#Excited to get through the Wild East - There is someone in the next area I know my gooby will love!!!

[sparkys-blog-of-things]

UT Yellow Update: WE MADE IT TO THE DUNES!!! Just got to the Wild East and met my beloved North Star! After we finished this area, I'll share my Corn Yaoi art! I made another ship child today bc I was bored! :]

Im so excited for more North Star antics - I missed my silly!!!

[lucefrs]

          tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.

                                                                      insp for the song she plays at the end. 

BEFORE.

luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.

she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.

she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘   my sat scores were no where near the average,    ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.

‘   god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge.   ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.

she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.

PRESENT-ISH.

luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.

SUMMER.

she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.  

INTERLUDE

she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.

i miss you.   missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x

she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.

                                                         ***

‘   i don't know how to miss you in the right way,   ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘   it hurts.   ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.

SOMETIME, SOME DAY.

she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘    you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough.   ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.

she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH134

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 134: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XXIV)

The night was heavy and all was silent.

The shaking of the earth hadn’t stopped, and it was getting stronger and more frequent.

This field, which had been dead for many years, was slowly collapsing, just like his world.

Holding Qi Leren’s body, Ning Zhou walked on the stone stairs of the former site of the Vatican and went down step by step, from the cloud to the ground, from heaven to hell.

The night wind brought back memories. Once, those dull and tiny joys were buried in countless pains and hesitations. However, when death filtered out the impurities like gravel from sand, what remained was the sweet taste that made one feel excited.

But before he could even taste it carefully, he had turned to the final chapter of this surprise tragedy.

The Garden of the Holy Tomb was just around the corner.

In the corner of the cemetery, the huge tree stump with a diameter of more than two meters had already been hollowed out, and the remaining wood ring was covered with grass and blue and white fallen flowers, like a natural bed.

They’d come back here, the place he had used to take a nice nap, and where he had looked at him so warmly.

This time, he would sleep for a long time, and he would wait for a long time.

Maybe a part of his soul would stay here forever, with him who had died forever.

He carefully wiped the blood from Qi Leren’s face and hands. Once white and beautiful, his pampered hands were full of burns caused by the explosion and there were scars that had healed over from underground lake so long ago. From countless details, Ning Zhou had already outlined what happened in the church.

Isabel served the Devil of Fraud and her appearance could only represent one thing - the Devil of Fraud has entered this field, and his identity was beyond doubt.

The Devil had seduced his lover, but he’d refused.

The spilled Devil's blood in the church quietly told everything.

Betrayal or death.

He’d chosen death.

Why? Ning Zhou asked silently, Why choose death?

He’d clearly told him that living was always the most important thing.

He would rather see him drink the Devil's blood and be destined for hell. At least he could live. He could also hide this love that is not blessed by God in his heart, and draw a perfect full stop for everything. Anyway, for these unbelievers from different worlds, the positions of justice and evil weren’t clear, were they?

Maybe in the future, they would face each other because of their positions. He was willing to give up his life with his own hands to repay his sacrifice to him again and again.

Yes, he had chosen to die.

The night wind was cold, blowing petals off the branches of the surrounding trees, and the blue and white fallen flowers fell in a swirl. Just like that day when he’d slept quietly in the warm afternoon sunshine, but this time, he wouldn't wake up again.

The eagle quietly landed on the edge of this natural bed. It cocked its head, looked in puzzlement at Qi Leren who slept there, jumped to his side, rubbed his cold face with its beak, and then came to Ning Zhou's shoulder and rubbed his face.

The same cold, the same silence. The eagle whined, flapping its wings and flying away.

Ning Zhou had never felt so cold. Even when he was in that country where there was snow and ice all the year round, it had never been so cold, so cold that he couldn't weave a ring.

When this grass ring was woven and formed, Ning Zhou knelt down slowly by the stump and took Qi Leren's hand, just as he had done many times in his dreams.

But outside of these dreams, there was only this reality that was a thousand times more cruel.

He proposed to his dead lover, willing to spend the rest of his life to hold to a love that was not allowed by God, even if he would fall into hell after death and sink forever.

The wounded hand was as cold as ice, and the coldness of death had frozen his heart along the blood vessels. There seemed to be a wound that would never heal, and this wound would accompany his every heartbeat and accompany him through his life.

He put the ring on him instead of kissing his lips. Instead, he kissed every wound on his hand. He was as pious as he would be kissing the cross. All the hesitation, jealousy, disobedience, pain, and love that he’d once dared not admit were melted by the cruel death and turned into countless sharp arrows, which shot through his heart one by one.

The cruelest torture in the worldwais no match for the pain and suffering of this moment. And this despair would continue until he walked into the abyss of death.

In this decaying rotten stump under the unchanging starry sea, his lover was sleeping. The Milky Way rose above his head and fell to the west. The world gradually brightened and the stars were annihilated, the east gradually turned white, and dawn would soon arrive.

But maybe, it would never come.

　　&&&

The eagle hovered in the dawn wind.

After being sent back to the castle, he has been unconscious until now. Dr. Lu ran all the way to the old site of the Vatican. He couldn't find any of his companions and wandered around at a loss.

The eagle flew down from the sky and led Dr. Lu to the direction of the Garden of the Holy Tomb at the foot of the mountain. The nervous Dr. Lu followed it and came all the way to the place where they had had a picnic only a few days ago.

In the corner of the garden, he saw Ning Zhou. He stood in front of the broken stump with his back turned to him, and his back seemed to melt in the morning sun.

Delighted, Dr. Lu ran to him: "Ning Zhou! Ning Zhou! I finally found you. Why are you here? Where's Qi Leren? Where's Su He? Last night..."

His footsteps slowed down and his voice came to an abrupt end. Dr. Lu stared at the stump covered with grass and fallen flowers and his face instantly turned pale. He walked beside Ning Zhou as if sleepwalking, looking at the lifeless face of his former friend and the blood on his clothes. His mind went blank.

Dr. Lu held out his trembling hand, but as soon as he touched his cold neck, he took back his hand like he’d been given an electric shock and began to cry.

He realized that his friend would never come back.

The sun rose and dispelled the darkness of night, but the two people bathed in the warm sunshine did not feel the heat at all.

Time passed quietly and the funeral began and ended in silence. Ning Zhou couldn't even give a eulogy for him, because his lover was a non-believer.

But it was such a carefree non-believer that this devout believer had met briefly in this world, fell in love with quietly, and then been left by silently. The last words were "you must wait for me" with a smile before he’d left, and then "I love you" written in blood. Abandoning this body, their souls would neither meet in heaven nor in hell. They were not even people of the same world.

The dead were dead, but the living have to spend a long life remembering the cruelness of a love that had never started.

Dr. Lu's crying gradually quieted down, leaving only sobbing again and again.

The ground was still shaking, and it was becoming more and more frequent. The shaking earth had plunged the whole Holy City into panic. Even in the former site of the Vatican far away from the residential areas, they could vaguely hear the noise.

After standing for so long like a sculpture in front of the stump, Ning Zhou finally moved, and Dr. Lu watched anxiously as he took off the coat of his Holy See uniform and covered Qi Leren with it. It was then that he discovered that Ning Zhou’s waist was stained heavily with blood.

"You... Are you hurt? Let me help you... Help you treat it..." Dr. Lu trilled.

Ning Zhou silently shook his head and turned to the corner of the garden, where vast areas of wild roses were in full bloom, planted by Maria in those days. After more than 20 years, they grew tenaciously in the wind and rain.

He picked seven white wild roses. The hard stems covered with thorns bloodied his hands, but he seemed not to notice and took off the thorns one by one.

He walked up to him with the flowers in his hand. He slept in a tree stump covered with petals and bathed in warm sunshine. His memory couldn't help overlapping the past and present, but this time, he wouldn't open his eyes to meet his sight. But he would always remember the gentleness of that glance.

The pure white roses were placed on Qi Leren’s body, separated by the black Holy See uniform, and separated by life and death.

This really was a great distance.

The sun that had once lit up his life has set, and the rest of his life would be a long eternal night.

After such a short life, he had lost someone forever.

-----

The author has something to say:

PS: Although I don't usually write emotional dramas, this couple really has a special beauty. It's a bit like being fond of a beauty that is obviously taboo, but in the end, love triumphs over all beliefs and logic.

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[dracusfyre]

Number 22. Of the 50 Kisses prompt list

YOOOOO this was the first time I’ve ever had someone ask me for one of these prompt lists, thank you @zola9612​! Hope you enjoy this :D

