#folding bikes in New York

[monteccibikes]

Why are folding bikes in New York a Great Choice?

[marvelstoriesepic]

Paranoia

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky comes home to an unlocked door - his mind convinces him something horrible happened to you

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, fluff

author‘s note: Y‘all this is my first fic. So excited to get this all started!!

Masterlist

It had long gone dark as Bucky made his way home to you. A mission in Vienna occupied him for the last couple of days and he couldn’t wait to hold you in his arms again, breathe you in, and smoother you with kisses. Communication outside of the headquarters was denied much to Bucky’s dismay so instead of your melancholy voice he only got to hear annoying and unhelpful remarks from Sam through his com, who was tasked to watch his six.

He weaved his bike through the mostly empty streets, definitely faster than he was supposed to but eager to see you.

Walking up the steps to your shared apartment he couldn’t resist the giddy feeling welling up inside his chest, warmth spreading throughout his body. You and Bucky moved in together one year and three months into your relationship. Although it was his place too - you reminded him several times - he let you decorate it the way you wanted it, only throwing in a remark here and there.

He just loved the feeling of being surrounded by you - by the things you chose to include in the life you had with him. The couch, where you would cuddle up together, bundled in a blanket, limbs interlinked, watching a show together. The curtains, you would drag across the window to shield Bucky and you from the world outside. The flower pots littering your small balcony where you showed him how to take care of the plants after he drowned the azaleas last spring. Even the shoe rack where your sandals and sneakers were lined up right next to his boots reminding him of the life you shared. That this was real. That he had you and you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

That giddy feeling though left his body in an instant, with no resemblance of it ever being there. His heart sank to his shoes, even further but his brain couldn’t follow. He was feeling hot all of a sudden but nothing like the warmth that took hold of his heart just moments earlier. His mind was going haywire, wild eyes staring at his hand, which unbeknownst to him started shaking already. His key was still in his hand, ready to turn in the deadbolt of the lock, but all it took was a small push to open the door.

He didn’t realize he may be overreacting. Didn’t consider you could have just forgotten to lock the door. No. Unwillingly, his thoughts were clouded with the worst his mind could conjure up. This was New York after all. And he was the goddamn Winter Soldier for crying out loud. He did his best to make amends, trying to demonstrate that he isn’t the person people know him as but there will always be a few seeing him as the man Hydra trained him to be. He still got funny looks while walking the street, someone crossing the street when he approached and he noticed the sympathetic smiles people throw your way because they couldn’t seem to wrap their mind around how someone as sweet, compassionate, and gleeful can be with someone as him. He had trouble understanding that too.

So while it could have been a small mistake on your part Bucky was reeling at the easy access to your apartment. He shouldered his way into your home scanning the room and calling your name, a waver in his voice.

Nothing looked out of place, no evidence of a break-in. The fluffy white blanket was folded over the armrest of the couch. Piles of books were neatly placed in the bookshelf you built up together. Well, Bucky did, while you read chapter after chapter of the current book you were reading aloud. It took him two hours to build that shelf but not because he had difficulties. He just was afraid you‘d stop reading to him when he finished. Everything looked as it was supposed to but the nagging feeling didn’t let up and he chased down the corridor.

“Doll? Come on baby, where are you?”

He stalked into your bedroom, hoping to see you wrapped up in a warm blanket and reading a book or taking a nap waiting for him but he was met with the empty sheets arranged neatly. Through his panicked thoughts, he couldn’t make out the quiet creak of the door to your laundry room further down the hall and rushed footsteps coming his way.

“Y/n!”

He was shouting at this point, sheer panic lacing his voice and turning on his heels to check the other rooms.

“Buck-”

Bodys colliding, a yelp, Buckys arms shot out to steady you. You found your balance again shooting a concerned albeit bewildered look up at him.

“Buck, what’s going on?”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed out while enclosing his arms around you, tugging you against him. Relief flooded his body and he swayed you both a little still feeling wobbly on his legs and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment while taking a big breath, filled with your scents. His hands roamed your body searching for anything that could indicate discomfort or pain.

You let him hold you for a few moments, feeling his chest heave with deep breaths, and only lightened your hold on him when his heartbeat evened out again. Without letting go completely you lifted your head and tilted backwards to study him better.

“What happened Buck?”

Your whispered concern got Bucky out of his mind and he opened his eyes to look down at you, the hold on you never faltering. He looked a little sheepish now, shaking his head in a small movement, and took a shuddering breath.

“The door wasn’t locked,” it came out with a rasp and he cleared his throat, eyes shifting a little before they met yours.

You furrowed your brows and turned your head in the direction of the door. A couple of seconds later it hit you. You got some groceries earlier today and got distracted by the beeping of the washing machine when entering the apartment. You just shut the door, put the groceries down, and moved Bucky's clothes to the dryer. You wanted them to be clean and dry for when he came back. Walking back you went straight for the groceries to store them away without sparing another glance at the door.

“Shit Buck, I forgot,” It was your turn to look sheepish. You grimaced, moving to meet his eyes again.

“Figures,” he chuckled, placing a kiss on your forehead, lingering there longer than needed, and caught your eyes again, sporting a serious expression this time.

“I’m not scolding you for forgetting baby, it happens, but I need you to lock that door,” he voiced in a whisper, blue orbs intently focused on you.

You sigh, breaking his eye contact, and nod heavily.

“I know Buck, I’m sorry,”

He shook his head, his flesh hand reaching up to caress your cheek and tilting your head to meet his eyes again. His lips met your nose, then your forehead, lingering there again, before holding your gaze and speaking softly.

“Don’t apologize doll, I just…,” He closed his eyes, hanging his head, trying to compose himself so as not to fall back into franticness.

“Hey,” Your soft voice and touch calmed him in an instant. Glossed-over blues met yours again and you brushed your lips over his in a sweet kiss. “I get it. I’m sorry I got you worried baby, won’t happen again. I promise!”

He leaned in to kiss you again angling your head to deepen it. It was slow and soft and you rested your forehead against his after pulling away.

“I missed you!”

He pulled you closer even though it was impossible, nuzzling his head against yours. His lips spread into a smile.

“I missed you too baby! So much.”

Your smile matched his. “You kill Sam yet?”

He chuckled lightheartedly, his body relaxing against yours, the tension in his shoulders leaving completely. He knew you tried to distract him and it worked. It’ll always work because you’re the only one able to ease his mind when his paranoia gets the better of him.

“All beauty has a little tragedy”

- Bridgett Devoue

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

May Part Six

cw: mentions of past injury

~

They lost game five.

Maybe, Remus thought, they had expected the Rangers to be hurting. Their footing unsure. After Archer, Remus knew he felt shaken. It was an accident. The phrase rang in his mind, complete with Archer’s face—and, even worse, Leo’s face. Heartbroken.

Remus had thought, more than once, that Logan would be off his game because of Finn.

But the Lions had been the ones feeling thrown. Sirius had stolen two goals, but one was overturned for being off-side. They missed Finn in the lineup badly. Kasey was hurting in the net. Leo had swapped in for the third period and was obviously hurting in an entirely different way. He had hardly looked at Logan on the ice and Remus hadn’t seen them say goodbye before the Lions’ flight back home to Gryffindor. He had simply slipped right out of the visitor’s locker room and onto the bus for the airport.

It should have been a complete spiral. They were facing elimination tomorrow. Their summer could begin right then, too early for anyone’s taste. Sirius should have been silent with his shoulders up to his ears. But Sirius still seemed…locked in. Captain mode, Thomas had dubbed it. It came with an exaggerated salute every time that made his stud diamond earrings flash. It still made Remus do a double-take every time he saw Sirius smile. Every time he caught him humming while loading the dishwasher or getting ready for bed in their shared hotel room. Maybe it was that they were both exhausted. Worried, too, about Finn, or about making it—that vague feeling that one was never quite doing enough.

Still. He felt some pride in seeing Sirius like that.

There existed an odd liminal space where Sirius wasn’t his. Not his fiancé, not his boyfriend. Not the man he kissed good morning, or showered with, or watched fold his laundry oh-so carefully. Not the one he’d mostly taught how to cook or the one who stole the covers ‘on accident.’ There was a space where Sirius was his captain, and only his captain.

These past few days were closer to that space than anything else. At home, they moved around each other in their own, focused routines, but Remus didn’t mind. At night, Sirius’ arms were tight around his waist. Sleepy kisses to his shoulder. It was a season balance that they were only going to get better at—and wasn’t that a strange thought. This year had felt like a dream, and it still struck Remus each time he remembered that he didn’t need to wake up.

The weight room smelled like sweat and metal and Remus let out a breath as Thomas spotted the bar back to rest.

“Shit, Looper. New PR, boy.” Thomas grinned at him upside-down.

Remus ducked the bar and sat up, using the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face. “Somethings up with Leo and Logan.”

Thomas came around the bench with his arms crossed and an incredulous look on his face. “Maybe you missed the part where Leo’s ex slammed Finn’s head against the ice.”

Remus tried to side-step that mental image and stood to help him release the clips. “Why would that make them stop talking?”

“How do we know if they’re talking? Tremz lives in a different city and, let me tell you, FaceTime hits different when you’re in love.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “They didn’t even look at each other in New York.”

Thomas looked like he wanted to argue, but they both knew he couldn’t. They’d both been there each time Logan came into the Lions’ room to take Leo and Finn into his arms, win or lose. It hadn’t happened last game.

“Gotta be tough,” Thomas said more quietly. “First Tremzy now Harz. Maybe it’s just Leo sorting through it all. Plus…”

He darted a look towards Kasey on the bikes. Remus had realized the other day that he braced himself every time Kasey opened his mouth in the locker room. He’d been waiting to hear the word retirement for so long that it hardly felt like a secret anymore, just an unspoken fact. These kind of things were felt by a team. An energy shift. A change in the heart of it all.

“Team dinner tonight,” Thomas said. “We’ll sit Knut between us, see if we can’t—”

“He’s not going,” Remus said.

“Why-huh?”

“Says he wants to be there for Finn at home. Logan flies in later today, so.”

Thomas clicked his tongue. “No, man. Boyfriends are killer and all, but sometimes you need you friends.” He stuck two fingers into his mouth and let out a sharp whistle across the room. “Knut! Get over here.”

Leo looked up, settling the dumbbells he was curling near his feet, sweat gleaming across his bare chest. “What?”

Thomas gave an impatient jump. “Get over here, Cub.”

Leo still looked confused when he stopped beside them, eyeing Remus who was sliding his weights off the bar.

“You’re coming to team dinner,” Thomas said firmly, and when Leo opened his mouth to protest, Thomas jabbed a finger into his chest. “No, I’m pulling rank. You’re coming to team dinner.”

“Jesus, T,” Leo rubbed over his chest. “Ow. No, because Finn—”

“Has been very well looked after by his mommy, if I’m not mistaken, and will be very well taken care of by Logan, too. Meanwhile, you will be with us letting that weight of the world off of your stupidly toned shoulders.” Thomas slapped Sirius’ chest, who had walked up beside Remus. “Isn’t that right, Captain?” Thomas saluted.

“Quoi?” Sirius said. His fingers had started rubbing softly below the hem of Remus’ tank top. Remus bit back a smile.

“Leo is coming to team dinner,” Remus said. “Right? We’re going to drive him and he can leave his car here at the rink overnight and we’re going to buy him a drink or two.”

“Uh.” Sirius nodded when Remus did. “Ouais. Yes. True? Was this not true before?”

Thomas took Remus’ place on the bench press with a sigh. “You gotta get better at pulling rank, Cap.”

Sirius sent him an unimpressed look, then patted Leo on the shoulder. “We would like if you came to dinner.”

Remus knew Leo would have probably melted at that at one time in his life, but standing there now he just looked conflicted. Worried. It was enough to make Sirius glance at Remus.

“Not if you really don’t want to,” Sirius added softly, and in French.

“I do,” Leo said quickly. “I just…No, yeah. I do. Logan…Logan’s got it.”

“I mean, he’s done it before, right?” Thomas said. “Twice.”

Leo’s expression crumpled a little more, but he nodded and ducked away back towards his weights.

“What the hell?” Thomas whispered.

“He’s worried,” Sirius said. “Give him a break.”

Thomas scoffed. “I’m helping.”

“And I’m pulling rank,” Sirius said with raised eyebrows. “Give him a break.” Sirius turned his eyes on Remus. “And you, come with me.”

Thomas looked up from where he’d laid down on the bench. “That’s my spotter, Black!”

Sirius just threw an arm around Remus’ waist, settling it low on his back—very low. “That’s my fiancé. Rank.”

“Fucking hell,” Thomas sighed. “Warn me next time I create a monster.”

Evgeni stepped up behind Thomas’ bar, flipping his hat backwards. “I spot.”

Thomas looked mildly horrified. “Dude, you never catch it when I tell you to.”

“Work hard,” Evgeni said sagely. “Do better than you think.”

“Whatever, Yoda.”

“I am force.”

Remus reached behind him and tugged at Sirius’ wrist when his touch got more insistent, but Sirius only used the leverage to spin him around completely.

“Can I help you?” Remus asked.

Sirius’ eyes did that thing Remus liked—the very boyfriend thing, no salute required. They flit over the room behind Remus, almost playfully, before settling back on his own. Remus knew he was either about to get a secret, or blush.

“You look good right now, that’s all.”

This. This right here was the anti-spiral. Had they lost a game five like that on enemy ice a year ago, Sirius might have broken his stick. Yet here they stood.

“Thanks, baby.”

Sirius just tilted his head at him, smile slight, then asked, “What are you doing right now?”

“Well, breaking records.” Remus brought a hand around Sirius’ waist when he began walking them towards a bench press of their own. “Spot you?”

Sirius hesitated. “Uh, ouais.” He lay back on the bench and looked up at Remus upside-down. “You got a new PR?”

“Sure did.” Remus watched Sirius grip the bar of the weight and drew in a slow breath. It made his wrist bones flex with the strong cords of muscles over his forearms.

It had been good at home between them. Balanced. Focused.

Quiet.

“Ready?” he asked Sirius.

Maybe a little too quiet with Regulus in the house. Remus had watched Sirius’ bare back through the bathroom doorway that morning, muscles moving gently as he went about getting ready.

Sirius flexed his fingers around the bar twice, a little superstition of his, and Remus darted his eyes up to the room. He couldn’t get hard in the weight room. It didn’t matter how quiet home was or how busy life was.

Remus glanced towards Leo. It occurred to him then that he’d never seen him without Logan or Finn. At least, not here. Not within the team. He hardly looked up from his workout. Checked his form in the wall mirror a few times, smiled at something Olli or Jackson said, but that was all. Remus frowned. Maybe it felt as weird as it looked for him to be alone.

“I could die on your watch right now?” Sirius’ slightly strained voice said from beneath him.

“Oh,” Remus replied distractedly, and took the bar from his hands easily. “Sorry.” He settled it in the racks.

“What—non, I didn’t mean—I was half way through a set! I was joking.”

“Hm?” Remus looked down at him. “Oh. Shit, sorry.” He reached down to touch Sirius’ cheek, laughing a little. “Sorry, here.”

Sirius shook his head. “Non.”

“Non?”

Sirius’ smile was slow and secret. “I have something better in mind.”

Remus drew in another breath and reached forward to settle a hand over Sirius’ on the bar. Without another word, Sirius ducked out from the bench press and was off striding out of the room, only turning once for a last look at Remus.

James stopped on his way over to the water bottles and looked after Sirius, then at Remus.

“You know what you two are?” James said, stretching a resistance band between his hands and very nearly smacking himself in the face with it. “Subtle. Yep. That’s the word I would choose.”

Remus, at another time, would have cared. Now though, they were facing elimination from the play-offs, and he didn’t have enough fingers on his hands to count the amount of people he was currently worried about. And things had been…quiet at home.

