#if it was private property it was in a safe

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Here is some hot tea...As always take with a grain of salt. by u/Meegainnyc

Here is some hot tea...As always take with a grain of salt.

I made it text for ease of reading and thanks OP for the scoop! 🧂

THE VIEW FROM THE U.K. I count two Royal reporters as friends. The private view in the U.K. is this:

1. ⁠The Palaces (that is, the institutional faces of the Royal Family) are content that the facts surrounding the Markles slowly but surely come into the public domain with as little "push" as possible from the Palaces. A slow revelation of the facts is considered more powerful and comprehensively final that big leaks which the Markles can counter

2. ⁠The Press in the U.K. is staffed by anti-Monarchists who receive their story feeds from the Markles and play them off against the formal releases to the Royal Rota in the U.K. and elsewher

3. ⁠Archie certainly exists - or, at the very least, a child represented to the Late Queen and Duke of Edinburgh as Archie.

4. ⁠The Late Queen never visited Frogmore Cottage in 2022 and never met any child represented as the daughter of the Markles. She said as too I'll to make such a journey. There is no diary evidence of any meeting whatsoever

5. ⁠The Palaces and the Royal Family collectively are determined never to meet or be in the same place as the Markle woman

6. ⁠The Markle woman's husband is very subtly discouraged from setting foot on any Royal property until he is rid of his for-now wife

7. ⁠The REAL crisis for the Markle woman's husband is a looming tax crunch. By 6 April 2026 he will be non-resident for U.K. tax purposes to the extent that he can return to the U.K. and not pay tax on his American earnings here in the U.K. Alas, he will run out of money before then and the only way he will get any more is if he takes up residence (tax residence) here in the U.K. in order to receive his bequests from Diana/Queen Mother. They CANNIT be paid to an overseas tax resident. Thank you so much this insight. This couple are in a pickle aren't they? Here in the US, in focus is the dodgy business Archewell and it's misappropriating funds & Tax, as well as the other stuff that I have talked about with the US government, if people have been paying attention. There is a reason why the visa info is on hold, but I won't get into right now aside from saying that it is not good, if it turns out to be true. We will have news soon and it most likely be broken by an independent Journalist, international news, and or YouTuber as MSM outlets here in the US will not cover it to avoid diplomacy issues with the UK, and drawing attention of Russia & China for use in foreign propaganda. It's safe to say there are crisis on both sides of the pond looming. These two have made a mess and no doubt Meghan will throw Harry under the bus to save herself when the time comes. James Holt is a fool for taking the liability for Archewell finances as it is only a matter of time before he is called into question.

https://ift.tt/Ud5VeOu post link: https://ift.tt/slMr4Py author: Meegainnyc submitted: May 30, 2024 at 02:05PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[lycanthian]

hey gang! what the fuck

[sailor-swerf]

Swerfs refuse to be public property

Terfs refuse to be property at all

[pussy-ache]

every time i'm in the house alone for a week or two i think about how i would definitely kill myself if i lived alone and my mother is right to be worried about me

[x-brik-x]

I'm seeing a lot of people say that punk fashion is expensive and inaccessible, which is very wrong. here is a list of some ways you can make punk fashion easier, cheaper and more accessible for you, since that's... kinda the whole point.

others are encouraged to add onto this!! (just don't recommend corporations like amazon. not cool.)

1. patches!! you don't need to buy them. DIY patches are not ugly or boring. in fact, they are encouraged here!! DIY, in my opinion, is always the best thing to do when it is an option and is safe to do so.

2. speaking of DIY, spikes!! you can make them!!

cut the top and bottom off of an empty can. cut down the middle of the cylinder and flatten it, so it's just a flat rectangle of metal.

cut out a shape that is kind of a third of a circle, but around 3/4 of the curved edge is taken up by triangle shapes. (I'm not very good at describing, so here's a badly drawn picture)

roll it into a cone, leaving the 4 triangles sticking out at the bottom. this bit is optional, but you can fill it with hot glue to make it more sturdy, just be careful touching the hot metal. I tend to hold the cone by one of the triangles with a bit of fabric wrapped around my fingers for this bit. cut 4 small holes in your fabric in this kind of shape:

and put the spiky bits of triangle through the holes. fold the triangles in on themselves to secure the spike in place. boom. spike obtained. this is one I made and attached to a little piece of fabric to test this method out:

3. battle vests!! (like the base jackets). the best places to buy these are charity shops and second hand websites in my opinion, but if anyone else knows any better options, please reblog with those!!

a good trick I find works well on eBay is to filter search results to your country (or state? can you do that in the US? idk) so that a: fast delivery because local, and b: all the sellers of everything that shows up are in YOUR TIME ZONE.

why is this important? when people sell something for really cheap, it goes FAST. check eBay at like, 2am or something. all the scalpers in your area are asleep. grab the cheap stuff while they can't.

4. sewing!! want patches, but can't sew for whatever reason? I've heard of a lot of people with joint conditions like arthritis complain about the inaccessibility of patch stuff, and that does sound extremely annoying, however:

safety pins!! while they are still a little fiddly, they're much less work so you don't have to fiddle about for long. if you can, you could even ask a friend to help, since it doesn't take long at all I'm sure someone will be willing to help out!! (I know I would, but that's just me, and I love this kind of thing). safety pins on clothes are also widely considered to be a symbol of solidarity, so if anything, you're adding some extra love and meaning to your patch pants/battle jacket.

if that's still too fiddly, fabric glue is always an option. unfortunately this means you won't be able to remove/reposition patches, at least without leaving a massive patch of residue, but if you're ok with that then fabric glue is probably your best bet.

for people who prefer sewing: as for where to get the thread, I've heard a lot of people recommending dental floss, as it's apparently much cheaper and works just as well. I haven't tried this myself so can't confirm that, but I thought I'd share it regardless.

5. where to get fabric!! old clothes. rip em up. you don't need any kind of fancy fabric from the craft store. my patches are made of old jeans that I grew out of.

don't have any old clothes and you don't want to waste any good ones? I'm not sure about other countries, but in the UK, as long as you're not on private property (trespassing), dumpster diving is perfectly legal.

I definitely ;) do NOT encourage ;) trespassing rich people's land ;) to steal from their dumpsters ;)

or tbh it doesn't matter too much how rich the person is, since it's all going to landfill anyway. if it's in the bin, it's free game, but you didn't hear that from me. ;)

please add onto this where you can!! and if I missed something or got anything wrong, add that on too!!

[oukabarsburgblr]

Tongue Twisting [Dare AU]

FEATURING : AITO SOUSUKE (OC) x male reader

An annoying setter dares you to suck someone's face. Good thing your hot teammate walked in at the right time.

Short but too detailed for a drabble? has haikyuu characters as fillers because I'm too lazy to make up other ocs, voyeurism, making out, profile

Find out more under the cut!

"Still don't understand your point, Oikawa..."

(m/n) spoke with a lazy but confused grin, his eyebrows furrowing as he leaned forward from his chair he was sitting in. The brunette, standing tall in front of him had his hands on his hips.

"I'll give you the keys if you do it. It's not that hard for you, (m/n)." Oikawa smirked, his fingers spinning the bundle of keys he stole from the (h/c)'s bag earlier. Matsukawa who had dragged a chair to sit beside his standing captain quirked an eyebrow.

"If 'Zumi gets word of this, he's gonna get so pissed at you." "But he won't if (m/n) does it quick!"

A training camp had been set between Keio Shiki and Aoba Johsai for the Volleyball Men's Club. (m/n) and Oikawa both positioned as their captains of their respective teams and ever since (m/n) step foot onto the training camp's venue, Oikawa had a grudge on him seemingly for petty reasons.

(m/n) (l/n) had also been a third year setter, and a captain whose team had gone to nationals regularly representing the Saitama prefecture so Seijoh's coach had stated that the Shiki VBC team was the 'better' version of them and that got Oikawa pissed. It didn't help that Ushijima acknowledged (m/n) as a fantastic setter so he felt threatened with his position.

Since then, Oikawa would bother the (h/c) with small things, such as asking him to help clean his side of the gym, criticising his sets and serves or just straight up taking and using his stuff. Iwaizumi would knock some sense into his captain but it just so happened that both vice captains of both teams had to go run errands. Perfect.

(m/n) would have his meals in a more private area rather than the mess hall mostly due to him having to finish other duties on his laptop but Oikawa decided to infiltrate his booth and Matsukawa saw and just followed him in. His request was outrageous to say the least.

"Make out with someone."

(m/n) who was about to slurp his bowl of noodles visibly paused in his tracks and glanced at the annoying setter. He couldn't believe this was the man he was constantly compared to.

"Make out?" Oikawa grinned, seemingly proud of himself as he dangled the ring of keys he had snatched from the (h/c)'s duffle bag. "Or I'll throw this away." "...You do realise in the end, you'll get in trouble right?"

Matsukawa who had just stepped inside the lounge, froze and deadpanned at his captain. "Oikawa, what the fuck?" "Shut up, Mattsun! If you won't back me up, then leave." He whined as he tried to push the middle blocker away but the ravenette only decided to pull up a chair as (m/n) finished his meal.

The keys were access to all of the gyms and several other sections that were to be used by the volleyball teams on the property and (m/n) was in charge of keeping them safe and locked when they weren't using it and Oikawa was annoyed on how he wasn't picked.

How come he's athletic, smart, has good looks and has a nice personality?? FRAUD-

Oikawa couldn't accept someone with such a caliber existing and he was determined to find a foible somewhere in the (h/c). He continued to pester (m/n) and was about to dump the keys in a paper shredder until the (h/c) agreed. Although he doesn't exactly look mad?

"So do I have to get someone or you're picking?" (m/n) smoothened his pants, still sitting in the wooden chair as Matsukawa gaped at his relaxed expression. Even Oikawa was shocked he had agreed. "A-Anyone. Except your boyfriend!" "I don't have a boyfriend." The (h/c) deadpanned.

The setter suspected (m/n) was dating at least someone on his team, with the way they idolised and admired him. Especially his ace and his vice captain.

"How about you then?" (m/n) winked at the brunette, his finger made a 'come over here' taunt and Oikawa screeched. "You're shameless!" "You asked for it."

Matsukawa and the (h/c) was laughing at the flabbergasted brunette until the door behind them slid open and revealed an intimidating redhead. Keio Shiki's ace.

"What?" Sousuke deadpanned, confused as to why was there Seijoh's captain and annoying middle blocker in (m/n)'s private lounge, usually he would sneak away to spend time with his favourite person/crush but instead he found a grinning (h/c) and two other players from their rival team, his stomach tightened with jealousy.

Oikawa gestured to him and (m/n) laughed. "He wouldn't." "Wouldn't what?" Sousuke questioned, moving behind the suddenly cautious brunette to grab a chair, dragging it to sit between Matsukawa and (m/n).

"Would you have sex with your captain?"

Sousuke felt his heart dropped as he froze, his eyes on the ground and he heard (m/n)'s voice in the background. "He said smooching not fucking." What? Smooching not what?

