#and you hold your camera up against the front of the postcard

[laurenkmyers]

Exclusive Jeff Satur bts album content found through the QR code on the back of one of the postcards.

[turnupswritessometimes]

AshEiji - Ficmas - Ch8 - Sleigh Rides

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52217968/chapters/132084811

“And I can’t hold the camera, because…?” Ash trailed off, his eyebrows raised. His coat collar was turned up against the cold – it was snowing again, in New York. The flakes caught on his cheeks melted, leaving them rosy-pink. Eiji wanted to kiss them.

“Because you’re not the photographer,” he said.

Ash bumped his whole body against him, and Eiji stumbled. He had to catch Ash’s arm to stop himself falling; and when he did, pushed him back.

They were walking up a country road, following the directions on Ash’s phone. They’d been told to leave the car at the bottom of the lane, just beyond the sign that declared this all private property. They were headed to the homestead in the midst of the snowy plains and pine trees. It was like a Winter postcard.

“And what about all the photos of you?” Ash asked.

“I’ll teach you how to take some.”

“In a moving sleigh.”

Eiji stepped in front of him, his arms behind his back. “Are you scared of a challenge, Ash?”

Ash caught Eiji’s chin, tilting it up in his hand. He smiled smugly back at him.

“I’m never scared of a challenge.”

And he kissed Eiji. Peppered his cheeks with kisses, until Eiji had to catch Ash’s shoulders. “Stop – we’re going to be late!”

Ash did relent, then, and lead Eiji along, through the snow. They were here on a job: Max had been the one to recommend them for it. Recommend Eiji. It was a piece about a farm upstate that were offering sleigh rides for the festive season. The story would help the business promote their work; year-round, the horses were used for therapy.

“Most importantly,” Max had said, pushing a coffee onto Eiji’s desk. “They’re offering you and a plus one a free ride on one of their sleighs.”

“Oh,” Eiji said, scrolling through the website.

Max waited. He raised his eyebrows. “You and a plus one, Eiji.” And when he still didn’t react, Max prompted, “Ash?”

“Oh!” Eiji felt his cheeks go hot. “Like a date?”

“That’s right.” Max grinned at him, and Eiji ducked his chin. It felt odd, that his boss was also a family friend. Felt even odder, when Max ruffled his hair good-naturedly. As though Eiji was Ash, or Michael. Made his chest feel warm.

So here they were. Eiji armed with his camera, very aware that Ash still hated photos, and not too sure how he was going to take photos in a moving sleigh. But they still reached the farmhouse; it was decorated with twinkling lights that made it look like a gingerbread cottage. The horses grazed in the paddock next to it, flicking their tails, their breath steaming in the cold air.

And there was the sleigh. A beautiful, red polished affair with gleaming blades. Two chestnut brown horses were attached; their fur long on their legs, so it looked as though they were wearing snow boots. They were bigger than Eiji had thought they would be.

The owners were stood in front of them, and rushed forward to shake Eiji’s hand. He still wasn’t used to that; much preferred greetings in Japan. They were both the picture of what lumberjack men would look like.

“Thank you so much for coming all the way out here,” the one with the trimmed, dark bead, said. “We do appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“But, I thought your boss said he was sending a couple?” the man asked.

Ash put his arm around Eiji’s waist, tugging them together. “Actually, we’re married.”

Eiji hid behind his bangs, unable to stop smiling. He’d never get tired of hearing that. Married. It was such a fantastic word.

“That’s great!” The other guy said; his beard was bushy, and ginger. “Sorry – we didn’t – we’d love that.”

“This is my husband.” The dark one said. “So, this would be lovely. Really.”

“Oh, good.” Eiji still smiled, but he felt slightly baffled.

“It’s our pleasure.” Ash’s fingers squeezed Eiji’s side. He seemed completely at ease; his own charming smile in place. They were all smiling at each other, and Eiji was at a loss as to what to say next.

“Well, then, boys, let’s introduce you to the horses.”

So they were introduced to the horses. One was Cinnamon, the other Nutmeg. Both were big and beautiful. Their noses were soft, like velvet, as they snuffled at Eiji’s palm. He patted their snouts, unable to stop smiling. Nutmeg nuzzled at his shoulder, searching in his coat for treats, his fur tickling his cheek.

When he looked up, he saw that Ash had his camera. He took it back.

“That’s my job,” he said, untangling himself  from the horses. Nutmeg followed him, snorting. “You say hello to them, too.”

Ash did. Rolling his eyes like it was a chore. But he did. He rubbed his knuckles up and down their snouts, and told them were lovely. Eiji got a photo of Ash holding Cinnamon’s head, his hair falling over his face. But it fell in such a way that it was still clear Ash was smiling, softly.

He noticed Eiji was watching him, from above the camera, and paused. “What?”

Eiji shrugged. “You’re beautiful.”

Ash’s eyes softened. Very green against the white around them. He still smiled, that special smile he had for Eiji that made him feel like he was electrified. Made him remember why he’d risked everything, again and again, for this boy. Just how much he loved Ash.

“You guys are just adorable together. Let’s get you in the sleigh.”

So they did. Ash went first, and offered his hand to Eiji. He accepted it, hauling himself up and into the sleigh. There was a woven blanket to go over their laps, and embroidered cushions behind them. It all felt very cosy; almost too cosy to do work. He fiddled with his camera, whilst the owners brought the horses round to the start of the trail. Ash held the reins, looking just as at ease as if he was driving a car.

The snow had slowed to a powder, and it felt like they were inside of a snow globe. The owners rode behind them, on their own horses, to make sure the sleigh stayed on course. The horses trotted, the wind catching their manes. The ride was bumpy. Eiji found himself catching Ash’s shoulder, laughing.

Ash rested his head on the top of Eiji’s, still with both hands on the reins. But he was chuckling too.

“You have a job to do, sweetie,” Ash said, gently.

“Then, slow down.” Eiji pushed him, fumbling with his camera. He wore fingerless gloves to work it better, but his hands were numb.

“When have I ever driven slowly?” Ash replied.

Eiji could only laugh, and shake his head. The sleigh continued, and it felt like magic. The snow continued falling dreamily; the horses trotting through the pine forest. Eiji tried his best. Took photos of the horses; the scenery; Ash’s  hands on the reins; Ash next to him. Leant forward, to brush Ash’s hair back behind his ear, murmuring, “This one’s just for me.”

The sleigh jolted, as he did, and he lost his balance. His camera swung, and he caught Ash’s knee to stop himself falling headlong.

Ash just laughed. He shifted, putting his arm around Eiji and pulling him close, still keeping hold of the reins.

“I think you’ve got enough,” he said.

“Ash.”

“Yeah, that’s enough.” Ash turned to kiss the top of Eiji’s head. He kept his grip tight, even as Eiji tried to wiggle away. But Ash was stronger. And warmer. And it was hard to argue very much when they were in a horse drawn sleigh in the snow. It wasn’t like the owners protested that Eiji had stopped taking photos.

So shifted, sitting under Ash’s arm properly, and resting his head on his shoulder. Listened to the sounds of the horse’s hooves, and smelt the pine around them, felt Ash’s breath underneath him. It was cold, but he felt very warm. And thought he would be happy if they stayed like this for hours.

But they finished the route, and the sleigh ride came to an end. Ash let go of the reins, letting them hang over the edge of the sleigh.

“Come on, sweetie.” Ash nudged him with his shoulder.

Eiji let himself have another minute, with his arms tight around Ash. Relishing in that feeling, his heart pounding. Then gave in. He pulled away, looking up at Ash. He kissed him, forgetting that they weren’t alone.

Forgetting that he was here on a job, not a date, like Max said. A job to take photos to market the sleigh rides offered at this farm. And the photos he did have, of the forest, the horses, the sleigh, looked beautiful. They looked great next to Eiji’s story for the article. (Max had wanted him to write it; had been helping him draft up some of his own stories.)

But it was a photo that he hadn’t taken that was at the top. A photo one of the ranch owners had taken on his phone, and they hadn’t noticed. It was the moment at the end of the ride, when Eiji had kissed Ash. The snow fell around them, their hair caught in the wind, the trees green behind them. The blanket was around them, pressing them together.

“It’s a great article,” Max said, looking at it. Eiji couldn’t. It made him feel flustered and embarrassed. That there would be a photo of him and Ash kissing on the internet. “It’s a great photo too.”

“I have to check if Ash is alright with it,” Eiji asked. Because that was only fair.

��Sure. But it looks great, with the article. The guys were really happy with the job you did.”

Which made Eiji feel warm for a different reason. He nodded, fiddling with the pens on his desk. There were only a couple of days until Christmas Eve, and he couldn’t wait to be finished for Christmas. He had a whole two weeks off, for Christmas and New Years.

“Eiji, do you enjoy doing this?”

“Yes!” He looked up. “Of course!”

Max smiled at him. That warm smile, as he put a hand on Eiji’s shoulder. “Because, you’re good at this job. I think you could do more than photos, if you wanted. You could train up as a journalist.”

As a real journalist, like Max, instead of just a photographer. A proper, full-time job. That was the goal, wasn’t it? He should have said yes just as enthusiastically. But he paused – and hated that he did pause.

Max saw his hesitation. “Why don’t you think about it, over the break?”

Eiji nodded.

And wondered why it felt like such a scary decision.

[zstetchz]

A new script!!!

A friend has Kindly Helped me edit a New Idea for a Sketch, for if Welcome Home had been a Real Show! This sketch is about Wally Taking a Trip to the Post Office, and Growing Curious on just how Many Types of Mail there are; Eddie happily shows Wally Examples of Letters, Packages, and Postcards! [For Anyone who Likes my oc, There is a Vague Easter Egg!... I Wonder how Many of You will Pick up on it!]

As always! Welcome Home, Eddie and Wally Belong to Clown / Party Coffin! Please Go Give them Good Vibes!

START OF EPISODE

WALLY is sat outside of HOME under a tree, writing something on a comically large envelope before perking up and looking at the camera.

WALLY: Oh! Hello there, neighbor. You’ve caught me at a good time. I was just about to go give our good friend, Eddie, a visit at the post office. You see, I got this letter here,

WALLY holds up envelope to the camera.

WALLY: And I want to get it mailed out to one of my friend who lives too far away from me for me to walk it to their house. Would you like to come with me, neighbor?

WALLY pauses, for an answer.

WALLY: You would? That’s great, we should get going then; I want this to get to my friend as soon as possible.

WALLY then gets up from his spot and begins walking down the street.

WALLY: Hey, neighbor, have you ever mailed someone a letter before? I never have. I hope Eddie can explain what to do so that my friend gets this in time for their birthday. You see, I have painted them a picture of one of their favorite things as a present, and I really want them to open it on their birthday.

WALLY now stands in front of the POST OFFICE. WALLY opens the door.

WALLY: Come on neighbor!

WALLY walks in, EDDIE is behind the mail desk, carrying a large stack of packages. EDDIE sets down his packages on the floor, perking up at WALLY.

EDDIE: Well hello there y’all! What can I do for you today, hmm?

WALLY: Hello, Eddie! My neighbor and I just wanted to mail this to my friend. Their birthday is coming up.

EDDIE: Well ain’t that just the most exciting thing! I can help y’all with that faster than my meemaw can whip up a batch of flapjacks on a sunny Saturday morning in May!

WALLY looks at all the packages behind the counter and tilts his head.

WALLY: Say, Eddie, why do you have all those boxes?

EDDIE: Oh! Those aren’t just any boxes there, Wally.

WALLY: They aren’t? They just look like plain ol' boxes with some writing on them.

EDDIE chuckles as he leans against the counter.

EDDIE: Well, Wally, those are packages.

WALLY: Packages?

EDDIE: Yes indeed, packages! You see, packages are kinda like letters, but with bigger things inside of them.

WALLY: You mean… You can send more than just letters through the mailman?

EDDIE: Of course you can, Wally! There are plenty of things that you can use the post office to send! Packages and letters are just two examples!

WALLY: Well, how many things can the post office send then?

EDDIE: Well just about anything! Think about things you might get in your mailbox! Of course, you know that envelopes, as long as they have a stamp and an address, can be sent through the mail.

EDDIE gestures to the envelope that WALLY is still holding.

EDDIE: Why don’t you set that letter up here on the counter and let me take a look at it for you; I’ll make sure that it is all set to head out.

WALLY sets the envelope on the counter, EDDIE picks it up, facing it to the camera.

EDDIE: Now let’s see. Wally’s envelope has an address, telling me right where it needs to go, right here in the center. But, Wally, this letter cannot be ready to go yet.

WALLY: It isn’t?

EDDIE: Afraid not. You see, Wally, you’re missing a stamp right up in this corner. Lucky for you though, we have some stamps right here at the post office. People can buy them right up here at my desk whenever there is a letter that they would like to send. But, since we are such good pals, I’ll give you a free one, just for this occasion!

WALLY: Thank you, Eddie!

EDDIE turns to grab a stamp from a jar, WALLY looks at the camera for a moment.

WALLY: Eddie sure is nice for taking some time to teach us about the post office, isn’t he, neighbor? We should be sure to thank Eddie before we leave. Do you think that you can remind me, neighbor?

WALLY looks back to EDDIE as he places a stamp on the envelope.

EDDIE: There we go, now that fine envelope is ready to be sent out! You just leave that envelope in the postbox right outside the post office, and another mail carrier will come and pick it up this afternoon. Then it’ll get sorted and sent right along to your friend!

WALLY: Thanks, Eddie. But… We are still curious about the other types of mail you can get.

EDDIE: Oh that’s right! Well, of course, we have the things that can fit into envelopes! Letters, cards-

WALLY: Paintings.

EDDIE: Mhm! But then, we also have things that you can fit into boxes! Those are packages!

EDDIE gestures over to his large stack of packages behind the mail counter.

EDDIE: With a package, you can mail quite a lot of things! Like records, or books, or pens and pencils. Heck, there are some company’s that will let you place an order for anything that you’d like from their store, and they will mail it right to your door! Isn’t that just nifty?

WALLY, to the camera: There sure are a lot of things that the post office can send people, aren’t there, neighbor?

EDDIE chuckles as he nods.

EDDIE: And there is more than that! Sometimes, you can mail pieces of paper without putting them in an envelope!

WALLY: Really Eddie?

EDDIE: Oh definitely! You got things like magazines or newspapers! Free as a bird in the bright blue sky, straight to your mailbox! Or there are even flyers that can tell you if something interesting is going on in the area that you live in! I remember back in Texas, every year there would be flyers in everyone’s mailbox for all sorts of fun activities!

WALLY: Wow. There are just so many types of mail; there are envelopes, that hold small things, like letters.

EDDIE: Mhm!

WALLY: And there are packages, which hold bigger things.

EDDIE: Like art supplies or books!

WALLY: And sometimes there are just loose pages, like magazines.

EDDIE: Sure does sound like you got all of this under your belts now!

EDDIE grabs a few postcards from off to the side, smiling at them.

WALLY: Now, what are those Eddie?

EDDIE: Oh these? These are postcards! Think of them like little photos that have space for an address, stamp, and message on the back!

WALLY: Wow, those are some interesting pictures, Eddie. Can I look at yours?

EDDIE: Well sure thing! But be careful, a dear friend of mine took those pictures and made those cards at his store!

EDDIE hands WALLY the handful of postcards. WALLY thumbs through the small stack.

WALLY: Your friend is really good at taking pictures!

EDDIE: That he is, Wally!

WALLY: Gee, I sure wish I had some cool postcards like these to send to my friends. Don’t you, neighbor?

EDDIE: Well Wally, you can buy postcards from a whole bunch of places! I actually have a new display ready to sell some of my friends postcards here in the neighborhood!

EDDIE gestures to a spinning display next to the stamp jar, WALLY quickly sets the postcards in his hand down onto the counter. EDDIE picks them up with a soft smile. Camera pans over to WALLY staring at the different cards on display.

WALLY: There are so many options. Which one is your favorite, neighbor?

WALLY pauses for an answer, smiles.

WALLY: That one is really pretty. I think that my favorite is the one of the apples and strawberries. I think that we should buy one and keep it in Home.

WALLY grabs the postcard and goes back to the front of the mail counter.

EDDIE: Ah, what a great pick! You know, when I saw that card come in I had a feeling you’d love that card, Wally! That’ll be 25 cents!

WALLY places a quarter on the counter and takes the postcard, along with the original envelope.

WALLY: Thank you, Eddie. Not just for the postcard, but also for teaching Neighbor and I about mail today! Say “thank you”, neighbor.