“Thanks, James,” Remus said, then patted the weights. “Bench is all yours.”

~

Cabin and crew, please prepare for landing, came the pilot’s voice overhead, and Logan looked up from the iPad that Luke was holding between the two of them. It had Sirius’ line on it, with Finn, and the only reason it didn’t hurt to watch was because he would see Finn in less than an hour.

“Why did that feel like forever?” Logan rubbed at his eyes. Maybe he’d slept a little. He couldn’t tell. There was one thought in his mind. LeoLeoLeoLeoLeo.

“Because you get a little desperate when you’re excited,” Luke replied, then nearly dodged Logan’s well-aimed knock to his head.

“How’s he doing?” Luke asked. “Finn.”

Logan thunked his head back against the plane seat. “I don’t like seeing him quiet and hurt. I don’t like it when he pretends to be all right, but at least if he can pretend, then he’s not as bad as he was.”

Luke looked like he was thinking about laughing at him again, but the look ended up boarding impressed instead. “Man. That’s a lot to figure out.”

Logan looked down at his phone. The background was lit up, Finn and Leo smushed together in bed, laughing. He stroked a thumb over Leo’s smile. “I like figuring them out. Even if I get it wrong…” Logan trailed off. “Sometimes.”

Their row was a bit of a mess. Headphones hanging from the jack, a stack of plastic cups that had once held ginger-ale and coke. The discarded containers of their take-out lunch and the crumpled bag of left over chips they’d been sharing.

“I just want to see him,” Logan said. In truth, it felt like more than a want. He thought he might die if he didn’t get his hands on Finn soon. And Leo…

He closed his eyes at the thought of Leo.

“Wanna talk about it?” Luke asked softly.

Logan shook his head. He supposed he hadn’t been very subtle, staring into the empty visitor’s locker room like he had after game five, but he didn’t have the words. Not yet.

“Non,” Logan said. His voice sounded scratchy to himself. “Thanks.”

“Lucas.”

When Logan looked again, Saint was leaning against the seat in front of them, his curly hair tucked away beneath a blue backwards hat.

Luke’s posture relaxed at the sight of him. It always did. His shoulders lowered, knees spread a little, fingers reaching behind him to rub at the back of his neck and the star tattoo there. Logan was still waiting to hear what it meant.

“That’s not actually my full name and you know it,” Luke said.

Saint ignored him. “Will I be seeing you tonight?”

“We did say we were grabbing dinner, so…” Luke smiled a little.

Saint’s eyes darted to Logan, then away. “Is that what we’re doing now? Grabbing dinner.”

Slowly, Logan watched Luke’s smile falter. “Seb, I…”

Seb. Logan had only heard that a handful of times now, too. No one called Saint by his real name, Sebastian. Luke did, though. When he was really celebrating on the ice, gloved hand cupping Saint’s goalie mask and tilting their foreheads together. Fuck, Seb, gorgeous game. Logan had heard it in softer settings, too. Late night, at Luke’s apartment, when they thought he was still in the kitchen. Seb…stay tonight. Will you?

Saint just looked at Luke, hip against the plane seat, and Logan felt a familiar squirming in his stomach, even if it was second-hand this time.

What if I said I wanted to spend the night with you, Logan? What if I said that? What if my night would be good with you in it?

This look of Saint’s was one of a boy who had been waiting on an answer for a while. And Luke’s was one of a boy who was trying hard, trying with everything in him, to give one.

“Well,” Luke said haltingly. “Let’s go to dinner. Like we said.”

So precisely put. Kind. Careful. Nervous.

Saint rolled his eyes, but he put a hand on Luke’s shoulder as he passed them by. “Tonight, then.”

Logan looked away. He pretended to tidy up the floor beneath them. Cups, wrappers, crumbs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke look between their seats to the row behind them. It was empty. He cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes, then spoke.

“You know,” Luke said softly. “Don’t you?”

Logan straightened. He crumpled a chocolate wrapper in his fist.

“I don’t know anything. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“But I do,” Luke said. Even with how clean the admission was, Logan could see that it was hard. The familiar struggle flickered right through his eyes. Luke wet his lips, checked around him again, then looked back at Logan. “I…I do want you to know.”

Grabbing dinner. How many times had he and Finn and Leo said that to each other before actually taking each other to dinner? It sounded the same, but it wasn’t.

“Then, yeah,” Logan said. “Ouais, I know.”

Luke nodded. He looked at the screen in front of him, showing the icon of their plane on the electronic map.

Logan tried desperately to think what to say, but, then again, maybe that’s what Luke was doing, too. Leo would have known.

“I know…” It’s hard. It’s so hard, but it’s so wonderful when—

“Think they’ll call Archer back up?” Luke hardly seemed to want the answer to his own question. He looked mournfully down the aisle where Saint had retreated. “He played well besides…you know.”

Logan cursed himself. He’d have to be quicker. More sure. He’d have to be those things if he wanted to help.

“I don’t want to win with Archer.” Logan gave his head a sharp shake. “To be honest. I don’t want him to get any credit for how young he is and how much he’s done. And I don’t care if that’s too personal.” The coaching staff’s reprimand still tasted bitter in Logan’s mouth.

“Right,” Luke said. He was distracted. He needed Logan to talk.

“I think…Je…Uh, quand—” Logan looked out the window and closed one eye, thinking. “You know, uh, c’est la—Have you been to Low Moon? Best ramen in the city. Really, Leo and I love the spicy one and that’s really saying something that we both think something spicy is good. Usually he hates it if I like it because it’s not enough—”

“I’m taking him out to dinner,” Luke said suddenly. Soft, but not quite as under his breath as before. He looked over at Logan. “I’m taking Seb out to dinner. Tonight.”

Logan was startled to find his throat thick.

“Good,” Logan said firmly. He offered Luke a small, sure smile. “It will be so, so good.”

~

Remus’ plan was already half gone. It had been something about fast, and quiet, and pinning Sirius against the equipment closet shelves. Something about Regulus always being in the house, and them not having much time, and wanting to see that look on Sirius’ face that was entirely his, no captain in sight. Something stupid like making Sirius come when anyone could walk in at any moment and anyone could hear.

But Sirius was kissing him slow now, taking his time, and feeling up Remus’ ass like he had absolutely nothing better to do. He kept the kisses sloppy, little nips to Remus’ lip, probably too much tongue than Remus should actually be enjoying, but he was. He knew that Sirius liked it this way sometimes. Especially when everything was so figured out. So in routine. It was making them both hard in their shorts, and Remus knew they should probably do something about that if they were going to make it through this without any embarrassing encounters.

He had come in here wanting that look in Sirius’ eyes that put him at sea with only Sirius’ hands to save him. It was his very own color blue. He wanted to watch Sirius have to lean against him, and feel that fine tremor that started in the muscles of his lower back. He wanted the shadow of Sirius’ shoulders arching around him when he came. It made Remus feel completely covered, hidden from the rest of the world.

Sirius had a smile in his voice when he spoke next. He leaned back, hardly at all, and pressed a thumb into Remus’ bottom lip. “I know we should be quick but…” He leaned in again, thumb sliding down to hold Remus’ chin, and Remus had to wrap his arms around Sirius’ neck to keep himself steady.

“You’re—” Remus had to catch his breath. He reached between them, he needed to feel. He tugged at Sirius’ waistband. He was hot and silky to the touch. Remus looked at the shine smeared across his stomach, the way Sirius had to catch himself against the shelf behind them. The way he had to spread his legs, the slit of his cock giving way to shining drips of want.

Sirius ducked down to press their foreheads together. Outside, Remus heard someone pass them by in the hallway.

“Shit,” Remus whispered against Sirius’ mouth. He felt it when they both started laughing, breathlessly.

“I love you,” Sirius whispered. His hand was gentle, a little cool, when he reached for Remus, tugging the front of his shorts down. God, he had had these shorts in college and now Sirius was—

Remus tried to stay quiet, tried to stop smiling, but laughed more when Sirius’ next kiss was more to his teeth than his lips. “Shh—hm…”

Sirius had hitched one of Remus’ thighs up around his waist and brought their hips together. He looked like he did when he was actually fucking Remus. Sweat on his temples, eyes so soft Remus could have died. He thought for a moment maybe they could—but no, too much time. Not enough time. But Sirius’ hand was still on his ass, fingers tight and digging in, and he lined the two of them up perfectly. Sirius’ cock looked so ready that Remus’ mouth watered. His t-shirt was done for, white stains smearing over the dark hem.

“I’m—” Remus breathed. His voice sounded shaky in the silent, muted room. Something was rattling on the shelf behind him—metal?—and he could hear the music blasting from the weights room—something country sounding with, thank God, heavy bass. Sirius’ fingers slipped down an inch. “Sirius…”

Maybe it was his thigh being up like that. Maybe it was Sirius still smiling into their next kiss, or the drag of the play-off scruff, dark on his cheeks and chin, against the sensitive skin of Remus’ neck.

“Re,” Sirius whispered. Remus, with his hands locked on his shoulders, could feel his muscles working. “Fuck…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Remus chanted, tilting his head back. “Yes, yes…”

“Shh…” Sirius whispered and then he was kissing him again, swallowing the sound Remus made as he spilled between them. “Re, Re…”

They were heat against heat when Sirius tipped over right after him, and there it was. That tremor. That ocean that held just the two of them. Just Sirius. Just his boy, crushed against him, all warmth, and all that was those cool, rain water eyes.

They listened to the music down the hall as they caught their breath. Someone had gotten tired of country obviously, and what sounded like Thomas’ sugary pop was blasting now.

“I don’t know—” Remus swallowed around a dry throat. “No idea how long we’ve been here.”

“Probably too long…” Sirius kissed his throat like he had no plans of moving, and Remus pressed a hand to the coarse beard across his cheek.

“Hm…” Remus thought maybe he was going to fall asleep, right here in this dark, smelly closet. “It’s still going to be light outside when we leave though. If we can even make it to the showers without…Jesus, we’re dumb.”

Sirius grinned. “I would say I’m going to take you out to dinner now, but…”

“Can’t,” Remus said. He had the most wild urge to jump straight into Sirius’ arms though. “We have a team to take care of.”

~

Logan had his face tilted up into the shower’s hot spray, letting it wash the airplane from his skin, when the fogged up glass door opened.

“Non. I told you—” The words were hardly out of Logan’s mouth before he even turned, but Finn was already inside, sling left behind on the bathroom floor along with all of his clothes.

“For five minutes,” Finn groaned. He had his bad arm cradled protectively against his chest. “I missed you.”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Logan said, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. “That means still.” When Finn just shuffled right under the spray and up against his chest, Logan couldn’t help but laugh and rub a gentle hand up and down his side. “Who’s the puppy now? I said I’d be right back.”

“Yeah,” Finn said simply, and cradled Logan’s jaw with his free hand to kiss his other cheek. “Thing is, I’ve had enough distance from you to last a couple lifetimes.”

Logan clicked his tongue but leaned forward to kiss right over Finn’s collarbone. “You’re bad.” Then, what was it Finn was always saying? “Low blow.”

Finn just pushed his face into Logan’s neck with a pleased, rumbling sound. He was warm in the way that Logan associated with him being hurt. A little too warm, like his entire body turned all of its multitudes of attention on itself. Okay, it made Logan think. Five minutes.

“Sit, then,” he said.

There was a little stone-tiled alcove in their shower wall, and Finn only complained a little at how cold it was when Logan eased him down. He tucked his good hand under his injured arm’s elbow for support and ignored Logan’s pointed look.

“Hm,” Logan said. “What could be supporting your arm, I wonder?”

“Hm, what should I do while I’m sitting?” Finn asked with a smile, eyes low on Logan’s stomach.

“Not that,” Logan said.

“Yes.” He leaned forward and kissed over a dark mole on Logan’s stomach.

“Non, doctor says—”

Finn just ducked lower and kissed the tattoo on Logan’s hip. “What doctor?”

Logan cupped the back of Finn’s head gently and tried to will the heat in his stomach away. This was new. Never had he ever had a concussed Finn in his arms and going for sex. “Harz.”

Finn looked up at him, steam curling the parts of his hair that were still half-dry. “It feels like it’s been decades. Between this and the play-offs…”

Now that Logan was considering it, Finn was sporting a semi, fattening against his thigh. He felt Finn’s hand on his hip slid a little lower over his ass.

“Lo.”

“You shouldn’t have come in here,” Logan sighed.

“Light exercise within 72 hours,” Finn recited the doctors words. “Helps speed up recovery.”

Logan laughed and watched Finn’s eyes light up with it. “This is light exercise?”

Finn grinned. “As light as it gets.”

“Shoulder.”

“Minimal movement helps speed up recovery. I want you.” Finn leaned forward to rest his forehead against Logan’s stomach, then nuzzled against it. “I missed you.”

Logan closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy, for a moment, the hot water down his back and the feeling of Finn’s mouth against his skin. He had another set of months to look forward to of not being able to get the image of Finn’s hurting eyes out of his mind. It happened like this every time. Seeing Finn hurt scared him, a true and unforgiving nightmare.

He wanted Finn. God, did he ever. He was gone for the way Finn seemed so like himself. Those first few days had been hell, an unwanted flashback.

He knelt on a knee and rubbed his hands slowly up and down Finn’s thighs, watching the way Finn smiled at him.

“Really?” Finn said softly. “Thanks, baby.”

“I missed you, too,” Logan said, looking between his brown eyes. “I missed your jokes and your eyes and the way you walk around the house.” He cupped Finn’s elbow. “But if you think I’m letting you sit on hard stone right now and do this, you’re insane—C’est fou.”

“Foo-who?” Finn sighed. He jerked a chin towards Logan’s knees. “Trickery.” He reached out to tangle one hand’s fingers in Logan’s wet hair. “Viens ici.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “How hard did you hit your head again?”

Finn just smiled against his lips when Logan leaned forward for a kiss. “Knocked some French right into it, I guess.”

“Shh…” Logan laughed into the word and pushed up on his knees to kiss him gently again. “I’m tucking you in bed.”

“You can take me to bed after this, for sure.”

“Put your sling on.” Logan kissed the corner of his mouth and got back to his feet. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Finn leaned forward and pressed his teeth into the muscle of Logan’s stomach.

“I’m just gonna take that as a yes. Ow.”

Finn bit harder.

Logan could have run his hands through Finn’s hair forever. Thick red strands that he’d spent years looking at—soaked through by rain, drying in the sun, curling and coarse from salt water, stuck to his skin from sweat.

God, did Logan want him.

“Shut up,” Logan whispered, a little nonsensically, at the sight of Finn’s brown eyes looking up at him. Finn grinned like he knew.

“You are a beautiful boy,” Finn said. “Hot fucking damn, I’m a lucky one. You, Le…”

Logan combed his hair out of his face. His eyes were bright. Clear. He looked all right. Still, Logan flinched through lingering glimpses of his body on the ice. It hadn’t been like that the other times. Not the first, when he’d dropped against him on the bus home. Not the second, when he’d gotten himself off the ice and into the locker room on his own, to scared to try and hide it.

“What did I do in a past life to deserve you two?” Finn asked softly.

Logan passed his thumb over the freckles on his cheek, the familiar pattern of darker ones on the left side of his nose and under his eye. One, two, three, four.

“What did you do?” Logan repeated. “Make drinks.” Finn was kissing his tattoo again, wet darts of his tongue stroking Logan’s skin. Logan let his head tip back, he couldn’t look for too long. “Make trouble…”

“And?” Finn asked. He was drawing a palm up Logan’s inner thigh.

Logan hissed a breath in through his teeth and reached for something to hold onto. His eyes flashed open when Finn’s body flinched away from his touch and Finn cried out.

“Oh…” Logan yanked his hand away from Finn’s shoulder. “Finn—”

“It’s okay.” Finn was hunched in on himself a little, eyes closed and holding his shoulder. “I’m good, I’m good.”

