#Google how do i make it so a blue eyed man has brown eyes

[sheila--e]

Google how do I send Bruno Buccellati brown contacts.

[beewolfwrites]

Hello! I'm not sure if you're taking requests rn BUT if you can could you do reader x chishiya where reader bought one those japanese diy food kit boxes where you're suppose to create a mini version of a food but this time its kind of candy? If you don't know what they are you can search it up. So, what if reader has to beg chishiya to help them with the kit but he just ends up reading the instructions to the reader and watches reader struggle. That's all, take youre time. I love your writing btw!<3

Hi! Sorry this took a short while! This was an adorable idea. I had no idea about those Japanese mini food kits, but after Googling them, they look so fun!

I haven't put out a post or anything, but yes, I'm happy to take requests! There are a couple lined up at the moment, so it's a fun change from writing chapters.

Thank you for such a fun prompt :D

-------------------------------------------

The time had already struck 10am, but there was still no sign of the delivery man. Glancing at the clock on the mantlepiece, you paced back and forth playing with the keys in your hand. Chishiya paid no mind. He was sitting on the couch, scrutinising a book on spinal surgery techniques like he often was. Well, he wouldn’t be for long. Not if you could help it. With next-day delivery, your dream of an ideal weekend with him was finally coming into fruition.

If only the delivery man would arrive.

10:02am.

You peeked through the curtains. Nothing. Not even a van.

10:04am.

A car rolled on by, and you looked out of the window to no avail. The keys tinkled between your palms as you bounced them around.

10.06am.

Chishiya finally set down his book. ‘Whatever it is you’re doing, stop doing it.’

‘I’m waiting for a parcel. I paid extra for it to be delivered by ten.’

‘It’s only six minutes late. What have you been wasting money on this time?’

‘You’ll find out when it gets here.’ You beamed at him. It was a smile that promised cuteness, cuddles and bonding time. All the things he hated with a passion.

Chishiya’s eyes narrowed. He tossed the hardback onto the coffee table just as a van door slammed outside. You bolted to the window and pulled back the curtain. The delivery man was walking up the drive, carrying a small brown package.

‘It’s here!’

Leaping past Chishiya, you ran to the door and fumbled around finding the right key to unlock it. Once you managed to get it open, you grinned at the delivery man and held your parcel close like a prize. It was finally here. Your dream weekend with Chishiya.

When you re-entered the living room, he was leaning back, eyes closed in exasperation. Now that simply wouldn’t do. You waited silently by the arm of the couch to show him the online treasure you’d found. Only, he didn’t move.

‘Whatever it is,’ he said, ‘I don’t want any part in it.’

‘Come on,’ you insisted, now pulling at his sleeve.

‘Let me rest.’

‘Please! I want to make this with you.’

One eye slid open. ‘Make?’

The moment the word left his lips, you knew you’d caught his interest. ‘It’s something we can do together.’

‘Fine,’ he said, sighing as he got up. No matter how reluctant he seemed, he wouldn’t go this far if he wasn’t at least a little curious.

He followed you into the kitchen where you grabbed a knife and started hacking into the box. Chishiya folded his arms, resting against the countertop. If he wasn’t unimpressed before, he certainly was when you pulled out a Popin’ Cookin’ Candy Lunch Box kit.

‘That’s what you bought?’ He eyed the kit like it belonged in the gutter. ‘I hope you used your own money.’

‘It’ll be fun,’ you promised. ‘I’ll let you make whichever ones you want.’

He prodded the box with one finger, before turning his nose up at the bubble font. ‘I’ll leave this to you.’

He started to head back into the living room, but you clutched his elbow to keep him from leaving. ’Please Chishiya! You don’t have to do anything. I’ll do the actual food making, even if you just read the instructions.’

He pursed his lips as he weighed up his options. ‘Just the instructions,’ he agreed. ‘You’re lucky I have nothing better to do.’

Yes! The perfect couples activity was in sight. Excited, you rubbed your hands together and motioned him over to the box on the counter. It was like trying to tempt an unenthusiastic cat. He merely looked at you as though you were wasting his precious time.

But that wasn’t going to stop you from having fun.

Opening up the Lunch Box kit, you tore into the wrapper packaging inside, finding a bundle of sachets and a blue spoon, all sitting in a grooved plastic tray shaped with different moulds. It was… well, not quite what you were expecting. You’d only really heard of these kits online, but you’d never actually watched other people make them. Chishiya picked up the packaging and scanned the small print on the sides.

‘You need scissors,’ he said.

‘Hold on a second.’ You were too busy scrutinising the sachets. ‘What am I supposed to do with these?’

The sachets were snatched out of your hand as Chishiya dumped them back on the counter. ‘Forget those for now. You’re supposed to cut into the tray.’

He reached into the cutlery draw and pulled out a pair of kitchen scissors. However, what Chishiya didn’t tell you was that you were only supposed to cut off the corner of the tray to measure water in. Now, surrounded by several pieces of plastic, you were beginning to wonder if this was a sabotage tactic.

He regarded the mess you’d made with a wry smile. ‘Well, I don’t believe I told you to cut up the entire tray.’

‘You didn’t tell me anything at all,’ you snapped.

‘Hmm. I’m not sure I like that attitude.’

You sighed, prodding the remains before you. ‘Sorry. I just… at least the moulds are still usable, kind of.’

As it stood, they were technically usable, but that didn’t mean they were easy to use. Following Chishiya’s vague instructions, you managed to mix tiny amounts of water with the powders to form candy shaped like a panda, a rice-ball, broccoli, fried chicken and even an octopus.

But with the tray reduced to pieces, the structure holding up the moulds had gone, meaning none of the powder mixtures settled evenly. So far, the octopus candy had dribbled over the sides, giving it a little too many tentacles. Half of the panda’s face was smudged. And the broccoli was missing half of its head.

You stared at the resulting lunch box, painfully aware of Chishiya smiling sardonically over your shoulder at the abomination you’d created.

‘Why does it look so sad?’

‘Because it is,’ was the reply. He placed a hand on top of your head. ‘You tried.’

If it weren’t for the pitiful state of the lunch box, you would’ve been more angry at him for his unhelpfulness. But there wasn’t a shred of anger in you. More than anything, you felt underwhelmed. The vision of the two of you trying something a little different together had been dashed.

‘Hm?’ The hand on your head jiggled as he tried to snap you out of your trance. ‘This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?’

Your shoulders slumped as the mini rice-ball toppled over. It just looked so… so disappointing. ‘I only wanted us to do something fun.’

He hummed in consideration. You could feel him mulling over his words, and right when you half-expected him to pull yet another joke, he looked at his watch.

‘It’s already lunchtime,’ he remarked. ‘There’s a new cafe not too far from here. It may be busy but they might have a table.’

Wait - did that mean?

As he began to walk out of the kitchen, you threw your arms around his waist, squeezing him from behind. ‘Chishiya! You’d really take us to lunch?’

‘Us?’

And just like that, the moment was gone.

‘I’m going out to lunch.’ He gestured to the mess you’d made. ‘I believe yours is over there.’

With a signature smirk, he detached himself from your arms and left to get his coat. You stood there, blinking in horror at the prospect of eating that sad little lunch box, before running after him to grab your shoes.

‘Chishiya! Don’t you dare!’

[prettyboyjackhughes]

-Maybe it wasn't meant to be-

|J. Hughes|

[Part 1]

Jack knew things were over when Charlie wasn’t waiting for him in the lobby of their apartment building as soon as he got there. After the disaster of a phone call midway through the road trip, he hadn’t expected her to be there when he got home. But when he unlocked the door to their apartment and was met with their dog, Luca whining and jumping up on him, he knew. Everything of her’s was gone. It was almost like she hadn’t even been there. Jack swallowed hard, set down his bags, and walked towards the bedroom they had shared. A piece of paper lay on his pillow; the only pillow now on the bed. Jack picks it up, sitting down on her side of the bed. He started to read, his eyes welling up as he glanced at the bottom and saw her name.

To the next girl Jack loves,

He’ll get cuddly when he’s tired. He always has to be touching you. He makes sure you know you never have to worry about knowing how much he loves you. He hates getting out of bed in the morning so you’re going to have to drag him out of bed, every morning, without fail. He never isn’t eating something. No matter how many times you warn him about getting his teeth knocked out, he never keeps his mouth guard in his mouth on the ice. He’ll fight with Quinn and Luke over the stupidest things but you’ll never doubt that they love each other more than anything. He’ll let Quinn and Luke pick on you but never lets it go too far. You’ll become one of the hockey girlfriends. Jack will show you off to everybody, beyond proud that you’re his girlfriend. His teammates are his best friends and his brothers. But you’ll never be second to them. They’ll become your friends too. Get used to them being around. You’ll grow to love them and they’ll love you. They’ll tease you and Jack but Jack will just smile and brush it off, kissing your forehead as he smirks. It’s just one of his many ways of showing that you’re his girl. He’ll love you no matter what and never take that for granted. But then things get bad. He shuts you out. He doesn’t talk about what’s wrong or why he’s upset. He doesn’t want to burden other people with his problems but will drop everything to take care of everyone else’s. He’ll start to cancel plans, even if he doesn’t really have other plans. Nobody can tell you what to do to fix things because nobody else can understand what’s wrong. He’ll tell you not to worry, tell you everything is fine. You’ll beg and plead for Jack to come back, the Jack that you fell in love with. But he can’t. Things won’t go back to normal. Then you’ll start to fight. Every little thing will be a fight. You’ll want to let go. And maybe you do. But I promise, you’ll regret it. Jack is worth it. What you have is worth it. Don’t make the same mistake I did and give up on him. It’ll kill you to let go. I mean, you’re not just losing Jack. You’re losing Quinn, Luke, his parents, the hockey boys. Nothing seems like it’ll be okay. Everything falls apart and your world spins out of control. But, if you decide Jack is worth it and things can work between you two, then get him back. Do everything in your power to get him back. Because once you lose him, you’ll regret everything. I already do. I hate that it ended the way it did. But it’s for the best. Jack and I weren’t meant to be and I get that now. It’s your turn. You get to love him. Just don’t make the same mistake I did.

Charlie

The tears that slipped out of Jack’s eyes fell on the white blanket covering their bed, making little dots. He flipped the paper over, seeing more writing. This time, it was a letter addressed to him.

Jack, Don’t come after me. Let me go. You and I weren’t everything we thought we were. You need to go out and find someone new. Someone who doesn’t hold you back. I’m not the one and I’m okay with that. I’ll always love you because you were my first love. My first kiss, my first everything. Every memory I have is with you. I want you to be happy and I can’t give you that. So please, I’m begging you, let me disappear. You are strong, caring, loving and everything a girl could want. But how can I just forget everything? How can I just forget that me and you ever happened? All the things you ever said, all the music we ever shared? All the phone calls? The messages? They had to mean something at one point and it hurts too much to let it all go. I can’t pretend it all never happened. All those years full of memories. It’s not right. This all isn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. People tell me to just let it all go, that I don’t need you. But I do need you. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I don’t want to make memories with someone else. I want to keep making memories with you and now I can’t. I wanted you to be a good man. I wanted it to be you. Why isn’t it you? Why did you do this to me? Why? Here’s the truth. I’ve been broken for so long. And I get attached way too fast. I’m lost and I’m scared. I’m scared of everything. The littlest things scare the hell out of me. I’m scared of being happy. Or smiling. Or putting myself out there again. Because every time I do, I end up getting hurt. I have no one. I feel so alone. I push people away because that’s what I think I need. I try so hard to be enough and somehow I never am. I was never enough for you. I always let people in and open my heart just for them to break it. Just like you did. You said you would never leave and you would never hurt me. But here we are. I’m sitting here, writing you a letter, absolutely terrified. I’m sorry Jack. I never wanted things to end like this. Goodbye. Charlie Jack’s body shook with sobs. All he wanted to do was go after her. But she had told him, if he really loved her, not to come after him. He knew he loved her more than anyone else in the entire world. So he didn’t. He let her go, just like she had asked. And to this day, he regretted it more than anything. Here he was, 3 years later, the playboy of the NHL. All over the news and magazines, hooking up with this girl, drinking and partying with this person; the exact opposite of who he had been with her. And the Devils put up with it. Because what team would trade their leading scorer and the man who had led them to back to back Stanley Cups, also making them a contender again this year. But it was all because of her. All because he had made a stupid decision to let her go when he should have fought for her. Every move he made on the ice was because of her and what he hadn’t done. And now he had to live with himself and the mistake he had made. Charlie was happy, or at least she pretended to be. Every so often, her thoughts would wander to a brown haired, blue eyed boy who had captured her heart when she was 14. Back before she knew what love was. But she had pushed him away, just like she always did. Before he could hurt her, she took him out of her life and told him to forget her. To not come after her. She had always secretly hoped he would come looking for her but that day never came. So instead, she had tried to move on, ending up in Denver, Colorado and working for the Colorado Avalanche. She had managed to avoid Jack every time the Avs had played the Devils. But ever since she had left him, she had stayed alone. Never had another boyfriend because she couldn’t.

She still loved him. But of course, as fate would have it, one of the hockey boys came back into her life. Alex Turcotte, one of Jack’s oldest friends and teammates, got traded to the Avs. Charlie, who was the director of communications and team services, was one of the first people Alex had to meet with when he got to Denver. He had walked down the hall, stopped at the door of her office, read her name on the plate by the door and leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on his face.

“Charlotte Henry, director of communications and team services.” Charlie had looked up, surprise and excitement covering her face.

“Alex! I couldn’t believe it when I was given the notice you were traded! I missed you so much!” Charlie said, getting up and rushing to hug him. In order to keep from all the memories of Jack flooding back in and making her sad all the time, she had completely cut off everyone that reminded her of Jack. Of course, she would check his social media every once in a while, maybe even googling his name and reading what all the news websites and hockey commentators had to say about him. The last she had seen, he was “rumored” to be linked to some model hotshot.

“I missed you too, Char! So, what have you been up to? Besides getting this big fancy job and getting to boss people around, something you do very well, if I remember right.” Charlie laughs as he sits down in the chair across from her desk.

“Oh you know, same old, same old. Lots of hockey.” Alex smiles and nods. Charlie gets up and walks over, closing the door to her office so she and Alex could talk in private.

“Char, what happened? We used to be so close. Then you just dropped off the face of the earth. Jack fell off the deep end and you’re 1,800 miles away from him.” Charlie pushes her hair back out of her face and watches Alex, who is sitting forward in his chair, eyes on her.

“Jack and I broke up. I guess you knew that. But things didn’t end the way I wanted them to. So I decided to leave and came here. I shut out everyone who reminded me of Jack, which included you guys.” Alex watches her, the look on his face hard to read.

“Oh. So that’s why you’ve been hiding out here and haven’t come back to Plymouth at all for Christmas or anything?” Charlie nods, messing with paperwork on her desk.

“Huh. Well I guess that’s all there is to it, huh?” Charlie glances at Alex as he just completely drops the topic. She had expected him to keep questioning, digging into why they had split and whether or not she was still in love with Jack. She knew Alex could read her well but she didn’t think he would have picked up on her not wanting to talk about Jack.

“You’re not going to question me about it? About why we broke up? Why I decided to leave?” Alex shakes his head and reaches for the pile of paperwork with a sticky note with his name on it, sitting on her desk. She snatches it away from him and forces him to look at her.

“Alex, this is the first time I’ve even tried to talk to anyone about this. You’re just gonna brush it off?” Alex watches her, seeing the impending breakdown and stands up, walking around the desk and kneeling down in front of her.

“Charlie, I could tell that you didn’t want to talk about it but you needed to. So I decided it would be best not to push it. But if you want to talk about it, how about I come over to your apartment for dinner and you can talk and cry through everything.” Charlie nods, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to reel her emotions back in.

“Okay. I’ll text you my address. Let’s get started on this paperwork.” Alex nods, still watching Charlie and already planning out a text to Jack.

[storygirl000]

ML Fic: Wait, you’re related to who now?

A/N: I very much blame @virgil-is-a-cutie, @ineedspellcheck, @justafanwarrior, @unmaskedagain, and everyone else who contributed to this thread.

Feel free to ask about the various relations!

Ao3 link here.

EDIT: I’m an idiot. Kim’s Vietnamese, not Korean. I’ve fixed it so he’s related to Karma of the New Mutants instead of Kid Flash.

00000

“Class, I’d like to introduce you all to Lila Rossi!”

Lila looked over the kids in front of her, thinking over what she would tell them.

She’d already discarded most of the obvious lies in her head – seriously, anyone with Google could disprove them, and no one could be stupid enough to take them at face value – and was sorting through what she had left.

Finally, she decided to settle on something simple.

“It’s so nice to meet you all!” she said, giving her most sincere-looking smile. “Honestly, I haven’t been this excited since I found out I was related to-”

She quickly shut her mouth. “Oh, but I can’t say!”

“Related to who?” a small, chubby girl with her hair in multicolored braids asked.

Lila internally smirked. Oh, this was going to be too easy.

“Well, I’m not supposed to tell anyone about it,” she said, “but I’m actually related to someone famous!”

She expected the class to start ooh-ing and aah-ing over her supposed heritage.

She did not expect someone to say “Oh! You, too?”

Lila’s eyes widened, and she turned to the person who’d spoked – a bespectacled girl with red-brown hair and hazel eyes.

“What?” she asked.

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much every person in our class is related to someone famous in one way or another – mostly superheroes. My cousin is Gambit – the X-Man? Yeah, I don’t know how that works either, but apparently one of his relatives moved to Martinique, met my grandpa, and it all went down from there.”

Okay, clearly this girl was pulling her leg. Lila opened her mouth to speak-

“My dad’s Aquaman!” the dark-skinned boy sitting in front of her said. “He’s not really the most attentive dad, though, so my brother and I live by ourselves most of the time.”

“Prove it,” Lila said before she could stop herself.

The boy shrugged, then turned to his blond seatmate. “Mind if I use your water bottle, Adrien?”

Adrien nodded and opened it up before passing it to him.

The boy held his hand out, concentrating on the bottle. After a couple of seconds, a spiral of water streamed out of it.

“Oh, you’re getting better at this, Nino!” the girl cheered.

“Thanks, Alya!” Nino replied.

Lila could only stare, open-mouthed, at the scene in front of her.

Eventually, Nino let the water go back into the bottle, and Adrien spoke up.

“I guess technically I have two famous dads?” he said. “Like, the guy who raised me for most of my life is Gabriel Agreste, but I was the result of my mom having an affair with Oliver Queen.”

Alya nodded, then pointed to a blonde-haired girl and a red-haired girl. “Chloe over there’s the daughter of Harley Quinn, and Sabrina’s the half-sister of Batgirl.”

Chloe snorted. “Honestly, even with her insanity, she’s still a better parent than my stepmom.”

“And she means the retired Batgirl,” Sabrina added helpfully.

“Nathaniel back there’s the son of Poison Ivy,” Alya continued, pointing to the redhead in the back.

Nathaniel snorted. “And yes, that makes me Chloe’s stepbrother. I’m not proud of it, either.”

“Screw you too, Kurtzberg!” Chloe retorted.

“Oh! I’m the daughter of Captain America!” a tiny blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl spoke up.

“I’m half-sisters with Raven of the Teen Titans, and my half-brother’s the son of the Winter Soldier,” the black-haired girl next to her added. “Before you ask, my mom’s never made a sane decision in her life.”

“My dad’s Loki,” the pink-haired girl in the back stated. “My uncle has been smothering me as much as he can ever since he found out.”

“You mean Thor?” Lila asked, the first words she’d spoken since Nino had demonstrated his powers. Her mouth felt dry.

The pink-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Who else would it be?”

“I happen to be the cousin of the current ruler of Wakanda,” a black, bespectacled boy stated.

“My cousin lead one of the X-Men teams for awhile!” the Vietnamese boy sitting next to him added.

“Um, my uncle turned out to be Bruce Banner,” the chubby girl said.

“Turned out my dad was Blue Beetle,” the large boy next to her added.

Finally, a story Lila could immediately poke holes in. “Blue Beetle? You mean-”

“The old one,” he interrupted her. “The one that...”

He didn’t speak after that, but the chubby girl put her hands on his and the rest of the class gave him sympathetic glances, leaving Lila to connect the dots.

After a few seconds, Alya cleared her throat. “And that’s just everyone who’s here right now. My best friend is actually one of Bruce Wayne’s kids, and we have a couple of friends in other classes who’re in the same boat.”

“My boyfriend’s actually one of Tony Stark’s illegitimate sons,” Nathaniel said.

“And my girlfriend is one of Wolverine’s!” Chloe bragged.

Alya turned back to Lila. “So who are you related to?”

Lila blinked.

00000

“She got akumatized how?” Marinette asked.

Alya shrugged. “Heck if I know. I just asked her who she was related to, and she started screaming. Next thing I know, she’s Volpina.” She frowned. “Though if her admitting she lied about that has anything to do with it, she might have just been blindsided by how weird our class actually is.”

Marinette snapped her fingers. “Oh! That reminds me, I need to see if Ivan can get in contact with Booster Gold. My dad wants to talk to him.”

“He pranked one of your brothers again?” Alya asked.

Marinette nodded. “Replaced all of Jason’s guns with their Nerf equivalents. We have no idea where he hid them.”

Alya laughed, and the two girls headed off.

[chemartsblog]

I Need a Hero

Zuko put his life of stalking and blowing things up behind. He loves baking for the Jasmine Dragon, and the most stressful thing in his life is Jin’s nosiness. 

Until he’s caught in a villain attack is saved by the most gorgeous hero...and throw coupons at him.

Ao3 Link

Quirks are mutations in the human genome that cause a person to exhibit non-human traits and abilities. The earliest quirks date back to 6,000 years ago with the appearance of elemental quirks. Those with the quirks were called ‘benders’, due to their ability to seemingly bend the elements. In modern times, quirks have evolved to more complex traits…

—History of Quirks by Kya Mallik

--

“Excuse me why is this tea so bitter?” a shrill woman in an atrocious floral blouse asks. Zuko counts to ten and answers, “You asked for 0% sugar. Tea is naturally bitter. Hence your tea is bitter.”

“Well change it!”

“Okay how much sugar do you want?”

“I told you earlier I didn’t want any sugar.”

Count to ten Zuko. Just like the therapist said.

“Ma’am.” Zuko says slowly trying to keep himself from steaming, “If you don’t add any sugar it’ll still be bitter. If you want an artificial sweetener we have some Splenda over there.”

“I don’t want artificial sweeteners. They cause cancer.”

Oh Agni. What did he ever do to deserve this? Zuko winces. Actually, forget I said that.

“Okay, we’ll fix it.” Zuko grumbles. The woman huffs and nods. Zuko goes to the station and places the cup under the syrup bottle.  I hope you gain five pounds Karen. He thinks viciously as he pumps the syrup.

He shakes the drink and then returns it to her. The woman eyes it suspiciously and takes a slow sip. Then she smiles condescendingly and says, “See that wasn’t so hard.” And flounces off.

Good riddance. He thinks as he wipes down the counter.

“Wow bossman, I thought for sure you would have punched her.” Jin chirps. Song chuckles beside her and nods. “You showed great restraint, boss.”

“Can’t punch customers. Might get arrested.” He grumbles. “Also Uncle would be…disappointed.”

“And there’s the real reason why.” Jin teases. “You’re truly your Uncle’s boy.”

“Shut up Jin or I’ll fire you.”

“Said that before, bossman~” Jin sing-songs. “And you’ve never done it.”

“I’ll do it someday.” Zuko grumbles.

Song seems to take pity and says, “Why don’t you go to the kitchen, Zuko? It’s pretty much slowing down here. We can take care of any orders.”

Zuko looks at Song gratefully. She’s truly an angel. “Okay. I want to experiment on some new bread anyway.”

“Or you can take a lunch break.” Jin says. “It’s already 11, and I know you’ve been here since 4am baking.”

“Oh yes, Jin’s right. Take a lunch break. Lee’ll be here soon.”

Zuko pouts, “I’m not hungry.”

“Yes you are.” Jin retorts. “Now go. And I want to see a receipt of your lunch.”

“Please, Boss?”

Zuko looks at both the girls and sighs heavily. “Fine. Fine.” He grumbles and takes off the hat and apron. He takes his hair out of the bun and lets it tumble down to his mid-back. “I thought I was supposed to be the boss?” he mutters.

“You are! We’re just looking out for you. Uncle’s orders.” Jin sasses.

“Have a good lunch.” Song says waving at him. Zuko returns it half-heartedly and trudges out.

                                                   ----

The streets are crowded with students and workers all heading to lunch. Zuko does his best to weave around the crowds, but even he’s pushed around in the crowded streets. Fortunately, Kuzon’s Diner is just ahead, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he gets in. The smell of familiar Fire Nation spices eases his nerves, and he goes up to the counter. On Ji smiles and asks, “You’re usual?”

“Please.” He says tiredly. He just wants to stuff his face with some hand-cut Fire Noodles. Extra spicy.

“Haha did Jin force you to take a break?”

“Jin doesn’t force me to do anything.” Zuko denies petulantly.

On Ji rolls her eyes, “Suuure Zuko.”

He tries to pay but she stops him. “On the house.” She says.

Zuko narrows his eyes, “On Ji.” He tries to say.

“Nope, you made my sister’s birthday cake.”

“It was just a cake.”