The ace was confused as he peered to see the one who had asked him, Matsukawa smirking at him. "...huh?" Sleeping with his captain would be a dream come true. Hell he tried to woo the (h/c) for years if it wasn't for a certain cockblock VICE CAPTAIN-

"Like I said he wouldn't do that." (m/n) waved Matsukawa's teasing off, his eyes glancing at the redhead as he chuckled lightly. Sousuke frowned.

"I beg to differ." Oikawa was staring at the redhead, his eyes glinting as he crossed his arms, the bundle of keys nowhere to be seen. Sousuke reminded the brunette of Kyoutani, their playstyles and brash behaviour was similar, only Sousuke's style was more refined and he had been tamed by the (h/c). "If not, then I'll get someone else-"

"No." Sousuke grunted out, his fists clenching as he glanced at his captain, who was staring at him with a neutral expression. "I'll kill anyone who touches you."

"Calm down, hermano." Matsukawa whistled. "It's just kissing." The ravenette noticed the protective behaviour Sousuke had for his captain, pulling his shirt down if his skin was exposed, urging him to wash up quickly in the communal bathroom. He almost punched Oikawa in the face one time if it wasn't for Iwaizumi holding him back.

(m/n) gazed at the redhead, his eyes scanning his tense figure before he reached out and pulled his hand. "Then do you mind?" He smiled at the redhead whose cheeks flared. "What?" "Make out with me for a bit."

Oikawa's body was trembling, holding in his laugh as he slapped Matsukawa on the back repeatedly, the middle blocker cupping his mouth with his hand in excited shock. Sousuke's hand that was in (m/n)'s hold shuddered for a bit before he took a hold of himself.

"Are you going to do it with someone else?" (m/n) hummed, tapping his chin in mock thought. "Well I'm doing it for something..." He peered at Oikawa who was grinning. "Either way, if I have to then I'll have to." He nonchalantly stated, observing the agitated redhead.

"I might break their hands, (m/n)." Sousuke whispered to his captain, his hand now laying on his shoulder. "Then just swap spit with me." The (h/c) winked.

Sousuke stared at his captain for a moment, the gears in his brain moving and locking in as he grabbed his chair to sit and scoot directly in front of the (h/c) whose smile reached his eyes. Oikawa was hollering in the background and Matsukawa was holding in his cackle.

Bet he's a bottom. Oikawa didn't have a clear cut objective in his plan. He just wanted to see (m/n) melt one way or another. Sousuke was an added bonus, he was so annoyed with how good chemistry they had on the court.

Hazel scanned the (h/c)'s body, his eyes moving upwards to catch (e/c) staring at his bottom lip before they locked together. (m/n) smiled and tilted his head. "Don't regret this." "..."

Sousuke placed his hand on (m/n)'s bicep as he slowly moved forward, his breath held in. (m/n) chuckled as he closed his eyes, leaning in and he gripped the redhead's thigh, rubbing his thumb into his ace's pants.

The redhead's heart was racing, he stiffened his trembling hand as he gripped the armchair and he felt his world turned into bliss when his lips pressed against his captain's.

Sousuke was rigid as he nervously opened his mouth, panicking internally when he felt no response. "Let's go slow..." (m/n) cooed as his other hand moved to cup the redhead's jaw, his nail teasingly scratching his neck.

He flinched before humming awkwardly, closing his lips and letting his captain have his way. (m/n) gently lapping up the redhead's rough picked lips, his tongue softly swiping against the redhead's clenched mouth. His grip on Sousuke's thigh tightened.

Oikawa was laughing and taking a picture secretly, Matsukawa was hiding his smile with his hand, amused at the current scenario in front of him. A certain middle blocker is gonna be so pissed when he finds out.

The redhead cautiously opened his mouth, poking out his tongue and (m/n) seemed to stammer when it met with his. Sousuke could taste a lingering salt on (m/n)'s tongue. "Noodles for dinner?" "You know me." (m/n) chuckled before holding Sousuke's face with both of his hands and clashed their teeth.

Sousuke grunted as his breath stuttered when the (h/c) entered his mouth. He moaned when (m/n)'s tongue pressed againts his hard palate and he heard his captain's quiet laugh.

The butterflies in his stomach was raging as he forced himself to stop acting so nervous, his hands finally moved to hold (m/n) by the waist, rubbing his sides up and down. He had to swallow more than normal with how generous the (h/c) was licking his tongue, the taste of soup placating his buds and their saliva mixed.

Moving forward, Sousuke's chair scratched against the floor as he forced it closer to the (h/c)'s, desperate to have more. He couldn't believe that he was doing this. What kind of miracle did he walked upon? If any other man had sat in his position, he would have had his neck wrung.

"Nggh- hah!" He pulled his face back, panting with spit drooping down his chin. His penis was undeniably hard, the outline stretching against his jeans. Sousuke's face was hot, his cheeks red and he felt even weaker seeing the (h/c)'s expression.

(m/n) was smiling shamelessly and licked his lips, his heart fluttered and light. His own cock was also erect but he couldn't show that. The (h/c) wiped both his and Sousuke's face. "You had enough?" "..."

The redhead stayed quiet, swallowing his saliva. Sousuke wanted more, (m/n)'s tongue and drool in his mouth, or even his in the (h/c). Either way, it could never be enough. He had gotten a taste and Sousuke was Adephagia.

His hand gripped (m/n)'s lower waist, dangerously close to the plump of his ass and the (h/c) let out a quiet groan while biting his bottom lip. Half-lidded (e/c) eyes glared at burning hazel. (m/n) smiled as he felt Sousuke pulling him into his lap.

Sousuke kicked the (h/c)'s chair away as he held the captain on his lap, his left hand fondling down his back and his other rubbing (m/n)'s thigh. Their mouths were connected again and Sousuke immediately took the chance to thrust his tongue past (m/n)'s lips.

The taste of udon was more apparent now as he intruded his captain's mouth, pushing his wet muscle against the (h/c)'s. (m/n) moaned as his teeth scraped and he tried to push back. His hands are now in Sousuke's red locks, pulling and roughing them up.

(m/n) (l/n) couldn't say he never meant to end up in this position, sitting perchly in his ace's lap while sloppily making out with the redhead. Oikawa annoyed him and if the only thing that got him to shut up was for him to swallow someone's spit, then so be it. It was a plus for him too, how long had it been since he let loose anyways.

Sucking Sousuke's tongue was a different story however. He knew the redhead's obsession- passion for him. His intent gaze lingering over his figure, his rough fingertips brushing against his face and it didn't help he was handsome and so compliant under his will too. (m/n) could no longer hear the two Seijoh players laughing when Sousuke pulled him onto his lap.

His heart undeniably was pounding against his chest and now he was fiercely face fucking with his ace, Sousuke's hand dangerously hovering over his ass. (m/n) could feel the hard dick under his bosom, teasingly grinding on top of the rough jeans the redhead wore- fuck he shouldn't be doing this.

"Mmng ahh-" He pushed Sousuke away, the redhead frowning and panting with his tongue slack against his bottom lip. "We should hah- finish-" He was cut off when the redhead lapped up his jaw, making the (h/c) mewl and squirm in his hold. "Don't wanna." Sousuke mumbled, letting his tongue drag across (m/n)'s jaw.

The (h/c) huffed as his hands trembled, he leaned back, unintentionally exposing more of his neck. Sousuke brushed his fangs over (s/c) before he bit down, making (m/n) gasp and whimper as he rolled his hips.

"Y-You..." (m/n) frustratingly whined, his arousal was painful as he pressed himself down onto Sousuke's. "Hah...hah..." The redhead pulled away from the (h/c)'s neck, lust and want evident in his desperate eyes. (e/c) melted with equal need staring back.

"...my room." Sousuke immediately picked him up and walked out of the lounge, (m/n) locked his ankles around the redhead's torso. They both were still making out by the time they were out of the Seijoh's sight.

Oikawa was silent, not knowing what to say. Matsukawa was palming his face. "You should've expected that. That red hair guy was basically eye-fucking him everytime they're on the court." "I just....wanted to see him submit...not hooking up with someone."

Matsukawa raised an eyebrow. "Was this supposed to be a kink? That's gross, idiot-kawa." "I JUST WANTED TO SEE HIM LOSE FOR ONCE??" "Whatever it is, he definitely won tonight." The middle blocker secretly adjusted his pants, Oikawa's face was red and blushing.

"Why the hell are you guys in here?" Iwaizumi questioned, stepping into the lounge. Hanamaki poked his head in as well.

"...nothing." "Oikawa made a horny dare." "I DID NOT!!"

Iwaizumi cringed at the setter, disappointment etched onto his face. "DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT-" He wailed and Hanamaki looked to Matsukawa for an explanation.

The middle blocker only raised his hands in mock surrender, his mind wandering to the Shiki pair. Sousuke might show up but (m/n) will definitely not be attending practice tomorrow.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

Wow me posting🤩 the last part is a bit hanging, was supposed to be more slurping but i got sleepy. I wanna ask u guys to like a post that will help my team advance in an engineering innovation competition but that will be most likely indirectly doxxing myself hm😔

I have so many long drafts...like i legit have an almost finished jinx au but goddamn i lost the spirit. Ive been neglecting daisuke ik🥰 ill come back to my big tiddy man soon.

Just finished watching the haikyuu movie yesterday and kenma is terrifying wtf. I see why ppl like him now. The first year fic boutta go crazy

Taglist :

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25

[spacedace]

So I've seen a lot of "Jazz works as a therapist at Arkam" in the dp x dc fandom, and while I like the concept, I also feel like Jazz would take one look at the place and immediately be like "what the absolute fuck" at just the everything of the place.

Like, she either nopes out after the tour during the interview or quits not too long afterward starting there, not because she can't take it but because she's so appalled by what's going on there and can smell the corruption rolling off the place and knows no one sent to there is ever actually going to get the help they need.

So Jazz decides to open a private practice instead while still being absolutely determined to work with the various rogues in the city, she is here to help and nothing is going to stop her.

So she just starts showing up at known hangouts of rogues and during their heists/schemes/sprees, and even fights between them and the batfam, just like

"Hi! It’s so nice to meet you! My name is Dr. Jasmine Fenton/Nightingale/whatever last name she’s using and I was hoping we could talk!"

Casually kicks a baterang away without looking because she's being polite and professional!

"I understand that your experience with therapy through Arkam has been nothing but atrocious and that you are rightfully -"

Kicks Batman away without breaking eye contact or a sweat.

"Suspicious of attempting therapy again, and Idon't want to force anything on you, therapy should be on your terms after the experiences you've had but -"

Grabs Robin out of the air as he leaps at the rogue she's talking to and tucks him under her arm, ignoring his feral hissing and all attempts to break her hold.

"-I really think that you'd find it beneficial, even if I'm not the right therapist for you."

The rogue in question is having the time of their life and takes Jazz's business card - and a few extra to pass around - not really intending to actually ever book a therapy appointment with her but way too entertained and excited to share this madness with everyone else.