“Non,” Logan said with finality. He shut the shower off. “Non, non, non. Deslolé, sorry, sorry, Rouge, Rouge…” Logan bent to kiss the opposite side of Finn’s neck, avoiding the shoulder any way he could. “Desolé, mon coeur, sorry—”

“Lo, I’m good, I’m fine. Surprised me.” Finn put a hand on the back of Logan’s neck, rubbing gently. “I’m good, baby.”

Logan just pressed his nose gently against Finn’s jaw, then pulled back to look him in the eye. “Sling.” He raised his eyebrows. “Dinner. Bed.”

When Finn just sent him a mournful look, made almost sweet by the way the shower had plastered his bangs against his forehead, Logan kissed him softly on the mouth. “Rouge. Let me.”

Finn let him rub a towel through his hair. He let Logan sit him on the edge of the bed and then help him into a soft pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt—Leo’s, he requested. A big, worn out summer camp one. It was a bad memory, doing everything by dim light like this, but Finn looked good in the soft glow anyway.

“You look like you do in that bookstore you love,” Logan said as he gently loosened the sling to accommodate the thicker fabric. “The small one. In New York.”

“I do?”

Logan stroked Finn’s hair out of his face. He hadn’t been wearing his glasses. There was no point. Logan missed them. “Mhm.”

“What does that even mean?”

Honestly, Logan didn’t really know how to explain it to him. He didn’t know it beyond the feeling of soft, looking at me, warm hands.

When he leaned down and brushed a kiss over Finn’s mouth, Finn wrapped an arm around his hips and scooped him right into his straddling his lap.

“Harz,” Logan complained, but he did it right against Finn’s mouth so it probably lost some heat.

“Hey,” Finn said. “Don’t tell me I can’t handle even this.”

Logan snorted out a laugh when Finn’s fingers squeezed. “You need your medicine.”

“Ooh, you gonna give it to me?”

Logan nodded, and cupped the back of Finn’s head, touching their foreheads together. Finally, he felt Finn relax. When he risked a glance, Finn had his eyes closed.

“Missed you,” Finn said softly.

It took Logan back to that first day, getting him home from the hospital. It hurts, Finn had whispered to him in the darkness—a thunderous admission. He’d slept hard that night, barely moving from his place against Logan’s chest.

And no matter how much Logan tried to pull him close, Leo had been distant, claiming he was just tired. He’d kissed Finn’s forehead, squeezed Logan’s hand, then rolled over, his back facing them. It twisted Logan’s heart all up, just thinking about it.

Logan settled him and Finn on the couch to scroll through Grubhub, keeping the TV off. Finn looked happier with the sling taking the weight of his arm and his night round of medication for his head.

“Soup,” Finn said when he saw Logan’s phone screen—Logan jerked it away from his eyes.

“No screens.”

“Fine, fine, but Le made me soup. It’s in the fridge.”

“Baby, I love you,” Logan said. “But I need more than soup.”

“Ugh. I miss being, like, full-on hungry.” Finn pushed his good shoulder up against Logan’s. “You’ve never called me baby this much in your life.”

Logan slid his eyes over to him. “So you’ve said. Taco’s? Or do you just want soup?”

“Soup,” Finn said—not the best of signs in Logan’s book. The second Finn requested a bagel and lox he’d feel ten times lighter. Though, Leo’s soup did smell like heaven.

“D’accord. I’m gonna put my order in then I’ll heat it up for you.”

“I can do it—”

“Non,” Logan said. He clicked his phone off and kissed Finn’s temple. “Let me.”

“I’ll come with you,” Finn said the second Logan got up.

He turned around and laughed. “Harz. Did you follow your mom around?”

“No,” Finn said. “Those days I mostly just slept.” He went to push himself up from the couch, but he must have moved something wrong—shoulder, head—because he cursed, eyes squeezing shut, and he rested his head back against the cushions.

Logan sat down, reaching out a hand to his thigh. “Rouge—”

“I’ve been exhausted and in pain and tired of both,” Finn sighed. “There. I admit it. I’m sick of sitting still, I’m sick of being cooped up away from the light, I miss you both so much it’s insane, I drive myself insane, and I’m sick of…” He cut off, a frustrated pink to his cheeks and neck. He stared at the blank TV, as if there was a game playing. “I want to be out there. I don’t like listening on the radio.”

“I know,” Logan said. “I know you do. But you’ll be able to come to a game soon—”

“I want to be on the ice. Helping. We lost the last game and…God, I’m sick of you not being on my team and—and you and Le are fighting.”

Maybe Logan should have seen that last one coming.

Maybe those words had been hovering in the room, in the apartment. A tight, thick feeling of unrest that had kept him staring at his ceiling most of last night and on the plane.

He didn’t like the look of those words on Finn’s face. Bitter as the aftertaste of the pills he had to swallow.

“Aren’t you?” Finn asked quietly.

“Non,” Logan said uncertainly. “We…”

Was it so real as that? A fight? He couldn’t stand the idea of Leo going through practice all day, sitting at a restaurant somewhere downtown, mad at him.

“He won’t say what happened,” Finn said. “He won’t say something’s wrong at all, but there is.”

Logan swallowed. “We…” Words clogged up his throat.

“I’ve told him over and over again that this isn’t his fault,” Finn said. “And for a while I thought that was it, but it’s more like…I don’t know. It’s more like…”

“I maybe, um.” Logan paused. “I maybe got a little protective…that first night.”

“From Leo?”

“Non, of course not, I…I don’t know, Finn. I don’t know. I didn’t mean to, I just—you were so—I don’t know.”

“No one is still telling me what the fuck happened—”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it me?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, groaning. “Finn. Non. Of course not. Just let me get our food.”

“Tremz…”

“Look, I’m starving.” Logan pushed his hands through his hair. “And I need to think how to say it, d’accord, so—I’m getting our food.”

He didn’t want to leave Finn on the couch like that, staring after him. He waited for footsteps, Finn’s socks on the floor, following him like he promised. But when he had ordered and peeked back into the living room, Finn had his eyes closed.

~

Remus loved the beginning of team dinners. They rarely hopped around from place to place, not when it was all of them. More often than not, they booked out the third floor of the Golden Lion bar. Remus could still see Sirius at his first one, standing across the room, a rookie, guarded, unwilling to even accept a drink. Even then, he had been so beautiful.

Everyone stood around high-top tables and the bar, helping themselves to the chips and salsa or mozzarella sticks passed around by waiters, ice cold beers sliding across the bar. The scene made Remus feel a little like he used to, as the PT. He could stand more towards the edges of the room, only just on the outside of things near the stairs, and look in.

Sirius and James were talking to Regulus near the far end of the bar. Regulus rolled his eyes at something Sirius said and James threw his head back, laughing. The brothers looked similar to Remus in their gray t-shirts. Regulus looked like he had taken back up with the gym, and Remus watched James pluck at his t-shirt like he had noticed, too.

Evgeni was being firmly told off of a shot of vodka by Jackson and Layla, who was standing back to back with Cole—and Remus swore he saw their fingers brush sometimes whenever one of them put their hand down.

Pascal had Celeste cornered against the bar with a soft smile on his face and one hand on her waist. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek and she said something that made him duck his forehead her her shoulder and laugh.

And Leo. Remus could tell, almost just by the way he was slowly stirring his gin and tonic, that Leo was missing his boys. Even as he laughed at something Thomas was saying to him and Cole, he kept brushing a thumb over a back pocket where his phone was.

Remus took a sip of his beer and turned to Lily. “I don’t know why but it’s really bothering me. The Cubs thing.”

Lily looked up from the chip in her hand, dangerously cradling too much salsa. “Lupin, you can’t go worrying about everyone else the second you’re not on the rocks yourself. It’s Leo. It’s Leo and Logan and Finn—Jesus, I’ve seen the way they treat each other. I’m surprised they don’t use all that money to build monuments to worship at.”

“Yeah,” Remus said absently, frowning at the back of Leo’s head.

“I’m surprised you and Black don’t build monuments,” Lily mumbled, then put the whole chip in her mouth.

“Sirius’ would be to slap shots.”

“Mm, pretty sure it’d be to you.”

Remus leaned back against the dark-wood bar and grinned. “Huh. Yeah, it would be.” He held up his hand with his ring on it. “Aren’t offerings the beginning?”

Lily slapped his chest. “Okay, that joke’s over now. Get that thing out of my face before it catches light and blinds me.”

Remus just turned his hand to look at it himself. The stupid big rock had grown on him—as if, some how, Sirius had known it would. He loved slipping it back on after practice. He even didn’t mind the Instagram account dedicated to Remus-Ring-Sightings that Thomas had shown him.

“We’re here!” came Natalie’s voice right behind them. She finished walking up the stairs and spun on her heels, flashing Remus her red-bottomed boots. “Hello Remus Lupin, we brought a soldier behind enemy lines.”

“Oh?” Remus asked.

Kasey followed her, smiling slightly, and behind him came Alex.

“Oh, boo,” Thomas yelled. “Wrong O’Hara!”

“Get lost in big city, Ranger?” Evgeni called out.

“What can I say?” Alex grinned. “I was promised whiskey.”

Remus laughed, sharing an eye-roll with Kasey. He was holding tightly to Alex’s hand, and Alex didn’t let go even when Leo walked up to hug him.

“How’s my baby brother?” Alex said, keeping a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Not smothered by my mother?”

Leo pretended to think on it. “Don’t think so.”

“Surely Logan, then.”

Leo’s smile wavered. “No. They’re good. Lo’s there now. Got home after I left for here.”

Alex nodded. “Well, guess he’s done it before. Knows his way around the I’m fine’s and I can do it’s and It doesn’t hurt’s.”

Remus saw Leo’s throat move around a swallow. “Yeah. He does.”

Lily got taken up by Natalie (and her boots) and Remus was left to settle back again and watch. Sirius was talking with his hands, replying to something Kasey had said, and then pushing his palm through his hair in the way he did when he was really loose. Not worried about seeming too much, too loud, taking up too much space. Remus smiled watching him smile. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more, to steal him away into another hidden corner or to take him out to dinner, just the two of them. He wanted to trace the way he rubbed at the beard he was growing for the play-offs. He wanted to tangle his fingers in his hair.

“Hey, heart-eyes.”

Remus blinked and looked up at Leo, who took a bar stool for himself.

“Hey yourself.” Remus gave himself a little shake. “Hey, it’s hard not to. You get it.”

“Oh, I get it.” Leo glanced Alex’s way. “But wrong O’Hara.”

“Ha.” Remus grinned. “Yours is doing okay?”

When Leo let out a long sigh, Remus clinked their glasses together apologetically. “Sorry, you’re probably so sick of being asked that. I can ask him myself.”

“No, no…” Leo took the lime off of the edge of his glass. It had been squeezed already and was dry between his fingers. “No, it’s not that.”

Remus wondered where Thomas had gone off to. Noelle was with Natalie and Lily. He’d wanted to be here for this.

“We—T and I…” Remus shrugged. “We’d noticed you’d been a little…down. And I mean, understandably, but…you and Logan sort of…”

Leo huffed. “Stop wincing at me, Loops. I’ll tell you if you want.” He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink, crunching ice between his teeth. “If I even know what to tell.”

Remus frowned. “What does that mean, Knutty?”

Leo’s jaw worked as he let the ice melt in his mouth, blue eyes down. Remus stayed quiet, though part of him was dying to guess, to try and help.

“I’ve always thought that I’d feel their history more than I do,” Leo finally said. “More than I ever have. I’ve always been a little surprised by it. By how little I feel…you know. Like I wasn’t there. Because I wasn’t, I wasn’t there. And it doesn’t actually come up, honestly. Until…”

“The concussion brought it up?”

“Yeah. A little.” Leo looked down. “I don’t know, I think Lo’s just sort of in the mode of feeling guilty about the other times, when Finn got hit in college and he couldn’t…”

“I guess that makes sense.”

Leo’s smile was sad. “It all makes sense, and I’ve got it all figured out. That’s how I always am. I get it, and I can say it. That doesn’t always make it better.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah. No, I see. It’s still there. And you haven’t said anything to Logan?”

“I don’t know if it’s fair of me to.” He looked over at Remus. “Re, we’ve never…we’ve never fought before. And the worst part is, I’m not even sure if that’s what we’re doing or if I’m just being stupid and, like, stubborn or something. Or just childish. Or selfish?” Leo shook his head. “And I just can’t stop thinking about the night it happened. We brought him home—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Alex threw his arms around them both. “Which one of you is gonna buy me a drink before me and Tremblay wha-hip your asses next game?”

Leo, to his credit, did a pretty good job of dredging up a smile.

“Not me. Goalie privilege.”

Alex pushed his bottom lip out. “Kase never told me about that one. I think you made that up.”

“Oh, it exists,” Leo said, then ducked out from Alex’s arm. “I’m sure of it.”

Remus sighed, watching Leo go. “Hazard, I was getting somewhere.”

“What do you mean?” Alex looked at Leo over his shoulder. “I thought we were cheering him up. That’s what Walker just said.”

“Well—yeah.” Remus shook his head. Leo, maybe, didn’t need another person on his case. “Yeah. All right, so I guess I’m buying. What’ll it be?”

~

Finn was on the very edge of their bed, on top of all the covers like he had barely lay down before falling asleep. His injured arm was cradled protectively against his chest in its sling. Leo checked the time on his watch. He couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes since Logan and him had finished bringing all their things inside. He glanced behind him from his place in the bedroom doorway, listening to Logan doing something in the kitchen. Probably leaving every single cupboard open in the way he always did. Finn would usually be out there bothering him. Lo, whiskey? We could share.

Leo knew where that came from. He knew all the stories. The roof. OKN House. But he didn’t know. He never cleaned up Logan’s knee when he cut himself climbing back through the window from that roof perch. He’d never watched the sunset from up there. He’d never passed a bottle of whiskey back and forth with them beneath the pink and orange sky.

He knelt beside the bed, bringing his face close to Finn’s, and reached out to push the hair out of Finn’s eyes.

He’d never done this. He’d never seen such a soft Finn. A needy Finn, too exhausted to hold himself together. It was different than the hurt, desperate Finn that he’d seen when Logan first went to New York. That one had been wound so tightly that he was bound to fly apart. This one was all loose sadness and helpless pain.

“Howdy,” Finn whispered without opening his eyes. His voice cracked with exhaustion. “Butter.”

“Hi,” Leo said. “You don’t look very comfortable.”

“Come to think of it, I’m not,” Finn mumbled. “You have practice?”

“No, honey,” Leo said.

“Oh. Wait, what time is it?”

“It’s really late,” Leo said. “Don’t worry, you can sleep.”

“Good. Hmm, good, that’s good.”

A moment later, he was asleep. Leo frowned, reaching up to smooth his thumb over a crease between Finn’s eyebrows. He watched Finn’s eyelashes flutter a little across his cheeks before trying to decide how to get him comfortable. He was too hot, his shirt sticking to him. No sooner had Leo reached for the hem than did Finn suck in a breath, half-waking.

“Lo?” Finn mumbled sleepily, reaching a hand out to blindly grasp at Leo’s shirt.

Leo bit his lip, looking towards the living room where Logan was. “Oh. No. No, it’s Leo, Harz. But I can get him—”

But Finn grabbed onto his arm and opened his eyes. The honey-brown looked so, so tired. “No. Stay, Le. Sorry, I was still half asleep. Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Leo whispered. “You want to get out of your clothes, sweetheart? Get under the covers?”

“What?” Finn asked. “Oh, sure. What time is it? Do I…Wait, I’m getting dressed?”

“Let me help you,” Leo said.

He got at Finn’s shoes first, slipping them off while Finn lay back on the bed. Next came his sweatpants.