“It was a four-tiered cake to make it look like the scene from the movie Love Amongst Dragons. It was a masterpiece. Mom still cries thinking about it. You’re not paying.”

He sighs, but relents. What is with all the strong-willed women in his life?

“Thanks.” He says taking the packed noodles.

On Ji smiles and shoos him playfully, “Go on. I know I can’t make you stay to eat here. But I texted Jin, so I’ll know if you don’t eat it immediately.”

“I never should have introduced you guys.” He grumbles half-heartedly.

“Please, you love us mothering you.”

“Goodbye On Ji.” Zuko grits out.

“Mom says she better see you next week for our monthly potluck!”

“Yes, I know.” He says fondly and waves goodbye at the excitable girl.

                                                    ---

He’s walking leisurely and thinking about new bread flavors when an explosion rocks the area. His body goes on autopilot and he crouches behind a mailbox. He frantically looks around and sees a group of people in combat uniforms. Villains. Great.

There are three in total. The biggest one is carrying a bulky case, probably filled with whatever loot they stole. He looks to be an anima-based mutant. Kamodo-rhino perhaps? The other two seem to be energy-propulsion mutants. One is shooting beams out of his forehead and the other is shooting from her hands. There’s a familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through Zuko as he thinks of the ways they could escape. Getaway vehicle, temporal portal, smokescreen.

Still it’s pretty ballsy of them to attack a major hub in daylight. Maybe they didn’t have a choice? He wonders what’s in the bag, and his fingers start to itch.

No.

He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths and tries to calm his beating heart. No.

There are more explosions. People are running around him. Screaming, panicking. He belatedly hears the Civilian Safety Force giving order, and he sees the bright neon green uniforms start to direct the crowd into orderly lines. Zuko stands and starts to go with them, but then he hears On Ji.

Without thinking he starts running towards her, weaving through the officers who are yelling at him to stop. But he can’t. He sees On Ji. Trapped next to a wall by debris from the ruined building. She’s desperately trying to get out, but she’s not strong enough to move the fallen chunks.

Zuko moves.

He doesn’t practice as much as before, but his body still remembers. Still remembers how to weave and dodge and climb smoothly over the debris, over the flying projectiles and screaming people. He reaches On Ji and frees her.

“Zuko.” She whispers with awe.

“No time. Let’s go.” Zuko says slinging her over his shoulders. Even through all this, his heart is calm and steady. He seems to fly through the street. In the back of his mind, he can acknowledge that he misses this. Misses the danger. The adrenaline. But he’s rusty. Maybe he would have seen it five years ago, but he barely notices it now.

He doesn’t even think. He tosses On Ji to a group of neon-green officers and faces the truck flying towards him.

Time slows.

His hands curl and he brings them up in a protective stance. Fire rushes through his veins and—blue.

B

O

O

M

!

Zuko blinks and coughs as dust tickle his lungs. He’s on the ground, but there’s a looming shadow over him. He looks up and his eyes widen.

It’s like a scene out of a movie; there’s a tall dark-skinned man in front of him. He’s in a dark blue hero suit with a sword on his hip. His brown hair is tied in a wolfstail with the sides shaved. And most impressively, he’s holding up the truck like it weighs nothing.

Oh Spirits, those are some big biceps.

The hero puts down the truck gently, and Zuko tries not to ogle at the thicc thighs that flex as he squats down. It’s getting really hot here. Why is it getting so hot here?

Then the hero turns and smiles. It’s. Blinding.

Zuko doesn’t even realize that the hero has walked close to him until he’s face to face with him. The dark googles mask his eyes, but Zuko thinks he probably has really striking eyes under them.

“Don’t worry. I’m here.” He says in a soothing deep timber. Then he wraps his arms around Zuko and lifts him. Princess style.

Zuko can only squeak and cling onto his very muscular shoulders.

Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a boner.

Suddenly he’s put down and people are swarming him. Someone puts an ugly orange blanket over him and another is flashing a really bright light in his eye. He flinches and bats the light away from his eye. Someone chuckles next to him and he turns to see the Hero, still smiling and saying, “I gotta go kick some ass, but I’ll be back to check on you.”

Zuko likes to think that he says okay or nods or anything really, but in reality, he just continues to stare at the Hero. Red-faced and wide-eyed.

The hero is still there, and it looks like he wants to laugh. “So…maybe you can let go now?”

Ah he’s still clutching his shoulders. Nice Zuko. Good job.

He peels his fingers off the uniform and puts them tightly on his side. With one last wave, the Hero goes to face the three mutants.

There are more people surrounding him and asking him questions, but Zuko’s head is in a buzz. He belatedly hears On Ji’s voice near him and feels a protective hand over him. He clutches the hand and closes his eyes.

Focus Zuko. Calm yourself and breathe.

When he opens them, On Ji is beside him. Teary and dusty but otherwise alright. The orange shock blanket is still on him, and he pulls it tightly across him.

“You okay?” Zuko croaks.

On Ji scoffs and hugs him tight. “Of course. Thanks to you.”

“I owed you for the free noodles.” He tries to joke, but by the glare On Ji sends him it probably didn’t land.

“Zuko Hira’a, you are not allowed to pay for anything in Kuzon’s diner for as long as you live.” She says sternly. “And don’t bother trying to hide this from Song and Jin. I already texted them.”

Ugh he knew he shouldn’t have introduced them.

He sighs and says, “Okay. I’m sorry for worrying you, but I—I just saw you there and—and I couldn’t just leave you.”

She smiles tearily. “I know. Because you’re a stupid brave reckless idiot.”

“I know.”

A paramedic comes over to him and gives a reassuring smile. “Zuko Hira’a?”

“Yes?”

“It seems you’re alright. Just a bit of shock and a small cut on your right cheek.”

Zuko immediately puts his hands to his face and feels the rough bandage. On Ji groans and swats his hand away. “Don’t touch it.”

“Sorry.” he mutters, shaking the sting on his hand off.

The paramedic looks amused and hands him a form. “Well, it’s not deep. You didn’t even need stiches, just fill out this form and you’ll be set.”

“Thank you.” Zuko says taking the paper. The paramedic smiles again and leaves.

“So…now that you’re officially cleared...” On Ji has a devious look on her face.

Oh no.

“How’d it feel to be saved by a big handsome hero?”

He should have let the truck squash him.

Instead, he has to be here. With On Ji, who has the biggest shit-eating grin on her face. Can he fake a heart attack?

“You can’t fake a heart attack.”

“…how did you know?” Did she have a mind-reading quirk?

“Because that was your ‘can I fake a heart attack’ face.”

“I didn’t know I had one.” He mumbles.

On Ji clucks her tongue, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Please Spirits give me something. Anything.

“Hey, I’m glad I found you!”

ANYTHING BUT THAT!

Zuko freezes and turns around stiltedly. Blue Hero’s face is a little dirty, but it just makes him look rugged, and his googles are pushed up to reveal striking blue eyes. Now that Zuko has a closer look, his arms are much bigger than he originally thought. They’re just tight corded muscles with beautiful brown skin stretched over them. His hero suit also helps show off the defined lines of his body. The dark blue really goes will with his brown skin—and Blue Hero is talking. And he’s waiting for a response.

Good job Zuko. Way to pay attention. Just nod; that’s usually the answer to everything right?

Zuko nods and the Hero beams. On Ji is biting her lips on the side, and he wishes he could just swat her away. Or rather if Zuko could swat Zuko away. That would be the most ideal.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I was really worried for a second because you were kinda out of it.” The hero says.

Yes yes. He was. No need to make him relive the shame of his encounter.

“Um…sorry. About that.”

“Haha, it’s no problem. You were probably in shock and all. Oh I’m Pro-Hero Boomerang by the way!” Boomerang stretches his hand out, and Zuko stares at it before On Ji takes pity on him and elbows his back discretely. Zuko takes it and says, “Uh…Zuko here.”

Zuko here? ZUKO HERE? Agni just strike him down now.

Boomerang just takes it in stride and smiles, “You were pretty brave, but maybe next time you can leave it to the heroes?”

Fire flares in his gut. His eyes narrow and he squeezes the hand tight, “I wasn’t going to stand by and watch her get hurt. Not if I could help. And I won’t apologize for it.”

Boomerang blinks, and his grin seems to change into something more real. “You’re right, but maybe…just be a little more careful next time huh? I can’t always swoop in to rescue you.” His eyes are smoldering and Zuko feels his palms start to heat up. He retracts his hands quickly and turns to hide his blush.

“Right right.” He mumbles.

Boomerang looks amused, but he turns to On Ji and says, “You’re lucky to have him as a boyfriend.”

On Ji sticks out her tongue, “Ugh no way. He’s more like my socially awkward older brother. Besides he’s super gay.”

“On Ji!” Zuko hisses, but Boomerang doesn’t seem to have heard him. His eyes widen and his brows lift. He glances at Zuko who’s desperately trying to will the red off his face.

“I see.” He says contemplatively. “Well, it’s nice to see that you guys are okay. I have to go help with clean-up.”

“Of course.” On Ji says genially. “Thank you for all your help, Boomerang.” Then she elbows Zuko who looks dumbly at Boomerang.

He should say something. Thank you or can I lick your biceps? No, that last one was not good. Thank you. Just say ‘thank you’…

But the sun just hit him at the just the right angle to make the shadows grace his strong jaw. The cut lines of his body. The piercing blue of his eyes. And he freaks.

He takes something out of his pocket and shoves it in the hero’s chest. Boomerang looks confused (rightfully so) and barely takes the slip of paper.

“HERE’S A COUPON FOR MY TEASHOP. OKAYBYE!” And he grabs On Ji and the blanket and books it.

He must look like a maniac because people are parting for him and On Ji is cackling like a witch, but he doesn’t really care right now. He just needs to get out of there to prevent anymore word vomit from coming out of him. He runs until he’s back at the Jasmine Dragon, and he throws the door open.

Multiple eyes widen in shock at his appearance, but Zuko just puts On Ji down on an empty chair where she proceeds to laugh herself silly, and Zuko goes into the kitchen, ignoring all the wide-eye looks from his employees. He reaches the refrigerator and goes inside. Finally, he pulls up a stool and sinks down, head to his knees, and heaves a loud guttural groan.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Call of the Blood

The morning light shined through the window and sparkled in Meixiu’s earrings. She sat at the vanity while Chu Zihang, laying in his pajamas, split his attention between watching her and reading the morning newspaper.

“So, today’s the meeting.” He hummed.

“Mmhm!” Meixiu said brightly. She turned to him, her shining smooth braids partially coiled up on her head. “Jealous?”

Zihang didn’t look up, turning the page. “No. I’m... more curious than anything.”

“In any other context, that would sound unfeeling. Most men would have objections to the love of their life dressing up and heading out to meet with another man.”

“I don’t forget that you’re only half human. I’m not Caesar.” He his golden eyes met her deep brown ones. “The effect of dragonblood on hybrid social relations is something I’ve always been interested in. How do hybrids fall in love...You say that he means something to you, I mean something to you... and you still won’t tell me what you do when you visit Lu Mingfei. Just what is love to a hybrid with blood as pure as yours?”

“So you want to study me?” Meixiu folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, smiling.

Zihang looked her up and down, from her smooth brown legs, up to her small chest and her athletic arms and shoulders. “Always.”

She glanced away, her cheeks growing a little darker. “Flirt.”

“I’m serious. I’m not the only one. It’s actually poorly studied....”

“Shhhh... don’t ruin it!” She stood up. “I don’t know when I will be back. I don’t know what he wants to talk about.”

“I have a few guesses.” Zihang turned back to his newspaper. “You’re the unpredictable one.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way home. But my phone will be off.”

She turned and walked away. Zihang watched her go.

She didn’t take the car, stepping out onto the street. The distance from her Chicago townhouse to the lakeside was substantial, but the energy afforded her by her dragon blood made the distance not so daunting and would give her a chance to think. Without a mission, without the school, without danger, Meixiu just liked being another person on the street, observing other people.

She watched people as they sat with a sign, begging for handouts, or pushing strollers, walking dogs. Everyone had their own life routine but in the end it was all the same -- gather money to buy necessities.

The summer air of the city was heavy with humidity. As she continued to walk, a sheen of sweat appeared on her bare skin. She started to notice that she was being stared at, being followed by a pale skinned man with some brown stubble.   .

“Hey baby. Where you goin’?”

She honored the creep’s eying her with a confident yet challenging smile. There was a time when she would have been afraid of people like him. But by now, she was accustomed to being viewed as a golden apple by far more dangerous people.

Meixiu, like many hybrids, had her genetics to thank for being outside the money making machine. Her genetics were so stable and contained so much dragon DNA that she was sought after the same way a purebred champion showhorse was sought after -- for breeding.

A man, an evil man, paid millions of dollars for just for a few of her egg cells. She was nothing but an object to him and so were her children. Strange how, at that time, she had never felt so valuable and yet so worthless.

The man following her had no idea. He hung back, his lustful stare fixed on her. Perhaps he was waiting for her to turn into an alley or an opportunity to grab her and assault her. She made a wager with herself. She still had two miles to walk. She would see if he could follow her halfway. After all, there was that whole method of walking to hunt after prey and tire them out that ancient hunters used in the wild lands.

She smiled to herself. He had no idea he was following a little Energizer bunny.

She stopped at a crosswalk and he stood far too close to her. He looked around. Was he feeling guilty? Checking for cops? Or was he looking for other creepers to warn them off his chosen prey? “If I googled Crimestoppers, will your name come up?” She asked.

He didn’t answer.

She looked up at him, silently laughing at him behind her eyes while he pretended he totally wasn’t doing what he was doing.

Much to Meixiu’s disappointment, he didn’t follow her across the street. At least when he was accosting her, he wasn’t bothering a weaker person. Maybe he thought that she could be a cop? She puffed out her cheeks, weirded out by her own feelings. Without the creeper, she suddenly felt a little bored and annoyed.

It had been ages since she had felt any sense of danger. After running for her life and fighting to survive, even the slight thrill of a creeper following her brought back that familiar adrenaline.

Eventually, the dark water of the lake over took the city horizon. Greenspace and parks and the cool moist wind breathed life into the concrete jungle. White spires of sailboats cruised like swans behind the thick nautical ropes that blocked off the jogging trail from the riprap.

As soon as she arrived at the water’s edge, she was joined by a tall figure. She turned her head up to look at him and grinned. “Hey there stranger.”

Chisei Gen removed his sunglasses. His skin was a little darker, a sign that he was truly living his dream on French beaches, but he still had the same serious air. He was wearing his dark black windbreaker. He turned to look down her at her. And then he smiled back.

“There was a time...” He said, quietly. “When you would have cowered in terror of me. And now you greet me like this? I still can’t get used to it.”

“You should visit more often then.” Meixiu leaned against the ropes.  “When you called me out of the blue, I thought someone died.”

“You didn’t tell anyone I was here?”

“Of course not. But you know I can’t hide anything from Zihang. He’s the only one who knows. So... that means you can come for dinner!”

Chisei was silent a moment. Zihang and Chisei weren’t the closest of friends - that honor went to Gattuso - but Zihang had a pleasant open minded curiosity and innocence to him that she knew he found refreshing.

There was nothing cynical or jaded about Chu Zihang.

“I’m afraid I must decline. I have to remain separate from the secret party for the safety of the world.”

“You’re not a threat to the world, Chisei. You protected it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t agree, but that shouldn’t surprise you by now.”

Meixiu swallowed her disappointment. The rise of a bloodline of superhybrids, those who could over come the blood threshold and keep their sanity, could easily become the rulers of the world and dominate all hybrids with an iron fist. She knew that Chisei would never do that. But what about his children?

His grandchildren? His great-grand children?

As far as Chisei was concerned, he was a monster who needed to go extinct.

She sighed. “So what brought you all the way down here? What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’ve come here to ask. Your research into a treatment for the unstable is bearing fruit. Attacks by unstable hybrids and sightings of deadpool are at their lowest ever recorded.”

“Chime contacted me to tell me that for the first time, he’s had less than a dozen new students at his school for the unstable. And yet, the Devil Clan members still produce unstable children. It’s like... they’re disappearing.” His eyes took on a hard stony edge. “I want the truth, Meixiu...”

“If you’re thinking you’re going to dig under the Cassell college and find a Deadpool spawning tank, I can assure you that’s not the case.”

“No, I’m thinking something far worse.”

Meixiu’s hands tightened on the rope and then relaxed. “I’m not Herzog. What are you implying?”

“Everyone knows that Deadpool and unstable hybrids turn into servants of dragons. Everyone knows of your high level dragonblood. You look sane, you look healthy... but the call of the dragon will be more powerful to you than to anyone else.”

Meixiu felt her pulse start to race. “The Executive Department has not detected a dragon heartbeat in years.”

“Strange that.” Chisei continue to stare at her. “I used to lead the Executive Department in Japan. I know how deadpool work. Cassell has a higher level search network than Kaguya, but suddenly their searches come up empty? It was too strange for me to ignore.”

“So I took matters into my own hands. I’m sorry, Meixiu. But I followed one of the hybrids that failed in her rehabilitation. She got on a boat, heading towards an island owned by Cassell. So I asked Kaguya to... discreetly look into it... and Tsukino Usagi was active there.”

Tsukino Usagi - the location spoofing program that was a sister program of Kaguya. It was built to provide a hiding place from EVA by providing her with endless supplies of false data. It created a false impression of what was really going on in an area. Like a digital Nibelungen.

“Why would a program designed to hide from EVA be over an island owned by Cassell?”

“Not everyone at Cassell agrees with what I’m doing. Not everyone at the Secret Party agrees. But Chisei, you agreed. You wanted the violence to stop! We’re still working on a replacement serum for Bondarev and Herzog’s recipe. We have to keep that research protected, even from the Secret Party and Cassell.”

“That’s all?” Chisei asked.

“Yes, that’s all.” Meixiu sighed.

“So my next question... What are you going to do when these over-threshold hybrids hear the next dragon heartbeat? They will immediately fall away to the dragon side in large numbers. Aren’t we providing an army for the King of Sky and Wind?”

“I have a contingency. We’re continually refining EX-Imperium, the voice of the Dark King. No deadpool can resist it. They’ll have no choice but to stand down once it’s unleashed. The runic copy we use for the E3 exam to awaken dragonblood is too weak to be effective, but we’re getting closer to an exact copy that can be used as a suppressor.”

Chisei was silent for a long time. Meixiu closed her eyes and let the breeze caress her face and the sound of the water lapping on the rocks soothe her nerves.

“Where are you getting the fetal blood necessary for the serum if not from a deadpool spawning tank?”

Meixiu’s shoulders sagged. “Stop asking me that. I can’t tell you. I’m working on a replacement. When I succeed, you’ll be the first to know. The first.”

She finally lifted her eyes to look at him. His soft sad gaze hurt her deeper than the hard edge. Meixiu knew he wouldn’t approve of what she was doing. She never said there wasn’t a spawning pool... just that it wasn’t under Cassell.

“I just don’t want us to end up on the opposite side of this war. I can feel it. You’re straying dangerously close to the edge.” He murmured.

“I was born for this.”

His eyebrows quirked upward, questioning.

“There was a prophecy about me.” She explained. “That I would stand on the threshold between the world of man and the world of dragons.”

“Who said this prophecy?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Chisei chuckled and looked away out over the water. “Of course not.”

She rocked on her heels. “So you’re right. I’m on the edge. I’ll stay on the edge. It’s nerve-wracking. And I’m sorry.” She followed his gaze. “By the way, you put that coat on in the heat of summer. You look like a vampire.”

The wind toyed with the edges of his black windbreaker, revealing the Ukiyo-E pattern. “I felt like it was appropriate. I’m not part of the Hydra any more, but this felt too much like a mission for me to resist.”

“But you don’t have Spider Fang with you.”

“I don’t.”

“What were you planning to do without a weapon?”

Chisei sighed deeply. “Given what I knew, I had to come talk to you.”

Meixiu huffed with laughter. “You ain’t gonna do nothin’.”

“I had you going for a second there though, right?”

“You’re a punk!” She turned, giving him a playful punch in the arm. She turned around and leaned her back against the ropes. “Come to dinner. Please?”

“I cannot.” He put his dark glasses back on. “Give my regards to your husband.”

He turned and began to walk away. Meixiu watched his figure grow smaller and smaller, shrinking down to a tiny dot before getting swallowed up by the waves of heat rising up from the Chicago asphalt. She folded her hands in front of her.

She lowered her eyes. She wished she could tell him everything. He’d come very close to the truth. But the truth was unimaginable.

The questions he’d asked... had she fallen to the dragon side? Was she a deadpool, manipulated by dragons without knowing it?

“Meixiu...”

She startled and turned. “Zihang! You followed me?” She stomped her foot. “Oh... why can’t you trust me for one second?”

He was standing in a simple button down shirt and jeans. A gym bag was slung across his back. It looked like he was just going to the tennis court, but what was in the bag was his swords. “I trust you. It’s him...”

“You really are jealous...” Her voice trailed off. “Did he see you?”

“Eventually.” Zihang’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Ugh.” She folded her arms and looked away, annoyed at his protective interference. “I did want him to come to dinner and you go and pull that stunt...”

“You were really scared for a reason. Despite his claims of neutrality, he still has a strong sense of his view of right and wrong and has a hard time tolerating anything he views as wrong.” He offered her his hand. “Scale of 1 to 10... how close was he to the truth?”

Meixiu chewed her lip. “I’m not going to answer that...” She took his hand. “Stop asking questions.”

“Alright.” He rubbed his chin with his free hand. “Your lack of an answer says enough.”

They walked side by side for a moment.

She was the one who broke the silence. “He wasn’t unarmed... was he?”

“He was.” Zihang’s eyes shifted upward far into the distant tall buildings.

On the top of one of them, a sniper had lain in wait. It wasn’t hard to find her and her partner. Meixiu insisted on coming alone and probably had assured Chisei that she would. So they weren’t expecting his swift and brutal attack and Chisei didn’t have a back up. With their weapon neatly sliced in half, he’d discovered the philosopher stone and mercury laced ammunition and confiscated it.

From one former executive department agent to another, he understood Chisei’s urge to take matters into his own hands that made her visit to him inherently dangerous.

Meixiu’s feelings were too important for him to openly interfere. That made things difficult. Their bond was precious to both of them, no matter how unbalanced and uneasy it was.  That was something he understood all too well.

His mind drifted back to Xia Mi and he forced it away.

So she would still be friends with him. He would still feel for her. But there would always been a blade within his sleeve.

Zihang would be her shield from it.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

what ifs; adam page [one]

Notes:

This is my rewrite / alternate version of my fic Wild Side. Yeah, I’m gonna post and continue both on this blog. If I can just get myself unstuck / out of the hole I wrote myself into with Wild Side, that’d be fuckin gr9.. But for now, it’s time to put everything I have so far for What If’s on this blog, I think. Ya’ll.. I swear I plan to update this soon. I have plans. I just.. have to make my brain form the words/sentences. 

Summary:

Adam and Ivy went from childhood best friends, to a couple and then they were torn apart by life and it’s pesky obstacles. Those pesky obstacles have thrown them back together now, when it seems they need each other -and most importantly, their closure, the most. Will they rekindle their flame or will everything fizzle out and die before it’s given a proper chance to grow? And just how are they going to handle all the things currently going on in each other’s lives?

Warnings:

alcohol tw, mentions of stripping / exotic dance culture, angst... heavy angst to start with. slow burn. awkward situations and occasional flashbacks / memories. fluff eventually. not as of yet, but I promise you, we will get there.

Pairing:

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Ivy Barlow.

Header made by me. Images from Google. Don’t steal it if you didn’t make it/write it.

“Ivy Barlow?” the words of the cardiologist echoed through a mostly silent waiting room as the cardiologist looked around, trying to locate the daughter of his patient.

Ivy’s head snapped up and she rubbed her eyes. The older man walked over and sat down and Ivy swallowed hard. Before he could even get anything out, Ivy felt her eyes starting to sting with unshed tears.

From beside her, her sister Constance was starting to sniffle, shushing her two children so that she and Ivy could hear what the doctor was about to say, both of them holding hands and sharing a scared look. Ivy was the one who asked first.

“Dad… He’s.. He’s okay, right?”

“Your father’s had a heart attack.”

“No.” Constance was about to lose it and start sobbing. Ivy looped her arm around her sister’s shoulder and pulled her against her side and wiped at her eyes, addressing the doctor again. “Is he okay? What’s… Is there anything you can do?”

“We’re preparing to do a stent as we speak, Ms. Barlow. The procedure might take a few hours, but after the fact, we’ll let you both know how it went.”

“A stent… That’s… That’s good, right? It has a fairly good chance of working?” Ivy questioned, starting to feel a little numb from the shock of it all. Not even 24 hours ago, her father had been fine, they’d been face - timing and she’d been laughing at him as he bitched about one of the cows from the Henderson farm up the road getting in with his herd and the chaos that ensued. She’d been offhandedly making plans to return to West Virginia to visit as soon as she got a break from work and wedding planning.

Just the thought of Ty and their argument before she broke it off and left had her annoyed all over again. And twice as sure that she’d made the right choice, the best choice.

Her family came first. If Ty didn’t understand that by now, Ty wasn’t ever going to understand it. His reaction to her postponing the wedding to return to West Virginia to care for her father and help him on the farm clearly showed her just how wrong she’d been about the man she’d been about to settle for.