(also on AO3)

~~~~~

Tony sighed wistfully and looked out over the moonlit ocean, listening to the muted crashing of the waves hitting the cliffside. He was sitting on a pile of rocks at the base of the cliff, close enough that he could feel the spray. The night was clear and crisp, the stars bright despite the regular sweeping beam of Tony’s lighthouse at the top of the cliff. The wind was strong and steady from the east, and Tony could smell the hint of a storm out over the water.

 “When will my lover come home from the war?” He mourned loudly, plucking petals from the rose in his hand and casting them into the water. “It has been nigh-“ he checked his phone “-thirty-seven hours and forty-two minutes since I seen him last. I fear that I might soon forget his face and be tempted to love ano-shit!”

Even though he had been semi-expecting it, the cold, wet hand that wrapped around his ankle and pulled him off his perch into the frigid water was a surprise. He laughed, knowing that Bucky could feel the vibrations of his amusement through the water, and found Bucky’s lips with his own. Bucky’s hands tangled in Tony’s hair as they kissed, mouth hot; Tony could taste the salt of the ocean and a wildness that was all Bucky, and it never failed to thrill Tony to his bones. Under the water it was dark, too dark for even Tony’s eyes to see, and all sound was muffled, and there were no smells but the sea, so the only thing that Tony could sense the feel of Bucky against him, under his hands and against his mouth. He stroked firmly down Bucky’s sides, gripping his fins and feeling the muscles move under Bucky’s skin as he kept them steady in the water. He felt more than heard Bucky’s groan, vibrating through his chest, and he bit lightly at Bucky’s lips to get more of a taste of him on his tongue. They didn’t normally get frisky like this under the water – after all, Tony had a lovely large bed with soft sheets and dark curtains to keep out the sunlight back at the lighthouse – but apparently Bucky was in the mood, hands plucking urgently at Tony’s clothes to get at the skin underneath. Tony wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist as he pulled away from Bucky’s mouth just long enough to wrestle his shirt over his head, and then they jerked apart in surprise as they felt something plunge into the water right next to them.

He heard Bucky’s instinctive, startled cry of alarm and tried to see what was happening, but all he could see was the rapidly disappearing reflection of moonlight off the bubbles streaming through the dark water. He felt the woosh of water as Bucky swam after who- or whatever it was, and kicked his way to the surface to wait for him, raking his hair away from his face as he treaded water and cursed his lack of natural buoyancy. But it was only a couple of minutes before Bucky’s head broke the water with is cargo in tow.

“What the hell?” Tony said. It was a person. Some stupid idiot had jumped into the ocean in the middle of the night in late October; it was a miracle that he wasn’t already getting hypothermia. And it was a stranger, to boot – Tony knew everyone in the tiny town that was closest to the lighthouse, and he’d remember seeing a man this good-looking and brain-dead. “Did you just jump into the water? For God’s sake, why?”

“I s-saw you fall in, and you didn’t c-come up,” the man said, shivering but surprisingly lucid given how cold he must be.

“For Christ’s sake,” Tony started, but Bucky cut him off.

“Let’s get him warmed up, then curse him out,” Bucky said, and as Tony made his way back to the rocks and picked his way around the base of the cliffs towards the trail up to the lighthouse Bucky started towards the pebbled beach with the man in tow.

“I can swim,” Tony heard the man protest, and smiled when he heard Bucky’s click of disgust.

“Shut up,” Bucky said crossly, and Tony knew he was pissed that this guy had interrupted his plans. He all but tossed the stranger onto the beach, and that was when Tony noticed that the man was naked.

“Hey!” Tony called out. “Why are you naked? Where are your clothes?” But he wasn’t sure that the man heard him, because he was staring at Bucky as he laboriously pulled himself onto shore with his arms and great big heaves of his tail. As graceful as Bucky was under the water, he was as ungainly out of it, at least until he was far enough on dry land to trigger his transformation. Tony, of course, had never seen him transform in the day, but at night it was lovely – moonlight shone slick on his skin as the water streamed down it, then there was a soft pearlescent glow and when it faded, Bucky looked like any other man, if more muscular than most. But now he was just as naked as the stranger, which left Tony feeling overdressed and somewhat bedraggled with his wet hair and dripping clothes. “Fuck it,” Tony muttered, and kicked his own clothes off as well, stopping only to grab his phone in its waterproof case out of his pocket then leaving everything else on the rocks to gather later. Other than Bucky and now this guy, Tony had never seen another living being out on this finger of land that jutted out into the ocean, connected to the mainland by a ribbon of land so narrow that it didn’t even have a proper road on it and it disappeared in particularly high tides.

“Are you not human either?” The man exclaimed as Tony approached.

Tony shared a glance with Bucky, who was pulling his long hair away from his face and tying it up with a hair band he kept around his wrist for just that purpose. “Well…” Tony hedged, then he stopped and scowled. “Wait, what do you mean, either?”  The man looked alarmed as Tony came closer and leaned in; underneath the salty, fishy smell of the ocean, he caught a trace of – “You’re a werewolf?”

“Maybe we should talk inside,” Bucky suggested again, and Tony led the way up the trail to the lighthouse, hitting the lights as he went inside. Towels always hung by the door, and as they all dried off Tony studied the newcomer. The man’s hair was dark now, but he could tell that it would dry to a burnished gold, and he had a thick beard that emphasized his strong jaw and framed a full mouth. Now that they were standing on level ground, Tony could tell that he was tall, barely taller than Bucky, and his body was just as thickly muscled. Bucky caught him staring and raised an eyebrow with amusement as Tony just shrugged and smiled.

Tony tossed Bucky his clothes from the back of the couch, then went into the bedroom to grab a pair of pants and something for the stranger to wear. “My name is Tony,” he said as he handed the man a pair of Bucky’s old shorts. “And to answer your question from earlier, no, I’m not human. I’m a vampire.”

The man had the grace to look chagrined that he had jumped into an ice-cold ocean to save a vampire from drowning. “I’m Steve. I’m sorry for barging in on you both, I just was exploring the area when I caught your scent, then I saw you go into the water-“

 “It’s fine, you couldn’t have known,” Tony said, waving off Steve’s apology. He gestured for Steve to take a seat and hit the button for the coffee pot, the one human habit he hadn’t been able to kick even after all these years. “This is Bucky, and you might have noticed that he’s mer.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Steve said, and Tony glanced over to see that the man’s face was suspiciously red as he looked at Bucky. This time it was Tony’s turn to smirk as Bucky studied Steve with equal interest, his previous hostility draining away at the potential to get to know someone new and exciting.

“I’ve never met a were before,” Bucky said. He scratched his chin as if he actually wanted to be running his fingers through Steve’s beard, and Tony could sympathize. Bucky’s face was as hairless as his body, in and out of the water, and Tony had lost the ability to grow a beard like that when he turned. “What brings you to the area?”

“I just got out of the military, and needed some time to clear my head, so I took some time off to roam. Oh shit! I’ve got a bag with my stuff in it, I dropped it near the cliffs.” He half-stood as if he was going to go retrieve it right this second, but Tony stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s safe for now, I’ll get it for you. Are you hungry? Bucky keeps us well stocked with seafood,” Tony offered, perching on the edge of the armchair where Bucky was sitting as the coffee maker burbled and hissed.

“No, please, I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Steve said. “I’ve already imposed enough. I should get going.” He shuffled his feet a little but made no move to get up, and Tony suppressed a gleeful smile as he met Bucky’s eyes again.

“You should stay,” Bucky said as if on cue, curling his feet up underneath him in the chair. “What, were you planning to get a hotel room or something? You’d rather stay with humans?”

“Well, no,” Steve admitted. “I’ve mostly been sticking to the woods and only going into towns when I had a craving for a hot meal.”

Tony had to laugh at that, because that was also pretty much the only reason why Tony had ever gone into towns, at least until he’d met Bucky and didn’t have to leave the lighthouse to feed anymore. “Well, we aren’t the best chefs but we can make a hot meal, and we’ve got a spare bed if you want it. If you need to feel useful, I’m sure we can find something for you to do around here.”

  “Okay,” Steve said after a moment, nodding. “If you’re sure.”

[jbbuckybarnes]

Zerfall - 12/14

Pairing: Bucky x named!Reader (Agent Andromeda) Summary: After Hydra drops virus bombs in 7 major American cities in the height of summer, the team is locked in their emergency bunker for weeks. The virus commonly called the Summer Poison successfully brought the infrastructure to a halt in all big cities. When the virus slowly starts burning itself out SHIELD Agents and Avengers are sent out to bring back order into the cities and the international relationships. Not without hurdles. Warnings for this chapter: Pandemic, crime, canon typical violence, flirting, kidnapping, weird grammar. Not beta read.

Zerfall Masterlist || M a s t e r l i s t

“Does that mean we finally have an off day?” He asked the next day at noon with his morning hair in his grey sweatpants. “Yep, but also that we need to help in Brooklyn a bit so we have both in check. The Bronx is also at 90% back. Queens might be the only problem but with all the people we already have? Might even solve itself,” you said in your thoughts. “You really had to make it about work, huh?” He grinned and got up from the couch. “Hell yes! It’s my job to save the city, Barnes!” You called out. “Gosh, please, for heaven's sake, stop calling me by my last name. We’re partners, not working at a bank.” He chuckled coming to a hold in front of you with his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for saving my ass, Bucky.” You smiled up at him. “It’s what I’m here for.” He grinned back down. “Always watching my 6, I know.” An eye roll was inevitable from your side. “Celebratory pizza?” He asked grabbing your waist. “Oh hell yes. I’m so glad this damn tower has electricity.” You got excited. “And hot showers,” he added. “And soft beds,” you sighed. “Privacy and dental care.” “Music,” you whispered. “Why? Wanna dance?” He grinned. “I’ve never been asked for it before, so I’d say yes.” You flirted back. “What a shame,” he said pulling you closer. “Friday? Can you put on slow music?” You asked the AI. Calm music started playing and he started swaying you around in a slow dance. The softness his eyes carried was incredible, nowhere near what it was in the beginning of you two working together. You started smiling and got a smile back. His left hand squeezed your waist and he eyed you for a little longer, now having the permission to. You let your hands wander to his neck, letting him lead you a little more. The small movements of his lips and the sparkles in his eyes were so apparent all of a sudden.

Before there can be anything more than a dance you get interrupted by a loud boom sound in the distance. You both turned towards the windows and saw a dust cloud coming up from lower Manhattan. You got your comm earpiece, “Please tell me that explosion near Brooklyn Bridge was one of you.” “Nope.” “Nope.” “No.” “Fuck.” you muttered, “Can you get there with us Agent Bee?” “Already on my way,” he answered. “Grab food from the pantry, we’ll eat on the way.” you said while grabbing your equipment. As soon as you both were on the ground Bee contacts you again, “The civilians say they might’ve blown up New York City Hall.” “Shit! The only freaking area we didn’t check down there.” you hissed. “You get onto my back, eat, I run faster than you.” Bucky nudged you. “Oh, we’re pulling a Twilight in the middle of the apocalypse? Nice.” There was no other way to lighten the mood and he really WAS fast. 15 km/h was no joke and he probably was even faster without someone on his shoulders. “If this wasn’t for a mission I’d have a few comments.” you called out, grabbing onto him tighter. “Get your gun ready.” he said already in full mission mode. “Alright, Sergeant.” You did as you were told. He must’ve known there were people already around the entire explosion zone and you had the perfect line to kill all of them with perfect shots in the torso and head. “I’ll never get tired of how good you shoot.” he chuckled while aiming at the people charging at you. “I’m coming from the bridge.” Bee alerted you. “It’s a lot. I don’t have a line of sight on your side, but I assume it’s at least 20 on each side. Stay safe.” you answered after finally getting the last guard from your side. “Will do.” came back. “Buck, I could really use one of your knives,” you called over and got it thrown into your hand. While he continued shooting whatever came near you from anywhere but your 12, you were charging at guards on the south side of the building in a beautiful dance of momentum moves and knives in throats. “Behind you,” you yelled over and saw him kick a guard 15 feet far against the remaining wall of the City Hall. “I could use some help over here on the east side,” Bee yelled into his comm. “Coming,” you yelled back and made a run for it, trusting Bucky to have your back. You got through the guards in almost perfect symmetry. Your training was specific for the smallest of attack strategies. Agent Bee had a few advantages to you but your talent with a pistol and a knife was balancing that out. “Davis? If you can hear me, we need some help at the City Hall. I don’t know if we can handle this without your help.” you screamed into your wrist while seeing more people coming at you. “Fucking hell, where do all of these bastards come from all of a sudden?” Bee grumbled. What you didn’t see were the people coming from behind until it was too late. “Fuck you!” You groaned, defending yourself and kicking shins where you could. “Not so good anymore, Agent. Are you?” A big, crazy looking guy grinned. He wore a trench coat, had a deep voice, had a look of absolute insanity on his face. Next to him two buff guys that looked like they were high ranking military men before this apocalypse. “What do you want from me?” You hissed at them. “We want our beautiful city back. You did a great job getting rid of all the Eagles, Outcasts and Vultures. But why take Randalls Island from us, dear?” He asked. You heard gunshots outside, death, the place inside smelled like gunpowder, was full of dust and had a big open roof from the explosion. “Well, you never tried to communicate.” You squinted at them. “You never gave us the chance.” A door was kicked in and you saw Agent Bee and Bucky standing there. “Cause you don’t deserve one!” He yelled. All weapons in the room showed either at you or them. “Make one wrong move and your pretty partner here is dead.” The insane dude spoke to them. “What do you want?” He groaned annoyed, taking down the weapon enough to not seem dangerous. “You. We thought you’d come.” The man grinned all of a sudden. It dawned on both of you and you shook your head when his eyes flashed to you before going back to the leader. “For what?” He asked. “You’re still a wanted person in the underground. You know that as well as I do.” “That wasn’t the question.” “Well, but that was my answer. You’re smart enough to put the pieces together, aren’t you?” He chuckled eerily. You saw Bee click the side of his watch in the subtlest of movements, a distress signal. To whom? You didn’t quite know. “You come with us and she is free. Or you’re all dead.” The nameless man repeated.

You whispered almost soundless, “Buy time.” “Who wants me?” He asked with his eyes flickering between you and the leader with more distress reflecting in them than you were okay with. “Take a wild guess. Hydra!” The man got impatient. “You know he needs to come voluntarily.” Bee realized in the face of the nameless man that was looking away from you. “No shit, bringing them a dead soldier won’t bring them anything.” “Too bad.” You grinned hearing what was coming and the man turned to you. The perfect moment for Wanda to come in through the hole in the roof and fuck them up good. “Hold those three down for interrogation. We kill the rest.” you yelled over after kicking the guards left and right to you away and got a pistol thrown towards you by Bucky.

[im-fairly-whitty]

Free Wing: An Illustrated Dragon Western

A young Victorian Englishman decides to chase after his dream of being a dragon-riding cowboy in the American Wild West. Set in a world where everything is the same as ours, but instead of horses there are dragons.

[Read Chapter 1]

Chapter 2 - Arrival

“Mister?”

Louis made a muffled grunt as he opened his eyes. A small boy standing in front of him slowly came into focus.

“We’re real close to Cheyenne mister, you said to wake you up?” the boy said. 

Behind the boy the passing Wyoming mountains and foothills swaying slightly as they seemed to slide past them.

“Ah. Yes, of course, thank you,” Louis said, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes as he sat up, having been leaned against Arthur’s flank as they both napped.

Louis dug a coin out of his pocket and gave it to the boy, who grinned. The boy scurried off across the roof of the strider carriage and down the ladder attached to the side, presumably descending to one of the two lower levels.

Louis stood and stretched, breathing in the hot summer morning air around him. Luckily the thrillingly swift leviathan voyage last week and the last six days of strider travel meant he didn’t have to struggle for balance atop the carriage roof as it swayed back and forth with each of the massive beast’s steps.

Arthur made a sleepy clicking noise as he shook his head, getting up and stretching long. The dragon’s tongue curled as he yawned before his jaws snapped shut.

“Good morning to you too.” Louis said, rubbing the small scales under Arthur’s chin as they surveyed the slowly moving landscape around them.

Ahead of them was the long neck and head of the strider, the massive drake the size of a building whose slow plodding steps ate up ground with deceptively fast speed. They’d been lucky to catch an over-land shipping caravan of them setting out from the east coast when they’d landed in New York, continuing their journey west.

The driver had said this shipping company’s striders had come straight from Africa. Louis had heard of the companies working hard to carve trails for strider caravans across the entire North American continent in recent years, but seeing the massive trails and beasts first hand was awe-inspiring.

Big enough to ward off most predators or even bandits, Louis could see why striders’ docile dependability that make them ideal for traders looking to transport tons of goods at a time with as little danger as possible during the summer months.

Or in Louis’ case, passengers.

And now finally, in the distance, Louis could just make out a smudge on the horizon.

Cheyenne, Wyoming. A town that he’d been assured by East coast residents was regularly overrun by cowboys.

Arthur nudged his snout under Louis’ arm, nearly making him fall over.

“No Art, I’m not nervous.” Louis said, pushing Arthur’s head back, “I just...I just can’t believe we’re finally here I guess.”

Arthur shook himself in response, making his loose saddle tack jingle as he stretched his wings out full, giving them an experimental sweep. With all the travel they hadn’t had the chance to do too much flying the last couple weeks, Louis couldn’t blame him for being anxious. At the rate the strider was going it might be another hour before they reached town are all disembarked and Louis was already feeling as itchy to get moving as Arthur.

Louis rubbed his chin, glancing around the carriage roof. Well...they’d already paid their ticket fare, and they didn’t actually have any luggage that needed unloading...

“What say you and I get a head start?” Louis said, smiling as he adjusted Arthur’s bridle and started pulling the buckles tight on his loose saddle.

Arthur flapped his wings again in excited response, nearly knocking Louis over as he stuffed a few things back into the saddlebags and strapped them shut tight.  

“Let’s get on with it then.” Louis said, climbing into the saddle and strapping his legs in, checking his top hat’s chin strap. “We could use a flight anyway. Hup!”

Arthur sprang off the carriage roof, gleefully flapping his wings as they soared into the air. Louis let him spiral and swoop for a moment before pulling the reigns to the side, sending them gliding down to the strider’s head where they hovered for a moment, wings beating the air.

“Hullo!” Louis called to the driver, who was seated behind the strider’s head. “We’re going on ahead, don’t look for us at unloading!”

The driver waved his acknowledgment and Louis nudged Arthur on ahead. The dragon happily complied, slicing through the air. Louis smiled and leaned down to streamline them. The sagebrushy land under them zipped by as they sped across the sky, Cheyenne growing quickly as they sped toward it.

As they got closer to the town Louis could see other dragons in the air. Some circling down to land on roof perches, some taking off with sweeping clouds of dust, others tethered in small flocks on the ground. They were huge; easily four times the size of Arthur, with fins on the sides of their heads and sharp claws on the tips of their wings. Spanish Razorwings.

As they got closer Louis couldn’t spot any of the familiar yellow no-landing striping he was used to seeing all over London’s rooftops. Not a clue to be seen about traffic regulations. The only clue was that all the Razorwings seemed to be landed and hitched in paddocks around the edge of town, not a dragon scale to be seen on the streets, only drake carriages pulling cargo being unloaded from the first strider that had already arrived from their caravan.

Which seemed about right, dragons that size would be dangerous on the streets, big enough to collapse the wooden buildings and storefronts that looked anything but sturdy compared to the stone buildings back home. Not to mention that there was not a chance that it was legal to ride Razorwings open bridle.

But Arthur was small enough that they’d always been allowed just about everywhere back home...even indoors some places...they couldn’t get in too much trouble for guessing could they?

“Well that platform seems good as any.” Louis called to Arthur, angling him down toward a wooden platform in the middle of town.

Arthur glided carefully down above the crowd, delicately landing on the platform with as little flapping as possible due to the surrounding crowds. Louis swung down out of the saddle as the sound and smells of the town swept over them. It smelled nothing like London, that was for sure.

“Ho there! You don’t look like the post.”

Louis turned to see a gruff man waving a wide-brimmed hat at them as he approached.

“This here platform’s for Wing Express riders only,” the man called crossly. “If you don’t got mail in those saddlebags of yours then clear off before I call the sheriff.”

“I’m terribly sor-sorry,” Louis stuttered, grabbing Arthur’s reigns and pulling off his hat as the man—he must be the postmaster—approached them. “I couldn’t tell where to land, could you direct us to some place more suitable?”

“A Brit, eh?” the postmaster said, his angry expression shifting to something a bit more patronizing if Louis wasn’t mistaken. “How far off course did you get blown to end up all the way out here?”

“Please, I'm looking for work as a cowboy, is there some kind of notice board I can apply to here in town?” Louis asked, trying to keep himself composed at the man’s rudeness.

The postmaster scoffed, adjusting his glasses, “I reckon you’ve gone and landed yourself in the wrong state for that. Cattle runs end in Cheyenne, everyone here’s busy frittering away their paychecks before flying back down to Texas for their next job. If you’re looking for a saloon or cheap women you’re in the right place, but the cattle barons are all down south.”

Louis’ grip on the reigns tightened painfully as panic shot through him. The wrong state? But the men back east he’d asked had told him...maybe he’d asked all the wrong questions...? He was missing how easy things had been when it was his secretary arranged his traveling.

“I do need you to get off the Wings Express platform, we’re expecting a mail delivery and they’ll be needing the landing space.” The postmaster said, pointing down the wooden steps. “You should also know there’s no wings or guns allowed in town, if the sheriff catches you you’ll be in for a nasty fine. We’ve got a hard enough time keeping tipsy cowboys off the streets with their blasted Razorwings, we don’t need any foreigners flying around giving them ideas.”

“Isn’t there anyone I can ta-ta-talk to?” Louis said, swallowing hard to keep his panic and stupid stutter under control. “I’ve come a very long way, there must be someone you can think of who’s looking for help.”

The postmaster sighed, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, “There is one new advertisement. Henry Washington came in an hour ago looking for an extra man on a short cattle run down to Denver. Breeding stock that needs delivering I guess.”

“Where can I find Mr. Washington?” Louis asked eagerly.

“He said he’d be down by the General store until noon,” the postmaster said. “Black man wearing a purple vest, ask around and you’ll find him. Now get off my platform.”

Louis quickly nodded in thanks before scrambling up into Arthur’s saddle again, sweeping up off the platform with a powerful push of Arthur’s wings.

It took much longer than Louis would have liked to find someplace on the edge of town to leave Arthur—a safe distance away from a trio of tethered Razorwings eyeing the much smaller dragon suspiciously—hike back into town on foot, manage to get directions from busy or drunk passers-by for directions to the general store, and finally be directed out back to a crate unloading area.

By the time he spotted an African-American man in a suitably cowboyish outfit unloading a crate, Louis thoroughly regretted not having left his too-warm coat back with Arthur.

“E-excuse me, but are you Henry Washington?” Louis asked as he approached, half expecting the cowboy on the other side of the crate not to hear him.

The man looked up with a wary smile, glancing over Louis’s clothes for a moment before dusting off his hands. “Maybe. Who’s asking?”

“I saw Mr. Washington’s advertisement for another rider on his next cattle run?” Louis said, carefully speaking just slowly enough to keep his stutter at bay while he gripped the edge of his hat, “My name is Louis Ainsley, I’ve come to apply to the position.” he swallowed. “If that’s alright.” he added.

The man squinted at Louis, as if convinced he’d misheard him.

“You?” he asked, glancing again at his clothes. Maybe Louis should have purchased new ones after all.

“Yes.” Louis said, squaring his shoulders, “I’m an excellent flier and I work hard and I’ve come all the way from England. I’d very much appreciate the opportunity to join you and your team for your next expedition, assuming of course that you are Mr. Washington.”

The man let out a guffaw that made Louis jump, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment as the man continued to laugh.

“Ammon, come over here.” the man called, waving over a young man, probably Irish by blood judging by the flaming orange hair, “This gentleman’s come all the way from England to join our expedition.”

Ammon looked at Louis with a skeptical smile, “Not in those soft shoes he ain’t.” he said, cocking his hat back as he looked at Louis’ feet. He looked back up and Louis realized Ammon looked even younger than he was, he’d guess as young as seventeen.

“What’s got you over on this side of the pond wanting to run around in the dirt with us for?” probably-Mr. Washington asked, scratching his neck, “Don’t you got high tea with the queen or something?”

“I can pay well, I promise.” Louis said, he had to convince them before they laughed themselves out of town without him, “I can give you eighty pounds up front and eighty more after the cattle run’s over.”

All laughter and smiles stopped abruptly and the two stared at him long enough to make Louis want to crawl into his hat. Had he accidentally offended them somehow?

“You serious mister?” Ammon asked, looking concerned, “You’re supposed to get paid from these things, not the other way arou-”

“I think we could make room on the crew with arraignments like that.” said the still identity unconfirmed man, rubbing his chin.

“Oh lay off, Henry,” Ammon said, shoving the identity confirmed man’s shoulder, “We can’t bring him just because it’ll settle your gambling debts, look at him. If snakes or sunburn don’t get him first Saul’s gonna eat him alive. We don’t even know if he’s got a set of wings.”

“I do!” Louis said quickly, eagerly grasping at this slightest shift in possibility, “He’s a twenty year old English Fieldracer, fastest dragon in England, we’ve flown together our whole lives.”

“A Fieldracer?” Ammon asked, giving a low whistle, “You really do got money then don’t you?”

“I’d say we’ve got our new recruit.” Henry said happily, reaching out to shake hands.

“Saul won’t like it.” Ammon said, pushing Henry’s hand down before Louis could shake it.

“Saul don’t like anything.” Henry rolled his eyes, but he folded his arms, “You let me worry about it alright? If we take mister Ainsley with us he gets to have the cowboy experience of his dreams, and the three of us get paid two year’s worth of wages to split. All we gotta do is keep him alive, it’s a win all around as far as I can reckon. We’d be fools to pass it up.”

“What makes you so sure you won’t die before we finish?” Ammon said, looking back to Louis, “I mean no offense mister, but I’d feel real bad leaving you and your fancy wings buried under sagebrush someplace because you didn’t know what you were in for. Cattle runs are long dirty business, there ain’t gonna be no little sandwiches or carriages or butlers out there on the plains, and if you wanna turn back we can’t leave to herd behind to bring you.”

“I promise I know what I’m getting into,” Louis said earnestly, “I know I don’t look like it, but coming out to be a cowboy has been my dream since I was a boy. I’ve read everything I can about the west, and taught myself how to handle a lasso, and when I fly Arthur through London I imagine we’re threading through slot canyons and over prairies.

“I’m here because I haven't done anything else in my life that I’m proud of and if I have to go back to the horrid bank my father left me I really think I’m going to die. I need to be out here Mr. Washington, I don’t care what chores you give me, I promise you’ll never hear a word of complaint from me, I really desperately would like to join you and finally see what it’s like out on the plains and this is the only way I know how to do it.”

Louis didn’t know what it was exactly about Henry’s expression that changed during his speech, but whatever it was it made the man look less amused, almost sad looking. More earnest.

“Look here son,” Henry said, putting a hand on Louis’s shoulder, “plenty of us are out here running from some thing or another, I can’t fault you for that. But is this really something you reckon you can handle or is it just the first dangerous thing that came to mind when you settled on running off? As much as I’d like your money, truth is I don’t want to bury you any more than Ammon does.”

“I promise I can do it.” Louis said firmly, “And even if I do decide to turn back early, which I won’t, I’ll still make sure you get your money. I can’t leave until I’ve at least tried.”

Henry sighed, looking at Ammon, who soberly shrugged back.

“Saul won’t like it.” Henry said.

“You said you’d take care of Saul, remember?” Ammon said with a smirk.

“Alright, alright.” Henry said, good naturedly shoving Ammon’s hat down over his eyes, “Go unpack your saddle already before we move out, I’ll take care of the kid.”

He waved Louis over to follow him to where Ammon was hauling a wooden crate away from a stack that had “H. Washington” stamped on the side of them.

“Here, first cowboy job for you is to help me get this crate open.” Henry said, tossing Louis a crowbar.

Louis barely managed to catch the length of metal, dropping his hat in excitement as he grinned like an idiot.

“You mean it? You’ll let me come?” Louis asked, almost wondering if he’d hallucinated the last fifteen minutes, having imagined this moment so many ways over and over again for years.

“Don’t look so surprised about it, kid,” Henry said, wedging his crowbar under the crate lid and jerking the corner up, “Have a bit of confidence.”

“I, uh, I’ll try.” Louis said, doing his best not to look like a fool as he struggled to replicate Henry’s quick work. “I haven't done very much physical labor before,”—any physical labor actually if you didn’t count playing cricket, which he very much doubted they did—“but I promise I’ll learn quickly.”

“That’s alright son, we’ve all got our faults.” Henry said cheerfully, leveraging the rest of the crate lid off, “Saul’s as friendly as a horned toad, I’ve got my gambling, and Ammon’s a Mormon.”

“You’re just sour you’ve never won a penny off me because of it.” Ammon called back with a grin from where he was wrestling a new dragon saddle out of his crate and hefting it onto a waiting drake cart.

“He don’t gamble and he don’t swear and you’ll never be able to borrow a drop of whisky off him.” Henry said with a resigned sigh, pushing his hat back a bit as he started loading brown paper-wrapped packages out of their crate and onto the wagon as well. “Makes him about useless on a cattle drive if he weren’t so handy with the actual cowboying parts. Come on, this is the last of it, let’s head back to our flock, Saul’s waiting for us.”

“Who’s Saul?” Louis asked, quickly climbing up onto the cart with the other two as Henry finished loading.

“Who’s the gringo?”

Louis swallowed as a large man climbed into the driver’s seat ahead of them, picking up the drake’s reigns and shooting a dark look back at them, “And what’s he doing in our supply wagon?”

“Ah! Saul, I thought you were going to meet us back at the flock tether?” Henry said, slapping the Mexican man on the shoulder as the wagon started to move. Louis couldn’t help noticing the raking scars across the man’s face and arm.

“Had to buy more lead,” Saul said shortly, nodding to the empty holster on his hip, “Now, who’s this and what’s he doing on our wagon?”

“His name’s Louis Ani-something.” Ammon said cheerfully, climbing onto the driver’s bench beside Saul, “Lou here’s going to pay us a hundred and sixty pounds to come on the Denver shieldhorn run with us! I dunno how many dollars that is but it sounds like a bunch.”  

