#eliza x the asset

[themushroomofdeath]

trafalgar law x original female character eliza x law, absolute filthy, possessive!law, kid being a dick (as usual) me walking in like an absolute gremlin carrying smut. yes yes come see, my fellow ellaw appreciators, i bring the gift of the nasty. @kikouku @sunfloworcs @eelnoise @shiningqueen @crimson-hybrid pss pss pss

MINORS, BE GONE. 🔫

He was furious, positively livid about this current situation. Law didn't often think of himself as a man to easily fall prey to pesky feelings such as jealousy, he trusted and had enough confidence in his partner to not be bothered by mindless emotions. But one summer day was enough to throw his mind into a loop.

As if this alliance wasn't bothersome enough, apparently Kid had somehow picked up on his relationship - perhaps noticing how he tended to follow her with his gaze whenever she was around such strange territory, like an instinct of protectiveness over a loved one. Most of the Straw Hats seemed to have picked up on it too, as their knowing smiles told him everything, but even then, it changed nothing on the behavior of the Kid Pirate’s Captain and the damn Cook - as Zoro-ya would say. If anything, it only made them more annoying (Eustass) and competitive (Blackleg) for her attention.

The last straw to this ongoing problem came in the form of a very warm day, the ocean breeze doing nothing to help the pirates from feeling the heat wave, forcing those who couldn’t as easily go for a swim to change into something more comfortable - and minimal.

Eliza wasn’t one for revealing attires, but the weather forced her in favoring a black tank top and shorts, a wet hand towel fixed in her shoulder to help cope with the temperature and clean the constant sweat rolling down her face. 

The last thing she wished was to leave the infirmary of the Polar Tang, probably the only place refrigerated in the whole submarine - as many medicaments stored should’ve been kept in regulated temperature, to not be altered in any way. A fact that she and Bepo used to their advantage, spending most the day cooped inside that room, always suffering by the time they had to leave for their respective rooms or to go on an errand for their captain.

And it was one of those insufferable moments that had her leaving the ship in search of her partner and crew’s leader. She needed his approval for a new research, and he just had to be outside in a meeting with his new ‘friends’, forcing her to walk through scalding sun to reach the Thousands Sunny (what a fitting name too). 

By the time she reached him, she was a deep shade of red, sweating from every pore and positively livid. She didn’t even bother to greet anyone in her path, just moving towards her captain's side and poking him with the clipboard to catch his attention.

But what truly had caught the attention of not only him, but most men sitting around, was how pretty she looked with her chest heaving, face and neck flushed, sweat dripping through her protuberant cleavage in that (now wet) tank top, and oh, how that shorts hugged her thighs and ‘assets’. He could feel himself growing hot under the collar, immediately sensing how many pairs of gazes were doing the exact same, pissing him off to no end. “What?” Law glared at his second doctor on board (and lover), not only bothered by the interruption, but by the situation at hand. 

Not surprised with how she didn’t mind the bite on his speech, already used to his temperament as she was. She just rolled her eyes in disapproval, not really in the mood to deal with whatever was going through his mind at the moment; he just needed to sign the damn paper and she’d be gone, won’t be a bother anymore. “Just take a look and sign it if it’s to your agreement, captain.” She could hear the snickers from the other pirates, but chose to ignore, just as much used to the typical childish behavior of the group.

In truth, the doctor hadn’t paid attention about the tension going on around the meeting, imagining it was already at hand when she walked in, but she did noticed, at the moment she was going to hand the pen and clipping board to her captain and boyfriend, how the pen was magnetically pulled away from her hand, causing a frustrated groan to escape her lips. Both Heart Pirates glared at Kid, already knowing it was his doing - as he didn’t even bother to hide it, fingers still in the air and shit-eat grin consuming his semblance from his little prank. 

Any other time, she’d have given him a piece of her mind - perhaps even called him a manchild clown, as she usually liked to refer to him. But with the sun burning her skin and no patience to stay even another second with those rowdy creatures, she chose instead to click her tongue at his childish antics and move to grab the pen from the floor. And that was exactly what the ginger man expected of her.

From somewhere near the kitchen, a loud moan like whimper erupted from the Straw Hat’s chef form, nose bleeding in a fountain of crimson red fluid. Eustass Kid with all the audacity contained in one chaotic man, had pulled his chair enough to thoroughly run his gaze at the heart pirate girl’s chubby thighs and cheeks peeking through her shorts, a knowing smirk directed at her lover (like a menace that he was). “Well, ain’t that a nice view.” Even Killer was heard clearing his throat from behind his mask, not able to hide how his neck flushed in different shades of red. From the people attending the meeting, only Zoro and Luffy seemed displeased and confused (respectively) about what was happening.

And if Law was clearly infuriated before, there was no doubt about it now. Eliza didn’t really had the time to chastise the other captain for the nonsense, before her partner was up from his chair, pushing it back with such force that everyone around the area of the reunion had stopped to stare at the situation in a diversity of expressions - confused, amused, surprised. 

But there was no time to question his actions, before she was dragged away from the Straw Hat’s ship, absolutely bewildered by his actions. Even from afar, they could still hear how Kid hollered in laughter, absolutely victorious in being a little shit

Papers and meeting forgotten, he pulled her back to their own ship, barely contained rage clear in the set of his shoulders, in the tension around his clenched jaw and how firm he held her wrist. How he wished in that moment that he wasn’t in an alliance with those men, how good would it feel to take their eyes out of their sockets and pop it out in the sea, never again would they bother to desire something that wasn’t theirs. 

He ignored the confused glances from their crewmates, not stopping his furious pace till they reached his office, letting go of her then to close the door behind. Both of his hands coming up to bang against it in a release of pent up anger energy, slow inhale and exhale leaving his body as he still had his back turned to his partner, frustration clear in his posture.

And she could only stare, utterly stupefied. She couldn’t remember a situation where he acted so impulsively before, couldn’t understand how a simple prank from Eustass could’ve infuriated her partner so much, as she had no idea of the ginger man’s true intention in using her shapely forms to pick a fight with her boyfriend for the sake of it. And how close he was to actually give in to the temptation of mayhem Eustass Kid and fuck up his entire plans with their alliance in a moment of fury and possessiveness.

Before she could even ask why he acted in such a way, he was moving again. Both hands grabbing her face, intense look on his semblance, forcing her to look back at his blazing amber iris. “Do you not understand how fucking provoking you are right now?” To her confused look, he continued. “Those fu-” A furious exhale. “They were all fucking you with their eyes!”

She waited for him to finish exploding before rolling her eyes affectionately. For such a smart man, he was so very easy to aggravate  “They are bloody morons, Law. They are toying with you, don’t let them.” Hands coming up to grab at his slender ones, she took her time kissing each of his palms, caressing his knuckles between her fingers in a soothing manner, before speaking again. “And you know you are the only one that can have me, anyway. I’m Yours.”

Clicking his tongue in false mockery, he allowed her to soothe him. Entire body relaxing under her ministrations, gaze softening at her mellow eyes. He knew she was right, but it didn’t help the sense of indignation to consume his brain - it had only calmed his heart enough to push those thoughts bothering him to the back of his mind, and focus on what was important; remind himself that yes, she was only his. 

They could only wish to graze their lips along her jaw and neck like he currently was, leaving goosebumps in its wake. They could only imagine how it would be to taste the saltiness of her skin, to nip and suck at it, marking the column of her neck, eliciting such a delectable gasp from her mouth. How good it felt to run his tongue along her pulse, feel her heart beating so fast and rhythmically under it, having her so obedient and docile, whimpering quietly in pleasure as she allowed his possessive acts to continue. Mine. All mine.

He took his time in marking her, kissing his way back to her face only when he was satisfied with his work. A soft whisper of his name was her answer, as he thumbed her lower lip and deciding it should be mark it as his just the same, nipping and tonguing it, before giving in to the feeling of molding their lips together, sparks of pleasure running through their body from the simple act. Addicted to her taste.

She melted in his arms as he explored her beyond the barriers of her clothing, tattooed hands grabbing at her soft hips and sides, reaching up her spine till he could feel the hooks from her bra, expert fingers unhooking it to free her heavy breasts of their confines, making the shy woman pull back and look at him in a inquisitive manner. “La- Ah, Law. It’s too early, people will hear us.” 

He only smirked down at her, reaching for his own shirt and pulling it over his head in a little show of sexy appeal - flushing her skin further, before giving her an answer. “Don’t worry, they won’t hear us. The office is sound proof, why do you think I brought you here?” ‘Oh’ is all she could answer, before he stalked after her with a predatory glimmer in his golden eyes. He had already planned his actions from the moment he got up from his chair in fury, and he would see his plans executed by possessing and marking her - making sure no one forgets who she belonged to. 

And she didn’t seem to mind, licking her lips in nervousness but anticipation. No matter how many years they spent together, she never got used to how handsome her boyfriend was, all lean and ripped muscles, tattoos and tanned skin shining with sweat, enough to make one want to lick it clean for him. She could already feel heat pooling between her legs, mind fogging with need - and he had barely touched her beyond blemishing her neck and shoulders, just now reaching to finish taking her upper garments from her body, observing all skin being slowly bared to him like a starved man uncovering his favorite meal, grinning wildly at her shy reactions.

In her daze, she didn't realize they were moving, till the moment her legs hit the back of his office desk. Neither she had the time to react to it, as the moment her shirt came off, he had both his hands squeezing her voluptuous chest together, thumbs rolling her sensitive nipples, sending bolts of pleasure through her body direct into her core, making the woman clutch into the desk for support, eyes closing to focus on the sensation. 

A shocked cry as she felt the wet muscle of his tongue circling one nipple, followed by the suction of his lips around it, humming around it before he gave the same treatment to the other, nipping the nub and biting the meat of her breast, just enough to have her jump in surprise and bring her attention back to him, eyes half lidded and pupil blown wide. 

God, she was gorgeous, he mused. It was no surprise that others would pay attention to her curves, but never would any of them have the view of her all flushed and excited like this.

Taking the last offending piece of clothing from her body, he appreciated how damp she felt as he fingered over her undergarments. “So fucking wet… All for me, hm?”  Her whimpers didn’t stop his teasing, only grazing his fingers over the thin material of her panties, making her bite back a moan and close her eyes in bashfulness, all contradictory to her actions of thrusting towards his fingers for a real friction. “Tsk. If you want it, you have to ask, ‘Liz.” Holding her ample hip with his free hand, he stopped her movements. It seemed he had decided to be a bastard about this, and she could feel the smirk on his lips as he came closer to speak by her ear. “Be a good girl and say it.”

She could only bite her lips in answer, face flushed from lust and embarrassment. And she knew he was absolutely getting off on it, eyes taking in from the way her legs closed together in sudden modesty to her bright eyes glistened with absolute need, fighting a battle against her own shy nature. But it was the way his index and middle finger slipped inside her panties and teased her inner lips that had her moaning an answer. “Mhm. I- Please. Please, Law.”

“Please what?” What an infuriating man! 

