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late-to-the-party-81 · 3 years

Note

I have no idea if your comfy with drags but I would like to request a Drag queen AU where Peter is a drag queen and captures the attention of mob boss tony

Hit me with your best shot

AN: Thanks for his my lovely nonnie. We all know that Peter can rock the drag look after Tom's stunning turn on Lip Synch Battle - that video still makes me feel all funny inside. And let's face it, canon Tony is only a few steps away from being a mob boss anyway.

I don't know why this song came into my head, but there we go.

Not Beta'd

Divider by @firefly-graphics, mood board by me..

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Tag lists open.

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: Drag Queen! Peter x Mob! Tony

CW: Power imbalance, age gap (Peter mid 20's, Tony 40's), some swearing, inferred danger (cos you know, mob AU)

“...and I can’t believe the boss got bought out. He loved this place.”

“I know, it’s all so havey-cavey, like do we know anything about the new owner?”

“Only that he’s loaded and may have… you know… some ‘ties’...”

Peter listened to his co-workers gossip as he got ready for his shift. He already had his hairnet on, holding his unruly curls out of the way, before smoothing down his eye-brows with a glue stick and starting the long task of applying foundation. Practice had taught him that if he got this stage right, the rest of his make-up would fall into place, as it were. He was also blessed with lovely cheekbones, even if he said so himself, which meant that he could cut down on the amount of contouring.

After sorting out the base layer, he carefully painted his eyebrows back in, slicked on his eyeliner and attached his false eyelashes. A hint of blush, and a sinfully red lipstick completed the first part of his façade.

Moving over to his clothing rail, he shifted hangers along and he pondered his outfit for the night, before making his selection. He slid the purposely ripped, black stockings up his legs, smoothing out the fabric so it wasn’t baggy anywhere, and slid his feet into black, suede ankle boots. He stepped into the black leather, fringed skirt, that only just skimmed his ass, before grabbing the matching bustier.

He looked over his shoulder at one of the others.

“A little help, babe?”

Jade smiled, all black, slicked hair, and green & gold eye make-up, before they sashayed over and started to lace Peter up. Before it was tightened fully, Peter grabbed his breast forms and popped them in place, the fabric of the bustier helping to hold them steady.

“Looking good, little P, hope the new boss enjoys,” Jade purred, before going back to their own preparations, some kind of gold and paste-emerald encrusted leather armour thing going on.

Peter grabbed his 80’s style leather jacket, and slung it on, before picking up the last part of his persona; his wig. The same colour and texture of his own hair, just longer, and bigger. A riot of dark chocolate curls that came down past his shoulders and swayed perfectly when he strutted.

He put it on, and looked in the mirror. Penny Darker, drag-queen extraordinaire looked back.

Grabbing his vodka and soda, he knocked it back, like he did before every show. The warm-up act had finished and it was almost his turn.

Peter had been working at The Sword and Shield club for just over a year, starting as a bartender just to make some cash, before the queens had taken him under their collective wings. He’d known he was gay since his mid-teens, but something about this environment just allowed him to come to grips with himself like in no way before. It wasn’t long before he was helping the girls get ready, running errands, tightening corsets, fixing crooked wigs and then, before he knew it, they were fixing him up with their cast offs and getting him to do the warm-up act.

He’d loved it, feeling alive and in control, and even more to his surprise, the patrons, and the boss, had loved it as well. Okay, Mr Hammer made him feel a bit ‘icky’ whenever he’d looked at Peter, but apparently he wasn’t going to have that problem anymore.

At some point over the weekend the club, and apparently all of Justin’s assets, had been, wel, seized; appropriated, by someone unnamed, but who the rumour mill was equal parts in awe of and scared of. All the staff, from the top Queen, Starlight, down to the pot washer, Kevin, were wondering if the new owner was going to show tonight, to check on his ‘investment’.

“Hey! Miss P, you’re on in five!.”

Peter was dragged out of his thoughts by Clint, the stage hand.

“Any colour in your lights this evening?”

“No thanks, Clint, just plain lights, but maybe throw some flashes and things in, yeah? You know the song.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

He climbed back up into his booth, where he queued the music and sorted the lighting rig. Peter started to bounce up on the balls of his toes and shook out his arms before doing a few warm up stretches. He ran through the song in his head. He already knew it like the back of his hand, but the key to a good performance was flawless lip-syncing.

He was so involved with his prep, just off stage, that he didn’t notice the quiet commotion out front, a susurration that whipped around the main lounge as a dark haired man in an exquisite suit walked in, flanked by two men who could only be described as body-guards. The patrons at the centre front table were quickly moved, much to their disappointment, before the be-suited man took his seat, a tumbler of whiskey appearing as if by magic. His guards remained standing at the back, where they had a full view of the front-of-house.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, and everything in between, the Sword and Shield Club is proud to present, the Queen from Queens, Miss Penny Darker!”

Clint’s voice came out over the tannoy, as he dimmed the house lights and focussed the main spots on centre stage. Peter took a deep breath and swayed out onto the boards as the music started, his lips moving in perfect time.

You're a real tough cookie

With a long history

Of breaking little hearts like the one in me

That's okay, lets see how you do it

Put up your dukes, let's get down to it

The drums kicked in and he popped his hips back and forth in time before starting to dance with more vigour.

Hit me with your best shot

Why don't you hit me with your best shot

Hit me with your best shot

Fire away

Peter spotted the man at the front table, someone he didn’t recognise, but anyone who sat at the front of a drag show knew what they were getting into. He dropped to his knees on the edge of the stage and crooked finger at the man, who smiled coyly in return.

You come on with the come on

You don't fight fair

That's okay, see if I care!

Knock me down, it's all in vain

I get right back up on my feet again!

Peter jumped back onto his feet, glad he hadn’t gone with heels too tall, and pulled finger guns at the guy, winking at him, before turning his attention to the other nearby tables and giving them the finger guns too.

Hit me with your best shot

Why don't you hit me with your best shot

Hit me with your best shot

Fire away

He dropped down from the stage and swayed across the space to perch on the front table, taking the mystery man’s tie in his hands and toying with it.

You're a real tough cookie with a long history

Of breaking little hearts like the one in me

Before I put another notch in my lipstick case

You better make sure you put me in my place!

Peter reached out and ruffled the guy’s hair, before dancing away, around the near-by space, popping his hips and throwing his hands up in the air as the song went to its finale.

Hit me with your best shot...

C'mon!

Hit me with your best shot...

Hit me with your best shot

Fire away!

Hit me with your best shot

Why don't you hit me with your best shot

Hit me with your best shot

Fire away

As the song faded out, he danced off, heading backstage by the curtain that was out on the main floor, looking back over his shoulder and aiming another wink at the main table.

He walked back past Clint throwing him a grin, but was taken aback by the shocked look on the stage-hands face.

“What? I thought that went really well. The new face seemed to like it.”

“Um, kid, I think that might be our new boss. Came in with a couple of heavies whilst you were prepping.” Peter’s eyes went wide.

“What?” His voice came out like a squeak. “Fuck, I just embarrassed myself, didn’t I?”

“As you said, he seemed to like it. At least he got to find out first hand what our customer service is like. That’s gotta be good, yeah?”

Peter’s shoulders slumped - just what he needed. Bloody Parker luck!

“Thanks for your hard work Clint. I’ll see you in a bit at the bar once I’ve de-frocked.”

He headed back to the dressing room, trying, and failing, not to overthink. He barely registered the air kisses and shoulder pats from the others as they congratulated him on his performance, just glad he wasn’t scheduled to floor walk this evening. Scott, the manager, knew he had college on Tuesday mornings, and Monday wasn’t a busy night, so let Peter come in, do his one contracted performance and then head out. He made up for it by floor-walking on both Friday and Saturday nights, unless it was his one-scheduled weekend off every six weeks.

Peter sat down at his dressing table, and dragged the wig off his head, placing it on it’s stand. Reaching around behind him, he loosened the strings on his bustier, so he could breathe and move better, before peeling off his lashes and throwing them in the bin. With the most uncomfortable parts of his outfit dealt with, he took a moment to sit, sipping on the new vodka and soda that was waiting for him and letting the familiar sounds of the room wash over him.

The relative peace only lasted a minute before the sound of clomping footsteps rang out and all the queens turned round to look. The two large men who’d come in with the new boss strode into the dressing room, their size imposing as they took up most of the small space.

“Alright, ladies. Everyone, except Miss Darker, out,” barked the blond of the pair. Jade turned and gave Peter a sympathetic look and an affectionate squeeze, before walking out with the others, hips swaying and glaring at the two goons. Peter sighed, and picked up his holdall, starting to sweep all his make-up and jewellery into it, barely registering that the two bodyguards had left the room to stand just outside the door.

“Make sure we’re not disturbed.”

“Right you are, boss.”

The door closed and Peter swivelled on his stool to regard the man he’d been flirting with during his performance. Without the stage lights in his eyes, he could get a better look at him. Tall, although nowhere near the height of his bodyguards, the man walked into the room with the air of a man who knows his importance and wants to make sure others know it as well. His suit, a dark grey, was perfectly tailored to fit. His brown hair, a few shades darker than Peter’s own, was immaculately styled, and his beard, moustache and goatee were trimmed into the sharpest lines. It was his eyes, however, which drew all focus. Dark and intense, there was no way to look away from them, and the way the man kept his gaze on Peter made the young man just want to sink to his knees.

“And what do I call you when you aren’t in your persona?”

Peter gaped like a fish, running the palm of his right hand down his skirt, before realising how ineffectual that was when wearing leather, and grabbed his towel, drying his sweaty hand that way, before thrusting it out.

“Um, Parker. Peter Parker.”

The man’s lips quirked up at the corners, but he kept his own hands in his pockets.

“You’re a talented young man. Good looking too. You may have guessed by now that I’m your new boss…”

“Yes, and I’m terribly sorry if I embarrassed you sir, it’s just you were sitting at the front and…”

Two strides and the man was in front of Peter, his hand coming out of his pocket, silencing with a finger across his lips.

“I wasn’t embarrassed. Not at all.” The man’s hand shifted to cup Peter’s cheek and the young queen’s eyes fluttered, heat zipping through his body. “You intrigue me, Mr Parker, as no-one has in a while, and I find I want to know you better; find out who you are under all that pan-stick.” His other hand slid down Peter’s ribcage to settle just above his hip. “Would you like to know me better, Peter?” He lowered his head, plump lips almost brushing against Peter’s jaw, breathing in the hitched breath. “I could be good to you, baby boy. Would you like that?”

Peter couldn’t hold back the small needy whine. There was something about this man, his aura, his charisma. He exuded power and danger, but oh, Peter was ready to risk it all, just to be close to him. The man’s fingers were almost burning him where they rested against his body, his hot breath imbuing Peter with life where it ghosted against him. Peter swayed, his hands reaching out for the man’s jacket to steady himself.

Then, suddenly, his new boss took a step back. Peter caught himself on the edge of his dressing table, eyes snapping open. They met a dark pair of mischievous ones, and it took him a moment to realise he was being handed a small card. He took it, without looking, and clutched it to his chest, which was heaving under his breast forms.

“Give me a call, sweetheart, but don’t make me wait too long. I don’t like waiting.” With that, the man turned on his heels and headed out of the door.

Peter looked down at the card in his hand, aroused and confused. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, but when they did he dropped down onto his stool in shock. He read the card, over and over, each time thinking that it might say something different; but it didn’t.

His new boss, the man who had basically propositioned him, was Tony Stark, head of the local mafia; a man not to be underestimated or crossed under any circumstances. Rich, powerful and not above getting his hands dirty to make a statement.

Fuck!

What was he going to do now?

Starker Tag list: @ilikestarker @mrs-mischief-209 @marvelstarker-mha98

#starker fic #starker #peter x tony #mob!au #mob! tony #drag queen! peter #ironspider au #marvel #late to the party 81 #late writes

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

Text

Wednesday 8 July 1840

7 40/..

10 ½

dawdling and catching fleas and writing and sent note to Monsieur Monsieur Baumann the M.D. here to ask him for some quinine and some castor oil, and thank you and say we go at 3 p.m. but should be glad to see him si cela ne le derange pas – (vid. other end) – breakfast over at 11 saucer of boiled rice as usual – bread and butter – 3 figs – 10 ½ dozen cherries (not black and good as yesterday afternoon, but light red and good) and one little cucumber – a good motion this morning on getting up the first so good since being here – R19 2/3° and F76 ½° in the shade (fine but dull morning) on the north window seat, now at 11 10/.. a.m. then settled with George for provision etc. bill and paid him for Domna 3 months wages up to 5th of next month at 40/. wages and 30/. nourriture = 70/. per month – paid a 200/. bill + 3 silver Rubles = 210/50 the ./50 being what I paid the other day here for changing a 200/. bill into silver for which got 57/. silver – all this and accounts took me till 1 – A- at her Shamacha douliette making silk – has not began to pack – how are to be off at 3 or 4 p.m.? – Dr. Baumann sent 3oz. huile de Ricin and 3dr. quinine but did not come himself – gave the man who brought them ./50 silver – bought 2 bottles spirit wine = 3 ½ lbs. at done silver ruble per lb. – busy packing etc. till dinner (tea and bread and butter and 2 hardboiled eggs) at to 5 ½ - the horses come at 5 – A- did not begin to pack till after her dinner at 5 20/.. – I ate cherries – dawdled in and out – then went to Madame Tchermikoff to take leave – the commandant came and sat with us a little – nina the pretty aet. 12 daughter learns French – made out a few words between us – sat there ½ hour having given into their charge all my things to be left – large portmanteau writing case basket of books as left chez les Braïkos, Panin casserole, Circassian bow 1 flock and 1 hay mattress containing bundled up cord, hatched

pincers hammer and A-‘s and my (2 pair in all) fur boots, and brace of the pistols and 2 parcels of powder and [shot] and bag with broken powder flask and more powder and my wooden lock – came home to see if A- was ready at 8 5/.. – no! – I thought how it would be – 8v. to Ghélati – 2 hours said our Jew – the commandant had told me, we should have good rooms there- the horses had been here since 1 p.m.! without eating – sent them off to be here at 4 a.m. tomorrow – the 1st time in my life such a thing has happened – I by myself can always tell when I can be ready – this is terrible – but I knew how it would be when I just asked A- about 1 p.m. where she would put her pillow and when she answered as if not liking to be advised or questioned “I have not thought of it yet” – well! perhaps we shall be off some time tomorrow – had Domna – ate 6doz. more cherries and wrote the last 14 ½ lines till now 10 p.m. at which hour R19 ½° and F75 ½° - very fine day – but dullish – very hot – tired of staying in the house – tout en nage all the day -

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch6: That Makes Two Of Us

Summary: Things heat up between Katie and Steve as their relationship progresses, but when Tony caches them out, he’s on the war path.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad Language, Smut (dry humping, oral- male receiving) NSFW, 18+. and a VERY angry Big Brother...

A/N: One of my favourite chapters. Thank you to @angrybirdcr , its a pleasure to have your edits for the repostings!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 5

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

End of May 2013

“For the one hundredth time, no, Tony I am NOT coming.” Katie groaned as she pulled up outside Steve’s apartment building “I have work to do.” “But the damned meeting is in DC!” Tony protested “Surely you can manage to spare an hour! You’re part of the board!” “You know full well that’s only to make sure that Starks maintain a controlling stake!”

“So basically what you’re saying is that you don’t care about our business.” Her brother’s voice took on a petulant tone. He could be such a child at times. “Stop being a dick.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose “Look, I’m busy with work, I can’t just drop everything you know just because you-” “Have you got a man on the go?” Tony asked suddenly, cutting her off “Because I’ve not seen you for weeks. Do I need to prep a Shovel Talk?” “Goodbye, Tony.” Katie cancelled the call before she stepped out of the car and headed to the lobby door.

In his apartment Steve was reading a proposal and groaning to himself. They wanted him to record videos to talk to high school kids about puberty, keeping fit, being in detention, not doing drugs…and he had agreed, just to shut them up mainly, but he was already regretting his decision. With a final wrinkle of his nose, he threw down the document he was looking at and was about to make himself a coffee when the buzzer to his apartment went off.

“Hey, Handsome.” Katie’s voice rang over the intercom and he smiled just as he always did when she called him that, a habit she’d slipped easily into over the last three weeks of dating, which had consisted of early morning breakfast meets on their way into work, stolen lunchtimes away from the office where they could hold hands with a slice or a burrito as they walked around the Mal, three more intimate evening meals at quiet restaurants and one trip to the cinema. That had been Steve’s favourite date so far, not just because it had been his first time in a movie theatre since the 40s, but more so that he he’d enjoyed the feel of her as she leaned into him when he’d put his arm round the back of her chair, sharing popcorn, stolen quick kisses on the lips in the dark as they sat on the back row in between their bursts of hysterical laughter at the film. They had gone to see the third and final instalment of the Hangover trilogy, which Katie had been ridiculously excited about. She loved those films and Steve had to admit he agreed they were pretty good, as all three had made him laugh in places until tears rolled down his face. Movie and TV nights in their apartments had also turned into something special too as they snuggled down together, sharing snacks and personal space along with deep kisses that left him wanting a lot more… “Hey Sweetheart, come on up.”

He waited for her by the door and felt his breath catch as she emerged onto the landing from the stairs. She was wearing a blue and white LA Dodgers T-shirt, which was tight and finished just above her hips and clung to her chest flashing a strip of her toned stomach, tight grey jeans which fit snug to her ass and black baseball boots. Steve had seen her in all sorts of clothing items- jeans, tops, dresses…but never like this.

And fuck, she looked hot.

“Hi!” She greeted him with a huge smile and a gentle kiss, standing on her toes to meet his lips, before she stepped into the apartment and headed into the living room. Spotting the file on the coffee table she picked it up.

“What’s this?” She asked, opening it.

“A proposal from Fury. I’m going to be doing some videos, for high school kids..phys-ed classes that kinda thing.” “Videos?” “Yeah, apparently they get Celebrities to do them normally but they thought they’d use me this time.” Steve shrugged. “You’re not some kind of performing monkey they can trot out when they want.” She winkled her nose in distaste as she remembered those awful USO videos as she thumbed through the file.

Steve smiled at her indignation on his behalf. “It’s only a couple of videos.” he assured her.

“Hmm.” she dropped the file with disdain onto the table “Anyway, enough about that. You busy?” “When it comes to spending time with you? Never.”

“Oh that was smooth, Captain Badass!” She smirked and he gave her a quick shrug and a smile.

“What you got in mind?”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat she pulled out what looked like two tickets from her back pocket and suddenly it became apparent why she was dressed as she was.

“Are we…no, you’re kidding?” Steve couldn’t help the childish grin which flickered across his face “Baseball?” *****

“Oh what?” Katie cried out, jumping to her feet as the umpire made an atrocious decision for what felt like the 100th time, turning to Steve in disgust. “Is this guy blind or just really fucking dumb?”

Steve let out a snort, leaning back in his seat with his hand gesturing to the field. “Blind, he has to be. No one can be that stupid. I mean he’s been calling bad ones all game.”

Katie angrily dropped to her chair and Steve gestured to the vendor for two more beers. He passed one to Katie who hesitated as she took it.

“I bought the car.” She said, looking at him.

“Sweetheart,” he leaned over, kissing her cheek, “ridiculously fast metabolism, remember? I can’t get drunk. I’ll drive home…”

He handed over his money, waved away the little bit of change he would have received before he turned back to his girl who was pouting at him.

“The last time you drove Rainey you didn’t respect her. You drove her through a fuck tonne of puddles.”

“Doll, it’s a…”

“Er, she.” Katie looked at him. “She is not an it…”

Steve rolled his eyes. She was ridiculously attached to her Range Rover. He had to admit, as far as cars went it was pretty damned nice both to be driven in and to drive. White with black wheels and windows, and every gadget in it known to man. Mind you, he expected nothing else from the Starks.

“Ok, she is a damned four by four…” He raised an eyebrow for her. “They’re supposed to go off roading, so what’s a few puddles?”

“Off roading?” Katie spluttered, her eyes wide. “No! You’re so not driving her ever again.”

“Fine I’ll drink both of these then.” He shrugged, moving to take the beer he’d handed her back, and she moved it out of his reach, glaring at him. The desire to drink and have fun won out over protecting her car from a haphazard Captain who was on the sly a bit of a speed demon and probably never actually completed any kind of driving lesson in his life, let alone a test. She dug into her pocket and handed over her keys.

“One scratch and you’re a dead man.” She narrowed her eyes playfully.

“I’ll take good care of her.” He said solemnly, putting the keys into his pocket.

As the game progressed, despite his protestations that the LA Dodgers just weren’t his team, he found himself rooting for them and he was getting more and more frustrated at the current batters method. The guy was swinging it around with more force than Thor wielded his hammer and it wasn’t working. But just as Steve was about to let out another cry of frustration, the bat suddenly connected with the ball, and it was a good hit. Both Steve and Katie got to their feet shouting for the players to speed up and go for home. When they made it the pair both let out a loud cheer, and Steve hugged Katie, grinning wildly. At that moment, stood there, surrounded by strangers but with the girl who made him feel so grounded, he had never felt so normal since coming out of the ice, and he loved it.

The rest of the innings passed far too fast, but at the end of the game, the Dodgers won, much to Katie’s delight. They joined the throng of people streaming out of the stadium hand in hand and Steve, still grinning like an idiot felt Katie tug on his hand.

“Shall we head for a drink?” She asked as he looked at her.

He nodded, tilting the peak of her cap back slightly and giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Sounds great.” And it was a great idea. Until they parked up, walked into the sports bar and spotted half of STRIKE in there round a table.

“Turn around.” Katie hissed with a groan and, just as they were about to do so, Rumlow yelled from the bar.

“Hey Cap, Nova…”

“Too late.” Steve muttered as Katie rolled her eyes and turned round.

“Fancy seeing you here!” Rumlow smiled and Katie shrugged.

“Yeah, small world, huh?”

“You want a beer, Cap?” Rumlow gestured to the bar and Steve nodded.

“Sure, thanks.”

“Stark, what do you…woah, what is this shit?” Rumlow pointed at her shirt and it didn’t escape Steve’s notice that the man’s gaze was lingering far too long on her boobs. He took a deep inhale, his fists clenching in his pockets as Katie let out a scoff.

“This shit just kicked the Nationals asses!” she responded, jabbing Rumlow in his chest.

“Whatever man!” Rumlow shook his head. “Fucking Dodgers…” They didn’t have much option then but to join the rest of the team. Rumlow took the opportunity to eyeball Katie at every given opportunity and it was really starting to piss Steve off. At one time Katie looked up and caught Steve simply glaring at Rumlow, and in an attempt to keep him calm she gently squeezed his knee under the table. Steve was glad when it was his round, giving him an excuse to leave the table, Evans following to give him a hand.

“Enjoy your date?” Thee ginger haired man looked at Steve with a smirk.