Because she made no mistake about it. She’d had about 9 hours to stew on the whole thing and Ty was simply someone she settled for.

The cardiologist explained the procedure to her and her sister Constance and after he walked away, Constance took a shaky breath, glancing at Ivy. “Dad’s gonna be fine. It’s the farm I’m worried about, sis.”

“The farm?”

“Yeah, you know last year was rough… With those 3 cows getting trich right before time for market and then the tractor going tits up. Dad… He had to take out a few loans. Then he started getting sick.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Ivy asked as she met her sister’s gaze, taking a deep breath and digesting what her sister was telling her.

“Because.” Constance air quoted, “You were out there in Florida doin’ things with your life like you always planned. He didn’t want to disrupt that. Guess he felt like losin’ Mom was bad enough and he didn’t wanna make you feel like you had to come back here. We all know you were hell bent on leavin’ anyway, even before Mom uprooted me n’ you n’ Carly back then.”

Ivy’s mouth opened and closed and she gaped at her sister. Finally, she managed to get out the truth. “I never wanted to leave, actually. I just adjusted to what Mom put us through because she made it seem like that was the only option we had to ‘really live life’. It was not something I would’ve chosen, otherwise.”

“I… I didn’t know.” Constance muttered after a few seconds as she squeezed her younger sister’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Ivy shrugged and brown eyes darted around the waiting room. “Where the hell is Carly? Typical, it’s home, it’s Daddy, so she’s not comin’ unless there’s a will to be read.”

“Ivy…” Constance took a deep breath but Ivy shook her head firmly. “We all need to be here. He needs us right now. She’s always been selfish like…”

“Like Mom?” Constance questioned, sighing and shaking her head. There may be years between their mother leaving and making them tag along for the ride and now, but she’d never really been able to bring herself to forgive her mother for it. And now, knowing that Ivy hadn’t wanted to leave either and that was the cause of strain between their mother and Ivy, it only made Constance that much more convinced that she was right to keep low contact with their mother. Let her live her dream life in that Miami mansion with the stupid pool boy man on the side and an even dumber plastic surgeon husband. Constance loved the life she had here.

“Exactly.” Ivy sank back into the hard plastic chair, sighing in exhaustion. The past few hours had been scary and frustrating and lonely for her. Her eyes settled on the television screen across the waiting room and when she saw him walking down the ramp and to the ring, she nearly spat out the lukewarm coffee she’d been nursing for an hour and a half now.

“Is that… No. That can’t be… Adam?” Ivy gaped and bit her lip, raising a hand to drag slowly through light brown hair. Constance gave a soft laugh and nodded. “It is, Ivy. He goes by Hangman now.”

“Momma! Hangman!” Ivy’s nephew Jake burst through, tugging at her sister’s sleeve and pointing at the tv.

“Hangman, huh?” Ivy was still gazing at the television set in awe, biting her lip as she took a deep breath or two.

All she could think about was the last conversation she had with him. The night before she wound up being dragged off to Florida to live with her mom.

OoO

“Aw, c’mon. It’ll be fun. Just you n’ me out there together. This is gonna be my ticket outta here, darlin.” Adam’s blue eyes locked on her own and she sighed, biting the inside of her cheek. She didn’t get it honestly, why did he just have to leave? Why did everybody want to take her out of the only home she’d ever really known and wanted to know? She already had her life mapped out… And up to five minutes ago when Adam sprang the news of trying out for some small time wrestling company, she’d thought that he was going to be a part of those plans.

“Adam, I… Nevermind.”

Adam eyed Ivy and took a deep breath. “What’s wrong, hon?” he leaned in, his thumb wiping away a tear that started to roll down her cheek.

“It’s just… I thought you were gonna take over your daddy’s farm… And I was gonna go to WVU with you in the fall and we were…” Ivy paused, taking the chocolate shake from his hands and taking a big sip just to mask her unease at saying too much, giving him too much power to hurt her. Because she knew that if she said it, it was out there and it couldn’t ever be taken back.

“ Darlin’… We can still do that, hell… I mean… I might not even get signed with this company. You know yourself I ain’t the best right now. But if I don’t try, I won’t ever know. ‘Sides..” Adam took a deep breath, fumbling around in his pocket for the locket he’d gotten her. It wasn’t much, but it was a placeholder until he could one day do better. “I’ve always thought it was gonna be you n’ me against the world, remember? It’s just a week. Then we’ll figure things out a lil better..” Adam coaxed.

Ivy gazed at him, taking a few deep breaths. Finally, a smile played at her lips and she gave a slow nod, turning so that he could slip the locket on her neck. “Okay, alright. Why you gotta play dirty, huh? You know I always cave right in when you give me that look, Adam.”

Adam’s nose nuzzled against the side of her neck and he chuckled, pulling her against him, resting his head against her shoulder as he muttered in a shaky whisper, “Love you, Ivy.”

“Love you too, Adam.”

OoO

Constance cleared her throat again and snapped her fingers in front of her sister’s face. “Are you okay, Ivy?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It was just… weird. Seeing him again after all this time, even if it was just on television.”

“He comes home all the time.” Constance grinned to herself as she said it and watched her sister’s interest perk. Ivy tried to downplay it, but Constance could tell she’d gotten her attention.

“Oh yeah? Nice to know. Maybe he didn’t go off and let the fame go right to his head.” Ivy shrugged and took the pink crayon from Jenny, her niece and went to color in Ariel’s long flowing hair in the picture. But she couldn’t get it all out of her head, either. It was like seeing Adam Page on television a few minutes ago had opened Pandora’s Box for her and now, all those old what if’s were flaring up all over again.

What if she hadn’t just quietly gone with her mother that night? What if she’d fought and made it known that she didn’t intend on leaving the farm? What if she’d actually gotten to say goodbye? What if she’d tried to say goodbye and instead, she and Adam ran off that night together?

Maybe everything would be totally different right now. Maybe it wouldn’t. But at least I’d have a little closure, Ivy sighed as she thought about it and she shook her head, standing to make her way over to the little coffee pot by the nurses station.

–

The further away Adam Page got from the arena, the more solidified the thought became in his mind. He needed to get his head on straight. He needed to regroup and the only place he seemed to be able to do so was at his parents farm. The thought prompted him to pick up his cell phone and scroll through his contacts list, finding his father’s number and hitting call. While he waited on at least one of his parents to answer, he found himself stewing over the argument he’d had with Matt and Nick and Kenny before leaving.

They just weren’t listening, they didn’t care lately and that was beyond frustrating. They called themselves his friends and yet, they didn’t see that everything going on lately was starting to wear him more than a little thin. The more he pushed, the more they shoved. All he wanted to do was pull away for a while… Get some needed distance and be his own man again.

Why was that so damned hard for the three of them to understand?

His father picked up and he raised a brow when he heard the older man swearing and yelling to one of his hands on the farm. “It goes over there, damn it! You know Dalton has a place for everythin’, shit. Act like you got sense, kid.”

“Dad?”

“Hang on a sec, son.” Adam’s father took a sip of coffee and waved over his mother to take the phone. Adam’s mother took the phone from him and eyed her husband.

“It’s our son, woman!”

“Adam? What on Earth are you doin, sweetie? I just got through watchin the replay of last night?”

“I’m… I’m gonna come home a little bit, mom. Just need to think. What’s Dad doin’ on the Bar Low?”

“Ivy’s daddy had a heart attack earlier… So your daddy thought he’d come over and pitch in while Dalton was recoverin because their crop isn’t gonna harvest itself… Are you alright, son?”

Adam sighed and shook his head, found himself thinking bitterly that even knowing her dad was layin in a hospital probably wouldn’t be enough to drag Ivy home..

… because I sure as shit wasn’t enough to keep her around years ago… the thought came, even though by now, Adam knew the truth for the most part. He knew Ivy hadn’t really been given a choice in the matter, but he also felt the bitterness because she didn’t even give him a proper goodbye. She didn’t even try to fight it.

… you know she wasn’t a fighter back then, she just went along with whatever somebody asked of her, tried not to make waves… makin waves was always Connie and Carly’s thing… Adam’s mind veered off and he cleared his throat. “I’m on my way in. What all needs t’ get done?”

“Clever. My sweet clever boy.. You’re not dodgin the discussion we’re gon have. But we’ll figure all that when you get here. How far out are ya?” Adam’s mom smiled to herself as she turned to his father and nudged him. “He’s comin home for a little while!”

“What? It ain’t his downtime. He better not be quittin. Raised more n’ enough hell to go off and do that foolishness, he better not give it up. Ain’t everyday a man gets to accomplish his dream.” Adam’s father muttered, eyeing his wife who shrugged. Adam’s mom repeated her question and bit her lip, excitedly waiting on an answer.

“About 6 hours, give or take.” Adam answered after consulting his GPS. Kenny was flooding the other line with calls but Adam only rolled his eyes and let the calls keep going to voicemail. “Does Ivy? Does she know?” Adam finally bought himself to ask the question, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his tone at the mention of her name. Adam’s mother sighed and answered calmly, “She’s movin back in, from the looks of it. Came in the mornin after it happened, your daddy was down there half the afternoon helpin her get her things in and do some repairs around the farm…”

She knew about the way things ended. And she knew it hurt her son. But she also knew there were more than two sides to a story and she felt like maybe it was high time they sat down and talked it out. Or yelled it out.

Because Adam hadn’t really been the same since.

And from what Constance let slip on occasion, neither had Ivy.

Closure was needed between the two.

Adam processed what his mother told him and grumbled quietly, taking a deep breath. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure about his idea to go back to the farm for a few weeks and try to get his head on straight. How the hell was he supposed to do that with his biggest lingering what if right across the field? Knowing they lived in a small town and at some point, he’d inevitably have to run into her.

He was already dreading it.

“Adam?”

“I’m still here, Momma. Just thinkin.”

“Son, it’s been almost ten years. You’re every bit as stubborn as your daddy.” his mother sighed and Adam gave a dry laugh. “I ain’t the one who just up n’ left. Surprised she dragged herself back here. Heard she was doin’ real good down in Florida. Even landed herself a doctor n’ everything.”

“Accordin to what I overheard earlier, she broke it off with the guy. Apparently, he didn’t want her comin back here to do what she needed to do. And he refused t’ come with. She left him n’ came home.”

“Color me shocked.” Adam muttered dryly, letting it sink in. Talking himself right out of even remotely getting his hopes up on any form of closure.

He had more than enough to deal with right now.

Besides, Adam found himself thinking, bet she ain’t given me a second thought. It’s water under the bridge now and that’s where it needs t’ stay. In the past.

The GPS announced his turn and after a few more minutes of conversation, he hung up with his parents and went back to driving and thinking.

And he tried to keep himself from thinking about her being back, but he failed at it miserably and it annoyed the living hell out of him.

[jbuffyangel]

Y'all are going to look really dumb when it's revealed that Maya is black siren's kid. Black Siren & Blackstar. Both have green eyes and blonde hair. & in the audition piece her character asked Dinah about Black Siren. Honestly this the marriage thing all over again. I'm going to laugh my ass off. You get what you deserve!

What marriage thing? When I said Olicity was going to getmarried and then they got married? Was that the thing? 

Because that’s whathappened.

I know it can be confusing since there were four proposals,one fake wedding and two real ceremonies. I definitely got what I deserved.No arguments there!

Maybe I’m thinking too specifically about this “marriedthing” because I agree there were some really funny moments on the way to thealtar:

Oliver proposing to Felicity in front of L*urel and sheapplauded.

Oliver leaving L*urel on their wedding day because herealized their fake relationship in the dream world was based off his realmemories from his relationship with Felicity – down to the damn wedding dress L*urelwas wearing. 

And then Oliver decided he’d rather live in a world where he had asnowball’s chance in hell of getting back together with Felicity rather thanstay in a dream world with L*urel living their white picket fence existence.

L*urel telling Oliver ON HER DEATH BED he was the love ofher life and he responded with silence. 

Of course, Oliver didn’t really have tosay anything. L*urel already wished for him to get back together with Felicity 

and acknowledged she knew she wasn’t the love of Oliver’s life.

Oliver telling Felicity, HIS WIFE, that no matter who shebecomes she will always be the love of his life.

That shit was hysterical.

You could be simply referring to general commitment too. Rememberthe time Oliver cheated on L*urel with her sister? 

Or when he cheated on L*urelAGAIN with Samantha (who was also her friend), got her pregnant and never told L*urel until Samanthashowed up in the damn bunker? 

Comedy at its best.

Or when Oliver ran for the hills every time L*urel mentionedany kind of cohabitation and/or long term future together? 

I laughed my ass offboth times he did it. 

The North China Sea and an island from hell were preferablethan a lifetime with L*urel L*nce. HILARIOUS.

Maybe the “wedding thing” isn’t the show at all. You couldbe referring to comments from the cast and crew in relation to Oliver’sromantic endgame like:

Stephen saying it didn’t matter if L*urel had lived. Oliverwould never be with her and it was always going to be Felicity on their show.

The showrunner confirming Bl*ck S*ren and Oliver would neverbe together romantically.

The showrunner saying Oliver would NEVER cheat on Felicity.

The showrunner discussing Emily and Stephen’s chemistry andhow it was lightning in a bottle, while acknowledging Stephen and KC’schemistry is a hot mess. (Friendly reminder you can’t fix chemistry issuesbetween actors no matter how many different versions of the character theyplay.)

ALL KNEE SLAPPERS!!!!! Completely agree Anon.

If you’re going to laugh your ass off about something itshould at least be what happened in the show. There’s plenty of stuff I gotwrong.

I’ll help you out. Let’s see… I said Tommy was Prometheus. That was a goodone. 

I also said there was absolutely no way Arrow would marry Oliver to theonly lesbian on the show. Boy did I miss the mark that time. 

Or how about whenI said that L*urel L*nce was going to die. 

Oh wait. Nope. That happened. 

Then I said the writers would never bring our L*urel back to lifeagain. 

Shit. That happened too. Well, I gotta get a few of them right once andawhile.

But why talk about the past? This is about the future as you say Anon and of course you’re right. Mia is clearlyBl*ck S*ren’s daughter. BECAUSE GREEN EYES AND BLONDE HAIR. 

Of course Hollywood’snumber one concern when casting a role is matching hair and eye color rather than finding the right actor for the role. Just ask Dakota Fanning.She played everyone’s kid. I’m sure she couldn’t even get in the door beforedocumenting her eye and hair color.

She probably needed a DNA sample too because we know the actors areactually producing real children to play their fictional children and thenmagically aging them 20 years. Someone should tell Kat McNamara that Katie isreally her mom. What a hell of an episode that’ll make. SO META.

It’s so sad we have yet to invent hair dye or coloredcontacts if this kind of detail is really important to a director. DAMN YOUSCIENCE.

I mean of course Felicity can’t be the mother because she’sa bottle blonde. Whereas Bl*ck S*ren, who you love to remind us is anexact replica of E1 L*urel L*nce, is clearly a natural blonde. Just like ourL*urel was. 

Oh. Nevermind.

It’s a real mystery where that blonde hair comes from withMia because everybody knows children are sprouted from the heads of motherslike Zeus and Athena. Women are asexual after all. The mother’s DNA is the onlything that matters in the creation of the baby.

You know what’s weird? I have brownhair and brown eyes. So how did my daughter get the most beautiful blonde hairand blue eyes the world has ever seen? OH MY GOD!!! IS SHE NOT MY BABY? AM ILIVING SWITCHED AT BIRTH? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! *picks up phone to call police*

Hang on. 

I’m trying to remember my sex education. I assureyou it’s been awhile. I feel like at some point someone told me the father alsoplays a fairly significant role in the creation of a human being. Somethingabout sperm. 

My husband has blonde hair and blue eyes. So maybe it’s possiblethe man I’ve been sleeping with for 13 years impregnated me with thischild (if we’re to believe the junk science of sex education) and passed on hisblonde hair and blue eyes to her. THE MIND REELS. *putting down the phone*

So if Mia wasn’t sprouted from the head of her mother andArrow has embraced the insanity of actual science, I guess it’s possible that Miagot her blonde hair from OLIVER. 

Wow. 

But what about those eyes? It’s IMPOSSIBLE for two blue eyedpeople like Oliver and Felicity to produce a green eyed baby. Although, Iseem to remember my 10th grade science teacher saying somethingabout two blue eyes making green in our genetics unit. I also did a 5 secondGoogle search and some guys from the Stanford Genetic labs also confirm it’spossible, but there’s no way they know more than you Anon. I definitely think your dunk-a-person-in-water-and-if-they-don’t-drown-it-means-they-aren’t-a-witch kind of science makes a hell of a lot more sense than Stanford geneticists. If there’sone thing history taught us it’s to follow the science of 1600s Salem,Massachusetts.

But maybe I misunderstood again. Your word gymnastics is sotricky and smart. It’s hard to keep up! 

Maybe you just meant Bl*ck S*ren getspregnant by Mr. Rando. I’m sure we’ll see her love story develop any day now,since she has to get pregnant really soon for Mia’s age to make a damn bit ofsense. Certainly Bl*ck S*ren’s relationship with Mr. Rando will take precedenceover Oliver and Felicity’s love story. It’s not like the show is centered onOlicity, so I’ll be on the lookout for this impending great romance.

Genetics aside, you also alerted me to the iron clad proofof the audition scene!!! What would I do without you anon? I haven’t seen Mia’saudition scene, but if she mentions Bl*ck S*ren then of course it means she’sher daughter. DUH. Everything from the audition scenes ends up in the show. Question – was her name Maya in the audition? 

I did see the audition tapes for nearly every actress whoauditioned for “Tina” aka Dinah Drake. Those leaked everywhere. I bet theshowrunners were pretty ticked. I’m still waiting for the writers to introduceCarlos or dive into Dinah’s service with the Marine Corps. It’s almost like theyput things in the audition scene that don’t end up on the show to throw peopleoff. Ya know, in case the scene leaks.

I remember when people thought there was a chemistry testbetween Stephen (Oliver) and the actress playing Tina (Dinah) in her audition.Everyone freaked out. Olicity was over! Oliver Queen was going to end up withthe new Bl*ck C*nary, which of course is exactly what happened in the show.

Damn it! I’m wrong again!

I really need to rewatch seasons.

Funny enough the snip it of dialogue from the audition scene for Tina did end up in an episode of Arrow. But the scene was betweenDinah and Diggle. 

So weird. It’s almost like they screen tested chemistry withanother actor. But God knows that wouldn’t happen because obviously Oliver isending up with some kind of C*nary.

I know what I’m about to say is insanity, but maybe Bl*ckS*ren was mentioned in the audition scene as a diversion. It could actually beproof Mia’s character has nothing to do with Bl*ck S*ren at all. I’ll be sureto ask the writers once Carlos shows up. It’ll be any day now.

And last, but certainly not least, Bl*ck Siren and Blackstar both have the name BLACK. Does this also mean she’s Dinah and Zoe’s baby? Because they have black in their code names too . Oooh maybe Dinah and Bl*ck Siren get married!!! I do love a good wedding theory. If William ever gets a code name he better make sure it has GREEN in it so people know who the hell he is. That’s the point of a code name right? Damn. Bl*ck S*ren is CIA level. She’s so sneaky. I’m sooo impressed.

Thanks for reaching out and showing me the light Anon. Truly, I am grateful. I can’t wait to see how this response ages on Monday. 

[starkerforlife6969]

Alpha Steve x Omega Peter - college au fluff overload

Part one of gift to @everyflowerneedspruning 

Steve ducks into the classroom, eyeing flickering over the already seated students. He keeps his head down, shuffling towards the back when he hears an incredulous:

“Steve?” from the front.

He turns to see Bruce, his roommate, staring at him with a bewildered expression. Steve hurries over to him and collapses into the seat, tugging his stuff out of his bag. “Hey, Bruce,” he greets distractedly, turning to glance at the door as more students shuffle in.

“Uh…hey?” He frowns, “are you…are you in this class?”

“Yeah, I just transferred.” He watches as another group of students filter in, chattering animatedly.

“You transferred to…to History of Math…”

Steve shoots his beta friend a mildly irritated glare. “Yes, Bruce. I did. Is that a problem?”

Bruce continues in the same bemused voice. “It’s just….History of Math. You’re a political science major...Here on a sports scholarship. And I’m pretty sure you once said that math was the most boring thing in the wor-“

“You know, maybe I just wanted to broaden my interests.” Steve grumbles in a clipped voice. “We’re seniors in college, Bruce. It’s the perfect time to try and widen your horizons and discover new opportunities.”

“…did you buy any of what you just said? Because I sure didn’t.” Bruce laughs.

Steve doesn’t reply.

His eyes are stuck on Peter.

The gorgeous omega who’s just in. He’s beautiful, oh god, he’s so beautiful. Steve watches as he makes his way to a seat at the back. He’s so dainty, with perfect cream skin and eyes that Steve could write sonnets about. Brown, but not just brown. The colour of Steve’s favourite chocolate, the colour of the mossy bark behind his house back home that trails into the forest. With specks of honeyed amber and glints of whiskey like fractures of sunlight. Those eyes are endlessly deep and a man could drown in the depths of them and die happy.

And his hair- his hair, always a little mussed and out of place; always wind swept with some lock falling, curled, into his face and a little tuft defying gravity. He’s wearing an oversized pink pastel sweater that drops down his shoulders, baring slivers of that lovely cream skin, and some denim shorts that should be illegal. Steve watches as he gracefully scoots into one of the seats and sets his leather satchel on the desk- looking for his laptop.

God, he’s the most gorgeous thing in the whole world and-

“Oh my god. You swapped for some omega?”

Steve whips around immediately and glares at Bruce who looks world-weary and judgemental at his discovery. “No! N-no! And he is not just some omega, he’s-“

“I know who he is,” Bruce sighs, pulling off his glasses and wiping them like he can’t bare looking at Steve. “He’s Peter Stark. As in, son of Tony Stark. Do you know who Tony Stark is, Steve? He’s the reason that Peter doesn’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. He’s the Tony Stark. That’s why I’m beginning to question your sanity.”

Steve pouts at that, and sets his head in his hands miserably as the class starts. He spends most of it completely confused as to anything that the professor is saying, and the other part gazing at Peter as discreetly as he can manage. The boy is so beautiful, he aches. And he’s typing into an expensive laptop quickly, looking like he understands everything.

He probably does. He’s a genius, after all. He’s a Stark. He finds jokes about physics equations funny just by looking at them and Steve has to google them just to get the gist. He knows this because he- not stalks, but follows Peter on instagram- why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he want to see candid selfies of the boy bashfully half hidden behind his hands? Of him lying in bed half asleep and hugging his kitten Ojai? The tiny little thing almost as cute as Peter that the boy had rescued from an animal shelter? Of sunsets and views and shots of him and his omega friends? Peter comments laughing emojis on science puns and math symbols and Steve is in love, double tapping every photo.

But Peter has millions of instagram followers. Steve’s just a nameless face.

It’s a disheartening thought. But probably a necessary one- Peter is a freshman, a tiny, doe-eyed freshman who looks much younger. Who even let him into a place as brutal as college? He’s so small. He’s so soft and amazing and-

Steve falls into a daydream where maybe one day he and Peter post a picture of the two of them on his instagram account and-

When he comes to, Bruce is standing in front of him, looking remarkably unimpressed. Everyone else is gone, the classroom is empty and Steve smiles sheepishly. “You are going to fail this module.” Bruce declares unsympathetically. “And I am not going to tutor you.”

So much for friendship.

He tries to push thoughts of Peter out of his head and he even manages a little. He manages not to think of those chestnut curls or that milky skin or his perfect smile and tight, plump ass. He tries not to think about that when the headline broke that Tony Stark’s only son would be going to the same college as Steve- he nearly lost his mind. 

 It’s two days later, in the middle of the afternoon after a gruelling practise in the summer heat, that he’s scanning the squad for some refreshments when, of course, of course, he sees Peter with a lemonade stand. Like something out of a wet dream.

He’s awed at the sight of him. White tennis shoes, his long legs bare, and white shorts that are so flowy and flimsy it almost looks like a skirt- with a cream crop top that is tantalisingly tempting as it flutters around the lean, taught stomach. God, Steve wants. Peter’s all flushed and red from the heat. He wants to cover that delicate skin in suncream and kiss him and adore him. He’s so distracted by the sight of Peter, that he jumps a foot in the air when the sound of a megaphone goes off in his ear.

“Football should not just be for Alphas!” A dark skinned omega yells at him, and shoves a flyer into his chest. He grunts a little at the force of it and stares at her in shock, as Peter heads over with a glass of lemonade.

“MJ,” he calls disapprovingly, “we’re not going to sell much lemonade if you keep yelling that at people.”

“And we’re not going to fight injustice by you handing out lemonade.” She grumbles, but heads off dutifully back to the stand. Steve watches her go warily, a little afraid. But now he’s left with Peter, Peter who’s so close and a little shiny with sweat so that Steve can smell him. God, he smells good. He smells like lavender and his favourite chocolate chip cookies and the barest hint of strawberries and-

“Sorry about MJ. She seems a little grumpy, but she’s just passionate. Would you like to buy some lemonade?” Peter asks adorably, rocking on his heels and beaming up at Steve and practically radiating sunshine and rainbows. “We’re collecting for the local animal shelter!”

