#grey paneled hot tub

[rachelsfindings]

Deck Roof Extensions Deck - mid-sized coastal backyard deck idea with a roof extension

[peachesofteal]

Simon praising Darling for being a good girl when she announces she’s pregnant 😮‍💨 like I’m sorry sir, who gave you the right to be so damn hot when you’re FICTIONAL?!

And Darling is just confused af about wtf he means. Like does she ever find out they fucked with her BC and knocked her up?? I must know, I must have more 😈🤭

He's like, 'you've done so well, darling' and she's like 'wait, what the fuck just happened?'

AU - not canon for Dead Disco Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Brief mention of smut, mature themes. Angst. Vomiting. Doctors. Pregnant reader. Relationship issues. Dark themes.

"I've got ya." Johnny coos while he rubs your back where you are kneeling over the toilet, breakfast and bile coming up your throat with every other heave.

"I hate this." you moan between pants, propping your arm up to rest your head. He clucks his tongue, standing to run a cloth under the sink and returning to press it to your forehead gently. It's cold, and soft, and moving in easy circles.

"I know, darling. I know." You push away, slumping into his arms, letting him cuddle you close while he leans back against the bathroom wall and you count his heartbeats from where your head lays on his chest.

The door creaks open, and Simon's halfway inside, peering down at the two of you, mild concern in his eyes while he studies your slouching form.

"Third time today." He notes with a frown, and you nod. They count, keep track of everything, so they can recall it for your doctor's visits and make sure everything is still within 'normal' range. Morning sickness, your doctor has assured them too many times to count, is very normal.

"Morning sickness, the nausea, vomiting, is all normal."

"She's sick multiple times a day." Simon grits out. Johnny shifts his weight nervously, while you sigh and pat his hand comfortingly.

"If we were seeing drastic weight loss, or the panels were coming back outside of normal range, I would be concerned. But that's not happening. So, you've nothing to worry about." You give her a relieved smile, and hope they'll actually listen this time, although you know it's kind of pointless. "So," she claps her hands, and then motions to the table, and Johnny visibly brightens. This is everyone's favorite part, the ultrasound. You always glue your eyes to the screen, holding you breath to see the baby, the little blob in black and grey, your own little bean. You're obsessed with the sound of the heartbeat, taking comfort in its strength, its steadiness. So much so you bought a fetal doppler, just so you could all hear it at home. "Should we take a peek?"

"I'm fine." you assure him, holding a hand out. "Help me up." He grips you by your elbow, pulling you to your feet and into him briefly, so he can nuzzle his nose into your hair with a deep breath. "Now get out, I'm gross. Need to wash my face." You insist, pushing both him and Johnny into the hallway playfully before closing the door.

You have a lot of drawers, in this bathroom. Almost all of them actually, and most of them are a bit of a mess, unorganized, things strewn about. Sometimes, like now, you have to dig around for things. You're looking for something specific, a heavier moisturizer, one that can combat some of the dryness around your nose. Your fingers flip through tubes and tubs and creams, old mascara and half busted hair clips. You tsk, irritated that you're having a hard time finding the blue jar, until-

Your fingers brush against your old birth control pack. Encased in a cream colored piece of plastic, little pills lined up in a row. Just the sight of it frustrates you. After so many years, it finally failed. Finally let you down.

You don't know, but you pull it out. Maybe to look at it closer, to see if it will be expired by the time you finally need it again, or maybe, just to look at the thing that was your one constant since you were practically a child.

Either way. You study it closer, and that's how you notice the corner of the pill tray. The little foil piece on the corner is lifted, just a smidge, just enough for you not to notice, but when you peel it, it comes away so easily, so perfectly, with minimal adhesive. Like's it been pulled away before and put back in place. Like it's been moved.

When you realize, the floor room spins. It shudders around you, bathroom walls curving closer and closer to where you stand in front of the sink, eyes wide, dumbfounded. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. Would they? You blink at yourself in the mirror. You look, tired, but mostly healthy, a true testament to absolute hovering that has been occurring in your life over the past five months. You never lift a finger, you don't want for anything.

Because you're pregnant.

Because you're pregnant, with their baby, that you thought you got knocked up with on accident.

Your stomach curdles. They did this on purpose. Your fingers clench against the stone of the sink while you remember, all those nights when they pressed you to the mattress and made you see stars, while they filled you with their come over and over, every day. They were actively trying. They wanted this. A giant black hole rips open inside of you. It sucks your joy, your happiness, your dreams of future into it immediately. It dismantles everything you thought you knew as truth, takes a hammer and smashes apart every single second of the last five months.

They took your choice away. You stomach flips, and the you’re flinging yourself back in front of the toilet, bile spewing on your lips while you dry heave. It burns, the sting matching the sear of the tears that track down your face.

How could they do this?

[lphoenixspiritl]

Just Friends Helping Friends ... Right?

A Ty Laang ficlet Eight years later and the scar across his back still ached when it stormed. As if on cue the grey sky lit up with a flash of unseen lighting before disappearing into a rumble of distant thunder. The cold flash encroached on the warm light of the candles and the crash of thunder sent a shiver through the collection of small flames. He slid into the nearly too-hot water with a sigh and curls of steam bloomed around him. Leaning back, he let his thumb trace along the scales carefully carved into the quartz tub.

The Fire Nation sure did love their dragons.