Que sound effect of children saying “thank you”.

EDDIE: Oh shucks you guys, it was my pleasure! Please come back whenever you would like, I got plenty more that I can teach y’all about!

WALLY: I’m sure we’ll be back sometime soon. See you later, Eddie!

Camera follows WALLY outside. WALLY stops at the postbox, presses a kiss to the envelope and then drops it into the mail slot, then looks to the camera.

WALLY: Gee neighbor, I never thought that I could learn so much about mail. I didn’t even know that there was that much to know about mail. There are letters with stamps, and packages with goodies inside, and flyers that tell us about fun activities. There are so many different types of mail. What was your favorite thing that we learned from Eddie?

WALLY pauses for an answer.

WALLY: I really liked learning that too, neighbor. I think my favorite part was learning about postcards.

WALLY looks at his postcard again.

WALLY: Postcards are really pretty, don’t you think so? Say, maybe one day you and I could learn how to make postcards. I think that would just be the absolute most.

WALLY looks at his watch.

WALLY: Oh neighbor, I think it’s time for me to go check on Home. I’m sure Home would love to see our new postcard. I’ll see you later, neighbor!

WALLY exits, fades to black, commercial break.

[a-good-blog-name-but-its-taken]

Trying to write a Movie, here's some of the opening scenes.

Ext. Snowy Woods

We open on SAM’s legs, as he runs through the snow. 

The camera follows Sam from the side as he moves, slowly pulling back to reveal his whole body. He’s breathing heavily, dressed in heavy winter clothing, and he’s clutching a bloody wound in his torso.

We cut to a static view from behind Sam and pan upwards to see a small airfield control tower. Sam slows down and stumbles, looking up at the tower and catching his breath. He then resumes running, before tripping and falling down headfirst.

Fade to title card.

Int. Private Airfield Control Tower

Close-up of a table. On the table there is a mug of coffee, a map, and a postcard from Fiji. A hand grabs the mug.

We pull back to reveal its owner: ADRIAN, dressed in an open Irvin jacket, an ushanka, khaki cargo pants, and an olive green sweatshirt. 

The camera follows the mug as Adrian drinks the coffee and puts the mug back down on the table, before panning back to Adrian.

Camera stays in position as Adrian enters a door to the right and comes back out with a shotgun, which he slings over his shoulder. 

The camera then follows behind Adrian through the room as he heads for the door; we see more papers relating to Fiji scattered about the room. Adrian opens the door and steps out onto the airfield.

Ext. Airfield

The airstrip is covered in snow and lined by evergreen trees. To Adrian’s right is a small closed hangar with a door on the side.

Adrian, still followed from behind by the camera, walks across the airfield to his hangar and heads to the side door.

Cut to inside the hangar.

Int. Hangar

It’s dark inside the hangar. 

The camera faces the side door as Adrian opens it, allowing natural light to come in. 

The camera pivots around Adrian, turning to reveal a view over his left shoulder of a partially illuminated yellow Cessna 180. Hold on the Cessna as Adrian approaches it.

ADRIAN(affectionately): Soon. Just gotta get some gas in ya.

Adrian pats the plane’s side before leaving. 

The camera pans to follow him as he closes the hangar door.

Cut to next scene.

Ext. Snowy Woods

The evergreens are covered in snow. The wind whistles lowly in the distance.

Enter Adrian from the right. 

Camera follows him from the side as he walks through the woods. 

Hold on Adrian as he keeps walking, then stops and looks down. 

Cut to Adrian’s POV: A trail of blood and signs of someone crawling in the snow. 

Pan upward to reveal the extent of the blood trail.

Cut back to view from Adrian’s left.

ADRIAN(unslinging shotgun): What the hell?

He chambers a round. 

The camera follows him from behind as he follows the blood trail.

Camera stops as the blood trail curls around a large tree, then moves further out over Adrian’s shoulder as Adrian raises his gun and skirts around the right side of the tree to reveal Sam, propped up against the trunk.

Cut to Sam’s POV: Adrian, looking down and pointing his shotgun at the camera.

ADRIAN: What the hell happened to you?

Cut to a view from Adrian’s left showing both men in frame.

SAM(weakly): I came to talk...got attacked. Bandits.

ADRIAN(stowing shotgun): They got you good. Can you stand?

Cut to Adrian’s POV: Sam tries to get up, before grunting in pain and falling back down.

Cut back to the view from Adrian’s left.

SAM(pained): I need your help.

ADRIAN(leaning down): Damn right.

Close-up of Adrian’s hand grabbing Sam’s.

Cut back to wider view as Adrian pulls Sam up and Sam leans on Adrian. 

Hold on the pair as they start walking away from the camera.

Cut to next scene.

Int. Private Airfield Control Tower

Open on a view from inside of the front door. Adrian slams the door open, breathing heavily, and drags Sam in from the outside, leaning him against a wall before slamming the door shut. Close-up profile of Sam as Adrian shakes his shoulders.

ADRIAN: Hang in there, buddy. I’m gonna pull you up in 3...2...1...

Adrian lifts Sam, who groans in pain. 

The camera pulls back as Adrian helps Sam walk around the corner, then turns to follow them from behind as Adrian takes Sam into an adjoining room and helps him onto a table. 

Camera moves in to settle on a static shot of the room: Sam, on a table, his feet towards the camera; Adrian, to Sam’s left, kneeling down and looking through his pack. Adrian pulls out a medical kit and stands up. 

Pan over to Sam’s left(across from Adrian) as Adrian pulls away Sam’s coat and begins bandaging his wound.

SAM: I was actually looking for you. Didn’t expect to meet you like this, but...

ADRIAN: Why me?

SAM: I’m from a village west of here...we’ve been plagued by bandits. Boss sent me out to find people to defend us.

ADRIAN: And what makes you think I’d help you?

SAM: I...Food! We’ve got lots of food. No such thing as too much food these days, eh?

ADRIAN: How much food are we talking?

SAM: At least half a year’s worth. And it’s good stuff, too. Beef jerky, smoked fish, baked beans...even some frozen fruit! Potatoes, berries...you name it, we got it.

ADRIAN: Well, I’ll admit I’m not much of a fighter, but I do know where to find people. I got a map of this whole area for trading. If you can get me that food, then I’m game. We’ll head back to your village whenever you’re ready. Deal?

SAM: Yeah, sure...deal.

Cut to next scene.

Ext. The Village

The Village is in shambles. Houses and huts are charred; some are still burning as villagers put out the last of the flames. We see the Village’s landmarks: The TAVERN to the right of the main road; The CHURCH to the left; and three WAREHOUSES at the road’s end. These structures have sustained minimal damage.

Fly in slowly from above the warehouses to reveal the whole scene. Several GREYCLOAK mercenary-soldiers are leaving the Village, carrying supplies and wounded to their horse-drawn sleds at the other end of the main road.

Cut to a shot from over the right shoulder of one such Greycloak as he and his comrade carry a wounded mercenary on a stretcher past the church, and away from the warehouses.

Camera follows the Greycloak before stopping as he passes another Greycloak and a Villager on the left.

Hold on these two men. They are DAMIAN, leader of the Greycloaks, and LECLERC, leader of the Village.

LECLERC: You can’t just leave, Damian! You know as well as I do that we can’t survive without protection. Please, stay. I can double the pay...twice as much food-

DAMIAN: We have food. You can’t give us anything we don’t have except for more bodies to bury. Look around, Leclerc. Even if we stayed? Even if you paid us double? Well, dead men have no use for food.

LECLERC: I...just...please. We’ll all die if you don’t help us.

DAMIAN: I’m a mercenary. Not a hero.

Enter RICHTER, a fellow Greycloak.

RICHTER: All due respect, Damian, we can’t just leave these people to die. I thought we were supposed to be protectors.

DAMIAN: Then you thought wrong. We’re mercs, and this is a bad investment. Pack your shit and let’s get out of here.

RICHTER: I’m staying.

DAMIAN: Pack. Up. And. Leave.

RICHTER: You can leave. I’m staying. And if that means I’m not a Greycloak anymore, then so be it.

DAMIAN: You’re still a Greycloak, but that doesn’t make you any less of an idiot. Now get out of my sight.

The camera follows Richter as he leaves, heading for the Tavern. Leclerc catches up with him a few seconds later.

Cut to a view from the pair’s front as they walk side-by-side to the tavern.

RICHTER: Shouldn’t Sam be back with that pilot guy soon?

LECLERC: Yeah. I wonder what’s keeping him.

RICHTER: I could go out looking for him, if you want to.

LECLERC: That’d be unwise. We need all hands on deck over here. Sam went looking for the pilot because we needed someone who knew people.

RICHTER: And you really think that a few hungry mercenaries can hold off all those bandits? You saw how much damage they did last night.

LECLERC: After last night, I doubt it, but we don’t have any other choice. If worse comes to worst, we have the Village Guards, and some of the villagers have guns as well.

RICHTER: It’s just not enough. That damned Damian…

Enter VILLAGE GUARD CAPTAIN from the right, and two GUARDS under his command.

CAPTAIN: Mr. Leclerc.

LECLERC: What’s the report, Captain?

CAPTAIN: Well, the bandits burned down a bunch of houses. Mr. Curry and his boy need new lodgings. So do the Browns, the Johnsons, and Ms. Chauncey.

LECLERC: And what about casualties?

CAPTAIN: Three Guards were killed; five were injured.

LECLERC: What other news? Has Sam returned yet?

CAPTAIN: He’s still missing. A few hours after he left, we heard gunshots. He may have been attacked.

LECLERC: Shit.

RICHTER: I can go out there to help. I’ll be fine, I’ve got body armor and better-

LECLERC: No, we need you here. I’ll need your help to come up with a strategy. Here, let’s get a drink. *to the Captain* Send your men back to their posts and put a few out in the woods to look for Sam.

CAPTAIN: Yes, Mr. Leclerc.

Richter and Leclerc enter the TAVERN to their right. Cut to next scene.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 04

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual harassment (please don’t read this chapter if it triggers/makes you uncomfortable, your safety comes first)

A/N:  i do realise i’m on a roll posting every day but uni starts early and idk why i keep writing like i’m running out of time😂 hope you enjoy this chapter. much love xx

* additionally, there is a light sexual harassment scene in this chapter and if anyone is uncomfortable or triggered by it i would skip it. your mental health and safety come first. *

NEXT CHAPTER

One day I’ll fly away...

She remembered the very first role she got to play as a lead. She was the standby for Glinda in Wicked. She could still feel her hand shaking as the backstage technicians secured her to the bubble. She could still hear the bubble machine engine rumble as the bubble raised up in the ceiling and for a moment she was above everything - above the audience, above the cast, above the stage itself. It felt like flying, soaring through the gasping of the crowd. She remembered feeling like this was her height, this was her flight but as things went, as she got more roles and as she progressed to the screen as she always wanted, the feeling of flying just seemed to soar, turning her into a creature of air.

Flying for Bucky was something he couldn’t remember, he remembered crashing. Remembered falling from the train waiting for the peaceful slumber of death to come but it never did, remembered the cold snow melting through his jacket reaching his skin. It’s cold. Remembered diving in after Steve, lungs filled with water, heavy suit. It’s cold, it’s quiet. Soaring was only something he could dream of while frozen or when they put him on a cell with a small window. Crashing was more like something he could remember, drowning, pushed to the bottom by his arm, wishing death came to greet him

More powerful than crashing was sound. The theatre was always filled with whistling from men getting a peak at ladies’ legs, women giggling and security trying to keep out children and teens away. You could hear the laughter reverberating from any material, it was electrifying. Her voice however seemed to melt over distorted past sounds, a melancholy while held hands with the old telling it never of its former glory but of what it can be. Bucky knew now why her agency kept her so locked up, all people with a voice eventually fly away. 

     - Don’t just stare at me. - she bite her lip, looking the other way. Did she sound that bad? She thought she sounded just fine in the shower that morning, maybe her bathroom had better acoustics. - Should we go back home? Before it gets dark?

     - Sure. - he got up from his seat, extending his hand towards her so she could jump off the set. She put her hand in his, another hand coming to rest upon his shoulder as her elevated her up into the air before bringing her down onto the worn out floor. 

The walk back to the subway was quiet. People were starting to crowd Coney Island for night time dates. Bucky remembered bringing girls to dates in Coney Island, even remembered bringing Steve along, he just didn’t remember the girls’ names anymore. There were some flashes of what they were wearing but surely those memories were replaced with that of Y/N staring at the ferris wheel as they walked back to the subway.

Once there, her child like wonder of the city that never slept and the city which she now lived in didn’t seem to leave her eyes, sparkling brighter than the billboards in Times Square. The walk back to the apartment was once again quiet, with their footsteps being the only thing echoing in the halls. Soon enough they reached her door, still looking as intact as they left it.

     - Thank you so much for showing me Coney Island. - she handed him the teddy he had won. - Thank you gift. 

     - I won it for you, Y/N. Besides, I think I’m a bit past stuffed animals. 

     - Well, I’ve had my fair share of stuffed animals to last a life time and I insist you keep this one. - she stuffed the teddy between his arms, finding it incredibly adorable how the little toy looked smaller in the middle of his arms than in hers. - Little Coney Island memento. 

     - I should get going. - he changed the subject, gesturing with his hands as he looked at the time on his watch. - It’s been a great day, Y/N.

     - The pleasure’s been all mine, Bucky. - she smiled as she held the edge of the door. She stood by the slightly opened door watching as he turned the corner which led to the lift. Once he was out of sight, Y/N walked into her apartment, closing the door behind her but still holding the knob with a silly smile on her face. 

Bucky reached the headquarters around 11 PM. Despite going the long way home, expecting Steve to be asleep when he returned. Steve had a very mundane routine when it came to sleeping, he could still sleep but he would wait until everyone was asleep for him to go to his bedroom. Bucky didn’t want to have to dance the first day in the job waltz. He knew he cared, he knew Steve wanted him to be alright. There was only one small thing; Steve wanted Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, his Bucky, and he just wasn’t that man anymore. He didn’t like being asked who he was, he doesn’t know who he is.

Opening the door to the living room, he found Captain America himself sat on the big lounge chair, skimming through his list of modern day TV shows and movies. His blue eyes moved from the bright lights of the television to him.

      - How was the first day? - he questioned, regular optimism present in his voice. Steve had remained the same, maybe it was that which made him believe the spectre of the boy Bucky was could be revived. He seemed to forget dead people can’t be revived. 

      - It was good, went to Coney Island.

      - Coney Island? - Steve muted the TV, contorted face expression settling into his youthful features. - I thought you were going to guard her door.

      - She wanted to see Coney Island. Couldn’t let her go alone?

      - Didn’t her personal assistant tell you she couldn’t leave? - he had been noisey, he had looked into Bucky’s contract. He told himself it was just in case, just in case Bucky needed his help. - You don’t want to get in any trouble, specially with agencies. They’re the devil.

      - I’ll take it into consideration. - his skin tightened as he smiled a tight straight line. 

      - Do you wanna stay for a while? I’m watching a series Sam recommended. 

      - I think I’m gonna just go to sleep.

Steve nodded allowing Bucky to return to his bedroom. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, a bed, side table and wardrobe, nothing else. No mirrors and no windows, silence, grey and black bedding, no decoration rather than a postcard his sister had sent him during the war framed in a plastic frame. No glass, Steve wanted nothing around he could harm himself with. It was almost like living in an insane asylum. 

He looked at the little teddy bear in his hands before placing it on the side table, a little smile on his face. A Coney Island memento indeed. 

The morning came rushing like the rain which fell against Y/N’s bedroom glass window. She turned around in her bedding, pushing her knitted quilt up to her nose, the scent of fresh crisp cotton invading her senses. The mood would’ve remained the same comfortable, early morning type had it not been for her comforter being yanked off her without any warning. Through the fogginess of morning sight, she could make out Ms. Olson in her traditional black suit co-ord. She thought it fitting, considering her morning was now ruined.

     - Get up. We have much to do. - she barked like an infuriating dog.

     - But I thought I had the weekend off.- Y/N rubbed the sleep of her eyes, sitting up, quilt covering her body. 

     - You have last mine commitment. Now run along and change into something more ... - he analysed her before gazing her face, tight expression settling in. - Enchanting. 

She left Y/N in the bedroom, clenching her bedding as she looked around the place she’d rather be. Nevertheless, she rose from her bed and walked up to her wardrobe grabbing the first dress she could find and a pair of heels. Her routine during work was different, she normally showered, got her makeup done, dressed and then out of the door. Mechanic, controlled, with Ms. Olson asking her to hurry up. In a split second she returned to the living room, bag held on her shoulder, sunglasses in hand as she prepared to walk out with Miss Olson.