Steve is already reaching for his bag to get his wallet, and doesn’t see the way Peter’s eyes linger on the places his shirt has stuck to his abs with sweat. He’s trying not to stumble in the face of the effortless beauty and the smell of sure a pure, sweet omega. He wants to think of something cool to say. Something suave and interesting. What comes out is: “Sure, I love animals.”

Fucking idiot. Who doesn’t love animals?

“Same!” Peter exclaims excitedly, “I have a kitten that I rescued from a shelter!”

“Really?” Steve asks, playing dumb, “what type is he?” He hands over the money- actually, he hands over all the money in his wallet, and Peter hands over the lemonade with eager hands. Like he just can’t wait for Steve to try it. He’s never ben this physically close to Peter before and the size difference is amazing. Peter is tiny- obviously, all omegas are, but Peter truly is the smallest thing ever. Steve thinks that at the smallest point of Peter’s waist, he could wrap his hands right around it. He’s like a little fairy, a dainty elfin omega.

“He’s the most adorable little cream and ivory tabby! Oh, and he has the most stunning bright blue eyes, look, I have a picture!” He reaches for his phone, and Steve is so completely fucking endeared, when Peter seems to notice the money in his hand.

He stares at it in confusion for a second, before looking up at Steve (and he really does have to look up), then back down to the money, then back at Steve. “You’re…you’re donating thirty dollars?” He whispers, eyes wide and he looks like he might cry with joy.

There goes dinner for tonight. And breakfast tomorrow. Steve nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s for a good cause,” he murmurs. Peter really is an angel, and he looks like one too, all decked out in white. Because Steve knows. Steve’s seen the pictures. He’s seen the photos of Peter’s home growing up- Stark Mansion, the stunning, enormous house in acres of green that Peter will go home to every Thanksgiving, Christmas and Summer for the rest of his degree. But he’s still acting like this is a lot of money, and god, he’s precious-

“MJ!” Peter calls, gesturing his scary friend over from the stand. “Come look! He’s-“ he cuts himself off, staring at Steve with his bambi eyes as MJ reluctantly comes over. “I’m so sorry! I don’t even know your name!”

“Steve Rogers,” he greets, trying to keep his voice level, and Peter smiles at him with his fucking dimples and rosy pink lips. Steve holds out his hand without trembling by some miracle.

Peter takes it in his tiny, dainty ones. It’s completely engulfed in Steve’s. “Peter,” he murmurs, like everyone on campus doesn’t know who he is. How could they not? Tony is famous, and everyone is utterly besotted by his gorgeous, perfect omega. MJ arrives, and Steve is momentarily distracted by her.

She’s a pretty omega, slim and delicate, and although a little taller than Peter, she has something unique about her. She has dark eyes and dark hair and she looks at him with narrowed eyes.

“Steve just donated thirty dollars!” Peter exclaims, waving the money at her. “Isn’t that amazing? Mrs Denver is going to be so happy! We’re so close to our goal! Do you think she’ll let us help repaint the sign?”

MJ’s cool veneer seems to waver a little, and she looks reluctantly amused by Peter’s bright eyed enthusiasm. “Maybe.” She answers noncommittally, “So, Steve. You like helping out?”

Steve swallows hard, and nods. “Yeah, uh- it’s a good cause.” She stares at him like she can see through to his soul. “And uh- I- I mean, I’m all for omega rights and omegas in sports, but- mixed Alpha and Omega football might be- dangerous. The size difference alone, there’s a lot of risk.”

She doesn’t look like she believes him at all about the lemonade, but she does look a little impressed by his views. He feels good about the interaction, overall. “Cool.” She says eventually, before towing Peter away.

He lets out a little yelp, but turns to wave gleefully at Steve.

The blond smiles, taking a sip of the lemonade and groaning. Fuck. It’s fantastic. It’s almost worth all the money he’s given away. It’s cool and refreshing and obviously homemade and it’s sweet- just like Peter.

That night, Peter posts a picture of him and MJ. He’s kissing her cheek and she’s smiling and relaxed in a way Steve didn’t know she was capable of. It’s cute. He double taps it and scrolls through the comments. Most of them are sweet and complimentary, but there are a few more lewd suggestions. Steve scowls but he’s not surprised. Though omega-omega relationships are taboo, the porn is hot.

He goes to sleep with the smell of lavender and cookies in his head, and the lingering taste of lemonade on his lips.

A week goes by without contact, with devastates Steve but it’s for the best. He’s a senior, and Peter is a wide-eyed, innocent first year, and he deserves someone as clever as he is. Steve should- he should focus on the pretty omegas in his own year. He should try to get thoughts of those lovely brown eyes out of his head.

And he does have things to be worried about.

As it stands, he is failing History of Math. He looks down at his most recent assignment grade and shudders. He’s going to have to beg Bruce to tutor him.

He steps into the classroom and looks for his friend for some humble grovelling when he hears-

“Steve?”

He turns slowly, but of course, it’s Peter. The only person with a voice as sweet and melodic and attached to Steve’s heart. He’s sitting in the front row, wearing a large purple sweater that swamps him deliciously, and a black ribbon choker that draws all the attention right to his delicious neck. Steve’s mouth waters with the need to claim. He’s already got his stuff set out and he beams, waving at Steve in amazement and gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

Steve takes a step forward instinctively, before he hears someone else call his name.

He turns to the hiss to see Bruce, nearer the back, a warning look on his face.

Fuck. Bruce is right. Peter is- Peter is too young, way too out of his league, he deserves someone better than Steve. He takes a step back from Peter towards Bruce and he sees it.

Hurt.

Hurt flashes across Peter’s face. It’s quick, almost impossible to catch, but his eyes widen and his lips part with impossible sadness, before that supportive smile and friendly beam comes back.

Steve feels like he’s been punched right in the gut .

He can’t bear the thought, not even for a second, that he’s hurt Peter’s feelings. Not the sweetest omega in the world, so he heads over and takes the seat almost viciously. Peter twists towards him, radiating happiness. “Steve!” He exclaims joyously, “I didn’t know you took this class.”

God, he smells amazing. He looks amazing. He’s so tiny and brilliant and- “Yeah, I uh- swapped in late. It was a mistake to be honest, I completely failed the last assignment. I was actually just gonna ask one of my friends for help.” He turns to point at Bruce, and Peter turns too.

Bruce waves at Peter and glares daggers at Steve.

“Oh!” Peter beams, “I know Bruce! We’re in science club together. He’s a senior isn’t he-“ Peter stops short, his eyes go wide and he seems to realise something. Suddenly, he’s scanning the classroom, eyes flickering from person to person and Steve frowns. “Everyone in here is a senior.” He whispers.

Steve looks around, and sure enough, Peter is right. He hums in surprise.

“Oh my god,” Peter closes his eyes (and oh god, his lovely eyelashes are so long and they curl against the cusp of his cheek) and he looks sad. Steve sits up in concern. “Dad,” Peter whispers to himself angrily.

Dad- oh. Oh.

“I can’t believe this,” the omega whispers, shaking his head in anguish. “He always does this! I can never just achieve something for myself! And-and I actually thought that I was meant to be in this class-“ he laughs humourlessly, sounding on the brink of tears, and Steve shakes his head.

“Hey,” he murmurs, collecting Peter’s tiny hands in his own. God, his skin is so soft. Softer than Steve ever imagined. “Don’t- don’t do that. C’mon. Your dad…he was only trying to help, you know?” He croons in a soft, soothing voice because omegas are so delicate and sensitive. “And you do. You do deserve to be here, you’re so smart. You’re brilliant-I mean, what did you get on that assignment? I just bet it was an A.”

Peter looks up at him shyly, his eyes wide and glittering like diamonds. Red crawls across his cheeks in affirmation.

“I knew it,” he squeezes his hands gently, “your dad just…he wants people to see how brilliant you are. Maybe he opened the door, but you deserve to be in this room. Sometimes professors need to…need to be shown how amazing students can be. I mean, god, Peter, you’re…” he trails off, because he wants to bury his head in Peter’s neck and declare his love for him and Peter is staring up at him in awe. Like he’s taken aback by the adoration in his voice. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “I mean- I had to flirt with the admissions woman to let me swap.”

Peter giggles, sniffling. “I bet that went down well. A tall handsome alpha flirting with her, she must’ve been a mess.”

Steve’s inner Alpha preens, and the rest of the lesson flies by in a flash.

They don’t become friends exactly, because alphas and omegas aren’t usually friends, but they form something of a kinship. They become partners whenever they’re in class together, and they kid and joke around. Peter follows him back on instagram and for the first time- Steve comments on a photo.

It’s a picture of Peter and one of his friends at ballet practise and Steve writes one word. Beautiful.

They don’t text or message, but it feels like something…tentative and precious. Steve wants to hold it close and treasure it even though he knows it’s wrong. They see each other a few times, not often, but a few times outside of class. Always quite by accident, and they talk and gaze at each other. Once, outside of the science building, they’d bumped into each other and eaten lunch together on a bench in the sunlight, and Peter had said he’d quite like to come and see Steve play one day.

Steve had said he’d like that quite a bit.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he’d actually thought it would happen.

But then one night, as the cold air whips at them as they stand at the edge of the pitch, Steve looks up to see Peter in the stands. It takes his breath away. Surely not. It must be a mirage. He’s there with MJ, wrapped up in a fluffy coat and cheering, with the college’s colours painted onto his cheeks. It’s the most beautiful, wholesome thing Steve has ever seen. He thinks he could do absolutely anything if Peter was cheering him on.

“Fuck, who’s that next to your omega?” Bucky asks eagerly, looking up at the stands.

Steve gapes. “What? MJ? And- he’s not - not my omega.”

“Is she attached?” Bucky asks, lacing up his boots.

“Is she- no, I don’t think so, but she’s- they’re freshman.”

Bucky laughs, shoving Steve a little. “They’re eighteen, Steve. I mean- Tony Stark would probably hunt you down and kill you, but they’re not children.”

It stays with Steve. There’s still stigma though, especially around older alphas and younger omegas. Omegas are naive and innocent and soft, they’re easily led astray and Alphas shouldn’t manipulate them and-and Steve just wants Peter to be happy. If Peter got an eighteen year old Alpha boyfriend Steve would kill him be happy for him.

Or he’d try.

Probably.

At the end of the game, he wants to run to the stands and scoop Peter into his arms and kiss him- but he doesn’t. He restrains himself, and sips at his water, trying to catch his breath as sweat pours down him. They’ve won. They’ve won and his inner-alpha feels so good at knowing they’ve impressed and proved triumph in front of their omega.

Shit- not his, not-

“Steve! You were amazing!” Peter gushes, and Steve whips around to see Peter right in front of him, tiny and adorable and flushed with exhilaration, nose red from the cold. “You were so fast!!!” He jumps into Steve’s arms and Steve holds him tight. It feels right to have him in his arms. Peter squeals, and nuzzles into his neck and holy shit he smells so good-

“Yeah, alright, I don’t wanna puke.” MJ rolls her eyes, though there’s a teasing lilt to her voice. Steve reluctantly sets Peter down and feels colour rush to his cheeks. He sighs at the sight of Bucky, having appeared out of nowhere and eager to be introduced.

“Dangerous, dangerous game,” Bruce mutters, brushing his hair as they get ready for Peter’s arrival. They’re all heading to some campus club, and Bucky and MJ are meeting them there. “I swear to god, if Tony Stark finds out I know you and ruins my chances of getting a job-“

“We’re not dating,” Steve insists.

Though he wishes they were. They’re so close now. He knows Peter’s scent by heart, his little smile, and sometimes before Peter posts a selfie, he sends it to Steve first. It’s always gorgeous: a pastel sweater and a glittery necklace and sometimes even ones with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

One second it’s a photo of Peter with Ojai on his head smiling like the most adorable thing on the planet, the next it’s Peter with his hand balled in his sweater and pulling it down over his bare thighs in a gif that shows his chest and Steve watches it on repeat. Peter had confided in him that the day after he’d turned eighteen, modelling agencies and fashion designers had contacted him, eager for their chance to be features on his instagram, eager for some image or sensation to be promoted, and Peter had shied away from the attention- feeling no prettier than any other omega. 

“It’s so fucking great being a beta,” Bruce says to himself, neatening his collar one last time. “I can be above to all this bullshit.”

Steve scoffs. “You don’t think he’s gorgeous?”

“I said above, not blind.”

And then there’s a knock at the door.

They look at each other nervously, before Steve wipes his sweaty palms on his jean-clad thighs and opens it.

Peter is a vision of pink. His lips are dusky rose and he has fuschia eyeshadow and his pink meshtop is as snug as a second skin as it dips into his highwaisted pale pink denim shorts. It’s the sexiest thing on the face of the planet. 

Steve gapes; at a loss for words.

Luckily, Bruce isn’t.

“Holy shit.” 

Read part two here (contains links to ao3 options). 

[smallgayblanket]

New/revised/whatever- List of stuff

Egos (Marks/Jacks) that I have written for or at least actually have thought about HCS/other universes for:  (Just some brief rambles about them, please don't hesitate to ask about them :3)

  -Anti,   Two takes really, I like him soft, like him mean, hes just fun to write, plenty of different ways to spin why he acts out, what he is and all that. My current fav way to portray him is a missing piece of Seans soul, which means hes unstable as a ‘person’ (cough, not really a human but not, not human either.)  And how he has static filled blue eyes but usually hides them with the scary emerald green...

-Jameson,  I will always stand by this kinda universe i created with a friend aages ao that Shawn took away Jamesons voice when being puppeteered by an awful ink creature that shares his body.  Giving Jameson a lovely fear of knives, some scars, and some very damaged vocals..

-Crank, Oh my fucking boi, a near dead human spliced with a bunch of robot parts..human skin tangled with wires and a heart incased in metal..hes a right mess, a voice in his head that makes him feel all sorts of bad.. He tries his best..he cries oil,  I hardly get to write  him but I love him.

-Blank, another big fav oi, black hollow eyes..a tendency to faint... My Hc involves him having been in an accident that almost killed him, leaving him with a very rare heart condition. He also has an aura which..kinda ties into him having a few abilities and stuff. 

-Nes.. He started off as my own kinda Ethan ego, basically Ethan who was mistreated and really lost his marbles..hes great for the real twisted messed up kinda stuff, so dependant on others, a minor murderer, and has been eyed off by a certain ice cream driver for quite some time...

-Were eth,  Okay granted this was literally just kinda an idea that..Eth became a were wolf boi, fangs, tail, ears. Hes just a fun lil pupper

-Eden. Succubus Ethan basically, but well, he again kinda turned into his own thing separate from Ethan. He's got a tail and wings, and hes a lovely lithe thing. He doesnt dare do things without consent, just gets a bit touchy-feely when hes gone without any energy for too long. Very wide stunning saphire eyes. 

- Jackie  Oh my lad..Buff, trans, adorable, sweet. I always love tinkering around with how/what powers he has tbh..and like- I’ve always had the hc that his eyes are lilac?? or gold. Depending on things.. and he works either at a comic book store, a gym, or at the counter of a gas station. Gives the best hugs. Also I love AUS where hes a phoniex because of uhm?? Big fucking red wings??? YES.

-Hen, Getting his accent right is tough but other than that I love writing about the tired doctor living off coffee and ignoring himself in favor of others. 

-Chase The fucking best dad, sunshine lad. Running a vlogging channel and doing his best while combatting depression..I hc him to have chronic fatigue so he has to push himself extra hard. but He does well in trying to get better and look after himself and only slips up like any other helpless human. Very fun to write. 

- Robbie.   Sof.t zombie lad. Drown in a sweater. Stutters and is v quiet. Slow with speech. Struggles to see sometimes. Loves soft textures.Loves attention. Overall soft fucking lad.

-KOTS, To mean known as Simon. Actually v smart, big brain, very scattered n shy and nervous and squirrelish. Loves books n plants, loves nature. Red is his best colour. Warm sweaters and nuzzling and cuddling up. I always get torn between him being a hybrid of human/squirrel or just a lovely soft guy. 

-Yan ! My fem nb/trans gal! They’ll kick ass with their katana, have the hots for Bim, and looove Japanese culture and stuff. Very adorable. Loves pink. 10/10 love to write. 

-Technically I do have a muse for Mark, or..idea? I’m thinking about shoving it into my own oc/thing..but basically he got tortured n abused by Authy so hes not quite like the real life markimoo..just a nervous mess whose dealing with his traumas..

-Bing, Skater lad, yellow/orange eyes, sunflower vibes. Tries his best, clumsy as fuck, great for a laugh when hes not cowering under google. 

-Edward iplier,  Gah my doctor lad.. I have a hc that he Lost arm. In fire..or by dark n wilf.  He has heterochromia too!! One cho ceye one blue one. He is a fucking nerd (Minor adhd lets be honest) He fucking loves space and science and space/science related lights. He has a bat plus with spacey wings. He likes reading, likes being clean and is quite a quiet indulger in food which has left him with a big of a softer figure. Super gentle nature..nothing like the arrogant portrayal we got in some videos. 

-Angus   I love this man!!! Part Aussie, part irish, a whole lot of gruff old dad with a soft spot for nice people and animals, has his own big place, next to a large ass forest. Loads of scars. Loves boots and cameo coloured clothing. A lovely guy when you get past the rough edges. 

Aand onto all my ocs as of writing this (cause you name well know I be writing new ones like..all the time.) 

--------------------

OC’S (My original characters!)

-Jessy, Cowboy-   Choker with gold bell. Lil ears/horns. Spots. Shy but sweet. Hands and feet different colour to rest of skin. Kinda  fur ish feeling rather then just straight-up skin.  Pear shaped figure. Shy lad. Likes to take lots of naps, anxious easily but a big people pleaser too. 

-Ailan and Keros. Moth n butterfly boi.  (Literally just made up with a friend, just a random soft pair of lads tbh nothing too fleshed or spesh)

- Louie - Followed by a dark being/creature/spirit... Yet to determine what else about him, but hes got brown hair, pointed ears and looks lovely in green.

-Quinton  A Hybrid of Demon and Angel otherwise called a Guardian. Quirky, Pan as shit, great dress sense. Extremely calm. Can see auras. Lovely black feathered wings. Bright blue hair.  Kind smile. Works at a little coffee shop in his spare time.

-Ori  Very pure angel boy, previously owned and not very well treated by a god, came crashing down to earth with no memories but his wings intact. Some help him. 

-Lumi  Ghost boy! Died years ago under awful circumstances..now lingers around on earth, sometimes meeting humans who happen to be able to feel or see his presence, he has the ability to make himself solid for short periods of time. 

- Lucio Witchy..dragon soul something or other- Deaf.Paralyzed? In the arms??They might use alot of energy trying to hover around instead of having to use a chair..(I mean how many witches do you see with chairs??).. Although they could not have use of their arms instead, like..paralyzed from the shoulder down- they still have them but theyre effectively useless and easily sore.. (which might make magic really hard, cause theyd have to master it again without their hand gestures.)

- Eztli, Bit of a prick. Basically got cursed to have really weird blood that replished and rejuvinated too fast/too much by a witch he angered. So he turned the curse into a good thing and basically goes out offering himself as a human blood bag for vamps willing to pay in info, items, cash or uh..other services..  

- Gallio Photographer, has hypocalcemia. Haven't really done much else with him tbh.

-Aomi Warlock/witch in training. Downright awful at it. Young and lives in a nice lil cottage outside of the village he was abandoned in.

- Lucas A moonstone gem perma-fusion, he kinda has SPD/DID but he doesn't, cause..hes two gems that became one but not fully. Leaving him to be a bit of a mess and not as strong as other moonstones. 

- Kiyan. A little assistant android!! Created to assist, he can make portals!, He works at a post office. Hes under surveillance by the company that made him and isnt yet aware of many human customs/emotions.. 

- Alex  A very confused, overly optimist Alien who doesn’t know what they are. Come from the planet Eutychia, 4'3. They fucking glow. You know  Kilowatt from space chimps? think that. But hair n freckles and more human and just as  bubbly and energetic. 

-Locus  Mer/Fish boi!  Transparent fins, glowy patches, plays harp + loves music.

-Lir  A Tiny Octopus/Human hybrid lad. Makes little burble and trill noises. Quite harmless. Needs a home. 

Benji (Strawberry shortcake boi- Cursed tape /bandages. Demi half god.? One eye. Uses notes. To communicate but also sign. Really. Good sweets maker)

 Small bois (A collection of tinys because G/T is fucking great okay?)

- Tobias. Literally Made of hair gel. cleary, adorable, aaand Eats soap..amoung other non food items he probably should not ingest but does..

- Hinto  Guy made of foam slime. Very chill n laid back.

- Glowstick bubs. (Alo/aloke -  Green and blue  +  Siro - Yellow n pink.  + Mavi (Vi) Red and silver. + Roxy (Ro) - Orange and  purple )  They’re a cross between glowsticks and lava lamps and its epic- asides the fact they have like.half a brain cell each. Lots of sleeping n lazign around.

- Theo  A tiny ink creature.  A clever little lad, who likes to drawn and write n paint in ink and leave cheeky little black splotches everywhere. A very good writer companion tho. 

- JellyBubs! A collection of tiny sentient jelly babies, hungry lads will raid your cupboards. 

-Miel A tiny little bee boy! Loves flowers <3 

Apocolyse Squad:

The planet Keres,  Left uninhabitable after the invasion that ruined the air and killed almost the entire race.

Sameal o’Ceirin (Being of smoke- partly blind.)

Mallory Thomas (Part cat. Vet, partner to Sam who ends up dying in the canon of their story)

Hamrish Benat  (Hayden. 4 eyes, soft tongue. PTSD. extra tiny heart in wrist. Quite fem/soft. Likes soap cutting vids and stuffed toys/teddies.)

Joshua who cares (An asshole. Staight up. He dies. Fuck him. He sucks ass.)

Andy peters (Strong, kind. Kinda like Tyler shied. Big, tol, but actually pretty soft.)

Adrian  Géarán  (Tail, fire abilities, likes to make little robots. Very weak n has a couple of disabilities that leave him tired n such, which aint great for his esteem or his team when the apoc hits.)

--

Wyatt ???? ?????????????????

Pace- Nerdy. Finds a cat. Observer for the aliens. Is immune to black goop. 

Four - buff. Scary. Deadly. 

Apocolypse Squad Part 2  Small lads who dont derese to be in danger: 

  -Apep, Naga boi  Legs mutate into a cool tail. Hisses, fangs. Adorable loves the sun. bout 20 years old. 

Chris. Camp leader! Biig dad type, redhead, buff, likes gardening and camping, very outdoorsy. Little awkward but great.

Small child Talise- nickname tails? ..   Blind and slightly traumatized by the car crash that killed his mother and ended up with glass in his eyes, very sensitive to noise n textures.     Ends up mutating tails.  6 v young n smol  blocks n colourin

Shirin Parvis. Crystal boi .. trained solider/ royalty.  Tried to warn people before the apoc hit and failed. Now tries to protect the small group of surviors he stumpbles across. 

 Zephaniah, mutation turns him into a  Chameleon basically, just.. a human one. He  Prefers Zeph. Big gamey Nerd-  gets a pet gecko.  16. Quiet. Loves Lazar skirmish and lazers. 

Moyachi, Cactus boi!! Plant bab. Loves water and has clear/lime green tinted aloe/herbal helpful blood. Spikes up at defense from bad people 18/ 19   likes drawing. Pretty grumpy and needs a break.

Colin, nicknames: Coco,  Lady bug lad, who is baby trans  mutation resulted in a weird Red/Orange skin condition basically.  Can predict weather v accurately.       Ballet/dance, 14   Likes cooking. 

Hotaru , Firefly bby  - Glowy bub with antenna,  possibly mutates wings.. Sassy and tired. Turns nocturnal as the apoc progressed. Also becomes Colins first love <3

Zeno  A Siren of sorts.  DC/ hip hopper/   Lost his arm in apoc.  He loooves music alot. Very purple aesthetic and checkerboards.

Liren Pichi, deaf peaches n cream aesthetic boi- Nickname Pichi.  He is alone during the apoc, sneaks aboard and ship and goes missing..

Neighbours AU:

They all live on the homeworld, Ermioni.

Lesbabs:

Blake Aglaia  A human with a gift of being able to put emotions into glass balls.. Red head, quite fem, but gay, sweet, but not mousy. 

Lynx ?? An alien and human, the alien somewhat resides inside its host but they coexist. Sometimes goes feral.  Alien half likes to go by Perse  (Percy)  They have cool looking saliva- viens that run down their arms that are pretty cool- sharper nails/claws. Tendrils. Large ol mouth. Lots of pointy ass teef. Lynx likes to train,go to gym, and kick ass. Big ass butch energy.

Demon fam:

Hyacinth  A six-armed demon with serious parent energy. Big gardener, his body grows flowers depending on his moods/strength of emotions. Purple neck length hair. Great at comfort and cooking. 

Rhys  A Demon with a great curiosity about humans has a sibling, Feri.  Rhys is a big nerd, but very hard to get to know. Not great with emotions, comes across a tad distant and cold without always meaning too. Loves candles and lots of autumn aesthetic. 

Anthos, AKa Ant. Rhys and Hy’s accidentally created/summoned a toddler.. and hes fucking adorable. 

Vato - V   Hy has another bub later on who's more purpley blue with red curled horns and 4 arms.. No tail.. 4 eyes. V cute and inquisitive. Less noisy and wreckless than Ant. 