“Okay,” Leo said. Finn eased himself up with his good hand, and Leo could hardly stand the slight shake in the muscle of his forearm.

“I think I can do it,” Finn said.

“Okay.” Leo knelt between his knees, ready, as Finn gingerly took his sling off before pulling his t-shirt up and over his head—one arm first, head out, to be eased off his shoulder. Leo helped him out of his sweatpants. He blinked down at Leo when he was done.

“You know…” Finn put his good hand on Leo’s cheek. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“We don’t have to talk about that now. You need to rest—”

“You know this isn’t your fault,” Finn said again. “Leo.”

Leo closed his eyes. He pressed a kiss to Finn’s palm and then rose to go to their dresser. “Which t-shirt?”

“Yours,” Finn said softly. “Your Saints one.”

Leo looked back at him. He looked sad, worried. The opposite of rest. He was holding his arm protectively, cradled against his chest, but he seemed to forget for a moment. He went to reach out and then flinched, sucking air in through his teeth.

Leo grabbed the shirt and pants quickly and shut the drawer. “You need to lay down and put that sling back on.”

“Not until you tell me you don’t think this is your fault.” Finn blinked up at him as Leo gently eased a t-shirt over his head, his sling over it. It mussed his hair in a way that made Leo want to lay right down and curl into his side.

“Lay back,” Leo said shakily. “Sweetheart—”

Finn held onto his wrist even as Leo managed to get him to lay on his back, head propped against the pillows. “No, you’re about to cry, I can see it. I can see it.”

“And I really don’t want to,” Leo whispered.

“Lay down,” Finn said. “Lay down with me.”

Leo put a hand on Finn’s cheek. He took Finn’s fingers off of his wrist and Finn let his head sink into the pillow.

“Le?” Logan said from the doorway. He was holding a bowl and Leo could smell that it was chicken broth. Leo frowned.

“Did you bring in the bag of medicine from the doctor?” Logan asked.

“I—yeah,” Leo said. He stepped back from the bed. “It’s in the hall.”

Logan sat on the edge of Finn’s bed and set the soup down. Finn’s eyes had slipped closed, but they opened again at the weight at his side. “Mon rouge, drink a bit of this, d’accord? Just a little.”

Leo stared at Logan’s back. Had that been a request that he go get it? He took a step back, waiting for Logan to look at him, but he only set the broth down at the request of a protesting Finn and, when Finn put an arm around his back, leaned over him.

Leo watched as Finn just blinked up at Logan and gave a weak shrug with his good shoulder.

Logan brushed a finger over the skin under Finn’s eye. “You’re so tired, Rouge.” The kiss he let rest against Finn’s mouth was the softest thing Leo had ever seen. “It’s okay.”

“Lo.” Finn let his head sink into his pillow and closed his eyes.

“Tell me,” Logan whispered. “Tell me how to help.” He brushed their noses together, back and forth, back and forth, feather-light.

“I love you,” Logan whispered.

“Love you,” Finn said, barely, a little slurred from exhaustion. “It hurts.”

That admission, from Finn, was almost terrifying.

The guilt welled up so fast that Leo had to take a step backwards. He went to the kitchen—every cupboard open, a little soup spilled on the counter. Can knocked over, can opener splayed out. It was a mess, it was the mess Logan usually made, but it felt ten times worse just then. Ten times bigger.

“Did you get his medicine?” Logan’s voice came from behind him, brushing past Leo and going over to the bags in the entry hall. “He should take it before he really falls asleep.”

Leo turned, watching him rummage through their things.

“You made soup,” Leo said.

“Ouais, it’s always the only thing he’ll touch,” Logan said without looking up.

Leo nodded wordlessly. He thought about going over to the stove. Cleaning up. His feet didn’t move.

“Quoi?” Logan passed him by, headed to the fridge. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Why was he?

“I don’t know,” Leo heard himself say. “Just that if there was one thing I…”

Logan had yanked open the refrigerator but paused, a water bottle in hand.

“What?” Logan asked. He looked surprised by Leo’s tone. It had come out harsh. Angry.

Leo looked down, a little embarrassed. Wishing he could take it back. “Nothing.”

“Leo—”

“If there was one thing I could have done right tonight, that was probably it,” Leo said in a rush. He sighed, motioning to the stove. “Like, okay, you’ve done all of this before but I…”

He suddenly didn’t even have the energy to finish the sentence. He wanted to crawl into bed. He wanted to listen to Finn’s even breathing. He wanted the image of him with his eyes closed against the ice out of his head.

“Le.” Logan looked down at the water and medicine. “I’m—I didn’t…”

“He needs the pain killers before he sleeps,” Leo said. “You should give them to him.”

~

Leo shut the door to their apartment and shut his eyes against the memory. He didn’t like this lumpy ball of guilt, misplaced, overworked, and unguided. It was dark except for the hall’s night light, and he imagined that he could hear Logan and Finn sleeping. Synced breathing and body heat.

The bedroom door was open, but he forced himself to go right to the shower. He took his time. Let himself cry a little. Let himself be angry at Jack, angry at himself.

Angry at Logan.

The team dinner had distracted him, but Kasey brought a new round of what felt like grief. He’d really thought Kasey was going to make the announcement tonight. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could’ve taken it tonight, hearing Kasey go.

His own mind rang between his ears, so muddled that, if asked, he wouldn’t have been able to put a name to the feeling. He wouldn’t have been able to say if it sprung from the ever looming possibility of losing Kasey, or the general pressure of the game, or the past of Finn and Logan that he would never know the half of.

It was his own fault, letting all these hopeless and irrational feelings stir up now of all times. The soup didn’t matter, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. He couldn’t have known Jack would do this. His mind skipped around, but it always landed in the same place. He just wanted Finn to be okay. He wanted his loud laugh, dancing around the kitchen, pausing with his hands on Leo’s hips. Back in the locker room. Coming home from a run and bringing him coffee in bed. Good morning, rise and shine, sunshine.

Toweling off his hair, he came into the dark bedroom. Finn’s head was on Logan’s chest, sleeping on his side without the sling. He was passed out hard, his mouth open a little. Logan was pulling gentle fingers through his red hair and watching Leo through the dim light.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Leo whispered.

Logan just open his free arm. “Ici.”

Leo hesitated. He knew his blocked up nose would give him away. He turned to hang the towel over the ajar door, then walked into one of the closets. “One sec.”

He grabbed for a pair of pajama paints and, on second thought, a long-sleeved shirt. He didn’t feel being exposed anywhere. He felt too shivery, too wound up. He wished one of Logan or Finn’s sweatshirts would pull easily over his hands.

Logan was still waiting with patient green eyes when he emerged. He’d propped himself up on a pillow a little, but Finn had hardly moved. Logan opened up his arm again, insistent.

Leo lay down beside him, but Logan didn’t have it.

“Non, ici.” Logan pulled until Leo’s head was on his chest, too, a mirror to Finn. He kissed Leo’s hair once, twice. The third time, his lips stayed and Leo nearly closed his eyes. Finn looked peaceful, this close up. He was holding himself tight, just a little, as if the discomfort didn’t dissipate even in sleep. His hair was damp, like he had showered. Come to think of it, Logan’s was, too. Maybe they’d had theirs together. And he’d just cried through his own.

“Was dinner good?” Logan whispered. Leo felt the words against his skin. He nodded, but he didn’t think he could speak.

“Good.” Logan rubbed Leo’s back in silence for a few moments. Leo felt him draw in a long, slow breath. “Good…”

Finn seemed to have felt the disturbance, too, because he cleared his throat and rolled onto his back. They both looked to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself. The pillows he’d been sleeping with along his bad side to keep him from rolling onto his shoulder were still in place.

“Does he look okay?” Leo whispered, eyes darting over the sling.

“Ouais.” Logan, his arm free, rolled towards Leo until his leg was over Leo’s hip and his arm drawn tight around his back. They were face to face now and Leo got a ticklish face full of curls when Logan bent to kiss his neck, then his chin, then a quick peck to his mouth. He said nothing, though, and Leo wasn’t sure if this was just Logan being Logan, or some sort of apology. Leo wasn’t even sure he wanted an apology. He didn’t want Logan to feel like he’d done anything wrong. He wanted this weight on his chest gone.

“Reg was there?” Logan asked. At Leo’s confused look he said, “Saw some pictures on Natalie’s instagram.”

“Oh. Yeah.” It had been nice, being with friends and not just on the rink. He felt like the last week had been consumed by a fog of worry and hurt. Being away from Finn, hearing his voice on the phone, weak and tired sounding.

Him and Logan feeling awkward in New York.

Leo leaving without saying goodbye.

He regretted that. He really regretted that. He’d hated himself all the way home.

He should be saying sorry to Logan. About getting mad about the soup, about being quiet, about leaving.

Logan was all tensed up in his arms. Worried. Trying to test the waters without jumping in. Trying to gauge Leo.

Logan’s heart was going a mile a minute beneath Leo’s fist and Leo couldn’t help it. He lay his palm over his chest and rubbed his thumb over the pounding.

Logan drew in a breath. “Le…Desolé.” Logan pressed his forehead against Leo’s sighing. “I’m so sorry, mon amour. I’m a mess, and—and I love you. And I’m a mess, this is hard and…”

Something in Leo loosened.

“The soup thing was stupid of me,” Logan continued. “And I didn’t mean to ignore you and…” Logan pressed harder, his whispers shaky. “This scares me. So bad. And I know it’s not just me, but I…I didn’t get to take care of him the last times. Not like I really wanted, and part of me just—jumped for it. I needed to know I could do it, I think. Do it the right way.”

So, all this quiet, all this tension in Logan’s muscles, had been him trying to gather the words.

“Mais—but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you can. Of course you can.” Logan pulled back some to look at him. “None of this is your fault, okay? And I’m so sorry.”

The right words. The English words. Leo should have known.

“Me too,” Leo said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you that night and… I hated myself for leaving New York like that the second it did it.”

Logan shook his head. He drew a thumb over Leo’s lip and Leo felt it shake, just a little. “I should have come sooner.”

“I should have waited for you. God, I…” Leo worried he had lost them that game and now they were facing elimination and—

And then Finn was moving again, pushing a hand over Logan’s arm in his sleep until Logan fell back onto his back so Finn could settle on his chest again. He sighed in his sleep, mouth open. Leo looked up at Logan and they both smiled a little. This time, Leo settled his head on Logan’s chest without needing to be told. Logan put a hand in both their hair.

“I really feel like I…” Leo looked for the words, too. “I rely on him to be…”

“Happy,” Logan nodded. “Je sais, I know.”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “But is that good of me? I…Just—not even just happy, but like, solid and upbeat and…joking, making me laugh. And then when he’s not it…like something is wrong. Really wrong.”

Logan took his time answering. Leo leaned into the feeling of his fingers stroking through his hair. Finn’s breathing was gentle. Peaceful. He seemed so content, resting against Logan, ear over his heart. Letting himself be held.

“The first time,” Logan finally began. “I hadn’t even known him that long. But it was so weird. I couldn’t figure out why I was so scared every time he didn’t smile.”

“Mhm,” Leo said softly. He wanted more. He wanted to hear.

“We slept like this every night,” Logan whispered. Leo felt him shift, mouth and nose against Finn’s hair. “I was so terrified someone would see us, but I never moved. Not once. I think that’s the only time I never backed down. Or backed out. Maybe both.”

Leo pressed a kiss to Logan’s chest through his t-shirt.

“He would only eat this one canned soup and only if we put, like, so much pepper in it. Knutty, it was insane. You would have hated how much pepper. Only pepper.”

Leo smiled a little. “He does like pepper.”

“It was kind of freaky, like he couldn’t taste it otherwise or something. But he said it just cleared his nose up so I was like, okay. He loves your soup. I tried to get some, like, sushi delivery into him or something and he wasn’t having it.”

Leo smiled. “He’s gonna get so sick of it.”

“Non, don’t think so.” Logan’s thumb was making small tracks across his neck. “And he couldn’t read or anything, like his homework. So I read to him.”

Leo smiled. “He’s the reader.”

“He interrupted all the time. It’s like going inside his mind. It’s—the only thing better I can think of is watching you two read.”

Finn sighed in his sleep like he’d heard. Leo touched the curl of his fingers poking out of the sling. “Did he fight you then? Trying to take care of him.”

“Not for the first couple days,” Logan said, then his chest rose and fell with a sigh of his own. “But once he starts feeling better its harder. Like tonight. Followed me everywhere.”

Leo turned his head up to Logan and smiled softly. “He did that to me, too. Followed me right into the shower and—”

Logan darted a mocking little glare towards Finn. “Oh, he tried that on you, too?”

“Almost gave in, to be honest.”

Logan grinned and leaned a little closer. “Would’ve like to see that. But same. Took me a bit to realize how badly he needed to lie down.”

“Good thing we’re Harzy-whisperers,” Leo whispered against his lips.

Logan’s laugh was quiet and his kiss was tender. “Finn-fluent.”

Finn made a sound, a little hum followed by a soft snort.

“Ouais, Harz,” Logan whispered. “Your blowjob efforts failed.”

Leo suppressed  a laugh and reached up for Logan’s jaw, turning him down into another kiss. Logan’s mouth was soft, a little sleepy maybe, but he opened Leo’s lips gently and squeezed him closer by his shoulders.

“I love you,” Leo whispered. “And I…I like hearing about it. The two of you, before me.”

“It doesn’t compare to the three of us,” Logan said.

“I know. I just don’t want you to think I don’t know that, I just felt…I felt like I would never live up to it for a moment.”

Logan’s brow knit. His skin and eyes took on the darkness. He lit it up, blue and green, and for a moment Leo was lost.Like this, Leo could almost imagine it. Knowing Logan back then. Knowing Finn. Having even more time than he would already be given. He was selfish for those years.

“He used to leave his backpack unzipped,” Logan said. He pet a hand through Finn’s hair and it was almost fond.

Leo smiled. “Oh no.”

“He would probably get all the way to class like that if I didn’t tell him every time. Shit falling out behind him.”

It was a sweet image, Logan catching Finn’s things. It was always Fall when Leo imagined them there, he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because of the sweatshirts they wore around the apartment, the maroon color, or the idea of school, just something that started in September.

“He’s never late for anything,” Leo whispered.

Logan smiled. “Not now, maybe. I used to wake up to him banging his hip on the dresser every morning while he rushed around.”

Leo reached down and put a hand on Finn’s waist, dipped a little with the way he was curved against Logan. “He still does that.”

“And you already know about our bagel place,” Logan said. “And his insane order.”

“It’s not so insane,��� Leo said. “Plenty of people like capers that much.”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “But I only know one.”

Leo’s laugh was too loud for the time, and he turned his head into Logan’s chest.

“Là, take over for a second,” Logan said. “I’ve had to pee for two hours.”

“Hurry back.”

Logan eased Finn off of his shoulder with kisses and plenty of pillows, and Leo slid over into the warm spot left behind by him until Finn’s cheek rested against his chest instead.

“Hm…” Finn pressed his nose against Leo’s neck. By the kiss he placed there, Leo was sure Finn thought he was Logan still but he enjoyed it anyway.

“If I’m here, will you fall asleep okay?” Finn mumbled. When Leo hesitated in replying, Finn pressed his cheek harder against his chest. “Can I sleep here, Le?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah,” Leo said, throat tight. “Of course, sweetheart.” He pressed his nose into Finn’s hair. “Of course you can.”

“Did the boats leave?”

Leo arched a brow. “Uh. What?”

“I gave them the money,” Finn mumbled. “No one ran to the top.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t… What?”

But Finn didn’t reply, just breathed out, fast asleep.

Logan came back in, switching off the bathroom light.

“Did he used to talk in his sleep?” Leo whispered.

Logan paused with a knee on the bed. “Non. Did he just?”

Leo tried not to laugh, nodding. “Something about boats and money.”

