#I am a bit disappointed... But happy that I was right about becca...

[givemeasword-callmequeen]

Somebody else just through that Andie Bell faked her dead & killed Sal. Or is it just me

[mariahthelioness29]

NURTURING A FRIENDSHIP 

( Maintaining Friendships pt.2) 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!Plus Size Reader 

Words: 4.2K 

Warnings: SMUT (nasty but loving), slight degradation, unprotected sex, drug use, mentions of alcohol 

Please if you are a minor do not interact, due to the themes of this fic, this story is 18+ 

A/N: Here it is a part 2 as promised hope you like it. 

@xbuchananbarnes @siancore @avintagekiss24 @lesbians-love-samwilson

@maddiestundentwritergaines @whiskey-cokenfanfic @liquorlaughslove @sopranomaestra93 @afriendlyblackhottie @samwilsons-pillowpecs

@missdforever @buckys-plums @xxindiglow @kissthatlifeaway​

Bucky called you a few times after your lunch with him. 

You texted him the address of the restaurant, with 7:00 p.m

You have facetimed ever since he got an iPhone and Bucky likes it when you send him pictures of you.

Today you have been extremely busy, with meetings and finally, you picked the phone and saw a message from Bucky.

“Where is my daily picture ?, Bucky texted you

“Very bold from the man, who was walking with a flip phone a couple of days ago”, you texted back

“Good Afternoon to you too”, you send him.

 Bucky sends you a voice message “Jesus, having a flip phone is a capital sin in Wakanda or something?”, He laughs “Good afternoon, doll, how’s work ?”

“I mean it’s prehistoric, busy a lot of meetings today” you replied via text.

Bucky licks his lips and shakes his head. 

He takes a picture of him shirtless with a cute smile and sends it to you. 

Wish you were here, I could distract you from work, take a break, he texts. 

“ Who taught you to send thirst traps ?", you text him laughing seeing the pic. 

“ Isn’t this what people do to woo each other nowadays?, give me a break I’m trying”

“Is it working ?”, he texts you 

You look at the pic and sink your teeth on your bottom lip. 

“It is, but in person it's so much better, the pictures don’t do you justice”, you replied.

He sends another voice message.  

You put on your headphones giddy for his reply.

“For fucks sake, you can’t say shit like that and not be here”

“What ?”, “Are you that desperate that my words are reeling you, horny dog”., you replied 

You don’t know how the conversation changed from PG to NSFW, but is a welcome change after almost a week of you keeping it cute.

“Yes”, he texted 

Oh, yeah? be a good boy and show me with a video, get to it”, you order him via text

You read your papers, with the anticipation of the video in the back of your mind.

Bucky sighed “fuck”, he has never sent a picture or a video of himself like that, but he trusts you so he manages to put the phone on the nightstand against the lamp to take a video, he presses record.

 After a couple of minutes, You hear your cell vibrate and there it is.You open the video.

He frowned in concentration, figuring out if the camera was recording or not

“Is this thing recording ? he wonders out loud

oh yeah it is, the minutes are ticking”, he confirms to himself

He sits on the bed. He smiled at the camera, feeling his heartbeat out of his chest. 

‘For my best girl”, he winks to the camera, trying to hide his nerves.

He took himself out of his shorts, spit on his hand, and began to stroke himself slow, sighing, mouth slightly agape, his head tilted to the side until he was fully hard.

‘F-fuck”, he stuttered 

“I have never done this”, he breathes out, pumping himself fast with his vibranium hand. 

He groans and moans, squeezing himself, rolling his hips into his hand. 

“I can’t wait for the day, you let me inside again, I have never forgotten how you felt wrapped around me, it’s like heaven on earth”, Bucky confessed with a strangled voice in between his high pitch dragged out moans. He keeps teasing his tip with his thumb while jerking off. 

You feel yourself getting wet, because of his words and moans.

His dick so thick and long, and the red tip, shining with precum.

You bite your lips, mouth-watering at the sight of him jerking himself for you. 

Your breathing is now deep and a little erratic, your nipples are hard against your bra. 

“Fuck, baby, you got me fucking riled up”, he moans. 

Bucky fondles his balls while jerking off. 

He hissed, feeling the contrast of the cold hand against his balls, and he jerks himself with his flesh hand.His hips twitch and his dick throbs in his hand, he jerks himself faster and his fist gets tighter.

His breathing is harsh and his groans get louder and deeper. 

“Oh fuck”, he growls, feeling his release near. 

He pumps himself a couple of times crying out your name on repeat until his mouth is agape, his breath and moans come out stuttered while ropes of cum spurt out of him painting his abs, his hand while he looks into the camera. 

He throws his head back, trying to control his breathing with a smile of relief after emptying himself. 

He hums enjoying the aftershocks of pleasure .He takes the phone and closes up to his cum painted abs. 

“ Such a shame, this should be in you instead of painted on my stomach”, he pants

“ Have a good day, sweetheart, can’t wait to see you tomorrow”, he pants smiling at the camera, and the video stops. 

“Bast”, you breathe, suddenly the room has become hotter. 

You text him. 

“My day got so much better, thank you, can’t wait to see you tomorrow”

“You’re welcome, doll”, he rasps via voice message.

After work, you shop for a nice dress for tomorrow night. A cute, lilac silk dress with a high slit with your clear high heels. You look at the lilac lingerie. You remember the first compliment he dared to say. You had a crown of flowers, the children did it and it was full of purples flowers.“ You look like a flower yourself”, he whispered while you taught him how to dance. 

Bucky was pacing around looking at the small number of clothes he had. 

He felt a skip on his heartbeat that was pleasant but at the same time, he felt his nerves tingling. He realized he was nervous but excited and that suddenly he has no clothes for this date. He took a deep breath and decided this is an emergency and called Thandiwe, Andrew, and Sam. 

"Suddenly I don't know what to wear", he laughs looking at them.

"Uncle Bucky, leave that to y/n, we guys put on some jeans and a nice shirt, that's it", Andrew answers him.  

He now has three friends: his co-worker Sam, his great grand nephew Andrew, and Thandiwe.

"I disagree, you have to look good too, put on some style too", Thandiwe replied 

Sam just laughs, "you jump off of buildings, but you are freaking out ‘cause of a date, man let's take a look at what you have. Black, black, black, like you barely have anything with color". "Oh, I see sum, is that a suede brown jacket, that would look good and that olive green t-shirt for a change? I think it will go well with the jeans, those shoes, and your gloves. You're all set". 

Thandiwe and Andrew nod smiling.

"Put it on", Thandiwe suggests. 

"See, all set", Andrew nods 

"By the way, I have not seen y/n, who is she", Andrew ask 

Bucky smiled.

"We met in Wakanda, she is.., Bucky smiles.

"Aww shit,he gone",Sam teases

" We lost him", Andrew shakes his head in faux disappointment. 

Thandiwe looks for a picture of you and sends it to the group. 

Thandiwe holds in a laugh 

"Oh, since the first day Shuri introduced him to her, he was gone", Thandiwe adds

"He froze like a deer in headlights"

Thandiwe, Bucky warns and side-eyes him.

"What?, are you going to tell me that I am wrong, ingucka", Thandiwe smirked

Bucky just shakes his suppressing a smile. 

"Wow", Andrew looks at your picture up and down and they settle on your breast. 

"Hey, watch it, eyes on her face, punk", Bucky warns Andrew. 

"What ?, I am just looking", Andrew laughs and shrugs. 

"So this what your ass was doing in Wakanda scrolling through meetWakandawomen.com all day, maybe I could tell old Steve to tell T'challa to invite me there, ‘cause goddamn". Sam looks at your picture

"You two together are insufferable", Bucky rolls his eyes. 

"So where are you going to take her ?'' Thandiwe asked. 

Bucky mentions the name of the restaurant. 

"Oh, nice", they replied

"Just be your gentleman 40s self, like Grandma Becca used to tell us stories about you", Andrew tells him. 

"It's going to be alright", Sam reassures him. 

They all said goodbyes to each other and wished him good luck on the date. 

Bucky gets dressed and he goes to the restaurant. and there you were on a sofa drinking a glass of sparkling water. 

"Hmm,7 o'clock not second less not second later, impressive", you stand up. 

You hug him and kiss his cheek. 

Bucky blushes and offers his arm.

“I cannot make my best girl wait, you look breathtaking”, Bucky takes a good look at you. 

“You don’t look that bad yourself, old man, I like the brown jacket, brings a grey green tone out of your eyes” 

Bucky is flustered ”uhmm..thank you” 

You take his arm in yours and walk into the restaurant, the hostess seats you, but Bucky pulls your chair for you and you sit. 

“`Such a gentleman, I got your flowers today” 

“Lilacs and roses”, you smile 

“That is where I got the inspiration to wear this”. 

You take a bite of your food, moaning at the flavor. 

Bucky feels a little tingle when you make that noise. 

And he drinks beer, to quench the sudden dryness of his throat. 

”I’m glad you like them, doll’

“ I am excited, I have a new job” 

“Don’t say”, you widen your eyes. 

“It’s a big project, I mean the opportunity, I have is once in a lifetime, I will be working reforming people that do not want to be part of these criminal organization, help them settle, build a new life, Sharon and I, we are putting everything together, to pitch the project ”

“Bucky I am so happy”, you squeeze his hand. 

“Yeah, I also got a new therapist, don’t get me wrong, Dr. Raynor, she did what she thought was right but we have very different mindsets” 

“Wow, what a week,  a lot of change”. 

“The partnerships of the outreach and the schools are going so well, more children are learning, we are discussing opening a little bit more the borders but that will take some time,”. 

“That’s amazing, though it doesn’t surprise me, you are good at everything”, Bucky took a bite of his food not breaking eye contact with you

“You know what I love about this century apart from you, of course, Bucky said so naturally. 

“You love me? isn’t that a little too soon, it’s our first date after all”, you joke but you feel your heart miss a bit. 

“I’m a man that knows what he wants, '' Bucky drinks from his beer, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“The food, we used to boil everything”. 

“Ughh, and you all call yourself the developed world, huh ?”, you glare at him playfully 

Bucky laughs and shrugs. 

“That’s why your palette was dead, remember when you ate the goat stew with the peppers” 

“Yeah, I had to drink like a gallon of milk, felt like my mouth was in the pits of hell”, Bucky laughs 

“That hot sauce is a torture device, I might call Kiya to send me some, I put it on someone, and they’ll talk” 

“It’s not even that hot”, you frown 

“It’s a torture device, but the taste while eating is nice, it’s the burn afterward”, Bucky shudders You cackle at that

For the rest of the dinner, you laugh going to memory lane.

“This is so good, would you like a bite”, Bucky feed you with his fork 

You took a bite from the fork, looking at him. 

Bucky bites his lip looking at you eating from his fork. 

You finish eating and then dessert with champagne. 

“Whew, I feel like I am about to explode”, you sighed 

“Me too”, Bucky chuckled 

“I mean you had two entrees” 

“Super soldier appetite”, he shrugs Your mind went to another place and you just drank your champagne, trying to be subtle. 

‘Supersoldier appetite? you ask with a smirk

‘Yep”, he answered, licking his lips cocking his head to the side. 

You go with Bucky to the French Quarter with your arms wrapped around Bucky, while he rides the bike. You catch a whiff of his cologne, you hum. It smells strong but with delicate notes. It is just like him with a strong demeanor but with a delicate interior. 

Bucky parks the bike and helps you get off it. 

You go to the different bars, you go to the House of Blues and drink and listen to the different artists. 

There was a guy named SiR, playing tonight. 

His song was calm, nice and soon enough Bucky is behind you with his chin on your shoulder, in an embrace, swaying you sideways with him listening to the music. 

 He likes it. Maybe Sam is right, maybe he needs to give modern music a chance. This guy is speaking all the feelings, he felt falling in love with y/n in Wakanda. 

The man was singing: 

Why was last night the first time I felt anything in a long time

Feels like Imma fall hard said my cold heart made up its own mind

Love ain't what I came for, but it's here now, and it feels good

You told me you were special, and you meant what you said

I don't wanna leave this bed

Baby, you're all in my head

All in my head (x5)

Baby you

Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm making a mistake

But who's gonna save me

Who's gonna say I'm wrong to stay

But you so amazing, it started out as fun and games

I didn't know we'd swim this deep, and she didn't know I'd be afraid

Bucky just hugged you tighter to him, and you throw your head back and he peppers your neck with light kisses

You smile and you keep swaying, enjoying his hug.

You turn around laying your head on his chest and he lifts your face by your chin and he bows his head a little and kisses you softly, a brush of his lips. 

You feel the warmth of his hug, there is a crowd, but only you two matter.

After the show, Bucky takes you home. 

He insisted to go with you to the door 

“Bucky what is going to happen, it is just the elevator, and I am going to my apartment”, you chuckle

“For my peace of mind, doll”, he entered the elevator. 

You kiss some more in the elevator, Bucky breaths you in and kisses you slow, drinking you in. 

Until the elevator stops and you reach your corridor. 

“So this is it”, you bite your lips and cross your legs, and cast your eyes down, fiddling with your hands.  

“Nice place”, Bucky admired around. 

You feel your mind racing and your heart beating fast. 

You stay looking at  each other for a second but it felt like longer. 

“I..”, you sighed, while holding the door  

“You what ?”, Bucky gets closer. 

“I want to let you in, but I am scared, last time, I blur our friendship and it didn’t go well” 

“You just broke off your engagement, and I was a semi stable-100-year-old, things have changed for the better now”, Bucky took your hand and kissed it. 

You feel a tingle when does that and you can’t help but smile

“ I’ll go slow, I promise, so goodnight, doll”, Bucky plants a kiss to your lips so softly, you feel like you're melting to the floor. Bucky smiled and let go of your hand slowly.

He began to walk away.

‘It is now or never”, you think while he walks away, you realize you don’t want him to leave

“Bucky, wait!”, you raise your voice. 

He stops dead on his track and turns around, looking at you. 

"When was the last time you smoked?",you ask him.

Bucky snorts

"I smoke it all after my first session with Dr. Raynor", Bucky confessed

"Your accent is still horrible", you tell him, scrunching your face. 

"Maybe I need some lessons, it's been a long time without speaking Xhosa", Bucky grinned. 

"Maybe I could give you some lessons", you whisper. .

You let him in your apartment. Bucky looks around, again feeling a little nostalgic, it looks like your house  in Wakanda. 

You groan, taking your heels off.

"Something wrong?", Bucky asks, a little concerned. 

"Just, these heels were killing me", you sighed plopping on the couch. 

"You could've just taken them off, I would've held them for you", Bucky sits next to you. 

"and ruin my outfit", You side eyed him with a small smile on your lips 

“Can’t do that, can we?”.Bucky set his face in faux seriousness, he scoots closer to you. .

You just chuckle shaking your head. 

There is a hidden compartment on the table, with the Kimoyo beads you open it. 

You wink at Bucky and roll the joints, seal them with your saliva. You dry them with a lighter and hand him one. 

You light it for him. He just get comfortable smoking. 

“This is the only thing that can get me a small buzz”, Bucky does a French inhale. 

You smile when he does that. 

“Oh you can do tricks”, You challenge

You puff out the smoke in little “o’s”. 

Bucky licks his lips, you take another hit and you get closer to him. 

You blow the smoke to his lips and he inhales it, your lips brushing against each other, you put the joint on the ashtray and he does too.

You kiss is heated, you fumble with his jacket and he takes it off, throwing it on the floor. He sighs and hums into kiss, drinking you in. 

You straddle him and he grabs your hips and his hands travel to your ass kneading them hard.

You mewl into his mouth, you take a breather when he kisses your neck. He gets you off his lap and sits you next to him. 

“I know you love to control me, and I love it, but let me be on top tonight, I missed you” 

His hands travel to your core, making you spread your legs. You throw your head back, he kisses your neck again. 

You feel him , pulling the lacey lingerie to the side and begin to rub you. 

You gasp and moan with your eyes closed. 

‘Drenched for me, aren’t you sugar’’, he chuckled 

“Yes, for you, since the concert”, you pant 

“ Your smell’s been driving me crazy all night”, Bucky groaned, entering his fingers in you. 

He hugs you to him while fingering you, enticing you, he breathes in your hair. 

“Fuck, I missed you”, he breaths out. 

You can only roll your rips meeting his hand halfway, moaning, looking into his blue eyes and how full of desire they look. 

You bite your lip and your chest heaving.

He hissed feeling you throb on his fingers, his pants are tight, his erection on full display. He took his fingers out of you and before you can protest, he rips your thong off of you. 

“Why did you do that”, You whine 

“I bought them, now I don’t have a set”, you pout. 

He just puts them on his nose and takes a deep breath smelling them then putting them in his jeans back pocket. 

You feel your pussy throb at that, you are liking this side of Bucky. 

“ You are mine”, he states. 

You scoff. “You haven’t made me cum”, you raise an eyebrow at him with a teasing smile. 

“Oh, doll, you are going to regret those words”, Bucky enters his fingers in you slowly. 

Then something changes, he is fingering you eager and he finds your spot, you arch off the sofa, with a whine. 

His fingers brush again and again against that spot.

“Fuck!”, you moan almost screaming

Bucky just has that shit eating grin on his face, watching you lose it for him

“This is going to be a long night, doll, the first of many”, He bites your earlobe 

Your hips jerk and your thighs tremble and you cum on his fingers, he slows down but he does not stop, until you whimper at the sensitivity. 

You catch your breath and he grabs making you stand up with him. 

You kiss each other all tongue, lip biting. 

He takes your dress off in a frenzy and you undress him in a frenzy. 

You were taking your lace bra off but he stops you, you smile knowing what he wants. 

He sits legs wide open, dick standing.

You go between his legs, kissing his dick, looking at him.

“Oh fuck”, he breathes out looking down at you. 

You stick your tongue out and he slapped it on your tongue. 

You suck him for all he is worth, bopping your head up and down, jerking the part that you can’t fit it,  till he stills your head with his two hands and he bucks into your mouth. 

“ Shit, that's it, honey, taking me so well”, he thrusts into your mouth faster, your gagging enticing him.

He stops and takes himself out of your mouth, loving how fucked out you look already, your gloss smeared, your eyes teary and trails of your spit between him and your mouth. 

You just smile and lift your bra and he gets in between your breasts. You start bouncing, loving how desperate he gets thrusting between your breasts. 

His heavy breathing, his stuttered moans, he throws his head back in complete bliss. 

"Oh my God", he moans all strangled, thrusting while your breast helps him to get off. 

You just hum and moan. 

" Come on,baby, make me yours", you whisper all sultry. 

Bucky thrust faster groaning

"Fuck that is such a sight", he looks almost in awe at his dick wedged between your breast. 

"Y/N", he cried out and he moaned. 

"That's it, I want to hear you, don't hold back, mark me", you rasp.

You keep bouncing and pushing your breast together to make it tighter for him. 

"Baby", he croaks

"Do it, I want to taste you", you moaned, feeling his dick twitch. 

Bucky throws his head back with a silent moan, tensing spurting all over your chest,neck and some of it flying to your face. 

You hum, receiving it all closing your eyes. 

Bucky looks back to you. 

"So pretty", he pants. 

You blow a kiss to him and then you scoop the cum off your face on your fingers and moan at the taste, all while looking at him.

"Taste, so good", you lick your fingers

Bucky brings you to him and you straddle him,rubbing his still hard dick between your lower lips, while he sucks on your breast. He takes off your bra and licks them clean and makes out with you, both of you moaning sharing the taste.

You lower on his length slow, gasping at the stretch till he bottoms out. 