Roommates:

Douglas Connelly  A regular chubby human bean! Learning to become a chef. He loves food, loves cooking and also loves dancing. Hes a big guy, big cudddler, but a little shy and akward at times. 

Donovan Amores  Real fricking cool and smokin hot Bartender with a love for dogs. Dougs roommate. Has glowing fuckin orbs- donates his heart to a fucking god is smooth as fuck, background heavily Spanish, moved when young.

Haris Alaksim Real name (lost in translation, Huitzilopochtli God of sun and war) ) - A god whom Dono is very close with and donates his heart two one every 3 years during the day of the highest sun. He is a god / Mouros.    Donovan refers to him as “Dios gentil”  or “ Viejo colibrí sabio”   (“El viejo colibrí sabio es un dios gentil” (The old wise hummingbird is a gentle god.)

Donovans Family

Rem (Looks after magical creatures- Cane is from Haris)

Oscar  (Not sure what trinket or power but He’s just a casual store worker w/ good arms. Surprisingly good with knives- perhaps has one from Haris?)

Nicole  (His only sister Makes clothes..possibly got some ability to do with seasons..?  Perhaps earrings or a bracelet from Haris)

Javi  (Makes jam, cute boy, wears cloaks. Maybe has a cute little jar necklace or magic jar??)

Luca (Trans bookkeeper- Talks to Haris most often and likes to ask questions..Has precious books...Possibly a special pen..) 

Forest bois!!

Cypress The soul of the forest - Mentor of Rem. Very calm, very wise. Kinda like master oogway type. 

Unicorn boi, Hes rare, missing a chunk of his horn. Dont hurt him. He doesnt even have a name.

Fyn. Mushroom boy. Protects a gate. Lost his twin during a human-caused fire. Very mad about it. 

Fie. Bat boy. Loves fruit. 

Moh. Fairy/incubus hybrid.  

Tucker. Bunny boi, Best friends with Ainsley. Got some like, punk vibes about him, piercings n such. Not as soft as one would expect but still nice at heart.

Ainsley. Fawn boi, clums, shy, round glasses,  Looks smart but doesn't always know stuff. Very unsure of self. 

Experiment AU: 

Izekiel Iris A being of Paint. Hes made of paint. He has trauma from being experimented on. Slightly depressed. Loves art, loved creating. also regresses to try to deal with said PTSD.  Hard to get to know at first. 

Matty  (Matthew Libelle)   An experiment, part human, part lizard, part dragon. Much smol.  Hes fucking baby and i adore him alot please do ask anything and everything about him. 

Cult bois:

-Nero Aakil   (Means Genius/Orange blossom)   Orange bub  - Leader. Smart. Telepathic link with all cult members.  V corrupted…  (Parents were rich and ignorant)

-Mao Cerise   Pink - Ditzy, Looks after their ‘little bird’ (aka Jey) 

-Jey Michael Cherubim   Fallen angel -  Corrupted..desaturating and weak.. Was summoned by the cult and captured as a trophy. 

-Jaden Hirav  Looks after a garden of plants both harmless and some not for master. Previously Neros old pet..His  The family was alright but he was moreso raised by like his mum and bro. He was kidnapped from his garden and never seen again. The cult ritual to initiate him into the group failed and he was spliced with plants making him near useless to the cult.

-Rowan maverick - Now known as  Rogue- Red. Lost their tongue. Does Not follow orders to the T but gets their job done.   Has another voice/god/soul looking out for them… Very assassin ready, very perceptive. Wants to get out the cult but knows theyre too far in.. Cool glowy words in the air because they don't have their tongue. Possibly only lives of medication and vitamin pills..possible OD? Possible addiction. They struggle alot with it. 

P - Pax -  God who watches over Rowan. Was killed by the Master but their spirt lives on.

Cato.   Purple - Another smart one.. Possible Wiccan?  Sadist. Mean. Tall.  Scary. Abuse. Twisted. Loves being in the cult. Eventually wants to host Masters soul.. 

Gin Short for Ginger but the real name is Xanthe.  Blind. Also another assassin like Rogue but more obedient.  Doesn't talk often out of fear. 

Benjamin Brandy  (Benji. B) is Gins friend, Gin is trying not to get him involved in the cult but was too late as B had previously already been cursed and dealt with mythical beings..

 Silver bub. Demir. A demon summoned by the cult to complete the collection. Wants out, very stressed.  

Adopted AU: (This is like a mess of some of the boys but younger and in a different timeline to their universes smushed together intoa kinda cute school/adoption au idea.)

Matthew is smol autistic, malnourished and heavily abused both mentally and physically, leading to selective mutism and being a small fragile easily tired bab.  He loves hanging in the library once he gets used to going to some schooling. Gets tutored by Chris? Goes to camp and helps around n has fun..

Jaden, loves the school garden, and likes science class. His family is alright, However he ends up mostly raised by his sister? Or brother? 

Iz is the lil art bab, also in foster care of a big family, not so much abused but semi neglected. Quiet.

Nero is the gifted nerdy child..Parents ignorant. They love history and fictional books and reading and learning.

Benji is the slightly older kid whos possibly maybe a little behind or delayed or..something, they help out with other kids as a buddy? They like to do cooking classes.

DA AU

So this Au was like..the Septic tank births all the egos.

Angus first- He has..some kinda strength I imagine/..

Then Anti, Hen, Jackie. Marv. 

Chase -  He kills himself because of Glitch- also falls in the tank a second time and ends up with odd powers. 

Glitch Starts off as very bad and misunderstood. Turns out they were just highly unstable and required medical treatment.  Their real name is Arius and they cant stomach solid foods all the time. Mostly a liquid diet. They have glitchy fits/static seizures. Very unpleasant. Can enter tech, and its not so great, can get trapped. Can absorb certain amounts of electricity because of this they Got hit by  ightning once and has epic lighting scars!! Up arms..some on neck. All over his chest and back. 

Septic clone AU

Sean giving up bits of soul to make clones ends up in coma

Experiments and torture and odd shit with the egos ensues??

Minecraft AU??  

Yeah i had weird ideas for a cute minecraft gang of minecrafters who had accidents involving getting merged/recded with other creatures traits ect. 

Vail.  -Vex / Human

Snow golom hybrid? Or Blaze?

Slimey boi

Kitsune

Panda lad.

Pokebabs au

Mainly for Matty, Iz and Blank.. were they have pokemon forms and when bonded with a human long enough can evolved into human forms?? 

Horned AU  (With Troiseh/Glitch-in-the-static)

Shiro  -Prince lad  (This is their lad :3)

Junji - Battery..whump/slave/lost prince 

Isao Asuka -  Shiros Royal Guard 

Alien AU

Hami if he were..alien instead of being a human in an apoc basically. 

Angel AU stuff: 

Good omens inspired boi

Leo Halvar   Part..humany..demon..Cambion are according to google "In late European mythology and literature, a cambion is the offspring of an incubus, succubus, or another demon with a human, or of an incubus and succubus"

Ryan  Hot archangel guy: One wing, demon hunter thing.. Good kinda reforming from a less nice lifestyle previously. 

Mute angel possibly demon idk- -   Latif? Emmet? Evan? 

Long fringe shy boy-  Cael / Lox

[littleteatimestories]

John Wick x Reader: Start of Something New (4)

A/N: Thanks for the continuous support, guyths! 😍 This is really making me happy, like super happy! 😆 I know the story was a little angst-y in a way, but I also try my best that the reader becomes patient and understanding.

Enjoy this one! What do you think will happen next? 😊

(FYI: I still don’t own the GIF. My internet connection is so slow that I can’t access the GIFs section of Tumblr so I go to Google instead.)

⇇ CHAPTER 1

⟸ CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

One week... That’s how long John had been going out of the hotel and coming back either bruised or with broken body parts. He still hasn’t told you the reasons behind his ‘personal’ business. Whenever he gets serious injuries, a doctor would come in the room and patch him up. You knew basic bandaging and first aid, but stitching a wound was not in your skill set. Afterwards, you would notice that John would hand something to the doctor and the latter would gently pat John’s uninjured shoulder and leave. You didn’t attempt to infer him of any of his business. You would just recheck his condition to which he was really grateful for and just offer him anything that he would request (which he never did).

Two days later, he informed you that he would be going out... again. You couldn’t take it anymore. You mustered the confidence to ask his whereabouts.

“Where are you going this time?”

He didn’t answer as he put his coat suit on. You demanded further, “You promised that you’ll tell me everything. But almost a week has passed and all I got are your job and my safety. What are you exactly doing, John? What are you planning? You just leave me here all alone and then when you come back here, you look like crap. I just...” You exhaled tiredly. “I just want to know what you’re up to. What if I get news that you’re already dead? I’m just worried.”

He affixed his coat as he peered at you. He opened his mouth and finally imparted, “Those men who intruded the house and killed Daisy? One of them is the son of the Russian mob leader whom I helped before I met Helen. He was the one who initiated stealing the car and killing Daisy.”

Your eyes widened, knowing immediately what he was preparing on doing. “You’re going to take his life...”

He didn’t take his eyes away from you as if he was searching something in you. His expression was stoic, but you can decipher his thoughts. Only one thing came to mind: revenge.

He was doing this out of retribution because he felt like everything and everyone he loved was being taken away from him. Well, he probably still has you, yet Helen will always be his first.

For your own morality, you acknowledged (and everyone does, too) that terminating one’s life is completely wrong. If you’re religious, that’s a major sin and you’ll go to Hell for it. In the eyes of the law, that’s equivalent to years of imprisonment.

Still, you can’t help having thoughts that the murderer of your dog deserves an actual retribution coming to him. He shouldn’t have killed Daisy. He shouldn’t have messed with John Wick AT ALL.

‘Yes, he deserves what’s coming to him. Putting Daisy to death was like losing Helen all over again,’ you thought. It was bad to think this way, but you have the right to have your peace of mind. Letting the dog killer roam free was unacceptable.

You nasally breathed in and out of air with closed eyes then opened them. “Just come back here with no injuries this time. I hate seeing so much blood on your clothes,” you sounded sarcastic and serious at the same time.

John ghosted a smirk, which you missed. “I’ll try to be careful.”

With that, he moved to the closet and took at least two guns and some ammos. He hid them well in his suit and belt.

He took a glimpse at you again and just inclined his head down then up as a form of saying that he was to leave and be back after he conducted his business. As he opened the door, you spoke,

“John, wait!” You jogged closer to him and gave him a long peck on his cheek. “Be careful, I mean it.”

He caressed yours. “I won’t take long.”

He finally left... again.

***

You were folding your clothes as well as John’s. You checked the old-fashioned clock on the wall and it was already time for dinner. You went to the telephone just between your beds and called the reception. You lifted the phone to your ear and there was no long sound to be heard from it. You tried to dial the numbers and it was still quiet. You attempted to fix the line, but when you put it on your ear again, there was still nothing.

You heavily sighed. You have no choice. You’ll have to get out of the room and go to the reception yourself. You grabbed your purse (just in case since everything you need were in it) and exited the room.

You reached the reception desk and the same bald and dark-skinned man was there. You smiled at him and he gave a small one to you.

“Miss, with all due respect, Mr Wick informed me that you shouldn’t leave your room,” he pointed out straightforwardly and nonchalantly.

You blinked your eyes. “Did he?”

“Please go back to your room,” he instructed you with regard.

You suppressed the urge to make a face so you just puckered your lips in disappointment. “Fine. Either way, I didn’t come here to really get out of the room. I just want to tell you that our telephone isn’t working and to order food.”

The concierge tilted his head down. “I’ll let someone fix your room telephone right now.” He tapped onto something then looked at you again. “You may go back to your room and make your order from there.”

You squinted. “Can’t I just order here first then go back to the room?”

“I am asked not to let you out of the room. I am only doing a favor.”

You raised your hands in defense. “Alright, alright. I understand.”

When you turned to leave, your feet didn’t move upon seeing another familiar figure. A dark browned slicked hair and emerald-colored eyes that previously winked at you was focused on you, but never intimidating; more of an intrigued look. Your memory of his smirk was still intact in your brain. He was that same man whom you offered your beam simply because you were anxious and kind-hearted.

He approached you with his hands in the pockets of his dark blue tight-styled slack pants. “John Wick’s assistant,” he addressed you in that manner since he actually didn’t know your name. His voice was deep and silvery. He had a British accent in him.

“Um, h-hi,” you stuttered.

He laughed quietly and amusingly. “Funny, I’ve been here for almost a week and I’ve only seen you for the second time.”

“Second time?” you prompted, acting a little stupid. Of course you knew what he was referring to.

He chuckled again. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you smiling at me when you first checked in here was not our first time meeting. Though, it was true that we didn’t talked at that time. But again, gazing at each other was like the first time.”

You feigned a grin. “Oh, that! My memory of small details can be quite bad.”

He raised a brow mirthfully. “I didn’t think that was a small detail for you. Well, I guess I can understand since you’re a cleaner. And John Wick’s personal one at that.”

“Right...” you drawled. You didn’t even comprehend what he meant by that.

“You know,” he pressed on. It appeared like he wasn’t just going to let you go anytime soon. “We should grab a drink at the bar and, you know, try to get to know one another.”

You tried to find an excuse. “Maybe... another time. Jo- Mr Wick wants me to do some things for him.”

He was insistent. “Come now, you have to lighten up a little. I’m pretty sure you can get tired of him.”

Truth to be told, you were getting tired of him; tired of being left alone all the time. Of course, you wouldn’t tell this guy about that.

You were about to hurl back at his invitation when he spoke first. “I actually find it peculiar that he’s even back. Last I heard, he retired.”

You gulped unnoticed. You knew about that part, too.

“In any case, so? Would you like a drink? It’s going to be on me.”

You wanted an out of this situation. You felt like no matter how many rejections you give he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“I-I-“

“Mr Fortuna.”

Both of you diverted your attentions to the concierge who was now standing regally a few inches away from you. He continued, “There are some matters that need to be discussed privately with you.”

The other man groaned. “Can that wait?”

“No, sir, it cannot. Can you please follow me?”

Mr Fortuna sighed quite irately. He then eyed you sadly. “Sorry, love, but business calls, as much as I hate this.”

You mentally puffed out a relief and feigned disappointment. “No, no, it’s fine. We’re all busy.”

“Jacob Fortuna,” he finally introduced himself and offered his hand for a shake.

“(Y/n).” You clasped your petite one in his. You kept your last name a secret for now.

“Lovely name.” He gave a chaste kiss at the back of your hand and strode to the concierge.

When you locked eyes on the concierge, he just inclined his head down. You were aware of the meaning and stared at him briefly before going back to your room.

***

Shoot. Shoot here, shoot there, shoot left then right and vice versa.

Crack and crash.

He finally located Iosef Tarasov. That bastard had been a stroke of bad luck to him. He shouldn’t even have touched the car especially the dog.

That spoiled Tarasov brat shouldn’t even have messed with John Wick. Helen was the love of his life who died of cancer and that puppy (and even the car) was the only memory he had of her. It was a fortunate thing that you were kept safe. He had to do everything in his power to keep you out of harm’s way as you were the only one left to keep his sanity. He’ll even go through lengths of killing if your security would be threatened. And as long as that Iosef lives, you will never find peace and there will be no justice for Daisy’s death.

More shooting. And now, splintering bones happened. Iosef was still running for his life, obviously terrified to face the most professional assassin. Too many bodyguards coming right at said assassin, but not one bit that he faltered except when he got shot twice, one in his right shoulder and the other in his left abdomen. Yet again, his adrenaline of wanting to reach Iosef and permanently finish him off was high enough that he didn’t even feel the pain coursing through him.

The chase was cut, though, as Tarasov’s head of security showed up and was a tough cookie to handle. He finally felt the pain in his shoulder and abdomen injuries, blood already staining his dress shirt.

It didn’t matter, anyway, as he warned Iosef upon calling Victor’s, who was already dead, phone to which he grabbed,

“Everything has a price.”

---

CHAPTER 5 ⟹

[themusicplayedherlife]

Unrequited (Part 3)

pairings: eventual!bucky barnes x reader; crushing!reader x steve rogers; crushing!bucky barnes x natasha romanoff; others

characters: reader, bucky barnes, clint barton, natasha romanoff, pietro maximoff

word count: 3k+

warnings: maybe a little angst?, a little bit of anxious/nervous reader, some cussing

a/n: welcome to the third chapter of this slow burn story, lol.

prev || all || next

Sometimes you wonder why you are the way that you are. Your mom, Pietro, and Natasha are constantly reminding you that nothing is wrong with you, but after what happened last night, you’re utterly and completely convinced they’re wrong. You’re not confident like Natasha, you’re not outgoing like Pietro, and you’re not witty like your parents. You’re a mess.

If someone were to ask you what word in the dictionary you would use to describe yourself as, you wouldn’t have to look that far to find: awkward—

awk·ward /ˈôkwərd/

adjective

embarrassing or inconvenient; caused by lack of social grace: an awkward moment.  

Synonyms: unpleasant, trying, difficult; uncomfortable, ticklish, touchy.

Thanks for the lovely definition and synonyms google. Really appreciate it.

—An embarrassing, awkward dumb mess. Apparently.

If you had their social skills, you probably wouldn’t be avoiding Bucky and Steve like you are now. Maybe you wouldn’t have blurted out what you did. And maybe you would still have a tutor for Pym’s stupID CLASS YOU’RE BOUND TO FAIL!

You hurry your steps as frustration bubbles inside of you. There’s only one place on this whole forsaken campus that’ll make you feel better—the museum.

It looms over a courtyard where the art students like to chill and hang out during the spring and summer, sometimes during fall too. Not many other students venture out here, preferring to stay in their own quadrant within campus, but sometimes you’d spot a wild major visiting the museum for whatever reason.

Today, you hope no one decides to visit the museum. You prefer it when it’s quiet.

You enter the building and with every exhale, the frustration leaves your being.

“Hey, Clint,” you greet the security guard who is about your age, maybe a little older.

His brown, almost blondish hair is gelled back and he has his usual dopey grin, that you’ve come to realize, is reserved for you and a hand few coworkers he likes. “Hey, thought you weren’t due for another few days.”

“Just having one of those days”

His face softens in understanding and he nods. “Say no more. I’ll make sure to keep the others quiet.”

You beam appreciatively, even though he doesn’t have to do that, you know he will for you. “Thanks, Clint.”

You walk deeper into the museum, taking in the different art all by students of the university—graduates and current. You take a left turn at the next hall and find yourself in the best room in all of the museum. The lights are dim here compared to the other rooms. Soft, calming music plays through the speakers and on the stark white wall, a projection of pictures of people all over New York plays. You sit at the lone bench in the room, taking in the picture of an elderly couple sharing a bench, huddled and smiling radiantly at one another.

The door to the room opens, but you hardly pay it any mind. It’s most likely Clint doing his rounds.

The picture changes to a man sitting outside of a cafe, a wooden cane at his side, a book in his hands, and a large golden retriever at his feet. They both look content and serene, nothing like the quick paced city you’ve come to know and love.

The bench creaks and you keep your eyes forward, hoping that whoever entered wouldn’t interrupt your watching or make noise, thankfully, they don’t.

Not until the next slide anyway--two men are in a hospital room, one sickly with a bald head and thin frame and the other bulky with a bald head and an overgrown beard. Their hands are intertwined and they’re leaning towards each other, eyes closed and calm in what you could only assume is a stressful situation.

“Love,” he says, his voice sending your heart in a panic and head snapping in his direction. Seriously? How did he find you here of all places?!

You stare at Bucky wide eyed, wanting nothing more than to book it out of there, but that’d be more embarrassing than last night and it’d alert Clint, who would blow things out of proportion.

He turns away from the projection to look at you, stormy eyes meeting yours with a slight raise of an eyebrow. He tilts his head towards the wall, eyes never leaving yours. “Love. That’s what this exhibit is about, isn’t it?”

“What are you doing here?” you manage to ask, ignoring his question.

“I like to come here when I have time. What are you doing here?”

“Same,” you say dumbly, quickly looking away from him, trying to focus on the pictures playing in front of you, but they’re no longer registering in your mind, no matter how many times your eyes sweep across the makeshift screen.

“I’ve never seen you here before. Are you usually here at this time?”

Why is he still talking to you? Is he trying to lull you into a false sense of security and then ask you about Steve? Fuck. Is it too late to bolt now? “Yeah.”

“I usually come later in the day.”

“Oh.”

Silence falls between the two of you, the music suddenly seeming louder than before even though it’s a calming instrumental.

You run a nail up and down your arm, not harshly, but firm enough for it to leave white trails.

He clears his throat. “So, Steve, huh?”

You jump to your feet, your nail digging into your skin with a harsh sting and bench screeching under the strain of his weight and your sudden movement.

Blue eyes widen, and he quickly gets to his feet. “Hey—“

“Can you—let’s not—please.” Your voice is desperate and small, embarrassment licking at your skin and leaving heat in its wake.

He raises his hands in front of him to pacify you. “I’m not judging.”

You sigh, tenderly running your finger over the crescent shaped marks you’ve left on your skin. “He’s your best-friend, and I told you of all people.” Even if it was to make things “even”, it doesn’t stop it from making it embarrassing.

“And Natasha is your best-friend, and I told you while I was shit-faced.” Yeah, a fact he didn’t remember until you told him. “Look, I’m not—I’m not mad.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you murmur.

“Okay, I was. I was mad.” You knew it. “Not at you,” he speaks quickly, trying to appease you, “but at myself for being that careless. What if she had been around when I told you? What if it hadn’t been you, but her I told?”

“Would that be so bad?”

He chuckles, it’s empty and a little distracted. “You know Natasha.”

You do. “She’d turn you down cold.” She’s the type to go after what she wants, afterall.

He drops himself back onto the bench. “Exactly.” He looks pathetic, reminiscent of tragic, drunk Bucky—distant gaze, pouty lips. You feel for him, just as you did when he confessed.

You rub your arm, eyes drifting away from him. “If it makes you feel any better, there have only ever been two people she’s liked in that way. Crushes are pretty rare for her.” Oh. Shit. That did not sound comforting at all! You clench your eyes tightly and groan. Why do you always put your foot in your mouth?!

It’s quiet. Too quiet. You almost prefer Bucky’s talking over the music playing in the room.

The bench squeaks, a scoff following right after it. “Has anyone ever told you you’re shit when it comes to comforting someone?”

Keeping your eyes closed, you turn in place. “I’m so, so sorry, I—I didn’t mean—“

A firm grip on your shoulder quiets you and forces you to open your eyes. “Hey, relax, I know you didn’t mean anything bad by it,” he murmurs, soft and relaxing. “I was joking.”

“No, you weren't. I know I’m not the best when it comes to comforting people, especially people I don’t know or I’m not close to.”

He grips your other shoulder, shaking you gently. “You’re fine, I promise. I really did think it was funny.”

You stare at him, but he only smiles—his eyes crinkling at the edge. “Okay.” Maybe Bucky isn’t so bad?

He pats your shoulder and sits back down on the bench, eyeing you. Taking the hint, you sit down next to him a little cautiously. You both sit in relative silence, watching the pictures for a few ticks before the bench screeches once more.

He twists in his seat and says, “If—what if we help each other?”

You narrow your eyes as your eyebrows furrow. “With what?”

“You help me with Natasha and I’ll help you with Steve.”

“What makes you think I need—“ A lone brow shoots up and you immediately stop talking. “Okay, yeah, yeah, I do need help.”

“You do, just a little,” he says pinching his index finger and thumb together. You want to protest, but you swallow it down when he starts speaking again, grin on his face. “Getting Steve to like you isn’t hard, you’re already friends and that’s a step in the right direction. Natasha on the other hand…”

You nod as he trails off, finishing off his though for him. “Doesn’t really matter whether you’re friends or not, she has to want you.” Is this really such a good idea though? Getting Natasha to like Bucky is going to be hard and difficult, and there’s a chance he’ll have to change who he is in the process, too. Is getting her to like him really worth losing himself?

He sighs, gaining your attention. “Look, I know it won’t be easy. If you’re still unsure, then why don’t we add tutoring to the mix? I’ll help you with Chem and Steve, and you only have to help me with Natasha.”

You bite your lip, rubbing your arm. “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

You’re still not sure if this is such a good idea, but he’s willing to continue tutoring you and help you with Steve. Natasha’s old ‘be yourself’ advice from high school hasn’t been helping so far, and probably won’t ever help you, so really, his offer is a true blessing. Yet, you still can’t shake the minuscule of worry even when you say, “Okay. It’s a deal.”

He grins, bright and wide—genuine and nothing like his usual half-assed-not really-smiling smile, that it takes you completely off guard. You don’t even notice the hand he’s offering you until he’s shaking it in your face. He offers you his hand once more and you take it, the two of you sealing the deal with a simple shake.

Natasha is up and ready by the time you wake up. She’s chopping strawberries to add into the morning oatmeal. It takes you a minute, but you notice she’s not wearing her usual work out clothes, but a black, long sleeved leotard with pink leggings underneath and a white, sheer wrap skirt. That’s a look you haven’t seen in a while.

You hop onto the barstool at the breakfast bar. “You’re taking a ballet class?”

“Nope,” she says, placing a bowl of oatmeal with chopped apples and strawberries in front of you. You thank her, taking the spoon she offers you. “Remember Mrs Hudson?”

Vaguely. An older woman comes to mind, strict, but most of her dance teachers were strict and old. Mixing the fruit into the oatmeal, you nod. “Not really. Old ballet teacher?”