“Please. Please, touch m- Ah!” He didn’t waited for her to finish before easily sliding his fingers inside her folds, taking advantage of how wet she was and chuckling at her surprised gasp. He could tease all he wanted, but he was just as much aroused by her actions. Intensely staring at the way her body curved to accommodate more of the length of his tattooed fingers, by the way her full breast bounced as her hips rolled against his large hand, dripping all over it. How pretty she was, letting go of her reservations to moan so unabashedly as his thumb joined the friction, rubbing expertly against her clit as his finger curled and thrusted inside. It was truly a spectacle for his eyes only.

Joining the stimuli, his free hand grazed her perky nipples once again, pinching and pulling. He could feel how close she was to climax - velvety walls spasming and contracting around his curled fingers, mouth hanging open with pleasure. And to push her further into sweet release, another finger joined - E, A and T pushing deep inside her core, ripping a half scream half moan from his lover as she rode his palm. It didn’t last much longer after that, rapid movements and diversity of stimulation leading the woman to a powerful orgasm, holding tight at the desk behind her for support as her toes curled under her, legs shaking as she screamed his name over and over again..

He let her breathe for a moment after that, stepping back to appreciate the wreckage he caused. Absolutely proud of how she looked, a deep flush from her cheeks down to her heaving chest, sweat and arousement dripping down her body - pooling down her legs. Her semblance of thorough contentment as she stared back. Gorgeous. Divine. All his.

A moment was all he allowed her, before stalking back towards his ‘prey’. He wasn’t nearly done with her, consumed by lust and sheer possessiveness, he needed to leave this office without a doubt of who she belonged to, mind filled with nothing but him and the pleasure he provided. “Look at the mess you made…” Smug grin filled the pirate’s semblance as he approached her lips with his juice’s coated hand; a display of erotic glistening tattoos. “Why don’t you lick it clean, hm?”

Already too far into it to feel timid, and perhaps a tad defiant of his domineering act, she gazed back into his amber eyes before grabbing his wrist with assertiveness. “Fine.” And he had only a second to inquisitively arch one eyebrow, before she did just as the tattoo on his fingers were telling her: e-a-t. 

Looking right back at him, as she licked her way from the soft pad of his palm to his middle finger, humming as he pushed all three slender fingers inside her mouth, licking each individually as it was the most delicious meal, mix of her own juices and drool running down her lips and sliding down her plump chest.

“Fuck.” If he was turned on before, now he could swear to be losing his damn mind. Not bothering to completely take his bottom garment completely out if body, just using a free hand to unzip and pop his jeans open, shoving it down enough to reveal his lengthy cock, up for attention and already glistening with so much pre-cum. Neither had him the mind to worry about protection, as he knew today would be a day to fill his girl to the brim, primal need to mark her insides as much as he did with her body.

Anticipating his line of action, she could already feel herself opening her legs to accommodate his figure, biting her lips and whining shamefully as he took his fingers from her mouth to clean the desk behind her. He would be busy cleaning later, but he had half the mind to care as he shoved away everything he had around his desk, making room to lay her body for him, grabbing her hips and maneuvering her into pressing her chest against the wood surface, tantalizing ass up in the air for him. 

He had no mercy for its paleness, as his hand firmly spanked each of her cheeks till it became feverish red, soothing it with both hands, running his length against its folds and watching with satisfaction as his lover moaned and whimpered for him. “Shhh… Need to mark it well, ‘Liz. So no shithead can think they can have it.” 

Making sure to take a firm hold of both chubby cheeks - enough to leave a handprint, he easily slipped his shaft inside her soaked cunt, smirking at the satisfied moan leaving his girl’s mouth as he filled her. “Yeah…? Wanted this cock that bad? It’s yours, baby. Take it.”

From being close or from feeling aggressively excited, Law didn’t bother easing his way into intercourse, immediately setting a brutal pace that filled the room with the sounds of skin meeting skin, the gushing wetness of his length bullying it’s way inside her dripping pussy and the heavy office table scratching against the floor with his vicious thrusts. Her moans and pleas surfaced around it, mind fogged with so much lust as he continually plunged his long shaft against her sweet spot. 

Harsh rhythm of his hips and her screams taking over, till he could feel the hot need for release on his lower stomach. He stopped then, earning a frustrated and questioning glare from his partner. But it didn’t last long, as she felt herself being manhandled into turning around to face him - marveling with how gorgeous he looked, sweat dripping along defined muscles, an intense expression with blown wide pupils. He looked as much wrecked as she felt. He pushed her back towards the table, grabbing both her legs against his chest, ankles locked around his shoulder as he slipped himself back inside her lower lips. 

It was so much better this way, all his length now pushed inside, balls deep inside her pussy, and knowing she could watch who fucked her into oblivion. He resumed his hammering pace, grinning watching as she rolled her eyes back into her head, mind completely gone into pleasure and overstimulation. Knowing he was the one to do this, the only one. She could already feel herself closer to orgasm yet again, his name falling from her lips between incoherent pleas and moans. “Law, LaaAA- F-Fuck. Ple- Law, please please please-.” 

“That’s fucking right. Say my name, baby. My girl, my pussy, fucking mine.” He growled as he didn’t stop his fast pace even after her orgasm crashed into her, a loud moan of his name and walls clenching around his cock, entire body shaking and grabbing for any part of him she could find. If only, his hands held more firmly against her thighs to keep her in place before he could feel himself reaching his own climax - incoherent string of ‘take it’ with one final and long thrust inside her folds before he made sure to fill it to the brim with his cum, fucking it back inside a few times to make sure not a single drop escaped. 

Eliza was sure to be seeing stars, as he finally released her legs - crashing limp against the desk. Breathe coming in long drawls, as she tried to come back from such a high. Who could have thought that Kid’s stupid prank would cause such a strong chain of reactions? Not that she was complaining, arms already open as she realized her boyfriend was reaching to hug her body against his. She nuzzled his sideburns as he kissed her shoulders, quiet affection after such a rough session of love making.

Both breathed together for a moment, relaxing into each other's embrace, before she felt herself being carried into his arms for a few feet so they could both crash and cuddle in his soft office’s sofa, a common spot for moments like this. It was quiet for a moment, only heartbeats and breathing sounds between soft caresses and lazy kisses. Law was the first one to break silence, after a while. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“No, don’t worry,” Kissing his scruffy chin in reassurance, she continued with a smirk, “My bum might be burning a bit, but it was very worth it.”

Snorting a laugh, he reached both hands to caress her ample backside, in a false soothing move - as he immediately squeezed both cheeks in his hands. “It’s your fault for being so appetizing.” He smirked back, playfully biting onto her neck, earning a squeal from his lover and smack on his arm.

It was clear that there’s one thing no one but him could ever have, besides her body; the absolute love and adoration shared between them. Life partners bundled together without knowing where one starts and the other finishes, playfully bantering and kissing till fatigue was able to take over their minds, to a land of dreams where they would be meeting once again.

[katiehavok]

TSoW fic recs? :)

::Cracks knuckles::

First of all, I’d recommend anything and everything by Tyellas on Ao3. I’m not sure if they have a Tumblr but if they did, I’d point you in it’s direction because I imagine it’s fabulous.

Silent Songs by TheGypsyQueen is great, and a little heartbreaking.

Aqua by Lafaiette is another wonderful post-movie story.

just how much by lentilchip is a good and different bit of fluffy smut, in a fandom full of fluffy smut.

And when your fairytale is through by werepirechick is a great post-movie Giles and Zelda friendship piece.

[raygorartshit]

I haven't straight up painted like this in a while but I tried my best cause I'm so in love with this movie already.

[bajingo]

I saw the shape of water and also watched castlevania on netflix. Both are filled with good monsters and even better ships

[gameofdooweeoo]

Heck yes, the fish man has a name. The Asset, the bootiful fish who stole Eliza's heart. I finally can tag their ship now... ❤️

[moonbeambucky]

Addicted (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 5731 Warnings: smut, angst, minor fluff

Summary: Hearts break under the weight of buried feelings, longing for the chance at repair no matter the consequence.

A/N:  This is my submission for @youngmoneymilla Eliza’s 5K Challenge. My prompt was “Quit You” by Lost Kings. Thank you as always to my Sam 💕 @buckyofthemyscira for beta reading! gif not mine

ADDICTED MASTERLIST

The rain hasn’t let up for days. Grey clouds invaded the sky, not letting a glimpse of sunshine through as they drowned the city in misery.

Puddles of murky water fill the divots of crooked streets and cracked sidewalks, splashing with every step taken. Annoyed grunts and scoffs fill the ears of those not walking fast enough, coming from those around them that quicken their strides to get ahead of them.

Y/N moves at a snail’s pace, agonizingly slow as she struggles to put one foot in front of the other and advance her journey. Her boots are heavy, cement encased leather or at least that’s what it feels like.

But it shouldn’t feel like this. The burden on Y/N’s heart that weighs down every part of her soul. Droplets of rain have mixed in with the tears that burned their way to her eyes, leaving fiery hot streaks down her face. Unless someone looks close at the bouquet of veins blossoming in her eyes they won’t be able to tell the difference.

Rough fingers swipe away at her cheeks. She doesn’t want to cry, not tonight, not in front of him.

Orange flashes, a hand from the street sign at the edge of the sidewalk.

Don’t walk.

A car anxious to make the light zooms by, the tire slams through a pothole. Dirty water splashes at her shins, soaking her legs.

Everything is telling Y/N to turn around and go home.

Don’t walk.

She doesn’t listen.

Her feet carry her to his door.

Bucky’s apartment is his sanctuary, the one place in the world he can take a break from his life as an Avenger and be himself.

At the Tower he was surrounded by cameras and AI, and teammates encroaching on his space, everyone constantly up his ass asking how he’s doing. He put on a show, for Steve to show him that he’s improving, for Sam so he could shut up and stop bothering him, for everyone so he could just be left alone.

There was emptiness inside of him, a gaping hole that burned in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know how to fill it or how to heal but he knew it couldn’t be done like that.

Bucky was suffocating under the weight of his lies so he began searching for an apartment, assuring Steve that his therapist recommended it would be helpful in finding his identity.

Ironically, his therapist was right. For the first time in a very long time Bucky was excited at the prospect of doing something for himself. He scoured the internet for apartment listings, scanning through photo after photo of different layouts and design styles, and finding his taste through the process.

A smile spread across his face as he found the perfect apartment, emailing back with his interest only to find a confusing response in return. It was a scam Sam had informed him, and most of the listings he found ended in the same result.

Tony suggested a realtor take him around, someone who could show him actual listings and be discreet, something Bucky hadn’t considered when he first began his search. If he thought the Avengers were bothering him imagine what would happen if civilians knew where he lived.

It had been just over a year that he met a realtor who found him the perfect place where he could relax. The top floor apartment in a Pre-War building with wooden floors that Bucky feels strangely akin to; something old but beautiful after a bit of resurfacing.

That was his life, beaten down by Hydra, stepped on and used over and over again until he was stripped of the layer they put on him. The asset, the soldier, a stain that needed to be sanded away to reveal the raw soul that was James Buchanan Barnes. Now like the floors below his feet he is complete again, mostly.