    - You should’ve put some product on your hair. The ends look dry. - Miss Olson commented as they walked outside. She looked around hoping Bucky would be around but it was just her and Miss Olson. 

    - Is Mr. Barnes not coming? 

    - It’s a dress rehearsal. - Y/N froze in her mind. Dress rehearsals were supposed to be better than fittings but after her last experience she really wasn’t in the mood for another experience with the director.

Time seemed to stop, freeze in spot as she stepped inside the car. No noise, no sound, even colour seemed to fade as the car drove faster and faster. She wondered what she could do, open the door, roll over, maybe do it like what she had seen in Lady Bird but the driver always kept the door fully locked and Miss Olson always had her eye on her like Sauron’s Eye.

She looked at her phone in her lap, fingers loomed over Bucky’s name. He was employed by her, maybe she could ask him to come over. Maybe if he was there it would be easier. She sent the message hopeful he would reply, but the text bounced back. Looking at the network, she was lacking all the bars on her phone. Sighing, she leaned against the car seat, looking off the window, dark clouds on the blue sky mocking her. 

As the car came to a halt on the same building as before, she almost had to be pulled out the car by Miss Olson. Once inside, Y/N could see him, she could smell his patchouli fragrance as he wrapped his arm around her. She stood once again in front of the camera lights, muffled cries in her head as she was squeezed into a corset and a then a body con dress. Her eyes were blinded by the lights, behind those lights Miss Olson and Mister Powell gazing at her. Her hand slide down her collarbones to her lap, feeling the fabric as the cameras kept flashing, locking her in a case of lights. 

Once the lights dimmed, she could see them looking down at her, almost five feet tall, mumbling she couldn’t hear as one of the costume designers helped her out.

     - Costumes are looking fantastic. - the director walked up to her, hand wrapping itself around her waist, raising up to lay just below her breast. - Maybe you should try and cut some weight. You would look a bit better.

     - We’ve already started a diet plan. - Miss Olson added. - Not to worry, Mr. Powell. Y/N is fully invested in this movie.

She remained caged in the conversation, being moved by someone back onto the car and dropped at home. She looked around her hallway, wondering if it had always been this cold. As she opened the door to her home, she noticed the jar of flowers the director had sent her on her kitchen balcony. White carnations in a crystal clear jar. She stormed to the kitchen, ripping the tag of the carnations. To my perfect leading lady. The handwriting wasn’t his, probably his assistant. 

When had it all gone so wrong? Why did it felt wrong? Why did the flight felt like a burning crash? When did it all get so screwed up? 

She wrapped her hands around the glass jar, hands trembling, the sound of her ring hitting against the glass being the only thing she heard before a shattering sound filled her mind. It was fast, too fast but she threw the jar against the wall, watching as the glass shattered into a thousand pieces, falling into the ground like small diamonds. She thought it would make her feel better but instead she feel to the ground, trying to gather the pieces together as guilt embraced her. 

    - Y/N?

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[babi-correia]

1+1=...3?

From Anon:

Could you do a Jesse Lee Soffer imagine where they bring their newborn home?

Words: 1364 Warnings: None? Pairing: Jesse Lee Soffer x Reader A/N: GIF by me from THIS post

You can barely believe your eyes when you see the two lines on the small plastic stick on your sink’s counter. Grabbing it gingerly, you take a deep breath.

You think back to the stomach flu you had caught a few weeks ago and how the doctor had advised you that the medication would probably cut the effect of the pill. You had payed it no mind since you hadn’t thrown up a single time, but when you failed to get your period when it was due, you knew you probably should have listened to the doctor.

Your hand is shaking when you grab your phone, opening your texts with Marina and shooting her a quick message.

You: I need to talk to you, and Jesse can’t know.

She calls you through facetime almost immediately and you answer, sitting on your bed with your back against the headboard.

“Is everything ok, (Y/N)?” She asks, worry etched on her face.

“I screwed up, Marina.” You say, holding the small plastic stick in front of the camera. “I’m pregnant.”

Her mouth drops and she quickly moves, walking briskly until you can hear the door to her trailer close behind her.

“Are you serious? That’s amazing!” She says, grinning from ear to ear. “How are you going to tell Jesse?”

“Marina, we weren’t trying for kids. The medication I took for my stomach flu cut the pill’s effect.” You say, feeling the tears brimming your eyes. “I don’t even know if he’s going to be on board with it.”

“Have you seen Jesse around kids? He’s a total softy, and he’s going to be stoked to have one of his own.” She says, invoking her motherly soothing voice. “You don’t need to stress about it, he’s going to be 100% on board.”

“Thank you, Marina. And I’m sorry to bother you, I’m just at a complete and absolute loss about this.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead.

“It’s ok, sweetie. I’m always here for whatever you might need! I’ll hook you up with my lifesavers during pregnancy. I’ll see you later.”

She blows you a kiss before the call disconnects and you put your phone down, your hands resting lightly on your stomach.

“One plus one equals three, huh?” You mutter to yourself, sitting in bed for a bit before you put on a pair of shoes, a cap and sunglasses and drive to the nearest mall.

You quickly browse the baby aisle, picking the smallest pair of neutral baby shoes available and a newborn-sized body before going to the self-checkout, doing everything you can to not be recognized and outed before even Jesse knows.

When you get home you set the body and the shoes on top of the bed, taking a postcard-sized piece of paper and scribbling down “1+1=3… Oops?” and setting it down on top of the body, with the test next to it.

The minutes tick by as you wait for Jesse to arrive home, and you rush to the bathroom when you hear the familiar sound of his bike parking in the driveway.

“(Y/N)?” He calls out as he enters the house, setting his keys down and taking off his shoes in the entrance.

“In the bathroom!” You call out, wringing your hands together as you hear him climb the stairs.

His footsteps stop briskly as he steps inside the room and you step into the room, looking at him as he looks down at the setup you left on the bed. He points at it, confusion on his face as he turns to you.

“Is that- Are you serious? You’re pregnant?” He says, a smile spreading across his face as you nod. He closes the space between you in two strides, wrapping you in a tight hug that you eagerly return. “I’m going to be a dad!”

-

Almost 9 months later you’re laying on the hospital bed, and Jesse’s sitting in the chair by your bed, holding your baby girl inside a bundle of blankets while he facetimes his mom.

“Hey Jill!” You greet, trying to wipe away the tiredness from your eyes.

“(Y/N), darling, how are you doing?” She asks, beaming as Jesse uncovers your daughter’s face and shows her to the camera. “Oh, she’s just precious!”

“Emma’s great, and I’m doing fine, within possible.” You say, smiling at her. “I almost broke your son’s hand.”

“It’s nothing he can’t take, hun. It takes two to tango, and if you were suffering, he should suffer with you.” She says, making you chuckle. “When are you guys going home?”

“I think today, actually.” Jesse says, rocking Emma as she fusses. “In a couple hours, maybe.”

As if on cue, the doctor comes in the room with the charts on his hands, a smile on his face.

“So, Mrs. Soffer, I think we can clear both you and little Emma there to go home and rest where it’s familiar for the mom.” He says, casually flipping the sheets and reading your file diagonally. “It was a trouble-free pregnancy and labor, and I think that Emma would feel better in a quiet and homely environment where it smells like her parents than in this sterile hospital, don’t you think?”

“I’d say yes.” You reply as Jesse says goodbye to his mom and ends the call.

“Alright, I’ll file the papers for your release, but keep in mind that you’re going to have to take it easy nonetheless, Mrs. Soffer. You just gave birth. Mr. Soffer, you’re going to have to help mommy around the house.”

“He already does.” You say, smiling at Jesse.

“Alright, I’ll be right back with the forms for you to sign, but I think you can get dressed in the meantime.” The doctor says, excusing himself as he leaves the room.

Jesse sets Emma down on the little hospital crib as he gets up and gets your clothes from the bag, setting them on the foot of the bed as you gingerly sit up.

“Need help with anything, darling?” Jesse asks, quickly moving to be by your side and help you get up. You wobble a bit at first but quickly find your balance, moving slowly towards the bathroom.

“Just hand me the clothes, please.” You say, running a bit of water before splashing it on your face.

When you get out of the bathroom fully clothed, you find Jesse talking to your daughter as he puts her in her car seat.

“And you’re not gonna cry during the night, because mommy is scary when she can’t sleep properly, ok? Believe me, the last thing we want is a grumpy, sleep deprived mommy.” He whispers to her as he buckles her in. “But no matter how grumpy mommy is, always remember that we both love you very, very, very much.”

“I don’t know what a good night’s sleep is since about a couple of months ago, I’ve gained control of my grumpiness.” You say, tucking yourself into Jesse’s side when he extends his arm towards you. “But daddy was right about the last part, we love you like you can never imagine. And your dad and I are going to have to kick some serious butt in a few years if you manage to pull his genes.”

“I’ll have to buy a shotgun to scare off your boyfriends.” Jesse says, making you slap his chest.

“That’s a little too much, honey. A little talk from momma bear will suffice, I’m sure.”

“Oh, that’s another thing!” Jesse exclaims towards your daughter. “Never, ever get on mommy’s bad side. It’s the worst.”

Jesse kisses the top of your head as he grabs the car seat with his free hand and pops it down in the wheel set, hoisting your bag over his shoulder before he turns to you.

“We’re going home?” You ask, receiving a grin in response.

“Yeah. My mom insisted and there’s going to be a cozy, warm, home-cooked meal waiting for us when we get there. And Marina may or may not pop by with a ridiculous amount of baby things.” He says sheepishly, making you chuckle as the three of you make your way down the hallway.

[purple-dahlias]

homesickness for reesker from the bthb? <3

There’s a box under the bed that Ava hardly ever opens. It’s roughly the size of a shoebox and filled with memories. Something she’d bought over with her from South Africa when she made the move to Chicago now over two years ago. She had chosen to travel light, mostly, but that box contained most everything she didn’t want to part with. That she didn’t want to forget. The small things and moments that made up the pieces of her.

That afternoon, though, she wasn’t even looking for it. In fact, she had almost completely forgotten its existence until she went hunting for her running shoes, which had turned out to be under the bed, but were now lying forgotten beside her, in favour of The Box.

Ava opens it up carefully, and really, it’s a wonder the lid ever went on in the first place. It’s packed to the brim, full of photos and scraps of paper and postcards and other memorabilia from her life before America. One where the weather was warm and the sun kissed her skin and she hardly ever had need for a coat, completely unlike Chicago where it seemed you were bundled up for the most part of the year.

Sat cross-legged on the floor, Ava picks up the first photograph that had fallen out when she’d lifted the lid off the box. It’s of a house. A house with light coloured walls and a pale blue door. One where the large, fiery red crocosmia peeked out from over the wall and a chestnut tree could be seen, its branches extensive, spanning wide across the front garden. That was the tree she had broken her arm falling out of when she was eight, Ava remembers, smiling at the memory (though she hadn’t been smiling much at the time, she recalls). She traces a finger across the photo. This was the house she had grown up in, her and her sister Hilde.

Hilde. And that’s who the next photo is of. It’s the two of them sat at the kitchen table, Hilde in front of a large iced cake with seven multicoloured candles, a tiara on her head and dressed in a pink fairy costume. Ava remembers that day well: it had been Hilde’s seventh birthday, and her mother had been crying moments before they had bought Hilde into the kitchen because it had almost been a year since Hilde had been given the all-clear from the oncologist and there was a time when it was hard to believe she’d pull through to make it this far. But she had. She was a fighter.

Ava misses Hilde, wonders what she’s doing right now in that moment, halfway across the world, all those miles separating them as she puts the photo carefully aside and picking up a stack from the box. Next come photos of her childhood bedroom, of her school friends, of trips to Sea Point and down to the beaches. Her parents on their twentieth wedding anniversary. Seashells. Her fifth birthday candle. An assortment of other small objects that send the waves of memories rolling over her, like the tides did down at Long Beach. Letters and birthday cards and ticket stubs. Her mother’s face smiling up at her from grainy photographs. Moments perfectly frozen in time, ones that Ava can almost hear.

She doesn’t even realise she’s started crying until the tears fall onto the photograph she’s holding. It’s one of her with her friends, just after high school had finished. She remembers that one well. And it all just hurts. She doesn’t mean that particular photograph. It’s all of them. All the memories. The time and distance separating her from them, from being back there in her mother’s kitchen, from driving down those familiar roads, from her father’s laugh, from Hilde being just across the hallway from her.

It leaves a deep ache inside of her, which was why she never really opened that box. She didn’t want to get swept up by the past. Because even though she’d chosen to leave, it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially with all that she had left behind, and how, since leaving, she hadn’t been back. Not once. Sure, there had been phone calls and video chats but it wasn’t the same. It’s strange to think of the place, with all the people she’d known and loved and grown up with still existing, carrying on, without her there.

The bedroom light flickers on and Ava looks up, blinking at the sudden light, to see Sarah standing there in the doorway. She hadn’t realised she had been sitting there for so long that it had already gotten so dark. She hadn’t even heard Sarah come home, so engrossed as she’d been.

“Avey? Are you alright?” Sarah asks, concern filling her voice as she notices the tear tracks on Ava’s cheeks, coming to sit beside her there on the floor, leaning against the bed, the pile of photos and memories littered around the two of them. Sarah doesn’t remember ever having seen the box or its contents before.

Ava just shrugs noncommittally, watching as Sarah comes to sit beside her there on the floor, leaning back against the side of the bed. She wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to answer that, to put it all into words.

“It’s silly,” Ava finally begins, filling up the silence, “but I just miss it,” she reveals, gesturing to the photographs strewn about as she leans back against the wall, bringing her knees up and burying her face in them, not wanting to look at Sarah right now.

Sarah takes the opportunity to take a look at the photos Ava had gestured to. There’s one of two girls, one older, with the same eyes, the younger with decidedly curlier hair, both grinning up at whoever had been taking the photo.

“Hilde,” Ava says, by way of explanation when she sees Sarah looking, and Sarah nods in understanding. Ava had told her so much about her sister Hilde, and Sarah could only imagine how hard it must be for Ava to be apart from her, timezones and oceans separating them.

“You both look so happy here,” Sarah smiles, holding the photo carefully in her hands, a window into the past.

“We spent almost the entire day at the beach that day,” Ava says, remembering the day fondly. “Neither of us wanted to go home and we begged and begged to be allowed to stay. And then Hilde fell asleep on the sand under a pile of towels and mum freaked out because she thought we’d lost her.”

Sarah smiles at that, and inches her way closer to Ava, so that they’re both sitting side by side, backs leaning against the wall.

“The sunsets are amazing, Ava tells Sarah, showing her a photo. “The camera doesn’t do it justice. “I’ll have to take you there, one day,” she promises.

“I’d like that.”

“I guess it’s just, even though home is here now, with you in Chicago, it’s hard to see it that way sometimes, when almost all the memories are attached to another city on another continent.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself, Avey,” Sarah assures her. “And it’s not silly. Not at all. Of course you miss the place you grew up, where you spent most of your life. Where your family are. It’s only natural. But, we could go visit, if you like?” Sarah says carefully, posing it as a question, eyes trained on Ava who snaps her head up at that.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Sarah affirms. “Of course, we’d both have to get time off agreed, but I don’t think that would be a problem. I’d love to see where you grew up, and I’m sure it would do you a whole lot of good to see everyone you miss. And anyway, I’d love to meet your sister. Trade embarrassing stories. All that stuff.”

“Oh no, I am making sure you two are never alone together,” Ava decides firmly.

“Relax, I won’t tell her about the time you practically blew up the toaster and short circuited the house because you dropped tin foil in there.”

“You’d better not, Sarah Reese,” warns Ava. “And I thought we agreed to never bring that up again. It was late and I was hungry,” but she’s smiling now.

“Alright, alright,” hushes Sarah, putting an arm around Ava and pulling her close.

“You smell like hospital,” Ava informs her after a little while.

“Well I did just get back from a twelve hour shift,” retorts Sarah. “Not all of us were lucky enough to get a day off today.”

“Take that up with Connor. We traded shifts because he wanted to take Will to some stupid sports game, but, I did get the day off, so who am I to complain? Not when it ends like this,” she smiles into the crook of Sarah’s neck, twisting a coil of Sarah’s hair around one finger.

“Aves, not that I don’t love this and all, but my leg’s gone dead. Mind if we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

“I was comfortable,” Ava grumbles, helping Sarah up.

