givemethatgold @manders2487 @afangirlrambles @polkadottedpillowcase @bluebrrn @saysay125 @aikibriarrose @saharzek @mmauricee @imhereforbvcky @whenallsaidanddone @supernatural508 @scarlettsoldier @natalie-nightcourt @im-beautifully-sewn @lovemarvelousfics @feistytravel @tbetz0341 @nearly-whitches @jamie-leah @shliic @dessinemoiunehistoire @lucywinchester2000 @solarbarnes @a-proper-chicken @movingonto-betterthings @seekingkairos @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @part-time-patronus @natashasnight @fairislesheets @new-romanticz1989

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x tall!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #my work #black velvet #5.6.20

154 notes · View notes

heli0s-writes · 5 years

Text

III. On the road, and off the road

Summary: The three of you travel to Cincy where they find out a lot more about your family. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Uh hu h uh uh u huhuhh whaaaaat is happening??? Seriously though, there will be a short angsty segment soon, and then we can get back to the tomfoolery. XX

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

A heavy weight on your stomach wakes you up the next morning. Buckeye has climbed onto the couch and over your body, placing his chin right on your sternum. His tail whacks against your propped-up foot as you begin to stir, and he plants a wet good morning kiss with his nose right over your mouth.

“Ah!” You cry, wiping it off with the back of your hand, “Geez!” He does it again and you can’t help but laugh, even though it’s cold and slimy. He looks pleased as punch as he flops his head back on your chest and stares lovingly into your eyes. Yes, you think, only an animal can love you in the morning. Eye crusts, dragon breath, and all. Stupid big-ass dog makes you soft and gooey.

“C’mon. Off.” You pretend to be annoyed and he slides onto the floor with a whine and follows you into the restroom as you brush your teeth.

Taking in the damage to your apartment— which is none at all, you figure it ended well last night. There’s a memory of you throwing vodka at Tinder-Date-Dickhead and then taking an Uber home. Good call on not driving, you pat yourself on the back and take Bucky outside.

Three alerts are on top of the speech bubble when you get a chance to look at your phone afterwards. Natasha. Steve.

Nat: Sunnywaters?

You heave a sigh and reply: Dude stop threatening me.

Then, you open the other message.

Steve: You up? Buck and I are packing— swimsuits? Yes or no? Also Cincinnati has its own Coney Island… ha ha ha very funny. I bet it stinks compared to the [1/2]

Steve: “real” Coney. Do your parents know we’re coming? I’d hate to intrude. [2/2]

You punch the green call button and rush back inside, scaring Buckeye a little with your sudden frantic movements.

“Good morning!” Steve’s voice sounds like a firecracker. And then he’s popping off in your ear, “Did you get my messages? Bucky and I are happy to stay in a hotel or something – called aerobean? Renting a house? I’m not really sure how that works.”

“It’s called airbnb, you fossil.” You respond off-handedly before catching yourself. “Stop, stop, why are you going to Cincinnati? And what about my parents?”

“You invited us. Are we leaving … today?”

Your face drains completely of color when it hits you— a nebulous and dizzying baseball bat swing to the temple. Last night crashes back into your mind: Steve, looking down, patting sympathetically. Two arms— turning you protectively until the room is sideways. You remember the way the blanket was tucked under your chin and around your shoulders.

“…Did you— did you t-tuck me in?” You ask hesitantly. Steve makes a negative grunt on the other line.

“Buck did that. He said he thought you’d get cold.”

“Oh…. Kay….” You whisper. “Uh. How set are you on Cinci?” You cross your fingers and hope he’ll back out purely based on how pathetic you sound. “It’s a ten-hour drive, dude. You guys okay with that?”

“Sure!” Steve chirps back. “We’ll take turns driving. Although Buck’s kind of a wheel-hog. Gets nervous when he’s not in charge.”

In the distance, you hear Bucky protest and it makes your mouth go dry.

“Uh. Okay. I usually leave early so… meet me here at six tomorrow.”

You hang up and bang the back of your head against the wall. The baseball bat of memory swings again.

You think you might faint because you start to recall last night: the metal hand lifting your head and placing the pillow under your hair. You even remember telling Bucky you loved him? It’s bewildering because you certainly do not love him. What was that thing that T-Pain said again? Your heart squeezes in your chest as you search around frantically for some scapegoat. Ah—yeah, T-Pain famously warbled: Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-cohol.

Your body flies over the outfield and into the bleachers before crashing. It’s the most agonizing homerun.

Steve, you think, is probably the one skipping past bases and winking. Somehow, this is all his damn fault.

—

Buckeye scoots around the back of your car, shifting so his weight lands primarily on the cushiony bed. His head is laid gently on Bucky’s thigh, who lost to rock paper scissors and must get squished in the backseat. Lucky for him, you pack lightly, and your legs are much shorter than Steve’s. Unlucky for you, that means he’s right behind you, radiating the heat of a thousand terrifying and silent suns.

It’s been thirty minutes since you started driving. Every time you look into the rear view, Bucky’s blue eyes look back. At this point, you have no idea if any cars are behind you because you will not let yourself look again.

“This is nice.” Steve says breezily, commenting on the silence. You had barely spoken to them when they arrived, instead busied yourself with playing Tetris with your luggage and theirs as well as the fabric box of Bucky’s--- BUCKEYE’s things. God damn it.

“Love it when it’s quiet. Nothing but the road and--” Steve continues.

“Oh, shut up!” You and Bucky reply in unison. You glare up into the mirror. Bucky glares right back. The embarrassment of last night snuffs itself out. Love? In this motherfucker’s dreams.

To your side, Steve stares out the window to hide his smirk.

—

The music of your so-called Driving Playlist bumps through the car speakers. You’ve been subjecting them to your chaotic tastes for the last hour. Every new song is jarring and different than the one before it. There’s Christmas carols. Frenetic Japanese electropop. Incredibly explicit gansta rap. Something else sounds like a broken harmonica for eight whole goddamn minutes. Inexplicable genres and band names. In the middle of a warbly bass line and shrieking synths, you explain that this track is from a “witch house" group you particularly enjoyed as a young girl.

The terms “witch house” and “young girl” so close together makes the both of them shudder. Steve is petrified at the end of each song because the next one always seems to be worse. Bucky squeezes his face between two fully stuffed bags and groans as loudly as he can.

You stop to get gas and Steve walks Buckeye around the perimeter of the station. Bucky comes out from the sliding doors holding three Gatorades and cold brew coffee.

“Drink up.” He commands, flinging a pink bottle at you. “My turn to drive.”

You shake the nozzle when it clicks off and roll your eyes. “No way.”

“You can’t even see over the steering wheel.” You flip him off and silently mock him, rolling your eyes and scrunching up your nose. Then, you replace the nozzle and head inside to use the restroom, flipping him off another time for good measure.

“Don’t! Even!” You threaten behind your shoulder. But of course, by the time you’re halfway to the door, he’s already slid in the driver’s seat.

—

The only way you would stop bitching is if Bucky let you pick the music. So, the cord remains faithfully attached to your phone. And that dreaded playlist.

---

An hour later, your leg bounces from the back, knocking your knee into Steve’s seat. You’ve had to piss like a racehorse for the last twenty minutes and you feel like a fucking water balloon, about to pop. Steve turns around, elbow on the center console and quirks an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yessssss..” you could probably weep right now. No. No thinking of tears because tears are water. No fucking water.

“You’re shaking my seat pretty rough.” Steve accuses.

“You have to go again, don’t you? Jesus, what are you, four?” You’d think about how much you hate him but your bladder requires way more attention right now. This is the best posture you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your back is straight and you’re arching forward slightly—anything to relieve the pressure.

“I’m—- Ugh!” You shriek as the car runs over something and the entire thing rocks up, kicking a sharp jab into your lower abdomen. A wave of chills runs over your arms. “Oh no…” You whisper. Buckeye perks up and begins to sniff around, investigating your concern.

“Maybe I peed a little.” You admit sheepishly, squeezing your thighs together as well as your eyes.

“The next stop isn’t for another half hour…” Steve laments.

“Dirty Keanu Reeves over here gave me Gatorade!” You shake the bottle between them, 32 empty strawberry-flavored sugar-free ounces in all it’s glory. Even the wrapping has been peeled off. Steve sends the both of you a reproachful glare.

“I didn’t think she’d guzzle the whole damn thing!” He chooses to ignore your new nickname for him. He doesn’t even know who Keanu Reeves is. It’s a shame, really.

“Oh please stop arguing please pull over I swear I’ll piss in the forest I don’t care please.” Your words are running together like a waterfall. No. Not a waterfall. Oh god, you think, do not imagine any waterfalls. Bucky flips the blinker on and checks his blind spot before navigating to the right carefully. He puts on the hazards and stops your car—half on the emergency lane and half in the grass. Outside the window is about 200 feet of wildflowers before it turns dark with thick trees.

He turns and takes Steve’s place in-between the cloth seats. “There you are, princess. Pop a squat. Or stand. Just fucking hurry.”

“If I had a dick, Barnes, it would be way bigger than yours.” You push Bucky out of the way and wiggle until you can reach the glove compartment, elbowing Steve’s face in the process. There, your fingers yank a few tissues smushed into the corner of the dusty slot and you bolt. Oh sweet six-pound-and-four-ounces Jesus Christ you’ve never been so happy to piss in the woods.

Steve pats Bucky’s thigh as they watch you shred through the white and orange stalks, ripping a path through the peaceful country green. “Nah, Buck.” He smiles, “You’re pretty big.” Bucky slams the back of his head into the seat and lets out a long-suffering groan.

When you come back you fly into the car and moan happily. Bucky turns around to give you a snarky comment, but you hiss at him like an angry wildcat. “Saw a dead possum in the woods, man.” You say, “Looks just like you.”

—

Both you and Steve are asleep, along with the dog. It’s been a little over an hour now. The Captain reclines in the passenger seat, sunglasses on. You’re pitched over Buckeye, head resting on your splayed arm. The three orders of family-sized burger meals knocked you out first, then Steve. There’s hardly any room in the car for the enormous amount of trash that entailed, but you made do with the space next to your leg and stuffed the bag between you and the door.

Bucky slurps his coffee and drives in silence, frowning when the idea that he misses your bullshit finds him.

—

“God, can we listen to anything else?” Bucky grumbles when some mindless tune comes back on. You smile because Rebecca Black’s “Friday” is your goddamn jam. It’s the single best song to piss off any living person or animal and you embrace it whole-heartedly.

You let Steve browse the rest of your selection, waiting patiently for the inevitable—

“What is this?” He yelps. “Gay for Jesus?” His fingers continue to scroll, “What kind of playlist names are these? Sad n Sexy Santa? Who’s got the Biggest Dick in Baseball?” You’re cackling madly. It doesn’t stop there. “Fingerblast Fest of 2017?”

“What does that even mean?” Bucky mutters.

“Made it for a lesbian couple. Anniversary present.”

Bucky’s face scrunches up with confusion and you enlighten him by leaning forward and thrusting two fingers back and forth so vigorously his seat shakes like an industrial-sized dryer set on high.

“Oh fuckin’ A!” He cries, jerking his head away from your hand. Steve turns red as a beet. “Okay, new rule...” he sighs, turning your phone over on his lap, “Do not ask about playlist names.”

Traffic has clogged up the highway. It’s deadlocked and immobile, stuck in the middle of a big city—all smog and industry. There’s not even good scenery to look at. You are buried in-between the pages of a book, taking advantage of the stillness by reading as much as you can. After this, you’ll have to brush up on your Latin, too. Then Greek. It’s annoying, but at least you don’t have to do another summer immersion program somewhere in bumfuck Florida this year.

A folky tune comes on and it’s a welcome reprieve. Bucky and Steve look up when you start humming along, voice coming out to follow the melody.

“Didn’t know you could sing.” Steve comments.

“Habeo multum talenta.” You reply—brain tuned to Latin. It makes them both wonder what else you can do.

Two hours left to go before the three of you reach your destination. You’ve switched out with Steve, who begrudgingly sits in the back, legs pushed up nearly to his chest while you stretch up front, cracking your back every which way. Bucky has refused to move from the driver’s side.

The music halts for a couple of hours while conversations meander. All sorts of subjects are breached now that there is nothing else to do but talk. The last two months of knowing them, although made you more comfortable, didn’t quite allow you to learn as much as this single car ride has. Most of what you could understand from them was made through your own observations, but now they are more or less open books.

Sometimes, the words hang heavy in the air— old, bulbous and dusty ornaments they polish for you. Steve talks about the war. Bucky does too. You have lots of questions on your end and they illuminate all of them with personal spotlights.

Sometimes, it returns to the playfulness you are used to.

Steve vomited on the cyclone. Bucky lost three dollars trying to win a bear for a girl. You tell him you blew through thirty-five dollars on a crane machine once (for yourself) and the two of you share a moment of solidarity together. Although, it’s hard for you to imagine him as some flirtatious young man and Steve can see it on your face.

“New gal every two weeks.” He informs.

“Were there even that many women in Brooklyn?” You gasp, scandalized.

“They came from all over to get a look at Buck.”

Bucky only rolls his eyes, but you see a smile tug on the other side of his face.

“What was wrong with them?” You whisper on-brand with your usual self, but the memory of his laughter by your front door glows rosy in your mind. Yeah, you can see how girls would get themselves in a tizzy for him. Winter Soldier with his mask on hardly turned heads as much as Captain Adonis America, but if you take a second to look at him, it’s easy to see how built he is. Like a Greek statue. Even his aura is enthralling—a bit secretive, a little dark. He could definitely use that to his advantage.

The smile grows into an almost feral grin—there's that aura, you think. “You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” He nearly growls.

You sit back and pretend to busy yourself with petting Buckeye because the pink crawling up your neck is about to choke you blue.

Bucky pulls off the familiar highway, drives a distance down the curved road next to the river and you lean back, breathing in that familiar fishy and slightly sickly sewage air.

“Aw yeah. Welcome to Cincy.” You laugh. Steve ducks his head to watch the scene, squinting at billboards and watching houses whiz by.

“What’s Skyline Chili?” He asks as the car zooms by an advertisement. A questionable pile of shredded cheese overtakes the (apparently) chili and hot dog on the otherwise blue sign.

“Depending on your taste, either the best or worst thing you’ll ever eat.” The smile on your face widens when he furrows his brow. “Oh, my sweet summer child... you’re in for a treat.”

Your neighborhood comes into view and you wistfully stare at the immaculate paved roads, manicured wide green lawns, blonde-haired moms pushing baby strollers, and dogs trailing behind them on loose leashes. Buckeye pads around as much as he can in the back, stepping over your lap repeatedly as he begins to recognize where he’s at.

“Pretty nice neighborhood.” Steve comments, making a slow turn. The GPS pulls him into a driveway leading up to your parent’s ranch-style home. They both whistle at the garden in bloom and the cobblestone path. You point him to pull around to the garage where your father’s Benz is parked. The old willow tree hangs over it, weeping petals and leaves on the windshield.

“Holy shit.” Bucky mutters at how the rosebushes and magnolia pots wrap even around the side and the back. The deck is littered with more flowers and potted plants. A stained glass table. Even the outdoor chairs have beautiful plush cushions. There seems to be a room underneath the slope of the yard—perhaps a basement transformed into a living space. Everything matches perfectly. “You do have money.”

You sigh.

“It’s not my money. It’s my parents’.” The scathing and bitter tone makes him frown, but you hop out anyway, slinging two bags over your shoulder and nudging Buckeye into the yard. Your dog happily pounces all over the greenery, chasing butterflies and barking.

“You sure they’re ok with this?” Steve asks carefully.

You nod, “There are lots of perks to being the prodigal son. Daughter, in my case.”

“Thought you had a dick.” Bucky sneers.

“Get with the times, old man. Gender is an illusion.”

—

The house is empty. You lead them through the front door and into the hall where it branches into three areas. There’s a railing and staircase that leads down, but for now they take in the sights on this floor. The first step points straight to the dining room where the table is already lined with china and perfectly arranged. Silk napkins. Crystal glasses. Delicately carved mahogany display cabinet.

On the right is the living space and kitchen where the color scheme turns to a pale aqua, cream, and gold accents. Two scooped leather seats face the flat screen, flanked by built-in shelves filled with books. There is also a small couch and a seafoam armchair and matching ottoman. The coffee table is a gorgeous marble, flecked with gold.

They turn and look down the other way, noticing a large mirror entombed by a heavy decorated frame in between two doors. The walkway continues right and disappears even further down.

You stare at them. They stare back.

“Please don’t.” You beg, dropping your bags with a heavy sigh; this is why you didn’t want them coming. You hate it when people comment on your parents’ house. And they haven’t even seen the pool or tennis court. Or the downstairs living area with the grand piano your fingers nearly bled all over from countless hours of practice. Or the family oil painting you sat for when you were a kid. Fuck.

“I fucking hate it.” Bucky says nonchalantly. “Gaudy shit. Too big. This place haunted?”

You could leap into his arms if they weren’t carrying his bag and your dog’s stuff. Instead, you settle for a genuine smile, all warmth and radiance because you feel it in your heart—the appreciation for his understanding wrapped in snark. “Now we’re talking. C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You guys can stay in my childhood bedroom.”

They finally drop their bags on the bay window seat in your old room after you unlock it. It’s always been like this— and you never let your parents come in. You open the middle of the window and let the room air out a little and the afternoon light pours in. Your old pictures are still on the shelves. Trophies. Music books. Your suede riding helmet, too. They wander around, peering at the images.

“Where are your parents?” Steve asks.

You shrug and plop down on the king-size bed out of habit, lying back with your legs dangling off the edge. Buckeye hops on with you and pads around a bit before he settles into a bagel-like swirl of a shape. “Ibiza. Dubai. Paris. Virgin Islands. Take your pick. My dad has property in all of them.” You message him anyway. You’re not surprised they’re gone for the summer. You don’t really come back for them; you mostly come back to get away from Manhattan.

“Wow.” Steve mutters.

“He even owns part of a mountain in Colorado. It’s vile. Historically, we’re from Ohio… ugh. I don’t want to talk about it.” You feel like a child again, and being in this space doesn’t help.

Steve examines the paintings in the room and flips through scattered books on the work desk. Bucky trails around your bookshelves, looking at the frames, picking some up here and there to examine what’s inside. “Who’s this?”

Peeking up you blow a pppffbbfbfbt breath of air out between your lips. It’s you, duh. Except your hair is perfectly curled and piled atop your head— a bird’s nest cushion for a sparkly tiara. Your eyes are piled heavily with so much eyeshadow and lash extensions it looks like an ombré spider web, and you’re wearing a low-cut dress swirling with rhinestones. Across your torso is a sash. Yep. Homecoming Queen. You’re pressed up against your date, all smiles, sharp cheeks, shoulders so thin he can see your skeleton jutting out. Over ten years ago, you were a much different person.

“Laugh it up, Barnes.” You mutter. “Thas ya girl, sweet sixteen, massively underweight, and aspiring to be the shiniest trophy wife of them all.”

“Why would I laugh?” He asks, suddenly solemn. Bucky turns to look at you, sprawled out on the bed, sardonic smile plastered to your face. “You don’t look very happy.” He still has the picture in his hand. Steve has paused, too, closing a heavy leather-bound first edition. Being caught in the middle of two concerned stares makes you heavy with anxiety and dread. Instead of spending another second under their gaze, you shoot up and motion for Buckeye to follow.

“Don’t be fucking weird, man.” Then, you’re already up the stairs.

Steve and Bucky glance at each other and Bucky places the picture back on the shelf.

—

In the downstairs living space next to their room, you pour three glasses of thirty-year-old single malt whiskey from the cabinet and plop down on the piano bench. The boys sit on the couch and regard you curiously as you open the cover and stare at the ivory keys. Your foot stomps on each of the paddles underneath vengefully. Then you tip your head back, whiskey along with it, and slam the cover shut with a trembling crash. “Fuck you, Mozart.” You whisper, as if the piano can hear.

You peek downstairs after your bath and call, “Hey! My parents use a water softener so if you feel slimy… it’s normal.” The whiskey has made you flush with excitement and volatile energy.

Steve’s head pops out from the bathroom doorway, neck and chest red from the heat. “Oh, thank God.” He says, “Buck’s been scrubbing for hours.”

“Who the fuck would do this!” Bucky’s voice echoes from the same tiled space. You can practically see it shooting out from the room behind Steve’s shoulder to crash into the adjacent wall like a comic panel.

The towel on top of your head slips and you attempt to grab it quickly, using your other hand to hold onto the knot around your chest. “You guys fucking in there?!”

Steve only grins and sends you a wink, mischievous expression catching you off guard. The towel tumbles down the stairs and your hair slaps itself over your face. The two of you watch the fluffy sheet spread over the bottom of the steps before staring at each other. “You gonna get that?” He asks.

“No.” You reply, abruptly mortified, “It’s yours now.”

Apparently, Steve Rogers has chosen this very moment to make it known that partners is not only platonic in meaning. You don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, because you’ve been harassing them for months about who’s a bottom (you bet all four limbs it’s Bucky), but suddenly the moment is confronting you and all you can do is think about how you’re naked and third-wheeling … in your own damn home. And that maybe you shouldn’t have had all that whiskey.

Captain America rubs the tip of his nose absentmindedly, “You alright?” There is genuine concern in his eyes as he steps out of the doorway and reveals his –NAKED! NAKED!

“No!” You scream, turning your head and hiding behind your outstretched hand. “No! Don’t! You fucking stay there you—Fucking A, Steve!”

He’s not really naked; he’s wrapped hip-down in a towel, but you don’t even want to see the outline of him. As far as you know, he’s a smooth-crotched Ken Doll. Maybe Bucky has like, three dicks. There is so much panic inside of you right now.

The water stops from the shower and rustling is heard as Bucky dries off. You attempt to slowly back up away from the steps and move back into the confines of your own room until your dog springs past you like a loose cannonball and sails downstairs. He banks left into the bathroom and licks a stripe over Steve’s shin before finding his true target: Bucky.

