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promenadewithme · 9 months

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The Viscount Who Deceived Me - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ...

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem! Reader, Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader

Warnings: none, I think

Word Count: 1.7K

a/n: I'm having a lot of fun writing this series!

You took a deep breath and stepped out of your carriage in front of the Cowper residence.

Closing your eyes and gathering strength, you straightened your shoulders and released all the pent up air in your chest.

"Are you alright, my dear?" your mama asked, taking your arm in hers.

You gave her your best smile, that still turned out small, and answered "I'm perfectly fine."

She didn't believe you, but nonetheless nodded. You both walked around the house and greeted people you knew on the way to the gardens.

Candles were lit, floral patterns were freshly painted on the grass, and everyone was dressed in varied tones of red, orange and black. The invitation had said it would be a blazing event and that the guests should dress in the hues of fire.

There was said to be a never before seen surprise to do with the theme at the end of the night, but many disapproved, thinking it was too provocative for a ball.

You had thought it might be fun and were very excited to see what this innovative surprise might be.

You abandoned your family greens for a burgundy dress that evening. Madame Delacroix had truly outdone herself with your dress this time. The light fabric along with your hanging sleeves made it look like your clothes were dancing with your every move.

"There are the Bridgertons." pointed your mama with a nod of her head.

Sure enough, you saw the whole family except for the little ones.

They spotted both of you as you made your way over. You smiled and curtsied politely, trying to avoid Anthony's gaze. He made it impossible when he took your hand in his and bowed to kiss it.

'Has he ever kissed her hand?' you wondered.

'Of course he has, he was already kissing her neck. He might have even kissed her lips.'

"How are you this evening?" he asked.

"Perfectly fine." you said, but your voice was too weak, pitch too high.

"Alright then, if that is all." Eloise took your arm in hers and started dragging you away "We will be on our way."

"Do not linger too far!" called out Violet, but the two of you were already gone.

You leaned closer to your friend and whispered "Thank you."

"You looked like you saw a ghost, I had you get you out." she answered, looking around.

You spotted Penelope in a corner grabbing a champagne flute from a passing servant and gestured to Eloise that you had found her.

"Ah."

The two of you walked towards her and she smiles when she spotted you.

"There you are! I was beginning to think I'd have to spend the rest of the night in the company of plants." she quipped.

"I wish I could have stayed home," huffed Eloise, crossing her arms and glaring at a gentleman who passed by looking at her "You know how much I despise these sordid events."

You chuckled and nudged her with your elbow "Are you not the least bit excited for this surprise they have planned?"

"I am excited to finish my book. I am excited to lay down in bed and sleep."

"What are you reading?" you asked, looking forward to the topic.

The three of you were the only women your age you knew that enjoyed reading. Most ladies of the ton found that improving your mind with extensive reading was not an accomplishment, but a waste of time.

'Men do not want a woman who has read Shakespeare, they want a wife who can entertain them with the pianoforte or their voice. Men want women who can embroider and paint, not someone to discuss politics with.' was what you had heard a gentleman saying while you were at the bookshop one time.

"Wuthering Heights." she answered excitedly.

"What is it about?" questioned Penelope before taking another sip of her champagne.

"Vengeance." she smiled.

"I am very much afraid of you sometimes." you said and Pen nodded.

"Thank you," she touched her heart "but, in all earnest, it is a very good book. The both of you should read it."

"Can I borrow your copy after I finish my current read?" smiled Pen.

"Of course, I shall drop it off as soon as I finish it. What are you reading now?"

"Pride and Prejudice." she said and you gasped.

"So am I!" you exclaimed excitedly, gaining a few disapproving looks from other guests.

"What do you think of Bingley? she asked with a smile and a slight flush to her cheeks.

"I think he reminds me a bit of Colin," you leaned closer to her ear "and you remind me a bit of Jane."

"Oh, hush." she chided, but her cheeks had turned crimson and she grinned "Do you really think so?"

"I do." you nodded and turned to Eloise "And you, my dear friend, are Elizabeth Bennet."

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged the corner of her lips. "And who might you be?"

"Me?" you stopped for a second to consider your options "Well, I suppose I must be poor Mr Collins."

They both laughed and everything seemed so normal. When you were like this with your friends, it was like all your troubles faded away.

You did not have to marry the man who betrayed you, you did not have to worry about taking one step out of line with the fear of having to be wed to the oldest man you knew, you did not feel nauseous and anxious like you had the rest of the day. With Eloise and Penelope, you could just be.

That feeling of peace faded all too quickly when Anthony appeared in front of you and bowed "May I have your first dance?"

All colour drained from your face and you had to clear your throat before answering "You may."

He wrote his name on your dance card next to the first song. A quadrille.

At least you would not spend the whole dance with him.

He offered you his arm and you took it, giving your friends one last glance. They tried to smile encouragingly, but it looked more like they were grimacing.

You took a deep breath as you stepped into position. Four couples, including yourselves, stood in rectangular formation. You and Anthony on one side, a married couple to your right, Philippa Featherington and Finch to your left, and Benedict with Cressida Cowper in front of you.

Your shoulders were hunched, your muscles tense. Anthony's hand felt cold in yours and you remembered how it had touched the opera singer.

Benedict locked eyes with you and his gaze was warm. His eyebrows furrowed and he mouthed "are you alright?"

You forced a smile and nodded just as the song started. He didn't look like he believed you, but didn't say anything else.

The string quartet continued as you turned to Anthony and bowed to each other, you repeated the same with Finch. While the couples at your side met in the centre and danced around one another, switching partners then back, you stayed in place.

Benedict continued looking worriedly at you and you gave him a small smile.

Anthony interrupted your silent communication when he leaned close to your ear and whispered "I have to talk to you. About us."

"Are you sure this is the right time?" you asked and inwardly cursed him for bringing this up.

"This is the perfect time." he said before taking you to the centre of the group.

You briefly grasped both of Benedict's hands before passing by him and meeting with Anthony again. He held your left hand on his and his right held your waist. You stayed that way as you walked around the couples.

"Have you received the flowers?" he asked, a hopeful look on his face.

Anthony had sent you roses after you left the house that morning. Your mother had said it was romantic, you thought it was generic.

"I have." you answered, nodding curtly at Philippa.

'Does he even know that my favourite flowers are tulips?' you contemplated sadly. 'I was so blind to think he loved me.'

"Good, good. And are they to your liking?" he probed and you contained an annoyed sigh.

"They are perfectly fine." you stated, looking anywhere else but him as you stepped into your starting place again.

"I know that you have not forgiven me for what I have done." he whispered solemnly.

Your eyes burned and you stared at Cressida's hem, the couples on each side of you switched partners.

'I will not talk about this, I will not cry in public, I will not make cause a scandal.' you repeated the words over and over in your head.

When you said nothing, he continued "I do not expect you to forgive me, but I would be grateful if you would give me a chance to explain."

"There is nothing to explain." you spat then took a deep breath to calm yourself "I already know everything."

"But you do not." he insisted "You do not know the half of it."

You scoffed "If that was merely half, I do not wish to know the rest at all."

Stepping forward once again, Anthony and Benedict switched partners. One hand on your waist and the other holding yours, he leaned forward and his lips brushed against your ear, breath tickling your neck.

"Save your next dance for me?" he whispered and chills ran down your spine.

"Yes." you nodded as you switched brothers again.

"If you will not let me explain," he said, alternating his feet in front of him to the rhythm of the quartet's melody "at least let me say that I will no longer be seeing Siena."

"I truly do not care." you said between your teeth, attempting to hide your anger behind a smile "Do what you will, it does not matter to me. Not anymore."

Anthony pulled your body flush to his by the waist, searching eyes boring deeply into your soul.

"You hate me." he stated gravely.

"I do not hate you." you sighed.

"You do, I have wronged you and you have every right to hate me. What I do not understand is why you are choosing to marry a man you now despise."

Your voice was small and desperate when you answered "It is not a choice, Anthony."

The song ended and you untangled yourself from him. You curtsied and turned to walk as far away from a furrow-browed Anthony as possible.

a/n: guys!!!! I got so many requests for a part 3!! I hope you are all enjoying reading this series as much as I do writing it! (ps: this was my first time writing dialogue during a dance, so please tell me if it was bad or too confusing)

General Taglist: @crazy-beautiful @missryerye @flourishandblotts-inc

Bridgerton Tag List: @dancingwith-sunflowers @for-bebbanburg @navs-bhat @elishi03 @s-unflowxr @thebreadisthetruevillian @peakyweirdo @lucyysthings @freyathehuntress @rach2602 @czarinera

Series Tag List @snixx2088 @acourtofbooksandfantasy @alldaysdreamer @dandansdays @freyagallileaevans @alldaysdreamers @lizziesfirstwife @theonewithallthemilkshakes @freyathehuntress @ilovehopelessromantics @venomsvl @claire-loves-music @looneyleo @mmontgomery12-blog @myownworldsstuff @booknerdlifelover @fandomluver-101 @littleone65 @freyathehuntress @mxacegrey @pet1t3 @otheliesstuff

Click here if you want to join any of my tag lists (ps: I added more fandoms and characters) or tell me if you want to be removed.

If you can and want to, buy me a Ko-Fi!

#anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #anthony x reader #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x sis!reader #benedict bridgerton

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 3 months

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Ancient Roman trading cards: Tribune Trouble!

Historical notes and artist attributions under the cut. For more silly trading cards, check out the Julio-Claudians.

Many famous Romans were tribunes of the plebs at some point, but I'm only featuring those who pushed that office to its limit, usually by causing trouble.

My aim here is to capture some of their personality while making history fun and silly. So, some of these facts come from ancient sources that might be biased or wrong, but I have tried to keep it plausible. Some of the art has been adapted from paintings of other Romans because it felt fitting for these guys. If you want to learn more about them, check out my favorite Roman history books!

Background color = highest office achieved. Orange for quaestors and tribunes, yellow for aediles, green for praetors, blue for consuls, purple for emperors and red for dictators. Everybody else gets gray.

Paintings featured:

Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi by Joseph-Benoit Suvée

Farewell of Gaius Gracchus to his family by Dióscoro Puebla

Cato Uticensis by Josef Abel

Lictors bringing Brutus the bodies of his sons by Jacques-Louis David

Marcus Aurelius by Eugene Delacroix

A Roman Feast by Roberto Bompiani

Other art textures come from the frescoes of Pompeii.

#jlrrt speaks #ancient roman trading cards #suicide mention #gaius gracchus #tiberius gracchus #cato the younger #titus annius milo #publius clodius pulcher #gaius scribonius curio #just roman memes #my edits

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wildlife4life · 3 months

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Fuck-It Friday

Tagged by @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @lover-of-mine @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @devirnis @buddierights @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 @tizniz and @disasterbuckdiaz You all so awesome! Thank you!

Getting to this kind of late because I have been catching up on a lot of online class work today. But I'm all finished for the day and it is still Friday where I live. So here is a very short snippet from NFL Buck, continuing a bit from my WIP Wednesday post. (All things NFL Buck). Enjoy the sadness?

"How long does he have?" Buck asks. Eddie swipes his thumb across his partner's knuckles, soothing himself and Buck. "Less than 6 months." he murmurs. More tears flood into those ocean blue eyes, "Fuck. Fuck that's no time at all." Evan rips his hand away, pushes to his feet and begins to pace the expansive living room, "Damnit. We need to be there, sooner than later, but I don't have off days for almost two weeks. Can you even ask for more time off?" The question seems to be directed towards Eddie, but Buck is ranting and rambling more to himself. Eddie doesn't answer, just watches the distraught man walk around the room, trying to find a way to fix everything. Cause that's what Buck does. Try to fix things, its an aspect that makes him a great quarterback. With Red's diagnosis and being in the height of the NFL season, there wasn't anything that can be fixed. Eventually Buck would come to same conclusion, he just needed the time to process and understand. Eddie just needed to patient, be there for when Buck accepts this isn't something he can fix, and help prepare them both for what is to come with Red.

Um...sorry? Buck can't fix everything, we all know that, but that doesn't mean he won't try and Eddie will be patient as always. Hope you all enjoyed!

Tagging just share: @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @exhuastedpigeon @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @aroeddiediaz @giddyupbuck @rainbow-nerdss @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @bekkachaos @eddiescowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @gayedmundodiaz @transboybuckley

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hopeworth · 1 year

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fate: a death in the family & hamlet

a death in the family house ad // william shakespeare, hamlet // sir john everett millais, ophelia // batman: under the red hood (2010) // jim aparo, a death in the family deluxe edition // eugene delacroix, the death of hamlet

#jason todd #fate #hamlet #utrh #red hood #robin #i’ll make another one where jason is hamlet and ophelia and the ghost and claudius and #ALL AT ONCE #dc #web weave #web weaving #webweaving #my stuff

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bisamwilson · 1 year

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It’s about as cool as it gets in Louisiana most days—a brisk fifty-two—and Sam’s bundled up like he’s back in Washington, DC in the middle of January.

All those years away from home, and he still never had managed to get used to the cold.

Bucky’s only in a slightly thicker leather jacket, lined with some kind of fleece, mostly because the boys had warned him to bundle up. Bucky’s sweating now, but Sam knows their earnestness in trying to keep him warm means he’ll keep the jacket on all night, the sheer amount of heat his body puts off like a furnace be damned.

It’s become a nightly routine, these walks, first starting during warm, wet, and hazy summer nights and continuing on even now, when the sun dips past the horizon entirely too early each afternoon. They never stray far from home, walk mostly in laps near the house, but tonight, Sam takes Bucky’s hand and leads them out a little farther.

The Christmas lights are out on all the houses Sam knows are going to put them up, and he’s feeling a little nostalgic.

Nostalgic enough to wander over to the old house nearby that he’d absolutely adored as a child, now worn down and unlivable, marred by years of neglect and abandonment and storm damage. A years-old “for sale” sign sits in the yard, weather-worn and illegible.

Sam stops just in front of the house—a tall, dark silhouette amidst all the bright red, green, and white lights around it—and smiles.

“I was convinced I was gonna live in that house one day,” he says, a little wistful. “Slightly older couple owned it back then, a Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. You’d never seen two people so in love, maybe other than my own folks. They’d invite us over for dinner after church sometimes—said it was a thank you for a sermon well delivered—and Mrs. Jackson always had it decorated so lovingly. They didn’t have any children back then—never had any at all actually—so there was no one to leave it to, and I’d always hoped I’d be able to buy after they moved elsewhere, wherever that might have been.”

Sam sighs, shrugging his shoulders and running a hand over the overgrown fence. “I was already out of Delacroix when Mr. Jackson passed, about a year after his wife, and no one else ever picked it up. Now it looks like this.”

Bucky squeezes his hand and Sam takes that as a cue to turn away from the old house and to his boyfriend, swinging their intertwined palms as he pulls them forward again on their walk.

“A shame,” he says as they walk away, “what it looks like now. Mrs. Jackson’d be heartbroken.”

Five months later, almost to the day, Bucky asks to go for a walk in the middle of the afternoon.

It’s rainy, like it always is in May, and Sam gives him a strange look while he gestures to the outside, the rain coming down in a constant, heavy stream, loud on the roof of the house. “In this weather?”

Bucky shrugs, a little sheepish. “I’ve got an umbrella?”

Sam’s not too keen about getting wet because of Bucky in the not-so-fun way, but Bucky’s got a heightened nervousness about him that Sam hasn’t really seen since the first time he asked him to dinner as something other than just a couple of guys, so he begrudgingly grabs his own umbrella and opens the door, gesturing for Bucky to leave first.

To his surprise, they start out on their normal route, and Sam’s a little confused as to what’s got Bucky so on edge, outside of the rain.

When he takes a slight turn off their normal path, Sam thinks they might be getting somewhere.

They come to a very water-logged stop right in front of the old Jackson house, and Bucky’s anxious nervousness disappears abruptly, replaced by almost deadly stillness.

“Why are we here, Buck?” Sam half-shouts, doing his best to be heard over the roaring of the rain.

In answer, Bucky just pushes open the gate, the latch having broken probably a decade ago, and leads Sam up to the front porch.

There’s holes in the little roof above the porch, and it’s only slightly less rainy under it than it is outside of it, but Sam closes his umbrella anyway when he sees Bucky do the same. He waits for Bucky to explain why they’re there, but Bucky just looks around the house, his fist opening and closing again—his telltale fidget—so Sam asks again.

“Why are we here?”

“I got pre-approved for a loan,” is all Bucky says, looking around the old place and fixing his eyes on one of the holes in the porch roof. “Haven’t put an offer on this place yet, thought I should talk with you first even though you were okay with me buying the house on my own, but I’m good for it if you want it.” He scratches behind his ear, his frame entirely too small for someone normally so large. “You said you always wanted to live here, right?”

Sam doesn’t answer, a little too stunned to speak both by the thought of all the work this house needs and by the way his heart is so full to bursting when he thinks about getting to live in it.

Bucky takes his silence as cue to keep talking, his words a little more frantic than they were before. “I’ve always been good with my hands, you know? I wanted a bit of a fixer upper in the first place, even if this is more than I’d imagined. But I can make it just how you imagined, sweetheart, let you pick out the paint and the crown molding and everything just how you wanted it growing up. Can even make some of the furniture if you can’t find what you want anywhere.

“And it wouldn’t all be me, you know? I’m saving a lot on a down payment and a mortgage since this house is all worn down, so I can hire some contractors for things as we need. Least to make it livable quicker, make it a house. But I want to make it a home myself, sweetheart. Make it our home. What do you think?”

Sam’s quiet for long enough Bucky goes still again, and the eerie lack of movement is enough to shock him out of his reverie. It’s his turn to not answer Bucky’s question. “Dance with me?”

Bucky blinks. “What?”

Sam takes his hands in his, guides them around his waist. He places his own around Bucky’s shoulders. “Mrs. Jackson used to open up the windows on rainy days. Her record player was just beneath it, and her and Mr. Jackson would put on some oldies and dance the whole rainy day away right on this porch. Louis Armstrong was always her favorite.” He starts to sway with the music, Bucky following suit, and raises up on his toes just enough to kiss Bucky solidly on the cheek. “Thought we should continue on with the tradition if it’s gonna be our house now.”

“Our house,” Bucky whispers, like a dream, as rain steadily pours down on top of them whenever they happen to sway underneath a hole in the roof.