“No he’s not.” Saul said flatly, “Get him off my wagon.”

“Come on Saul,” Henry said with a sigh, “He’s paying good and the run will only be a week. I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble.”

“We’re not bringing a tourist with us,” Saul said, shaking his head. “He’ll get himself killed, or else he’s a rustler. Look at him.”

“If he is he’s the softest rustler I ever seen.” Ammon smirked. “What’re you so scared of? Let him come, my ma and pa could use the money and he’ll be good for laughs anyhow. Lou says he doesn’t even care if he dies, it’ll be alright having him along.”

“I s-sa-said I won’t be a bother to any of you and that I w-won’t trouble any of you for protection, I’ll take care of myself.” Louis quickly clarified. “I just want to come along and I’ll help however you want me to.”

Saul looked at him for a long moment, his icy gaze making Louis shiver.

“I say we bring him.” Henry said, “You don’t gotta look at him if you really hate it that much Saul, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I think it’s a bad idea.” Saul said.

“I’m the one who invited you on this run, and now I’m inviting Lou,” Henry said sternly. “I’m the one who found the guy wanting us to move his breeding stock so it’s my run. Besides, pay like that’s enough to finally get my sister and her kids away from South Carolina and over to Kansas, so this conversation’s over.”

Soul growled a little bit at that, but looked ahead silently instead of pushing the issue.

“I’m sorry if this is inconveniencing,” Louis said timidly.

“Don’t worry about it too much.” Ammon said with a smile. “If Saul hasn’t shot you yet it means he likes you well enough.”

“Oh...good.” Louis said weakly.

“Does he at least have his own wings?” Saul grunted as he reigned the cart over toward the three Razorwings Louis had left Arthur near. The middle and biggest Razorwing—a large green one with yellow face and legs—eyed them sharply, no doubt the flock leader.

“Yes! I do, he’s right there actually, the Fieldracer there.” Louis said, jumping off the cart with the others as they pulled to a stop by the dragons. “Are these your Razorwings? What a coincidence!”

“Wooeee, look at that little guy!” Ammon said, pushing his hat back with a grin as he looked at Arthur, who folded his wings tightly against his side at the stares of the three strangers. “Don’t he get dirty real fast? And he’s so tiny, I bet he’d lose a fight with a shieldhorn no contest.”

“Well it hasn’t been an issue up until this point, our roostmasters have always kept Arthur sparkling.” Louis said. Arthur pushed his head nervously against Louis’ chest as he got closer, still eyeing the huge Razorwings. Louis wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck comfortingly, “I suppose we’ll have to get used to quite a bit more dirt now though.”

“I’ll say,” Ammon said with a laugh, walking over to the smallest of the Razorwings, who was still more than double the size of Arthur. This one was a darker green with red coloring.

“This is Rusty.” Ammon said, grabbing Rusty’s head spikes as the dragon nudged him. Louis’ breath caught in concern as the dragon lifted Ammon an easy ten feet in the air, playfully shaking his head back and forth as the boy hung onto Rusty’s snout. “He was my brother’s,” Ammon called, dropping back to the ground as Rusty lowered his head, much to Louis’ relief. “Still pretty young and he’ll give you trouble if you let him.”

There was a rattling hiss that made the ground vibrate and Arthur push his head closer to Louis. Louis looked up at the yellow patterned Razorwing in the middle as it raised its wings threateningly as Rusty’s antics, making the younger dragon crouch low to the ground in submission.

“That’s Cassidy,” Henry said, rolling his eyes as he carried an armload of packages over to the last dragon, a blue-green Razorwing with orange coloring who looked downright bored at Rusty and Cassidy’s altercation, “She’s even moodier than Saul and twice as pushy, but she’s the flock leader and Saul rides her open mouth—he only bridles her closed when we come into towns—so make sure to keep your pint-sized Fieldrunner out of biting range of her. And this is Major, he won’t give you any trouble at all.”

“O-open mouth?” Louis asked quietly, swallowing at the sudden hoarseness in his voice as he watched Cassidy shove against Rusty. Would Arthur be able to take that kind of roughness? Different breeds didn’t always mix safely. What if Ammon had already been in the saddle and gotten his leg crushed just now? “But she’s enormous, I didn’t think that was legal?”

“Don’t worry, she behaves when there’s riders.” Henry chuckled, starting to load Major’s saddlebags. “But she and Saul are good at what they do and they don’t allow nonsense from no one, so it’s probably just best to give them space, got it?”

Louis nodded mutely, watching Saul walk up to Cassidy with a sharp whistle and some barked words in Spanish. Cassidy huffed a last sharp breath at Rusty, then snapped her wings shut, lowering her head to Saul who continued to talk in softer Spanish as he scratched her chin.

“They seem close at least.” Louis observed quietly as he helped Henry pull things off the wagon.

“They should be, he raised her.” Henry said. “He’d be a fool to ride her open mouth if they weren't so close, that’s the only reason I ride with them. As it is, they’re the best in the cow punching business when they aren’t off hunting outlaws.”

“What do you mean by-”

“Say, I don’t suppose you’ve got any supplies of your own in those saddlebags?” Henry asked, glancing at Arthur.

“Well no, I suppose-”

“Alright, you and me, the general store. We’ll take the wagon back to return it.” Henry said with a sigh, strapping one of Major’s bags shut. “Ammon’s right when he says those shoes won’t last you three days and you’ll have to carry your own rations too. And you stay close to me, alright? We’re picking up the Shieldhorn breeding stock in an hour and you’re going to have to keep up, got it?”

“Yes sir.” Louis said, standing up straight. “And thank you again for letting me come along. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, son.” Henry said, climbing up onto the drake wagon. “Wait to see whether or not you and your dragon come out on the other side of this week in one piece.”

Louis didn’t quite know what to say in response to that and so he said nothing, instead pulling on his best cowboy face as he gave Arthur a last pat and climbed back into the wagon.

He was going to survive the week, and it was going to be great.

He was at least sixty five percent sure of it.

 -----------

If you haven’t already be sure to check the [#free wing] tag on my blog to see what other art and worldbuilding that I’ve made for the Free Wing world. Free Wing content takes some time to create since I use it to push my art skills, but I love sharing it with all y’all!

Asks about the world and other details as always are accepted, I love hearing your thoughts and questions, especially since they have a way of helping the story grow! Up next I’m putting together some breed profiles on the megafauna we’ve seen so far; milewings, leviathans, and striders. Also something for the South American Perchers since a very patient anon asked about them ages ago. See you then!

- Wit

[galaxy-parchment]

Vampire AU

1 : 2 : 3 : 4 (you are here) : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8 : 9 : 10 : 11 : 12 : 13 : 14 : 15 (coming soon)

In contrast to my previous very short update, this one is much longer, so enjoy! Thanks for all of the support for my writing fellas, you’re doing some fine encouragement.

Jekyll and Lanyon said their friendly goodbyes and Jekyll returned to his office, Hyde’s insistence prodding his inner thoughts as he habitually poured a perfect measure of salt into the flask and downed the bubbling green liquid without hesitation. The transformation was as painful as usual, but Hyde wasted no time in jumping out of the window to enjoy the night. As he was about to climb over the fence, he saw that the kitchen light broke through the curtains, so Hyde decided to pay Rachel a quick visit.

As usual Rachel, annoyingly, didn’t fear him in the slightest, but such disrespect could be tolerated from someone so endearing. Frankly, Hyde figured that anyone who didn’t fear him ought to revere him as she did. After his failed attempt to terrify her, he noticed the piping hot tray of cookies she was holding. He leaned in close and gave her a big grin.

“Oh! Are these for the new werewolf boy?” he considered stealing one, but he’d rather not be spewing up his guts on the night he’d been waiting for all of his life.

“I- uh…” Rachel began

“We’ve been over this, Rachel, if you want to shag someone, just walk up to them and say ‘Hallo, fancy a shag?’, you don’t need this confectionary nonsense.” he said as he propped himself up onto the bench.

They bantered about Rachel’s hopeless romance and Hyde’s plans for the Bazaar tonight before he began to grow restless, the prospect of Blackfog dangling in front of him far too seductive to waste on chatter. He jumped to the window sill, hungry for blood and excitement.

“I’m off, Rachel, good luck with wolfy!” He said, looking up in the direction of the distinctive howl that drifted down from the roof.

“What? While he’s got all of his fur and teeth?” Rachel asked in shock.

“The better to eat you with, my dear” Hyde responded with a teasing growl before jumping out the window before she could continue her embarrassed sputtering. He had a party to go to.

He bounded through the gaps between the rooftops, large and small, the powerfully cold gusts of wind filling his cloak as though they kept him aloft. There was no time to waste, if he was lucky he might be able to get his feeding done quick and enjoy as much of the Bazaar as possible.

He jumped down into an alley, the collar of his cloak popped and his favourite top hat tucked away, replaced by a hood he typically kept shoved into the back of the cloak. It payed to hide some of the more defining traits when looking for victims, since the odd witness tended to spread word among potential meals. He crept out to the street, where, miraculously avoiding the eye of Scotland Yard, whether by pure luck or a few well-placed bribes, the Blackfog Bazaar was in full swing.

Many stalls hid in the dank buildings that lined the area, but many had set themselves up in the street, though these stalls must surely hold the tamest goods available. His gaze shifted about, losing himself in the atmosphere, before he suddenly felt light-headed and felt the need to grasp at a nearby wall. He cursed himself and began to look around for telltale signs of a feeding ground, being rewarded by the unmistakable sight of a very common trick of dragging a drunkard into a nearby alley for a shag. While the face-value activity didn’t sound all that bad, these days Hyde rarely followed through with his promises, at least to their entirety.

He meandered to the alley and poked his head around and was delighted by what he found. This seemed to be a communal feeding area, as nearly everyone there was either at someone’s neck or the victim of the act. He was feeling impatient, so he opted to simply drag in some poor sod wandering about on his own at the last second and got right to work. As he ripped out the man’s throat a familiar voice chimed in.

‘Dear god, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing that’ Hyde lifted himself from his meal.

“Well you could always take a page from my book and stop existing.”

‘As if I’d let you do anything without a responsible supervisor.’ Jekyll grumbled.

“Not to worry, this fellow’s blood is quite rich, he’ll tide us over for a good few days” he grinned before returning to his feeding. Jekyll didn’t feel the need to continue the conversation.

A nearby vampire finished at the same time as him and looked up as Hyde drained the last drop of blood he could. He had a similar cloak to his, though his didn’t have the damaged flair that Hyde’s did. Even with his hood covering his face, he seemed taken aback by his presence.

“Where did you get that cloak? I thought they were hard to come by.” He said with an accent that was so strong that it was either extremely genuine or very obviously fake.

“Stole it from a rich bloke I killed a few months back” he lied “where did you get yours?”

“A gift from my disowned father. Didn’t want a vampire inheriting his riches, you know” the man chuckled. Hyde chuckled with him. He’d seen a few of these types, though they weren’t always disowned. You’d occasionally get some dumb rich folks that sneak out to the slums for a lark and come back with a nasty fever. In a way he was such a person, but that was introspection for another day.

“I do like a man with a checkered past. Care to join me on my way in?” Hyde said as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, though the difference in height made it an awkward position.

“I… didn’t really plan on going in, just came for the easy feeding” he said nervously, the accent fading slightly and confirmed Hyde’s suspicions that it was fake.

“Nonsense! No new friend of mine is going without a visit to the most revered and exciting social event this side of the continent.” Hyde insisted as he pulled away from the man and pulled the hood off of his head, popping open his hat as he did so and placed it firmly on his head, his wild blonde hair exploding out from under it, “no need for disguises anymore, is there a pretty face under that hood?”

“Ah, no, the hood stays on, I’m afraid, I might be recognised” he explained, reaffirming his thick East End accent.

“Not a problem, chum, come along, Blackfog awaits!” Hyde said dramatically as he led Dr Robert Lanyon into one of the buildings.

Surprise again! Lanyon and Hyde are vampire buddies now! Tune in next time to see two three men fail to put two and two together.

[dansnaturepictures]

7/9/20-Monday at Lakeside and home 

It was nice to notice the little spider in the first picture I took today in this photoset in the shower as I worked this morning, I’ve noticed so many this year in and out. I wanted to make the most of some sunshine as I went out for my daily exercise walk taking the second picture in this photoset of a sunflower growing on our balcony and multi-coloured hanging basket above which it has grown to be beside now a nice view of them. 

My Lakeside walk (I took the fourth picture in this photoset of a view here over a lake in the sun which was nice) was dominated by wildflowers today I took so many pictures of ones I knew, knew a little or not so much and put my new Plant Net app which I got on Friday to good use for identifying them lots of flowers looking good in a decent bit of sunshine. It was brilliant to be immersed in flowers, I took the third, fifth and seventh pictures in this photoset of bird’s-foot trefoil, purple loosestrife, and meadow-crane’s bill. I also photographed great willowherb along the path to the lake through the fenced off area where the trefoil was and buttercup by the entrance to Lakeside today. I think this was one of my best ever days of flowers and if I had to say them they’d probably all be this year. I have admired and photographed flowers on my walks for years and more and more you could say as they went on purple loosestrife is one I photographed by the river Itchen years ago and got told what it was and it has been part of a small collection I kept with me as ones I knew for years. But this year I have just loved seeing and photographing flowers a lot be that domestic in our garden or the ones that excite me most wild ones out in the main habitats we visit especially through this summer I have just taken such an interest in flowers and appreciated them more and more and with my new macro lens which allows closeup pictures with the detail I’ve not seen anything like before in fairness to my trusty old (now spare) macro lens which I had for nine years and its really been a deep exploration into flowers. Its interesting how key my macro lens has become for me. In the first days of lockdown just coming out of winter, as will happen after the mushroom season quietens down my macro lens did not come out on walks with me the first few months as with butterflies then mushrooms of autumn then flowers my uses for the lens the lens always has a hibernation over winter it was weird to have my macro lens on walks with me very often the only lens I used on days I didn’t take my backpack. But here we are now when more often than not the macro lens comes on my walks at the weekend further afield and its so common place. Over the winter when we focus on birds more etc. and weather might be unpredictable my bridge camera will more often be one I take alongside my DSLR camera and normal lens on further afield walks as it’ll be more likely to be needed for photos and I shall miss not having my macro lens but a great moment to look back on it today. 

The app is useful as I said as I am nowhere near where I am with birds, butterflies, mammals and dragon/damselflies with my knowledge of what they all or some of them are. I am using the app to try and identify each new wild flower I see now but if I don’t get a result from that I may use other means but I may just post it on social media as simply “flower” as the caption so if you see that and you happen to know the flower or I’m not sure sure or got one wrong feel free to tell me I always rely on that a lot too and have been grateful of all the help I ever get online from so many kind people. I think knowing the species gives me a greater sense of appreciation for the flowers to be able to record what they were in my memory and otherwise. The flowers today in sun in a time its feeling very autumnal out gave me back a slice of summer. Common Darter dragonflies whilst an autumnal sight too and in abundance at Lakeside at the moment added to this too. 

And it was as though autumn had done a slight disappearing act next as I walked through the areas of trees on a little path behind the visitor centre and steam railway station a place I had searched for White-letter Hairstreak butterflies to no avail most of the summer as someone said they were there. I had scaled down my search and going there weekly rather than daily in my lunch time and some evening walks as the hairstreak’s season has ended I would imagine and in August the rich green leaves synonymous of a White-letter Hairstreak sightings gave way to yellow of autumn I even photographed this. But today they were not around, and the reason I believe is when those leaves and so many others I have seen changed colour early this year really in August we were then battered by storms. So they blew off the trees, leaving the green ones in many areas yet to turn left so it looks like no coloured leaves are left. And its created a very interesting autumn that the coloured leaves will come in stages almost. Albeit I did notice some yellow leaves further down the track as I took the sixth picture in this photoset of the scene. 

As I walked on and to the east of concorde lake I took a path small path into undergrowth so as to easily social distance from fisherman going about their business on the jettys as I often do and I came across some striking red mushrooms on the ground a few in an area. I took two pictures of them including the eighth in this photoset. 

I ended by taking the ninth and tenth pictures in this photoset on the walk home of two of my summer star birds and stars of recent weeks at Lakeside two of the Great Crested Grebe chicks looking nice and big now they are growing so much and independent which is brilliant to see I got nicely close to them on the big westernmost lake and a Stock Dove again in the eastern section of the northern fenced off nature reserve area. Great to see, a nice Monday of wildlife and photos. 

Wildlife Sightings Summary today: One of my favourite birds the Great Crested Grebes, Mallard, Moorhen, Mute Swan, Lesser Black Backed Gull, Black-headed Gull, Robin, House Sparrow, Goldfinch, Starling, Woodpigeon, Collared Dove, Stock Dove, Carrion Crow, Jackdaw, Magpie, Common Darter and spider. 

[darkangeldesignstudio]

Dark Horse

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Death, Attempted Rape, Strong Language, Mentions of Animal Abuse, and Eventual Smut and Fluff

Setting: Post Civil War era USA. Marvel Cowboy AU.

Song: You Can’t Take Me by Bryan Adams

Previous / Next

Chapter One: A Death in the Family

A violent shaking woke you in the night. Rubbing your eyes, you looked up to see your brother’s wide eyes and a sense of foreboding washed over you.

“What’s wro-”

John shushed you with a finger to his lips, his eyes begging you not to speak. “Men outside. Not sure how many.” His whispered voice trembled with nerves. People in the mountains, this late at night, was never a good thing.

You nodded to him in understanding and crept slowly from your bed to grab your gun belt and the two Colt Revolvers that rested there. Pulling on your pants, you fastened the belt around your waist just as you started to hear the voices approach.

You left your bedroom to join your brother in the kitchen. Taking cover behind the table, you could just see a shadow pass by on your porch and you gripped your guns in both hands, prepared to defend your home.

“We know you’re in there.” The voice was gruff and a bit slurred. It wasn’t uncommon for a man to drink to keep the chill at bay in winter; maybe it was just a drunk that lost his way. It was wishful thinking, but in your gut, you knew that was not the case here.

“I don’t want any trouble.” John shouted back through the door, trying to reason with the men. “If you need supplies, I will gladly help you out, but I need you to stow your weapons first.”

Laughter was their counter, and if your ears weren’t deceiving you, there was someone posted by the rear of the house and another on the side towards the barn.

So, at least five hostile, armed men and no way to know what they want. They could just be looking for shelter… “Why don’t you come on out here and surrender. We won’t hurt you, much.” Or a fight.

You nodded to your brother as he approached the door. You made a plan for cases like this; you just hoped it would work while severely outnumbered.

“Okay, I’m coming out.” John reached for the handle, prepared to open fire as soon as he cleared the entryway, but he never got the chance to open the door.

A deafening shot rang out as the wood of the front door splintered inwards. Your brother clutched his chest as he turned to you. Time slowed as you watched blood seep out between his fingers. His eyes were wide with pain, he gasped for air and a wash of red bubbled from between his pale lips. He collapsed to his knees as his eyes rolled back, body crumbling to the floor in a heap.

You could hear laughter and cheering from the men outside as tears blurred your vision. The front door began to open as an inhuman scream tore its way out of your throat. Raising your guns, you peppered the door with bullets.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky called out, riding back into camp just as the sun started to set over the horizon.

Steve exited the abandoned house, barely containing the yawn that wanted to escape his exhausted form. They had been traveling for days on little to no sleep, but Bucky looked refreshed after his short ride with Sergeant. “What’s got you so excited, Buck? Don’t you ever get tired?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking Steve’s light teasing for what it was. Of course he was tired, but there were more important things to do right now. Like finding supplies, which he did.

“There’s a farm a few minutes west of here, looks like a man and woman live there. Maybe they will be willing to aid us, or at least give us directions into town.” Bucky looked to his best friend with pleading eyes. “Come on Steve, we need help. Not everyone is a bad guy.”

Sighing, Steve nodded. Bucky was right, and they couldn’t be so unlucky as to run into a Shield Agent out in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado.

Plus, their luck seemed to have turned a few days back when they had lost the gang of Hydra thugs that had been chasing them and then they found this abandoned farm house. It was fully stocked with canned food and a large barn for their exhausted horses. They had just gotten their first full night - and most of the day - of sleep in ages when Bucky decided to scout the area for game and supplies.

“Sure, Buck. Just let me wake up the others and get saddled up and we can check it out.” Turning towards the door, Steve looked back over his shoulder to his best friend’s disappointed expression. “The last thing we need is to turn up and be outnumbered by hostiles.”

With a sigh, Bucky nodded his agreement as Steve left him out front to wait. It was unfortunate that they could never find a moment alone anymore, but at least they had a chance to gain more supplies for the long road ahead of them. All-in-all, Steve was right about being cautious.

You never know when those Hydra bastards will show up and, from the looks of it, there’s a winter storm coming that could snow us in for weeks. Good thing the cold never bothered me.

Smiling happily again, Bucky ran to the barn to fetch everyone’s horses. The sooner they left, the sooner they could get back and hunker down before the storm hit.

_______________________________________________________________________

You ducked behind the table as shots rang out from the guys outside, shattering the window at your rear. Glass rained down on your head as you waited out the barage of bullets. Anger and sorrow warred within you as you caught another glimpse of your brother’s body, a pool of blood growing around him.

Wiping tears from your eyes, you clenched your teeth as the last rounds of gunfire died. Crawling on all fours, you moved towards the bedroom, hoping to escape and flank your attackers. If all else failed, maybe you could reach the barn and run with the horses.

Donning your jacket, you opened the window and crawled through as swiftly and quietly as possible. The wind was icy. There wasn’t any snow yet, but if the clouds on the horizon were any indication, it was not far off and would fall for a while. You snuck through the wintry night, towards the lumber pile. You could hear the men as they entered your house, there were definitely more than you first thought.

Ducking behind the wood that you had stockpiled for winter, you could see horses tied to the small lean-to a few yards away. If you could just get there and release them, the men would be too distracted by their escaped mounts to notice as you escaped into the barn.

With a solid sounding plan in mind, you approached the horses calmly, trying not to spook them and give away your position. Unfortunately, it seemed your luck had run out. The click of a pistol cocking froze you in your tracks.

“Hello there pretty lady.” The man chuckled, holding the barrel of his gun to your head. “Hands up, there won’t be no trouble.”

You raised your hands casually, guns resting lightly in each hand, breathing as evenly as possible.

“That’s it honey.” You felt his gun lower from the back of your head as he began to reach for your pistol.

Turning rapidly, you slammed the butt of your gun into the side of his nose. A sickening crunch, followed by a yelp of pain, was all the sound he made before you unsheathed your blade and drove it into his neck. Blood sprayed, splattering your cheek as you looked into the man’s dying eyes.

“That was for my brother.” Shoving his body away from you, you turned just in time to see another man rounding the corner of the house. You stowed your knife hastily, pulling the second pistol out of its holster and opened fire.

A single shot sounded and a bead of blood ran from between the man’s eyes. He collapsed to the ground as shouts from the men inside rose in volume. You sprinted back to the wood pile, diving over it as a bullet hit the logs, barely missing you. A firefight ensued and you managed to take out three more of their men before you ran out of rounds.

“Shit.” Pulling your knife from its sheath again, you prepared to run for the barn.

_______________________________________________________________________

The starry night sky was fully in place as Steve and the group rode out towards the farm Bucky had found.

Natasha and her gorgeously wild Nakota mare, Krasavitsa, were alert and ready for anything, riding ahead of the group as their lookouts.

Bucky, on his red roan Appaloosa, rode next to Steve and his filly. Star was the frisky counterpart to Sergeant’s stoic and commanding presence. She was an elegant chestnut Thoroughbred that loved to race over the land at a full sprint, much to the older stud’s annoyance.

Tony with his penchant for explosives and destructive things took up the rear. His exquisitely grumpy, gold Andalusian stud, Mark II, had been very displeased with being pulled from the barn in the dead of night. Not unlike his owner who continued to grumble and complain as they rode.

“Why are we out here again?” Tony whined, his horse grunting in agreement, ambling along behind the group.

Steve, turning in his saddle, glared at Tony in exasperation. “For the tenth time, Bucky found a farm that could have supplies. We need supplies if we are going to make the long trip east. Now, eyes up and stop your whining, we’re close.”

Bucky tried not to laugh as Steve rolled his eyes, Tony was a pain, but he was great back up in a pinch. The three of them halted at the base of the hill, sending Natasha ahead to take a look on foot. Much to Krasavitsa’s annoyance as she paced and pawed at the ground. She hated being separated from her human, but she wouldn’t put Nat in danger by giving away their position.

A few moments passed in silence, until the noise of distant gunshots reached them. Natasha ran back to the group as another flurry of shots and a shout echoed through the surrounding mountains.

“What’s going on, Nat?” Steve was visibly shaken, the distinctly female scream made his hair stand on end and kicked his protective instincts into high gear.

“Someone is attacking the farm. Appears to be around ten men in total, there were a few dead outside the door.” She shook her head at Bucky’s silent question. “She’s alone out there. Not clear how much longer she will last.”

With that, Natasha mounted up and they crested the hill together to take in the scene at the ranch below. It was pure carnage.

Men’s bodies fell unmoving onto the ground around her as the woman fought them off, equipped with only a knife. She must have run out of bullets with that last round of gunfire. She ran for the barn, trying to escape unseen, but they cut her off at the wood shed.

Tony took the horses, leaving them in the adjacent trees as Steve, Bucky, and Natasha began to creep along the tree line, towards the homestead.

They watched as the brave woman grabbed a nearby hatchet and chucked it at the man in her path. He fell dead, the hatchet firmly embedded in his skull. A sense of relief flooded Steve’s system as she reached the corner of the barn, but it was short lived as a scream tore through the air.

Drawing his revolver from its holster, Steve picked up his pace, Bucky trailing close behind him as they traversed the back of the property. Tony and Nat split from them, heading to the front as a giant man was seen dragging the woman into the house by her hair. He was followed by the rest of his men who hooped and hollered, sick grins plastered on their faces.

Looking to his partner, Steve and Bucky were in agreement. They needed to save the woman quickly. Hydra wasn’t a merciful gang and they would soon be out of time.

_______________________________________________________________________

The firm grip on your hair was painful. Strands popped from your scalp with every step as the hulking man pulled you across the floor of your home, past the body of your brother. His men jeered and touched your legs with their dirty, blood-stained hands. You tried not to panic, but your attempts were in vain as it dawned on you what they were about to do.

The leader - you assumed as he was the one barking orders as he dragged you along - took you towards the overturned dining table and hurled you into it. Your vision darkened as the breath was knocked from your lungs. “Flip the table and tie her down.”

Agonizing pain radiated through your back as you struggled to clear your vision enough to fight. Two men grabbed your wrists hard enough to bruise as two others worked to flip the heavy table right side up. The two men holding you forced you, face-down, onto the dinner table. They tied your arms above your head, tying it around one of the table legs at the opposite end. This left you on your tiptoes, your hips perched at the edge. Your cheek brushed the rough surface of the wood grain as you tried to observe the men’s locations around you.

When the first touches came, you began to panic. You couldn’t see the hands and that was the most excruciating part of it all, they brushed you in your most feminine places. Their rough palms and debauched words made you feel sick and tainted. You wished the world would just swallow you up, take you away from this horrible place that had been so recently full of love and happiness.

Tears streaked your face as they began to peel the clothes from your body. You kicked and screamed as best you could in your compromising position. Your head whipped back forcefully as a massive fist connected with your cheek, you felt the bones in your jaw crack as your vision blurred.

“Be still, bitch!” The man at your back bellowed as he gripped your hair, wrenching your head back.

Screaming as severe pain travelled the length of your spine, another wave of tears erupted from your eyes. Feeling helpless and alone, you did the only thing you could think of; never having been much of a believer in the almighty, you were out of practice, but you would do anything at this point. Closing your eyes, you begged for someone, anyone to save you.

Please, if you truly are there, listening to me. I need your help, anybody’s help. Somebody, please save me. I’ll do anything, just SAVE ME!!

[kpopchangedme]

Saint-Agnès de Roma | Mark Tuan

A scholarship student like you has no business hanging out with the cool, filthy rich, teens of your private Academy... But somehow you still end up playing a naughty game with that one guy…

|| M.List || GOT7 ||

Protagonists: Mark Tuan & You

Word count: 8.2k

Genre: (N)SFW | Seven Minutes in Heaven | Boarding School | Enemies | First Love | **Unholy stuff**Catholic references**Swearing**Suggestive**

Lysandre’ note: FINALLY POSTING A NEW FIC. Trying to see if my shadowban is gone for ever and ever and ever. :’D I’m excited (can’t you tell?) and hope you like this.

Snippet: “You were kind of expecting the Reverend Mother to appear and throw the door open, yelling at you and Mark to get on your knees and recite Hail Mary any seconds now. He smiled, face glowing, illuminated only by the small rays of light coming through the door crack. Mark had a dangerous animalistic smile, one exposing canines and baring far too many teeth, often it made him look spooky.  “Relax.” He commanded, hand climbing slowly on your side as his breathing neared your cheek. “I’m not gonna jump you. You were such a tease earlier. Is this really your first time?””