Aang sank a little deeper letting his mind wander while his eyes drifted along the carved stone and red banners. It was always a bit disconcerting when he found himself here, maybe a little less with each passing year but the strangeness lingered. That the nation that took everything from him, treated him like a prince every time he'd visit. Even more so now that he found himself alone here. There was always someone checking on him, always nearby should he want something or to go somewhere. After only a day or two it became suffocating.

How did Katara deal with it?

Aang let his head tilt back onto the cool stone rim and his eyes fell shut, letting the heat of the water wash away his aches. Or at least, he tried to. Only a few minutes had managed to tick by before the hinges of the soaking room door groaned open.

"Oh sorry!" a woman's voice exclaimed.

Aang purposely kept his eyes shut. If they thought he was sleeping maybe they'd just leave, and he could avoid being waited on for a little while longer.

The door began to creak shut but suddenly stopped, "Aang? Is that you?"

Aang's forehead scrunched with fleeting irritation, lifting his head, a wet hand dragged down his face and quickly wiped it away. In its place, we're bright eyes and an even brighter smile, though a bit strained at the edges.

"Yes, it's me."

"AANG!!" they nearly shrieked, "I MISSED YOU!"

He looked over in time to see the silhouette of a woman running toward him with frightful speed, her long dark braid trailing behind her. With a slosh of steaming water, Aang sloppily pushed himself up to stand, just in time too. The woman had leaped onto the rim of the tub and launched herself at him.

Aang reached out scrambling to hug her lithe frame to his body, her arms encircled his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist like a koala hare. He had a split second to register the scent of feather daisy and spun sugar before her momentum sent him stumbling backward, dumping them both into the steaming water.

"I'm so sorry!" Aang yelped, pulling the woman up out of the small pool.

He had expected a yell of surprise or even irritated words but the ringing laughter that bounced along the stone walls barely registered.

Her brown braid streamed water from its neat tail, and the drenched pink dress she wore clung to the curves of her hips, its cream-colored panels turning nearly translucent. Her grey eyes shone with mirth, her pink lips stretched into a wide smile, evidence of her barely contained laughter.

"What are you doing in here?" Ty Lee finally asked Aang oblivious to her soaked clothes and the way her legs draped casually over his in the shallow pool.

"Are you ok?" Aang reached out to check her but halted a few inches short of her wet skin.

Ty Lee answers with more laughter but to Aang, it sounds like the temple chimes from his childhood, a sound he sorely missed.

"I'm fine, I promise. I should be asking you that. I didn't think I'd surprise you like that."

"Most people would be surprised by an attack while in the bath."

"I didn't attack you," she paused and bit her lip, "it was an aggressively happy greeting. Besides, you're not most people."

The way she said it made his stomach flutter, ignoring it he leaned back on his palms "You've been spending too much time with Toph."

Ty rolled her eyes, "So why are you here? This room is usually filled with old coots from the council."

"Not to sound like an old coot myself, but my back aches." Aang smiled.

"Did you injure it?" TyLee asked, a concerned look in her grey eyes.

"No, it's uh, where my scar is, from that time in Ba Sing Se?" he explains hesitantly.

She freezes for a moment and Aang kicks himself for scaring her off, but Ty Lee's bubbly self is back in a flash.

"Did you have Katara look at it? You should before you leave."

"She's already gone, they left this morning."

"I thought you were supposed to go with them?"

"I was," he looks away, "but I decided it was better if I just, stayed.

"Why? You love the beach and the flight to Ember Island is gorgeous."

"How'd you know I liked the beach?" Aang asks her teasingly.

"You told me, back when we were kids. Now stop sidetracking, why didn't you go?"

Aang looks at her guiltily "I guess- I don't know," he sputters not sure how to start, "it's just after Katara and I ended things, I thought it would be like when we were kids. We'd hang out, do stuff together, and have fun. But whenever I'm here, I just- I always feel like I'm in the way? Especially when she's with Zuko."

"Like a third wheel?" Ty supplied.

Aang leaned forward and glumly putting chin in his hand and his elbows on his knees, "Yeah, exactly like a third wheel."

"Is that why your aura's been so drab?"

Aang looked around frantically as if he would see only what Ty Lee could, "I- I guess?"

"Don't feel bad, she's been ambassador for a few years now and they both have tons of work to do. I live here and I barely see them sometimes." Ty Lee pouted "Katara has been promising to go shopping with me for weeks, but she's been so busy." she let out a sad sigh, "Ever since Mai went with Azula to train at the South Pole, Kat's been my only friend."

"Well, I'm here and I'm your friend."

Ty Lee chewed on her lip her eyes darting to the just visible sliver of his scar that peeked around his side and she lit up, "You're right and friends help friends, I'm not a healer like Katara but I might be able to help."

"How?" Aang asked cautiously.

Ty Lee held up her hands wiggling her fingers.

Aang palms up, backed up with a noisy slosh and a nervous chuckle, "Slow down there, I want to be able to walk later."

"It's not like that silly. Chi blocking is useful in other ways."

Aang looked at her skeptically, his doubt evident.

"Just let me show you."

Aang is too nice to tell her no and lets Ty Lee direct him to sit on the sunken bench with his arms folded on the tub's carved edge. She sinks into the water behind him with a quiet ripple and her fingertips ghost over his scar so gently he wonders if he imagined it. She lays her hands on his shoulders and runs her palms along his skin surveying his back and taking stock of what she's working with. They feel small on his broadened back but they are confident, working methodically, assessing and cataloging every dip and curve.  