“The dining room’s going to be green,” Sam says with certainty, remembering how much he’d loved the color when Mrs. Jackson had it painted one year, citing a want for something new, something fresh.

Bucky doesn’t answer, just tilts his head up to feel the rain on his brow before he kisses Sam’s droplet-laden eyelids. Sam hums a few notes of “A Kiss To Build a Dream On,” and feels Mrs. Jackson’s approval in the warm Louisiana breeze.

Three months later, when the house is fixed enough to at least be lived in, the first thing Bucky does is buy green paint.

(also on ao3, post dividers found here)

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southern-god1 · 1 year

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The Pale Rider

“And I looked and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”

Revelations 6:8

The motorcycle rolled toward the bar, the headlight piercing the dark like a searchlight. The radio played an old song from the 1940s, “Dream A Little Dream of Me”, and the rider hummed along. The sleek pale green motorcycle slid to a halt, the music died, and gravel crunched under the rider’s boots as he walked to the door. He strode into the bar and took a seat at the counter, flagging down the bartender.

“Sazerac, with absinthe if you’ve got it, and Peyhcard’s bitters.”

His voice had a distinctive accent, something which drew the attention of the man beside him: a thin but cute local named Eric. Eric tried to look at the stranger without drawing too much attention: he was quite tall, handsome, and pleasingly scruffy. He wore a pair of jeans that showed off his ass and a pair of nice boots.

Taking a sip of his Sazerac, the stranger ‘s intense green eyes flicked over to glance at him through the corner of his eyes, as though feeling Eric’s gaze. He turned to face him, drink in hand.

“See something ya like, ma chere?”

The strangers accent clearly marked him as a New Orleanian, and he smiled. Eric’s palms got sweaty, and he nervously nodded.

“Um…uh, yeah. W-we don’t many people who can speak French in here.”

The stranger chuckled.

“Well now you have. What’s your name, you precious little thing?”

Eric’s cheeks turned beet red.

“I’m Eric, who are you?”

“My name is Rhett, ma chere. Rhett Delacroix, humbly at your service.”

He offered a mock bow, as best he could from the barstool, which made Eric laugh.

“Are you from New Orleans?”

Rhett’s response was sarcastic.

“Your certainly quick on the uptake. What gave me away? The accent? The French? Or my smoldering sex appeal? But yes, I am, my little snow bunny.”

Eric was immediately confused.

“Snow bunny?”

“It’s what we call those of you from up north. Think of it as a term of endearment.”

“What brings you up this way my…swamp gator?”

Rhett laughed aloud, amused by the awkward attempt at making an equivalent phrase.

“Ha-ha! I’m here on business. I know a guy, who knows a guy, who has something I want to buy. But enough about that…I’d like to get to know you better, my cute little snow bunny…can I buy you a drink?”

Cute? Eric beamed inside. Hot guys like Rhett hardly ever looked his way, let alone called him cute or offered to buy him a drink. He agreed.

After a few more drinks, Rhett suggested they go somewhere more private. Eric was too smitten -and slightly drunk- to disagree. Rhett headed toward his motorcycle, only for Eric to frown and complain that there was nowhere for him to sit. Rhett sighed and hopped in Eric’s car. It was a tight fit, and Rhett insisted on driving.

“But you don’t know where I live.”

“I know. We ain’t going where you live.”

“What?”

“Calm down little snow bunny - I told ya, I know a guy. Got me a nice motel room up the road."

Rhett set off driving, quickly changing the radio station from the news to the local country station. He drove until they reached a seedy motel, where Rhett was supposedly staying. He actually wasn’t, but Eric didn’t need to know that. He spied a vacant room, and with a quick, effortless little application of power, had conjured a skeleton key and unlocked it.

“Get on the bed and undress. I’ll be right there…”

Eric eagerly began to strip as Rhett strode into the bathroom. Rhett Delacroix, codename “Pale Rider" gazed at himself in the mirror for a moment, mentally preparing for what was about to happen. Fucking a snow bunny was hardly fun, but maybe this one would be different. He was looking forward to what was going to happen afterward more than the sex, in any case.

By the time he had pissed and washed up, Eric had already undressed and was posing in what he mistakenly assumed was a sexy pose. Rhett smirked and decided to assert himself as the one in charge of this little encounter. He growled out.

“Turn around. Your ass is mine.”

Eric seemed pleased by this dominant turn…that was good, since there was more of that to come. Rhett peeled off his jeans and boxers, tossing his shirt off onto a lamp, but left his boots on. In a flash, he was on top of Eric.

“Now, my little snow bunny…. you’ve never been with a real man before. This’ll probably hurt.”

He grinned and without further ado, began to mercilessly fuck Eric’s tight ass with his 9-inch cock. His scruffy chin rubbed against the back of Eric’s chin, his ear. Eric was clearly in pain, but also clearly enjoying this, moaning in a mix of pain and pleasure. Rhett could sense his little fuckbuddy was already getting close. Damn this boy was pent up…and tight. He grinned and began to fuck harder, getting closer himself. He grinned and began to whisper in Eric’s ear.

“You love this don’t you? You like being used by a real man? Do you wanna feel this way every day? Give yourself up to me. Everything. Your love. Your soul. Your heart. Every. Fucking. Thing. Will you do that, my little snow bunny?”

He punctuated every period with another hard thrust, and he smirked as Eric let out a cry that was halfway between a cry and a yes, and came, staining the sheets with his cum. That was close enough to a yes for Rhett, and he came as well, filling Eric’s tight ass with a load of his hot, salty Southern cum. He immediately pulled out of Eric’s ass. He snapped his fingers and immediately he was clean and fully clothed again. Eric stared in confusion as he turned out, still groaning in the hazy afterglow of sex.

Eric was confused. How was Rhett dressed already. That was so fast.

“L-leaving already?”

“Yes, but don’t worry…we aren’t about to part ways just yet.”

Because Eric could ask what he meant, Rhett’s eyes - so briefly it must have been a trick of the light- flashed a blood red, a stainless white, and a brilliant blue, before returning to their normal color. His hand was doing something complex, rapidly moving. Eric was instantly frozen. He couldn’t move or make a sound. An intense heat began to build up in his chest, rapidly enveloping his entire body. Then he saw the knife in Rhett’s hand, something intricate and bearing strange icons engraved on the blade. Eric frantically screamed, but his screams only bounced around inside his skull.

“Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna kill ya…I’m hardly The Axeman, not like some of my friends who enjoy killing y’all. I think that’s pretty stupid. Waste of a good soul. No no, I’m just gonna extract and bind your soul. Now…just like I said before…this’ll probably hurt.”

With a smirk, Rhett strode around to behind Eric and with a single, obviously practiced motion, slit both of his carotids. Yet no blood flowed out, as it normally would. Eric felt something leave his body, and seemingly hover before Rhett - but he still felt his body, dimly.

Rhett’s eyes flashed again and with a few more hand gestures, Eric’s soul began to compress and thin out, becoming powdery, wrapped up in a white and brown bit of paper. Rhett reached out and let the cigarette fall into his waiting palm. Eric could see all this happening, feel himself hitting the warm palm, being plucked up by two fingers. With a smile, Rhett reached into his back pocket and pulled out an engraved cigarette case and tucked Eric in with several others. These were not just cigarettes -at least not the kind one casually smoked; if he wanted a smoke, he had a pack in his other pocket. No, these were special. Rhett’s more complex spells and magic sometimes required souls, or sacrifices. Quite simply, Yankees weren’t always around when you needed them, and the cleanup after a sacrifice was…just so tedious. By trapping their souls as cigarettes and smoking them into oblivion whenever a soul was needed, he bypassed the need for a direct sacrifice. Now…to deal with the body.

Despite being sealed in the darkness of the cigarette case, Eric still had a connection to his body, however faintly. He still felt the intense heat, still filling every inch of his body. Eric felt himself start to shrink, dimly seeing the hunky New Orleans stud seemingly grow bigger. His body began to feel strange. His tongue shot out, stretching over his head and turning brown, as his hair, stretched over his outstretched tongue, became long and stringy, tipped with little plastic aglets. Within seconds, his face began to flatten out, and his body began to contort, painfully, bones snapping before being remade. Everything grew dark, and he felt Rhett’s strong hands grab him and give a strong tug, yanking some part of him apart.

Rhett reached down and yanked the newly formed pair of boots apart, tearing apart the thin layer of leather still connecting the two new boots. He pulled them on and tied the laces that used to be Eric’s hair, his tongue now the tongue of the boots. He grinned and rubbed his foot into his face, now the sole. He took his first steps and Eric practically exploded in pain and pleasure; almost as though he was being fucked again. Rhett had offered to let him feel like that every day, and the two had agreed to a verbal contract. Rhett was a man of his word. He was especially happy he had tricked the Yankee into signing away his own soul. He strode out of the motel room, and with a snap of his fingers, erased any DNA or fingerprints, locking the door again and evaporating the cum. There was the roar of an engine as his motorcycle rolled up into the parking lot by itself.