“What?” Steve replied, a little too quickly. “I saw you and Stark kissing.” Evans popped a shoulder. “Outside the stadium. Don’t worry, no one else did.” Steve let out a sigh. It wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong, but he knew that Tony didn’t know yet and the pair of them were simply enjoying the early stages of a new relationship on their own before the inevitable tornado of interest hit once they did go public. Glancing at Katie who was talking to Rollins and Rumlow at their table, he turned back to Evans and dropped his voice slightly.

“We’re not deliberately keeping it from everyone, it’s just early days, don’t want everyone sticking their noses in, get what I’m sayin’?” “Secret’s safe with me.” Evans nodded. “Although I suspect it won’t be a secret for much longer if Rumlow keeps eye fucking your girl.”

Steve let out a snort as he took his change from the bar tender. “He’s a pain in the ass.” “Yeah well do me a favour, Cap.” Evans chuckled, picking up three of the glasses “When you do eventually snap and beat on him, make sure I’m there. Been waiting for someone to smack the shit outta him for years.”

****

Later that evening the coffee table at Katie’s apartment sported a number of empty plates, which had previously contained several frozen pizzas, and a good quantity of empty beer bottles. Katie was happily snuggled under Steve’s arm, curled against him and he was enjoying the closeness and comfortable silence that had fallen over them as they watched another ‘Game of Thrones’ episode. Katie had gotten him hooked on the fantasy programme and promised not to watch any of the latest season until he had caught up on the last two. As the episode finished he felt her stir and he didn’t want her to move, thankfully she didn’t too far, simply shifting her head slightly.

“So I never asked if you enjoyed yourself” She asked, looking up at him.

“Doll, it was amazing. Thank you.” “We should go more often” She mused “I haven’t seen a game live in years but I really enjoyed it.”

“You know what I didn’t enjoy?” He looked down at her, the soft light from the lamp illuminating her pretty face, highlighting the freckles spattered across her nose. “Sitting in that bar with Rumlow watching him looking at you.”

“Aww were you jealous?” She teased, sitting up.

“Not at all.” He shook his head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he recalled what Evans had said at the bar “Just don’t appreciate him eye fucking my girl.”

She let out a large snort before she looked at him, as her brain registered what he had just said.

“Your girl?” Her tone was teasing but the look in her eyes told him she was anything but, in fact she looked almost nervous. “Is that what I am?”

Steve hesitated, realising that he’d never actually asked her that question before. Was three weeks too soon? He had no idea. To him it wasn’t, he’d been waiting to be able to call her his for months now, but was he outside of modern day dating etiquette?

He looked at her and took a deep breath, before he swallowed and spoke quietly, the nerves making his stomach flip slightly. “Well I’m kinda hoping you wannabe. I mean, if it’s not too soon.”

“It’s not too soon, it’s not too soon at all.” She whispered as she looked back at him, her features soft, eyes alive in the dim light of the lamp. “Stevie, I already am.”

And that was it, his lips crashed onto hers and he was kissing her like he’d been wanting to kiss her all day, his arm curling tighter round her, pulling her close. Katie took the initiative, every inch of her body was on fire for him, and she wrapped her arms round his neck and pulled him down as she fell slowly backwards, sinking into the couch. The movement came as a not-entirely unwelcome surprise to Steve and he didn’t resist. Automatically his hands crept to her hips, settling just under the hem of her top as she placed both hands on his face, the pads of her finger tips cupping his jaw. She broke away this time to breathe, head laying back on the arm of the couch and he dropped his head, pausing his lips inches from her neck.

“Can I kiss you here?” He whispered softly. .

“God, yes.” Katie sighed and he obliged, pressing his mouth to her neck. He gripped her hips again and they gave a little jerk of their own accord, pushing up against him and they she let out a soft moan at the feeling of his crotch bumping against hers. At the noise Steve pulled back to stare at her again, almost as if he was needing her permission to carry on. Katie wordlessly answered by tilting her hips up again, causing him to give a little grunt as she did so, before he took a deep breath and swallowed.

“Doll, I don’t want to rush you or do anything-”

“It’s okay Steve,” Her voice was low and slightly breathy as she looked at him, her eyes, locking onto his. She wanted this, more than she’d wanted anything before. She pushed her head upwards, lips pressing back to his and her hands slid under his t- shirt. His muscles twitched at her touch as the sensation of her gently dragging her nails across his stomach sent a spike of desire, like a red hot poker through his entire body. At that point, something snapped inside him and he let out a growl and Katie paused, hands still on his stomach.

“Did you just growl at me?” Her eyes flashed, dark, a smirk on her face. She was enjoying the effect she had on him, and right now so was he.

“Yeah.” he nodded, simply.

Her smirk grew wider as she grasped the bottom of his T-shirt. He held his arms up so she pull it over his head, and once he was free, he glanced down to see Katie looking at his chest.

She’d never seen him topless before and she was momentarily stunned. She let her hands wander, tracing the lines of the flowing muscles and Steve let out another groan wanting to feel her skin against his. He interrupted her hands exploration by gripping her top and looked back at her, ever questioning. As means of an answer she moved her arms and sat up slightly to allow him to yank it up and off, her hair falling around her shoulders, his lips catching hers as he gently slipped one strap of her bra down at a time placing a soft kiss on each of her shoulders. Her breasts spilled over the tops of the lace lined cups and his groin twitched, the crotch of his jeans now painfully tight.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered gently, and then he kissed her again. Her fingers gently took his hands and she guided them onto her, sliding them up her rib cage to her chest and he obliged, boy did he oblige. Gently at first, softly squeezing and kneading the soft flesh and white lace, before his hand slid into the cups, teasing her taught nipples with his thumbs, acting completely on instinct, listening and watching her as she groaned gently, arching her back, her reaction telling him he was doing something right as all the time his groin bumped against hers.

Katie could feel the fabric of her underwear sliding in her jeans with every thrust of his hips against hers, that’s how wet she was. Steve was rocking hard against her and she buried her fingers in his hair, pulling sharply, forcing his head back, almost violently. As she tugged he let out another low growl and when she let go he stared down at her to see her smirking as she watched him, his pupils blown so wide there was hardly any blue left.

The rhythm of his hips was growing more frantic and their kisses were growing more desperate. “More,” she moaned into his mouth, and he gave her what she wanted, moving his hips even faster, rubbing against her in ways that had her clutching at his back like her life depended on it. Steve had never felt anything like this in his life. It was so good, so right, in a way nothing had ever felt so right before. This was a first for him, rutting up against someone fully clothed. Making out, Bucky had called it, but none of Steve’s bedroom experiences had ever entailed anything like this, and God, his head was a whirl of lust, desire, and he didn’t give a fuck about anything else at that moment other than her as she lay underneath him.

He started to lose his rhythm and he let out another groan as the tell-tale tightening across his lower stomach warned him he was fast approaching his release. This was too soon, he needed to get her there first. Clenching his teeth he desperately fought back the high as he pushed his hips down hard, making her gasp and claw at his back.

“Sweetheart, I’m close.” He breathed. “You almost there? Tell me your close baby, please?”

He needn’t have worried, at his words it was all she could do to moan brokenly and nod and his mouth fell to that spot on her neck which seemed to drive her wild. She tipped her head back as he gently nipped beneath her ear with his teeth and a few more thrusts of his hips against hers and she was done, fingers wrapped around his hair as the lights exploded in front her eyes and she felt the coil in her stomach unravelling as she came hard underneath him, hips bucking upwards, almost violently. Her voice was broken as she gasped out “Stevie…”and it was the single most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life. Her name for him, the name that no-one in this day and age called him other than her, tumbled from her lips and seeing and feeling her fall apart in his arms sent him over the edge right behind her in a pure surge of ecstasy. He fell forward, his arms shaking as he fought to keep his body up, not wanting to crush her under his weight. His head dropped forward, as he lowered himself ever so gently onto his elbows, his face pressing into the crook of her shoulder and she gently ran her fingers through his hair as they both breathed deeply as they waited to regain control of their bodies. Eventually both of them evened out and he raised his head to look at her, to find her smirking a little, her eyes twinkling with what looked like humour.

“What?” He managed to ask, his nose sliding against hers.

“I haven’t dry humped since I was about sixteen.” she said closing her eyes again with a smirk.

“Dry humped?” He snorted. “What-“

She laughed “Dry humping, making out, whatever. It’s been a while, Rogers.”

He felt himself chuckle again and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, one of her hands running up and down his spine causing the muscles to gently twitch at her touch, neither of them in a hurry to move, but Steve’s arms were starting to hurt.

“You ok?” Katie looked at him, seeing the tension in his muscles and he nodded.

“Yeah, just, my arms.”

“Lay down.” Her hands moved to his biceps, gently trailing shapes on his skin.

“Doll, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m not made of glass, handsome. I promise you, it’ll be fine.”

Steve licked his lips and with a deep breath he lowered himself down gently, shifting and moving lower, pressing as little of himself to her as he could, despite the fact he could have happily smothered her to feel her body pressed against this. He closed his eyes and lay his head gently on her chest as she carded one hand through his hair, the other softly trailing down his neck and across his shoulders. Her touch was soothing, relaxing, loving even, and h felt himself beginning to doze off.

Katie was also growing sleepy, so she gently kissed his head and whispered a single word to him.

“Stay?”

It was a question to him, an invitation to stay with her that she was desperately hoping he’d take up.

He opened his eyes to blink lazily up at her. “Do you want me to?” he asked, his voice thick.

She nodded, “Let’s go to bed.”

He made to stand before he remembered his trouser predicament having just shot his load into them like a pubescent teenager and stilled, his cheeks flushing even more.

“I uh…I think I need to…”

“There’s some stuff of Tony’s in the spare room.” she said, looking at him cutting him off knowing exactly what the problem was because she was also in need of a clean-up “Should be a pair of sweats in there. Might be a bit short on you but…”

With another soft kiss, he pushed himself up off the couch before offering her his hand. She took it and he pulled her up, a little more forcefully than he had intended and she fell forwards, crashing into his chest.

“Steady on Soldier.” She grinned and he apologised, dropping a kiss to her forehead as his gaze once more dropped to her chest. With a certain glint in her eye she turned around, undid her bra and slipped it off before bending over in front of him, picking up his T-shirt from where she’d tossed it to the floor before heading over to the stairs.

Steve was hard again like it had never left.

After he had cleaned himself up and managed to calm himself down, he thrown on a pair of Tony’s sweatpants retrieved from the spare room and exited the main bathroom, heading to her room. She wasn’t asleep as he found out as he settled down in the bed next to her, and she moved to rest her head on his bare chest tangling her legs into his as his hand stroked her back, gently underneath his T’shirt, light fingers brushing her soft skin.

“This is mine…” He teased with a yawn as he tugged at the bottom of his shirt and she moved laying a soft kiss onto his lips.

“You can have it back tomorrow.” She said, laying her head back down on his chest. As her breathing grew even he felt himself start to drift off too, the warm feeling in his chest made him want to burst with happiness.

*****

When Steve woke the next morning it was peacefully. Katie had shifted positions through the night and now her back was to him pressed as close as she could get, he still had his arms around her, his face buried in her hair. She smelt so familiar and comfortable. As his sleepy brain reminded him of the previous night he smiled and felt a familiar twitch. He was hard, again, which wasn’t uncommon when waking up, but suddenly he felt her stir, and then he realised with horror that she was going to feel him poking her in the back.

It took Katie a few seconds to recall the night before, but when she felt a solid, warm wall of muscle pressed against her, a small hum of contentment rumbled in her throat as she pushed back further into him. They both lay there for a moment, silently, basking in the warmth and softness of each other before Katie turned over and looked up at him. Her face was devoid of any make up, not that she wore a lot anyway, but her freckles were more pronounced, clear skin was bright, cheeks flushed and her hair was tousled in waves around her shoulders. He reached out to tuck a long strand that had fallen over her cheek behind her ears, when she looked up at him, her eyes glinting.

He was about to wish her good morning, but before he could she kissed him, hard and fast, tongue tangling with his. And then she was straddling him, his head against the pillow, as her lips began to trail down his chest. By the time his sleep and lust addled brain had caught up with what was going on, she had reached her destination and had flipped the waist band of the sweats he was wearing down, taking his erection firmly in one hand, making him hiss slightly.

His size had taken Katie slightly by surprise, although she knew with retrospect it shouldn’t have. She looked up and locked eyes with him before she gave him one final smirk and took him in her mouth. Steve panicked for a second, this had never happened to him before, his hands flying to the bed sheets either side of his waist, but it wasn’t for long, as all worry flew out of his mind as she began to work him.

From the noises he was making Katie knew he was enjoying himself. Which was her aim. After a short while, she pulled off of him to suck at the tip and worked her hands over the rest of his length. When she glanced up at him, he had his head thrown back against the pillow, face contorted in utter pleasure. She continued to lick, suck, and when she pulled away slightly to suck at the sensitive tip, working the rest of his length with her hands he let out a loud groan and he looked at her. Her eyes locked onto his and he felt that tell-tale warmth rising in his groin and stomach.

“Katie, sweetheart, shit.” His voice was raspy from desire and the fact it was morning and Katie was beyond aroused at the sound as he babbled the first words either of them had spoken since waking. “I’m gonna-” his words caught in his mouth as she took him in hers again, this time all the way to the back of her throat. At that, he was gone, his fingers gripped her hair tight the other clutched at the bedsheets, noises escaping him that he’d never heard before as he spilled himself down her throat and slumped back completely blissed out.

Katie rolled onto her side watching, as he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her.

“Morning, Handsome.” She grinned and he felt himself chuckle.

“Morning, Gorgeous.” he said, still fighting to control his breathing.

“You want breakfast?” She asked, leaning over to peck him on the lips. He hummed a response and she smiled once more before climbing out of bed. Steve watched her head into the bathroom and found himself thinking that as far as mornings went, he’d had worse.

She emerged a few moments later, her hair slightly less wild, and she was still in his T-shirt, which fell to midway down her toned thighs, giving him a better look at that intriguing tattoo that adorned her right which he still hadn’t seen in full properly. She flashed him a smile, fully aware he was looking her up and down, and then she left without a word, clearly with no intentions of getting dressed fully yet. Which was fine by him.

Katie turned the radio on and set about making coffee, singing softly to herself as she replaced the filter paper. She tossed in a liberal amount of Columbian Roast and was just pouring two mugs when Steve, who was now out of bed, appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She smiled at him and slid a mug of the coffee over the island where the creamer and sugar already lay waiting and he took it with a thanks.

“How hungry are you?” she asked and he arched an eyebrow over the top of the mug and she gave a laugh. “Sorry, dumbass question. Fancy pancakes and fruit?”

“Don’t got to any trouble, Doll.” He began to protest but she shook her head.

“It’s no bother, I can whip up a batter in five minutes.”

Turning away from him, she reached up into the cupboard for the flour and the T-shirt she was wearing rode up slightly giving Steve a perfect view of her ass which was clad in black lace panties. The fraying tendrils of self-control he had been holding onto snapped completely and stood up from the stool he’d been perched on, right hand still clutching his coffee. He rounded the island in three long strides and placed the mug down on the counter beside her, his hands falling to her hips and he gently spun her to face him. She giggled slightly before his lips met hers and he reached down and cupped her ass in both hands picking her up easily and setting her down on the counter.

“Something got you worked up Captain?” She teased, looking up at him. Last night had clearly unlocked something in the Soldier, and she was liking what she was seeing, and feeling.

“Yeah, the sight of you wearing nothing but a pair of panties and my t-shirt…” He said raising an eyebrow as he reached for his mug again, taking another drink, trying to play it cool. But it wasn’t working clearly, as she simply laughed and slid both arms around his neck as she leaned in to kiss him again. His free hand slid to her thigh, tracing a path up until, just as he had reached the bottom of her panties, they were interrupted by the sound of the lift doors opening.

“Hey Kiddo, you in?” Steve and Katie exchanged a look, utter horror spreading from Steve’s head to his toes as Tony’s voice hit his ears.

“Kiddo?” he shouted again. “I can smell coffee, you in the kitchen?”

“Shit…” Katie said as she gently pushed Steve backwards, jumping down from the counter, adjusting the T-shirt. Steve was now a shade of crimson pretty much from his neck upwards as he desperately tried to rearrange his pants to hide his once more ebbing arousal. She debated telling Steve to hide in the bedroom but there was no way he’d get across the open plan living space to the stairs without Tony seeing him.

They were well and truly caught.

As she clocked the utter horror on Steve’s face she was suddenly overcome with giggles at how ridiculous the entire situation was. A super soldier and a SHIELD agent, both of them having faught aliens, deadly terrorists and weapons traders, were stood in her kitchen panicking about being busted fooling around by her brother.

“So, the damned board meeting was cancelled which would have been fine had I not already been on the jet over, so I thought seeing as I now in town with nothing to do we could hang for the day or if you’re too busy at least have breakfast…” Tony’s voice was getting louder as he walked through the apartment.

Steve looked at her in utter astonishment as she began to laugh now because frankly he couldn’t think of a single thing that was funny about this situation if he tried. Her laughter didn’t stop even as her brother walked into the kitchen, his brown eyes flashing from his sister to Steve and their various state of undress, a look of utter horror on his face as he processed the implications.

“Oh you have gottta be fucking kidding me…” Tony muttered, dropping the box he was carrying onto the kitchen counter. “Please tell me there’s a perfectly innocent explanation for this…” “Explanation yes, innocent…not so much.” Katie said through her laughter and Steve let out a groan. This was not how he wanted Tony to find out. “Don’t you know how to buzz Dickwad, before just walking into my apartment?”

“I have a key…” “For emergencies…” she shot back. “Stop changing the subject.” Tony demanded his eyes flashing dangerously and Katie folded her arms and tilted her chin up defiantly.

“Look, this isn’t a big deal, Tony…”

“No, this…this is a very big deal…” he snapped back as he looked from her to Steve, every line on his face was contorted with anger and shock.

Steve took a deep breath and placed his mug down on the side. “Tony…” he began trying to placate the billionaire but he was cut off.

“What, you gonna tell me this aint what it looks like?” he shook his head. “That Captain America isn’t banging my little sister? I might be like nearly 60 years younger than you old man but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Steve took a breath, his nostrils flaring at Tony’s snipe.

“Tony, I’m 29 next week, I can do what or who I like” Katie snapped at him “And besides you’ve no room to talk, the amount of times I’ve walked in on you and whichever bimbo you decided to bring home that night…”

“That is completely different!” Tony spluttered.

“No it isn’t” she shot back, hands going to her hips.

Tony’s eyes locked onto hers, before he looked back at Steve who held his gaze evenly, before the dark haired man shook his head and looked at the super soldier.

“Can you go and put some clothes on please, frankly the amount of flesh on show is disturbing me.” “Well I would but your sister is still wearing my shirt.” Steve shot back, his temper rising. Tony gave another growl and then he stopped, open mouthed.

“Are those my sweats?” He spluttered, his voice practically a squeak.

“Yes.” Katie replied simply, and at that point she grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him out of the room and up the stairs. The initial humour she had found in the situation had ebbed away and now she was livid at her brother.

“He is…” she started, opening the various drawers to pull out a hooded top. Taking Steve’s T-shirt off, as she threw it over the bed to him. “The biggest hypocrite going…”

“To be fair I can kinda see it from his point of view…” Steve said shrugging on his T-shirt and making a point of averting his eyes as she strode over to her dresser, naked bar her panties.

She pulled on a hoody and narrowed her eyes at Steve. “Don’t defend him…”

He chuckled and crossed the room, walking round the bed. “I’m not.” he placed a peck on her lips “But I do think that I should go, let you talk to him alone…”

“Yeah, probably for the best…” she breathed out a sigh and followed him down the stairs where he retrieved his sneakers.

“Wait, do you wanna take my car or…” He gestured up and down his body, and she took in his trainers, slightly too short joggers and a T-shirt “Nah, Baby Girl, I’ll run.” She smiled at the term of endearment that he hadn’t used before then, as he dropped a kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll call you later.” He promised, before disappearing in the elevator.

Katie took a deep breath and walked back into the kitchen. Tony eyed her from where he was leaning against the counter, mug of coffee in his hand.

“Don’t start.” Katie warned him, to no avail

“Oh I’m gonna!” Tony spat, before he paused and looked around “Where is the Star Spangled Ass-hole?”

“Gone home.” Katie folded her arms.

Tony snorted “I bet he has…” “You know I don’t remember me reacting like this every time you brought a girl home, which from my recollection happened quite a lot.” Katie sniped back, as she walked to where he was stood by the coffee pot and reached round him to pour herself a fresh mug.

“That..that was different…” Tony stammered at her back as she walked to the counter for the creamer.

“How so?”

“Because, well, it’s him…” he whined “I mean, seriously? Of all the men in the world…”

“Yeah because the last one worked out so great…” Katie said sarcastically, replacing the carton down with a slightly harsh action, causing some to spill over the top.

The room fell silent bar the chink of the spoon on the edge of her pink unicorn mug as she stirred in sugar and milk. She took a sip of her drink and turned to face her brother who was hunched over the counter slightly, eyes on his mug. Eventually he straightened up and met his sister’s eyes before he spoke again, this time his voice was softer.

“How long?” he asked,

“Three weeks, give or take.”

“Three weeks, and I’m only just finding out?” “Yes, Tony.” she groaned, with the air of someone talking to a small child “And your reaction is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

To be fair, Steve was right. It wasn’t an ideal way for him to find out, but she knew the reaction from Tony wasn’t about her being caught, it was about her being caught with Steve. The two men got on okay, which hadn’t always been the case, but after the battle of New York Steve had spent a lot of time with them both at the tower. Tony was still a little reserved with Steve, more so due to the fact that Captain America was someone their dad had idolised but, whilst the two men were immensely different, there was a mutual respect between them and Katie was hoping now that that was going to be enough for Tony to be reasonable about the situation.

“Please don’t kick off about this. I care about him, a lot.” She said gently, looking at her brother, appealing to his better nature and the fact that she knew he would want her to be happy.

And sure enough, that was exactly what Tony asked as he looked at her.

“Does he make you happy?”

“More than anything.” she replied honestly. “I really like him Tony, I want this to work.”

Tony studied her face for a moment before he let out a deep sigh, looking away. “Damned it.” He groaned “I can’t believe I’m going to have to have the Shovel Conversation with Captain America.”

In the silence that followed Katie debated pointing out that Steve wouldn’t be frightened in the slightest of Tony’s various threats anyway, but who was she to rob her brother of his opportunity to try and protect her? Instead she placed her mug on the counter and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Tony who sighed again and reciprocated the gesture.

“Suppose he is an improvement on Agent Shitweasel” he said, resting his chin on her head.

“That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement.” she snorted.

*****

Steve was reading a book in his lounge when Katie messaged him later that afternoon. Apparently Tony had calmed down enough to take her for lunch at some Italian place in the Business District following which they’d had a walk round the city together before Tony had left to go back to New York. Steve was pleased, he knew that despite the fact that he drove her insane at times, she loved the bones of her brother which was why his reaction before had pissed her off. He messaged back, telling her he was glad she’d had a good time and that he would call her later before he picked his book back up, but he’d only managed another chapter or so before there was a buzz on his intercom.

“Rogers, it’s me.”

Steve sighed “Come on up.”