Soon she begins to work explaining what she's doing as she's doing it and he wonders how often she accompanied Katara on her rounds through the medical wing to pick up the practice.

"You see this spot?" she pokes a particularly tender knot below his shoulder blade and he winces, the soreness breaking through his thoughts, "Yup, just as I thought. Your chi is stagnating here and it's causing you pain."

The heel of her hand rests on the knot, "I can't manipulate your chi paths like Katara can but, I can open them up some." her free hand moves too quickly for him to see, making two strikes to his ribs.

Aang expects pain to radiate from under his skin, instead, there is pressure and a shift he can't quite explain, almost like a pop. The wound-up feeling releases and the knot suddenly feels like it's been drained away. What he's left with is still a bit sore but aches much less, almost like an old, yellowed bruise.

He can't help the sigh that escapes him when the ache eases or the way his edges seem to blur a little at the sudden relief. Ty Lee smiles behind him and even though he can't see her, he can feel it. Almost as if the mere upturn of her lips could light the darkest room.

What if she was with you in the tunnels?

Aang pushes away the thought when it threatens to wander elsewhere.

'She's your friend!' he reminds himself.

Ty Lee, oblivious to the mental argument before her continued, working methodically down his back, she found all of his sore spots. Every. Single. One.

Aang did his best to relax but the discomfort seeped through his gritted teeth and furrowed brow, yet he didn't dare make a sound. For some illogical reason, he didn't want Ty Lee to hear the hurt that touching each knot brought him. It wasn't her fault, she was working as quickly and gently as she could, and it was paying off. He could feel how her well-placed adjustments were returning his range of movement. After each flash of pressure there was a release and, that melting feeling as the tension drained away.

But suddenly, she stops.

Aang doesn't realize it at first, not until her pause draws on too long, from odd to awkward to alarming.

"Is something wrong?" he cautions just over his shoulder, a tightness still pulling across his back.

"No, I just have one last adjustment to make but ..." Ty Lee begins to explain but trails off like the dissipating steam.

"But what?" Aang's curiosity gets the better of him and he turns around, sending noisy ripples through the suddenly quiet room.

"It might hurt, like a lot and I don't want to cause you pain." she explains, "At least not more than I already have."

"It's fine." Aang moves toward her, but she steps back maintaining the distance but not the eye contact.

"It's not fine, because of me you nearly died, I'm the reason you're in pain now." she tells him quietly, "I never wanted to hurt anyone. It's why I learned chi-blocking in the first place. So I could defend myself without hurting anyone. But I still did, didn't I?"

Aang shakes his head and takes Ty Lee's hands in his. She lets him. They're warm and strong from fan practice and acrobatics. She looks soft but the callouses along the top of her palms tell a different story, one he someday hopes to learn the words to, but for now, he can only recount the truth he knows.

"You might have been in Ba Sing Se when it happened but you weren't the one who shot me with lightning. You weren't the one who caused this scar. Or my pain." his words are gentle, like her hands were over his skin, tending each hurt with care.

"I'm still sorry."

"I know." Aang smirks, "Just like I knew when you told me sorry five years ago."

Gathering both of her hands in one of his, he wipes a tear from her face and carefully brushes a damp lock of hair from her face, securing it behind her ear.

"You mean it?" she asks, still staring into the crystal water.

Hooking a curled finger under her chin, he tilts her face up to look at him, "Every time."

He tries to put assurance in his words but the grey eyes staring at him glisten with unshed tears, it makes his heart ache. She's so close, her long lashes and full pink lips if he could just ki-

Ty Lee surges forward, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. Surprised, all Aang can do is hold her. With her face buried in his neck, she takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh. He gets the flutters again, but this time they've migrated to his chest.

After a minute she pushes off him, and gives him a watery smile, "Ok, let's do this. Turn around and grab the edge of the tub."

Aang does what he is told, letting his trust in her push back against the nerves coiling in his joints. He feels the caress of her touch starting at the tops of his shoulders, tracing down the sides of his spine until they come to a stop just below his shoulder blades. It’s not often that he sees it but he knows what it looks like. A misshapen splotch of dark rosewood surrounded by an even more misshapen stain of pink peach, all set in a permanent interruption of the vivid blue of his tattoos.

A moment ticks by with her palms pressed against his back and Aang resists the urge to check on her. Understanding that everyone finds a path to healing in their own way, in their own time, was a lesson he was learning to swallow and, in this moment, Ty Lee was finding hers. He only needed to give her the space and silence to find it. So, he let the moment slip by, and another, and then another until the soft tickle of a silent breath brushed along his shoulder.

"Take a deep breath," she directs him, "ok, now let it out."

Just as his lungs empty she makes the adjustment. Two strikes followed by the thud from the heel of her palm sends a shot of searing pain streaking through him. He barely gets out a gasp when the release turns him into putty.

He slumps over and water sloshes as Ty Lee panics, "Are you ok? Did I do it too hard? Did I hurt you?"

Aang gives her a weak thumbs up, and mumbles, "I never understood what Sokka meant by it hurts so good until now."

Ty Lee freezes and blinks at him a few times before bursting out into ringing laughter that echoes along the stone. Aang decides at that moment he likes the sound and wants to hear it more often.