There is tumbling, banging, wincing from you and Steve as Buckeye clobbers his human doppelganger once more. Then, there is yelling and cussing—Steve, moving inside to help, but then more crashing follows before Buckeye tears from the bathroom and up the stairs with two towels clenched tightly in his mouth.

“No…” You whisper, when he drops them at your feet. His tongue flops against his chin and he looks up expectantly, as if you might reward him for his endeavor. Steve’s head peeks out again, and the wry smile he sends your way says: you’re fucked.

Next Chapter

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #self insert #fanfiction #FiMS

771 notes · View notes

shippostshitpost · 5 years

Text

Dyed hair (my beauty guru Au)

Izumi was passionate about far too many things, though there were somethings that just got her beyond excited. Anything All Might related was sure to send her into a fit of mutters. Anything makeup related was sure to get her to be louder than necessary, like, Kirishima yelling about being manly loud. And of course her favorite time of year, summer.

Izumi hummed as she set everything up. What’s everything you ask? The greenette was going blonde, she did this almost every summer and by the time school came around she’d cut off her blonde and hVe a cute pixie cut of green. Kaachan always seemed to let up on the teasing when her hair was blonde, though she wasn’t sure why she was greatful. And what would a beauty guru do as she dyes her hair? Live stream it of course. This was the first live stream she was letting her friends see, she had to admit she was always a little shy about people she knew watching. For the longest time even her mother wasn’t allowed to watch.

She was beyond popular in the hero forms so she had amassed nearly two hundred viewers and now some close friends, she couldn’t help but laugh since their usernames were too obvious.

Iida_Tenya: MIDORIYA CHAN! DYING YOUR HAIR IS A SERIOUS COMMITMENT! ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?

“Oh hey Iida, welcome to the stream! Everyone this is my dear friend Iida! We go to UA together! And Iida I know hair dye is serious but I do this every few years so don’t worry yeah?” She began putting up her hair so that she could get the bottom layer first. A lose bun and some pins made it so only the lower levle was visible.

❄️ 🔥: Midoriya, I happen to find your current hair color quite beautiful. Why change it? But may I ask what color you are changing it too?

Izumi giggled a little beginning to mix her dye, she had to stop herself from blushing. Shouto Todoroki was always so formal, cool, calm, and collected. She envied him. Before she could respond kirishima butt in.

Manly_man007: WHO CARES WHAT COLOR IM SURE MIDORIYA WILL BE JUST AS BEAUTIFUL AS SHE ALWAYS IS EVEN IF SHE CHANGED HER HAIR TO SPOTS! I SUPPORT YOU MIDO-CHAN! IT IS SO COOL AND WOMANLY THAT YOU ARE EXPRESSING YOURSELF HOW YOU WANT.

“Oh gosh two more very good friends from UA. Todoroki and Kirishima, thank you both. And the color will be revealed at the end! Now this stream is my summer kick off! This summer we are turning up the heat and really hitting the ground on hero analysis. First up, I won’t be analyzing anything All Might related, so no more All Might looks, at least not this summer.” She watched the chat fly by with random strangers asking her questions and commenting on her new scar. Waiting until she saw a familiar user name.

King_Murder💚: Tch shitty nerd, you’re not talking about All might? Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck is Deku.” The green heart next to his name meant he was a mod for the chat, she had tasked him with kicking out anyone who was...over the top. Or just you know, a pervert.

Manly_Man007: AW COME ON BAKUGO THAT WAS RUDE! MIDORIYA IS PROBABLY TRYING TO ANALYZE NEW HEROES AND HEROES THAT MIGHT NOT GET ATTENTION FROM THE MEDIA!

Floatingoncloud9: Midoriya-chan!!! Also Kirishima why are you typing in all caps?

❄️ 🔥: probably to be “manly” and make sure he had Midoriya’s attention

Manly_Man007: BECAUSE ITS MANLY ALSO I WANT TO MAKE SURE MIDORIYA KNOWS IM HERE AND SUPPORTING HER!

⚡️ pika_boi ⚡️: woah Todoroki nailed it!

“Guys please let me focus for a second?” She laughed “this summer I’m doing looks and videos based on my dear friends at UA, the up-and-coming heroes of tomorrow!”

Manly_Man007: WOAH FOR REAL US?!?!? ME FIRST RIGHT!

King_Murder💚: hey you shitty extra I’m first! Obviously!

Iida_Tenya: Midoriya! I am quite flattered that you’d want to do a video and look based on my style! Though I admit I’m not sure what that all entails I’m proud to be the center of a project of yours! Or one of your projects. If there is anything you need do not hesitate to ask!

Floatingoncloud9: ☺️ ahhhhhhhhh?!?!?!?

⚡️pika_boi⚡️: this is a SHOCKING turn of events eh? eh?

Pinky: WOAH really? You’ll need a lot of pink for mine!

❄️ 🔥: Since you are doing a look based on me may I offer to buy your make up? Or any clothing you may need? Do you do clothing as well? I am new to your stream

Midoriyafan001: Ugh N00b she does make up, fashion, and breaks down hero stuff I can’t believe she calls you her friend and you don’t even know how her streams work! Are you even a fan? How much have you donated to her Patreon account? I bet you’re not even responsible for one tube of lipstick she owns! Do you know her favorite fashion trends are American

“H-hey Midoryafan001, please cool it down a little y-yeah? I don’t let my close friends see my streams but Pika Boi knew new prior to this as a streamer and told everyone about it. So please don’t scold them yeah?”

Her hair was under a cap as she waited for the color to change. Dying her hair took no time at all, she’d done it a few times and it was more muscle memory than anything, well for her anyways.

King_Murder💚: better watch it or you’ll be fucking outta here you shitty extra. And no half n half she doesn’t need you to buy her fucking make up, see those yen amounts? Those are fucking donations. Her fans already got it covered.

❄️ 🔥: I see...

💚Hooray! ❄️ 🔥 has donated 25,000 yen!💚

“Todoroki! You don’t have to do that!” She blushed now completely embarrassed, slowly regretting letting him watch.

💚Hooray! Iida_Tenya has donated 25,000 yen💚

Iida_Tenya: nonsense Midoriya! We must support you! As much as we can!

Manly_Man007: AW MAN IM SO BROKE!

“I Uh I need to go wash my hair be right back!” She set it to a screen with a Chibi washing her hair as she rushed to the shower.

💚Hooray !Manly_Man007 has donated 200 yen💚

💚Hooray! ⚡️pika_boi⚡️ has donated 200 yen!💚

💚Hooray! Momo has donated 59,000 yen💚

❄️ 🔥:Momo when did you get here?

Momo: oh I’ve been here just wanted to observe but I want to help Midoriya buy some new make up and clothes! Oh we should go shopping together us girls!

“I’m back and- oh my gosh guys no! Kirishima! Kaminari! Momo! You didn’t have to donate! All though I really look forward to that girls day now!” The changes the screen back to the camera. Her once green hair was now platinum blonde.

Manly_Man007: OH MY GOSH I NEED TO DONATE MORE YOURE SO PRETTY MIDORIYA YOU KICK BUT AND SERVE LOOKS!

❄️ 🔥: It is lovely though you look like Bakugo now.

King_Murder💚: SAY THAT TO MY FACE TO FUCKING CANDY CANE! DEKU AND I LOOK NOTHING ALIKE!

“Take it to a private chat you two!”

Izumi scolded though she calmed when she saw they weren’t typing anymore.

Iida_Tenya: I admire your new look!

Momo: wow beautiful!

Pinky: I WOULD LITERALLY DIE FOR YOU MIDORIYA LITERALLY I WOULD FIGHT ALL FOR ONE FOR YOU!

“Ah Mina! That’s so sweet really oh my gosh I oh wow I’d fight all for one for you too!” She sputtered out in an anxious rush.

Floatingoncloud9: GIRLS SUPPORTING GIRLS

⚡️pika_boi⚡️: I want to support Midoriya!

Iida_Tenya: I do as well!

Manly_Man007: MIDORIYA LET ME HELP YOU TOO ITS THE MANLY THING TO DO!

💚Hooray! IAmMidoriyasFatherSheDoesntNeedBoysAlsoDinnerIsReadyMomSaysHurry has donated 2,000,000 yen💚

King_Murder💚: Hi Mr.Midoriya, kept her safe on here some of these guys have no respect for a young female entrepreneur.

Katsuki knew better, he had never met Mr. Midoriya. But when he had been picking on her as a kid he had cops come talk to him and a few pro heroes. He didn’t question it anymore. He didn’t want to anger Mr. Midoriya.

Pinky: Woah your dad has an interesting user name?

“Yeah dad doesn’t like to talk much so he lets his user name say what he wants to? I’ve been trying to work on it with him....”

❄️ 🔥: Midoriya are you safe? It’s quite odd that your father would stalk your stream like this. Couple that with Bakugo’s behavior... Message me privetly as soon as you can!

Manly_Man007: WOAH YOUVE NEVER TALKED ABOUT YOUR DAD!!?!?!?!????!! MR MIDORIYA I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!! WAS MIDORIYA ALWAYS INTO FASHION?!?!?!? WAS SHE ALWAYS SO STRONG?!?!?!? WERE YOU A LATE BLOOMER TO YOUR QUIRK TOO? WAS SHE A CUTE BABY?!?!?

Iida_Tenya: You have my most sincere apologies Mr. Midoriya! I have always tried to be nothing short of respectful towards all of the women in my class including your daughter. Clearly there has been some kind of misunderstanding. I will do my best to make sure I don’t compromise her honor!

“Ah well that’s all the time we have today!” She laughed nervously “I’ll post a picture of my hair all dried and styled tonight on my Instagram! See ya!” She cut the camera and sighed

“Dad was that really necessary?” She pouted

“Izumi, my girl,” the skeleton like man smiled at her “as your father it will always be necessary to scare off any boys that even breathe in your direction now come on, your mother made beef stew.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaminari #bakugo #kirishima #kirideku #femdeku #beauty guru au #mina ashido #todoroki shouto #iida tenya #iideku #dadmight #all might #dad all might

154 notes · View notes

unikornu · 4 years

Photo

Page 5, Regain

(re-written)

Gage pushed the door open, the bright and warm sun hanging above Nuka Town welcomed them as well as grumpy faces of the local raiders and curious ones of the traders, passing along the way, while they were heading to the Fizztop.

- Didn’t change much since last time, maybe just the audience is a bit more..unpleasant, for now. Lucy walked beside Gage looking straight forward and avoiding the judging eyes and whispers surrounding them. - Also it got a bit warmer too. She brushed her forehead sweeping away some sweat.

- So you have been here before, Boss? When? I don’t remember you when we raided this place. Gage looked at her, curiously.

- Oh...way before traders or whatever happened to this town after...She paused, realizing that what she will say might sound very strange to Porter ears.

- After what? Upon passing Parlor he noticed she doesn’t act like being in a new place indeed. She was observing and smiling softly almost like glad to revisit.

- Let’s save that talk for later, once i will be sure you still won’t gut me at the end of that walk. Also why do you call me Boss all the time? She looked up at him squinting her eye.

- Rules, Boss. Without them we would be the same fucking Commonwealth mess. Well..that one was my own rule, might as well not break it right away. He pushed the button, elevator slowly sliding down at the Fizztop.

- And you don’t break rules eh? Even your own? She smirked at him and whistled softly at the fact that raiders would think of an elevator and even build one, functional.

- Oh i do break rules Boss, but only on special...occasions. He smirked back at her and pointed to the elevator as it arrived. As they were going up he looked at her face, blushed in the sunlight, revealing a scar and tattoos.

- Got yourself a nice souvenir from kind people of Commonwealth? She leaned on the barrier and pulled her knife out.

- Yes..the most kind type. But he left me this as a recompense. She spun it in her fingers and pointed towards him before putting it back.

- Disciple styled...so the fucker managed to escape after all, hah. Gage mumbled under his nose recognizing the blade structure that was well known in Nuka Town among the crooked ladies of Nisha’s gang.

----

- Finally. Lucy released the sound of relief from her lungs at the elevator arrived to the patio. As she spotted the bed she started heading towards it right away, taking the parts of her armor on the way, ignoring Gage presence.

- Uhm..you need a sec Boss? We still need to talk about the plan. He turned to the side and sat at the bar that was just across the bed, wodden-made wall hiding her as she dropped on the mattress.

- Just talk while i rest for a moment. I can hear you just perfect. Lucy used the fact she was hidden and send the short report to the Institute from the pipboy, allowing her to continue her side-tasks and not be disturbed nor tracked while she figures out her current position.

- Okay, Boss. So there are three gangs in this town. Disciples, Operators and the Pack. And as u noticed raiders aren’t the sharing type much so Colter and i had idea to get the rest of the Nuka World to start expanding ourselves and let’s say...loosen the tension a bit. Gage started explaining but as he would rather have that talk face to face he started taking slow steps towards the bed.

- And Colter didn’t do it eh? Looking how he ended up. Lucy leaned on her arms and looked around, bringing back the memories of this place when it was a full functional restaurant.

- He got a bit...lazy and i’m a fucking patient man but at one point all of us had enough, of his comfy ass, sitting all days here, drinking beer after beer and fucking around. He approached her close enough just to see her head from above the wall.

- And..you want me to finish the job. She interrupted and looked at him, slowly standing up and siting at the edge of bed, ignoring the fact being dressed just in underwear and a top. - Can i ask you something, Gage? He nodded and looked away.

- Why didn’t you step up as the Overboss? You know this place and you seem smarter than you look about all this shit. I mean..look at me, im not a leader. She snatched a box of whatever food was nearby tearing the opening apart.

- Because i fucked up too much before, they hate me for it and i would rather keep my head where it is. You on the other hand have a clear....card. She looked at him uncertain, holding her head on the palm and chewing.

- Fuck, look i will help you, guide you around, throw some advices. I will come with you too if you don’t mind company. We just need to get the job done. Gage stepped up to her as she walked down to the bar.

- And what do i get out of it, and you? She leaned over the counter, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the shelf below.

- You get whatever the hell you want as long as it goes along with our..what they called them..principles and the plan of getting the rest of this place for us. Her face brightened a bit the sound of it. - And i get to keep my head where it is and get my share out of it. So...deal, Boss? He stretched the hand towards her.

- Get whatever i want...and do what i want with no consequences, hmm fine, deal, for now. She barely could get her hand around his to squeeze it in a manner of agreement as it almost disappeared in raider’s big palm. - I will still sleep with a knife under my pillow Gage, i don’t trust you just yet. All of it just sounds too good and easy.

- What if it actually is that good and easy, Boss? He grinned and turned around, slowly walking away towards the hallway. - Also when you rest you need to meet with the leaders, i left you directions on the desk.

- You want me to go alone out there, and meet the leaders? Me? Alone? She laughed but stopped shortly realizing he is not joking.

- Well, you have to get respect one way or another, Boss. That might prove them just fine that you ain’t just scared little pretty gal eh? He looked her up and down and disappeared behind the door.

- Well...shit. She looked in the glass she poured herself whiskey and drank it all in one go. - Alright...i got this. Might also need some new clothes for this bloody warm place.

----

Its been a while since Lucy was stepping into the wolf’s caves with the mind sharp and confident but with each step she realized that even if 200 years passed for her it was much shorter, almost like stepping through a magical door just to find yourself on the other side of the nuclear land. Spinning the knife in its grip she decided to be done with her biggest worry first - disciples. Reading a face can say a lot about person’s intentions but in Nisha case that was impossible. Lucy had to remain calm and stoic against the leader disgust and lack of faith into her person as well as Gage choice of promoting her but nothing that a few promises wouldn’t shake away along with trashing Colter. She left, still facing them until she stepped out of their base. Savoy sharp look shining from behind his mask was sending a shiver down her spine that she shook away as she arrived near the market.

Next was the Pack. They were speaking simple but understandable language, their base looking like a colorful zoo more than the pre-war theatre. Mason outfit and overall look was blending quite well with the all the decorations placed behind his throne. - King of the fucking jungle himself. She whispered under her nose, approaching him and passing the dogs curiously watching her and sniffing behind.

- So you are the Overboss..hmpf..was expecting something..well better. Mason scanned her from his chair and slowly stood up.

- Or bigger...well i didn’t come here to make an impression. Just tell me what you want. She threw her hands to the side and stepped aside as Mason walked down, facing her.

- Straight to the point, Boss? Well, listen then because i don’t like to repeat myself like i did to Colter. We need more fucking space and action, anything to get this pack running again. If we cook up here any longer even i will lose my fuckin patience and piss on the rules and Porter himself. The more he was looking at her, down and her posture, the wider his smile was getting, that this woman is their so called leader from now on.

- Alright Mason. I know about Colter’s plan and i intend to actually get it moving. But tell me, why the fuck you guys didn’t kill him on a spot if he was so bad? And why one of you didn’t take charge if you all know what ya want? She looked up at him, questionable.

- First, it was all Porter’s plan, along with making Colter the Overboss and we just agreed to it. Look, Colter wasn’t bad at the start, a bit dumb if you ask me but tough as fuck. And now well, you came by, just as he lost our respect and Porter decided to “accidently” kill him in a fair fight. Mason leaned down towards her, his breath almost hitting her face. - But if you manage to fuck it up the same way i might actually take charge since you came up with the idea. Would be a shame tho....

- And if you don’t back off i will strangle you along with your dogs to that fucking chair. He grinned at her and straightened himself back up.

- Hah, you have some balls even for a small little sweet bird like you, tell ya what. I’m gonna be nice that first and one time, Boss and you will give us what we wanted all that time. He stepped up to his chair and pulled something from behind and threw it her way. A colorful rifle landed in her hands and surprise showed on her face. - Just try not to fuck it up or i will beat you myself to death with it. She nodded at him and left the theatre as Mason shooed her away with his massive arm. The last was Parlor and the twins.

- At last, something pleasant that isn’t splattered with blood all over or stinks. Operator at the door pointed her inside. - Mags and William were waiting for you, Boss. Don’t make them wait any longer.

The place was clean and barely changed except the aging furniture and dried flowers placed in a cracked vases. She liked it and realized that despite Mags being slightly proud and stiff they spoke the same language when it came to what the want in the end. Caps and more caps. They said before the war that money could not buy happiness but what if for both of them money itself became reason to be happy. She shook hands with Mags but William as well in a sign of respect for them both and showing some manners.

- It was my pleasure too to meet you, Boss. William took a few more seconds on a hand shake but Mags elbow suggested him to stop dreaming around.

- Also...who is she? Lucy asked seeing an operator woman passing and holding a bunch of grenades and other devices.

- That is Lizzie, our conspirator and...well lab-mad woman but we were friends since back then so she joined us too. She has a talent for explosives and other things. Mags sighted and allowed her to visit her in the lab, her face remaining stoic and emotionless as always.

Lucy knocked on the door frame before disturbing her. - So you are Lizzie,what are you doing there?

- Well, hello Boss. Just testing new type of grenades, you never know when you might need them with people like us. Especially that Colter only worsened the whole situation. Lizzie pulled her goggles on the forehead and turned towards her - At least we got that problem away. Hope you ain’t planning following in his steps and finally get us some caps.

- I like myself above the ground so ye.. Listen...i know this place and i know they kept some...clothes around Parlor. Do you know where i might find them? Lizzie pointed towards the door in her lab, leading downstairs to a room filled with dusty boxed and racks covered in plastic foils.

- Mags didn’t throw them out yet and i kept what i found for myself here. For...science purpose, of course. Why, you need new clothes? Lizzie pulled a rope dangling above, lightening the bubble hanging in the center of the room.

- Something like that, yes. And i think you can help me make it a bit more than just clothes. She smiled at her and Lizzie couldn’t deny she liked her approach and idea. They agreed on helping each other as long as Lucy would also accept taking on few tests with her new weaponry inventions.

----

-Welcome back, Boss. Whoa, shit.....you look different. Gage was expecting her to come back in one piece with no issues but not in new gear as well as she stepped from the elevator inside his room, wearing a mix of something elegant and skimpier than before, almost hidden behind junks of metal armor.

- Take care of it, its from Mason. She threw him a rifle carrying all the rainbow shades, leaving the raider face half opened, almost dropping a cigareyte that was placed in his mouth.

- Mason gave you his rifle? Un-fuckin believable. He gave it a few spins and placed it on the table next to other guns.

- They all must be pretty desperate, letting us do all the job after all and even offering some gear, just like that. She dropped on the chair, throwing her legs on the table and snatching the pamphlet lying nearby.

- Us? So you already decided you want me to tag along, Boss? He couldn’t hide his smile on a thought that she actually agreed to take on a task and hell even include him in the action.

- It’s a job for two people and since we shook hands i guess we are partners from now on, eh? She looked at him and winked from behind the park map. - So, what do you say we do?

He stretched his neck and threw the finished cigarette to the side. - I say we prepare and go kill some shiet, Boss.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #nuka world #lucy's diary #lucy feit #porter gage #re-written #screenshot #pose it mod

5 notes · View notes

harryglom · 5 years

Text

Present Time (a short story)

It was the weirdest wall in the world.

Clock after clock stacked floor to ceiling. A chorus of tick-tocking and tock-ticking. Old and gold, ornate and engraved, bare and blank, international, novelty and nautical and a cuckoo clock or two. At the centre, the ones with darker edges of black firs and autumn wood matched with one another in a circle. In the centre of this circle were two lines drawn by a set of clocks of brighter colours, of white edges and silvers. Altogether they built a mosaic of clocks and, drawn as one, became a single giant clock in and of itself. A bazaar of sound, it was like being perched inside a beating heart. The display being so intricate, you have to ask, whose got the time?

One might also think to ask: is it safe for a psychiatrist's waiting room to have such an absurd array of clocks? If reality has become fragile to someone in some way as to lead them into his or her care, they probably shouldn't adorn their walls with displays that could be interpreted as a personal affront to a person's peculiarity. Or, at least in my experience of the room so far, a pointed statement of one's own alienation and madness.