But then one of the rogues actually looks up Jazz's website and sees all the various safe guards she’s put in place to ensure that any villians that come to her will be protected while seeing her - soundproof therapy room, regular sweeps for listening and tracking devices, the most insane firewalls and protections anyone has ever seen on her network, and ooh she provides snacks and drinks!

So someone finally books an appointment with her, half convinced she's either going to turn them in or is a villain herself intent to experiment on them, but then it’s actually really nice??? And they feel a lot better afterwards?? She doesn't even say anything to indicate that she wants them to stop being villains, she just wants them to be okay??

So more and more rogues start going to her, and Batman was already losing his mind about this woman before - Oracle can't hack her system?!? And her background check shows a totally normal Psychiatrist?? - but now half of Gotham's heavy hitters and a dozen or so other minor league villains are seeing her regularly and every time he tries to get info on any plans the rogues might be scheme via her office it fails utterly. Nightwing got knocked out with something called a creep stick and when he tried to break in himself to get answers she just appeared out of no where and gave him the most scathing lecture about doctor-patient confidentiality before bullying him off her property and threatening to sick her brother on him if he tried again?

And because she's become such a figure in the Gotham underworld, she gets the attention of Joker.

And everyone, rogues and Bats alike, are terrified that she’s going to try and take him on as a patient like she has so many other villains in the city and that's just a recipe for tragedy.

But then the Joker is on his way to the hospital with two broken legs and the fear of god beat into him babbling about eldritch nightmares and whenever anyone asks Jazz what happened she just shrugs and just says things like "I refused him as a patient, he's not my problem." Or "My brother doesn't like clowns." And just, does not elaborate.

Batman is losing his mind over it all. Jazz is just happy to be able to actually help the rogues. Arkam is less happy about how she absolutely destroys their reputation.

[1mysteriousstranger]

Is Canada’s tap water safe? Thousands of test results show high lead levels across the country. Hundreds of thousands of Canadians could be drinking water with dangerous lead levels.

Many cities said that some of the hundreds of thousands of lead pipes underground would likely not be replaced for decades. In addition, the cities also said it was difficult to co-ordinate replacements since they would require property owners to pay for changing lead pipes on the private side of the property line.

In addition, the journalists working on this investigation interviewed nearly 1,000 people and filed more than 700 requests through freedom-of-information legislation to get access to the thousands of municipal water sample test results, which were never previously posted publicly. These add up to a collection of about 79,000 results since 2004.

link

[cheriladycl01]

Paparazzi - Lando Norris x UniStudent! Reader

Plot: you are a university student in the UK, and the Paparazzi manage to find out where you go and stalk you due to rumors surfacing about.

Credit to nameis-c for the GIF

It was a pretty shit day at university for you, you were a third year law student who had just come back from an amazing placement with Mercedes as part of their legal counsel.

You'd had so much fun and had worked really closely with Lewis and George. It also was the first year that you were able to travel from the last half of one season, to the 3/4 of the next season.

He was a driver for McLaren, his job and you being a student meant that you guys didn't see each other as much as you'd like.

You had been dating for the good part of 4 years now having met in secondary school and stayed as friends even when he left the school. When you started on your A-levels and he was progressing in his driving career he asked you to be his girlfriend.

Now he was in Formula One and you were about to be graduating university. It had however been difficult, the transition of being with Lando pretty much everyday, and now not seeing him was killing you.

It had taken a tole on you, you had dark circles under your eyes, your nose was red from the cold. Your class hadn't been great either and tears were starting to brim your eyes. You just wanted to get home and cry it out in private.

Lando: Hey Babe, its Thursday so media day today and McLaren are busy! Call me later, love you lots!

The text made more tears brim in your eyes until you heard the snap of a camera. Next you saw the flash.

Your eyes dart up seeing the 5 or 6 people with cameras behind you, following you. You pick up your pace, going towards your specific building on campus where you could hide out with your personal tutor until they left you alone.

You walk into the building into a flurry of students walking around the building pulling the hood of Lando's hoodie up. You make your way to a back stairwell that was quieter than the main one and made your way up the 5 flights of stairs to where your personal tutors room was.

"Michael?" you ask entering the room, nobody was there so you sat on the small little sofa he had at the side of his office. You pull the work bench closer to you, placing your laptop and book down before getting on with some work for your Intellectual Property Module.

Minutes later Michael comes in, a shocked look on his face as he observes you.

"Y/N what are you doing here?" he asks walking past you and taking a seat at his desk, sipping from the takeaway coffee he had just brought.

"I had Paps come onto campus again. And i've had a bit of a shit day" you mumble looking at the email from Lewis asking you to do some research for him if you had any free time.

"Well, you know my door is always open for you"

"That's why i let myself in" you grin at him, already feeling better. He spoke to you for about an hour, while he was doing his own research and marking behind his computer.

"I think its safe to say they've left now" he admits engrossed in something on his computer.

"How'd you know?"

"There's articles already up, some of these headlines. Oh lord they are ridiculous" Michael admits scrolling down on his mouse wheel looking further.

"Huh?" you ask before looking online under your name.

Lando Norris Girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N, Seen Crying On University Campus After Breakup Report Y/N Y/L/N Seen On Campus Crying Is There Tension Between Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N On Her First Absent Race Of The Season Lando Norris Cheats On Girlfriend - Her Reaction Is Heartbreaking!

"I'm just going to go home. I don't have the energy to read any of these. Thank you for letting me stay" you admit, packing up your bag and nodding in a goodbye to your personal tutor.

As you exit the building and make your way to the carpark where your Mercedes-AMG SL 63 sat, courtesy of your time at Mercedes for the last year. You now still work for them, but from the Brackley and part-time around your degree.

You get in and let out a long sigh, you pull away getting onto the road driving back to yours and Lando's apartment which was about a 30 minute drive away.

Lando started to call you, the ringtone blaring through the car speakers that your phone was connected to. You hit accept on the screen, your eyes only momentarily wavering from the road.

"Y/N baby, what's up. The articles and the photos of you! You look so sad, what's going on?" he immediately starts grilling you like you'd expected him to when he would eventually see the articles.

"Sorry, I'm in the car right now! I just had a shitty say at uni and i really fucking miss you" you breathe out happy to finally admit it. It was the end of October now and you'd been back at university for a month.

"I know baby, you still planning to come out for the last race, in Abu Dhabi?" he offers, it sounds like he's busy and like he's walking around the McLaren garage. He did say it was media day...

"Erm, ill let you go. Its like midnight there and you have a big day with practice tomorrow" you say, he starts to stay something but you interrupt before he can.

"I love you, goodnight" you say to prompt him.

"Goodnight, ill see you soon" he sighs, he also sounded tired just like you.

You drove the rest of the way home, pulling up in the underground carpark and just sitting there for a few minutes taking in some breaths.

You eventually get out the car and head into yours and Lando's apartment. The apartment was always clean because either you were here or your parents were kind enough to house sit while you and Lando were away.

You did your normal routine for when Lando wasn't here, which was go to the gym, go back and shower, cook food eat food and go to sleep.

You never really had any motivation for anything when he wasn't around.

The next day was a free day from uni, you went to the Mercedes team, everyone could tell that something was up with you. They chose not to say anything and just let you get through your shift. You'd had a cute Good morning text from Lando, asking if you'd slept well and if you'd eaten.

You'd replied, saying yes to both and that you were just catching up on his free practices and that he had really good times, as you'd expected.

But part of you just longed for him to come home.

[slvttyplum]

PLEASEEEE MORE CO STAR GOJO🙏🙏🙏🙏

both you and satoru were involved in a heavy scandal involving… fucking.

yes the both of you fucked each other, privately of course but it’s started involving going to each others homes.

y’all thought it was careful, no paparazzi would be there, it’s private property, but you were so wrong.

the first thing that came up when you opened your phone was pictures of the both of you kissing each other like animals in heat.

you’ve never felt more embarrassed, your managers were on your ass, but satoru thought the whole thing was amusing.

“come on, this was bound to happen.” he thought it was all fun and games until more and more pictures started coming out.

you on top on him, him on top of you, him gripping your ass, you on all fours, thankfully y’all weren’t naked.

the producer should’ve been shocked, mad even, but he did what any other money hungry man would do, exploit it.

“this is good, we’ll come out later and say it was pr.” satoru snickered while you looked terrified, this was a nightmare.

hollywoods it boy and girl screwing with each other, your cheeks warmed up at the thought.

he was never caught with anyone but you, even in his paparazzi photos, there you were looking all gorgeous.

like a partner in crime, of course there were going to be dating rumors and pictures flying around about the both of you fucking.

he never made you uncomfortable, if anything he made you feel safe, feel good, so you’re glad you got caught up with him.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

The Past Comes A Knockin'

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: angst, bucky threatening to kill people if you don't go to him

Summary: You've spent so much time running from the man of your dreams, the love fo your life. You found out something heartbreaking about him and now you run in fear instead of toward him. You should know by now that he will always find you whether you want him to or not.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: on opposing sides (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

Only that would happen in a movie. Pouring rain. A girl running to find the love of her life. Love confessions shared. Sometimes, you thought you lived in a movie. Any time spent with Bucky felt that way.

Bucky’s mansion sat on the top of the hill on the outskirts of town. The only people who went that way were either to see Bucky or because they made the wrong turn somewhere. The rain had not helped you see much in front of you but you still ran with purpose up to his big iron gates. Two armed guards stood outside of it to keep unwanted visitors away.

“I’m sorry, Miss, this is private property,” one of the men said.

“I’m here to see Bucky.”

Both men looked at each other before one of them placed his hand over his ear like he was talking to someone over his earpiece.

“Sir, we got someone outside asking for you… Miss, what’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Her name is Y/N… Yes, sir.” He nodded to the other guard who stepped back from the gate. “He’s waiting for you at the house.”

The gate started opening from someone with remote access, and you entered the property before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it. It seemed like the rain had gotten worse as soon as you stepped foot on his property.

No matter. It wouldn't stop you from doing this.

His mansion got bigger the closer you got to it. He knew exactly when you’d got to his doorstep because you didn’t have time to knock on the door. He opened it when you stepped onto the porch.

You were soaking wet while he stayed bone dry, safe inside his mansion.

“Fuck you,” you said, “for invading my head. I tried all week to get you out of my head but I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about you since we met so here I am like some desperate girl asking you out.”

He chuckles and you almost melt right there and then. He had such a dazzling smile and he knew it.

“You came all this way in the pouring rain to ask me out on a date?”

Bucky could say with confidence that he has never had a girl do all of this for him. Usually, he did the chasing. It was a nice change to be on the receiving end of it.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” you chuckled and squeezed out water from your hair. He continued to chuckle but this is not a laughing matter. “This isn’t funny, Bucky. You’re like a parasite.”

“Not the first time I’ve been called that.” He stepped out from his cozy mansion and joined you in the rain. “What if I say no to you?”

“I’ll make you say yes.”

“What if I tell you to turn around, leave, and never come back?”