A few minutes later he is still melted over the side of the tub letting Ty Lee's hands run soothingly along his wet skin. She hums a soft lullaby into the humid quiet and his eyelids begin to feel heavy. When they finally fall shut the humming comes to an end and the water around them ripples.

"I have to get going," she tells him quietly.

"So soon?"

Ty smiles, he sounds disappointed, like a kid whose friend has been called home for dinner.

"It's late and I've got work to do before bed."

"Not you too."

"The Performers' Protection Act won't write itself." she tells him, "Now keep the water a little warmer than what's comfortable for at least thirty minutes and when you head to bed ask the steward for some muscle ointment."

Pulling herself from the water Ty Lee stands and turns to make her way out of the tub but Aang turns and calls after her.

"Hey Ty?" she swivels to look at him, "Does he care about her? Like really care about her?"

A soft smile pulls at Ty Lee's pink lips, she slips back into the water and leans over to cup Aang's cheek, "Sweetie he took a shot of lighting for her."

"Zuko would have done that for any of us."

"Maybe, but the point is, he did it for her. So I think KitKat is in good hands."

"I jus- yea, I guess you're right."

Ty Lee nods letting her hand drop back into the water, "Don't forget, ask for the muscle ointment. It'll get you through to the morning."

"And what should I do in the morning?"

"In the morning? Hmm…" mischief plays along her lips and Ty gets stands slowly this time, letting rivulets of water run down her sking, the translucent cloth clinging tight to her curves. Taking a seat on the tub’s edge she swings her legs over the carved quartz so her feet land on the cool marble floor.  

When she turns back to face him, there's something sultry in her grey eyes, "In the morning you should take breakfast in the Jade Garden gazebo."

"Why? Does it have a nice view?"

"Yes, but that's not all."

"Huh?"

"I'll be there,"

"Then it's definitely a lovely view." Aang smiles at her still oblivious.

"One more thing, the hibiscus are in bloom, making the whole place serene and pretty, and very, very secluded."

Aang looks back at her dumbstruck, as it finally dawns on him, "Uhm- yes, of course! I'll meet you in the Jade Garden. Just us. Alone. In private! Privacy is good." he stutters, shades of pink seeping into his cheeks.

Ty Lee chortles and leans over the tub's edge to press a soft kiss to Aang's cheek, "Well then, I guess it's a date."

"Yes, a date," eyes wide he nods rapidly, "definitely a date,"

She laughs with that temple bell ring, "See you tomorrow!" she tells him with a wink and skips out of the room.

Only after the door clicks shut behind her, does the blush bloom red and hot on his cheeks and the butterflies riot in his stomach.

With a lopsided smile on his face, Aang sinks deeper into the water. He makes a mental note to tell the steward about his change of morning plans, and to request panda lilies alongside that ointment.

...

Contrary to popular belief, I don't hate Aang - though I do have issues with the fandom's portrayal of him - and while he's not my number one top favorite of all time, I get why he's the favorite among the fandom. I had a lot of fun writing his shyness and nervousness around Ty Lee and figuring out just how he'd react to her more direct approach to flirting. Their ship is one that has definitely been growing on me lately.

[amptoverelectric]

5-10 Signs of Outdated Electrical Panels

```html

When Less Is More: The Art of Identifying an Outdated Electrical Panel

When Less Is More: The Art of Identifying an Outdated Electrical Panel

Welcome back to our arc of insight, where the buzz is all about the heartbeat of your home's electrical system: the panel. We've cast the spotlight on the signs of outdated electrical panels, but now it's time to dig deeper. Let's decode the tales those panels tell and ensure the safety and efficiency of our nests.

On the surface, an electrical panel might just seem like a grey box with breakers or fuses. But in reality, it's the silent sentinel of your home. Age, like in the finest of wines, matters. A seasoned panel isn't always better – in electrical terms, it could be a call to action. At Ampt Over Electric, we've switched and rewired enough circuits to know that an outdated panel isn't just a relic but a chorus of potential problems.

Notice flickering lights? Or maybe breaker trips are more frequent than ads in your favorite app. These could be more than just annoyances—they’re whispers from your electrical system saying it's time for an upgrade. And where do you find proficient conductors of safety and efficiency for such a task? Look no further: our residential electricians Calgary team is tuned in to your needs.

Perhaps you’re embracing the electric revolution and you've just rolled a sleek, new EV into the garage. A modern update from our TESLA home charger installation maestros ensures your vehicle juices up without overwhelming that tired old panel.

Let's also talk about the hot-ticket item – literally. If ‘soak and relax’ in your hot tub turns into ‘hope and pray’ it doesn’t trip the breaker, it's high time you indulge in specializing assistance. Engage with our hot tub electrical Calgary experts for a serene spa experience, sans the electrical drama.

Don't wait for the smoke signal—updated electrical panels are about proactive protection. With aluminum wiring replacement, you prevent future sparks. Our services aren't just a response; they're your home’s resilience against electrical woes.

Take command of your castle's current. Connect with us directly and let Ampt Over Electric arm you with an upgraded electrical panel and services that encapsulate the present, with an eye to the future. Safeguarding your dwelling isn’t just our job; it’s our joule-filled joy.

Ready to amp up your home's electrical stability? Your next charge of inspiration is just a click away. Request a quote, and let's weave wattage wonders together.