He wasn’t surprised Tony was on his doorstep, he’d been half expecting it. And, judging from the lack of stupid nickname, no Spangles, no Capsicle, no Old Man, he wasn’t here to exchange pleasantries. A fact that was confirmed when Stark didn’t wait for Steve to invite him in, he simply pushed past the door into his flat and stalked inside, glancing around.

“You can tell Kiddo helped you decorate and furnish this gaff, far too modern to be your doing. There’s no Dig for Victory posters or wind up radios…” Tony said, causing Steve to roll his eyes “Holy shit, is that an original Dekka?”

“Katie said you’d like that” Steve watched the inventor cross the room and run his hands across the sleekness of the record player’s casing. “But I have a feeling you didn’t come here to admire my music equipment.”

“Perceptive” Tony turned to face him, his eyes flashing. Steve took a deep breath.

“Tony, I…” “No, you don’t get to talk, you get to listen. And you better listen good.” the billionaire cut him off “Katie was heartbroken when Agent Shitweasel did the dirty on her. She came home and I held her as she cried herself to sleep for 2 goddamned weeks before she shipped out to New Mexico… ”

“Tony…”Steve began, knowing already where this conversation was going. He wanted to assure Tony that he would never do what Ward had done, ever. But Tony ignored him.

“I hated him.” Tony said “he was an absolute dickhead with her at times and she changed because of it. And then, after New York she seemed to go back to being her old self. She was laughing, socialising…and that was down to you” Tony looked at the Super Soldier, who cocked his head slightly to the right as he listened, a small smile tugging at his lips “ She had a friend, something she hasn’t had much time for since my little sioree in an Afghan cave, my bad, and for the first time in ages I can see she’s over it, you know…” he took a deep breath and Steve waited for him to finish “But Katie puts her heart into everything, and I gotta ask Cap, is this serious for you or you just after getting your dick wet?”

“What? No, of course it’s serious for me Tony…” Steve said, his temper flaring slightly at his crass tone. “I can’t believe you think that little of me that you had to even ask me that!”

“Oh get off your high horse, Rogers!” Tony shook his head, and Steve raised his eyebrows “This has nothing to do with what I think of you, this is about my sister…you know the girl I brought up from the age of 7. The girl I couldn’t love any more if she was my own. I’d die for her you got that? Die for her!”

“Well that makes 2 of us!” Steve said loudly, silencing the other man. There was a moment where no sound was heard in the apartment bar the ticking of the clock on the wall and Tony raised his eyebrows slightly as Steve looked down at the floor taking a deep breath.

“Look, I know you’re not happy about this…” Steve sighed, looking at Tony again “But do I care about her Tony, more than you know, and nothing you do or say to me is gonna change that.”

Tony’s eyes softened, but his jaw remained set. Steve took a deep breath and wet his lips before he continued. “And, for what it’s worth, I think you did a damned good job of raising her. She’s an incredible woman.”

“She’s a pain in the ass…” Tony sniffed, Steve was glad to hear his tone was less confrontational “And she’s stubborn, always thinks she knows best…”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Steve said cheekily

“Absolutely no idea” Tony deadpanned back.

Steve’s face cracked into a smile as did Tony’s.

“Look.” Tony sighed, “I just want her to be happy and with someone that treats her right…”

“I don’t ever want to hurt her, Tony. You have my word…” Steve said, honestly.

“Good, because if you do, make no mistake I will fucking kill you, slowly and painfully and there will be no defrosting 70 years down the line.” Tony’s brown eyes flashed slightly as he stared at Steve, And Steve knew, absolutely 100% that he meant it. He was surprised to find himself slightly unnerved by the threat. Hoping that his face didn’t give him away her merely nodded and then Tony’s demeanour changed completely and he turned back into the Tony Stark that Steve knew, and had to admit quite liked after all.

“Good, this was a good talk…” Tony said, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

Steve smiled as the weight he hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying was lifted off his shoulder. Having Tony’s, albeit grudging, approval would mean the world to Katie, and if he was honest, it meant a lot to him as well. Not only was Tony his friend also, but he was the closest thing Katie had to a father, and he wanted him to be alright with the fact the two of them were together.

He offered the man a coffee which he politely declined, stating he needed to get back to New York. The two shook hands on the threshold of Steve’s door before Tony gave him one last look, raising his index finger and middle finger of his right hand to his eyes, before turning them to point at Steve in an “I’m watching you” gesture. Steve raised his eyebrows in understanding and felt his mouth tug upwards at the side as Tony turned on his heels and left.

He retreated back to his living room and pulled out his phone.

“Hey Badass” Katie greeted and Steve chuckled.

“I’ve just had a visitor.” Katie groaned into the phone as he sat back on his couch

“Let me guess… my darling brother turned up to give you the shovel talk?” her tone was exasperated. “No mention of a shovel, just threatened to kill me slowly and painfully if I hurt you, and you know what? I have absolutely no qualms about the fact he would.” Steve grinned as he spoke.

“Don’t tell me Captain America is scared of Iron Man?” she questioned playfully. “No, Steve Rogers is slightly disconcerted by Tony Stark.” He corrected as she let out a chuckle.

“Best make sure you don’t hurt me then aint ya?” “I’ve no intentions of doing doll.” He said, honestly before he let out a breath, smiling “I really enjoyed last night.”

“And this morning?”

“Yeah, another first.” He said, unable to stop the smirk on his face spreading into his voice “I’ve never, errr, had a woman use her mouth on me before…or vice versa for that matter.”

“I like being your first.” she said softly and his chest warmed at her words.

“You know what else was a first? Waking up next to my girl.”

There was a pause before she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“And you know what else I like? You calling me your girl.”

A shit eating grin crept back across the Captains face. “Well, you better get used to it, Doll.”

**** Chapter 7

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

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fatphobiabusters · 4 years

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Do any of the mods have trouble with finding ethical clothing? Even basic Walmart shirts are uncomfortably tight, cost like $30 each, and are destroyed within a few months. Better quality clothes end up costing upwards of $70+.

I recently found Shein and thought it was great that I could get some actually pretty clothes for a cheap price, but immediately got dogpiled by people telling me it isn't an ethical place to shop. I'm living on PWD and well below the poverty line; after all my basic bills are met I only have about $40 in my pocket for new clothes.

I can understand the concerns about it possibly being poor quality clothing, but if my choice is a $20-30 shirt that is wreck in a few months, or a $9 shirt that's wrecked just as quickly, it only makes sense for me to go with the cheaper option. I try to be ethical when I can, but at this point all my clothes are pretty much destroyed and it's almost impossible to find a good solution.

Really hitting the nail on the head here. Capitalism is a bitch.

There's a quote I think about a lot:

"The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.

Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.

But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that'd still be keeping his feet dry in ten years' time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet."

If you need to buy fast fashion that will wear out to survive then do. We can only work in the systems that in place, even while trying to improve them (in this case we have to wear shitty clothes until more ethical and cheap options are available while advocating for the market)

I find it frustrating too. I'm sure the other mods agree. None of (afaik) are particularly well off.

My mom knows how to sew so she can patch things for me, like my PJs which can look like crap and are comfy. (Bottoms are the hardest for me to find so these are the super critical ones to make last longer). But sometimes you'll reach a point you'll no longer be able wear a shirt. I cut them up as cleaning rags, for really nasty stuff that I don't want to use paper towel on (like cat vomit) that way the fabric has a short second life. There are crafts you can learn to do to use fabric scraps on, look up "sewing cabbage uses" or "fabric scraps projects" and try to give your scraps a second life. I personally try to reduce my waste as much as possible and have to accept something's have to be thrown out. (For instance I've moved on to body bar soap over body wash because I can't recycle the plastic bottles and bars of soap have less plastic. I drink pop/soda for caffeine over coffee or tea not only because I hate the taste of the two but also because my state has a return on those bottles which puts the plastic back into the system and makes me 10 cents per bottle. The fact every state doesn't at least have a 5 cent return is bullshit imo.)

You just gotta do the best you can, sometimes you gotta do stuff you know is bad because your hand is tied while putting the pressure on the people who can change things.

Sorry if this got way off base for you but thinking about trying to be ethical and environmentally friendly as a poor person, let alone a poor fat person just made me think of all this.

I would say the tldr is I know I've been there, hell rn I'm wearing a dollar store t shirt as pjs. Until we have options we make do.

#Ask #choose your muse #mod squirrel

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 8

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2343

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a douche bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Insecure reader, talk of losing virginity, I’m sure there is some language in there, fluff, I think that’s it. I promise it picks up in the next chapter y’all!

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

To say you weren’t a morning person would be the understatement of the year. You hated getting up early, and only did it when you had to.

Dean, on the other hand, had no problem rolling out of bed, as long as he had a cup of coffee waiting for him.

So it was no surprise to you that when you rolled over and reached blindly for Dean, and his side of the bed was cold.

Rolling around until you forced your eyes to open up, you sat on the side of the bed, and rubbed at your face harshly, trying to get your eyes to open, and work properly.

Last night, you and Dean had spent most of the night locked at the lips, but he never took it any further than that, saying he wanted your first time to be something special, and memorable.

You were secretly grateful. Losing your virginity had been something you were always nervous about.

Not that you didn’t want to, that wasn’t it at all, and you trusted Dean enough to know he’d make it as painless, and less traumatizing as possible.

Still you had heard all the stories. Stories about pain, blood, crying, and the uncaring assholes who just wanted to get themselves off. Needless to say, it was enough to make your anxiety hit an all time high.

All that you could overcome, that wasn’t the problem, the problem was your own insecurities. The fact that your body wasn’t what you wanted it to be exactly. The fact that your thighs were bigger than you wanted them to be, your stomach not as flat as you wanted it to be.Your breasts still held the scars from stretch marks from when you were a teenager, and hit puberty suddenly, coupled with the fact that they weren’t as big as you’d like them to be.

You were never popular, or the “it girl” in school, and adulthood had proven to be much the same for you.

In fact, Dean was the first guy you had ever seen naked in person, and that was when he was injured, so you weren’t exactly focused on what he was packing, and you were more concerned with making sure you successfully got done with whatever it was you were trying to help him do without hurting him further.

You weren’t blind though, and you did notice enough to know that the man was well endowed, and had the body of a Greek God to boot. Needless to say, you felt like he was WAY out of your league.

Which only heightened your own insecurities more.

You knew Dean wasn’t shallow. Hell, if he was he would have never asked you to be his girl. Still that insecurity that you had carried with you since middle school rang louder than reason, and you nervously dreaded whatever it was Dean had in mind.

You had just dressed from your morning shower when the bedroom door opened, pulling you from you worrying.

“There you are! I was just about to come and wake you up,” he said, flopping down on the bed, already dressed, showered, and ready for the day. You did notice that the dark skinny jeans that hugged his bowed legs perfectly, coupled with the red and black flannel and black fitted undershirt did things to you that you never expected.

His piercing green eyes missed nothing. Strutting up to you when he noticed you staring at him, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in close, kissing you deeply before letting you go, a smirk set deep in his Godlike features at the dazed look on your face when he pulled away.

He knew what the hell he did to you, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“You’re up and dressed early this morning. What’s on the agenda today Mr. Winchester?” you asked him, letting his hands fall a little lower on your waist as he swayed the two of you back and forth slowly in the middle of your bedroom to whatever rhythm he was hearing in his head.

“Well, I had them gas up my Dad’s jet, we’re gonna take a little vacation. I need to get away for a little while. From this damn house, and all the bullshit that comes with it.”

Your eyes widened.You didn’t have any clothes to take on Vacation.. Since you had been here, you had barely even got out of the house.

“Dean..I don’t have anything….”

Putting his lips to yours in a chaste kiss to stop your worrying, Dean chucked against you.

“Pretty girl, stop! Everything has been taken care of. Clothes, food, everything is already there waiting for us. Remember baby, I’m a Winchester. Now, get yourself ready, we fly out as soon as you get done. I’m ready to get there.” Dean said, giving you another swift kiss before he grabbed an overnight bag, and started to pack it when essentials like phone chargers, and your laptop, mumbling something about updating that when he got home.

“Dean, where exactly are we going?”

“Mary’s Island.”

Confusion pressed deep into your features, and Dean chuckled as he threw his bag over his broad shoulder, waiting patiently for you to get your shoes on.

“It’s an island my dad bought for my mom when they got married.Since she passed, no one has really gone to it, but I called the caretakers, and they have everything ready for us, so you and I are going to go spend some time there for a while.” Dean said, lacing his fingers with yours as you made your way through the oddly quiet house.

“It’s warm there, so we will be able to enjoy ourselves. It’s only a short boat ride away from the mainland as it’s just off the coast of Hawaii, so there are a variety of restaurants and things that we can go to as well. Plenty to do to keep us busy.”

Opening the door to the house, you look back at Dean’s car that was safely parked in the garage, and loaded yourself into the black SUV that had Garth, the driver, behind the wheel and waiting.

“Dean, where is everyone this morning.” you asked, and Dean stiffened a little next to you as he climbed into his side of the SUV.

“Work. Life’s pretty much going back to normal, now that Samual is taken care of, and the Campbells are no longer a threat. The high table is content that you and I are together, and right now everything is going along as it should.”

Dean laced his fingers with yours as the car circled around the airport, entering the back gate, completely surpassing all the airport security, and details that normally came with flying. You vaguely wondered if this is what it felt like to fly when you were famous.

The plan was less impressive than you had dreamed up in your head all morning. The Winchesters tended to do everything extravagantly, and you thought that their private jet would be no different, but you were actually a little relieved that it wasn’t some huge private liner. You still weren’t quite used to living the extravagant lifestyle that the Winchesters seemed accustomed to.

Once you were boarded onto the plane, Dean grabbed one of the blankets that were stowed in the overhead compartment, and settled you both down in the seats as best as you could,wrapping his arm around you as the plan started to take off.

It was going to be around a ten hour flight to Hawaii from New York, so you had plenty of time to nap if you wanted to. The only problem was, you were way too nervous to sleep. Your mind was turning on the upcoming events that were sure to take place once you got to the Island.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart? I can practically hear the gears turning..” Dean said, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. He’d already learned about you so quickly. It was getting harder and harder to hide things from him.

“Nothing, just my usual worrying.” you tell him in an attempt to brush him off, but he was having none of it.

“I lie for a living Princess, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that.” Dean said, an amused smirk plastered across his perfect lips.

Giving him a side eye, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. Trying to work it out in your mind how to tell him all of the little qualms you were worrying about.

“You know, nothing at all has to happen this weekend. We can just be here and enjoy being together. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you to sleep with me or something, I’ll wait as long as you need me to. I’m in my forties sweetheart, I’m not some little teenage boy who can’t control himself.”

Clamping your jaw shut you wonder briefly if he was secretly some sort of mind reader.

“It’s not that I don’t want to Dean, I do, I’m just nervous, and when I say that out loud I feel stupid, because I’m twentythree fucking years old, and I’m still a virigin, and terrified of something most people do in their teens!” you tell aspirated, hiding your face in the blanket.

Dean pulled the blanket down where he could see your face, shifting a little closer to you in his seat now that the plane was leveled out, and well en route to your destination.

“Baby girl, look at me. Age has nothing to do with being afraid of or nervous about something. Just cause you didn’t jump in bed with the first jackass with a dick when you were teenager, does make you weak or wimpy, and I definitely don’t think any less of you. Besides, I kinda like the idea that you're going to be only mine.”

He brushes his lips over yours before you settle into his shoulder and blush at the possessiveness that he shows. You had never seen this side of Dean before, and you couldn’t deny the way it made your heart flutter in your chest.

There was still so much that you were going to worry yourself over until it was over, and you knew that. There was only one cure for this, and that was to do it, and you did want this with him. You wanted to be only his, you wanted that connection with someone. Wanted to feel him in a way that only could happen between the two of you. To know him, on a deeper level than you had ever known anyone before.

The combination of Dean playing with your hair, the hum of the plane, and the warmth that came radiating off of his body constantly had miraculously lulled you to sleep, and you didn’t even know it until Dean was shaking you awake gently after you had already landed.

Stretching your stiff muscles as you stand up and deboard the plane, you follow along behind Dean into the blinding light, and warm temperatures that were so contradictory to the weather of New York City that you had left behind.

Looking up at the clock on the dash of the car you got into just outside the tarmac, you notice that it’s only noon. Seeing as you left New York at eight in the morning, it took you a while to understand what had happened. You had never experienced a time jump like that from traveling before, and New York was six hours ahead of Hawaii. So even though you had a full day of travel, it was only noon here. You finally think you understood the meaning of jet lag.

“Hungry baby girl? I figured we could grab a bite to eat while we’re on the mainland. That way we can just have a lazy day when we get to the house.”

You hadn’t realized you were hungry until he mentioned it. Your stomach growled, and Dean threw his head back and laughed at your face of discontent at the hand of your stomach’s betrayal.

“I guess sleeping for almost a solid six hours straight works up quite the appetite doesn’t it?” Dean teased you.

“Six hours?” you questioned. You had no idea you had slept that long. “Why do I feel so sluggish then?”

“It’s a drastic time change, once you get some food in you it will help with the jet lag.” Dean said, pulling onto the main road like he knew just where he was going. You didn’t question him at all. Just enjoyed the view of him relaxing into the seat of the car as he drove down the road like he’d done it a million times in his life.

You couldn’t contain the smile spreading over your face at the beautiful view, one of which included Dean. His fingers dancing along the steering wheel, humming along with a classic rock tune that played softly through the speakers. His freckles almost shine out on his skin in the bright sunlight filtering through the car window.

For just a moment you forgot about all your worrying, and just enjoyed the moment. That’s something you decided you would start doing more often. Your whole life you had been nothing but stress and worrying in some form or another. Whether it was worrying over school, your job, losing your job, then all this that happened with Dean, your life turning upside down, then almost losing Dean.

That probably taught you the most important lesson of all.

Life is short, and can be taken away from you in a moment, especially in the life that Dean lived. So right now you weren’t going to worry about having sex with him, or your new life you were determined to adjust to. It was just the two of you, and you were going to make the most of this.

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det-loki · 4 years

Text

poison & wine part six

“Do you fight for pride or glory?”

warnings: angst, blood mention, snakes, panic attack

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 2,091

A/N: this is a shorter chapter, but it’s heavy and I didn’t want to weigh it down by continuing on, so I broke it up for next chapter. enjoy! <3

1 2 3 4 5 ⌽

David and you pulled up to a small home that the man from the vigil supposedly lived in. Jill, from the Value Mall, called Loki after he had shown up again, buying children’s clothes yet again. She relayed the license plate number to David, who was able to track him down in minutes with the help of dispatch.

Loki knocked on the door three times and then stood back to wait, quickly glancing at you and nodding reassuringly. The door handle turned, the door moving only as far as to show the man from the vigil’s face as Loki and you held your badges up.

The man was dressed in a khaki-colored button-up with a tie, seemingly put together, yet his eyes held a frantic look. Like a caged animal, unable to escape the confinement of a maze.

Loki plastered a fake smile onto his face as the man nervously looked between the two of you, “Mornin’.”

A long pause occurred as the man, Bob Taylor, turned his gaze to you, eyes traveling down your body slowly. Loki clearing his throat loudly caused the man’s eyes to dart away from you and back to Loki.

“Why’d you run away from me the other night, man?’ The man looked Loki up and down nervously before shaking his head, “I’ve never seen you before. Are you sure you have the right house?”

You stepped closer to the door, a smile plastered to your face, “You been doing some shopping at the Value Mall lately?”

The man’s eyes widened microscopically before he turned his expression neutral,” Yeah. Why, is it a crime to shop there?” He motions at Loki’s buttoned shirt and coat, “I can’t afford to buy suits from Brooks Brothers.”

“You bought children’s clothes.” Loki pulled a smile onto his face as he spoke to Taylor, whose face had gone pale at the mention of children’s clothes. Loki’s face quickly went dark and stoic again. You each held your own version of this man in your head, he was the only suspect you had that made the most sense at this point in time.

“Did I? I must have been in a hurry.” The man’s eyes darted nervously between you and David, eyes staying longer on you than Loki.

“Do you have children?” You and Loki already knew the answer.

The man shook his head slowly, eyes darting to the ground, “No...I don’t have…”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Loki position his foot against the door as Bob braced against it, failing to close it as Loki barged his way in. The man went flying back as Loki took hold of him and threw him against a wall, the awful crack of a broken nose filling the air. You shut the door behind you as Loki shoved the man against the ground and cuffed him.

You drew your gun from your hip to provide cover as Loki cuffed the man and then drew his weapon, “You move and I’ll put a bullet through your fucking head.”

You averted your gaze from Loki holding Bob Taylor down and took notice of your surroundings. Mazes were drawn all over every square inch of the walls and doors. What the fuck?

Your nose picked up on a horrible stench from the kitchen. Your stomach was doing flips and your brain was screaming at you, please don’t be those girls.

You slowly advanced towards the flies buzzing in the kitchen with your gun drawn as Loki called in for back up behind you, “This is 13-40 and 13-43. I need an additional unit for search. 437 Carrol Street. Possible kidnapping victims on the premises.”

The walls were the same in this kitchen, mazes everywhere. Piles of empty plastic bags were on the kitchen table. You walked further into the kitchen to find a pig’s head in the sink with a wig on it, flies hoarding around it, and its foul odor.

You turned around to follow Loki through the halls of the home, covered in drawings of mazes. You opened door after door to find nothing. Loki came to the last door and tried to open it to no avail. Locked. He braced himself and jammed his shoulder into the wood of the door, not budging. You positioned yourself behind Loki and in front of the door with your weapon as Loki hit the door again, this time the wood splintered away, allowing you and Loki to enter.

Dozens of black industrial crates littered the floor and your stomach and heart sank. You weren’t a religious woman despite the numerous accounts of religious imagery in your life, but at this moment you prayed to whatever God or divine being that would listen. Please don’t let these girls be in there.

Your eyes darted to David’s icy blue ones before you both sprung into action. You stayed in the room and called out for the girls while David took the suspect to the car and got a crowbar to try to get the lids off.

The heavy weight of the crowbar was placed into your hand. Cold.

You got one crate open, your hands frantically ripping off the top and searching through the contents. Snakes. Live snakes. And bloody clothes. You felt like someone turned off the oxygen in your lungs, breath getting erratic and heart-pounding as you jerked back against the wall as snakes began to spill over the top of the crate and over your feet.

Your shaking hands started on another crate, although you couldn’t get it open due to the tremble of your hands and the blur of tears in your eyes. You should be stronger. To save them. To save her.

You fumbled through three more crates alongside Loki before you couldn’t any longer.

“I can’t, David, I can’t.” You looked at David with terror in your eyes as he continued to sort through the remaining crates of bloody clothes and snakes, stopping to read whatever papers he had found in the last crate.

If you finish all the mazes you can go home.

“Go, go. Let’s go.” He knew exactly what set you off. The bloody clothes.