The secretary chewed sourly on her pen, sucking and un-sucking in time with each loudly punctuated second. Her eyes were full of contempt, colourless and glazed over by the poison of her own perceived wasted potential. She looked like the ink had been slowly drawn into her lips and, year on year, sapped into her pale skin and made one with her blood. Her name was Irma Loveless and she didn't seem the person who could appreciate the irony of her name.

"Irma?" I said as jovially as I could "The last Irma I met was a hurricane."

She wasn't amused. She stared blankly through me, threw the pen onto the desk and walked across the room to the bathroom down the hall. The door thudded behind her and left me wondering if she makes that same sour face when she's taking, as can only be deduced by her unwavering demeanour, a powerfully hateful shit. Secretary, a word that used to wear its heart on its sleeve. Now pronounced sek-rah-terry, once was secret-ary: a bank of secrets. Is there any more fitting place for such a title than within ear shot of a therapy session? Perhaps the troubles of the world have meddled their way into her life as sullen ghostly whispers. Or perhaps she's just a cunt.

Sara Simmons leaves the doctor's office. A frail middle-aged woman, Sara can best be described as a blonde perm hanging at the end of a mop. She's always jangling her bag and twitching her taut and bony arms looking for something. I don't think she'd know relaxation if it hit her in the face with rohypnol. She used to come in here with her husband until her madness was deemed by the psychiatrist not to be shared. He was a banker, a big guy who looked at the other patients as if there should be a VIP room to separate him from the riff-raff. He was a man with big money, big decisions and a big dick attitude. He had no time for emotions besides a hunger for domination and a suicidal thought or two. Now she comes in alone, twice a week, with an irrational fear of time. I wonder why?

She told me all this last Tuesday despite my best performance of a certifiably anti-social Grade-A nutjob. I suppose for 200 pounds an hour, you've got to make your moneys worth where you can. I'm not a doctor but from the stolen minutes of self reflection she's inflicted upon the waiting room, I'd diagnose her with an incurable case of a terrible personality. She gives me a weak smile before leaving money in an envelope on Irma's desk. She's stopped charging the credit card: her husband thinks she's at brunch with the girls. Like he'd care, she'd say with a sudden vigour, a crack of pained breath splintering the air, hoping someone or something in the universe would challenge her. The last thing she does when she leaves is tie up her navy blue scarf, a cotton stream beneath the frazzled bolts of sun that comprise her hair, covering the air between her shirt and pale throat and I struggle to not momentarily consider picturing a noose.

Mr Peterson would usually be next, waddling in from his time-machine life of waist coats and romantic poetry memorised verbatim, a stanza or two left to linger in the waiting room like a sudden burst of sunlight.

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Selfishly, the Dickensian odd-ball went and died on us. He joined his husband and Byron in the big clouds in the sky and left us behind in a cultural wasteland, adrift like the boss-eyed soldiers wading through the embers of Dresden. Matching craters in the earth and their skin, concave boils of led and blood, where once joy and life resided in. We're all looking, like Byron said, for the moment where the fates change horses.

Irma returned unchanged and motioned me through to the doctor's office. I'll have to rethink my diagnosis of poisoned blood and bowel extremities and go with what is most simple: a cunt, a total and utter cunt. I nod at her and the curtesy goes unrecieved, her eyes drawn to the floor as she slams the door behind. It was a white fire door-- heavy enough that a slam requires deliberate, rehearsed and methodical engagement. Yes, a cunt indeed.

"Oscar, what can I help you with today?" Doctor Mathis says as she pins her round framed glasses onto the thin bridge of her nose. She sits cross legged in a pallid green skirt suit and her silvery blonde hair hangs above the lightly frayed cotton edges of her jacket collar. She is a vision of grandmotherly serenity and she speaks with a honeyed-glass transatlantic accent. "Been too busy being sane to see me?"

This is a reference to our last session, a month prior, where happiness had coursed easy through me like a summer's breeze. I always get hyperbolic when I'm happy and so the usually pointed words of sane and insane avoided by psychiatrists have become part of our regular vernacular. They probably didn't teach her this when she got her PHD but sometimes, for the right patient, we need to be mocked out of our self indulgence. I suppose, not mocked so far as to stop paying 200 pounds a session to discuss nothing but oneself but who am I to judge? I'm the one who is insane.

"It's all starts and stops with me isn't it?" Springs my voice. It's the first time I've been honest all week.

"That's life, Oscar." She says smiling.

"Is that the kind of observation that separates private from NHS?"

"The best lessons, for a case like yours" She adjusts her notepad into a comfortable position under her arm, "are often the simplest."

I've made a game of deciphering my psychiatrists when I get bored of myself. I play detective, scan outfits for clues, ticks and habits, the rings and life around their eyes. Divorced? Former addict? A late-starter? A sexual maniac who feeds off the madness of others? She's the first one who ever picked up on it, grinning with amusement, noticing me noticing her.

"Its hard being watched for you isn't it? Being vulnerable to observation. Those who feel themselves cast outside their lives, feeling scrutinised, often seek control in casting others in the same place." She never stuttered or paused. She simply removed the purple beaded bracelets she habitually played with, the ones I had been not so surreptitiously eyeing up throughout the conversation. The beads rattled for a moment on the table and she leaned forward like a drawn arrow. "Why do you think you feel the need to deflect attention?"

She's always like that, audaciously perceptive in a way only a good psychiatrist can be. Sometimes in doctors offices there is a lot of excess data, the human folly of pinning significance on that which has none, wrapped up in narratives perceived to be influenced by everything but that which has truly influenced them. Once we had core experiences and reactions, simple emotional mathematics. Now we have existential self awareness and who needs it, to end up like Sara Simmons? Yet sometimes something slips through the cracks, strikes a chord brighter than lightning, lingers in the lexicon of your brain, rigidly unforgotten like your worst nightmare or deepest regret. Why do you think you feel the need to deflect attention?

Instead in this session we discuss the pitfalls of self awareness, mindful not to mention Sara after the swift and stern rebuke Dr Mathis dealt me the last time I mentioned another patient in her presence. I perfunctorily professed my regret, admitting that I'm a bit of a bastard. She said outside of these walls that would not count as an apology. There's always something being avoided like the remaining broccoli on a sweet tooth kid's plate. Aimless philosophy and scathing observation are my chocolate pudding. I wonder if beneath the frailty Sara Simmons is the same-- using wellness as a pastime, branding Mr Peterson a poof, Irma a piece of work and me a creep. Little did she know that I am all three.

"I'm sometimes not in control of my thoughts." I spring forth, hoping to jumpstart anything other than auto-pilot conversation. She holds silent with her pen poised. "I've told you before, my brain whirs past me. It's like life is happening over here in one part of my brain and me, the real me, is off to the side."

"As seriously as that first time?"

"No, not as bad as since- no." I corrected myself. "The thoughts are as bad; hurting things. People. Animals. Children."

Even in a place as safe as this, the last word hits me like a knife edged boomerang, severing her pleasantries and my dignity at the throat. I can feel her eyes on me, I know they're gentle but even in her profession she must sometimes be afraid.

"We've talked about moral scrupulosity before. It's very common and not indicative of the rationality of people with your condition." She says "Much as popular culture would have you believe otherwise."

She knows I like horror movies. I used to talk about them a lot when I first came here, that they were all to blame; Freddie, Jason and Jigsaw, and of course Hannibal the Cannibal. They danced in my dreams, finger nails, steak knives and masks, bonfires of depravity ablaze beneath my eyelids. Yet in daylight, my thoughts never showed them holding the weapon. It was never them squeezing the life, bubbling bursting cartoon eyeballs left lopsided, pinning fur-skins to the walls. She talked me down from thinking I was one of them.

She joked: "Very few, in my experience, are."

I suppose it is rather funny in a way, those dark corners of thoughts that never belonged to you. A summer's day, cherry blossom and silver maple seed twisting into your conditioned hair and artisanal ice cream when your brain decides to ponder what that short woman would look like hanging from a tree. A building in flames at the slightest shame of a cracked voice, to think of nothing else but the sound of their screams. Or a man who cuts in line at the coffee shop being crumpled by construction, loose scaffolding, metal bolts and beams where his face should be. I suppose it is rather funny. Unfortunately, it's not for me.

"Commonality doesn't make them less pleasant."

"I'm sure it doesn't. But you've made progress: you're now sure these thoughts are not really you. Surrendering to it, as long as they don't flare up any worse later, is the best you can do."

Surrendering, always surrendering. Surrendering to impulses to run away, surrendering to happiness, surrendering to love and for all the money in the world I can't stand the possibility of surrendering to myself. She leans forward again, closer with her hands on her knees, and gestures for me to open up towards her again.

"Do you know why I keep all those clocks, Oscar?"

"Because you're as mad as us?"

"Because for all my medicine, mental tricks and multiple degrees" She takes off her glasses to clean them again. "I don't have the answers to everything. I have only what we all have-- the present moment."

I look up at her, with glistening eyes that say the honey moon is over. Her eyes are calm, still as the shores of emerald green seas. In the silence, the clock ticks enter the from the other room. It doesn't startle me, it becomes a part of me, my brain ticking forward with it, ready to strike a new hour for my life. Of course, this hour has been and gone many times but it rings true as the bells of midnight every time.

"I think- I think it's time for the medication again."

She assumes next week's time before I go, stands and turns her body in a way that seems to indicate that she would like to prescribe a hug were it allowed. A flash in my brain; a hug that crushes her bones, silvery gold locks torn at the root, blood on her matching emerald shoes. I breathe and smile weakly, my fingers mere inches away from hers as I take the prescription. She holds her hand tight on the paper for a moment as I begin to slide it away. She just nods at me in earnest, a distanced yet maternal motion, like an aunt for a nephew who has grown too old for kisses. That's the closest she can give me. I suppose it's funny in a way.

I heave open the fire door and clear out of Irma's way before she gets to take up my space. I don't make eye contact with anyone on the way out nor skirt my eyes over the weirdest wall in the world. I just glare over the empty chair where Mr Peterson would sit. As I walk onto the pavement, the high trills of bird calls replacing the sterile ticking of the clocks, the world rushes back to me. A flash in my brain, for once pleasant, recalled a poem he once said.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,

Bears all its sons away;

They fly forgotten, as a dream

Dies at the opening day.

Silvery upon the leaves, beams of gold glistens through the shifting trees onto windows of black taxis.

I hail one down and, presently, resume my life.

#queer fiction #new poets corner #new writing #original writing #original story #short story #short tales #mental health #positive mental attitude #mental disorder #actually ocd #writers #weird fiction #weirdart #im weird #excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from a book i'll never write #excerpt from a book i might write #excerpts of stories

3 notes · View notes

sineala · 6 years

Note

Hi! I really love your fic, and sorry if this is a bit of an awkward question, feel free to ignore it, but which comics would you recommend as ‘essential’ stony reading? You seem very knowledgeable about them :)

That’s not an awkward question at all! And thank you!

When people who haven’t really read comics ask me what comics they should read to get into Steve/Tony, I usually say that they should read Captain America: Man Out of Time – it’s short, it’s modern, it redoes Steve’s origin story in an interesting and approachable way. and it has some very sweet Steve & Tony moments. If you read it and like it, it’s probably worth seeking out other comics. But the thing is, I wouldn’t say it’s “essential” Steve/Tony reading, because it hasn’t really made an impact on fandom either in its plot events or its characterization of Steve & Tony. Like, if you go to AO3, you’re not going to find a lot of fic specifically about it. (Also it’s a retelling so it’s… not really canon in exactly the same way as the regular comics.)

So when you say you want “essential” comics, I am interpreting it as the comics that are basically the greatest hits of Steve/Tony fandom. Comics everyone is expected to know because they are featured again and again in fanfiction and because they have shaped our understanding of Steve and Tony’s characters. That’s what I would consider essential. I mean, much as I love, say, v3, you can probably get by without reading most of v3 because most of it doesn’t show up in fanfic (although you may eventually want to know who Rumiko and Tiberius are and what the deal is with the Sentient Armor).

I’m going to stick the list under a Read More.

Anyway, here’s a stab at making such a list for 616:

Avengers vol 1 #4: Necessary reading for any Steve/Tony fan. The Avengers find an iceberg, and there’s a body in the iceberg wearing red, white and blue, and… yeah, welcome to the future, Captain America. The first voice he hears is Tony’s!

Tales of Suspense vol 1 #58: Marvel had distribution agreements throughout most of the 1960s that limited the number of different comic titles they could sell; as a result, instead of solo books Marvel had a bunch of anthology titles (Tales to Astonish, Strange Tales, Journey into Mystery…) that became “split books” with solo tales of two different heroes. Tales of Suspense had up to this point featured Iron Man, but with this issue it became an Iron Man/Captain America split book, and in this issue Iron Man and Cap team up to fight the Chameleon, by which I mean that the Chameleon impersonates Captain America and Tony accidentally fights the real Cap. Whoops.

Nomad (Captain America vol 1 #180-183): You should probably start reading at about #176 for context. Anyway, Steve is disillusioned with the government after he discovers that Richard Nixon, who commits suicide in front of him, is the leader of the evil Secret Empire, and so he gives up being Captain America and decides to be Nomad. He’s only Nomad for about four issues, but what a glorious four issues it is.

Demon in a Bottle (Iron Man vol 1 #120-128): The original arc that established Tony’s alcoholism. If you see references in fanfic to an incident with the Carnelian ambassador, that’s this arc.

Avengers vol 1 #216: Steve finds out that Tony is Iron Man, because they’re on an Avengers mission and the villain magically strips Tony out of his armor, leaving him standing there wearing only his underwear.

The second drinking arc (Iron Man vol 1 #160-200): Tony starts drinking again and loses everything, to the point where he’s living on the streets in a cardboard box. Rhodey becomes Iron Man and Obadiah Stane takes over the company. This is the drinking arc you want to read. Highlights include #172, in which Steve bridal-carries Tony from a burning building, and #182, in which Tony nearly dies in a blizzard.

Armor Wars (Iron Man vol 1 #225-231): Tony tries to steal his technology back from everyone who has it; you will want to read #228, the issue where Steve tries to stop him. (Stories referencing an incident with the Guardsmen are talking about this.)

Operation Galactic Storm: This is a massive crossover from the early 90s where the Kree and Sh’iar have a fight and Steve and Tony disagree about whether to kill the Kree Supreme Intelligence. You don’t need to read the entire crossover; the part you do need to read is the issue afterwards, Captain America vol 1 #401, in which Steve and Tony make their apologies to each other.

Tales of Suspense vol 2 #1: This is a one-shot issue from the mid-90s in which Steve and Tony team up; its claim to fame is that it includes Tony thinking the following line about Steve: "Captain America. Steve. I look at your handsome face, into your clear azure eyes, and as ever, I feel the same guilty envy.“ (Steve also thinks similarly complimentary things about Tony – it’s very much mutual admiration society/mutual inferiority complex.)

Captain America/Iron Man 1998 Annual: Tony wipes Steve’s mind! Steve finds out and is mad! Then they fight MODOK, get lei’d, and make up at the end. It’s a lot of fun.

Red Zone (Avengers vol 3 #65-70): Tony exposes himself to a deadly disease because Steve is more important than he is and he has to give Steve mouth-to-mouth to save his life. Includes giant panels of their lips touching.

Civil War: You should really read Civil War and everything after.

Avengers Prime: This is a miniseries taking place after Steve comes back to life where Steve and Tony end up on an adventure in the Nine Realms together, Tony gets naked, and also they get some closure about Civil War. They hug it out at the end.

One Night in Madripoor (Captain America & Iron Man #633-635): Steve and Tony team up to fight Batroc, MODOK, and robot bees in Madripoor. There’s a lot of banter.

Avengers vol 5 & New Avengers vol 3: After Civil War, Hickman’s Avengers run is probably the second most popular canon setting for comics Steve/Tony. It’s controversial in fandom, and there’s no happy ending… but you can’t deny that it is absolutely about Steve & Tony’s relationship. A hundred issues of pain and betrayal!

Civil War II: The Oath: Okay, yeah, so, I think we can all agree that Secret Empire (the recent one, not the original one) was a terrible idea and it was a very bad decision to make Steve a fascist dictator – but “The Oath” did give us Steve canonically declaring his love for Tony, so, you know, it has that going for it.

The Cap-IM Tumblr maintains a list of Slashy Moments if you’d like to see panels from most of these (and more). Also, the 18+ 616 Steve/Tony Discord maintains a list of resources and summaries of these and more issues.

I also specifically want to say a little more about Civil War because I think of all the storylines you could read it is probably the most essential for Steve/Tony fans. CW is where the pairing really got its start and I think it’s the most popular setting for stories that engage with a particular era of canon. So if you are going to read one era, Civil War should probably be it.

I recommend starting with New Avengers vol 1, which as a bonus is very good for Steve & Tony up until about #20, when Civil War hits. The Cap and IM runs of the time are also generally viewed as very good and you should definitely read them – that would be Cap v5, by Brubaker, which has the Winter Soldier arc, and IM v4, which starts with Extremis and then continues on to Execute Program and then reaches Civil War.

You are going to want to read the main Civil War storyline but if you’re a Steve and Tony fan honestly most of the fun is in the tie-ins. My abbreviated Civil War reading list is as follows:

Civil War #1-7: You’re gonna need to read this.

Captain America vol 5 #22-24: Honestly I don’t remember most of this but you might as well.

Iron Man vol 4 #13-14: Tony’s motivations are explored, Steve and Tony attempt to come to an agreement during the war, and also Happy Hogan dies and it’s sad.

Captain America/Iron Man: Casualties of War: One of the two key issues you absolutely must read, in which Steve and Tony meet during the war and try to talk things out, and they also summarize what they’re doing and why and basically their entire friendship up to this point.

Civil War: Front Line #11: Toward the end of the war, reporters interview Steve and Tony. Tony lies on the floor and cries. I think I would summarize the post-CW era as a whole as “Tony cries a lot.”

Captain America vol 5 #25: The one where Steve dies.

Civil War: The Confession: READ THIS. If you read nothing else, read this. This is why we have a Steve/Tony ship. This is the essential issue.

Fallen Son: The Death of Captain America #1-5: Features Steve’s funeral. Well, both of Steve’s funerals. If you guessed that they also involve Tony crying a lot, you would be right.

What If? Fallen Son: Mostly worth it for the cover art.

What If? Civil War: After Steve’s funeral, a mysterious stranger shows Tony two worlds in the multiverse where the war could have gone differently. More tears for Tony!

After that, you probably also need to keep up with New Avengers/Mighty Avengers plus the major events up through Steve’s return to life – that would be Secret Invasion (the Skrulls invade), Dark Reign (Norman Osborn runs everything), and Siege (Osborn decides to invade Asgard; Steve comes back for this one). Steve’s return to life is in a miniseries called Captain America Reborn.

I would also recommend the rest of Iron Man vol 4 that takes place after Civil War – it’s renamed to Iron Man: Director of SHIELD because that’s the job Tony gets after Steve dies. Tony is basically a grieving mess. There’s also a miniseries called Avengers/Invaders in which Tony and the post-CW Avengers meet the WWII Invaders – including Steve – and it is a glorious pile of feelings and time travel and sadness.

So, uh, yeah, that’s a lot of issues but honestly I think if you get up to speed on Civil War and the couple years after you will be able to understand a lot of where fandom is coming from. (And then if you read Hickman’s run that’s basically the other run you are most likely to need to know.)

If you can find a copy of it – it’s out of print, alas – there’s a really great trade called Iron Man/Captain America (not Civil War: Captain America/Iron Man, that’s the one with the CW tie-ins, but you will probably want it too) that reprints several pre-Civil War issues focusing on Steve & Tony, including several of the ones mentioned above, like ToS 58, the 1998 annual, and the issues of Armor Wars and the second drinking arc that have Steve in them. Notably, I think it’s the only place that the ToS v2 one-shot (the “azure eyes” issue) has ever been reprinted.

(I take that back, the ToS one-shot is now in a trade called Avengers: Tales to Astonish. And now that I’m looking, the ToS one-shot is now on Marvel Unlimited and comiXology. Sweet!)

I hope that helps!

#Anonymous #replies #comics reading lists

188 notes · View notes

ayearofpike · 6 years

Text

The Starlight Crystal

Pocket Books, 1996 195 pages, 49 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-55028-4 LOC: CPB Box no. 327 (Stored at Landover) OCLC: 34074707 Released February 1, 1996 (per B&N)

Paige Christian knew she was going on the anthropologist’s starship that would use near-lightspeed travel to jump ahead generations. But that didn’t stop her from falling in love before she left. It’s that love that keeps her going — through ship problems, interstellar war, the end of the universe itself — because of a promise she made. She can’t stop and won’t stop until she gets there, because Paige’s love exceeds the boundaries of space and time.

That one-paragraph summary sounds existential and metaphorical, but actually Pike is being painfully literal with these devices. It’s maybe the first hard sci-fi he’s given us since The Tachyon Web (which, by the way, would be re-released a year after this one). And now that I look back on what I’ve read, for someone who named himself after a Star Trek character, Pike hasn’t really done much in the hard-SF realm. The aforementioned two, Eternal Enemy (the second half, at least), maybe See You Later and The Visitor (both of which probably have too much spirituality and mysticism to qualify, even if there are spaceships) and The Star Group coming up (maybe, let’s see — I don’t remember it at all). Interesting how half of that output comes during the Spooksville years. Maybe he had enough supernatural horror going on in the kidlit division and needed to drop some science on teens to balance it.

We’ve seen this title crop up a couple of times before. It’s Mark’s video game in See You Later, and Shari Cooper wrote a short story with this title as the bulk of Remember Me 3. (I feel like it might be in another one, but I don’t want to dig through this whole blog for it.) This story has more in common with the latter than the former — vindictive aliens who only want to wipe out humanity, a universal presence that we are invited to join — but it does take Paige (as Mark indicates the size of his game) “to the ends of the known universe” (SYL, 10). In more ways than one. But let me not get too far ahead of the recap.