Let’s see…DNA, fingerprints, cum…ah yes, the snow bunny’s stupid smart car was the only thing left to destroy. As he strode over to his bike, his eyes flashed as he casually shrank Eric’s smart car down to the size of a toy. He hopped on his bike and made sure to drive over the puny car, the bike tire completely obliterating it as he drove off. Rhett felt Eric vibrating with pleasure as he drove, and grinned. This had been a good night. Another soul cigarette ready for when he needed it, and a new pair of boots. He began to drive south. He had a party to get to; a fellow stud from New Orleans named Alexandre Frost was throwing a party and Rhett would rather hang than miss one of those parties. Maybe he’d call the rest of the team to make a surprise appearance, really make the party memorable. For now, he flicked on the radio and was pleased to hear Elvis. Heartbreak Hotel played softly as the Pale Rider headed south, vanishing into the night.

My first attempt at a story with the Southern Avengers! I decided to focus on Pale Rider, the team magician and occultist. He keeps Yankee souls in cigarettes as a convenient way of having souls ready for sacrificing at any time; though he's not averse to slitting a throat. I was going to include some more Lovecraftian influences, but I felt madness didn't exactly pair well with this story, which focuses on seduction and manipulation. Also a lot less direct domination here.

Frost, refrerenced at the end of the story, is one of the characters used by @idesofrevolution; he's an excellent TFer who helped me make Rhett a bit more authentic as a person from New Orleans; he introduced me to some stuff like "snow bunny" being used rather than Yankee. Go check out his stuff! Also, the Axeman is not a team member of the Southern Avengers, he's a New Orleans serial killer from 1918 who loved jazz. I figured I'd toss in another nod to New Orleans history while I was at it.

Hope y'all like it! I hope to potentially explore more of Rhett and his teammates later on! Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

#inanimate tf #southern avengers #pale rider #story

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casualstarowl · 10 months

Text

“You know him?”

“Unfortunately… Yes.” Jethro could only muttered, noting the stranger staring across at the two men. “I’ll have a word with him, if you don’t mind Mister Morgan.” Jethro looked over as Arthur gave a subtle nod.

“Don’t cause trouble.”

“Please Mister Morgan I’ve seen your tactics.”

“Your temper is worst.”

—

I forgot to post this piece here but YES meet Jethro Delacroix, he’s a long time character of mine and like Jackie, Ephraim, and Agnes, I decided to pair him up with Arthur 💕 I will share more about Jethro but he is a hothead gunslinger from the East Coast, traveling to the west as he goes through a whole journey of running with outlaws, escaping the law and eventually finding love. Maybe :)

#red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #oc x canon #oc artist #fanfic #rdr2 fanart #jethro delacroix #owl doodles

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thesugarclubs-blog · 7 months

Text

On a Night Like This - Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: spooky season friends to lovers, truth or dare, soft confessions, "happy ending" for Bucky, 18+

word count: 9.3k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1389530411-on-a-night-like-this-ophelia

Masterlist

“I can’t believe Sam convinced you to wear that.” Ophelia grinned, holding back the laugh as she watched Bucky fuss with the shrimp costume for the millionth time that night. The tiny chef’s hat wobbled on the costume's large cowl only making it harder for her to contain her laughter.

His signature scowl shot her way. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Ophelia tried to hide the smirk on her lips and held her claws up in mock surrender. The crab costume she was wearing was bulky and weighed more than one would think but she still put it on, along with the fake plush cake headband completing her “Crab-Cake” look. “I’d never laugh.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “Yeah, never.” He glanced back into the large standing mirror in her apartment again and sighed. “He didn’t convince me. He said he had the costumes taken care of, he just never said what it was.”

“And you didn’t think to ask?” She laughed, gathering her phone and wallet before stuffing them into her pockets. Ophelia glanced back at her grump of a best friend watching him frown at himself in the mirror. “Own your shrimpness Barnes.”

His gaze shot to hers through the mirror, a horrified look on his face. “Do not ever say those words to me again.” He warned though she didn’t miss the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. She laughed and shook her head.

“C’mon Chef we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave now.”

After playing tetris trying to fit both of them into the car with their costumes on and an uncomfortable thirty minute drive, Ophelia parked her car alongside a row of vehicles parked in front of Sam’s house.

“He really went all out for this,” she said as they climbed out of the vehicle. His front lawn was decorated with skeletons in various positions, jack-o-lanterns lined his walkway and the lights in his upstairs window were all glowing red. She knew his house was older, one of the oldest ones in Delacroix and one of the oldest ones on this road.

Bucky fought with the tiny shrimp legs that lined each side of his torso as he straightened out the costume. “This stupid,” he cursed under his breath as she came around the front of the car to him.

She watched him fight for a moment longer before reaching out and grabbing his frantic hands, “hey,” Ophelia said softly trying to get his attention off of his costume. “The costume is fine,” she urged gently as his brows furrowed down at her.

He let out a sigh before glancing over at the house, “there’s a lot of people here.”

Bucky spoke so softly that she had almost missed what he had said but as they sank in she tugged on his hands. Ophelia knew he still struggled with being in close crowds and she also knew it was the reason he asked her to come with him tonight.

“There is,” she nodded watching him process his anxieties, “you remember what to do when it gets to be too much?”

His eyes found hers once again. “Beg you to take me home?”

Ophelia laughed and shook her head, “You take my hand and squeeze it twice.”

“That’s pretty much the same thing.” He finally grinned down at her, sending a wave of small butterflies through her belly.

She opened her mouth to say something when the door to the home swung open and Sam’s boisterous laugh echoed across the lawn forcing them both to look at their friend doubling over at the sight of them both.

“Bucky Barnes, man you’re lookin’ good,” he wheezed, wiping tear from under his eye.

Ophelia caught the moment Bucky masked his anxiety behind his usual grumpy scowl and she immediately came to his defence.

“Hey, quit it Samuel. A shrimp is far superior to a giant corn cob!” She admonished.

“Alright, alright,” Sam capitulated, his hands raised, but he still chuckled.

"No need to be so crabby Ophelia," Sam continued, laughing at his own joke as he led them out.

"You're such a child, Sam" she retorted whilst Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Where's the hard liquor?" he asked Sam, looking round and only seeing beer in the coolers, "I'm going to need something stronger than bud to get through this."

"Come on Shrimpy, I've got some of the good stuff in especially for you."

Ophelia followed them over to the makeshift bar where a punchbowl of bright green liquid sat alongside pitchers of sangria. And then she got distracted by the iridescent flask Sam pulled out from a cooler under the table.

"Do I get some of the good stuff too?" She asked, eyeing the flask hopefully.

"Not a chance," Bucky replied, jaw tight as his narrowed eyes slid over to her as if to ask 'are you crazy?' At the same time Sam grinned, eyes lighting up.

"If you think you can handle it, sweet thing."

"Sam," Bucky warned and turned to Ophelia, "here, try the green stuff. Looks just as toxic."

The next few moments were spent watching in amusement and Bucky attempted to work with his shrimp costume, fumbling for one of the fancy looking plastic goblets Sam had lined up on the table, and ladling punch without spilling it.

Ophelia took the glass from Bucky, her fingers brushing against his as she pouted comically.

"Yeah, but it didn't come from another freaking dimension," she grumbled under her breath before taking a long sip. Her eye twitched as the strong taste of cheap vodka hit her mixed with sour green apple flavoring. "Jesus, Wilson, you do surgery with this stuff?"

Cap winked at her while he tipped the flask into Bucky's waiting goblet.

"Hey, blame one of those kids out front. Sent them to the liquor store with some cash and they came back with a lot of change, if you know what I mean."

Ophelia shuddered through another drink of the almost literal poison as Bucky giggled to himself before clinking his glass with hers.

"That's my girl," he drawled.

The tone of his words made her cheeks tinge pink, she only hoped that the colorful lights strewn about every corner of the house helped conceal her reaction.

My girl. Bucky always spoke to her sweetly. Soft, cute pet names9 thrown between conversations that Ophelia was sure meant nothing more but the butterflies in her stomach always betrayed her thinking the contrary.

She smiled softly in response and took another swig of the neon green concoction, her face twisting as it burned it's way down her throat.

"So, Mr. Corn Cob" she voiced clearing her throat, "is your corn buttered?"

The joke made Sam laugh obnoxiously loud, his voice bouncing off the walls before being overcome by the music. Bucky just shook his head in faux disappointment, the corner of his mouth trying very hard not to curl up as he sipped from the shining flask.

"Not yet, but I'm... All ears if you wanna give it a go." Sam quipped with a devious smile.

Ophelia choked out a laugh as she glanced around at the people milling about. Some faces she recognized but others she had no idea who they were. "Did you invite all of Delacroix?" She raised a brow glancing up at the oversized corn cob.

Sam grinned, "I tried."

"Seems like you succeeded." Bucky muttered, sliding himself next to her. He grinned before taking a sip from his goblet. She noticed the small tinge of pink that painted his cheeks. She knew he couldn't get drunk no matter how many beers he went through on their normal Friday night dinners but whatever Sam had given him was having the same effect that the toxic green liquid in her cup did.

“They’re only here for bragging rights,” Ophelia snickered, nudging Bucky’s arm. “They just wanna say they’ve been to a party with Captain America.”

“Yeah, OK, I’m shore it’s got nothing to do with Sarah’s amazing gumbo,” Sam grumbled.

“You’re so corn-y Sam,” she fired back, her lip trembling in an effort to hold back a laugh.