She waves her hands. “It’s fine, doesn’t matter, but yes, old ballet teacher. Anyway, she knows some of the teachers at a youth center nearby and she got in contact with me the other day to ask me if I wanted to cover for an instructor on maternity leave,” she says as you eat.

“That’s great!”

Grabbing her own bowl, she adds strawberries, apples, and a shake of cinnamon powder. “Right? A little extra money for groceries doesn’t hurt either.”

“Does this mean you’re quitting your morning yoga?”

“Nah, the gym offers morning classes on Sunday, too. Was able to squeeze into that class. You should come with me! We haven’t gone to a class together since freshman year.”

You make face, the thought of waking up early on a Sunday sounding completely abhorrent. “Yeah, no. Hard pass. Besides, we got kicked out because we couldn’t stop giggling during downward dog, remember?”

Natasha pauses, thinking about it before her lips spread into a smile. “Oh, yeah. Good times.”

You snort. “For us maybe. The others wouldn’t stop glaring at us.”

She chuckles and the two of you continue eating in relative peace. Mid spoonful, Natasha breaks the silence. “By the way, I saw Bucky yesterday.”

Without lifting your head, you look at Natasha, forcing yourself to relax and continue eating. “Oh. Did you?”

She rubs a permanent spot on the counter with her index finger, her sly smirk in place and looking dangerous as ever. “Yeah, and he told me you gave him his number.”

You did, right after leaving the museum together. “And?”

“I thought you two weren’t friends and you were uncomfortable around him?”

“We’re not and I still am,” you say firmly, trying to keep your voice leveled, but it still comes out as a squeak. You’re not entirely lying to her, so why are you nervous? “I just can’t afford to fail this class. My scholarship is riding on this.”

She eyes you, leaning back, not entirely believing you—she knows you better than anyone, afterall.

The front door is thrown open, interrupting Natasha from commenting, and you thank your lucky stars. You know the conversation is bound to come up again, but at least you’ll have enough time to come up with a strong excuse and argument to get her off your back.

“Thank fuck, you’re awake,” Pietro says, stuffing the key you two gave him in case of emergencies, but is never used for emergencies, into his pockets.

“We really should take the key back,” Natasha says with mild amusement, lifting her bowl and spoon up to eat as she moves away from the counter. “You know there are apps that can drive you places, right? You don’t need to run a marathon to get here.”

Turning on the bar stool, you take in his disheveled appearance—silver hair in disarray, jacket turned inside out, and mismatched shoes—left yellow sketchers and right black and white adidas—it’s a miracle he even got his pants on correctly. Last time he looked like that, he ran to your apartment in briefs, tattered shirt, and ugly barf green crocs. “Did you and Crystal get into an aegument again?” you question, raising a brow in his direction.

“Not yet. But I think we will soon,” he says, dropping his ass onto your sofa.

“Why, what did you do this time?”

“This time? I’ve never done anything before!” You both give him a look and he rolls his eyes. “I forgot to tell Crystal Wanda was coming back.”

You swallow a spoonful of the semi sweet oatmeal before asking, “Your twin? She’s visiting?”

You don’t know much about Wanda and have never met her, you’ve only seen pictures that Pietro has shown you of her, and anecdotes about when they were children.

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair continuously. “No. She’s moving back.”

“That’s great, isn’t it?” He makes a face at Natasha’s exclamation. “It’s not great?” She asks slowly, trying to make sense of Pietro restlessness.

“It is—it is great! But… Wanda was meant to move in with me, and Crystal—“

Natasha snorts. “Why did she move in again? I don’t remember you asking her.”

He grips his head. “I don’t know! She just did!”

“Why don’t you tell her to move out, then?” she asks. “Her family’s rich. I’m sure they can give her place to stay. You already promised your sister you were going to live with her.”

“I can’t kick her out, man, she’s my girlfriend.” And Wanda is his flesh and blood.

Your eyes squint and your lips purse, no ounce of sympathy in your bones for you dumb friend. Why is it that Pietro always gets into really stupid situations? “Right… What are you going to do about Wanda, then?”

“Well,” he begins while smiling sheepishly, “that’s where I was hoping you guys could help.”

You glance at Natasha with wide eyes and she meets your gaze with hard eyes. “With?”

“Can she stay with you guys until she finds her own place?”

“No,” she immediately shuts him down. “Absolutely not.”

He stands, pressing his palms together. “Please?”

“Pietro, we don’t have space for a third person.”

He points at the couch and says, “She can crash on the couch!”

Natasha sighs heavily. “Pietro—“

“Come on, please!” He begs. “Wanda is great and sweet! Totally quiet, you probably won’t even notice her at all.”

“But we will. She’ll be in our space.”

“She can pay rent! She won’t stay for free, promise!” Well, it’s not like you and Natasha pay rent either. This apartment is thankfully being paid for by her dad, leaving the two of you to focus on your grades and use the money given to you for school supplies and groceries.

“Nat,” you start, slowly giving in to Pietro’s pleading.

She says your name slowly, a hint of warning in her voice.

You smile sheepishly and she glares at you. “It won’t be for long—“

Pietro nods. “It won’t.”

“And if we do this for Pietro, he’ll owe us both. Big time.”

“Yeah—wait.”

She stares at you, pinning you to your seat for a long time before finally relaxing and letting out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” Pietro fist pumps and you smile wider, but he stops pumping his fists and your smile drops when she points at him, eyes narrowed. “But only for a while. And she doesn’t have to pay rent, but helping with the groceries would be great. And you owe us—not a small favor, but skinny-dipping-in-freezing-water-to-get-my-phone-after-I-dropped-it-big, you hear me?”

It’s a little disturbing how specific she’s being, but Pietro doesn’t seem to mind. “Deal!” He rushes towards you and kisses your cheek, and does the same with Natasha, who fights him off, but he still keeps a firm hold on her. “Whatever you want! Fuck, thank you, guys, you saved my skin!”

“Don’t make us regret it, Maximoff.”

next

ending note: was excited to introduce clint even though it was a brief appearance, and wanted to add Wanda into this chapter instead of the next, just because I thought it’d fit better! hope you guys like it! and I know it’s a slow burn, but trust me, it has to be. Lemme know what your guys think c:

[hollandroos]

Run To Me; Part Two

Blow a kiss, Fire a gun: Teaser Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10 Pt.11 Pt.12 Pt.13 Pt.14 Pt.15 Pt.16 Pt.17 Pt.18 Pt.19 Pt.20 + NSFW Alphabet with Mob!Tom

Run to me: Prologue | Pt.1 | Read on wattpad!! | Playlist!

Chapter Summary: How many nights have you wished someone would stay? - (Infinity, one direction)

Warnings: Violance

- There are a lot of dad/mafia series, so if this seems similar to yours then message me for credit.

Words: 4.1k

I APOLOGISE IF THE READ MORE DOESN’T WORK ON MOBILE

The first while after you’d left had been the worst for Tom. He wanted to tear his heart of his chest and stomp on it with two bare feet, cursing whichever god above that was making him suffer a great deal and for what- a mistake he made as a child? A stupid, ignorant child trying to impress his father.

Of course, he didn’t blame you at all. You were most likely riddled with scars both mentally and physically and he possibly couldn’t understand the extent- maybe he could, Tom liked to ignore his feelings and push them away until he was downing an entire bottle of alcohol and swaying throughout the long hallways of his own home, singing along to Mayday parade and because that was his guilty pleasure.

He thought he was doing better, focusing purely on work and work alone, ignoring the colder half of his bed and the bobby pins he sometimes found scattered around the library. There were even the ceramic mugs he’d try to ignore, going as far as to chuck out the one that you always used to use. He had a draw full- but you insisted on drinking from the same one.

They key word is ‘thought.’ Tom thought he was doing better and he was until suddenly he wasn’t because when he saw your name on the screen in jet black, bolded letters his heart deflated and he was reminded of those old feelings. The desire to once again, claw at his skin and rip out his own heart was back and worse than ever and hidden beneath layers of anger, tucked up behind regret was despair. Tom wanted- needed answers and as much as he hated to admit it, he needed you.

The second Aiden walked into the room he was shoved roughly into the wooden chair by Harry, already sweaty palms shook with fear as he eyed the office. Good, Tom thought. He should be going out of his mind right now. It wasn’t Toms normal office, that one was off limits for most and he only used it when he was sure there’d be no blood shed.

Their conversation starts as one normally would, Tom taunting the man and Aiden coming up with pathetic excuses for simply not paying the man his money. It was all a little game to Tom, let the guy think he’s going to be let off the hook for now and then pull out the big guns- literally.

-

“How do you know her?” Tom spits.

Aiden tries backing away before his back hit the seat, hardwood clawing at his spine. “Who?”

Tom wasn’t here to watch this man play innocent or drag things out. He was antsy and wanted answers and as many as he could wrap his mind around before putting a bullet through the guy's skull. Earlier the mobster had been eager to get his hands dirty but now he actually felt a hint of anxiousness, wishing that in fact, he’d stayed out of the bank details and just left the guys corpse to float down the nearest Avon.

“You know who the fuck I’m talking about.” Anger laced every word.

“I have no idea.” That was almost a lie, almost. Aiden almost wished he could go back in time and google ‘How to run from mess’s you make?’ and find a wikihow on how to get out of this. But he was sure that right there, at the top of the page under tip number one It’d be clear, don’t lie to the mob boss.

“The money- my money that’s all getting transferred to somehow else's bank account.” Tom found that he couldn’t even say her name, instead of feeling content with ‘she’s’ and ‘hers’ because if he didn't say her name then it made this whole situation a little less real, right? “How do you know her?”

Something seemed to click in Aiden’s brain and he looked up, wide-eyed wondering why exactly the biggest mafia boss wanted anything to do with his girlfriend- a mere waitress. “She’s my girlfriend, I help her out sometimes.”

His money was only getting transferred into one other person’s bank account, after all.

Tom didn’t believe it straight away, the claim going in one ear and out the other. “Bullshit!” He hiss’s, only visualizing what it’d be like to pummel the guys face in- watch his teeth tear from the gum and blood stain the raven shirt.

“It’s the fucking truth- what do you want with her?” Mistake, big mistake.

Tom hated being asked questions almost as much as he hated answering them. It made him feel lower, oddly enough. Like he had something to work up to when he was already at the very top. There was no hesitation, no ‘what after?’ as he swung his fist back. The sick sound of skin hitting skin echoing throughout the office and the younger brother didn’t even blink.

Aiden’s tongue ran over bottom teeth, a metallic taste invading as he regained his strength. Slowly, the world stopped spinning but the ache in his jaw remained and Tom was still unsatisfied with the one blue and purple bruise that was going to form there, no matter how big. He wanted- needed to give this guy more, to inflict more pain and turn him into the perfect mix of a human punching bag as well as canvas.

“Y/N wouldn’t be with you unless there was a reason. She had the fucking world- What do you have to do with her?”

Tom’s hand falls to the gun that sat securely on his waist, fingers reaching for the cool metal. His fingers wrap around the weapon while Aiden's wrap around the arms of the wooden seat, mind exploding with curses and panic reeling.

“What do you mean she had the world?” Aiden's eyes were drawn to the gun that was now peeking through the shirt, a lump forming in the back of his throat. “She has no idea about what I do-”

“Answer my fucking question or I swear to god I’ll have Harry here tear your eyes out.” The man gulped, two sets of eyes on his while his stared down the barrel of the gun that was now far too close for his liking.

“I don’t know, okay? I’m not positive why or how things have worked out but she needs me- for the kid.” A sweat formed just above his brown, hands growing clammy yet at the same time, they were icy.

That got Tom’s attention- actually it only increased his attention, making his finger slip off of the trigger of the gun and for a moment he showed weakness, walls slipping. There was a kid- since when? It seemed that a lot had happened in nearly five years. Tom wondered how much he missed while his head was back in the clouds.

“What kid?” The mobster snaps, mind swimming with a hundred and one questions that were seemingly eating away at any sanity that remained.

“The girl, her little girl.” He swallows thickly, warm blood dripping down his throat almost making him gag in distaste.

Aiden was reminded of the girl with feet the size of a salt shaker, little brown curls that were sometimes tucked back by a Minnie mouse headband and sometimes in a tight ponytail or even the braids that Y/N had learned how to do just for her daughter. Rarely ever did the girl have her hair out, not being able to handle the frizzy strands. She had issues that not even he could explain, running deep. Maybe deep down he felt something for the family of two but it’d have to be very, very deep down- so deep he sometimes doubted it even existed.

“How old?” Tom hisses, gritting his teeth. Was it fear he felt? “How old is the fucking kid.”

“Four years old. Rosie, her names Rosie.”  Aiden murmurs, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the plush carpet. “Why do you care about this girl anyway? She’s a nobody, barely worth anything that I give her.”

Was it betrayal that Tom felt? Anger? Everything felt numb, walls closing in slowly but maybe that was just Toms’ throat. Not even the ache in his knuckles could bring him back down to Earth, or his brother urgently pulling out his phone to do some research. How was his heart going a million miles an hour, yet seemingly not beating at all?

It had been five years since the anniversary of Harrison’s death and five years since Tom had found himself waking up alone at the crack of dawn, only to go down to the personal gym in his basement because taking all of his anger out onto one of the many punching bags was better then staring at the ceiling for hours on end, allowing his mind to come up with every other possible outcome.

Aiden watched the man’s mind run, features twisting and turning as his grip on the gun would loosen, before tightening once again only moments later. Neither mobster felt that they could breathe, lungs constricting at an odd pace but Tom couldn’t give two shits about the dealer in front of him, in fact, the urge to hit the trigger was so bad that Harry had to physically take the gun from him, setting it on his own waist instead.

Tom stared the man down, trying to come up with a plan that’d cause him just enough pain that Tom would feel satisfaction, but he doubted that was possible by now. If he thought that he was walking away from this scene then he was even bigger of a fool then the boys had originally pegged him for. “I’d watch every word if I were you, you’ve fucked up enough to be buried six feet under and she’s the only reason you’re still breathing.”  

“You can have her if you want, I pay for everything from the power to the fucking therapy.”

Tom lowered the gun, aiming the barrel at the man’s feet as to not remove it from the picture completely. It was still a threat. “Therapy?”

“Some trauma from a few years back. A friend died, been screwed up ever since and it’s rubbing off on the kid.”

Why did it come as a shock to him that you had been left with mental scars from that day? Tom blinked only twice, lips forming a straight line and he almost wished he still had the gun to show the dealer what happened when his clients spoke back.

“Don’t mention the friend.” He only takes a step closer, aching knuckles begging for more. “You said she doesn't know what you do, correct?” Tom asks, crouching down to get to eye level with the man. Tom was so close, “Are you lying to me?”

Aiden shook his head profusely. “She thinks I work at an IT company.”

Tom nods his head, looking for any signs of Aiden lying to him but when nothing shows up he gets dangerously close to the fellow mobster, pit of his stomach burning with an intense fire that seemed near impossible to put out.

Every nerve in Tom’s body was screaming at him to do something, to get rid of the guy that’d laid hands- even gone near his wife but he had other uses for him, a plan he’d thought up earlier the morning circulating like a merry go round.

“I’m going to ask you to do something for me and if you agree then you get to walk out of this room with your head still attached to your body, got it?”

-

There were times where you’d look at the small girl in front of you and think with a fully clear, somber mind ‘You’re your father's child.’

It wasn’t due to the little, coffee brown curls that hung in ringlets, sometimes loose waves if she decided to fiddle with her hair and attempt a braid or to put it into a bun herself. Nor the deep brown eyes but that, however, could’ve been a factor.

It was due to the fact that she was sharp, not one to be messed with and ran around with a mind of her own even for four years old. There were very few things that the four-year-old was afraid of and one of them was the dark because she stated that you never know what lurks, and boy was she correct.

There was also the fact that you could just imagine her in eleven years swearing like a sailor, tongue sharp and backtalk spewing. All in a good way, of course. She was her own person, independent even for a child.

But there came times- like at this very moment where she was quiet, in too much thought to focus on anything else but the task at hand because when Rosie put her mind to something she was stuck to it until said task was complete. It was something Tom used to do when he’d sit at his desk, pen in one hand as he stared down at the paperwork ahead of him.

Tom never used to look up from the work until he was a done, a hard- almost angry look remaining on his features as he worked to complete. Rosie had that same look.

Rosie was in a way, her father's child- a Holland despite the fact that she’d been fully raised by you.

“There’s this dinner tomorrow that I need you to attend with me. My boss invited me and I can’t go alone.” Aiden begins, a look of determination plastered on his features as he looks over from ‘his’ side of the bed. The entire bed was yours, he’d just claimed that half.

You look up from the back of Rosie’s head, the hot pink hairbrush remaining in your hand as you continue to brush out her wet curls that were now actually dead straight, a few little baby hairs springing up into action, however. The little girl hummed along to the tune of some Disney show as she viciously slashed your phone screen with her stubby pointer finger, grumbling when she lost a round of ‘Fruit Ninja’ and smiling brightly when she didn’t.

She was dressed in a pair of purple pajamas, little white clouds placed all over for a decoration and a fluffy, pink blanket around her shoulders. Overall the girl was in heaven.

“Tomorrow’s a little short notice isn’t it?” You point out, continuing to brush out the strands of wet hair. She grunts when you hit a knot, tugging too hard. “Sorry, Roo.” You apologize immediately, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her head but the little girl seemed too immersed in what was going on inside the screen to even notice.

Fathers child- Tom’s child.

“Yeah, my boss only asked me today,” Aiden pays no attention to the girl in your lap, focusing all of his attention on getting you to the event. “So I need you to dress up in one of those fancy dresses and come along as my plus one.”

What was meant to be a question came out as a demand. The thought of leaving the house at night- leaving Rosie at the house almost made you sick. Your stomach did an unhealthy flip, mind-rattling with negative possibilities. “I don’t think I can tom-”

To say that your boyfriend was already expecting that answer was an understatement. “It’s just one night- one dinner.” He pushes, not bothering to listen to what else you had to say. Yes it pushed your buttons, yes it made you frustrated and angry and a whole lot of other negative feelings that you weren’t ready to dwell on.

“You know, I-”

“This is important to me.” It’s not. Important was the last thing this was. Truthfully Aiden was scared out of his mind. The barrel of the gun he’d previously stared down was a looming threat.

“What about Rosie? We don’t have a babysitter.” You point out, something telling you to try and get her to come with. The four-year-old couldn’t sit still for the life of her and though she didn’t exactly speak more than other children she still liked to point things out that sometimes- really should stay inside.

“We can get one. Use one of those online sites to look.” Aiden says, thumbs working as he sends a text.

You almost grimace at the comment, over the moon about the fact that Rosie was still staring down at the phone screen now with her tongue between her teeth as she tried to crush a reasonably easy level of candy crush. It meant that she couldn’t hear nor was she focusing on your more one-sided conversation about bringing in a complete stranger to look after her for a few hours.

“I don’t trust-” You begin, once again getting cut off.

“Have you been out and done something ever since you gave birth to that little girl?”

The thought taunted you because actually, no. You hadn’t properly gone out for dinner, been on a shopping trip or even to a cafe for a drink with a book or magazine in toe ever since the little girl was born. Truthfully you didn’t want to considering that all of those things ran the risk of triggering an attack. Malls were busy, they were loud and they were crazy. Restaurants- somehow even louder if you went at the right time of night. Glass could be dropped and people cheering out of the blue and before you knew it your skin would be growing hot and clammy, everything around you becoming nothing more than a haze as your mind decides to run a hundred miles an hour.

Wrapping an arm around your daughter's waist, you pull her into your chest and Rosie shimmies back more until she was fully pressed against you, legs pull into her chest as a small yawn escapes. Her still slightly dripping hair was wetting your shirt, causing a small stain to form but you couldn’t care less.

“I haven’t had the chance.” You mutter, feeling the little girl in your arms let out a small, slightly audible yawn followed by more gentle humming.

“Now’s your chance. Come out with me tomorrow, meet my boss- god knows he wants to meet you.” Aiden grit his teeth, finding your reluctance borderline irritating. Maybe it was the fact that if you said no he’d deal with the anger of the biggest mob boss in London, meeting his feet with a bullet or worse.

Aiden still didn’t understand how or why Tom Holland was so interested in you, a part of him felt that he was putting you on the line here but Tom’s gruff, threatening voice bounced around his head like a ping pong ball. Every word burned into his memory.

Sighing, you realize that you weren’t going to win this conversation.

“I can get my dad to look after her, he hasn’t seen her for a while.” You offer. Just like that anxiety was creeping into your chest, crawling right back into your mind like it hadn’t even left in the first place. “I don’t know how Rose will feel about it though.”

“She’ll get over it, you spoil her too much.” He points out. Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. That was a debate you weren’t up to having at ten past eight at night. “You have a dress to wear, right? It’s most likely going to be fancy dress and god only knows what the other girls will be wearing.”

You remembered the red dress sitting in the very back of your wardrobe, not having been worn in around five years you doubt that the thing would even fit but it was worth a try. “I’ve got something,” you say, “I’ll call my dad tomorrow and ask him if he can look after her.”

“If he says no then I have a few friends that’ll happily take her for a few hours.” You’d never met Aiden's friends before so that offer was off the table the moment it left his lips, already mentally nothing to beg your father to say yes to this.

“Okay,” You hum despite your reluctance. Your boyfriend was looking down at his phone again, lips curling upwards slightly and tightening your grip around Rosie, you stand up, taking the phone out of her hands and she scrambles around to take it back from you.

“No, mama.” She whines, voice already drowsy. ”I wanna keep playing.”

“What have I told you about staying up on the phone too late?” You carry her down the hall to her room, flicking on the light and she mumbles something under her breath.

“My eyes will turn into squares.”

-

“Mum?” Rosie’s voice was slightly hazy as she began to settle down into bed, her arms curling around a little brown elephant instead of her usual teddy and you remember to look for that later. She looks up, pink bed sheets pulled up to her chin tightly.

You climb next to her, the little girls head immediately moves so that her curls are hanging over your thigh. Only a few minutes ago you’d been brushing her hair out and already the curls were back, a little frizzy and with a little less volume but they were still there.

“Yeah?” You answer, knowing Rosie wouldn’t continue unless she knew that she had your full attention.

The hand that wasn’t gripping the elephant ear plays with the hem of your nightshirt, the thin cotton fabric soft on your fingers. “What are your nightmares about?”

“Nightmares?” You try to play dumb but truthfully you were taken back by the question, eyes widening slightly as she nods as best she could without changing position.

“You have nightmares.” The four-year-old points out. “I know because I hear you in the night and you told me about nightmares, remember?” A wave of guilt washes through you when she says that, but Rosy continues before you can begin to apologize profusely. “Sometimes I get them too and it’s okay- if you get them then you can come and lay with me because you let me lay with you in your bed when I get them.”

You crack a smile, and so does the little girl, recently cleaned teeth peeking through before her smile falls, her eye’s fluttering shut out of exhaustion and you begged her to fall asleep before she asked any more questions that you didn’t exactly know how to answer.

“Are there monsters?” It was a question that every kid asked at least once in their lives. They wanted to know all about the monsters that lurked in the back of their closets at night- and the ones that hid under the bed and that’d snatch you up if you stuck a foot out from beneath the duvet and over the edge.

“No.” You straighten out the plush, pink duvet. It depended on her definition of a monster. The world was full of them, ruthless people with no morals or sense of care for anyone else. They’d hurt you without thinking twice and leave you with the type of trauma that didn't just disappear overnight. “There was- but someone got rid of the monsters.”

Nick was a monster.

“Who?” She seemed intrigued, the brown elephant now forgotten as she rolls over, looking up excitedly. “They must be really strong if they can get rid of monsters.”

You nod without hesitation. “He is strong, he took on three at once with the help of his friends.” Tears prickle the corners of your eyes and your bite back a sob, instead of keeping your attention drawn to your daughter who listened intently.  “Thanks to them we don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“They can’t hurt us?”

“Never again.”

The thing is, some monsters were able to hide in plain sight. They didn’t have to wear scary clothing, carry guns in their back pockets or have a dirty past. They were sly- always two steps ahead of the game and often you don’t realize who the real monster was until it’s too late. Of course, you couldn’t tell your four-year-old daughter that it wasn’t the nonexistent monsters in the closet or under the bed that she should be worried about but the ones in everyday life.

-

Part 3!

Remember that updates are partially dependant on your response (as well as my love for writing these) ♡

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[writethelifeyouwant]

Leningrad- Chapter 1

Life moves on and so should we. -Spencer Johnson

The pavement slipped by beneath his feet as he trudged towards the snow-dusted red awning on the busy New York street. Blaring snaps of hip-hop music faded in and out as cars pushed through the slush and mud coating the roads. It was bitterly, bitingly, cold but he was only marginally aware of the numb feeling creeping from the tip of his nose to the rest of his face until he turned under the awning and a stifling heat rushed through him.

Inside, the humidity that restaurants get when they're overcrowded during the winter engulfed the newcomer but he didn't make any moves to remove his winter clothes. After glancing towards the right corner of the room he pulled his scarf tighter around his face and hunched down in his coat, as if he was preparing to once more step out into the wind. Instead, he started moving purposefully through the restaurant, towards the lighted signs proclaiming the entrances to the restrooms and the kitchens, respectively.