It was the long weekend of Thanksgiving, which for the rest of the students of the country, meant enjoying great food with their loving families. To the students of Saint-Agnès de Roma however, it was merely an opportunity to leave the dormitory and go wild for four days straight. If Jackson – the youngest son of the Wang family, and occasionally your best friend – was the one telling this story, he’d probably put it that way: Thanksgiving was the Saint-Agnès get-fucked Holiday. For all those ridiculously rich teenagers that long weekend meant; ski trips to the Rocky Mountains, manors deserted of any parental figures, countless parties and even shopping sprees to London or Paris.

You couldn’t care less about all that.

For you, every year, holidays only meant having the girl’s senior dormitory all to yourself. For a few nights only, you wouldn’t be woken up by your roommate’s grinding her teeth, your studies wouldn’t be delayed by some jock disrupting the peace and quiet of the library. Thankfully, they were only a few students that stayed over during the rare weekends of freedom: the ones with family issues so bad they’d rather be here than home, and the ones with an official school punishment.

You were neither; the exception, the scholarship peasant, there merely to make others feel better about themselves.

This year’s get-fucked Holiday however, you had agreed to do something quite unorthodoxy.

Soothing imaginary wrinkles on your skirt, you breathed in slowly to gather courage as you neared the Wang’s mansion. You were beginning to wonder why you accepted to come in the first place. You shouldn’t have given in to your best friend’s plea, him begging didn’t make you special in any way. Jackson had always been extra like that. He was a social butterfly and he was ‘close’ with everyone and their mothers. You guys were polar opposites and there were days where you were convinced Jackson believed himself to be the center of the universe, which was only partially right.

Still, even with his amazing social skills, sometimes it seemed that Jackson couldn’t understand the most basic things about humans in society: Birds of a feather flock together.

No matter how hard he’d try, his friends would never accept you.

It wasn’t true that finally joining one of his little ‘get-togethers’ would suddenly make you fit in with the cool crowd. Besides, it’s not like you even wanted those rich brats to like you. You’d gone through Middle School and most of High School invisible. You could endure what was left of Senior year being known as "that kid”. It wouldn’t kill you and you’d much rather spend your Friday night alone at the dorm, binging the latest tv show on Netflix, than with all of them.

Unfortunately, Jackson would never forgive you if you bailed out now. He freaked out when you tried to refuse his invitation for the hundredth time. He kept insisting tonight was going to be the ‘greatest night of your life’. Unfortunately, if all the invitations to his previous parties were anything to go by, you bet you’d still hear this argument to try to convince you to come to the next one too… And all the ones after that.

Jackson couldn’t stand the idea of people staying on the sidelines, and you knew why. He was just as righteous and idealistic as his father, Mr. Wang – probably the only billionaire in the world who always insisted to be called by his first name.

Ruiju Wang was one of the biggest benefactors of, not only the Middle School of Sacred Heart and its big sister’s Saint-Agnès de Roma Academy but also of the local orphanage. That was the only reason a kid like you got to meet a golden spoon heir like Jackson in the first place. You being a big bookworm and nerd was only coincidental, and Ruiju, seeing your potential, offered to the Sisters of the orphanage to sponsor your studies in the top schools of the area. You had always been thankful, graduating from Saint-Agnès Academy, despite your unfortunate background, guaranteed you’d get into one of the best universities of the world.

Thanks to the Wang’s gigantic fortune – mostly made in the late 70s by grandma Zhou, who Jackson once told you built a highly illegal traffic ring of tobacco and opium in British controlled Hong Kong – you now had a promising future. Perhaps that’s why you hated to disappoint your best friend. A future was a gift most orphans of the world would kill for.

Perhaps that’s also why you made it to his giant wooden front door, Friday of this Thanksgiving Holiday. Your finger hovered for a short second over the doorbell, still hesitating to join the party. But even so, your choice had already been made, you promised Jackson...

Seconds later, you were already following your very excited friend through the maze of corridors. It seemed you were heading to the East living room where you had already been countless times for the Wang’s charity events. It was an isolated part of the house, as opposed to where the rooms of the three living servants – but they called them employees – were. Ruiju and Sophia Wang had left for Australia to visit their eldest son and his family. Jackson opted out, favouring this little get together instead.

“I am sooooo glad you came y/n! You are not going to regret this!”

You could only lie through your teeth, this would be your first party ever and you didn’t belong here at all. If it was anything close to what you heard from rumours at school or seen in 90s teen movies, you’d flee without hesitation.

“TA-DAH!”

Jackson threw the doors of the living room open in front of you, spreading his arms widely. The small group of partygoers inside turned to stare at your entrance, as though you dramatically interrupted the most serious talk ever. He wasn’t kidding when he said it would be a small gathering, there was only around ten people, and you knew all of them from school.

“Wow, isn’t this a sight to behold.” Salome – head of the Senior’s Girl Dormitory, Captain of the Girl’s Lacrosse team and second-best student of Saint-Agnès – giggled, staring at you up and down. She was the devil incarnate and you threw an accusing glare at Jackson, who had conveniently not mentioned her being here. She hated you for always placing first despite lacking the help of expensive private tutors and made sure your life was hellish because of it. “How’d you manage to leave school y/n? I bet your convent strongly opposed.”

“I took the bus.” You answered sarcastically, choosing to ignore her last insinuation. You weren’t a nun, and you took the glass of colourful punch Jackson was already handing you as if to prove it.

You drank the cold alcoholized juice, walking closer to the group. It tasted like what you always imagined a vacation to the Caribbean would; sugary, with too much stuff going on, but overall enjoyable. Tonight would be your first time really drinking alcohol, but you were determined to try to blend in and that clearly meant boozing. A lot.

“I didn’t know public transportation served this neighbourhood,” Salome mused, frowning in disapproval.

It didn’t. You always had to walk 30 minutes after the nearest bus stop to make it to the Wang’s.

“Anyway, I’m glad you could join us.” A dangerous smile stretched her lips and you swear you saw Mark Tuan – descending of a long lineage of Saint Agnès alumnae and infamous serial-dater – squeeze her shoulder to ease her. It looked like these two were on again, his right arm was stretched to enclose her against his chest, as if afraid she’d dare breathe if he’d let go for a second.

“Everyone, this is my best friend y/n, she goes to Saint-Agnès too.” Jackson beamed as you carefully sat at the last empty spot of their circle. In front of you, Salome exchanged a long look with her friend Marissa – a total bitch from a new money family. The others all smiled and nodded, nonchalant at best. You had known most of them for years although you’d never spoken, and you were pretty sure they also already knew who you were. “Be nice, she’ll join our game! Where were we?”

“Katy was about to tell us about the weirdest place she has ever woken up in!” Salome laughed and Katy’s boyfriend Luis – the grandnephew of the Tsar of Bulgaria, or whatever – groaned, embarrassed for her.

“Come on, tell us!” Someone else’s pressed on, impatient. “It can’t be bad enough for you to strip.”

Immediately it clicked, and your gaze widened, staring at the pile of abandoned socks in the middle of the circle. Apparently, even filthy rich teenagers had nothing better to do than playing dumb games at parties. Still, you were glad their attention had left you completely.

Truth or Strip was sort of a legendary game at Saint-Agnès de Roma, and, as far as you knew, it was the first time an outsider was witnessing the closed circle of cool kids playing it for real. Maybe your luck just turned, this was a great behavioural observation opportunity.

“I once woke up in a…” Katy paused for effect and Luis tilted his head, frowning in anticipation. “... Gentlemen’s Club in Miami!”

“Boooo!” Marissa exclaimed as soon as the confession left her mouth. “Who hasn’t?”

You laughed as everyone did, certain 99,9% of the world’s population had never even set foot in that sort of exclusive place.

“BUT,” Katy raised a finger to defend herself, “the night actually started in Los Angeles!”

Impressed clapping followed, and you smiled in your glass as their sick oversharing game moved on. Apparently, you were as invisible here as you were in school, which was a relief, even if you promised Jackson to make friends. Everybody got drunker by the minute and almost an hour later, they were still playing the game.

Jinyoung Park – of Park Films, by far the largest movie production company in Asia – lost his shirt in a very gentlemanly manner, refusing to give away the name of his first conquest. Mark Tuan lost his too, refusing to share the weirdest place where he ever had sex. Chao-Xing – daughter of a Chinese real estate mogul, rumoured to own more than a third of Vancouver – took off her tights to keep the phone number of Justin Bieber her dirty little secret. Hyunwoo Son – of the South Korean ambassador’s family – gave up his (rather outdated) Ralph Lauren’ Polo to avoid spilling the tea on the craziest thing he used his diplomatic immunity for.

Everyone kept losing pieces of clothing except you, and you were starting to feel the dangerous buzz of the alcohol through your veins. So far it was all fun and games, perhaps it really was a great thing you’d come to this party.

Looking at them making fools of themselves felt surreal and oddly satisfying.

Studying these people in their own habitat could be great for your plan of pursuing an Anthropology Major. It made you feel like your very own Jane Goodall in the Kenya jungle, learning how to interact with primates.

“Jackson!” Jaebum Im – rumoured to be the secret love child of a top actress and one of Hyundai’s already married chairmen – slapped a hand on the built shoulder of your close friend, ready to get him to confess some horrible deeds. “Who’s your first love?” There was a collective roll of eyes at the easy question, but it caught your attention. “Truth or Strip!”

“Y/n,” Jackson answered immediately, not embarrassed the least by it and you blushed when everyone looked at you. Your friend was way too honest at this game, he only lost a single sock so far. He bluntly answered almost everything.

“What!?” Marissa – both of them infamously dated for a year during your time at Sacred Heart’ Middle School – sneered, staring dagger at you. “When?”

“My family sent me at least a day per week at her place when we were young, so we got really close.”

“Your parents sent you to... a-an orphanage?” Her mouth dropped, clearly horrified by the idea. “Is that even legal?”

“Yes.” You replied before Jackson could get offended for you, grinning at her unemotionally. “We used to play together every weekend since we were 8 years old.”

“Well well…” Salome, who seemed to have forgotten your existence until then, smiled diabolically. Perhaps she really had forgotten, everyone was pretty drunk by then. After all, the party was already going on a full swing when you joined. “Looks like we haven’t played with you yet… What should we ask y/n?”

“It’s not how the game works.” Youngjae Choi – golden son of one of the teachers, Mrs. Choi, and main soloist of the Saint-Agnès choir – cut in, trying to stop her. Half of an official nerd himself, he was already too familiar with her dirty shenanigans. Lord knows what he was doing here tonight, maybe your common friend forcefully dragged him too. “It’s Jackson’s turn to ask!”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, miffed. “But it has to be y/n since she hasn’t played yet.”

“Y/n…” Jackson frowned, seemingly unable to think of a question invasive enough to satisfy the vultures, but still soft as to not make you regret you’d come. “Um…” Also, he already knew everything about you. Growing up in a Catholic orphanage wasn’t exactly the most propitious background for nurturing some dark and wild secret.

“Come on…” Another one sighed.

“Are you still a virgin?” Jaebum asked curious, earning himself a warning glare from the host.

“It’s too obvious she is,” Katy giggled, turning his more innocent question into something displeasing. As though being a virgin was nasty and shameful, you clenched your jaw. “Has she even ever been kissed to begin with?” From the corner of your eyes, you spotted Tuan straightening, probably ready to join in and make fun of you.

“Give me a second, I’ll think of something.” Jackson – your actual first kiss, by the way – ignored them, but you felt your face warm up.

Ultimately, the impending question didn’t matter, because you knew just the way to remain in control of their game, stay ahead and not give them the pleasure of embarrassing you. It’s the only advantage to being picked on often, you learn to understand the rules better than the ones making them. It’s like chess, if you’re always a move ahead, they can never truly get to you.

To survive tonight and fit it, you’d have to channel your inner Jane Goodall; think like a primate; become a primate.  

It was a good thing you were done with your second drink. Already, your mind was numb in the most perfect way, you felt courageous and unbeatable.  You were going to show them – those rich brats – show them you weren’t scared of anything. You could be fun. You could play and act dumb too. You could misbehave just like them.

Just as Jackson was opening his mouth to ask something, you started to pull at your dark t-shirt, riding it up and out of your suede skirt. The room automatically fell silent, everything stood still. The only thing you could hear was the sound of the stereo in the background, playing the dirty pop of the Hit 40. All the other girls only had stripped off their socks, tights or blazers so far, not wanting to take off anything more substantial, but you weren’t like others.

You’d rather expose yourself before they’d try to expose you.

After you threw your t-shirt on the pile of already stripped clothes, you sat there in silence as the boys cooed, highly conscious of your bra and mini skirt. Thank God you were tipsy enough to still act confident. Like another – primate you.

“What the heck?!” Jackson yelped, gaze crazy wide as he looked anywhere else but your exposed skin. “I haven’t asked my question!”

You shrugged, playing cool, “My answer is Strip.” Turning to Salome, you mimicked her earlier smirk. Right now, she looked like she had swallowed something nasty.

See? Virgins can be so much fun.

“Awesome...” Jaebum clicked his tongue, clearly entertained. “Looks like it’s your turn now, brainiac.” The boy’ Lacrosse captain handed you a third colourful drink, eyes dangerously lingering on the curve of your boobs.

By your standards, Im was the most handsome guy at the Academy, not that you’d ever tell anyone. He appeared out of nowhere at Saint-Agnès in 10th grade. According to the rumours, he earned himself this one-way trip by stealing his dad’s favourite sports car and crashing it into the Han River. His father was said to have sent him to Catholic boarding school only because his mother cried and begged for it not to be Military Academy. Jaebum was a ‘no comment’ type of guy, so nobody ever got to the bottom of his story. If it was true, you had to admit his mom horridly failed him. You were pretty sure Saint-Agnès’ Reverend Mother was scarier than any drill inspector could ever dream to be.

Accepting the drink, you blushed for everyone to see. It felt as though Jaebum’s eyes were fire on your neckline, as though it were his fingers and not simply his gaze that was on you. You didn’t feel exposed, you felt seen. Every single guy in the room – except Jackson – had his eyes glued to you and surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

“Let’s stop now.” The host gloomily stared away. You knew him enough to be aware he thought he was responsible for letting his schoolmates corrupt you.

“Yes, let’s play another game.” Salome agreed all too eager, having recovered from your little stunt. You smiled widely as you took another big sip of the tropical punch, aware she was fuming.

“The Knot?” Marissa suggested.

“Strip Pong,” Luis replied, running his hand up and down Katy’s thigh.

You rolled your eyes as the ideas kept coming, all games you had no clue how to play and clearly involving losing more clothes and dignity. Mark Tuan snorted at your dramatic gesture, catching your attention.

He was also childhood best friends with Jackson, but you never hung out together after you entered High School. Jackson was the only one who kept publicly addressing you, whereas that jerk played the other kids’ scheme, the invisibility one. Mark offered you one of his legendary lopsided grins as you held his gaze. You quirked a brow in distaste for him to see, a part of you wanted that almighty guy to know he had no effect on you whatsoever. Not anymore anyway, you were way past that naive 11 years old phase where you thought he was kinda cute. Nowadays you weren’t one of his fangirls, dying for him to notice her.

Coming from alumni and rich – you-have-no-idea-how-rich – kind of family, Mark Tuan stood at the very top of Saint-Agnès eligible bachelor hierarchy, the type you bet student’ parents slyly mentioned at family suppers: “Are you friend with the Tuan kid? I hear he’s as beautiful as his mother. She was a Miss Universe in the late 80s.”: “Isn’t the oldest son of the Tuans in your class? He’s old money, they left Mainland China many generations back.” or perhaps even: “He’s worth 20 billion at the very least. Please, do shag him and get knocked up”.

You, however, had no parents shoving you his way. Mark Tuan had been the quiet and hard to get close with type even in Middle School, and of course, it took a Jackson Wang to break down his walls. But he wasn’t the shy kid following you two around anymore. Now Mark had found his own species and returned to the wild. Like all of them, he was all about Gucci tees, yachts, drugs, fun and whatever. You definitely hadn’t seen him at Sunday mass in a while.  

From what you heard, he had become as superficial as these other rich jerks, going through girls as models go through clothes. Curiously, Salome always seemed to find a way to pull him back somehow. Why even bother? These two started dating on and off between Middle and High School and never stopped. The same summer you and Jackson had a fling. Why did Tuan like the she-devil though? Even Jackson didn’t have any clue, nor could justify his friend taste for the dark side.

Filthy rich players like Tuan weren’t a ‘catch’, they were the poison of modern society. They thought they could get away with anything.

“Suck and Blow.” Salome decided on the game Authority herself, unaware her very shirtless boyfriend was still checking you out. And boy was that a sight, even you had to admit it. He might’ve grown up to be a piece of shit, but Mark had become one damn good looking turd.

Once everyone agreed, you all stood and – Thank God – got dressed. You picked up your own t-shirt from the pile to put it on, relieved. Sure, you were confident, but you didn’t want to chill with them half-naked all night either. Done, the party spread in a circle again and, sensing your confusion, Youngjae pulled you by the wrist to his right. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear, not as subtle as he intended to: “We just pass a card around with our mouths without dropping it. It’s about timing, the pair that drops it has to deal with a punishment.”

“Ew, that’s disgusting.” You grimaced and he shrugged, apparently already familiar with the game. You didn’t peg him for the type to come to these parties often, but perhaps you were wrong. Perhaps the choir sweetheart had a secret thing for booze and dirty games… How intriguing, you turned to consider him anew. “Are you good at this?”

“I...” Youngjae hesitated a second too long, doubt shading his features, “am really, really bad.” He confessed like a sin, making you laugh. He was cute in a ‘pure guy’ kind of way, you were familiar through Jackson and often shared a table to study quietly at the library. Youngjae was also in Saint-Agnès’ top 5 and didn’t come from a particularly wealthy family, thereby an ally. Jackson once told you that Youngjae attending the Academy was in his mother’s teaching contract. His financial background made him comfortable and relatable somehow. At least you had someone like him here with you tonight. Jackson was way too busy hosting to notice you didn’t know where to put yourself.

“What’s the punishment?”

“Well, obviously, there’s a risk you’ll… kiss, by accident.” He cleared his throat, accidentally adorable. They were far worse fates than sharing a kiss with him, you decided. “And if you drop the card, the usual pun-”

“Have you never played, y/n?” Tuan, who somehow had appeared to your own right chuckled, amused by how clueless you were. “Cute.” You gulped, staring in his almond eyes, he was about the same height as you now. In your Middle School friendship years, he’d been shorter by many centimetres, never managing to grow fast enough to catch up to you. “Don’t worry.” Mark plucked his lips your way and winked, gaze dropping in your neckline. “I’m good enough at this for us two.” If you were reminiscing of young innocent feelings, his douchebag attitude definitely brought you back down to the present.

Strong of your alcohol confidence, you feigned to look over your shoulder in confusion. “Are you talking to me?” You pressed your chest with both hands like honoured to be blessed by his recognition. “Can you really see me?” Tuan blinked, taken aback and Youngjae snorted to your left. He was always a great public, easygoing and always laughing at your stupid jokes.

“Of course, y/n. Your bra was kinda hard to miss earlier.”

Having recovered, Mark’s rude tongue darted through his parted lips to taunt you and your face warmed treacherously. It had been forever since you two last spoke or stood this close. The way Mark was looking at you now felt unsafe, predaceous. You almost took a step away instinctively, but that wouldn’t have been a very ‘primate y/n’ thing to do so you held back.

“Good girl gone bad... I’m all here for you.”

Instead, at that, you rolled your shoulders and exchanged a glance with Youngjae.

“Well, you must not know a lot of good girls, Mark… We’re the very best at being bad.”

Youngjae immediately coughed and the player’s brows shot up, a new glimmer in his eyes. What the fuck was primate y/n doing, flirting? Why would you ever say something like that? Jesus.

“Well, colour me intrigued.” Mark exhaled before taking a sip of his cup and you stared, trying not to hate yourself for saying shit like that aloud. “Then a good girl like you probably has a few bad tricks to teach me.”

You were about to reply with something – hopefully clever – for him to sod off, when Jackson announced the start of the game, standing on the other side of the circle. Your jaw dropped, realizing it meant you’d play between Youngjae and Mark. You’d sooner eat a live spider than kiss that jerk. Oblivious to your inner turmoil, Jackson winked at you, taking out a credit card from his wallet. (Lord knows where it had been!) Without wasting a second more, he put it on his mouth, sucked air and lowered to Salome to his right, passing her the card.

The game had started. Suck. Blow. Suck. Blow.

Pretty simple and self-explanatory. You tried to concentrate on watching the others play with ease to prepare yourself. If you mastered the technique, there was nothing to be afraid of. Still, you suspected it was a lot harder than it looked though and you peeked at Tuan, nervous. In a matter of seconds, it was your turn and Youngjae lowered himself above you, brows furrowed in concentration. You sucked the card successfully, disgusted at the sensation of wetness on your lips. Dreading the next exchange, you turned to the man to your right, not without a certain sense of responsibility. You were usually good at games and you could own this one too. Tuan’s face drew nearer, and you stilled, trying to make it easier for him. You passed the card without any difficulties. Thank God, you sighed, watching it make its way faster and faster around the circle.

You would get herpes because of this stupid party game. Ew.

You lacked time to dwell on that new disgusting realization before it was your turn again. Clearly, the unspoken rule was to accelerate to make things harder. No one had dropped the card yet. Youngjae chuckled gladly when he successfully passed it to you once more and you tried to ignore the dirty wetness from all the other players this time. This time, Mark wrapped his hand around your neck to stabilize himself when you turned to him. Other players had done it too and it made the exchange easier, so you tried not to think much of it. Like you did earlier, when you felt him suck, you blew to let the card go. Only this time, to your absolute horror…

The card fell.

You barely managed to retreat away from Mark’s plucked lips in a panic to avoid any skin contact. Drunkenly stumbling backwards, you hit Youngjae who held you up with strong hands. The small gathering collectively laughed at the fail and Mark winced, falsely apologetic.

“Gee!” He snapped his fingers like a 30s cartoon character who just made a blunder. You stared, bewildered as he bent to pick up the credit card, tossing it to Jackson under a thunder of woos. Mark lost on purpose. You were almost sure of it. Next, to the awfully serious host, Salome was livid, looking like she was about to murder you on the spot.

“Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Bambam – a 2nd generation heir from Thailand, newly transferred after being successively kicked out of his four previous boarding schools in Asia (and very proud of it) – announced your punishment.

Unfortunately, you knew how to play that game.

“W-What?!” You gasped in dismay, desperately turning to Youngjae for help as Mark shrugged at you, smirking.

Seven Minutes in Heaven?! More like: your own personal Hell.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Salome crossed her arms in front of her petite frame, head about to burst. “She obviously dropped it on purpose!” Your mouth opened in befuddlement. It was the stupidest accusation in the history of mankind. “Mark.” She warned, and the young man shrugged again, unbothered by her dirty glare.

“Rules are rules.” He said with a laugh.

“It’ll be the most boring seven minutes of your life, Mark!” She snapped, lacing venom in her words and the others self-conceited asstwats stifled their laughs.

“Excuse me?” Insulted, you narrowed your eyes at the brunette. Alcohol was apparently making you forget that these rich brats’ opinion of you couldn’t matter less. Boring? Why was she taking her anger out on you? You weren’t the one who failed the game and it’s not like you were trying to seduce her disgusting boyfriend.

“Please y/n, everyone knows you’re frigid.” Spiteful, Salome snickered, but no one found her funny this time. Jaebum even took an instinctive step between you two. Wait… Was she jealous, of you? The thought made you secretly ecstatic. Jeez, she should keep Mark Tuan on a leash if she cared that much. It’s not like he wasn’t running around giving it to anybody in the first place.

“Sally, don’t–” Even he tried to stop her, but she cut him off.

“I mean, isn’t she saving herself to take the veil or something?”

Your jaw clenched at that one last insult. You were aware of your prudish reputation, an overly Catholic childhood tends to stick to anyone, but you hated it. Salome regularly used that to publicly ridicule you. This time was different though, and she was either too drunk or stupid – or both – to realize that. She had just shown you her entire hand.

You smiled, she’d given you leverage, the upper hand, something invaluable you never had before. Now you knew her weakness.

“Jackson?” The summoned boy winced at your call, apparently dying a thousand deaths. It was too late now, you were worked up and he recognized that expression on your face. There was no point trying to stop you. “Where’s the closet?” You asked, as if there was some sort of unholy place specially dedicated to playing that game.

“W-What?” He couldn’t have looked more alarmed

“Tuan and I obviously need a heaven.” You pressed on, rolling your eyes. You should’ve stopped, but you were getting way too defiant.

“We do?” Mark whispered for only you to hear, slight panic now showing.

“Rules are rules.” Primate y/n replied to him sarcastically.

You wouldn’t have played Seven Minutes in Heaven with that asshole just to abide by the rules of this stupid party, but if it made Salome lose her mind... Then it was the only reason you needed to be willing. You’d do almost anything to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Youngjae pulled at your elbow, mouthing a very clear ‘don’t’ as a warning, probably thinking you had a death wish. There was no way she’d let you live when she got back to the dormitory after the Holidays. Too bad for her, the she-devil was already making your life a living Hell. You grinned at Tuan, trying to look convincing. You didn’t see him anymore, he wasn’t that former childhood friend nor the school’s hottest manwhore.

Now he was it, your own personal vendetta.

“A closet?” Jackson breathed out, mind completely blank. You bet if it was anyone else playing, he’d laugh and cheer, turning into his usual overdramatic bubbly self. Right now, he looked nothing but dejected.

“To show Tuan a not-so-boring time.” You enlightened, seriously exasperated. This time everyone else came alive to guide you two. Mark, who followed with heavy feet, clearly had a change of heart, but you didn’t care. He was the one who dropped the card. He didn’t have to do it for laughs, to bluff like that. What an ass.

‘We’re still young and they aren’t all that bad. You need to learn to have fun y/n!’

That’s what Jackson had said to convince you to come. I’m trying, you thought, I’m being; not boring. You bet now he was regretting ever inviting you.

You had to enter a guestroom to find an actual closet and it was empty and surely uncomfortable, like pretty much anything in the Wang’s gigantic mansion. Still, in a daze, you stepped it, followed closely by Mark. As soon as the door closed behind, you heard a chair being dragged to block it.

Now if either of you wanted to make a run for it, you couldn't. Great….

“Why’d you do that for?” You immediately ushered and hit his arm, freaking out at the dramatic shift of atmosphere. Before, you were sure he lost on purpose and he must have had intricate ulterior motives. There was no way one of the biggest playboys of the Academy did that just to earn himself seven minutes in the dark with your nerdy ass.

“Weren’t you begging for this to happen just now?” Mark drew nearer and you backed away until you couldn’t escape anymore. His arms found the wall on each side of your head. That proud asshole didn’t seem half as reluctant at the thought of you now that nobody could see him. This situation felt awfully intimate... Even though Salome was probably counting the seconds until she could open the doors.

“Besides, I haven’t done anything yet.” His whisper made you shiver as his breath fawned over your face.

You exhaled anxiously, staring back at him, oscillating. “Your girlfriend is going to kill me.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have drunk that much. Sure, you told Jackson you would try to fit in, but right now, with Mark, locked in this closet... It felt as though you had succeeded at becoming an entirely different person and you wondered if you’d find yourself back once the door reopened.

Jane Goodall did struggle after she left the primates to their jungle and returned to her own reality.

“Who?” He questioned innocently, “When I’ll date for real I won’t play around.” Mark’s right hand found your hip bone in the semi-darkness, thumb brushing your stomach through the fabric. You stilled, not knowing how to react to that. “Sally’s just a little intense,” he glanced down at your lips, “sorry she’s being hard on you.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.” The last world barely left your throat. From this close, this turd… He smelled kind of nice. Dammit.

“So… Are you really a good girl?” Mark hummed softly, leaning closer, voice deeper than the freaking Pacific ocean. Betraying goosebumps immediately spread on your skin. Right, you closed both eyes in defeat. That was why he made sure to lose the game. He knew it would turn out like this. “I bet it’s true...”

Mark's tongue darted out, catching the light and your eyes dropped on his lips. It was unfair. You weren’t prepared to face that kind of threat tonight. He was getting all predacious again and you were an easy prey. Sure, you hated the guy… When sober, collected, in control of yourself… Apparently, being pressed against a hot torso in the secrecy of a closet can change one’s perspective. You were almost trembling, blood boiling, body turned to stone; trapped.

“That you’re good at being bad.” Mark let out a weird small exhale, almost inaudible, tilting his head to the side.

Oh God, he was going to make this happen.

You had kissed boys before – OK fine, mostly Jackson and only when you were about twelve – but you had never made out in a dark closed space with anyone and surely that was bound to be sinful. Just being this close with Mark was surreal, electrifying, completely wrong. Did all guys smell like that? Jesus.

You were kind of expecting the Reverend Mother to appear and throw the door open, yelling at you and Mark to get on your knees and recite Hail Mary any seconds now.

His thumb pressed that spot on your hip and you inhaled sharply in apprehension, almost a purr. How humiliating, you’d never even made a sound like that. That jerk’s touch was more inhibiting than alcohol. Primate y/n was a traitor. Hopefully, you’d remember not to ever trust her again tomorrow morning, when you’d sobered up. Mark must have heard it because he smiled, face glowing, illuminated by the small rays of light coming through the door crack. He always had a dangerous animalistic smile, one exposing canines and baring far too many teeth, often it made him look spooky.  

“Relax.” He commanded, hand climbing slowly on your side as his erratic breathing neared your cheek. “I’m not gonna jump you. You were such a tease earlier. Is this really your first time?”

Mark wasn’t that much of a talker in Middle School, this new him was the worst. He chuckled silently, unaware of your thoughts and a resolve birthed in your chest at his amusement. You weren’t about to let that guy boast later to the whole school about how inexperienced you were. Especially not to his bitchy non-girlfriend. Strong of determination and anticipation, you put your own hands around his hips, unsure where else they should go. You weren’t going to freak out. You weren’t going to be boring. You might as well go all out if primate you were about to do this to herself.