You ran out of the house ahead of David as fast as your exhausted legs would take you, landing on your hands and knees as you fought for breath. Your lungs were expanding and contracting rapidly but you couldn’t catch your breath, a fire had set in your lungs. Your fingers dug into the frozen ground, dirt and dried grass catching underneath your fingernails. Your body was in front of the home on Carrol Street, but your brain was reliving the day you lost your little girl. You sobbed and screamed, reaching for her body that wasn’t there, desperate to touch her one more time. Images of needles and her bloody pink shirt made your eyes blurry and head pound.

Someone touching your shoulder caused you to jump back, eyes frantically searching for who the hand belonged to. Your eyes saw his black boots first, then his face came into view as he knelt down in front of you, hands on your shoulders.

“David, David, she-is she? Are they?” The words tumbled from your lips, sending a dagger straight in Loki’s heart.

“No, no. Just clothes and snakes. Fuck. Fuck!” David tore his eyes away from your crying ones, yelling, his breath turning into cold clouds floating through the air. You could hear police sirens approaching in the distance as David still had you in his embrace, the only thing keeping you from crumbling apart on the frozen grass.

Your breath was still ragged, uneven pants escaping your lips as your eyes searched Loki’s face, your hands clutching his coat with white knuckles. You had officially broken. Your soul shattered into a million pieces, some you were sure you would never get back. Some were already six feet under with your little girl. This town ruined you three times over, staining your heart with black ink, spilling over to Loki’s stained soul as well. Two broken souls in a small town only able to keep the other alive.

The fluorescent lights were giving you a headache as you sat in a cold conference room staring at the grain of the wood table you were sat at. Loki was compiling photos of the contents of the crates, preparing to call the Birch family in to see if they could identify any of the clothing. Your eyes felt puffy and bloodshot, you were sure you looked awful. Your eyes moved from the table to Loki, he looked as bad as you did; dark circles overpowering his eyes, stubble more pronounced on his jaw. He held the look of a father in pain, ready to tear the world apart to find the little girls that reminded him far too much of his own little girl, despite never meeting the missing pair.

Franklin and Nancy Birch came into the room, each holding an expression that no parent should hold. You were all too familiar; the pain, regret and anger creating a sour expression void of anything good. Beside you, Loki’s hand moved under the table to find your hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance before he began the meeting.

“So we’ve taken photographs of some of the clothing we found in the suspect’s house.” Neither Franklin or Nancy said a word, only nodding. Loki shuffled through dozens of photographs before he got to one that caused the atmosphere in the room to shatter. A purple shirt with a deer on it. You could hear the sharp intake of breath from Nancy before she jolted up and out of the room, Franklin shakily apologizing before following after his wife. You hated your job.

You remained in the conference room as Loki got up to go get the Dover’s. You took a deep breath in, attempting to calm yourself. There were times like now where you wondered why you were doing this, and the cause. You could only chalk it up to the butterfly effect, everything already written in the stars. Or something. Anything.

Keller Dover was alone, his wife not able to come to the meeting. You didn’t blame her.

“So he confessed? He said he killed them?” Bob Taylor had begun the interrogation process, claiming he killed the two little girls, but there were still unanswered questions and no bodies. You were the one he confessed to, his nose dripping blood while he did so. You were sure that image would haunt you in the rare times that you did sleep.

“We were hoping he was lying, but we haven’t found any bodies, Mr. Dover, but the Birches positively identified two pieces of clothing. I’m gonna need you to tell me if you recognize anything.” Loki spoke softly to Keller, explaining what was happening.

Loki began filing through photos again, looking to Mr. Dover for confirmation after every photo. You watched his face after looking at each photo that was placed in front of him, pain and sorrow, his lips quivering in suspense. His face changed as Loki placed another photo in front of him. He took the picture in his hands, the photo shaking with his grasp as he stared at it. Your heart sunk.

“That-that’s her…that’s her sock.” A bloody sock with a baby pink bunny on it. Keller began to cry. Beside you, Loki was obviously uncomfortable and angry, as were you. David’s fists clenched and unclenched as he shifted in his seat, angry at the world and himself.

“You-you wasted time. You two wasted time following me.” Keller looked at Loki as he spoke, moving the photo of the sock on the table in his direction, pointing at it, “You let this happen.” Keller left the room, leaving you and Loki in deafening silence.

“This isn’t- we didn't let this happen, Loke.” You didn’t know what else to say, so you stopped talking, watching David as he brought a hand to his face and his eyes blinked harshly. He was falling apart on the inside, blaming himself for everything. He was broken. You both were. Yet the pair of you fit together like puzzle pieces, broken and all. Yet, you were afraid this case would destroy the both of you irreparably. You lowered your head to lay on the cool wood of the table as Loki sat beside you, letting the silence choke you.

You didn’t think you were going to make it out of this case alive.

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#detective loki #detective loki imagine #detective loki fanfic #detective loki x reader #detective loki x fem!reader #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #prisoners #prisoner 2013 #fanfiction #imagine #angst #detective #poison and wine

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dangerousconnoisseurdonut · 3 years

Text

Omega Auction of the Century Preview

@jeromiah and @nostalgic90s proposed a most intriguing idea of Omegas being so rare, they are auctioned off, and Bruce would go for a frankly insane amount as he is the most eligible of Omegas around. This is just the start of an idea, but I have to get ready for work and want to know what people think of it so far!

Bruce couldn’t completely withhold his shudder of fear and revulsion as he heard the second Omega on the auction block went for a cool ten million, upped from the eight million the last one went for, simply because the first one had been a male and this one was a slightly pudgy (but not unattractive) female who came from a family of six, so she had a good chance for being a strong breeder. Oh, but how he and Brooke hated being referred to that way; as if they were cows or horses just waiting for a stud to come along. In school, they had both received a lot of flack from their peers, often being referred to as breeding stock or even whores once (Brooke had broken Grace Van Dhal’s nose when she said that). It was only their parents large donations to the school that they had taught them proper courses at all as many just enrolled Omega’s in more simple math courses, home economics, home estate management courses, and the like. When their parents had died, the school had tried to put them in those courses, thankfully their Uncles Lucius Fox and Ed Nygma, with their Alpha Dr. Leslie Thompkins, had simply pulled them from the school and taught them everything they needed to know.

Sadly, he thought as the third Omega was taken out for the block, it was probably all going to be for naught; rich Alphas and Betas didn’t really care how smart the Omega was so long as they were fertile and not an imbecile as they worried about the child inheriting such a thing (too bad you couldn’t keep stupid Alphas from mating). And, as Bruce was a rare intersex Omega, his fertility was somewhere around 89%, meaning he would probably get pregnant right away when they took him on his birthday and went into Heat. This was one of the reasons he was being saved for last; his high fertility rate combined with his company and his higher than average intelligence made him a very appealing Omega. Combined with the fact his twin sister was also an Omega, Bruce and Brooke could very well break the record for highest auctioned Omega in the United States, possibly all of North America, which was a steep forty million last year when Lex Luthor bought his Omega, a farm boy by the name of Clark Kent. Some people thought he overpaid, until the rumours started circulating that Lex had had a crush on the boy through their high school years, but the boy had largely appeared straight. At least, he thought as the third Omega, a boy that went for only seven million due to him having a scar on his abdomen from when he had needed to have his appendix taken out as well as his sister having had a miscarriage, Lee, Lucius, and Ed would get a large ‘dowry’ for them as the family of the Omega got around 40% of the bid.

As the fourth, and last Omega before them was hauled out, he bemoaned what they were making him and Brooke wear; all Omega’s had to wear very revealing clothes so as to entice the Alphas into spending big bucks on them. They had originally wanted Bruce and Brooke in something not even a prostitute would be caught dead in; some kind of lacy piece that frankly looked more like lingerie than any type of clothing. But, after a few well placed threats from Ed and Lee, what they was wearing was more fit for a rave or rock concert, but at least it wasn’t entirely see-through. They had put him in tight leather pants, a mesh t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination, and Lee had given him his favourite leather jacket to wear. Brooke was wearing some kind of leather halter top the covered her breasts and did nothing else, as well as a short skirt and fishnet stockings and her favourite knee high boots, all covered by her favourite leather duster. Soon though, he heard the last Omega, a beautiful young girl who came from a long line of strong Alphas and other beautiful Omegas, no Betas found in her family tree, even if her family wasn’t that well off, no doubt they would enjoy the 40% of the twenty million she was just sold for. They were soon being ushered onto the stage, and barely managed to hold in his whimpers as all the men and women in the room were looking at them like they were rib-eyes and they were all starving. Brooke had his hand clamped in a death grip as she looked out as well.

“And here we have, Ladies and Gentlemen, saved the best for last; twin Omegas, Bruce and Brooke Wayne! The last of the Wayne’s, they actually score high in mathematics and sciences, Bruce is intersex…” Bruce drowned out the announcer as his and Brooke’s ‘accomplishments’ were listed, and took stock of just who was there, and felt more than a little sick at who he saw; crime bosses like Thorn, Falcone, and Maroni were there (God, but he hoped Maroni didn’t win them as the man had four Omega’s already, and more than one of them had been accidentally photographed with shiners). There were creeps like Hugo Strange, who was rumoured to experiment on Betas, and Kathryn Monroe, who was rumoured to be something of a cult leader. Then, there were just straight up assholes like Roland Daggett, an unscrupulous CEO that was suspected of taking several shortcuts to get what he wanted, their old classmate Brant Jones, and the one who made him the sickest of all; Theo Galavan. Bruce prayed to whatever powers were listening that Galavan didn’t get them as he would no doubt dissolve Wayne Enterprises as he despised the Wayne’s, and it had been all Thomas, and later Lee, could do to keep Galavan away from Bruce and Brooke when they were younger.

“Shall we start the bidding at $500,000? Thank you, Mr. Daggett, that’s $500,000 to start us off.”

“$550,000!”

“You insult the pair, Salvatore! $750,000!” Bruce was pretty sure that was Carmine Falcone, and prayed that either they were going to be the old man’s, or his son Mario, who was said to actually be rather kind, as opposed to the daughter Sofia; word had it the woman was a straight up whack-job.

“You both insult such fine specimens; $1,000,000!” Hugo Strange bid, and Bruce quickly hoped someone outbid the man quickly as he was losing feeling in his hand due to Brooke’s squeezing.

“$1,500,000!” Bruce saw another acquaintance, Tommy Elliot enter the ring, and really hoped he had matured some since he punched his lights out.

“$5,000,000!” Please, God, no was all Bruce could think as Galavan threw his own hat into the ring.

“$6,000,000!” Bruce was both relieved someone outbid Galavan, but also a little disturbed as it was Kathryn Monroe who bid; he had nothing against older women taking younger lovers (he refused to call them cougars as he found it offensive), but it wasn’t really his thing and besides which, while he may be bisexual, he largely swung for his own team.

“$10,000,000!” Bruce looked up at the familiar voice and saw Barbara Kean and her partner Tabitha Galavan had just thrown down a substantial gauntlet, and he wondered why as not only were Barbara and Tabitha lesbians, they had two Omegas already, and one Beta; his friends Ivy Pepper, Bridgit Pike, and Selina Kyle. He figured this way, he would carry the pups and they wouldn’t have to worry about it. They were probably his and Brooke’s best hope as they would be with their friends and while Barbara could be a little intense (and Tabitha was well known for her whip), he didn’t think either woman would be abusive to their Omegas; Selina had certainly never complained about how Bridgit and Ivy were treated.

“$15,000,000!” Daggett came back into the ring with a strong bid, and Bruce was beginning to feel a little sick as he placed his other hand over Bryce, who whispered a sorry into his ear.

“$23,000,000!” Bruce was rather surprised when Fish Mooney threw a bid out as the woman was usually too busy to have much to do with Omegas, but among the crime bosses littering Gotham, she was one of the better ones to be owned by.

“$30,000,000!” Bruce gripped Brooke back as Galavan countered with a number not many would be willing to counter, even for twin Omegas.

“$40,000,000!” Barbara and Tabitha countered, and it seemed like they were in a vacuum as there didn’t seem to be any noise whatsoever. Bruce prayed that it was too much for Galavan to go above his sister as the announcer exclaimed,

“We have $40,000,000! Thank you Miss. Kean and Miss. Galavan! Do I have anymore bids? That’s $40,000,000 for the Wayne twins to Miss. Kean and Miss. Galavan going once! Going Twice! Going Three ti-!”

“$50,000,000!” Bruce was almost certain he or Brooke were going to pass out as they felt the air pressure drop at an unprecedented number, even for a pair of Omegas. He looked out into the audience and saw that many had mentally withdrawn from the battle, and felt his heart sink as he knew not even Barbara and Tabitha would go against such a bid.

“We now have $50,000,000 to Mr. Theo Galavan! That is a new record! Thank you, Mr. Galavan! Do I have anymore bids? Sirs? Ladies? Well, then that is $50,000,000 to Mr. Theo Galavan, going once!” Bruce prayed anyone would outbid Galavan; he would gladly cover the difference if at least his sister was safe, but none raised their hands.

“Going twice!” Bruce felt Brooke clutch his shoulder as her own shook with the realization that no one was going to outbid their worst nightmare.

“Going three times!” Bruce saw Galavan smirk as his dream of destroying the Wayne legacy was about to come to fruition.

“So-”

“$98,316,010.99!” Everyone was stunned and swirled their heads, trying to figure out who had placed such an outlandish (and rather peculiar) bid, only to see a man decked out in a tight leather outfit and completely bald; he didn’t even have eyebrows, but all knew who this man was. Victor Zsasz, one of, if not the most, Gotham’s most deadly assassins, the Penguin’s bodyguard and enforcer; a man not to be trifled with under any circumstances.

“S-sir?” The announcer, who before had been annoyingly enthusiastic about selling off young men and women, was now very scared as the assassin actually walked up on stage with two of his Zsaszette’s as others referred to them, both of whom smiled gently at the frightened Omegas.

“That, is a joint bid from my boss, Oswald Cobblepot, Jervis Tetch, Victor Fries, Jim Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, and the Valeska twins, Jerome and Jeremiah. They couldn’t decide which one they wanted, so they pooled their resources for the pair of them.” Zsasz explained before he took a good look at the twins and asked,

“Do either of you feel comfortable wearing that?” Bruce shook his head as Brooke whispered,

“No, Mr. Zsasz.”

“OK, we got some clothes in the car you can change into before we leave, make you look less like a pair of hookers and more like a pair of wealthy brats. Unless, of course, someone wishes to bid against the seven most dangerous men in the city?” Zsasz looked out toward the crowd, making eye contact with Galavan in particular, who actually looked to be gearing up to try and outbid the psychopath, when the announcer said,

“Going once, going twice, going thrice, sold! Sold to -”

“Just call them the Legion of Horribles; it’s quite the mouthful otherwise.” Zsasz said as he and his girls checked the pair for any bruising or scars, and somewhat surprised to see a few here and there, but they weren’t abuse scars; these were battle scars.

“Sold to the Legion of Horribles! They just have to do one final check-up and then you can pick them up at the side entrance.”

“Most valuable darlings in the world, and you make them sound like a pair of cheap hookers, nice.” One of the Zsaszette’s complained before the pair were escorted off the stage.

Please tell me what you think of it so far, as there’s a lot more to come!

#Gotham #gotham au #bruce wayne #brooke wayne #abo #victor zsasz

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mercedesamayajones · 3 years

Text

Hiking Fun || Samcedes

Who: Mercedes Jones and Sam Evans

What: Sam and Banner join Mercedes, Aiden and James as they go hiking and enjoy a picnic.

Notes: @sammy-d-evans

Mercedes zipped up the last sandwich and placed it into the bag, glancing out the window and smiling at Aiden and James ran around in the backyard. She went over her list of things they needed for the day, ensuring that she didn't forget a thing. Since they were going on a hiking trail and having a picnic, she didn't want them dragging coolers around, so she made each of them a lunchbox with sandwiches, chips, drinks, and a treat. Brownies were chosen by the boys. Grabbing the ice packs and frozen water bottles from the freezer, she loaded up each bag and smiled. Mercedes zipped up the last sandwich and placed it into the bag, glancing out the window and smiling at Aiden and James ran around in the backyard. They were ready, now all they needed was Sam.

Grabbing her hiking boots, she debated if she should go with tennis shoes but thought against it, then grabbed them just in case. Worst case scenario, she would leave them in the car. Throwing her hair into a messy bun. she glanced at herself once more, smiling at the oversized purple shirt that hung off her left shoulder and pair Capri leggings. There was a time when she would dress up to try and impress Sam, but he friend-zoned her one too many times, and she finally gave up any notion that they would be anything other than friends. No matter if she did still like him as more. Shaking off her thoughts, she called the boys in and smiled. They were going to have fun, she was sure of it.

As he made his way to the back of his truck, Sam couldn't help but smile as Banner greeted him with a wildly wagging tail. "Someone's excited to go on a hike," he spoke as he helped the dog out of the back of his truck. Sam checked if the backpack harness was still in place before he told Banner to follow him. Sam had bought Banner a backpack for hikes like this. The St. Bernard loved to work and help out, so he had him carry treats and water on most of their walks.

He reached the front door of Mercedes house and rang the doorbell, patiently waiting for someone to open the door.

Mercedes heard the doorbell, but Aiden and James ran to the door before she could get it. "Don't you boys open it unless you know it's Sam!" She yelled after them. They quickly looked out the window and yanked the door open. Smiling at Sam but going right to Banner.

Mercedes grabbed the bags and smiled, seeing the kids and Sam. "Hey, Sam! We are ready."

Sam grinned as James and Aiden forgot to greet him in favor of hugging Banner. "Be careful, he drools," Sam jokingly warned before turning his attention to Mercedes. His eyes wandered over her statue. He arched a brow in silent question when he noticed the bags. "Hey, hi. Are you bringing a whole restaurant with ya," he inquired as he reached out to take the bags from her. "I thought we could walk to the start of the trail; it's only like 10 minutes or so."

Mercedes cleared her throat. "Gentlemen! Banner didn't drive himself here. Say hi to Sam!"

"Hi, Uncle Sam." The boys said in unison, and she laughed at Sam's words. "Hardy har har very funny. It's just water and snacks and a picnic; you do realize these boys eat every five minutes, right?" She teased as she grabbed the other bag. "That's fine with me. And I am pretty sure the boys want as much time with Banner as they can get."

"Feelin' the love, guys," Sam snorted as he put his head through the straps of the bags and let them hang over his shoulder. "I know, I know, growing boys and all that... We should be at a great spot to take a break in like 40 minutes or so," Sam mentioned as he led Mercedes towards the boys.

She laughed as she gave picked up her phone and keys, putting them in her bag. "As long as we make it fun and take breaks for the boys, I think this will be great! It's the perfect weather for hiking too. Is it true that one of the trails has a waterfall?" She handed each boy their bag. "We have extra water just in case." She said, making sure they had everything.

Sam snatched the bags from the boys and put them in his own, nodding his head in reply. "There is, but that one is a lot longer than the trail I planned for us to follow today. Maybe another time?" Sam put Banner on his leash and handed it to the boys. "Alright, all ready for an adventure?"

Mercedes smiled. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan." She locked the door as James and Aiden grabbed the leash. Taking out her phone, she smiled, taking a few photos of the boys and Banner. "Okay, so how are you doing? How are the store and everything." She asked Sam looking at him for a moment before looking back at the boys.

"I'm good, and so is the store. People really found their way there, and I managed to build a steady stream of loyal customers," Sam started as he led the way outside. Then, after telling Banner to follow him, knowing that the dog would keep the boys from running off, he turned his attention back to Mercedes. "Met up with Quinn yesterday; it was nice getting to catch up with her after all this time. But enough about me, how are you?"

"That is really great! I mean, your store is pretty impressive, so it makes sense you would have a loyal following." As they walked towards the trail, she listened to him speak. "Really? I am so glad she is back for good. We talk so much, but it's been a while since we lived in the same place."

"You've talked to her while she was away," Sam inquired, the surprise of hearing Mercedes say that evident in his voice. "But yeah, it's nice she's back." Sam looked over his shoulder to check if Banner and the boys managed to keep up with them. Then, satisfied that they were, he turned the corner, bringing them to the start or the trail. "And how are things with you? What's this thing you needed a second opinion about?"

Mercedes nodded. "Yeah, we try to talk at least once a week, sometimes more, but now that she is here, I am so happy." Mercedes let the kids move in front of them as they moved to the trail. "Okay, guys, do any of you have to go to the bathroom before we get started?" They shook their heads no, and she nodded. They did go before Sam got there. As they started, she worried her bottom lip. "Umm, well, it's pretty big, and I don't know if it's a good idea."

"I always thought she just disappeared without a trace and didn't have contact with anyone," Sam wondered out loud. The feeling that washed over him stung. He felt somewhat hurt and left in the dark about how his friend had been doing all these years by another one. He swallowed and decided to shake off the feeling. Sam looked at Mercedes. "Sounds serious... what's this big thing?"

Mercedes sighed. "To her credit, she tried, but like with you and everyone else, I made sure we kept in touch." She let them walk in silence, feeling the weight of his stare. Finally, after a few more moments, she cleared her throat. "I want to give Aiden a sibling. I am thinking of using a Sperm Donor."

"It's a little hard to keep in touch when you don't know their number," Sam thought to himself while he nodded in understanding. He almost stumbled over his feet as her words sunk in. "You... oh wow, yeah okay, that's huge."(edited)

Mercedes studied Sam for a moment and waited for his response. She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "I have even looked into possible donors, but it's daunting. What if I choose the wrong one? What will people think of me being a single mom with two kids? But I love Aiden and James, even if he is just my Godson. I am ready to have another one.

"I don't think they'd think any different of you being a single mom of two or just one now," Sam rushed to tell her, trying to take some of her fear of other people's opinions away. "Why a donor, tho? Why not adopt one? There are so many kids out there that need a good place to call home."

Mercedes sighed. "I thought about it, and I do want to adopt; I had always planned on doing it when Aiden got older. Like what my parents did with Cam. But for right now, this is what I want, what I need."

"What brought it on, this sudden need to have another kid now? Is it Aiden starting kindergarten," Sam asked, letting his eyes wander to the front to check if the boys were still walking along the path. "So you might still adopt in the future? That's cool." Then, remembering how Mercedes started the conversation, he circled back to that. "Have you looked at donors already?"

Mercedes chewed her bottom lip. "Honestly, it's been in the back of my mind for a while. We always..." She sighed. "The plan before Aiden... the plan was when he was three we would give him a sibling. When he was 8, we would adopt at least one child that way he could understand and help his sibling understand." She looked at Sam but then back to the boys. "I have felt so guilty for so long about moving on, but it's time to stop feeling guilty and start living again...love may or may not be in my future again, but at least I can have my family." She nodded. "Yeah, I could use some help, though."

Sam nodded in understanding. "Life can throw you a ton of curveballs along the way," he said. "I didn't really know Aiden, but I'm sure that he would have wanted you to be happy in the end. And if this is the way to do that, he'd totally understand that you're moving on. And still, kinda keep with the plans you two made when it comes to kids." Sam slightly tilted his head to the side as he looked at Mercedes. "What kinda help?"