```

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #33: UXM issues 169-170

Warren makes a return in this issue, which begins with his girlfriend Candy retiring to their apartment. Unfortunately, he's been kidnapped and one of the assailants- a huge man named Sunder- is waiting to attack her. She manages to call Xavier, who sends the nearest X-Man, Kurt. Unfortunately, he's in Amanda's hot tub with her, and there's nowhere else safe within range, so he ports over, grabs Candy, and reappears in the tub. We cut to the Hellfire Club, where Emma Frost has arrived looking for Shaw before immediately falling into a coma. Someone is stalking the Inner Circle, toying with them for amusement. But we'll pick up on that thread later. The X-Men have gathered in Amanda's apartment- Kitty in yet another new costume, I guess to differentiate her from the New Mutants- and leave Amanda and Lockheed to defend Kitty while they follow Warren. Ororo asks if Rahne can join them as a tracker, since Logan is away, but Xavier refuses to put the New Mutants in the field and gives them a mini Cerebro that can track Warren. They venture down into deep subway tunnels to follow the trail, and are attacked by a horde of strange mutants. Kitty is separated from the group, and rendered ill by the mutant Plague. She's saved by Caliban, the empath tracker from a while ago that tried to kidnap her and has apparently joined up with this group. Continuing the search, Ororo, Kurt, and Peter find a huge tunnels deep below anything they knew existed. Kurt is very worried about Ororo, who's both scared of being this deep and acting cold for reasons she refuses to talk about. They find Callisto, the leader of this group, called the Morlocks. She's kidnapped Warren to serve as her husband and prince. Ororo is painfully reminded of the long teased but still unrevealed incident that happened when she was twelve, when a man looked at her the way Callisto looks at Warren. As the Morlocks attack the X-Men, a similar situation plays out nearby, where Caliban decided that he has fallen in love with Kitty, and makes desperate plans to save her from Plague's disease so she can stay with him forever.

Issue 170 is very special to me, because I have a copy signed by Claremont and Smith. It begins not with a follow-up to the cliffhangers, but with Scott and Madelyne on their first date. They're dancing in silence, even after the music stops, until she finally breaks away and starts a conversation. Dancing is one of Claremont's favorite motifs in the weird Scott-Jean-Madelyne love triangle, and here it shows how Scott is using her to cling to something that's over. He tells her about Jean, and shows her a picture, which is understandably freaky for her, but he also says that he really does like her, despite the weirdness. Neither of them are sure if this is something real or a weird coping mechanism for Scott, but they both want to find out. Back in New York, the X-Men watch helplessly as Callisto moves forward with her wedding plans, Warren pinned by his wings to a wall. The heroes break free, and Kurt takes out Callisto and ransoms her for their freedom. There's a panel where Kurt stands on the wall surrounded by brimstone, gazing over Warren, who's still unconscious and pinned up in a way that resembles a crucifixion pose. I don't think there's any real subtext to this panel, but it's a very cool piece of imagery. Plague touches Ororo and demands a surrender, which Kurt and Peter have no choice but to accept. Callisto tells them the story of the Morlocks- they were brought together by her and Caliban, who could track the others down. Like Caliban, none of them can fit in with the human world, so they found refuge in this abandoned bomb shelter from the Cold War. Speaking of Caliban, in his room, Kitty briefly wakes and promises to stay with him if he helps save the X-Men. In another abrupt cutaway, we find ourselves in a dream Mystique is having of being trapped in 1783. She's being hunted by Jason Wyngarde and Jean Grey, but just before the kill, she wakes up. Destiny, her "roommate," tells her that there are forced blocking her powers, just before they discover that Anna has run away. Back in the tunnels, Callisto offer Kurt membership in the Morlocks, but he says he refuses to give up Xavier's dream. Just then, Caliban arrives, begging someone to save Kitty. Kurt says they need to get her to a medical facility, but Callisto refuses, and no one will disobey her. Caliban says the only way is to beat Callisto in a combat challenge to the death to win leadership of the Morlocks. Kurt challenges her, but Ororo says that as team leader, she'll take the battle for him. No powers are allowed in the fight, so Callisto gives her a knife, which she wields with cold precision. Callisto thinks it'll be an easy fight, drawing some blood and knocking off Ororo's tiara, but Ororo trips her up with her cape and stand her through the heart. Callisto survives thanks to the Morlocks Healer, but Ororo had no idea whether that would happen. She offers the Morlocks sanctuary with Xavier, but Caliban says their place is here. Kurt and Peter are shocked that Ororo broke her vow against killing, but they follow her out of the tunnels with the unconscious Warren and Kitty. For one final scene in Alaska, Scott tells Madelyne his secret identity by flipping a coin and blasting a hole through it in midair. It looks like a ring, and he gives it to her, which is some pretty obvious symbolism for the bond they already have. When he explains the curse of his power, her first thought is how awful it must be for him to live with it. Scott is incredibly guarded, even around his family, but he tells Madelyne his secret without hesitation just because she asked. It's a very sweet moment, and they embrace as our story ends.