“Well, if it helps persuade you, I got doughnuts on my way back.”

“You did? From that place on Ellis?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, let’s go, then,” Ava says eagerly, practically dragging Sarah from the room.

[all1e23]

Different City, Same Hearts [One-shot]

Pairings: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary:  A lot has changed over the last year but a few things have stayed the same. 

A/N:   This is a short one-shot for my series Swallow. You don’t need to have read the series to read this, but obviously, I encourage it so it makes complete sense. It takes place a year after the series ends. No warnings. It’s all fluffy, sweet Bucky. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!*

You sat in a small booth in, tiny diner just off the interstate in the middle of Nowhere, USA. Some little town that looked like the right place for a night or two. One of the many stops you’ve made over the last year since you were lucky enough to get your life and heart back. You stared dopily at the straw sticking out of your ice water. It was all your Bucky’s fault you had that dumb lovestruck grin on your face. He had played with the wrapper while you waited on your breakfast, and when you finally looked up to see what he was doing, he had turned the flimsy white paper into a heart and stuck it in the top of your straw. 

He had been doing a lot of that lately – little moments where his heart showed through the tough leather. Things were different from how it had been before, but they weren’t all that different in a sense. Bucky has always loved you with a fierceness that excited you and scared the hell out of you – he filled the little cracks in your soul, and you put his back together, none of that has changed. He was simply more open now, gave his love a little more freely. He has never shied away from touching or kissing on you in public, but it was less fearful,  less forced now. It was no longer something he needed to prove to himself that you were still his and more because he simply wanted to. 

Bucky insisted there hasn’t been a moment when he has been able to keep his hands to himself with you nearby, but you could see the difference. His touches are his and his alone. 

His touch was no longer fear or club driven; all his. 

Bucky slid into the booth next to you and pulled your legs over his lap swiftly, capturing your lips before your brain could register it was him. His tongue swept across yours, and his hand rested on the side of your neck, shielding you from the onlookers he knew were watching. He didn’t care if they looked. They were already judging him for his tattoos, the bike they pulled up on, the leather he was wearing, and the pretty girl on his lap in the middle of pancakes and bacon.

Might as well get a few kisses in and really get the whispers going.  

You hummed softly when he broke the kiss and pecked his lips once more before letting him go. These were the new moments that mirrored the old and shined a light on the new parts of his heart. You settled into the crook of his arm and rested your forehead against his cheek. 

“What did you want to do, pretty girl? We goin’ North or south?” 

You sighed contently at the question and sank into his warmth. This was pretty typical. You would end up somewhere with a decent cheap motel and spend a couple of nights before moving on to somewhere new. The longest you’ve stayed in one place was two weeks, and that was right after you became his missus – there wasn’t a whole lot of sightseeing those two weeks though. You two had lots to make up for after all. 

This morning, you both decided you didn’t want to hang around much longer, so after breakfast, you would hit the road again and find somewhere new to rest your hearts. That was before you asked your waitress for directions. Bucky had gone up to the counter to settle the bill, and when the redhead, Molly, had come by to collect your plates, you bugged her for the best route towards Louisiana. You’ve always wanted to see Baton Rouge and now was as good a time as any. After you got to talking, she mentioned there was a music festival just off the highway, and that was how you would know you were going the right way. 

That was when you decided what you wanted to do. 

You sat up so you could see his face, and his lips immediately found your skin, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You smiled and tangled your fingers in his hair at the base of his neck. 

“I kind of had another idea if you’re okay with it.” 

Bucky looked very amused by your phrasing. As if he would refuse something you really wanted to do. “Okay, what’s your plan, baby doll?” 

“Okay, so.” You sat up straighter, fingers tightening around his hair from the excitement you couldn’t keep down. “I was talking to the waitress about how to get to Louisiana, and she was giving me directions, but she mentioned there was a three-day music festival not far from here, and I was thinking…” You lifted your shoulder in an attempt to seem relaxed, but you were vibrating with excitement. 

It’s been a bit since you went to something like that together, but there was a time when the two of you were at a concert or festival every weekend. 

“Sounds fun. You get the address?” 

“There is a flyer by the register, but it’s right off the highway, according to Molly.”

“According to Molly,” Bucky echoed with a grin. “Well, let’s go then, pretty girl.” 

He squeezed your legs and slipped out of the booth, holding his hand out for yours. You followed close behind, pulled your purse across your body, and took his hand, letting him lead. 

“Oh, wait!” You squeaked, starling the older couple by the door.

You were halfway to the door when you dropped Bucky’s hand and rushed back to the table. He watched as you grabbed the paper heart he made and skipped back to his side. He grinned and took the hand that was free. 

“For your box?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.  

“Yes, for my box.”  You pursed your lips, trying your best not to smile. He chuckled quietly and kissed the side of your head, snatching a flier for the festival on your way out. 

Not everything had changed. 

——– 

You stood at the top of a grassy hill, couples surrounding you and watching some band you didn’t know play their second set. Your husband stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, securing you against him – in case everyone around you didn’t already know you were utterly smitten with the man. 

It wasn’t the kind of music either of you listened to, but you were still having a good time. The two of you had walked around the fairgrounds that were posing as a music festival for the weekend, stopping at the large white tent to browse through the forty or so table of homemade items for sale. 

Bucky ended up getting a new lighter, and the man etched your names and wedding date into the metal – he really was a complete fool for you. At one of the many jewelry tables, you found a necklace that caught your eye. It was a thin gold chain with a rose-colored round stone. You must have stared for too long because bucky was pulling it off the hook and passing over several bills, he pulled you out of the tent and towards the stage, never letting you see the price.

Bucky kissed cheek and squeezed your hip. “You see the stand with postcards over there?” Bucky breathed into your ear. “It’s been a while since you sent something to Clint. You wanna go pick something out?“ 

You leaned your head back on his shoulder and smiled at him. “Such a softie. If the boys could see you now." 

Bucky chuckled and nudged you forward with his hips. "Yeah, yeah. Let’s get one picked out, take a picture with your new camera like I know you’ve been dying to and grab some grub, hm?" 

"If that’s what you want, Mr. Barnes." 

"That’s what I want, Mrs. Barnes.” You snorted. You didn’t change your name after you got married, but Bucky got a kick out of calling you Mrs. Barnes, so you let him. If the two of you ever settle down somewhere, maybe you will talk about making that change officially. 

With Bucky’s hand tucked into the front pockets of your black high waisted shorts and his chin on your shoulder, you browsed through the postcards. He watched your fingers brush over each card as you mulled over which you wanted to get, he could tell you were struggling to pick one. You ended up settling on three different ones after he reminded you that you could always send more than one. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tightened his arms as you paid the dollar forty for the cards. 

“Do you miss home?” Bucky whispered, a tiny bit of fear in his voice – as if he was scared of the answer. 

“Mmm, sometimes.” You confessed as you stuffed the cards into your purse. “I miss Clint and Nat. Of course, I miss Peggy and the kids." 

"And Steve. Admit it.” Bucky pushed with a smirk. “You miss Steve.”

You chuckled and pressed your back into his chest, “Yeah, I miss Steve, too." 

"Is it time? Do you want to go home?" 

You turned around his arms and looped yours around his neck, smiling at your husband. "Nope. I do miss them, but this is where I want to be. Right here with you. We are finally good, and I don’t want to mess that up. I wanna stay in this bubble with you just a little while longer." 

Bucky smiled and pecked your lips. "Whatever you want, pretty girl. Whatever you want." 

[i-eat-bread-and-cry-on-the-floor]

A strange solidarity between Richie and Ben. Idk like Richie calling Ben to complain about how cute and adorable Eddie look today with his shorts and how he just wants to hold hand whit him or Ben telling Richie about how perfect and beautiful is Bev hair and how he thinks she is the coolest person in the world. Bonus: If meanwhile Eddie and Bev are doing the same!

B E T here we go!! I think this is my first request for a fic so i entirely hope it’s not bad :))

Title: Movie Nights & Forest Fires  Pairings: Benverly, Reddie, Platonic!Trashstack 

Ben held a photo booth picture in his hands, staring at the red head smiling at the camera. He could have paid attention to Richie’s stupid ‘silly face.’ He could have looked at Stan, who’d just spotted a piece of dust that looked vaguely like a spider. His eyes, however, kept drawing toward a certain crush of his. 

He walked toward his bed to lay down, holding the picture in front of his face. Ben simply thought that there was no one better than Beverly Marsh. He’d been in love with her since third grade. 

The phone rang in the living room, but Ben wouldn’t care divide his attention. Not for Beverly. He smiled. The unfamiliar gesture lingered on his face for a silent moment. He only stopped smiling to bring the picture to his lips. He smiled wider now, having just “kissed” Bev. Brushing his hair out of his hair, he perked up to hear his mom calling him. 

“Benny! Your friend is on the phone for you!” she called. He didn’t realize that the phone stopped ringing only three rings in. Typically it takes eight. 

“Oh, yep! Coming!” he shuffled to plant his feet on the ground. He jogged to the phone, hanging near the couch. He tried to sound cool, answering the phone with a sly tone. 

“Hey there. Who’s calling?” Ben forgot that this caller could be any of the losers; not just Bev. 

“It’s Richie.” Ben’s friend eagerly answered. “I’ve gotta tell you about my sleepover with Eddie last night.” 

“Oh!” Ben nodded, “Yeah, yeah! Tell me.” he strained the chord to sit on the edge of the couch. He’d always been jealous of Richie, who had a phone in his room. 

“Okay, picture this,” Richie prompted, pacing around his room as far as the phone chord allowed him to, “We’re watching Gremlins cause, classics ya know?” 

Ben nodded, despite the fact that Richie couldn’t see him. Richie continued anyway. 

“And we’re sharing a bowl of popcorn but we kept arguing over who’s gonna hold it so I, a literal genius, propose: ‘Hey why don’t we just balance it between our legs?’ Ben! He agreed!” Richie jumped, “So now we’re literally attached at the hip...” Richie continued telling Ben his story.

Ben listened, grinning. Only he imagined himself and Beverly--Not Richie and Eddie. 

-------

“I wanna cross my legs.” Eddie looked at Richie. Richie picked up the bowl of popcorn with a sigh. Richie then placed the bowl in Eddie’s lap. 

“I’m gonna end up spilling two-thirds of the bowl and then we’ll have wasted food and I’d have to watch you eat shit off the floor.” Eddie gave Richie the bowl again.

“I wouldn’t eat shit off the floor!” Richie rebutted. “I’d eat popcorn off the floor, Eds.” 

“There is literally so much wrong with that sentence.” 

“Well, whatever.” Richie put the popcorn in between them once again. 

The two turned their attention back to the TV screen. Eddie moves a bit closer to Richie, until some freaky jump-scare caught him off guard.

Eddie shrieked, tensing his shoulders to his earlobes. The popcorn fell to the ground in the process. “Shit!” the already-panicked boy cursed. 

“Fuck, I’m not taking responsibility for this.” Eddie pouted, picking up the bowl and some stray pieces of popcorn as Richie blushed.

“No, it’s- You don’t have to clean that, I’ll fix it later.” 

“And just leave this on the floor, what if you get ants?” 

“Eddie,” Richie opened his arms for some elongated hug. He yearned to cuddle with Eddie, but admitting that to himself or to Eddie seemed like too much of a nightmare to deal with. 

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows. He glanced down at the spilled popcorn, then at Richie: smiling in the purest way Eddie had ever seen. He huffed. 

“Fine.” But he couldn’t resist smiling, just a bit. 

------

“And we cuddled for the entire rest of the movie! It was- gah! It was amazing.” Richie gushed after a long ramble. 

“That sounds like so much fun.” Ben said. “I’m really happy for you, man!”

“Thanks, Ben. So, have you worked up the courage to send Bev your second poem, you one-hit-wonder?”

“Not a one-hit-wonder anymore!” Ben smirked. After finding just enough spare change in the cracks of the living room couch, he spent it on another post card at the library. 

-------

Sitting at his usual spot in the library, Ben stared at his blank post card. Tapping a pen against his temple, he conjured up a multitude of feelings. He decided to allude to his first poem, January Embers. He called this one Forest Fires. 

The smallest of flames Can still set my entire  Forest on fire

-Secret admirer 

Clipping his pen, he stood up, returning two books he’d read in the span of a week, and leaving. He held the postcard in his hands, refraining from repeating the words again and again. The more he thought, the more he hated his writing. Determined not to let that happen, he stared at the bridge on the back of the card instead. 

--------

“Well, have you, Lover-boy?” Richie urged.

Ben shook his head, “I- I will, just not now.” 

“When, then?” Richie asked, waiting for a response that he never received. 

Ben sank to the floor against the couch. 

“Do you want me to stick it in her backpack one day?” Richie suggested. 

“No, I need to do it. I’m just...” 

“Just?” 

Ben twirled the wire in on his index finger, trying to think of his answer. He knew his reason. Whenever he’d try to give Bev his poem, his hands got clammy and his face flushed. He’d wipe his forehead, trying to steady himself, ridding his mind of fear or doubt. By the time his heart began to beat in his throat, he shook his head muttering, “No, I’ll do it tomorrow,” under his breath. He’d walk away. 

“Nervous, I guess.” He admitted. 

“I’m coming over." Richie declared. “Get your bike ready too cause we’re going to Bev’s.” “What? Why?”

“You know why.”

Ben nodded, taking a deep breath. “See you in fifteen?” 

“More like ten.” Richie shrugged.

“Ten.” 

-------

Standing at the bottom of the stairs to Bev’s apartment, Richie rubbed Ben’s shoulders. “You got this, big guy!” 

Ben knew any of his other friends would swat Richie’s hands away but Ben appreciated the humorous gesture.

“I do, I’ve got this.” he nodded in agreement. He took one step upstairs, looking back at Richie. After the glimpse of a thumbs up, he ran upstairs as if Bowers was chasing him. He spent no time looking over the railing to see blossoming flowers or the shiny sun rays. He stared at his feet climbing higher and higher until he reached the fourth floor.

“You can do it! Go get your lady!” Richie called at him, making Ben smile. 

Before his brain processed anything, Ben’s feet landed in front of Bev’s door and his finger tapped the doorbell. His eyes widened when the red-head answered the door. Her short locks, now a small flame in the breezy spring weather, setting his forest on fire.

“Ben! Can I help you?” she smiled and leaned against the door. 

“No,” he shook his head. 

“Oh?”

“No, no, no, I meant- I meant- No-” he shook his head. 

“You said no.” Beverly pointed out. 

“Huh?”

“You said ‘no, no, no, i meant- i meant no.�� You said no already. I was just teasing around.” 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah!” Ben nodded, “Right.” he cleared his throat. “Listen, I... wanted to...” he squeezed his eyes shut, extending his hand to give Beverly his 97-cent postcard.

“Oh, for me?” Beverly giggled. At Ben’s “Yeah...” Beverly took the post card. She didn’t read it, making Ben all the more thankful. 

“Okay, well... good day to you; Nice talk.” Ben made finger guns then, hurrying downstairs to Richie.

Richie, who’d been listening from the bottom of the stairs greeted Ben with a huge grin. “That was awesome! I knew you could--”

Ben ran into his arms, hugging him. “I can’t believe- I’m- Oh my- Richie, why did I do that?” he asked. 

Richie squeezed him close. “Hey, hey, you did great yeah? It was adorable! Your poem was awesome and if she doesn’t like you, she’s too stupid to deserve you.” 

Ben took deep breaths, considering his words. “Are you just saying that?”

“No, Ben.” Richie shook his head. “I really mean it.” 

Ben nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Can we go back to my house? You can stay for dinner.” he invited. 

“No can do. Dad’s grilling tonight.” Richie declined, then coming up with an epiphany. “If you don’t want to be alone though, I can ask my mom if you want to sleepover?” 

“Would you?” 

“‘F course!” Richie put his arm around Ben as they walked back to their bikes. 

Ben shuttered a breath, “You’re the best, Rich.” 

The two rode their bikes past Stan’s dad’s temple, prompting Richie to tell Ben about Stan’s bar mitzvah speech. “It was so badass!” 

“Wish I coulda been there.” Ben laughed. 

They rode past the library and the shop where Mike would bring his deliveries. Dropping their bikes in front of Ben’s house, Richie waited outside and Ben unlocked the door. “Mom?” he called.

“Yes, sweetie?” his mother craned her neck from the couch to Ben.

“Richie invited me for dinner tonight. Could I go?” he smiled. “Please.” he added. Ben never forgot a ‘please.’