“No,” you lied, almost convincing your drunk self. “it’s not.”

“I’m gonna kiss you...” Mark announced with his alpha tone, not buying the lie. Although his statement should have sounded awkward, it made you shiver at the suspense. Through the tip of your fingers on his shirt, you felt his heart thump loudly in his chest. Was he nervous? Surely not, you bet he’d kissed a thousand girls in dark closets.

“Well…” You faked confidence again, acutely conscious of how hot he was now– in every possible way… Even if he was a disgusting manwhore. “Is it coming today or...”

Mark was still baring his toothy grin when your noses brushed. You’re the one who met his lips in the middle, surprisingly tilting your head to help.

He tasted of Caribbean punch, a mix between warm nights, fresh fruits and bonfire. It was addictive, not half-bad. Instantly, Mark’s kiss became insistent, his mouth opened against yours, adding pressure and you obeyed, too dazed to do anything or have second thoughts.

He was trapping you against the wall roughly, ravaging you. He had absolutely no mercy and you were pushing back with all your might to survive, hips, lips and hands all over. This wasn’t about the reality outside at all, any thought of the others completely vanished the second Mark slid his hand under your shirt. You let him do it, skin awaken by the touch, discovering a thousand new nerves on your body.

Yes, you had become another y/n.

That was the only explanation. A y/n that makes out in dark rooms with cool kids and grinds into them shamelessly, but just for seven minutes.

Seven extremely messy minutes.

Mark groaned in your mouth, skilled fingers caressing your stomach softly and you curved against him, craving more, possessed. Your skin was buzzing, like screaming, begging to feel him more. His left hand hiked up your body in a hurry, climbing under your t-shirt in your back and you prayed the door wouldn’t shed light on this scene. It would be terribly embarrassing; you were letting him put both of his hands up your shirt. Mark pressed his leg between yours that opened automatically, and your fingers entangled themselves in his hair, almost for support. He never broke the kiss. He too, probably knew better than to waste any second of whatever shared craziness this moment was.

“So good,” Mark grunted, words shaking to escape his throat and you opened your eyes in amazement, “but so bad.”

Shared hysteria. That was what this was.

You both weren’t done though. He adventured his left hand on the fabric of your bra and you froze briefly. Mark must have felt your hesitation because he kept it there. He didn’t push it further nor did he take it away and it felt weird. Like your heart was about to burst through your left breast for him to hold. Sometimes you dreamed of being touched like that, but it was even better than what you imagined, overpowering.  

Even if it was by Mark Tuan, or perhaps even more frighteningly; because it was him. This was all Primate y/n’s doing, anyway, not yours.

The Reverend Mother would’ve had a heart attack if she knew where you were and with whom. Your head was spinning, imagination taking this even further. This deserved at least a thousand Hail Marys, a plethora of Rosaries.

“Fuck,” He whispered in your mouth, the sound like thunder. “Who knew.”

Not you.

You had no idea you were so easy, such a whore. He resumed kissing you as though this was perfectly normal, but perhaps he just couldn’t stop either. You could feel him through his pants, the bad boy wasn’t so unphased by you. This was so new, everything was exhilarating. Mark rocked between your legs, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. You were enjoying every second of this, you were right; Seven Minutes in Heaven with Mark Tuan was your own personal Hell. Whatever this was would haunt you later on for sure. The smell of his skin, the taste of his tongue, the touch of his hand. But you were shameless, you took it all. You didn’t have any second to waste before reality hit. Mark pushed against you again and you pressed closer involuntarily, wondering if he was doing it on purpose.

The direct friction on your tights and panties was going to make you lose your damn mind. You slid one of your own hands under his shirt to feel the abs you spotted earlier during the Strip or Truth game. You ran your nails on his body, and he moaned.

Mark Tuan, actually moaned while making out with you.

You stilled for a heartbeat, unsure if this was supposed to be good or not until he bit your lips, rolling it between his teeth. And you came alive again, because... Jesus. That was unexpected. And Lord, that felt like Heaven. Your hands slid to his back to pull him closer and Mark obliged, fingers caressing the curve of your boobs endlessly, every bit of skin not covered by your bra. In the moment, you wanted to ask him to touch you under the fabric, wanted to know if you would break, but your mouth was too busy being full of him.

As though he heard your thoughts, or unable to refrain from it anymore, Mark’s left hand finally slipped under your bra to touch your breast. He brushed your nipple, causing you to make another embarrassing inhuman sound, something low that he swallowed and kept to himself. Thankfully, Mark only became more eager after that. He used his other hand to press you harder on him through his pants, rolling his hips forward. Your whole body was ablaze, alive in a way it had never been before, and surprisingly Mark seemed as equally taken. His kisses were messy, his breathing on your face heavy as if he was running a marathon. According to your heart rate, you certainly were too.

Mark mumbled unintelligibly, something about his will failing and doing this sooner, as he slipped his free hand to where your thighs met. Before you could process what he said, he touched that forbidden place through your tights and panties, even just like that it felt overwhelming and dangerous. Instantly, you fidgeted and dug your nails in his skin. He hissed and stilled too, but you pulled at him, undecided on what you wanted to do next. Reality was still waiting outside that door.

“Mark…” He seemed to recognized the call for whatever it truly was, and his fingers started to move cautiously on the fabric.

“Shhh, don’t want them to hear, do we?” Mark’s head dropped in the crook of your neck to suck on your skin. Your whole body was humming at his touch, like wanting to be heard, to scream for the world to know.

Right. Reality. You covered your mouth with your hand, flustered. If you were still logical, sober and calm, you’d push him away, ask him to stop, but you didn’t want that. You wanted Mark to keep going, keep that up for an eternity, nothing else mattered. “Mark, this is s-so…”

Summoned, he grunted on your neck pleased you kept calling his name. “Good,” he asked, lips now brushing yours “being bad?”

Reprobate. Wrong. Lewd. Vile. Immoral. His fingers were still rubbing you, and you sighed, clinging to him, unable to say anything else. Perfect. Mind-blowing. Addictive. Perfectly right.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Hot.

“Me?” Hot. “Have you lost your mind?” You giggled and he joined, complicit.

“Yeah,” Mark’ hands abandoned their dirty deeds to cup your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss, “long ago.”

“When?” Seeing your frown, he grinned way too largely again. He was just about to answer when reality interrupted.  

“ONE MINUTE!” Someone loud – very Bambam-esque – hit the door and you both jerked away, startled.

How many bases did you two run anyway? Suddenly, you wished you knew baseball enough to get the sexy metaphors. Was that only the first base? This felt like way more.

“Fuck,” Mark swore again, exhaling loudly. “Y/n, that was… so hot.” That word again. It was the first time someone used it to describe something about you. Then again, tonight felt like a night full of ‘firsts’. Mark reached for your skirt that had riled up your hips and pulled it downwards, hiding how far your game had gone. The fact that it was his first move gave away how accustomed he was to that kind of heated make-out sessions and you shook your head from side to side, remembering who you were with and why. Right. He was the player of Saint-Agnès de Roma, a manwhore… Surely that was why.

“Did you drop the card on purpose?” You asked hurriedly while he was making sure your t-shirt was back to its original place.

He blinked, staring at you for a long second like you were a dimwit. “Yes.”

“Why?” You were determined to leave this place with a clear answer.

“Well, y/n,” Mark murmured, pressing his lips on yours and running his tongue at the edge of them one last time, “I don’t think I could make myself any more obvious.”

“W-What?”

“TIME’S UP!” Someone yelled – yep, it was Bambam – letting the too cruel light shine on the scene inside the closet.

Thankfully, Mark was standing at a safe distance when the door opened. Still, he must have looked guilty somehow, because Jaebum applauded, impressed.

“Jesus Christ,” Jackson swore – a very rare occurrence – when he saw your ruffled hair and swollen lips.

Another day, you’d feel like hiding away, but, probably because of the rush of oxytocin and all that Caribbean Punch, tonight, primate you just shrugged it off. Your mind was caught up elsewhere, up in the clouds. No wonder that jerk was so popular with girls.

After those Seven Minutes in Heaven, you had learned three new things:

One, Mark Tuan could Jedi trick you into doing absolutely anything.

Two, you could make him lose his mind...

And three…

You sneaked a look his way while getting pulled by Jackson out of the (blessed) closet. Mark was strangely silent, letting his friends tease him without much reaction. He met your gaze and you misstepped, almost falling on the Wang’s luxurious carpet. Jackson caught you in extremis and your clumsiness made Mark snort, struggling to conceal his inhuman grin. There he was, making fun of you again.

And three... Tonight was obviously going to become a regular thing between you two.

And you weren’t the one making the rules.

|| M.List || GOT7 ||

[long-arm-stapler]

EP 1: Sayuri

[00:14]

Maira: Hi! Um my name is Maira and this is the very first episode of Long Arm Stapler, which is a podcast about zines. And this is my guest, you can introduce yourself.

Sayuri: Hi, my name is Sayuri. I am a zinester who works in Oakland and I’m really glad to be here and talking about zines, and Ara today. Um, so yeah I guess, you know.

Maira: Yeah, um, so today is December 2nd, which is a very somber day in the Bay Area. Um, a year ago we lost 36 artists, creative people, weirdos, um, and one of the people we lost was Ara Jo. Who was basically the patron saint of zines in the Bay Area and probably other places too. Her reach was just super, super everywhere. Um, and we are gonna honor her with this episode.

Sayuri: Yeah

Maira: So, a little bit about how I got into zines. So, back tracking to zines in general. I got into zines through my friend Kristen, we run Queer Anxiety Babiez Distro with our friend Ali. We’re based out of the East Bay, um, we focus on gender, mental health, and queerness. And we publish zines by other people, we publish zines by ourselves, we travel around, we get the word out, and make friends along the way.

Maira: And how did you get into zines?

Sayuri: I formally got into zines when I moved to the Bay. But before that I was always making little books and little magazines without knowing there was an entire like, scene that did that. So when I came to the Bay it was really awesome because I was like “Oh my god, other people are doing this weird thing that I thought only I was doing, publishing little books, or making little fake tabloid magazines, that’s what I always did as a kid-

Maira: Yeah!

Sayuri: And then when I moved up here, my roommate Anjelica, she runs Lemon Drop Press, which is a small risograph printing press out of our garage. So we just, I sort of just got into the zine scene because of her. Yeah.

Maira: That’s awesome. Where are you from?

Sayuri: I’m from LA-

Maira: Okay

Sayuri: So there’s a pretty strong zine scene there too, which is awesome.

Maira: There is, I have witnessed it firsthand.

Sayuri: Yeah.

Maira: Yeah, uh, it’s really cool. I’m from the Bay Area originally, but it’s really cool to talk to people from outside of the Bay who have like moved here about just how different the scenes are, but at the same time they’re both very communal and welcoming and warm. That’s what I like about the Southern California zine scene is, like, I’ve made friends with the organizers of Long Beach Zine Fest, they’re amazing. Shout out to all of them! Um, the LA Zine Fest people are really nice. My friend Alan runs a queer zine fest down there called Zine Queens. There’ just so much going on and everyone is so excited to see you. And that’s why zine fests down there, even if I’m not from down there, it feels like “coming home.” It feels very nice.

Sayuri: Yeah, LA’s pretty interesting because, growing up there, I just felt like there’s so much, it’s so huge. LA’s a huge place, so it does take some work to find like, your people. Or your community. But I feel like the LA zine scene is really strong and you know when I found it, I was like “this is awesome, how come I didn’t know about it?” And it’s because LA is so huge so I’m really glad that there are these pockets of people just making books and it’s really important.

Maira: Yeah, that’s kind of how I felt in the Bay too. Because like, so I’m from the East Bay, I moved to San Francisco for 7 years, and now I’m back in the East Bay, and when I was growing up it was kind of a similar situation where I would just make stuff all the time and I didn’t really know what to do with it, or like know other people who made stuff. Um, so I just had a bunch of like, weird little pocket books, full of stuff. And I would collect like, the Pocket Guide to the Spice Girls, and all those little like, mini zines basically. Um, and I would write all the time, but I didn’t really have a community around it, and then when I moved to San Francisco, I met Kristen, who actually lived in the East Bay, we met through tumblr, and … tea break…

Maira: They got me into zines, and they were like, yeah it’s this really cool thing where you basically have total control over like, what you’re putting out. And I was like “woah, that’s awesome! Um, yeah. And it’s been a wild, amazing ride ever since.

Sayuri: Yeah, zines are really important. I think, like, a lot of modern day like society especially in America is very capitalist, so this is a way for artists and creative people to get around that and make stories and share stories that are really, um, not about, you know, making money or the bottom line. And it’s kind of very far removed from the whole, you know, publishing world, which is-

Maira: I feel like publishing is like, I don’t know, I’m kind of trying to get into publishing. But I feel like independent publishing is what you’re saying, is very removed but it’s got some of the same aspects, but like, I don’t know I find it way more accessible.

Sayuri: Yeah, yeah, I think accessibility is like a huge part, and like never before has everyone’s stories in the world been so accessible. I mean here we are, just chatting zines and sharing with the world, so it’s like we’re living in a really critical time where we can share stories in a powerful way, so it feels really good to be here.

Maira: Yeah! Um, so, how did you meet Ara?

Sayuri: How did I, well, ok-

Maira: That wasn’t a smooth transition at all

[both laugh]

Sayuri: How did I meet Ara? I met Ara, the first time I met Ara was at 2015 EBABZ, so the East Bay zine fest

Maira: If you’re watching, you can see my shirt, but if you’re not watching you can’t see my shirt.

Sayuri: Shout out to EBABZ.

Sayuri: Yeah, so, the first time I met her I was helping my roommate set up her booth, she had the flu that day so I was like “dude I’ll help you,” uh we were setting up our table and I think we were on the second floor and Ara was on the third floor and we just hear this voice like [shouting] HEY EVERYONE!

Sayuri: And I was like “woah, what’s that?” It was Ara just telling everyone like, what to do and how we’re going to have a great time and like, thanking everyone for supporting. And at that moment I was just like “wow, this is a really powerful person.” So that’s how I met Ara, was through a zine event, and it was just really, you know, magical seeing her doing her thing and this project she had been working on for so long come to fruition. Through EBABZ, that’s kind of indirectly how we met?

Maira: Yeah

Sayuri: Because if I didn’t know, so, after the-

Maira: Six degrees of separation

Sayuri: After the Ghost Ship fire, it happened about a week before EBABZ

Maira: Literally a week before, and I’ll get into that later. That was a wild, rough week.

Sayuri: Yeah that was a really crazy week, and the fire happened and I was thinking “oh my god, what’s gonna happen with EBABZ?” And there were a bunch of volunteers that met up at Sgraffito, where Ara lived and was a gallery manager, so I went there, there was a very last minute – of course, because that was the best we could do – and everyone sort of got together “ok well we have a bunch of construction paper, let’s make signs, and do whatever we can,” I met my friend Lani there, who was one the volunteers, and Lani knows Maira, so [laughing] that’s how we got here today.

Maira: Yeah, um, we met at, we had a picnic for EBABZ this year as a lead up event. EBABZ is next week, December 9th, by the way, shout out. Um, and we were like “we both like making buttons, we both like making zines, we both love Ara, let’s do this.” I met Ara in a very similar way, actually, at 2014 EBABZ, which was my very first tabling event ever. I had just started making zines, and my friend Kristen, who I mentioned earlier, invited me to table with them and I said okay, and I saw this, this person, this like force of a person. And it was Ara. And I remember just beaming the entire time I was at the fest because it was so exciting and such a wonderful way to get myself out there and meet people and share ideas. And I went up to buy a t-shirt at the merch table, which is the t-shirt I am wearing right now, and I was like “Hey! This is amazing!” And I was just talking to her and Tricia, one of the other organizers that year, and telling them how included I felt, for someone who was coming in from the outside. Ara was very excited about that, and this was the very last bright orange t-shirt and I felt really special that I got it. And I just kept telling Ara that I felt amazing being there, and she was really stoked on that. I didn’t really interact with her again until 2015 EBABZ, so like, um, initially our friendship was really just in passing at zine stuff, but one memory that I have of meeting her outside of a zine event was I saw her on BART. I was going to Oakland and I was just like “shit, that person looks so cool.” Ara dressed so cool, she had the best clothes, like, and the best style. I just remember being on BART with her and looking over at her and being like “she looks so cool. Oh, that’s one of the EBABZ organizers, okay!” So later I was riding my bike and we like crossed paths way later down the street. And she was like, “Hey! You’re in Queer Anxiety Babiez!” I had an “Oh my god, you know who I am?” moment

[both laughing]

Sayuri: Celebrity crush.

Maira: Celebrity crush, oh yeah. For sure. So I had that moment with her, and I was like, “Yeah, I’m about to go to a reading,” and she was like, “cool!” We chatted for a little bit, and that’s when I was like, “I really want to be friends with Ara Jo.” She had that kind of magnetic personality that really made you feel loved and included and welcome even if you had known each other for 5 seconds.

Sayuri: Yeah, I felt like she really embodied the zine spirit, of you know, how- why zines are there.

Maira: Community. Like, Ara Jo was zine community.

Sayuri: Yeah, yeah yeah. After the fire, I just, because of her, I met so many other people. Even like after she left this world she’s still making connections between people. I feel like she’s still here. So, doing this for you Ara baby.

Maira: Um

[Sayuri laughs]

Maira: I just want to talk about Ara! Like, she was just, last night I was on BART and I was getting really sad because of this weekend, and I was coming home and just like, crying, but not necessarily sad, just “I can’t believe I got to exist at the same time as her?” And like I can’t believe, I mean I can believe, because it happened, but it’s just amazing that I got to meet her, and be friends with her, and spend time with her, because she was just such a powerful, booming, bright force of energy.

Sayuri: Yep

Maira: I’m going to cry on this podcast!

[both laugh]

[both]: But in a good way.

Maira: Yeah, like, organizing EBABZ, so last year was my first organizing EBABZ – the East Bay Alternative Book and Zine Fest – because I had been, honestly I signed up to organize so I could hang out with Ara. Like that was my-

[Sayuri laughs]

Maira: I love zines, but I also really want to befriend this person. So last year I started organizing, and the week leading up to the fest was one of the most intense weeks of my life. Because you know, we had a group chat on Facebook with all the organizers, and I remember waking up on the 3rd, so last year’s Saturday, today last year.

Sayuri: That was a very confusing time.

Maira: Yeah I remember waking up to a message from Tricia that was just saying “Hey Ara, please just let us know you’re okay.” Um, and I was really confused. And then I looked up what was happening and was like “woah,” the group chat got very somber very fast, with all of us just trying to find Ara. We were calling Ara, um, she had been in the hospital for like a, she had a really bad cold a few weeks before, so we had already lost contact with her for like a week, so we were like “oh, is this the same thing?” So we just couldn’t get ahold of her, um, and then when we found out that she was gone, we scrambled. Um, we found out that the venue we thought we put a deposit on, we hadn’t put a deposit on. We found out we didn’t really have anything aside from like, a hundred tablers, we had no space anymore. And so, that week really brought the community together, to just, make EBABZ happen. And last year was one of my favorites, no, it was my favorite, zine fests of all time. And I’ve been to a lot of zine fests, and I love EBABZ with all my heart, but last year was magical.

[both] Yeah

Sayuri: I remember that whole week, from the fire til EBABZ was just, so confusing. I mean, I just felt so, I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know what I was seeing, I didn’t, I just felt so disconnected. And then I remember at EBABZ, it was the first time everything felt okay, or there was a moment of calm. I just remember everyone there, not just me, it was just the first moment that it felt okay. Things were alright for just a second, was at that zine fest.

Maira: There were like three thousand people there.

Sayuri: Yeah it was crazy packed, too.

Maira: We had to turn people away.

Sayuri: Oh really? That’s pretty awesome.

Maira: Because of the space constraints of the venue, not because we didn’t want people. We, yeah, it was the first time a lot of us had been in the same room together in general, but also a lot of us as friends and community members since the fire, and it felt very… warm. And it was a very cold, rainy day, um, and it felt very safe. I was running around crying the entire fest. Like, I was like, asking people if they needed anything, breaks, and yeah I was just sobbing the entire fest. When I was at my table, [fake crying] “Here you go.” Just hanging people zines and I was running around with my organizer hat crying and people were telling me how great the fest was going and I was just kind of like, collapsing and saying “Thank you.” Like, I think last year we just all really wanted to make Ara proud. Of like, the fest. And I mean this year, obviously, we want to make Ara proud every fest from last year on. That’s my goal with EBABZ, as an organizer.

Sayuri: Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of just like, reflection on Ara’s legacy, I guess I knew her in the context of zines, I guess our relationship was more formal. We were just like, you know, hang out and do zine stuff together. I was just thinking about her legacy, and I think it’s really important that artists just continue making stuff, and just sort of like, plow through the sadness that we get a lot. Our community isn’t supported by mainstream people, governmental institutions, so we really have to be there for each other. You know, for ourselves and I’ve just been thinking a lot about like, self-love and loving your friends and showing up for your friends and um, making projects happen. And not being afraid of a failure. Or thinking that your work is not good enough or that someone is cooler than you. I always thought Ara was super cool, like way cooler than me, and like the first time we hung out she was cutting my hair and she was like “We’re going to make you look like Kristi Yamaguchi!” And I was like damn, you’re so cool. Like ohm y god and you’re cutting my hair?

Maira: That was such a good Ara impression.

[both laugh]

Sayuri: She was like, “We’re going to cut your bangs like this,” you know, and like in that moment, I was like she’s really awesome, and she barely knew me. You know, I think that same warmth is really important, um, and that’s why I love the zine community, there is always that warmth, and it never feels cold or unpopulated, so that’s why I’m in it.

Maira: That’s also why I’m in it! Um, it’s been a really good way to make friends, and meet people, and share ideas. Um, I, and it’s cool because I see the same warmth and welcoming in other zine communities too. Like, for example, I went to Omaha Zine Fest, not the middle of nowhere, but like, Nebraska. And I live in California, so that’s like, quite a ways away. I had never been there before, and I went to the very first one and the organizers were like, “Yeah, come stay at our house! We’ll take you out to breakfast and show you all the sights of Omaha,” which was really just like, every location every mentioned in a Bright Eyes or Desaparecidos song.

[Sayuri laughs]

Maira: Um, that’s really what it was. The tour of Saddle Creek. And, I feel that spirit in every single zine community I’ve ever witnessed. You know, I’ve been up and down the West Coast to fests, I’ve been to Chicago Zine Fest, Omaha Zine Fest, and I feel like I’m just name dropping at this point, but, I just want to shout out everyone who has ever put on a zine fest or has like, welcomed strangers into their home for a zine fest, because that’s really cool.

Sayuri: Yeah, yeah. Kudos to you. I mean I could not organize a zine fest, that is insane.

Maira: It’s-

[Sayuri laughs]

Sayuri: I make the zines.

Maira: Yeah, the zines! I was so inspired by EBABZ 2016, last year, that I founded my own zine fest. The Bay Area Queer Zine Fest, which was on June 17th. It was amazing, and it was a labor of love. And it was for Ara, like that’s what it was. You know, it was an idea that we had talked about, just as a very far out “Hey wouldn’t it be cool if we had a queer zine fest?” And then I made it happen with the help of a lot of other people. And it felt really good, and I felt like she would have been proud of that too. Um, as far as your zines go…

Sayuri: Okay-

Maira: We’re going to talk about you a little bit.

Sayuri: Yeah let’s uh, okay, well, I brought a few zines that I’ve made in the past. I don’t know, I think I want to start with the one that is not finished yet. But it will be or EBABZ which is next weekend on-

[both exclaim]: December 9th!

Maira: At the Omni Commons, I don’t have the address, but-

Sayuri: You should put the info up.

Maira: I’ll link it.

Sayuri: Um, so, every year I make an end of the year zine, so it’s pretty much in a comic book format and I look at the year’s, the past year. I wasn’t able to find my 2016 one, but I found my 2015 abridged tale, so this is kind of what I make every year. So even if I make one zine, it will be this.

Maira: If you’re just listening, this zine looks amazing. It looks very detailed and very professional.

[Sayuri laughs]

Maira: And I’m a little intimidated.

Sayuri: Don’t be! This year I was kind of crazy, like, I’ve got to make it look so professional. The ones now are like, less manicured than this, but I was pretty proud of this one. So I just like, review my year in a positive way, and it’s just, I feel like it’s really good for me to get out of my head, and be like, “Okay, well what good happened this year?” And I think like a lot of artists, I get depressed, and I get sad, and it’s hard for me to see the positive.

Maira: [sarcastically] What’s that? What’s depression? And artists?

Sayuri: I get sad sometimes, and I forget how amazing my friends and family are. I’ve been making these for the past five years, so I’m making my 2017 one, so hopefully that will be at EBABZ. Um, another project that I’m also trying to get done for EBABZ is this book, it’s not done yet, but I printed out the cover. Yeah, so this is the cover, it’s called “Ritual.”

Maira: That looks amazing.

Sayuri: It’s going to be great. So, this zine has been in the works for about a year. And so, this is just the cover art, and it features nine artists, healers in the Bay who submitted their rituals. There’s a banish the patriarchy ritual, there is a safe space ritual, I contributed, uh, I actually contributed a ritual that I did for Ara. After the fire happened, so this was a ritual that I organized with some friends and um, we, it was pretty much to help Ara’s spirit move, um, to the next wherever she is now. But this was really good for the participants because it helped us cope with our grieving in a communal way, um, but yeah. So my upcoming zine is going to be a magic zine, so it is about magical rituals and how to heal ourselves and our friends in dark times. And I’m really excited to finally have it done because I feel like, I mean I’m sure you get this too, where it’s like, “It’s not done yet! It’s not done yet!” Or like, “I started that how many months ago?”

Maira: Forever ago!

Sayuri: What’s going on with that? So, this is a zine that I’ve been sitting on for a while. But I actually don’t feel too bad about it now.

Maira: Nice! I hope that… I’m kind of doing that, I’m working on a King of the Hill zine right now, a follow up Zine of the Hill 2, this time it’s about feelings is the subtitle. I’ve been working on it for a while, and I don’t think it’s going to be done for EBABZ, but if it is, it will be a miracle and I’ll feel so good.

Sayuri: But if not that’s fine too.

Maira: But if not it’s fine too! I’ll release it first thing next year, and, because I don’t want to, I don’t know, with zines, sometimes I want to just like, get the product out if I’m feeling rushed before a zine fest and that’s usually if it’s a really personal one. And I’ll just have this like, creative flash and I’ll just only work on that for a week straight and I’ll just put it out there. But then, with other zines, you’ve got to sit with them, you’ve just got to let it happen naturally and organically.

Sayuri: Yeah, I like that, that resonates a lot with me. I think a lot of the time, I’m pretty like, I don’t like to categorize people but I’m Type A for sure, and so I’m always like, rushing to finish things, “How am I going to get this done if I’m not moving? I’m not doing anything!” So it’s, I’m actually coming to terms with like, the zine I am making might take a year, but maybe because of that it will be better because I didn’t-

Both: Rush it.

Sayuri: Yeah, so, don’t rush it.

Maira: I like to think of zines as, I reference this a lot but I took a history of rock and roll class in community college, and we had a week on Prince and a week on Michael Jackson.

Sayuri: Wait, what?

Maira: It was history of rock and roll since the 70’s, we went over like every genre of music, but where I’m going with this was, Prince was very “I’m going to make a million things and just put them out there, whether or not they’re polished.” And Michael Jackson was very, “I’m going to release a few things and they’re going to be super, super polished.” And yeah, super polished. And it’s not in a rivalry way, but in a like, production way if that makes sense.

Sayuri: Yeah, yeah. Creative process.

Maira: Yeah, creative process way. So, I think about that a lot when I’m making zines.

Sayuri: Yeah, I like that analogy, I’ve never thought about Prince and Michael Jackson like that. But now I am!

Maira: Shout out to that professor I had!

[Sayuri laughs]

Maira: Don’t remember your name, sorry! Your class was great.

Sayuri: I actually brought a Prince button.

Maira: I just got a Prince tattoo, too.

Sayuri: It’s funny because, I was, so Maira has a button maker. I make buttons. So I hung out with you, was it last week?

Maira: A couple days ago.

Sayuri: It was really recent, and they were like, “What’s up with that podcast?”

[Sayuri laughs]

Both: So here we are!

Sayuri: This is great.

Maira: So, I had just gotten my Prince tattoo, and Sayuri came over and was like, “Yeah I’m making Prince buttons!” And I was just like, I lifted up my sleeve, because I got Prince’s eyes.

Sayuri: His beautiful eyes.

Maira: And my hair is purple, and everything felt very… puzzle pieces.

Both: Yeah, yeah.

Maira: And so here we are, in this podcast.

Sayuri: Yeah, I think magic is definitely in the air, and we’ve got to pay attention to the weird things that the universe is telling us, if it’s, you know, a Prince tattoo and a Prince button and your hair is purple, that makes sense!

Maira: Like, we’ve both got orange on today, which we did not talk about.

Sayuri: Yeah, we didn’t plan the orange, orange, and then orange up here.

Maira: No. Oh, yeah, Sayuri made this “What Would Ara Do?” by the way. Do you want to, I know if you’re listening to this you can’t see it, but I’ll probably, I’ll link a photo of it-

Sayuri: Okay.

Maira: When I post the podcast. But do you want to talk about the art?

Sayuri: Yeah, should I grab it? It’s, there’s a lot of symbolism in it. So, this is the poster I made of Ara, it says, “What Would Ara Do?” um, and she is standing between two pillars. So, when I made this illustration, I was working on a tarot project, so I was thinking about the High Priestess a lot, and the High Priestess in the Rider-Wait deck, the classic Rider-Wait deck, has the High Priestess standing between two pillars of light and dark, and I thought a lot about Ara as the High Priestess. And I put her on Lady Guadalupe’s body. Um, I think Ara was from LA, too-

Maira: Yeah.

Sayuri: Yeah, Ara was from LA, because her grave is in San Dimas, which is where I used to work.

Maira: Oh really?

Sayuri: Yeah.

Maira: I’m going down for New Years and I’m going to try to visit it.

Sayuri: Yeah, I mean her metal plaque-

Maira: It’s got a photo of her.

Sayuri: Yeah and my roommate actually made the artwork that is now on her plaque on her grave.

Maira: Oh yeah, because it’s that poster, I have that in my room.

Sayuri: Yeah, so my roommate and I both make Ara posters. Um, but yeah so, she is embodied as the Lady Guadalupe, whom I love, and she’s standing behind a crescent moon. And um, the moon in a lot of cultures has to deal with death, and in a lot of cultures they believe when you die you go, you return to the moon. We’re from the moon, we’re like, weird space creatures. I kind of like that idea. And then, at the bottom, there’s a little baby kewpie, I love kewpie and-