The apartment had been updated but it wasn’t too modern. Bucky has had his fair share of sleek furniture from Tony’s decoration, and though his mind was blown away with Wakandan technology, he was a lot happier in his hut by the river, letting nature soothe his mind.

His kitchen was small but not too cramped, with more cabinets than he would ever use. The bathroom had enough space for an old clawfoot tub that reminded him of the one he grew up with. His face scrunched at the memory of stubbing his toes against the cast iron foot, an unfortunate incident that happened more than a few times.

The bedroom was his favorite room in the apartment. A simple steel bed frame was placed against the rustic brick lined wall, with dark curtains and metal caged vintage lighting accenting the room. His bed was a mess of grey and navy blue, plush pillows and a soft comforter strewn across without care.

His mattress was comfortable, really comfortable and Bucky’s been blessed to have many nights of good sleep on it but never has it felt better than when his back is pressed against the softness of his sheets as he stared up at the beautiful woman riding him like there’s no tomorrow.

His apartment provided many things, peaceful reprieve from life in the spotlight, a space to stretch out and his biggest secret.

Y/N’s finger shakes as it pushes the buzzer with force before the door unlocks and lets her inside towards the staircase. The first steps are slow and shaky, unsure and full of insecurity and she grips the railing for support. This isn’t what she wanted. This can’t go on.

Common sense is abandoned on the flight up. The closer Y/N gets to his door the more excited she is to see him and by the time she’s reached the top of the steps she had long forgotten any feelings of reservations in the first place.

Bucky’s door is open slightly and she sees him standing there, arms stretching towards the top of the frame. His shirt rides up, revealing a peek of skin, solid muscle with a path of dark hair that leads down like a rainbow to a pot of gold. Piercing blue eyes stare right through her and that sinful smirk makes her knees buckle.

Y/N wishes she could run to him, throw her arms around his neck and show him her brightest smile, the one that matched the openness of her heart, letting her feelings pour out without restraint. But things aren’t like that with Y/N and Bucky.

From the moment they met they saw the sparks in each other’s eyes, felt the buzz of electricity when their hands touched for the first time. The tingling went straight to Y/N’s core and she had to pull herself together and remember why she was there. Bucky needed an apartment and it was her mission to help him find one.  

As he walked around each apartment checking out the place, Y/N was checking out the way thick thighs filled his jeans, or the stretch of his shirt against sculpted muscle. Her teeth scraped against her bottom lip as she watched metal fingers brush along the countertop all while thinking how incredible they would feel rubbing against her.

She was unable to tear her gaze away from him. His chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of his neck with a few messy tendrils tucked behind his ear. She envisioned her fingers running through his locks, loosening the strands with her grip as his face was nestled between her thighs.

As Bucky pictured himself living in the space Y/N pictured him sliding in and out of her heat, fucking her until she couldn’t think straight. Her tongue licked her lips as she stared at the large bulge in his pants. It was a safe bet she wouldn’t be walking straight either.

Lost in her own fantasies she was unaware that Bucky had been staring too. Every time they went out together he noticed more things about Y/N. Her beauty was obvious and Bucky was nearly tongue tied when she had first asked him what he was looking for in an apartment. Had he let his mouth actually speak the words he thought he would have answered, “You.”

Bucky would always take note of how incredible Y/N looked. No matter what she was dressed in it suited her figure perfectly. She looked so proper in her professional attire it only fueled his desire further to want to rip it off and take her on the nearest table.

It was getting harder to deny the way they felt about each other. When there were no listings that met Bucky’s expectations Y/N took him out anyway, to see an apartment he would never go for but none of that mattered. The need to see Bucky was too great and he did not object.

In an overpriced apartment staged to fit the needs of an entitled trust fund elite Bucky crashed his lips to hers. The figures painted on the fine art that hung on the decoratively paneled walls watched scornfully as Bucky lifted Y/N up, hitching up the fabric of her dress so it was easier for her to wrap her legs around his solid frame. His lips attacked her body, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, sucking and nipping at her skin. Pulling whimpers from her mouth as he soothed the marks he left with his tongue.

Y/N’s hands cupped his cheeks, feeling the roughness of stubble scratch against her palms as she brought his lips to hers once more for a hungry, passionate kiss. Her lips parted for his tongue, meeting her own in a dance that sent an ache between her legs.

Smooth metal fingers tugged at the zipper of her dress and Bucky set Y/N gently to her feet so he could continue to remove her clothes. With the zipper loosened she pulled her arms out of the sleeves, letting the fabric pool to the floor.

Bucky rubbed himself, adjusting the stiffening of his pants as he worshipped her with his eyes, like fine art you were supposed to look at and never touch, but Bucky has never been one to follow rules.

A strand of pearls hung above her breasts, the pale iridescence standing out beside the black lace that adorned them. Stepping out from the dress at her heels she turned around, fingerprints blemishing the polished surface of the baby grand piano she leaned against to tease him and show off the matching panties.

Y/N was taken by surprise by the firm slap against her ass, letting out a whimper that drove him wild. Arching her back she prepared herself for another slap, begging for his hand to smack against her cheeks again. A warm hand landed on her flesh another time, moaning as she chewed on her lip, rubbing her thighs together for some relief.

The heady scent of her arousal flooded his senses, the throb of his dick, the voice inside his head all screaming for him to get a taste of her. He couldn’t take it any longer.

On his knees Bucky pulled her panties down quickly. His fingers were rough as they grabbed her legs, spreading them apart so he could feast upon her. Cries of pleasure fell from Y/N’s lips as his tongue worked wonders, licking and sucking at her glistening folds.

A cool metal digit rubbed against her clit sending shockwaves throughout her body as she gripped the piano for purchase. Her legs trembled as his ministrations continued, the attack of his skilled mouth on her lips, taking her further and further towards the edge.

Bucky hummed against her as she soared with pleasure above him, grinning as her leg still trembled as she came tumbling down. He had tasted the forbidden fruit, his chin glistening with her nectar and it only made him crave more.

His lips crashed to hers again, a messy kiss of teeth and tongue with the taste of her branded on him like a mark. Her hands made quick work of his belt, cupping him through his jeans before pulling them down.

Y/N’s eyes grew twice as wide at the size of him, hungrily swiping her tongue across her lips for a taste of her own. But Bucky couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to be inside her, to quell the ache he’s been carrying since they first met.

He lifted Y/N to the nearest table, her body shivering against the cold surface as he pulled his shirt off as fast as he could. The clang of something fell to the floor but neither of them cared. Bucky rubbed himself against her pussy, coating himself in her slick before sliding in. She moaned as he slowly stretched her inch by inch until he was fully sheathed inside.

Adjusting to him was momentary, just enough time for him to unclasp her bra and toss it off before he began to pump his hips, watching her breasts bounce with every thrust. His fingers pinched the hardened peak and he reveled in the way bliss washed over her face.

“Ohh... fffuck, Bucky,” she cried breathlessly.

His lips were on hers again, swallowing every moan she offered him. His breath was heavy against her skin as he lifted one leg over his shoulder, reaching deeper inside and that had her seeing white hot flashes of light behind her eyes.

Bucky grunted along to the snap of his hips, the rhythm drawing out moans and cries, a beautiful melody of ecstasy until he and Y/N reached their peak together. She came first, tumbling down from the heights of rapture and Bucky pulled out, painting his own pearl necklace across her breasts.

Strands of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and he pushed them back, catching his breath as he watched her do the same. It made his cock throb again, the sight of her marked by his seed and trembling with aftershocks.

He leaned down to claim her lips, delicately this time, soft and sweet; and as she began to pull away he went back for more, needing one more kiss before he went to clean her up. His lips still tingled with the feeling of Y/N’s against him and Bucky felt a shift within himself.

Like a drug he became hooked, instantly addicted to Y/N; to her smile and the lightness of her laughter, to her body and the way he felt inside her. His problems disappeared, his fears were no more. The pit in his stomach was sated and filling the void was her.

Stepping inside Bucky’s apartment felt like home. The familiar smell of leather and sandalwood invades Y/N’s senses. The locks click behind her as she sets her bag off to the side, sensing Bucky’s warmth behind her.

“You’re wet.”

His words came out like gravel and he cleared his throat. Still, she wondered if he meant that as a statement about the weather or if he could tell she was already soaked for him; the mere sight of Bucky causing her body to flood with desire.

Bucky doesn’t do much speaking when he’s alone, and though his phone is near him for emergencies he never picks up unless he has to. Steve knows not to bother him with anything unless it’s important, knowing how much Bucky’s deliberate seclusion means to him. If only Steve knew the full truth.

He leaned in to press his lips to hers, not caring about the damp jacket against him. Running his tongue along the seam of her lips they part open, craving his entry but he pulls away teasingly, leaving her wanting more. He smirked and she shook her head smiling at him.

“Long day at work?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N nodded, softening her gaze.

Bucky leads her to the bathroom where he leaned over the tub to turn on the faucet. The cabinet under the sink squeaked slightly as he opened it to pull out a familiar blue package, half empty from what Y/N could see which made her lips pull into a smile; it was a gift she had given him.

A few months back Bucky had returned from a mission, badly bruised and sore all over. Even sex had him wincing through heavy moans and Y/N suggested he take a warm bath to soothe his muscles. He refused, thinking that was not something he was supposed to do. Antiquated ideas aside, she purchased foaming bath salts marketed for men, the blue color somehow making it more acceptable.

Bucky trusted her and gave everything a try, and now he looks forward to a quiet soak in the tub; the light musky scent of the salts filling the air as he treated himself to some relaxation.

Two large scoops went into the water and white foam began to fill the surface. Bucky turned his attention to Y/N, helping her out of her jacket and hanging it behind the door. Holding onto him for balance she got out of her boots one foot at a time, feeling the cool tile beneath her feet.

It was soft and slow as Bucky unzipped her dress as she ran her hands up his broad chest and over the curves of his shoulders, feeling the shift beneath the material as solid muscle became smooth vibranium plates. Bucky didn’t like people touching his arm, especially not at the junction where the metal had been fused into his flesh but when Y/N touched him things were different. Delicate fingertips traced lightly over the raised scar tissue, soft kisses soothed the eternal crimson stain of his skin. The horrors of his past washed away at her touch.

Her hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward to pull over his head. The remainder of clothing was thrown to the side; his socks, her bra, his pants, her underwear and in between he had tested the temperature of the water, wiping his flesh fingers on his boxers that came off next.

With the faucet turned off and all of their clothes now removed Bucky held Y/N’s hand as she stepped over the high edge of the tub, waiting for him to join her. Bucky sat down first, pressing his large frame against the back of the now warm tub, waiting with open arms for Y/N to sit in front of him.

Frothy water sloshed around as she sat between his legs, feeling the press of his already half hard length against her back. Bucky couldn’t help it, and Y/N really never minded. The tub was cramped together and Y/N’s legs had to bend so she could fit, the tops of her knees were above the water but she didn’t care, as long as they were together.

Wet hands pushed her hair aside as Bucky kneaded the stiff muscles of her shoulders, knowing how desperate she was for a massage. Bucky knew her well, as intimately as he knew himself. That sort of thing happens when you spend as much time with someone as they have. He swallows a harsh lump, ignoring the gentle flutters of his heart that remind him about the feelings he claims he doesn't have. This is just sex.