Logan made a half-bewildered noise and lay down against Leo’s side. “There’s a lot going on in that brain.”

“There is,” Leo said. He had Finn’s head on one shoulder, Logan’s on the other. The game might’ve been tomorrow, but he’d reclaimed his prizes tonight.

[mikedfaist]

I’ve had this idea for a minute and I love your writing style so hopefully you can do it! Mike x reader and reader has a daughter from a previous relationship and Mike is looking for a respectful way of talking about her! I was picturing it in the another man magazine article he did but whatever you think is best!

Anon, darling, you came to the right person for this because I already had an idea brewing. For the Mike x famous reader universe, I have multiple scenarios for when they meet, but the one where she has a daughter with someone else is actually a new idea I’ve been dabbling with for nearly a week.

The father isn’t in her life, our reader is just being a single mother, so when the two of them do start dating, Mike is very much treading on his responsibilities, because he doesn’t want to overstep, but he also wants to help when he can. I think it also takes her a little bit to warm up to Mike, just because she’s a shy girl, and she’s around 3-years-old when they meet. But once he asks to see her Barbie’s, oh man, it’s game over. They become best friends. She’s always asking for “Bike” to come over.

(It’s hard because she primarily lives in New York, and of course he’s in Ohio, so she doesn’t understand why Bike can’t just come over right now).

He even has a room made up for her at his house. He painted the whole thing, got her a bed set up, even bought her some of her favorite toys for her to just keep there for when she visits.

When they do the interview, I can see Mike carefully bringing her up over lunch. Maybe the background of his phone is a photo he took of her sitting on a giant pumpkin from when the three of them went to the pumpkin patch the previous fall.

When I bring up the photo, he pauses to look down at his phone with uncertainty, but it vanishes quickly before you had a moment to process his emotions.

“That’s my girlfriend’s daughter… We went to the pumpkin patch last year and she wanted to bring home the biggest one she could find but… She bit off more than she could chew.” He laughs, unlocking his phone and begins to scroll through is camera roll, pointing to photos he’s taken of her over recent months.

“This one,” he says, turning his phone around to show me a selfie he had taken himself. “She wanted to play ‘Beautiful’ as she calls it… She does my makeup and hair to make me look beautiful.” The photo shows Mike with bright blue eyeshadow, glitter covering his cheeks, bright pink lipstick adorning his lips, and ribbon tied precariously in his hair. “It did make me feel pretty beautiful.”

Lastly, he shows me a photograph he keeps folded neatly in his wallet; it’s of the two of them in his dressing room from when he was on the West End last summer. She wears his cowboy hat and boots, much too big for her, while he is bent down to kiss her cheek.

She’s mentioned later in the article when Mike talks about how his refrigerator is covered in drawings she’s made for him, and his favorite, when asked, is the one of three stick figures, and one stick dog, standing in front of a house – presumably his – with the words ‘I love my family’ written atop. He then says he’s working on getting it laminated and framed.

[blakelysco-pilot]

All I Do Is Dream of You

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The morning of the Bremen Raid, Rosie finds himself unable to sleep, and the only person who could ease his nerves is an ocean away in New York. He does the only thing he knows how, when so far away, and thus, pens his first of letters to Jo.

Read Part 1 Here Follow along with the Love Letters playlist

October 1943

Dearest Jo,

It’s fall in East Anglia, yet I can’t bring myself to enjoy it as much as usual. The weather is so different than it is back home. It rains all the time, and it’s hard to get anywhere with all the mud. I much prefer walking around the city huddled under an umbrella with you, than trying to get around on a bike, with all the puddles. I’m not made for these bikes, sweetheart; and if I know you, I know you’d get a good laugh at my expense. I’ve fallen off quite a few times. The latest landed me in the shallow end of a ditch, half soaked, on my way back from the supply hut. The only thing I could think to do was inflate my life vest. Pappy found me laying there and hasn’t let me live it down since. Now that I’ve told you, I don’t think you will either. I can almost hear you laughing as I write this. I miss the sound of your laugh, Jo. I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone so much, but I do. I miss you terribly. I hope you’re managing in Brooklyn without me, and by managing I mean not worrying about me too much. 

The good news, depending on how you look at it, is that this weather has afforded us no shortage of evenings in the Officers Club. It’s definitely not Minton’s but it fills the void for the time being. The fellas are good company. Nash met a Red Cross girl stationed here and he’s been trying to woo her since we stepped foot on base. Pappy thinks he has no shot. I’ll let you know how that works out for him. But, the drinks are alright, and the music fills the silence. Remember when we went to Carnegie to see Benny Goodman? This is nothing like that, but I like to pretend it is. 

I found out that Harry Crosby, and his wife live in the city. He said they moved before he shipped out. When this is all over, we’ll have to go out with them on a double. But not before I take you out, just us. Remember my promise, Jo. I’ll be waiting for you at Minton’s. Until then, I’ll wait for your reply. 

Yours, no matter how far away

Robbie

Rosie gave the letter a once over before carefully folding it and slipping it inside the envelope that was on the desk next to him. Once he had sealed it, he took care in making sure that Jo’s address was legible. It was nerve wracking enough that he had to worry about mail making it safely across an entire ocean before reaching home, but he didn’t want the reason it never got there to be because the address couldn’t be read.

Standing from the desk, he picked up his hat, and the envelope and made his way to the door. It was early, and he was flying today, but he wanted to make sure he made the post before the day got started. This was his first mission with the Hundredth and he had woken up slightly on edge, so he had gotten himself dressed and sat down to write to Jo. When he was home, and found himself stressed, he would seek her out and she would help to ease his worries. A letter to her was as close to the real thing as he could get while he was away. He had spilled his thoughts onto the page in the hopes of conveying just how much he missed her. It had helped, only slightly. One part of him figuring that the nerves would ease after he had one under his belt. After Bremen. After she wrote back so that he knew  these feelings weren’t entirely one sided. He knew he was thinking foolishly and the rational part of his brain would blame it on the nerves. He knew that she would never have said the things she did at the train station if she didn’t feel for him what he felt for her, but distance was a funny thing. Until he was back home with her, he’d never fully know.

The sun hadn’t even begun its ascent over the horizon when he ducked inside the APO hut to drop off his letter. The Corporal working the desk saluted him before accepting the envelope destined for New York, and Rosie watched as it was dropped in a basket along with dozens of other letters. He could only pray that it arrived safely to its intended recipient. Departing the building with a quick smile and a two fingered salute to the young Corporal, Rosie pushed through the doors and made his way back outside to journey to the mess hall. It was barely dawn, and when he entered, he found his crew and a few others already eating, but an empty seat had been saved for him next to Pappy. Quickly getting a plate and some chow, he made his way across the room to join his crew, sliding effortlessly into the seat next to his co-pilot. 

“You were up and at em early this morning.” Pappy spoke around a mouthful of powdered eggs. 

“Had to drop something off at APO on my way over.” Rosie replied, not sure just how much he wanted to give away. “Writing your mom already?” Nash joked from across the table. 

Rosie didn’t reply, which in hindsight, he realized was the information his friends had been fishing for. 

“You weren’t writing to your mom, were you?” Nash spoke again. 

With a sigh, Rosie looked up, shaking his head at the Pilot before relenting. 

“No, I wasn’t writing my Ma,” Rosie fixed Nash with a look. “I was writing to someone back home.”

“Is someone back home that pretty thing in the frame next to your cot ?” Pappy turned to him. 

“Yes, it is, you nosey sonuvabitch,” Rosie gently shoved him with his shoulder. “And her name is Josephine.”

“Well, how come you never talk about sweet Josephine?” 

“It’s…” He started, the words dying on his tongue as he tried to explain that she wasn’t his girl, not officially, and they had only made this discovery of feelings a mere few weeks ago. 

“If you tell me she’s not actually your girl, well that’s a damn shame because she sure is something!” Nash whistled. 

“She’s my girl,” Rosie finally conceded with a small smile. “She’s always been my girl.”

“Well how come you ain’t ever mentioned her?” 

“The picture next to the bed isn’t enough? I have to spell it out?”

“If that was my girl I’d be spelling it out!” Nash wiggled his eyebrows lewdly. 

In the seat next to Rosie, Pappy could feel the annoyance rolling off him in waves, and chose that moment to intervene on his friend's behalf. 

“Nash, enough,” Pappy spoke, pointing his fork at the pilot to get his point across. “We don’t talk about wives, girlfriends, mothers or sisters that way.” 

“Rosie knows I’m only kidding! Besides, I spent the night with Helen. I’m not trying to steal sweet Josephine away.”

The group collectively groaned at how unaware the pilot seemed to be, but no one pushed the argument.It was an unspoken rule; you didn’t take grudges or disagreements with you to the hardstand, or up in the sky. You left those on the ground, and when you came back, you thanked god you did and the grudges just didn’t seem to matter anymore. Because you were back on the ground. 

Bremen cost them so many. Seven planes and 72 men. It had left his bones rattling  under his skin, and the sound of flak bouncing around in his skull long after he had been back on solid ground. Marienburg had proven slightly better, in that all forts returned, but between the damage caused during the Bremen raid, and flak fire over Marienburg, Rosie’s Riveters was out of commission for the time being. Royal Flush didn’t sound promising to him, but, there was a war on and he didn’t have the right to be finicky over which plane they sent him up in. The fact of the matter was, the red light had been on all week, and he was going up a third time. Three missions in three days. 

Lemmons had begged him for answers as he practically tumbled from the hatch of Royal Flush. It was all he could do to just stand there, watching as they pulled the men from the fort who needed medical attention, his eyes wild as he took in the sight of another crewmember throwing up what was left of his breakfast. Munster cost them everyone. Every plane that went up that morning had been shot down. How he’d been the exception, Rosie couldn’t quite figure out, even as he sat in interrogation repeating the same words over and over. No chutes. No record. 

He had stumbled his way back to the equipment hut after interrogation. He scoffs at the word.  He still thinks it wasn’t so much an interrogation as it was reciting a casualty list. The names of the down forts, the men inside of them, turning over and over in his mind. He barely registers that he’s removed his flight gear, exited the hut, and is stumbling to his own billet. He feels numb when he drops his jacket to his cot, grabs his toiletries and heads for the showers. Barely acknowledges Pappy calling out to him, mumbling a quiet response when his co-pilot tells him that Harding wants to see him after he’s sorted himself out. 

Now, sitting in Harding’s office, he visibly balks when he hears that his crew is being sent on a mandatory week of R&R. They’re off to the Flak House. He had opened his mouth to complain, but the look that the Colonel sent his way was eerily reminiscent of one that his Ma had given him many times over the years. Being on the receiving end of that look was never a good thing, so he had promptly shut his mouth, and accepted his orders. When he was dismissed, and back in his hut, he found Pappy had waited around for him, anxious to know what Harding had wanted to see him about. 

“So?” He prompted, his face paling as he watched Rosie pull his garment bag from under the bed. 

“Pack your things,” Rosie glanced up at him only briefly. “Harding’s sending us to the Flak House.”

“We-wait, what?”

Picking Jo’s picture up off the side table next to his cot, he heaved a sigh as he placed it next to his toiletries bag. What he wouldn’t give to be able to talk to her right now. To pour every emotion of the last three days out, knowing that she wouldn’t judge him. That she would hold on to every word he spoke, no matter. But until he could do that, he would have to settle for what he could do, and hope that when he returned to Thorpe Abbotts, there would be an envelope waiting for him. Until then… 

Dearest Jo… 

Read part 3 Here

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List:

@winniemaywebber @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @rowdy-redhead @sagesolsticewrites @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @at-1800-hours @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85

[likeadeuce]

WIP Wednesday: you're on your own kid

(Challengers, Tashi + Art)

Art  got permission to take his exams early, packed up his stuff, and hung around long enough for a raucous and teary farewell party attended by most of the campus’s many athletes, who knew Art Donaldson as a friendly, reliable guy.  Tomorrow, he was going to fly to Spain, meet his parents and his training team, and catch the tail end of European grass court season. 

Tashi was going to finish her exams at the normal time in the normal way, ride back to New York with her parents, and then call her coach to confirm that she was quitting.  Not that it would come as a shock.  The school had given her a medical redshirt year to try everything with surgery and rehab, but that chance had passed, and there was no point in them holding the scholarship from someone who could use it.  If she wanted to stay in school here, her family could make the money work -- there had been insurance and savings, her business-minded parents never ones to put all their fragile dreams in one basket.  But Stanford without tennis was worse than nothing.  Her mom had gone to Wellesley and her dad to Howard; they took turns dropping hints about what awaited her down those paths: law school or consulting or maybe the Hill.  

(Tashi, who had hoarded her few, fragile dreams after all, tried not to feel betrayed when her loving parents could pivot so gracefully).

Maybe she wouldn’t call the coach.  Maybe texting was okay.  Email even better.  She never had to log back in to that account if she didn't want to.

But tonight, she and Art picked up some organic sodas and a Big Sur special from Pizza My Heart, threw everything in his stupid ragtop Jeep, and drove up into the foothills to watch the sun set over the valley.  

They spread the pizza box over the tailgate.  Tashi took out a big slice and folded it, savoring the grease and crunch for once.  Art followed her lead, which made her glad; he’d have nutritionists to measure his carbs for him soon enough.  He made (probably) innocent lustful noises over the food, then raised his soda in a toast.

“So what do you think you’ll do this summer?”

She was glad Art hadn’t asked what her plans were, a subtle difference that  would have felt judgmental since she didn’t have any.  This, she could answer honestly.   “Sulk,” she admitted.  “Find something to do for exercise that doesn’t kill my knee.  Swimming?  Tai chi? Maybe I’ll get a bike.  And, I don’t know, after that, maybe Dad has a point about the Howard thing.  D.C. is about as different as it gets from here.”

“A change might be good.”  He stretched and looked up into the cloudless sky,  almost nine o’clock and still brilliant blue overhead as bright colors touched the horizon.  The solstice was coming soon.  Tashi had always loved long days that meant more time to practice.  “Is it okay to say I’ll miss it here?” Art asked.

Art was afraid to say it because Tashi had gotten hurt so much here   Because it had been a wrong turn in her path.  Because she had tried to love this place and it hadn’t loved her back.  “You can say you’ll miss it,” Tashi granted him.  “I don’t know if I’m gonna believe it next week when you’re playing Roger Federer in fucking Mallorca, but you can say it.”

[powderblueblood]

Gimme a classic Ronnie and Eddie mess around! Like, what is their greatest conquest to date, what pranks/hijinks have they pulled over on the beleaguered people of Hawkins?

it's the eve of, y'know, that.

the big departure.

the long goodbye.

ronnie and eddie have started referring to it as phillip marlowe-ing in order to, y'know, skirt around the issue of her leaving for new york because it's not as if either of them are wont to express their feelings here, jesus christ. well, except in the case of--

"alright, RJ, i got one for ya. top five hawkins fuck yous, let 'er rip."

ronnie prrrfftts out a breath and nearly keels over in her rusted, rickety, fold-up lawn chair that they've perched in front of the ecker trailer. it's a balmy summer night and ronnie's full of beer and eddie's merging onto nostalgia boulevard.

"where could i possibly begin, dude?"

a hawkins fuck you is another colloquialism shared between 'em. because when ronnie and eddie pull off a prank, it's not just a prank. okay? it's a statement. this is something that ronnie insists upon, something eddie blames on her 'punk rat leanings', but the personal is political, okay! and you know what else is political?

"number five, naturally, we gotta go small and loving-- shakin' up a can of soda before we give it to gareth. it's fresh, it's funky, it's harmless."

cigarette ember gesticulating in the dwindling light, eddie adds, "and it helps him remember his place."

"bingo. do not forget to keep that shit up when i'm in new york," ronnie says, pointedly pointing, "i don't wanna fuckin heaaar about you gettin' all soft on him and lettin' him run around without a face full of sody pop."