Bucky hugs you to him tight, caging you in his arms and he just grinds in deeper making you feel all of him. 

“Fuck, you're deep”, you croak. 

Bucky just smiles and kisses your breath away while giving languid thrusts, almost pulling out and slamming back in. 

Bucky picks up the pace and you throw your ass back to him, mewling.

Breathing in each other, looking at each other lost in pleasure, your lips brushing against each other 

"You are it for me, sweetheart", Bucky breaths out,hammering up to you. 

The only thing you can do is moan and nod, your breathing is erratic, you feel that throb and your nerves are lit on fire. You throw your head back, straighten up.  

"Can feel you’re close. Give it all to me",Bucky grunts while he is  bouncing you up and down 

You tense with a loud moan escaping your lips with indiscernible clipped cursing in Xhosa. 

You groan dropping on him, your eyes rolling a little, Bucky hammering on against that spot, chasing his release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, he cries out with a crack in his voice till his breath in stuck in his chest  and then he spills deep in you. You hum with a lopsided smile, caged in his arms, resting your head on his shoulder. You feel the warmth and how it trickles down. 

 Catching both of your breaths, he traces your spine up and down, looking at you like hung the moon, while you lazily pepper kisses where the flesh meets the metal of his arm. 

He grabs your face with both his hands and kisses you with that softness, you feel loved. 

He lays on the couch and puts you on top of him. He stretches out his arm and grabs the joint with the lighter and lights it up. He smokes and he passes to you. You keep doing that until it's done.

“I want no one else, but you, I have you again and I won’t let you go this time”, Bucky confessed. 

“Me neither”, you whisper while tracing his scar and then peck lips. 

“You owe me a set”, You chuckle

“I’ll buy you all the sets you want”, he sighs smiling. 

You stay in comfortable silence, basking in the intimacy, both naked, smoking, convinced that you never are going to separate this time. 

[mldrgrl]

How Stella Got Her Groove Back

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: Just a little something to celebrate spring...and Stella’s birthday!

They left Connecticut in September, with a fair amount of reluctance to go, but they needed to return to the city.  Becca had already gone and though both Karen and Fish insisted they were welcome to stay longer, stay forever if they had to, at a certain point, Hank and Stella had just been missing their loft and their life in New York too much.  Of course, they knew that what they were returning to was not the life they were accustomed to, but they would have to learn to adapt to the new normal.

Winter was long and brutal.  They did spend two weeks over Christmas and New Years back in Connecticut again and that was the first time they’d seen Becca since July, and the last time they would see her until spring.  Karen had tried to coerce them all to stay again and Hank and Stella nearly gave in.  If not for the fact that Stella left a project behind she’d been working on for her classes and if Hank had brought the pages he’d been working on for his new novel, they just might have done it.

When they got back to New York, and in a cabin fever-induced moment of weakness, they hired a landscape architect to design their rooftop terrace and though the noise of construction aggravated the hell out of both of them, they were both pleased with the results.  They now had an artificial lawn of soft green turf, an outdoor patio daybed in the shape of a cube with canvas shades on all four sides, a wet bar, strategically placed heating lamps, and a wood burning fire pit.  Unbeknownst to them, when Fish had heard their plans, he’d called the company they hired, ordered them a charcoal grill, and told the contractor to keep it a surprise.  They were very surprised by the barbeque that was suddenly part of the design, but it looked nice, even if it wouldn’t get any use.

Finding ways to fill the time with nowhere to go and no one to see was extremely difficult.  Neither of them were very much into television or movies.  The terrace, as welcome as it was, wasn’t finished until the end of February.  Stella had the classes she was teaching and the child psychology classes she was enrolled in to keep her fairly busy during the days, but Hank could only write for so many hours at a time and he found that he actually missed helping Fish with the guitar lessons.  He grumbled to Stella that ‘that damn Trout’ bewitched him somehow and then begrudgingly called him up and asked if he could still help out remotely.  Fish was delighted by the request and sent him an iPad and a teaching schedule.  

The close quarters had caused a few squabbles, though nothing major.  They took a few online cooking classes together which produced some mediocre meals and a testy exchange on the appropriate amount that constituted a ‘pinch of salt.’  Beyond that, they managed not to take out any frustrations on each other.

It was April 1st when Stella wandered from the bathroom to the bedroom in her t-shirt and sweatpants, rubbing lotion into her hands and arms.  Hank was in bed, perhaps naked, or perhaps wearing jockey shorts, she couldn’t be sure.  He had his guitar across his lap and his head back so that he gazed at the ceiling while he plucked lightly at the strings.

“Hank,” she said, leaning into the foot of the bed with slightly bended knees.

“Do you think ‘oral’ actually rhymes with ‘clorital’ or is it cheating?” he replied.

“You know that next week is my birthday.”

Hank splayed his hand out on the guitar and looked at her.  “Is this a trick question?”

“Not at all.”

“So, if I say ‘yes, of course, your birthday is April 7th and I already know I’m not to mention it to anyone,’ is that the wrong answer because I’m not supposed to acknowledge it in the first place?”

“I am aware that in the past I have requested that my birthday be treated as any other day.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’ve been thinking that perhaps...I might like to celebrate this year after all.”

“Oh, I get it.  April fools.  You could’ve just put plastic wrap on the toilet or secretly replaced my regular coffee with Folgers.”

“I’m serious.”

“Ah, so the one year it’s impossible to throw a party, you want to have a party?”

“God, no.  Parties are awful.”

“Well, what then?”

“Brunch?  With Becca?  This weekend, or the next, perhaps.  There are more places opening up now.  We could-”

“Absolutely, Sherlock.  Whatever the suggestion, I am all in.”  He pushed his guitar aside and she was mildly disappointed to discover that he was in his jockey shorts after all and not naked. He scooted forward to the end of the bed and wrapped his arms around her hips.

“A walk in the park, maybe?”

“Not sure if my legs remember what walking is at this point, so it’ll be good to remind them.”  He moved his hands down to the backs of her thighs and gave them a squeeze and then cupped her ass.  “Why the sudden change of heart, Sherlock?”

“I’ve just been thinking lately that it’s perfectly acceptable to want to celebrate being alive.  After the year we’ve had.”

“I agree, but as long as I get to have my breakfast in bed in bed that day, I’ll be happy.”

“It’s my birthday, I’m not bringing you breakfast in bed.”

“Oh, honey, you are the breakfast,” he growled, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her into him as he fell back onto the bed.

*****

The Saturday before her birthday was Easter weekend.  There was no rain in the forecast and Becca was available, so it was perfect.  They took a Lyft to the upper west side and met her at a French bistro that had outdoor seating.  Stella could tell right away that something was bothering Becca, that she was putting on a false front of cheerfulness, which was very unlike her, but if she did know her stepdaughter, she knew the girl could not keep up pretenses for long.

They ordered and waited for their food over bottomless mimosas and miniature ham and cheese croissants served as an appetizer.  It wasn’t cold, but a cool breeze would drift by every so often and Stella was glad she had left her hair down so that her ears were covered.  She wished she’d been a bit more practical though and worn pants.  She’d just felt like dressing up and at the last minute, put on an olive-colored dress with small printed white flowers on it, but at least it was long-sleeved and she had a white sweater.  Becca and Hank were like twins in their matching leather jackets and dark jeans.

“Are you working on anything?” Becca asked Hank.

“Almost finished,” he answered.

“Oh.  What’s it about?”

“A couple that’s been married for fifteen years, but they’re on the brink of the divorce when the pandemic hits and then they go from spending almost no time together to all of their time together and it’s disastrous at first, but then they end up learning a lot about each other.”

“So, they save their marriage?”

“No, they end up getting divorced anyway.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“It’s fiction, sweetheart.”

“People like happy endings.”

“People are stupid.  I didn’t say it didn’t have a happy ending though.  Are you working on anything, Daughter?”

Becca sighed and picked at her nails.  Stella put a hand on Hank’s knee under the table.

“Is something bothering you, Darling?” Stella asked.

“No.  Yeah.  No.  I don’t wanna ruin your birthday or anything when it’s the first birthday we’ve ever celebrated together.”

Stella gave Becca a brief smile.  “I don’t know if your father has told you why I’ve always been rather reluctant to celebrate my birthday.”

Becca shook her head.  Hank stretched his arm out behind Stella’s chair and put his hand on her back.  She gave his knee a squeeze of appreciation.

“My father passed away on my fourteenth birthday,” Stella said.  “So, Darling, you have a high bar to overcome if you think being in a low mood will ruin my birthday.”

“That sucks about your dad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”  Stella looked to Hank for a moment and then back to Becca.  “I’ve spent many years trying to ignore the date as though if I didn’t acknowledge it, it’s like it had never happened.  I don’t think I really understood until quite recently that one is capable of being sad and grateful at the same time.  And that life should be celebrated.  Especially now.”

“I guess I’m just...when we were up at Mom’s house, everything was so easy and nice and I had a really hard time writing.  That’s why I wanted to leave.  It was way too peaceful.”

“You know if I had a dollar for every time Becca claimed my shit was fucking her up, I’d be richer than that fucking Amazon guy, and now it sounds like she wants to file a grievance that we’re not fucking her up enough.”

“Am not.”  Becca rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him,” Stella said.  “He’s been so mired with boredom lately he has regular calls with Fish.”

“No!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hank protested, putting his hands up in defense.  “There was and will only be one bromance in my life and that’s with one Mr. Charles Runkle, that follically challenged motherfucker.  No better pairing existed except for maybe Bert and Ernie, or Sid and Nancy.”

“I think we should let Becca continue with what she was trying to say.”

“Thank you.”  Becca put her hand up as though she was blocking Hank from her view and he reached over and slapped her palm away.  “As I was saying, I left because I thought the serenity was blocking me in some way, but since I’ve been back, it’s like the opposite.  It felt so apocalyptic at first and desperate.  It was like impossible to sit down and put words together when there were so many shitty things happening outside.  What if...what if the next thing I finish, people will be like oh, she was just sitting inside writing while everyone else was dying?”

“There will always be shitty things happening outside,” Hank said.  

“Great advice, Dad.”

“I don’t mean to bitchslap you with reality, but the world being shitty isn’t a reason to give up.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“Good, because you are way more fucking talented than I could ever even hope to be.”

“I just don’t know if it matters.  If anyone should care.”

“Why should you concern yourself with that?”

Becca glared at Hank, clearly annoyed with the answer.

“I know you think I’m being facetious,” Hank said, quickly.  “But, I’m not.  If all anyone wanted to read was about things that ‘mattered’ that 50 Shades of Hot Garbage would never have sold a single copy.  You don’t know why people read what you write.  Maybe they want to escape the shitty things happening in the world.  Maybe they want to laugh or cry or be turned on.  Maybe they just need something to pass the time.”

“Five minutes ago you just said people were stupid for wanting happy endings, now you’re saying I should just give them garbage, if that’s what they want.”

“Yeah, I’m a fucking hypocrite, what else is new, but I just want you to be happy with what you’re doing.  You want me to buy you a new laptop?”

“I’m not twelve anymore.  You can’t just buy my happiness.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Becca,” Stella finally interjected.  “I think it’s obvious by now that your father may possibly be the world’s worst motivational speaker.”

“Or the world’s best unmotivational speaker,” Hank said.  “You see what I did there?  I turned a negative into a positive.”

Both Stella and Becca ignored the comment.

“I think I may understand what he’s trying to say though,” Stella said.  “I’m not a creator, but I’ve been a consumer.  When I was reading for pleasure, I certainly wasn’t reaching for mystery novels.  And I think that...popularity and quality are two different things.  Certainly, one would hope for both, but it isn’t always the case.  I know you and I know that quality is important to you, so perhaps you should only focus on if what you’re working on is the best that it can be and not on whether or not it matters.”

“Can I add something to that?” Hank asked.

“Not if you plan on fucking up everything Stella just said,” Becca answered.

“I’ve done at least a dozen online events this year and at every single one, someone has asked me when the next Rebecca Moody novel is going to be released or they want to know what you’re working on.  I’m not even entirely sure all of them are there to hear my Q&A or if they just showed up because they know I’m your dad and they think you might make a guest appearance.  And if one person takes umbrage with you for creating something during a time of utter hell, fuck them.”

“Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable,” Stella quoted.

“That sounds so much hotter when you say it than George Bernard Shaw,” Hank replied, rubbing his hand across Stella’s upper back.

“Okay, I don’t want to spend this day being miserable,” Becca said, shaking her head and shoulders like she was trying to rid herself of negativity.  “Thank you, Stella.”

“You’re welcome, darling girl.”

“Hey, what about me?” Hank asked.

“There is this jacket I saw online that I want,” Becca answered, cheekily raising one of her eyebrows and tilting her head.

“I’ll text you my credit card number later.”

“Thank you, Father.”

*****

Brunch was followed by a stroll in Central Park and it seemed that at least half of the city had the same idea.  It was interesting being in a place so crowded and yet also so open.  The decent weather and the cherry blossoms in full bloom probably had something to do with it.  What also would have felt strange a year ago, seeing everyone wearing face masks and wearing them as well, was oddly comforting.  When Stella had put hers on that morning before they walked out the door, Hank told her she looked like a sexy brain surgeon or cardiologist, whichever one was smarter or made more money.

When they came upon Bethesda Fountain, there was a small band playing salsa music and a few couples dancing.  Hank tried to imitate the steps and then grabbed Becca’s hand and spun her around under his arm.  She laughed and tried to break free of him, but he pulled her back in and tried to get her to dance.

“Da-ad,” Becca protested.

“Dance with me, Daughter.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You’re no fun.”  Hank let go of Becca’s hand and then grabbed Stella’s.

“Oh, no,” she said.

“Come on, Sherlock.  I know you’ve probably got some moves I’ve never seen.”

“I assure you that’s not true,” she answered, letting him spin her away though and then laughed as he gyrated his hips dramatically as he stepped back towards her.  “Whatever it is that you’re doing does not resemble the salsa in any way.”

“Let me see you do better.”

Stella looked past Hank to the other dancers and mimicked the forward and back steps.  She put a hand on Hank’s chest to keep him at arm’s length and prevent their knees from colliding as he tried to fall into the same step with her, moving forward when she stepped back, and back when she stepped forward.  What he lacked in grace, he made up for with enthusiasm.  As soon as they fell into sync, he grabbed her hand and lifted her other arm in a more formal dance frame like the other dancers had.

What followed was probably the worst and most amateurish version of a salsa that had ever been danced, but Stella laughed so hard it brought tears to her eyes.  When the music ended, Hank stopped and pulled Stella’s face mask down under her chin before lowering his own and then kissing her through both of their laughter.

The dancing couples broke apart and drifted back into the crowd.  Becca went over and dropped some money into the cup on the ground in front of the band and thanked them for playing.  Stella took Hank’s hand and then Becca linked her arm with Stella’s as they continued on.

Later that night, when Stella came out of the bathroom as she rubbed lotion into her hands and arms, she stopped at the foot of the bed and watched Hank read over the latest pages of his novel.  When she was finished, she climbed onto the bed and walked over to Hank on her knees until she was straddling his lap.  He threw his pages down, took his reading glasses off, and pulled her close with his hands on her ass.

“Thank you,” Stella said, as Hank kissed the side of her neck.

“For what?”

“This truly was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Your birthday’s not until Wednesday.”

“Perhaps next year we’ll even be able to invite Karen and Fish to town.”

“We’ll make The Trout christen that barbeque he forced on us.”

“It does look nice though.”

“It really does.  You want your present now, or should I wait until Wednesday?”

“I might be interested in a preview,” she said, sliding her hand down his chest and then into his shorts.  “A little peak at the package ahead of time.”

“You just assumed I was talking about fucking when I said I had something for you?”

“Weren’t you?”

Hank paused and then grinned.  “Yeah, I was.”

The End

[theimpossibleg1rl]

Twenty Years | One Shot

AU!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: angst

Your heart was breaking.

Absolutely shattering. But he couldn’t know that. No, you wouldn’t ruin this for him. He was happy. Over the moon. In love. Constantly bragging about how amazing she was. How beautiful. How perfect. How sexy. It hurt like hell.

And he was getting married tomorrow.

“Earth to, Y/N,” he chuckled, pulling you from your thoughts. God, you needed to walk away. Cut the strings. Save yourself from any more pain. Any more torture. You needed to move on. “Where’s your mind, Dollface? You look like you checked out about twenty minutes ago.”

Instead of a bachelor party, he’d insisted on hanging out with you. Movies, pizza. Beers. Bucky had chosen you over his other friends. Over an actual night out. He said he wanted to spend his last night as a free man with his best friend.

Friend.

Fuck, that hurt.

Twenty years. Middle school. High school. College. You’d been in love with him. And he was blind to it. Completely oblivious. He loved you, of course. He’d tell you that regularly. But he didn’t love you, love you. Not like you loved him. And you’d reached a breaking point.

You couldn’t do this anymore. It was too hard. Too much. So much pain seeing him fall completely in love with someone who wasn’t you. I should have been you. You’d been there through everything. Held his hand. His one constant, he always said. Yeah, old reliable. Always there.

You were done.

“What’s on your mind, sugar? Really? Because you look all kinds of fucked up right now. Work draining you? You broke up with that asshole, right? Mark, Matt? Whatever his name is.”

“Mike,” you replied. Yeah, you’d ended it. Because he wasn’t Bucky. He’d never come close. No one would ever come close. You hated it. Not like you hadn’t tried. Dating over and over. One night stands. Anything to drown the ache. The sheer pain of not having the one you wanted.

You’d made up your mind. You weren’t going to that damn wedding.

****

Bucky paced. Anxious. Scared. What if something had happened to you? Had you gotten in an accident on your way to the church? You weren’t answering your phone. It was going straight to voicemail. Where were you? He didn’t want to do this without you beside him. He couldn’t.

You’d always been his rock. His closest friend. Family to him. Held him up when his mother died. Wiped his tears. You’d been there for him for every important moment for twenty years. And this was the most important one. You were nowhere to be found.

“Ready?,” Steve asked from the door, noting Bucky’s nerves. He chalked it up to the fact that he was getting married. “She’s not here, Steve,” he said, a bit of panic in his voice. “She’s supposed to be here. I don’t wanna do this without her. I can’t.”

“I think your bride would beg to differ.”

****

2:00

It would be starting now. He’d be standing at the alter. Steve would step up in your place. Bucky wouldn’t be alone today. He’d be fine. You on the other hand...not so much. You felt immense guilt. Sharp pain in your chest. But you couldn’t watch it. Him give himself completely to her.

You picked up your phone. You needed to do it. He needed to hear it. Needed to understand. He’d get it later tonight. Maybe tomorrow on his way to the airport. Paris. Fucking Paris. Of course she’d choose that. You’d mentioned it before. That you wanted to go. Bucky had jokingly promised to take you someday.

It seemed only fitting. Another knife in the chest. Another stab in the heart.

Hey, it’s Bucky. You know what to do

You let out a breath. Do or die.

“Hey, it’s me. I just...I wanna say I’m sorry, Buck. I know you wanted me there. And I...I wanted to be there for you. But I can’t, I just can’t do it. I don’t expect you to forgive me. Hell, I wouldn’t. It’s a dick move on my part. Absolutely cowardly. But, fuck, I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. History class. You had the blue backpack. Matched your eyes. You stole my heart when you asked for a pencil,” you let out a soft chuckle.