“I’ll come back tomorrow.”

That was enough for Bucky to make up his mind. He grabbed you and lifted you into his arms. You wrapped all four limbs around him as a way to keep him close, afraid that if you let go, he would disappear.

He kissed you as he carried you into his mansion, not caring if he got water all over the ground. That was all he needed to make his decision: you’re his and only his.

Now

That moment seemed like forever ago. Times have changed since then but would you go back to it? Living in ignorant bliss seems like the best way to live but then you wouldn’t have all the answers you want—need. Life seemed so simple back then but you have to keep your head high and try to move on as best as you can.

So, you ran and ran until you couldn’t anymore. You found a college on the other end of the country where you felt like you could try and live a normal life—a life away from Bucky.

You found your passion in fashion design while away from Bucky. You find joy in making clothes and blankets for people and hope to be a big designer one day. This college is going to help you do that if you can maintain your sweet girl facade.

No one here knows about your past. No one here is out to get you. No one here is going to bring you back to him no matter how much your heart aches for him.

You only started college nearly a year ago so you’re almost done with your second semester of your first year. It’s been a quiet experience only because you don’t let anyone in. If you do, he might get to them in order to get to you. Since you left, you know he’s been desperate to find you and you’re going to try as best as you can to remain hidden.

If he does happen to show, you’ll be ready.

You walk on campus, heading to your first class when someone from your fashion design class jogs to catch up with you.

“Hey, Rayne, right?” You gave him a fake name like you did with everyone. You’re not stupid enough to give him your real name. “You’re in my fashion design class.”

Yeah, you recognize him. He has short dark brown hair that fluffs out on top with skin that looks like light caramel. He has a sharp jawline and dark brown eyes that seem to hold mysteries. He’s a few inches taller than you but built like a baseball athlete. Not too muscular but enough to make him look strong.

“Yeah. You’re Giovanni.”

“Gio. Only my dad calls me Giovanni,” he chuckles.

“Right. What’s up?”

“We’ve had the same two fashion classes for two semesters. I know this is bold of me but I think you’re beautiful. Would you like to have a drink with me? Maybe dinner this weekend?”

Going on a date with another man seems harmless but if he found out about it, he’ll kill him. Plus, you’re not sure if you’re ready to move on from him.

“I don’t know. It’s not that you’re not un-datable. I just have so much shit going on in my life. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I couldn’t give you my all, you know?”

“Will you be okay if I asked for your number?”

Again, if he finds another man’s number in your phone, he’ll kill him. Then again, you’ve been on the run for nearly a year and he hasn’t popped back up in your life. Are you done for good? Can you finally move on and live your life the way you think you deserve?

“Sure,” you find yourself saying.

What’s the harm? He’ll have your number and if you don’t want to respond, you won’t. You’ll even block his number if you need to. It’ll be awkward in class but you’re saving his life if you do.

He takes out his phone and gives it to you so you can input your number into it. He calls you immediately after you have his number before putting his phone away.

“I gotta go to class but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.”

Gio runs off in the opposite direction to his next class while you continue to walk to your first one. This English class is a requirement for your degree even though you’re not interested in the subject at all. You’ve never been a writer or a reader, and you don’t have an interest in Othello or To Kill A Mockingbird. You read those books in high school. Still, you do your work and keep your head down like you have done every day for the past year.

About halfway through the class, an alarm bell sounds over the loudspeaker. Weird, you’ve never heard this alarm before. You’ve done fire drills, sure, but never with this alarm. The professor immediately walks to the door and locks it before pulling down every shade to cover the windows from anyone lurking outside.

“Alright, folks, that is our lockdown alarm. Until they give the all-clear, please gather to this side of the room and remain quiet.”

Every student gets up and huddles in one corner of the room, away from the window on the door. If anyone were able to look inside, they wouldn’t see a single soul. Is this a drill? Is this real? Are you in any danger? He’d never put you in danger but that only applies physically. He did a lot of damage to your heart and mind which is why you escaped from him.

Half the students are silent in fear that this is real while the other half are on their phones without a care in the world. You take your phone out to check the time when the loudspeaker crackles to life.

“Y/N… pisică, I know you’re here.” Your entire body floods with fear. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” It’s no surprise he found you. He finds everyone eventually. Why did you think you’d be able to run from him? “I’ll be nice and give you five minutes to show yourself. If you don’t, heads will roll. Your choice. Time starts now.”

Everyone in the classroom is confused except for you--you’re paralyzed with fear. It takes you thirty seconds to break out of your shell and get up despite the professor calling your fake name. No one knows your real name is Y/N. No one knows he’s here for you.

You grab your bag from your chair and flee the classroom. With the halls empty, it’s easy to get to the stairwell fast. If you can get to your car in the parking lot, you can speed out of here and go someplace where he won’t find you. If you’d ever be so lucky to.

You walk outside and see multiple armed guards walking the campus in search of you. On one end are men you don’t recognize, but you do recognize the men on the other side. Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers. Bucky’s right-hand men. The two he trusts above everyone else. You need to be smart about this or your escape plan would have been for nothing.

You run down the stairs carefully and stay close to the buildings where there are bushes to hide in. If one of them looks like they’re going to spot you, you’d duck behind a bush and wait for them to pass. The parking lot isn’t far from your class but you still treat this as if it’s on the other side of the parking lot.

You sneak past Sam who has his back to you to the only bush separating him and your car. The parking lot only has a few trees but none of them are big enough for you to hide behind. If you want to get to your car, you’ll have to sprint and hope they don’t see you.

Sam scans the parking lot before turning away from it. You take this moment to book it to your car, hoping that he doesn’t turn and see you. You unlock your car by using the key to the door instead of the button because you don’t want to make a lot of noise. When you close the door, Sam turns back to the parking lot and notices you in your car.

If you happen to get caught, you have a knife in your bag that you’ll use. It won’t do good to the many guns Bucky and his men have but it’s better than nothing. Sam watches you peel out of the parking lot before tuning into his earpiece.

“Boss, I got her. She’s leaving the parking lot now.”

“Good. Follow her. I’m on my way.”

You push on the accelerator as soon as you hit the main road. It’s weird you don’t see any other cars on the road. Maybe that’s Bucky’s doing. Whatever. It makes for a quick escape. You look in the rearview mirror to see if you’re being followed and let out a breath of relief when you don’t. That is until you do, and fear spikes not only in your heart but your brain.

You don’t have a good car since you had to buy a junker with the little money you had for yourself. Bucky gave you a card to always use but the second you did, he’d have found you. To pay for the car, you’d take odd jobs here and there and always had them be cash, never checks.

The passenger’s window rolls down and a gun appears out of it. You duck down just as the person starts shooting at you. Well, the person is shooting at your car, not you. Bucky’s men are professional marksmen so it only takes two shots to puncture two tires. You grip the steering wheel as your car slides and skids to the side of the road.

Shit. You sustained maybe a few cruises from where your body hit the side of the car but you’re otherwise unhurt. You need to get out of here. You grab your phone and knife and leave the car. Everything else is replaceable. The car that was shooting at you is less than a mile from where you are but you can feel his eyes on you.

They’re far enough away that maybe you can run away from them. You turn to run the opposite way but another black SUV comes screeching to a halt in front of you. Maybe if you run into the woods on either side of the road, you might be able to get away. You run to the left onto to be stopped by Steve who looks as if he’d been waiting there for you. Behind you, two more men come out from behind trees. 

All of them with guns. All of them under Bucky.

The car that shot at you comes to a complete stop a few yards from you. The back door opens and Bucky steps out in a nicely pressed suit that should be illegal. He looks too damn good to be who he is.

“Steve, please let me go. Please!”

Steve doesn’t listen and ends up throwing you back into the middle of the circle. With nowhere to go, you turn to Bucky and grip the knife in your hand. When he gets close enough, you raise your knife to do damage to him but he is too quick for you. He takes out his own gun and points it at you, causing you to freeze in fear.

“Drop the knife,” he says calmly. You look around and try to think of a way out of this but he is one step ahead of you. As always. He steps closer and puts the gun to the side of your head, moving it down to your chin and lifting it so you can only look at him. God, he’s so tall. “Stop trying to figure a way out of this and do as you’re told.”

You have no choice but to listen to him. Seeing him again after nearly a year hurts your heart because you know you’re still so damn in love with him. You love him but hate the kind of person he is. He’s dangerous and ruthless and a killer.

“You won’t shoot me,” you confidently say.

“No?” You shake your head and he pulls the trigger. It’s a blank but the sound of the gun clicking is enough to send you right back into your pool of fear. “The next one might not be a blank.” He puts his gun away but his men are still on alert. “It took so long to find you. You’re getting creative with your escapes.”

“I’ll escape again. I’ve done it before.”

You’ve always been so amusing to him.

“I’ll deal with this when we get home. Get in the car.”

“No.” Bucky grabs your arm tightly enough to drag you next to him but not tight enough to leave bruises. He’ll never mark you like that. “What about my car?”

“I’ll buy you a new one. Steve, Sam, clean this mess up.”

Bucky puts you in the back seat of the black SUV before he slides in next to you. He has mansions all over the country so instead of taking you back to New York, he’ll go to the one he has right here in California near your college.

You honestly didn’t think you’d ever go back to the one place you tried so hard to get away from.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[luna-0-0-0]

Pendant...moving...so much. Tipsy. Night out. I need you...take me, please ♡♡♡

I need to be BLANK, Master. I need to be OWNED. Safe. Your property. Your lady in public and your hypno slut in private. I need to hear your voice saying "MINE"...

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Marriage of Convenience Chapter 1

Summary:  Y/N’s father is gone, and he leaves it all to her.  But in 1880s Oregon, she can’t own land without a husband.  Under the threat of it all being taken away by a land hungry Sheriff, what’s a girl to do with no prospects?  Maybe one of the cowboys on the farm can help…

Here's chapter 1 of the new cowboy!Bucky story! I hope y'all like it (see what I did there?).

Warnings: smut, slight physical violence

Her father died on a rainy Tuesday morning.  She was suddenly alone in the world, the last of her family line.  Well, not completely alone.  There were 9 men on the farm that worked for her father, and now worked for her.  The problem was that this was 1880 in the state of Oregon, and therefore her inheriting and owning the land and being able to pay the men was now up for question.

After they buried him under his favorite Juniper tree amongst the others that lined their property, they all gathered together for a family meeting.

“Mis amores (my loves), thank you for your help today in Papa’s burial,” Y/N began, standing at the head of the long dining table in the main house.  The men were stationed in their usual spots, each of them in a state of sadness over the loss.  “I’d like to read his will, if you’ll let me,” she sighed, opening the folded piece of parchment.  