At any rate, I liked this one more than I remembered, and then I remembered liking it back when it was released. Yeah, it’s kinda sappy — one girl’s love pushes her farther than any human has ever dreamed of going! — but it hit me at the perfect time, having just started college and being a romantic in general and trying to figure out my own relationship status. Isn’t it worth it to pursue true love across the distance, when the reward upon reunion will be so sweet? The truth is that for me it wasn’t actually true love at the time, but the idea of it, the concept of sharing my life with one who could share my heart forever. But don’t try to tell eighteen-year-old me that; I wasn’t ready to grasp the difference between loving the idea of being in love and loving an actual person I wanted to spend time with. I’m not sure Paige does either, but maybe that’s why it resonated with me then.

Let’s jump into the recap and you can decide for yourself. It starts the way so many early Pike first-person novels started, with an acknowledgement that this tale is being written or told after the events we’re about to see. And again, the narrator conveniently forgets this frame as soon as she starts telling the story. In fact, the only place this has been fully effective was Remember Me, because Shari never forgot she was telling a story from the end. Ultimately I think what it’s there for is to impress upon us the enormous span of Paige’s life (nine billion years!) and the vastness of her experience, but it’s less foreshadowing and more straight up telling (and in some ways, misleading).

Oh, I should mention before we get too deep: the protagonist of this story is named Paige Christian. The book itself is dedicated to Paige Christian. I can’t find any evidence that Pike named his character for a real person, but it wouldn’t be that weird. Like, look back at The Midnight Club, and how he said it was inspired by a storytelling group at a hospital, and how specific he was about his main character’s origins and ethnicity when he’d never really done that before. That’s a clear case of trying to respect and honor a source. It’s not really that big of a step to just using their name.

So anyway, Paige kicks off her story by talking about the day she met her true love. She was coming out of a library and met some weird lady wearing sunglasses but who otherwise seemed familiar, who suggested Paige go check out the pond in the park across the street. When she gets there, a dude suddenly emerges from the water. This is Tem, and Paige feels an instant and inexplicable connection to him, as he does to her. Unfortunately, they’ve only got a week together, as Paige is set to blast off with her dad, the captain of the study vessel. So they promise to exchange letters once a month for the rest of their lives, which for Paige sucks because she’s gonna be writing to a dead dude before a year is passed for her.

So she gets on the ship and works in the gardens and writes her letters, but quickly starts to regret her choice. She asks her father to please stop and take her back to Earth, which ... have you ever tried to get a bureaucrat to listen? He can’t compromise the mission for one person’s feelings, even if that one person is his daughter. Plus, this has been a problem for him before: he was captaining another ship where the engine went haywire and they had to abort the mission then. So obviously he wants to have a successful one, never mind that it will throw a wrench into his daughter’s true love for a dude she knew all of one week. What I’m saying is I’m having a hard time sympathizing with Paige right now.

They get through their time dilation, spending two weeks at a speed sufficient to observe 200 years passing on Earth. Which: I don’t actually know how this would work. When the engines are on, they can’t receive transmissions. When they get to their target speed (99%+ the speed of light) and are coasting, wouldn’t they be going TOO FAST to receive transmissions? Let’s gloss over that and get to the important part: the attack! Yes, Earth is attacked and destroyed just as they are starting to decelerate. These alien warships have the technology to keep up with Paige’s ship at its high speed, and they catch it and send a boarding party. Paige’s dad plans to blow up the ship so that they can take out the alien commander (like in Shari’s story), but she (the commander) kills him before he can trigger the explosion and takes Paige hostage.

However, the guard who is supposed to take Paige to their ship instead takes her to the engine room, where he says he has a power source that will accelerate their ship away from the attackers. He climbs down and inserts a green crystal into the power core, upon which he is killed by his captain. She levels her weapon at Paige, but the ship’s first officer cuts her down before she can fire. Then they check their instruments, and sure enough: the alien warships are gone, and their ship is infinitely approaching the speed of light, and their engine can’t produce the power required to slow them down, to the point where they will simply outlive the universe. (I’m also not sure that this is factually possible, but I don’t care to do the math.)

It’s time for Paige to write another letter to Tem, but she doesn’t see the point. (We’ll learn in a little bit that he only wrote to her for five years.) She’s talking about it with her friend in the garden, when all of a sudden her friend is ... possessed? a channel? At any rate, she starts talking from a larger group consciousness that wants humanity to unify with it, to drop its illusions of desire so that it can truly find love and joy. Sound familiar? This is the primary tenet of the Eastern religion that Pike loves to scatter around his stories, or at least his version of it. But they also say that there is another ship of humans nearby, one that this crew will have to assist in decelerating so that they can then start a new human colony. The new captain is adamant that there’s no way there could be another ship of humans, which, like ... fucker, there’s been 200 years of progress on Earth since you left, you seriously disbelieve they could have made ANOTHER spaceship?

But anyway, they scan for it, and they find it, and then the presence comes back and tells them how to manipulate their technology to slow down and dock with this other ship. Specifically, they tell the scientists to clone the dead alien and have Paige interact with it, and then she will activate its genetic memories and remember herself. (More greatest hits!) So they go through the contortions to put a cloning womb in a shuttle fired at a slightly lower velocity and recapture it after enough time has passed for the clone to be an adult. (Time out: if there are shuttles on this ship, why couldn’t Paige just have taken one back to Earth instead of trying to get the captain to scrub the whole mission?) Under the guidance of the other, Paige takes the alien’s hands and concentrates on the connection between hate and love (yep, it’s back) and suddenly knows how to make the green crystals that will help control their engine. Along with a whole host of genetic manipulation techniques that will come in handy later.

Meanwhile, this universal presence is trying to teach the humans how to become one with it. It talks about understanding the difference between truth and illusion, and about the importance of love. But it won’t tell them the rest until after they recover the other ship. It turns out to be a colony in extended hibernation (with the propulsion end mysteriously missing) and check it out! Tem got on! Huzzah! Only he’s not waking up. In fact, out of more than 20,000 colonists, only two didn’t survive: Tem and one other woman. He death-cheated on Paige, that bastard!

But so the upshot is that Paige still isn’t satisfied, but her desire for this physical love with one human person that she can no longer have is getting in the way of her ability to achieve otherness. They’ve come back into real time now (this is the nine billion years she spoke of at the beginning), and they’re planning to colonize the dying Earth and live it out, but Paige wants to bury Tem first. Only he sits up and starts talking to her once they’re on the surface. Of course it’s the universal consciousness channeling through his body, and it tells her that everything is destined even though we’re not supposed to feel like it, and her destiny isn’t over yet. Paige is supposed to get back on the ship, empty it out, and take off with more green crystals, wait out a cycle of death and rebirth in the entire universe, and then come back to Earth the way she left it the first time.

So she does.

So if she went on and watched the universe start over, a span of who knows how long, why at the beginning did she say she’d been alive nine billion years? It’s never addressed! Let’s move on.

Her first thought, upon returning to Earth, is to break the cycle, to say fuck you to destiny and keep herself from having to suffer. So she gets a gun and some sunglasses and finds herself outside the library. But she can’t pull the trigger. Instead, she directs herself to the pond, just as before. Then, six months later, she goes to the pond, where Tem is diving again, and she befriends him and tries to start a relationship, all the while hoping that he won’t give up on Paige-on-the-ship for hiding-older-Paige-on-Earth. And he doesn’t. So she tells him something that only they could possibly know, a promise that she whispered to him on a deserted beach before she got on the ship. And now he knows that even though she’s got a different name and is older than she’s supposed to be, she’s back for him.

But Paige also knows that she��s got another responsibility. An awesome and terrible one. And it goes along with the genetic memory thing from earlier — how could she remember what the aliens knew unless somewhere along the line they had a gene in common? In fact: it’s hers. Part of her cycling around through a new universe was so that she would know that humanity needed a calamity to kick them forward toward the universal consciousness. And so she genetically creates the aliens. But that’s not all! She clones herself and Tem, in her own womb, and then when they all get on the colony ship and drop into hibernation she sets herself to wake up early so she can do what needs to be done. First, she disconnects the propulsion end of the colony ship and shoots it off into space to evolve its “aliens.” Then she wakes her children and joins hands with her daughter, who is actually her, and gives her shared consciousness. (No, she hasn’t accomplished unity, because it’s still just her and not the universe.) She can’t make her son into her partner, so he’ll always just be her brother ... another cockblock. But she does put them into a shuttle bound back for Earth, and then kills off this iteration of Tem and herself, because it is necessary for her growth.

A lot of tragedy going on here! Don’t worry — even though this is the end of the numbered chapters, it’s not the end of Paige’s story. As soon as she’s an adult, she and Tem enlist in the space army to try to track down and kill the menace of the aliens (which didn’t exist yet, but remember she already knows it’s coming). She uses her billions of years of smarts to work her way into command of a fighter, and then puts it into position to be captured by the aliens. But she’s got a radio in her pocket that basically EMP-bombs the aliens’ genetic code and kills them all. Then they fly the alien ship back to where Paige knows their home planet is (the one she sent them to in the first place) (and yes, she needed an alien ship to make it through their defenses undetected) and plants a bomb made of green crystals on the surface, one strong enough to destroy the planet itself. She intends to set it off herself, but surprise! Tem stowed away in her shuttle, and here he cuts off his foot so that she can’t make him leave, so that he’ll save her life and be the one to perish when the alien planet explodes.

Obviously this is the end of Paige’s career in the military, as well as the end of her hanging on to a love that wasn’t ever supposed to be. She finds a home with a primitive people on a distant planet, where she learns to weave rugs with such clarity and scope that the local shaman asks for a meeting. To get there, Paige has to hike for six days, each day overcoming another step on the journey to universal oneness. When she gets to the elder’s house, no one is there but a ten-year-old kid, who slowly reveals himself to be the elder, one with the universe, and tells Paige that she’s almost there if she will just accept it. And she starts to feel it, more strongly than ever before, strongly enough that she does finally believe him. When she leaves, the wind kicks up the surrounding dust, which forms into the shape of Tem, and they leave the physical realm hand in hand, together in love at last.

I know, it’s pretty sappy. But The Starlight Crystal is a solid synthesis of everything I liked about Pike’s early years, brought back with the skill (and, yes, some of the tropes) he’d develop over a decade of writing. It’s the love story I liked about the earlier lonely sci-fi novels, enough mysticality from the later stuff to make it feel more heavy and more real, and it ties together better than a lot of his other recent work. Maybe the math doesn’t hold up, but the feeling of want, of love, of a need to belong, does.

7 notes · View notes

midnight-in-town · 6 years

Text

Koi wa ameagari no you ni: quick summary from vol 7 to currently

Okay so, I realized that I might as well share with all the people who enjoy this series my relatively short knowledge of what’s going on starting from vol 7, since it’s not translated yet and I don’t know when it’s going to be.

Of course, spoilers for the anime currently airing, even if I doubt we’ll go until there, but it’s always better that you catch up with everything first before you take a look below, especially since a lot of things happen.

Warning: I’m not fluent in Japanese, not at all & far from it actually, so all of what I’m about to say is supposed to be taken with a huge grain of salt. I have rather limited knowledge buuuuut taking my time, Koiame proves to generally be easier to read than what I’m accustomed to.

...Still, take everything with a huge grain of salt, you’re warned, don’t come crying if somehow I most likely got something wrong. :)))

/!\ I really hesitated to post this, because I’m not sure I could convey what I understood very properly and I know people are usually not really forgiving, so please do not ask for more details than what’s written below: if I didn’t describe more of some events, it’s because I wasn’t particularly confident about what I read.

/!\ /!\ Feel free to correct me if you notice that I misunderstood something and you read it differently. I’ll update what’s under the link and tag you.

Volume 7 (ch49-56)

vol7 was entirely translated by Roseliascans and vol 8 will apparently follow shortly so go read the translated chapters!

Volume 8 (ch57-64)

It turns out that, ever since realizing his feelings for her, Kondo is losing sleep and mostly, he starts avoiding Akira as much as he can.

At some point he searches on the internet “how to get rid of insomnia” but Kase shows up right at this moment. He tries to “help” (I mean, it’s Kase) by telling him that maybe he should try herbal tea or sweet sake.

Then he says that the best thing to do first would surely be to get rid of “why” Kondo started being insomniac, so Kase (who, again, is 200% aware of Akira’s feelings for their boss) “jokingly” asks if he’s insomniac because he’s in love. Kondo gets super flustered so I think Kase found out what he wanted to know.

Still Kondo tries what Kase told him and he drinks herbal tea + sweet sake before going to bed, but there is no avoiding dreaming about Akira until his alarm clock wakes him up.

Then he meets with Chihiro, who’s rambling about stuff and who gets pretty annoyed the few times Kondo seems to stare at his phone instead of listening to him, so Chihiro takes Kondo’s phone and sees that he’s trying to write a message to “Tachibana Akira”.

Initially Kondo tries to pretend that “Akira” is a male coworker’s name but Chihiro is quite convinced that “Akira” is a girl (and well, he’s right). Kondo admits nothing though, but Chihiro is pretty excited for him.

In ch58, the kouhai girls from the end of vol7 tell Haruka that they went to where Akira works, so Haruka decides to go there.

Meanwhile Yui and Akira are having lunch before going back to work: Akira tells Yui about how bothered she was by her kouhai showing up, and I believe Yui understands because her school doesn’t allow students to have part-time job. She also adds something about how she wouldn’t want her friends at school (I suppose) to know about Yoshizawa (so again, I think she agrees with Akira).

Going back to work, Akira and Haruka meet at the restaurant. Haruka tells Akira “please come back to the track & field club” because she feels she’s growing too much apart from Akira. In the end though, she doesn’t eat anything and leaves while Akira is stunned. Kondo sees Haruka leaving and realizes she’s the girl who helped him pick up Yuuto’s shoes.

Not sure I understood ch59 that well, because it seemed to be mostly built with metaphores initially coming from Kondou’s little storage issue with the restaurant’s computer. xD

So anyway, Kondo is still avoiding Akira, but Yuuto shows up and Akira ends up watching over him and giving him advice as he practices running. Kondo insists that she doesn’t have to force herself (since he knows she’s got slight issues on the subject and fears it might be too stressful) but she does it anyway and they both watch over Yuuto running around.

Akira says Yuuto is fast and that since he’s still a growing kid, he can become even faster if he practices properly. Then Kondo basically compares his son to a computer and the main gist of the whole scene (from the way I understood it) is that kids are “like computer” with huge data storage capacity, because they can learn & experience a lot as long as they’re hard workers.

Of course this leads Akira to wonder if adults can’t do this kind of things too (learning/experiencing new things) and what she was apparently implying by this as well as her staring and moving closer to him was enough to fluster Kondo a lot.

Frankly I don’t know if what she wanted to address was if he’d ever have feelings for her (since he hasn’t confessed yet when she did a while ago) or if she was more or less trying to go for a kiss, but either way, nothing happened except Kondo being extremely flustered.

Anyway, next chapter has Kondo avoiding Akira just like always and wearing a scarf when she’s knitting one for him, so she gets pretty annoyed by all of it and ends up confronting him about his current behavior. He apologizes for not realizing he was avoiding her (lmao) but she’s still pretty jealous about the scarf even if he doesn’t know that.

Nothing particularly important happens afterwards: Akira and Haruka want to go Christmas shopping but first, they go to pick up Sho-chan (who’s in the year below high school), which gives Akira an opportunity to check on Mizuki’s running performances. Of course the girl feels pressured, but Shota shows up and they leave quickly.

In another chapter, Yuuto gets in an accident because he was running in the street and a student on a bike hit him but it turns out he’s okay, he just sprained his ankle.

Yui and Akira meet up for more Christmas shopping when Yui tells Akira that she wants to confess and gives the scarf to Yoshizawa before Christmas. She has Akira’s full support of course and they go to buy new hair pins.

When Yui doesn’t look, Akira also buys the hair tonic that Kondo uses because she likes the smell and it reminds her of him, which results the following days in everyone thinking that she’s the manager at first when nope. xD Kubo even tells her not to wear too much perfume in general since they’re working in a restaurant (and I guess different smells mixing isn’t good for the food)

Anyway the rest of the volume is focusing on Yui and Yoshizawa which is super cute. I think their little date starts because Yui wants to thank him for always allowing her to cut his hair and because he introduced her to his grandmother who gave Yui advice for knitting.

So they meet up and go ice-skating (Yoshizawa is so cute, saying stuff like ‘I’ll teach you’ and he also thinks Yui’s hairdo suits her) and stuff happens before Yui decides to be brave and confess, with the scarf to offer, but...

he apologizes before running away... ;_; Poor Yui... Meanwhile Akira is waiting for Yui’s report about how it went but she hasn’t received any message yet. Turns out Akira is also waiting for someone and this person is...

Volume 9 (ch65-73)

...Haruka. They’re going to Kyoto with Tomoe, Akira’s aunt on her mom’s side, because Haruka is participating in a race. Akira’s aunt is reading “Waves by the window” and Akira asks her to lend it to her since she remembers that it was written by a friend of Kondo.

They meet Mizuki again, who’s originally from Kyoto (and who’s visiting her old school?)

While in the bath, they discuss why Akira is knitting that scarf but they end up staying too long and get dizzy. xD Akira sends a text to Kondo, wishing him a merry Christmas and explaining that she’s in Kyoto but Kondo cannot open the image that she sent.

I don’t really remember exactly what Akira and her aunt speak about while Haruka is running, but I think it’s something about how “growing up and things changing are painful” and Akira is wondering if that feeling ever changes over time (could be 100% wrong though).

Meanwhile Yui finds some resolve again thanks to her sister who reminds her about her dream to become a beautician and how that involves always smiling even when things are painful. So Yui cuts her hair short :))

Going back to work, she also tells Akira that things didn’t work as she expected with Yoshizawa but that she still wants to become a beautician and she seems happy enough with just that.

In the following chapter, Akira realizes that both Haruka and Yui are moving forward in comparison to her, so she feels pretty bummed out about feeling left behind. Going to the restaurant, Kondo greets her, asking about Kyoto, and Akira, in need of comfort, imagines herself hugging him, but it’s not really happening.

Anyway, she gives Kondo a bookmark that she bought as a souvenir from Kyoto for him and he shares a story about a bird nest there used to be above the restaurant but that Kubo took down.

This leads to him thinking about her injury and he says something about how it’s okay if a bird doesn’t fly away because it’s happy to stay at its usual place. But if the reason it doesn’t fly is because it gave up then it’s bound to eternally look up at the sky. So “girl, plz go back to running” should be the message here. xD

Back home, Kondo looks at the bookmark again and ends up writing during the whole night. The next day, he looks pretty tired as he leaves for a meeting at the main office, which is precisely when Chihiro comes to the restaurant.

Of course Chihiro asks if the manager is here, since he knows it’s Kondo’s working place. He also checks out Yui’s and Kubo’s names on their uniform and thinks that “maybe ‘Tachibana Akira’ was a guy then”... He also thinks that he or she should be around Kubo’s age. Meanwhile Kubo thinks that she saw him somewhere before.

Chihiro ends up asking Yui about if there is someone working here called “Tachibana Akira-kun” and Yui is confused because yes, there is Akira, but obviously the customer is looking for a boy since he used “kun” so she answers “nope”. Meanwhile Kubo remembers him as being a famous writer who appeared on TV.

Just as Chihiro leaves the restaurant, Akira shows up and, between the ‘Tachibana’ name on her uniform and Yui saying “Akira-chan”, Chihiro realizes that she is the person he was looking for.

Obviously it’s super funny because he gets all like “wait, no way, it can’t be” and in disbelief, he asks how old she is (she’s 17). xDD

Then Chihiro goes to a party at his office and his editor introduces him to a very talented young writer who’s one of Chihiro’s biggest fans but also 17 years old (I think his name is Machida Sui, but it’s not his real name).

When Kondo comes back at the restaurant, everyone tells him about Chihiro passing by and they realize that the two are friends. Then again, it’s super funny because Kondo says that they went to the same university and Kase is super shocked to realize that the manager went to the university in the first place (since he’s a uni student too). He even grabs Yoshizawa and tell him to think carefully about what he wants to do in life xDD

Kondo also realizes that if Chihiro came to the restaurant that means he must know now who Akira is and well, the perspective kinda frightens him.

Cute chapter follows with Yuuto making a yarn phone and wanting to try his new game with Akira. First he says ‘poop’ and she’s not happy xD but she ends up asking him when his father’s birthday is, since January is coming but Yuuto doesn’t know. Then she asks if he knows whether it’s in the first or second half of the month but Kondo takes the phone instead and answers that his birthday is on January 5th.

He asks her in return when her birthday is and she answers June 21st which leads to him saying that she is born during the rainy season. They play with the yarn phone again a few other times after that day, but apparently Akira feels lonely.

Back to Chihiro who keeps wondering what’s up with these 17 years old youngsters lately xDD And right after that, he receives an invitation from Machida and they meet up in a restaurant. Turns out Machida’s real first name is “Akira” too (but he’s a guy).

The gist of their discussion is that it draws a comparison between Chihiro who’s 45 and who only ever focused on writing, while Machida is 17, already a talented writer but he wants to do many other things in life besides just writing.

Chihiro says he envies him, but Machida says that he finds Chihiro’s devotion to writing to be beautiful. Chihiro ends up saying “let’s be friends”. :)) He visits Kondo afterwards and he ends up saying something about how these youngsters have enough power to move a dull heart and Chihiro feels motivated.

The end of the chapter shows that Akira is reading a document that her doctor gave her about starting full rehabilitation in order to run again and the next one is a flashback to a year ago, when she was still running. Slightly later in the volume, it’s said that her doctor thinks that, if she does everything properly, she’ll be able to run again around next spring (as in a year, not in 3 months but again, I could have misunderstood).

End of the volume is coming and bad news come with it, because Yui-chan is quitting. ;_; It’s not that she wants to, it’s because her school asked her to. Yui apologizes to Akira but strangely enough, it’s Yoshizawa who is more stunned than everybody else.

On Kase’s side, I believe he still has this crush on his “sister” but things take a bad turn for him too, because while chiding her the usual way one evening, she ends up saying that she’s such a useless sister anyway that she will stop coming to his place. And obviously that puts him in a super bad mood at work.