“I never let go. I held on, hoping someday you’d see me differently. See me the same way I see you. But, life is shit. It never happened. And I’m happy for you. I am. Honestly. I’m glad she makes you happy. Rose is good for you, I guess. I don’t know. She hates me, but whatever. She makes you smile, so I suppose that’s a good thing. You’re smile makes me weak, Buck. Your laugh warms my heart.”

Tears flowed freely now. There was no going back.

“I hate that I’m not there. You’re probably upset. Disappointed. I get it. I ruined it. You have every right to hate me. I don’t blame you. But you needed to know. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. I always will. Forever. I’m sorry.”

****

Bucky sat in shock as he listened. He needed to be inside now, waiting for his bride to be. He was stalling, he knew that. Rose was probably panicked. Scared. Maybe even angry. He didn’t blame her. He was having second thoughts now. Your words cut like a knife.

How long? How could he have been so blind to what was in front of him all along. Twenty years.

“Buck…,” Steve tried to urge, but Bucky couldn’t move. He was frozen. “Buck. People are getting restless.”

Becca came around the corner, eyes locked on her big brother. She knew that look. This wasn’t just nerves. Something had rocked him to his core. Something shook him up. She dropped to her knees in front of him. “James? Look at me. What’s wrong?”

He lifted his head. His sister’s worried expression pulling him back. He said nothing, just simply handed over his phone, playing the message back for her. Her eyes widened at your words, not surprised you loved him. Surprised you admitted it.

“About time,” she muttered. Bucky looked shocked. How long had Becca known? “The whole time,” she responded as if she could read his mind. “It’s glaringly obvious, Bucky. Shoulda been her today. If you weren’t so dense.”

Could he fix this? Repair it? Make up for twenty years of pain. Twenty years of pining for him?

“What do I do?,” he asked her, worry laced in his tone.

She smiled up at him. “You do the right thing.”

[siancore]

Title: Baked With Love

A/N: This is a SamBucky Bakery AU based on the graphic novel Bloom

Summary: Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.  

Words: 3,073

AO3 Link

The joyful laughter and chatter rose high above the music as the guests of the backyard wedding danced gleefully. Bucky sat over near the wall and lifted his head to see his sister’s smiling face. Becca looked so happy as she threw her head back and then twirled around the dancefloor. He was pleased for her, and glad that she was finally getting away from their small town, but somewhere deep inside he knew what it meant for him: More time at his family’s Bakery and less of a chance of him actually leaving as well. He frowned to himself and placed his drink down on the empty chair beside him. He watched the smiling partygoers a moment longer until his vision was impeded by a man’s figure.

“Bucky, why aren’t you out there enjoying yourself?” asked his father, George. “It’s your sister’s big day and you’re sat here with a face like a cat’s ass.”

The young man rolled his eyes and said, “I just don’t feel like dancing, Dad. Kinda wanna be alone right now.”

“At a celebration?”

“Yeah.”

George shook his head and said, “I’ll never understand you young people. Today isn’t about you, but you’re making it about you.”

“I’m not doin’ anything, Dad,” Bucky retorted, feeling annoyed. “You’re makin’ it about me. Why can’t you just let me be?”

Before his father could reply, Becca was standing next to George with her hand held out to her brother.

“C’mon,” she said as Bucky took hold of her hand and then stood.

“Where’re we goin’?”

“I just need to talk to you a minute,” she said, before kissing their father on the cheek. “We’ll be back in a sec.”

Becca led Bucky up the stairs into her old bedroom and closed the door. She walked to her closet and pulled out her sneakers before sitting down, kicking off her heels, and pulling the comfortable shoes on.

“Ugh, my feet are so sore,” she sighed as she laced the sneakers. “Glad to get these off.”

“Bec, you wanted to talk?” asked Bucky as he ran his fingers through his hair.

She patted the spot on the bed beside her and Bucky took a seat.

“Can you believe it, Buck?” she asked as she nudged his shoulder with hers. “I’m a married woman.”

He smiled a genuine smile and nudged her back before saying, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know, but you couldn’t tell that from the way you were moping around down there,” she proffered. “That moody musician thing really doesn’t suit you.”

“Sorry. I was just in my own head. I’m gonna miss havin’ you around.”

“Aww, I’m gonna miss you too, Buck.”

“And Dad’s gonna be on my case a lot more now.”

“Hey, he means well, you know?”

“I know, but it’s like he doesn’t support my dreams with the band.”

“He just doesn’t understand,” said Becca as she rested her head on her brother’s shoulder. “All he’s ever known is baking and taking care of his family. He wants what’s best for us.”

“I know, I just want to get outta here so bad, y’know?”

“Yeah, but Mom and Dad are gonna need your help around here for a while,” Becca explained. “Especially with me leaving.”

“You sound like Dad.”

“Well, he’s not always wrong about everything, Buck.”

“He told you to break up with Scott like five times or whatever, and now you’re married, so he’s definitely wrong sometimes.”

“Okay, smartass,” Becca said with a laugh. “All I’m sayin’ is, I’m moving out. The Bakery isn’t doin’ that great, and Mom and Dad are gonna need some help.”

“I get it, and I am helping,” said Bucky. “At least for a little while longer.”

One thing that Sam Wilson really loved about being back in the town where his father grew up was the abundance of fresh food. The fish markets were a literal five-minute stroll from his Gramma’s house, and the grocery stores stocked a lot of fresh, local produce. As someone who loved to cook, Sam was enjoying taking a languid walk through the store, with his shopping basket, while perusing the goods.

While it was only him staying in his family’s old house, his friends were making the trip to come and see him. He had made the decision to take time off from school to pack up his Gramma’s house after she had passed. He needed to get away from it all for a little while, so being in the town that held so many fond childhood memories for him was nice, even though it felt different without his Gramma there.

Sam was drawn from his thoughts by a loud squeal. He turned to see a woman, around his mother’s age, rushing toward him with a wide smile on her face. He did not recognize her, but she seemed to know him.

“Oh my god, Sam Wilson!” she said as she stepped into his personal space and went for a hug.

Sam stood frozen and offered a small smile.

“Hi,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.

The woman stepped back and let her eyes roam up and down Sam’s body before saying, “Look at you, all grown up.”

Her tone was quite suggestive, and Sam immediately felt uncomfortable. She reached her hand over and placed it to Sam’s bicep.

“My word, you look just like your father when we went to high school together,” said the woman as she gave Sam’s arm a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, I –”

“You don’t remember me?” she asked, with a pout and a flutter of her eye lids. “You were just a boy the last time I saw you, now look at you, looking every bit a man. Looking just like your father; goodness me, you’re built like him, too.”

Sam blinked a few times and didn’t say anything.

“What’re you doing here in town? Is your father here, too?”

“No, umm, Dad’s not uh, he’s not here. Just me. I’m packin’ Gramma’s house up.”

“Oh, so you’re here in that big house all on your own?”

“Y-yeah?”

“And you’re buying food to cook for yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am. Gotta eat.”

She dragged her eyes over his form once again and said, “Hmm, you do to keep a body like that well-fed.”

Sam did not know what else to say except to excuse himself.

“I really have to go now, but it was nice seein’ you.”

“Now hold on a minute,” she said, talking hold of his upper arm once more. “A fine-looking young man like you shouldn’t have to cook his own dinner. Why don’t I grab a bottle of wine and join you?”

“Oh, no thank you, ma’am,” said Sam as he began to back away. “That really isn’t necessary. But, uh, thanks for the offer? You have a good night.”

She looked disappointed, but ogled Sam one more time before saying, “Alright, say hello to that handsome father of yours.”

The alarm on Bucky’s phone sounded and he let out a groan. He did not usually have to do the early morning shifts, but since Becca had left, it was up to him. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. A quick shower would liven him up. He got ready and then made his way to the kitchen. His father was already there finishing his coffee. Father and son greeted one another, and Bucky made a beeline straight to the coffee pot.

“Ready for the day?” asked George with a smile.

“Ugh, how can you be so chipper at this ungodly hour?”

George shrugged and said, “I love what I do.”

Bucky didn’t say anything in reply. He wasn’t in the mood to bicker with his father, especially at that hour of the morning.

“Come on,” said George, taking his son’s silence as a hint that the conversation was over. “Let’s get to work.”

….

By the time a few customers started coming into the Bakery, Bucky was tired and covered in flour. They were not going to be baking anything else at that point because sales weren’t particularly great in recent times. Hardly anyone came into the shop anymore. Most of their profits were made from customers who still paid for deliveries.

“You’re back here sitting on your phone, James?” asked George. He only called Bucky James when he was annoyed with him.

Bucky removed his earbuds, lifted his gaze from his screen, and said, “Uh?”

“Your phone, you’re always on it.”

“I’m waiting for Steve to text me back,” Bucky explained. “He’s looking at apartments in the city today. Was gonna send me pics.”

“You’re still going on about moving when we need you here?” “What about what I need?” asked Bucky as he paused the video of his band’s rehearsal. “Look at this.”

He held the phone out for his father to see, put the earbud in his ear, and then pressed play. The music started and George knit his brow as he removed the earbud and handed the device back.

“Son, what is this?”

“It’s my band, Dad.”

“You’re not even the singer.”

Bucky sighed and placed the phone back in his pocket.

“That doesn’t matter. I love music, you know that. Playing in this band with Steve, T’Challa, and Okoye is important to me. We’re gonna get an apartment and move away, Dad.”

“What about helping me and your mother?”

“I am helping.”

“But you’re leaving, also.”

Bucky sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t like being at odds with his father, but he wanted to do what he loved.

“You used to love helping me out in the Bakery when you were younger. Do remember how much fun we used to have?”

“Yeah, Dad, I do. But things change. I just don’t love it like I used to. I love music. When we couldn’t afford for me to go to school to study music, I didn’t make a fuss about it. I stayed here and helped out. Playing in the band with the guys has been good for me.”

“Bucky,” said George as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Me and your mother wanted you to go to college. It broke our hearts when we didn’t have the money to send you. We do want you to do what you love, we’re just having a tough time ourselves with the Bakery.”

Bucky and George stood a moment in the quiet until Bucky spoke again.

“Dad, I get it, and I’m not upset about it. I know we didn’t have the money and I know things have been tough, but I’m still leaving when Steve finds an apartment for us.”

George let out a loud sigh and then began to walk away.

“Wait,” said Bucky, as he reached out took hold of his father’s arm gently. “What if I find someone?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“If I find someone to replace me to help you out at the Bakery,” said Bucky, his eyes lighting up at his idea. “I could find someone really good, and then you’d get the help you need, and I can still leave.”

George sighed and said, “Let’s talk about it later. You should go make your deliveries now.”

Bucky placed the orders to the back of the Moped and then went to do his rounds. He enjoyed this part of working at the Bakery. He enjoyed getting out and about; feeling the wind in his hair; letting his mind go blank a moment in a welcome departure from all of the stress and worry. When he was scooting around town, he felt like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Having made the rounds, Bucky decided to take a shortcut on his way home. He rode up the small street of a residential neighborhood and some movement just ahead caught his eye. A guy, maybe a year or so older than him, was walking down a garden path carrying some trash. It was the day before the trash was to be collected, so there was nothing particularly interesting about it. Except the guy was drop-dead gorgeous.

Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the stranger, who was now looking right back at him. He didn’t know whether to smile or wave. He should have done something, other than stare at the dude like a creep. Perhaps watch where he was going, because just ahead were two trashcans full of smelly, discarded things.

Just before he was about to collide with the trashcans, Bucky regained composure and control, and straightened up. That could have been very embarrassing, he thought to himself, as he sped along home hoping the hot guy didn’t see his near-accident.

Misty Knight was rolling on her bed laughing as Sam shook his head and watched her through Skype. She was absolutely amused by Sam’s retelling of meeting the strange lady in the grocery store the previous evening.

“It’s not funny, Misty,” said Sam, even though he did miss his friend’s laughter.

“Sorry, Sammy,” she said while trying to recover. “It’s just typical, isn’t it? No matter where you go, someone’s hittin’ on you. Even old ass ladies in the grocery store.”

“I can’t believe my Dad knew her.”

“Can’t believe she was so shameless.”

“I know right,” said Sam as he ran his hand over his brow. “And offering to cook for me? Please, I know my way around a kitchen.”

“Oh, no, baby boy,” said Misty with a chuckle. “She wasn’t tryna cook for you, she was tryna eat you.”

“God, Misty, don’t say nasty things.”

“Sorry Sammy.”

“I wouldn’t have been in that situation if you didn’t put in a request for all the things you want me to cook while you’re here.”

“True, but you know I love your cooking,” she said with a smile. “Also, Riley’s comin’.”

“What?”

“He asked if I was going to see you, and I said yes, and he asked if he could come. Is that okay?”

“You should’ve asked first, Misty. But it’s cool. We’re friends and this’ll be a good reminder for him.”

“Plus, he’s got competition from the local thirsty-over-forty-crowd.”

Sam groaned and said, “Ugh. Why do I tell you anything? Change the subject please.”

“Alright. Alright. So, does it feel weird bein’ in the house on your own?”

“Yeah, kinda,” said Sam as he rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “It’s quiet. And feels sad.”

“I’m sorry, baby boy.”

“Thanks, pretty girl,” Sam proffered with a sigh. “It’s just that the last good memory I had was at Christmas time. The house was full of family and great food. Gramma was laughin’ and smiling so much you couldn’t even tell she was sick. She let me help her in the kitchen, and she never let anybody in her kitchen.”

Sam smiled a little sadly and Misty nodded her head before saying, “It’s nice that you got your love of cooking from her.”

Sam nodded his head and then said, “Oh, that reminds me, I found Gramma’s recipe book.”

“Oh my god, Sam, really? You looked for it everywhere after the funeral. Where was it?”

“Was right there on the shelf near her spice rack, Mist, I swear.”

“You looked there!”

“I know, right!” said Sam with an excitable look on his face. “It’s like it was just sittin’ there waiting for me.”

“Did you go through it?”

“Yeah, it’s still the most gorgeous book I’ve ever seen,” said Sam nostalgically. “All of our family’s recipes handwritten by Gramma and her Mama. Then it’s got my pancake recipe she let me write down. It’s so special.”

Sam felt the tears well in his eyes as he spoke; his voice cracked a little. Misty noticed.

“Hey, so you know what you should do?” she asked.

“What?”

“You should cook one of your Gramma’s recipes,” said Misty with a smile. “It’ll make you feel better, Sammy. I know it will.”

Misty was right. Sam had made a small, simple dish from his grandmother’s book. He immediately felt better. A tummy full of his Gramma’s mac and cheese always felt like a warm hug. He was going to be alright. He was.

After Sam cleaned his dishes and tidied up, he went to take the trash out front. He noticed someone flying along on a scooter. It was a young guy, probably around his age. The guy made eye contact and just kept staring at Sam, so Sam stared back, kind of entranced by the way the wind swept through his dark brown tresses.

Sam should have done something, other than stare back at the guy like some kind of creep. A wave or a smile would have done the trick. Instead, Sam was at a loss for words and actions. He almost called out when the guy nearly hit a couple of trashcans a few doors down, but he was gone before Sam could do anything. He walked back to the house wondering if he would ever see the stranger again.

After Bucky returned home, he parked the Moped near the Bakery and then went inside to clean up. After he was done, he locked up he made his way inside his family’s home. Dinner was already on the table and his mother, Winnie, asked if he was going to have something to eat.

“Sorry, Ma,” said Bucky with an apologetic smile. “I’m off to band practice now.”

“You can’t have a meal with your family?” George asked as he stepped into the room and sat down.

Bucky let out a sigh and said, “Music is important to me. I don’t wanna roll dough for the rest of my life.”

He knew his words hurt his father as soon as he had spoken them.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a baker,” was George’s reply. “I know,” Bucky said when he saw the hurt in his father’s eyes. “And I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that music is what I wanna do, and practice will make sure I’m good at it. I gotta go.”

“At least take a bread roll with you,” said Winnie softly.

“Thanks, Ma,” said Bucky as he inched toward the door before stopping. “I’ll make the flyers up later to advertise the position and get them posted tomorrow. It’s gonna be okay, Dad.”

[rebsrams]

Who Is He  (Ethan x F!MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey and F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Valentine)

Warnings: A little bit of angst and a couple of cursing words never killed nobody. No happy ending, at least for now. 

Summary: An utterly jealous Ethan trying to contend with his own decisions. Set at the beginning of Book 2.

Word count: 1,432

Song: Who Is He (And What Is He To You?) by Bill Withers 

It was the third time that week.

He was beginning to feel inevitably annoyed at the very presence of Dr. Bryce Lahela in that hospital , let alone at Becca’s side, walking through the corridors with that unbearable cheeky grin plastered on his face.

There were two things that Ethan absolutely couldn’t stand about that whole “jealousy” thing.

Okay, three maybe.

First of all, he just couldn’t stand being jealous in the first place.

It was something so new and overwhelming for him, that he sometimes required a moment to calm down and bring back his face and knuckles to a human color, or at least one which didn’t suggest an upcoming implosion.

The second was that he was perfectly aware that he and only him was the cause of his bad mood.

He pushed her away. 

He ran away from all his “problems” going to the Amazon and rejected her when he returned, not even asking her how she was feeling or doing. 

As if she could ever be a “problem” to him. 

She’s always been the solution, and he was the only one to blame for understanding it so late.

Actually, there’s was absolutely nothing wrong if she decided to start a new life with a promising surgeon which was (much to his annoyance) ten years younger than him and definitely a lot more reckless and ready to risk his everything for a woman as special as she was. 

It seemed to him the most logical thing to do, for her. 

But if there was a thing he was actually beginning to learn thanks to the marvelous stubbornness of that fiery-haired girl, was that logic had very little to do with heart’s matters.

And his heart was desperately screaming “please, choose me” and breathlessly calling out for her every time she passed him by, almost intoxicating him with the cherry scent of her favorite shampoo.

And then there was the last thing.

Like a thumping sound in his ear, 24/7.

He’s already been with her.

Everyone at the hospital knew it.

Of course he never dared to think anything less of her just because she was enjoying life as a stunning girl in her 20s and her first year as a grown woman chasing the dream of a lifetime.

He just found it really, really challenging not to give in to his rage thinking about Bryce’s hands, already so experienced in his job, caressing or scratching every inch of her body.

There were moments he couldn’t keep his mind off of images of him taking her in her bedroom, in the kitchen, on the washing machine and even in every supply closet that damned hospital had.

There were moments, that just shaking away that thoughts wasn’t enough.

That day, that inglorious, gloomy day, was the third time that week that he saw them laughing and joking about medical stuff he sure would have found funny, at another time. Or at least said by her.

He was standing by the door of his office, paper sheets in his hand, and he pretended to be deeply engrossed in their reading as soon as her big blue orbits looked his way.

She kissed the surgeon on the cheek, whispering something in his ear.

That buzzing sound he always heard in that kind of situation began to increase considerably, until he realized she was coming towards him at a definitely lively pace.

“Dr. Ramsey, I was wondering if I could change my night shift with Dr. Trinh, just for tonight. She already agreed.”

Being the best diagnostician in the country, he tried by all his means not to think about the reason why she asked him so. 

The reason why Lahela escorted her to his office. Needless to say, he failed miserably.

“Oh, if that is the case… who am I to stop your evening of fun, Dr. Valentine? Just, don’t let Lahela too close or he might eat you alive, judging by the way he looks at you.”

He blurted out the words before he could even consider them.

Actually, it was not the words themselves that made Rebecca’s jaw drop, her cheeks redden and her eyes fill with… what? Disappointment? Hurt?

It was the tone he used. 

Almost aggressive, as if she was the one making him suffer. 