A lot happened in these issues, and I'm not gonna say anymore about Madelyne here, because in a few issues she'll be getting a lot of focus and I'll talk about her story as a whole. Kurt got a lot of thought bubbles and things to do, which is great. He doesn't usually get that kind of focus during missions, usually saving his character moments for the downtime parts of the stories. It's very interesting that we see Ororo's duel from his perspective rather than hers, but it's a great choice. This is a huge change in Ororo's personality, and doing it this way leaves the reader as shocked as her friends are. Ororo the claustrophobic pacifist attempting murder to become ruler of an underground society is very ironic, and speaks to how much turmoil her identity is in. The Morlocks are very important thematically over the next few years, a reminder that not all people experience persecution the same way and that the X-Men aren't just fighting for mutants like them. They're also fighting for the lowest of mutants, the ones who can't or won't fight for their own dreams. I don't know what it is about Paul Smith that Claremont trusts so much, but there's more textless panels in issue 170 than I think I've seen in any issues so far. This is definitely not a complaint, because the art is incredible and often speaks for itself. Another cool thing about this story is that for most of these two issues, the A plot is following a team of three. Over the next couple years of the book, Claremont will be spending some time with smaller groups of characters as opposed to always using the full team. I like that he's willing to play with the format. It's the right choice for the book right now, and when he renews the focus on full team stories somewhere around Mutant Massacre, it's the right choice for the book then.

[fictionfunshop]

Reunited - One Shot

Spencer Reid / Lila Archer

I watched their episode again and they were ROBBED of a happy ending so I gave them one.

18+ Smut.

You would recognise his eyes from anywhere. Captured within the honey flecks, framed with dark circles, was the innocence that made you weak at the knees all those years ago. He had chopped his hair and let his natural curls show through, which made him even more handsome than his younger self.

"Lila?" he grinned. You send him a short wave before you approach where he's sitting in the café; he pushes the heavy book back into his bag and signals to the chair in front of you to sit down.

"Spencer." You give him a small smile as you take your seat.

"What are you doing here? It's not that I'm not glad it's just…Virginia?" You could see he was flustered more than usual which made your heart swoon all over again.

You had tried to keep contact after everything that happened, but life got in the way; a new film to shoot, a case to solve, hour-long phone calls, and daily letters turned into sporadic texts until it just dwindled out.

"I'm filming a TV show here; get this, I play a Doctor." You both let out a giggle, "Are you still with the FBI?"

When you found out filming was in Virginia, you thought what would happen if you bumped into each other; wishful thinking that you could finish what you had both started after all these years. Now he was sitting in front of you; you could almost taste him again.

He nods his head, "Part-time, I lecture at the university too to keep me busy. So a TV show, no more movies?"

"I wanted to be in one place for more than a few weeks. Get a semi-normal life now I'm older." He nods in understanding. Being a movie star was fun, and you were successful, but long shoots and weeks away didn't make you a great girlfriend or wife when you tried that out.

You drop your eyes to his long fingers wrapped around his coffee mug, and you remember how they felt gripping your face and in your hair. You know you're blushing when he lets out a cough and throws you a smirk.

"So, you live here now?" He breaks the tension

"Yup, well, for the next while at least…."

"Your husband or boyfriend, not mind?"

"I don't have either." You interrupt him. "There's no one…" he smiles at your answer.

"And you?"

"You remember how awkward I am," he looks at his watch and finishes up his coffee. "I've to go to class…" you were sure the same flash of disappointment was reflecting in your eyes like his right now.

He stood up, and that's when you noticed he had filled out; chasing bad guys has added muscle to his tall frame.

"Do you want to grab dinner sometime? I'm new here, and I need a tour guide to show me around." he nods his head before you even finished the sentence.

"Yeah, you free tonight?" you could see the hesitation in his answer. Little did he know you were just as desperate to see him again in a more private setting.

"Yeah, that's good for me." He digs deep into his satchel and hands you his card. "Give me a call, and I'll arrange something."

He places his hand and your shoulder, and by instinct, you nuzzle your face there. You only notice now how long his fingers are. He squeezes your shoulder before walking away like all those years before.

All you could think about right now as Spencer Reid. After he left you in the café, his touch burned into your shoulder; it felt like a match was lit inside you. You replayed the night you first kissed him in your head. Would it be different now? Would he initiate? Would he keep his hands in your hair, or would they drift down your back? You clench at the idea of more than kissing him.

You were utterly distracted for the rest of the day, fluffing your lines in the read-through, forgetting meetings and appointments even after being reminded. You thought it would stop your thoughts if you called him and heard his voice, but it didn't. It only amplified them. You now had an internal countdown to when you would see him again.

You smoothed the black dress you finally decided on after changing your mind six times. You had never been this nervous about a date before. Ever. You were a movie star for crying out loud; men always made it obvious that they wanted you but not Spencer. Even on the phone earlier, he seemed timid and reserved, repeating the restaurants address to you and the time of the booking. You wanted to be early, but Virginia traffic made that impossible, and you arrived and the restaurant 10 minutes late. Your heart stopped when you finally saw him again. He was dressed dangerously good in a dark three-piece suit, a small bouquet in his hand; your heart raced when you approached him.

"Sorry, I'm late," you approached him, "I thought LA traffic was bad.." you kiss his cheek.

"These are, em for you. I remember they were your favourite..." he hands them over, your fingers grazing.

"You just googled that," you teased him. "Nice suit, by the way..." now you're up close, you see that it's a dark grey tweed, his blue shirt and tie matching it perfectly.

It took everything in you to not run your hands down his chest to feel the expensive material.

"You look great too; you were always beautiful, though," his brown eyes meeting yours, his irises blown out. Neither of you said anything for a while until the hostess interrupted you both to let you know your table was ready. Even though you were both nervous, the conversation flowed exactly like all those years before. It was surprising how open you both were after all that time and how he could still surprise you.