Maira: Ara fucking loved kewpies.

Sayuri: She loved kewpies, kewpie’s here, you know, with its wings, supporting everyone, and then there’s little rainbows and clouds. Ara was a huge supporter of the queer community, and that was, I think, really amazing. Um, and this is my interpretation… And actually, if you look closely, there are 36 stars, for the 36 people who died in that fire. So, there’s lots of little tricks in there. But yeah so, this I will have at EBABZ. So, I’ll have this at EBABZ, and you can get one for free, or you can donate, get one for a donation, and I’ll give all the money, 100% of the proceeds to EBABZ. So that they can get their space for next year. So, you know, if you like art, if you like EBABZ, um, pick up a poster, throw a few bucks my way, and um yeah, get some cool art. And support the zine community.

Maira: Yeah, um.

[36:35, indistinguishable]

Sayuri: I got it, I got it.

Maira: It’s just been moving up and down all day and I’m totally okay with it.

Sayuri: It’s okay.

Maira: I, so we’re currently sitting at my kitchen table, which is a 6 by 3 folding table, commonly used at zine fests, um, because I moved and we didn’t have a lot of money for a new table, but I was like, “Multi-purpose! Let’s get a zine table!” So this is where I do most of my crafting, and I have this poster that I just have above my craft table that um, because I like to think of, “What Would Ara Do?” when I’m making stuff. Um, I made a zine about her, um, Sgraffito opened the Ara Jo Zine Library a few months ago, um, and they were like, “If you have zines about Ara, if you have zines for Ara, bring them to this space.” And it was really cool, and…

Sayuri: Lani is here!

Maira: Lani? Hey, Lani.

Sayuri: Hi Lani!

Maira: Hey, everybody.

Sayuri: Oh, hey everyone, hey Gabby.

Maira: For everybody watching, Meredith and Jackie and Charissa.

Sayuri: Hi everyone, thanks for joining us.

Maira: Um, and we went and I made a zine about Ara, and one of the things I wrote about… So I wrote the zine using this pen that Ara gave me for my birthday. Hey, Poliana! And, it’s one of those pens where you can change the ink color, and when my own house burned down earlier this year, two of the things that I made sure I grabbed when we were allowed back in the house after everything was soaked were my pin, my Ara pin that I made for the memorial, um, right after the fire, and then pen that she gave me. And I do most of my special zine projects with that pen, and I hold it very, very close to my heart. Um, yeah she gave me a pen for my birthday and she made the next EBABZ planning meeting like an unofficial birthday party for me and we had ice cream for breakfast and she was all, “I’ve always wanted to have a party with ice cream for breakfast!” Yeah, she was very stoked.

[Sayuri laughs]

Maira: And she just pumped me full of ice cream at like, ten AM. Um, because that’s just who Ara was… amazing, that’s who Ara was, just amazing.

Sayuri: Mhm

[Maira sighs]

Maira: So if you’re not doing anything today, and even if you are, think about your friends, and think about how much you love them, and tell them you love them, and hold them close. And think about all the amazing things that you can create together. Um, yeah.

Sayuri: Yeah, yeah that’s great.

[Sayuri laughs]

Maira: Those are my words of wisdom. Um, yeah, I’m probably, I actually live near Ghost Ship now, where Ghost Ship was, and I’m probably going to go by today. I’ve never been but I’ve looked for it, obviously not very hard because I didn’t find it, but I think I’m ready today to go, and I’m just going to pay my respects. We lost 36 really amazing, amazing creative people in that fire, and while, you know, we focused on one of them today, there’s thirty five other beautiful, beautiful, creative – I keep saying that – but you know it was freaks and weirdos in the best possible way.

Sayuri: It was, yeah, it was.

Maira: Um, do you have anything that you’d like to plug?

Sayuri: Um, no. Well, EBABZ. Everyone should come to EBABZ, I know there’s a lot of stuff going on that weekend, there is Magic Makers happening, which is the queer healing fest, which is happening at the Humanist Hall-

Maira: December 9th and 10th, so Saturday and Sunday.

Sayuri: There’s EBAB happening on the 9th.

Maira: On the 9th.

Sayuri: And there’s also-

Maira: Max’s Garage Print Sale?

Sayuri: Yeah, there’s also… Ok Gabby, I’ll plug my zine too. Um, there’s also Max’s Garage Print Sale happening in Berkeley on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I think it’s the first time they’re doing all three days, so it’s a really great… I’ll have some of my prints there too, but it’s a really great place to pick up really affordable, great art, by artists living in the Bay. So go support your community, get your friends some art this year. One last plug, you should check out Ritual once it’s done at EBABZ. I’m also going to try to do some relatials with my friend Gabby Lala, and she’s giving me a lot of good feedback right now, thanks Gabby. Gabby and I are going to team up, she’s probably going to play some sitar… Gabby? Maybe some sitar? Yes?

Maira: I see some hearts.

Sayuri: So, there’s going to be some sitar music, I might lead a little ritual, and I’ll be selling these zines. So, come support your local artists, and um, the zine community. And I guess, I hope that everyone can be really kind and loving and compassionate today, well every day, but especially today.

Maira: Especially today and the next few days.

Sayuri: Yeah.

Maira: One last memory I have of last year is um, the big memorial at Lake Merritt.

Sayuri: Mhm, yep.

Maira: One thing that really stuck out… I pass Lake Merritt a lot because I live in Oakland. But every time I pass by, I don’t know what that area is called, with the pillars and stuff.

Sayuri: I don’t know what it’s called, but I know what it is, with the pillars.

Maira: Yeah, the pillared area at Lake Merritt, if you’re familiar, they had a bunch of glow sticks in the trees. And every time I see a glow stick now, I think of Ara and I think of that night and everyone just kind of like, coming together and crying together and hoping that this never happens again. And you know, like, I don’t know, people coming together. I’m starting to cry. Community is so important to zines and friendship and art, and I really want to stress that focus on these things, find these things, find your community, find your freaks and weirdos, and stick by them, and tell them you love them, a lot, all the time, because you never know what’s going to happen.

Sayuri: We love you everyone who joined us.

Maira: So we recorded this live on Facebook, and-

Sayuri: Why don’t you tell people where they can find the podcast.

Maira: Yeah, so podcast is going to be up on Libsyn, and I think it’s going to go up on Spotify and iTunes, I’m going to post a bunch of links, Gabby Lala you are totally correct, we should not wait for bad stuff to happen to come together.

Sayuri: Yeah.

Maira: And I think people take that for granted, until bad stuff happens, and then we come together and we’re like, “Ah, never again!” So hopefully this time it sticks. East Bay Alternative Book and Zine Fest, next Saturday, um, I’ll actually be recording the podcast live, probably not broadcasting live, but recording the podcast at the fest, and releasing it a couple days later. So look out for the next episode of Long Arm Stapler.

Sayuri: Yay!

Both: Signing off.

Maira: Bye everybody!

Sayuri: Bye!

[seriouslyhooked]

Tennessee Whiskey

Historical CS oneshot set in the Wild West. Killian is a part of a raiding group pilfering from wagons and other rich parties on the way out west. He’s made a lot of money, but he’s had very few happy moments in the last few years.  Then he meets Emma Swan, a saloon owner who blows his old life out of the water instantly. Could become something bigger if I ever find the time, but for now, just trying to answer a mixtape prompt for the song ‘Tennessee Whiskey’ by Chris Stapleton. Available on AO3 here and FanFiction here.

A/N: Okay all, so full disclosure I got this prompt a LONG time ago. Like more than a year ago, honestly maybe more than two, but I just never could find the needed inspiration to get something going. If my original reader wanted a set story to go with this, I’m sorry – I didn’t have a note with it and so I’ve just gone with where the music took me. Well, the music and a recent viewing of ‘The Magnificent Seven.’ For some reason I’ve got cowboys and sharp shooting on the brain now, and this is the fluffy bit of insta-love cuteness to come out of that. Be forewarned, however, that it’s not really all the historically accurate, and I don’t actually know much about westerns so. It’s just meant to be a little dose of fun and nothing too serious. Hope you guys enjoy!

Living this way used to feel like enough.

The thought crossed Killian Jones’ mind not for the first time as he sat astride his horse, making his way towards the only town for miles as the sun set on the open plains. In the last of the light this evening, this corner of the world he’d taken up temporary residence in showed its true natural beauty. The sunset went on for miles, as the long grasses blew in a soft, summer breeze. It was peaceful out here, quiet in ways that should calm a man’s soul, and it was moments like these where he understood what drove people from the certainty of coastal cities and into the unknown. The promise of making a home in a place like this was a beautiful one, but for Killian it would likely never come to pass.

That was a sadness of his own making. After all, his line of work was defined by more nomadic tendencies. To keep steady control over the raiding in these parts, Killian constantly followed big fish, businessmen seen as top prizes out here on the voyage to the West. Doing that took nearly constant movement and checking in with his spies and informants. He may only have three men actually in his pack of land bound ‘pirates,’ but his operation required a hell of a lot more, mostly ordinary people who kept an ear the ground but also knew discretion. 

As a habit, Killian valued loyalty above all, and he reimbursed those who helped him find his marks for sticking out their necks for him. And in the end, though it might not be a proud kind of living, Killian had no real regrets. The only people he ever stole from were rich men and their minions, all of whom saw these western lands and its inhabitants as arbitrary obstacles on their way to more success. They’d trample on folks and ruin their livelihoods just to get another dollar, and Killian didn’t stand for that at all. So he did what he could, and if it made he himself a richer man in the process, so be it. He never claimed to be on the side of the law, just on the side of a particular shade of justice.

“Aw, come on Captain, don’t look so glum. We stole everything but the pants off those New York goons without shedding a drop of blood,” his friend and one of his partners, Will Scarlet, announced proudly, puffing out his chest in a display of self-approval. “Easiest money we’ve made all year. Hell, we could all take a vacation for a long, long time.”

Killian ignored Will and turned to Graham Humbert, the most collected of their group, as well as the quietest. Graham had been a lawman at one time, but for reasons he didn’t like discussing, he decided the law just wasn’t for him after years of playing Sherriff further East. Killian never asked for details, and Graham never offered, but it didn’t lessen Killian’s trust in his friend. They respected each other’s privacy, and at the end of the day, being closed up never stopped Graham from being a critical part of the team.

“See that the people in Fayette get their cut,” Killian instructed, tossing a bag with a percentage of their day’s haul towards Graham. “They wanted a new roof for the church and help with a barn raising, and there’s plenty there to get them started.”

Graham nodded and then nudged his horse back in the other direction. With a low whistle he signaled his other companion, aptly named Wolf, to accompany him, and immediately the massive, gray, mixed-breed dog followed. It should take Graham a few days to get there and then meet them back in the town ahead of them, but that was fine by Killian. If he had his way, he’d be spending the next few days with a bottle of rum and the luxury of an actual bed. In all honesty he didn’t know what he was more excited for, but sad as it might be to admit, he suspected it was the liquor he wanted most.

“You do understand the term vacation, right Cap?” Will asked, continuing to poke when they all knew how that could turn out. Killian wasn’t a man to be messed with ever, but on a day like today, when he’d woken up before dawn, laid siege to a giant bandwagon owned by one of the most corrupt robber barons around, and taken on at least eight guards just by himself without much food or water in between? Well, today was not a day to cross him.

“If even you grasp it, then Killian must,” the last of their band, Robin Locksley, replied. He uttered the words with a knowing grin, and Killian realized that meant a barb for Scarlet was on the way. “There are few men out here in these western wilds with as little sense as you, Scarlet. Best remember that.”

This was the teasing of men who at this point were like brothers, having known each other for more than a decade, but as much as he might respect and regard both Will and Robin, Killian still wished to skip this whole thing. He tuned out their playful bickering, instead focusing on finding out a way to feel something again. He didn’t really care what at this point, he just wanted to feel. It had been forever since something or someone had moved him in some way, and usually he relied on some libation or other to do the trick. Alcohol was a grave sin to some, but to Killian it was the one he danced with most. Yet because of that, it felt like his life was just a series of mad dashes and daring highway high-jacks with a lot of meaningless, often drunken, nothingness settled in between.

Eventually, Killian was put out of some of his misery when they finally arrived in town. At first glance, ‘Storybrooke’ Nebraska appeared to be completely ordinary. It looked like a lot of towns out here, in that everything was all together, consisting of one main street and not much else. But upon further inspection, Killian was intrigued. This was the-middle-of-nowhere, USA, but the windows into these shops were elevated and sophisticated. There was no real general store, but rather shops that specialized in clothes or tools or feed. There was a tavern and a bakery, a saloon and a hotel and all of them were clean, well maintained, and ready to be seen. There was no doubting that the people of this town, this previously unknown hideaway, were proud of the place they called home, and that pride seemed to translate into the very energy that radiated through this place.

“Seems different, doesn’t it?” Robin asked, giving word to Killian’s own thinking. Killian replied with a nod as he descended from his horse, petting the animal in a silent show of thanks before setting him up before the trough of water outside the saloon doors.

“What do you think it is? It can’t just be the name, right?”  Will asked and Robin only shrugged.

“Hell if I know, but you can be damn sure I’ll be finding out.”

That was as glowing an endorsement as any of them had given a place in a good long while, and without their even having to discuss it, Killian knew they’d stay here at least a few days. While the area had people present and the saloon itself was filled with patrons, Killian knew there’d be rooms available. No place so far out of the way lacked for vacancy, and who knew? Maybe Robin was right. Maybe there was something different, and worth exploring here.

Before he could get into that though, he needed food. And rum. God did he need some rum. He only hoped they had it, since many a podunk prairie town did not, but when they were seated and greeted by a pretty, though somewhat timid barmaid who introduced herself as Belle, Killian was joyous to find there was rum in supply. She immediately fetched him a glass and filled it to the brim, and when he downed it quickly, she only smiled and offered him more. He thanked her genuinely, and surprisingly her kindness continued.

“We don’t have much, but what we have is yours to share. That’s the town motto after all,” the woman said, her smile easy even though she was clearly a bit flustered by the presence of the three of them.

“That’s pretty catchy. Who came up with that?” Robin asked jovially.

“The mayor,” Belle replied, her tone even though Killian could tell Belle’s feelings were mixed on the person in question. “She’s good at things of that nature.”

“She?” Killian clarified.

“Regina Mills,” Belle reiterated. “You three have never been to Storybrooke have you?” They shook their heads and the brunette stifled a laugh. “Well, I reckon you’ll have quite a time getting used to it. It’s not like many other places. Storybrooke is…”

“Different?” Robin and Killian offered at the same time and the woman smiled warmly.

“Yes. Different is a good word for it.”

“And your heart, lass? Is that up for grabs?”

“I beg your pardon?” Belle asked as Will interjected in a way that none of them followed.

“You said before that anything in town could be ours. Is your heart on that list of things yet to be distributed?”

The words from Will had Killian and Robin’s heads whipping so fast to see him that it put a horse’s full out sprint to shame. Her heart?! Had Will just asked about her heart? And if he had, did he really think that boyish play was about to work on this kind of woman?

“My heart is my own, sir,” she said, fighting the blush that came to her cheeks and showing a bit of annoyance for the first time tonight. “Excuse me for a moment.”

When the girl left under the pretense of getting them some of the evening’s special meal and ordering another round drinks, it took only a moment for Killian to reach around and smack Will along the side of the head. His friend never saw it coming, but he should have. What an asinine and completely ridiculous move on his part.

“Oi! What was that for?”

“We’ve been here five minutes and already you’ve made trouble,” Killian quipped. “Stop toying with that girl. She’s been nothing but kind to you.”

“Toy with her? I’m going to marry her!” Will barked out, seeming genuinely put out at being called on his actions.

“Oh here we go,” Robin muttered, sharing a look with Killian before taking the time to school their stupid friend. “What in the world makes you think that girl will possibly marry a bonehead like you? Especially when you come in guns blazing and laying on lines like manure on a corn field?”

For the first time in all the years Killian had known him, Will was struck speechless. He stuttered his words, stopping and starting only to realize he didn’t have anything to say. He was drawing a blank on what he could offer that lass and it served him right. After all, who the hell did he think he was, claiming to fall for a woman after being in her presence all of one whole minute?

“Your drinks, gentleman,” a silky-smooth voice said from beside them, and even before he turned to look, Killian knew the woman who uttered them would be gorgeous. Just hearing her affected him in a way no woman had in ages, and the adrenaline that moved through him was something he only ever felt in the thick of a wagon raid. Only ‘gorgeous’ was a word that didn’t actually do her justice, and when he took in the sight of her for the first time he was lost.

All at once Killian understood what Will had meant moments ago. It hit him like lightning striking a tree, leaving sparks and wildfire crackling in its wake. There was no denying the connection or the immediate desire he had to pull this beautiful woman into his arms and hold her close. She was perfection made real, with long blonde hair pulled back tight, knowing green eyes that challenged them all in a way he’d never seen before, and lips made for stolen kisses on a hot summer’s night. But everything about this woman told Killian she was a proper lady. She might be working in a saloon, and she may come across as tough as nails, but underneath that strength was a delicacy he yearned to embrace. He wanted to hold her close and then steal her away from here. He wasn’t sure where they’d go exactly, but he knew he’d go anywhere with her and that once he had her in his grasp, he’d never want to give her up.

“You’re not my future wife,” Will proclaimed, with a tone of actual sadness and despair, and a loud growl emanated through the space.

It took a second for Killian to realize he was the one who’d made the noise, and that he’d moved into a stance that was defensive and tense at his friend’s mostly harmless comment. Meanwhile everyone was looking at him, especially the woman who’d captured his attention. Her brow furrowed a bit as if she was confused or shocked by his actions, but he saw the way her pulse sped up a bit and the tiny bit of pink that spread across her creamy skin. Then he saw the harsh swallow she undertook before she found her voice again, and though she was determined to seem unbothered, he knew she wasn’t. She was affected by him too, and that calmed the irrational voice in the back of his head that was making him act like a mad man.

“If you’re referring to Belle, then no I am not, and thanks to your less than gentlemanly behavior she’s dipped out of helping you all for the night. She’s my best worker and can quite literally handle any one. But you,” she said, pointing at Will and staring him down assertively. “You she’s run from.”

“Your best worker,” Robin said, drawing out information that Killian was desperate for but couldn’t seem to ask himself. “So this establishment is yours than, Miss…?”

“Emma Swan” she replied, a hand coming over to her hip as she smirked at them, like she supposed they’d be totally thrown off at a pretty lady owning a saloon. “And yes, the saloon and the inn above are both mine.”

“Well that makes it easier then, seeing as we each need rooms for…” Robin looked at Will and then at Killian and his smile grew to a full blown grin. “Well for the foreseeable future as it were.”

“Wait, you’re staying?” Emma asked, a hopeful sound cutting through the usual collectedness of her voice, and when she looked at Killian, he finally found a way to talk again.

“Aye, love. We’re staying. For as long as you’ll have us.”

A beat passed between them where the whole rest of the world seemed to fade away. Killian, in fact, was so transfixed that he rose from his chair. Such a bold move might have frightened off another, but his actions prompted Emma to lean closer towards him ever so slightly. In this moment it was undeniable that they were in this together. This immediate and overwhelming attraction was something they shared, and it was also something Killian was hell bent on exploring more of. He only had to figure out how best to convince this beguiling woman of his honest intentions.

Before he could do that, Robin cleared his throat and it took everything in Killian not to draw his gun. He’d never actually injure his partner, but that was how much he loathed breaking this connection he shared with Emma. Instead his fists balled up and he shot his old friend a glare that could strike a weaker man down in an instant.

“Right,” Emma mumbled, her actions reflecting how flustered she must feel at all of this. Still she rallied, slightly shaking away the fog of emotion they’d just been in to resume her role as proprietor. “Well, as you might expect things are a bit slow this time of year. Actually things are slow all year. That’s the thing about hidden gems like Storybrooke. They’re out of the way, so no one really knows what they’re missing.”

Emma’s words were increasingly taking on a rambling quality, and it was obvious that she was operating outside of her regular way. This change made Killian smile, and that smile only grew as Emma stuttered at the sight of it. By God, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and as capable and elegant as she was, he could see the tell-tale signs of shyness that only love could bring. Wait, love? It was too soon to be thinking love, wasn’t it?

Struck as he was by the thought of having found love after so many years of secretly wanting it, Killian allowed Robin to take the lead. Robin was the one who coordinated payment for their meal and procurement of their rooms. Things then began moving very quickly, with Emma showing them the way to their lodgings while maintaining every level of professionalism. It wasn’t until Robin and Will had called it a night and headed in for bed that Emma’s show of strength began to waiver, but by the time they’d reached his door, Emma’s cheeks were flushed again and her voice had grown hoarse and gravelly.

“Your room, Mr. Jones.”

“Call me, Killian, love.”

“I shouldn’t,” Emma said, though she looked disappointed at her own defiance.

“But you want to anyway,” he countered.

“Not everything is about getting what you want.”

Hearing her say this clawed at something in Killian. He couldn’t easily explain it, but for some reason it pained him to hear Emma speak like this. A woman like her should have everything her heart desired and more. She was beautiful and bright, strong and in control, but she was also so much more. There were layers to this beautiful woman standing before him, intricacies that he wanted so badly to understand better, but more than anything he just wanted to see her happy. It was mad to admit that, but there it was.

“I disagree,” Killian replied, with more softness this time even as he stepped forward and took her hand in his, a gesture that escalated things between them in a split second. He felt the need and want for her intensify the moment they touched, and he watched Emma’s reaction to it, knowing she felt the same, even if she was trying to be reasonable. “I find in life that the best thing to do is listen to your instincts. It’s about balance in the end, love, between heart and mind.”

Emma looked at him and he could read so many unspoken emotions within her. She seemed fit to burst at his heartfelt words, but he didn’t know precisely why. Would she accept this? Would she trust in the callings of two hearts even if her mind said this was happening far too quickly? Or would she run from him, siding with good sense but ultimately denying them of an important moment together? He just wasn’t sure what she’d choose, until her thumb ran gently across the hand that held hers in a subtle, reassuring motion.

“I’ve been told before that my gut is my surest weapon. It’s what’s gotten me to where I am, and it’s what always kept me going, even when the going was hard.” She looked at him curiously, her eyes scrutinizing his face. “What is it?”

He realized then he’d been frowning and before she could get the wrong idea he clarified his thinking for her. “It’s nothing, love. I just hate to think of you going through anything like a hard time.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Killian,” she said, and though he normally might have recoiled at being called ‘sweet’ he had to admit he loved it coming from Emma, almost as much as he loved hearing her say his name. “But I wouldn’t change the things I’ve seen or the trials I’ve been through. They made me who I am today, for better or worse.”

“For better,” he responded, his fingers coming up to brush a strand of her blonde hair back behind her ear. The moment became charged, both of them giving into this desire to be closer, though Killian had no intentions of doing anything but talking more with Emma. He’d never betray her honor, and he’d never take any kind of advantage without truly claiming her as his, which he intended to do as soon as he believed she was ready. He opened his mouth to say as much, but then the sound of gunshots pounded out into the night from outside, and he moved as quick as he could to shield Emma.

“Stay here, love,” he instructed her, moving her into his room before she could even speak. “I’ll handle this.”

“Oh no you won’t,” she replied, pushing back at him. “Not alone any way. This is my business – my home - and I’m coming with you.”

“Emma, you can’t. It isn’t safe…” he trailed off from his words as she produced a pistol from her person that had escaped his notice and then quickly gathered another from a hidden board inside the hallway, readying both for whatever might happen and holding the guns with all the poise of a fully-fledged sharp shooter. He was enthralled by the actions, distracted to a point where all he wanted was to pull her close again, despite the dangers down below. Because whoever this creature was, she was a marvel, and Killian knew that in all his life before and in all his life here after, he’d never meet a woman quite like Emma.

“I’m not some damsel in distress, and you should know that now before this,” she gestured between them, “becomes something more. Now are you coming, or am I handling this alone?”  

He followed her immediately, stunned but enamored with her stone-cold poise. She was a remarkable woman, fearless and brave, and though he had to sober up to be in the right state of mind to handle this, it was hard work. Killian was thrown both by his regard for Emma, but also by his immediate worry for her. Things in these parts were known for getting out of hand, and he wasn’t willing to allow anything to happen to his lass. They’d only just met, but Killian would be damned if he let a hair on her head be harmed.

Moving down the side steps with complete quiet was easily done thanks to the aid of Emma’s intimate knowledge of this building. She knew every board and divot and could successfully maneuver around each one, and Killian was more than willing to follow her lead. In fact, it was only at the moment where they heard yelling in the main room and Killian knew that trouble was directly in their way that he put his pistol back at his side and grabbed Emma’s hips, swiveling her back behind him and putting himself between him and the villain just yonder.

“Killian what are you -,” Emma’s whispered censure was interrupted with the quickest of kisses that he stole from her lips.

It was fleeting and swift, a product more of need than real satisfaction. Truthfully, he did it because he knew that anything could happen. In a gun fight there was always a chance that an opponent would outsmart you or that luck wouldn’t fall on your side, and damn if he could risk not ever having tasted Emma’s lips or showing her what he wanted to be between them. Maybe it was selfish, but to him it felt perfect, and he took Emma’s immediate yielding to the kiss, and her subsequent dreamy gaze as a cue that she felt the same. Luckily her distraction also allowed him to explain himself. After all he had a plan, but he needed Emma elsewhere, not just charging into things with him. With rapid fire instructions, he imparted his thoughts, and Emma agreed, though Killian wondered if her acceptance had more to do with the lingering feelings of that kiss than anything else.

Either way, it was time to face the music, and Killian did so by stepping into the light of the saloon once more. He had a few moments before the gun slinger noticed him coming out of the shadows, and in that time he got the lay of the land. It appeared to be one rogue with a rifle causing all of this trouble, but though he didn’t appear to be any kind of real master mind, Killian knew this man currently had all the power. For there, trembling slightly even as she held her head high and tried to stay brave was Emma’s worker, Belle, staring at the end of the man’s gun.

“I want all the money in this place, little missy, and you’d best adhere to that. Now move! I ain’t got all night.”

Belle looked stuck, no doubt bogged down by fear, but blessedly her eyes caught his and he could see the telltale signs of her relief. She was a bright one, however, making sure not to let her captor see that at all, buying him a bit more time to try and figure this out. He had a shot, to be sure, but killing the man flat out would be messy. It would bring the law in here asking questions, and God forbid he was found guilty of a crime he’d have two choices – run or face prison. Both of those options would take him away from Emma, and so both were unacceptable. As such, Killian needed to be wiser, and he needed to take a risk.

“I said get me that money!” the man yelled again, this time laying hand to Belle, and for Killian that was enough. It was time to make his move.

“And I say, leave that woman alone.”

The man snapped his gaze toward Killian, and for a moment he appeared to be dumb enough to turn his weapon on him, but at the last second he retained good sense, keeping Belle held hostage and thus buying himself a bit more time. Killian knew nothing of this man, but it was clear he was manic, and that kind of volatility was an unknown he wanted to neutralize as fast as possible.

“This ain’t none of your business, pal,” the man yelled the words, but they were hollowed by his own self-doubt. Killian meanwhile stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and trying to further this intimidation strategy.

“Actually it’s very much my business. It wouldn’t be if you’d chosen another place, but see this town,” Killian said, waving towards the rest of the saloon, which was now mostly empty save for some startled (but likely still drunk) patrons at the far side. “This town is mine now.”

“Ain’t no way this town is yours. You ain’t no sherrif, and you ain’t no rich man neither. Hell look at you, you’re just like me.”

Killian knew the man saw his outward appearance, and to be fair there were some similarities. They were hardly dressed to be doctors or lawyers, but who really was out in these parts? Still it irked Killian to be lumped into a pile with this man. He may not be a law-abiding citizen, but he didn’t terrorize the truly innocent, and as far as Killian was concerned, that was exactly what Belle and Emma were.

“I assure you that the two of us are nothing alike. Now step away from the girl before I show you just how out of your league you really are.”

“Can’t do that. I ain’t walking out of here without this money, and a little more blood on my hands won’t keep me from that.”

Killian’s blood ran cold at the words, and he knew now that whatever had driven this man to this desperate state, it had full control over him. Strong arming a bar maid was one thing, but being ready to pull the trigger and watch the life drain out of her all over what couldn’t be much more than a hundred dollars was a wickedness he himself could never descend to. As far as Killian was concerned, this man was irredeemable, but though the temptation to take him out on his own grew surer, Killian stayed the course, hoping to find a less deadly ending.

“Fine, if it’s all about the money then how about we make a deal? You let the lass go, and I let you go.”

“You’re pulling my leg,” the man replied. “Besides, you don’t matter here. You expect me to believe you got any real know-how on where they keep their purse?”

“Well seeing as my future wife is the owner, I’d say I know more than enough to get you sorted.”