Y/N melted into his touch, releasing all of the tension she had been holding onto all day. Bucky made her forget about everything, annoying co-workers, demanding clients, everything faded away when they were together and there was only him.

Sinful moans of relaxation left her lips and though Bucky’s dick twitched at the sound he ignored it, leaning in to press a kiss to her collarbone, smiling with satisfaction in knowing she felt better. His arms traveled through the warm water to wrap around her stomach, pulling Y/N closer to him. She leaned back against his firm chest, placing her arm across his.

Small talk filled the void of silence, things about her day, things about Bucky’s. Even though he can’t give many details he mentions the Avengers going on a mission he chose to sit out on, one he’s certain will require follow ups that he’ll surely have to be present for.

Craning her neck back Y/N shuts him up with a kiss, reaching her hand up to cup his cheek. He knows she hates when he’s away, risking his life for the sake of the rest of the world. It’s dangerous, he knows it, but there are also parts of her job that make him nervous too, Like when she runs an open house without a co-agent; anyone can walk in leaving her alone with them, strangers who are potential threats, at least that’s how Bucky sees them.

The furrow of his brow relaxes as her tongue slips into his mouth and Bucky’s hands travel up her chest, cupping her breasts and rolling her hardened nipples in between his fingers. Y/N’s body squirms against him as he sucks on her neck, letting his metal hand roam lower.

Metal digits dip between the heat of her folds and she gasps as his thumb brushes against her clit. It becomes too much very quickly. His tongue laving at her neck while his hands play her like an instrument. Y/N’s moans flow like music echoing off the walls. Expert fingers have her singing his name at her peak. Her lips find his again as she comes crashing down, body still shaking, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

It isn’t long before she’s turned around to face him, two hands gripping his length and twisting in corkscrew motions up and down. She’s desperate for his lips; the kiss is messy and hungry, wanting to devour him like he’s the first meal she’s had all day.

Y/N nips at the stubble on his neck, flicking her tongue teasingly over his nipples, kissing a path down until her lips meet where her hands have been working him but now it was time for more.

Bucky stands up to make it easier for her, watching as his cock disappears in her mouth. His hips rut in rhythm with her pace until she takes him to the furthest reaches of her throat. He licks his lips, letting a sweet moan escape as he’s swallowed by the warmth of her mouth.

In that moment Y/N looks up at Bucky and he struggles not to come at the sight of her; large eyes filling with tears as she chokes on his dick with the hunger for more present in her sultry gaze, her lips wrapped around him, stuffing his cock as far back as she can take.

She pulls back releasing him, gasping for breath while her hands still jerk him off, massaging his velvet head with gentle fingers that disrupts the string of arousal connected to her mouth. When Y/N’s ready she takes him again, gripping his thighs as Bucky fucks her face, his body stuttering as he comes down her throat.

Two hands of different temperatures help her to her feet. Bucky presses her body against his as he kissed Y/N again, sensing the tang of himself still on her tongue. He stepped out of the tub first, grabbing a towel that he wrapped around his waist and then handed one for her to do the same.

She left the bathroom feeling dirtier than before, with her hair out of place and her makeup smudged a bit under her eyes but Y/N didn’t care. In Bucky’s bedroom they towel dried each other which only served as a precursor to sex. Thanks to the serum Bucky’s was ready to go again, a side effect which has often led to marathon nights of wrecking her body with pleasure.

Muscular arms brace him above her as messy dark hair curtains his face. Y/N’s hands come up to tuck the strands behind his ears, running her thumbs over the flush of his cheeks.

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky said as he leaned down to connect his lips to hers. His eyes close as he pushes inside her again ever so slowly, gently rolling his hips to languidly fuck her, letting her body take its time to build up to the next orgasm.

It’s a sweet reprieve from their previous rounds. First he had slammed into her from behind, snaking his arm around to rub her clit in a demanding bid for her pleasure. Then Y/N was on top, bracing against his chest as she sunk down on him. She set the pace rocking above him, his hands roaming everywhere they could; her bouncing tits, grazing her hips, intertwining their fingers as she trembled above him.

He spills into her, fills her up with everything he has. Hips stuttering as she milks every last drop of him as she clenches around him. Heavy breaths fall from his lips and their mouths are connected again, tasting the salty sweat on kiss swollen lips.

Y/N is thoroughly spent as she lies in bed to catch her breath. They’re wrapped in each other’s arms soon after, with Bucky being a gentleman and taking the part of the bed with the inevitable wet spot. He hardly gives any attention to it, instead focusing on how quickly she’s fallen asleep against him.

His lips linger on her skin as he kisses Y/N goodnight, he dares not speak the words he feels in his heart but they echo in his mind; I love you. It keeps him up for a little while longer as his mind and heart silently wrestle until he finally succumbs to sleep.

Sunlight forces its way through the dark curtains with little avail. Bucky prefers it that way on most days, blocking out the world to keep his room dark and cave-like, except when Y/N’s there. He wished the sun was shining in, illuminating her beauty through its warm kiss.

She’s still asleep, hair mussed wildly against the pillow. He watches the rise and fall of her chest, syncing himself to match her calming tempo. She awakes shortly, blinking her heavy eyes a half dozen times before they finally stay open, sucking in a deep breath and sighing out with a smile.

Through the dim haze she finds Bucky facing her, his eyes were soft, his lips pulled gently at the corners. Of all the times she’s seen Bucky smile mornings like this were her favorite. It was a rare moment when she felt like she was connecting with Bucky, the real Bucky, the one not bogged down by an overactive mind, haunted by his past.

“Good morning,” she whispered softly, with a bit of rasp in her voice.

His fingers reach over towards her eyes that shut on instinct and Bucky gently picked away at flakes of crust from the corner of her eye. Y/N’s heart flutters at the gesture, something so caring that bonds her deeper than the sex had.

A lump sits at the back of her throat as she thinks about how often she’s with Bucky even though she’s not with him. How whatever he defines their relationship as is anything but an actual relationship, but it feels like so much more. She knows she has to mean more to him than just a hole to get his dick wet. Her heart breaks at the thought.

Maybe she doesn't mean much to him, despite how he acts when they’re together. Maybe he’s ashamed of her. Is that why she’s a secret? Why they’ve been sneaking around for nearly a year? She’s Bucky’s dirty secret, the one who comes running at his beck and call.

It’s pathetic, she thinks. She’s pathetic, but she couldn’t help but hope that maybe this time he’ll get over whatever is holding him back. That she’ll step out from the shadows together, like the couple they practically are just not in name.

Y/N’s phone buzzes with an alert and she reaches over to see to it. It’s time to start the day even though she wanted to stay in bed with Bucky until he was no longer ashamed of her.

“Time to go?” he asked, as her attention was focused to the illuminated screen.

“Yeah, you know how busy Saturday’s are.”

Bucky stares at the bare skin of her back as she sits on the edge of the bed. Another stretch of her arms as she thinks about where she left her bag. By the front door she remembered, dropping it down before Bucky whisked her away.

These are the awkward moments, when Y/N has to leave the bubble of lust and face the real world again. Wearing the mask of a stranger to the man she knows inside and out. Well, not completely. Bucky gives most of himself to her but there is a part he shuts her out of; the last piece of his heart, the one that would say the words she wants to believe he feels, the one that would proudly show her off to the world.

A tear falls down her cheek but she doesn’t wipe it. Bucky is behind her, still lying on his bed, the one they had christened together the day he moved in to the apartment she found him.

Quick on her feet Y/N leaves the bedroom, wiping the stray tear away as she retrieves her bag and goes to the bathroom. It doesn’t take long to make herself look presentable.

Hair products help revive her hair, her travel toothbrush makes its appearance again and she can’t help but think how much easier it would be to leave it in his bathroom. Makeup wipes help erase yesterday’s mess, and a few products help her put on a fresh face, complete with a perfect smile; a bright and cheery mask that hides the ache behind it.

Clean clothes make her feel better instantly. A different dress, new accessories, the same boots because it was easier that way. She gathered yesterday’s clothes from the floor, taking her dress from the floor and rolling it to place in her overnight bag.

The smell of coffee floats through the air as Y/N leaves the bathroom. Bucky is in his kitchen, dressed in a soft cotton shirt and grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Two mugs are set aside as he waits for the cups to brew, turning around ever so casually to look at her.

His eyes glance briefly while his mind screams at him to tell her how beautiful she looks. He doesn’t listen. That’s not something he can say now, not when he isn’t hiding behind the veil of sex. He can’t open up without that layer of protection because if Y/N sees him without it she’ll see how he really feels and Bucky can’t let that happen.

Instead he pours the now ready cup of coffee and hands it over. Clearing his throat he steadied his voice, asking a question with perfected nonchalance. “Were you coming over again tonight?”

Y/N freezes as the cup reaches her lips.

She wished he didn’t ask her. He never asks her. It’s always a text– “Want to come over?” He texts that a few nights a week, only when the sun has gone down, never earlier. They both know what it means. She slips out of the shadows to meet him and fuck, to leave her common sense at home and live a lie.

Tonight was different. Tonight Y/N had plans, plans she wished she didn’t have now that he asked her to come over.

“I can’t,” she finally answered him.

As the coffee reaches the back of her throat she decided to tell him why, in the hopes it would push whatever it is between them in to some sort of direction. Maybe he’ll step up and finally call her his.

With a nervous gulp she speaks again, “Someone asked me out.”

Bucky is silent as he takes in what she’s said. Someone asked her out. Her exact wording. Not, that she has a date but that someone asked her on one. Beneath a calm surface his body is quaking as he silently screams at himself.

The thought of losing Y/N claws at his soul but Bucky knows he can’t give her what she wants. It’s what he wants too, deep down, but it’s not possible and it never will be.

“Have a good time,” he said, light and carefree, not a hint of sarcasm or malice within the syllables.

He sips his coffee casually as if she hasn’t just shattered his world. Y/N’s own mug had nearly slipped from her grasp, just as Bucky was slipping away in front of her.

“Cool. Thanks,” she replied, not knowing what else to say; barely able to choke those words out without crying.

She doesn’t finish the coffee. She needs to get out of there. The mug is left on the counter as Y/N grabs her things. She doesn’t kiss Bucky goodbye, it’s not like that was part of their routine any way. Their routine was her coming over, rushing to him like a dog to its owner. Pathetically responded to his call for sex when she wanted love, but she settled.

Y/N left like she normally did, a quick wave, an awkward goodbye; saving her breakdown for a better time.

As soon as she was gone Bucky abandoned his coffee for alcohol, a liquid breakfast that will never be strong enough to give him the courage to say how he feels or take away his pain. He drove her into the arms of someone else, pushing her out of his life and he hates himself for it. Another reason for self-loathing on the seemingly never ending list.

Her perfume lingers in his room and Bucky feels like he’s been transported to a field of wildflowers surrounded by summer fruit, wrapped in warm vanilla. It’s perfectly Y/N, light and sweet yet alluring and passionate.

He drinks until he passes out, in his bed surrounded by the torturous scent of the woman he loves because he doesn’t have the strength to tell her he’s not worthy of her.