“Mi familia, thank you for all you have done to make this farm a livable and prosperous place on this side of the country.  I’m not a man of many words,” a rumble of laughter spread across the table, “so I won’t waste everyone’s time.  To my daughter, Y/N, I leave most of my money, the land and the main house to do with as she pleases,” Y/N sniffled as she tried to not let herself cry anymore.  One of the men, Bucky, sitting next to her, reached his hand out and rubbed her arm in comfort.  “To Bucky,” she gave him a quick smile and a glance, “I leave my most prized guns.  Y/N knows where they are.  Please keep the farm and my baby safe as you always have,” Bucky squeezed her arm.  “To Jorge, Pedro, and Oscar, I leave my horses Beauty, Wind Dixie and Tramp to do with as they please.  To Joaquin, I leave my Bible and my best hunting knife.  To Diego, Santiago, and Emiliano, I leave the oat field further down south as well as the pear tree farm so that they can have land to bring their family to from Guadalajara.”  The three brothers burst into tears at the generous gift, giving each other hugs then standing and giving Y/N hugs as well before sitting back down.  “To Luis,” Y/N paused as she held her hand out to the man who was like a second father to her on her other side, which he quickly took.  “I leave my cigars and my finest liquor, and thank him for introducing me to tequila all those years ago.  I also leave a collection of my books that have been sectioned off for you in the study.  I hope as Y/N teaches you how to read more that you will find great education and adventure in them.  For all the men, I have created stipend accounts in each of your names with the rest of my money.  You are free to empty them and leave, but I hope you will keep them and stay to help Y/N with the farm or at least until she can replace you.  The account should last you for most of the rest of your lives.  Thank you for your service, for your kindness, for your grace, for your compassion and your love to me and Y/N.  You are greatly loved and I will miss you all dearly.  Yours, Frank.”

Y/N didn’t read the next page out loud because it was just for her to read, which she had done earlier in private, and sat down as she finished reading.  She felt exhausted.  “I understand that in Oregon I do not actually have ownership over my father’s money, land, or the house unless I am married.  Therefore, I am asking something of you all that is wildly strange, but since I have no prospects, I am at a loss.  Would anyone of you, of course for the exception of those married or leaving for Mexico,” she winked at the brothers, “be willing to marry me?”

The men all stared at her with wide eyes.  

“Mija, you can’t be serious?” Luis scoffed.

“I’m deadly serious, Luis,” Y/N said.  “Unless I marry quickly, the local authorities will come down and take it all.  I’ve already been threatened by Sheriff Pierce.”

“What?  When did this happen?” Bucky piped up, his eyebrows furrowing.

“A few weeks ago, when Papa’s health declined suddenly and I went to get the doctor in town,” she sighed, remembering that horrible day.  “He made it very clear where he stands with women having rights around here and how he would love to take this land for his own.  He implied he would force me to marry him or lose everything,” she shuddered.

All the men suddenly were in a ruckus, yelling and swearing about the sheriff and inheritances and the law.  Bucky sat quietly as he thought over the situation, then watched Y/N carefully.  She let the others have their moment of upset.  She sat rigid in her chair, the picture of poise and propriety, the opposite of how she normally would be.  Obviously the entire predicament she found herself in was weighing heavily on her and she didn’t know how else to handle it than to put on a brave face and act like the lady her father always chastised her about being, rather than the farmer she turned out to be.

“Callate!” Luis suddenly yelled, overpowering the others.  They all quickly sat and calmed down.  “Y/N,” he turned to her.  He reached for her hand again, which she gladly gave.  “Are you sure there are no other options?  Anything in the law that could help?”

“I have no options,” Y/N said drearily, her eyes blinking rapidly so as not to let anymore tears fall.  “I am a woman.  What I want doesn’t matter.”

Luis held her hand in both of his, his sad eyes staring at their conjoined hands and nodding his head in understanding.  There were a few moments of silence and then…

“I’ll do it,” Bucky spoke.  Y/N’s head whipped back to him, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open slightly.  “I’ll do it,” he leaned forward as he looked at her.  “I promised your father to always keep you and this land safe, so that’s what I’ll do.  We’ve all worked too hard and come too far to lose it all now,” the men all agreed.  “And you deserve a better marriage than to an old, awful man like Pierce,” he added.  “I can’t say I’m the perfect man by any means,” Bucky held his hand out to take her other hand, “but I will try to be the best husband, partner, and friend that I can be.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears again, this time she let them fall as she squeezed his hand.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

“This is strange, but I think it’s the best option we have,” Luis agreed, making the others agree as well. 

Y/N grinned, freeing her hands from Luis and Bucky’s grasps to wipe her eyes.  “It’s settled then.  Bucky, we will go into town tomorrow and get that done and make sure everything is in your name before Pierce finds out Papa has passed,” Bucky nodded.  “As for the rest of you, let’s divide up your inheritances.”

As the day wore on and each man got his gift all that was left was Bucky.  He had been patrolling the perimeter as he normally did, helping with the animals when needed, and upon hearing the bell rode back in for dinner.  Y/N had laid out a spread for the men, a glass of her father’s favorite whiskey at each place setting in his honor.  When they had sat, said grace, and began to eat Y/N had let Bucky finish before pulling him aside.

She led him to her father’s study and closed the door behind them then walked to the wall that had his guns displayed.  “Buck,” she motioned to him to join her.  He walked to the wall, admiring all the different kinds of rifles and handguns he had.  “He wanted you to have these,” she gestured towards the rack along the left side of the display.

“All of these?” he asked incredulously.  “What am I gonna do with this many?”

Y/N laughed, “I don’t know.  Collect them, sell them, I don’t really care.  But he did want you to have something else of a more personal nature,” she walked over to one of the bookshelves, her fingers running along a stack until she found the title she wanted.  She pulled it off the shelf and brought it back to him.  Bucky eyed the book, not recognizing the title.  Y/N opened it, and he saw that it was actually a box made to look like a book to keep treasures safe.  Inside was a woman’s wedding ring, a man’s wedding band and a pocket watch.

“The second page of the will was mostly for me, with a few extra pieces for you,” she said quietly.  “These were my mother’s and father’s rings,” she explained.  “In the will he said how he always considered you to be the son he never got to have.”

Bucky felt a lump in his throat form at her words, his eyes suddenly feeling hot with unshed tears.  He gulped to try and relieve the ache in his chest as he watched Y/N pull the pocket watch out.

“This is for you,” she handed it to him gingerly.  “It’s made of the finest silver and gold that could be found along the East coast at the time when he purchased it.  He wanted you to have it to do with as you please.  He also said that the man to marry me would have his ring, and I would have my mother’s.”  She pulled the man’s wedding band out and held it out to him.  “I know that this is a marriage of convenience, that we may love each other in a sense, but that falling in love may take some time.  I just hope that we can create a happy marriage and maybe someday a happy family together, and work together to keep this land and our familia together as well.”

Bucky smiled softly at her.  You silly woman, he thought.  He had been in love with her for years at this point, almost from the moment he’d first set foot on the farm when her father first hired him as security.  He was a little bit older than her, so he just assumed anything like that would never happen.  But being out in these Oregon forests and farmlands far away from other towns made it hard to find someone worthwhile to court or marry.  Now he had a chance to love her, though he’d still have to be patient for her to catch up to him and his feelings.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, taking the ring and trying it on his left ring finger.  “Ah, it fits,” he said gleefully.  

“Oh good, I was worried,” Y/N giggled as she admired the ring on his hand.

“You should try yours,” he suggested, reaching for the ring in the box.  She let him take it out then held out her left hand to him.  He slid the ring onto her ring finger easily.  “Perfect fit,” he smiled, watching her.  Y/N gazed at her mother’s ring on her finger, the diamond shining in the firelight.  “Beautiful,” he breathed.

Y/N smiled and then looked back at him.  “Thank you, Bucky, for agreeing to this.  I know I’m no great beauty but–”

“What?” he asked incredulously.  Y/N looked shocked at his outburst.  “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

“Oh, well…” she sputtered, unsure of what to say.  “I mean, I’m not ugly, I just–”

“Y/N, you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” Bucky said so seriously it made her heart flip.  “Don’t ever think of yourself as anything less.  Yes I agreed to marry you because it will help keep the farm in your family, and keep us employed, but I also did it because I think you’re amazing, beautiful, kind, determined, and if I ever got the privilege to be married I would want it to be with you.”  Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding at his admission.  “I am honored to be your husband, do you understand me?”

Y/N nodded, her shock still evident on her face.  “I understand.”

“Good,” Bucky said with finality.  

They stared at each other, both of them realizing just how close they’d gotten during the conversation.  Y/N cleared her throat and took a subtle step back.  “Well, um…thank you, again,” she mumbled.  “I’m not very good with my words, but I hope you know that if I have to get married, I’m happy that it’s with you.”

Bucky smirked at her awkwardness.  “Well, I guess I’d better head out then.  Gotta get some sleep, it’s my wedding day tomorrow,” he said wryly.

Y/N snorted at his tone.  “Yes, I suppose I should get some rest as well.  It just so happens to be my wedding day tomorrow.”

Bucky hummed, deciding to try his luck and taking a step towards her.  “Does the groom-to-be get to have a goodnight kiss?”  

Y/N gave him a wide-eyed look as she fought a smile on her lips.  “Isn’t there some kind of bad luck for doing things with the bride-to-be the night before her wedding?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he stepped closer, making her back up against the desk.

Y/N craned her neck as she stared up at him.  “I’ve never, um…kissed anyone before,” she breathed.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Bucky leaned his face closer, nuzzling his nose against her nose.

“Sweetheart?” Y/N questioned him, her hands catching herself against the desk before she lost her balance.

“Can I kiss you…sweetheart?” Bucky ghosted his nose along her cheek.  “Just to hold me over til tomorrow?”

Y/N huffed a laugh against his cheek.  “O-okay,” she stuttered.

Bucky smirked at her again, her nervousness making him feel a strange sense of excitement.  His lips skimmed her cheek until he hovered over her mouth.  Y/N’s eyes were darting from his lips to his eyes and back, her breathing becoming heavier.  Bucky finally pressed his lips against hers gently.  He didn’t push for anything further, keeping his hands to himself, just enjoying the moment that he finally got to do what he had always wanted to do with her.  Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut when his lips met hers, her lips moving softly against his after a moment of her freezing in place.  Bucky pulled away first, still hovering close to her face as her eyes slowly opened.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, giving her nose a quick peck before he backed away.

Y/N was still holding herself up against the desk, staring at him in disbelief.  “Goodnight, Bucky.”

Bucky smirked at her again then nodded his head as he walked away and out of the study.  He had to get the horses prepped and the wagon ready for tomorrow, then get washed up.  It was his wedding day, after all.

**picture is from Pinterest, A.I. generated, so no known "artist" or "creator"**

[bellaxgiornata]

You're Safe With Me [Chapter One]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you accidentally stumble upon something far bigger than the fluff and filler news stories you’ve always covered for WGN News Chicago, you reach out to the Department of Homeland Security and come in contact with Dinah Madani–but that only seals your fate as a target for the Patriot Militia and their wealthy political backers. Determined to root out the culprits deep within the government, Madani tasks an unlikely person to keep you safe while she builds her case. But when the person she expects you to go on the run with is Frank Castle–the Punisher himself–you feel anything but safe.