"A Cowboy?" you look at him in disbelief, sipping on your wine

"Yeah, few horses and cattle. Be surrounded by nature."

"What would you do on your imaginary ranch?" you can feel your cheeks start to hurt with the smile you have pinned there.

"I dunno…look at them? I'll figure something out" he drifts into thought. "What would you do if you weren't acting?"

The first answer you thought of was too corny to be by his side on this dream ranch, so you thought for a moment.

"Maybe a writer? I took a few classes at Juilliard and loved it…."

"I think you'd be great at that, better than me as a cowboy" he smiled at you softly.

The unmistakable tension was back; even in the dim light of the booth, you could see his eyes had turned black. You didn't want to break it; being under his gaze like this felt euphoric, and you were now sure the world would collapse if you didn't kiss him again. You both finished up your meals in comfortable silence, both occasionally stopping to compliment the food or, in Spencer's case, give you little tid-bits of information about Virginia. After you finished your meal, which he insisted on paying for, he offered you a ride home. He opened the door of the car for you, unintentionally trapping you in a corner. You saw your opportunity and pressed your lips against his lightly at first, so light that you didn't think it happened until you felt Spencer grab your jaw and push your lips together harder. The stubble on his chin is scratching your face lightly; your hands found his waist as your tongues sought each other out. You were glad the days of photographers following you were over because you were sure the scene of you two tangled together was obscene. He was the one to break the kiss, a repeat from the first time.

"I need to get you home; we'll get in trouble if we keep going," he smiles before letting you slide in the passenger seat. His hand rested on your bare thigh as he navigated you both back to your apartment, where he quickly pulled into the parking lot, the kiss from earlier giving him confidence.

"Do you want to come up?" he nods his head as he turns off the engine. You both jump out of your seats, his hand finding yours as you guided him to the elevator.

"How many stories are you up?" He asks as you both wait,

"24 – why are you afraid or something?" you turn to look at his face. He was chewing on his lip.

"A little", He chuckles. "I got stuck in one at a case a few years ago. I try and avoid them now."

The door of the elevator bings open, and you both stumble inside. He pins you against the furthest wall as you hike one of your legs up to rest on his hip; he keeps it there with his hand, his body now flush against yours as you both continue what you started in the restaurant car park. You groan as you feel him getting hard through his trousers as your hands finally make their way up to his chest into his curls. He hisses and nips at your bottom lip when you tug lightly on his hair. The elevator doors open, and you both scramble to get out; you dig through your bag for the keys.

"Wow, I didn't even know this view exists!" he announces as the door swings open into your open plan living room and kitchen; there are panels of floor to ceiling windows leading to the balcony outside.

"Is that a hot tub?" he points to the structure in the corner outside.

"Don't worry – I won't push you in with your clothes on again." You tap his nose, and he grabs your hand back, leaving it on his chest as he captures your lips in a kiss again.

As soon as he lets go, his hands steady themselves around your waist, his nails digging into your hips; you slip his jacket off, throwing it in the corner, hoping it reaches your couch. Your fingers get to work on his waistcoat; as he nearly rips your dress, he tugs on the zip at your back that hard. He breaks your kiss to shrug it from his shoulders and to slip off his tie.

"You wear too many clothes,"

"Same could be said for you," he pulls the straps of your dress down, letting it pool at your feet, leaving you in your underwear; you kick the dress to the side and slip your shoes off. He takes the opportunity to rid himself of his shirt and shoes before he gathers you into his arms again, his fingers tracing up and down your back.

"You are so fucking gorgeous," he rasps in your ear, boxing you in to your breakfast bar; one of his hands travels down your side, giving your hip a quick squeeze before he slips his hand into your underwear to find you soaked. "Did I do this?"

You whimper and nod your head as his fingers circle your entrance. You can feel yourself tighten in anticipation for his next move. He gathers your juices and circles your clit, and your knees start to shake; you are confident that if he weren't quick to grab your hip with his other hand, you would be on the floor. You bury your head into his neck, moaning his name and your hands are on his biceps as he circles your clit and dips a single finger inside you, teasing you to perfection, feeling the spring in your stomach tighten. He must notice because he plunges two fingers inside you harshly, causing you to yelp out his name. He continues his assault, his thumb joining in, rubbing your clit as the feeling in your stomach builds up quick.

"'Spencer, I'm…" you plead with him. He kisses you harshly as you crumble around him, stars appearing behind your eyes. You flutter them open as he slips his fingers out from you, a smile on his face.

"You enjoy that?" You nod your head, "You were so tight when you came. I'm surprised you didn't break my fingers," he chuckles. The quiet confidence he has gained over the years is a complete turn on.

You take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. He lightly pushes you on the bed as you shuffle up to your pillows. He finally takes off his trousers, leaving you both in your underwear. You can't help but drink him in; you were correct when you said that he had filled out, his chest and shoulders was broader and a little sun-kissed, and he was still lean. You gulped when you saw how hard he was through his boxers.

"We don't have to do anything." He whispers, climbing on top of you.

You shake your head and smile, he might have physically changed, but he was still a complete gentleman on the inside. He traces his fingers around your hips, his thumbs massaging you a little before he pulls off your underwear, leaving you exposed. You sit up on the bed and kiss across his chest while he works on taking off your final piece of clothing. Once off, he sits back on his heels and looks at you.