Y/N walked away from Bucky’s apartment contemplating the date. It was nice to feel wanted, even if that attention wasn’t coming from the person she really wanted it to come from. Opening her phone she sent a message to the person who asked her, agreeing to go on a date with Steve Rogers.

PART 2

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated :)

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[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

i don’t believe in peter pan, frankenstein or superman

Fandom: Supergirl Rating: K Summary: As Alex and Kara help Eliza prepare for a garage sale, a shocking secret is revealed! A/N: *wants to tell a single joke about dragons on Krypton* *ends up writing thirteen pages of what is probably incoherent nonsense*

...

Spring in Midvale is...a bit tempestuous, to say the least.

It brings just as much rain as it does sun; plants blossom in the warm weather one week, only to have the new buds washed away by a freak downpour the next.

Kara doesn't mind the indecisiveness of the season all that much—she likes the sound of the raindrops on the leaves outside, and the sunlight is pleasantly mild, when it decides to make an appearance. So, she's fine with a few stretches of grey clouds, here and there.

“Yeah, well. Not all of us are impervious to the cold,” Alex mutters miserably from inside her jacket and scarf.

Kara just shrugs, not even batting an eyelash at the windchill.

Now, allergies, daylight savings, standardized testing...some of those, Kara does mind, and she'll wholeheartedly agree with Alex's complaints.

Especially when it comes to another annual spring occurrence.

“Girls, if I have to ask you one more time—”

“Alright, alright!”

Kara watches as Alex rolls her eyes and hastily tosses a few more books into the cardboard box situated in the center of the room. Kara moves a bit slower, adding a pair of old shoes that no longer fit, but hesitating with the pair of jeans in her hands. The knees are starting to go a bit thin and threadbare.

“Keep those,” Alex says. “Ripped jeans are cool.”

Kara frowns, not entirely convinced, but does as Alex says, setting aside the jeans and instead reaching for her freshman math book instead. “What about this?��

Alex huffs, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, but schools her features into something a bit more patient as she looks over her shoulder, and considers.

“...Yeah,” she finally decides, nodding towards the box. “I don't think you'd get much if you took it to a used bookstore anyway.”

Kara tosses it in.

She's been on Earth for...a little over two years, now? And thus, she's familiar with the yearly ‘Danvers' Household Spring Cleaning and Garage Sale,’ a ritual that does not actually involve the sale of garages...though Alex did try and convince her, that yes, that's definitely what garage sales are about.

(And...okay. Kara...maybe believed her for like...five minutes. Four. Tops. And then Jeremiah kindly set the record straight.)

“Girls!” Eliza calls, and Alex huffs again.

“Coming!” Alex yells. “Are we good?”

Kara looks at the sizable collection of items in the box, and nods.

“I think so. I...don't really have anything else to put in.”

“Yeah, figured,” Alex says. There isn't much that Kara has that's old enough to warrant tossing out—everything works perfectly fine, or fits perfectly well, will definitely last another year. Most of the stuff they've found belongs to Alex—old books and board games. Of course, Alex first offered them to Kara, but. Kara didn't have much use for an old Chinese Checker set that was missing half the pieces. (And Kara certainly had no use for Clue...as she’d been permanently put off of murder mysteries ever since Kenny.)

But Kara does has more to contribute this time around, at least. Like those shoes, for instance. (And that pair of jeans she sneaked back in the box, when Alex wasn't looking.)

Her sister stands, hefting the cardboard box as she does so. Kara grabs a smaller box, and Alex feigns annoyance.

“Hey, you're the super strong alien...you should take this one.”

Kara smirks.

“Sorry, can't. I'm not supposed to use my powers, remember?”

Alex nudges her in the side, adding a drawn out, “riiiiiight,” generously laced with sarcasm. They both laugh and head downstairs.

“Finally!” Eliza says, once they reach the bottom of the stairs. Kara wonders if they're in for a lecture, but Eliza's clearly too wrapped up in prepping for the garage sale to fit in any scolding. “Just put them over by the door, and then Alex...I need you to go through some of the things out in the shed...”

“What?!” Alex yelps as they add their boxes to the (ever growing, it seems) stack near the door. “You never said I had to clean out the shed...that'll take forever.”

“It's just a few things,” Eliza insists, “some of the sports equipment, and the old camping gear. I think one of the tents is broken...”

“Uggggh,” Alex groans.  And Kara is ready to leave her behind, and retreat back to their room, because she's been out in the shed a total of two times, and both were entirely unpleasant affairs.

Besides, Eliza only mentioned Alex. So Kara’s pretty sure she in the clear.

But of course, Alex isn't about to let that happen.

“Can Kara at least come and help me lift stuff?” Alex asks, and Kara—having zero desire to get roped into this, is quick to remind her:

“I'm not supposed to use my pow—”

“It's just moving junk out of the way,” Alex says, turning to Eliza to plead her case. “It'll go faster, and then we'll be all set for Saturday.”

Kara can see Eliza turning the idea over in her head...clearly taken with the notion of being ahead of schedule.

“But—!” Kara tries once more, but Eliza is already moving towards the office, several empty milk crates in tow.

“Help your sister!” she calls over her shoulder. “But no flying or super speed—just strength!”

Alex chuckles wickedly under her breath as Kara slumps, and emits a disgruntled whine.

“You're the worst,” Kara mutters. And Alex just shrugs it off.

“It’s a sibling thing, get used to it,” she says, and when Kara gives her an inquisitive look, she elaborates, “'if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me.'”

The shed is just as bad as Kara recalls.

Dark, damp, and void of any semblance of organization, it's a dumping ground for outdoor gear, (both broken and functional), gardening equipment (that they never use) and patio furniture that, by Alex's calculations, has not seen the light of day for at least six years.

“Okay, I know mom said just strength...” Alex starts, staring into the shadowy abyss, “but you think you could...?”

Kara sighs, and slips her glasses off, using her x-ray vision to quickly locate the items they've been sent to find.

“Camping gear's all the way at the back,” Kara says, “What sport stuff did Eliza want you to look at?”

“I dunno,” Alex says, pushing a few foam boogie boards out of the way. She nods towards some lawn chairs, and Kara grunts, but ultimately obliges, easily hoisting them out of the way. “Let's do the camping stuff first.”

“'Kay.”

Alex is right, of course; Kara's super strength makes clearing a path a cinch, and, admittedly, it turns out to be an invaluable asset, given that the tents are buried beneath several layers of cobweb-covered junk.

Kara hauls everything out into the backyard, allowing Alex to yank the tents from the shelving units.

“Okay, let's check and see...” Alex starts to say, dumping the pieces out onto the lawn.

A puff of red dust and the moldy remains of what was once a canvas tent come tumbling out.

“...Yeah, I think that's...done.” Alex surmises.

Kara nods, recoiling slightly at the smell of water damage.

“Here, just—put that in the garbage, actually. No one's gonna wanna buy that,” Alex tells her. “I'll start putting this stuff back.”

Kara does as she's told, gingerly taking the tent to the side yard, and shoving it into one of the trashcans.

“Yeeeuch,” she mumbles, shaking her head and trotting back to join her sister. Alex stands just outside the shed, brushing her hands on her jeans, and regarding two items propped up against the shed's corrugated metal siding.

Kara recognizes them as bicycles—bikes.

“Do you need my help, moving them?” Kara asks, wondering why Alex has paused. The whole reason she was out here in the first place was because Alex wanted to rush through this.

“No,” Alex says slowly, “I think I'm actually gonna move these to the garage.”

“For the sale?”

Alex shakes her head. “No,” she says again. “Or. Maybe...” she scratches her head. “I never ride mine, anymore. But, I dunno...” she runs her hand over the seat, which Kara thinks might be black, underneath the thick layer of dust. “They're kinda nice to just have, you know?”

Kara nods, even though she's not really sure she understands.

“Uh...yeah,” she agrees, and her hesitation must be apparent, because Alex turns and gives her a funny look.

“Oh...come on,” she says suddenly, realizing. “You guys seriously didn't have bikes on Krypton?”

Kara crosses her arms, feeling a twinge of defensiveness working its way into her response. “Why would we? They're...archaic.”

Alex doesn't take offense at the comment, instead grabbing one of the bikes and nudging the kickstand up out of the way.

“Well now we have to keep them,” she grins. “Here, take this, I'll go see if I can find the helmets—”

“Uhhh...” Kara is forced to take hold of the nearest bike by the handle bars, because Alex is already dashing back into the shed. A few loud crashes follow, along with some grumbling and more than a few phrases that would have Eliza frowning in disapproval, but at last, Alex emerges, two bike helmets in hand.

“Here,” she says, giving one to Kara. It's smaller than the other—bright blue, with the faded, gummy remains of stickers dotted along the front.

“But I don't—”

“I know you don't need it,” Alex says, clipping her own helmet into place. It's larger, and a plain dark grey.  “But, you know. It's the law, and everything, and you have to blend—”

“No, I—” Kara steps away from the bike, handing the helmet back to Alex. “I don't...want to. Ride, I mean.”

Alex blinks.

“Oh,” she says, taking the helmet from Kara. “Like...you don't wanna go right now, or...?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods vigorously. “I...I forgot I have...some APUSH stuff to finish.”

Alex narrows her eyes. They're in the same class.

“What APUSH stuff?”

“I meant Bio,” Kara says, already heading back towards the house. “We can go...some other time, maybe!”

Alex watches her go, eyes still narrowed, so not buying this.

“Riiiight.”

It's not the same thing, Kara tells herself as she stares at the ceiling in their room, sprawled on her bed and not working on Bio or APUSH.

It's not the same thing at all.

And she's not sure if that makes her feel better...or worse.

Kara doesn't even entertain the notion that Alex will leave well enough alone—she knows, right from the get-go, that her sister is going to keep harping on this until...until something happens. Either until Kara snaps or caves or does something else that Alex can hyper-fixate on.

“I can teach you,” Alex offers, literally riding circles around Kara. She's taken to riding her old bike to school...no doubt an attempt to wear down Kara's resolve.

Kara just shrugs, and keeps walking.

“No thanks.”

Alex sighs angrily. “I just don't get it,” she says. “Why not?”

Kara shrugs again, “I dunno, I just don't want to.”

“That's not really a reason.”

“I don't need a reason,” Kara insists, gripping her backpack straps a bit tighter. Alex has stopped pedaling, allowing the bike to coast alongside the sidewalk. Kara can hear the spokes clicking loudly in her ears.

“I guess not,” Alex admits. “...But it would...kinda be nice to have one.” She thinks for a moment. “You can't be scared—it's impossible for you to get hurt.”

Kara scowls.

“I'm not scared.”

“Yeah, I know. I just said you weren't.”

“Good. 'Cause I'm not,” Kara reiterates firmly.

Alex squints at her. “Well, now I'm thinking that you kind of are.”

“I'm not!” Kara says again, raising her voice. Alex frowns, taken aback.