Bucky showed no such restraint. He burst out with a guffaw, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and leaning into her as he dissolved into chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Sam muttered.

They watched as Sarah approached the small group.

"Well everyone who is anyone is here," she announced. "Time to get this party started! Over to you Captain Corncob."

Sam stepped out towards the centre of the assembled guests. "Welcome everyone, you all look amazing by the way. Thank you all for coming. I want you all to have an amazing night, so eat, drink and be merry, crank up the music and the fun and games will start shortly," raising the bottle in his hand, "Enjoy!"

"Not you big boy!" Sam pointed to Bucky has they made to go back through the house and find a quiet corner. "You're playing truth and dare!"

"Absolutely not!" He tucked behind Ophelia like she may protect him.

"Coward!" Sam laughed walking back toward them.

“Come on, Buck, it’ll be fun!” Ophelia laughed, tugging Bucky back around to her side.

“I don’t wanna,” he groaned, hiding his face into the curve of her neck, warm breath and rough stubble over her jaw as he peered up at her with an adorable pout.

“For me?” She murmured sweetly, pulling out the big guns and giggling as Bucky heaved a sigh, unable to say no.

"Fine." Bucky groaned.

"Oh yeah, let's grill this shrimp." Sam teased, as he manically tiptoed away from them to a quieter place to start the game.

"I'm gonna shuck him up one of these days." Bucky said with a serious face.

Ophelia simply smiled at him, taking one of the spindly arms of his costume in her hand and dragging him along.

"How come you got to ditch the claws but I can't ditch the costume?" He muttered against her ear as they all gathered around Sam's living space. Ophelia smiled up at Bucky as she planted herself on the couch tugging him down next to her.

"Because people still know what I am without the claws." She smirked, "you take that costume off and then you're just Bucky." She mocked his scowl, "no longer the Chef Shellfish you are."

"Shrimp are crustaceans." He grumbled making her laugh as he threw his arm over the back of the couch behind her taking a sip of his drink again.

"Just keep drinking your special go go juice, you'll forget about the costume."

Sam took the main chair between everyone and clapped his hands. "Alright, who's going first?"

Ophelia felt Bucky sink further into the couch trying to hide from their friend though Sam's eyes were already glued to her grumpy companion.

“I’ll go,” Amanda called out.

She lived a few houses away from Sarah and had two amazing kids who were, at present, raising hell in the back yard with AJ and Cass.

She chose truth, and then proceeded to dissolve into a crimson puddle of embarrassed giggles at the admission of exactly how many times she’d imagined Sam in his suit and holding his shield.

“Why would anyone wanna think about that?” Bucky muttered in Ophelia’s ear, which only served to increase her laughter, much to Bucky’s consternation.

“Phee, you’re up,” Sam announced with an evil grin.

“Dare,” Ophelia stated, folding her arms across her chest and smirking at her friend across the circle of chairs.

"Dare? Are you crazy?" Bucky turned to her in disbelief. "You do know how fucked up this crowd is? They'll have you streaking down the street in just your claws."

"Will you not give them any ideas..." Ophelia flustered.

"I don't need ideas," Sam replied, shaking his head. "I've already prepared a tonne of Halloween dares right here ready for my victims."

With that he stood and reached for a jar of folded paper from the shelf behind his chair. "Pick one to discover your fate bahahaha," his impression of Dracula adding to the atmosphere

Ophelia looked up at Sam as he held out the jar towards her.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Bucky muttered under his breath.

A low groan of annoyance left her lips as she opened the sheet of paper and read what was on it. "You have to be kidding me?" She looked at Sam with discontent.

"Well read it out loud, pretty girl," Sam kicked her shoe with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Spend a night at Skinner's park," Ophelia balled up the piece of paper and chucked it at him. "That place gives me the creeps, Wilson!"

"Well you can always turn it down but there is a punishment for that," he set the bowl down and crossed his arms. "But you aren't going to like it."

"What is it?" She asked with apprehension. Knowing Sam, the punishment could be worse but at least she'll know her options.

"Tell us a secret."

He offered with a shrug, the smirk on his face telling her the kind of secret he was after. Her suspicions further confirmed when Sarah's eyes bounced between her and Bucky with a barely concealed smile.

Her heart beat faster, the man beside Ophelia glanced at her with concern. His brows dipping in question when she hesitated a moment too long. She made up her mind then, better to spend a few hours at a park— haunted or not, than confess something and embarass herself.

She downed the rest of her drink in one gulp before focusing her narrowed eyes on Sam again.

"You're evil, Sam Wilson."

She muttered before getting up from her chair. Sam's laugh echoing in their small group.

Beside her, Bucky knocked back the rest of his own drink, placing his empty cup down on the side table before swiping his hands down the front of his costume. He heaved himself up from the couch with an intake of breath, causing Ophelia to look at him sharply.

"What are you doing?"

"Coming with you," he replied nonchalantly, pocketing his phone and retrieving Ophelia's clutch from the floor. Across from them, Sam cleared his throat, wiggling his eyebrows when Ophelia shot him a look.

"I'm a big girl, Buck. I'm sure I can handle a playground."

Bucky tilted his head, stare incredulous. Ophelia hated how well he knew her sometimes.

"Abandoned playground, Sunshine. You've seen that place in daylight and said it gave you the creeps, you think I'm about to let you go there alone now?"

Ophelia couldn’t deny the swell of warmth in her chest at his words, but she could feel Sam’s eyes glued to her face. She pointedly did not look at anyone as she pushed herself off the couch to stand next to Bucky.

“My knight in shining shrimp,” Ophelia said sarcastically, bumping her arm against Bucky’s side with a grin. He knocked her back as Sam spoke up.

“Alright, alright, get going you two. Here’s a flashlight and we’ll see you in the morning,” Sam winked as he ushered them out of the room to catcalls and laughter, the rest of the group continuing the game.

Ophelia took the flashlight, anxiety filling her throat as she and Bucky headed toward the car where again they struggled getting into their seats, maneuvering in every which way with their costumes on until they finally settled.

"You don't have to do this you know. We could just say we did and go home." Bucky suggested as he fished the keys out of his shrimpy attire and started the car.

"Sam will know if we didn't go." Ophelia insisted, staring straight out the window at the darkness, her hands becoming clammy as she gripped the flashlight.

"There is literally no way he would know." He pointed out but Ophelia shot him a sharp look.

"I am a crab cake, not a chicken. I'm doing this, now drive shrimp man!" She said confidently.

Bucky chuckled and threw the car into drive, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"How scary can it be at night?" She huffed leaning back in the seat as they made the short drive down to the end of Sam's neighborhood, "it's not like it's haunted." Ophelia glanced over at him and watched as his bottom lip took home between his teeth. "Right?" She said narrowing her eyes at him.

"What have you heard about the park?" He said after a moment of silence.

"Just that it was an old playground back in the early forties. That they've tried to remodel it but everytime they get a chance something goes wrong." Ophelia sighed, "sounds like bad luck to me."

"Or," Bucky offered, "something else was at work. They gave up in the early nineties trying to fix it. They deemed it a historical site and no one's touched it since." He pulled the car up to the curb and glanced past her into the darkness. "Not even Sam will step foot out here."

Her mouth dropped as she looked over at him, "Wilson won't even come here but he put it as a dare!?" She screeched as the nervousness she had before crept back into her bones. Bucky grinned and shook his head.

"Should've told a secret instead."

Her cheeks flamed at his response and she was pretty sure at this point they matched the color of her costume. "I'm not wearing this all night if I have to be stuck here." She grumbled.

“Thank God,” he muttered as he pulled over and shifted the car into park. “I really hoped you’d want to get it off…your clothes I mean. No! The costume!”

Ophelia felt her cheeks flame as bright as Bucky’s at his fumble and they both giggled awkwardly. She stepped out of the car and managed to wiggle her way out of the foam and Velcro prison as she listened to the noises of a similar struggle from the other side of the car.

“Phee?” Bucky called plaintively. “Can you help me?”

She walked around to his side of the car and had to swallow a gulp of laughter at the sight of her friend with his left arm fixed in what looked like an incredibly uncomfortable position.

“What’s up, Buck?” She asked:

“One of the little legs is stuck in the plates of my arm,” he huffed, pulling against the fabric of the costume once more.

Ophelia couldn't contain her laughter and Bucky continued to struggle. "You look like you're fighting a giant shrimp," she howled. "Stand still," she gulped,"let me help you."

Bucky stopped struggling as she reached into the costume, running her fingers along the plates of his arm, looking for the snag.

Ophelia was still a little breathless from her bout of laughter, but when she raised her eyes to look at Bucky, her breath hitched for an entirely new reason.

As his arm popped free of the costume, the plates sliding and clicking silently back into place in the cool night air. "Thanks," his chest rose and fell slowly, their eyes still locked together. "Almost didn't make it out of that," he said, the corner of his mouth curling up.

"It was a close one," Ophelia said back, not meaning to whisper but unsure of where her voice had gone. It was hard enough to concentrate around him but with his ocean eyes reflecting the stars back at her she seemed to lose all her senses.

"Luckily you were here to save me," he nudged her out of the trance, breaking their eye contact and taking a full step back from her. Politely putting the space between them like he did, protecting her boundaries and keeping her at a safe distance so they could continue to be just friends.