Finally, it’s the end of the year and the staff decides to hold a party both to celebrate it and also Yui’s departure, but Kase is as bitter as ever and when the countdown for the new year starts, he ends up throwing her way something like “are you really quitting because you can’t get a boyfriend?” (or an equivalent), which gets Yoshizawa to yell “oi” but Akira is the one who ends up punching him in the face, lol.

The volume ends on January 1st, it’s snowing instead of raining, Kase got punched, Yui is leaving, Yoshizawa is confused, Kondo is still writing and Akira goes to visit him with the scarf she knitted and a letter.

Chapters 74-78

Akira shows up just at the moment Kondo decides to take a break from writing and a bath. She leaves the scarf and letter in front of his door and goes home when he doesn’t answer. He checks his phone after his bath and that’s how he notices she came by (her text says: “happy new year, will we meet again from now on?”)

so he kinda runs after her with the scarf and when he catches up with her he says he’s glad to see her. Akira wishes him a happy birthday slightly in advance and the scarf is her present for this occasion.

They go back to his house afterwards, but he has to clean up a little before she can get in.

I’m not sure exactly of how it’s supposed to be worded but Kondo wonders about “meeting again” and IDK if it is that he has a strange feeling about why she said that in her text, or if it’s his own feeling. Sorry, this is confusing, but I wonder if Akira’s text doesn’t have something to do with that letter he has yet to read (maybe she’s quitting too?).

Anyway, at the beginning of ch75, Akira is relieved because she realizes that the reason Kondo was slightly different lately is because he’s writing again whenever he’s not working.

They chat a little while he makes her coffee (and doesn’t forget her sugar) and he says that the snow outside really makes him feel as if they’re alone in the world. Then, watching her happy expression for the sugar, he thinks to himself that, because it’s such a quiet day with the snow falling outside, he feels as if he’s going to say words that he wouldn’t/can’t say usually.

ch76 is Kondo imagining what it would be like if he was a high school student as the same time as Akira and he seems to think that he wouldn’t have any contact with Akira in high school (or rather, he’d notice her when she wouldn’t).

Somehow (from the way I understood it) it’s as if the fact that they’re 28 years apart makes them closer than if they had met while both being 17, at least from Kondo’s point of view. I think that he is possibly confused about what he wants to do about his feelings for her.

in ch77, it’s Akira who imagines what it would be like if Kondo was 17 and a classmate (something about 17 y/o Kondo wanting to do an interview for the school’s newspaper about Akira’s results in track & field). All in all, it comes down to the fact that Akira eventually doesn’t mind when it’s raining in that fantasy world because, even if she cannot go to the track & field club on raining days, she can still go to the library and meet with him.

ch78 is focusing more on the scarf: Kondo is surprised at her gift but also very impressed that she knitted it by herself. Akira confirms she did it by herself several times and she shows her cute jealous side towards his other scarf, pushing it away and, frankly, it’s adorable.

I think at some point Kondo asks about why she punched Kase during the New Year’s party and Akira says something like “I couldn’t forgive him” (surely because of what he said to Yui). That makes him laugh.

Aaaand the chapter ends with Kondo thinking namely about the scarf and while staring at Akira, he feels as if he can’t breath.

The editor’s line implies that he’s staring and is completely taken by Akira.

I don’t know what’s the usual update schedule (once or twice a month?) but anyway, that’s it for now. Again, please take with a grain of salt.

TBH I really wonder about the content of Akira’s letter, it seems very plot relevant. And I wonder if Kondo might not finally give in, at least about his feelings in one of the following chapters. ...At the same time, I feel like there could be a bittersweet development lurking due to him being still bothered by the huge age gap, soooo we’ll see!

FINAL POINT, kinda unrelated, but please do not ever refer to this series as ‘shoujo’ or ‘josei’. It’s ‘seinen’, meaning that it supposedly targets a more adult public than the other terms (yes, the slice of life genre in seinen does exist). Thank you!

#koi wa ameagari no you ni #love is like after the rain #after the rain #kondo masami #tachibana akira

130 notes · View notes

redrangermike · 6 years

Text

Milo, Zack, Melissa, Bradley and Amanda vs. Dark Karlee

For @karlee-the-teenage-witch

Milo, Zack, Melissa, Bradley, Amanda, Queen Star and former Queen Moon had been held captive by Dark Karlee. Possibly the only way out and the only way to potentially get through to the real Karlee is to duel and defeat her.

“Milo, you can’t go through with this alone! Karlee’s far too dangerous now!” Zack freaked, activating his Duel Disk.

“If Zack’s in, I’m in!” Amanda jumped in, her Duel Disk automatically activating.

“That goes double for me! I’m not letting my man stand up to an evil princess without me!” Melissa chimed in, her Duel Disk booting up.

“Karlee’s my fiancée and I think I can get through to her! So count me in!” Bradley beamed, turning on his Duel Disk.

“So...5 against 1, eh? It doesn’t matter what the odds are....you’re all going to lose!” Karlee quipped as her staff turned into a Duel Disk. “Now for the rules - since this is 5 against 1, the 5 of you will all share 8000 Life Points, but will have separate decks and fields. Additionally, I get a free turn after each of you goes!”

“If the legendary duelists could stand up to someone like that, then so can we!” Zack beamed.

“Good. Then let’s begin!”

“DUEL!”

Milo, Zack, Melissa, Bradley and Amanda: 8000

Dark Karlee: 8000

“Since we’re in my castle, I’ll make the first move! I DRAW!” (Hand: 6) “I’ll start by setting the Pendulum Scale with Scale 0 Supreme King Gate Zero and Scale 13 Supreme King Gate Infinity! With these 2 monsters in my Pendulum Zones, I can summon monsters between levels 1 and 12 all at the same time! I’ll summon out 2 Supreme King Dragon Darkwurms!” (1800 Attack Points/1200 Defense Points) “And after laying this face-down in my backrow, it’s Bradley’s turn!” (Hand: 1)

Bradley smiled. “Don’t mind if I do! Here goes!” (Hand: 6) “I play POT OF GREED! This lets me draw twice!” (Hand: 7) “It looks like I’ve drawn Watapon! When it’s drawn outside of my normal draw, it appears on my field automatically!” (200 Attack Points/300 Defense Points) “But I’m not through yet! I play MYSTIC BOX! This will destroy one of your Darkwurms and give you Watapon in its place! And now that you’re one dragon short, the stage is now set for my ace monster! I play ANCIENT RULES! This lets me call my favorite monster....THE DARK MAGICIAN!” (2500 Attack Points/2100 Defense Points) “I’ll then call OBNOXIOUS CELTIC GUARDIAN to the field!” (1400 Attack Points/1200 Defense Points)

“SWEET! Bradley’s got his ace monster out on his first turn!” Milo cheered.

“Here’s where the fun begins! Dark Magician, destroy her Darkwurm! DARK MAGIC ATTACK!”

Dark Magician raised his wand and fired a beam of magic at Darkwurm, destroying it.

“A good move, Bradley...at least it would be if I didn’t have my gates! Gate Zero blocks all the damage your Magician would’ve dealt to me, while Gate Infinity gives me that same amount as Life Points!”

Dark Karlee: 8700

“Unfortunately for you, those only work once a turn, so take this! Celtic Guardian, destroy Watapon with SILVER BLADE SLASH!”

Celtic Guardian charged in, swung his sword and destroyed Watapon.

Dark Karlee: 7500

“I’ll play 2 cards face-down and let you go.” (Hand: 0)

“Prepare to meet your end! I draw!” (Hand: 1) “With my Pendulum Scales up, I can summon monsters from my Extra Deck as well! RETURN, MY DARKWURMS! I’ll also summon the master magician of space....ASTROGRAPH SORCERER!” (2500 ATK/2000 DEF) “Now for Astrograph’s special power! By sacrificing him along with the 4 Dimensional Dragons, I can summon my most powerful beast! Dark Rebellon Xyz Dragon, Clear Wing Synchro Dragon, Starving Venom Fusion Dragon and Odd-Eyes Pendulum Dragon, I sacrifice you and my Astrograph Sorcerer to bring forth my ultimate monster!” Karlee rose up into the air as her new monster took shape. It was 20 feet tall, gold, long-winged and menacing. The next time they saw Karlee, she was a part of the monster. “MEET SUPREME DRAGON RULER Z-ARC!” (4000 ATK/4000 DEF) “I AM SYNCHRO! I AM PENDULUM! I AM XYZ! I AM FUSION! I AM THE SUPREME RULER! AND WHEN I COME OUT, ALL YOUR MONSTERS ARE DESTROYED AND YOU TAKE DAMAGE EQUAL TO THEIR ATTACK POINTS!”

Bradley was having none of it.

“On summon of Z-Arc....I PLAY THIS! My VOID TRAP HOLE! When you would summon a monster with 2000 or more points, I can stop the summon of your monster and DESTROY IT!”

“NO!” Karlee screamed as Z-ARC was eliminated.

“But that’s not all! I play the Spell Card TWIN TWISTER! Now all one of my teammates has to do is toss out a card from their hand and both your Pendulum Scales are destroyed! Milo, if you’d be so kind...”

“Be glad to, Bradley! I discard my Healing-Wave Generator to destroy Karlee’s Pendulum Scales!”

“OH NO!”

“I’m afraid so, Karlee! It’s my turn!” Zack said as he drew. (Hand: 6) “I’ll start with the Spell Card TAKE OVER 5! This sends the top 5 cards of my deck to the Graveyard! Next up, I think I’ll play this...ELEMENTAL HERO PRISMA!” (1700 ATK/1100 DEF) “With Prisma’s power, I’ll change him into Clayman! This will set up....MIRACLE FUSION! Heroes of Earth, Water, Fire and Wind - Clayman, Bubbleman, Burstinatrix and Avian - now become one and bring justice to our enemy! I Fusion Summon....ELECTRUM!” (ATK: 2900/DEF: 2900) “When this hero comes out, all banished cards return to the owners’ decks! Now for my assault! Electrum, Attack Karlee Directly with ELEMENTAL RADIANT BURST!”

Electrum let out a bursting aura at Karlee...but instead it was reflected back to Zack!

Milo, Melissa, Zack, Bradley and Amanda: 5100

“Zack, you fool! I played my Trap Card - SUPREME KING’S REBIRTH! When you declare an attack while a Supreme King monster is in my Graveyard, I can negate that attack and send your monster’s Attack Points directly at your Life Points! In exchange....Z-ARC RETURNS!”

“I’ll conclude by playing a face-down, then sacrificing Bradley’s down card with EMERGENCY PROVISIONS! For each card I ditch, we gain 1000 points! I’ll then end with O-Oversoul to bring back my ace! Meet NEOS! (2500 ATK/2000 DEF)”

Milo, Melissa, Zack, Amanda and Bradley: 6100

“That’s it for me.”

Karlee chuckled as she drew her card. (Hand: 1) “I’ll play this face-down, then have Z-ARC attack Celtic Guardian!”

Z-Arc breathed fire, aiming the attack at Bradley’s Guardian...but it was blocked by a devil-like gardna!

“When you attacked, you triggered my Necro Gardna’s special power! By banishing it from the Grave, your attack’s blocked!”

Karlee growled. “My turn’s done!”

“That means it’s my go! I DRAW!” (Hand: 5) “I’ll use the effect of Zack’s Take Over 5! By banishing it, I get an additional card!” (Hand: 6)

“An additional card that’ll be eliminated by Z-Arc’s effect!” (Milo’s hand: 5)

“I can still play Junk Synchron in Attack Mode! When he comes out, I get back a level 2 or lower monster! Return to battle, Speed Warrior! But they won’t be out for long because I’m tuning them together! Just like Zack, Melissa, Bradley, Amanda and I are joining our might, these 2 monsters have now combined theirs! I Synchro Summon....JUNK WARRIOR! (2300 ATK/1300 DEF) Then when a monster is Special Summoned, STEAM SYNCHRON comes out! (600 ATK/800 DEF) I’ll then tune Level 3 Steam Synchron to Level 5 Junk Warrior! From 2 come 1 and from 1 come great cosmic might! SYNCHRO SUMMON! TAKE FLIGHT, STARDUST DRAGON! (2500 ATK/2000 DEF)”

“NO! NOT STARDUST DRAGON!” Karlee feared.

“THAT’S RIGHT! Your most feared monster is out! I’ll then activate CARD OF SANCTITY! This forces us to draw until we all have 6 cards! I’ll end with 4 cards face-down and have Bradley switch Dark Magician to Defense Mode!”

“My move! And thanks to your Card of Sanctity, the pieces are in place for my victory! I’ll reset the Pendulum Scale with Gate Zero and Gate Infinity! RETURN, MY DARKWURMS! NOW ATTACK THE DARK MAGICIAN!”

‘Why would she do that? Dark Magician has 2100 Defense Points and her Darkwurms have only 1800 Attack Points....’ Then it hit Bradley. ‘OF COURSE! Her Gates will just absorb the damage and give her Life Points!’

“You thought right, my prince of darkness....now my Gates will kick in, giving me 600 more Life Points!”

Dark Karlee: 8100

“Z-ARC, DESTROY ELECTRUM!”

The dragon launched a fire blast at Electrum, destroying it.

Milo, Melissa, Zack, Bradley and Amanda: 5000

“I’ll throw 2 cards face-down and activate SUPREME KING DANCE! Since I control a Supreme King monster, I can change the target of your attacks once per turn during your turn and have my Supreme King monsters attack again! That’ll do for now!”

“Then it’s my turn!” Amanda beamed as she drew.

“Hold it right there!” Karlee said, stopping Amanda. “I play the Trap - SUPREME KING BRUTALITY! When this card is active, I can discard cards from your hand equal to the number of Supreme King cards I control and deal you 300 points of damage for each!”

Amanda’s hand was revealed - Gagaga Magician, Tasuke Knight, Bacon Saver, Gogogo Golem, Hyper Quick, Half Unbreak and Half Or Nothing.

“Looks like everything other than Half Or Nothing is now gone! And as a bonus, you get hit for 1800 points of damage!”

Milo, Melissa, Zack, Bradley and Amanda: 3200

Amanda wasn’t fazed.

“Thank you....you’ve sent my HYPER QUICK to the Grave! When that happens, I can flip a card. If it’s a Spell, it’s added to my hand and I get to play it as if it were a Quick-Play Spell! Also, I chain Milo’s set HOPE FOR ESCAPE card! All I have to do is give up 1000 points and I can draw cards for each 1000 points difference in our Life Points!”

Milo, Melissa, Zack, Bradley and Amanda: 2200

“And as of right now, that’s 6! Now, for Hyper Quick’s ability....looks like I’ve flipped RANK-UP MAGIC NUMERON FORCE! Since I did, it’s added straight to my hand!” (Hand: 8) “Now, I summon GAGAGA MANCER! When he comes out, I get back a Gagaga monster from my Graveyard! Return, GAGAGA MAGICIAN! And with these 2 Level 4 monsters, I build the Overlay Network! I Xyz Summon...NUMBER 39: UTOPIA! (2500 ATK/2000 DEF) But that’s not all! I play RANK UP MAGIC NUMERON FORCE! Now until the end of the turn, all your cards are negated and I get to rank-up Utopia! CHAOS XYZ EVOLUTION! I rebuild the Overlay Network with Utopia to summon CHAOS NUMBER 39: UTOPIA RAY VICTORY! (2800 ATK/2500 DEF)”

Karlee wasn’t fazed by this new monster. “Anything you can do, I can do ten times better! I overlay my 2 Darkwurms to Xyz Summon....SUPREME KING DRAGON DARK REBELLION! (2500 ATK/2000 DEF) Now to use his ability! By using an Overlay Unit, I can steal all of Utopia Ray Victory’s Attack Points and add them to Dark Rebellion!”

But nothing happened.

“What part of ‘your monster’s effects are negated’ do you not understand? I, however, can use an Overlay Unit to take your Dragon’s 2500 points and add them to Ray Victory for a grand total of 5300! Next, I flip up Milo’s DOUBLE ATTACK card! With it, Ray Victory can declare a 2nd attack this turn! Ray Victory, TAKE DOWN DARK REBELLION AND Z-ARC NOW WITH TWIN RISING SUN VICTORY SLASH!”

Utopia Ray Victory slashed his swords at the dragons, destroying Dark Rebellion, but not laying a scratch on Z-Arc. It did, however, do significant damage to Karlee’s Life Points. Amanda then played the remainder of her hand face-down.

Dark Karlee: 4000

It was at this point that the real Karlee started to return.

“Guys, what am I doing here? Why am I part of a dragon and what the blank am I wearing?” She asked.

“Karlee? Is that you, my princess?” Bradley asked.

It wasn’t enough as Karlee’s dark side returned. “GET BACK IN THERE! I’M IN CONTROL NOW!”

“No good, guys! We have to win this if we want Karlee back!” Milo told his friends.

“And I’m certain you won’t! I play SUPREME KING’S WRATH! Since I took 2000 points or more of damage this turn, I can bring forth Z-ARC’s faithful servants! Go...SUPREME KING DRAGON DARK REBELLION! SURPREME KING DRAGON ODD-EYES! SUPREME KING DRAGON STARVING VENOM! And SUPREME KING DRAGON CLEAR WING! And need I mention that Supreme King’s Wrath lets me attach my Darkwurms as Overlay Units to Dark Rebellion? My move!” (Hand: 3) “Now...DARK REBELLION, USE YOUR ABILITY TO STEAL RAY VICTORY’S ATTACK POINTS! ATTACK UTOPIA RAY VICTORY AND END THIS DUEL!”

Not so fast, Karlee!

“You’ve triggered my Xyz Revenge Shuffle! By sending Ray Victory back to my Extra Deck, the original Utopia is sent in to take his place in Defense Mode with Revenge Shuffle as an Overlay Unit!”

Karlee grunted. “FINE! STARVING VENOM, ATTACK NEOS!”

I don’t think so!

“I play another Trap! NEGATE ATTACK! Your attack’s canceled and your turn immediately ends!”

“Thank you, Amanda! I’ve let mine and Karlee’s fight go too far...and I’m gonna end it here and now! IT’S MY....TURN!” Melissa beamed, drawing her card. (Hand: 7) “I set my own Pendulum Scale with Scale 1 Stargazer Magician and Scale 8 Timegazer Magician! This lets me summon monsters with levels 2-7! Come on out....ODD-EYES PENDULUM DRAGON! PERFORMAPAL SECONDONKEY! PERFORMAPAL FRIENDONKEY! AND PERFORMAPAL WHIPSNAKE! Now....it’s time for a LINK SUMMON!”

Karlee gasped. “A LINK SUMMON?!”

“That’s right! I link my Friendonkey, my Whip Snake and my Secondonkey in order to summon.....THE FIREWALL DRAGON!” (2500 ATK)

That was Bradley, Zack, Milo and Amanda’s cue.

“GO, DARK SPIRAL FORCE!” Bradley said.

“NEOS SPIRAL FORCE, ACTIVATE!” Zack added

“FROM MY HAND, I PLAY MY STARUDST SPIRAL FORCE!” Milo chimed in.

“AND I REVEAL UTOPIA SPIRAL FORCE!” Amanda shouted.

“Allow me to recap. First, since there’s a Stardust Dragon out, Milo can play Stardust Spiral Force from his hand. This will double the Attack Points of my Firewall Dragon! Next comes Dark Spiral Force, which once again doubles the attack of my Dragon to 10,000! Then, it’s Zack’s Neos Spiral Force. Since Hero Neos is out, Zack can play it from his hand to double Firewall’s Attack Points to 20,000. And finally, Amanda’s Utopia Spiral Force doubles my dragon’s power 1 more time, all the way up....to 40,000!” Melissa explained.

“40,000 ATTACK POINTS?!” Karlee freaked.

“MORE THAN ENOUGH TO WIPE YOU OUT! This is for your own good, Karlee. I’m sorry for letting everything get out of hand. Please....forgive me. FIREWALL DRAGON, ATTACK SUPREME KING Z-ARC AND END THIS DUEL!” Melissa commanded as Firewall Dragon launched a stream of data at Z-Arc, purging Karlee of her dark side and ending the duel.

Karlee: 0

Milo, Melissa, Zack, Bradley and Amanda: WIN!

#milo murphy's law #star vs. the forces of evil #Yu-Gi-Oh!#yu-gi-oh! gx #yu-gi-oh! 5ds #yu-gi-oh! zexal #yu-gi-oh! arc-v #yu-gi-oh! vrains

4 notes · View notes

mrtroy · 4 years

Text

The Scores Have Changed, My Childhood Is Over, and I Think I Might Understand How Other People Look At Sports

Originally from December 5th, 2010

To say that the last twenty plus years of my life have been completely and hopelessly consumed by sports may be the grossest understatement I have ever put into print, yet until just recently, I don't think I had a grasp on what a more "normal" sports following could be like. I'm still not sure I am willing to accept this concept of "social sports fan-dom" as I'll call it, but it might be worth a prolonged look.

Let me explain.

I suppose that to best understand where I'm at now, it might be best to understand where I am coming from. I think I need to blame my mom for setting me off on this crazed obsession, or maybe the blame should go the Oakland A's for the utterly disappointing display they put on in the 1990 World Series. As I had really started to get into baseball in the Summer of '90, Mom had the great idea of taping the World Series. While other 5 year-olds were perfectly content watching Mr. Rogers zip up his cardigan every morning, Mom knew that if she was lucky a good World Series could provide my baseball fiending mind with seven games of pure VHS-driven bliss. At roughly 3 hours a game, played back ten times each, Mom would have 200 hours of fodder to answer the question, "Mom, when are they going to start playing new games again."

And then, Jose Rijo, Barry Larkin, Chris Sabo and the Don't Stand A Chance Reds had to ruin everything. It wasn't so much the fact that they won the series as it was that they did it in such decisive fashion that added insult to injury. Four games, and it was over. The minimum. The very least. And worse, Game 1 was a 7-0 blanking, and Game 3 was a convincing 8-3 rout in which the Reds put up 7 in the third, and the rest of the game was a mere formality. Translation: My to-be friends of 18 years later, Nathan Clinkenbeard, and Nate Kohrs, rejoiced as their Reds won it all, but more relevant to the situation at the time, I was left without much good winter baseball to tide me over until April.