"it's what the munchkin deserves," her similarly be-banged brother agrees. "why does he keep falling for it, ya think?"

"because he loves us, you dumb-dumb," ronnie closes her eyes and sticks her hands behind her head, scratching under the band of her ball cap. "alright, number four... shit, kaminsky and the glue seat. it's gotta be, right? what a totally perfect maelstrom of humiliation."

"christ, and when he couldn't get up without tearing his fucking pants and then kelley comes in--"

"she had to think he was rodded up, dude! signed, sealed, delivered, pervert on school grounds!"

eddie guffaws, big and hearty in a way that makes ronnie join him. "i couldn't believe you dreamed that shit up on your own, you little do-gooder."

ronnie reaches for her beer and takes a pull, sobriety edging to the point where she's seeing twice as many fireflies as usual congregating around her porch light. her voice turns gravelly and serious.

"a c minus will do crazy things to a man."

"jesus, you sound like--"

"don't even say it."

slumping down in his squeaking seat, eddie scoffs. "number three, make with it."

ronnie's mouth twists, absently plucking at the label on her bottle. this is real now, this is crunch time. whenever they usually play top five (top five transformers, top five cheerleaders you'd mow down with a dirt bike, top five cheerleaders you'd save from getting mown down with a dirt bike if you knew they'd make out with you after), ronnie'd get a little overwhelmed once they broke the top three. that's a lot of pressure, y'know! three, magic number, all that shit!

but it's nostalgia boulevard. it's sentimental city. certain things stick out.

ronnie tosses a balled up piece of label at eddie. "foam party at the hawk."

her best friend's mouth perks up and he bats a big ol' bastard of a hand at her. "you're just sayin' that."

"i'm not! that was... i mean, that revolutionized the hawkins fuck you genre!"

"yeah, well, that's what they get for showing it's a wonderful life in july."

"you and your girlfriend dawn dishsoap gettin' freaky in the air vents."

"i could've gone to juvie for that one. if they caught me."

"this is what i'm sayin'!"

click, click. eddie lights another cigarette and ronnie nearly asks him for one, but knows she'll regret the taste of gross tobacco breath in the morning. "but it's still not number one, or number two," he points out.

"well, no, because number two is steve harrington's bald patch!"

a resounding SMACK! as both ronnie and eddie clap their hands together on cue, breaking into peals of soundless laughter, so much so that i'm gonna have to explain this fucking bit to ya, aren't i?

steve harrington's bald patch was a glorious era of time where ronnie was once caught attempting to see something through the arc de triomphe of steve harrington's hair. this prompted steve harrington to be like, what are you staring at, weirdo, or something to that effect which ronnie didn't appreciate. so she was all, dude, you might wanna... get that looked at... that... patch on the back of your head...

and somehow, by some grace of some satanic deity, it caught on.

every time ronnie or eddie were within staring distance of harrington, they zeroed in on the back of his head, exchanging looks of disgust, mild concern, but never amusement so he'd think it was real. and furthermore, they were worried for him. because who wouldn't be worried about steve 'the hair' harrington's hair? it was basically the hawkins high mascot.

and who had more school spirit than ecker and munson?

"ohhhh, shit!" ronnie yelps, wiping at her streaming eyes. "think he ever went and got that rogaine?"

"uuuggghhuhuh, who gives a shit!" eddie drums on the armrests excitedly, the both of them belly-sore from laughing. "number one, ecker! the big catch, c'mon! better be as good as what i'm thinkin' of because if not..."

ronnie lets the last dregs of their laughter peter off into the night air before she answers. the night air, the last night's air, the last night she'll sit out here with eddie talking shit, being teenagers, being go-nowhere do-nothing kids from the trailer park. her stomach twists, but she doesn't let that stop her.

"well, duh," she swallows, after a the last pull of beer suds from her bottle, "graduating."

it takes eddie a second. "you're an asshole."

ronnie's cheeks straight up ache.

"i know."

how the hell is she gonna survive new york without this?

"and i'm very proud of you, asshole."

ah, shit.

"i know."

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair~ In Love.....

Chapter 27: In Love

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Major Character Deaths! Violence, Bad language words, mentions of torture, paranoia.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 1.9K

A/N: OMG it has been so long!!! I am so sorry this took so long, I've been in a really funky headspace lately and I'm trying to get back into a groove. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, I have been so worried about it. But it is finally finished. I hope you enjoy!

Thor hadn’t slept well in months, he kept one eye open every night, completely on edge. Every little noise set him off, he didn’t know which noise was you creeping around a corner, or the sound of his own heart hammering in his chest.

Paranoia settled in when Jane’s body was discovered, then Heimdal; at a moment's notice you could be there to strike him down. Avenging those he took from you. Slowly the support he had in New York had dwindled into almost nothing 

He wouldn’t say he regretted what he did or who he killed. Collateral damage was impossible to avoid; whatever was best for the business. Tony was an unfortunate loss, but one he could still recover from. The rest of the bosses and families would bow to him, if it was the last thing they did. 

Unfortunately his brother and father refused to bow before his rule, and they were dealt with. Loki caused more problems than Thor had anticipated, now it was time to burn those loose ends once and for all. 

Or die trying.

—

Sitting up on your bike, you took in the serene landscape, after months of looking, you had finally tracked him down, the man who took everything from you. Thor was hiding. Hiding in Loki’s mansion far outside the city limits. 

It would do him no good, you had taken out all his avenues of support, what little security he had would be easy for you to sift through, even on high alert. 

The mansion was oddly quiet, as you made your way through the courtyard and into the foyer, Thor had little security for a man who was being hunted. It wasn’t entirely his fault, you had taken down Valkyrie and Heimdall, his security and men along with them. It’s not that he didn’t want good security, he didn’t have any left, and even the ones he scraped up were no match for you. 

You hadn’t been yourself since your brother died, there was no separation between yourself and your assassin personas anymore. There weren’t any edges of yourself to grasp onto, the lines between yourself and the assassin you were molded into no longer existed; you were left with this monstrosity. Your old life was a distant memory, you didn’t have a tether to the woman you had been before, she was a stranger when you looked in the mirror. 

Nothing but rage filled your entire being. Carbonell no longer existed, the Ace of Spades long gone, as for Wraith, she too had abandoned you. The nicknames your friends and victims had given you long ago seemed a little more fitting now. You were no longer a reaper doing someone else’s bidding, no, you were death incarnate, and you took who you pleased.

One of the guards tried in vain to surprise you behind an open doorway, your reflexes were too fast now, what once could have caught you off guard now stood no chance. He crawled backward, begging, blubbering for you to show him mercy as you advanced on him. You stopped raising your gun, gesturing to the door, “Run,” you sneered, watching him scramble to his feet and sprint out the door, “take the others with you. Anyone left won’t live to tell the tale.”

You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the mirrors, your hair had grown out, the roots were showing, fading into the bone white they had given you with your Wraith identity. You weren't coming after Thor as an assassin, no, you wanted him to see your face, to know who he had wronged. You had forgotten the contacts, and your mask. You had no need for your tactical uniform, you doubted you would make it out alive anyway.

You made your way upstairs, at this point you were going through the motions, the men who were left didn’t even try. The moment they saw you, they would turncoat and run, their tails tucked between their legs. 

Smart.

Anyone who tried otherwise didn’t make it five feet from you. Sweeping each room, you ensured Thor wasn’t hiding, but something told you he wouldn’t cower in a corner. No he would face you head on and he would fight till his final breath.

This room was one of the master bedrooms, decorated in deep tones of green. The balcony doors framed a picturesque view of the lake on the grounds. A golden frame sat atop the dresser, a beautiful golden haired woman stood next to Loki. Freya, you recognized her, Odin’s wife and Loki and Thor’s mother. Loki is smiling in the picture, frozen happily in time forever, it's the same smile he gave you the first time you'd ever met. Your gut twisted, the memory of him laying lifeless in Stark Tower clouded your mind, you had been too late.

Squeezing the blade in your hand, the memory only strengthened your resolve, Thor wouldn’t survive the evening. Clattering behind the doors pulled you from your thoughts, you stepped closer to the door as it burst open and one of Thor’s men jumped out, knife swinging, slicing your cheek as he shoved past you. He sprinted down the hall, throwing himself into the main door on this level, Loki’s office. Sighing you pulled a pistol from one of the dead man's hands and pursued him. He looked back, eyes wide as he yanked open the door, flinging himself inside, slamming it shut.

—

He saw you on the cameras, before he could hear his men’s screams. There was no escaping you, he had already heard what you’d done. Hell he had to kill one of his own men just to keep you off his trail; their deaths were merely warnings of what was to come for him. 

Would he try to kill you? Absolutely, but then what? Would he run for the rest of his life from Steve and his men, or would Zemo come searching for him with the rest of the Aces? Thor knew he dug his own grave and knew he would lay in it, but not without a fight.

He flicked the camera’s off, standing to take in the serene landscape of his property, he engrained the beautiful rolling hills and summer blooms into his mind. What had started as a game of chess soon turned into a dangerous game of sharks and minnows, but even Sharks have predators. And he was no longer at the top of the food chain. 

The gunshots, clattering and screaming of men in the hall pulled his attention to the office door, just as it was ripped open, one of his own men flung himself inside. The man slammed the door shut, throwing himself against it. The man’s eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling frantically, Thor could see the tremor in the man's hands traveling through the rest of his body. Outside the door silence settled through the mansion; only for a moment. A single gunshot split the air, the man jerked before slumping to the floor, the smear of blood on the door was the only evidence the bullet had killed him. 

Thor watched as the doorknob slowly turned, the door creaking open on its hinges. His blood ran cold, his heart thundering in his ears as you stepped through the doorway, ignoring the body at your feet. You looked like something out of legend, your hair wild, your eyes, the ones he had always heard were hidden behind black or white contacts, were not. But they were not the familiar welcoming eyes he was used to, no, they were full of hellfire and brimstone; they scorched him, pinning him in place, his feet nailed to the floor.

A shiver ran down his spine, your familiar face not covered by a blood smeared mask, you were calm, your chest rising and falling at an abnormally slow rate for what activities he knew you had done mere seconds ago.

You approach him slowly, the embodiment of lethal grace, your head tilted slightly, a predator assessing its prey, he swore you could hear his heartbeat roaring in his chest.

Never had he had the bubbling urge to apologize, to beg for mercy, before, but with you standing in front of him, the urge surfaced. He quashed it, he would not cower to you, or anyone. He would stare death in the eye and smile saccharinely, and greet them like an old friend, but he wasn’t smiling now and you were no friend. You stared at him for a moment, your eyes not missing anything he waited on bated breath—

Next to him the cameras flicked back on, there was movement at the front gate, a familiar blonde head followed by several others passed through the gates in a hurry. A smirk lifted Thor’s lips as his eyes flicked back to you, “Seems you’ve run out of time little Stark. Better luck next time.”

There was a malicious sparkle in your eye as you drew your knives from their sheathes, stepping closer, “They won't save you Odinson whether it's days, hours, even seconds, it makes little difference.” you pause, a sinister smile curves your lips, “Hell awaits you, Odinson.”

Make it worth it, he thought, he rushed forward, yanking his blades from under his desk. “If I'm going to hell, I’m taking you with me!” Thor growls as he lunges at you in a flash of teeth and metal.

—

Steve and his men clear the grounds and first floor swiftly, but he feels they are already too late. The mansion is eerily silent the farther upstairs they clear, the more horrified he becomes. The inside of the mansion is chaos and carnage, he prays you hadn’t done all this on your own. Above them, sounds of struggles and broken glass thundered through the floor, he motioned to his men, moving quickly up the stairs.

In the final hall the sound had finally stopped, Bucky motioned to the last room, the door was barely cracked. Bucky had gone ahead of him, toeing the door open the rest of the way, gun raised. But as the door opened fully, Bucky froze in his tracks, Steve nearly slammed into him.

He looked over Bucky’s shoulder and nearly dropped his weapon at the carnage in front of him. He could barely stomach looking at the scene, his eyes locked on Thor’s chest, a bright white playing card sat pinned there by a blade, the embossed skull at its center now enhanced by the red blood casting shadows across it.

Bucky’s exasperated voice sounded next to him, “Steve, who the fuck—”

Bucky broke off, they both knew who had done this, you.

No, not you. Never you. You had been lost long ago, there was only one being that could have done this level of violence—

Death.

—

Freedom felt heavy, the ocean air whispering across your skin. Your heart is stranded in a city you could never go back to. 

Mourning a life you never had the chance to live. You had hope, hope that he would find someone to take your place, to make him happy in a way you only dreamed you could. Without a goodbye, you knew he wouldn’t let you leave, but couldn’t ask him to abandon his home and family.

With an empty heart and a million opportunities ahead, you couldn’t help but be filled with sickening dread.

—

His bed remained empty, no one would fill the hole in his heart that you had called your own. 

He had hope that he would see you again, maybe in another life, happy with someone you trusted enough to keep by your side.

With a million people around him, so many chances to move on, yet he remained completely alone with you gone.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @capson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon @trudy-shams

[dutchessofcaladan]

Ghostbusters: Soul Resurgence

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3! This chapter's gonna be a bit more exciting than the last 2. We're also getting a new character! Once again, hope you guys enjoy and as always, a big thank you to @phantomoftheparadise0002 for beta-reading this!

Summary: When the spirit of Sumerian sorceress Ahassunu, daughter of Vigo, possesses Alexis, the Ghostbusters must band together to determine the fate of the world

TW: Some language, paranormal violence, major character death (don't hate me)

Translation for Sumerian:

Ma me nekel, ma su petu inu sessu kunkkum, ma annitu, rabum girabum. Ma inu utu emu salmu kima labasu, ma ina nanna emu kima saleme. Ma inu tamtu samsum isatum ma inu elenu maqatu:

And I looked, and he opened the sixth seal, and behold, there was a great earthquake. And the sun became as black as sack cloth, and the moon became as blood.

Ina nabu sina basu daku…dayyanum suluppu:

The prophecy to be fulfilled...judgment day

Alka:

Come

Taking another sip from his drink, Elis sighed, pulling out his phone. Jumping as it began to ring, he quickly answered.

“Hey, Ray.” He sighed again. “I was just about to call you. Do you have any idea where Alex is? I've called her five times already.” He froze, hearing Ray inform him about what had been going on. Quickly paying his tab, Elis raced to his car.

Arriving at the Firehouse, Elis immediately went inside, causing everyone to stop mid-movement. “What the hell happened?!” He shouted. “One minute I'm sitting in a bar, thinking my girlfriend of 3 years somehow forgot our anniversary, and the next I'm being told she's been possessed by some ghost and is going around blowing up buildings around New York.”

“Dr. Cristiano,” Ray said in an attempt to calm Elis’ nerves, “we have everything under control.” He sent him a reassuring smile.

“Under control? What do you mean?” Elis could feel his heart beginning to race.

Heaving his pack into the Ecto-1, Ray explained, “We’ll restrain her using our packs while Phoebe and Lars fire up the PSD-”

“PSD?” Elis asked, feeling lost.

“Portable Separation Device. All admit, it's not a very snappy name but-”

“Separation device?!” Elis nearly screamed. “What the hell are you going to do to her?!”

Ray sighed, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder in an attempt to calm his ever increasing anxiety. “To even have a chance at saving Alex, we would need to separate the spirit from her.”

Elis nodded. “So, it’s safe, right? You’ve used this thing before?”

The look on Ray’s face was enough to cause Elis’ anxiety to return three-fold.

"My God, you haven’t even tested it, have you?!” His eyes were wide with fear.

“Well, no-” Ray began, not wanting to lie to him.

Quickly pulling his shoulder from the older man’s grasp, Elis’ hands flew to his hair, frantically running through the short strands. Blinking tears from his eyes, he asked, “So, so you have no idea if this thing will end up killing her?” He whimpered.