As if she had another choice other than try with all her might to forget him.

After almost thirty seconds of uncomfortable silence, she gathered the courage to reply.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Dr. Ramsey, but I don’t think that where I’m going or what I have to do tonight is anything of your concern. Thanks for your time, anyway. Hope you’re having a good day.”

She threw an ultimate fiery glance to him before turning around to go, when she heard such words from him that caused her to startle and her blood to boil.

“Now, now, no need to get defensive, Dr. Valentine.”

He knew he was going too far. 

He knew he was probably going to hurt her. 

But he needed to know, and he acknowledged her too well to know that sometimes, the only way to get the truth out of her stunningly plump lips was to piss her off.

Exactly as planned, she looked at him in a way that broke his heart in a single, really unpleasant movement.

She was wounded. 

Bleeding out in front of his very eyes. 

Mocked by the man who left her when she needed him the most.

“Dr.Ramsey… Oh, screw with that! Ethan, this has nothing to do with you. Nor with anyone else in this fucking hospital!” she exhaled deeply.  

“Christ, this is nonsense. First you push me away, you ignore me, you don’t even bother to greet me in the morning while we’re drinking coffee in front of the same machine, for God’s sake!

And now, you’re trying to what, be funny? I assure you that it isn’t working. And I really wish that I wanted you to let me be, more than anything else. The fact is that I don’t. So please, stop being so irremediably childish and tell me, once and for all, what the fuck do you want from me?”

She looked him straight in the eye, barely letting him be able to gather some air to respond to the question.

“Who is he?” he just said. 

Simple as it was. 

Or at least for him.

“What?” she looked visibly confused, her brows furrowed in a weak attempt to understand his words.

“To you. I mean, what is he to you? Are you two… going out together, or…” he just wasn’t able to finish the sentence. 

In spite of that, he could imagine fairly well what he meant.

“Is it really important? I don’t think you should bother…”

“It is.”

His eyes were alight in such an earnestly way that was actually impossible for her not to answer.

He took a step closer, being able to take her hands in his, their first contact in what felt like ages.

His calloused thumbs began to move in little circles over the back of her hands, which were almost sweating in his grip.

Finally, she answered and released that one breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“No. Bryce is my best friend. He helps me, from time to time, when I have to deal with… when I think about this whole situation way too much.”  

She said, gesturing with her head between the two of them.

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t know about you, though he’s too smart to buy the “a guy I met online” stuff. Anyway, tonight a friend of his is in town and he asked me to help him showing her around. That won’t take too long but I asked Sienna to take my patients anyway because I needed, well, some time by myself. I think that’s all you need to know.”

She kept her eyes down, as if getting naked in front of him was something unbearable. 

As she was finally admitting defeat.

In a swift, brave movement, he cupped her cheek and the contact of his rough hand with her skin made her shiver. 

He noticed that, making her so endearing to his eyes that he almost couldn’t take it anymore.

 Almost.

He kissed her forehead, right between her eyebrows, lingering there just a moment too long just to inhale and memorize once more the scent that already haunted his dreams, along with that coppery mane of curls and that saccharine smile of hers.

“If only this was different…”

“I know Ethan. I know.”

Written at 2pm and I’m not ashamed. I think I’m definitely more keen on writing fluffy stuff, since when I try to write some angst I never truly commit to it and I always try to left it open. I think I just couldn’t bear writing about a break-up. Oh my, when did I get so gooey soft? Anyway, I just wanted to challenge myself, so here it is. As always, please forgive any misspellings or mistake of any sort.

Let me know if you enjoyed it and if you’d like to read a part II! 

taglist: @choicesfan10​, @schnitzelbutterfingers​, @openheartfanfics​ (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list)

[amanda-teaches]

Middle of Nowhere

Summary: You take a road trip with your best friend to get your mind off a broken relationship. Will a man living in the middle of nowhere help you do just that?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Square filled: Free Space for @spnfluffbingo​, Road Trip for @spndeanbingo​, and “We’re sooo over.” “Fine by me!” for @spnquotebingo​

Word Count: 3753

Warnings: Nothing major. It’s mostly cute, fluffy fun with a little humor thrown in. A little bit of angst and swearing, but I think it’s barely there.

A/N: A while ago, @supernatural-jackles​, was holding these weekly writing challenges with prompts to inspire writers. I saved one of these prompts, even after all this time, and it finally inspired me to write this fic. So thanks, Jen, all these months later, for holding those challenges. They did help! If anyone else is looking for a little inspiration/encouragement, you can find all the weeks here. My prompt was “Hold my hand dammit, we gotta make this look convincing!”

It seemed like the further you got away from civilization, the clearer your mind got, but, even in the outskirts of the middle of nowhere, your mind never seemed to be able to escape him.

“What’cha thinking about?”

You glanced over at your best friend, Becca, who was staring inquisitively at you from across the car’s center console. Shaking your thoughts away, you smiled. “Uh, nothing,” you lied, turning your attention to the long, deserted road in front of you, surrounded on both sides by endless fields of grass. “Just wondering how much longer we have.”

Becca studied you closely for a second before her eyes widened. “Liar! You’re totally thinking about James.”

You blushed and shook your head. “I am not,” you objected, but the shake in your voice betrayed you. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Y/N,” she sighed, her whole body rising and falling dramatically in a way that was so distinctly Becca, “the whole point of this trip is to get your mind off that...that...that ninny!”

“Ninny?” you smirked, struggling not to laugh.

“Yes, ninny,” she repeated resolutely, ignoring your amusement altogether and plunging on. “Besides, we’ve been over this. Dumping you was his loss. You’re wayyyyy too good for him anyway.”

You groaned. Knowing it was fruitless to argue, you decided to change the subject. “How much longer again, Bec?”

Becca looked down at the gigantic paper map in her lap and unfolded it one more time. “Well, according to this, we just passed a town called...Lawrence, which means that Topeka should be...uh…” She paused, turning the map upside down and her head to the side. “Soon?”

You sighed heavily, rolling your eyes heavenward. “Ugh, I knew we should’ve stayed on the interstate. Becca, we’re lost.”

Becca turned the map over a few more times, her speed becoming more frenzied with each turn. “No we’re not, we’re….” She looked up and let out a sigh. “Yeah, we’re lost.”

“Great,” you groaned, taking one hand off the wheel to pick up your phone. “And, there’s no signal out here. What are we going to do?”

“Just keep driving, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “Wait a second...I think there’s a house up there.”

You looked out the windshield, only just making out the outline of a house in the distance. “So?”

“Sooo, why don’t we stop and ask for directions?”

You let out a chuckle. “Are you serious? You just want to stop at some random stranger’s house in the middle of nowhere, walk up, ring the doorbell, and ask for directions? What if they’re dangerous?”

Becca laughed and shook her head. “Y/N, come on, this isn't the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It’s fine! Let’s just stop. It’s better than being lost for ten hours, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you acquiesced, begrudgingly slowing the car and pulling off onto the dirt off-shoot that led towards the house. As you got closer and the house grew in size, you noticed two men working on the wraparound porch. “Let’s just hope they’re friendly…” you whispered.

--

Dean looked up at the sound of the car driving up, taking in the small white sedan with a frown. “Sammy, look.”

Sam glanced up at his brother out of habit before following his gaze to the car that had just pulled up. Leaving his sandpaper on the ground, he stood up and brushed his hands on his jeans. “You expecting company?”

“Nope,” Dean replied quickly, stepping in front of Sam with his legs spread, his shoulders squared, and his hands in fists at his side. “Who d’you think it is?”

“No idea,” Sam shrugged, stepping forward to join his brother as the car doors flew open. “But, I guess we’re about to find out.”

The two men watched as a 20-something, attractive brunette woman exited the passenger side. She had a wide smile on her face as she turned to look back into the car, talking to someone as she nodded her head. With a laugh, she spun around and began walking towards the porch steps, but Dean’s attention was drawn away from her to the woman stepping out from the driver’s side door.

She was absolutely breathtaking. Her hair was swept up in a messy bun that was somehow gorgeous and effortless all at the same time, and her simple white t-shirt and jeans fit her perfectly, showing off the curves she had in all the right places. “Damn…” he whispered under his breath, quickly closing his eyes and resteeling himself to hide the effect she’d had on him before she got close enough to notice.

Her friend got there first, bounding up the steps, her smile widening as she got a good look at them. “H...hi….” she whispered, stretching out her greeting, her eyes widening with interest at the sight of Sam. “I’m Becca, and this is my friend, Y/N.” She nodded her head back at her friend, who had stopped at the bottom of the steps, crossing her arms over her chest, just like Dean. “We’re on our way to Topeka and we seem to have gotten a little lost. Would you mind telling us the way?”

“Oh, sure,” Sam said, his smile turning easy and welcoming, drawing Becca in, much to Dean’s dismay. As he talked, Dean chose to ignore him, instead dropping his eyes to look down at the woman’s friend. Y/N. Her name was Y/N, and, judging by the glare on her face, she wasn’t the least bit happy to be here.

He liked her already.

“...yeah, so then once you pass the old barn, you’ll hit the interstate. Easy as that.”

“Great, thanks,” Becca said, lingering to stare at Sam. Dean could even swear he saw her eyelashes actually bat. “We realllly appreciate it,” she muttered, placing her hand on his arm with a wide smile.

As Dean began to roll his eyes, Y/N sighed loudly, practically huffing her exasperation, making him stop to crack a smile. He really liked this one.

“Come on, Bec, let’s go,” she pleaded, her eyes meeting Dean’s for the briefest of seconds before she looked away.

Becca’s face fell in disappointment. “Okay, okay!” she agreed, turning around, yelling back over her shoulder as she did. “Thanks again for your help!”

Dean watched Y/N retreat for a second before smiling slowly and speaking up. “You won’t be able to go that way.”

Becca and Y/N stopped in their tracks, spinning at the exact same time. “What?”

“Yeah, what?” Sam asked, turning towards Dean with confusion in his eyes.

Dean unfolded his arms and stepped forward, resting his arms on the railing. “I was just out that way this morning. The road washed out in last night’s storm. It’ll be at least a few days before it’s passable again.”

Y/N stepped forward, her concern at his words overriding her earlier standoffishness. “What do you mean a few days?”

“I mean a few days,” he answered casually, grinning at her. “The road’s underwater right now, so you definitely won’t be able to cross it anytime soon.”

She huffed as Dean chuckled, rolling her eyes at him before turning her head to address Sam. “Is there any other way to Topeka? Maybe back the way we came?”

Sam shook his head, his eyes turning sympathetic. “I’m afraid not. They’re doing construction on the road between Lawrence and Topeka, so it’s closed for the next month. You’d have to go the long way around, which would take you a full extra day of driving. The washed out road’s the only direct way.”

“Great…” she muttered, throwing her hands in the air as she turned to Becca. “What are we going to do now?”

She shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to head back to Lawrence and find a place to stay for the night.”

“You can stay here,” Sam volunteered, making everyone look his way in shock.

“What?!” Y/N stammered, at the exact same time Becca cried out, “We’d love too!”

In this case, Dean was firmly on Y/N’s side. He stepped over to his brother and grabbed his arm, turning his back to the women and dropping his voice so only Sam could hear. “Dude, what’re you doing?”

Sam shrugged. “They need a place to stay.”

“Yeah, they can stay in town. Just because you’re hot for the brunette…”

“Hey,” Sam objected. “I am not! They just need a place to stay.”

“Yeah, sure, Romeo,” Dean said, stepping away with a resigned shake of his head. “Let’s just turn our house into a quaint little B’n’B.”

Sam ignored him and moved down the stairs. “You’re more than welcome to stay here. It’ll be nicer than any motel you’ll find in Lawrence.”

Becca beamed and nodded quickly. “That’d be great! You’re so sweet to offe...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Y/N interjected, pulling her friend back. She walked her back a few feet, away from Sam, and dropped her voice. Luckily, it wasn’t low enough that Dean couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“Becca, you can’t be serious!”

“What?”

“We’re not really staying here!”

“Why not? Sam said it’d be nicer than any motel.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what they all say…How do you know they’re not murderers?”

Dean smiled at that, unable to resist messing with her. “For the record, we’re not murderers.”

She paused to glare at him before turning back to Becca. “That’s exactly what a murderer would say.”

“Okay,” Sam said, stepping forward to interrupt the girls. “I promise we’re not murderers.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Wait, a second, how do you know motel owners aren’t murderers?”

Y/N whipped her head around so fast, he nearly got whiplash. “Oh, shut up,” she muttered, but he just laughed and winked, making her roll her eyes for the upteenth time.

Sam reached his hand out, playing the role of peacemaker. “Y/N, please stay. It’s a five bedroom house, we’ve got plenty of room, and I promise it won’t be that bad.”

Becca shot Y/N her best begging eyes. “Please? It’s only for one night.”

Y/N looked back and forth between the three of them before groaning. “Fine, ONE night, but I swear if we get murdered, I’m so haunting all of you.”

--

One night somehow ended up turning into five.

Sam and Becca quickly bonded, with Becca making every excuse in the book to stay and play house with him. You’d tried to convince her to leave, given that the whole point of this trip to Toledo was to distract you, but you didn’t really have the heart to make a big fuss, especially seeing how happy she was around Sam, so you stayed.

But, it wasn’t quite what you expected from your vacation. With Becca being all starry-eyed over Sam, that left you spending an awful lot of time with Dean. Less than a week ago, you would’ve thought that was the worst thing in the world, but it turned out to be the exact opposite.

He was weirdly funny, insanely silly, and surprisingly...caring. The first night, you’d been determined to avoid him, thinking the stay was only temporary, but once Becca had run off with Sam, you hadn’t been left much of a choice. And, Dean, Dean was fun. You laughed when you were with him, whether that was grilling burgers in the backyard, helping him paint the porch while he dramatically pretended to fall off of it, or spending the evenings curled up by the fireplace with him, listening to the deepest tracks of Zeppelin.

You tried not to read too much into it, the way you felt around him, relaxed and carefree and just so completely unlike how you’d been feeling for the last few months with James. Maybe it was a good thing he’d dumped you. Maybe, just maybe, a guy like Dean was exactly what you…

“Y/N?”

You shook yourself out of your reverie, glancing up to see Dean staring back at you. He was bent under the hood of your car, his face streaked with oil, looking up at you like you’d lost your mind. “Uh, you ok? You kinda went to a whole different place there.”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, looking down at the floor and crossing your arms over your chest. “Just tired, I guess. How’s it coming along?” you asked, eager for a change of topic.

He regarded you for just a beat longer, uncertainty clouding his eyes, before he looked back at the car, choosing to move on like you wanted. “Um, pretty good, actually. I’m just about done.”

He straightened up, wiping his hands on his jeans, and grinned at you. “You know, you should’ve had your oil changed a long time ago. It was like a river of sludge in there. I’m surprised I didn’t drown.”

“Ha ha, you dork,” you laughed, playfully hitting him on the arm. “Besides, not all of us treat our cars better than people like you do.”

“Hey, Baby’s not just any car,” he corrected, feigning offense. “She’s a classic.”

“Mhmm,” you chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

You turned to walk away, but Dean ran to catch up with you, moving in front of you so he was walking backward. “Actually, I was just on my way to wash her. Want to help?”

You stopped walking and looked up into his eyes, thinking about it for a second. On one hand, you knew that the more time you spent with Dean, the harder it would be to leave, but, on the other hand, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. “Sure, I’d love to.”

“Great,” he said, his whole face lighting up. He took your hand and pulled you along, and you couldn’t help the blush that sprinkled across your face. He led you around the house and straight into the back garage, where his black ‘67 Impala was waiting. “There she is!” he announced proudly, spreading his arms out wide. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, running your hand across the hood. “She’s beautiful, Dean.”

He studied you for a second, a small smile gracing his face. When your eyes met with his, he frowned and looked away, busying himself with something near his shoe. “Oh, okay, then. Let’s get started.”

He turned to the shelves lining the far wall and grabbed a bucket and some sponges, moving to fill it with water from the nearby hose. Once it was full, he added some soap and handed one of the wet sponges to you. “You take the left, I’ll take the right?”

“Deal,” you agreed, walking over to the left side of the car. You started sliding the sponge back and forth and smiled over the hood of the car at Dean. “So, when did you get this car?”

“A while ago. It was my dad’s. He left it to me just before he died.”

Your face fell. “Oh, Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s cool,” he said, continuing to stare at his sponge instead of making eye contact. “It was a long time ago.”

You watched as he moved his sponge slowly from side to side, lost in thought. You mirrored his actions for a minute, focusing on your side of the car before you stopped. With your attention on the sponge, you formulated a plan, grinning and looking back up at Dean. “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah?” he asked, but, the second he looked up, a large splash of water hit him in the face, courtesy of the sponge you were still holding in your hand. “Oh, you didn’t…”

“I did,” you nodded, grinning widely as you watched him wipe the soap away from his face.

“Well, you know what that means?” he asked devilishly, raising his own sponge while you shook your head frantically and started backing away. “This is war!”

His last word was raised in an enthusiastic shout, and he took off running towards you, his sponge held out like a weapon. You squealed and spun away, racing out of the garage and back around to the front of the house, but he was faster, easily overtaking you and catching you around the waist, lifting you up into the air. You struggled, laughing as he moved the sponge all over your face and shoulders, soaking you. “Truce, truce!”

His hot breath hit your ear, his hold not lessening. “Promise?”

“I promise!” you laughed, exhaling as he placed you on the ground, spinning you around so that you were facing him, standing chest to chest. You were both soaked and breathing heavily, but that didn’t stop your heart from racing when you realized how close you were. “Dean…”

“Yeah?” he asked, brushing his knuckles down the side of your face, his hand stopping to linger on your neck, playing with the strands of hair that were resting there. You stared up into his eyes and momentarily forgot how to breathe.

“I want…” Your attention was drawn by movement beyond Dean’s shoulder and you raised onto your tiptoes, instantly recognizing the approaching car as it drew closer. “To kill him, oh my God!”

“Me, too...wait, what?” Dean blinked, totally lost, but you ignored him, pushing past him to look at the car.

“I can’t believe he’s here! How’d he find me?”

Dean turned, still trying to work out what was happening as he followed your gaze. “Who?”

You groaned. “My ex, James.” You looked back at Dean, an idea forming in your head. “Quick, you have to pretend to be my new boyfriend.”

He grinned at that, his eyes widening. “I have to what?”

“Hurry!” you rushed, grabbing his arm and pulling him with you up onto the porch. “He’ll be here any second.”

You and Dean stepped up onto the porch’s landing just as the car stopped, and you turned around, yanking Dean at the same time so he was anchored next to you.

“Ouch,” he joked.

“Stop it, he’s coming!”

He smiled and leaned down, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I thought I was a murderer.”

“Shut up,” you shushed him, your eyes falling to his hand. “Hold my hand, dammit, we gotta make this look convincing!”

He chuckled but grabbed your hand anyway. Pulling you in front of him, he transferred your hand to his other one, wrapping both of his arms around you so you were leaning against his chest. Good, he was really selling it, you thought, resisting the sudden urge to breathe him in. Damn intoxicating man scent.

James was nearly to you now, his expression turning into a glare when he saw who you were with. “Y/N, who’s this?”

“None of your business, James. How’d you find me?”

“I still have your find my phone linked,” he said, holding up his iPhone. “Seriously, who the hell is this?”

You frowned, finding the anger you had stored inside. Stepping away from Dean, you confronted him head on. “He’s my new boyfriend, not that it matters. You dumped me, James. I don’t owe you any explanation.”