“Whoa, calm down, I didn't—”

“I'm not scared of your...your dumb Earth bikes. You know why we didn't have them on Krypton? Because we had dragons. These big—lizard—dragon things with wings that were ten times scarier than any of your antiquated...” Kara stammers a little, the Kryptonian and English getting jumbled in her head. “Stuff. Your antiquated stuff.”

And she knows she shouldn't, but she uses a touch of super speed, because she's done talking.

Alex watches her go, still a little...stunned, by Kara's outburst.

“...Dragons?”

“Is it scary?”

“Mmmm.” Uncle Jor hums thoughtfully as he chews. “A little. At first. What do you think, Zor?”

Her father nods in agreement.

“At first, yes.”

“I had to push him, you know,” Uncle Jor tells her, leaning forward and pretending to whisper. Kara rolls her eyes—Uncle Jor is under the impression that she finds his antics hilarious.

(Which, admittedly, she did. When she was five.)

But she is interested in the story.

“Did you really?” she asks, looking from her uncle to her father, and back again. Uncle Jor laughs.

“I see you've not shared this particular story with Kara, then?”

“He has not shared it with me, either,” her mother interjects, joining them at the table. She raises an eyebrow and smirks at Zor.

Her father's smile is sheepish.

“Well...it has never come up before...”

“Zor was certain he would take to flying much faster than I,” Uncle Jor says, leaning back in his chair. “But when we got to the cliffs, he froze.”

“I was merely taking my time,” her father says.

Uncle Jor shakes his head. “He froze.”

“So you pushed him?” Kara asks. Uncle Jor nods.

“H'Raka was going to leave without him!” he claps his brother on the shoulder. “So I gave him a good shove, right off the edge of the cliff.”

Her mother covers her mouth with her hand in an attempt to hide her smile.

“I am surprised the thantho flez allowed that,” she chuckles. Her father looks sheepish again.

“She...did not.”

“She threw him right off.” Uncle Jor nods.

Kara's eyes widen, and her mother abruptly stops laughing.

“Did you get hurt?” Kara asks, trying to imagine the scene. Were the cliffs steep? How far did father fall? Was H'Raka alright?

“I landed in a Hantha tree, thank Rao,” her father smiles. “I broke my arm, but if could have been...much worse.”

“I pray you had the decency to feel badly,” her mother turns and scolds Uncle Jor, who is nodding, wearing a very serious frown.

“Oh, of course,” he says, just as he winks at Kara.

Kara doesn't laugh���in fact, she remains quiet throughout the rest of the dinner, still thinking about Father, and flying, and being frightened.

Eventually, Uncle Jor leaves—he has to meet Aunt Lara at the High Council building. She doesn't join her parents, in seeing him off.

“Alright, Little One,” her mother says, once Uncle Jor is gone. “Something is troubling you.”

Kara shakes her head, but her mother and father know better. Her father rubs her shoulder.

“It will not be scary,” he tells her, correctly guessing the source of her worry. “Flying. I promise, it will be fine.”

“Do I...have to go?” Kara asks in a small voice. Her mother and father share a look—something passes between them, a silent conversation. Kara marvels at their ability to do that—seemingly speaking to one another, without actually talking.

“You must take the test...eventually...” her father says slowly, kneeling so that they are eye level. Again, he rubs her shoulders, soothingly. “You know this.”

“Thara waited until fifth tier...” Kara argues.

And she can see her mother, ready to protest, to tell her that she may not wait, she must take the test before her fourth tier lessons.

But it's her father who speaks, soft and reassuring.

“We will wait until you are ready,” he says, smiling. “And when that time comes, we will be right there beside you. To teach you. To help you.”

Kara feels the anxious knot in her stomach come undone.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

That was one year before the planet started falling apart.

(Though...according to her dad and Uncle Jor, the planet had been falling apart for a long time, but. It didn't become...noticeable until...just before the end, really.)

She never took her flight test.

Her parents never taught her how to ride a thantho flez, or a hover skiff, or...or anything, really. She was too young for some of those things...too scared for the others.

And when at last she found some courage (I'm not afraid, father)...

Well.

By then, it was too late.

Kara sighs, poking her head into the living room, finding Alex lying on one of the couches.

“Um. Hey....” she starts. Alex glances up from her phone.

“Hey.”

And Kara takes that as a good sign...Alex doesn't sound like she's mad at her. If anything, she sounds bored. And that's fine. Kara can handle bored.

“I'm...sorry,” Kara says, shuffling into the room somewhat awkwardly. She takes a seat in the chair across from the couch. “About yelling at you. And calling bikes dumb.”

“And antiquated.”

“And antiquated,” Kara sighs again. “I didn't mean it. I'm sure bikes are...are great.”

“Yeah, well,” Alex shrugs, gaze flicking back to her phone. “They're not quite as exciting as dragons,” she drawls, casting a pointed look in Kara's direction. Kara winces. “But. They're okay.”

“I was just upset,” Kara says, wringing her hands, feeling that she owes Alex some sort of explanation.

“Clearly,” Alex snorts. Kara lets the interruption slide, forging ahead.

“Everything you said...about being scared and...and learning to ride...” she shrugs. “It. Reminded me of my parents, I guess. Kind of. Of...something that...I never...” she adjusts her glasses, looking down at her feet. “Never got to, um. We never...got to do, together.”

She takes a deep breath; that's as much detail as she can muster, right now, not wanting to remember too much, to linger too long on those raw emotions. She looks up to see Alex nodding, sitting up and setting her phone aside.

“Sorry. I didn't, uh,” she scratches the back of her hand. “Know. About...that it was...bringing up some stuff.”

Kara nods. “Yeah,” she says.

“Yeah.”

They sit in awkward silence for a moment as Kara struggles to think of something else to say. Fortunately, Alex puts an end to it, as she raises an eyebrow and asks:

“So...when you say dragons, do you mean...?”

Kara grins. “Like. Dragon dragons.”

“Seriously?”

“Well. Some of them look more like dragonflies, but...”

“And you guys would ride them?”

“Yeah.”

“That's...” Alex allows herself to sink back into the couch cushions. “Whoa.”

“Definitely whoa,” Kara agrees, remembering seeing Thara prepare for her test, practicing, her Winged One—her thantho flez—swooping and circling high overhead.

Alex returns to her phone, and Kara...Kara realizes with a start that, no, she never did learn to fly, back on Krypton.

But she did learn on Earth.

“You sure you want to do this?” Alex asks.

Kara buckles the strap on her borrowed helmet.

“Yes,” she says firmly.

“Because you don't have to,” Alex tells her. “I don't want to like...traumatize you, or something, and then you rat me out to mom.”

“I would never,” Kara says, entirely unconvincing.

“Mmmm hmmm,” Alex smirks. “’Course you wouldn't.”

She slings her leg over the bike—free of cobwebs and dust, and sporting a new set of pegs on the back.

“So, do I just...?” Kara asks, stepping forward somewhat tentatively. Alex nods.

“Yeah, but...wait a sec, lemme make sure...okay, go for it.”

Kara steps up onto the pegs, placing her hands on Alex's shoulders. Alex flinches.

“Too tight,” she hisses. Kara eases her grip.

“Oh, sorry. Better?”

Alex nods. “Okay, so now, you just...hang on, I guess.”

“Okay,” Kara says.

And then, they're off.

Slowly, and somewhat wobbly.

“Oh, this is great,” Kara lays on the sarcasm thick. Alex grunts.

“Would you just—I've never had a passenger before, alright? You're throwing off the whole...” Alex manages to straighten out, and pick up some speed. “Ha! Okay, there.”

And now they're really off—Alex picked a particularly hilly neighborhood for the ride, and soon enough, they're coasting down streets, wind in their hair, pale afternoon sun pleasantly warm on their backs.

They don't ride very fast, or very far—it's over all too soon, in Kara's opinion, but Alex is still paranoid that she'll emotionally scar her, or something.

They come to a stop at the bottom of the hill, tires skidding slightly on the asphalt.

“So?” Alex asks, turning. “How as that?”

Kara beams.

“Good,” she replies. “Really good. Almost like flying.”

Alex nods, humming slightly.

“Well,” she says, “as someone who's flown with you once,” she moves her feet back to the pedals, ready to head for home. “Agree to disagree.”

Kara doesn't fully explain to Alex, just what was bothering her. Kara doesn't know if she herself really understands the scope of it. (That will come later—when she has words for things like survivor's guilt.)

But Alex...Alex must understand some of it, because after the ride, on the way home, she tells Kara—somewhat haltingly, and unsure—about how her parents taught her to ride a bike—that, during the summer, they'd go for long rides on the nearby trails together. She tells Kara that there are still some things, she can't even think of doing, because Jeremiah isn't here to do it with them.

“So if I...you know,” Alex's shrug is hindered, somewhat, but Kara's grip, but Kara can feel them tense a little. “Pressured you, or something, I'm sorry.”

Kara shakes her head, only to realize Alex can't see her, focused as she is on the road. So she squeezes her shoulder, and assures her. “It's okay.”

“Quit doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“That—that thing that you're doing—normal humans can't balance like that unless both feet are on the ground.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“You have to pedal. We can't have an E.T. moment, okay?”

Kara has to think for a moment—which one was E.T.? But then she remembers...and grins.

“You sure?”

“...Honestly, no. It's very tempting. But—secret identity.”

“Right, right. Secret identity.”

“Okay, so. Pedal, and, uh. That's the front brakes—don't use those first, unless you want to flip the bike. Use the back ones—yeah, those. And....there's the gears,” Alex continues to point out  the various parts of the bike. “Don't bother with those for now...you should be fine in two.”

“...Okay.”

“Alright, I think...I think that's it...” Alex says. “Ready to give it a shot?”

Kara nods, her new helmet not quite as snug as the one she'd borrowed from Alex. It tips forward into her line of sight, and she has to push it out of the way.

“Yes.”

It doesn't take long to get the hang of it. Soon enough, Kara's riding like a pro. She skids to a stop in front of Alex, breathless, not from exertion, but from excitement.

“This is fun!” she declares. Alex just laughs. “Here, you wanna...?” she gestures to the pegs.

Alex looks skeptical—Kara is still technically a rookie after all—but she does have superpowers on her side.

So she hops up onto the back of the bike.

And is immediately suspicious of Kara's sly grin.

“What are you—”

“You said no E.T. Stuff, right?”

“Right...?”

“So no flying.”

“What are you—”

Alex doesn't finish, words snatched away as Kara starts pedaling.

Alex never said anything about super speed.

Several Years Later

Alex comes home for Spring Break—it's a surprise; she'd told them she had too much work to catch up on, that she wouldn't be able to visit.

But she arrives, single duffel bag in hand, tight grin on her face.

(Kara's noticed that about Alex lately...her smiles are a little...tense.)

“I didn't even hear you pull up!” Eliza exclaims, wrapping her in a hug.

Kara didn't either...which is very strange.

“Friend dropped me off,” Alex says. “She has family up the coast...we carpooled.”

Eliza is satisfied with this answer, but Kara is not.

Still, she knows better than to interrogate her in front of Eliza.

Her answer comes later...much later. Like, middle-of-the-night later, when Alex nudges her awake, and throws something round and heavy onto her stomach.

Kara groggily regards the item with confusion, running her hands over it, not sure what she's dealing--

She sits bolt upright.