Ophelia tried to not let the pang of dissappointmet she felt in her heart show on her face when he took that step back.

She wanted to be more than friends with Bucky Barnes, always had since the moment she'd first seen him across the street laughing while carrying a box in the place he now calls home. It was hard not to fall for him, grumpy resting face and all.

"Come on," he broke her out of her thoughts as he took her hand in his and started toward the park, "let's get this dare over with so we can go home and watch a movie."

"Yeah." She answered a little breathlessly.

She pointedly ignored how his touch sparked against her skin as it always did, and ignored the butterflies taking flight because of his stupidly gorgeous smile aimed at her.

Each step towards the playground was accompanied by the crunch of leaves, the wind picking up and swirling them around at their feet.

"I hate Halloween," Ophelia murmured, her grip on Bucky's hand tightening as they got closer to the entrance.

"I thought it was your favourite holiday?" Bucky asked, squeezing her hand in reassurance as they stopped in front of the iron gate.

"Nope. Not anymore. Fuckin' Wilson, ruining all the fun shit for me," she grumbled, glancing up at Bucky as she sucked in a steadying breath. Ophelia placed a hand on the gate, drawing it back like she'd been burnt when an eerie creak echoed into the dark with just the slightest push.

Bucky chuckled softly beside her, tucking her under his arm and pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"Come on, brave girl. If the ghoulies come out to play, I'll protect you."

Ophelia dragged her feet through the leaves and piles of sand that littered the ground, breathing in the spicy sweet smell of his shirt. It did a little bit to quell her fear but not her irritation.

"How you gonna punch a ghost, Sarge?" she asked sarcastically, squinting her eyes up at his amused face. "We watched Casper, it's going to go right through!"

Bucky snickered even more and Ophelia's butterflies went batshit at the sight of his nose scrunching up.

"Oh, come on, you know that shit isn't-" Bucky whispered. They passed through a line of worn oaks lined with moss when his expression suddenly grew serious, ocean eyes wide. "What was that noise?"

“Bucky I swear-“ Ophelia cut off as a warm hand pressed against her mouth, a quiet hiss in her ear. They stood silently before she heard a quiet rustle to her left.

Before Bucky could do more than place himself in front of Ophelia, a baby deer burst out a tangle of bushes, startling them and running past, through the open gate and back into the woods.

Ophelia stood still for a second before she burst into laughter, pressing her hands to her face to stifle her snickers.

“Oh my god! You- and it was just a baby!” Giggles nearing hysteria as the shock and adrenaline mixed with relief, Ophelia grabbed Bucky’s hand and dragged him to the swings as he scowled.

She resisted the urge to skip gleefully like a child toward the swings, their familiarity giving her comfort in the dark, overgrown playground. Despite her relief at the sounds being just a deer, the place was still unnervingly spooky. It felt like the trees were judging her, laughing as they swayed in the wind, whispering to each other that they'd have her leaving that place before sun-up screaming like a crazy person.

She wouldn't let the trees or the darkness win, she would sit happily on the swings ignoring everything until the morning. Bucky didn't seem to think that was a good idea though.

"Please tell me you're not actually getting on that thing." He questioned when she let go of his hand and took hold of the dangling chains.

"I like the swings." Ophelia said mousey, a pout on her face.

"That thing is not up to code. It- it's covered in rust." He pointed out, swatting her hands from the swings.

"It's a swing." She laughed. "They're never up to code."

"Yeah, but other swings won't give you Tetanus." Bucky quipped.

"I am swinging on the swing shrimp man." She snipped playfully.

"Fine, but if we end up in the ER tonight I'm telling you I told you so." He huffed folding his arms across his chest.

Ophelia spun around, grabbing the chains and lowered herself onto the rickety seat. The metal whined as it braced against her weight and for a moment she almost regretted sitting on them. "See, they're fine!" She said tentatively picking up her feet to sway back and forth.

"Darlin' those swings are anything but fine." He drawled letting his arms down with a sigh.

"Quit being an old man and come have some fun." She goaded, grinning wide and ignoring the butterflies in her belly at the name. Bucky huffed again moved to the swing next to her, carefully lowering himself down. As soon as his ass hit the seat the structure let out a loud creak and she swore it shuddered under their weight, and yet it still held them up. She noticed his feet still firmly planted in the dirt but that didn't deter her from swinging gently next to him.

As she swung, Ophelia thought aloud,"I think I've been played tonight."

"What do you mean Phee?" Bucky replied, a puzzled look passing across his features.

"Don't try looking so innocent. You never wanted to go to the party, and I only got one drink before we ended up here Bucky. Everyone else is still at the party!"

'Hey, you chose dare, and I didn't need to come with you! How have I played you?"

The readhead jumped off the still moving swing seat and spun to face Bucky. She was just about to let rip her frustration when a movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye. She froze.

"What is it Doll?" Bucky tried to look over his shoulder in the direction she was looking.

Chills ran up her spine and licked at the tips of her fingers as her eyes scanned the tree line that bordered the park. "I could have sworn I saw something," she narrowed her eyes.

"Like what?" Buck straightened out standing up to look with her.

The trees seemed to sway against each other, the crunchy leaves creating a chorus that tangled with the breeze. A loud whooshing noise from their left made Ophelia yelp loudly and press her back against Bucky's chest.

His large, warm hand looped around her middle, pulling her back against his chest as he dipped his chin down and his lips brushed her skin as he spoke into her ear. "Don't move."

Ophelia couldn’t help the shiver that raced through her, pressing her back further into Bucky’s broad chest. He tightened his arm around her waist, his vibranium arm up and out in front of them.

Suddenly everything went quiet. The playground was eerily still for a moment and Ophelia held her breath. But nothing happened, except the general noises of nature coming back.

There was no more whooshing wind or cracking branches, and Bucky hesitantly lowered his metal arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked Ophelia, slowly releasing his hold on her.

Ophelia blinked, feeling oddly calm, until his arms were gone from her body, and then the panic settled back in.

She shivered at the loss of Bucky’s warmth, wishing she’d thought to layer up under her costume now that she was exposed to the chilly air.

“It’s gotten colder,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I think I left a jacket in your trunk, you want me to go—“

“Don’t you dare leave me, Bucky.”

Bucky held up his hands in defence, biting his lip in an attempt to hold back his laughter.

“Come here, you,” he murmured, reaching for her, “gotta do everything round here. Keep you warm, ward off ghosts… honestly.”

He huffed, but Ophelia could feel the gentle shake of his laughter as he wrapped his arms around her, his super soldier heat rolling off him in waves as she snuggled into his chest.

"Thought you didn't believe in that stuff," she murmured into the dark.

She leaned back further into his hold, resisting the urge to wiggle with glee. The change in how she felt only occurred a few months ago and being this close was almost overwhelming. The ridiculous shrimp costume hid all the hard edges of his body; now that he didn't have it on, Ophelia thought she might melt at his feet.

"Yeah, well, when you've fought aliens, something undead doesn't seem too unreasonable," Bucky chuckled, his hands resting gently on her stomach and his breath tickling her cheek.

A bonechilling whisper ominously cut through the air, sounding so much like the word James that Bucky jumped. He whirled around, only a hint of panic in his eyes. Ophelia's heart pounded loudly at the sight of him actually seeming to be scared. Her fingers wrapped around his cool vibranium hand, before letting go and switching to his right one.

"Sorry," Ophelia whispered as Bucky's eyes darted over the treelines. "Didn't wanna hold back the ghost punching arm."

"James" The whisper came again, a voice floating softly throughout the abandoned park. She felt the muscles in his arm tense, his grip on her hand becoming just a little tighter.

"James why have you forsaken me?" The voice asked and as it did, a chill ran down her spine, a faint light amongst the tree catching her eyes approaching them in a haunting glide.

Both of their brains must have malfunctioned because neither of them could move as the ghostly glowing white figure weaved through the trees toward them.

"Nope." Bucky declared, dragging her alongside him back to the car.

"OooOOOoooOOOoooo Jaaaaames!!!" Came a bloodcurdling hiss just as the wind began to pick up again sending a wave a leaves flying about blinding Ophelia momentarily.

"Oh my God, it won't let us leave!" She concluded frantically, clinging to Bucky's arm and burying her face in his shoulder.

"Never! You can never leave! For I am the ghost of Jame's love-life and I demand action!" The being laughed wickedly.

Her arm jolted as he stopped in his tracks. A familiar laugh boomed around them as Bucky's eyes frantically searched the trees around them. "Where are you?"

"Bucky?" Ophelia tightened her hold on him.

"Hey asshole!" He yelled as soon as whatever he was looking for caught his attention. The laughter started again as he pointed to the sky. Ophelia followed the direction his hand was pointing until she saw a tiny red flashing light within the trees. "Sam! You bring that thing closer to me I'm breaking it."

"You wouldn't!" The voice hollered back through a crack of static.

"Try me birdbrain!"

The realization hit Ophelia and she couldn't help the sputter of laughter that fell out of her. "Oh my god. He really is a dick."

The tiny metal bird that Sam referred to as Redwing made itself properly visible, draped in what looked like a white sheet and hovered just out of Bucky's reach in the air.

"You better sleep with one eye open," Bucky waved a metal finger in the air and Redwing dove toward him, pulling up at the last second and flying over their heads back toward the house.