Warnings: 18+; series contains violence, mentions of mass shootings, angst and comfort, slow burn romance, enemies to lovers, eventual smut

Word Count: 5k

a/n: Sharing the first chapter of this fic! There's a bit of exposition at the beginning, just a heads up, but it's all important information. I'm really excited about this series and feedback is certainly appreciated!! Chapter list can be found here.

Tag List: @lunaticgurly @allaboardthereadingrailroad @linamarr @hollandorks @sleeperthelazy @marcysbear (tagging everyone who initially asked, please let me know if you want to be removed)

Today had started off as almost any normal day at WGN Chicago for you. You'd been at your desk working on piecing together a news segment detailing the upcoming construction in the city this morning, rushing to meet a deadline for Gloria. It was a terribly boring piece, one that had been tossed around the station until it had eventually landed on your desk. Having stared at that filler piece more times than you’d have liked, you had found yourself already on your second cup of coffee for the morning, a headache pounding in your head that you hoped to relieve with the extra caffeine. 

But while you had been at your desk working, you'd received a call from a number you hadn't recognized on your phone. Maybe it was foolish that you'd answered that call and talked to whoever it was on the other end of the line, but it wasn't entirely unusual considering your line of work. You often had sources calling you with information about something. But you'd thought that their very enthusiastic invite to a Patriot Militia rally in a small town just outside of the city was incredibly strange. Your curiosity had admittedly been piqued as you jotted down the address, wondering why a group dangerously close to being deemed domestic terrorists had actively sought out attention from WGN News–and from you in particular considering you weren't remotely a big name reporter at the station. After you'd gotten off the phone with whoever it was that had called, you'd made a few calls to verify the rally was legitimate before bringing it to Gloria’s attention. 

Of course, like any good boss when it came to covering potentially dangerous stories, she'd instantly rejected the idea. She'd told you it wasn't safe and it smelled like danger– especially because it was being held on private property and because there would definitely be guns present. It was, after all, the Patriot Militia. You had practically begged her to let you head out there this afternoon with just Andrew to film so you could cover whatever it was that was happening with this rally. You figured if someone had gone through the trouble to invite you then there had to be a story there, and you were desperate to make your way out of the filler and fluff pieces. Eventually Gloria had caved and given you permission, but only with the promise that you'd leave if things seemed like they were getting out of hand.

Knowing what you now knew, you wished you wouldn’t have gone at all. You wished you hadn't gotten involved.

Everyone at the rally had been surprisingly friendly to you and Andrew, though. Nothing had seemed remotely suspicious or out of the ordinary, and you were shocked to find that you hadn't felt threatened in the slightest despite the fact that everyone was heavily armed. Even more unexpected than that, considering your presence had apparently been a surprise, even if a welcome one, was that everyone you had interviewed had been willing to make statements to the press for the piece you were putting together. 

But what you hadn't expected when Andrew was packing up his camera equipment was that you’d overhear a conversation behind one of the tents as you'd finished getting a last minute statement. 

You had almost immediately recognized the voice of Adam Johnson, a Republican running in the upcoming senate elections. Curious, you'd paused and leant up against the tent, pretending to be focused on your notes as you turned the audio recorder in your pocket back on. When you realized exactly what he was discussing with a few other men in hushed voices, your eyes had gone wide. 

You worked in the media yourself, even if you weren't much of an investigative reporter at the station quite yet, so of course you’d heard all about the mass shooting at a mall in Schaumburg only days ago. Fifteen injured and three dead. But it wasn’t the police that had arrived on the scene and gotten the situation under control, it had been a civilian with a concealed carry that had stepped up and taken charge. He’d shot the suspect on sight and killed him. It had been all over the news after the fact, and the civilian who'd stepped up and killed the shooter had been touted as a local hero. 

But from what you had gathered while you’d stood there silently eavesdropping on the hushed conversation, you’d learned the shooting hadn't been perpetrated by an ordinary young man like the news had been reporting. He'd been a member of the Patriot Militia, one who'd willingly played martyr for the cause. The whole thing had been orchestrated as a way to sway public opinion on guns. And as you continued to eavesdrop, you'd begun to learn what happened in Schaumburg hadn’t been the first time they had done this. The shooting that you’d seen in the news only a month ago out near Columbus, Ohio had been brought up among the group, and they’d also name-dropped a Glen Allen, Virginia, though that name hadn’t rung any bells in your mind for any recent incidents.

From what you’d gathered, it sounded like not only was the Patriot Militia behind these mass shootings where armed civilians had taken out the shooter–who also happened to be a Patriot Militia member–but these attacks had begun to sound far more like terrorist attacks, and it seemed like they were being quietly led by prominent political figures who were proudly anti-gun control across the country. 

Clearly you had accidentally stumbled on something you weren’t meant to hear at that rally, and it had made you wonder if the stranger who’d called and invited you out to it that morning had hoped you’d uncover this. Especially since you had been the only member of the press present at the private event.

Your heart had been furiously hammering in your chest when you’d slipped your phone out of your pocket, readying it for a quick, inconspicuous photo. Ducking your head, you’d walked past that tent and snapped a single, quick picture of the group of men you’d been recording, knowing that whatever you'd overheard was proof the Patriot Militia was in fact a domestic terrorist group. News that you needed to take far above WGN and straight to the proper authorities.  

You’d thought you’d been in the clear when you and Andrew had left the rally without a single problem, too. You were driving a little faster than usual, trying to rush straight back to the station, your eyes repeatedly flickering to the rearview mirror as you drove. Though no one had followed you from the rally.

Back at the station, you’d immediately sought out Gloria in her office and relayed everything you’d overheard. The two of you had huddled over her desk as you replayed the recording you’d taken, Gloria’s face only looking more and more grim as she listened. Afterwards, you’d pulled up the photo on your phone and–despite the attempt to hide their identities with hats and sunglasses–the pair of you had quickly recognized the politicians Adam Johnson, Eric Bane, and Daniel Carpenter who were speaking to Elijah Wolf–the man who ran the Patriot Militia. 

Gloria had immediately retrieved the number for the Department of Homeland Security, which she had scribbled on a piece of paper and slid across her desk to you with a trembling hand. She’d urged you to call them immediately and you had. 

That was how you’d been put into contact with an Agent Dinah Madani who seemed quick to act the moment you’d spoken to her and explained what you had uncovered. She’d stayed on the line with you while you uploaded the audio file and the cell phone photo, sending them to the secure email address she’d given you. And then she’d continued to stay on the line with you while she listened to the recording, a nervous churning beginning in your stomach as she did. Afterwards she told you to make a copy of both pieces of evidence and to hold onto it, sit tight, and keep your head down. Before ending the call, she had given you her personal cell phone number in the event anything else came up or in case something more happened.

And, unfortunately, something did.

Sitting at your kitchen table, you’d been quietly eating your reheated leftovers for dinner. Chewing a bite of the pasta, your eyes were meticulously scanning over the news articles from the day on your phone. Nothing in the media had mentioned a single thing about the Patriot Militia rally or a shooting in Glen Allen, Virgina, though. As your eyes continued to skim over the day’s news, your hand absently twirling pasta noodles around your fork, you heard a noise coming from the side of your house. 

Your hand froze mid-twirl of the fettuccine noodles, your breath entirely catching in your throat as your eyes widened. Distinctly you could make out the hushed tone of voices just outside. Carefully setting the fork back into your bowl, you rose to your feet and slipped your phone back into your pocket, making your way towards the window above your kitchen sink. Nervously you reached a hand out and peeked through the blinds. Two men dressed in all black, both carrying guns in their hands, were sneaking around by your garbage bins along the side of your house. 

Fear struck you like ice in your veins and you quickly lurched backwards, releasing the blinds. Your heart began to beat just as rapidly as it had done earlier this afternoon when you’d snapped that photo and tried to disappear from the rally without raising suspicion. 

The men outside had to be related to the Patriot Militia. But why? If they’d known what you’d discovered today–what you’d recorded–why wouldn’t they have done something before you could leave that rally? Why would they show up at your house later at night and have given you all that time to alert the federal authorities about them?

In a panic, you flew from the kitchen as quietly as you could, racing down the hallway and towards your bedroom. Keeping the lights off, you pulled open your closet door before kneeling down and digging around in the corner of it. Eventually your hands landed on the duffle bag you occasionally used as a carry on when you traveled. Barely paying attention to what you grabbed, you began tossing handfuls of clothing into the bag, stuffing a few bras and pairs of underwear from your dresser inside before you snatched your wallet from your purse on the bed. Cautiously tip-toeing back to your dresser, you grabbed the flash drive you had transferred the photo and audio recording to the moment you'd gotten home from off of it, adding that to the few things you’d packed. 

The moment you’d finished zipping up your bag, you heard the faint squeak of your back door opening and you stopped, your body becoming completely still. Whoever those men were, they were in your house now. And that had the hairs on your arms raising.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you tried to stay calm. Leaving out your front or back door was no longer an option now that they were in your house–you’d have to pass them to reach one of those exits and that was not something you wanted to do. Eyes darting to your bedroom window above your dresser, you knew you had no other choice. 

You reached your hands out, pushing the curtains back as silently as possible. Biting down on your tongue, you unlocked the window latches next before slowly beginning to push the window up. You could make out more hushed voices coming from your living room and you swore you'd stopped breathing while you worked. Continuing to push the window up, you winced when it made a soft noise as it slid upwards, breaking the silence in your bedroom. Thankfully neither of the men came running down the hall to your room at the faint noise, though.

Leaning over your dresser, you peered outside and checked that no one was lingering out front before tossing your bag outside. You heard it land with a soft thud on the grass. Climbing carefully up onto your dresser beneath the window, you thanked whatever higher power existed that the windows in your house were wide enough for you to comfortably climb through right now. 

Awkwardly you maneuvered around on top of the dresser, turning and placing your legs out of the window one at a time. Slowly you began to slide your body through it. It wasn’t until you were almost halfway out of the window that you heard the shout, your bedroom lights turning on and taking you by surprise. Looking over your shoulder, you caught sight of one of the men dressed in all black standing there, a black ski mask covering his face and the gun still in his hand. Your stomach felt like it almost flew up out of your mouth at the burst of fear and adrenaline that immediately shot through you.

“She’s climbing out of the window!” the man shouted. “Go out the front!”

Terrified, you’d pushed yourself the rest of the way through, tumbling down the short drop and ungracefully landing on the ground. You scrambled to your feet as fast as you could, grabbing your duffle bag before glancing over your shoulder to be met with the sight of a gun pointed right at you. With a shriek, you darted to the side and took off at a run down the sidewalk, your legs protesting the movement as your lungs began to burn. 

You kept on running, adrenaline pushing you forward as you neared the corner of the street. Chancing a look behind you, you spotted both men standing in your driveway staring straight at you. Though neither of them were chasing after you. 