As he passed the doors to the kitchen and turned down the hall to the men's room he observed that the cash station for the wait staff was currently occupied by two young women in ill-fitting white collared shirts. They were not who he was looking for. He ducked into the bathroom, checked that he was alone, and waited.

Through the crack between the door hinge and its frame he could hear the two waitresses complaining about the lack of tips their tables had been getting that day. He peered through the infinitesimal gap and saw them print their receipts and begin to retreat back towards the main dining room. Then, as he had hoped, he heard a faint greeting as they passed another waitress on her way to the cash station.

"Hi Anya."

"Hey guys."

Another waitress in the same unflattering uniform approached the cash station and began to enter the necessary information to run the customer's credit card. The man quietly exited the restroom and reached into his large fur-lined overcoat, pulling a small hand gun from an inside pocket. Angling his body so his back faced the entrance to the hall, he carefully placed the gun against the girl's waist.

"Anya," he spoke in a low, calmly controlled voice. "Will you please walk with me to that fire exit?”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

“Oh, Penelope, this is exactly what we needed. Thank you,” Kate sighed as she snuggled down into her seaweed wrap.  

“Of course! My crime fighting beauties deserve their beauty rest. And I really needed some tension released.”

“Fight with Sam?” JJ asked sympathetically, taking a sip of her white wine.

“No, but it might turn into one soon if he doesn’t learn a few more facts about the female anatomy.” Penelope huffed.

“Ooh, that bad?” JJ asked.

“I don’t think I’m asking for anything out of the realm of possibility! Google can tell him plenty if he bothers to look.”

“And have you tried telling him any of these tips yourself?” Kate laughed.

“Not in… so many words,” Penelope’s face noticeably reddened in acknowledgement of her embarrassment. “But he seemed so confident going into…” she waved her hands randomly in front of her to fill in the words she didn’t want to say. “I don’t want to make him question everything else about his life he thinks he’s good at!” The girls giggled at Penelope’s flustered explanation.

“Pen, if you don’t want to die of sexual frustration you’re gonna have to tell him. I would think you taking charge wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary for him.” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at Penelope, taking another long drink of her wine. Penelope huffed in amusement.

“I had to have the same conversation with Chris when we started dating. He was only briefly mortified before he applied himself very enthusiastically to righting that wrong.” Kate shared, grabbing her own wine. “Totally worth it.”

The girls all giggled and continued to chat and sip at their drinks as they enjoyed the much needed relaxation, cocooned in their respective body treatment wraps. The bubbly atmosphere popped when three text tones rang out in near concurrence.

“Well, this was fun while it lasted,” JJ sighed.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Spencer walked into the conference room with his large mug of coffee and plopped himself into the swivel chair at the table, spinning a complete three-sixty before he settled his drink next to the file in front of him, pushing his curly hair back out of his eyes.

"Reid, man, you have got to get a haircut," Morgan laughed.

"Really?" Reid self-consciously ran his hands through his, admittedly unruly, hair again. "I kind of liked it like this…" His voice trailed off as he anxiously thought back to the last time he'd had an awful haircut and had caught some of the students at the academy laughing about it as he passed them on his way up to the lectern. No one had done that lately, he thought maybe he had rectified the situation.

"Don't listen to him Spence," JJ cut in. "I think it looks good like this."

"Seriously JJ?" Morgan scoffed good-naturedly. His ribbing tone made it obvious he wasn't taking the whole situation too seriously, he just wanted to wind Reid up.

"Oh yeah! Skinny guy, curly hair, forgot to shave; that look's hot right now." JJ and the team cracked up as Spencer blushed but also looked shyly pleased with himself.

"You said it sister," Garcia piped up as she hurried into the conference room with her unicorn mug and her personal clicking device. "Unfortunately, I am here to give you a look at something much less pretty. We have a missing girl."

Garcia positioned herself by the screen and brought up two photos of young, blue-eyed, mousy haired girls. They were severely unattractive license photos but Spencer could tell the girls would have been pretty under normal circumstances. The next pictures Garcia brought up were even more unattractive.

"Three weeks ago in the lovely but crime filled city of New York," Garcia started, "our girl on the left, Lina Mills, was found in her apartment, shot once execution-style in the back of the head. Police connected her murder to that of our first victim, Katerina Russo. She was found in her apartment about six months ago, same thing one shot to the back of the head." Garcia grimaced and quickly looked away from the very high definition photos of the girls staring into space with blood running down into their eyes.

Morgan was flicking through more of the crime scene pictures on his tablet while she was talking. "These girls weren't killed in their apartments, there's not enough blood."

"You're right," Rossi mused, "he has to have a secondary location where he kills them. But why bring them back to their own apartments? That seems unnecessarily risky."

"It's very risky," Reid added, "It looks like these girls were missing for at least a week before they were killed according to the police reports. There would have been enhanced surveillance around their homes but he still got their bodies back in without anyone stopping him.”

“Both girls also show evidence of torture and starvation according to the ME reports. That must be why he’s keeping them so long. It’s about the time he spends torturing them, not how he kills them.” Kate volunteered.

"Was there any evidence of sexual assault?" JJ asked mutedly as she scanned through the reports on her own tablet.

"No there wasn’t," Hotch answered as he strode into the room, simultaneously hanging up his cell phone. "I just got off with the NYPD confirming our invite in. They called us about this girl," he pointed at the screen as Garcia brought up a third picture of a young, pretty girl with light brown hair and blue eyes, just like the previous victims.

"Her name is Anya Hamlin, she's 18, just started at NYU. Her boss reported her missing when she disappeared half way through her waitressing shift this afternoon."

"How do they know this girl was taken by the same unsub?" Morgan put in.

"Anya and the last victim, Lina, took a few classes together at NYU. She was one of the girls they interviewed when Lina went missing.” Hotch grimaced.

"Okay so this guys is definitely working on a specific target list then, going after girls in the same group," Rossi spoke up. "Did they have any connection to the first victim?"

Garcia answered, "not that NYPD has found but I'm digging into it right now sir."

"Alright, well, keep us updated on the plane Garcia. Wheels up in 20 everyone.”

[redskull-fanatic]

Captain Hydra

A story about Steve becoming Captain Hydra. An alternate universe if the whole plot of Captain America: The First Avenger, was slightly altered. No Bucky death, no Johann being blasted into the cosmos, and no crashing into the ice and becoming frozen. Just a simple, “American military foils a minor Hydra plan, and the two have been going back and forth a few years after the war.” Should be interesting.

Skull stood on his balcony, watching his Hydra troops do their normal training routine. It was all so boring, dull, uninspired.

Schmidt sighed angrily as he stormed his way back into his office and shut the balcony doors with simply no thought at all.

He paced the room a bit, deep in thought, until the radiant blue light caught his attention. He eased his way over to his prized Tesseract and lifted it up with care. He stared into the light, demanding sort of answer telepathically. Unable to understand the Skull’s unvoiced demand, the object simply dimmed it’s glow.

Schmidt sighed once more.

“You must be confused on why I am upset, hm?” He asked the glowing object, it shimmered in response. “Ah, well, my Hydra army seems so dull. Normally opera and portraits would quench my thirst of entertainment, but even that is not working..” Skull explained dully, setting the cube onto a plush pillow display and going back to pacing the room.

The cube seemed to watch him, thinking of ways to cheer him up. It glowed with a suggestion.

Skull noticed.

“Whatever you are suggesting, perhaps do it now. I do not like my attention wasted.”

The cube hummed in response and started glowing brightly. Then, it shot out a hologram of a figure.

The figure had no colors other than the blue of the tesseract, but Skull could clearly make out it was Captain America.

His new mysterious rival.

“… Him?” The Skull asked, receiving a glow from the alien object, “What about him?”

The hologram Steve was moved aside and two more pictures were displayed. The Hydra symbol and a question mark.

The Skull looked confused, but once all the pieces fit together in his mind he was baffled.

“Are you suggesting… Captain America join Hydra?” He whispered, still in a state of shock that such an object would even consider the possibility.

The cube glowed in agreement, then all the pictures disappeared and the hologram showed a concept idea of Captain Hydra. Hologram Steve was smiling, and once he saw Skull he gave the Hydra salute. Johann was taken aback by this.

He decided to consider what the cube was offering.

Captain America becoming Captain Hydra?… Both names sound just as moronic, The Skull thought. He started to pace around the room, This Captain America is still a new enemy of mine, I truly do not know much about him… He’s idiotic and stubborn, how would I even convert him to Hydra?

The Skull looked at the cube, in his mind demanding an answer. However, the hologram of Steve kept distracting him. Saluting, smiling, wielding his Hydra shield. It was such a strange sight to behold, yet Skull did like what he saw.

“If I wish to convert the Captain to Hydra, I need options. Ways to convert him… Any ideas?”

The Tesseract took away hologram Rogers and a few more pictures popped up. All described the possible ways to convert the American to Hydra.

The first picture was a man shouting at another. Force, Schmidt thought.

The second was a man with swirly eyes, Schmidt concluded that was brainwash, and/or mind control.

The third, however, he was put off by. The image was two men smiling and shaking hands.

He looked at the Tesseract in disgust, “What is this?”

The cube’s light glowed with interest, and displayed more and more pictures that made the Skull uncomfortable.

People hugging, laughing, dancing, talking with huge smiles on their faces.

All were acts of kindness.

The realization hit Schmidt like a truck, and he could feel his breakfast race up his throat.

Forcing his earlier meal back down, he glared at the tesseract in disapproval.

The holograms disappeared and the tesseract’s light dimmed in shame, causing Schmidt to sigh. “I am not mad at you,” he stated, causing the tesseract to light up again. “However, I do not understand why of all things you’d suggest-”

Schmidt was cut off by a knock at the door.

Quickly lifting up the tesseract and placing it back in its proper place, he marched forward to see who his interruption was.

He opened the door slightly, his look of disapproval melted into a neutral expression.

“Hallo, Dr. Zola.”

Zola shifted nervously with his papers, a slight hint of annoyance was on his face. He spared a glance at Schmidt, “Herr Skull, sorry to bother you-”

Skull shook his head, “No, no, perfectly fine. Was in the middle of… Watching the troops as all, what is it Arnim?”

Zola shuffled his papers around more, “Well, I came here to show you more-”

“Ideas for future designs?” Schmidt finished, and seeing the look on Zola’s face he knew he was correct.

Zola was no doubt a smart man, however he’s far too nervous and quiet to truly take any action. Johann had to find him, see his work and hire him for Zola to actually grow a backbone. It took him weeks to get used to looking Skull in the eyes, but Johann is pleased how far he came from then.

“Y-Yes… “ Stammered Arnim as he adjusted his glasses and handed Schmidt some concept sheets.

The Skull eyed them carefully, taking in each and every idea he could. Truth is, Johann always liked to hear about new ideas, especially the crazy ones. For years his knowledge of myth being fact was shut down and called mad, until those dull-witted Nazis took interest in him. He returned the favor with Zola and is very willing to look at any ideas the doctor has… When he’s in a good mood.

Thankfully, he was.

Schmidt nodded at most of the designs, only a few he saw no future for. He handed all the blueprints back to Zola, pointing at the few he disliked. “Either toss these out or better them,” he demanded darkly. Zola simply nodded, sorting all of the papers out now that Schmidt returned them.

He then noticed the emotions swimming in Johann’s eyes, drawing concern.

“Herr Schmidt?”

“Yes, Zola?”

“…  Is everything alright?”

Skull tensed up in the shoulders, he despised whenever Zola noticed something was wrong with him. When all the thoughts and feelings clashed, and he couldn’t think straight. The good doctor has become familiar with Schmidt’s usual expressions and tones. It made Schmidt uncontrollable that Zola knew him almost a little too well.

He huffed, trying to relax his furrowing brows, “I’m fine Arnim, nothing is bothering me-“

The look on Zola’s face told Schmidt he wasn’t buying it.

Skull sighed and spoke lower, “Hydra is boring me, as all. I wish it was a little more exciting. I shall put up with it until my mood shifts. Good day, doctor.”

And with that, Skull shut the door in Zola’s face. It wasn’t a slam, but it was shut quickly.

Zola grew more and more concerned as he left the hall.

000

Schmidt stomped back to the Tesseract, lifted it out and stared into it.

He scanned for any hints or clues, but the mysterious object only twinkled to greet Schmidt.

The Skull sighed as he placed the jewel to Odin’s treasure room onto its plush pillow and stomped out onto the balcony.

He watched the troops train. Getting yelled at by their superiors, obeying every command, when the routine got messed up; they would be scolded and force to do it all over again.

Skull sighed again, his eyes wandering elsewhere.

He scanned the surrounding wildlife, the sparse grass being devoured by dirt, pushed back woods, the entire place strangely being shades of brown and orange.

Schmidt raised his brow, then took a glance at the Tesseract.

It twinkled another greeting.

He nodded, then looked up at the sky.

The sun was in the midst of setting, so the sky was painted ruby reds and bright oranges.

He stared up at it, silently making pleas with his eyes.

He wanted answers, he wanted options. Normally, he made his own options, but this time… He was unsure what course of action to take next.

The sky melted and mixed with the colors, like watery paint on a forever moving canvas.

Maybe the gods would answer him with shapes in the sky.

Johann paid close attention to the moving shapes, trying to latch onto anything he could.

It took him ten minutes to find one; a square.

A red and orange square with swirls of faint white sky, the white was being possessed by the red and the orange seemed greedy to join in.

It was beautiful, but it told Johann something important.

He lowered his head, thought about it, then decided to take the order.

He thanked the gods quietly and marched towards the Tesseract.

The blue glow seemed happy to be in his presence. It shone brightly as Johann picked it up.

Calmly, he said; “… Tell me more about this… plan of yours.”

Thanks for reading! Sorry the format is wonky, writing this on Google Docs and such. Now, I don't know much about Marvel in general, so I'm making this up as I go! Sorry if anyone is out of character or something. Also, once I'm part way through chapter three, I'll post two. Writing this all for fun, and it's coming out nice! Thanks again!!

[abunchofstories]

When in Romania

A Bucky Barnes/OFC One-Shot - 8053 words

The OFC POV of Last Night in Bucharest about Bucky’s last night before the events of Civil War happened.

By: @lowkeysebastianstan

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Allusions Of Torture, Angst, PTSD, Explicit M/F Sex, 1st person POV, Excessive Use Of Commas, Far Too Long Paragraphs, Waffling, Adverbs, Google Translated Romanian

A wall of heat and smoke hit me when I opened the door, a low murmur of voices underlined by the beat from a jukebox in the corner. It was a dive, there was no other way to describe it, but it was just what I wanted, some local flavour and a drink on my last night. I was happy with the hotel, more of a hostel really, but serving my needs perfectly.

It was the last leg of my journey, the next day I was leaving Bucharest and flying to Paris, where I was staying 3 days before returning home. It had been a perfect journey: Ukraine for a week with my family, even meeting some of my resident ones. There were only very distant cousins left, but it was still exciting to see where one's roots were. We had been a group of 5, myself and 4 cousins in the same age range, and we'd had a blast. It had been great, but after a week with them I'd taken off on my own, finally allowing myself the luxury of a trip I'd wanted for so long.

Truth be told the destinations had little bearing on it, I'd just wanted to get away, to be alone, to explore. Europe was an obvious choice, culturally diverse and filled with art and history. I'd never been on my own like this, and every step of the way had been an adventure. But it was coming to an end, after 4 nights in Romania I was heading back and sad as the thought was, I was determined to have a nice last evening. I scanned the room, saw a stool at the bar, went over and sat down, fishing the phrase book out of my bag. The bartender came over and gave me a friendly nod.

"Bună seara. Ce pot să-ți aduc, dor?" I smiled and indicated the book, flicking through it.

"No no. I can speak English. What can I get you, miss?" He smiled and shook his head, indicating the wall behind him, liquors and beers, local and imported. I shook my head and held up a finger.

"Bunã seara. Nu. Pot obține un gin tonic, vă rugăm să." I sent him a questioning smile, and he nodded appreciatively.

"Foarte bine!" He turned and fetched the bottle, and mixed the drink. "Cei mai mulți oameni nici măcar nu încearcă să vorbească românește, ei cred că e prea greu." I stared and broke out in a giggle, shaking my head.

"Nu. No. Sorry. I can't keep up, I have no idea what you just said." He laughed.

"Well, the effort is much appreciated. Most people don't even try, Romanian is a hard language to learn, or so they say." He slid the drink on the counter. "On the house."

"Thank you. That's very nice."

"Well, it's not often we get pretty ladies so eager to learn." I smiled brilliantly at the kind gesture and took a small sip. Light on the tonic, just as I liked it. The bartender went over to another customer waiting, started chatting in the same easy manner, and I swirled around and took in the room.

Mostly small groups of friends, a small area over by the jukebox was cleared for dancing, where a couple of girls stood laughing—all in all a friendly, easy scene. Just what I was looking for, and I was glad I had ventured out a bit. The place was just around the corner from my small 2-star hotel, and I looked forward to a few drinks and my bed before I had to get up early to catch my flight. I sighed contentedly and turned back, my elbows on the worn counter. Suddenly I could feel the burning sensation of someone staring at me and turned my head to the far end of the bar.

He was in his mid- to late twenties, and casually dressed in a red henley, a bit frayed at the sleeves. He had a kind of homeless look about him, his brown hair was almost shoulder length and in need of a trim, and he was sporting a five-day stubble. His face was angular, with shiny red lips, sharp cheekbones, full cheeks and a strong jawline with a small dimple on the chin.

He turned his eyes down when he saw me looking, bit his lip and gave his beer a twirl before raising it to his mouth, taking a sip in what he clearly hoped was a casual manner, lifting his gaze and looked straight at me. His eyes were dark in the light, but they seemed blue, not brown, and I stared right back, hypnotized. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I raised my glass, tipped it at him, and gave him what I hoped was a winning smile.

He smiled back, but his whole demeanour changed, and he suddenly looked almost scared, like an animal ready to take flight. He down set his bottle and seemed on the verge of rising when he stopped, and had what looked like an internal discussion before sinking back on his seat. He faced me slowly, and his wide shoulders sank imperceptibly. He straightened and elevated his beer towards me, giving me a tiny nod and a shy smile. The whole thing lasted maybe three seconds, but his inner struggle was fascinating to watch. I leaned forward, and scanning the bar I saw the stool closest to him was vacant. I gave him a quizzical look and pointed my glass at it, waiting for his approval before I moved down, hoisting myself up at it.

Up close I saw his face was more lined, more worn, and I upped my estimate to late twenties early thirties, it giving him a more mature, more rugged look. It made him if possible even more gorgeous. His eyes were a startling light blue, his hair framing his face and falling into them, and he smelled clean and freshly showered. So probably not homeless then. He was breathtaking, and he was taking mine. I gave him my warmest smile and extended my hand, introducing myself. He stared at it for a long moment, but at the end taking it, his warm, massive hand swallowing mine.

"Bu—Jam—Bucky. My name is Bucky." He let go of my hand and grabbed the beer, taking a long draught. I copied him, he clearly needed the reprieve.

"Bucky." I tasted the unusual name. "That's not local. So... American?" His tongue darted out, running over his lips, making them shine. He swallowed.

"Yes. American. But I live here now." He shrugged, lifting himself up on the bar, causing his arm to flex and his biceps to bulge. His left arm and gloved hand stayed curiously still, and it seemed bigger than his right, looking like he had been injured and was sporting a bandage. A glimpse of bared skin at his hip where his sweater was pulled up made me feel a twinge in my stomach, and a familiar warmth spreading, making me squirm ever so slightly. He was looking at me almost apologetic, silently begging me not to ask any more questions. I quickly decided to pack my curiosity away, burning as it was.

"I'm just coming through. I'm trekking Europe. Sort of an adult interrail. Planes not trains." He relaxed a little, and kept my gaze.

"Interrail?"

"Yes. It's a European thing. Kids get train tickets, and travel around, backpacking all over. Sort of a rite of passage." I didn't question his ignorance, after all my own discovery of the concept was fairly recent. "You know, some architecture and culture in Prague for a couple of nights, beer in Berlin for three, then Athens and Rome for art and history, some sunbathing in southern Spain before ending in a stupor on Jim Morrison's grave at Père Lachaise." He nodded and smiled, visibly starting to enjoy himself more.

"Jim Morrison?" He shot me an inquiring look.

"The front singer in The Doors?" I cocked my head a little, studying him. Who didn't know Jim Morrison?

"Ah. Yes, of course." He cleared his throat, dropping the line of questioning. "And you do this? Alone?"

"Yes. This is my last stop before Paris. And the stupor. Why not?"

"Well, you're a..." He gestured vaguely to my body. "Well, I mean, is it safe?"

My eyebrows shot up in mock horror. "What? You think a woman can't take care of herself?"

A fleeting panic crossed his face, his hand threading into his hair, pushing it away from his face.

"No, I didn't mean to imply—I mean, I didn't..." He chuckled and shook his head. "You're joking. Sorry."

I grinned widely, glad we were finally getting somewhere. "Yes. Or not really. But you're not the first man, or woman for that matter, who's asked me that. And in some ways it's a fair point, shitty as it is." I shrugged. "The world has changed little in the last century." He nodded.

"Yes. Apart from the world changing. I think it's become rather unrecognisable." I looked at him, laughing. How old was he?

"Sure. I guess. In some ways. But you'd think with all the technical advances these things would change too. That was my point."

"Ah. In that case, yes. One would think it'd be the case. I'm sorry." I gave a small snort.

"It's not your fault. I'm just glad you agree." I drained my drink, and he mimicked me, emptying his beer.

"Another? On me." The words were a little rushed, with an edge of uncertainty, but he relaxed when I smiled and nodded.

"Sure. Thank you."

"Scuzati-ma." He called over to the bartender, who turned with a friendly smile. "O alta bere pentru mine, și la fel pentru doamna, oricare ar fi ea are."

I looked at him, a slight awe in my eyes, he sounded completely fluid. The deep timbre of his voice struck some other cords in me, thumping and warmth rushing down between my legs. I bit my lip and arranged my face in what I hoped was a neutral expression. The bartender brought our drinks over, and Bucky slid some bills on the counter.

"Vă mulțumesc, păstrați schimbarea."

The bartender took the money and gave an appreciative nod, winking at me in passing, hiding a smirk. Damn. I guess my expression wasn't all that neutral after all. I could feel a flush spreading, and in an effort to save the situation, I raised my glass at him.

"To Romanian, and the foreigners who really make an effort to learn it." He returned the gesture and grinned, a small blush colouring his cheeks.

"I've been here for some time. It's not that hard to learn. Besides, I've got a fair knowledge of Slavic languages."

"Really? How about Ukrainian?" He laughed and gave me a few phrases, some I even understood. I was fascinated.

"Russian? Hungarian? Latvian?" He indulged me further, and I shook my head, trying some others as well.

"How about French? German?" His whole frame had eased up, he was clearly enjoying the game, his face all smiles and small laughs.

He was utterly charming, and I couldn't for the life of me imagine what had caused his behaviour earlier. A man like this should have women swarming him, and judging him now it wasn't his first outing, he was used to impress, and he was obviously flirting, constantly shooting me discreet, but obvious looks hitting my bare arms, my mouth, my chest.

My whole body was humming under his searching glances, and the heat and moisture between my legs kept me on edge, I couldn't remember when I last had been so attracted to someone. I willed myself to focus and soon the conversation was flowing smoothly.

We talked about movies and music, he seemed very much up on the classics and recent chart-toppers, but I couldn't discern a particular taste. We moved on to books, travel and current events, the situation in Sokovia and the rise in terrorism first among them. He seemed a little hesitant at first but had a keen mind, and when we got into history and architecture his knowledge seemed as extensive as that of languages, so I risked another few questions.

"I actually had a tour of myself when I was young. Like you. A tour of Europe." At first he seemed like he was going to shy away from it, and I was worried I had pushed it too far, but then he just shrugged, the alcohol having done its job. He gave me a smug smile, and I could see there was no point pressing it, but he still had me rolling my eyes in exasperation. I shook my head and changed the topic, not wanting to break the flow. He took the cue, and we settled back into our easy exchange, him refreshing our drinks whenever needed, keeping us comfortably inebriated.

After a while I needed the ladies, and I slid off my seat and braced my arm on the counter, tilted forward and caught my sandal in the footwell, tumbled down and landed with a small gasp between his thighs, an inch from his face. He froze, startled, and seemed as rooted to the spot as I was. I became acutely aware of his body heat, my hand on a denim-clad massive, rock hard thigh that was brushing mine where my flimsy linen dress had ridden up, the strange hardness of his left hand where it had grabbed my shoulder in an attempt to steady me, but mostly I was aware of his eyes and his warm breath mingling with mine. I swallowed.

"Want to get out of here?" My voice was a pathetic whisper, but he seemed to hear it well enough. He nodded, eyes still locked in mine.

"Yeah." He licked his lips and nodded again. "Yeah. I do."

I smiled and put my hand carefully on his chest, the hard thumping of his heart reverberating the incessant thrumming of mine.

"Okay. Gimme a minute." I tore myself away and shakily found my way to the ladies room, trying to steady both my heart and my lungs. I finished up, splashed some water on my face, and returned, exhaling in relief when I saw him, having half expected him to have made a break for it in my absence.