I watched the tape, and all I wanted to do was to be able to break a bat on my back the way I had seen Reds journeymen outfielder Glenn Braggs do it. I emulated the overly pronounced batting crouch of Rickey Henderson, and began to wonder how Harold Baines could hit a ball so far, despite never looking like he was even swinging hard enough to hit the ball as far as I did in T-Ball.

In '91 things worsened. For some reason I got the Pittsburgh Pirates lineup in my head, and every day in the back yard I would throw the ball up to myself, hit the ball, run around imaginary bases, take a break to become an imaginary outfielder to retrieve the ball, and then switch back to being the base runner to continue running. Every day, it was Cubs and Pirates. I can remember getting mad at myself, and actually sitting down and pouting for extended periods of time because when it came time for Sid Bream's at-bat I ran too fast. Sid was a notoriously slow runner in real life, and I wanted to maintain a certain level of realism in my one-man re-enactments. Apparently in my excitement I had forgotten who I was supposed to be impersonating, and run too fast. In my six-year old world, this was enough to ruin my day.

The Fall came, and with it a Fall Classic for the ages. Why Mom didn't tape this one, I'll never know. Although, if she had, I may still be watching it. The Braves and Twins treated me to seven games of pure ecstasy. Although, all I cared about was the sweet headstand that Greg Olsen went into after a collision at the plate. Sports Illustrated put Olsen on the cover, and I spent all winter trying to duplicate the feat in my basement. Here's a look at the photo; it's a miracle I didn't break my neck. ( http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/cover/featured/9301/index.htm )

It was also in '91 that I first realized there were other sports other than baseball, as the Bulls were on their way to capturing their first title. I don't remember much of the season, other than laying on the floor with a basketball in my hand trying to mimic the Michael Jordan poster in my room.

History seemed to repeat itself over the next few years. The Bulls won another title and the Braves were in the World Series again in '92. I was incredulous to the fact that Otis Nixon would try and bunt his way on while representing the Atlanta's last shot to extend the series. I was mad about that until about March of '93 until Mom and Dad packed my brother and I into a conversion van and we set our sites on Mesa, Arizona for Cubs spring training. We ran into Cubs' pitcher Mike Morgan in the parking lot, he gave my mom his hat, and sent me into a swoon of idol-worshiping that would last even longer than Morgan managed to bounce around the big leagues.

**Side Tangent** I remember being in a bar in the Phoenix area eating dinner, and everyone was going crazy about the Phoenix Suns as they were on their way to meeting the Bulls in the Finals. And yet, all I cared about was that Steve

Buechele, Cubs third baseman was sitting a few tables away. I remember my French fries getting cold because I was too mesmerized to eat.

Later in '93 the Toronto Blue Jays won another World Series, and I began to understand for the first time what it was like to feel compassion. Mitch Williams gave up the famous home run to Joe Carter that sent Canada into a a frenzy, and while everyone was celebrating, all I could think about was how mad people were going to be at Mitch Williams for blowing it.

1994, my life almost came to a screeching halt. The day before I turned 9, the Major League Baseball Players strike started, and eventually culminated with the cancellation of the World Series. You may as well have cancelled my birthday, Christmas, New Years, Easter and any other meaningful holiday. We're talking total devastation.

Luckily in '95 baseball came back with a new playoff system, and I had spent the entire off season reading. It was about this time in school that we had to do free reading every day, and we had to write about it. Our school library had a seven or eight book series highlighting the different aspects of baseball that someone could be good at. The books were entitled, "Speed," "Power," "Pitching" etc. I read these books over and over. They were large format books that I think I would consider to be rotating coffee table material if I came across them today. Little matter, I read them cover to cover, and they had these charts that listed the all-time leaders in many of baseball's statistical categories. After a while, I'd just read the charts. Time, and time again. For some reason, knowing who was the best at certain things excited me. Even if this person had been dead for 60 years. The pages came alive in my mind, and even though I had never seen Ty Cobb play, never known anyone who had, or had any rooting interest for his team, the Detroit Tigers, I was fascinated by what the numerical data next to his name could teach me about him. I would later go on to read that Tyrus Raymond Cobb (I developed a penchant for knowing players full names) was not so much of a good guy, but actually was a mean spirited bigot. It was at this time that I remember being glad that many of his most hallowed records had been broken.

Around this time I also discovered that each morning the glorious, glorious sports editors at The Chicago Tribune published box scores for all the major sports action from the night before. It was an unbelievable development. Now I had happened upon a way to read new and evolving history, every morning. League leaders in all the statistical categories, short recaps of what had happened, and overall numbers galore; every day was better than the last. Ken Griffey Jr. was tearing up the American League with home runs on what seemed to be a daily basis. On the other side of the page in the paper, Greg Maddux was shutting down the National League, and further cementing himself as the best pitcher of his generation, (in my mind at least) and elevating himself to Greek God-like status in the mind of my father.

It was at this time that the foundation for my current sports revelation first planted its seeds. Although, I didn't know it at the time. I was too busy counting home runs to realize what was going on, but inside there was also this great love of Maddux developing as well. This really had nothing to do with Maddux himself, as he had moved on from the Cubs to the Braves a few years earlier, and I could no longer watch him on a day to day basis. This had all to do with Pops. Seeing my father get such enjoyment out of simply reading that Maddux shutout another opponent was very cool to me. And, as is the case with many father-son duos, I loved Maddux because Pops loved Maddux.

These trends continued. I read as much baseball statistical data as I could get my hands on, and I looked to Pops to find new interests to follow in the paper each morning.

Lots of guys rose to prominence at this time. But it wasn't necessarily the guys that were established that caught my eye. It was the young guys. Despite the fact that Maddux would go on to play for more than twenty years, he was old news by the time I really got into following this sort of thing. He was Pops' guy. Pops didn't much care for the new-age stars like a Ken Griffey Jr., but we could agree on a guy like Chipper Jones, the all-American can't miss kid, or Derek Jeter the emerging star of the Yankees. We weren't fans of their teams, but they were in the post season every year, and it was easy to watch them progress.

Then came the star of stars for Pops and I. Tiger Woods. Pops had been reading up on him for years, and by the time he burst onto the scene in '96, Pops had already drank about six quarts of the Tiger Koolaid. Every week our love grew, with every major championship, it wasn't just that Tiger had won, it was as if Pops and I had won. We won because we had followed him, we had read about him, and along with millions of others, we knew he was going to be good. And, every time he won, he elevated himself further into this land of unthinkable admiration. Never before had there been an athlete of whom I had come to expect so much from that had actually been able to deliver. Not only had he been able to deliver, but each time he delivered, he seemed to do it in such a way that I couldn't help but just think, man, I love this guy.

Time continued on, and my enthrallment with the games that these men played continued to grow. '96 marked the beginning of the Yankees run of dominance, and with it much reading of Yankee lore. Also I remember teaching Mom how to keep a proper score book for a baseball game. We'd watch the World Series, and while she didn't know Mariano Duncan from Duncan Hines, she came to learn that if there was a ground ball to Mariano at second, she would enter a 4-3 in the score book as soon as he recorded the out at first base.

As the numerical world inside my head expanded further, It may not shock you to learn that my abilities on the field experienced an inverse reaction. Once in possession of an above average fastball and an hefty appetite for shagging fly balls, by the time freshmen year of high school rolled around, my role on the high school baseball team had been reduced to pencil pushing scorekeeper, infield practice facilitator, and blowout mop-up inning specialist. This didn't so much bother me, as I recall an instance where I rushed out of an early season practice so my mom could drop me off at a fantasy baseball draft where I was the youngest guy in the room by about 30 years. (I picked up Mike Sweeney late in that draft, and was smiling cheek to cheek all season as he hit well over .300) My uncle Tony was nice enough to let me tag along in his fantasy league for years, and I remember the best day of the week being when the old stat packets would show up in the mail, and I'd spend all afternoon breaking down what the other team owners were doing, and what we could do to improve on our perpetual 7th place standing. This was before all of the fantasy sports had moved to the Internet, and while I have come to appreciate the ease in which I can stay connected to fantasy sports nowadays, there was something magical about tearing open that envelope to find out that we'd moved up a half a point, and were now only a point and a half out of 6th place!!

Eventually the Internet won out for statistical tracking, and while I was sad, this transition gave me access to entire portals of data that were completely dedicated to my passions. Living with my buddy Ed Liss my freshmen year of college, he must have thought I owned a partial stake in www.basketball-reference.com. While I wasn't much of an NBA fan at this point, the historical standings, all-time leader boards, and player searching capabilities kept me occupied for hours on end. In fact, my choice of the University of Illinois to go to college in the first place was a choice that I made in large part due to the Big Ten sporting atmosphere that I knew I'd experience while I was there.

Jeff Renfro and I lived and died along with every play of the Illini's historic run to the Final Four in 2004-05, and I'll never forget going to games in the years following with Melissa Colgan, Suzan Balch, Gregg Conn, and countless others. I wore my Luther Head # 4 shirt to every game, and for something like 41 times in a row, if I wore the shirt, the team didn't lose. It was unbelievable.

In 2008, the Illini football team made a rare appearance in the Rose Bowl, and took on the heavily favored Trojans of USC. The family made the trek out to Pasadena for the game, only to watch our team get thoroughly trounced. Walking out of the stadium, if I would have had a tail, it would have been tightly tucked away between my legs as if I were a puppy who had just ruined a garden full of freshly planted petunias. The Illini had been humiliated, and so too had I.

I'm not sure if my transformation really started because the teams I rooted for never won, or if it was just gaining a new perspective that can only come with growing up, but I started to realize, maybe the keys to the games didn't so much lie in the encrypted world of statistics.

Time passed and one by one, the sports heroes of my childhood faded away. Maddux retired after the '08 season, and watching Ken Griffey Jr. limp through his final days in Seattle early in the 2010 season really put the nail in the coffin of my childhood. Sure, I was 25 years old at this point, and far from actually being a child, but here was the guy whose jersey I had, baseball cleats I had, video games I played, baseball cards I collected, and the guy who I had simply first known as "The Kid." And here he was, 40 years old and unable to keep his legs healthy enough to play every day. I may not have been a kid anymore, but Ken Griffey Jr. was my childhood.

And so I thought, "This is what it was like for Yankee fans as they watched Mickey Mantle hobble around the bases in 1968? This was the anguish of watching Johnny Unitas try and hang on with the Chargers, or Willie Mays with the Mets?" The unmistakable ending of an era, right before your eyes.

It was awful.

No amount of statistical data could save me, either. On the stat sheet, Griffey Jr. may have hit 630 career home runs, but that was just it, at this point, those were just stats. They were history. The guy who could never get old, got old. And just like that, he was gone. Next thing I knew, Chipper Jones tore his ACL, and there is a good chance his career could be coming to an end shortly. Somehow Derek Jeter is 36 now and has just negotiated the final contract of his career. All of these guys that I associated with my childhood, they're old. Sure, there are always new players, and there will always be guys to make assaults on the record books, but unfortunately for me, for every new young star that comes along, I'm no longer going to be that little boy who doesn't know any better than to worship the ground on which he stands. The innocence it takes to one day envision yourself running the bases at Wrigley Field or Yankee Stadium, these thoughts can only be conjured up by the mind of a pre-pubescent teen. I'm sure a new young star will enter the game in the coming years, and there's a good chance I'll admire the level at which he's honed his skills, but there's no way he'll turn me into a major leaguer, the way I thought Ken Griffey Jr. could.

Maybe that's why golf, despite being what most would call a boring game, has endured over time and remained relevant. In no other sport can a guy like Jack Nicklaus win major championships 24 years apart, or a guy like Tom Watson compete a few months shy of his 60th birthday for an Open Championship. For any average 50 year-old watching Watson toil at Turnberry, an opportunity arose for them to remember back to when the same guy did they same thing at the same course- when they were in high school. Just think of that.

All of this leads me back to Tiger Woods. My sports equivalent to a Lord and Savior. Mine and Pops guy. The same guy who prompted Pops to call me in June of 2008 when I was at the College Baseball World Series in Omaha, Nebraska, just so Pops could channel his inner Dan Hicks and give me the play by play of Tiger's famous putt.

"He's lining it up. Now he's walking around it. You know, looking at it from every angle, like he always does. He really seems to be taking longer than he usually does on this one..."

At this point, the baseball game I'm watching is in between innings, and not much was going on, but Pops continued.

"Alright, I think he's finally ready. I think it's about 18 feet or so. He putts it. And....Ohhh my gosh Matt, HE MADE IT. HE MADE IT. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. HE MADE IT!!"

At this point, I let out a loud cheer 450 miles away in Omaha. I'm sure the people around me were looking at me like I was crazy, but at this point, I didn't care. Tiger had done it! The guy was playing with a torn ACL, and a broken leg, and the next day he would go on to with the U.S. Open. This is the kind of legend that Mark Twain couldn't write, and Steven Spielberg couldn't make any more sensational.

A year and a half later when the world came to find out that Tiger wasn't exactly the guy everyone thought he was, I was crushed. While his feats on the golf course should not be diminished in light of the details that came out of his personal life, the mystique and the aura that he carried with him could never be the same. Steroids rocked baseball, the NBA after Michael Jordan lacked the luster that it once had, the NFL, while great, had never had quite standing in my sports universe, but this was more than those combined. This was fifteen years of bonding between my father and I that all the sudden seemed hollow. Sure, those events that we cheered about still happened, but the big part of what made it so special was the fact that it was Tiger, and up to that point, he had represented all of the things that my parents had tried to teach me to be. A hard worker, a fierce competitor, and a well-rounded individual away from sports. I should be clear in emphasizing that my parents never told me to emulate Tiger, or any athlete for that matter, yet his case just so happened to be one was easily relate-able. With the deeper meaning of what Tiger meant to my father and I now in question, I was sent searching.

This all helped me realize that being a sports fan is not about the people who play them, or the stats they accumulate.

You can say that I'm going "soft," or that in this moment in time I must be feeling overly sentimental, but, I think I'm ready to come to grips with the fact that being a sports fan is about sharing your rooting interest with those around you.

Really? You had to spend thousands of words to figure that out, genius?

I never thought I'd say it, but being able to share these moments with others means more than a box score ever could. Sure winning helps, but the jubilation I watched my friends experience when the White Sox won the World Series in 2005, or the way people partied when the Bears advanced to the Super Bowl after the 2006 season, none of that would have existed in a vacuum. Sure, you'd be excited if a team you'd rooted for your whole life finally achieved their goal and won something, but being able to call up your dad, or party with your buddies, or text your uncle, those are the things you remember.

I look back fondly on that U.S. Open, not for how it turned out, but for the memories I have with my father. I think back to the Final Four with Renfro reduced to tears as we watched players from North Carolina cut down the nets. I remember an Illini basketball game where it appeared as though Rich McBride had hit a last second shot to beat Penn State. The shot was later overturned, but my memory of clutching the arm of my friend Jessica Young, hoping against hope that somehow they'd overrule the call can't be taken from me. The Rose Bowl from '08, my most indelible memories are of my friends Tim and Meghan Michaels having a comical battle with their GPS as we drove around LA. To this day I don't watch an Illini fooball game without thinking of Steve Contorno and his detest for my old E.B. Halsey Illini football jersey. Halsey has moved on, and the jersey is gathering dust in my closet, but that one little morsel of a fact has been enough for Steve and I to remain friends five years after the fact.

The fantasy sports I play today, I no longer have rabid tendencies to devour stats, or prove to anyone that I'm smarter than they are. In fact, the playful ribbing of a Steve Hild, or the incessant banter of Jeff Lizzo, Kevin Barry and Drew Stiling mean more to me than winning a fantasy league title ever could.

I often wondered as people sat in the stands at games, or watched on TV, how they could fully enjoy the experience without knowing that the last time there had been a statistical oddity like this or that was in 1974, and before that 1921, and so on and so on. Rather, I've moved on. Beyond all the statistics, and all the analysis lies the significance of human emotion. And while I may never be able to quantify it, and it may have taken me longer than most to come to this conclusion, it really is what sports are all about.

0 notes

williamlwolf89 · 4 years

Text

Kindle Direct Publishing: How to Make Real Money on Amazon

With Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP), you can self-publish your book on Amazon and start making money in as little as 24 hours.

Sounds a whole lot better than waiting months or even years to find an agent, get a book deal, and go through all the rigmarole of working with a traditional publishing platform, right?

And that’s not even the best part…

Amazon lets you keep more of your money. A lot more.

With over 90 million Prime subscribers in the United States alone, Amazon’s Kindle store reach is huge.

Self-publishing with Amazon KDP is absolutely, positively, 100% free.

In short:

Kindle publishing makes it so that anyone can self-publish a book and sell it on Amazon.

The only problem?

If you want your book to be a hit, if you want it to make real money, you can’t simply “publish and pray.” You need a strategy.

Free Course: How to Get Paid $200+ Per Post by Writing for Small Businesses

That’s why I created this comprehensive, step-by-step guide.

I’ll show you how to validate your book idea before you begin writing, how to set up a pre-launch sequence, how to properly price your book, how to promote it, and more.

Let’s jump in…

Table of Contents

How to Validate Your Book Idea (Before You’ve Written a Single Word)

How to Package Your Book Like a Bestseller

Before Your Book Launch: How to Create a Rock-Solid Plan

Book Launch: Step-by-Step Guide (with Examples)

After Kindle Publishing Your Book: Keep the Book Sales Going and the Royalties Coming In

Common Questions (Not Covered Elsewhere)

How to Validate Your Book Idea (Before You’ve Written a Single Word)

If you want your powerful words to be read by millions, you need to make sure there’s an existing audience of millions waiting to read them.

No one wants to waste their time writing a book nobody will want to read.

That’s why it’s important to validate your book idea by sizing up the competition. You do that by answering three questions:

Are there similar books? If you can’t find a book similar to yours in the Amazon marketplace, it means you don’t have a good idea (because no one is that original).

Can you compete? Checking the competitive landscape gives you an idea of how well your book can sell.

Are there enough buyers? You want to make sure enough people want the type of book you plan on writing to make it worth your time.

You can find the answers to these questions in three steps:

Step #1: Find Your Category On Amazon

First, you’ll need to find a suitable category for your book idea on Amazon.

Here’s how:

Go to amazon.com and navigate to Departments > Kindle E-Readers & Books > Kindle Books.

Next, click Best Sellers & More in the menu.

Scroll down until you see the menu below and click Kindle Best Sellers.

Select Kindle eBooks from the menu.

Pick a category and subcategory that fit closest to your book idea.

For my book, I chose the category Self-Help and the subcategory Personal Transformation.

Once you’ve picked a subcategory, it’s time to investigate your potential competitors.

Step #2: Check Your Category’s Top 20 Books For Similar Topics

The premise for my book was self-reinvention. I didn’t need to find a book with the exact word “reinvention” in the title, but I did need to find books with similar themes like behavior change, personality change, and life change.

I found some books that were similar to mine (#3 and #5 below explicitly state they’re about change, while #4 is a book about improving your life in general).

At the end of this step, you’ve answered the first question. You know whether there are similar books to your idea.

If you can’t find any similar books, you need to go back to the beginning. Go through your list of book ideas and try again.

However, if there are similar books to yours, you can proceed to the next step. It will answer the final two questions:

Can you compete, and

are there enough buyers?

Step #3: Check The Best Seller Rank Of The Top Books In Your Category

If you want to know whether you can compete in a category and whether there are enough buyers, you need to know how well the books in your category sell.

You won’t find any actual sales numbers on Amazon, but through their “Best Seller” rank you can get a decent estimate.

You can find a book’s Best Seller rank by scrolling down its product page. The rank will be listed under Product Details.

The higher the rank (with #1 being the highest), the more copies it sells — but also, the harder it will be to beat. You have to look for categories where the average best seller rank is neither too low nor too high.

Here’s how it generally breaks down:

Rankings above 1,000 will have great sales numbers, but will be very competitive.

Rankings from 1,000 to 30,000 are less competitive, but will still have decent sales numbers.

Rankings of 30,000 and lower are the least competitive, but will also have lower sales numbers.

As you can see, the sweet spot is in the middle. You don’t want a category that’s too competitive, and you don’t want a category with low sales numbers.

Aim for categories where you think you can crack the top three books.

If you follow the strategies laid out in this post, you should be able to reach the top three in categories with medium competition.

And if you can get your book featured in the top three when you launch, the chances your book will be featured highly in the Hot New Releases list will skyrocket.

If you appear high enough in that list, your book will get lots of exposure. Amazon will feature your book in a highlighted section above other books that are similar to yours, like this:

People browse for books by categories, but they tend to skim through the category pages. The higher you are in a category, the higher the chance that someone will click through to buy your book.

That’s why picking the right category is crucial.

If you don’t think you can crack the top three books in your initial category, see if you can feature your book in an alternative category where the competition is less heavy.

Final Note: Even if you think you have a great book idea, it’s important to validate before getting to work. Don’t skip this step.

How to Package Your Book Like a Bestseller

You can write the most amazing book on earth, but if you don’t package it in an appealing way, few people will read it.

In this section, we’ll cover four important steps to packaging your book:

The title

The cover design

The formatting

The book description

Step #1: Create a Memorable, Descriptive Book Title

According to bestselling author Tucker Max:

What you title your book is the most important book marketing decision you’ll make, period.

Or, to put it another way:

A good title won’t make your book do well. But a bad title will almost certainly prevent it from doing well.

In short, it’s imperative you nail your title. And to do that, you’ll need to spend considerable time brainstorming the two components of your title: the main title and the subtitle.

Your main title should be punchy and memorable. It should hint at the book’s topic, and it should resonate with your audience.

Your subtitle is a bit different. You want it to clarify how your book will help your reader. So, ask yourself:

Which of my reader’s pain points will my book solve?

What positive outcomes will the book provide?

What kind of person will the reader be after reading your book? How will their life change?