Mercedes chewed her bottom lip. "He was a lot like you if I'm honest. Not as funny; he couldn't do impressions to save his life." She glanced at Aiden. "I know he would; I'm just sad about it. His parents didn't accept me, and so they didn't accept Aiden, and he will miss out on knowing that half of his family, he deserves to have us here." She stopped talking, not wanting to make things awkward if Sam was just being nice and not really wanted to talk about him. "It's overwhelming trying to find a donor."

"So he was ruggedly handsome, got it," Sam joked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. "You know, it's their loss. Yeah, Aiden's missing out on knowing that part of his family, but they won't get to see what a great kid Aiden fathered. And they're missing out on getting to know their grandson. Maybe they'll come around one day when they realize what they are missing." Sam told Mercedes. "I bet it is. Especially if the donor wants to stay anonymous and they only let you know the basics."

"Oh, for sure!" She laughed. "So handsome." She sighed. "I know you are right, and I know that he is gonna ask, and eventually I will have to tell him the truth; it's just...sad." She looked at Sam, grateful that he let her talk about Aiden; it had been a while since she had been able to do that. She nodded. "All of them want to stay anonymous, which does suck, but at least Aiden won't wonder why the baby gets a dad, and he doesn't..."

As Sam listened to Mercedes, he couldn't help the confused look that washed over his face. "The baby gets a dad, and he doesn't...? That doesn't make any sense. Aiden has a dad, and he knows that. And the baby kinda will have a dad in the same way... I mean, the baby wouldn't know their dad, won't even have a picture of the dude. But, at least Aiden knows who his dad is and what he looked like."

Mercedes shook her head. "That came out wrong. I mean, if the donor wasn't anonymous and wanted to be in the baby's life, there is no way to guarantee that he would want to be in Aiden's life. And at this age, Aiden might wonder why the baby's dad is around, and his isn't. At least this way, all they know is me." She sighed. "I am sorry, I am just trying to make sense of all this, and I am afraid I am not making sense at all."

"Not really, no," Sam admitted, sounding as confused as he was feeling. "Do you want to know who the donor is, and you want them in not only the kid's life but also Aiden and yours, or do you want them to be anonymous? I think that's what you need to figure out first. And go from there. If you want to have a donor that is involved or at least one that you know, then go look for one that also wants that and wants to be in Aiden's life."

Mercedes watched the boys for a long moment, laughing and playing with Banner. "I can't be selfish, Sam. I am the one who wants this baby; I don't know any man who will gladly give me his sperm and want to not only be a father to our child but be one to Aiden, that would be like making this man have an instant family which isn't fair to him. It's not fair to want more than what I am supposed to get."

"So you want another kid, but you also want the whole family thing with the donor?" Sam asked. "You're not selfish; you just need to be clear upfront with whoever you end up asking. Because it sounds to me like you don't really want your donor to be an anonymous one."

She laughed. "I want the family, I want Aiden to have a dad, I want the new baby to have one, and I want a partner, so I don't have to do this alone." She looked at Sam seriously. "That being said, unless I find someone who wants to be with me, I am not gonna get the whole family vibe. Like this, this would be perfect." She gestured around the trail. "But it's not happening. So If all I can get out of this is a baby, then that is what I will take." She wanted more than anything for days like this, family walking together laughing; it would be easy to hold Sam's hand and pretend, but she wouldn't.

Sam scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, not sure how to react to all Mercedes just said. "I'm sure you'll meet someone that wants to be with you for all the right reasons one day, but yeah, that will take time. And if you really want a baby now, then a donor is your best option."

She sighed. "Yeah." She glanced at Aiden. "I may not be able to get everything I want, but I can do this. But you have to help me pick a donor; I could use the help."

"Who says you won't be able to get everything you want? Yeah, it will take time to find someone that wants to be with you and give you that family you so want, but in the end, that's the same for everybody that's looking for someone to spend their life with." Sam nodded. "I can totally do that. Set aside the ones that sound interesting to you, and I can look over whatever information you have about them."

She shrugged. "I am just not gonna focus on that. And focus on the things I am in control of. Looking for someone to spend your life with is too much a gamble." Especially when the only candidate in your life friend-zoned you. She thought to herself. She gave him a soft smile. "Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate that."

Sam looked at her, a frown on his face. "Never say never, love, find a way to sneak up on ya when you least expect it." He spotted the clearing he had in mind for their picnic and sharply whistled to get Banner's attention. "Break time," Sam called out to the boys. "So are you going for an anonymous donor, or do you have people in mind you might want to ask, so you at least know the person?"

She watched the boys running to keep up with Banner as they ran back to her and Sam. She didn't say anything because if it happened, great! If not, then she wouldn't get her hopes up. "I don't know. I mean, it's not like I can ask someone like you to be my baby daddy. That would make for an awkward conversation, and I would say we have had enough awkward times." Her mind went to when she tried to kiss him a few years back, and he firmly placed her in the friendzone.

"Why not? If you can't even ask one of your best friends something like that, who else would you ask. I'd need some time to seriously think about it and talk to Even and my folks if it ever came up because it's not a decision to take lightly tho." Especially since he hasn't even thought about having kids himself. Sam shrugged when Mercedes mentioned them having awkward times. He had a feeling that she meant the time when he friend-zoned her. Right when most people in town were convinced that they would end up together. Sam friend-zoned Mercedes because he couldn't give her what she wanted. He didn't feel the same as she did. "We managed to stay friends through it all, didn't we? And that's what matters most."

Mercedes spread out the blanket and sat down. "Sam, I wouldn't ask you that because I have never even heard you mention kids. Though you are great with them. I wouldn't ask you something this big and have you feel obligated to say yes." She sighed, wanting so much to push all her feelings for Sam away, but some lingered for sure. "Yeah, we remained friends, and I wouldn't want to lose that."

"Who says I'd feel obligated to say yes? I just told you that I would have to think about it and talk to my folks and Even about it before making any decision. So don't say I'd only say yes because I feel obligated to help out a friend." Sam sighed softly, letting his fingers run through his hair before he looked at Mercedes. "Look, this maybe isn't the time to talk about it; I mean, the boys are almost within hearing distance. If you want my help to find a suitable anonymous donor, I'm here for you. And it's up to you to make up your mind which of your friends you want to ask if you want the donor to be someone you know and who can maybe play a role in the baby's life. I think any of your friends would ask for time to think about things before agreeing to become your donor. It's not something you should rush into; that's all I'm saying. "

Mercedes nodded. "I know you better than that, Sam. I am just. I just wanted to get that out there. But you are right, how about we just table this, for now, you really have given me a lot to think about. And I do appreciate it." She watched as the boys came close. "For now, let's enjoy this beautiful day, which, thank you for doing this."

"If you really did know me better than that, then you'd know not to put words in my mouth or assume that I'd react one way or the other. You know I hate that." He gave her a slight smile. "No problem, it's my pleasure. I like spending time with you and Aiden and, of course, James as well."

She didn't look at him, sometimes she just said what she was thinking, it happened, but it was no point in dwelling on it. She nodded. "We like spending time with you and Banner, though pretty sure Banner is coming out on top right now."

"as usual, feeling the love," Sam chuckled as Banner sat in front of him. "I've got you, buddy," he said, opening one of Banner's backpacks and taking out some food and water for the dog. "It's a shame the weather is getting colder; else, we could do this more often."

Mercedes laughed, grabbing the wipes out for the boys to wipe their hands. "He's a dog, but trust when it's time to hear a story, they choose you." She nodded, looking around. "I know, but maybe there is some indoor thing we can do."

"We can always look into that climbing wall thing Billy is setting up," Sam suggested.

Mercedes smiled. "You know, Billy was saying he could set it up for Aiden's party; maybe we can check it out to see if it is something A and J like." She said, handing the boys their lunches. She reached in her bag and handed Sam his. "Made your favorite Sandwich and got your chips too."

"Yeah, we can do that.' Sam took the sandwich from Mercedes, setting it aside for a bit. "Thanks."

She looked at him. "Not hungry?"

"Uhh, oh no, I'll eat in a bit. Want something to drink first." Sam replied, digging up the bottle of water he brought with him.

She nodded, watching the boys laughing and whispering. She was glad James and Aiden got on so well; it would have sucked had they not. And it just made her want to give him some kind of sibling in the future.

Sam was actually enjoying the small hike and watching the boys play. It reminded him of the days where it was just Even and him running around all over their grandparent's farm. He finally took a bite from the sandwich. "This is good."

Mercedes offered him a small smile as she ate her own sandwich. "I know the boys are going to sleep very well tonight!"

"That's the outdoor air for ya; it totally has a relaxing effect," Sam told her. "Plus, by the time we're back, they'll have walked at least 3 miles. It's why I brought Banner along. If they get too tired, they can always climb on his back, and he'll walk them home."

She smiled. "I spent so much time on buses and in venues now I like to be outside as much as I can. Plus, it's a great way to keep Aiden entertained." At his words, she looked to Banner relaxing on the ground. "Thanks for that. I am sure at least one of them will need it."

"and that's why hiking would be a good hobby to have," Sam told her. He chuckled softly as his eyes took in Banner. "He loves helping; it's like in his DNA or something."

Mercedes smiled. Staring at the scene before her. This was what she wanted; she knew Sam just saw her as his friend. And she was okay with that on most days... But moments like these, she wished for more. Wished she could lean on him watching the boys talk and chat. Hold his hand. And that brought a look of sadness on her face for the briefest of moments.

#text #para #samcedes para #hiking fun

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thomothysdoodles · 4 years

Note

1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 17, 18, 20, 23, 26, 17, 28, 31, 32, 35, 37, 38, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67,, 68, 69, 70, 71, 73, 74, 75, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 98

I am so sorry, I literally have no idea what came over me

Wow Lulu you really said ‘let’s ask this bitch EVERYTHING’. I love it tho lmao. Since it’s long imma put it under the cut tho

4. How did your elementary school teachers describe you?

“A pleasure to have in class, a bit lost in their mind, if they committed and focused more they’d excell but they settle for good grades”

From elementary to high school lol

5. Do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

I like soda cans

6. Pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Somewhere between tomboy and grunge I think

8. Movies or tv shows?

Tv shows

9. Favorite smell in the summer?

Sunscreen and freshly baked bread

11. What do you have for breakfast on an average day?

A cup of milk with some cereal or biscuits. For the past month I’ve been following the keto diet tho, and I usually are some ricotta with peanut butter for breakfast

12. Name of your favorite playlist?

“Sad but vibing” lol

14. Favorite non chocolate candy?

Strawberry lollipops

17. Most frequently worn pair of shoes?

A black vans pair, I bought em in August but the left one already got a hole on the front 😤

18. Ideal weather?

Cloudy but not too windy or cold. I just don’t like the sunlight in my face

20. Preferred place to write?

On my phone’s notes app lol, I’ve got almost two thousand notes in here

23. Strange habits?

I hide stuff in my room with no apparent reason. I’ve got money stashed around my room in four different points lol

26. Favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Given the chance, I like to race with my bike to get some refreshing wind

27. Favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Cozy up in a blanket and watch some tv

28. Five songs to describe you.

Karma— AJR

Ultimately— Khai Dreams

Putting a spin on Slow Dancing in the Dark— egg

Mars— YungBlud

Gotta be a Reason— Alec Benjamin

31. What outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Black jeans, black sturdy boots, and a silly little hoodie lmao

32. Top five favorite vines?

‘DONT FUCK WITH ME, IVE GOT THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE— AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’

‘Let me see what you have!’ ‘A KNIFE!’ ‘NO!!!’

‘Hey bro, what do you wanna eat?’ (‘The souuuls of my enemies’) ‘A bagel’ (‘NOOO’) ‘..two bagels.’

FR E SH A VOCA DO

‘Two shots of vodka..’ *pours half a bottle of vodka*

35. Average time you fall asleep?

I am terrible at this. I love sleeping but I also love feeling ✨ unbothered ✨ doing whatever I want in the middle of the night. So, never before 3am usually

37. Suitcase or duffel bag?

Suitcase

38. Lemonade or tea?

Tea

40. Weirdest thing to happen at your school?

I dunno how weird it is, but I always found peculiar that there were cigarette butts on the ceiling of the bathrooms. Like, seven feet tall ceilings. How did those cigs get there??

41. Last person you texted?

My best friend to tell her that my sister found a way to let me watch supernatural on American Netflix >:3c

42. Jacket pockets or pant pockets?

Jacket pockets

43. Hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie and/or jean jacket

44. Favorite scent for soap?

I dunno. Talcum powder I think

45. Which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Superhero

46. Most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Tee and boxers. Sometimes socks too

48. If you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Umh. Clementines maybe. Easy to peel, sweet but also not, sometimes with seeds.. and some people loathe the little white stripes they have and they spend hours peeling those away

49. What saying or quote do you live by?

“Like any / unloved thing, I don’t know if I’m real /when I’m not being touched.” —Natalie Wee

50. What made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

My best friends always make me wheeze, it can be the stupidest dumbest thing ever, I’m really fucking easy to amuse lol

51. current stresses?

My driver license my driver license my driver license my driver license my driver license my d

52. Favorite font?

I have no idea. This one? Lol

53. What is the current state of your hands?

Good. I just cut my nails, I really wanna put some nail polish but my dad comes back home tomorrow and he always looks me weird when I put it

55. Favorite fairy tail?

The little mermaid

56. Favorite tradition?

A tradition I have with my friends is that when we celebrate someone’s birthday, we go to the thrift shop and buy them stupid stuff to wear or put on. On my birthday a couple days ago I had to wear playboy bunny ears and a black glittery bow tie lol. Once I bought my best friend a tiny pirate hat, and for another my friend took a boa with pink feathers lol

57. The 3 biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Mmmh

I’m having a hard time with my parents since I dropped out of uni but I think I’m starting to overcome it finally

When my parents were about to divorce and in was dreading the idea of moving from this city

That time in middle school I spent a couple weeks at the hospital to run a bunch of neurological tests

58. Four talents you’re proud having?

I’m pretty good at multitasking

It’s very difficult to enrage me (yes I consider it a talent)

I can juggle lol

I can read in moving cars/trains etc without getting sick :D

59. If you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“What the f—“

61. Favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/ etc?

“Happiness isn't in the having. It's just in the being. It's in just saying it.” Aka Castiel’s love confession (OF COURSE I WAS GONNA SAY SOMETHING DESTIEL RELATED)

62. Seven characters you relate to?

No specific order:

Dean Winchester

Eric Derekson

Jake Peralta

Doug Eiffel (👀)

Tony Stark

Klaus Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

63. Five songs that would play in your club?

Anything from P!ATD

Bang!— AJR

Natural— Imagine Dragons

Anything from Set It Off

Maniac— Conan Gray

64. Favorite website from your childhood?

I didn’t use computers in my childhood lol

66. Favorite flower(s)?

Fresias 💕

67. Good luck charms?

I used to keep in my pocket a little hazelnut my dad gave me once telling me that it was a good luck charm. I took it away tho. I dunno, maybe my rings

68. Worst flavor of any food of drink you’ve ever tried?

I have to admit I never tasted it, but the smell of truffle literally makes me gag, so that

69. A fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Apparently your love language is both the one you give AND want love, and also the one you most lacked growing up. So. Mull that over.

70. Left or right handed?

Rightie

71. Least favorite pattern?

Holey ones. Make my sight go double

74. At what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an Advil of ibuprofen?

A seven I guess. I usually try to sleep off anything I have, I hate to take medicines, and loathe to call the doctor lol

75. When did you lose your first tooth?

Around.. six I think?

85. Fairy tails or mythology?

Mythology forever

86. Cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies 🍪

87. Your greatest fear?

That the other shoe will drop and I’ll be alone and lonely

88. Your greatest wish?

To have enough stubbornness to do what I wish to do without getting demoralized so easily

90. Luckiest mistake?

Me and one of my best friends got to know each other through other common friends, and once they both couldn’t come and we ended up spending the day together. We had lots of fun, but we also got drunk and I lost my mcfreaking watch lmao

92. Lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Lamps

94. Favorite season?

Winter ❄️

95. Favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr! (And the music one. And the podcasts one. And— jk lol)

#ask thomothy personal stuff!#lulu chaos incarnation #not a doodle #I had to think long and hard for some of these questions

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nikki-writes-stuff · 5 years

Text

While You’re In the World - Part 2

Summary: The year is 1980, and when you come home to find a man on your doorstep, beaten and bloody and on the brink of dying, you patch him up and let him stay with you while he heals. But there’s something strange about this stranger with the metal arm, and it will take a while before either of you know who he really is.

Read Part One Here!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Hello! I hope you guys like this story! I suspect that there will be three parts to it, and I’m so excited about this story idea. Please please please let me know what you think!!!

The next few weeks were interesting, to say the least. You worked on your book, letting Bucky read passages of it to get his thoughts on what you’d written. He always had nice things to say, along with critiques or constructive criticism. Turns out, he knew a lot about what life back in the 40’s was like, so he would always help you correct continuity errors when they arose. Any time you asked him how he knew so much about that time period, he would frown and shrug, telling you that he didn’t know how. He just did.

You were quickly learning that Bucky wasn’t like other guys, and in more ways than were just obvious. It only took him four days to heal from the wounds that had very nearly killed him. You’d stared for a solid sixty seconds at the tanned, freshly-scarred skin of his abdomen, trying to process how it was possible.

“Bucky, you…you realize that this isn’t normal, right?” you’d asked. He’d arched an eyebrow at you while tugging his shirt back down, levelling you with a skeptical look.

“When have I ever given off an indication of being ‘normal’?” he’d snarked back.

That was another thing; the man was becoming more and more human with every passing day. He still hadn’t remembered anything other than his name and a blonde man from his past named Steve, but his personality was still shining through. You saw it in the way his eyebrows would bounce from something you said, or in the sarcastic tone of his voice when he would answer one of your probing questions.

“Why do you have a metal arm?” you’d finally questioned him one night over dinner. He hadn’t even stopped in his rhythm of moving his fork up to his mouth as he replied.

“Well it’s just so fashionable.”

He was always quiet in his joking, and he was always so surprised when you would laugh at his humor; it was as if he wasn’t even aware of his own teasing. But even if he didn’t know it, he was becoming more and more comfortable with showing you his true colors.

He was still incredibly timid about certain things, though, and still had an aura of sadness floating around him. You were desperate for him to smile; you tried to joke around with him, and while his face would always soften at your goofy comments, it was still never enough to pull him out of his stupor.

On the seventh day of him living with you, though, you marched over to the couch and stood over him, hands planted on your hips.

“I think you should get out of the house,” you stated. “You can’t just keep sitting on my couch all day long staring out the window.”

He frowned, straightening up.

“You… want me to leave?”

You faltered in your confidence, his nervousness taking you off guard.

“Bucky… No,” you assured him, sitting beside him. “No, I like having you here. It’s just that I don’t think it’s healthy for you to stay copped up inside all day. Maybe you could come with me to the grocery store? Or the library? I need to return a few books today; maybe going out will help to jog your memory.”

He considered it, chewing absentmindedly on his lip as he watched your cat twine around his ankles. He reached down with his metal hand and let Obi rub his face against it.

“…Ok,” he finally nodded. He seemed apprehensive about it, but you were over the moon. With a grin, you stood up, rushing to your bedroom.

“Great! I’m going to get changed; you go ahead and get ready, and I’ll meet you at the door in ten.”

You quickly changed into a yellow romper, pulling your hair back with a headband and sliding some gloss over your lips before waltzing back into the living room. You were just about to ask Bucky if he would like to get some lunch with you, but your words died on your tongue when you saw him standing in just the pair of gray jeans you’d bought for him at the thrift shop. He was sorting through the stack of t-shirts you’d gifted him, a long-sleeved blue shirt in one hand, a long-sleeved white one in the other.

He looked up, lips parting in surprise at seeing you standing there, and you thought you saw a blush rise over his cheeks as you stared at his naked torso. You’d noticed the scars before, sure, but you had no idea how you’d could have missed how muscular he was. His flesh arm was just as ripped as the metal one, and prominent abs popped out along his stomach. Just as your eyes started skirting over the scar along the line of where his metal arm met his shoulder, he turned away and pulled the white shirt on, hurrying to pull on the gloves he’d been wearing when you first found him.

You snapped out of it, feeling your cheeks heating up as you slung your purse over your shoulder.

“Um… Are you hungry? I thought we could stop for pizza on the way to the store,” you stammered. You saw Bucky nod out of the corner of you vision before bending over to slip on his boots.

“Sure.”

After he was done getting ready, the two of you set out. The metal stairs creaked and shook under Bucky’s weight as he walked down them behind you, and you gripped the railing with a white-knuckled grip.

“I really need to talk to the landlord about these stairs,” you mumbled.

When you emerged from the alleyway, you got about five steps down the sidewalk before realizing that your companion wasn’t next to you anymore. Turning around, you saw him squinting in the sunlight, taking in the busy street before him. Brown brick building rose up as far as the eye could see, with cars honking their horns and flying along the road.

“Bucky? You ok?”

He gulped and turned to you, a uncertain glimmer in his eyes.

“Where are we?”

You frowned at the question and shook your head, walking back over to him.

“Brooklyn,” you answered. “I thought you knew that. We’re in Brooklyn, New York.”

Once more, he looked around, taking in the neat row of shops across the street. He was quiet for a long moment, and just as you were about to say something, he turned to you once more.

“I know this place,” he murmured. “I remember it. I think… I think I grew up here.”

You blinked a few times before a grin stretched across your face.

“Bucky, this is fantastic! You’re starting to remember,” you exclaimed, setting your hand on his shoulder. You watched as a half-smile twisted his lips, and at least part of his nervousness seemed to dissipate under your enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I guess it is good,” he agreed.

“C’mon, maybe pizza will jog your memory,” you said, reaching down to grab his hand. “Any true New Yorker can never forget the pizza here.”

You tugged on him until he was following you again, and you found yourself reluctant to let go of him. You forced your hand to drop to your side after a few steps, though, and you told yourself to ignore the butterflies in your chest. He had enough on his plate without you shoving you schoolgirl crush on him.

The two of you walked together for a while, with you pointing out landmarks as you went, trying to jog his memory. All the while, Bucky watched you prattle on with that same puppy-dog look of confusion in his eyes, but he still smiled anytime you grinned up at him.

“Ok, we’re here!”

You jogged up the steps of your favorite pizzeria, opening the door for Bucky.

“Luigi’s Pizza might be my favorite place in the whole city,” you said, getting in line to order. “It’s been here since the 1930’s, and their recipe apparently hasn’t changed at all. They only sell five different kinds of pies, but each of them is delicious.”

Bucky nodded dutifully, and when it came time to order, he just muttered that he would get whatever you usually got. And so, five minutes later, the two of you were sitting on a bench outside the shop, a huge, greasy slice of pepperoni pizza on each of your paper plates with two cans of Coke resting against your leg.

You watched as Bucky folded the slice in half at the crust, and you smiled when he took a pensive bite out of it. You watched as his eyes widened at the taste, and you giggled as you did the same.

“Pretty great, huh?”

When Bucky didn’t answer, you just shrugged and kept eating, oblivious to the discovery Bucky was having beside you.