“Just make sure you’re home by nine. You’ve got your watch?” She peaked at his arm. 

“Yes, ma. Thank you!” he confirmed, grinning ear-to-ear. The kid who’d spent his entire elementary and middle school career alone loved spending evenings with his friends.

“Have fun!” she reminded as Ben jogged back outside, closing the door behind him.

“She said yes.” Ben informed, prompting a happy dance from Richie. 

“That’s not gonna be the only girl saying yes to you.” 

“Oh, shush.” he rolled his eyes, picking up his bike. “Ready to go?” 

Richie gave a thumbs up, swinging his leg onto his own bike. “Let’s ride!” 

-------

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. 

“Hello?”

“Eddie! You would not believe what Ben just gave me!” Beverly squealed. 

“Spill everything!” 

[dememarquette]

True Crime

They parked outside a cottage. Portend Point was a gorgeous neighborhood. Occupying it, 1305 Parkview was an equally picturesque property. It had everything one could want from a gentrified postcard: a manicured lawn, a white picket fence, friendly neighborhood dogs excited to see you but not too excited. A sign advertised this slice of warm American pie could be yours. FOR SALE it said, smacked across an unfortunate realtor's forehead. Kevin Locklear had a new golf cart staked on this commission. In his desperation, which reeked as bad as the scene, he ducked below the police tape to plant an optimistic 'Open House Resumes Wednesday!' picket. Adria would take personal pleasure in throwing it in the garbage.

"Jean and Sidney Morin," She briefed, as Ian punched in the door code. "They're from New Gisen, reported missing 72 hours ago. Gas station footage has the suspect grabbing Jean at the Circle K. Sidney was seen by traffic cams in hot pursuit, but we have nothing after the first intersection. Men are checking doorbell cameras along the street. So far, nothing." The stolen car in the driveway was similarly combed through. Every stray hair inside was documented. There wasn't much left that wasn't bagged, tagged and sent off to the lab, but Ian liked one last intimate walk-through before tossing the keys to clean-up. If he was absorbing one word of what Adria was saying, it didn't show. Her partner worked like a TNT detective. Adria pictured the world bottoming out around him. He'd suffer 50 consecutive epiphanies after looking at something stupid like a tipped ketchup bottle, and construct a convoluted MO from there, but that's not how she worked. If reading the block text helped, murder's hooked on phonics, by God she'd do it. "Neighbors didn't hear anything. We have no idea where the struggle took place, if there was one. Judging from the looks of this place-" "It wasn't here." He said, tuning in only for silent confirmation. She nodded, and he killed the lights. His UV swept over the walls. The inside had the aesthetically-pleasing insipidity of a gourmet cracker. It had been sanitized for a showing, but according to the carpet, the perp wasn't admiring the crown modeling. A modest drip-trail led straight from the front door to the basement, and there wasn't a petal out of place before it. After a quick scan of the rooms composing the ground floor, Ian got his fill of Ashley HomeStore's heritage collection. To the basement they went. Each wood plank creaked under their feet. The floor consisted of a flat slab of water-stained cement. The space was fashioned into a man-cave. Shelves were bolted to the walls. All the sofas were leather. Posters on the wall were swapped for something more palatable, flanking an entertainment system that was to be marveled. In a move that didn't appear to serve any purpose toward the room's breathability, all the furniture was shoved to the side to clear the center. A single bulb hung by chain overhead. Energy funneled through a copper wire made it hum. Evidence photos never did it justice. The victims were strung together by a lawn hose. A single cloth gag- maybe a sheet- knocked their heads together, pulled taut at the pocket of their jaws. Their height difference forced Jean's face heavenward. The whites of her eyes were visible from the top, but you had to be at the bottom to see the shadow she sat in was actually a pattern. Their blood leaked into a paste-like outline, seeping color into the circle etched into it. Where the natural tug of gravity didn't fill the trenches, the killer dropped to their knees and started fingerprinting, casting away any macabre elegance it formerly had. Their hands scraped to fill the pattern all until it got to the bottom of the arc. Ian read her mind. "They were interrupted." "By what?" She asked. His mouth pressed into a hard line. He didn't have an answer. Instead he completed his circuit before dropping closer to the gag. Adria knelt beside him, her boots toeing the edge where the brushwork tapered. Fingerprints- fragmented and smeared- were shipped off to IAFIS. Problem was, when the suspect hadn't indulged in some casual DUI, she needed something to match it to. She sized her hand up against theirs, while the deceased husband stared on. Adria avoided eye contact. Violent crime wasn't anything new. She's seen her fair share since moving to the city, but never a throat cut this deeply. Sidney had been nearly decapitated. Skin folded off his Adam's apple like a bow-tie. Stringy matter underneath was on full display. "What about the design? Does that mean anything to you?" "The team is working on tracking it. So far they're thinking it’s some type of online cult." "And that?" She tipped her head to the bowls skirting the outline. Ian grabbed one, sifting through it with a finger. Its contents stuck to the latex, white. "Cinnamon, and salt. The last one's pyrite. Offerings." "Then what were they?" "Bait." The moment he said it the lights died. Ian shot up. Adria pulsed to follow, but her balance teetered. Neither were near a switch. "Who else is here?" "No one." The bowl Ian was holding warbled a low note, spinning where he’d been. He shouted from the foot of the stairs. "Has to be the breaker. Don't move." "What?" "Don't move." "Wh- I'm not going to touch anything!" Adria lurched on steel-toes. Offense had her fumbling with her flashlight. Sure. Okay. Fine. So in the past she hasn't been the most careful. Maybe she's stomped through one or two crime scenes. But never when it mattered! So it's not like she'd- Something blew past her ear.  With a graceless shriek, she made it a third. "God DAMN it!" Coagulated blood gunked to her jeans. She fell onto her back, swearing and curling to assess the damage. Ian would take one look at her and scowl. He'll do that smoldering, glower thing of his that she only liked when it was directed to other people. And then she'll have to go home, change her jeans, and hope he lets her back onto the property before they break out the body bags. He's going to see right away that- There's smoke? She dropped her knee. Sniffing, she swiveled. Air was escaping somewhere, hissing like a busted soda can. Whatever it was suffused the room. Her eyes burned just to move, but she couldn’t shut them. It could be more than the breaker- But that wouldn't explain why it was in the middle of the scene. With a yelp, she witnessed a spark fly between the corpses. Her heels planted into the floor. She kicked, hastily wedging distance between her and smog lifting off the concrete. She could've pretended she missed the class where she found out cinnamon was flammable. She could've maybe let it slide that denim wasn't an accelerant, but this was straight up sulfur. A ribbon of light unwound between them. A silhouette stretched out from behind it, towering. "Ian?" She asked, already knowing it wasn't. It had too many feelings to be. "What is this?" It croned. Miserably, it picked up a leg. "Ugh." Fingers acting faster than her brain, Adria whipped her gun from its holster "HANDS. Hands up, now!" "Sticky-" It groused. She heard a wet, staggered ppmf-ff. That suspiciously sounded like bodies toppling. In a maneuver she couldn't repeat, she blindly vaulted over the sofa, jamming herself between its backing and the wall. Her vision developed slow. First outlines, then shapes. Colors a little after when the smokescreen fanned out, blurring the glow around his face. She propped up her gun. Old leather gave away her position. The red light of eyes widened, vaguely cartoon-ish. "WHOA, hey now. Don't shoot." "Get on the ground." She ordered. "I said I wanna see your hands! Both of them, now!" "Aye-aye!" He complied. There was something sarcastic about the way his shadow wiggled to the floor. "Happy?" "Who are you?!" "Demetri Marquette, at your service." He tried to bow, until the violent rattle of her pistol suggested that was strictly prohibited. "What are you doing here?!" "Same as you, I imagine." "What?! What does that mean?" "You know. Working. The hustle." He shimmied. One by one, the candles surrounding them lit. The man in the center appeared nothing as he did in the shadows. His stature halved. The reddish glow vanished from his face, but most perplexing yet was that he somehow found a cover to throw over the bodies. With the blanket over them, they looked like fucking sock puppets. Adria sucked in a breath, sputtering nothing but inarticulated syllables for solid five seconds before, "Hey- stop fucking with my scene!!" "Oh- this?" He patted the victim's heads. The disrespect alone should’ve been grounds to fire. "I was meaning to talk to you about that. I'm sorry but two? Overkill. We’re not in the business of extra credit but I do appreciate the enthusiasm. So, uh. What's it going to be?" She swore nothing about this conversation was tracking. "Huh? "Money, fame, power, et cetera?" Nonsense! Complete nonsense. What was he implying? That this was an offer? A transaction for the bodies? It didn't matter. He overstayed his welcome before he popped in. And the fact he got in here at all may mean he knew something they didn't. This ridiculous, unexplainable suspension of belief kept her from feeling imperiled but this fuck was going to ruin the whole case if he didn't already. She pinched the button on the side of her walkie. "Ian, I need back-up downstairs now." The stranger sucked his teeth. "Ah. I wouldn't do that.” ’Oh my God, shut up. “Come on, talk to me.” He cooed. “What would make you more comfortable? Fresh air? The lights- is it the lights?" She glared, trigger finger satisfied with rapid-fire button clicking. Ian's hip would be going off like the fire alarm should be. "You know, I was going for ambiance, but." He snapped. Suddenly the power was back. She twisted from her fort. Corner to corner, stomping cleared across ceiling. The basement door creaked. Ian came swinging down the stairs, perfectly on cue. "The breaker fixed itself." He announced, sounding leery of it. "Imagine that," Said Blondie. Adria’s aim stayed fixed, prepared for sudden moves. There weren’t any, even from her partner. Ian’s velocity slowed to a stop. His grip on the handrail turned rigid before the bottom, tightening like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes roved over the ruined scene, the magnitude of it driving a huge crease into his brow. He did not notice the stranger directly beside him. Adria desperately looked between the both of them. "He can't see me," Demetri elaborated. "Adria?" Said Ian. The gravelly rumble of his voice asked fifty questions- none of which she had an answer to. She had a gun aimed at nothing. Two bodies were down, bizarrely set up for a picnic. "I-..." She stuttered. "Word of advice," Demetri picked a piece of lint of Ian’s shoulder. The detective reacted with only the slight drift of his eye-line, before his attention snapped back to Adria. "Don't say anything or you'll buy yourself a ticket to a psych eval." "Ian, you can't-?" "Nevermind. From this angle, you already look insane." Ian waited for her to continue but she lowered her gun. If he was right, there was no coming back from this. "...I thought I saw someone in the smoke." "Smoke?" There was no smoke. No fire, no light. Demetri's trapeze around the basement hadn't even left footprints. To Ian, she used the two minutes he was away to go nuts. Just lose her mind. Sanity to the wind. Who needs to critically think when you can barricade yourself behind a sofa, wildly waving a gun around? Defending yourself from scary shadow people that a paid electricity bill keeps at bay? Ian stared, impatience surging from a quiet simmer to a boil. She realized it’s been too long since she even tried answering a question. "Are you alright?" He rephrased. What she heard was ’Are you an idiot?’ Her face burned hot. "I think-" She slung her bag over his shoulder. "I think I need a minute. I'll be back." The tight set of his jaw meant he agreed. She ran past him, bolting for the cruiser. Now she was going to have to type up an incident report. Scrub her pants. Contemplate the onset of her paranoia induced insanity, and hope they wouldn't take her badge for this. She threw herself into the front seat of her cruiser. The door slammed behind her. Before she’d let frustrated tears get the better of her, she pulled up a Chrome browser. Occult. Satanism. She typed. Demon summoning. Symbol. All the results looked close. Matching the exact twisted pattern would be a nightmare. "Mind if we hit Starbucks?" Demetri necked her seat. She jolted, narrowly stopping herself from throwing her elbow through his eye socket. Knowing he was fictional made her wish she hadn't hesitated. "Why are you in my car?!" She swiped at her face. "For a frap. Hopefully. Is butterscotch still in season?" "No! Get out." His cheek squished against her headrest. "Aw, c'mon." She adjusted the rear-view, only for him pop up passenger side. "I get it." He said, proving he did Not actually. Devoid of any understanding of what 'Get out' meant, "More of a Dunkin' girl. That's fine I guess. Oh! Hope you don't mind. I dug through your glove department. I was trying to get to know you." He waggled a scrap of stationary. "Does the department know you're dating? Seems naughty. Is that against HIPA or something?" She flustered, red-faced. That note had been in Ian’s lunch. "OUT!" "I mean, I'm not judging. I like it. You'd think detective romances would get cliché but ugh." He pressed it to his heart. "There's something so enticing about seeing the ugliness of humankind hand-in-hand with the one you love. A real testament to love's resilience. Do you listen to Rihanna?" We Found Love belted from her speakers. Forget the psych eval, now she had to worry about the HOA. "What do you want, huh?!” Adria punched her stereo. “What do you want? Why are you here? Turn this OFF-" "I want to know what you want." He shrugged. "I want you to leave?! I’ve said a million times!" "No can do. Gonna need something more substantial. Unless, gasp." He made a show of patting down his slacks before producing a pen. The document it came with looked real and official. Spooky, until it came to 'Officer Hardass' at the top of a memo. It read "I forfeit my eternal soul to get Demetrius Marquette to GTFO" in gold. She looked down at the paper, head reeling. This was a fever dream. A nightmare. A joke, but she could feel the weight surrounding the document. Metaphysical. And as tempting as it would be to physically take his pen and jam it through his palm, five finger fillet- "NO." She shouted, chucking it back at him. "I'm not selling anything." Rihanna's chorus guttered and died. Its volume fell with his face. Hopeless indeed. "I don't get it." He huffed, impossibly exasperated. Like she was the one being objectively difficult here. "Why did you even summon me, then? What's the point?" "I didn't summon you, asshole! Some psychopath did!" "Huh." He pondered, deciding that did make more sense after-all. "...SO GO AWAY." "EeeeeEEEH. I don't think I will." He kicked back in the seat. A pair of sunglasses slid down his nose, gilded logo hitting the sun just right. How did a Dolce and Gabbana sales associate see him but not Ian? "You see. The problem is that I'm here now. I can't go home without something to show for it." "That's not my problem," Adria said, incredulously. "YOU are my problem! I don’t know who you think you are, but I don't owe you anything. You came onto my scene, jeopardized my career, made me look like an idiot, and now you're making my car smell like eggs!" Demetri recoiled. For a moment she thought she got through to him. Then it became abundantly clear it was just the egg part, actually. "Wow." He said. Hurt gave his voice a raspy edge. "Wow..." “So GO AWAY.” She tried for two. Three would be a taser. “You- you know what?” Demetri splayed his hands. “Fine. We’re done here. I’ll go-” “THANK YOU.” He scowled. “-I’ll go, but I will be back. And when I return, we're continuing this discussion in earnest. I hope, I sincerely hope Detective Kyro, that you think about it." She wouldn’t. But he vanished before she could say so. - - - By the time she got home, the scene was cleared. Since it had been cataloged ad nauseam, there was no need to report his partner’s lapse in sanity. Ian let it go. He covered her ass by risking his to shuffle in clean-up before anyone with a badge audited the damage. She got off easy. Despite earning every letter of a psych referral, confrontation fell away into 'unspoken' territory. He said nothing, but it was strongly encouraged by his cancellation of their Friday after-work happy hour that she take an extended weekend to 'rest.' That part he phoned in without her approval. Defeated, she threw off her jacket. She hooked her gun belt on a peg by the door. Her jeans were just going to burn- they were as good as cursed as far as she was concerned. There was nothing left to do but take a long, hot shower. Maybe she’d feel better if her skin ran hotter than the shame. The rest could be dealt with Monday. What choice did she have, really? She jammed a thumb through her braid. The plaits fell loose as she kicked off her boots, Adria went through the motions of attaining tentative comfort. And the moment she thought she could let it go (until she’d inevitably replay it at all again tonight) she smacked into the chest of someone in the bathroom. Her bathroom. This motherfucker made himself at home. “So,” His finger wound in the cord of her hairdryer. Freshly washed, and expertly coiffed, Demetri smelled exactly like her body wash. "Did you think about it?"

[that-homoerotic-blouse]

Mementos

Pairing: Ten x Rose

Rated: T

Wordcount: 2080

Summary: post Doomsday, of places and things lost

For the prompt ‘family’ of @timepetalsweek

***

Jackie took the ripped envelope with reverent hands.