He pasted a smile on, but you could see the insincerity behind it. Standing in front of a man like Dean, you wondered what you ever could have seen in a man like James. “Y/N, I still love you.”

“Tough,” you snapped. “We’re over. Now, leave and never contact me again.”

He stepped forward. “Y/N…”

“She told you to leave,” Dean said, moving in front of you, his whole demeanor hardening. He crossed his arms across his chest, and, although you couldn’t see his face, you knew his expression must have been more than a little terrifying, based on James’ reaction. You were glad he was on your side.

“I just want to talk to her.”

“Nuh uh,” he growled. “You’re done here. Like she said, she’s with me now.”

James looked at the two of you, suspicion growing. “That doesn’t sound like the Y/N I know, moving on with some creep in the middle of nowhere so fast. I doubt you two are really a thing. Y/N, please, just drop this whole charade and let me explain.”

Dean chuckled, looking back at you. “You hear that? He doesn’t think we’re really together.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” James said, resolutely. “I know Y/N.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you shouted before you grabbed Dean’s shirt and spun him around, pulling him in for a kiss.

He was surprised at first, you could tell, but he recovered quickly, his lips pushing back against yours with just as much fervor. He moved his hand down to your hip, drawing you closer to him with a growl, and you felt a shock of heat run straight through you. By the time he pulled back, you were breathless. Your hands were tangled in his hair, but you had absolutely no idea how they’d gotten there. Frankly, you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was kiss him again.

You completely forgot you had an audience until James cleared his throat. “Well, I guess you really are together. We’re sooo over.”

Not even taking your eyes off of Dean’s, you smiled, responding freely for the first time in a long time. “Fine by me! Bye, James.”

You heard him get back in his car, but it didn’t even faze you, your full attention on the grin spreading across Dean’s face. You laughed and tightened your grip in his hair. “So…” 

“So,” he repeated, trailing his hand lazily up and down the side of your torso, “I guess this means I can’t murder you now, huh?”

You shook your head, laughing even harder. “Wow, you really are such a dork. I can’t believe...” But, he captured your lips before you could finish, kissing you long and slow, lingering like he never wanted to pull away.

“Oh my God, I knew it!”

You drew your head back, turning to find Becca and Sam standing in the doorway. Becca was smiling and practically jumping up and down, but Sam looked just as happy, taking in the two of you together. “I guess this means you’re staying around a little longer?”

You looked up at Dean, seeing the hopeful excitement in his face, and you nodded, intertwining your fingers with his. “Mhmm. I think I may have found what I was looking for.”

His eyes lit up. “Damn, I hope so,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you again, audience be damned.

Dean Tags- @akshi8278​ @whimsicalrobots​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @alexwinchester23​ @squirrelnotsam​ @deanwinchesterswitch​

Forevers- @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester​ @katymacsupernatural​ @impandagrl​ @impala-dreamer​ @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes​ @be-amaziing​ @jalove-wecallhimdean​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @mysterious-398​ @hannahindie​ @emoryhemsworth​ @ohmychuckitssamanddean​ @wi-deangirl77​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @ericaprice2008​ @masksandtruths​ @roxyspearing​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @sweetpeamoose​ @babypieandwhiskey​ @deans-dirty-writer​ @roxy-davenport​ @heyitscam99​ @spnbaby-67​ @mogaruke​ @atc74​ @dolphincliffs​ @closetspngirl​ @maddiepants​ @pinknerdpanda​ @focusonspn​ @deanwanddamons​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​

[regalloki]

Memories

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It’s the last night before Bucky’s departure to go fight in the war, so you visit the Stark Expo together along with Steve. It’s your last date, so you make some memories to look back to while he’s away.

Warnings: a whole ton of fluff 

Author’s note: Bucky’s backstory is based on the TFA tie-in comic and the Captain America and Bucky comics cause we see very little of his life pre-TFA (the mcu has done us wrong tbh). Also the reader can be read as gender neutral!

Word count: 2196

18 March, 1943

It was the day before he’d leave. He had just received his orders, being appointed sergeant of the 107th. Admittedly, you were a tad bit bitter. You weren’t worried for him, per se. Bucky was capable in hand-to-hand combat and an excellent marksman as well and could very well hold his own against men stronger than him. He was a natural, after all, having a knack for that sort of stuff. He was the three-time YMCA welterweight boxing champion, so, surely, he knew how to put up one hell of a good fight. During training in Wisconsin, he quickly and steadily rose up the hierarchy and the ranks to earn the title of sergeant. He would indubitably be a valuable asset to his regiment. However, watching him go was, for you, nothing short of tormenting.

You caught sight of Bucky heading towards you, charming as ever, sporting that beguiling cheeky grin that made your knees buckle. He looked positively stunning and you caught yourself unabashedly checking him out. His confident strut, cocky posture and calm nature added to the undaunted and self-assured allure, but the gleam in his entrancing baby blues, the slight tip of his head and the lovesick subconscious smile he didn’t manage to conceal after quickly catching a glimpse of you were a dead giveaway of his feigned composure.

Beneath that cool, tough and charming veneer, Bucky was an utter sweetheart. He wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it, but he was more silly and sentimental than he came across as. A huge sop, Bucky had a thing for being close to you. He liked falling asleep on you, listening to your heart beat or the low, soothing vibrations of your chest whenever you’d softly hum some made-up tune to lull him into a peaceful slumber. His hand had practically molded against your own. He was by all means a sucker for hand holding, but he’d rather not be seen. He had a reputation to withhold, after all. However, he managed to sneak his calloused hand in yours here and there, under a table or during those long cuddle sessions he liked after a particularly hard day when you were both alone at last. Bucky also had a weak spot for kisses. He tried his utmost to be stealthy and clandestine in public, but he oftentimes yielded to his desire and would slyly steal a few. If there’s one thing Bucky relished more than kissing you, it was being kissed by you. When you two were alone during the scarce downtime you’d get, all types of kisses were in order. Cheek kisses, mouth kisses, forehead kisses, neck kisses. They made Bucky feel enveloped by a welcoming surge of warmth and tenderness. He savored those moments, for they made him feel loved and cherished. It was safe to say he was absolutely smitten.

You took great joy in calling him out for how sensitive he is. His cheeks would immediately blush a gentle shade of tomato red and he would hang his head low in a desperate attempt to hide his toothy, broad smile he spectacularly failed to hold back and collect himself. But he knew it was absolute nonsense and all in good fun. He was aware of how fond you were of his clinginess and how cute you thought his gimmicks are.

“Hi, darling”, he greeted you, the low trill of his voice alone enough to make your heart skip a beat. He hugged you, briefly and slyly grazing his lips against your cheek.

He looked quite dapper in his uniform. Undoubtedly, he cleaned up nicely, you had to give him that. You were had been accustomed to a considerably ruggier look. His hair tended to be a messy halo around his head and strands would pop up here and there to frame and accentuate his handsome features. He sometimes even boasted a few bruises or marks, tell-tale signs of some recent tussle. He was never the one to shy out of a fight, although Steve was usually the one to get himself caught up in one and Bucky would be the one to defend his friend- and get a few good licks in before drawing Steve away.

You handed them their tickets to the Stark Expo. Bucky was ecstatic to find out he would be around in Brooklyn long enough to be able to go. You decided to get tickets for the two of you and Steve, something like a parting gift for Bucky. You smiled at the memory of when you told him you could all go together. His eyes went wide and he seemed so thrilled. You’ve lost count of how many times he thanked you. 

The two of you started walking side by side, stealing glances and smiles. Further down the road, you met with Steve. The three of you started catching up. Bucky told you all about Becca’s baking disaster and Steve’s latest misadventure in the back of an alley that morning. You giggled at Bucky’s frustration and at Steve’s endeavor to justify his shenanigans. 

“Buck- Bucky! Hear me out! That jerk was being disrespectful and he made that woman cry! What was I supposed to do-”

“Try not to get into a fight, that’s what! It’s been, what, the third time I’ve found you getting beat up in an alley or behind some diner just this month! I’m worried for you, Steve! I won’t be here to bail you out!”

“But-”

“Can’t you for once just do as your told? You know what? You may be my best friend but you also make for one hell of a pain in my ass, Rogers.”

You stifled a giggle at the two friends bickering. Before you knew it, the three of you arrived at the Expo. It was jaw-dropping and imposing. The lights, the inventions, the fireworks. Howard Stark sure knew how to put on a sensational show.

The inventions displayed at the Expo were astonishing and unprecedented. Flying cars, synthetic bodies, futuristic engines. You watched as Bucky marveled at the expeditions. He looked like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide and gleaming with excitement and mouth agape in wonder. The childlike enthusiasm and amazement in his eyes made you smile uncontrollably. You loved seeing him happy.

After a while, Steve left and Bucky went after him, concerned for him. Steve seemed in a bit of a haze, as if something was troubling him. He decided to not join you for the rest of the night.

“You know, he tried to enlist again this mornin’. God knows how many times he’s tried. He’s dead set on joining the army.”, Bucky explained.

“It kind of reminds me of someone”, you retorted.

“I’m just scared he’s way in over his head. War’s more brutal than some backalley. And if he keeps lying on enlistment forms they’ll either catch him or, God forbid, take him. It really gets on my nerves how thick-headed he is.”, Bucky said, looking down on his shoes.

“You know how Steve is. He has always had a fight in him. So have you. Steve wants to fight for what he believes is right. That’s his calling.”

“I’m worried sick he’ll get hurt and I won’t be there for him. He’s pretty keen on doing stupid  things.”

“You’re a good friend, Buck.”

The two of you strolled around the Expo. Bucky, all giddy and excited, ran around telling you all about the fascinating inventions. He surely loved showing off to you.  After a while, the conversation drifted elsewhere.

“Aren’t you scared? I mean, you said it yourself, war is brutal.”, you asked.

“I am. I couldn’t possibly not be.”, he chuckled almost nervously. “But it’s my duty to fight, the way it was my father’s before me. That’s one of the reasons I enlisted, you know. I wanted to finally make him proud. I had caused enough problems for him, especially after Ma died.”

“I don’t think that’s true. George loved you”

“I always got into trouble. After she passed away, I had to pretend everything is fine for Becca’s sake. But deep down I was scared and angry. Angry at everyone and everything. I would constantly get into fights, not unlike Steve. Maybe that’s why I’m so protective of him. I don’t want him to make the mistakes I did.”, he continued, head hanging down low. “Dad made a point of telling me how let down he was in me when I would come home wounded and bruised, but I don’t blame him. It’s just… His last words to me, before the accident, still ring in my head. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Bucky. You’ve really let me down here.’”, he muttered.

“You were a kid, Buck. You were processing so much grief and anger. You needed a way to unleash it. Sure, it wasn’t the best one. But you learned and grew from all this pain.”, you encouraged him.

“You’re pretty great, you know that?”, he chuckled, seemingly less on edge now. “I’ll miss you”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Barnes.”

“I’ll miss home, you know. You, Steve, Becca. But, at least, the thought of returning home will keep me going. God, I’ll miss you”

The two of you walked and talked for what seemed like hours, having a sincere heart to heart. After some time, you came across a photobooth. You both wanted to commemorate that night, so Bucky suggested taking a few pictures and you happily agreed.

You sat in the small, crammed space side by side. You placed your hand on his thigh, somewhat cheekily and he laid his head on your shoulder. You started taking pictures. While you were preoccupied with making silly faces for the camera, Bucky was busy keeping his eyes on you. You could feel his gaze on you, and, before you knew it, he laid a loving kiss on your cheek. He caught you by surprise, and the gentle touch of his lips on your cheek resulted in a toothy, ear-to-ear grin spreading across yours. You turned to him, seeing him beam at you adoringly. 

You could never get over how utterly and ridiculously impeccable and downright perfect he looked. His features were flawless. His piercing eyes were a breathtaking bright, steely blue. They glimmered in moments like these, when he was serene and content. The affectionate looks he gave you made your heart skip several beats. His rosy lips were soft and his kisses were tender and so sweet, you thought he could give you toothaches by merely kissing you. His nose was cute as a button and it took genuine effort on your part to not gently peck it with every chance you get. His hair was a velvety and silky mess with a few curls here and there framing his face and you wanted to gently card your hair through it and mess it up even more. His jaw strong jaw and cute little buttchin were the cherry on top. Bucky called to mind those Hollywood actors audiences swooned at. He was truly a sight for sore eyes.

You ogled at him long enough that a faint blush rose on his cheeks. He looked ravishing and irresistible so, without delay, you fondly grasped his neck and drove him into a passionate kiss on the lips. It wasn’t rushed or heated, but delicate and mellow. He leaned into your touch, craving it, and lowly hummed in content and satisfaction, as he cupped and caressed your cheek.

He pulled away with a delighted smile on his face. Both your hearts were bursting at their seams with pure, sheer love and affection for each other. That love transcended anything superficial, like looks or charm. Bucky had a heart of gold and sometimes it was too heavy for his own good. He cared so much for others that it took a toll on himself. But he was sincerely kind hearted and caring. You genuinely admired and appreciated him for that. He’s extremely loyal and devoted. He never gave up on anyone, not Steve nor his sister nor you. He was thrice as strong emotionally as he was physically, having to go through all that pain and despair and still be his sister’s rock. Bucky was an angel and he deserved the purest and sweetest love there is. And you wanted nothing more than to give him that.

Bucky grabbed the photos with a small smile on his features.

“You look nice”, he complemented.

“Not nearly as nice as you”, you replied, the words escaping your mouth before you knew it.

The grin disappeared from his lips in realization. The night was drawing to a close and he’d never get to share one with you for the foreseeable future. He started holding onto those photos a little harder now. 

“There you go.”, he said. moving his hand to give them to you.

“Keep them”, you retorted. “To remember me while you’re away.”

“To be frank, sweetheart, I don’t think I’d be able to forget you. In fact, I think I’d struggle to think of something else.”, he chuckled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

[wonderland-irwin]

I dunno if I’ve ever done one of these, but I think it can’t hurt to introduce myself properly to my lovely followers (*coughs* excuse me, friends).

With that, hi, hello! My name is Becca, I’m 19 and from Toronto, Canada. I am a fan of 5 Seconds of Summer (duh!) and have been for 6 years. It’s gone by so quick but it’s been the best 6 years of my life. Ashton’s my favourite (although please don’t tell the other guys), although I am heavily head over heels in love with Michael, Calum and Luke. I refuse to like a group and only like one person from it! I just connect a bit more with Ashton.

Anyways, don’t ask me my favourite 5SOS song, that is incredibly impossible for me to chose my top favourite, although today the songs (see can’t even pick a single favourite for a day. It changes every day, you see) UM, probably Empty Wallets, Teeth, Don’t Stop.

Music is also the love of my life. I play a few instruments myself, and regarding my taste it’s rather rock/pop rock/indie/alternative. A few years ago it was mostly pop so we’ve made a bit of a taste change, which ... I’ve always wanted the music taste I have so that’s really exciting for me.

Other artists I like are lovelytheband, Jagwar Twin, Twin XL, Fitz & The Tantrums, Dragonette, Mother another, July Talk, the Beaches, the Aces, Halsey, and Green Day.

I’ve seen 5SOS five times, lovelytheband twice, Jagwar Twin once, Twin XL twice, Fitz & the Tantrums once, and at the MMVA’s in Toronto in 2018, I saw Shawn Mendes, Alessia Cara, Meghan Trainer, The Beaches, Bebe Rehxar, Marshmello, Halsey (which reminds me I’ve never been to a full Halsey show and I WANT to), and some other folks I forget haha. So I do love concerts A LOT!! Extremely disappointed that many of mine are or will be cancelled or postponed. *sobs*

Other facts that might be useful is I’m a third year commerce student, I’m a lifeguard, I’m a huge Disney fan, Harry Potter was my first hardcore fandom, and although I love The Mortal Instruments, I do own the other Shadowhunter books, I just have to read them.

That’s the basics. I should probably add that sometimes my head feels super messed up, but it’s all fun and games. We’re all right tho.

If you wanna introduce yourself, I’d love to learn more about you guys. If I already know you, maybe there’s something you’d like to let me know about yourself.

Hope everyone’s happy, healthy and safe ❤️

[revisitingstoneybrook]

#15 Little Miss Stoneybrook...and Dawn: Chapter 8

Claudia brings the BSC contestant total to five and it’s the one you’d least suspect.

Babysitting chapter...and it's Claudia. You know what this means! She's babysiting Charlitte/Charlite (spells it two different ways in her entry) and also mentions that she taked to Stacey. Took what to Stacey? A carrot cake? Earrings shaped like dollar signs? Neon green spandex shorts?

Also, we have another Little Miss Stoneybrook Contestant! What's Charlotte doing entering if standing on a stage in front of people is her idea of hell? Looks like Claudia's joined in on the “I Need to Show How Wonderful I am at Babysitting” movement, along with Dawn and the Piks, Kristy and Karen, and Mary Anne and Maria. Claudia ends her painful to read entry with, “We'll see what we see.” Well, she spelled it all correctly, but what does she mean by that?

Dawn opens with “Claudia had been sitting for Charlotte quite a bit.” Passive-aggressive attack AGAIN about this whole stupid thing? Ugh, they all need to grow the hell up. So Claudia shows up for another appointment with Charlotte and whoops, forgot the Kid-Kit. The Kid-Kit has Mr. Popper’s Penguins in it and they were in the middle of reading it together. And here, Dawn slips in another dig at Claudia by saying she probably “subconsciously” forgot it on purpose because she's a shitty reader and a total dumbass and it would be embarrassing for her to read to Charlotte, who's a genius. Mee-yow.

Claudia asks Charlotte if she's been over to see Becca but that ends up rubbing salt into the wound as the Ramseys live in Stacey's old house. Charlotte says going there reminds her of Stacey and it makes her sad. Claudia and Charlotte talk for a bit about Stacey and Claudia says what she likes best about Stacey is “How she was just always there.” Wait until she leaves you for the Cool Kids, Claudia.

Claudia then gets an idea (don't tell Kristy, she'll claim it as her's!) and decides to bring Charlotte to her house so they can call Stacey. Of course, Charlotte is thrilled. Claudia adds that while it is long-distance, her phone bill's usually big and she can pay for it with her babysitting money. I guess she must get a lot of jobs to make that $1.50 an hour go a long way to pay for junk food, clothes, art supplies, Nancy Drew books, AND her phone bill. Wait...don't the club dues pay for her phone bill? Well, I guess an average of $25 per month is enough to pay for Charlie's gas money, Claudia's phone bill, Kid-Kit supplies, and all those pizza parties. Right?

They race to Claudia's house and when they get there, we're treated to an explanation that Claudia's always collecting interesting things to use in art projects, so you never know where anything is in her room. “Plus, you never know what you might find buried somewhere.” Oh, that could get interesting. I say buried in Claudia's room are Jessi's reading glasses we only hear about once and some compromising photos of Mary Anne and Logan that are used as blackmail to keep them both in the BSC.

Claudia calls Stacey, Charlotte talks to Stacey and her spirits are lifted. She then passes the phone to Claudia and while they talk, Charlotte finds Claudia's stash of erotica paintings she's also hiding the copy of Stoneybrook News from the other day and reads through it. Guess what article she shows Claudia when she hangs up with Stacey?

Claudia apparently feels left out that she isn't playing proxy stage mom like the others are and asks Charlotte if she wants to be in the pageant. Charlotte's first reaction is “WTF?! No! I'd rather read.” Does Claudia take no for an answer? Of course not! She needs to show the girls that she deserved to be asked for specifically goddammit! She tells Charlotte if she wins she'll get a crown and get her picture in the paper and “everyone will make a fuss over you!” Doesn't Charlotte hate being the center of attention? I guess that didn't occur to Claudia. 