He was a teenager, maybe 13 or 14, and the blonde guy – Steve – was sitting at the table beside him. He was much smaller in this memory, almost sickly looking, but he still had the same smile on his face as he and Bucky took a slice each of the pizza pie in front of them.

“How’d you manage to afford all of this?” Steve asked, arching an eyebrow. “You didn’t steal outta your mom’s purse again, did you?”

“That was one time, punk,” he said, rolling his eyes. “If you gotta know, you remember that guy who was giving you trouble last week behind the schoolhouse?”

“…which one?”

“Johnson.”

“Oh, yeah. What about him?”

“Well after I beat him to kingdom come, a dollar bill slipped outta his jacket pocket, and I figured I would take it as payment for the lesson I taught him that day.”

“Oh, really? And what lesson was that?”

“To go pick on someone his own size. Now shut up and eat your pizza before it gets cold.”

Bucky shook his head as he came out of the memory, glancing over at you as you sat oblivious next to him.

“…Hey, can I ask you something?”

You glanced up, wiping some grease off of your chin as you looked up at him.

“Yeah, Bucky, what’s up?”

“…What year is it?”

You frowned, staring incredulously up at him.

“Are… Are you serious? How do you not know what year it is?”

He just ducked his head, taking another bite of his pizza as he stared at the ground in front of him. You set a hand on his shoulder, patting the metal a few times before opening your Coke.

“It’s 1980, hon. Why, what year did you think it was?”

The man beside you shrugged, already half through his pizza, and he didn’t answer you as he picked up his beverage. He fumbled with it for a second before he was able to open it like you had, and he lifted a curious eyebrow at the label before taking a cautious sip. He sputtered a little after his first sip, furrowing his eyebrows at the drink, as if it had personally offended him. You laughed and patted him on the back as he coughed, finishing off your own food before getting up to throw your trash away.

“What, have you never had a coke before?”

“It didn’t taste like this the last time I had one, let’s just say that.” He eyed the drink again before taking another sip, this time swallowing it without any incident. “…It’s not too bad, though.”

After Bucky was finished, the two of you got up again, walking a couple more blocks before you came to Brooklyn Grocery. Bucky looked weary of all the people coming in and out of the busy building, but you gave him an encouraging smile as you picked out a shopping cart and wheeled it over to him.

“You feel up to doing this, Buck?” you asked. “If it’s too much for you, you can wait outside while I get the shopping done.”

“No… No, it’s ok,” he assured you. “But thanks.”

Your shopping adventure was, for the most part, uneventful, with Bucky trailing you silently through the aisles. The only times he spoke up were when you asked him what he would want for dinner over the next few days.

“I can make us sloppy joes or tacos or pasta… Or-“

“Do you know how to make chicken a la king?”

The question came out of nowhere, but Bucky explained himself as you looked up at him curiously.

“I think… I think it used to be my favorite,” he said sheepishly. “If you don’t want to, it’s-“

“Oh, Bucky, no! I would love to,” you insisted. “I think my mom made it for me once… Let me just get the ingredients, ok?”

You smiled as you gathered everything you would need for the dish, feeling excited at Bucky’s returning memories. Whatever had happened to him, you could tell that he would never truly be the same. But with each new memory, each joke he made, each smile he sent your way, you were becoming more and more optimistic.

Once you had everything you needed, you went to go to the checkout line, but Bucky lingered in front of a display of cassette tapes. With a smile, you came over to him, your shoulder brushing against his as you looked at the various songs available.

“You wanna pick one out?”

“I don’t know much about music these days,” he sighed.

“That’s ok. Pick one out anyways; it’ll be a surprise when we listen to it at home.”

Bucky turned to you, giving you that same old half-smile before he reached out, picking a tape off of the top rack. Somebody to Love by Queen.

“You, sir, just picked one of the best songs ever to be written,” you praised. His smile grew as he set it into the shopping trolly, but he frowned after a moment.

“But it won’t be a surprise for you now,” he mused.

“Oh! Well then…” You put your hand over your eyes. “Pick another one out; I won’t look.”

You only removed your hand when you heard the plastic being dropped into your cart, and you shared a smile with Bucky before finally going to the checkout counter. A few minutes later, the two of you emerged, arms laden down with bags.

“Ok, so I think we should drop this off at the house before heading to the library,” you said as you started walking again. “Besides, it’s on the way to the library anyways.”

After the two of you went home, you started putting away the groceries while Bucky took the two new cassettes over to the radio. You heard the opening lines of Somebody to Love start to play as you popped the chicken into the fridge, and you sang along softly under your breath, trying to be quiet so Bucky wouldn’t be able to hear you.

When you turned around, though, Bucky was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, watching you intently. You felt your cheeks heat up under your gaze, and you abruptly stopped singing as you shoved the leftover grocery bags under the sink.

“Sorry about that,” you mumbled. “I hope my caterwauling didn’t ruin the song for you.” Bucky frowned and took a step closer to you, shaking his head.

“Of course you didn’t ruin it,” he assured you. “Your voice is… It’s nice.”

You saw a soft stain of red come over his cheeks, and you cleared your throat as you shifted on your feet.

“So… What do you think about Queen?” you asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Oh, they’re… they’re good. He has a nice voice.”

“God, I love Freddie Mercury. He’s so talented.”

The two of you were silent for another few seconds.

“Freddie Mercury is the guy who sings-“

“I kinda got that, yeah.”

You were quiet for another few seconds before you started laughing. At first, Bucky only grinned down at you, but before you knew it you could hear him chuckling, too. It was a rich, warm sound, and you knew immediately that you wanted to hear it every day going forward.

“Gosh… Okay,” you giggled. “Okay, we should go to the library now.”

He nodded and gestured for you to lead the way, and after grabbing your purse again, you led him out the door. The two of you were still smiling as you walked beside one another on the sidewalk, shoulders occasionally brushing against one another. In the distance, you could see dark clouds forming, but you didn’t mind the rain. You had plenty of time to get home before it started pouring.

It only took you guys five minutes to get to the library, and when you stood in the doorway, you breathed in the smell of books permeating the building. With a smile to the librarian, you dropped your due books into the return slot before turning to Bucky.

“So,” you said. “I’m going to go to the WWII section for some research material for my book. You’re welcome to come along, but if you want to check out the other parts of the library, that’s fine, too. Just meet me back at the front in fifteen-“

“I’ll stick with you.”

You smiled and nodded, leading him towards the historical non-fiction isles. You made a beeline to the section that covered the 1930s to the 1940s, browsing the titles for something that might help you.

Oblivious to you, Bucky was looking at the titles as well, eyes skirting over them, looking for something. He didn’t know what that something was; he didn’t even know why he seemed to feel so at-home when he thought about that time period. He just knew, deep inside of himself, that it was the key to remembering who he was.

His fingers brushed over the spines through his gloves, coming to a stop on a title that caught his eye. Feeling trepidatious, he slid the book out from the rest, scanning its title – Captain America: The Man, The Myth, The Legend.

“Captain America…” he breathed under his breath. Why did that sound so familiar?

You looked over upon hearing his voice, looking down at the book he was holding.

“Captain America, huh?” You smiled. “I always loved learning about him in school. I did a project on him, once. You know, come to think of it, I think his best friend was named Bucky, too.”

Bucky gulped, tentatively opening the book and skimming through its pages. In the center of the novel, the pages turned glossy, and he squinted at the black-and-white photos adorning their pages. The first page held a picture of a woman standing next to an old man wearing the uniform of a general, and beneath that was a photo of a shield with a star in its center.

He turned the page, feeling his mouth go dry at the next picture he saw. It was of Captain America and his Howling Commandos, standing side by side as they smiled at the camera. Bucky’s hands started shaking as he stared with it, and when you heard him drop the book to the ground, you saw him staring at the wall, pale as a ghost.

“Bucky? Bucky, are you ok?” He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, and you bent down to pick the book up. “What happened? Did you read something-“

You paused as you opened the book, flipping through to the glossy picture pages just as he had. You gasped when you turned to the same photo he’d been staring at, not believing what lay right before your eyes.

“Bucky…”

In the center of the photo was Captain America’s familiar face, but what drew your attention was the man directly to his right. He was grinning at the camera, his arm wrapped around Steve Rogers’ shoulders. His hair was neatly cut, and he was dressed in an army uniform, but you would recognize his face anywhere.

“Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes,” you read aloud, almost dropping the book yourself as you looked up at your companion.

He was staring at you, eyes darting all around your face, neither of you knowing what to say. You closed the book slowly, pressing it to your chest.

“Bucky…” you finally whispered. “The friend that you remembered, the one named Steve… It was him, wasn’t it? And you’re… You’re James Barnes.”

He slowly nodded, not believing the truth himself, and you heaved a sigh.

“This isn’t possible; how have you not aged-“

“I don’t know.” His voice was hoarse and thin. “I…don’t know. I just know that… that used to be me. I’m starting to remember before, when it was me and Steve. And I remember bits and pieces of after, of what I’ve…what I’ve done. But I can’t connect them…”

Your heart broke from hearing him sound so helpless, and you reached out to him without even realizing it, pulling him into a hug. Your arms wrapped tightly around his center, your head resting on his chest. The book was squeezed between your two bodies, but it didn’t bother you. You just needed to comfort Bucky; you needed to show him that he wasn’t alone.

After a few seconds, you were afraid that you’d overstepped, but just as you were about to pull away, you felt his arms slowly, tentatively, start to wrap around you. You couldn’t help the small smile that came across your lips as you held him. rubbing his shoulders softly.

“It’s going to be okay,” you whispered. “I promise. We’ll figure this out. I’ll help you.”

A stilted sigh slipped past his lips, and he squeezed you tighter. You felt his nose press against your hair, inhaling your scent as the two of you stood there. You didn’t know how long it was until you pulled away, but when you did, you thought you could see tears in Bucky’s eyes.

“I think we should check this book out,” you said, handing it to him. “Maybe we can read it together; it might help you remember. And once you remember, we can figure things out from there. Okay?”

Bucky nodded, looking right into your eyes. For a second, you couldn’t move, frozen by the look in those blue irises. No one had ever looked at you like that before, and it made your heart thump harder in your chest. You had to look away after a few seconds, forcing yourself to clear your throat and start walking to the librarian’s desk.

“C’mon, Buck. Let’s get this and head home.”

Once you were all done checking out, you stepped out onto the street only to find that those storm clouds you’d spotted earlier were now blanketing the sky. You could taste the approaching rain in the air, and you patted Bucky’s arm.

“Let’s hurry home; looks like it’s gonna start raining soon.”

He nodded and copied your brisk walk. Thunder rumbled in the distance as you rounded the first corner, and you groaned when you felt a raindrop plop onto the top of your head. Within minutes, it was pouring, and you and Bucky were sprinting the rest of the way home. He was fast; you had no doubt that he could have left you in the dust if he’d wanted to. But instead he kept pace with you, not even winded, whereas you were huffing and puffing by the time you turned into your alleyway. You could see the book under Bucky’s shirt; he’d shoved it under there to save it from the worst of the rain, and his hair was dripping wet by the time the two of you leapt past your doorway.

For a second, the two of you took in the other’s appearance; as he tossed the book onto the couch, you could see his muscles straining against his wet, white shirt, the lines of his metal arm now clearly visible. His hair was hanging down into his eyes, water dripping down the column of his throat, and you gulped at the sight. You knew that you couldn’t look much better yourself, and you were horrified when you looked down to see your nipples clearly visible through your thin bra and romper.

“I-I’m gonna change,” you stuttered. “And, uh… I’ll get us some towels.”

Feeling mortified, you all but ran to your bedroom, changing into the warmest pajama set you could find. After buttoning all of the shirt’s buttons, you grabbed two towels and walked out to find Bucky standing shirtless once again in your living room. You forced yourself not to stare, though, as you walked over and handed him a towel.

“Here you go, Bucky.”

He nodded his thanks and slipped on a navy blue shirt before starting to towel dry his hair. You plopped yourself down on the couch and did the same, smiling at Obi as he jumped up onto the sofa next to you. He meowed softly, and you gave him a few pets before leaning back against the cushions.

“Well… That was an eventful afternoon.”

Bucky chuckled, sinking down onto the seat next to yours.

“You can say that again.”

You were about to say something else, but a huge clap of thunder sounded outside, and not five seconds later the power went out, your window being the only remaining light source. You squinted in the dim grey of the room, making out Bucky’s face through the occasional strikes of lightning.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “Well… At least I have some candles. C’mon, help me light them.”

You rooted around the cabinet beneath your sink, pulling out a handful of candles and handing the lighter to Bucky. He followed you through your apartment, lighting them after you’d sit them down, and after about six candles, the space was illuminated enough.

“Well… Watching tv is out of the question this evening,” you sighed. Your eyes skirted to your boombox in the corner, and an idea sparked in your head. “Oh! I know what we can do.”

You ran into your bedroom, coming out with your old Walkman, and you retrieved the book from its spot on the couch before sitting next to Bucky again.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to the device.

“It’s a Walkman! Like a portable cassette player.” You untangled the headphones and twisted them around until the earmuffs were facing outward. You handed one end to Bucky and leaned your head close, pressing the other to your ear. “You hold it against your ear like this, ok?”

Bucky nodded, and you grinned as you went to pick up a few cassettes from their shelf next to the radio, making sure not to look at the mystery one Bucky had picked up from the grocery store.

“I think we should start off with the one you picked out,” you said, sitting beside him and popping it into the Walkman. You pressed your headphone to your ear before pressing play, smiling in delight when the familiar refrains of American Pie by Don McLean started to play.

“You have a knack for picking out songs, Buck,” you praised, and you thought you caught him grin from the corner of your eyes.

You picked the book up and positioned it to where it was open between you, its left side resting on your right leg, and vise versa against Bucky’s left.

“Just let me know when I can turn the page,” you said, opening it to the first page of the introduction, which had been written by none other than Howard Stark, the famous inventor and scientist.

The two of you bent your heads, starting to read together. Bucky would nudge your knee with his once he was ready for you to turn the page, and you quickly slipped into a rhythm with one another. Once American Pie was finished, you slipped Rocket Man into the player, and by the time the two of you were finished with the introduction, you’d made your way through Bridge Over Troubled Water and Rich Girl.

“Are you remembering anything else?” you asked him before turning to the first chapter.

“I think I can remember this Stark person… But I don’t remember him being nice,” he said carefully.

“What do you remember him being like?”

“An asshole.”

You laughed and nudged his shoulder, slipping Brown Eyed Girl into the Walkman. The two of you started to read the first chapter, which overviewed Steve Roger’s early life, and you winced the first time you saw his name appear in it. You chanced a glance over at him, but he didn’t look upset or sad. He just looked focused, a tiny crease resting between his eyes. You suddenly realized how close the two of you were sitting, and when he turned his head to look at you, your noses brushed.

Both of your eyes widened at the contact, and you quickly turned back to the book, blushing furiously as you kept reading about how Bucky and Steve had met as children. Steve had apparently always been sickly and frail, whereas Bucky had grown up strong. They’d met one day when a few bullies were pushing Steve around on the playground; he’d come to Steve’s rescue, beating the other kids away and helping his soon-to-be best friend up off the ground.

“You were a good kid,” you commented under your breath. You felt him shrug beside you.

“I just did what I thought was right,” he said. There was a hint of melancholy in his tone, and you looked up when you saw him pull the headphone away, leaning back against the couch.

“What’s wrong, Bucky?”

He sighed, looking over your face before pushing a hand aggravatedly through his hair.

“I’m not sure I want to remember who I was,” he murmured. “I… I know that I’ve hurt people. I don’t know how, but somehow I… I was forced to do bad things for bad people. I just… I can remember just enough to know that I’m not the good man I used to be.”

You closed the book and took his metal hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his. You looked down at the sight and smiled, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.

“Can you feel this?” you asked. He followed your gaze, and his fingers twitched against yours.

“I can feel the…the pressure, I guess,” he said. “I’ve never thought of it much. I think it’s a type of uh…muscle memory. I can feel phantom touches. But I can’t tell how soft something is… Or how warm or cold.”

His flesh hand reached over, and he ran a finger up the back of your hand, past your wrist and to the crook of your elbow. You felt goosebumps rise up in this touch’s wake, and you bit your lip at the sensation. You looked up to see Bucky focused on your face, his sadness evident in his eyes.

“Bucky… You said those people forced you to do those things, right? If you didn’t have a choice, then you’re just as much of a victim as the people they made you hurt.”

He shook his head, looking away, and you tilted his chin towards you, forcing him to keep your gaze.

“They hurt you, didn’t they, Buck?” Tears rose up in his eyes again, and he nodded. “You couldn’t even remember your name when I found you, hon. Whoever ‘they’ are, they took your identity, your humanity, from you. And right now, you don’t have to be here with me. You could have left as soon as you woke up the second day you were with me. But you didn’t – as soon as you recognized that you had a choice, you chose to do the right thing. You didn’t go back to them; you chose to live your life the way you want to live it.

“You could have hurt me if you wanted to, Bucky,” you said, squeezing his flesh hand. “But you didn’t. That proves that you’re still a good man.”

A tear slid down his cheek, and you brushed it away with your thumb. Bucky leaned his face into your touch, closing his eyes.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“You deserve everything the world has to offer,” you countered.

He opened his eyes, watching you as he brought his hand up to your face. You leaned your cheek against the cool metal, feeling your breath catch in your throat as he leaned closer to you.

His lips were soft against yours. The kiss was soft, just the faintest brush of skin against skin, but it electrified every single nerve ending inside of you. Before he could pull away, you were leaning into him again, pressing your lips harder against his. His stubble was rough against your palms, but you loved the feel of it, and your heart soared when you felt his lips start to move against yours.

Bucky let his muscle memory take over as he kissed you, relying on his instincts from a life long gone as he pulled you closer. He drank in your moan as he swiped his tongue along the seam of your lips, and when you opened for him, he nearly let out a moan of his own. He suppressed the moan, focusing instead on your taste; you were sweet like the cola you’d drank earlier, and he knew that he would forever be addicted to your kisses.

Your hands moved back to his hair as a hand on your lower back pulled you into his lap, and you tugged at his tresses as he maneuvered you to straddle his waist. Something hard pressed against your inner thigh, but you didn’t feel frightened or intimidated. You ground your pelvis down against it, delighting in the hiss it drew from his lips. Suddenly, though, you felt him tense up beneath your touch.

He whispered your name against your ear, his tone as reverent as a prayer as he pulled away. Blinking dazedly, you looked down at him, at his red, swollen lips still slick with your spit.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting back against his thighs. His hands were resting on your hips, rubbing circles against your sides with his thumbs.

“I… I’m afraid I’ll…” He huffed, setting his forehead on your shoulder. “I don’t wanna hurt you, doll.”

You preened at his pet name and craned your neck to press a kiss to the side of his head.

“You won’t hurt me, Bucky,” you promised. “But we can take this slow if you want.”

When he lifted his head up, you pressed a soft peck to his lips, hugging around his neck. Above you, the lights flickered once, then twice before turning on again. You grinned and turned to him, playing with his hair as the power came back on.

“I trust you, Bucky,” you breathed. “I promise you won’t hurt me.”

The two of you sat there long into the night, holding one another tightly before the both of you trudged to your bed. You convinced him to wrap his arms around you as you fell asleep, whispering that it would be ok, that you wanted him there with you.

His touch slowly became more confident, and you fell asleep with him clinging to you tightly. You drifted off with a smile, surrounded by his warm embrace, completely unaware of what was to come.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #captain america #bucky barnes imagine #1980 #fluff

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

Text

Monday 6 August 1838

7 25

some minutes with A- till 8 – fine morning but brouillard low on mountains again – F69 ½° at 9 had Charles and Pierre – then chasseurs guides say that the prince de la Moscawa has engaged Cassos the Gèdre Vignemale guide to go to the top of that mountain on Thursday (the prince to sleep at Gavarnie on Wednesday night) be the weather fine or not – my 2 guides have hope that the weather will improve – at last fixed to go this afternoon – to leave here at 3 pm for the cabane – all 3 mounted and take Charles’ brother-in-law to bring back the horses and bring A- and then to meet us at Bouchero at 4pm on Wednesday – Breakfast at 9 ¼ to 11 A- read aloud the paper – strawberries, raspberries, and figs the 2 latter 1st time at breakfast and figs the 1st time of tasting them here – A- wrote copy of letter to Mr. SW. and I wrote on the 1st half of p. 1 of the sheet she is to write on, as follows –

‘Monday 6 August 1838. Pay to Mr. Samuel Washington a order two hundred pounds A. Lister

to the manager of the Yorkshire District Bank at Halifax

St. Sauveur. Hautes Pyrénées. France. Monday 6 August 1838.