“No.” Ray admitted, no longer able to maintain eye contact.

The pained whimper that left Elis shattered the hearts of the team as they stood, stock still, only Janine going to comfort him.

“We’re gonna get her back.” She soothed, running a hand up and down his back as his tears dampened her jumpsuit. Turning back to the rest of the Ghostbusters, her gaze switching from one to another until it landed on Ray, who’s eyes now glistened with fresh, unshed tears. “Fight like hell and bring her back.” She commanded, voice faltering slightly.

Ray nodded, heading towards his bike as the rest headed to the Ecto.

The street had become complete chaos. People had abandoned their cars in the middle of the street and had begun to run in an effort to survive.

“Alka.” Alex commanded, her voice echoing in their heads.

The commotion ceased as the crowd turned and followed the order they’d been given. Slowly lowering herself to the ground, she began to speak.

“Ma me nekel, ma su petu inu sessu kunkkum, ma annitu, rabum girabum. Ma ina utu emu salmu kima labasu, ma ina nanna emu kima saleme. Ma ina tamtu samsum isatum ma ina elenu maqatu.” Looking out at the crowd, she smirked, enjoying that she had 100s under her control. “Ina nabu sina basu daku…dayyanum suluppu.”

“Dayyanum suluppu.” The crowd repeated.

With a raise of he hands, the souls of the crowd fled their bodies, transferring their life-force to Alex. Just as the ritual had finished, the siren of the Ecto-1 could be heard approaching fast. Watching as the car screeched to a stop a few blocks away, Alex became intrigued.

Firing up their packs, they created a barrier between Alex and the Ecto, where Phoebe and Lars continued to work on the PSD.

Stepping to the front of the group, Ray began to speak.

“Alexis!” He commanded.

Her sneer turned to him, slowly morphing to a smirk.

“In the name of the city, county, and state of New York, I command you under the National Invasive Species Act to depart this world immediately and return to your place of origin or to the nearest parallel dimension.”

This time, there were no snide remarks from Peter. No jokes. Each member of the Ghostbusters knew the severity of the situation. The power that this spirit had was unlike anything they’d seen before. Not in Garraka. Not in Vigo. Not even in Gozer.

Alex’s smirk grew as she began to levitate.

“Light ‘em up on 3! 1! 2!”

Before Ray had even finished the countdown, Peter had fired his pack.

The group stared in shock as, with a wave of her hand, Alex froze the proton stream in place.

The world went silent, seemingly moving in slow motion as she curled the stream back towards Peter.

Before anyone could react, a strangled noise left him as the white-hot energy stream ran through his chest.

“Venkman!” Ray shouted, catching him in his arms as Winston shut off the stream. Applying pressure to the wound in a vain attempt to save his friend, he watched through tear clouded eyes as Alex watched with a malicious glint in her eyes before flying off.

[jjhayhay20]

Hey guys,

So I have been through a very long depression streak, making it so I haven't been able to write in well over a year or two, and it's been killing me.

But lately, I've had this idea to write again, but I'm terrified that it'll suck because I've never written an original story before. Granted I was thinking about Joel Miller and The Last Of Us while writing it, so I don't know. It's called Against All Odds and I just wanted to share the first chapter on here to see if anyone likes it.

Please leave a comment or just a heart, anything helps. Thanks!

K.S

Kennedy

"Allie! Come on! The lights are gonna turn on soon!" I giggled, a touch of fear from the thought of being grounded again pushing my legs faster as my sister and I booked it back to the little apartment we lived in with her older brother, Connor, their father, Sam, and my mother.

"Home!" Allie called out as we crossed over the threshold, just as the street lights sputtered on, almost running my mother over as she stood in front of the door, trying to find any reason to ground me again.

"Just in time, girls. Dinner is on the stovetop." Sam smiled at us, cutting my mother off from her usual tantrum.

"Thanks, Sam." I smiled back at him, as he gave me a soft, knowing nod before he gently guided my mother to her seat on the recliner in the living room, placing her dinner in front of her on the fold-out table. He put on her favorite show at a louder volume than usual before he ushered me back into the kitchen with an exhausted look on his face. I placed my hand on top of his once he sat down at the table with me. "What's the matter?" I whispered gently, lightly pressing him to open up to me as Allie ate her Mac N Cheese on the couch, blissfully unaware of the painful conversation we were about to have. He released a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if that would make what he was about to say easier. It didn't. He sighed again before pulling a piece of paper out of his back pocket and placing it on the table. I gasped, placing my hands over my mouth with tears and confusion in my eyes.

I never had to read that paper to know exactly what it was. It's been all over the internet for months, and even without that, my older brothers got the same one only a month ago.

The war wasn't much to worry about over here in the States for quite a while, but then more countries joined the opposing side and broke up the alliance that had been put in place, and so the war grew bigger, more violent, making the U.S have to join and send out drafts to all the eligible men in the country. Most people were expecting it by that point and were even encouraging the country to send aid, but then the Virus broke out when four bombs filled with special chemicals and bacteria were dropped on San Francisco, New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. Everyone started getting sick and then died. It didn't spread. But most of the Sci-Fi nerds think this is the start of the Zombie Apocalypse. If only we had listened.

The war efforts had been increased tenfold after that, and more drafts were sent out.

Sam never should have gotten one. Sam is lame in his right leg, a dirt bike accident that never got properly addressed and messed up the rest of his life, well, and the fact that he was a Staff Sergeant in the Army for well over 25 years, getting shot in the leg a few times over that time. He never would have qualified again for the draft, but apparently, things are so bad that they want to send him out onto the field.

"When?" Was the only thing I could get out.

He squeezed my hand and cleared his throat. "Three days."

"Your leg?" I whispered.

"I'll be fine, Ken." He rubbed circles into my hand, trying to soothe me. "Just promise me something." He leaned closer as I nodded.

"Anything."

"Promise me that you'll look after Allie and Connor for me?" He asked. I was the youngest out of the three of us, but he knew that I could handle it. I nodded again and he kissed my cheek before sending me to bed.

After barely holding onto 11 years of life, I had lost both of my brothers, and my father, and after only six months on the battlefield, I had lost Sam, too.

[abbatoirablaze]

How To Get Away With Murder, Chapter 10

Word Count:  2.4k

Warnings:  unprotected sex, smut, cheating?

"Rebecca's case is coming up and we need to do everything possible to implicate my husband," Annalise said to the room. I watched as the eyes of the Keating 5 showed shock, anxiety, bewilderment, a flurry of emotions, "The judge didn't accept the motion to get the records for the clinic. Anyone have any ideas?"

Wes watched everyone. His eyes flipped to my mother, then myself, and finally over Conner, Michaela, and Laurel. I watched as Frank pushed his way from the back of the room, muttering something about coffee. Everyone was silent. Laurel followed him a few seconds later.

"Go through the books," I said pointing at Wes and Asher. “Michaela, and Conner, go through her records. Bonnie and I will go through the evidence."

My mom nodded and headed back into her office. Everyone broke off into their own teams. Laurel came back from the kitchen, looking angry.

"Laurel, help me go over evidence," Bonnie said loud enough for Laurel to hear. Then she turned to me, "It's late, but I want you and Frank to go talk to Parks office." She handed me a folded-up post it and I walked out of the room into the kitchen.

"Bonnie said we are going to talk to Kegan and Parks."

He nodded and went out the back door. I followed him to his car but passed it and went to mine.

"Okay, you are driving?"

"Yeah," I nodded, tossing the post it note across the top of my car. He smiled and got in the passenger's seat. I pulled out of the driveway, "Before we go anywhere, I'm getting coffee. No exceptions."

"It's nine at night," he laughed, “you don’t need coffee, Cheyanne.”

“Of course I do!”

"Classic, Cheyanne," he laughed with a shake of his head.  He looked over at me, "Did Julie like her Christmas present?" 

"You mean the bike?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.  He nodded, "Frank you know she can't really ride a bike in New York." 

"I didn't really think of that," he sighed, "But I can teach her." 

"Frank the last time she saw you in person she was only five...and remember, she's not allowed to call you daddy here…" 

I Know." he sighed.  That kind of killed the conversation.  

I drove until I reached my favorite coffee shop. After I put the car in park and got out, I noticed Frank was still in the car. I held out my hand. He laughed and got out of the car meeting me at the curb, before finally, taking my hand.

"We've got to talk, Frank," I whispered in his ear. He stopped short. His smile faded, and he nervously bit at his lips, "You don't need to say anything. Just listen to me, alright? Just this once!"

He nodded, still holding my hand and beat me to the door, opening it. The middle-aged woman behind the counter smiled, "Frank. And Cheyanne. How nice to see you two."

"Got some time to make me a latte?"

The woman smiled, "Frank, honey, do you want your espresso as well?" Frank nodded and sat us down at the corner table in the back. That's when I noticed he was still holding my hand.

"Frank," I sighed. He looked at me with such hope in his eyes. Our barista set down our drinks and Frank pulled a 20 out of his wallet telling her to keep the change. We waited until she walked away before I spoke. With his free hand he picked up his drink, "I know everything, Frank."

"No, you don't?"

"I know all about it," I said in a hushed tone, "I know what you did back in 2005...I know what you did for my father last August...and I know what the kids did to him before the break."

"What do you mean, what the kids did to him?"

"I know more than you do," I said dropping his hand and taking my cupping my latte, "I know what really happened Frank. And I want to tell you. But you must promise me you won't make a big mess of it. My aunt is still here, and I don't need a bigger mess already."

He nodded, "I won't talk to anyone."

"I need you to talk to my mother," I sighed, "She needs someone she can trust, and it can't be me."

"What's going on, Chey?"

"Wes, Laurel, Michaela, and Conner killed my father. My mom walked in on Wes when he was cleaning it up. I only know because I was there. I was in the basement. I went back to the house after I told you to leave. Mom wasn't there but dad was. He heard Michaela pull up and told me to go to the basement. He said he would get rid of her. But Rebecca showed up. I heard a lot of fighting, and Michaela called Conner, Wes, and Laurel. Laurel and Michaela pushed him over the railing. When they decided what to do, Wes bashed his head in."

His eyes widened, "Please tell me you are joking, Chey."

"No," I continued, "They thought he was dead, but when he got back up, he tried to kill Rebecca. Wes bashed his head in. Well long story short, they were supposed to take care of the body, but mom walked in when they tried to establish an alibi. She saw dad dead in the living room. I heard her crying and freaking out. I came out of the stairwell, and she was sobbing so uncontrollably."

"Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else," he whispered. I took his hand again in my own.

"I'm almost done," I said slowly. I looked around the coffee shop and saw that the owner had taken her stuff back into the kitchen, so she could keep closing up the shop, "Frank, they need you. I need you to be there for them. Things are going to get bad."

"Cheyanne, if what your saying is true, it's going to be a lot worse, then just bad." 

Cheyanne pulled up to the house and saw her Aunt's car sitting across the street. When she got out, her Aunt immediately rushed out of her car and across the street, "CHEYANNE!"

"Aunt Hannah?" she asked, pretending that she didn't know what was going on, "What are you doing here?"

"Honey, I need to take you away from here right now."

"Aunt Hannah I have to see how mom is doing."

"SHE KILLED YOUR FATHER!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

She began to shake her head, "Aunt Hannah, you don't know that. Please don't say that about mom."

Without a second thought, she grabbed her Aunt and pulled her close. The Keating five came out of the house and started looking at her. Cheyanne gave Laurel and Wes knowing looks but slid Laurel a burner phone as she passed them. She mouthed the word 'Frank' and Laurel nodded.

Each one of them made their way towards the corner of the house as police cars and forensics parked in the driveway and headed in. Annalise glared at her sister-in-law, demanding her to leave the property.

The day seemed to drag on, as Cheyanne made it so that Hannah stayed out of the way. Frank nodded to her from the porch as forensics packed up and left. Cheyanne's aunt cursed, hugged her niece goodbye, and started harassing the police.

"It's safe to go in now," Cheyanne said to the Keating 5. While they slowly, hesitantly walked across the lawn, Cheyanne bounded towards the house, and up the stairs, where her mother was, "Are you okay?"

Annalise nodded and put her hand on her daughter's arm to help steady herself, "Time to rally the troops and boost morale."

That night went quickly. Before too long everyone was going their own separate ways. By the time almost everyone left, Bonnie came in with the trophy.

"I always wondered why the scales went missing the same time that Sam did," she said confidently, "Also why they found carpet fibers in the remains."

"She needs to know….” Cheyanne whispered from the corner. Bonnie looked at her, shocked she was still there. Between her and Frank, she didn't know who was better at remaining unseen.

"It's time that you stop lying, Annalise."

"Where is your boss?" the older woman called out. Bonnie and Frank looked at this brash older African American woman who'd burst into the house. In the kitchen, Cheyanne heard the voice of her grandmother, and ran into the foyer.

"Grandma?” Cheyanne practically cried out, wrapping her arms around her. The older woman smiled and wrapped her arms back around her granddaughter.

“This is your grandmother?”

“Oh yeah,” Cheyanne laughed, “Can’t you see the family resemblance?”

Bonnie began to laugh, “Oh yeah.”

“Come on grandma O,” she said, taking her grandmother’s hands, “Mom is upstairs. She hasn’t gotten out of bed in a few days. We have to go to court so you and mom are going to be alone.”

"I didn't know your grandmother was coming over." Frank whispered from our seats in the court room.

"Me either," Cheyanne whispered, "Mom called her after Nate got booked."

"Do you two want to go outside?" Bonnie asked, turning around. Cheyanne and Frank looked at one another but agreed to go outside the room. The security at the door looked at them questioningly, but Frank pulled Cheyanne down by the bathrooms.

"You really don't want to take me down here," Cheyanne giggled, trying to break the mood. Frank blushed and bit his lip through a smile, "Oh did I embarrass you, Frank?"

She was practically purring that in his ear as a hand trailed down his side, stopping at his belt.

"Chey, what are you doing?"

"Come here," she whispered, leaning against the bathroom door. She fell through it gracefully, pulling Frank with her; leading him, one hand on his belt, while the other was on his tie. Down the hall, the security guards at the door chuckled.

"Che-" he began once more but was cut off. Cheyanne pushed him back against the door, entangling her hands in his hair. He smiled and flipped them around so that her back was against the door, then just to be safe he locked it.

"You think we'll get interrupted?" she said in between kisses and fumbling with his belt. He smirked and picked her up, making sure to cup her ass, squeezing it. Then he hiked her dress up.

He stopped, and a hand slid from her ass, down her thigh and back up. Then he craned his neck to get a better view of his ex, "You aren't wearing anything under this dress?"

She giggled, "Out of everything in this world you can complain about I didn't think one of those things would be that I'm giving you easy access."

"I fucking love you Cheyanne Harkness," He whispered to her.

"I fucking love you too Frank Delfino." She whispered back, "Now fuck me like you mean it."

He smirked and pushed their lips back together in a frenzy. She felt him work his way down her neck, laying kisses over top of her dress where her breasts were. He felt a cool breeze on his legs as Cheyanne pushed his pants and boxers down his body with her legs.

"God you are magical," he smiled. In that moment he looked over his ex, whose pin straight hair was becoming stuck to her. Her chocolate eyes stared deep into his own blue ones.

"Please, Frank. I need you," she begged, "I miss you."

He kissed her once more and entered her, wasting no time. The moans between both went unstifled as Frank thrusted wildly into Cheyanne. Being with her was like no one else. Laurel, Sasha, all the countless, nameless girls all faded away. She was the only one that had mattered to him.

"Frank," she moaned loudly. He couldn't contain himself. Neither of them could. Cheyanne clawed at the man's chest wildly, breaking a few of the buttons on his vest and shirt until she reached his chest. Her hands found themselves underneath his undershirt as she pulled herself as close to him as she could, "Deeper."