The man searched Killian’s face for a lie, but he wouldn’t find any trace of one. Killian meant it, after all, and when this mess was dealt with and an acceptable amount of courting had been done, he would be marrying Emma Swan. If he had his way he’d also be building them a house, making a family with her, and settling for the first time in his life in a place he could really call home. And as for getting this man sorted, Killian could safely promise he was going to get everything coming to him.

“I suggest you take my deal, mate. Only a matter of minutes before someone else comes along and interrupts. Your window of opportunity is closing.”

“Okay, but you’ve got to give me your word that you’re letting me walk out of here.”

Knowing that his word was sacred, Killian hesitated only a moment before making the promise. “I swear that I will do nothing to detain or pursue you.”

The man nodded, and when he told Belle to fill up the bags again, Killian reaffirmed that she should do just that, but alas the woman he’d thought of as polite and timid before wasn’t so easily pushed around. She decided that now of all times was the time to show some backbone, and she refused to move even with the man’s gun still drawn and ready.

“No, I won’t do this,” Belle said, her voice still a little shaky but loud enough to show how strongly she believed this. “Emma works hard for this money. She’s built this place from nothing but her own hard work, and you’re just going to take it? That’s not fair and it’s not right.”

“What did you just say?” The man growled out, his anger growing as Killian scrambled to smooth this over.  

“Belle.” Killian’s voice was forceful but earnest as he implored her to meet his gaze. When she did, he saw fear but also a kind of foolish bravery, so he just did his best to get her to believe he knew what he was doing. “Trust me when I tell you that Emma won’t give a damn about the money. If it came down to the safety of her friend or the gold in her coffers, what do you think she’d choose?”

Belle’s eyes watered, and he could tell she hated to let this happen. He wished he could assure her that he had a plan, but if anything her conviction that this was a bad deal actually sold his story better. Finally, she filled the bags with money, apparently everything they had out here in front, and it was more than enough to make a robbery worthwhile. Indeed, it all seemed to appease their nameless bandit, enough so that he pushed Belle away from him before backing towards the entrance of the saloon with a smile on his face. He never gave his back to Killian, but he just couldn’t stop himself from throwing one last insult on the way out.

“You’re right. We really are nothing alike. You let a woman cloud your judgment. All this money for one stupid girl?” The man made a sound of disgust that bubbled into cruel laughter, and then he made his final mistake. He put his gun down at his side as he pushed out of the door, before freezing at the sound of a pistol being cocked directly behind him.

“You take one more step and it’ll be your last. Now drop your weapon.” Emma’s words were stern and cold, and Killian watched as she held the gun right at the man’s back. One pull of the trigger and the bullet would pierce his heart, and maybe it should, seeing as how black it was.

The man cursed and swore like a sailor before yelling at Killian. “You swore you’d let me go!”

“And I did. Didn’t make any promises about her though.”

The bandit looked liable to keep talking but Emma pressed the cold hard steel further into him. “I’m not going to ask you again. And remember what I said about taking another step? Same thing goes if you keep running your mouth.”

With no choice left, the man dropped his gun and the bag of money and surrendered, and a few minutes later the Sherriff arrived, as did a whole host of others. The once nearly empty saloon was packed with people, all of whom cared for Belle and for Emma greatly, and though Killian felt a little out of place watching them with these people he didn’t yet know, Killian knew it was a matter of time before Storybrooke and its inhabitants became more familiar.

“Not a bad beginning as far as beginnings go.”

Killian looked over to see Robin smiling at him, and all at once he knew his friend had somehow witnessed this all, even though he never bothered to help.

“I thought you were in bed for the night.”

“And leave you hanging after all these years?” Robin joked, before nodding across the way to where Will was checking in on Belle in a forceful, but clearly well-intentioned way. “No, we’ve got your back. Even when you might already have back up.”

“She was brilliant, wasn’t she?” Killian asked, looking back to Emma, his chest swelling with pride at how capable she was all on her own. He knew that she could have handled this solo, but when her eyes met his and she smiled at him, he felt certain that she was of his thinking: what good was going it alone anymore when they had finally found each other?

“Well as your ‘future wife’ she’d have to be,” Robin joked before patting his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Killian. Really, truly happy. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a woman over there I’d be a fool not to sweep of her feet.”

Killian was dumb struck as his friend approached another woman across the bar, this one he believed to be the mayor, at least he assumed so based on how she’d given the Sherriff (also a woman, named Ruby) and the other townspeople so much instruction. He watched in fascination as Robin made his approach, and with even more interest when the apparently hardened woman seemed to soften ever so slightly to his friend’s advance. It was all so unbelievable really, to think how life could change so swiftly for all of them in just one night.  

Killian’s thoughts did shift from that, however, as he was soon pulled into the fray by the people of the town. They all wanted to personally thank him for helping ‘their Emma’ and for keeping Belle and the town a little safer. But eventually things did die down again. The crowd dispersed, the saloon finally closed, and the night grew quiet, with nothing but the gentle prairie breeze and the sound of crickets to fill the evening air. When that happened, it was just he and Emma left, and for Killian it felt like the too long wait was over, and he could finally feel whole again.

He was abuzz from the incidents of this evening, his adrenaline still high, and though he had waited for this chance since everything happened, Killian didn’t know what exactly to say or do. Luckily, Emma took matters into her own hands. Before he could get a word out, she pulled him into the back once more, shielding them from the eyes of any others who might try and come back, and then pulled him in for a kiss, one that far exceeded their previous interlude and transformed him and redeemed him all in one fell swoop.

In this kiss, Killian swore he saw heaven itself. It was being with Emma, holding her in his arms like that and loving her dearly. It was surviving the worst of times in the hopes of building good ones, and it was the soul-level familiarity even though this was all so new. They’d known each other mere hours, yet he’d been in love with her forever. They were tied together and meant to be, and he knew that, and the kiss further established that to be true.

Eventually pulling back from Emma was harder than anything he’d done before, but seeing her contentment and arousal after that kiss brought him to new heights he’d never imagined and he wanted her to know all that she gave him just by being herself.  “Gods above, Emma. I wasn’t ready for you. You’re more than I deserve but I know I could never stay away. You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey, sweeter than strawberry wine, warm as a glass of brandy -”

“Wow, you really like your spirits.”

Her joke was playful and light hearted, made all the clearer by the mirthful sparkle in her beautiful green eyes and the giggle that passed her lips, but Killian was at a loss for a moment. She was right after all. Here he was trying to articulate just how much she moved him – how she fundamentally changed his entire world in so short a time – and all he could allude to was a slew of alcoholic drinks.

“What I mean to say is that -,” she stopped him before he could make further fool of himself.

“What you mean to say is that you like me. Actually it might not just be like, it could very well be love even though it is so soon,” Emma whispered, taking his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers in a caring, thoughtful way.

“Yes.” She smiled at his confession and brushed a kiss to his cheek, smiling against his skin as she did.

“What you mean to say is that this is just the beginning and there’s even more to come.” His hold on her tightened at the words that he couldn’t have said better himself.

“Aye, love. This is true.”

“What you mean to say is that you’re staying, and that we’re staying together for this day and for all the rest of our days. You want me to be your wife and you my husband. You want us to have a home and a family and a life together. You want us to have everything, and you want me to know that here and now. No matter how long it takes, no matter how slow our story, that will be our happy ending” She pressed one more swift kiss on his lips before breaking away again, her forehead resting on his as she smiled so damn sweetly. “There now, did I miss anything that you meant to say?”

“No, love. I think that about covers it.”

So with that new understanding between them, and a shared hope to follow their hearts away from the troubles of their past and towards a brighter, more love-filled future, Emma and Killian set about making all those dreams into realities. And when all was said and done, each and every one came true, proving bigger, better, and more beautiful than any single happy ending had a right to be.

……….

I used to spend my nights out in a barroom Liquor was the only love I've known But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom And brought me back from being too far gone You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey You're as sweet as strawberry wine You're as warm as a glass of brandy And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time I've looked for love in all the same old places Found the bottom of a bottle always dry But when you poured out your heart I didn't waste it 'Cause there's nothing like your love to get me high You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey You're as sweet as strawberry wine You're as warm as a glass of brandy And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey You're as sweet as strawberry wine You're as warm as a glass of brandy And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

Post-Note: So there we have it. This is obviously a pretty out there piece of fluff, but I feel so much better getting this off my writing docket. To the lovely reader that requested this AGES ago, thanks so much for the prompt and I hope I did your hopes justice. If for some reason you wanted something different, please message me and I’ll get on writing a new chapter. To everyone else still waiting, thanks so much for your patience! I haven’t gotten to write as much as I wanted to this summer, but I promise I am doing my best to get through all these lovely fic ideas. Anyway, thanks so much to all of you for reading. I hope you have a great rest of your weekend, and see you next time!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185

[leelee10898]

Fast cars & Freedom: Drunk last night (7/?)

Summary: The gang celebrates a very Belated birthday for Ellie. A little alcohol makes some secrets come out. And ellie drops a bomb on one of the guys.

Pairing: Ellie x Logan, Ellie x Colt

Rating: Mature

Catch up here.. and as always if you would like added to the tags.. lemme know

Song inspiration:

Over the next couple weeks Ellie and Luca spent A lot of time with both colt and Logan together and separate. Each forming a Bond with her. She knew both men wanted to have some kind of role in her life, as dad or an uncle. They decided to schedule the Paternity test, all 3 ready to know. Luca had a month left before school started, Ellie was adamant about showing here around parts of California, places that meant something to her growing up there. Logan planned for them to a race, see the track and meet the drivers. Colt planned a barbecue at his house for them, and so that Luca could meet Toby and ximena. And all 4 of them were going to the san diego zoo.

It was a Wednesday night, Ellie and Riya had their reoccurring girls night with Luca, while Darius kept Marcus.  They would have dinner, paint nails and once Luca went to bed talk about everything they couldn't in front of the kids. On this particular night Riya was acting odd, constantly looking out the windows checking her phone. Ellie started to have a panic attack,  the feeling took her back to running from the brotherhood. The doorbell rang, making her damn near jump out of her skin.

She walked over to the door with a shaky hand she turned the knob to see a girl standing there. “Stacie? Oh my god, what are you doing here?” Ellie threw her arms around the girl “I just moved here about two weeks ago and Riya invited me over. Ellie eyed her best friend “What are you up to?” Riya shrugged “Oh nothing. Ok don't get mad.” Ellie threw her hands up in the air “Oh god, what did you do now?”

“Don't get mad at me,” Stacie interrupted “I was talking to Riya about your birthday,  and how you haven't celebrated one in 6 years.”

Riya stepped in “So we want to go out and celebrate your birthday a few months late. This Friday night.” Ellie grinned “You guys really?” she hugged them both “But I can't. I have Luca.” Riya shook her head “Nope. Already taken care of. Your dad is keeping Luca. My parents are in, they are keeping Marcus for Dare and I.”

This would be the first birthday that she got to celebrate since she turned 18. Back when the path of her life took a sharp left. They spent the rest of their night chatting before the two women headed home.

That Friday night Ellie, Stacie, Riya and Marcus walked into the hopping club, they were lead back to a private area where Logan stood a broad smile on his face. “Happy birthday, Troublemaker.” He pulled her into a huge, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.  “Logan, you know its not really my birthday.”

“I know. But, we're making up for lost time. Just go with it.”

“Logan, you already know Darius and riya,” they said their hellos. “This is my friend Stacie from Langston.” stacie reached her hand out, Logan shook it “So you must be the notorious Logan I've heard so much about.” Logan cocked his brow at Ellie. “Hopefully all good things.”  he smirked.

Ellie watched the interaction between the two, a hint of jealousy twinged in her chest.

Her eyes locked with a set of Dark ones standing at the VIP entrance. “Colt?”

“Dont look so surprised, Riya invited us.” She gave him a confused look just as Ximena and Toby came in. “You guys all came?” She grinned, she was excited to hang out with them and then she spotted someone standing off to the side.  “Mona? Is that mona?” Colt shook his head. “Oh my God what are you doing here?” she wrapped her in a hug. “Good to see you too.” she could see a small smile threaten to break through her tough girl demeanor.

They all sat around the huge plush couches, a waitress bringing their drinks over. She found out Mona had gotten out of jail after spending 2 years in there. She headed east, but couldn't find a crew to settle in with. She came back to California and Colt gave her a job. After a few drinks ellie was feeling pretty giggly. She never drank more then a ritual cup of wine or two after a long week,  or a particularly rough day. Colt looked over at her as she downed another shot. “You should probably slow down, you're gonna end up getting sick.” she rolled her eyes. “I'm fine thanks.”

Riya and Darius were off on the dance floor, Toby and colt were talking by the bar.“Is that bothering you?” Mona motioned to where Logan was talking to stacie. “No. Yes. I don't know.” Ellie sighed. “Feels like the old day, huh X.” Mona let out a loud chuckle. “How so?” Ellie furrowed her brow. “Oh sweetie, you're staring at Logan while Colt cant take his eyes off of you.” Ximena placed a comforting hand on her. “Colts not starting. Hes talking to Toby.”

She motioned to the two seemingly deep in conversation.  “He may be talking. but his focus is on you.”

Ellie flicked her eyes up momentarily, sure enough locking with his deep browns. She could feel the heat filling her cheeks. “I need another drink.” she motioned for the waitress.  

After a few drinks she decided to walk up to the bar where Colt had seemingly taken up residency. “So what, you just gonna ignore me all night?” her words came out with much more  attitude than anticipated. Colt arched his brow “I'm not ignoring you.” Ellie slid up next to him, her side pressed against his. She placed her hands on the bar as if she were holding herself up and cocked her head to the sidez a mischievous smirk spread across her face. “What are you up to?” Colt cocked his brow at her.  “Noooothing.” She giggled as she bit her lower lip. “ What do you say we sneak off to the bathroom and, you know.” She gently rubbed his arm. “Ellie..”

“Is something wrong? You don't. You don't want me?” her bottom lip began to quiver.  “God No. No. Its not that. Its,” He ran his hand down his face “Jesus I cant believe im about to say this but.  Ellie you're pretty drunk. And as much as I would love nothing to make you moan my name. I don't want to do that in some nasty ass bar bathroom.” He squeezed her hand. She pulled away, angry. “Whatever Colt. You could have just told me you thought I was gross.” She sneered walking away, disappearing into the crowd.

She found a corner away from everyone,  she watched the people dancing on the floor, lost in thought.

“Enjoying yourself?” the deep voice pulling her from her drunken zone out. “Logan, Hi. Soooo kind of you to come talk to me.” she rolled her eyes. “Ok? Hey how about a dance?” He held his hand out for her. She took it stumbling as she stepped forward, breaking out in a cackle. “you alright?”

“Yuuup. Lets do this.” she followed him to the dance floor, wrapping her arms around him grinding her body against his. “Do you miss this?” She purred in his ear. “I'll always miss you ellie. But you're here now.”

She caught glimpse of Colt standing on the balcony, she could see his white knuckle grip on the railing from across the room. A thrill Rising inside of her.

She was still mad at him for leaving her behind all those years ago.  She understood Logan's reasoning but colt? He could have went with her or he could have taken her with him. They were married, you don't just leave your wife behind. And she was even more pissed he turned her down.  In her drunken state she could really care less for being mature about it.

Colts gaze was setting her on fire, a smirk played on her lips.  She turned around, her back side pressed against Logan's chest, she laid her head against it. Letting the rhythm of the music fuel her movements as Logans hands gripped her sides. “We shouldn't do this El. God you feel so good though.” Logan's voice hoarse in her ear. She continued to grind against him, she locked eyes on Colt who looked as if he was going to rip the railing right off.

She shrugged him off, she was a grown woman who made her own choices. She didnt have to answer to anyone, especially not Colt Kaneko. She turned to face Logan, now completely in the moment. His hands crept up and down her sides, sending a pleasant warmth throughout her.  It had been far to long since she had felt the strong hands of a man. “Kiss me colt.” she breathed out just inches from Logans lips. “Colt?” He pulled back, just as Colt pulled at her wrist. “Thats enough Ellie.”

She looked between the two, her head spinning. Did she really just call Logan Colt?

“We need to talk Ellie, alone.” Logan stared at her “She's not going anywhere with you. I think its time to go Ellie.” Colt snapped. “You dont have a claim on her Kaneko, who the hell do you think you are?” Logan stood his full height against him, colt easily matching him. “See pretty boy thats where you're wrong,” Colts lips twisted in a devilish smirk.  “I think its time my wife went home.” Logans eyes went wide. “You're fucking lying.” He turned to Ellie, desperately searching her eyes “Hes lying right? Tell me hes lying Ellie.” Colts wicked smirk grew wider “Go on Mrs Kaneko. Tell him.”

Ellie looked between the two, her stomach churning, panic set in. “I. I. I think im gonna..” she leaned down puking all over Colts feet.

Logan let out a wild laugh “Well, I'll let you handle that.” Colt rolled his eyes as he walked away.  “Come on El. Let's get you home.” Ellie started to walk losing her balance, colt grabbed ahold of her steadying her. He picked her up bridal style walking towards the exit. “Whats going on?” ximena question, and then looked down noticing the puke all over his legs and shoes. “Can you take ellie to her house? I'll follow you.” Ximena nodded. Colt laid ellie down in the back seat of Ximenas suv. “where are we going?” She moaned, her stomach churing. “were taking you home.” Ellie tried to sit up, panic written all over her face. “NO. My dad will kill me.” colt shook his head and chuckled “You're 25 years old Ellie,  pretty sure he wont.”

They pulled up to her house, colt grabbing her from the car carrying her to the door. He rang the doorbell, nervously awaiting her father to answer. He had never formally met him, and he wasn't sure just how he would act but he  wouldn't worry about that now. His only concern was getting Ellie home safely and into her own bed.

A few minutes later her father answered the door. His eyes widened at the sight “What happened?” he moved aside letting colt in. “She drank to much. I just wanted to.make sure she got home safe.”

“Hiiii Daddy.” Ellie groaned softly.

Her dad pointed him to her room, Colt got her inside laying her on the bed where Ellie started pulling off her dress. “wheres your pajamas.” He asked heading towards her dresser. “Hey! You'll see my underwear.” Ellie giggled.

“I've seen your underwear before, and you're in them right now.” He snorted as he rifled through her drawers. He found a tshirt and pulled it over her head. “Now. get some sleep.” He turned to walk away, Ellie already sound asleep. He walked out into the living room where her father stood. “Well, shes alseep. Sorry for bringing her home in that condition, I tried to tell her to slow down but, you know how she gets when she sets her mind to something.” Ellies dad chuckled  “Yeah. I do.” he looked down at Colts legs, seeing the colorful stain of Ellies vomit.

“She ah. Puked on me.” he gave a nervous chuckle. “I figured that. Why dont we get your shoes cleaned up. I got a pair of sweat you can change into. We can wash your clothes, but its probably best you stay over.” Colt tried to argue but his words fell short. Her dad came back and handed him a pair of sweats and pointed him towards the bathroom. He gave him a blanket and pillow and Colt laid down, his mind going a mile a minute.  

Just 6 years ago her father was investigating his father and the crew, and now he was laying in his house while ellie and Luca slept upstairs.

He woke the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee filling the air. He sat up from the couch looking towards the kitchen. “Morning Colt. Come get some coffee.” Colt stood, wiping the sleep from his eyes, he grabbed a mug and poured a cup, sitting at the table with her dad. “Thanks Mr Martin.”

“You're welcome, but its Frank. Call me Frank.” Colt nodded, the sides of his lips slightly pulling up. “So Colt, Can I ask you. what are your intentions with my daughter and granddaughter if you are her father?” Frank cut right to the chase catching him off guard.  

“Well Frank, I do not have a doubt in my mind that Luca is mine. And as far as Ellie,” He collected his thoughts “As far as Ellie,I still love her. And if she would have me, I would like nothing more then to spend the rest of my life taking care of them both.”  Frank sipped his coffee, nodding his head. “You know, I believe you. But what makes you so sure that Luca is yours?” colt sat his coffee cup down “Call it intuition. I just have a feeling and usually my feelings are right.”

They were interrupted by the sounds off footsteps coming down the stairs. “Morning sunshine.” Frank smirked Ellie groaned as she mindlessly made her way to the coffe pot, pouring a cup of coffee. She sat down at the table her eyes instantly locking with Colts. “what are you doing here so early?”

“I'll give you two a minute.” Frank got up and went up to his room.

“Your dad let me stay over. I wanted to make sure you were ok.” He smirked. Ellies eyes snapped shut remembering the nights events. “Oh god. I puked on you.”

“You did. But your dad tossed my stuff in the wash. It's all good.”

“Colt. You told Logan. Why did you do that?”

“I can't stand how he walks around so smug all the time. Like he's better because he is a semi famous race car driver now.” He scoffed.

“Colt. He isn't better than you.  You aren't better than him. You guys have got to stop this pissing contest, its been 6 years. Thats a long ass piss.” she giggled, causing colt to chuckle. “Yeah, maybe you're right.”

“We do need to talk about it though.  I was under the impression that you got the annulment Colt. Why,” She took a deep breath “Why didnt you?”

“Because When I asked you to marry me, it wasnt because we were under the stress of the what ifs.”

“Colt..”

“Dont. I don't need to hear it.”

“We were just so young. And were practically strangers now, its just. I think its better if we.”

“If we what?” He cocked his brow

“I think it's best if we get a divorce.” the words came out so rushed she barely understood them herself. But the look of absolute hurt on his face told her that he understood every word.

“You never gave us a chance. And now you're back, with my daughter and you want a divorce? Ellie we could be a family. You won't even try?”

“Colt. im sorry. Im not saying that nothing could ever happen with us. But if it does,  I want to start fresh.” She didn't try to correct him about being Ellie's father, he was hell bent on it and it would just add insult to injury.

Colt stood up Grabbing his eyes from the coffee table. “You night now believe it yet Ellie, but I'm going to prove to you that we belong together. Do what you gotta do." he walked to the door, pausing for a minute. "You know they say a drunk persons actions are a sober persons thoughts. And last night, told me alot.kore then you're letting on." He closed the door behind him. She heard his motorcycle start up and take off down the street.

She knew he was sort of right. She never did fully get over either of them. But she couldnt throw herself into a relationship with one of them, not right away. She had Luca to think about afterall.

She pulled out her phone finding Logans number.  She sent him a text, telling him she was sorry. A few minutes later she received a text back saying “I need some time. I will call u when im ready to talk.”

She had only been back a short time, but oh what a tangled web she had weaved.

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[brynandchristopher]

Rain rain go away

Well it’s been a while! Our plans got switched around quite a bit in the last 2 weeks, so we are a little off schedule in getting a blog post out. The last time we checked in we had just finished the Abel Tasman Coastal Track on the northern coast of the South Island and were stopped in Westport for a few nights post-hike.  

After leaving Westport, we embarked on the scenic drive south on Route 6 along the wild and rugged western coast of the South Island. The west coast is where the mountains meet the sea, and Route 6 skirts the fine line between the cascading forested peaks and the dark rocky beaches. We drove a few hours down the winding, rugged road, making a few stops along the way to take it all in. One of the most noteworthy places we stopped was in Punakaiki on the western edge of Paparoa National Park, where we took a short walk to view the pancake rocks and blowholes. The pancake rocks are odd, stacked rock formations that are still somewhat of a geological mystery, and the blowholes release surges of sea spray through hollowed out rock caverns. It was a beautiful walk and a nice way to stretch our legs after a few hours of driving. We made it to a free campsite at Whataroa Gorge that afternoon, where we cooked a delicious dinner, went for a quick dip in the river, and tucked in for the night. The next morning we woke up to rain and cold, and decided we would use the overcast weather to put a dent in our drive south to another free campsite in the parking lot of a cafe a few hours away. After holing up in the cafe for a while, and without much else to do in the pouring rain, we figured we might as well put in a few more hours of driving. We stopped at the roaring Fantail Falls in Mount Aspiring National Park before making our way to Wanaka, a beautiful lakeside town flanked by hills and mountains. At this point, we were both a bit cranky after being in the car for 5 or 6 hours, but we found a campsite, whipped up a quick dinner of instant noodles and hunkered down for the night. 

The next day, we were pleasantly surprised to find another service hub in Wanaka that offered free hot showers, wifi, water, etc. to van/camper-dwelling travelers, so we stopped in to get all cleaned up and refreshed. Fortunately the sun had come out again, and we took advantage of the good weather by seeking out a cliff jumping spot that had been recommended to us by a friend of Chris’ who had spent a semester abroad in New Zealand. We drove down a long gravel road to a trail that lead down to a gorge on the Motatapu River. The gorge was beautiful, with clear teal water carving through rocky cliffs and we were lucky enough to  have it all to ourselves. There were a few different spots to jump (I went for the shorter, less scary ones, and Chris went for the higher ones) and the water was shockingly cold, but we had an awesome time and were happy we got the recommendation. As we were drying off and preparing to leave, a few people had just arrived to the gorge and told us about another jumping spot a few miles up the road. After a few wrong turns, we made it to the trailhead and hiked to a small riverside beach. We were told to walk upriver for a few minutes to another gorge with a few different jumping spots, so we walked and swam our way to a beautiful opening in the river channel. We jumped in a few times and then floated our way back down to the beach. It was super fun and we were grateful to get a local tip :)

We spent another night in Wanaka before driving south to Queenstown, where we restocked on some groceries, stopped in for a shower at another service hub, and departed towards a campsite in the small town of Lumsden. The weather had begun to turn again, and the next day we were greeted by what would be the start of an extremely rainy week. We were getting a bit nervous - our next Great Walk, the Kepler Track in Fiordlands National Park, was coming up in a few days and the forecast was very foreboding. In the next couple of days we drove farther south, stopping in at a few towns for farmers markets and refuge from the rain. We camped along the beautiful southern coast in Pahia, and then looped up towards Te Anau where we would begin the Kepler Track. The morning we were supposed to leave for the trek, we checked the weather only to see a 100% chance of heavy rain every day for the next 4-5 days, with forecasts of flooding and landslides possible. The main draw of the Kepler Track are the spectacular views, so we decided to postpone our hike by about a week in hopes that the weather would clear. Our next Great Walk after the Kepler was supposed to be the Routeburn Track (also in Fiordland National Park), so we decided to stop in at the visitor center in Te Anau to ask about the status of the trails.

When we arrived, we were informed that there had been a major landslide on the road leading out to the Routeburn Track, as well as multiple landslides along the trail itself, and that it would likely be closed for the rest of the season. We were pretty bummed that we wouldn’t be able to do the Routeburn anymore, but felt grateful that we weren’t out on the trail when the landslides happened - one of the slides hit a hut on the trail and everyone had to be evacuated out by helicopter! The ranger at the visitor center also informed us that all of the major highways going north were flooded due to the heavy rains, as well as some of the highways leading east, so we had few options for where to go in our time before Kepler. We were able to drive to Lumsden again, avoiding multiple flooding detours along the way, and camped there for the night. The town of Lumsden was generous enough opened their community center for the night as a place for stranded freedom campers to come and escape the rain and wind. They offered warm drinks, cookies, and a space to hang out for everyone - Chris and I ended up guiding an impromptu yoga lesson to a group of German girls who were also stuck there. We were extremely grateful to the people of Lumsden for their hospitality and kindness. :)

The next few days were a little bit of a drag - one of the downfalls of van life is the lack of options in poor weather, and we found ourselves feeling a bit trapped and restless. We drove between a few different towns and spent most of our time between the van, libraries, and cafes while the rain continued to come down in sheets. One of our nights was spent in the parking lot of a rugby club in the small town of Edendale. Only an hour so after we arrived, a helicopter landed in the field adjacent to us and dropped off mattresses and blankets for evacuees in the area. Two of the neighboring towns had been evacuated due to flooding, one of which was at risk of a toxic Ammonia gas leak as a result of waste left in an old paper mill along the river that wasn’t supposed to get wet. The south island is used to a lot of precipitation, but apparently this rain event was a one in every 100 years type of occurrence. 

Finally the rain began to clear and we drove back along the southern coast to make our way towards Fiordland National Park for the second time. We stopped in the beautiful Colac Bay to camp for a night and explored the rocky beach, relieved to be outside after so many days stuck in the van. While we were walking, we spotted a sign about harvesting mussels at low tide, and figured we should scout out the area in case we came across any. Once low tide came around, we walked down to the rocks and Chris found hundreds of New Zealand’s green-lipped mussels clinging to a boulder just below the tideline. He harvested 44 of them and we cooked them up for a dinner of raviolis, mussels, and broccoli in a white cheese sauce. It was delicious and fun to know that we had harvested part of the meal ourselves. :)