It didn’t make sense, not really. How time passed in this world. Sometimes, of course, she wouldn’t even notice, because calendars here still had twelve months and clocks an hour hand and a minute hand; others, however, she woke up thinking about the ludicrous hole a killer Christmas tree had left in her bedroom and just how expensive fixing it was going to be, only to find herself in a four-poster bed with silk sheets in a room like the bedchamber of Henry VIII, and everything around her crumbled. Those days were the hardest. Those days, she could feel the past like it was around the corner, just at the end of her fingertips—Rose, you came back! Oh, and you, big fella! You’re all mine!—and at the same time distant, remote and non-existent, fading in the way dreams fade the moment you blink awake.

Those days, Jackie thought, she was one step closer to understand her daughter. Because, despite the weeks and the months, she still catches the haunted looks, never misses the blank stares. Because it was just yesterday that she was holding her trembling body in a beach in Norway, and yet it wasn’t. It had been one year and a half. In those moments, Jackie was sure that there was something terribly wrong about the way the cogs turned in this world.

She’d thought she’d like it.

What a silly idea that seemed now.  

She shakes the envelope and the paper falls soundless as a feather.

There is only one picture. She had been dismayed when she found out, but Mickey told her that the rest of the files were corrupted and that there was nothing else he could do. Bless him. Those old mobiles had never been too reliable, anyway.

They were smiling.

Why, of course they were smiling, it was the only thing they seemed to be able to do around each other. Her with the dimples on her cheeks, and him with that barmy face and those barmy eyebrows. She didn’t know when it had become their trademark, only that it had.

They were pointing at something outside of the frame, their raised arms cut by the elbow. It must have been something incredible, no doubt, for their eyes were wide and shining. Inexplicably, they both wore two pairs of sunglasses, maintaining an precarious balance at the top of their heads, but they were too lost in whatever it was that had caught their attention to care. The quality of the image is fuzzy and the background is a blur of grey and blue. They could’ve been in Spain or in a moon colony lightyears away from Earth, and she wouldn’t be able to tell. Their expression is one of sheer wonder, and she thinks that’s how they should’ve looked, forever.

Forever wondering, forever marvelling.  

And she had once been so worried—worried that she’d lose herself, that on every ship and planet and asteroid she visited, she’d leave a piece of herself behind until there was nothing left. It couldn’t have been further from the truth: her daughter, she realized, had found herself among the stars, and she had soared. And for some reason, this realization brings a pain to her chest greater than any other. And she regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets so deeply she can feel her guts turn inside out.

And it only gets worse, because every day she sees her, and she’s trying so hard to build, she’s trying so hard to create and not destroy. To leave a mark, to carve a niche of her own, fit in the spaces between offices and parties and rooms twice the size of their flat. But it’s like Rose always tells her: “I was never born here. There isn’t a hole with my outline. If I want a place for myself, I have to start from scratch.”

Jackie can feel her hands shaking.

She doesn’t know when her daughter became so wise.

Indeed, it is those gaps. It’s those gaps she feels when she wakes up in a bed that’s not hers, with a husband that might look like hers, but he’s alive and well and no longer a ghost. It’s terrifying.

They had left a hole with their outline when they left, and Jackie wonders what it might look like. An empty council flat. With her cheap furniture, a desolate fridge and a broken washing machine. With a tiny bathroom with bad lighting and a crooked mirror. With two bedrooms cluttered with years and years of trinkets and keepsakes that would no longer hold any meaning whatsoever: Christmas postcards and old blankets and earrings and dirty clothes and a bronze medal and magnets of places they never visited.

Of all that, would remain nothing.

But in her mind, as she envisions it, to her surprise she realizes that the house isn’t empty. Not completely. She imagines a shadow, a lonely figure in a long coat, standing in the middle of it all like a salt statue.

She wonders if he will mourn them for long.

And hopes that he will.

Because, as she holds the picture in her hands, she thinks of paper crowns and garlands and laughter and ash instead of snow, and she too, mourns.

***

Someone stands still on Walworth Road and the Earth keeps turning.

The burden had been his to bear.

And that was okay.

It’s always been like this.

Every person he meets leaves a load when they part ways—a bundle of memories, of good times and bad times and a little bit of this, and oh, also a little bit of that—and he carries it gladly. Sometimes with sorrow, and pain, but always gladly. It’s the least he can do. It’s his duty. Or something like it, anyway. The word is too formal and too pompous and he doesn’t like how it sounds in any case.

But it wasn’t a sense of obligation that drove him here. Not because he felt that he had to, or that he owed them (even though he owes them, so much), but because he feels if he doesn’t honour what’s left of them, he doubts that anyone else will. And he can let the world forget—because humanity always forgets, humanity always moves on—their names and their faces and the footprints they left along their path, but he won’t.

So he steps into the flat.

For some reason, he didn’t think there’d be silence. This was never a place for silence; for chatter and laughter, always; for quiet, sometimes; but never for this sheer blankness, this void of sound. Now, however, there is so much of it he’s afraid the flat will burst. He could quantify it, estimate it, calibrate its exact weight and mass, because this silence is something tangible, something that looms and lurks and creeps onto your back. There’s something about it that unnerves this body. This silence makes his nerves itch and tingle and he wants to flee like a scared animal.

But he can’t bring himself to break it.

The TARDIS waits in the children’s playground, because parking it on the front room felt irreverent, and because Jackie always complained about the marks the old ship left on the carpet. Now he’s three floors up, foldaway cardboard boxes under his arm, and he’s crossed the threshold and it’s silent. It takes eight tentative steps, twenty-seven feet and 6.3 inches, and he’s in the living room. He can see the kitchen from his vantage point: the tap dripping every 0.9 seconds and the dirty dishes still in the sink and a mug on the table and everything is so there and it looks so very much the same that it aches. And suddenly it seems like the air turns liquid and dense and the Doctor freezes.

It’s like a snow globe.

It dawns on him that he doesn’t want to touch anything, that he’d rather die before moving a frame or a chair an inch from their current resting place. He wants to keep it this way, forever; preserve an ordinary, utterly unimportant empty council flat against the ravages of time, uncorrupted and uncorruptible. Nothing more and nothing less than a home, lived-in and worn-out, with specks of dust dancing against the sunlight and a half-finished cuppa still waiting for its owner to return. To come back.

He thinks he might wait, too.

He drops the cardboard boxes, and it isn’t until then that he notices.

Beside a too-familiar rucksack, there is a square plastic box. A disposable camera. The classic FujiFilm.

Attached to it, a pink sticky note.

Develop.

Once, it might have been a trivial reminder, just one among the many things in a to-do list, but now it feels more like a dying wish. Unfulfilled.  

He doesn’t think it twice.

He’s sprinting down the stairs before he can register that his body is moving at a disproportionate speed, the odds of missing a step and breaking his spine increasing exponentially.

There’s never been a dark room in the TARDIS, and it occurs to him that he should build one, one day. Why didn’t the TARDIS have a dark room? The TARDIS most definitely should have a dark room. That way, at least, he’d save the sidelong glances and the startled faces. Oh. Barging in again, aren’t we, Doctor?

It’s one of those little street shops, wedged and squeezed, fighting for space between a Tesco and an ATM, where you can have your photos printed in an hour and a puzzle or a keychain made with your face on it. Genius. At the counter were two employees with name tags attached to their breast pockets, and they both looked like they were about to ask him to leave. But he’s quick to slam the camera on the counter and rummage his pockets until he finds the right currency, and suddenly their faces turn bright and trustworthy.

So he waits—one hour, as the advert says—and the soles of his chucks punctuate the passing of each second.

When they give him the envelope, he stumbles back onto the street and rips it open.

The crowds pass him by, but he’s glued to the sidewalk from head to toe.

Out of the whole roll of film, there are only three photos. The first one is a table, the tablecloth faded at the edges and with a couple of burst seams, laid out with all sorts of foods—almost too much food—looking like an impromptu banquet, messy and exaggerated and inviting, and he knows exactly when it was taken.

He can’t say the same about the second one.

It’s the cracker they pulled, on a Christmas Eve that was both the first and the last. It was all glitter on the outside until it popped with a short loud bang. The paper crown had been pink and it had matched his, and she had been elated. Halfway through dinner, the telly had blared a season classic and they had tried to dance, tumbling ridiculously as to avoid the chairs and the sofa and oh, careful there, that’s the china figurine cousin Mo brought from Belgium! They had gotten tangled with the tinsel in the process, but her grin had been as wide as her cheeks stretched. Only now, he realizes, that he had been grinning too. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t remember the click of the camera, or Jackie fussing about saying cheese!

He has no clue when this moment happened, only that it came and it was gone in the blink of an eye.

And then the Doctor is left alone, standing still on Walworth Road, and his face is lined with tears.

He only catches a brief glimpse of the third photograph before he shoves the envelope into his coat pocket. It was dark, barely an outline, of two figures pointing at the sky.

I spent Christmas day just over there, at the Powell Estate, with this... family. My friend, she had this family. Well. It was my…

Bringing his hands to his face, he pushes his palms against the globes of his eyes until patterns emerge under the pressure, but no matter how hard he tries the tears keep falling.

The Doctor stands still and the crowds pass him by.

The Earth keeps turning.

An the burden, this time, is too heavy to bear.

***

Read in Ao3

[eleventhdoctorsangel]

You should be scared of me

Summary: Dad always seem to be adopting boys who reminds him of himself when he was a kid. The first boy he adopted was Dick Grayson. He became my best friend. We were attached at the hip even though he was older than me. After he left I became lonely again. I was alone for a year then dad adopted another boy. Jason Todd.

I ran over to Rachel’s body falling to my knees. “Come on Rachel please wake up.” I said shaking her slightly. “Oh now you are something else my dear.” Trigon said as he completely transform into a monster. He made his way over to Rachel body and out of fear I crawled backwards as he put a red gem into her head. “With this you have the power to rule the world with me.” Trigon said. I watched the gem started to come out of Rachel’s forehead and she opened her eyes and they were like everyone else’s black and soulless. I was alone now. Alone against a being that was here to destroy the earth. I watch as she got up from the ground. “I understand now.” Rachel said but her voice wasn’t like before. “”That’s my girl. We are a family now and the world now belongs to us.” Trigon said as the door opened by itself. Trigon walked out with a woman if I had to guess was Rachel’s mom. Then everyone but Dick and Rachel followed them outside. I saw a snake started to make its way over to Rachel. Then the snake transformed back into Gar. He was naked so I closed my eyes. “Hold on. Okay you can look.” Gar said. I opened my eyes to see that Gar had a blanket that he had wrapped around his waist. “Rach. You’re still you. Come back to me. I know you’re still in there. Rach. Please. Come back to us. You’ve gotta fight it Rach. Please don’t give in.” Gar said. Rachel let out a gasp and turned to look back at Gar. I got up but my legs were shaking and I just fell back to the ground. “We’ve gotta stop your father.” Gar said. “I need to get Dick back first. You reached me. There has to be a way to reach him.” Rachel said. “I think maybe we’re past that.” Gar said. “No. This started with a dream I had about him. Before all this. I was supposed to find him. That’s what the dream was telling me. My dream was the key. It’s all in the dream.” Rachel said and walked over to Dick. “Rach no.” Gar said. Rachel went to grab his hand but dick had turn to look at her. “What happened to you? Remember.” Rachel said and grabbed on to this hand. “Hey so I’m going to get dress do you mind closing your eyes?” Gar asked. I nodded then closed my eyes. “Okay you can open them now.” Gar said. I opened my eyes and gar was fully dressed again. He came over and helped me up and with that Dick let out a gasp his eyes going back to normal. “I missed you.” Rachel said. “Rachel.” Dick said. “Welcome back.” Rachel said smiling. “What happened?” Gar asked as we walked over to the two of them. “Y/n?” Dick asked. “Hey Dick.” I said. “Dick can fill you two in. I think I need a minute alone with my father.”  Rachel said then walked out of the house. 

Dick quickly made sure that Gar and I were okay before we too left the house to see what was going on. We walked down to steps to see Rachel walking towards Trigon. “Father!” Rachel yelled. Trigon had his arms stretched out. “My child. Join me.” Trigon said. “I would but you know stuff to do. I do want to thank you though.” Rachel said. “For what?” Trigon asked. “For showing me who my family really is.” Rachel said. “This isn’t the time to get sentimental.” Trigon said. “I wouldn’t worry. I know how to look after myself. Always have. You what they say genetics is destiny.” Rachel said as she outstretched her arms and a blue and black like liquid came out. Trigon tried to attack her but he started to turn into dust. Then there was a blast of energy that sent everyone to the ground. When we got up Trigon was gone. Dick went to go check on Rachel and she hugged him. 

It wasn’t long before everyone showed up. There was a news crew and I was standing to the side just watching. “Clearly this has been some kind of major disturbance. Can you tell us what about?” The new reporter asked a lady. “We can’t say for sure. All we know is that whatever the cause of the phenomenon. It appears to have been abated by this new group of masked heroes. So apart from some dead bird we seem to have.” The lady said. Then Jason ran over getting in front of the camera. I let out a groan as Hank walked over to get Jason away with me. “Titans are back bitches! Whoo!” Jason yelled as Hank pushed him away but I stay to say a quick apology. “I apologize for Robins behavior.” I said. Both of them gave me a nod then I walked over to Hank and Jason. “You’re kind of an asshole aren’t you kid?” Hank asked. “Yeah but you like me. Admit it.” Jason said. “Never gonna happen.” Hank said then walked away from us. I let out a small laugh and shook my head. “He likes me.” Jason said. “Whatever you say Jay.” I said then walked away to keep out of the way of everyone. It was a few hours before everyone left. Thank god I was just glad that it was over. 

Then we all got into the Donna’s or Hank and Dawn’s car to get away from the house and got at least two miles away so we could say our goodbyes. I was sitting next to Dawn on the tailgate of her and Hank’s car. “I gotta give it to you Rach you really know how to throw a party.” Dawn said. “Yeah. Do it again. Love beating Dick’s ass.” Jason said smirking at Dick. “Keep dreaming bird boy.” Dick said playfully punching his shoulder. “Nice one. Really inventive.” Jason said. “I’ll be here all week.” Dick said chuckling. “Maybe give us a heads up next time so I can do my own eye makeup. Your demon dad wasn’t much for subtlety.” Donna said. “Really? I kinda liked it. It was really gothic you know?” Kory said. “Uh I didn’t.” Gar said. “Hey man again we’re really sorry.” Hank said. “No it’s cool. Hey I know it wasn’t really you guys. It couldn’t have been. Dick was actually kinda funny in a weird psycho way.” Gar said looking back. “You do realize I’m listening.” Dick said. Rachel came over to give Dawn a hug. “You guys have fun.” Dawn said. “Where you goin?’ Hank asked. “Um. Where are we going?” Rachel asked as she turned to look at Dick. “Uh. I  don’t know. IT’s a mystery.” Dick said. Then Rachel turned back to look at Dawn and Hank. “It’s a mystery. Annoying.” Rachel said. “Somethings never change.” Dawn said. “Are you going to come with us?” Rachel asked me. “I might.” I said. “Why don’t you go sweetie it would do you good to get out of Gotham for a while.” Dawn said. “You really think so?” I asked. “I know so sweetie.” Dawn said. I gave Dawn a smile then looked at Rachel. “Looks like I’m coming.” I said. Rachel looked happy that I was coming. But it was probably because I was close to her age and she was gald that she would have a girl her age to talk with. I gave Dawn a hug before I hopped off of the tail gate. “See you soon sweetie.” Dawn said hugging me back. Then I went to give Hank a hug. “You better keep that Todd kid in line.” Hank said hugging me back. “I’ll try but he is a handful.” I said laughing a little also making Hank laugh. “Ain’t that the truth.” Hank said as I let go. Then Rachel and I walked back over to Where Dick was talking with Kory. “Another Mystery?” Rachel asked. “Get used to it. Life’s better with them.” Dick said. “That sounds like something batman would say.” Rachel said. I couldn’t help but smile because Rachel was right it is something dad would say. “Uh do we get to meet him this time?” Gar asked. “Uh no. Superman.” Dick said. I tried not to laugh. “Seriously?” Gar asked. “No. Get in the car. I’m guessing you’re coming with us y/n.” Dick said. “Yup looks like you’re going to be stuck with me for a little while.” I said. I made my way to sit behind the driver’s seat. “Shotgun!” Gar yelled and Rachel let out a playfully scream as she and Gar raced to see who will get shotgun. “Hey seriously?” Jason asked as he made his way over to the side of the car I was sitting on. Well looks like I’ll probably be sitting in the middle. I honestly didn’t care really. So I moved into the middle seat. Rachel ending up winning the shotgun seat battle. Then Gar got in I could hear him grumbling about it then Jason got into the back. Until then I moved back into my original seat. “Hey! Bye guys. I’ll miss you.” Kory said. I turn around so I can stick myself mostly out of the window. “Bye Kory.” I said waving at her. “Bye Kory.” Gar said. “Miss you more.” Rachel said. “Send me a postcard form your planet.” Gar said. “Will do.” Kory said. “I love you guys.” I said. “Yeah we know.” Hank said playfully at me. I stuck my tongue out at him before getting back inside the car laughing a little. Dick went to go say a final goodbye before leaving. Then he came and got in the car starting it up. As we drove off Rachel, Gar, Me and Jason waved bye to them.  