“You didn't,” she says, already grinning.

Alex's smile is no longer tense, or tight—it's small and quirked to one side and so patently Alex.

“I did,” she says, shrugging on her new motorcycle jacket. “Come on.”

And Kara doesn't have to be asked twice.

Notes:

- Kryptonian culture varies, depending on which comic you read; the bit about learning to fly/Jor and Zor is taken from the Injustice 2 title. - Formal speech/minimal contractions on Krypton is a Supergirl: Rebirth thing - Dumb title is dumb...gosh, I hate naming things.

[punk-in-docs]

Rose & the Nightingale Chapter 2

Benedict Cumberbatch x Female OC, AU. Set in the 1920’s, This tells a story of love, jealousy, friendship and desires. Set in the backdrop of 20’s Britain, as the ages begin to shift, and Friends realise their lifelong preference for one another could turn out to be the beginning of a simmering romance… (eventual smut) - also on AO3 Chapter number: Chapter 2 Author: punk-in-docs (Here is my Masterlist for more chapters… Don’t laugh at me cause it’ s so, ridiculously tiny) but do take a look if you feel so inclined… Triggers/warnings: Again, we see them meet, this time in 1926, no warnings.

Elizabeth was just bounding leisurely back to the house across the lawn from having taken a walk through the small green woods on the edge of their property to while away the time. Though the woman had adored every second of London she had spent there, she rather preferred that she could up and walk about and take in scenery rather than sitting and watching the clock tick. She had finished her University degree at Imperial College in London nearly two years ago now. She had studied Literature, and the arts. She was an avid photographer and painter. Her mother didn’t understand why she didn’t pursue the sciences or mathematics, she was very bright and terribly good at them. But, in true manner, Libby had genteelly put her foot down and insisted upon her life’s ambition of the written word and the painted arts. While her mother had flapped about in hysterics, and warned her it would get her barely anywhere in life, she had clamoured Libby’s father to get her to change her mind, to which the elder man simply smiled and waved her off into what she loved doing, regardless of her mother’s utter abhorrence of the notion. ‘Carry on, dear heart.’ was what he had said.

And so it was, That Libby Jones had a degree under her belt, appreciated books and sculptures, and paintings and drawings, and always kept a sly ear open to the changing politics of the day much to her father’s proudness, had subsequently moved back to her Parent’s permanent summer home in Oxford, and spent her days leisurely pouring through books and sketching until the right job came along. And if the right job didn’t come along, then her mother was jumping through hoops to ascertain that the right husband did.

Libby was an impressive looking beauty now. Gone was her once dainty status as a debutante, and out of the shrinking violet grew the effervescent rose. She grew tall and slender, but still with the right amount of shape where it counted most on her body, resting on her hips and thighs and making her bust more pronounced than the fashionable stick figure that every woman wanted to have now in the roaring swing of the 20’s. Her beauty, much to her mother’s favour when soliciting a potential suitor was a favourable asset.

“Oh, My Elizabeth…” she would fawn. “Oh her eyes are as blue as sapphires, and her lips are as full and soft as the first bud of roses in May. She is of a fair complexion, after my side of the family, of course! A very fine figure, But, unfortunately she was gifted with a wicked tongue that she takes great delight in lashing at people with nonsensical notions! But I am sure, when she meets a kind gentleman she would shut her mouth and behave prettily… It need only take the right and brave man to tame my daughter, you know…” Mrs Jones would scoff at Dinner parties to young entrepreneurial Men, who would brave taking on the backboned beautiful woman she described to them, if they were up for a challenge and didn’t know what was good for them.

Libby felt her mother didn’t quite stretch far enough the Braveness of the young man in question. In the last year alone she had turned down four offers of marriage. Two the year before that while she was still in University. Her mother had just about had enough of her, stating she would end up as an old spinster if she carried on at this rate. Stubbornly saying she would not stop until Libby was walking down the aisle to wed a rich suitor. To which the woman in question would roll her eyes and insist that life would mean she wouldn’t have to endure sitting around and talking about how rich she was, being poor and lonely was by far a more exciting way to live. At which point her mother would storm out of the room at her only daughters unreasonable ability, tearing her hair out over the fact that is she, Nor her Older Brother, Leo wouldn’t settle down, then she would have no grandchildren to contend with. And Libby’s father would undoubtedly – as the conversation would be conducted in his office as that was where all of these ‘serious’ discussions took place – would hand her a copy of the times, kiss her on the forehead, and tell her never to change her ways.

As she walked back across the lawn, she could hear her mother’s avid flapping and fussing from her open parlour doors, the French shutters would open out onto the patio and across to the lawn, where Libby was just rounding the large concrete fountain. Running her fingertips across the most covered lip of it, Her other hand clutching at the wild flowers she had gathered. She rolled her eyes as her mother carried on wailing her name. The woman crossed the patio quickly, leaning inside to see her mother hurriedly beckoning her inside.

“Libby! Libby! You need to go and make sure Eliza prepares the guest bedroom right away! Cressida is coming to stay for a week! Oh if only she’d have said sooner!”

Cressida was a close friend of the family’s. She was an odious and poisonous blonde bombshell who had had more husbands and affairs than Libby had had hot dinners, and the gossip about town was that she had her eyes on Leonard Jones, Libby’s own Older brother, to grab with her talons as her next husband or brief fling.

“Cressida’s coming?” Libby asked, as her face fell darkly with distain.

“Oh don’t behave like a petty three year old please, I can’t stand the obnoxious trollop either! Just go and see to it that the room is prepared.” Her mother shrilled.

Libby rolled her eyes one last time and considered spending the evening wishing to stick pins in her eyes rather than face Cressida Cowper, the pins alternative was certainly less painful. The awful woman had a revolting habit of cleverly insulting you so as you didn’t realise she was disguising the insult in a good natured comment. It didn’t help that she was vulgarly pretty, never was she seen without huge rouged lips and an extravagant dress that screamed impracticality. Cressida was a woman about town, hot on the gossip vines, cruel witted and repulsive kind of woman, with a figure like a stick and a smile that was a siren call to stupid men. Nothing alike the gently bred, outspoken demurely beautiful likes of Libby, whose figure wasn’t thin or all the rage, and whose dresses weren’t pictured in vogue or imported from New York. She preferred simplicity and elegance over extravagance and frippery.

She walked out onto the patio again, and around to the side of the house through the walled gate to the kitchens on the other side of the house. She waved good morning to Simpy, Mrs Simpson, the Housekeeper, the ever reliable woman who kept the house running smother than a naval battleship. Past Ms Higgs, the plump old cook who was constantly trying to fatten Libby up and get more, as she put it ‘meat onto her skinny little bones’ and past Parker, the Butler who was enjoying his quiet hour off duty, reading the paper.

“Good Morning Simpy, Morning Ms Higgs, Hello Parker, Is Eliza about?”

Libby asked cheerfully, rooting around, under the old sink that was full of vegetable peelings, looking for a vase for the flowers in her hand. Had she entered the house via any other door she would have been hung drawn and quartered if her mother saw the state of her muddy court shoes on her pristine carpets…

“She’s gone to change Leon’s bed, she’s probably still up there.”

Parker spoke in his gravelly posh voice from behind the large sheets of the telegraph that barricaded his face from view.

“Ok. I’ll go find her. Morning all.”

The girl sung over her shoulder smiling, finding the vase she wanted, and throwing her shoes into a corner before exiting the kitchen to walk back through the house barefoot to her room. Leaving her mud encrusted shoes behind.

She swept round out of the kitchen, up the stairs into formal dining room, through the formal lounge, down the corridor past the courtyard window into the front garden, across the foyer and up the stair past the library and her father’s study, where he could hear him engaged on the telephone behind his oak office door, she went up the stairs and along the landing, before making a sharp right at the end of the hallway and peering into her Brother’s large room to find the petite housemaid fussing with the corners on Leon’s sheets.

“Oh, Eliza. Mother asks if you would make up the spare guest room on the second floor?” Libby asked her, peering her head around the door.

“It’s already made up Ma’am. Whoever for, I don’t know.” She spoke searchingly. Eliza and Libby were firm friends despite the gaps in their social class. Eliza was a loud mouthed and cheeky cockney London girl who had to fight to be quiet at times, rather alike Libby herself, so naturally the pair were as thick as thieves.

“Cressida Cowper’s coming to stay…” Libby intoned in displeasure. Eliza huffed straightening herself. Tugging the sheet down in irritation.

“Oh not ‘er Ma’am, Last time she was here I nearly broke me hands cause she ordered all her clothes washed. Every day.” The maid groused.

“In that case, then, I shall pray for your hands to survive the week.” Libby smiled, leaning out of the doorway and taking the vase full of flowers to her own room.

She had practically an entire wing for her bedroom on the other side of the large house. She had a spacious bathroom, an informal lounge filled with books and long forgotten sketches that was always lazily doused in sunlight during the day, and brilliant in the moon at night. She had a spacious bedroom that had more than a couple of dresses strewn about the place, and more than one disorganised bottle on her vanity chest. Her wardrobe was stuffed full of gowns and dresses and coats that her father had sent to her from Vienna, Milan, Paris, New York, London and god knows where else, Every time he went away on a trip, it was always the same thing brought back for his children. He would send back a dress for Libby whilst he was still there, with a note attached saying he saw it and thought of her, with endless love, from Dad. And For Leo, he would send any books that he found invigorating to have on his travels, Which Libby and Leo would clamour over who would get to read them first. And when he would physically return home, he would keep the besotted children up all night telling them what the different cities or countries were like. And how cultured and variable and wonderfully different he found each one.

Libby saw that the scarlet silk gown that was folded lazily over the back of the chaise longue at the end of her bed which was his most recent purchase from abroad, from Rome. He told her how he had walked the streets late one evening and attended the opera, Don Giovanni, and how every woman there was cascaded in deep red, maroon, or scarlet silk. So the next day he found an expensive dressmaker, and had a dress hand made for her. Tailored to her exact body shape, she hadn’t tried it on yet. But she was planning to wear it to Dinner tonight. Along with her pearl earrings that belonged to her grandmother and a splash of Dior perfume that he had brought back with him from France a year ago. She used it sparingly as she adored the scent.

Leon was traveling back from London this afternoon, to stay for an unknown amount of weeks for the summer. Which delighted Libby, if she and Leo happened to coincide their times in London, when he wasn’t off in New York, working, and when she had some free time in-between her studies, then they would occasionally meet for a late afternoon tea or lunch. But there was something so final and undisturbed about having him home that meant she couldn’t wait for him to arrive. Like every siblings of course, they were bound to squabble, but as they both got on in years, the teasing became softer, the arguments sillier, and they loved each other more dearly as brother and sister.

She walked past her vanity table to place the flowers on it, plucking idly at them, seeing how they made the room appear softer, and warmer. As she arranged them, she caught sight of the woman staring back at her in the mirror.