After Colac Bay, we drove to the southern region of Fiordland National Park to the deepest lake in New Zealand, Lake Hauroko. We hiked an hour up a steep, rugged trail to a lookout point over the lake, stopped for a break to take it all in, and made our way back down to go for a swim. After our swim we were attacked by swarms of sandflies, New Zealand’s resident biting fly, and made a quick escape into the van before driving to our campsite by the Clifden Suspension Bridge. The following day we took a walk among the towering Totara trees, an enormous tree species endemic to New Zealand, and then prepped for the Kepler Track which we would be starting the next day. The weather forecast predicted the next three days to be in the 60s, clear and sunny, and we were thanking ourselves for deciding to change our plans. On our first day, the Kepler Track took us through lush, fern-laiden forests and over rushing streams and rivers. The trail was relatively flat with minor undulations, but it was a long day for both of us at about 13.7 miles. After 6 hours of hiking we arrived at the Iris Burn campsite, feeling sore but accomplished, and excited for a rest. We had a typical backpacking dinner of instant rice, quinoa, and lentils, with a dessert of peppermint tea and gummy fruit jubes. We ended up talking with a lot of the other campers, and were shocked by how many other Americans were on the trail at the same time as us. We’ve hardly met any other Americans in our travels so far, and there were about 8 of us at this one campsite - two were from Maine and one had graduated from UMass in 2019 as well! It was a nice and unexpected taste of home, and it felt good to recount pieces of home with them. When we got into our tent for the night, we noticed that someone had set their tent up about three feet away from ours, but we shrugged it off at the time assuming they were just trying to find a flat spot. About an hour or two later, loud, jagged snores began coming from the adjacent tent. We tried to ignore it and fall asleep to no avail, and ended up carrying our tent through the woods in the middle of night to escape the noise.

We woke up the next morning a bit tired from the snoring fiasco, but ready for the long day ahead. The second day was going to be the hardest day by far - nearly 15 miles up and over Mount Luxmore standing at just over 4800 feet. We spent the first 3 hours on the trail winding up a series of unforgiving switchbacks before arriving at the Hanging Valley emergency shelter. We were already feeling exhausted, but the views were absolutely spectacular - soaring, snow-peaked mountains towered over Lake Te Anau and glacier carved valleys surrounded us on all sides. We stopped for some trail mix which we had to keep away from the local Keas - the world’s only alpine parrot which are notoriously clever at stealing from people. After a quick rest carried on across the ridgeline and up the remainder of Mount Luxmore. Three hours later we arrived at Luxmore Hut, a hut on the far side of Mount Luxmore overlooking Lake Te Anau. We still had about 5 miles to go to our campsite, but we took a quick snack break and rested our feet while looking out at the stunning view. Fortunately, the last 5 miles  were downhill and our bodies were grateful for a break from the relentless uphill climb. After a long, 8.5 hour day of hiking, we arrived at Brod Bay Campsite, feeling weary and relieved to be done. We set up camp, went for a swim in the lake, and made a fire on the beach while we cooked dinner. It was a lovely way to end the day and we relaxed by the flames before settling into our tent for the night. We had seen mice around the campsite so we brought our food bags into the tent with us in hopes that they wouldn’t eat any. At around 4 am, I awoke to the sound of rustling in our tent, and looked towards our food bags to see a mouse nibbling at our trail mix. Startled, I yelped and woke Chris up, and continued to panic a bit as the mouse ran and jumped around our tent. Eventually after a few failed attempts to catch the mouse, we emptied the tent out and shook it out. Now wide awake, and with little hope of falling back asleep, we decided to hike out at 5 in the morning. The majority of the 9.5 miles out to the parking lot was in the dark, and we were definitely the only ones on the trail. While we were a little bit delirious, it was cool to hike at night, and we think we heard the bird calls of the endangered, nocturnal Kiwis!

We were off the trail by 9 am, and drove to Queenstown for a much needed shower and celebratory pizza. Since then, we’ve spent 2 nights camped by Lake Dunstan outside Cromwell, a town about 45 minutes north of Queenstown. In the next few days we will be heading east to Alexandra to meet up with Chris’ friend from Northeastern, Camille, who is also living in New Zealand right now. After that, Chris’ sister, Madeline, is coming to visit for about a week, and then we will try to sell the van in the Christchurch area! It’s crazy that our time in New Zealand is starting to come to an end, we’ll be leaving for Australia in just under a month from now! We will be sad to part with this incredible country, and are cherishing every day we have left here. We still have a few more exciting adventures to come before we head out, and are looking forward to having Madeline around to share them with. :) 

Loving and missing you all from afar, 

Bryn and Christopher

[kumeko]

guns and roses

Prompt: I’m in pieces, somewhere you’re in pieces too

Character/Pairing: Winry, Scar, Mei, Al

A/N: Written for the @fmabfanzine zine. I got assigned to the East (but not including Xing), so I picked Ishval. I love Mei and Scar’s relationship, I wish I had put more for it.

Summary: Winry’s hands were meant for healing. She wondered if, once upon a time, Scar’s were too.

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“This seat taken, miss?”

 “Huh?” Winry looked back to see a Xingese man poke his head into her berth. Despite how new the railroad connection was, the train was already packed. People from both Xing and Amestris were eager to see a brand new world. From behind him, Winry could hear the squawking of chickens and the quiet chatter of strangers. Pulling her tool kit closer to her, she shook her head with a smile. “Nah, it’s free.”

“That’s a relief. I was afraid I’d have to stand the whole way.” He shut the door behind him, cutting off the noise. Smoothly, he sat down across from her, his bright yellow jacket catching her eye. The pattern on it was similar to the one she saw on Ling, smoky trails curling around the edges of his coat. Maybe they belong to the same clan? Her knowledge of their customs was limited at best, bits and pieces taken from both Mei and Ling.

 “It’s really crowded,” she agreed before turning back to the window. As the train hurtled down the tracks, she watched as the desert scenery slowly change and transform. Sand dunes to hard rock to tiny oases, there was more to the desert than she had expected. More and yet less—despite Roy’s efforts to rebuild Ishval, there was still a long way to go. The villages she had seen were few and far between, most in some state of construction.

 “Business in Xing?” her companion asked casually. He stretched his arms behind his head and leisurely reclined back. Eyeing her bag, he added, “Perhaps to set up a new shop?”

 “Nothing that grand,” she laughed, opening it up to reveal a wrench. “Just checking a client.”

 “Wow, you have clients in Xing?” The man leaned forward, peering into her bag. “Business must be good for you.”

 “Oh no, no, no. Not in Xing.” Winry shook her hands in front of her. Despite her light-hearted tone, the next words were hard to say. Her lips formed the words but her throat refused to vocalise them.

 Ishval, she mouthed and her throat dried.  She could feel cool metal on her hands, her fingers on a trigger. She remembered cold hands and closed eyes and maybe she was wrong. She wasn’t ready to come here in the least.

 Despite her feelings, the train kept running down the track. There was no turning back now.

 -x-

 The scent of sawdust and a dull heat hit her the second she stepped off the train. The whole station looked brand new, varnished wood glowing in the sunlight. Turning around, she waved goodbye to her new friend before she continued on into the station. The heat didn’t disperse once inside; if anything, it felt stuffier inside. Winry fanned herself with her free hand—never had she been gladder for her outfit than she was now.

 How did anyone live here? It had been barely five minutes since she’d arrived and already her skin felt sticky, her sweat clinging to her like a second skin.

 “Winry!”

 Hearing her name, she scanned the station. Al’s voice still felt unusual, even though she had over two years to get used to it. She was still waiting for the metallic ring, the hollow echo that always accompanied. Hell, she was still looking for a giant suit of armour instead of a much smaller man. Once she spotted him, she practically ran up to him and enveloped him in a hug. “Al!”

 “Winry!” Al laughed, hugging her back. His grip was strong and she was glad to see he was doing well. “I missed you.”

 “Me too.” Pulling back, she scrutinized his face. Yep, he definitely looked fine. Whatever he was doing here and at Xing wasn’t harming him in the least. “How’s Mei?”

 “She’s here.” Al let go of her and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s funny travelling with someone other than brother.”

 “Oh?” Winry resisted the urge to smirk—the telltale awkwardness told her everything. It had to be an Elric thing—Ed looked exactly the same when he was embarrassed. Even Hohenheim had the same signs, according to Pinako. Averting his eyes, a light blush on his cheeks, the waver in his voice; it seemed Mei’s one-sided crush was no longer one-sided.

 It would be terribly fun to tease him. Not that she would. That was an Ed thing and she hadn’t yet stooped that low.

 “I’m sure it’s a lot more fun to travel with someone reasonable and not as short tempered.” Winry was certain that a certain alchemist was sneezing somewhere right about now. “Though she does have the short part.”

 “Well, the temper part might not be too different either,” Al laughed as he turned toward the station doors.

 “I bet she’s a lot cuter too.” To be fair, she had been spending a little too much time with Ed lately and she really couldn’t let this chance slip away. Especially when Al immediately flushed a dark red, stuttering and shaking his head so quickly she thought it’d snap off.

 “Winry!” Al pleaded as she passed him. His hands flew into a million motions as he tried to come up with an excuse. “It’s-it’s…”

 He couldn’t even deny it. Winry fought down her growing grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Ed.”

 Flustered Al trailed after and quietly mumbled, “Thank you.”

 They stepped outside and a warm breeze hit Winry. She took a deep breath. Dry. The air was dry. As was the hard ground beneath her feet, cracked and weathered over time. Stray rocks and pebbles littered the roads and she half wondered if the reason the sand was so packed was due to the thousands of footsteps on it. The sun blazed down on them as Al led her down a street and Winry fanned herself again.

 She’d survived Briggs. She could survive this too.

 A drop of sweat slid down her back and she shivered. She could probably survive this. The houses on this street were mostly built and she quickly slinked into their shadows as they passed. Looking up, the houses on the street were similar to the ones in central, both in design and in material. It was unexpectedly familiar. Following her line of sight, Al smiled. “I was expecting something else when I came here too.”

 “Yeah.” Winry rubbed her arm. “I was really expecting something strange. Is Xing also like this?”

 “Nope! They have these rectangle roofs that are also curved and.” Al’s hands cut through the air, trying to form the shape for her. After a few minutes, he sighed and gave up. “You should just see it for yourself. Maybe when you’re done, I can take you.”

 Winry considered it, tossing the idea around for a moment. It would extend her trip but Xing was really close to here. And even better, they might have new automail technology there. They could even know better techniques to deal with extreme heat. Maybe she could learn about new alloys. There had to be some, their resources were different. Glowing at the prospect, she tried to contain her excitement as she replied. “Definitely.”

 It didn’t work. There must have been sparkles in her eyes because Al gave her a flat look. “Same old Winry.” He laughed then and slowed his pace. Gesturing at the window next to him, he pointed at the windows. “Apparently the army regulated how they made their buildings for centuries, so Ishavalians have lost most of their old style and techniques. But a little survived, like those windows.”

 She stared at it. Now that he mentioned it, she noticed the arched curves on them, the latticed woodwork on certain sections. In some places, roses and other flowers were carved in as decorations. “Oh wow, that’s pretty.”

 “Mei said the same thing too.” He now pointed to their right, to a road that intersected with theirs. “I’ll take you to market when you’re done, you’ll really like how that’s set up.”

 It was tempting. Very tempting but she had to make certain of one important fact. “Is there shade?”

 -x-

 Winry loved the smell of oil. The sticky sensation that stayed on her hands long after she had washed them clean. Ed had once joked how it was almost a drug to her but he hadn’t been too far off. Her fingers slid across the scratched metal of her client’s arm as she made minuet fixes. The sound of metal, the motion of cranking her wrench, the entire process of a tune up was relaxing.

 Which was good. She needed the calm. With Al gone and no one to talk to, her mind started to wander. To drift. To turn to the desert and its sandy dunes that hid more than it showed. She’d heard that bodies were sometimes never found in there, especially after a sandstorm, but that hadn’t been the case with her parents.

 No, they had returned in a casket and now she was where they’d died. At least, she was probably somewhere near it. The Ishvalan conflict was a large one, encompassing the whole area, and while she knew how they died, she’d never found out where. It could be on this spot, rebuilt from the ground. It could be out in the wilds, broken ruins and dried blood still waiting to be found.

 She didn’t like either option, didn’t like any of it. It unnerved her more than she’d expected.

 Winry ran her fingers along the cool metal, trying to still her beating heart.

 -x-

 It seemed Al had lied to her. There weren’t one or two or even three clients. No, there was now a list full of them and her short day trip looked like it’d last a couple at least. Not that she’d complain, it kept her mind busy. Still, she was tired and she looked forward to a cool bed. The last client was out the door, her tools were packed, and there was little keeping her here.

 The second she stepped out of her temporary headquarters, a small body collided with hers. No, it was not merely a collision. It was more like a cannon barreling into her. Immediately after, arms wrapped around her, constricting her movements. Winry’s hand snaked down into her bag as she stumbled. The air was knocked out of her with an oof and she tried to straighten up and regain her balance.

 “Winry!” Mei sang excitedly. “It’s been so long!”

 With a sigh, she let go of the wrench she was grabbing. Her footing was uneven as it was; she didn’t need Mei’s happy dance to topple them over.  “Mei! You scared me.”

 “How?” Mei cocked her head curiously as she let go.

 Despite Mei’s newfound height, it seemed some things never changed.  Winry let it go, it wasn’t worth the effort. “How’ve you been?”

 “Great! I’ve been training with Alphonse.” Mei almost melted into a puddle. Her hands cupped her cheeks, her eyes lit happily. She started to skip down the road. “He’s learning really quickly.”

 It didn’t surprise her in the least. Both Elric brothers had figured out how to create a hommucli when they were children, after all. Winry quickly followed after her. Immediately, she regretted everything. Mei was some sort of madman, walking more in the sun than not, and Winry was sweltering within seconds. “That’s good. Where are we going?”

 “To Alphonse!” She grinned as she turned around, her arms clasped behind her back. Now she was skipping backwards. Absolutely a madman. “He’s making dinner tonight.”

  “Dinner?” That made her pause, the statement running through her head over and over. For some reason, all she could imagine was a suit of armour in an apron, even though she hadn’t seen it in two years. “He can cook now?”

 “I’ve been teaching him.” Mei flushed lightly. She grabbed her wrists delicately, for once looking embarrassed. Her pace slowed to a casual stroll. “He’s really good. Better than me.”

 Winry stared at her before patting her shoulder. “Trust me, he loves your cooking.”

 “Really?” Mei beamed and maybe Winry shouldn’t have encouraged her because all of a sudden she was back to skipping.  “I’ll show you the city.”

 She made all of three steps before Mei spotted an Ishvalan and zoomed toward them. Winry laughed and followed after. If there was one thing you couldn’t call Mei, it was predictable. She was asking something, her hands making circler motions.

 The Ishvalan shook his head, his mullet bobbing with the motion. The wrong move. Winry didn’t even need to hear what they were discussing to know that. If anything, it made Mei even more insistent and she’d latched onto his arm.  By the time Winry was close, the matter was settled with a gruff, “Fine, I’ll go.”

 There really was no arguing with Mei.

 “What’s—” Winry froze as the man turned around. Despite how everything else about him had changed, the one thing time couldn’t erase was the scar on his face. There was a pounding in her ears. She swallowed thickly. “Scar?”

 His eyes widened before he gently shook off Mei. Patting her on the head, he tipped his head to the pair. “I have to attend something.”

 “Huh?” Mei looked quizzically between them before slapping her forehead. “I’m sorry, Winry. I forgot.”

 That confirmed it. Scar had survived that final battle, despite the reports.

 -x-

 “He’s been helping with reconstruction,” Al explained, biting his lip as he looked at her concerned. They were sitting in the apartment he’d rented, crowding around a small table. Even Mei Mei was taking part, sitting on the table and eating a bamboo stick as they talked.

 It had been a long time since they’d had or needed a debriefing. Faintly, it reminded her of their travels for the philosopher’s stone. “How’d he survive?”

 Al paled and looked away. “Major General Armstrong.”

 His voice was quiet, as though she could hear him from Briggs. Winry shivered, remembering the fierce, icy woman. She hadn’t spent much time with the Major General but even that was enough. She was her fort personified. If Al said it was because of her, then that was it. There was really no need for an explanation beyond that. “She sent him here?”

 “He had to come. If he didn’t want to…” Al shivered. “Who could tell her no?”

 “Impossible,” Winry agreed.

 “I don’t think she’s that bad.” Mei looked between the pair bemused. “I’m sure she’s nice.”

 Al stared at her, then at the door as though Olivier Armstrong would barrel in at those words. “You never even met her!”

 “So? I’ll meet her the next time she inspects, then.”

 Even Mei Mei, who’d just been eating till now, shook his head vigorously. Winry gripped her friend’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “Some things are better left unknown.”

 Mei nodded slowly, not quite comprehending. “Okay.”

 “Anyways, Scar’s been helping rebuild Ishval.” Al’s hands tapped the table softly. “He doesn’t even seem like the same man sometimes.”

 “He’s always been nice,” Mei protested, puffing her cheeks in a pout. Turning to Winry, she clasped her hands. “Even before, he helped me a lot. I know…” She fell silent for a moment, carefully mulling her words. “I know you can’t forgive him. You don’t have to but please don’t hate him.”

 Her voice was soft. It was so un-Mei –like it caught her off guard and Winry couldn’t respond. “Hate?” Winry looked down at their joined hands, at the lines it made. Lives crisscrossed and knitted together just as tightly as their fingers did now. Even a girl from Resembool  and a man broken in a civil war could be connected in unexpected ways. “I don’t…”

 Your hands are for healing, Ed had told her once. It took her weeks to understand that, to see her smiling customers and realize just how close she was to losing it all. Had Scar felt the same way? If she didn’t have Ed, if she’d lost it all, could she have gone down that path? She wanted to say no but she knew better. Everyone was a lot closer to that edge, whether they admitted it or not.

 “I don’t hate him.” Winry gave a tepid smile. Just as her hands were not made for killing, her heart was not made for hating.

 But hatred and liking and even forgiveness were all very different things.

 -x-

 Winry shivered, hugging herself as she walked the dimly lit street to her hotel. The day had been so hot, how could the night be so damn cold? It was a desert! Rubbing her arms, she looked up to see the stars, a million pinpricks in a black cloth. At least the view here was great. Apparently the sunrise and sunset were beautiful at the outskirts of the city, painting the desert sand soft reds and oranges.

 Maybe she’d try to catch it tomorrow.

  A soft mewing sound caught her attention. To her left, just outside the pool of light, a man crouched down to feed a dozen stray cats. Their bodies weaved and pushed one another aside as they tried to get to his hands. One head butted his leg and Winry softly giggled. It seemed Al wasn’t the only one who loved cats. He had competition. The man turned his head slightly, his profile coming into view, and it was Scar.

 Her breath hitched at the sight. Scar. There was something akin to a gentle smile on his face, the expression too soft for her to be certain. So even he could look like that.

 So even he could be kind. Despite Mei’s words, she hadn’t quite believed them. Noticing her, Scar stiffened and turned away. So even he could feel awkward.

 It was funny, but despite it all, Winry had never considered him human before this. He had to be, of course he had to be. She’d even heard and understood what he’d been through. There had been no peace in understanding, no joy in learning, just cold facts that did little to explain why her parents never opened their eyes again.

 Despite all of that reading, none of those facts sunk in as deeply as his hunched over back, his stiff posture. Guilt was a complicated thing and she wondered if his feelings had changed at all since she’d faced him off with that gun. For a weapon that could do so much damage, it had been surprisingly light. Even the trigger had been easy to pull, the soft click a feature in some of her nightmares.

 Winry almost passed him. Reconsidering it, she approached him instead. “You’re helping this town?”

 Still tense, he continued to dole out food to the cats. For a long moment, she thought he was going to ignore her. Slowly, he answered, “Not just the town. My people…most of our knowledge was lost. I still have a little.”

 “Because you were a priest?” A holy man bent on revenge. Even without knowing anything about his culture, she was certain that was a strange to his people as well. In another life, perhaps his hands wouldn’t have been for killing either.

 “Yes.” He stroked a cat’s head. Al definitely would be jealous. “I can read what others cannot.”

 So even he had moved on. Time really did change everything. Softly, she muttered, “So you’re not just destruction then.”

 At this, he looked up at her and she covered her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud. Scar studied her for a moment then at his arms. They were covered by long sleeves but he pushed them up to reveal tattoos on both arms. “Destruction and construction. I never understood it before. I might not understand it now.” He let go and the cloth fell back down, hiding his marks. “I want to try.”

 That was a sentiment Winry could understand. Crouching next to him, she petted a cat. She could feel his eyes on her, warily waiting for her next move.

 She wasn’t quite sure what that’d be. They were sitting in the desert, feeding cats, and it was funny how something she always thought of as dead could have so much life. The desert could do more than just take, it seemed. Maybe one day she could look at it and not feel afraid. Maybe one day she could see Scar and forget the weight of a gun.

 There was no forgiveness just as there was no hate. Some crimes went beyond either. But there was a boundary between the two, a fine line that fit her just right, and she wanted to find that. She wanted to try too.

 So, to start with, she focused on this one man, on this one question. Winry looked at him. “Your name isn’t actually Scar, is it?”

[areyoureadyforsomemeatballz]

Exit Strategy

Summary: Bucky learns that he should not leave mission planning up to you, because you will do whatever is necessary to be successful.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader  

Word Count: 1900

Warnings: Some swearing, botched mission plans, slight sexual references.  

A/N: This is my submission for @ruckystarnes Rae’s Summer of Satire Challenge. This is the first writing challenge that I have participated in, so I’m super excited for you all to read this! Please go check out her account and the other awesome entries. As always let me know what you think, it means so much to me to interact with all you lovelies (even especially the nonsensical keyboard smashing!). My prompt is in bold. 

This mission had been a shit show since your boots had hit the ground. It was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance and retrieval mission. With only half of your normal team backing you, you should have expected things to get a bit hairy. Apart from you, the team was made up of Bucky, Tony, Thor, Clint, and Bruce. It had started out normal enough but it got very weird fairly quickly.

******

“Relax, baby, this is going to be a breeze,” you say winking at Bucky.

Bucky slings his arm around your waist and beams down at you. “I’m sure it will be, darlin’. We’ve got the makings of the Avengers A-team here.”

“Hey! Nuh-uh, Robocop. No cutesy couple shit, this is a serious mission,” Tony calls out. “Get your pretty asses over here and help strategize, we're going to need both of your expertise.”

“Damn it, Tony I was enjoying that. It was making me feel all sorts of ways,” Clint says as he approaches the huddle.

Bucky glares at the man, and you slap your hand over his mouth before he can say anything. “Gross, Clint. Remind me to never touch my boyfriend around you again,” you say sarcastically while grinning at him.

“Guys, can we please focus? The sooner we get this done, the sooner Clint can be gross alone, far away from us decent folk,” Bruce adds.

“As per usual, Brucie is right. Let’s get this show on the road, A-team,” Tony says as he pulls up a holographic display of the building you all need to infiltrate.

“Are we going by the A-team, because that was totally Bucky’s suggestion,” you say to Tony in a singsong voice.

“Lady Y/N, would you care to partner up? We do work well together and we’ve been sparring lately,” Thor asks innocently as Tony and Bruce argue about schematics.

Bucky’s eyes widen comically. “I was planning on sticking with my girl, Thor. I think you’re stuck with Clint on this one.”

Clint loops his arm through Thor’s and leans his head against him. “You hear that? We’re so going to be the power couple of this mission! I can see it now-”

“Sorry, big guy,” You grimace.

“Not to worry, Clint and I are also a suitable pair. He also has the tendency to make things enjoyable, no offense to you,” Thor responds with a smile as he squeezes Clint’s hand.

“Okay, kiddos, now that we’ve done the schoolyard pick it’s time to go in with guns blazing!” Tony says excitedly.

“No, You and Bruce will patrol here and protect our perimeter. Clint and Thor should attack from the west and we’ll take the east. We’ll do a sweep and take out any militants along the way. The payload is our priority,” You say eyeing the hologram.

“It gets me all hot and bothered when you take control, sweet thing,” Clint says, his fingers interlaced with Thor’s. “I’m sure Bucky-bear agrees.”

Bucky wraps his fingers around yours and stomps toward the building. “And break,” Tony shouts from behind you. “Comms are on, use them, people. Go A-team!”

******

Sweat pours down your skin as you and Bucky push through hallway after hallway. You haven’t run into any hostiles yet, but the sheer heat in this building is threatening to kill you.

“Why is there no A.C. in this shit-hole,” You whine quietly.

Bucky turns to you and wipes your forehead off with the palm of his hand. “Babydoll, we're almost done. Then we can go home and cool down.”

Through the comm, Clint sounds off. “Can Thor and I join? I promise it’ll be good for all of us, and it’ll promote team bonding.” You can hear Thor giggling in the background.

“Clinton, I am going to kick the sass out of you,” You hiss at him. It was too hot to put up with the jabs of the archer. “Where did they hide this fucking thing?”

Suddenly, there are sounds of fighting coming over the comm. You and Bucky spring into action, ready to race off to lend assistance. “Thor’s been hit, Y/N you guys need to stay put and retrieve the payload. I’m trying to pick off these bastards. Bruce and Tony, they may be headed your way. I’m thinking code green.”

“Clint, I am not hulking out-”

Bruce’s voice cuts off and static fills your ears. “Looks like they blew our communication,” Bucky looks at you and pulls the earpiece out. “It’s just you and me, doll.”

“It was starting to feel like too much of a boys club anyway. We’ve gotta be getting close.”

You hear footsteps approaching and quickly pull Bucky through the door at the end of the hall. “Hey, Bucks, it’s got to be our lucky day or something,” you murmur as you point to what you had been searching for. He grins at you as you slip the payload into an inner pocket of your uniform.

There are voices outside the room and you make the snap decision to pull Bucky into the steel cabinet at the back of the room. It was a tight squeeze, the two of you were wrapped around each other. You inhale Bucky’s rich scent to calm yourself.

“I told you nobody came this way!” someone says from the other side of the door.

“Whatever, it’s better safe than sorry,” another voice answers. “Let’s keep going, I’m sure they’re here somewhere.”

“What’s the plan, baby girl?” Bucky whispers into your ear.

You shake your head at him and maneuver your finger to your lips, urging him to be quiet. You hear the door swing closed and you breathe out a sigh of relief. You had thought for sure they would do a sweep of the room and find the two of you in the cabinet.

“Y/N, what’s our exit strategy?” Bucky asks as he helps you out.

You look up at him sheepishly. “Our what?”

“Oh my god,” he exclaims running a hand through his hair as the two of you step back into the hallway cautiously. “We’re all going to die!”

“I wasn’t thinking that far ahead! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but nothing is going according to plan. I’m flying by the seat of my pants, so if you have some brilliant idea now is your time to shine.”

“We really are going to die.”

There’s a commotion behind the two of you and you take off running to the exit glancing over your shoulder. “You’re looking at my exit strategy, Barnes.”

His brain quickly catches up and he tears down the hallway after you, shooting behind him like a madman as he goes. He scoops you over his shoulder and you position yourself on his back so that you are able to aim at the men chasing after you.

“Run, baby!”

“What do you think I’m doing, woman? This is my top speed!”

You take one of the assailants down, hitting him at least six times in the chest. The other ducks behind the door frame as you and Bucky exit the building. You’re almost to safety, you can practically taste the perimeter surrounding the base that Tony and Bruce had set. Hell, you can see Thor sitting on the ground just ahead.

Bucky grunts beneath you and you see color bloom across his back. He takes you in his arms and catapults you through the air before he falls onto his stomach. You roll to the ground and are back on your feet, running as fast as you possibly can. You feel something wrap around your feet and you dive to reach your base.

“The Avengers A-Team have successfully retrieved Sam and the Falconettes flag and have won the simulation,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s Irish lilt fills the area.  

You breathe out a sigh of relief and try to stand. You realize that Peter has shot webs around your ankles. “Come on, Pete! We all agreed on no powers!” You shout as he comes out from behind a tree, Vision following behind him.

He blushes at you and helps remove them. “Sorry, Y/N I didn’t mean too. You were just about to win and I was out of paintballs, it was an instinct thing.”

“My apologies, miss. I did try to stop him,” Vision says to you shooting Peter a pointed look.

“Don’t let anyone else know that you tried cheating, Tony takes simulations very seriously,” you say as you ruffle his hair.

“Mr. Stark’s going to be mad isn’t-”

Tony appears and he and Bruce pull Thor to his feet, his entire front covered in black and pink paint. “It’s alright, kid, we crushed you anyway,” Tony says gleefully.

Natasha and Wanda approach the group arm in arm, their guns slung across their backs. “Clint hit me and Nat and has been hiding in the trees ever since,” Wanda states.

“He’s scared because he got paint in my hair,” Natasha smiles wide. “I swear I’m not going to hurt him, this was my idea.”

“But it was perfectly executed by moi,” Tony says. “And my state of the art training facility.”

“Not all of us can be billionaires, Tony,” Bruce says.

“Think we can work on the air-conditioning next time? Because that was brutal,” you say playfully.

You go turn from the group and head to Bucky, where he is lying in the dirt and stoop to help him up. “Hi, baby. Nice throw back there.”

He grins and pulls you into a searing kiss. “That tuck and roll was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. You drive me completely wild.”

“Could you two heathens try and keep it family friendly? There is a child present,” Sam calls out as him and Steve approach. “That was cold, Y/N, leaving your boy out in the middle of the forest to die.”

“Shut it, birdbrain, you’re the one that shot him. Nice team name by the way.”

“I had to try and stop you guys after you unloaded your entire gun on poor Steve. What Can I say, I’m full of good ideas. We almost beat your sorry asses.”

“So close, Sammy-boy, but me and my girl are the dream team,” Bucky brags.  

You take in Steve’s paint covered appearance, greatful that the paintballs couldn’t hurt him too much trough his uniform. “Sorry, Stevie. Me and Bucks couldn’t bear to listen to Sam gloat if he won again.”

He smiles at you. “It’s alright. ‘Sides that shooting was pretty impressive, with you on Bucky’s back and all.”

You and Bucky shared a smile and he wrapped his arm over your shoulders and presses a kiss to your head. “That’s my girl.”

“Y/N, you were shooting from Bucky’s back?” Natasha asks impressed.

“Hey, I mean you took out our comms, Natty. That was insane, especially with the limited tools we had,” you say back.

Tony winks at the two of you. “That’s it, everybody go and wash up, family dinner at six and we can watch today’s highlight reel.”

“You still wanna cool off, doll?” Bucky hums quietly into your ear. His tone sends shivers down your spine.

“Can we still join?” Clint calls from somewhere above you, high in the trees. Thor’s booming laugh follows after you, as you run off with Bucky.  

“We might be a bit late for dinner,” Bucky shouts over his shoulder and he nestles you into his arms for the second time that day, laughing without a care in the world. “Start without us!”