Charlotte tries looking for another way out of it by adding that she isn't talented. She can't sing, or dance, or play an instrument. Well, that didn't stop the Pikes. Charlotte then lets it slip that she could read for her talent and give a dramatic reading from a book. She chooses the scene from Charlie and Chocolate Factory where Violet Beauregarde turns into a giant blueberry.

Claudia, obviously not enthused by someone reading as a talent, decides that since it's different, the judges will like it. I mean, it isn't that different - Margo's doing recitation too! Charlotte then says she isn't pretty and these shows rely on looks; Claudia tells her “Oh, it isn't a beauty show!” Oh, Claudia.

After a bit more brainwashing convincing, Charlotte decides to do it and Dr. Johanssen gives her permission but tells Charlotte not to be too disappointed if she lost. I honestly don't think Charlotte has any plans towards making a serious run for the crown. Claudia's happy but my god. You just dragged an extremely shy girl who isn't too confident into a beauty pageant. And now the real fun begins since each of the main officers has contestants they're helping. Time for the claws to come out!

[hispeculiartreasure]

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Three | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen | Due to language

Word count: 2,930

Chapter 3/24

Warnings: Very brief language

AN: Y’all are getting this chapter a night early because I have had a supremely shitty week and could use some cheering up. So far, this has been the chapter I was most nervous to write because it’s from Bucky’s POV. I have felt so incredibly unworthy of trying to delve into this character because so many fantastic writers I know and love write him flawlessly. It’s been so intriguing for me to explore what Bucky would be like post-war and I think I’m liking where this is going. This chapter has actually turned into one of my favorites and I’m proud of how it came out. Sidenote: Did y’all REALLY think I was going to write something completely void of Steve Rogers???? If you did, you don’t know me that well 😉

Chapter Two

Series Masterlist

Mondays usually were accompanied by drowsiness and wistful thoughts of a weekend passed.

Not for Bucky.

For Bucky, Monday meant he could return to a life where he blends in, where he gets to be the one who observes everyone else. Washing windows is not what he wants for the rest of his life, but for now it felt good to be doing something useful, to have tangible results in front of him everyday. Monday morning means having someplace to be, a set schedule for his day, someone counting on him, and quiet stretches of time alone and away from the worried eyes of his family members.

The pitying glances over breakfast were becoming a bit much for him. Bucky loved his family to death, wouldn’t trade them for the world. But for all their ability to give him space to figure his life out, they sure were clueless that he was keenly aware of the way they looked at him, the way they spoke to him. He doesn’t really blame them, he wouldn’t know how to handle himself either. Most days he pastes on a smile, tells them not to worry, he’d be back on his feet soon. Maybe if he said it enough times, he’d actually believe it too.

Unfortunately Monday also meant dealing with the rest of the boneheaded window washing crew. He was constantly reminding himself to go easy on them, they were just kids. But nothing made him more aware of his age and veteran status than being around them. Compared to their carefree countenances, he realized how much he’d been through, how much he’d seen, how much he’d survived. He should be grateful they were able to be total idiots instead of being shipped off to war. But most days he was tempted to share the number of his confirmed kills so they would leave him alone.

Bucky scales down the building, wind tousling his hair as he looks up to count how many floors he’s finished.

That makes this. . . six.

He peers through the window, pretending to be checking the glass. Scanning the office, he doesn’t see you - his disappointment surprising him.

In the week in which he’d been working on the east side of the building he’d seen you every single day. The way you carried yourself was what first caught his eye - you were confident, poised, not demanding attention but not morphing into a wallflower. You cared about your work, always looking intense and focused. And you saw him. Not in the way people usually saw him - as a figure in the window, someone to be ignored and walked past. In the smallest of ways you were kind to him. You waved every single day, always had time to spare him a smile. There was something about you that was calming. Granted, your interactions were minimal and nonverbal. But you didn’t make him nervous. Which was a rare occurrence these days.

Something in him just wasn’t working lately. Every girl he took dancing, he stepped on her toes. Try to share a meal, he couldn’t find anything to chat about. Dating was easier before he left. Or maybe everything had gotten harder since he’d returned home.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit it. Bucky knew he’d changed, he just hadn’t realized how much. Steve had echoed the sentiment a few nights ago.

Reluctantly, Bucky had allowed his idiot friend and Peggy to drag him to a bar after dinner - how the times had changed. It wasn’t one of their old haunts from before the war. Neither Bucky nor Steve could handle the cacophony of noise a club filled with energetic people brought. They bumped into several groups of those kinds of people, including a raucous group of slightly inebriated young women. Suddenly they felt old, weary, uneasy in a place where they used to belong. Or at least where Bucky used to belong, Steve always argued.

This place was quiet, refined even. Conversations were at a dull murmur while a band played casually. No one was here to drunkenly drown their sorrows or celebrate being alive wildly. Almost like everyone here knew the patrons just needed a rest.

“You realize you two don’t have to invite me on all your date nights, right?” Bucky huffed as the three settled at a table near the back.

Peggy smiled coyly.  “Don’t worry, James. You aren’t welcome for the entire night.” Steve choked on his drink, coughing violently while his ears burned pink. Bucky’s response had been something along the lines of “gross”.

After the usual chit-chat, Steve had waited for Peggy to excuse herself to refresh their drinks before broaching the subject.

“Doing okay, pal?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky responded, rolling the last sip of his whiskey in its glass.

“You sure?”

Bucky recognized that voice. Eyes flicking back to Steve’s guilty face, his suspicions were confirmed. “Alright, who’s been in your ear this time? Ma? Becca?”

“I’ve got my own eyes and ears.” Steve waited a beat before adding, “But your ma did mention-” Bucky groaned, not hearing the rest of the sentence. “Don’t be like that. They just care about you, Buck.”

“I know,” he snapped. Then he repeated quietly, “I know.”

“You’ve been dragging a lot. Gotta admit you haven’t been yourself.”

Bucky leaned back, leveling Steve with a hard look. “To tell you the truth, Steve? I don’t know who I am. Nothing that mattered to me before means anything anymore. Once I got to Europe. . . I stopped making plans. Didn’t seem to be much use in dreaming about things that I’d never come home to. But then you, being the punk you are, saved my ass countless times - even caught me falling off a damn train - and somehow I’m back in New York. I didn’t plan on having a 29th birthday or hugging my family again.” He idly scratched at an itchy patch of his beard. “Yet here we are.”

“We’re all lucky to be alive, Buck.”

“But for what?” Silence hung thick in the air at Bucky’s question.

“You know. . .” Steve started, then paused. “I do know where you’re coming from.”

“Don’t try to sell me that bullshit. You’re literally a god-damn hero. There are comic books written about you, movies carrying your name, and you have job security for the rest of your life. You had dinner at the White House on your birthday and bagged a kickass partner in crime. If that’s not purpose, what is?”

Steve had the nerve to look embarrassed. “It may be purposeful. . . but it’s not normal. You know better than anyone else that all I wanted was to do my part in the fight. To say I got more than I bargained for is an understatement.” Bucky could only respond with a snort. “But none of us thought I’d survive the scarlet fever, the arrhythmia, or the anaemia. I was lucky to make it as long as I did. The chances of me surviving the serum injection were laughably low.”

Memories of many days spent at Steve’s bedside float over the table, somehow sobering Bucky even more. “But each year was a surprise. My ma would’ve called it a blessing. I never knew what to do with myself, especially when the war started and I was the only man not being shipped off. . . I was desperate to feel normal. What I got was a hard swing in the other direction.” Steve’s eyes shifted to Peggy at the bar, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “I’m grateful for it, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I wouldn’t hate it if I had ended up with a stable job, a calm life, and a happy home.

“So I get it. Purpose, normalcy. . . we’re all struggling to find what we lost the last few of years.” Steve clasped Bucky’s shoulder, “But Ma taught me that we always have to stand back up. I don’t care if I have to drag you to your feet, Buck, we’ll get you back up. Whatever we have to do to make it happen.” Bucky knew the stubborn fool in front of him wasn’t going to let him wallow much longer. The tables had turned harshly.

Peggy returned to her seat with three drinks in hand, instantly catching on to the shift in mood that had happened during her absence. Misty-eyed, Steve and Bucky cleared their throats and shifted in their seats.

“And while the pair of you are gallivanting around saving the world, I’m washing windows and living with my family, who don’t know what to do with me.” Bucky had meant it as a joke, but it came out much more bitter than intended.

“Still haven’t heard back from the VA?” Bucky just shook his head at Steve’s question, tossing his drink back in one gulp. “You know you’ll always have a job waiting for you at the SSR as long as me and Peggy are there.”

“Eh, that’s not the kind of normal I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” Peggy asks softly, even gently, for her.

“Guess that’s the million dollar question, huh? A coupla years ago, all I cared about was having a good time and getting through school. Dancing with pretty dames. Maybe get hitched, have some kids.”

“And now?” Peggy prompts in a way that allowed no room for a vague answer.

“I wish I could tell ya, Peg. I really do.”

Peggy’s voice echoed in his mind again.

And now?

Bucky shakes that night from his mind, still not spying you anywhere in the office. Deciding you were either taking a late lunch or were sick, he gets on with his job. Halfway through cleaning the window he notices someone sit at your desk, which was strange. You’ve kept your workplace meticulously tidy since the first day he saw you - surely you wouldn’t appreciate this. Out of the corner of his eye he kept track of the stranger’s movements as he continues to work. Part of him wants to tell the lady to buzz off for you, another part of him can’t wait to watch you take down the person scrambling up your desk, the other part of him. . . . is definitely attracted to the Desk Invader.

He only catches glimpses of her during his task and her chair is angled away from him to tend to a filing cabinet adjacent to her desk, so he can’t see her face. But Bucky could tell she was graceful. Ruby red nails carded through the mounds of files, curled hair shined in its rolled-back fashion. Her dress was a bold blue - and fit in all the right places if he let his mind wander.

Right when he was getting desperate for a look at her, she swivels her chair back to the desk - revealing half of her face. Fine powder, bright red lipstick, nothing he hasn’t seen his sister don at the beginning of her day.

She’s made up like every other girl he’s seen pass through the office. Well, not every girl. You seemed to prefer a utilitarian approach to your appearance, which he didn’t ha--

And then the stranger turns fully towards the window, smiles, and waves at him.

It was you.

Is that actually her?

Bucky leans back in his rigging and takes you in fully. Yeah, looks like the utilitarian approach was out. In was a dame on-trend and truly pulling it off. Before you were beautiful, charming. Now? With the makeup only serving to highlight your features? You were stunning. Shaking his head, he can feel the heat in his cheeks with the realization that he’s been ogling you while you watch. Your smile falters, shoulders drop ever-so-slightly. Not very gentlemanly of you, Barnes.

Bucky touches his own face and hair, raising a brow. Making it obvious that he was looking you up and down, he quirks his head to the side in question.

You roll your eyes so far into your head, a chuckle escapes from him. After a surreptitious glance over your shoulder at the rest of the bullpen, you point towards the office he assumes belongs to your supervisor. He nods. Quickly, but clearly, you raise a certain finger in the direction of the office door.

A laugh emanates from deep in his chest, Bucky’s shoulders heaving. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed hard enough that his eyes are forced shut. When he opens them again, a similar smile is echoed on your face, definitely pleased with his reaction. You’re sassy. He likes that.

With a remnant of a easygoing-Bucky he’d almost forgotten about, he sticks out his lower lip appreciatively while nodding towards you. Accompanied by a wide grin, he knows you’ve gotten his point. You look good.

You duck your head, but he catches the smile you aim toward your lap. A little something stirs in his chest.

And now?

Then and there, he decides he’s going to allow himself to be impulsive.

Just this once.

Bucky knows for certain he has never completed his job so quickly -and probably never as sloppily. He checks his watch as he smooths down his hair. Just as planned, he’s finished earlier than usual - much to the confusion of the rest of the window washers. After stashing his supplies in the outdoor service closet designated for his team he rounds the building, the front entrance being his destination. The remainder of the team was still cleaning several floors up.

From above Bucky hears his boss shout, “Where you going, Barnes?”

“Don’t worry about it, Harrison,” he shouts back. “I finished. Got something to take care of.”

“You better be here early tomorrow!”

Tucking the tail of his shirt into his slacks, he favors the stairs for the elevator as he climbs to the sixth floor and is met with a giant bullpen of desks and offices.

That’s when it registers exactly how many women work in this office - funny how he hadn’t noticed before you walked in. He’s become accustomed to having little attention paid to him due to the nature of his job but now at least a dozen sets of cat-eye-lined eyes are set on his every movement.

Oh boy.

Trying to be as nondescript as possible he begins to head to your desk when the abrupt clearing of a throat stops him. Sitting at a huge desk immediately in front of the elevator is the most intimidating woman he’s ever seen. Tall and rail-thin, her features seem to be pulled tight with the fastidious bun resting at the nape of her neck. A gold sign affixed to the front of the desk reads: M. Flannery, Office Manager.

“May I help you. . . sir?” Scrutinizing him behind thick-framed glasses, she somehow dons an expression that makes her more severe.

“Umm. . . I’m just looking for someone. . . ma’am.”

“May I inquire who it is you have business with?”

He waves a hand, warding her away from the chock-full appointment book she was reaching for. “No, I don’t have an appointment or anythin’ like that.”

“Then what exactly is the reason you are here?”

“There’s a typist I was hoping to speak with.”

“What is her name?”

Shit.

“Umm, I- we’ve only exchanged pleasantries. I was hoping to catch her name today.”

Mrs. Flannery hums disapprovingly.

“I know where her desk is,” he points to the furthest corner of the office, “she had on a blue dress today. Can I pop over there and say hello?”

“I am afraid unauthorized persons are not allowed past the front desk.” An argument bubbles in him, but he swallows it down after her stern gaze tells him that it was a lost battle.

“. . . Could you ask her to meet me out here, then?”

“The woman you are looking for has already left for the day.”

“Oh.” All his nervous energy deflates and the letdown weighs heavy in his gut. He turns to leave when Mrs. Flannery speaks again.

“You may leave a note with me and I will deliver it to her when she arrives in the morning.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you, ma’am.” He looks down at his empty hands, then scratches the back of his neck. “Got a pad and pen I could use?” She sighs heavily, as if his request is the most inconvenient part of her day. Once she shoves the utensils in his direction, he stares at the paper. In the heat of his impulsivity he hoped he’d see you and know exactly what to say. Now the blank page mocks him. Mrs. Flannery’s pointer finger taps on the desk, urging him to hurry up.

Bucky glances up at the office manager again. “I’m guessing I can’t convince you to give me her name, huh?”

“I am not in the habit of giving out young women’s personal information to every dandy that walks in. I will make sure it gets to the girl in the blue dress.”

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze, he scribbles the only thing he could think of and folds the paper twice. Holding out the note Bucky asks, “For her eyes only, ma’am?”

Mrs. Flannery’s eyes narrow as she takes the note from him. “I am offended at the implication that I would violate the privacy of a person’s correspondence.” With an upturned nose she swivels away from Bucky, promptly dismissing him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

With a spring in his step he returns to the stairwell, whistling a happy tune; purposefully ignoring the room of women still watching his every move.

Chapter Four

Tags:

@abovethesmokestacks @barnesrogersvstheworld @ursulaismymiddlename @moderapoppins @lookwhatyoumademequeue @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @thinkwritexpress-official @fearless2tobeme @laneygthememequeen @past-perfect-future-tense @drhughgrection @wildsageleon @promarvelfangirl @connorshero @the-canary @anditwasjustus @p3nny4urth0ught5 @just-add-butter @katiemarks1942 @usernamemingmei @thorfanficwriter @blueskiesbleakeyes @silverwing2522 @satansmushroom @nerd-without-a-cause @firewolf-marvels @reginaphlanageadams @kiliakit @forsaken-letters @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @hiddles-rose @part-time-patronus @biavastarr @ellaenchanted91 @ihopeyousteponarosepetal @thisismysecrethappyplace @palaiasaurus64 @fanfic-diaries @fangirlfictionmain 

[lessonsfrommadamexmas]

Ooooh. So good. I'm giving you non shippy ones. Choice is 54 - Roy and Mama!Chris or 29 Riza and Becca (one if my fave brotps). Please.

Thank you so much! From this prompt list (you can still send more, guys!):

54 - Try not to fall this time.

I swear I didn’t see the “29″ there at all so I did 54 for Riza and Becca (and Team Mustang) and only realized it now, sorry. XD

- - - -

Riza was keeping Mr. Fischer company while he set up his camera in the center of the wide room, in front of the parallel bars. She had informed Jean in advance about the plan so he could ask permission to his physiotherapist, Dr. Karen Lambert. That was his big day, after several difficult months he spent trying to regain control of his lower body movements. Major General Mustang, a colonel at the time, couldn’t witness the moment Havoc moved his big toe, as he was waiting his turn to be healed. Thus, the blond man thought he should invite him to his first attempt at standing up by himself.

The General, however, was too busy preparing for the next trip to Ishval, so all he could do was free Hawkeye and Breda, giving them a very important mission: to bring back a photograph. Breda invited Maria Ross, since the three of them became great friends after the Promised Day, and Riza invited Rebecca Catalina, who had called from Central two days prior saying she finally had time to go visit her best friend in the East.

Since Becca wasn’t sure she would make it in time, she asked Riza not to tell anyone she was going, and by now the captain assumed her friend would miss the event. Perhaps it was best to have less people in the room, after all, it was a physiotherapy session and Ross and Breda were already treating it like a military training.  

— Now I’m gonna see if you’ve been using the weights I gave you.  

— Of course, I have!

— Really? Where are your biceps? Those look like two sticks! — Heymans mocked, although Jean was in excellent shape.

— Are you gonna let those bars defeat you, patient Havoc? — Maria asked sternly.

— No, I won’t! — Jean replied as if he was addressing a superior officer.  

— This isn’t very encouraging, guys. — said Dr. Lambert, and Riza realized the woman was worried about things getting out of her control. She seemed to be on their same age range but carry a soul too gentle to the fierceness of the veterans. She leaned towards her patient and continued: — Please take all the time you need and let me know of any discomfort.

— We’re all used to bit of pressure, Dr. Lambert. — the captain stepped up to put the woman at ease, aware that, for Havoc, that would help wonders to build morale.

— It’s fine, don’t worry about them — he smirked at his friends. — It’s just like old days.

— Oh, it’s fine? You think you’re supposed to be fine? — Maria teased.

— No, I’m not!

— You’re right, you’re not. You’re supposed to sweat! — Breda continued.

— Yes, and I will!

— You’re supposed to tire!

— Yes, and I will!

— You’re supposed to hurt!

— No, that’s not quite how physiotherapy works… — the poor civilian attempted to speak out amidst Jean’s determined reply.

But he was already grabbing the metal bars and all she had left to do was give him support to face his mission.

— Is it okay if you move away while we take the picture? — Maria demanded with a disarming grin.

— That’s not a good idea…

— I’ll just stand here, I can do it. — Havoc reassured her. — Now. I’m ready.

Riza saw the reluctant Dr. Lambert release her patient and informed the man behind the camera:

— Prepare for the countdown.

— All set? — he checked with a thumbs up. — Three, two…

— Hi, guys! Am I late? — Rebecca announced herself as soon as she opened the door, waving at them with a big cup in her hand.