For my book, I brainstormed 50 different main titles and 25 subtitles. They weren’t all fantastic, but that’s the point.

When brainstorming titles, write down whatever comes to mind. Then review, crossing out the options you don’t like (or don’t like as well). Your favorites will remain.

To give you a glimpse of some ideas I had, here were some contenders for my main title:

You 2.0

The Life-Changing Magic of Starting Over

The Power of Reinvention

And these were some favorites for my subtitle:

Unlock the Secrets that Keep You Stuck and Reprogram Your Mind for Success

Stop Feeling Stuck, Reinvent Yourself, and Become a Brand New You

Redesign Your Life, Find Your Mental Blind Spots, and Master the Art of Personal Transformation

The final title became: You 2.0: Stop Feeling Stuck, Reinvent Yourself, and Become a Brand New You — Master the Art of Personal Transformation.

Editor’s Note: Another great tip for creating a descriptive title is sprinkling in sensory words that appeal to your readers’ sense of sight, sound, touch, taste, or smell.

Step #2: Get a Cover That Grabs Attention

I cannot stress the importance of this step enough. You need a good cover for your book, or it won’t sell.

The cover gives potential buyers their first impression of your book. If it looks cheap and sloppy, they’ll assume it’s not worth their money.

A good book cover has, at the very least, the following characteristics:

A clear, legible title. Most of your potential buyers will see your cover as a thumbnail first, so your title should be easy to read when shrunken to that size. Avoid small, hard-to-read letters and scribbly fonts.

A design that stands out. Whether it stands out through a bold color or an interesting graphic, you want your cover to catch the eye.

Now, if you’re tempted to design your own cover, I have one word of advice: Don’t.

Unless you’re a professional cover designer, you’re better off handing this responsibility over to someone else. This is not something you want to pinch pennies on.

Personally, I hired Happy Self Publishing to create my cover. Their name kept coming up in writing communities, so I gave them a try. I was not disappointed. They struck a good balance of professionalism, quality, and price.

Editor’s Note: Author and illustrator Jaime Buckley is another great option. If you’re on a super-tight budget, you might also try Fiverr. Just be sure to check the designers’ samples. You want your book to look professional, not amateurish.

When I hired Happy Self Publishing, they sent me a questionnaire to gather my book information (title, subtitle, description, etc.) and my preferences for the cover design (preferred colors, fonts, etc.):

I filled out the questionnaire, gave the designer my directions, and submitted samples of covers I liked.

Within days, he came back with several mock-ups.

We went through several rounds where I told him what I liked and disliked, and he’d send me new mock-ups based on my (and my audience’s) feedback.

Eventually, we settled on my final cover.

Here’s how my cover evolved over time:

Step #3: Make Your Book Look Pretty Inside

In addition to your cover, you also need to make the inside of your book look good.

If all the text is mushed together, it’s full of syntax errors, or it’s written in a terrible font, people won’t want to read your book.

To prevent this, you need to format your book — specifically, you need to format and save your book in a Kindle-friendly file-type like .mobi or .epub. This way your book will look good in all Kindle devices.

Now, you can do this yourself, or you can hire a professional to do it for you.

I formatted my book myself using an easy-to-use piece of software called Vellum, which uses a simple WYSIWYG (“What You See Is What You Get”) editor. You just copy and paste your chapters into it, change the formatting as desired, and export.

The only problem? Vellum is only available on Mac.

If you’re on a PC, you have alternative options like Reedsy and Book Design Templates.

A do-it-yourself approach will save you some money, but if you’re not very tech-savvy and want to make sure the book is formatted properly, hire someone.

Happy Self Publishing, the company I used for my cover, also provides an affordable formatting service, or you can find hundreds of freelancers on Upwork who can do it for you.

When the formatting is done, don’t forget to proofread the book with a Kindle or on the Kindle app.

Make sure there are no formatting bugs that need to be fixed.

Step #4: Write a Description That Sells Your Book for You

After your title and cover have lured someone to your Amazon sales page, the next thing they’ll do is read your book description.

Readers will want to know exactly what your book is about and how it’ll benefit them.

If your description is flabby and packed with weak writing, it won’t be compelling enough for readers to click the buy button.

Now, the key thing to understand when writing your book description is that you shouldn’t treat it like a summary of your book; rather, you should treat it like a sales letter.

Your description shouldn’t inform potential buyers of the contents of your book — it should persuade them to buy.

Here’s mine, for example:

See how I focus the description on benefits to the reader?

See how I use the bullet points to foster curiosity rather than give away the main points of the book?

These are basic sales letter techniques you should use in your description.

Imagine if the second bullet had read, “Goal setting doesn’t work because [reason].”

Giving the reason away would defeat the need for the reader to purchase the book. Instead, I trigger curiosity by leaving it open.

If you want to learn more about writing persuasive descriptions, the following resources helped me a lot while writing mine:

How I Wrote the Book Description for a Famous Book

6 Steps to a Perfect Book Description That Sells a Ton of Books

How to Write a Book Description That Sells

Before Your Book Launch: How to Create a Rock-Solid Plan

Your launch makes or breaks your book.

So, you shouldn’t wait until the week of your launch before you start planning it.

Instead, you want to have a plan in place and have your marketing materials prepared weeks before you hit publish.

Here are a few things you should do to prepare for the launch of your book.

Step #1: Create Your “Street Team” (Launch Minus 6+ Weeks)

Before your launch, you should assemble a so-called “street team” to help write reviews for your book and promote it during launch week.

I reached out to people in my network — fellow authors and bloggers I’d met over the years since I started my blog — and asked them to join.

If you don’t have a well-established network, you can leverage your email list, like Kevin Kruse (a New York Times bestselling author) explains in this video:

When you reach out to people in your network, explain what’s expected of them. Ensure they understand what it means to be a member of your street team:

Explain they are to read an advanced reader copy of the book and prepare a review to post at the beginning of the launch.

Encourage them to share the book on social media or with their email lists. Explain this is optional, but you’d be very grateful.

For the number of reviews you want, double that number of people on your street team, because chances are only half of them will actually review your book.

At minimum, aim for 25 reviews. This means having 50 people on your launch team.

Step #2: Start Teasing Your Book to Your List (Launch Minus 6+ Weeks)

Once you’ve written your book and you can see your launch on the horizon, you want to gently tease your subscribers so they know it’s coming.

You need to build anticipation.

Up to this point, I had been keeping my list engaged by sending Monday Motivation emails every week, as well as an update every time I published a new blog post.

As I was preparing for launch, I added teasers at the end of my emails, like this:

Example:

P.S. I’m finished with my new book, You 2.0.: Stop Feeling Stuck, Reinvent Yourself, and Become a Brand New You.

It details everything I’ve learned in the process of transforming my life from broke, addicted, and depressed to finding my passion, tripling my income, and succeeding. I’m really excited about it. Stay tuned.

You don’t have to sell it hard at this point. Just make them aware the book is coming.

Step #3: Map Out Your Launch Plan and Prepare Promotional Materials (Launch Minus 6+ Weeks)

You should never be winging it when you launch a book.

If you’re smart, you’ll plan every single step you’ll take leading up to the launch, as well as the days and weeks afterward.

You need to create a schedule so you know exactly which promotion happens when, and what actions you should take each day.

(I’ll share my own promotion timeline in the next section, which you can emulate.)

Once you have planned everything, the next step is to prepare everything.

In the weeks leading up to my launch, I prepared:

The email sequence promoting the book to my subscribers

The emails I’d send to my street team

30 days’ worth of promotional articles that I’d publish on Medium

Social media posts to promote the book

For the promotional articles, I also prepared a few new incentives geared toward promoting the book:

When you don’t prepare for your launch beforehand, you will feel frazzled and frustrated throughout the launch.

You’ll be scrambling to promote the book instead of having a strategy that makes you feel confident the book will sell.

Plan ahead, and you’ll launch with a bang.

Book Launch: Step-by-Step Guide (with Examples)

Now we get to the good stuff.

You may think your launch happens when you publish your book on Amazon and put it up for sale.

And you’re not wrong. Technically, that is when you officially launch your book.

But the launch process is a bit more involved than just clicking a publish button, and it starts much earlier than your official launch.

It starts with your first big promotion. That’s when you start selling your book.

Below, you’ll find the timeline I used when launching my book. Feel free to copy it, tweak it, and use it as your own.

Step #1: Send “Free Sample” Emails (Launch Minus 4 Weeks)

Four weeks ahead of your official launch, you want to send your subscribers free samples. Send them one free sample each week.

This will give them a taste of what’s inside your book.

I sent my own subscribers the introduction to my book, Chapter One, and Chapter Two.

Of course, you don’t have to use your first chapters. You can choose to share any chapter you wish.

Share the ones you think will make your readers hungry for more.

Here’s an example of one of my “Free Sample” emails:

Hey friend,

The launch date for my new book, You 2.0: Stop Feeling Stuck, Reinvent Yourself, and Become a Brand New You, is just around the corner.

I put my heart and soul into writing this book and I wanted to share some of it with you today because I’m confident reading some of it will inspire you to want to read the whole thing to transform your life.

As follows is the introduction to the book:

[Book Intro Goes Here]

In the next week or so, I’ll share even more sections of the book. Why? Because my primary goal is to get you to read the book and use it to change your life. That matters to me more than money.

Keep an eye on your inbox 😉

Step #2: Publish Your Book on Kindle Direct Publishing [And Set Your Price] (Launch Minus 1 Week)

You should never wait until your official launch date to publish your book on Amazon. You should publish it one week in advance.

This way, you can ask your street team to write early reviews.

These early reviews are important — you’ll need to have at least 10 reviews if you want to use book promotion sites during launch week.

(And you do, as they can give you a huge surge in early sales. We’ll discuss them later.)

To publish your book on Amazon, you need to create an account on Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing (kdp.amazon.com).

Then follow these steps to publish your book:

#1. GO TO “CREATE A NEW TITLE” AND CLICK “+ KINDLE EBOOK”

#2. ENTER BOOK INFORMATION (LANGUAGE, TITLE, SUBTITLE, ETC.)

#3. ENTER YOUR BOOK DESCRIPTION

Note: You can use HTML tags to change the way the content appears on your book page.

#4. CHOOSE YOUR KEYWORDS

Amazon allows you to use up to seven keywords to help readers find your books. You want to match your keywords with the terms readers will typically type into the search box.

To find good keywords, you can:

Search keywords manually. Check this detailed guide if you don’t know how.

Use keyword tools such as Kindle Spy, Merchant Words, and KDP Rocket that provide data on how many people search certain keywords.

Use names of popular authors and books. You can associate your name with top books to siphon some of the traffic that goes to their names.

#5. CHOOSE YOUR CATEGORIES

Initially, you’re only allowed to choose two category/subcategory combinations from the list Amazon provides. Strangely, their list doesn’t include all their categories.

You’ll find a lot of the more niche categories are missing. (You’ll have a hard time trying to crack the top three in most of the broader categories.)

For now though, just pick two categories/subcategories that your book fits into:

After you publish your book, browse books that are similar to yours and see which categories they are in. Then contact Amazon and request to have your book added to those categories.

In fact, if you’re smart, you can follow this process to be added to TEN categories, rather than just two.

Here’s a video from Kindlepreneur’s Dave Chesson that explains how to approach this:

#6. UPLOAD YOUR COVER AND MANUSCRIPT FILES

#7. ENTER PRICING INFORMATION

How should you price your book?

Before we get into that, you need to understand Amazon’s pricing and royalty options:

For Kindle books priced from $0.99 to $2.98, you receive a 35% royalty on each sale.

For Kindle books priced from $2.99 to $9.99, you receive a 70% royalty on each sale.

For Kindle books priced above $9.99, you receive a 35% royalty on each sale.

Note: If your book is part of Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited, you’ll be paid based on the total number of pages read in a given month.

Now, you might think that pricing your book somewhere between $2.99 and $9.99 is the obvious way to go, as that will get you the most royalties.

But to start, I priced my book at $0.99.

I suggest you do the same. Here’s why:

The point of this isn’t to make a lot of money early, but to get a lot of sales early.

Amazon doesn’t look at the price of your book to determine how well it’s selling. It looks at the number of copies sold.

If you can sell a ton of 99-cent copies in the beginning, you’ll benefit from some algorithmic momentum even after you raise the price.

Plus, when you price the book at $0.99, you can use promotional sites to get your book in front of massive audiences during launch.

(You can also give your subscribers an incentive to purchase early — before you raise the price).

#8. SCROLL DOWN AND CLICK PUBLISH YOUR KINDLE EBOOK

Once you’ve clicked to publish your book, it will appear on Amazon in 24 to 48 hours.

Step #3: Ask Your Street Team for Reviews (Launch Minus 6 Days)

When you’re self-publishing books on Amazon, whether they’re written by you or a trusted ghostwriter, those first few days are critical.

If you don’t have anybody buying your book or leaving reviews as soon as you publish, the chances of it taking off are slim to none.

This is where your street team comes into play.

The moment your book goes live, you should send an email to your street team asking them to leave their reviews.

And this is important: You should ask them to download the book from Amazon first, and then write their reviews. If they don’t do it in this order, their reviews won’t be verified. They will still show up, but Amazon won’t give them as much weight.

If you’d rather not ask them to pay $0.99 in order to leave a review, you can enroll in “KDP Select” and run a free promotion for 72 hours.

That way, they can “purchase” the book for free, and Amazon should still mark their reviews as verified.

Step #4: Schedule Promotions (Launch Minus 5 Days)

I mentioned book promotion sites earlier. So what are they, exactly?

Basically, they’re sites that promote books while they’re free or priced at $0.99. These sites have massive lists of subscribers who love reading books, and they’ll all receive an email that links to your book.

These readers can give you a gigantic boost in early sales.

Here are the sites I used myself, along with the cost to use each:

Buck Books — $29

Books Butterfly — $40

Robin Reads — $55

James Mayfield — $10

Fussy Librarian — $30

I found these sites from a list compiled by Dave Chesson at Kindlepreneur.

Now, considering you’ll only make $0.35 per sale on a $0.99 book, you won’t make much profit from the use of these promotional sites. You might even lose some money.

So why use them at all?

Because you want to create a track record of sales success.

Amazon will promote your book for you if it sees you have sales of your own.

When published authors make money, Amazon makes money, but like any good business, it won’t recommend products without profit potential.

You don’t have to use five services like I did. But use at least three.

Step #5: Launch Your Book With a Bang (7-Day Plan)

Alright, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. It’s time to officially launch your book to the public.

During launch week, you should promote your book hard. Hopefully, you’ve done the work to prepare yourself so you’re not overwhelmed.

You should promote your book by:

Sending a sales sequence to your email list. (Examples of each email will be given below.)

Asking your street team to help promote the book on social media and/or to their email lists.

Running book promotions you’ve set up. (You should have already scheduled these, as instructed in the previous step.)

Promoting the book on social media. (I recommend using Buffer to schedule multiple social media posts per day.)

Publishing content from your content marketing campaign.

Here’s how I scheduled these activities during launch week:

Day 1:

Send an announcement email (See example #1 below).

Ask your street team to promote your book on social media (or their email lists).

Publish promotional content on Medium.

Day 2:

Send a soft-sell email. (See example #2 below.)

Run 10 social media posts.

Day 3:

Run your first book marketing promotion (Buck Books).

Run 10 social media posts.

Publish promotional content on Medium.

Day 4:

Send another soft-sell email to your list.

Send a reminder email to your street team for social media/email list promotion.

Publish promotional content on Medium.

Day 5:

Run your second book marketing promotion (James Mayfield & Books Butterfly).

Run 10 social media posts.

Publish promotional content on Medium.

Day 6:

Send a hard-sell email to your list. (See example #3 below.)

Run 10 social media posts.

Publish promotional content on Medium.

Day 7:

Run your third book marketing promotion (Fussy Librarian & Robin Reads).

Send price change email. (See example #4 below.)

Publish promotional content on Medium.

Run 10 social media posts.

Here are some examples of each email in my sales sequence:

Example #1 — Announcement Email:

Do you wish life came with a “do over” button?

We all make mistakes. Time can pass quickly and we can come to a point where we ask ourselves, “How the hell did I end up here?”

If you’ve ever felt this way, my new book, You 2.0 — Stop Feeling Stuck, Reinvent Yourself, and Become a Brand New You, might provide the answers you’ve been looking for.

And it’s only 99 cents, a special price I’m revealing to subscribers only for the next 5 days.

I’m setting the price so low because I want you to read the book. At this point, I care about getting the book in as many hands as possible over making money.

Click here to learn more about the book.

Talk soon,

Ayodeji

Example #2 — Soft-Sell Email:

Hey friend,

For the past few weeks, I’ve told you about my new book, You 2.0 — Stop Feeling Stuck, Reinvent Yourself, and Become a Brand New You, which is available for 99 cents for the next few days.

(To those who have bought already, thank you SO MUCH — the book is now #1 in its category!)

The book tells the story of how I transformed my life and how you can too. It doesn’t tell theories, it shows what I’ve actually done.

See, before I reached my dream of becoming an author, my life was headed in the wrong direction. I was addicted to drugs and alcohol, working a dead-end job, and had no hope in sight.

Then, I decided I didn’t want to live my life that way and went through a ton of trial and error to become who I am today. I’ve more than doubled my income, gotten rid of bad habits, and have done many of the things I used to only dream of doing.

In the book, you’ll learn:

How to discover your passions (even if you have no clue what to do with your life)

How to get over your past and change your self-image (even if you think it’s set in stone)

How to find the motivation to change your circumstances (even if you’ve tried and failed before)

I try my best to share the message without the typical theme of most self-help books that are often judgmental and critical.

See, I don’t think you’re “too lazy to succeed” or “mediocre.” Life sucks sometimes, and we’re all doing what we can to cope with it. I wrote this book to share ideas to inspire you to change, not to shove inspiration down your throat.

So, I’m inviting you to check out the book at the price of 99 cents because I care about the message and want to spread it far and wide.

Click here to learn more about the book.

Talk soon,

Ayodeji

Example #3 — Hard-Sell Email:

Hey friend,

For the past few days I’ve been telling you about my new book, You 2.0 — Stop Feeling Stuck, Reinvent Yourself, and Become a Brand New You.

Today, I wanted to share a few reasons why I’m promoting the book and why I think you should invest in yourself by purchasing it.

I think you should invest in the book because:

At a minimum, you’re throwing 99 cents into the “fountain of karma.” I didn’t find prosperity in my life until I supported other artists and entrepreneurs.

Books are a great investment in yourself. Take the years of my trial and error and use it to your advantage.

You’re smart. Smart enough to know if I can help and smart enough to know if I’m genuinely interested in improving your life.

Click here to learn more about the book.

That’s it!

Talk soon,

Ayodeji

Example #4 — Price Change Email:

Hey friend,

Today’s the last day you can get my new book, You 2.0, for the low price of 99 cents. After that, the price goes up to $2.99 and it’ll only go higher from there.

Why the low price and continued promotion?

To get the message out there. I’m guessing you’re a part of this community because you’re looking for a change in your life and if I’m able to help you do that, it’s worth all the effort I put into writing the book.

Click here to learn more about the book.

Until next time,

Ayodeji

After Kindle Publishing Your Book: Keep the Book Sales Going and the Royalties Coming In

To make money writing, your book can’t be a flash in the pan.

You have to continue promoting the book to keep the sales rolling in.

Like I mentioned earlier, you want to give the book a good start with a boost of early sales to benefit from Amazon’s algorithms. But you should keep your momentum going longer than the first week.

During the weeks following the launch, you should continue engaging your list and keep spreading the message about your book to new readers.

Here are a few things you can do:

Step #1: Raise Your Price Once Per Week (and Let Your Subscribers Know)

As mentioned earlier, I set the price for my book at $0.99 for the first week. If I kept sales going at this price, my royalties would continue to stay low.

So, after the first week, I raised the price to $2.99, then to $3.99, and finally to $4.99.

Every time I was about to raise the price, I sent my subscribers a price change email.

This not only reminded casual readers to buy the book, but gave them an incentive to do so.

If they didn’t get in on the low price that day, they’d miss out forever, and nobody likes missing out on a good deal.

Step #2: Keep Publishing Posts to Get People on Your List

After publishing your book, you should continue publishing articles with links back to your sign-up form. Every new subscriber is a new potential buyer.

Set up a welcoming autoresponder sequence that gives subscribers your incentive (and then pitch your book to them).

You can use the same (or a similar) sales sequence that you used for your launch.

I wrote a total of 30 posts for 30 days on Medium to promote the book, and this added 150 more sales during the first month of my launch.

Step #3: Create An Amazon Ad Campaign for Sales on AutoPilot

Amazon Marketing Services provides a “pay per click” advertising program for authors. I highly recommend you use it.

Here’s how you can create your own ads:

Click new campaign:

Next, choose Sponsored Product Ads.

Select the book you wish to advertise. (If you’ve only published one book, you’ll only have one option.)

Set your campaign name, budget, and select Manual Targeting.

Initially, $3–$5 per day is a good budget because you can get useful data without breaking the bank.

Less than $3 won’t give you enough data, and more than $5 can cause you to lose money if you’re not careful.

Scroll down to the Add Keywords section and click Add Your Own Keywords.

Next, find relevant keywords.

You’ll need a lot more keywords for your ad campaign than you did earlier when you published your book.

But you can use similar techniques to find them:

Type relevant words and phrases into Amazon’s search bar and see which keywords Amazon suggests (as pictured below).

Browse best seller categories and use popular book titles/author names as keywords.

Use the “customers also bought” section of books from best seller categories to find related book titles/authors to use as keywords.

Download software. Kindle Spy and KDP Rocket are two tools that instantly provide relevant keywords for your book.

Set the bid price for your keywords:

A bid price is the largest amount you’re willing to spend if someone clicks on your ad.

I added 1,000 keywords — the maximum amount allowed per ad — and set the bid at 10 cents. I didn’t want to spend too much money until I knew the type of results I’d get.

If the ads worked well, I planned on increasing both my daily budget and keyword bids.

Once you’ve set your bid price, you’re ready to enter your ad’s marketing message:

Finally, it’s time to preview your ad.