She wasn’t a vain creature. She knew she wasn’t the most attractive woman on the planet, like the sizzling looks of Marlene Dietrich or Carmel Myers with their Hollywood beauty. But she didn’t have an awful complexion she supposed, but then again, like every modest woman she found fault in her features. For instance, she felt her nose was too pointed at the tip, and her eyes were too big. And she didn’t quite like the way her lips looked a might too thin, and she despised the light mole to the left side of her chin that many would consider a beauty spot. She also knew she wasn’t considered to be this seasons raving asset, and that suited her just fine. She loathed the idea of being fawned over like a prize pig at the country fair, because no matter how beautiful you were, next season, there would always be someone who was twice as beautiful. And she had no desire to be stuck on an endless, rotten, cycle of vanity and show trotting that most women her age fought tooth and nail for. She was also quite relieved that she wasn’t on the side-lines as a run of the mill beauty either. With short brown or blonde hair and brown eyes and plain figures. No. She took some pleasure in the fact that she looked completely different from other girls. Her hair had faded in its vibrant red tones, and had shifted into a dark red bob of hair, which she had trimmed to an ‘Eton crop’ as they so called it. Which swept down just so over her eyes at the front and was clipped and short at the back. her mother had flustered and fretted so when she, in this new age of sharp feminine style and liberation, cropped her long locks away to what she called, practically nothing. she justified her fussing, saying that “No man will want to take a modern woman for a wife.” She had nearly fainted with exasperation at Elizabeth’s answer. Apparently “Suits me” was not an acceptable reply.

She had put on a large headband this morning, a vintage multi-coloured silk tie that wrapped around her forehead, the long ties of which rested at the back of her head, and ran down her back. She had placed her small silver gem rose earrings in her ears, and as she went to collect some flowers in the woods, and sat reading by the old river from the small book of poetry that was tucked into the back pocket of her old tweed trousers, that were scuffed at the knees and covered in paint markings. Her duck egg blue shirt, (also covered in paint) which the shirt was tucked into as it was a tad too large. Overall, she didn’t exactly look neat, pristine and groomed. She was fairly certain she had mud and grass stains on her trousers and knees. So she probably smelt like a field, and was dressed most uncommonly for a female, who should be draped in a day dress or other alternative elegant attire. She was quite surprised her mother didn’t throw a fit when she saw her dressed this way earlier, mind, she was too busy worrying about when Cressida would arrive.

Libby just contemplated a long bath to get rid of the grass and mud stains when she heard a car rattle up the gravel drive, crunching its way towards the front door. Peering out her window she saw Leo’s 1911 bright red Stoddard Dayton crawl up the drive. She saw the familiar sight of her dark wavy haired brother with sunglasses across his face, smile, as he curved the car around to come to a stop outside the front door. She also saw that his lips were moving, which meant he was talking to someone in the passenger seat. A Friend. And she knew precisely which fried Leo would bring home for the summer…

Benedict.

Her heart did little jump starts as Leo stopped the car and saw the two get out. And Libby saw once again, the face of the boy she knew, who had become a man. She remembered thinking on the night they met, that he was bound to get infinitely more handsome as he got older. And my word, she could just kick herself at how handsome he was now.

The long thin face was no less compromised by his years, in actual fact. The years had made all the difference. When he smiled the crinkles at the side of his mouth and at the corners of his eyes made his eyes light up when he smiled a certain way. Even though she knew he had been on various trips abroad with Leo, and just for the pleasure of traveling, his skin bore no sun kissed glow, and was its usual pale complexion. Which made his jaw dominate his face under the paleness of his skin, aswell as the curve of his cheeks. She watched as he smiled and leaned his head down, meaning an errant and stray curl of hair sway over his forehead, and he brushed his hand through his dark tresses, attempting to tame them as he squinted at the bright sunshine that was clouding the sight of his dusky blue eyes. Libby smiled to herself as she wondered what it would be like to cart her fingers through that thick dark hair…

Libby smiled as she tore herself away from the window, and raced across her room to run downstairs. She took them two at a time as the front door open and Leo and Ben strode in. Libby watched as her parents gave their welcome’s, assuring Ben, when he stated he was sorry for the change in plans, but, truth be told, Mrs Jones had a sixth sense for these kind of things. And she, and Mr Jones, wholly welcomed the arrival of the young man, as he such a close friend he was nearly considered family. Leo finished clapping hands with his dad, when Libby bounded down the stairs towards them both.

Ben swallowed and smiled widely when he saw her.

She looked twice as strikingly beautiful as he remembered. He had seen her last in May when she celebrated her 24th Birthday at a party in London. They had gathered, drunk champagne and been merry. And danced to the latest records all night long until the sun rose. Her hair had been cropped, so that it was sleek and short and only just reached her eyes at the front, as she turned her head he saw it was short at the back, and he imagined it was soft and thick to run his fingers through. Her eyes still held their luminous beauty, as did her soft lips and pretty skin.

He watched her laugh as she descended the stairs to them, as Leo opened his arms wide and engulfed her in a large hug with a cry of “There’s my kid Sis!”

As he swept her up and spun her round, squeezing her tight in familial sentiment. Before making a mock moaning sound.

“Oh, my. You’re getting heavy in your age old girl!” He struggled, wincing, placing her down and ruffling her hair, to which she smiled grotesquely, and mocked nearly punching him rowdily in the stomach in a way that only siblings could. In a way that made her mother roll her eyes far back in her head,  and complain that was no way for a lady to behave.

As Leo moved aside, Libby was left smiling at Ben as he spoke to her.

“But what your loathsome brother fails to comment on, is that fact that you’re getting more and more beautiful, Ms Jones.” Ben teased,

She winced and shook her head. Smiling a very wonderful smile at him.

He smiled wider, so the crinkles and lines made his eyes switch on like a blue bulb. She crossed and gave him a welcoming hug. In which he revelled at the feeling of having her in his arms. He smiled feeling her there, seeing as how she smelt like a maddening combination of fresh flowers and perfume. And the fact she was wearing old tight trousers made his head swim as he realised he could see the outline of her marvellous figure.

“How many more times am I going to have to beg you to call me Libby?”

She spoke into his ear, her hot breath on his earlobe feeling dangerously good and making him feel very hazardous thoughts. He smiled and hugged her right back. Before they pulled away and looked at each other in close proximity.

“At least once more. Libby.” He winked.

[cardiffhawks-blog]

Hawks Coaches' Reports Round 4 – 29.04.2017

BLACK DIAMOND CUP REPORT

By Coach Nathan Harkness

On an outstanding day for football, we travelled down to the Central Coast to play in a top of the table clash against Terrigal Avoca. Due to certain circumstances we had a few changes from last weeks team, which included some big inclusions - Nick Kocon, Beau Heeney, Marcus De Leur, Dan Mulvey, Tom Quade, Jack Pratt, Trent Thompson and Lenny Pratt.

We got off to a reasonable start kicking three goals to four in the first quarter, but after losing Jack Pratt, Liam Gibson and Bryce Graetz to injuries during the second quarter the already massive task become an even higher mountain to climb. Four goals down at the main break we started the third quarter with many scoring opportunities. But unfortunately we only scored three points to Terrigal's three goals.

The last quarter was basically damage control as the loss of three players to injuries and Terrigal's large ground was just too much for us. Marcus De Leur's return was a true reflection of his spirited character and was simply outstanding in the middle of the ground and back in defence.  Matt Vukovich and Simon O'Brien were super in the middle and their efforts throughout the game were truly brilliant. The return of Beau Heeney was very exciting in patches and when Beau's fitness peaks he will add a huge X factor to the team. Nick Chapman, Chad Mayo and Zac Metcalf were solid performers throughout the game and are quickly becoming valuable assets to the team.  Tom Yensch was again a massive contributor all round the ground and won this weeks players player award. The players player award is presented at one of our major sponsors -  Duke of Wellington Hotel after every game at approximately 7pm.

Next week we host Killarney Vale at Hillsborough Oval at 2pm on 6 May.

Final Score:

Terrigal Avoca 20.15.135 Cardiff Hawks 8.7.55

Goal Kickers:

T. Yensch 2, T. Quade 2, M. De Leur 2,  T. Thompson, A. Wivell.

RESERVE GRADE REPORTBy Coach Peter Bleus

With more withdrawals than a Catholic marital bed during the week, it was going to be a big ask for the Hawks to continue their hard winning performances of the previous weeks as we travelled to Gosford.

A late change from 18 on the field to 16 didn't help the Hawks as they sought to modify their defensive structures and the early confusion cost them a quick goal. The glove had been thrown down and it was now up to Cardiff to respond.

The Hawks dominance was not felt in the middle of the ground as it had been in previous weeks and indirect kicking by both teams had kept each other in the game.

Despite a small lead by the Panthers at the end of the first quarter, the Hawks continued to apply pressure with 4 separate goal scorers in the second half to share the scoring like a bowl of keys at a 1970s neighbourhood party to trail by just 2 points at the long break.

The third quarter, as we all know is the premiership quarter and this set the scene for the final score as Terrigal started to kick away outscoring Cardiff 4 goals to 1.

The final quarter, whilst won by Terrigal, never delivered the final coup de grace Terrigal would have hoped for as the Cardiff boys toiled away like a fat mans belt, constantly under pressure but never giving up, leaving the two Cardiff coaches proud of the teams efforts.

Special mentions needs to go to Zac Moore who saw more leather than a high flying Sydney lawyer at the Hellfire club and Matt Erich "the stealth bomber" who doesn't appear on the radar until he's right there. Jesse Coombe also deserves special attention. Just like the guy your girlfriend tells you not to worry about, keep your eye on him.

Final Score:

Cardiff Hawks 9.10.64 Warners Bay 15.10.100

LADY HAWKS REPORTBy Coach Paul Cooksley

On Saturday the Lady Hawks travelled to Don Small Oval at Tacoma to take on Wyong Lakes. The game started with real intent, as both teams competed hard for the early ball. The more experienced Wyong took an early lead, but the Hawks weren’t deterred and responded with a Goal of their own, through Sara Gilbert, to go into ¼ time down by just 11 points.

The intensity increased further in the second term with the hawks pilling on the pressure, making it difficult for Wyong to get their game going. This kept Wyong scoreless throughout the quarter while the Hawks powered on with another goal by Eliza Bunner, who returned to the field after several weeks on the sideline with a knee injury. The third quarter was much the same, both teams competed hard for the footy.

The Hawks won the quarter again to take a narrow lead. Sara Gilbert came through with another goal, assisted by Captain for the day, Sam Kelly, who put her body on the line with a courageous shepherd, holding two players up to allow Gilbert the time to score. The Fourth and final quarter was brutal, with both teams sensing victory. The Hawks were desperate in every contest and hung on to the narrow lead for most of the quarter.

Another goal from Sara Gilbert made the lead slightly bigger. Unfortunately it was Wyong who scored the vital goal to seal their 5 point win. The message after the game was not to focus on the score board but to focus on the many great things that we did throughout the game. In a game where there were so many contributions, I am reluctant to single out too many players.

However, I will give special mention to Jess Day, Faith Lewis, Jorja Gow, Madi Ryan, Jade Ryan and Sara Gilbert, but honestly, I could name the whole team.

Cheers, Cooky

Final Score:

Cardiff Hawks 4.5.29 Wyong Lakes 4.10.34