You didn’t give yourself time to wonder why as you continued running, trying to make your way back towards the downtown of the suburb you lived in where you hoped you’d be safe among the crowds of people. The moment you were, you’d be calling Agent Madani and praying she had some way to keep you safe.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Leaning an elbow along the bar counter, Frank drank down the cold beer in his hand. His eyes lingered on the country band currently on the stage in the roadhouse, listening to the music they were playing with a faint smile pulling up one corner of his lips. It was the reason he’d meandered his way over here from the motel next door. He’d heard the music on his walk over to the room he’d paid for, having been ready to settle in for the night after the long day of driving he'd been doing. He was exhausted and his body ached from sitting in the van for hours. Inevitably the music pouring out of Lola's Roadhouse next door had drawn him like a moth to a flame before he'd even managed to unlock the door to his room.

The pretty brunette behind the bar counter he'd spotted when he stepped inside was just an added bonus, too. Frank had surprisingly found he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from her every time he ordered a new beer, though he hadn’t made any attempt to flirt. It was something he’d become aware of lately ever since he’d left New York. He’d been noticing women more–not that he never had before, but ever since–

He drew the beer bottle back up to his lips, taking a long pull. He didn’t want to think about that.

“How’s about I get a pint and one for you, too?”

Frank swallowed down his beer, his eyes still focused straight ahead as he heard yet another inebriated patron hitting on the woman. That was the sixth one he’d heard this evening since he’d stopped in here.

“Thanks man, I’ll grab it later,” the bartender told him.

“Oh come on,” the man behind Frank said, his voice grating on his nerves already, “why not grab it now?”

“I don’t drink when I’m working,” she replied in a clipped tone. 

“Well if I’m giving you my eight dollars, I’d at least like you to have a drink with me,” the man continued.

Frank’s hand gripped tighter around the neck of his beer bottle, his jaw clenching as he tried to focus on the music playing. He was not going to get involved. He was laying low and he’d be leaving in the morning. This didn’t concern him.

“And why’s that?” she huffed out.

“I think you’re a good lookin’ woman,” the man replied, trying to sound all charm. “And I want to see how far down those tattoos go.”

Frank’s eyes slowly closed, his teeth grinding against each other. Couldn’t this man take a ‘no’ the first time around? He hated assholes like these.

“Plenty of other women here with tattoos,” she answered, setting what sounded like a glass on the counter behind him.

“Oh come on,” the man pressed. 

To Frank’s ears, it sounded like the man had reached across the bar counter when he'd spoken, and when Frank’s head shifted just a bit over his shoulder, he noticed the man indeed had a grip on the brunette’s wrist. Anger slowly began to smolder in Frank’s gut at the sight as the woman tried to pull her arm out of his grip.

“At least give me your name or a number,” the man pushed.

Trying to keep his temper under control, Frank turned and rested his back against the bar counter, knocking a fist against it lightly three times. The gesture caught the man’s attention and Frank’s intrusion quickly cut off whatever the woman had been starting to say, but his focus was on the asshole still grabbing her wrist.

“Hey, the lady is tryin’ to work,” Frank pointed out, trying to keep his tone casual and calm despite the anger he felt begging for a release. “You expect her to keep pourin’ drinks while your holding her arm like that? Let her go.”

The man made a show of releasing her wrist, the brunette shooting Frank a once-over before she walked past him behind the bar to continue pouring beers. Frank muttered an offhand ‘thank you’ to the asshole, trying hard not to cause a problem as he focused back on the band–because he was supposed to be staying out of trouble. 

But he could feel the asshole’s eyes still on him.

“What a skank.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed just a bit, his head shifting back towards the man a fraction. “That’s real classy, man,” he shot back.

The inebriated man beside him rose from his bar stool, his eyes still on Frank. “You say something to me?” he asked, trying to sound intimidating as he closed the space between them.

“Yeah,” Frank answered simply, turning further towards him.

The man reached out, placing two fingers against Frank’s chest before he roughly pushed them against him. Frank's eyes lowered to the man's hand, staring at it as the guy used those same two fingers to push against his chest a second time. 

"You just made my night, dumbass," the man said, his two fingers pushing against Frank's chest for a third time.

Eyes rising back up towards the man's face, Frank's right hand casually swung up and grabbed the man's fingers in his grip. With a sharp twist he heard the sound of finger bones snapping over the sound of the band playing. Instantly the man cried out, doubling over in pain as Frank tossed the man's hand back at him.

"You sure 'bout that?" Frank asked.

Clutching his injured left hand to his chest, the man straightened and reached out, picking up a beer bottle from the bar counter beside him. In a single, swift movement he'd smashed it against the counter, beer and glass splattering everywhere. 

"Come on now," Frank warned him. "Don't do that."

The drunk took one step forward, ready to lunge at Frank with the smashed bottle raised in his hand, but the roadhouse bouncer came up behind him before he could get any further. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisting the broken bottle from his grip before he shoved the man over the bar counter, keeping his good arm trapped behind his back. With the man incapacitated, the bouncer focused on Frank as he spoke.

"You've got two options," he told Frank. "Either you leave, or I kick your ass out with this asshole."

"Hey, Ringo," the brunette behind the bar cut in, her voice briefly catching Frank's attention. "He's good. He was just helping me out."

The bouncer known as Ringo eyed her for a moment longer before Frank saw him give the woman a quick nod. He pulled the man off of the counter, leading him towards the exit without another glance at Frank. Though Frank’s eyes watched as they went, following to make sure the man didn't cause any more trouble as he clutched his injured hand to his chest.

"I deal with assholes like that every damn night," the bartender said.

Frank’s focus shifted from Ringo and the asshole he was dragging outside to the woman eyeing him up on the other side of the counter. Gradually Frank turned fully towards her, resting both of his hands on the bar and contemplating another beer after all of that or whether he should just head back to his motel and call it a night. 

"You shouldn't have to," he told her. "'S'not right."

Her eyes lingered on him, a slow smile sliding across her lips. Making a quick decision, he'd been about to ask if he could trouble her for another drink, maybe this time while getting her name, but the phone in his jacket pocket began to vibrate. Brows curiously drawing together, he glanced down towards the noise before reaching a hand inside of his jacket, pulling it out. 

Who the hell would've been calling him on this phone? He'd picked it up shortly after he'd left New York. To his knowledge, only two people had the number.

Looking down at the series of numbers on the screen, confusion further spread across his features. It was Agent Madani's number. But why the hell would she be calling him? She'd made it quite clear that if he crossed her path again, she'd be arresting him. 

Frank glanced up, about to tell the bartender he needed to take the call, but she'd already wandered off to help another patron. With a sigh he slid his finger across the screen before holding it up to his ear.

"Yeah?" he asked into it.

"Castle, it's Agent Madani," the woman's voice immediately came over the line. 

"Figured as much," Frank replied, his focus on the damp bar counter before him. "Wasn't expecting a call from you. Am I already in trouble, Madani?" 

"No," she answered him quickly. "I actually need a favor. A…big one."

Frank's eyes narrowed curiously as he heard the tension in her voice. What could a federal Homeland Security agent need from him? 

"And what's that?" he asked carefully.

Madani loosed a deep sigh that was loud enough for Frank to catch over the music still playing in the roadhouse. Her apprehension was only increasing his curiosity.

"I need you to protect someone," she said after a moment. "They've…accidentally stumbled on something and now they're in danger."

"You got federal agents for that, Madani," Frank pointed out.

"Yeah, well," she continued slowly, "I don't exactly know who I can trust with this here."

Frank pushed away from the bar counter, maneuvering his way through the crowd of people dancing and enjoying the band. A few of them shot him strange looks as he moved between them but he ignored it. The closer to the roadhouse exit he got, the better he could hear Madani over all the noise. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frank asked. "And what's that got to do with me?"

"There's a woman who came to me earlier today," Madani explained. "She's a reporter for a news station out in Chicago and she accidentally stumbled on something huge. As in national security huge. It's something that involves high profile politicians–we’re talking wealthy, big names here. It's–it's going to be a massive scandal once this surfaces, but I need to keep her alive. I'm trying to assemble a case but I need her witness testimony with the evidence she brought me."

"Yeah? What's that gotta do with me?" he asked her again.

“She was at a Patriot Militia rally today,” Madani continued. “I don’t have to tell you who they are, do I?”

Frank leant up against the wall near the exit, his eyes on the pretty bartender pouring a beer. “Bunch of crazy activists, yeah?” he asked.

“Putting it simply, yes. This reporter recorded some things. Snapped a photo of these high profile people conversing together. Yet no one paid her any mind when she left that rally–because no one knew she’d done that. Or I think we both know she wouldn’t have been able to just hop into her car and leave.” There was a pause before she continued. “But she called me a few minutes ago. Couple men with guns showed up at her house. Now that has me thinking someone in Homeland caught wind of this and is trying to clean up the mess before anything gets out.”

Frank ran a hand over his chin, the stubble of his beard rasping lightly against his calloused fingers. “So you can’t trust your men but you think you can trust me?”

“I’m hoping I can,” Madani corrected. “I need you, Castle. If anyone is trained enough to keep this woman alive, it’s you.”

“I ain’t no babysitter, Madani,” Frank told her, shaking his head. “That’s not what I do.”

“I can make it worth your while,” she replied quickly. “I’ve talked to my superior Hernandez–the only one I trust on this right now–and he’s said if you help us with this, we’ll clear Frank Castle’s name.”

“Clear my name?” he asked curiously, his hand halting its movement on his chin.

“You won’t have to live as Peter Castiglione,” Madani told him. “You can be Frank Castle. If you help us. But I need her alive , Frank.”

Frank’s attention drew back towards the band that was playing on the stage, his mind racing. The government would clear him? Of all the charges for what he’d done in New York? And all he had to do was keep one woman alive to get that?

“What do you say, Castle?” she asked. “Can I count on you?”

His hand slowly lowering to his side, Frank pushed off of the wall, turning and making his way towards the exit. He pushed the door open, stepping out into the chilly night air.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” he told her.

“Great,” Madani replied, her tone sounding vastly relieved. “Where are you?”

“Just outside of Detroit,” he answered, making his way back to the motel.

“She’s a bit north of Chicago so that’s perfect,” Madani said, her fingers flying across what sounded like a keyboard rapidly. “I’ll have her meet you halfway–Ruby’s Diner off of I-94. Tomorrow morning at seven sharp. Can you be there?”

“Yeah,” he replied, digging around for the key to his room in his pocket, “I can be there. But how the hell do I know who I’m lookin’ for, Madani?”

Frank’s eyes narrowed as Madani said a name over the line, his hand pausing in his search for the key in his pocket.

“She’s a small time reporter for WGN News out there. Google her,” Madani ordered. “There’s a picture of her on their site. That’s the woman I need alive, Frank. I just need you to hop from town to town and keep her safe. That's it. And I’ll be texting you coordinates for a drop site in a bit. I’ll have someone I trust leave money to help keep you both taken care of on the road while I build this case.”

Frank reached the door to his room, shouldering his phone. He slid the key into the lock, twisting it before opening the door and stepping inside. He turned on the light, closing the door behind himself before locking it. 

“Any questions?” she asked him.