Havoc gasped and his right hand slipped from the bar the moment the flashlight doubled the whiteness in the room. Next thing they saw was Havoc sprawled on the floor, groaning like he had fallen face first. Riza and Maria jolted in shock.

— Oh, no! — Rebecca shouted running towards him. — Are you okay, Jean? I’m so, so sorry.

She knelt by his side while Dr. Lambert and Breda tried to take him back to his chair.

— See? This is why I said it was a bad idea to leave him by himself. — lamented the woman with a sigh, seemingly disappointed at herself.

Jean, on the other hand, was a mix of confusion and absolute shame.  

— Rebecca? What are you doing here? How did you know… ?

— I wanted to visit Riza, but that doesn’t matter, is your chin broken? Here, I have milkshake — she pushed the cup against his red chin —, I hope this helps.

Riza saw him cringe and press his back against the wheelchair, but his face quickly relaxed at the numbing sensation.

— Not bad at all. Can I have this for a minute?

— Sure, I’ll hold it for you.

— I still have two functioning arms, Rebecca. — he stated in an attempt to dismiss her concerns.  

— Of course! I’ll be with Riza, then.

Maria proceeded to apologize to the physiotherapist for all that chaos while Heymans tagged along with Becca.

— Hey, what about the picture? Should we try again? — he asked Mr. Fischer.

— Forget about it, I won’t take pictures with my face like this! — shouted Havoc.

— No more photos, we’re going to start the session as soon as Mr. Havoc feels better and I gotta ask you to leave. — the doctor gave her ultimatum. 

— Here it is, if only one second earlier… — Mr. Fischer apologized.

— Alright, we have nothing to worry about, the picture looks great! — Breda informed the others, hiding his sarcasm under muffled giggles as he prepared to join Havoc once again.

The photo was a disaster, although it was a perfect illustration of that day. Jean’s wide eyes and clenched teeth showed the exact moment the man realized that he was about to meet the ground. A pitiful smile appeared in Riza’s lips. The man was strong and his stance was firm. Becca’s entrance had been slightly flamboyant, but nothing compared to the harsh words inflicted by Heymans and Maria. Not enough to spook him. Had it been her unexpected presence? Had the girl shaken his confidence?

— It’s hilarious, but he’s gonna hate it. — Rebecca’s said in a low, sympathetic voice. — Are we really keeping it?

— My mission was to register Havoc’s first standing up and I consider it accomplished. The general will be delighted. — She turned to the photographer and handed him the payment. — Thank you very much for your services, I’ll see you out.

The man nodded and left.

Becca gave Riza a hug as soon as she closed the door.

— I’m so glad the Fuhrer gave me a break for once! I missed you.

— I missed you too.

— Hey, don’t go yet, girls, you can stay for my next attempt! — they heard Havoc call.

— Try not to fall this time. — Riza shouted back with a smile. — No more cameras to intimidate you here.

But she knew very well the camera was not to blame, and by their exchange of looks, so did he.

— No more cameras and no more noise. Everybody give him space and stay quiet, understood? — the doctor ordered as harshly as she could. — I’m the one you should obey here.

— Yes, sir! — the soldiers replied in unison.

Karen Lambert shook her head and laughed. No one was willing to take her seriously that day, but the truth is that everybody was beyond happy with their friend’s accomplishment, and it seemed to Riza that she could understand.  

— He looks so lively. — Becca pointed softly. — And he got himself a nice physiotherapist, didn’t he? I bet he’s already all about flirting.

— He tried once. I can’t tell for sure if she corresponded, though.

— Well, if anything, I just gave him a hand on that. Now she’s being extra careful and touchy. — she spiced her words with a suggestive tone and a wink.

— She’s been extra careful about doing her job right, thanks to the traumatic work day we just gave her. Still, I don’t think he’s interested anymore.

Rebecca was so absolutely clueless. The woman was able to believe her own lies and also a master at not letting herself suffer. She genuinely wanted Jean to be happy and that’s why Riza would say nothing else.

— Nope, you said he flirted. I know what you’re doing, don’t. It was never serious and we’re both over it. I only move forward, okay? — she said with a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. — Hey, there he goes!

Jean propelled his body up, hands tightly folded around the metal bars. He exhaled through his mouth and found balance with both feet planted on the floor. He nodded, staring at his own legs, allowing them to take some of the weight his arms were supporting on their own. Dr. Lambert let go of him, and Riza could sense everyone holding their breaths as the seconds passed.

— Congratulations, Jean. — the woman said kindly and his face lit up in awe.

Finally, he dared to look around the room, and his eyes glistened with pride and joy when they searched for one specific pair of dark irises. Shyness invaded him once Jean met his target and he looked away from the radiant Rebecca Catalina, who smiled with both her hands pressed together in excitement.

Riza wondered if it was still up to her to find her best friend a good catch, and if money was still the requisite.

- - - - 

OMG this was such a pleasure to write!! Not sure if you like Havolina but I hope you had fun with this ultra messy little piece. It was based on the picture of Havoc in physiotherapy with Breda and Ross shown at the end of the manga. :D

[ginnyzero]

Writing Romantic Chemistry: Pt 1

Recently, Becca who actually went to school for this stuff, wrote a good post about romance novels and how they’re different than other novels. For the full gist, go ahead and read it for yourself. What I took away from it is that in romance novels, unlike most other novels, the main conflict is between the two main characters. There is something keeping them apart, poor communication, denial, secrets, or lies. At the same time, there has to be something pulling them together both personally and socially. An outside force is attracting these two people who normally wouldn’t be together into each others orbit where they have to overcome their difficulties and ‘give in’ to that personal attraction.

Romance is pretty popular as a genre and as a subgenre in books and shows and movies and some are better at it than others. (Most action movies are pretty bad at it.) There are procedural shows like Castle that were built around the entire idea that someday the two main leads would get together and have a happily something or something. There are procedural shows like Bones where they tried to push it, forgot about it and then fell back into it when they were running short on plot ideas for the main characters. Then there are procedural shows like Rizzoli and Isles where the love lives of the main two women are cliff notes in the overall friendship.

I’ve read a lot of urban fantasy where romance is a major subplot and I’ve mentioned some of the tropes I’ve seen in previous blog posts. Tropes like serial dating and love triangles and the type of drama that if two people actually had a conversation like grown adults everything bad could have been avoided. Or peril could have been avoided if the main characters were actually doing their jobs instead of trying to solve crime. A lot of the time, these romances don't feel successful.

And in order for a romance to feel successful the characters in question need to have and keep or maintain that ‘spark’ or what we generally call chemistry. And let’s face it, there are a lot of characters out there that don’t have a lot of chemistry with each other and we’re supposed to go on faith that they’re good for each other. (I’m looking at you Letty and Dom.) And as writers we have to know where that spark is at its brightest point and if the characters don’t move to the next level then that spark is going to flicker and die. (cough, Castle and Beckett.)

The first thing I’ve discovered about creating chemistry is that you need to get the audience invested. In order to care about your couple, your readers or watchers need to care about them as people. There are a lot of books that I can’t get invested in the main characters because the book is so focused on the plot, the mystery, the not so great adventure, that the writer has either not written about the character in the first place or has been encouraged by an editor to cut all of it out in the interest of word count. (Most highly recommended urban fantasy.) Leaving the characters to the reader to feel like card board cut outs that I just can’t get invested in. In order to care about the character, I need to know about the character.

Problems with his female characters aside, Jim Butcher is actually fairly good at this. In the first book about Dresden I learned that he likes to open doors for women, he enjoys steak sandwiches and warm beer, his alarm clock has Mickey Mouse on it (because no one with a heart can hit Mickey Mouse), he is owned by a big cat and his place is a hodge podge of textures, old paperbacks and yeah, he’s a magic geek. It may not seem like a lot, but that is the type of information and the way it is presented that lets me get to know and get invested in the idea the Harry Dresden is not that bad of a guy and I could like him.

A lot of books that have romance as a subplot especially if they are going the serial dater or the love triangle route, only take the time to flesh out the main character. Sometimes they don’t even do that. If the writer doesn’t flesh out the main character or the other side of the love plot, then why do I care? (I don’t.)

After you flesh out the characters and get the readers invested in their lives, then you can get the characters invested in each other. Sure, they’ve got outside forces working on them to get them into the same orbit. But once these outside forces are removed, what do the characters see in each other that will make them stick together. Yeah, people feel intense emotions under stress. They often feel attraction and investment in the other person just because of those high stress situations. But what about after that?

A good example I feel of this is Kent and Jane from Rizzoli and Isles. Sure, the show got canceled before they really did anything with Kent and Jane and in the last few episodes they threw an entirely out of left field FBI guy for Jane to 'feel attracted to.' (Note: This is bad. We didn't know this guy. We didn't care. It felt pushed and rushed because it was.) But Kent and Jane had chemistry. They had sparks. And the way it started is that first, given that Kent was such a late comer into the series, they let the watchers get to know Kent a bit first. As we already knew and are invested in Jane and her happiness. He's an odd ball, but professional, limited social skills with a sense of humor. They 'revealed' that Kent had a bit of a crush on Jane after some distraction hi-jinks with Maura (moral and ethical quandary there as a conflict) and started having Jane and Kent bounce sarcasm and jokes off each other. Jane tended to ignore him but his puppy dog eyes were adorable. The question was would Jane ever notice Kent as more than a colleague? (I think they were going for yes... I mean come on, the whole bit with the watermelons in that one case. "But Kent, what did the watermelons do to you?" And the kilt!)

And then the series got cancelled. And we lost this great romantic conflict which drives me crazy. (And I didn't like Kent at first. I swear. I despised the way they introduced him. Ugh and then he grew on me and yes, see, that is good writing and I fell for it!)

There are different types of attraction. There is physical attraction, usually the first thing a person notices about the other. There is mental attraction, appreciation of their brains and the way they think. There’s verbal attraction, a liking of the way they talk, how they talk and what they talk about.  There’s emotional attraction. They like the way that person feels things. What makes these characters compatible that there is chemistry between them?

And what is keeping them apart? Things like other relationships, getting out of bad relationships, not being ready for a relationship, trust issues, moral quandaries (such as not being a person who does casual sex,) and the ever easy, DENIAL. Maybe there is a power imbalance or an age gap or job restrictions (can't date within the office or superior officers.)

Then as a writer, we have to fine tune the sense of ‘now is the time.’ A romance plot follows the same rules as every other plot. At the highest point of the conflict, the character has to act or the relationship will wither and die. And if the characters don’t act, the opportunity is missed, the readers are disappointed and they start looking for the next two big relationships for those characters to get invested into. If those aren’t presented in a convincing manner, then they might just stop caring about these characters all together.

It can be easy to try and drag a relationship out with them almost getting together and then last minute something interfering. All of this is for the sake of drama or trying to up the ante or push it off or make the tension that much greater. And a lot of times, this fails dramatically. (See Castle and Beckett.) The writers may still try to push the characters together even though they missed that natural point in the conflict where it was the right moment, the right time story wise to do so. And then, they have to find a new conflict to keep the series going.

Because, once that conflict is resolved a lot of writers and writing rooms don’t know what to do next. They have to manufacture another conflict in the place of the ‘will they, won’t they.’ A lot of times it ends up being on the woman’s side of “am I really good enough for him?” (Men in fiction never are as insecure as they are in real life. It’s not “macho” enough.) Even if that woman has been extremely self-confident before then and pushing the guy away because she doesn’t think he’s good enough for her. There are a lot of other conflicts than that, money and child rearing and living arrangements and 'how do we tell our friends, do we tell our friends?' come to mind. (But maybe they are just too boring.)

There was a lot of outrage in the fandom of BBC Sherlock when Watson got married and had a baby with Mary. “How is Watson going to go on adventures with Sherlock with a baby?!” Well, you do what normal and rational people do, you hire a sitter? You take the baby with you? (Doyle wasn’t good with female characters to begin with, BBC’s interpretation didn’t help matters.) But these are the adult problems. How do you juggle a job and a family and hobbies and friends and keep your romance alive? Everyone has to do it. But media just tries to ignore it because UST is so much more entertaining. (Supposedly.) Babies have a bad habit of ending up kidnapped or disappearing for the story entirely (Bones.) Women who may be rivals for the main character’s romantic affections are killed.

Or there ends up having to be a conflict in the marriage that may mirror how they got together. Bad communication. Denial of self or the opposite, selfishness. The characters may get involved in a new danger. Maybe there is an affair and trust is lost and has to be regained. Hardships  like disease and accidents are all tests of character that really show what people are like on the inside.

There is a reason why most romance series focus on a bunch of couples one right after the other who were introduced in previous books rather than focusing on a single couple. Every time a reader gets a new book there is a new thrill of ‘will they or won’t they?’ And the possibility of a different couple conflict. (Of course most romance novels are happily ever after or happy for now, so it’s more of a how than a real question.)

So, romance is tricky to write because it so depends on the fleshed out personalities of the characters. And how the reader feels about the characters is really going to depend on their own biases and views of romance too. From my observations of fandom is that somewhere out there in the great wide internet, there are going to be people who are going to put the oddest people into relationships and can get behind almost anything. And it may not at all be what the creators intended. But the people who consume the media see chemistry or a spark and decide to view it as romantic rather than filial love.

Just goes to show you can't predict anything!

[argylemikewheeler]

If you like is prompt or not that’s okay. Prompt: Mike’s parents finally take him to a therapist and he gets diagnosed with depression and gets proper treatment. Hope your having a lovely day.

[talks of depression/self-sabotaging behavior really briefly but still be aware xo]

Mike would never admit it beyond the bathroom mirror, but he had been so scared of going with his mother to the doctor. He knew who he was– maybe not what he was on Those Days– and wasn’t sure what a stranger could possibly tell him about it. But he had no choice: his mother had been given the name of the doctor from a friend of a friend of a cousin or something, and Mike fell victim to it whether he wanted it or not.

Which he didn’t.

The entire drive there, Mike kept planning all the ways he wouldn’t cooperate. He’d first start maybe speaking only in the bits of Spanish he’d been learning in school. Or maybe backwards– no, he wasn’t that good at it yet. Then he’d just stare out the window– if the room even had one– and count the number of animal-like clouds he could see.

God, Mike missed old summers. The ones with his best friends and smiles that didn’t feel empty. The happiness Mike could feel without a hollow reminder that given a chance, a half crack made in the joy, and everything could break and he could be Like That again. He could be laying in bed, aching despite not having moved for days. Mike missed being happy in a way that wasn’t an oddity. When his parents wouldn’t be surprised by his laughter or a smile.

Mike’s mother didn’t try and coax him into being pleasant the entire ride up. She just drove and told Mike when they arrived. Mike didn’t try to look polite or even excited as his mom went to the desk to say they arrived for the appointment. Mike sat in his chair and kicked his feet harshly at the carpet.

How dare his mother take him here? She didn’t know what Mike was feeling– how could she ask him to share that with another person? Mike didn’t want to say it to himself half the time. What if someone told him he was crazy? What if they sent him away? Mike would only learn to swallow his heavy, black thoughts further. As if they weren’t already hidden somewhere dark Mike had only recently learned he had.

The doctor came out to get Mike and she wasn’t even wearing a lab coat. She had a cardigan and blouse on– she looked like a regular person. Mike didn’t trust it, but went anyway. Alone. Her office was small but well decorated. It felt strangely like a classroom, but less of the pressure Mike felt from school.

She asked him questions, too many if Mike was honest, about his daily life. How many days would he say he felt upset or sad– or a word Mike had never heard before– depressed. It sounded harsh. But then again, so were his feelings. He told her the number– out of two weeks, about ten days probably. Like, if he had to count. She wrote it down but didn’t change her expression.

Mike tried not to give her too much after that. He wanted to avoid her questions, but he felt bad being rude to a woman that was so kind to him. She didn’t ask for any of the gory details. She asked, once, if Mike had ever hurt himself on purpose– even if it was just to stay awake way past his bedtime to make himself tired the next day. Mike never considered being tired a way of hurting himself. It seemed pretty stupid, and he wanted to say as much, until he suddenly started to feel the heavy rings under his eyes. He realized then she was asking questions she already seemed to have the answers to.

Mike wasn’t upset after that. He figured he should have been, but if someone knew his answers, then he was free to finally speak it all out loud. He wasn’t the one giving it away, or blame, if it was already common knowledge between the two of them.

Finally, after an hour, Mike’s mom was called in.

“Karen,” she said, placing her clipboard on her desk. “I know it’s only been one session so I can’t diagnosis him right now with anything for sure, but–”

Mike crossed his legs twice, not sure which way would be the most comfortable to sit when he got turned into a monster. His mother gripped her purse tightly the skin around her nail bed going white.

“I think, Michael– can I call you Michael?”

“No.”

“Mike,” she suddenly redirected her attention to him. “you are showing signs of clinical depression and I think you could benefit from coming here to meet me– or any of my colleagues– regularly.”

“What does that mean?” Mike’s mother asked, although she sounded more relieved than disappointed.

“It means your son is healthy– it’s just a chemical imbalance in his brain. Your son is healthy, physically, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“I’m fine.” Mike meant the word in its totality. “I don’t need anything. I’m fine.”

“Mike,” His mother said firmly. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Dad says I’m fine!”

“Well, your father doesn’t know you’re here.” She said quietly through clenched teeth.

“W-Why not?” Mike asked, turning to the doctor– she had said to call her Becca; her doctorate wasn’t in medicine.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Mike.” Becca said. “Some people just don’t respond well to the truth.”

Mike bit his lip. “You sound like my friend, Will.”

“Does Will go to a therapist too?”

“Maybe… I think so. But for something different.” Will and Mike definitely spoke about very different things, Mike was sure. Will didn’t sound like he ever stared up at his ceiling at night and felt like it was moments from sinking down onto him– that had literally happened to him, one way or another.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s good to have people in your life that understand– even just the healing process.”

Healing. The word followed Mike home. The entire car ride, Mike couldn’t stop thinking about the concept of him needing to heal something in him. He didn’t remember ever breaking anything. The alternative was that something in him was born broken. Or maybe things can break without any pain; they just slowly crack and the pieces drift apart like driftwood at sea. There was no pain in the beginning, but there would be in putting everything back.

That night, Mike tried to slip out of his parents’ sight early and go to bed. His father wasn’t paying attention and his mother nodded sweetly and kissed his head before letting him up the stairs. Mike climbed into bed and curled up with his SuperCom.

“Will? Come in, Will.” Mike said, saying his closing over after he was sure he’d called his friend enough.

“… Hey, Mike! What’s going on? Why are you using this channel? I have a phone, you know.”

“I wanted to ask you something.” Mike rolled over and put his back to the door.

“Go ahead.” Will said. He sounded cheerful. Mike was envious.

“Do you… go to therapy?” Mike asked slowly, cupping the receiver to his face. The word felt dangerous to let loose in his house.

“I do, yeah. Mom takes me like, bi-weekly now.”

“T-Twice a week!”

“Every two weeks, Michael.”

“Oh… Oh that makes more sense.” Mike sighed and let his head lull into the pillows further. “Does it help?”

“I definitely think so. Makes things quieter, you know? It’s not always rattling in my head. I get to talk to someone. About my nightmares, about stuff with my parents, about Jonathan– sometimes I complain about you too.”

“Hey!” Mike squawked jokingly. He released his button without saying over, knowing Will would click his button shortly to let him hear his bubbles of laughter. After a moment sitting with the happy static, Mike pressed the button again. “So, you just talk about… whatever you want?”

“Oh, yeah. Whatever is bothering you.” Will said. “Why do you ask?”