Ophelia tried to stifle her laughter as Bucky turned his blue eyes on her, his brows scrunched together and his lips pursed. She clapped a hand over her mouth when he saw just how mad he was.

"I don't know if I'd classify Redwing as one of the big three," she mumbled into her hand, the words tangled with a soft laugh.

"Ha ha ha, keep on laughing," Bucky sneered, sticking his tongue for a second before pointing a metal finger in her direction. "You were just as scared as I was!"

"You were going to punch a ghost, Barnes!"

"YOU WANTED ME TO," Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose while Ophelia's laughter finally erupted and tears started streaming down her face.

"Fine," he slapped his hands on his thighs. "You wanna act all brave, how about a little bit of hide and seek? I'll go hide and you'll venture in those creepy old woods all on your own."

Ophelia's jaw dropped at his insinuation that she would either not be brave enough to go into the woods, or that she would be stupid enough to go into the woods alone. But before she could even agree, Bucky's large frame was loping towards an especially dark patch of trees and underbrush.

"What do I get for this, huh?!" she yelled at him, already overtaken by the night.

"Whatever you want, tough guy!" His amused voice echoed through the trees and her heart hammered even louder.

Ophelia couldn’t speak for a moment, caught with indecision. In her hesitation, Bucky spoke again.

“So, what’ll it be, Phee?” She could hear him snicker at the rhyme and her heart felt like it burst as she made up her mind, stepping into the dark, ominous opening.

She didn’t get ten steps, screaming at a breaking branch before Bucky was right there, wrapping her in his arms and pushing her back into a tree.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” he huffed, pinning her against the bark. “You’d willingly follow me into possible goddamn haunted woods, all for what?”

It felt like the breath had been knocked out of her feeling his arms cage her in against the tree. His scent surrounded her as those piercing blue eyes glinted in the soft moonlight. The amusement on his face made her smile, but damn he was too close again it was making it hard for her to catch her breath. "Well," Ophelia breathed, "when you offer a girl whatever she wants, it's hard not to turn that down."

Bucky leaned in even further and rolled his tongue over his bottom lip once again, "technically I found you." He teased, "I think that means I won."

Her brows furrowed as she frowned, "That's not how hide and seek works Barnes."

His eyes flickered between hers before he smiled again, "alright darlin, what do you want then?"

He asked the million dollar question as her heart rate picked up. Bucky's eyes flickered to her chest before moving back to her own and she silently cursed her thunderous heart for betraying her. She knew he heard it as soon as it picked up.

"That's a loaded question with you this close to me." She admitted. Ophelia pressed her hand to his stomach, feeling the hard planes beneath his shirt tense and before she knew it, he was taking a step towards her, closing the distance between them.

"Why's that?" He asked, his voice so low that it had turned to a sultry rasp that erupted goosebumps over her skin.

“Don’t…don’t make me say it Buck, please,” she whispered, her cheeks flaming crimson.

She looked away from him but his fingers hooked under her chin and lifted her face up so that she had no choice other than to meet his piercing cerulean gaze.

“You gotta tell me Phee, you just gotta, ‘cause I’m so scared I’m reading this wrong.”

Ophelia’s heart pounded even more at the tremble in his voice and the anxious vulnerability that played across his face. She swallowed down the knot of nerves that rose in her throat and took a breath.

“I’m scared that what I want will ruin everything Bucky,” she admitted, her eyes downcast once more.

“Please Phee,” Bucky almost whined, tracing his thumb across the crease of her chin, just below her lip.

“I want you to kiss me,” she whispered, so quietly it was barely audible.

“Thank God,” Bucky groaned as he lowered his face and pressed his lips urgently against hers.

Ophelia felt her insides melt as her lips parted and Bucky deepened the kiss. His hands snaked into her hair and pulled her closer.

"You can't believe how long I've waited to do that," he whispered, leaning back to look into her eyes.

"I've been waiting longer," she murmured, pulling his lips back to hers. Her fingers worked their way under his Henley, running along the taut muscles of his back and down to his gorgeous ass, giving it a squeeze.

The answering groan coming from his mouth against her lips sent tingles down her spine. Heat was licking low in her belly at how close every inch of him was. His cologne and something purely Bucky surrounding them as they breathed each other in, lips sweeping back and forth over each other with the promise of another kiss.

"Please, kiss me again." She begged breathily against his soft lips. Her hands slipping around his waist and gripping his back, anchoring herself to him or trying to pull him closer, she didn't know. She just needed him.

Between one breath and the next, Bucky's lips closed over her top lip, sucking gently before taking the bottom one and treating it the same way, coaxing her to open up to him as he licked his way into her mouth. Their tongues tangled sweetly and Ophelia moaned into his mouth.

She felt his vibranium hand glide from her neck, down her shoulder and onto her hip where his grip tightened a little as he pulled her even closer, molding them together against the tree while his other hand wound in her hair.

"Bucky," Ophelia whined and the curve of his smile against her lips helped what remained of her fear melt away into the night.

His knee raised slightly, spreading her thighs apart just enough that she could feel the flex of his hard muscles against where she needed him most.

"Ophelia," he drawled, his mouth moving from her swollen lips down a path to her pounding pulse and back again.

Every pass had her moving her hips against his leg, the edges of his teeth making her brain foggy with him.

"I need-", she moaned, as Bucky sucked gently at the exposed skin by her collarbone. "I want you."

Ophelia's breath hitched as his fingers brushed a bare sliver of skin, her shirt raised from their frantic movements against the rough bark. His lips brushed her ear gently, his warm breath making her thighs tighten.

"Phee, as much as I would love to fuck you until the sun came up," Bucky murmured into her ear, dragging his fingers teasingly along Ophelia's stomach. "The first time isn't gonna be against this creepy fuckin' tree."

Ophelia whimpered, "Please! Bucky I -"

His soft chuckle stopped her begging in its tracks, he was smirking when he pulled back slightly. "I do like the sound of your begging," he whispered. His hand dragged down her exposed skin slowly, and in spite of the cool weather making the vibranium chilly, it felt like fire spreading across her belly.

Bucky stopped, fingers just inside the band of her leggings, his soft touch was a striking opposite of the burning desire she could see in his eyes. "I like it enough I don't think I can resist giving you a treat. You're my good girl, right Phee? You'll tell me if you don't want this?"

“I want this, god I want this Bucky,” Ophelia groaned, placing one of her hands on top of his, pushing his fingers below her waistband.

Bucky swore quietly as his vibranium hand slid against her folds. Ophelia gasped at the coolness, pressing down harder against his knee.

“That’s it sweetheart, take what you want,” Bucky encouraged, slowly letting a second finger glide alongside the first.

"I want you," Ophelia breathed against his chest as she dipped her head forward. She felt his other arm wrap around her waist to hold her up as her hips began to rock against him. His warm body pressed against hers made her head spin as his fingers explored her. Bucky dipped his head to the crook of her neck, nipping at the spot just below her ear that always sent a fire to her core.

"Please," She begged softly once again, only to earn herself another chuckle.

Bucky moved his freehand to the back of her neck, tangling his fingers into the hair there as his cool hand circled her clit, once, twice before tugging her head back gently. "You have me," he breathed, ghosting his lips along hers until he pulled back once more, His eyes were dark, the ocean blue in them only sliver now as he rasped "But I want you in my bed, where I can worship you."

Ophelia let out a desperate whine at his words, her knees beginning to tremble with the intensity of the heat building between them. Her hands grasped at his belt and then slid round to grip his ass, pulling him even closer as she ground her hips harder against him.

“Buck-“ she began but faltered with a groan as he slipped a finger inside her.

“Dreamed of hearing you make those sweet sounds Phee,” he rumbled into her neck.

He laved his tongue along her skin as his finger moved to the rhythm of her hips, the heel of his hand putting delicious pressure on her aching clit.

Phee moaned as Bucky added another digit, "Oh. My. God!"

"Just Bucky will do," he chuckled. "You really like that, huh?"

Ophelia felt her core tightening, it had been so long since someone, anyone, had touched her there. She'd dreamt of this, of him, for so long, she knew she was close.

"Yes!" Ophelia gasped, "I d-do!" She was struggling to keep a coherent thought in her head now. His fingers were thrusting into her rapidly now, his breathing in her ear almost as heavy as her own.

"That’s it, sweet girl," he rasped, the heel of his hand grinding against her clit as he curled his fingers exactly the right way. When his teeth bit down on her earlobe, there was nothing that could stop the wail that escaped her, her body shuddering between him and the tree.

"Bucky!"

He held her close as the orgasm faded, and then slowly pulled his fingers from her. Ophelia watched as he licked his lips, then looked at her. His fingers were glistening, wet and sticky with her arousal. Without taking his eyes off her, he popped them into his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Fuck," he groaned, eyes sliding closed, "Better than I imagined." When he looked at her again, there was a determined look in his eyes. "Screw it. There's no way we're staying here all night. Not knowing how good you taste. Let's get out of here."

Ophelia giggled at his frantic tone as he pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth, "is that okay?" His voice was such a soft whisper against her lips she couldn't help but smile.

"If you're asking me if I'd rather stay out here in these creepy woods versus you taking me home where it's warm...I'm going with the latter." She grinned.