His eyes were glued to me as soon as I emerged, maybe he had expected the same—envisioned me trying to escape through the bathroom window. The thought was ridiculous, and a nervous giggle burst from my mouth. I strode over to him, faking some confidence, now that it came to it I was more nervous than I'd thought I would be.

"Hi." His lips widened in a small smile, but his eyes were still boring into mine, the expression unmistakable.

"Hi." I took his hand gingerly, and he twisted his, entwining our fingers. "Shall we?" He nodded and grabbed his jacket from the back of his stool, and together we walked out, the cool evening air refreshing after the temperature inside. He stopped just outside and looked at me.

"So? Where do you want to... I mean, what do you..." He cleared his throat, but I just turned and tugged at his hand, dragging him with me around the corners to the entrance of my hotel.

I didn't dare to look back, but I could feel his eyes on my neck, shooting tingles up my spine. I didn't stop until we reached the elevator, and I pressed the button while still holding his hand, his thumb brushing mine. We stood staring at the door, and I drew a small sigh of relief when it finally arrived and the doors slid open. I could feel a tremble running through him, and we entered the elevator in unison. The doors slid shut, and finally the tension broke.

I turned around, and suddenly he pulled me into a hard embrace, his breathing ragged, his lips covering mine. My mouth opened, letting him in, tasting him, exploring his mouth, his tongue penetrating and demanding, crashing into mine. I let go of his hand, pressing myself into him, sliding my arms around his back, grinding against the hard ridge in his jeans. The ping announced the end of the journey, and as soon as the doors opened he was walking me blindly backwards, not stopping until we hit the hallway wall. He released my mouth and stood panting leaning his forehead to mine.

"Where?" I pointed in the general direction and rooted through my bag for my key, handing it to him.

"Number 14." He scanned the doors, and grabbed my wrist, making for the right one, and jammed the key in the hole, almost tearing the door off the hinges crashing it open.

He pulled me inside and swung me around, closing the door effectively by pinning me against it. With a loud moan he found my mouth again, and I whimpered into it, threading my fingers through his thick, soft hair, pulling him closer. His hands ran up my thighs, bunching up my dress and enclosed my hips. I winched when the fingers on his left hand dug into me, and he stopped and sprang back, leaving me staring in confusion at the look of utter horror on his face.

"God. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He inhaled loudly, and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry. I should never have... I'm sorry."

I stared at him, clueless. "Bucky. What's wrong?" I took a tentative step towards him, but he backed away, again reminding me of a caged animal. He stepped aside, trying to find a way around me, but the little hall was narrow and I held my ground.

"Bucky. Please. I'm fine. I don't want you to leave."

He stopped and stared at me indecorously. He swallowed, licked his lips, and gave me a timid smile. "You're not scared? Or hurt?"

"No. Not at all. I'm fine." I took another step, closing the gap, my breasts touching his torso.

He shivered slightly and let out a weak laugh. "You're really fine? You want to... continue?" He lifted his right hand, stroking my hair back, exposing my neck.

The gentle touch had me trembling, and I closed my eyes and sighed. "Yes. I'm fine, I'm not scared, and I'd very much like to continue."

He inhaled sharply and puffed up his cheeks, before shaking his head and clearly reaching a decision. "Okay. But we're taking it slow."

I laughed and stepped closer, lifting my mouth and ran my tongue along his lower lip. "Slow it is." My whisper got drowned out by his kiss, gentle and soft, and his right hand pulled me carefully towards him, his left arm hanging limply at his side. I let my hands run up them both, and marvelled at the smooth surface and lack of friction as I drew his sweater up. He froze again, but collected himself and relaxed, lifting it and letting it rest on my waist.

"God. You're so warm and soft." He let out a content sigh and allowed himself to tighten his embrace, rotating his hips and rubbing himself against me. To my pleasure he was still hard, and I responded by reaching up his shoulders, tugging at his shirt.

He broke the kiss and took a small step back, allowing some space, twisting the henley and pulling it over his head, tugging back the tee, covering the flash of rock hard abs. I gasped and could feel my mouth hanging open. He gave me an uncertain, apologetic look.

"Bucky. What is that? Is it a prosthetic? It's beautiful." He stretched out his left arm, flexed it, the small panels and joints rippling, shimmering in the faint light, minute whirs and clicks while gauging my expression and holding his breath.

I exhaled and reached out, tracing my fingers lightly over his underarm and up to the biceps, pressing my palm against the cool surface, pushing up the tee sleeve, covering the red star on his shoulder. The image was tugging at something, a faint memory, but I couldn't place it and shoved it back in my head. I became aware that my jaw was slackening again and shot him a shy smile.

"Sorry. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this." He snorted, finally letting himself breathe. "How does it work?"

He furrowed his brows and flexed the fingers. "Like an arm, I guess. I don't know the mechanics of it, other than it's fused to my shoulder, connected to the central nervous system." He reached over with his right hand, pulling off the glove hiding the silver fingers. He lifted it slowly to my cheek, brushing gently, looking intently at it.

"I obviously can't feel anything." His voice sounded sad, and I put my hand over his, pressing the cool metal against my face, and closed my eyes.

"No, but it feels good." I opened my eyes, smiled at him and his face softened.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

He brought up his other hand, cupping my face and brushed his lips against mine. My hands found his hips, stroking his smooth, warm skin under the hem of his t-shirt, threading my fingers into his belt loops, pulling him in. He moaned into my mouth and despite previous statements let go, giving in to it. He kissed me deeply, running his fingers up my thighs, catching my dress, and laying his metal hand at the small of my back, rotating his hips. I could feel myself swell, my panties getting soaked, and my breath came out in shallow bursts, egging him on. He ground his pelvis at me and hitched up my left leg by the knee before cupping my ass with hard unyielding fingers, taking care not to apply too much pressure.

I buried my hands in his thick hair, letting him hoist me up and hooked my ankles on the swell of his ass, kicking off my sandals in the process. He leaned back and I lifted my head, looking down at him, his eyes black from lust and lack of light. I could feel the head of his cock straining at the denim through the thin fabric of my panties, and straightening my legs slightly I hit his bare stomach, letting him feel my wetness.

"Oh god." His jaw clenched, the veins on his neck protruding, and his mouth found my chest, and he traced his tongue up my clavicle, neck and jaw, burying his nose in my hair. I crooked my neck and started grasping down his shoulders and back, pulling up the black tee, desperate for more skin contact. My nails grazed his ribs, and he stopped moving. I froze and tried to steady my voice, the frustration reaching unbearable levels.

"What?" The word was a whisper, but he just held me, tightening his grip, still breathing into my hair. "Bucky?" He swallowed hard but still said nothing. "Please. Tell me what's wrong."

He exhaled, a long ragged stream of air, and he relented his hold, starting to slide me down. My heart sank, but I conceded in good grace, even I had limits of how desperate I wanted to appear. When my feet touched the floor, I retreated a couple of feet and braced myself for the inevitable rejection.

"Listen, I—" I stopped dead, the sight of him starting to pull up his shirt totally muting me. He twisted the tee off in a smooth motion and just stood there, watching me watch him. I suddenly became aware of a pain in my lip, I was biting it so hard to stifle a moan.

"Yes. It's not pretty." He continued to keep my gaze, and I suddenly realised he was awaiting my judgement. Again. My mind was racing, what the fuck happened to this guy? My curiosity almost got the better of me, but only almost.

"No. You're right. Pretty doesn't even come close." His eyebrows shot up, and he took in my expression. "Don't you even own a mirror?"

The corner of his mouth started twitching, and he let out a low snort. I held up a finger.

"No, of course you don't. How would you get anything done?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head, but was clearly pleased with my reaction.

I continued my exploration and tried to take him all in. The wide panes of his pecs, the sharp quartering of his abs, the marked v, the soft trail of hair on his chest, narrowing down towards his jeans. He was magnificent. Of course, there was the jagged scarring along the prosthetic, but that was just standing as a sharp compliment to the perfection of the rest of him. I raised my right hand and let a finger trail over the ravaged skin. He shuddered slightly, but seemingly not from disgust.

"You're beautiful."

He laughed again and an unmistakable blush darkened his cheeks, sending renewed waves of heat and wetness down me, and suddenly I couldn't think about anything than feeling his skin against mine. In a sharp twist I pulled my dress over my head, and threw it on the floor, looking up at his widened eyes, a small smile on my lips.

"There. So you don't have to feel uncomfortable." His eyes trailed over me, lingering on my breasts and my hips, and he licked his lips, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"Uncomfortable isn't the word I would use, no." The words were soft and shaky, and he lifted his real hand and ran his index finger along the edge of my bra, his palm stroking my nipple lightly through it. He followed the contours of it and hooked a finger through the strap, pulling it down from my shoulder. I reached back, unhooked it, relaxed my arms, and let the bra slide down. His eyes widened, and he carefully cupped my breast, weighing it in his palm, thumb flicking lightly over the hard nipple and I whimpered, laying my hands on his chest, running my fingers down and resting them on the lining of his jeans. He hesitated, obviously conscious about the direction of my hands, but bent down and took a nipple in his mouth, his tongue twirling and flicking carefully, and encouraged by my reaction sucking slightly before moving to the other.

I was in agony, having not taken the complications into account, I was already on the verge of coming just from pure anticipation. I started working on his belt, and he twisted his back slightly to give me room, allowing me to unbuckle it, and I began opening a button when his hand was between my thighs, his fingers traced the lining on my panties. An involuntary jerk of my hips and I was pressing fully against it, his fingers slipping beyond the edge and dipping into my folds.

"Jesus." He breathed the word, hot air hitting my chest, and moved in closer for a better reach, dragging his lips and tongue up my neck and rested his forehead on my shoulder, his fingers perfectly still. I moaned loudly and inched closer, desperate for friction, yanking at his fly and popped the rest of the buttons. His massive dick was straining against his boxers, and I palmed him, rubbing him gently, eliciting a low growl, and suddenly he was inside me, two fingers twisting around, hitting one sweet spot while his thumb rubbed at the wet fabric covering the other. My knees buckled, and I fell against his hand full weight, metal fingers groping my ass, sliding down my thigh, and hitching my knee up, pinning it at his hip.

He stroked back up, hooking onto the side of my panties, snapping it apart with a mere flick. A small laugh escaped me as I became vaguely aware of the rest of it tumbling down my other leg when the pad of his thumb hit my swollen clit, and I groaned loudly, arching back, helping him deeper, and my arms flung up to his shoulders to keep my balance.

"Oh fuck. Yes." I pressed my lips against his wide grin, breathing heavily into his mouth, whimpering as he rubbed in slow circular motions. "Fuuuuck."

The force of the orgasm had me clinging to him, my hips shooting forward, increasing the pressure as I clenched and pulsated around him, my chest grinding his, my frantic heartbeat and gasping causing another low chuckle.

"Damn." I tried to speak, but my voice wouldn't carry, and he laughed harder. I bit him lightly and dug my nails into his shoulders, feigning offence, before becoming aware of his cock jerking against my stomach, straining against the wet cotton of his boxers. I caught his eyes and slowly slid my hand down, finding the elastic at his hip, and slipped a finger inside.

He stopped dead and held his breath as I moved to the front and deftly pulled it down, freeing him of the constriction. Smirking I held his gaze while I grabbed him at the base, stroking firmly up once, closing my grip at the top, gently squeezing and rubbing his swollen head. He stared at me, his breathing shallow and erratic, and I edged my leg free from his hold, getting my footing back. I winced slightly as his hand slid up from between my legs, the orgasm having left me oversensitive, but kept my attention on him, slipped my other hand under his balls and cupped them gently.

His head flew back, and his whole frame tensed, his hands grabbing my shoulders for support, and watching him I slowly began pumping, revelling in his guttural moans. I sank to one knee, and his eyes widened, watching me as I leaned in and kissed him on the tip, my tongue fluttering and catching the thick fluid. His hands let go of my shoulders, and he kept them hovering over my head, uncertain whether to touch it or not, seemingly afraid to break the spell.

I looked up at him as I opened my mouth and closed my lips around him, marvelling at his expression somewhere between utter disbelief and pure pleasure, and sunk myself into him, taking as much as I could without gagging. I sucked gently, my tongue exploring his ridges and veins, and pumped slowly with my hand, rotating each stroke carefully, falling into a rhythm while he watched. I started tugging at his jeans with my free hand, pulling them down, exposing his ass and massive thighs, taking a firm hold at the back, using it as leverage as I had him carefully fucking my mouth.

He finally gave in and put his hands on my head, his right one threading into my hair, pulling lightly, the left just resting for support as I increased the pace and had him chasing his orgasm. He stopped breathing completely, a massive shiver running through him. His thighs and butt were clenching, steel fingers digging lightly into my skull, working against the relentless tugging at my hair and keeping my head perfectly still, as he controlled his final thrust, his thick cock bulging and twitching in my mouth before he finally fell forward, exhaling in a long uninterrupted groan, his load squirting into my mouth and throat.

"Jesus." The uneven whisper was reverent, and the corners of my mouth twitched as I swallowed and licked him clean, not missing one single drop. He looked at me with something akin to worship, released my head and cupped his hands under my chin, lifting me up and kissed me. "God, you are amazing."

"Really? I'd never would have thought you thought that." His whole frame was vibrating from strain and the low chuckle, and he put his arms around me and sighed my name.

"No, I really kept my cool, didn't I."

"Yes. Impossible to read." I tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and smiled. "To be honest I'm still in the dark as to whether you even liked that."

He prodded my sides and the tickle had me pushing him, and he stumbled back until he hit the edge of the bed, falling onto it, and pulling me down with him. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes, his hands stroking my back and hips.

We lay for a long time, minutes that felt like an infinity, but all good things come to an end. I wanted more, and I elevated myself, supported by an elbow, my leg resting on his far knee, and traced the muscles on his rising and falling chest, studying the perfect sculpting.

"But it's too bad really." His eyes flew open.

"What is?"

I met his gaze, biting my lip. "Well, maybe I should have saved that for something else." I grazed my fingers lightly down his stomach, stopping just above his semi-hard cock, circling the coarse, damp hair. He looked at me before looking down at himself, smirking.

"Yeah. That's too bad." He reached up and took a breast in his hand, teasing the nipple, biting his bottom lip, having me jutting my hips, trying to get some friction from his thigh. "Really too bad. But I can't do anything about that now."

His cock twitched, visibly growing. He flexed his thigh, pressing it against me, making me squirm and smear him with the increasing wetness. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he reached down, palmed my mound and teasing a finger on my clit. "Really, really too bad."

I whimpered into his chest, and suddenly I was on my back, pushed down by his weight, his mouth on mine and two fingers inserted to the knuckle. He pried my knees apart, settling between them, kicking off his boots and jeans, moving his mouth to my neck, grazing and nipping with his teeth. I shuddered, my hips shot up and my legs spread, welcoming his intrusion. His growing confidence taking control he scooted himself downwards, planting kisses and licks, sucking my nipples, his left hand anchoring itself on my waist, until he finally reached his destination, gently prodding my folds apart with his tongue.

"You taste like heaven." I groaned as my eyes rolled back into my skull, the warm air and slow lapping fast building up another orgasm. I twined my fingers into his hair, keeping it out of his way, and the metal hand stroked its way to my inner knee, pushing it out and up, allowing him better access. He had me shivering, making me lightheaded when it felt like all the blood in my body pooled down and gathered where his tongue twirled and pressed at my clit.

He paused and looked up at me, mischief glinting in his eyes, licking his reddened lips and started trailing his left hand along my inner thigh, fingertips feather light and cool against my hot skin.

"Fuck." I rolled my hips in anticipation, watching him place his right hand on my mound, prying my lips apart, making room. "Bucky." I cursed his name under my breath when he entered me carefully, two smooth fingers lubricating while inching in, feeling massive in their alienness, gently twirling around, rubbing upwards until a violent jerk by my pelvis told him he had found the target. He closed his lips around my clit, alternating between sucking and stroking, his stubble chafing slightly, keeping a firm pressure with his fingers until I was panting and begging him to come.

"You wanna come, doll?" The strange endearment in the husky voice was telling me something, but I couldn't string my thoughts together long enough to reflect on what it was.

"Yes. Please. God yes!" I gasped for breath as he sucked hard one last time, and my fingers tangled in his hair as I ground furiously against him, the orgasm rolling over me in waves. He kept up the pressure, his tongue dabbing flat against the throbbing, but relented as he relaxed his hand and let his fingers be expelled by the contractions inside me. He drew a contented breath and kissed my mound, looking pleased with himself.

"Damn. I had almost forgotten how good that felt. You taste fucking fantastic." He elevated himself and crawled up on his arms, the head of his hard length brushing up my leg, and lowered himself carefully on top of me, grinning as he kissed me. "Thank you."

I looked into his eyes, struck by the genuine emotion, again hit by the mystery. "You're welcome. It was a genuine pleasure." The words very barely audible, but he smiled and traced his tongue along my bottom lip before covering my mouth and plunging it in.

The taste of him combined with me was unbelievable, and I met him enthusiastically, wanting nothing more to stay lost in him. My hands stroked down his sides, found his hips, twisted them lightly and jutted my hips to steer him, wanting nothing more than to have him inside me, devouring me, penetrating me. He settled into position, his head bulging against me, when he suddenly deflated and sank down, and started to laugh.

"Fuck." His whole body shook, and I pushed him up by the shoulders, looking at him incredulously, painfully aware of his cock and the incessant throbbing of my pussy. He looked me, groaned, and buried his head in the crook of my neck. "I don't... We can't do this. I don't have anything."

"Anything what?" My mind blanked, and suddenly it dawned on me. Of course he didn't. He wouldn't have. "Oh. Right. That." He sighed heavily.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think, I never expected... I haven't done this in a really long time." His voice was muffled, but I could hear the pain and exasperation and the humour at the absurdity mixed with self-deprecation.

I thrust myself a little closer, wriggling so that I could feel him straining, and he froze. He raised his head slowly and looked at me, disbelief in his eyes. "That's not helping, you know.”

I grinned. "Get my bag."

He stared at me for a long second and suddenly pushed himself off me with amazing speed, finding my bag underneath his jacket by the door and brought it back to the bed. I smiled, slipped my hand inside the side pocket and extracted a small pack of condoms, handing it to him. His eyebrows shot up as he opened the packet and took one out, shooting me a curious look.

"What? Alone in the big world, remember." He nodded slowly, bit his lip and grinned. "Besides, I used to be a girl scout."

"Yes. I remember. Always prepared, huh. Wise words to live by." He turned the small foil packet around in his hands, examining it with a thoughtful look, keeping shooting glances at me.

My heart sank. "What? You think I'm a slut?"

His eyes widened, and he stepped back, looking horrified. "What? No!" He spluttered. "I think you're fucking amazing." His expression softened, and he leaned down, staring into my eyes. "I think you're the most amazing woman I've ever met." He kissed me, first my lips, then my nose, and erected himself. My heart fluttered frantically, and I blushed, the truth of the statement moving me thoroughly.

"But what then? You don't think it'll fit?" I raised a sardonic eyebrow at him and glanced at the thick throbbing erection, a new surge between my legs. He grinned and a sharp snort escaped him.

"Yes. That was exactly it." His eyes crinkled in amusement, but then his face fell a little, and he sent me an embarrassed smile before sighing. "No. I just... I don't know if I can... I haven't... It was different, they were different..." He drew a long breath and held it, shaking his head.

Mentally storing the rather shocking revelation I got up and stepped up to him, taking the condom. I kissed his chest and closed my hand gently around him, a small ragged breath announcing the humour gone from the situation. I released him long enough to tear the foil, rubbed my thumb over the tip and placed it on, rolling it down with one long stroke. His breath caught, and suddenly I was hoisted up, his arms under mine, his elbows pinning me up, and his hands clamping over my shoulders, my legs flinging around his waist and my ankles hooking behind his back before he turned and in a few long strides had me pressed against the wall.

"Are you sure?" His voice was thick and low, a deep desperate whisper, and my only response was a fervent nod against his open mouth, breath mingling with his. He growled, and the grip around my shoulders tightened as his forward motion spread my legs impossibly further apart and his cock inching into my entrance, filling me up further than I knew was possible. My breath hitched and came out in shallow bursts and his pelvis shot upward for a last thrust, and he leaned his whole weight into me, pinning me against the wall, dragging my shoulders down to plant me firmly at the base of his cock.

"Oh god oh god oh god." He stopped, his head falling heavily into the wall beside my head, and inhaled shakily.

"Is this okay?" I writhed against him, my head pressing back and down and my heels hooked harder under his ass, trying to push him further in, the sensation running a jagged shiver through me.

"Oh god, yes. Please." He shifted his grip on my shoulders, allowing my arms to sling closer around him, my fingers nestling the nape of his neck and twisting his long shaggy hair. "Please, Bucky. Just fuck me."

A deep groan rumbled through his torso, and he pulled out, eliciting another gasp from me before plunging back in, my pussy throbbing madly, feeling like it would burst. His mouth found my bare shoulder, and he opened his lips, his teeth and tongue caressing me as he breathed into it, using it as a muffler for his moans.

"Jesus fuck." I was heaving for air in unison with him as his pace quickened, and his cock was pushing at my walls, stretching me, penetrating me completely with each stroke. My head flew back into the wall, and I tugged at his hair, inviting him up and finding his mouth, sank my tongue in it, crashing against his. I spread my legs even wider, ground my clit against him, sinking down, chasing the orgasm I felt coming.

He erected himself and stopped, looking at me intently, his eyes dark pools in the dim light. I whimpered displeased, but he held me in place and jutted his hips, exerting more pressure and released my shoulders.

"Don't stop." My voice was a pathetic moan, but for the first time he gave me a brilliant smile. He just shifted his grip, placing his soft, right one under my thigh, his long fingers fanning out cradling my ass, and his left, strange shiny one bracing the wall beside my head. He steadied himself and tried to control his breathing before kissing me softly.

"No, I don't ever want to stop." He laughed into my open mouth, his cock flinching further inside me, and I sank back, resting my full weight on him. He hoisted me up to get some space to move and pulled back and started pounding relentlessly, catching my breath, swallowing my short whimpers, penetrating my mouth as he was my pussy.

"Oh god, I'm co-co—" His soft, wet lips stretched into a grin against mine, and he hitched me up an inch, his fingers digging into my ass, and crashed into me with two powerful thrusts, reaching his orgasm on the wave of mine.

I heard a sharp sound like wood splintering, and he wrenched his mouth free, my name masked by groans filling my ear, blood roaring in my head. My whole body was pulsating, quivering and clenching, and his cock throbbed, emptying in bursts.

"Fuck." I half whispered, half spat the word, and he chuckled, the rumble resonating in my chest. I sank down, my whole body feeling like it was dissolving at the joints, and I laid my forehead on the cool metal of his shoulder and buried my hands deep into his hair. "Jesus, Bucky. I'm falling apart at the seams here."

With a snicker he embraced me tighter and carried me over to the bed, laying me down carefully. Stretching his arm for support, he crouched over me for a moment, pulling out before removing the condom and dropping it by the bed. He rolled off me and settled beside me, sliding his right arm under my neck and cradled me, his fingertips brushing my skin absentmindedly. He kissed my hair, and I snuggled closer, my hand on his chest, my knee draped over his thighs. He took my hand with his left and entwined our fingers, twisting it slowly studying the effect, and sighed.

"Thank you." It was just a hoarse whisper, and I burrowed my face into his chest.

"For what?"

"For the best night in..." He hesitated and swallowed. "In a long time." I looked up at him, struck by the vulnerability in his voice. I laid my hand on his cheek and kissed him.

"You're welcome. And likewise." He smiled, and his eyes shone in the faint light from the window.

I turned away, not wanting to reveal the turmoil inside me, realising the magnitude of the situation for him was by far surpassing mine. I moved closer, the small wriggle heightening the dull, sweet ache between my legs, and closed my eyes.

"Are you staying?" He stiffened a short second before pulling me closer.

"Yes. If you want me to."

"I do. I have an early flight though, so you have to get up early." He kissed my hair, appreciative of my light tone, and yanked the blanket loose behind me, throwing it over us both.

"I always get up early. Just sleep. I'll be here." I closed my eyes, letting myself drift off to the regular sound of his heart beating, revelling in his warm scent, wishing the night would last forever.

I was sure he hadn't slept at all when the creak and strain of the bed woke me as he carefully got up. I lay perfectly still, feigning sleep, trying not to let my breathing let him know I was awake. I heard the soft rustling of his clothes as he got dressed and fought the impulse of dwelling on the way he must have looked, his body naked in the soft morning light. I could hear his hand on the door handle when he hesitated. He walked over to me, kissed me softly on the cheek and stroked my hair tenderly before his retreating steps and the click of the door told me he had gone.

I got up, and with one hand groping at the sheets bearing witness of his presence, sat on the edge of the bed, fighting back the tears and cursing myself for not going against my instincts and kissing him goodbye, but knowing full well that would only have made it harder. I shook my head, inhaled deeply, collected myself, and got up and into the bathroom.

After I had showered and packed my small suitcase I scanned the room and did a double take at the mark on the wall. I stepped over and laid my hand in the indentations, pressing my fingertips into the small holes his had made. I let my mind run through all the articles and news clippings I could remember, finally able to recollect what my mind had been nudging at. The Winter Soldier.

I scoffed, brushed my hand along the wall as I hoisted up my bag, grabbed my suitcase and exited the room, walking down the hall, not knowing that in 8 hours a bomb would go off in Vienna.