No Ones POV

The small tv was primarily on for background noise. Lonnie paid no attention to the news cast about some event that happened in Ohio until he saw Robin appear out of no where in front of the camera. "TITANS ARE BACK BITCHES! Whoo!" Robin yelled. Then a man push Robin out of the camera frame as a girl walked in the frame. "I apologize for Robin behavior." The girl said sweetly to the reporter and the person who the reporter was talking with then left. Lonnie wish that the girl would have stayed longer. The girl made him feel strange. This was a different feeling than what the Queen girl made him. He knew that he had to have her. But who was she. He had to find out. That made him started to look in to it. It didn't take long to find that the girl was the daughter of Bruce Wayne. Now all he need to do is find her and take her so he could have her all to himself. He couldn't help but think to himself about the things he would do to her. With her underneath him and hearing the sounds of her moans. Now all he has to do is to find where she is and take her away. He used facial recognition to see where she was going. At first it seem that she still was in Ohio and heading back to Gotham. That would be a little difficult to get her if she does stay in Gotham. So he decided to check again in a few day. 

Taglist: @marvel-gives-me-feels​

Overall Taglist: @the-broken-halo-writer​

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the light in the piazza

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: love at first sight trope

summary: sergeant james barnes of the 107th meets a woman in while stationing in florence. inspired by the song the light in the piazza 

I don’t see a miracle shining from the stars, I’m no good at statues and stories, I try. That’s not what I think about, that’s not what I see, I know what the sunlight can be ...

Wishing, wishing is a funny thing. When you wish for something you always think of the end goal of your wish, you never wonder how the universe will grant you your wish, in what conditions. It is not like you wish upon a star with a whole essay and plan of how your wish should be given, you just wish for it. Some wish for love, some wish for fame, for glory and riches, but no one wishes for something in a specific way that won’t guarantee the bittersweet hand of the universe. 

James had been the most recent victim of wishing carelessly. In this case, James wanted to travel, wanted to leave Brooklyn and see those places that were somehow always plastered in the highly stylised adverts stuck of the walls of his dead beat neighbourhood. He left Brooklyn, he had travelled. He had seen England, Ireland, Scotland and most recently Italy. The consequence? War. Suddenly, all those dreams of becoming the man in the airplane drinking expensive champagne and travelling to European dream lands were misshaped into flying in army airplanes and going to camps where hope was something that had begun to disappear.

The Italian base camp was no different. The soldiers were tired, those with wives and families only mumbled their names at times, the single ones had began to get tired of the nurses and girls that would come to entertain and help the tropes and those who had someone waiting for them back home had started to believe it was time to say goodbye. Hope was running low, but not for the Howling Commandos. No. Their motto was ‘as long as there’s a bar and you get to sleep another night, there’s hope’, but James was starting to lose hope. 

Today however was the day James lived by. Free day. They got to do whatever they pleased, whenever they pleased. James used this day to go sight-seeing, grab some postcards from his sister and try and rejoice in the twisted wish that had been granted. Florence was no different, he was walking around the piazza del duomo, looking at the view and how stunning it was. He stopped by a small shop, looking at the painted small postcards, offering the clerk some money and turning to face the middle of the piazza to return to the camp until he saw a small straw hat with a green ribbon wrapped around it fly aimlessly in the wind. James carelessly grabbed it from the mid air, wondering where the owner was. The owner of the hat wasn’t far as he saw a girl rush through the crowd dressed in a fancy outfit. He had seen something similar in the fashion magazines his sister would bring home. The new look, if he remembered. Hers was a shade of sunny yellow with green accents which matched the ribbon on her hat. 

She stopped in front of him, a look of uneasiness yet relief on her face. He finally could get a good look at her, along with the fancy and expensive dress, she had white gloves on adorned by a pearl bracelet on her right wrist with matching white lower pumps. Her hair was pinned back, showing the pearls on her ears and the camera hanging from a tan piece of fabric. 

      - Penso che ... uhm, I, how do you say ... cosa di testa? - James Barnes was a hundred per cent that he completely butchered the Italian language. Head thing? What was he thinking? 

      - You’re American? - the woman asked, noticing the slight Brooklyn accent in the middle of what was the worse Italian pronunciation she’d ever heard in her whole life. 

      - Oh god, you speak English. I have your hat. - he was nervous. Why? He did not know. He did not know why he was tongue tied in both Italian and English in front of the most polished woman he’d ever seen. She couldn’t be older than him, he actually thought she was even younger considering the lack of an engagement ring on her finger. 

     - Thank you so much. - she gave him the sunniest smile, sunnier than the dress she was wearing. James handed her the hat which she held with both hands in front of her abdomen. - My mother would kill me if I lost another hat. 

     - God thing I was here then. - god James sounded like Steve. That’s it, his power did not work outside of Brooklyn. 

     - I’m Y/N, by the way. - she extended one of her gloved hands and James wondered if his hands were good enough to hold what looked like the most softest piece of fabric he’d seen. 

     - James Barnes. - he shook her hand, a bit hypnotised with her. She had to be the prettiest woman he’d ever seen and he had some many women before.

     - Are you a soldier? - she noticed the mossy green suit he was wearing.

     - Sergeant, actually. We’re stationing here for a few days. 

     - Me and my mum are visiting. My dad is here on a business affairs and we thought to come and say hi. 

     - That’s a nice camera you got there. - suddenly he realised he was staring to intensely at her chest where her camera was resting. God, was he spastic? She pulled the tan string over her head, holding the camera with the hand he had just shook. - I, me and my friend Steve have this jar we put quarters in every single day to try and buy one of those. 

     - Do you wanna take a picture? Maybe to send home?

     - Really? - his eyes lit up like a child during Christmas. - No, I don’t want you to waste your film on me.

     - Well, you did save my hat so the least I can do is give you a free picture.

     - No, I don’t even know how use it. 

     - It’s easy. - she handed him the camera, standing by her side. - You look at this little window and find something you wanna take a picture off, spool the window and press the silver button. 

     - Are you sure it’s okay? - he asked, looking at the scenery through the small window of the camera. He slightly shifted the camera to face her, catching her staring at the church in front of them and clicked the silver button, she flash making her slightly turn her face to the ground. - That’s a heavy piece of machinery. 

     - Dad says it’s the future of fil ...

     - Y/N! - a much older woman dressed in a more fitted burgundy dress with a matching burgundy hat rushing towards them. - I’ve told you several times not to run off, what if someone kidnapped you? Or worse, robbed you?

    - Mum, this is Sergeant Barnes, he saved my hat. This is my mother, Margaret.

    - Oh thank you so much. Unfortunately, we have an appointment, I’m sorry we have to ...

    - What appointment? - Y/N interrupted, returning the camera to its resting place against her chest while placing her hat on top of her perfectly brushed and pushed hair.  

    - Let’s go, Y/N. - her mother turned on her back, walking straight ahead expecting her daughter to follow. Y/N gave him an apologetic look, knowing how her mother was when her plans got ruined and when she talked with someone she did not deem worth their time and attention. 

    - Wait, Y/N ... - James carefully grabbed her wrist, as not to alarm her mother who was walking with a might. - Where are you staying? I’d love to take you for dinner. 

    - I’m staying at the Grand Hotel. Go through the back. - she smiled at him before rushing to follow her mother wherever she was going, an ever so slight blush settling on the apples of her cheeks. 

Night couldn’t come earlier, the hours that once seemed like seconds took years to pass by but night eventually came and he found himself standing at the back of the Grand Hotel. It was a huge contrast to the front of the hotel, mostly filled with employees smoking or making out with the daughters of their clients. Speaking of which, he saw her come through the back door wearing a dress in the same shape as the yellow one except in a floral pattern, with a pink ribbon wrapped around her waist. 

    - Y/N. - he raised his hand calling for her attention. - You look beautiful. 

    - Thank you. We have two hours until my mother wakes up and realises I’m gone. 

    - I only need a hour ... Oh god why did I say that?

    - I have your picture by the way. - she opened her little bag, searching through it to hand him a black and white slightly sepia coloured photo. He smiled at it for a few seconds, realising he was now one of those army soldiers who had a picture of a lady in their pockets the whole time. - Where are we going?

    - I have no idea. - he started to walk the beautifully lit streets that made him forget they were in the middle of a war period. - So, Y/N, where do you live?

    - Well, right now we’re in London but next year we’re in New York. It always depends on where dad has business. 

    - Hey, I’m in Brooklyn, maybe you could come and visit me. My mum makes the perfect Sunday dinner and my sister can be less annoying than she normally is when there’s guests.

    - I’ve never had a Sunday dinner.

    - What? No way, doll. Do rich people not eat dinner? Is that why you’re all so very rich?

    - No, we normally have a very late supper with some hors d'oeuvres and wines. 

   - Well, you don’t know what you’re missing.

   - I guess I’ll have to take you on that offer then.

   - And you can meet Steve. He’s pretty scrawny but he has some fight left in him, probably would win the war if they allowed him. 

                                         PRESENT DAY (ENDGAME)

Bucky stood on the sidelines as he watched the funeral go through. He felt dirty, he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be watching the funeral of the person he caused the most pain to. The worse however was Steve, he knew what he was about to do, he knew what he was about to go to. Sam was a great guy but Sam was not enough to make Bucky want to stay.

His hands went to his pocket, taking the worn out picture he had gotten from the museum, the picture of her. The picture had grown old, so had him and so had she, but he could still remember it like it was yesterday. No one could steal that memory, the memory of her kissing his cheek goodbye before she got back to hotel, the memory of the sun hitting his skin when he took that picture. 

   - It’s been 80 years, Buck. Wanna tell me about her? - Steve patted him on the shoulder. Bucky just smirked, turning his head slightly to stare at him.

   - No, I don’t think I will. - he used the same sentence Steve normally used when speaking about Peggy which always drove him off the wall.

   - You should come. 

   - I don’t think the James that she’s expecting is me anymore. 

   - If it doesn’t work, you can always return. What else do you have to lose?

He stepped with Steve onto what he thought looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, his eyes still on her picture as they stood in New York. He knew where she lived, she had wrote to him a few times during the war so he knew where to find her. Steve gave him a sympathetic smile, hugging his friend before they went their way. He wondered what she’d think or how he was going to explain the metal arm or the hair. 

James found himself standing in front of her home, fist coming to knock on the door. A slight commotion could be heard outside the door as the slight sound of heels was heard from inside the house. He thought about leaving, this was a bad idea, no, this was a terrible idea. As he was about to leave, the door opened. He saw her standing there, a blue dress on, hair free from any tight hair dos. 

   - James? - she questioned, recognising that face anywhere. 

   - Hi. - he didn’t know exactly what to tell her or how to say hi after all those years. The person he saw in his dreams at night was standing in front of him.

   - You know, it’s extremely rude to leave a lady waiting so long. - she leaned against her door. 

   - My apologies. - just like that he was that hopeless soldier in Florence. 

   - Y/N, who is it? - a man dressed in a dapper suit joined her by the door.

   - Oh, daddy, this is Sergeant Barnes, the soldier I spoke about. 

   - Oh, the hat guy. Come in, we’re having brunch and there’s always space for another one. 

He took her hand, walking into her home. 

Sometimes the universe puts you through one hell of a ride, but it eventually grants you your wish.

[thecloserkin]

Doom (2005) fic roundup

I have now recommended this action/sci-fi/horror film based on a bestselling video game franchise to not one not two but three friends and I am happy to report they all concur, cinema Peaked in 2005, this is the best movie ever made. I watched it for the first time on @shipcestuous‘s recommendation: She has an extremely thorough breakdown here, and the pitch of her enthusiasm and the penetration of her analysis are without peer. Honestly I can’t think of a single reason not to watch this movie. Watch it for Rosamund Pike. Watch it for Karl Urban. Watch it to marvel at how much Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s acting chops have improved in the past 15 years. I have now seen this cinematic masterpiece three (3) times and I have zero (0) regrets. There is a sequel out, Doom: Annihilation (2019) but it’s not worth your time. Recently I went through the John Grimm/Samantha Grimm tag on ao3 and read every single fic, most of them for the second or third time, and I had a fucking blast. Friends, if any of you would like to experience this cinematic masterpiece for yourselves please please PLEASE message me and i’ll send you the link to dl it.

Doom (2005, dir. Andrzej Bartkowiak) is about a squad of Marines dispatched to contain a zombie outbreak in a secure scientific facility on Mars. There is no earthly reason for it to be set on Mars btw so I just chalk this decision up to video game continuity (same with the first-person-shooter sequence in the third act, which is five minutes long and it was the longest five minutes of my life). What’s impressive about this film is it somehow manages not to glorify (1) the military or (2) the scientific establishment. It’s a film stuffed to the gills with dudebros (outside of Rosamund Pike they’re all dudebros) yet to my eternal delight the humor actually landed, and I think the anarchist bent of the narrative is a big part of why (anarchist as in hella skeptical of authority). I don’t think it’s giving too much away to say this is another “we tried to cure cancer, accidentally unleashed the zombie apocalypse” setup. What’s surprising is that the protagonists are failed by science, as an institution. Our protagonists are one of the Marines (Karl Urban) and his estranged twin sister (Rosamund Pike), who is an archaeologist at the quarantined facility. The chemistry between these two is instantly and unmistakably through the fucking roof. The first time they appear in the same frame the other Marines mistake her for his ex, and it just gets better from there. Every time I watch it, the final frame of this film has me flailing and screeching. I still can’t believe we got a mainstream movie that was this good to us—horror movies in general have a track record of being good to us ‘cest shippers, but this is on another level.

cold hearts, thawing by merely (3k) They’re on the run and they get FAKE MARRIED!!! My god the amount of characterization smuggled into this—Jon and Sam getting hot for each other’s respective areas of competence is my entire kink. It’s not predominantly humorous in tone but the humor slaps in the best way. This is my forever favorite because it was written by one of the friends I got into the movie, so tailor-made for meeee ❤

Before, During, After by anr (1k) If you plotted the arc of their lives it would be a circle. Something about the spareness of the prose & the amount of stuff occurring in the interstices really stayed with me. I realized later it’s because I’d read another of the author’s fics from a diff fandom—it’s in the same mode, love to see it when authors just nail that one register.

DOOMED by chase_acow (1k) ”I thought you said your microbiology was rusty!" "You know I like it when you give me the bottom line.” Lmaooo. In case you haven’t noticed this fandom consists almost entirely of post-canon getting (back) together fic.

Normal by mneiai (<1k) Shut the front door did somebody say pre-canon getting-together fic??! Of course we all know 90% of the reason John enlisted was to flee his feelings for Sam right.

Glimpses of Clarity by izzyb (1.5k) John and Sam have rough sex and it’s completely consensual, but still scary. Part of working through trauma is recognizing that removing oneself from the traumatic situation does not, in itself, dispel the trauma. John has this inability to relinquish control, or abate his vigilance—except, apparently, when he’s fucking Sam hahaha.

Written in the Scars (of our hearts) by Mercury32 (21k, unfinished) I don’t read a lot of soulmark AUs so idk if this is common but it turns out John and Sam are not soulmates??? He gets his tattoo covered up because he’s only ever wanted Sam. They’re on the run because there’s a nationwide manhunt on and they take refuge in their grandpa’s cabin in the woods and along the way they meet Jon’s actual soulmate but he chooses Sam. He will always choose Sam until the day they put him in the ground. The conversation where they explained to their ex-CIA grandfather how they were going undercover as newlyweds is unadulterated gold.

No Heroics by amathela (3k) They go back to their jobs. They try to keep John’s newfound abilities under wraps so as not to turn him into a target or a military guinea pig. The stakes are high but it’s so …. whimsical? And domestic? It’s so good ahhhhh I love it when they’re trying to hide something other than the incest. “He never was able to win an argument against her.” “She rolls her eyes. ‘Not all of us are as pretty as you.’”