"Good," he pressed his lips to hers once more before tugging her along behind him. Ophelia's knees still felt weak and the thin sheen of sweat that covered her body made the cold night air nip at her skin even more than before. It was the last thing she could have cared about though. The idea of finally having Bucky to herself and knowing that he at least seemed like he felt the same way was enough to convince her to do anything he wanted.

A soft whirring noise sounded from above them as they made their way through the trees and back out into the playground. "You guys aren't leaving yet!" Sam's voice filtered through the air, "it's not even midnight!"

"Change of plans Sam!" She yelled to the air, a wide smile on her face.

They practically ran to the car with their fingers entwined until they finally had to part so they could actually sit. Bucky opened Ophelia’s door for her, making sure she was settled before climbing into the driver’s seat. He’d not even managed to get his seatbelt across his chest before Ophelia grabbed his cheeks and pulled him close for another kiss leaving them both breathless and giggling.

“Easy there Phee, or we’re not gonna make it out of the parking lot,” he laughed, kissing her palms as she reluctantly released him.

“Sorry, you’re right,” she grinned, and it was Bucky that leaned across the console this time, covering her apology with his lips.

"What about the costumes?" Phee asked him, giggling.

Bucky lowered the window, "Sam, I know you're listening! You need to come collect your seafood platter!" He yelled at Redwing. Starting the engine, he slipped the car into drive, before putting his arm around her headrest and powering along the road towards home.

"Your place or mine?" He asked.

"Yours," she breathed. Phee loved his place, his large fireplace and huge couch. She had often imagined a rough and tumble in his arms whilst innocently watching movies curled up by his side.

He shot her a brilliant smile. "As you wish."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow, wondering if he had actually just quoted The Princess Bride at her. There was no chance to ask though, since his apartment was so close by they were already pulling into his parking spot.

"Don't move." He said pointing a finger at her making her laugh as he climbed out of the car and jogged to her side and opened the door. She grinned up at him.

"Such a gentleman." Bucky held out his hand for her and without hesitation she took it. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach and it felt like her heart was trying to escape her chest as he wrapped his arms around her after pulling her out of the car. He dipped his head and kissed her so softly and sweetly that her body melted into his.

When he finally pulled away Ophelia’s heart almost exploded at the sheer joy she saw in his eyes. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him this happy. Even the smallest amount of worry had vanished from his face.

“Come on then Sweetheart,” he said, taking hold of her hand once more.

A giggle spilled from her lips as he led them up the stairs to the front door. He fumbled his keys, distracted as he was by her closeness.

“Come on Buck,” she laughed, playfully smacking his ass.

As Bucky swung open the door, he dipped his knees, grabbed her round the waist and tossed her over his shoulder.

He moved so fast that before Fee could squeal she was already upside down and being carried inside.

"Slap my ass, would you?" He chuckled, "I'm already aching for you," he tipped her backwards onto the couch cushions and, without hesitation, moved to join her.

Ophelia greedily reached for Bucky as he laid down on top of her, pressing her back into the plush cushions. She could feel him, hard against her thigh and she moved, wrapping her leg around his hip, pulling him into her.

Bucky groaned low and deep in his throat, pressing his face into Ophelia’s neck, his hands tangled in her hair and wrapping around the back of her shoulders.

“Fuck, can already feel how warm you are,” Bucky muttered and Ophelia moaned, rocking her hips into his covered dick, feeling the drag of denim against her leggings, desperate for more, already feeling too much.

“Bucky, I wanna- can I touch you?” Ophelia asked, one hand trailing between their closely pressed bodies to the button of Bucky’s jeans.

He dragged his tongue slowly, greedily along her jawline until their lips met and he nipped playfully at her bottom lip. Their eyes met as he leaned back taking her in with his icy blues darkened with lust.

“I’m all yours angel,” he drawled. “Do with me whatever you please.”

Ophelia smiled, moving her hands up his back fingernails scratching the fabric of his shirt slightly. She lifted her lips to his as she hooked her leg between his and gripped his shoulders shifting her weight beneath him pushing against his body and rolling him onto the bed.

Bucky huffed as his back hit the mattress and she settled atop him, straddling him. She let her hands roam along his taut chest, under his shirt, “All mine huh?” She asked.

Bucky’s eyes were wide but full of eagerness. He slid his hands up her thighs, kneading at the flesh where they met her hips.

She pressed down onto him as she flicked open the button of his jeans, the zipper pulling down on its own, his dick hard enough to press forwards.

Ophelia bit her lip as she slowly reached down and traced a single finger up and around the head of his covered dick, making Bucky hiss.

“Doll, come on Phee, please. Don’t torture a guy here, huh?” he whined, and Ophelia grinned. She slid her hand inside his underwear and gently gripped his dick, tightening her hand gradually as she moved it up and down.

He squirmed beneath her, his hard body going taut as she twisted her wrist in a corkscrew motion while working his length. Ophelia watched him through heavy lids, unsure of how far he was willing to take this or where they'd land after tonight but a part of her didn't care. She had waited months for this moment and she selfishly would take every piece of him he was willing to give.

"God, Phee," he moaned, pressing his head back into the pillow while his hands found purchase in her hair. She slowed her strokes, using her free hand to tug his jeans further down his thighs.

"These need to come off," She said as she released him, earning herself a groan of protest as she worked his pants down his legs. He watched her, the blue in his eyes completely gone while his chest heaved in response to her crawling up his body once again and settling herself between his legs. He licked his lips watching her as she pressed her lips to his thighs, pushing the hem of his Henley up and over his chest and trailed her lips along the planes of his abs and adonis.

"You're killing me," he growled as her fingers wrapped around his length once more and stroked him.

"And I want to know how you taste," she moaned, wiggling her hips. Bucky raised a brow at her as she stuck out her tongue and licked the length of his shaft, sending a shudder through his body before she slowly took him in her mouth.

She looked up at him through her lashes as she circled his head with her tongue slowly before she hollowed her cheeks, relishing in the way his breaths shallowed at her movements, his lips parting slightly.

“God you’re perfect, Ophelia.” He mused, pushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Ophelia hummed around him, before releasing him with a pop.

“All yours handsome,” she winked, licking a bead of precum glistening on his tip before taking him in her mouth once more.

Ophelia felt the heavy weight of him on her tongue, and slowly took more of him in until she was pressing her nose into the hairs at the base of his dick.

“Oh jesus fuck, Ophelia! Gonna come if you do that too much,” Bucky gritted out through his teeth, one hand deep in her hair, the vibranium one stroking her cheek.

“That’s the plan,” she rasped as she came off him again before pressing back down, licking at his balls and jacking his dick with one hand.

Bucky swore and Ophelia grinned, a satisfied moan leaving her as he came in her fist. She kissed the base of his dick, Bucky twitching as another spurt of cum landed on his abs.

She released him gently, letting him catch his breath as she climbed off the bed.

"Where are you going?" He asked as she moved into his bathroom, coming back a moment later with a warm wet cloth. Ophelia settled between his legs again, only to find that he'd taken off his Henley while she was away. His body was perfect. Hard muscle that formed every curve and dip in his chest, the pink scars around his shoulder, everything was perfect about him. She began wiping his stomach off, his abs twitching at her touch as she cleaned him up.

"That's supposed to be my job," he breathed as she tossed the cloth to the floor.

"You take care of me all the time Bucky, let me take care of you for once." She said moving up his chest and pressing a kiss to his lips. His arms wrapped around her waist as she settled her weight onto his. He wrapped his fingers into her hair again, groaning against her lips as he rolled them onto their sides. Bucky pulled back, trailing one of his hands along her hairline, pushing back the mussed tendrils behind her ear.

"What does this mean?" He asked softly after a moment of silence.

Ophelia took in a deep breath, soothing herself as she trailed her fingers slowly along the hair that adorned his navel. A million thoughts swirling around her brain only hoping that he’d be thinking the same as her. Silently pleading the universe that this wouldn’t be just for tonight. That things wouldn’t change between them for the worse.

“You still with me there angel?”

“Always Buck… as long as you’ll let me of course.” She breathed, looking up at him warily.

“You make me feel safe, Bucky in more ways than one.” she began, “And that isn’t a now feeling. Ever since you walked into this town, you’ve made me feel that way.” She finished, pressing her hand to his heart feeling it beat steadily against her palm.

His lips turned in a soft smile as her eyes met his, "I've made you feel safe?" He asked the question as if he was shocked he could be that for someone.

She nodded without hesitation. "Since day one."

"You've been that for me too." He admitted, "I think the days I spend without you around are the hardest."

Ophelia blew out a breath as he ran his hand down her arm and continued, "I haven't been able to get you out of my head for a long time Ophelia, you're the calm in my life and it's addicting." His thumb traced her bottom lip, "Just like these lips." Ophelia smiled against his touch, "and that smile."

"You know how to make a girl blush," she said softly, nipping at the tip of his thumb causing him to chuckle.

"No, sweetheart," he cooed, "I know how to make my girl blush."

Her stomach fluttered, searching his eyes. "Your girl?"

"If you'll have me." He grinned.

Ophelia smiled back, leaning into him to press a soft kiss to his lips before she pulled back, "I think I've been your girl for longer than tonight Bucky."

He nudged his nose against her own and grazed his lips against hers, "I've been yours since the day I met you."

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