Sir,

I send you as above, an order on the Yorkshire District Bank for two hundred pounds – you were right to pay William Mallinson whatever balance might be due to him, as I told him his bill should be paid out of the rent – Do what you think best about paying the small bills due to Messrs. Barber, Firth, and Keighley – as Mr. Greenwoods’ bill for papering at Northgate was not sent in when I left home, I do not know what is due to him on this account; but as he has chosen to begin paying himself out of his rent, I shall determine, on my return home, whether to let him go on doing so, or not – I am tired of laying out money on the Stump-cross Inn – but Mr. Harper may have a shade – I will have nothing to do with the new brewing pan –I was not prepared for being called upon to raise the brew house, which I therefore beg to decline for the present, whatever I may do hereafter – you had best see what the town will do for William Green – when he has done his own money, [?] him have half a crown a week till my return – I am, sir, etc. etc. A. Lister’

then wrote as under to ‘Mr. Mackean, Yorkshire District Bank, Halifax, Yorkshire, Angleterre’

‘St. Sauveur. Hautes Pyrénées. France. Monday 6 August 1838. Sir – I received your letter of the 7th ultimo on the 16th ultimo – you would receive on the 10th ultimo one hundred and sixty pounds on my account – I shall be at home, and will settle my account before Christmas – In the meantime, I shall be obliged to you to honour Mr. S. Washington’s drafts on my account to the amount of two hundred pounds – I am, sir, etc. etc. A. Lister’ – leave these two letters with A- to go by tonights’ post – had just written them, and so far of today besides listening to A-‘s letters (she is writing to her sister) till now 1 5 pm – did up my things – take my tartan cloak my Charles cape and jacket – and in my travelling bag a night chemise and one day ditto 1 pair large grey woollen stockings and 100fr. tied up and put in one of the stockings and 2 pair gloves and 1 pocket handkerchief and tooth brush, soap, comb, needle and thread, and stiletto all on one parcel tied up in a sheet of large whitey brown paper and then in a towel – and also in my bag 1 pair shoes and gaiters – nothing else but what I have on – my merinos gown and 2 white petticoats etc. pair of new strong St. Sauveur shoes, cotton socks and spun silk black stockings legs – a night cap in my pocket and pair of socks and pocket handkerchief and one silk handkerchief in my breast and ½ silk ditto and a sheet of paper in my hat – just written so far at 2 55 when the horses came – off at 3 35 – Charles and Pierre and I all mounted – at the Pont de Sia at 4 ¼ - at the pont de [Douroncate] in 20 minutes more at 4 35 – had passed the bridge and was out of Gèdre at 5 20 – sent the guides on before and alighted for a minute at 5 55 in the chaos and at the Inn at Gavarnie at 6 ½ I did not alight but waited ¼ hour at the door while Charles borrowed 2 pair crampons at 1/. per day each and 2 bâtons ferrés at 1/. each per day, the wife of Cazos [Cassos] having unexpectedly told Charles in passing thro’ Gèdre to provide us with these articles – How is this? Cazos declared on the Piméné and since we had neither glacier nor snow to pass – Charles had luckily bought a light baton ferré for me thinking it might help me and A- had persisted in my having my crampons (these I got for Mt. Perdu in 1830) with me, I nothing loth – off from Gavarnie at 6 ¾ - toujours brouillard, but otherwise fine – at the cabane de Saoussats Dabattes at 8 5 – Cazos and Charles’ brother-in-law had arrived at the cabane just before us, having come direct from Gèdre – we had just got a glimpse of them on the other side the gave as we rode along – our provisions that we had brought were [mine] a lbs. roll put with my little bundle in the sack de nuit bought in Paris for our night things – 2 biscuits in the breast of my dress, 2 hardboiled eggs in Charles’ waistcoat pocket, and my small Swiss Chamouni [Chamonix] guide full of brandy slung over Charles’ shoulder – the guides’ provisions lbs. bread (white like mine) ./70 a leather bottle of white wine ./70 for the bergers to drink of as Charles said and lb, fromàge ./40 and this I had added a bottle 3/. of the best eau-de-vie (the same as that I had for myself) our pharmacien had in his shop – I had in my little bundle 1 chemise and 1 night ditto and 1 pocket handkerchief, and 2 pair gloves, and 1 pair large grey woollen stockings in the foot of one of which a small parcel containing 100/. in five franc pieces, besides which I had about 50/. in my pocket – and I had also 1 pair lightish shoes and gaiters in the sac de nuit which was done up with my Charles jacket in my Charles cape and strapped on my horse behind me – my Maclean tartan cloak tied up and hung on my saddle crutch, or on my back, or carried for and with me everywhere – I was dressed as I have been ever since my arrival here – for riding – and as I was when I ascended the Mt. Perdu – flannel waistcoat and drawers and light small merinos loose sleeves (as for the last 20 years) chemise, stays, short cambric muslin under petticoat – ditto ditto upper ditto over which striped jaconot waist with high collar and long sleeves – broad hammed 3 frilled muslin ficher – and over this double muslin handkerchief and double dark silk ditto and then my black merinos dress lightly ouattée [ouatée] and doublée de persienne, and besides, loose white cambric muslin sleeves sewed into the sleeves of the dress for cleanliness – as usual – and a double lined with persienne pelerine to the dress, and crossed over my chest a light black china crape shawl – I had had (as on going to Mt. P-) tape loops put round the bottom of my dress and string at the top, and just before setting off, had my dress tied up all round me to just about or above the knee – I wore white cotton socks and black spun silk legs with tape straps, and strong leather ¼ boot shoes with nails in (made here for the purpose) and black satin gaiters – I had my white cotton night cap in my pocket and my claps-knive of London 1826 – I had in my breast pockets a pair of cotton socks, a whole black twilled silk handkerchief, and ½ a light coloured foulard (the one I went to the top of Ben nevis in 1828) and Charpentiers’ map of the Pyrenees, and my little note rough book containing my passport – yet I was lighter equipped and my heart was light but for the thought that I had left poor A- dull and perhaps anxious about me for my own and what I was going to attempt – she thought perhaps that I had not been free from biliousness and vertiges for many days, and perhaps she fidgeted about me – but Charles’ brother-in-law is to be back with the horses and see her tomorrow evening and bring her to meet me at Bouchero on Wednesday – the vale d’Ossōnne a fine savage valley – but latterly too dark for me to know much or see much of what I was passing – we had scarcely entered the cabane before the fire was made and pâte set on – it might be about an hour before all huddled in round the pâte-pan – ten of us 5 bergers and our 5 selves including Cazos and Charles’ brother-in-law – I declined assisting at the pâte but ate 1/3 of my roll and drunk a little cold new milk and then lay down about ½ hour before the rest – I lay in my tartan cloak and wrapped in my cape upon a couple of the bergers’ capes and my Charles jacket stuffed between me and the big granite-stone forming the far end of the cabane – my sack de nuit

SH:7/ML/E/21/0161

was my pillow aided by one of the bergers goat-skins bags in which they keep their cloche and provision of bread and meal (bled du turquie meal for pâte) – not comfortable enough to cheat one into sleep – it might be about 10 when all were lain down in 2 rows – head to foot – so crowded no room to stir – cabane hardly 5 yards by 2 – awoke at 11 50 – lighted candle and looked at my watch – I should have been glad to be off – but Cazos said il faisait trop nuit

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justanalto · 4 years

Text

i was tagged by the wonderfully sweet @besidemethewholedamntime -- thank you so much!! <3 <3 <3

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?

I have a wet brush that’s bright blue, but I also have a hairbrush that’s red!

2. Name a food you never eat

uhhhh...olives, but only when they’re on their own.

3. Are you typical too warm or too cold?

I’m always too cold. always, always, always. my fingers are currently freezing and so are my toes. I think it’s because there’s a loose draft in my room here somewhere, TBH.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

roses are red // 45 minutes ago // i was writing poetry // and answering all my asks in a row

i’ve been sending people asks in poetry form and they’ve been responding, LOL -- so there’s been a lot of poetry brain going on!

5. What’s your favorite candy bar?

either a nice dark chocolate bar or a green tea kit kat bar!

6. Have you ever been to professional sports event?

I’ve been to a few professional baseball games! gotta get out there and have some mass sports pride. one of these days, my american football team will be good again and I will get those tickets.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud?

some half-hearted mumble-harmonizing to pentatonix’s be my eyes, so something along those lyrics!

8. What is your favorite ice cream?

either black raspberry (s/o to campus!!) or mint chocolate chip :)

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

a couple of sips of water, hehe

10. Do you like your wallet?

I do! It’s the first “grown-up” wallet I feel like I’ve ever had -- I bought it from camden market last year when I was in london, and it’s a nice pine shade of green and made of cork. unfortunately, because i bought it in london, it also means that it doesn’t hold american currency quite as well, but it’s okay, i make do, LOL!

11. What is the last thing you ate?

my dad made spaghetti bolognese and I ate that with a hecking ton of bread. it was fantastic :)

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

unfortunately, no :( i can’t remember the last time I bought new clothes. maybe january? february? before the pandemic started.

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched?

I think...I know it was definitely a pats game, and I’m pretty sure we lost, so it’s somewhere along the lines of pats v. ravens, I think

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

extra buttery, even though it would probably murder me :’)

15. Who is the last person you send text message to?

@aleksandrachaev, and it was two thumbs-up emojis, LOL.

16. Ever been camping?

I have! I went a long time ago, like nine years ago long ago, I think somewhere out west? I slept on an air mattress, went to an outdoor bathroom, all that fun jazz! and the bug bites, LOL.

17. Do you take vitamins?

my mom: so you’ve got the probiotic, the vitamin c and the biotin...

18. Do you regularly attend a place of workship?

I don’t -- my dad used to go to church regularly, but other than that, I’ve never been to church and we’ve never been as a family.

19. Do you have a tan?

i don’t know how this happened but I literally still have shorts tan from like, august. it is the middle of november, someone tell me how I got here. a couple of years ago, I burnt so badly on a trip to LA I was still seeing the tan months later, LOL. and most of the time, I have some fair flip-flop tan!

20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza?

chinese, because pizza has the ability to murder me

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw?

it it’s a takeout cup, then odds are good i’m drinking it through a straw, but other than that nope :)

22. What color socks you usually wear?

white or grey, I think? i have some funky colored ones but i’m trying to change that

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

i’m having flashbacks to a conversation I had with a friend who laughed at me for going five miles above the speed limit -- yes, I do, but only the allowed five miles above the speed limit and none more

24. What terrifies you?

oh, no, you don’t want to ask me that, we’d be here all day...being abandoned, I guess? being left by the people I care about, becoming too attached to people because they can leave and hurt me, spiders, heights, the pandemic, being hated, being alone...my own emotions, sometimes.

25. Look to your left, what do you see?

my tubby nugget! he smiles at me, and I feel a lil better :)

26. What chore do you hate the most?

i literally could not tell you how much I hate cleaning the grout in our bathroom tile. it is a CHORE.

27. What do you think when you hear Australian accent?

the hemsworth brothers, but also someone I met abroad who was from perth and had the same name as me, LOL

28. Whats your favorite soda?

ginger ale!

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit drive through?

depends on where I’m hitting, tbh -- if i’m in a hurry, we’re going straight through the drive-thru. but if it’s an event, then we’ll go in! have a fun time. sit for a while and talk.

30. What’s your favorite number?

i don’t think I have one, actually?

31. Who’s the last person you talked to?

my dad, I’m pretty sure -- we talked about pandemic unemployment assistance :)

32. Favorite meal?

sushi, or whenever my mom makes steamed chicken. (i’m realizing it’s been so long since I’ve had that chicken and now I’m sad)

33. Last song you listed to?

for real by lana condor

34. Last book you read?

confucius jane by katie lynch, just to see if the lesbians stood up to the pedestal i’d put them on -- and hell yeah, they did!

35. Favorite day of the week?

right now, thursdays, because thursday is grey’s day!

36. Can you say alphabet backwards?

probably, if you gave me enough time to think about it

37. How do you like your coffee?

like i like my men -- from afar, some of them are pretty, but do I actually like them? no

38. Favorite pair of shoes?

either my gray ankle boots I got a couple of years ago or my ‘gay lesbian snow boots’ that I use when it’s snowing something awful out, LOL!

39. Time you normally get up?

i’m supposed to be up at 8 am, but I’m usually up anywhere between 9 and 10am. I...need to change that, LOL.

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunset?

i love both! but I like sunset because I’ve never specifically woken up to see the sunrise, i’ve only seen it out of coincidence because I pulled an all nighter to do work

41. How many blankets on your bed?

three, at the moment -- a costco blanket, my college blanket and a five-below blanket

42. Describe your kitchen plates.

white with a floral border

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment.

it’s lived-in -- we have a side table that’s always at the risk of a collapsing, a power strip that runs a kettle, microwave and toaster oven (you can never run two of them at once otherwise the strip shuts off), kitchen mats that will never get rid of their crumbs and a healthy, healthy pantry!

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

either pink moscato wine or a rekorderlig cider!

45. Do you play cards?

i used to a lot, when I was younger! when I got older I stopped finding people to be able to play them with, unfortunately.

46. What color is your car?

silver! (even though I share it with my sister)

47. Can you change a tire?

no, but I’d definitely like to learn :)

48. Your favorite state or province?

new york or california, honestly. probably california. it’s the place I’ve felt the most free :)

49. Favorite job you’ve had?

i’ve had a lot of internships but not a lot of jobs, but I’d probably have to say it was the one I had at dunks -- so many funny things and stories came out of it, and now I have enough barista experience to power my coffee shop fics for a lifetime!

tagging: @agentmmayy @nazezdha321 @sadtunes @a-biochemist-not-a-bird @browneyedgenius @daisylincs @aleksandrachaev @missinglittlebritishfriend @hannahxowen @genderfluid-and-confuzled and anyone else that I missed -- you’re it!! (i’m truly sorry if I forgot you, I haven’t slept a lot in the last couple of nights fhdskjfhs)

#tag things #rebecca #besidemethewholedamntime

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kholran · 4 years

Text

Tagged by @vishcount Thank you for being such a reliable tagger. Fun fact, I love tag games.

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? Blue and black.

2. Name a food you never eat. I am SO picky so there’s a lot. A lot is texture-based. I’m not a big fan of foods that mix textures, like things with crusts that have gooey insides, or crunchy things inside creamy things.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? Too cold. I have been known to wear hoodies inside my house in the middle of summer because the AC is too cold.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Getting ready to eat dinner.

5. What’s your favorite candy bar? We have a local company called Sarris that makes such good chocolate. Either plain milk, or caramel.

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? A few. Never football, but I have been to Penguins hockey games and Pirates baseball games. Not often though, I’m really not a sports person.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? “Puppers what are you doing?” because my dog was getting into things.

8. What is your favourite ice cream? Mint chocolate. You can pry it out of my cold dead hands.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Cherry Pepsi

10. Do you like your wallet? I don’t have a wallet anymore. I just cram my cards and a bit of cash into a small purse. Which I do like, because it’s cat shaped.

11. What is the last thing you ate? Just finished dinner. A steak gyro with cheese and onion, fries, and a mandarin orange.

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No. I haven’t bought new clothes in a while.

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? Voluntarily? The Preakness Stakes, I think. My dad always has some sportsball or another on TV but I don’t pay much attention to it.

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Extra butter.

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? My boss, trying to figure out when her Covid quarantine was up so I could go back to work.

16. Ever been camping? Once. And never again. I like wi-fi and indoor plumbing too much. Also I got horribly sunburned on a canoe trip from hell, and a raccoon tried to break into the tent on the first night.

17. Do you take vitamins? Yes. Gummy ones.

18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? No, not since I was a kid.

19. Do you have a tan? Ahaha no. I have two modes: Ghost and Lobster. There is no in between.

20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza? Chinese.

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? Yes. I have a reusable one, and not having a straw feels weird now.

22. What color socks do you usually wear? All colours. My socks are all the fun kind. I have enough Halloween socks for the entire month of October.

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Are you a cop? You have to tell me if you’re a cop. But yes. Usually 5-10 over, unless flow of traffic is going a lot faster, and then I keep up with that so I don’t get rear-ended by a speeding truck on the highway.

24. What terrifies you? Abandonment. lol hi there childhood issues.

25. Look to your left, what do you see? My phone and a lamp.

26. What chore do you hate most? Dusting.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? David Berry.

28. What’s your favorite soda? Cherry Pepsi/Coke.

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Usually the drive-thru but it gives me anxiety that I’m going to hit something.

30. What’s your favorite number? 3?

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? My parents. Or @vishcount, if we’re counting online chatting.

32. Favorite meat? Steak, I guess.

33. Last song you listened to? Spotify says September by Daughtry. I almost always have music on in the background and I don’t always pay attention to it.

34. Last book you read? I’m in the process of reading Mo Du (Silent Reading) and I am SO INTO IT you guys. It’s so good. If anyone out there is into crime drama with a mlm protagonist, go read it.

35. Favorite day of the week? Monday, oddly enough. It’s the one day of the week I consistently have a day off.

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? I have to think about it really hard.

37. How do you like your coffee? Black. No decaf, we die of caffeine overdoses like adults.

38. Favorite pair of shoes? I’m getting a pair of Doc Martens with rainbow laces for Christmas but since I don’t have those yet, I can’t say they’re my faves. I guess I’ll go with my...work boots? Because I don’t often wear shoes other than at work.

39. Time you normally get up? Ahaha...haha...ha. Like 1pm at the earliest. Look, I’m nocturnal, let me have my inhuman sleep schedule.

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunsets. Like all the photos on my phone that aren’t my horses or my cats or my dog or my fish are of sunsets.

41. How many blankets on your bed? I sleep under three (fleece blanket, quilt, comforter) but I have two other fuzzy soft blankets folded up for the cats.

42. Describe your kitchen plates. Fiesta-ware in multi colours.

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment. A bit chaotic but I can find stuff?

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I can stomach Captain Morgan and Coke but I rarely drink. I’m extra sensitive to most alcohol and all of it tastes like paint thinner to me.

45. Do you play cards? Not regularly, but I know how.

46. What color is your car? Dark grey.

47. Can you change a tire? Maybe if I had a Youtube tutorial to follow.

48. Your favorite state or province? I like North Carolina a lot. I have family down there, in the mountains. And it has beaches too, so that’s cool. The conservative-leaning politics suck though.

49. Favorite job you’ve had? Probably the one I have now- working on a horse farm. Anything with animals is better than working in a cube though. Wow ok so that was pretty long. So I’ll just leave an open “Tag yourself” invitation. Please do it if you want!

#mine #things i'm tagged in #about me

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (36/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Whaaaat? Two chapters in two days? What kind of alternate universe are we living in?? 😉 This is totally to make up for the last few chapters taking forever even though they’re literally just sitting on my computer!

Thanks to @imagnifika for her awesome art, @resident-of-storybrooke for reading these words and so many other words of mine (it’s a lot), and to @wellhellotragic who prompted me with the idea that inspired this whole thing all the way back in June!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35| 36 |

-/-

Killian fucking hates Boston.

It’s a great city full of good food, and in another lifetime, he’d mostly likely enjoy living here. Right now, the air is crisp with the scent of fall, and trees are in the middle of losing their leaves, the ones remaining a myriad of oranges and reds that remind Killian of sitting in a park in Cincinnati with his mother raking up leaves and then jumping into the piles before cleaning them up for the city. He had to have been four or five then, but that’s one of the first memories that he has. Looking out the window of his hotel room to a park that looks almost identical reminds him of that.

He should be happy, more than happy really, but when you’re trying to get to the World Series next week and are currently tied 2-2 in the AL Championship Series against the Red Sox on the way to getting there, happiness isn’t exactly the most common feeling.

And they’re playing in Boston tonight, and despite the fact that they won last night, beating both the team and the deafening roar of the crowd, Killian is not entirely convinced that they’re going to win again tonight. They could still come back from it by winning the next two games at home, but he’d really rather win here and then win the sixth game at home when he’s pitching and not have to deal with the nastiness of going to a seventh and deciding game.

Who in the hell wants to play sports for a living? It’s too damn stressful.

Losing won’t kill him, not at all. The fact that he’s having the season he’s having, especially with all of the ups and downs and lay-offs, is incredible and a full-credit to his team. But he got the taste of being the last team standing last year, and he wants it back.

Some players never get their hands on the trophy, and Killian is greedy enough to want it twice both for himself, his teammates, and his family.

And Emma. He wants it for Emma.

So, Killian really hates Boston and the fact that they keep putting them in close situations like this. Close games are often the best ones, the ones that have everyone on the edge of their seat, but Killian would kill for an easy night.

“The city isn’t going to implode just because you’re staring out at it with evil in your eyes.”

“One can hope though.”

“That’s entirely sadistic.”

He huffs and turns from the window to look at where Emma is sitting in bed (they’ve stopped bothering to get different hotel rooms now) with her knees pulled up so that she can rest her laptop there. He woke up this morning to her typing away. Apparently, she didn’t finish her work last night, so she had to wake up early this morning to send in a report before the deadline. Walsh’s firing has ended up having Emma needing to write more on top of her regular work, and even though she says she doesn’t mind – “I like writing,” she keeps saying – he knows that it’s kind of a kick in the teeth for her to have to do some of Walsh’s work.

The man is never fully going to go away, obviously. He and Brennan are like a bug that won’t die no matter how much you squash it.

“Are you almost finished with your report, love?”

“Yep,” she says. “I’m finished with it and have moved onto doing my prep work for today’s game as well as a little bit of online shopping because there are these boots that I really want but can’t decide if I’m going to buy.”

“That’s the hardest decision you’ve ever made.”

“Says the man who spends hours trying to decide which identical blue button-down shirt he wants to buy to ‘update’ his wardrobe.”

Killian scoffs and walks forward to flop down on the bed next to her, shaking the mattress with his movement, until he’s flipping over on his back and spreading out so that he takes up most of the space. Emma always hates when he does that.

“My clothes may not be as varied as yours, my darling, but it does take effort to look as good as I do on a regular basis.”

He turns his head to the side to look at her, a smile on his face, and she simply rakes her eyes up and down his body, very obviously perusing him. “You are currently wearing a pair of sweatpants that have a hole in the ass and a hoodie that I’m pretty sure has a permanent stain from some kind of baking accident. Your fashion sense is amazing.”

“You are literally in a pair of pajama pants with Snoopy’s face on them.”

“You wear the same two uniforms all the time.”

“Sometimes we wear the black ones.”

Emma hums. “Those are my favorite. I’ll stop making fun of you for things if you can convince the owners to let you guys wear the all black uniforms more often.”

“You were particularly fond of those on Players’ Weekend.”

“I’m a fan of a man in all black.”

Killian shifts on the mattress, propping himself up on the pillows until he’s mostly resting against the headboard. He can see Emma’s computer screen now, half of it covered with statistics and the other covered with Nordstrom’s website and a pair of boots. If there’s one thing Emma will splurge on, it’s boots.

“Buy the boots, Swan. Live a little bit.”

Emma arches a brow. “Am I made of money?”

“No,” he sighs, leaning over to kiss her shoulder. “That would be very convenient if you were. I’d never work again.”

“If you’re living off of my salary, you’re screwed because I’m definitely going to buy these super expensive boots. I think they would look really cute with the black suede skirt.”

“Ah, yes, I know the one,” he says sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, half-heartedly reaching over to slap his shoulder. “You do! I wore it when we went to dinner last week, and your eyes practically fell out of your head.”

Killian tries to think of what Emma wore last week, his mind blanking on everything at the moment, but then he’s brought back to a memory of the two of them going to eat at Palma on Cornelia Street last week. She’d looked gorgeous that night, her legs going on for miles aided by the heels, and they’d been late for their reservation because the street one block over was Jones Street and Emma insisted that he take a picture underneath the sign for her to send to Liam and Elsa.

He had not been amused, but in his defense, he really wanted to eat.

“Hmm, I think I do recall that one now that I think about it. You should definitely get those boots to wear with that.”

“I didn’t need your permission, but thank you for the approval. Do we need to be getting ready to go have breakfast with everyone?”

“I’m pretty sure breakfast is over down in the lobby.”

“No,” Emma sighs, clicking a few buttons on her laptop until he sees that she did indeed buy the boots. “We’re meeting everyone for breakfast at the café at the end of the block at ten.”

Killian groans and throws his arm over his eyes like the dramatic ass that he is. “That means I have to get dressed.”

“Well, I would prefer it that way. Your pants show off what you’ve got going on in both the front and the back, and I think you might get arrested for public indecency. That’d put a damper in the whole trying to get to the World Series thing.”

“Would you bail me out?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders and closes her laptop. “Eh, maybe. I might not have the money with the boots I just bought.”

-/-

They win that night.

It’s close, far closer than Killian would like watching from the sidelines, and he chews more gum than he thinks he’s ever chewed during a game. Rum would be preferable, but that’s not exactly the best solution when he’s got two nights until he’s got to pitch in the game that could bring them to the World Series.

Al really has far too much confidence in Killian for putting him in position in the line-up.

-/-

Killian fucking loves New York.

Sure, it’s hot and crowded and sometimes smells absolutely horrendous, but he loves it. He’s lived here for seven years, had his family live here for more than that, and he can’t imagine having to ever live anywhere else.

This is his home.

For awhile, he didn’t have one, not really. Everything changed when his mom died, the house feeling far emptier than any lived-in house should feel, and it only continued to empty as the years went on and Brennan became more and more of a distant figure. And as much as Killian loved Vanderbilt, that was simply a temporary home.

Manhattan? This is home.