When he obeyed, he felt her nails digging into his back. She was biting and kissing along collarbone when he felt her tighten around him. She couldn't help but wrap her legs around the man she loved while she felt her lust take over and she came all over his dick. He didn't stop thrusting until she was about to orgasm a second time.

"Chey," he said in ragged breaths, "I'm about to cum."

"Don't stop Frank," she whispered, her hair clinging to her. She bit down on his neck, and he couldn't stop himself. Nor did he pull out. He gave a final thrust and let himself cum inside of Cheyanne.

When they made their way down the hall Asher raised an eyebrow at his friend. Frank winked at him, and their secret code let him know that Cheyanne and him just hooked up. Asher smiled at the thought. He knew that Frank was screwing with Laurel, but he also knew how Frank really felt about Cheyanne. Over the past few months of going to bars together Frank had really opened up to him and let him know that he really did care for Annalise's daughter.

Bonnie was congratulating the client and telling everyone to meet up at the office the following day. While most of the Keating 5 went their separate ways, Laurel stayed behind.

"Are we still on for dinner tonight?" she said, heading over to him.

Frank looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Cheyanne burst out.

"What?" Laurel said.

"You know what, I don't even care, you enjoy her." Cheyanne said, turning to Frank. When he said nothing she turned to Laurel, "And you, well enjoy fucking my ex. By the way, him and I just got done fucking in the bathroom."

And with that, Cheyanne started off to her car. Laurel stared at Frank before angrily storming off.

"Tough luck, kid," one of the guards said as he passed them. He went to his car but didn't move. He just stared at the cell phone for five minutes.  He didn't know if he should call Cheyanne or Laurel and start apologizing.  He loved them both, but he didn't want to have to choose between them.  When he looked in his rear-view mirror he saw Asher standing against his car, making out with Bonnie.

"Good for you," he laughed to himself, "At least one of us is getting something right." 

Chapter 11

[onbikeshare06]

Transforming Campus Commutes: The Power of University Cycles Share

In today's fast-paced world, sustainable transportation solutions are gaining immense popularity. One such solution that has been revolutionizing campuses worldwide is university cycles. These cycles encompass both university bicycles and innovative bike-sharing programs, offering students and faculty convenient, eco-friendly, and cost-effective transportation options. Let's delve deeper into the realm of university cycles and explore their numerous benefits and challenges.

Introduction

University cycles refer to bicycles used within university campuses, promoting sustainable and healthy modes of transportation. With the growing emphasis on environmental conservation and personal well-being, the adoption of university cycles has become a significant trend among academic communities globally.

Benefits of University Bike Share

 Cost-effective Transportation

University cycles provide a cost-effective alternative to traditional modes of transportation like cars or public transit. They eliminate fuel expenses and parking fees, making them highly economical for students and faculty alike.

 Promotes a Healthy Lifestyle

Riding university bicycles encourages physical activity, contributing to improved fitness levels and overall well-being. It also reduces sedentary behaviors, promoting an active lifestyle among campus residents.

 Environmental Benefits

By opting for bicycles instead of motor vehicles, university cycles contribute to reduced carbon emissions and environmental pollution. This eco-friendly approach aligns with sustainability goals and helps create greener campus environments.

University Cycles

 Types of University Bicycles

- Traditional Bicycles: Standard bicycles suitable for everyday commuting and recreational purposes.

- Electric Bicycles (E-Bikes): Battery-powered bicycles offering assisted pedaling, ideal for longer distances or hilly terrains.

- Folding Bicycles: Compact and portable bicycles that are easy to store and transport within campus premises.

Advantages of Using University Bicycles

- Convenience: Easy maneuverability in congested areas and accessibility to bike racks across campus.

- Health Benefits: Improves cardiovascular fitness, reduces stress, and enhances mental well-being.

- Cost Savings: Saves money on fuel, parking fees, and maintenance compared to motor vehicles.

Tips for Choosing the Right University Bicycle

- Consider your commuting distance and terrain.

- Test ride different models to assess comfort and handling.

- Ensure proper fit and adjustments for optimal riding experience.

Bike Sharing Programs

 Definition of Bike Sharing

Bike sharing programs involve communal bicycles available for short-term use, typically accessed through mobile apps or designated stations.

Benefits of Bike Sharing Programs

- Accessibility: Provides on-demand access to bicycles without the need for ownership or maintenance.

- Flexibility: Ideal for spontaneous trips or last-mile connectivity within campus areas.

- Promotes Sustainability: Reduces reliance on single-occupancy vehicles and promotes shared resource utilization.

Examples of Successful Bike Sharing Programs

- Citi Bike (New York City): One of the largest bike-sharing systems in the United States, offering thousands of bikes across the city.

- Mobike (China): A dockless bike-sharing platform with GPS-enabled bicycles, allowing users to locate and unlock bikes via mobile apps.

College Bike Share Stations

 Safety Concerns

Addressing safety concerns such as helmet usage, designated bike lanes, and cyclist education programs enhances the overall safety of university cycling initiatives.

 Maintenance Issues

Implementing regular maintenance schedules, bike repair workshops, and user feedback mechanisms ensures the longevity and reliability of university bicycles and shared fleets.

 Solutions to Overcome Challenges

- Collaborate with local authorities to improve cycling infrastructure and safety measures.

- Engage in community outreach and awareness campaigns to promote responsible cycling practices.

 Future Trends

The future of university cycles is intertwined with technological advancements and smart city initiatives. Innovations such as GPS tracking, bike-sharing apps, and integrated mobility solutions will further enhance the efficiency and accessibility of campus cycling ecosystems.

Conclusion

University cycles, encompassing both bicycles and bike sharing programs, offer a sustainable and health-conscious transportation solution for academic communities. Embracing university cycles not only reduces environmental impact but also promotes physical activity and cost-effective mobility options. As campuses evolve to embrace smarter and greener transportation alternatives, university cycles stand out as a beacon of innovation and progress.

FAQs

1. Are university bicycles suitable for all ages and fitness levels?

   University bicycles come in various models suitable for different age groups and fitness levels, offering options like electric-assisted bikes for added convenience.

2. How can students contribute to promoting bike sharing programs on campus?

   Students can advocate for bike-friendly policies, participate in cycling events, and encourage fellow peers to utilize bike-sharing services for sustainable commuting.

3. What measures are in place to ensure the safety of cyclists within university campuses?

   Universities often implement safety protocols such as designated bike lanes, traffic signage, and educational campaigns to promote safe cycling practices.

4. Can university bicycles be customized for specific needs or preferences?

   Yes, many bicycle manufacturers offer customization options for seat height, handlebar style, and accessories to cater to individual preferences and comfort levels.

[timetravelauthor]

The road to retirement

I started as a paperboy. Sometime in 1974, at the ripe old age of 12, I began delivering the Seattle Times in a suburban subdivision that could have doubled as a set on The Brady Bunch. For three years, I overcame deadlines, dogs, and sometimes dreadful weather to get folded papers onto dry porches. I officially entered the workforce.

Since that time, I have held no fewer than thirty jobs. In high school and college, I washed dishes, bagged groceries, flipped French fries, sold appliances, shelved books, delivered office supplies, counted people for a census, mentored boys at a summer camp, wrote articles, and answered phone calls for a congressman.

In one summer job, at a vegetable packing plant, I stood inside a small refrigerated chamber and broke up clumps of frozen peas on a moving conveyer belt. With a long rake. For eight hours a day.

All of the grunt jobs prepared me well for the "real" world, where I made my mark as a sportswriter, an editor, a librarian, and finally as an author. Each experience taught me patience, humility, discipline, responsibility, and many other things I applied in life.

Though most of these jobs are decades in the past, I remembered all of them today as I punched a time card for the last time and officially retired. Leaving my position as a computer lab assistant at a Las Vegas library brought fifty years of labor into focus.

When people work a wide variety of jobs, they learn a lot about themselves. When they work with a wide variety of people, they learn a lot about society. They learn things that give them perspective and a better understanding of the world around them.

I know I did. I not only learned things but also put them to use. In several novels, I borrowed from work experiences, particularly those as a grocery clerk, a newspaper reporter, and a librarian. In Camp Lake I did even more. I constructed an entire story around my memorable tenure at a summer camp in Maine in 1983. I expect to incorporate even more work experiences in future books.

In the meantime, I will look back. I will remember the unexpected rewards and the special times from five decades of working for "the man" and for myself. I will recall the moments that mattered.

Perhaps the biggest came in 1994, when I walked into a newsroom to a standing ovation. My peers, fellow editors and reporters at a daily newspaper in Washington, had just learned of my award in a regional journalism competition and let me know it. They took a moment from their busy schedules to acknowledge a job well done.

I will also remember the thank-yous, which always seemed to come at the right times. In 1983, a New York woman, the mother of an introverted boy, thanked me for teaching her son to ride a bike at camp. Eight years later, a girls basketball team sent me a card after I covered their heartbreaking run through a state tournament. In 2006, a Montana man thanked me for helping him reunite with a German woman he had met in the Army fifty years earlier. I was a reference librarian then, a person who loved to solve problems.

Now, I am a retiree, a soon-to-be Social Security recipient who can shop for senior discounts, take afternoon naps, and tell teenagers to get off my lawn. (Just kidding. I don't have a lawn.)

I don't plan to remain idle. I value time like most people value food and plan to put that time to good use. Sometime in January, after returning from a vacation in Puerto Rico, I will lay the groundwork for my next book, my next series, and my next course in life.

That's what I look forward to most. Retirement, for me, will not be an opportunity to rest. It will be a chance to do more. Much more.

[wheelywheels]

Incredibly versatility and value, the Mu D8 is without doubt a DAHON celebrity. A champion when it comes to long weekend rides through Tuscany or Vermont and a head-turner across Berlin and New York, the Mu D8 easily qualifies for our DAHON Hall of Fame. Buy Folding Bike for sale now.

[monteccibikes]

4 Things to Consider Before Buying Folding Bikes in New York

Choosing the right folding bike that perfectly aligns with your requirements can be a daunting and bewildering endeavor. The task becomes even more intricate when faced with a multitude of choices saturating the market. By addressing the question of how to pick folding bikes in New York, we will delve into aspects like folding bikes intended use, budget, frame material, and brakes.

[mint-moon25]

DEAR FOLLOWERS - TODAY -

11 JULY - AND - TOMORROW -

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OTHER - SMALLER - THAN -

OUR MAGNIFYING MIRROR -

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THEN NO OVEN - KOREA -

NOT - ALL - PHILIPPINES -

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ELECTRICITY - BY - USING -

ABOVE - ELECTRICITY BILLS -

DECREASE - AND - U R - YES -

PREPARING - 4 - TYPHOONS -

LIKE - ME - HOMELESS - I'M -

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LIFE - IF - I - HAD - BOUGHT -

ABOVE - MORE - FOOD - TO -

EAT - RIGHT - NOW - SO SAD -

BUT - JESUS - IS - LORD

DIY - BOYS - AND GIRLS

8 FOLLOWERS

TIME - 2 - PREPARE FOR

DEADLY - HURRICANES

DEADLY - TYPHOONS WHICH -

KILLED - OVER - 800,000 - IN -

PHILIPPINES - HAITI - BLK YES -

MALE - GREGORY - PASSED 2 X -

STALKING -ME - HAD - ENOUGH -

BLK - WEIRDO - WITH - BIKE - HE -

STALKED - ME - FOLLOWED - ME -

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DOOR - OF - GATE - 4 - HIM AS -

HE - SPOKE - CREOLE - 2 - THE -

PHILIPPINES

KABABAYANS - TIME - 2 - ARM -

EVERYBODY - LIKE -

EMILIO AGUINALDO

CUBANS - HAITIANS

AMERICANS - BLKS

FIRE - AT - WILL - BANANA -

PLANT - KEROSENE BURN -

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LEVEL - OF - HEAVEN TO -

TALK - 2 - THEIR CREATOR -

PHILIPPINE - REPUBLIC

TAX & RELIGION - FREE

AS - WOMEN - FEMALES AND

CHILDREN - UNITED STATES &

THEIR - HISPANICS - AND BLKS

HAVE - MURDERED - ROBBED

RAVAGED - MADE PREGNANT

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FOREVER - DECLARE - WAR

ON - THE - 3RD - WORLD's

LARGEST - POP ON EARTH

OVER - 334 MILLION - AND

FOREIGNERS - AMONG THEM

OUR - INVADING - FORCES - R

300 MILLION - CHINESE SINGLE

MALES - LANGUAGE - TONGUES

AS - WE - INVADE - SPANISH

SPEAKING - COUNTRIES AND

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SLAUGHTER - AS - THEY HAVE

RAPED - RAVAGED - BEATEN

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YOUR - PAPA SMURF - PRES

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OVER - MAKATI - AND - THE

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SWEAR - 2 - INVADE - INORDER

2 - END - THEIR - CONCEIT AND

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FOREIGNERS - OF - THIS WORLD

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US - OF - PROPERTY - OUR - YES

CLOTHES - 2 - GIVE - US - NAT

NATURALIZED - CERTIFICATES

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STATES - OR - LOCALLY - AFTER

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ENJOYED - THE - NUDITY - OF -

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FLIERS - SPECIAL - MARINES -

AIR FORCE - SPECIAL - NAVY -

AS - THEIR - COMMANDER -

WILL - LEAD - INVASION AS -

I - COMMAND - 300 MILLION -

CHINESE - MALE - SOLDIERS -

2 - INVADE - FLORIDA - CA XO -

CALIFORNIA - NEW YORK - AS -

WE - INVADE - THE - USA - AT -

THE - SAME - TIME - AS - WE -

TAKE - UNDETECTED - PLANES -

SUBMARINES - WHILE - DARK -

WE - INVADE - USA - KOREA 2 -

AS - WHILE - THEY - IN - DARK -

NOT - AFFECTING - THEIR - AC -

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THESE - HAITI - MALES - IN - FL -

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ASLEEP - AS WE - -INVADE HAITI -

TAKE - THEIR - CHILDREN - AS -

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AS - WE - FLY - THE - AIR - YES -

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THEY - WTH - HELMETS - ME -

YOUR - SECRET - SERENE -

EMPRESS - LEAD - THESE -

BATTLES - AS - WE - HAVE -

DECLARED - WAR ON - USA -

KOREA - HAITI THE SPANISH -

WE - TAKE - THEIR - KIDS - AS -

OUR - PRISONERS - 4 - KOREA -

THROWS - NEAR - TRASHBINS -

KOREAN - BABIES - WE - TAKE -

THEM - AS - WE - TAKE - ALL -

THEIR - KIDS - ORPHANAGES -

OUR - PRISONERS - OF - WAR -

ENOUGH - IS - ENOUGH

THEY - HAVE - MUIRDERED -

RAPED RAVAGED OUR KIDS -

FEMALES - AS - ALL - EVEN -

FRANCE - GOES - 2 - COURT -

2 - PROVE - VAGINAL ENTRY -

2 - PROVE - MURDERS - AS WE -

DECLARE - WAR 2 SLAUGHTER -

GOD - GOES - B 4 - US - AS - WE -

WILL - HAVE - OUR - ARC - DU -

TRIUMPH - NOW - JUST - YES -

TOURIST - LANDMARK - PARIS -

TIME - 2 - GO - 2 - BATTLE - AS -

FEMALES - ALL - STATIONS -

SPECIAL - MARINES

SPECIAL - AIR FORCE

SPECIAL - NAVY - AS

WE - LEAD - THE - BATTLES -

OF - 300 MILLION - CHINESE -

MALE - SOLDIERS - JESUS IS -

LORD - WITH - SWIFTNESS - & -

SILENCE - IN - THE - DARK AS -

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DEAD - BODIES - ANYWHERE -

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KIDS - AS - PRISONERS

JESUS - IS - LORD

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12 JULY - TOMORROW AT

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