If you like what you see, click Submit Campaign for Review.

After 24–48 hours, your ad will be live (if it’s approved, of course).

Step #4: Boost Your Winning Ads and Drop Your Losers

After publishing your ad, let it run for two weeks. Then it’s time to analyze the data.

Here’s a screenshot of my ad dashboard:

The key metrics you want to look at are:

Impressions: The number of times people saw your ad.

Clicks: The number of people who clicked on your ad.

aCPC: The average cost per click on your ad.

Spend: Total amount spent.

ACOS: Average cost of each sale. If your ACOS is 25%, you spend 25 cents of every dollar you make. If it’s 75%, you spend 75 cents of every dollar you make. If it’s 125%, you spend $1.25, for every dollar you make, which means your ad costs more than it makes.

Important note: You must keep your royalty rate in mind when factoring ACOS and ad spend. For Kindle books, you pay 30% in royalties, which means only 70% of every dollar you make lands in your pocket. That means if your ACOS is 70%, your ad is breaking even.

You can click into the campaign itself to see these same metrics for individual keywords. Use those metrics to adjust your campaign.

For instance, when you see a specific keyword is costing you more than it earns, you can pause that keyword.

Once you see how your keywords are performing, you can expand your campaign reach in the following ways:

Increase your bids. Once I saw my campaigns doing well, I increased the bids of keywords to 20 cents, then 30 cents, and eventually went as high as 50 cents per keyword.

Add more keywords. The more keywords you have, the more opportunity for new sales. I started an additional campaign with 1,000 more keywords.

Increase total spend. If you find your daily budget is being spent quickly, raise it. I raised my spend from $5 to $10 to $15, and then to $20. As long as my ads turn a profit, I will keep investing in them.

Common Questions (Not Covered Elsewhere)

Alright, we’ve covered a lot here.

And yet, there’s much more we could discuss. Let’s try to go over a few common questions some of you may still have:

Do I Need an Established Audience Before I Can Self-Publish on Amazon?

Not at all.

I only had 250 subscribers when I launched my first book. And even though I took a relatively passive role in promoting the book — I did a few promotions during launch to give me an early bump and then mostly counted on Amazon’s algorithm to drive sales — it earned its first $1,000 within five months.

That’s not a result worth bragging about, but it was enough to inspire me to write a second book and do much better.

So, for my second book, I was much more strategic, grew my audience larger, and promoted the book a lot more. And this time around, I got to $1,000 within the first month.

Even better: The book went on to make over $10K in its first year, which was a big improvement from the first book, which made $2K in that same time span.

The lesson?

You can make money writing even if you have a tiny list, and even if you take a somewhat passive role in promotion.

But that said…

What Can I do to Grow My Audience Before I Dive Into Kindle Publishing?

Here’s what I did to grow my audience larger for my second book:

Step #1: Create an Alluring Incentive For People to Join

People rarely part with their email addresses for nothing in return, so you need to offer them an incentive to join your email list.

To be honest, I cheated a bit here, because I offered something that I already had available. I offered my first book, The Destiny Formula.

Ideally, you want to offer an incentive that’s a perfect complement to the book you’re writing.

For example, if you were writing a book about the Paleo diet, you might offer one of these incentives:

5 Delicious Paleo Recipes You Can Make in 15 Minutes or Less

7-Day Paleo Quick-Start Email Course

The Ultimate Paleo Snack List (Includes 250 Different Snacks)

Step #2: Set Up a Landing Page for Collecting Email Addresses

If you want to build your email list, you need two things: an email marketing platform to store your list and a landing page where people can sign up to your list.

Now, you have a number of choices when it comes to email marketing platforms, but these are three popular ones:

ConvertKit (affiliate link)

MailChimp

AWeber

Personally, I opted for ConvertKit because they built it specifically for professional bloggers. It comes with easy segmentation features that let you promote your book in a more targeted way. I highly recommend it, but any of these platforms will work.

Once you’ve set up your email marketing platform, you can create a landing page to capture people’s email addresses.

I used Leadpages to do so, which makes it simple to create landing pages. It comes with ready-made templates that you can modify with its drag-and-drop builder.

You can choose one of their templates and customize it to your wishes.

Here’s a screenshot of the landing page I created:

Once you have everything in place, all you need to do is send traffic to your landing page.

Step #3: Drive Traffic to Your Landing Page

My personal goal was to hit 3,000 subscribers before I published my book. My main strategy for reaching that number was publishing articles on Medium, each with a link back to my landing page.

Every article I published on Medium would include this offer at the end:

But I didn’t stop there. I also guest posted on Huffington Post, Thrive Global, Addicted2Success, Thought Catalog, The Pursuit, and more.

While I got most of my traffic from Medium, publishing on these sites still grew my subscriber base by a significant chunk.

Between publishing on Medium and guest posting on these sites, I reached my goal of 3,000 subscribers within six months.

You don’t need to hit that same number of subscribers, but I do recommend you build your list to at least 1,000 before launching your book.

It’ll make things a lot easier.

Editor’s Note: For more tips on building your email list, check out 9 Irresistible Incentives That’ll Grow Your Email List Like Crazy and How to Run a Simple Contest and Add 500 New Subscribers to Your List.

How Can I Come Up With Ideas For My Own Book?

One of the worst mistakes you can make when self-publishing is picking a topic you know little about.

If you don’t have a concrete idea in mind yet, don’t fret.

Here’s an exercise to help you generate ideas. Grab a pen and paper and answer the following questions:

What do you find easy that others find difficult?

If you could only choose one section in a Barnes & Noble bookstore to read, which section would you choose?

What seems obvious to you that isn’t apparent to others?

What topic gets you talking to the point you won’t shut up about it?

If you were to take on a few freelance writing jobs online (either to earn some extra income or exercise your writing muscles), which topics would most interest you?

What do friends and family tell you you’re good at?

What compliments have you received from strangers?

What types of articles do you read online?

Once you complete your inventory, review it to look for patterns.

Maybe you’re a great communicator. Maybe you have excellent financial habits. Or maybe you have a knack for motivating others.

The traits, knowledge, and skills you possess can be translated into topics for books.

Review the list and use your answers to come up with a few book ideas.

What if I Want to Physically Print Books? (Like a Traditional Publisher)

You’re in luck.

In 2016, Kindle Direct Publishing added a paperback option. KDP Print (formerly known as Createspace) gives indie authors print-on-demand technology that lets them publish books in both eBook and paperback format. You can do it all from the same KDP account.

Are You Ready to Dive Into Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing?

I’m working on my next book right now.

With an even larger audience than I had when I launched my last book, my goal is to sell at least 10,000 copies of my third book within the first year.

How about you?

You now know how to validate your book ideas, package your book, create a pre-launch sequence, launch your book, and promote it.

You now know what to do and when to do it.

In short:

You now have a proven blueprint you can follow for writing a bestselling book on Amazon KDP.

So, there are no more excuses.

It’s time for you to join the ranks of bestselling authors. It’s time for you to make some real, tangible income as an author.

It’s time for you to stop dreaming and start doing.

Are you ready?

The post Kindle Direct Publishing: How to Make Real Money on Amazon appeared first on Smart Blogger.

from SEO and SM Tips https://smartblogger.com/kindle-publishing/

0 notes

butiaintgonnaloveem · 7 years

Text

Crapulous

Characters: Dean, Reader, OC Patsy

Word Count: 2700-ish (whatttt?? that’s it??)

Warnings: Language, alcoholic consumption, sass

A/N: The morning after an alcohol-soaked case, the reader is doing her best to recover with little-to-no help from Dean. I wrote this for @seenashwrite‘s 200 followers celebration. Prompts are bolded throughout the fic. I also managed to sneak in the Hiatus Challenge prompt from @thing-you-do-with-that-thing. *Nash, although I didn’t sign up for it, there’s a bonus prompt in there, too!! Many thanks to @idreamofhazel and @kayteonline for being fabulous and helpful betas. As always, feedback and constructive criticism are welcomed and appreciated!

I groan as I feel sleep drifting away from me. My head is rocking and bouncing with the potholes in the road, but I fight it, desperate to hide away from consciousness and the hangover that would come with it. The beginnings of it already start to creep in on me, my body sore and achy, the foul taste of hard liquor remnants coming alive as I lick at my dry mouth. My eyes scrunch further shut and my nose crinkles in displeasure as the heat from the sun beats down on me.

“Nooooo,” I moan, feeling the immediate jack-hammering to my skull, making my brain throb as I start to wake. “Oh. Bad.”

A feeling of nausea rolls through me, my stomach quivering as it threatens to heave up its contents.

“Well,” Dean says, gratefully gently, “Good morning, starshine.”

“No,” I grunt, cutting him off and making him chuckle.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m dying. I don’t ever want to drink again.”

“Aww, come on. Can’t be that bad.”

“Shut up.” I whine. Completely pathetic.

“Hey. Don’t pass out on me again.”

I wave him off as he chuckles to himself again, and once I swallow the nausea back down, I resettle myself to pass back out. I’m just finding the sweet spot when I feel the car swerve then start to shake and rattle, the loud thundering from beneath us jolting me upright as I cling to the dashboard.

“Ohmygod!”

Dean turns the wheel, pulling the Impala away from the rumble strip along the side of the highway. “You gotta wake up, we’re almost in Hays.”

“Ugh, again?” I look at him, my face scrunched up in pain. “Can’t we just go home so I can die in peace?”

He purses his lips, at least pretending to think it over. “No can do. I’ve got a date with a plate of bacon and a sweet, sweet woman.”

“Dean, it’s unhealthy.”

“Look, leave the bacon alone-”

“No, not the bacon - Patsy. Because you - prolapsed rectum that you are - are infatuated with her, whose cobwebby old snooch, by the way, I can smell from here.”

“Pshh,” he shook his head at me, “You sound jealous.”

“You. Wish.”

Twenty minutes later, Dean pulls off the highway and into a lot overgrown with weeds and rogue patches of grass. The restaurant lacks a sign out front, and if it weren’t for the huge, dingy windows, no one would have known people were inside. Dean quickly hops out, waiting as I force myself from the car, every bit of me protesting as I go.

He pulls open the creaking screen door, following as I walk through first, and lets it slam shut behind him. The short, leather-skinned waitress pushes through the kitchen door, mouth curved into a wrinkled frown.

“There’s my special lady!” Dean shouts from behind me, making me cringe. I glance to my left, noticing a group of college kids looking like they’re still going from the night before, and on the other side, a few other stragglers who seem just as confused as I am as to why they are there.

“Well hey Dean, Y/n. Go on, sit down, you’re blockin’ the breeze,” she says, shooing us away from the entrance and the swiveling fan that pulls in nothing but dry, hot air from outside.

Dean shoves me into a booth, just settling in as she places down two waters, condensation already dripping down the sides of the slim glasses.

“Didn’t expect to see you so soon. You keep up with all these visits and you’re gonna make my husband jealous,” she croaks. Her sandpaper voice, perfected by about 80 years of smoking at least 2 packs a day sends my skin crawling with irritation.

“Which husband is that - number four or number five?” I ask, rubbing my head on my palm.

She tilts a hip, setting her hand on it. “Four. And if I have my way, Dean will be my lucky number five,” she responds matter-of-factly.

“Ohhh, Patsy, I’m yours. Just as long as you vow to make me that pie of yours.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she scolds him. “You’re gonna be my trophy husband. Can’t let you go and get all plump on pies.”

“More like consolation prize,” I mutter.

“Please honey, this boy is arm candy and you know it,” she emphasizes with a bony finger pointed at me. Dean sits up a bit straighter, pleased to be so blatantly objectified as I roll my eyes, regretting it immediately as the movement strains my eye muscles.

“So what am I in this whole situation?”

Patsy eyes me up and down for a moment, clumpy mascara chunks sticking together as she lazily blinks.

“I’ll let you be his mistress. I’m sure he’s got the stamina for it, and Lord knows you ain’t got the brains to lock him down before someone else does.”

I bark out a laugh, setting off a fresh wave of pain in my head. “More like I’m too smart for that.”

She gives me a pointed look, droopy eyelids hanging down despite the eyebrow she’s raised.

“What? I am,” I insist.

“Right, because you walked into ‘Stripper’s Discount Warehouse’ and said, ‘Help me showcase my intellect.’”

I drop my mouth open, amusement and shock hitting me in equal measure. Dean slams a hand down onto the table, making the silverware rattle as he tries to contain his laughter.

“Patsy, go easy on her, she’s had a rough night.” He gestures at me and I glance down at myself, assessing whether or not I look as awful as I feel. I’m still wearing my ‘bait’ outfit that helped me blend in with the rowdy, drunk crowd from the night before. It’s more than a little off-kilter; I wipe under my eyes, pulling away the residue of eye makeup.

“Well, Dean, if that’s how you leave the ladies the morning after, I might have to reconsider our relationship.”

“Please, Patsy, you know I’d treat you like a queen.” He grabs her hand, holding it tenderly.

“And I’d never let you out of bed to see the outside world again.” She winks. “Now, let’s get some food in y’all before Y/n here goes green.”

Dean smiles and shakes his head in awe. “I love you.”

She pats his shoulder condescendingly as she walks away humming ‘Looking for Love,’ refilling a few coffee mugs and jotting down an order for the cook waiting at the griddle.

“So, fill me in on last night. I’m guessing the bloodsuckers didn’t give you too much trouble?” I ask, sipping the water and letting my fingers trail along the condensation.

“Nah, it was pretty easy to get the location of the nest. However, you...at last call, that’s a whole other story.”

“Yikes.” It’s as much of an apology as I can give at the moment, but he accepts it. I dig an ice cube from the glass and pop it into my mouth, “Next time, I’m dangling you for bait.”

“What? I don’t get an encore?” He smirks.

“An encore of what?” I ask with a tilt of my head. Desperate for the pain to go away so I can focus on remembering what happened.

His smirk spreads into a wide smile, his eyes shining with mischief. How he looks so good while I feel so terrible just makes me more frustrated and ready to backhand him. A flash of red and green zooms past before I hear it plunked onto the table, drawing my attention away from our staring contest.

“Quit makin’ eyes at my man and drink up,” Patsy interrupts.

I turn to her, getting a stern look in reply as she nods at the table. A short glass of thick, red tomato juice with a huge celery stalk sticking out of it rests before me, which I stare at suspiciously.

“Hair of the dog, hun. It’ll perk you right up.”

My stomach rolls and Dean laughs at the gurgle.

“Oh, well, I hope that’s got some whiskey, and some tequila, and let’s see - does rum sound right to you?”

“I'll be...ugh….bathroom,” I mumble and gesture as I scramble out of the booth, tripping on anything and everything on my way. A watery belch escapes from my stomach, burning on the way up.

“Gross,” I whisper at myself, trying to ignore the giggling from the table of college kids that got an earful.

The bathroom smells like piss, and wet dog, and more piss - not helping my uneasy stomach, but at this point I'm sure puking would make me feel worse. I hover over the seat, weakly tugging at the fabric at my hips to pull it down, until the urge becomes too much and I shove them down, letting out an ahhh of relief, followed swiftly by a confused, “What the -?”

After taking a moment to wipe some cool water over my face and clean up the smudged makeup and drool marks, I do my best to walk back without wobbly legs, barely making it before collapsing back into the booth, sliding across the vinyl to unflattering noises, grateful to have to put little to no effort into sitting.

“Dean?”

“Yup?” he asks, popping the ‘p’ harder than necessary. His bottom lip is stiff and trembling as he tries to hold onto a straight face.

“Whose underwear am I wearing?”

Before I get two words out he's folding over in laughter.

“Fucking tequila,” I spit, angry at drunk me, and more angry at Dean for enjoying it so much.

He's trying to form words between laughter, but only gets out snippets that don't make any sense. “The band...and these paper hats...he had beef jerky...and you...and you…” He gives up as I stare at him flatly, not following a damn bit of it but certain I had violated at least a few local ordinances by his reaction.

“And what did you do that whole time?”

He digs his phone from his pocket, wiggling it in his palm. “Surveillance.” He winks.

My head hurts more. My brain rattles in my skull with every hard beat of my heart, the blood struggling to pump through my dehydrated body. I close my eyes and wrap my hands around the glass of tomato juice, hoping what's in there is enough to provide relief until we get back to the bunker. If Dean’s this thrilled, I must have done something good, but it's all blank, hours lost to a haze of alcohol and loads of blackmail. God Damn it.

“For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God.” I attempt to sound repentant.

“Prayers won't help you with this one.”

I open my eyes, staring at the cocktail in my hands and the absurd celery stalk standing in it like it's a Magic 8 Ball, ready to provide me with an answer as I continue my prayer. “Bloody Mary, full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me in the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen.”

“That was very moving.” I look up, surprised to see Patsy there with a tray of food and a smirk on her face. She sets the food on the table in front of us, moving things as she pleases to make room.

“It was something,” Dean laughs, shaking his head back and forth, staring at his phone screen.

“I'm too hungover for this.” With a groan and all the speed I can muster, I reach across the table, barely snatching the phone from his hand before he can react and dropping it right into the thick, red juice sending it splattering across the table.

I pick up the glass and hand it to Patsy. She takes it gingerly between her fingers, eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

“Patsy, dear sweet angel that you are, can I please get another? There's something in this one.”

“Waste of vodka,” she grumbles, walking back into the kitchen.

Dean has his head resting on his fist, a bored look in his face instead of the angry one I expected. “Feel better, sweetheart?”

“Maybe.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”

“Sammy’s got everything backed up. The cloud, ya know,” he waves a hand in the air, “Now all you did was piss off Patsy.”

“Whatever, she knows you're an ass.”

“Blue ribbon ass.” He takes another bite, talking through his food. “Don’t forget, I’m a prize.”

“You sure are honey,�� Patsy croons at him. “But darlin’, you mistreat this girl right here and I don’t care how sweet that ass is, I will beat it up and down main street.”

Patsy sets another drink down in front of me, sending a nod of solidarity my way as she sets Dean’s napkin-wrapped phone in front of him. I finally take a sip, only slightly gagging as I push more alcohol into my system.

“Careful, Patsy, I might like it,” he calls over his shoulder as she walks away.

“So would I,” she hollers as she pushes through the kitchen door.

“Could you be any louder?” I whine, grasping my head in my hands, wanting nothing more than to sink down into the seat and go to sleep again. “Next time you’re the bait.”

“You just wanna see me in a skimpy outfit.”

“I’m gonna puke.”

“So, the case,” his picks up, muffled by a mouthful of food, “There’s good news and bad news.”

“Lord, take me now.” I pinch my nose in frustration.

“Okay, ignoring that. So, good news, the plan worked and we drew out the nest.”

“How could there be bad news?”

“We still gotta take them out.”

“Excuse me? H-how? I mean. Why?” I watch as he shoves more food into his mouth, ignoring me.

“Yeah, so it looks like we’re still on clean up, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

“Oh, I liked that show,” Patsy chimes in, breaking the tension as she fills up Dean’s half-empty coffee mug. “And, ya know, I like them Twilight vampires, too.” She walks away, not adding anything further to the conversation.

Dean’s face curls in displeasure, his voice dropping low, “Oh, Patsy. No.”

“Patsy, yes.” I smile sleepily. “You know, opposites attract. I can see why you like coming here so much.”

“Shut up.” He wipes his hands and face.

“So,” I gulp down more of the cocktail, “Where are they?”

He stares down at the egg residue on his plate, swirling it with the tines of his fork. “They’re, uhhh, West. Just over the Colorado border.”

I squint. “Dean. That’s where we just came from.”

He glances up at me, lips pinched shut as he chews. His eyes wide with a fake look of surprise.

“God damn it, Dean!” He freezes and I lower my voice. “You mean to tell me you just dragged my hungover ass two hours away from our hunt for some breakfast.”

“Not just breakfast,” he insists, shaking his head. “Patsy.”

“You’re seriously obsessed. Are we sure she isn’t a siren or a witch...or mayyybe some kind of rogue leviathan hybrid -”

“Please don’t ruin this for me, Y/n.”

“What if she’s got the whole town under a spell, and we’re screwed because she’d dumbed us down with food…”

“Please stop,” Dean begs, eyeballing the skillet in front of him.

“Oh no no no. Just imagine, we’ve got her cornered, torching this godforsaken place, but we’re too dumbed down to move, and like, a big sweaty fireman carries you out of the burning building and you think - Yeah, okay, he’s gonna give me mouth-to-mouth - but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just - flurp - falls right onto your popped-out eyeball.” I finish describing the scene with my hands clenched around the air.

Dean stares at me blankly, chewing uneasily on the food in his mouth. “That was cruel.”

“What was cruel? Something wrong, hun?” Patsy stops, nodding at Dean’s unfinished plate.

He gives her a skeptical up-down. “No, no, just gotta, you know, hit the road again.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Typical.” She shakes her head as she slaps down the bill. “Til next time, darlin’.”

He watches her shuffle away, eyes shifting between the waitress and me. He leans in, whispering, “You don’t really think? I mean, it’s Patsy.”

“Seriously. Grossly. Infatuated.” I shake my head in disbelief, “If we check her out and she’s clean, I won’t come between you again, I promise. Now let’s get back out there and you can tell me about what happened to my underwear before this vodka wears off.”

Tags y’all:

@aprofoundbondwithdean @attractiverandomness @mrswhozeewhatsis @deathtonormalcy56 @kittenofdoomage @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @babypieandwhiskey @brewsthespirit-blog @mysaintsasinner @impala-dreamer @sis-tafics @littlegreenplasticsoldier @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @ultimatecin73 @mrsjohnsmith @bringmesomepie @sharingan-rasengan-chidori @muliermalefici @mogaruke @feelmyroarrrr @kayteonline @notnaturalanahi @anokhi07 @deandoesthingstome @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @ceeceewinchester @roxy-davenport @anotherwinchesterfangirl @demondean-for-kingofhell @iwantthedean @klaineaholic @wheresthekillswitch

#nash200 #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #reader insert #spn reader insert #spn crack fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #spn meets archer

143 notes · View notes