“Mom took me today.” Mike sighed, rolling onto his back. “Doctor says– sorry, Becca says– I’m like, depressed or something.”

Will’s static picked up before he spoke any words; silence he wished to share with Mike. “Are you okay, Mike?”

“Yeah.”

“Michael.”

“I’m going to work on it, okay!” Mike exclaimed. “I’m going back next week.”

“Call me after? Or come over if you want. I can have Mom make a dinner you like. You can sleep over.” Will offered. “It’s not that bad. I promise.”

“I know.” Mike nodded. He had one last question. “Nothing… Nothing’s broken, right, Will?”

“With who, me or you?” Will said, his voice shaking with a laugh. “There’s a big difference. I left this dimension… You’re completely normal.”

“I am?”

“Cross my heart.” Will said. Mike could practically hear Will moving his finger in an X across his chest. “It’s really going to help, Mike. Trust me.”

“I do.” Mike said. He lifted his finger and cut Will out. “It’s me I don’t.” He clicked it again. “Over and out, Will. I’m pretty tired.”

“Good night, Mike. Over and out.” He answered, clicking off the channel too.

Mike laid in bed, trying to figure out if he had the energy to heal in him. As unpredictable as his moods were, they were vivid to Mike. None of it felt like a dream. They were all incredibly clear and draining. On those days, the ones that made any single thought too overwhelming, healing would be impossible. Eating was too difficult then. But maybe that’s what made talking helpful; Mike finally had an audience with whom he could repeat his bickering brain’s thought. Maybe Becca could make sense of it all. Or at least shut it all up.

Mike knew the word would never be healed. It would constantly be in motion, constantly changing and growing, and maybe that was encouraging too? There was no race– he was going to be like this for a long time. It wasn’t like slapping glue on two snapped pieces, it was a rebuilding of something out of shifting parts that never intended to go together. He’d have to reintroduce different parts of himself to the New and Improved Mike Wheeler: the one that heals and cares and speaks and shares and maybe, just maybe, loves.

It sounded far off, but so did ever speaking his own hidden truths. But he did that today, didn’t he? Healing might have been continuous, but it also meant to be active. Just thinking about it was a bit of progress. A bit of a reward to throwing his hands up to his darkest days, but grabbing onto that small bit of light he found in his life– and maybe choosing to call every once in a while before bed.

ao3

[cocochannel00]

Harry with kids #2 Never home (part 1)

kids: Connor (17), Rebecca (15), Grayson and Riley (13), Victoria (10), Casey (5) 

Let me know if you guys want a part 2! Also p.s I doubt Harry would ever neglect his family like this

"Mom we're home!" yelled Connor, your 17-year-old son, who had just gotten back from football practice.

"You think you could wash my uniform tonight? I've got a game tomorrow and it's starting to smell." Rebecca, your 15-year-old daughter, asked as she threw her soccer bag on the floor and pulled it out.

"You do know that the washing machine doesn't have a passcode on it and you don't need to be 18 or older to use it right, Becca." You say sarcastically.

"Fine I'll do it" she grumbles and starts reading the detergent boxes as you laugh at how clueless she looks.

While you were helping her set it up the twins, Grayson and Riley, ran off the bus and into the kitchen looking for food.

"Boys there are no snacks until you finish your homework and besides we're leaving to go see Connor's game in a couple of hours and you can eat there" you explain as your second youngest child, Victoria, who's 10, came grumbling into the house with her recorder in hand.

"What's wrong baby?" You ask as you picked her up from the ground and sit her on the stool.

"Dad never showed up to my concert at school today and he promised he would," she said on the verge of tears.

"I'm sure daddy feels very sorry that he missed it but you know daddy is really busy with the new album," you tell her as you hugged her tight.

"I wouldn't bank on dad's promises Vicca. He isn’t known to keep very them well" Connor explains grumbling as he walks in with his football padding.

"CONNOR!" You yell as you see tears come down Vicca's face.

"What mom you know it's true.... He's promised to come to my games and he hasn't shown up to one and it's the state championship tonight." Connor says while grabbing a water and heading out the door.

"Hopefully he manages to make it this time," you say with a bit of hope that your husband Harry will get his act together.

Afterward, you text Harry and tell him that he better make it to Connor's game and that Vicca was crying cause he didn't go to her concert. He texts back saying he'll be there but you are still skeptical that he will show up.

"We're leaving in a half hour for the game and I expect everyone to be ready to go!" You yell from the kitchen as you lay your head down on the cool countertop in order to try and relive the headache forming from the stress of having all your kids upset.

You go upstairs and walk into your youngest child's room. There you find your 5-year-old daughter Casey coloring a picture of what looks like a family.

"Look mommy, I drew a picture of our family. I'm gonna give it to daddy when he comes home" she says excitedly as she holds up the paper.

"It looks beautiful Casey now let's get you changed into your jersey," you say as you find Connor's jersey number sticking out of a pile of her clothes.

Once everyone was ready you head out with all your kids hoping that Harry would make it.

You all cheer loudly as the buzzer rings signaling the end of the game. You could not be more proud that your son had helped his team win a state title.

You and your kids ran to the field to go congratulate Connor on his win. As soon as he saw you guys he ran up to you and gave you the biggest hug that made your heart melt.

"I am so proud of you Connor you have no idea. I love you so much!" You say forcing yourself not to cry.

He chuckled a bit. "Thanks mom I love you too" he said.

Casey starts pulling on his pants and signaling for him to pick her up. Connor puts her on his shoulders and starts running around.

You being the mom that you take a picture of the two from the back as Casey's jersey had Connor's number on it.

"Dad never made it did he?" Connor asks you as you try and stop Grayson and Riley from beating each other up.

"I'm sorry baby he didn't come but I'm sure he is excited that you won" you state trying to bring the mood up again.

"Figures...." Mumbled Connor just quietly enough for only you to hear.

"Well let's go, I think I've had enough disappointment for one day" Becca says as she carries Casey to the car.

"I'll meet you guys at home, Josh is having a party at his house to celebrate and I'm going to swing by for a bit," he says.

"Please be safe and try to remember curfew this time," you say before kissing his cheek and walking to the car.

The ride home was silent and you could feel the tension build as you pulled into the driveway and Harry's car was there.

Everyone got out and as soon as Becca opened the door Casey launched herself towards Harry as the rest of your kids headed to go watch tv in the living room.

"Hi baby how are you today," he says to Casey as she giggles in his grasp.

You walk towards the medicine cabinet and grab the Advil from the shelf.

"What's wrong babe? Stressful day today" he asked while looking at you from across the room.

"Sure you could say that" you grumbled as you sat on a stool slightly mad at Harry.

"Casey go with Grayson and Riley and show them your picture," you told her as she ran out to go find them in the living room.

"Y/n, what wrong?" Harry asks as he comes behind you and wraps his arm around you. You shrug his arms off of you and walk to the otherwise of the counter.

"Do you know how upset Vicca came home today because her dad didn't go see her concert today, or how mad Becca was yesterday because you missed her soccer game because of album promo. Let's not even start on the look of disappointment Connor had when I told him you never made it Harry. He won states, Harry, states" you rant to him as anger started to boil in you.

"I'm sorry I missed all of that but you know how hard I’ve worked on this album. You know I have to work with the schedule Jeff gives me" he said trying to gain sympathy from you.

" I get that Harry but you can't keep blowing off your kids like this. It's not even this week, it's every week H! When was the last time you went to see one of Connor's games? When did you last talk about soccer recruitment with Becca? When was the last time you came home and had dinner with your kids Harry! That's my problem" you tell him.

"Don't you think I want to be here for all of that Y/n!" He yells at you. "I'm trying but it's not that easy to make my schedule revolve around games and dinners and every other thing that happens in this house!" He exclaims.

You look at him and hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over because of his statements.

"Maybe you should just leave if this family involves to much commitment. Correct me if I'm wrong but that's what you signed up for when you had 6 kids Harry" you say as you walk into the living room.

You hear Harry calling your name as you send your kids up to bed.

Casey runs up to Harry and hands him her drawing. Harry gives her a hug and asks her why not everyone was smiling.

"That's cause they are not happy because you broke your promise to them. Goodnight daddy!" she says as she runs back up the stairs.

You turn your back to Harry, afraid that if you look at him you'll break down.

Just then Connor walks into the living room. "Hey mom Josh gave me some cookies if you want-" he stops mid-sentence as he sees Harry.

"Your late for curfew Connor," Harry tells him while looking at his watch.

"Yeah well, I was celebrating my state title not like you would know since you've never come to a game" Connor replies back.

Harry began to get frustrated. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it but I'm very proud of you however that still doesn't excuse you for being late," Harry says as he tries to calm down.

"You don't get to discipline me because you're never here. Mom basically raised us on her own while you were off touring the world." He yells back through gritted teeth and clenched fists.

"I will not have you speak to me that way Connor Robin Styles," Harry says as he gets up in front of Connor.

"I'll say what I want because you are never home, therefore, have no power over me. You're a horrible father" Connor spits out.

"Boys tone it down you'll wake the rest of them up," you say trying to prevent a full-on screaming match.

"Not now Y/n," Harry says angrily.

"Don't talk to mom like that she's done nothing wrong. Your lucky you still have her cause if I was her I would leave your sorry ass in a heartbeat" Connor shouts back.

"Stop fighting!" Becca yells. "Dad you have no right to yell at us because you haven't raised us," she says from the bottom of the stairs while Vicca rushes down the stairs and hugs you as she cries.

"Are you and daddy going to get a divorce?" Vicca asks as Grayson and Riley come down with Casey in their arms.

You look at Harry as your own eyes starting to water. "No ones getting a divorce don't worry," Harry says quietly as he looks straight at you.

Casey runs into his arms as she has no idea what's happening.

You sniffle. "Alright guys it's over let's all head up to bed. Connor, can you please bring Casey up to her room when you go?" You ask and he nods.

"Ok come here and I'll give you a kiss before you go" you say as you give each child a kiss on the forehead before pulling Connor aside and giving him a hug.

"I'm so very proud of you and no matter what happens we will all always be proud of you. You have grown up well. Thank you" you tell him as he pulls you in for a tighter hug and you feel his tears on your shoulder.

"Thank you mama" he whispers before taking Casey upstairs with him.

"Y/n....." Harry says at a loss for words.

"H just drop it I think we've had enough arguments today. I'm going to bed" you say as you walk up the stairs to your room, leaving Harry alone.

You do your nightly routine and wipe away your tears as you get ready for bed but as soon as you get into bed you realized you forgot your phone downstairs.

You walk down and see Harry hunched over on the couch crying. It breaks your heart to see him like this no matter what happened in the last half hour. You walk over and sit next to him and slowly wrap your arms around him.

He grabs you and sits you down on his lap as he cries into your shoulder. "Shh... it's okay. You'll be okay" you whisper repeatedly in order to calm him down.

He sniffles a bit "Maybe they're right Y/n, maybe your better off without me" he says glumly.

You grab his chin and forced him to look you in the eye. "Harry Edward Styles I don't ever want to hear you say that ever again. I love you so much and could never live without. Please don't say that" you cry as he hugs you tighter and rubs your back.

"I'm sorry I've put you through this for so long Y/n and I'm sorry for being a horrible father to our children. They are the most important things in the world to me and I can't even raise them" he says.

"You're a great father H their just upset that you keep promising things you can't keep. You know they love you as much as I do right?" You ask as he looks at the drawing Casey drew.

"I guess but I don't know how to make up for all the times I've screwed up. Connor's games are over, the concert was today.... I don't know what to do" he says burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

"You can start by make breakfast in the morning. Then apologizing to Connor for tonight and go watch Becca's soccer game tomorrow. Tomorrow night we can have pizza for dinner and have Vicca and the twins give their own concert. If you give Casey a hug I'm sure she'll forgive you on the spot" you tell him as he chuckles at the last one.

"Ok, but how do I make it up to you?" He says looking up at you in a way that makes your heart clench.

You smile. "Make our kids happy and come to bed with me so we can get some sleep," you say as you begin to get up.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you" he asks while holding you close.

"Every day of the week, now come on" you tell him as he gives you a passionate kiss before you have the chance to move.

"Well, I love you so much Y/n. I don't know what I'd do without you" Harry said kissing you again.

You got into bed and cuddled up to Harry hoping to forget the argument for the night.

[qualquercoisa945]

Questions Every Fic Writer Secretly Wants to be Asked - the number 1 (have an amazing day!!)

first of all, thank you anon, and you too!!

second of all, how fucking dare you make me choose shlkjdfhlkjhdsflkjgfd

but uh, in all seriousness (and this is gonna be long so be glad i’m putting a read more here guys like it’s for your own good jskhgkjldhgjfdhkj)

i love all of them honestly!!! 

like, thank you for taking a chance on me was my first ever au that ever grew into something more than just a vague idea (like god i have a Lot of stuff about that au, @the-quiet-winds can absolutely confirm this) and obviously i’m incredibly proud of that, and that story was the first thing i ever wrote for it so i’m lowkey kinda biased

and then when she sees me was pure self indulgence but also one of the very first fics i wrote for the fandom, and even though it’s pretty crappy in hind sight, i’m still hella proud of it because it was one of the very first fics i ever wrote, and also the reason i started talking to julie and @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts if i remember correctly, so it just means a lot to me honestly!! plus i think it was one of the first fics ever posted to focus on one of the ladies in waiting, so although i don’t write about them much anymore, there’s that too!!

faith ain’t no privilege is the longest fic i’ve ever written, and also one that, despite being relatively old by now, i’m still incredibly proud of it!! not to mention, it’s part of @cool-kept​‘s spy au, and she’s one of my closest friends, so i’m also incredibly happy that i got to take a part in it

part 1 of love doesn’t discriminate was one of my favorite fics to write- the transitions were a bit of a struggle at first but i loved it either way, i got to explore a softer side of both cathy and anne, as well as address a topic that i was certainly going to explore eventually- what t***** s****** did to lizzie. also, it was an opportunity to explore how the kids come back into the queens’ lives, and i’m extremely excited for the next few parts

as you watch her go was one of the very first fics i ever wrote, inspired by the first post i ever saw from one of the queens’ social media- aimie’s post about the anniversary of katherine howard’s beheading. a few weeks later, i was talking to a friend about how kitty’s favorite holiday would be valentine’s day, and then i remembered that the anniversary of her beheading would be right the day before. with all that said, i was also interested in exploring kitty and anne’s dynamic, and since at the time most of the content involving anne made her incredibly chaotic, i wanted to explore a softer side to her

with when you’re on your own, i wanted to create a contradiction of sorts, between the inspiration for the title and the contents of the story, since the song when the sun goes down is an incredibly soft love duet, while the story is focused about the thoughts that plague the queens’ minds when they’re alone, despite how hard they try to avoid them. it’s pure character study, and it was incredibly interesting to write. i loved parr’s bit especially, because it allowed me to try and write something from her perspective and with the kind of language she’d use, which was a bit of a struggle, admittedly, but also so much fun

i am high and drunk on ego was another fic focused on one of the queens’ beheading’s anniversaries, this time anne’s, and also this time with me having a much better grasp on the queens’ characterization. writing anne and aragon’s conversation was honestly my favorite part of this entire fic, and even though it was written in a bit of a rush, i fucking loved it man

we see things that nobody else sees was another fic i wrote in a bit of a rush, but it’s one of my favorite pieces either way. it’s much more character study like than my usual fics, but i’d noticed that most people were mainly posting soft headcanons for the kids when they did write for them, so i figured i should address at least some of the trauma they have

pride is not the word i’m looking for is actually part of a (potential) series with fics about the kids, all titled with dear theodosia lyrics because i’m a basic bitch. it’d be based on what the kids are most scared about regarding their moms (so in lizzie’s case, disappointing her and losing her again, though that last one is a bit of a constant throughout all of the kids). i loved writing a more softer side of lizzie with that fic, as well as a gentler side with anne that wasn’t complete shit in terms of characterization (looking at you, as you watch her go)

but honestly? as basic as it sounds, i’m gonna have to say that But It Sure Felt Nice When He Was Holding My Hand, affectionately named the Kitty Snaps Fic. it’s my first ever multi chapter that I’m actually finishing, and i’m so genuinely proud of every single part, and for once i can genuinely say that i mean it when i say that.

burned out was my first ever fic for the six fandom- just a tiny little thing i threw together because @vioislit​ said burned out by dodie was a katherine howard song and i figured i should write something inspired by it. it also served as bit of me ranting through her, though since at the time i hadn’t looked into what aragon had gone through, so i had to avoid the topic. i might end up rewriting this story eventually honestly, because as much as i love it, there are some things that need some improvement

being awfully loud for an introvert is the second installment, titled after monster by, once again, dodie. i didn’t expect burned out to be anything but a one off, angsty one shot, but the more i thought about it, the more i realized that if i did that, it’d be throwing away the perfect opportunity to explore kitty’s dynamics with the other queens. that aside, another title i’d considered for this “we’re both guilty of black and white thinking,” from the same song, highlighting how kitty had completely snapped and wouldn’t hear anything. i also wanted to explore the trauma anne had experienced, since at the time people tended to focus more on the more chaotic, fun loving side of her. this was also another chance to explore the kitty and anne dynamic, this time with kitty being the one of comfort anne

now by shiver, but shiver with a friend, i was noticing a pattern with the titles, and decided to just embrace it and make that the theme- all stories from this fic were going to be titled after dodie songs. and this one in particular was named after party tattoos- me and becca were talking about how well it fit kitty and anna’s friendship, and it was just too perfect.as for the story’s contents themselves, i knew from the start i wanted there to be a flashback. me and jess had talked multiple times about their historical friendship by then, and that coupled with her story, dancing’s not a crime unless you do it without me, made it easy to choose what kind of scene i wanted to write. i also fucking loved getting to write something a bit more cleves centric, and exploring her trauma beyond any self-esteem issues she has was also really fun! finally, this is when you start noticing the build up to the climax of the latest installment. honestly, this one is my favorite out of this fic, if i’m being completely honest. it’s the one story that i don’t think is too short or has bits that fall awkward or just didn’t age as well as i would like it to have, due to me growing as a writer, which isn’t a bad thing by any means, but it’s nice to have a part that stood the test of time honestly

i’m so used to feeling wrong was both one of the easiest and one of the hardest songs to title. i ended up going with rainbow, but another option had been in the middle. ultimately, i went with rainbow because i felt it was better for how both kitty and aragon feel- constantly criticized by everyone around them, and being crushed by a constant sense of being replaceable..as for actually writing it, once again it was both one of the easiest and one of the hardest to write. i don’t have as much experience writing aragon as i would like, but i’d brainstormed a bit about how i thought their dynamic would be like and what similarities and differences they have. the idea of aragon accidentally calling kitty mary comes from jess, and it led way into a bit of a character study bit that i’m still pretty proud of honestly

and last but definitely not least, these new walls are pretty hard to crack. the title inspiration for this one was arms unfolding, and in all honesty, this one was easily the hardest to title. almost every line in this song would be a great title, but ultimately i settled on the one i did, and i’m pretty happy about it honestly! it’s about how being reincarnated likely made the queens put up more walls instead of less, and it’s just,,,,,,, idk man i just love this title a lotas for the story, this was one that i have had planned since, i wanna say back when i first wrote the anne chapter. it wasn’t part of this story at first, but then i started building the story up more, and it just fit too well. i’d been wanting to tackled parr and kitty’s relationship for a while now, and while i still have some stuff in the works, i’m pretty proud of how this one turned out!! i’m looking forward to sharing the last part of this story with you all 💖💙💖💙