He a Tiger Will Be Who Drinks of Me by Brenda (3k) This story is packing some serious mythological and folkloric resonances. I was going to label it post-canon but half of it is pre-canon. When you frame their relationship as Ares and Aphrodite, Selene and Endymion, it does seem inevitable doesn’t it? All roads lead to you.

Need You Tonight by Mercury32 (2.5k) Hot damn it’s a pwp that’s kicked off by Sam having nightmares, and is all about how Sam trusts John implicitly. I still think about the way Rosamund Pike delivers that line in the movie, I know you, like, on a weekly basis. “You've ruined me for other men and I'll probably be walking uncomfortably tomorrow, but no, you didn't hurt me.”

And I Know What You’re Thinking by amathela (1k) Sam loses a lot of blood and John donates his. Course, now that John is a genetically modified superhuman this creates a psychic bond between them. Nobody does dialogue like amathela does, it’s like you can hear the words behind the words the characters are saying.

Homecoming by amathela (1k) Not as playful as her work usually is but still lovely and understated.

Ephelides by Rahmi (1k) Sam gives John anatomy lessons and it’s sexy as haaaaale. "Just because I'm about to give you a handjob doesn't mean I'm not still your sister.” "Your intelligence reflects on me. And you're my brother. Therefore, you're intelligent."

The Edge of DOOM by chase_acow (1.7k) I don’t know what’s going on but the apocalypse is here and Sam and John are shooting things.

If You Don’t Know Me by Now by Mercury32 (4k) Sam and John rifle through his unsent letters and it isn’t 100% full-blown epistolary but we still get a firm idea of what they were up to for those ten years apart. Ok but CONSIDER: what if they sent each other birthday postcards. Imagine!! This line in particular cracked me up: “Congratulations, you finally got your wish of being an only child.”

desert ghosts by river_soul (1k) They’re not “almost home” because they’re together therefore already home asdfkdjfkdjfd. Gorgeously wrought.

You Hit Me Once (kiss with a fist) by aohatsu (3k) I could read pre-canon John/Sam fics at a rate of 100k a day probs. God these kids are so lonely and nobody else understands. John getting into schoolyard brawls to defend Sam’s honor? Habitual bedsharing???!

I Wanna Kiss You (but i want it too much) by Mercury32 (<1k) It’s not a missing moment from canon, exactly—it’s a replay of the scene where the squad meets Sam, only the camera is firmly situated inside John’s head this time. “His fingers are twitching with the need to hold her, to see if the curve of her hip still fits into the palm of his hand, if her forehead still tucks perfectly into his neck. Like a jigsaw puzzle, she'd observed once, made to fit together.”

No Relation by aj2245 (<400 words) I mean the “surprise! they’re not related” reveal came outta nowhere but it was worth it just for this line: “Life on Mars is fragile. The three coffins waiting in the Ark anti-chamber speak to that. One little mistake and she's lost everything. She's lost John, it's just on time delay.”

In the Blood and the Bone by kyrene (10k) Pwp where John and Sam try to get pregnant. It wasn’t my thing but it’s the top-bookmarked fic in the tag, so other people must’ve liked it, and I always try to assume other people are acting rationally so there must be something this fic does well that I’m missing because I don’t care about that facet that much.

**This is not an exhaustive list of John/Sam fics, just a list of the ones I had anything coherent to say about. I do not think there is a single bad fic in the tag and they’re all bite-sized and bingeable!

[sadienita]

L-O-V-E

For my dear Eros ( @frostyhao ). It’s been a pleasure being your carat anon with my own little music emoji. Let’s keep talking (this time without me having to remember to use anon which I almost forgot a few times). I hope you enjoy this little imagine with Minghao.

Song: L-O-V-E by Nat King Cole

L - is for the way you look at me

Minghao had a habit of losing his train of thought. You thought that it was quite funny, everyone you knew called him eloquent and well spoken. Somehow when he was with you he had a hard time remembering what he was going to say. He was never so put together when it came to you. He lost track of himself and the self that he built for the camera and the stage seemed to melt away. 

Yet again he started to trail off. He’d been telling you about a recent shopping trip and some of the styles he was excited to see in fashion recently. You loved the way his eyes sparkled, the light that came to his face when he shared his passions with you. You let him babble on and listened intently, smiling at him. His words started to slow as he caught a glimpse of your smile, like he always did. He blinked and shook his head but whatever he was going to say was gone. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Why do you always look at me like I’m you’re whole world?” he asked.

“Maybe because you are.”

O - is for the only one I see

You felt Minghao squeeze your hand and you looked over at him. His mouth was covered by a mask but by the way his eyes crinkled you could tell he was wearing your favourite smile as he looked at you. You swung your arms and hummed some tune that you couldn’t remember the name to. The world looked beautiful in the fall and you were intent on spending as much of it as you could taking in the way the leaves were changing with your love by your side.

Unbeknownst to you, Minghao looked down at you again. He knew you were admiring the leaves. You loved the colours of fall and the crisp chill in the air, the way the leaves crunched under your feet as you walked down the sidewalk in the late afternoon. He glanced around but his eyes landed on you again. You were by far the most beautiful thing he would ever see.

V - is very, very, extraordinary

He could listen to you all day. Quiet moments with you were some of his favourites. He cuddled against you and listened to your voice as you read out poetry. It was so soothing. He could hear the emotion in your voice as you read to him and let yourself get lost in the poems, deeply connecting with words from people around the world and throughout history. He loved how you felt so deeply and strongly. Your words, your heartbeat, and the sound of rain softly falling outside lulled him off to sleep.

E - is even more than anyone that you adore can

You bounced slightly on your toes, trying to rid yourself of your nerves.

“You’ll do fine.” Minghao hummed to you. “They’ll love you.”

“Easy for you to say. MY family and friends think you’re perfect. I’m-”

“Incredible.” He finished. “You’re stunning and wonderful, my family will see that.”

You shot him a doubtful look. “And if they don’t?”

He kissed your nose, sweetly. “I know them, and they will. Besides, they already know how much I adore you. They’ll just be excited to meet you. In fact, the only thing that worries me is that they’ll like you more than they like me.”

“Minghao,” you whined. “Don’t make me blush before we have to go in there.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “But that really is my only concern, love.”

Love is all that I can Give to you

You were just putting the leftovers into the fridge when the front door nearly slammed open. You looked up, startled, to see Minghao holding flowers and clearly out of breath.

“Minghao, what on earth?”

“I’m late,” he groaned, dropping his head. “I’m late again.”

“I… It’s fine.”

He shook his head as he sat down at the now empty table. “It’s not. How many commitments have I made and broken? How many reservations have gone to waste? How many special occasions have you been alone?”

“That’s not what matters.” You sat next to him and took his hands. “Dates and dinners are nice, but that’s not what I need. I know you’re busy. I know things can change very quickly for you. But you always make enough breakfast for two and leave me some. You always text me when you can’t see me all day so I know I’m on your mind. You send me postcards when you’re on tour so I know where you are and what it’s like and you never fail to say “I miss you.” So I’m okay, because I know you love me.”

He smiled at you warmly. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Love is more than just a game for two

You waiting the darkness, Minghao’s hand in yours. You were both staring up at the sky and waiting for the shooting stars. You’d set an alarm for the middle of the night just to do this.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked him quietly.

“You,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “About tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.”

“And what do you think will happen?”

He squeezed your hand. “I don’t know for sure. But I do know that I want you by my side for all of it. I can picture so many possible futures, but at the moment the only certainty is you. I know I want you there.”

You took a deep breath, blinking back tears. “Then I’ll be there.”

Two in Love can make it Take my heart and please don't break it

Promotions were harrowing and it wasn’t uncommon for Minghao to come home tired. Even so, today seemed different. He seemed so drained. He didn’t say a word as he came in the door, just slumping into a kitchen chair. You brought him some dinner and ran to draw him a bath. You sat quietly with him and rubbed his back as he ate. He followed you down the hall after that and took him into the bathroom where he relaxed into the water. You cleaned up the kitchen and brought his favourite pajamas, finally seeing a small smile grace his features. He slipped into them and you took his hand, finally settling on the bed where he pulled you against him as he settled to sleep.

“You know, I really think you were made for me.” he hummed.

Love Was made for me and you

[that-curly-haired-lesbian]

Birthday Prompt - Curious Taylor

Today is a very special day, Taylor Swift turns 30!! To celebrate I decided to take some tumblr prompts and write some gay short stories with a birthday theme!

Happy birthday, Taylor (hope you never read these!)

Prompt: Five times Karlie fails to properly hide/lie about Taylor's birthday present and one time she didn't fail.

Thank you for the prompt @verytamenow

Read it on Ao3 or on Wattpad

It's not that Karlie is bad at keeping secrets exactly, it's more that Taylor is an extremely curious person...And okay, maybe Karlie isn't the best secret keeper, but that honestly is only half the problem, the other half being Taylor's complete inability to resist a challenge, implied or actively discouraged, doesn't matter.

If there is a case detective Swift is on it and she knows exactly how to crack her suspects, especially if said suspect happens to be her poor wife.

--

The first time Karlie failed to properly hide Taylor's birthday present she genuinely thought she'd be able to keep the secret, she thought she had a good plan and a good hiding spot.

That was until Taylor decided to "Christmas clean" their whole place (on December 10th!)

In her almost feverish quest to get the apartment clean from top to bottom she promptly found the one-of a-kind collector's edition Deadpool Omnibus mixed in with Karlie's Cat Woman comics at the very back of the highest shelf (the one Taylor couldn't even reach without a chair) of the bookcase in the living room.

Karlie came home to find it triumphantly placed on the kitchen table accompanied by a post-it note.

I fucking love you ❤️

She promptly re-hid it, swearing under her breath and reminding herself to tell Taylor that she fucking loves her back.

Taylor still had the decency to act surprised at the birthday party, Karlie loved her for that.

--

The second time Karlie failed to properly hide Taylor's birthday present it was all Karlie's fault.

Taylor had gone to get the mail and came back waving a postcard only to find Karlie wrapping her birthday gift in plain sight on their bedroom floor.

Karlie (furiously blushing and muttering under her breath) attempted to shove the gift (wrapping and all) under their bed and hastily stood up to greet her wife.

"Hey, what's that?" She asked way too quickly and snatched the postcard out of Taylor's hand.

"It-it's from Austin in the Maldives...What...Were you doing?" There was a glint in her eye telling Karlie she knew the answer to her own question very well.

And yet you had to ask you smug, adorable little shit.

"Just, just wrapping...Joe's Christmas present!" Karlie said and for a second she thought she may have saved the situation, until Taylor squealed with delighted laughter.

"Aww, what are we getting the little dude this year?" Before Karlie could stop her Taylor has bent down and dragged the present out from under the bed by the wrapping paper, when she stood there holding the little cheesy book of love poems meant to be part of her gift that year Karlie had the nerve to mumble, in a defeated, tired sort of tone, "Dentastix..."

And at that point she really only had herself to blame.

--

The third time Karlie failed to properly hide Taylor's birthday present Karlie had resorted to hiding Taylor's gift at other people's places and Andrea had promised to keep mum, only she couldn't stop Scott.

They were sitting around the Swifts kitchen table eating dinner on a Sunday in December when Karlie's father-in-law suddenly spoke.

"So, - excluding a new Polaroid camera, of course – what would you like for your birthday, Taylor" His daughter never having been one to miss (blatantly stated) details blinked a few times in disbelief and then very slowly said, "wait, why are we excluding a new camera?" Andrea and Karlie had both frozen mid-bite and Scott looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

"Well," He started, bravely soldering on, "I thought maybe-You, I mean-"

Just like that she turned to Karlie, grinning. "Baby?"

Karlie shook her head almost violently, "Nope!" She exclaimed, but the singer had her poor father in her sights now, "Dad, did Karlie-"

"Holy shit, I am so sorry, my big mouth, huh!" Scott started and Karlie could do nothing but laugh. "It's alright," She reassured, "it's impossible to keep secrets from this one anyhow."

"Don't we know it!"

Thanks, Chatsy

--

The fourth time Karlie failed to properly hide Taylor's birthday present curiosity almost literally killed the cat, or more accurately, the owner of the cat.

Karlie had hidden Taylor's birthday present on top of a cabinet in the living room one even she couldn't properly reach without a chair. Thus there was no way Taylor would even happen to see it until she got a frantic phone call from the singer. Frowning at her phone (Taylor usually never called when she knew Karlie was in a meeting) Karlie excused herself to the room full of Kode With Klossy investors and stepped outside.

"Hey Daisy, I'm a little busy, can I call you back in-?"

"Karlie," the voice on the other end said and she sounded panicked, even close to sobbing.

"Karlie, I can't get Benji down, I'm not even sure how he-"Taylor's story was rudely interrupted by a loud thud that for some reason caused her to shriek deafeningly loud right in her wife's ear.

"Taylor!" Karlie shirked back, alarmed now, "Tay, what happened, are you guys okay?"

"Benjamin, he somehow got on top of the cabinet in the living room, I have no idea how...anyway he pushed something down from there and it almost hit me...I'm sorry babe, I think maybe I'm going to need a new birthday present, this one appears to have shattered into a million pieces in my hair..."

"Shit!" Karlie mumbles, letting out the tiniest sigh, but keeping all traces of disappointment over the ruined gift from her voice and focusing on the problem at hand. "Are you okay? Have you tried getting on a chair and lifting Ben down?"

"I-I would, but now there's red stains and glass all over the floor...And me..."

"Sorry!"

"That's okay, thanks for the wine!"

--

The fifth time Karlie failed to properly hide Taylor's birthday present Karlie started to wonder if faith and the universe had seriously began conspiring against her?

It was the morning of Taylor's birthday and Karlie was stoked, this year she'd actually managed to hide the present all the way up until the actual day!

...Until Taylor innocently posted a picture on social media. It was a simple selfie of the two of them, ready for the night's party. It was cute, Taylor in a nice dress and classic red lip pressing a kiss to the cheek of a beaming Karlie. That was until the comments started flooding in.

Swiftie13: Hey @taylorswift13 ask @karliekloss what's on the dresser behind you lol

Annielovestaylor: I spy a birthday gift, nice wrapping @karliekloss #Relationshipgoals

Kaylortrash67: What the hell @karliekloss? You gotta hide @taylorswift13's present better!

Asdfghjing4kaylor: I hope that's a gift Taylor just forgot to open, that's not a very good hiding spot @karliekloss

Disaster was a fact and Karlie had no choice but to hand Taylor the present on live video where a slightly tipsy Taylor announced:

"She's the worst at keeping secrets and hiding gifts, but I love her so much, you guys!!"

--

The one time Karlie actually managed to properly hide Taylor's birthday present it came as a bit of a surprise to her too.

It was the morning of Taylor's 32nd birthday and Karlie had awoken before her wife to a churning feeling of discomfort in her stomach.

About three hours later she woke Taylor with a soft kiss.

"Hi," She whispered, "Happy birthday, baby!"

"Mmm, happy birthday to me!" Taylor mumbled sleepily and looked ready to turn back over and go to sleep, until Karlie spoke.

"Umm, I actually have a little surprise." Karlie revealed and suddenly wide awake Taylor sat up in bed.

"Oh, really?" She smirked and Karlie swallowed a little nervously. Picking up on this Taylor reached out and touched her wife's cheek in reassurance, "You look nervous," She observed, "why? You know I always love your presents!"

"Yeah, actually I love this one too!" Karlie reveled and attempted a shaky version of her trademark sunshine smile.

Taylor raised her eyebrows at this, "okay," she said slowly, "now you're freaking me out, spill!"

"Okay, well," Karlie nodded, "you're getting your actually prepared, wrapped present tonight at the party, but-"

"This one wasn't prepared?" Taylor interrupted curiously.

"In a way, this was actually even more prepared than the other one, I just, well, I wasn't sure I would be able to give it to you today specifically, but well..." Karlie put a stop to her own ramblings and took out what she'd had hidden behind her back ever since she sat down in front of Taylor on the bed.

A few second passed as Taylor stared from Karlie to what was in her hands and back again and then at the same time they both burst out crying...And laughing.

Taylor swallowed several times before she shrieked, in-between sobs and laughter, "Don't-don't touch me with your pee!" Karlie quickly threw the "present" to the floor and caught the incoming Taylor in her embrace as they rolled over on the bed in a pile of joy.

"We-We're going to be mommies!" Taylor all but yelled and pressed a few tear stained kisses to Karlie's own wet cheeks.

"We are!" The model exclaimed and held her wife close, "Happy birthday!"