“Yeah, just one,” Frank asked, tossing the room key onto a nearby table. “You say you need this woman alive because there’s people with guns tryin’ to kill her, right?”

“Yes,” Madani answered.

“So does that mean I’ve got the U.S. government’s express permission to keep her alive and safe by any means necessary?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.

There was a long pause over the line at his question. Frank could hear the tapping of something like a pen coming from Madani before he heard her let out a rough breath. The corner of Frank’s lips twitched upwards at the sound.

“Yes, Castle,” she replied. “But no civilian casualties or our deal is over. And if the reporter dies, the deal is over. If you lose her, the deal is over. If–”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Madani,” Frank cut her off. “Text me the drop site details and I’ll find this woman in the morning. I’ll keep her alive for you, Madani. But I expect you to hold up your end of the deal.”

“I will,” she assured him.

Frank hung up, quickly pulling up the search browser on his phone afterwards. He made his way over to one of the beds in the room, settling down onto the end of the stiff mattress as he typed in the news station's name along with yours. Sure enough, a photo of a smiling woman appeared– your face–and for a moment Frank just sat there studying it. 

“So you’re the one who stepped in some shit,” he muttered to the picture. “You definitely look like you’d cause some trouble, that’s for sure.”

He stared at the photo for another moment longer, telling himself it was just because he was trying to memorize your face and not because he liked your smile. Eventually he closed out of the search and rose back to his feet, switching the screen of his phone off. If he needed to be a few hours from here by seven in the morning, he needed to go to sleep now. If he was lucky he'd get four hours of rest before he was back on the road again. 

[m-12-7-jo]

"Anytime you seek help from the police, you're inviting them into your community and putting people who are already vulnerable into dangerous situations.

But we can build trusted networks of mutual aid that allow us to better handle conflicts ourselves and move towards forms of transformative justice [...]."

"Don't feel obligated to defend property – especially corporate "private" property. [...] ask yourself if anyone is being hurt or endangered by property "theft" or damage. If the answer is no, then let it be."

"If something of yours is stolen and you need to file a report for insurance or othe purposes, consider going to the police station instead of bringing cops into your community."

"If you observe someone exhibiting behavior that seems "odd" to you, don't assume that they are publicly intoxicated. Ask if they are OK, if they have a medical condition, and if they need assistance."

"If you see someone pulled over with car trouble, stop and ask if they need help or if you can call a tow truck for them."

"Keep a contact list of community resources like suicide hotlines. [...] people with mental illness are sixteen times more likely to be killed by cops than those without mental health challenges."

"Check your impulse to call the police on someone you believe looks or is acting 'suspicious'. Is their race, gender, ethnicity, class, or housing situation influencing your choice?"

"[...] create a culture of taking care of each other and not unwittingly putting people in harm's way." As in, encourage others to avoid inviting police into community and public spaces, including rallies and demonstrations.

"If your neighbor is having a party and the noise is bothering you, go over and talk to them. Getting to know your neighbors [...] is a good way to make asking them to quiet down a little less uncomfortable."

"If you see someone peeing in public, just look away!"

"Hold and attend de-escalation, conflict resolution, first aid, volunteer medic, and self-defense workshops in you neighborhood, school, workplace, or community organization."

"Don't report graffiti and other street art[tists]. If you see work that includes fascist or hate speech, paint over it yourself or with friends."

"Remember, you can support friends and neighbors who are being victimized by abusers by offering them a place to stay, a ride to a safe location, or to watch their children. Utilize community resources like safe houses and hotlines." (You could also offer to store money for them in a safe location if they need that)

Source: 12 Things to Do Intead of Calling The Cops.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Chicken

John Egan X Farmer! Reader

Summary: When Meatball kills the farmer's chicken. Bucky flies to the rescue.

Warning: Animal death/ swearing/ mention of boobs/ use of Y/n/ mention of blood.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: I'm alive y'all! And my brain functioned again!

When John Egan came to Thorpe Abbotts, he was aware of the people that already lived there. He knew they were here, but he didn’t know them personally. When he saw her riding her horse, he knew he had to introduce himself. But he didn’t have the courage to go talk to her, she looked so intimidating, riding her horse and handling the goats.

Y/n lived on her family’s farm, but her family was away, they were in Austria, the farm was their summer house, but they wanted Y/n to keep it clean and work there. Usually, she would’ve been back in Austria, but with the war, it wasn’t safe to travel. Her chores were simple, making sure the goats didn’t run away, getting the eggs from the chicken coop and keeping the stables clean. It was easy, especially since she got her horse, Fred. He was a mustang, a beast that she had trouble training, but she kept persevering and was able to ride him. She was riding Fred everywhere; she loved her horse.

‘’Cleven! Good morning’’ she greeted the blonde. They quickly became friends when he came on the base, he went to introduce himself to the people living on the base, already saying he was sorry for the future disturbance that the soldiers were going to cause. When Gale saw Y/n, he thought she was amazing and they talked for hours, quickly becoming friends. They would trade stuff together, for example, if Y/n wanted a bottle of whiskey, she would give Gale a dozen eggs. ‘’Morning Y/n! How are you?’’ he asked. ‘’Good, just counting the chickens’’ she stopped when she heard a dog barking. ‘’Why do you have a dog here?’’ she asked, stepping in front of the chickens. ‘’Brady got him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t come near the coop’’ he reassured her. ‘’He better, because if he eats any of my chickens…’’ she threatened. Meatball came running towards Buck. ‘’He’s cute, but I meant what I said’’ she looked at the dog, smiling. ‘’I’ll make sure of it’’ he smiled.

John Egan heard a horse neigh; he knew that Y/n was close. And he was right, her (Y/h/c) hair were flying in the wind, she had a cowboy hat on her head. A white tank top that made her boobs look 5 times bigger and jeans that made her legs look amazing. She was beautiful. ‘’Y/n, what’s wrong?’’ Gale asked. She got down her horse, patting him before looking at the boys. ‘’I can’t come here and say hello?’’ she smiled as she looked at Bucky. ‘’Technically, you’re on a private property’’ Murph said. She scoffed. ‘’Technically, you guys invaded our property’’ she replied. ‘’Touché’’ Murph laughed. ‘’Nice ride’’ John Egan said, looking at the horse. ‘’Thanks, that’s Fred.’’ She replied. ‘’Um, do you guys have a minute to spare? We need help moving the hay’’ she asked. ‘’Sure, we can help’’ Bucky quickly replied.

‘’Be careful with that Jeep, don’t run over my animals’’ she smiled at Bucky, before she climbed up her horse. ‘’Wanna race?’’ Bucky proposed. She gave him a challenging smile, Fred was a fast horse, he was originally supposed to be a racehorse, but Y/n bought him at the town auction. ‘’Sure, but don’t cry if you lose’’ she smiled. When Fred started to run, Bucky knew he’d already lost, he didn’t want to go too fast, in case of a loose animal. She looked like a goddess, riding that horse. He thought about her riding him for a second, but his thoughts quickly faded when he heard Meatball bark, his mouth was all bloody and he had feathers on him.

‘’Calm down! It’s only 3 chickens!’’ Gale Cleven tried to calm her down, but she was ready to skin the dog alive, Bucky was holding her so she wouldn’t kill the dog. ‘’IT’S LESS EGGS! LET ME GO! I’m going to kill that dog’’ she tried to get away, but Bucky’s grip was too hard on her waist. Meatball didn’t have any regret; he was looking around like his life wasn’t on the line. John Brady, the owner, arrived at the scene in a Jeep, with Harry Crosby and Rosie Rosenthal. The 3 bodies were lying on the ground, headless. Y/n took deep breaths and calmed down a little. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Brady asked. ‘’You’re the owner?’’ she asked, angrily. Brady nodded. ‘’Your stupid dog ate 3 of my chickens!’’ she spat, showing the corpse with her hand. Brady swallowed a nervous laugh. ‘’I told you to watch him and I’m leaving the farm for an hour, I come back, and Dave, Danny and Darrel are dead!’’ she said, looking at her chickens. Bucky had to refrain a laugh at the names of the deceased animals. ‘’I’m sorry miss, I don’t know what else to say’’ Brady explained, scratching the back of his head. She took a deep breath, realizing how crazy she looked. She touched Bucky’s hand, to show him that he could let go. She replaced her hair as she sighed. ‘’I’m sorry, I kinda overreacted. You guys can go, I’ll, uh, clean up. Sorry for the disturbance.’’ She said, with an embarrassed tone.

He felt bad for her, sure it was only 3 chickens, but still. So, that night, he decided to find the courage and go talk to her for more than four words. He rode his Jeep to her house; he nervously taped the wheel with his thumb as he shut the engine down. Seeing lights outside, Y/n got out of the house, standing on her porch, seeing it was a soldier, she wiped her hands on her pants before going down the short stairs. ‘’Major Egan, to what do I owe this visit?’’ she asked, trying to hide her joy. She found him attractive, he was a gentleman during the day and a manwhore during the night, or at least that was his reputation. ‘’Hello, please call me Bucky, and I’m here to pay you back’’ he smiled. She tilted her head. ‘’Pay me back? You owe me money?’’ she questioned. He shook his head, chuckling. ‘’No, it’s for the deceased chickens’’ he explained.

Y/n fought the urge to smirk. ‘’You want to pay me for the chickens I lost?’’ she asked. ‘’Yeah, I mean you said it yourself, it’s less eggs’’ he blurted out. Now she couldn’t fight it anymore, a smile creeped on her face as she looked at the flustered Bucky. ‘’Come inside’’ she invited. He nodded as they waled inside the small home. The smell of burnt candle filling his nose as he looked around the kitchen. ‘’Does Brady know you’re doing this?’’ she asked as they sat in the kitchen. ‘’No, it’s my idea’’ he looked on the ground, not daring to look at her in the eyes. ‘’That’s very sweet, Bucky, but I can’t accept this, you must have family that this money belongs too, what about Mrs. Egan. It’s very thoughtful but keep it’’ she politely said. He started to laugh at the mention of a Mrs. Egan. ‘’There’s no Mrs. Egan, never set that part right, and my family doesn’t need the money. Please, Y/n, take it’’ this time, their eyes were locked into each other.

‘’You know, I didn’t think you would be the one offering me money. I thought Cleven would do it’’ she said, taking a sip of her homemade alcohol. It’s been an hour since Bucky came into her home they’ve been talking ever since. ‘’He felt bad, but he has to keep it for the phones, his girlfriend wants to hear from him twice a week’’ he chucked. She smiled as she looked at him. ‘’It’s getting late, I should get back to the base’’ he said as he looked at his watch. She got an idea. ‘’Are you free for dinner tomorrow?’’ she blurted out. He looked at her, smiling. ‘’Uh, yes, why?’’ he asked. ‘’Because I enjoy your company. And I have some extra money to buy good meat.’’ She smiled. ‘’Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’’ He leaned to kiss the top of her hand. ‘’Good night, Y/n’’ he said. ‘’Good night, Bucky, see you tomorrow’’