One day he may like to move a little outside of the city to a place with a big yard and less traffic, but right now, everything he loves is here.

Everyone.

“Uncle Killian,” Lucy whispers, tugging on the hem of his shirt, “is it time to eat dinner yet?”

“Not quite yet, Luce. We can go ask Anna about it, though, yeah?”

He bends down and picks Lucy up, resting her on his hip while she wraps her arms around his neck so that she doesn’t fall. He’s picked her up thousands of times, had her little head nestled onto his shoulder twice that many times, but there’s something peaceful about it now as they stand in one of the sitting rooms at Liam’s house looking out onto the street in front of them as cars occasionally pass by and the leaves keep falling from the few trees that line the street.

They got in from Boston this morning, immediately went to practice, and then most everyone came to Liam and Elsa’s house for dinner as some kind of pre-game Friday night dinner to get everyone’s minds off of things.

There are more people in this townhome than it has seen in years, and he doesn’t think anyone is complaining.

Killian is a little bit, if only because his mind is very much focused on tomorrow and not screwing up to let everyone he loves down, and that’s why he’d walked away from the crowd in the kitchen and living room and wandered upstairs to the sitting room that no one ever wanders into.

Except for Lucy apparently.

Kids seem to foil all kinds of plans, and Lucy is not going to be having a fun day tomorrow since she’s most definitely up far past her bedtime.

He is officially an old man.

“What are we eating?”

“I think it’s lasagna. You know, like big spaghetti all moved together.”

“I know what lasagogona is.”

Wow, that was a butchering of the word lasagna if he’s ever heard it.

“You certainly don’t know how to pronounce it.”

Lucy scoffs, like she has never been so offended in her very short life, but she doesn’t say anything else as he walks down the staircase with the wood boards groaning beneath him. Immediately, he’s bombarded by people. Will, Belle, and Elsa are sitting on the ground with diagrams of seating charts spread out between them. Killian would have at least twenty-five questions about why they’re doing seating chart arrangements for the wedding tonight, but he already knows that it’s because they’re using Elsa to help figure out where to sit some of the more difficult people.

(He assumes he and Emma don’t count as those difficult people, but it really depends on how Will feels about him that day.)

Robin, Kris, Liam, Roland, and Addison are sitting on the couch in the living watching what Killian knows is Trolls because he’s been forced to watch it exactly seventeen times, and Eric and Ariel are standing in the kitchen with Anna cooking.

And, well, apparently Emma too.

“Are we sure we trust the blonde to cook for us?” Killian teases, putting Lucy down on the barstool. “Because I’ve had her cooking before, and I’m not sure we should allow her to feed so many people at once.”

“I’m blonde,” Lucy interjects.

“Yes, yes you are. Can you cook, little love?”

“Mommy doesn’t let me.”

“Funny,” Emma huffs, her eyes pointedly staring him down, “your uncle doesn’t seem to think I can cook either even though I’m only tossing the salad and am perfectly capable of that.”

“SoSo, we’re just going to forget the entire cucumber you dropped on the ground earlier?” Anna asks as she lays rolls out on a pan.

“What about the nearly slicing your finger open?” Ariel adds.

“What happens in the kitchen is supposed to stay in the kitchen.”

“Technically,” Eric sighs, “it hasn’t left the kitchen.”

“You guys are fu – fun,” Emma stops herself and changes the word, her eyes blowing wide when she remembers Lucy is in the room. “Luce, sweetie, do you want me to get you some carrots so you can take them in the other room to watch the movie with Addy and Roland?”

“Yes please.”

Emma turns around and opens the fridge, quickly grabbing a bag of sliced carrots, and hands them over to him for him to hand to Lucy. She takes them, mumbles a “thank you,” and then is sprinting to the adjoining living room to watch the movie.

“So you’re just bribing children now, Swan?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “but with carrots so it’s healthy. Babe, can you check my phone and see where everyone else is? Ruby said they would be here by now, but I haven’t heard anything from them. Or David and Mary Margaret. I guess they’re all in traffic or something, but it’s radio silence on their end.”

Killian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from giving anything away, hoping that his tan keeps his cheeks from flaming red. “Where’s your phone?”

“In my purse on the table.”

He nods his head and turns around, thankful that it’s a little bit out of sight of Emma, before he’s shuffling through her small purse to find her phone hidden behind every small object known to men. There is a string of texts from Ruby about Graham taking forever to get home and her almost leaving without him, and Killian sincerely hopes that Ruby didn’t actually leave without Graham. That would go against the plan.

Mary Margaret and David, though, are legitimately stuck in Friday night traffic, so at least he doesn’t have to lie about that.

“They’re on their way, love,” he tells Emma, putting her phone back in her purse and walking back to the island so that he can prop his forearms against the cool countertop. “Anna, you realize a few of us have to play a game tomorrow, right? I don’t think we can eat all of this.”

She waves a wooden spoon in the air, little bits of sauce splattering on the ground. “It’s called portion control. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Killian has. I haven’t,” Eric laughs. “Though, I’m more of a seafood man myself.”

“There’s only so much seafood that you can eat, though, before you become a fish.”

“You only say that because you don’t like it as much as I do.”

Ariel pats her husband’s chest. “Exactly.”

“Oh my God,” Will groans out, and everyone in the kitchen turns to look at him laying out on the floor. “This is impossible. Why do people get married?”

“I think you mean why do people have weddings,” Belle corrects him.

“I’m kind of questioning both at this point.”

Belle flicks a little name card at Will, and Elsa immediately snatches it back and puts it at the little diagrammed table where it’s supposed to be sitting.

“Why have a seating chart in the first place?” Emma asks. “Why not just let people sit where they want to sit?”

“My mother,” Belle sighs, this discussion obviously a frequent one, “is very traditional and specific about how things should be. She grew up in high society, cotillions and things like that, and even though Will and I mostly want this to be one big party, she has opinions. This is a compromise to make her back off until there’s something else she sets her sights on.”

“Huh,” Emma huffs. “Well, as long as I don’t have to sit next to Killian the entire time, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Shit,” Elsa mumbles under her breath even though the words echo throughout the room. “We don’t have cards for Emma and Killian.”

Laughter rumbles through Killian’s stomach as he walks back over to Emma to place his hand on the small of her back over her sweater before taking the strawberries and putting them on the cutting board to slice up. “Swan, it looks like you won’t have to sit with me because we’re apparently been uninvited from the wedding.”

“Damn. I guess we’ll just have to be wedding crashers.”

“I was thinking we could stay home and not wear uncomfortable clothes but still eat incredible food. We could probably dance a little too.”

“He means the horizontal tango, if you know what I mean.”

“We all know what you mean, Will,” Ariel sighs with a shake of her head but laughter on her lips. “But there are people here related to Killian who probably aren’t too inclined to hear about his sex life.”

“I’m not particularly inclined to hear about Emma’s,” David says, and Killian whips his head around to see he, Mary Margaret, and Leo walking thoughthrough the open garage door. “Or Killian’s. Though I hope they’re one and the same.”

“Okay,” Emma hums, dragging out the word, “we need a change in conversation, something like everyone greeting my brother and nixing this conversation entirely.”

“I mean, I’m kind of curious, but Leo is right here.”

“Mary Margaret,” Emma gasps, and Killian misses what has to be an absolutely priceless look on her face in favor of putting his knife down and walking over to Leo so that they can do their secret handshake that seems to change every time they see each other.

“I like you hat, bud,” Killian compliments. He tugs on the bill, and Leo blushes underneath it. “I think there are some other guys here tonight who would sign it for you if you want.”

Leo’s brows furrow together and the smile on his face completely goes away. Shit. What did Killian do wrong?

“Maybe another hat. I don’t want this one to get messed up.”

“Why not?”

“You signed this one,” he whispers, even if it’s not quiet at all, “and you’re my favorite player.”

“I thought it was your favorite because I gave it to you, kid,” Emma protests as she steps around him and leans down to wrap Leo up in a hug, squeezing him too tightly out of some kind of silent protest.

“I only asked for it because Killian is my favorite player.”

“You’re my favorite nephew.”

Leo rolls his eyes, and while he and Emma may not be related, Killian knows that he got that from her. “I’m your only nephew.”

“Which makes me your favorite.” She kisses his cheek, which makes Leo’s cheeks turn as red as the strawberries. “All the other kids are in that room right over there if you want to go hang out with them until dinner is ready.”

Leo runs off, and David and Mary Margaret take his place by stepping in and greeting everyone with a wave or a hug. It’s so many people, all of them from different social circles, and yet it’s amazing how well they’ve all managed to blend together. Killian knows that he started off with more people than Emma simply by the nature of his job, that most of the people in this house would technically be considered “his,” but he likes to think that they’re Emma’s too.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he pulls it out to see a message from Graham just as Emma sits down and picks up a glass of wine.

Graham Humbert: We just pulled up outside. Can you send Emma out? Say something about needing help with the dessert. I think Ruby would like to tell her before she tells everyone inside.

Killian: Yeah, I’ll send her out. Congrats, mate! I’m happy for the two of you!

“Love?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Ruby and Graham just got here. Do you want to go out and see if they need any help?”

“Why don’t you do it?”

Of course she’s going to be stubborn about.

“I’m finishing this salad,” he lies, even though he really should finish the salad since he took it over from Emma. Will lets out another curse having to do with the seating chart, and there’s a reassurance from Mary Margaret that it will all be okay. “Just go help them. They have the dessert. You love dessert.”

Emma’s brows bunch together and her lips snarl, but she puts the glass of wine that she’s drinking down and stands from the barstool she’s sitting on to go walk out of the garage door and down the stairs. She’s going to be pissed at him for the entire walk out there, but he knows that it won’t be long. And curious as Killian is, he leaves the kitchen to walk over to the bay window so that he can look down at the street where Ruby and Graham are getting out of Graham’s squad car with boxes of pies in their hands. Emma quickly appears, her hands moving as she talks, and then Ruby puts her set of boxes on the hood of the car.

And while Killian can’t hear any screaming or squealing – Emma isn’t really the type – he knows that some kind of inhuman noise just came out of her before she launched herself forward to hug Ruby, squeezing so tightly that he imagined Ruby can’t breathe. And then Graham nearly drops all of the pies when Emma hugs him too. Killian chuckles to himself, a smile stretching across his lips, and then David comes up behind him.

“What’s all that about?”

“You’ll find out in a minute, I’m sure.”

“Secrets don’t make friends.”

“Yeah, yeah they do,” Killian laughs, smiling at David. “And I love how casually you’re referring to me as your friend. It really touches a man’s heart, Dave.”

“Watch it, or I’ll take it back.”

By the time Killian looks back out the window, Graham is gone, leaving Emma and Ruby out to talk. Killian is sure that they’ll be out there for awhile, probably far later than they intend to, and he knows he’ll have to go with them when the food gets here. The door opens then to Graham walking inside with the boxes. Ariel immediately rushes to help him, mostly likely because she likes to talk his ear off about all of the cases he can talk about (she’s very into True Crimes oddly enough), but Killian walks over to save him, grabbing Graham’s hand in greeting before pulling him into a hug and patting his back.

“Congratulations, mate.”

“Thank you,” Graham beams, his smile infectious. “I still can’t believe it.” “What can’t you believe?” Ariel asks as she swipes a finger through the whipped cream on a pie only for Eric to slap her hand away.

Killian looks over at Graham, silently asking if he wants to say something, and he nods, that smile still on his face. “I’ve asked Ruby to marry me today, and she said yes.”

“Congratulations!”

“You did what now?”

“How could you not tell me this?”

“This is so exciting!”

“Whatever you do, don’t do a fucking seating chart for the reception.”

It’s this big, loud chorus of voices and conversations, and it pulls in everyone from the living room too so that it gets so loud that Killian is sure the neighbors can hear. Killian isn’t even entirely sure which legs belong to who for how much movement there is, hugs being exchanged between people who didn’t even get engaged tonight, and it all starts to calm down a bit only for Ruby and Emma walk in the door.

Obviously, things never calm down again.

Ruby and Graham don’t even get to spend much time with this group of people, especially Graham since his schedule never seems to match up with any of theirs, so it’s nice to see the overwhelming joy that’s there for the two of them.

“Congratulations, lass,” he sighs into Ruby’s ear when she finally makes her way to him at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Were you surprised?”

“Yes,” she sighs, her laughter moving through him. “I can’t believe you knew about it.”

Killian rubs his hand up and down her back. “I had to make sure Emma was out of the apartment when it happened because Graham just knew that she would somehow find a way to show up if left to her own devices.”

“I think I could kiss you for doing that.”

“I don’t think that’s very becoming of a newly engaged woman.”

Ruby pulls back and winks at him before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “You know that I don’t like following the rules.”

“What is this I hear about you knowing about this before it happened?” Emma questions as she saunters up to him, a soft smile on her face and the slightest bit of mascara smudged under her eyes. “I thought we had an agreement about lying to each other, twenty-nine.”

Killian hums and wraps his arms around her back, pulling her closer to him while her arms lazily hang over his neck. “Yeah, well, I was under strict instructions that you weren’t to know because Graham didn’t want you to tell Ruby.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Her lip quirks to the side before she presses up on her toes and gently guides her mouth over his. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me. I like that Ruby was the one who got to tell me.”

“Me too, love.”

“All of our friends have to stop getting married. This is getting expensive.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have blown all your money on those damn boots.”

Emma slaps the back of his head even as she kisses him, and he wonders exactly where along the way did he do something right to get to have this be his life.

“Okay,” Anna yells over all of the noise, and Killian looks to see her standing on a barstool as if she needs any help commanding attention, “I know everyone is super excited right now, but let’s all be super excited over dinner. It’s time to eat.”

“Thank goodness,” Lucy breathes out. “I thought I was going to perish.”

“Where’d she learn that word?” Emma wonders as everyone starts laughing.

“I don’t even know.”

The conversation and laughter never diesdie down, not when there’s that many people around, and Killian’s stomach hurts from it all, his face a little too. His nerves about the game tomorrow and all that’s on the line haven’t disappeared, but they’re not at the forefront of his mind either. He has other things to focus on even if his mind is getting a little dizzy at the thought of keeping track of it all, but it becomes easier as the night passes, the light outside fading away into darkness, and as children move off to go to sleep, Addy and Lucy to their rooms and Leo and Roland stretched out in a guest room until their parents are ready to go home, everyone else settles into the living room with a replay of last night’s game in Boston on so that they can all watch some more footage in preparation.

He’s sitting on the floor in between Emma’s legs, and her hands are lulling him to sleep from the way that she keeps playing with his hair.

It’s like magic, her touch, and he’s utterly under her spell.

“I’m freaking the hell out about tomorrow,” Will whispers quietly as they watch him stumble over a catch in yesterday’s game.

“Me too,” Robin adds in. “Honestly, the only thing that’s keeping me calm, especially since I’m not playing, is knowing that not only did we make it to the Series last year, we won the whole damn thing.”

“Here’s the thing, though,” Killian starts as he leans her head further into Emma’s lap so that she can scratch his scalp. Damn, that might be the best feeling in the world. “No one gives a fuck about what happened last year. That trophy on our shelf from last year? It’s old news. All anyone cares about is what’s happening this year. All we should care about is what’s happening this year. Everyone always complains about those guys who can only seem to live in the glory days when the glory days are long since gone, and we’re not going to be those men. We’re not resting on our laurels. We’re going to win tomorrow, and then we’re going to win the next four games to win the whole damn thing.”

“What if we don’t?” Will questions, and for once, Killian can tell that Will is legitimately nervous.

“We’re going to, Scarlet. I won’t take another option.”

“Look at my little brother being all motivating,” Liam teases.

Killian does raise his hand and his middle finger at that. “Younger, you ass.”

“You’ll always be my little brother. I’ll stop calling you that when you’ve got three World Series championships to your name, yeah?”

“Oi, I know that I’m good, but I don’t know if I can rely on these guys to not only win this year’s but also another one after that?” Emma slaps the back of his head, and he leans back to look up at her. “I’m obviously kidding, my love.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a great way to motivate the guys for tomorrow when you had a pretty good speech going there.”

Robin coughs, something exaggerated and totally on purpose. “Killian saves his best speeches for right before a the game starts. Probably because he doesn’t have his brother and his girlfriend distracting him by making fun of him. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m all for taking that piss out of Killian.”

“Someone hand me a pillow,” Killian demands, looking around. “I want to knock the smirk off of Rob’s face.”

“That’s an impossible task,” Ariel starts, a bright, happy smile on her face. “Let’s go back to loving each other and watching game footage. I don’t know about you guys, but I want that trophy back. I get a bonus from both Eric and Killian’s contract for it.”

“I always knew that I liked you,” Ruby adds in, and everyone starts laughing, the long day and late night probably getting to everyone a little bit. “Do you share the bonus with your husband since he earned it? I’m asking the important questions here as someone who is about to get married?”

“Rubes.” Emma curls her fingers in his hair and shakes her head. “Are you about to be one of those people who works in that you’re engaged all the time?”

“For the next two weeks, you bet your ass I am. It would normally only be a week, but since I think all we’re about to talk about now is baseball, I’m asking for two.”

“I would expect nothing less than you.”

Everyone leaves eventually with sleepy smiles on their faces and leftovers in hand, and as nervous as Killian still is, he finds yet again that it’s not at all like last year when he was going through this all. He’s got Emma curled up next to him in bed and a happy life outside of work, and at the end of the day, his life won’t be over if they lose.

He simply doesn’t like losing.

-/-

Killian’s arm feels fine.

Good. Great even. It’s the best it’s felt in months, even if he’s still a little timid with how much he’s using it and the fear of it screwing up again since there is such a risk for that, but he feels good standing out here under the heat of the sun with thousands of people milling in the stands and thousands more sitting at home watching on their television just wondering if today is going to be the day that the Yankees officially cement their spot in the World Series with the Dodgers already waiting there.

It could be a repeat of last year, just like everyone thought it would be, and Killian damn well intends to make those thoughts come true. They’re not resting on the laurelsrelying on what happened of last year. They’re doing it for themselves once more like it’s all brand new and they don’t know the high of being at the top of the world.

Sweat trickles down Killian’s forehead past his cap, and he reaches up to remove his hat for a second while he wipes the sweat away with his forehead. It’s not hot out today, only around sixty degrees, but Killian’s skin is on fire with the rapid beating of his heart that hasn’t calmed down since this morning.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Ball.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Strike, he’s out.

Travis is out, the top of the fourth inning is over, Killian has thrown some damn good pitches in tight situations to keep the Sox from scoring, and the Yankees are up 4-0.

There’s still a long game to go, though.

Not for Killian, though. He’s out for the day. He knew going in that Al wouldn’t keep him in for longer than this. Honestly, he’s surprised that he allowed it for this long, but this is all so they’ll stay in the correct pitching order if they make it to the Series.

When.

Not if.

Killian wants to stay in the dugout and watch from out here, but he knows that he has to go inside and get massaged and do his cool-down exercises. He can watch from one of the televisions with everyone else who’s inside and make his way back out toward the end of the game.

It’s like all at once these games are five minutes and then suddenlysuddenly, they’re five hours.

But the time does pass as Killian goes through his routines to make sure that he’s healthy and that his arm is healthy, and by the time that he’s back out in the dugout changed into a pair of clean joggers and a pullover, his hat from earlier long gone, it’s the top of the ninth with two outs, only one man on base, and the score highly in their favor.

If they blow a 9-2 lead, they deserve to have to play it all out in a deciding game tomorrow.

“Come on, Lance,” Killian shouts out, banging his hands against the railing. “Just one more throw. One more strike, and you’re done.”

“He’s going to mess up if you keep yelling at him like that,” Al spits out as he chews on the gum he’s always chewing.

“No, no he’s not. He’s got this. We’ve got this.”

“You have far more optimism than any sideline coach should have.”

Killian turns his head to look at Al, a smile stretching across his lips. “It’s a damn good thing I’m not a coach then.”

And then there’s the sound of Lance’s ball hitting Will’s glove, the yell of the word “strike,” and the roar of the New York crowd as the game finishes.

They’re going to the World Series.

Killian’s heart pounds in his chest, emotion welling up in his throat, and all of the sounds become muted. Every single one of them except for his heart and the blood running through his veins. People yell and shout and scream, but he can’t hear any of it as he rushes out into the field to join his teammates where they’re jumping up and down, arms wrapped around each other as they become a mesh of one instead of twenty different men, those who played today and those who didn’t.

Someone pats his back, and the noises come back, cheers of celebration and curses and familiar voices of the people who he spends his life with.

They’re not resting on their laurels of last year, he thinks to himself once more. They’re achieving new things.

“Jones,” Lance calls out as the pile disperses and everyone starts moving around the field, “your girlfriend wants an interview with us.”

Killian arches a brow, spinning on his heel to try to find Emma, and he sees her standing with a microphone in her hand and Jeff standing with the camera behind her. She’s wearing the damn boots, the ones she just ordered, and if there wasn’t already a smile on his face, that would cause his lips to reach his ears.

He has no idea why Emma wants to interview him when there were five innings played without him, when Lance and Eric and Will are the guys who deserve the attention and the praise, but he knows that a lot of the time Emma isn’t in charge of who she interviews. That’s left up to the people behind the scenes.

Killian wants to kiss Emma and the smile on her face, wants to wrap her up in a hug, but he holds back, stepping up to her with Lance next to him as Frank Sinatra begins to play over the speakers. He’d think that he’d get tired of this song, but it never gets old.

“Congratulations,” Emma starts, her hand reaching up to adjust her earpiece. “That was just an incredible game. How does it feel to be going to the World Series for the second year in a row?”

She holds the microphone out to Lance. “No, no. Let Jones answer first. He usually takes the words right out of my mouth.”

“You sure?”

He nods his head, and Emma moves the microphone over to him. “Well, what do you say twenty-nine? How does it feel?”

Killian reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I can’t curse, can I?”

“Only if you want to pay a fine.”

“Right then,” he laughs, smiling down at Emma and completely ignoring the camera. “It feels good. Better than good. This season has obviously had its ups and downs, especially for me, and I’m happy that I didn’t let this team down when they deserve so much. I’m – ”

Killian stops talking when all of the sudden Emma starts darting in the other direction, and by the time that he realizes what’s going on, the cool feel of Gatorade is being poured down on top of him so that chill bumps rise on his arms and his clothes cling to his skin. Killian sees Lance first and sees him shaking out the sticky liquid from his uniform, and then he sees Will and Eric running away with the orange container where the Gatorade once was. But then he sees Emma a few feet away absolutely laughing her ass off, and even if it goes against their agreement about how they’re going to act when working, he can’t stop himself from running toward her and immediately wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her to him as her hands push at his chest and laughter passes through her lips.

“You’re covered in Gatorade,” she laughs, still pushing at him even if he knows it’s not a true effort. “It’s sticky.” “And you ran way and let it happen.”

“Which was obviously useless considering I’m going to be covered in it now.”

“Exactly the point,” he chuckles while Emma stops squirming against him and casually wraps her arms around his neck, obviously having accepted that she’s going to be covered in Gatorade too. “We’re going to the World Series, Swan.”

“I know.” And then she kisses him.

-/-

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