"Fuck, I'm lucky" he stares at you, and you could feel yourself drip on the comforter with those words.

"Spencer," you buck your hips, trying to gain any relief.

"Do you have protection?" he asks, slipping down his boxers.

"I've got an IUD, and I'm clean."

He climbs on top of you, and you settle your hands around his shoulders as he lines himself up at your entrance, sliding in easily. Your legs wrap around his waist as he drops down on his elbows, staring into your eyes as he bottoms out.

"Oh God," you bite your lip.

He sets the slow pace as you tangle your fingers into his hair, kissing him harshly. It was so intense between the two of you; it was sensory overload. His skin on yours broke you out in goosebumps, and he's biting your lip as you tighten around him with each thrust made you squint your eyelids shut. He grabs one of your hands from his hair and places it beside you; your fingers are interlocking.

"Look at me, Lila," your eyes snap open. You struggle to breathe as your gaze locks, and you whimper. He dips his head and sponges kisses down the valley of your breasts, and you push your chest into him. He smirks as you tighten your grip on his fingers, chanting his name as he makes his way back up to your neck and attaches his lips there.

"This is better than I ever imagined," He rasps in your ear. "I'm so close,"

"Me too,"

He lets go of your fingers and moves them down to your clit as he picks up the pace. You can feel him hit your cervix with every thrust now, and you are sure that the whole building can hear you both. You grab his face and kiss him hard as you feel yourself tighten around him as you fall off the edge. A few moments later, you can see his face tense and the vein in his forehead pop as he comes inside you. He stays still for a few moments before he kisses you again as he slips out and collapses next to you. He pulls you into his side, kissing your forehead. You trace your fingers on his chest, letting the silence envelope you both for a few minutes.

"That was…" you whisper. He chuckles and nods his head in agreement.

"All those years, that's what we were missing."

[transsexualhamlet]

Hey, Rowan. I apologize if this is a lot beforehand.

A while ago I made a post about how physical romantic gestures have to be unnecessary in order to be purposed for romance, so holding a character to stop them falling isn't romantic because it is necessary. I want to expand that to include the situation that caused the intimacy in the first place. So, if the situation that made them do something romantic is not necessary to the plot — but rather used for the sake of the romantic subplot — then it is physical intimacy that can be used as canon proof of romance.

For example, Heaven's Official Blessing, a (heavily censored due to China's laws) fantasy anime with a romantic subplot. The MC and his LI share a bed because "there was only one bed", which does not affect the plot at all. The MC also gets randomly bitten by a snake so that his LI can suck the poison out (kiss his hand) and that bite doesn't affect the plot or characters at all, he doesn't even get fatigued.

An example of physical contact that can be used for queerbait but isn't good evidence for romance is in Code Geass. Lelouch and Suzaku are mainly shown to be touching in violent situations or situations caused by violence, all of which affect the plot (one pinning the other down to arrest Lelouch, one touching the other's face when they're both injured and he thinks he's hallucinationing, one holding the other as he bleeds out, ect). Despite having plenty of counterevidence for romance, the studio still marketed them like they were interested in each other though. So that's typical queerbait.

I haven't finished YuuMori because I'm procrastinating on it but I know you have. Do you have any thoughts on the physical intimacy between Sherlock and William and which criteria they fit? We already know there's other types of canon evidence but I am curious about the portrayal of intimacy.

Yes, yes, I have thoughts, and the thoughts are titled

the inherent homoeroticism of two bros chilling in a hot tub five feet apart cause they're not gay

The thing about yuumori and sherliam is that it's kind of the opposite of that, where instead of their physical intimacy being an idicator of romantic/sexual feelings, what indicates it is oddly the absence of touch.

Sherlock and William Barely Touch At All and I don't think they're literally ever shown touching outside of when they were fighting, sherlock was like holding the dude's hand so he didn't Plummet To His Death and when yknow he caught the dude in midair (all during... the same scene.) There's no other time where they touch on screen at all, and there's no indication that they ever did off screen either. The closest they come is an omake where liam Very Sexually leans over sherlock and takes out his cigarette lol but they never actually touch, and like when they were sitting opposite each other in ch 31 sherlock just keeps doing that thing where he just slumps on the chair and slides his legs into liam's while liam is just Sitting There for no good reason

like sherlock definitely wants to touch him there's no doubt about that but the fact that liam is so overly worried about touching him and just continuing to get farther away

Of course, there's a thousand other reasons for this, mostly them like being in the same place a total of like five times, and or being in "we are enemies" situations where Liam specifically orchestrated it so that he was as far from sherlock (emotionally) as possible. Most of their careful staying away from each other was because of Liam aggressively trying to not fall in love with him lmao (in chapter 31 when they're practically on a date the dude's so weirdly formal im just like Bruh and yet they just. Hover. They hover so close to each other in that chapter that they had to have consiously made effort not to touch each other... and well, that's sus.

But because of chapter sixty, that does actually become more of a grey area specifically because it had sherlock saying that yeah, liam is pretty touch averse, just in general, which clears up a lot of that.

The thing about that though is that the absence of touch between them in most situations doesn't take away from their romantic subtext and instead kind of intentionally adds to it? It's about the Tension lmao it's about the fact that Sherlock is reaching for him metaphorically and literally throughout the show while Liam keeps inching further and further away even while he gets emotionally closer and closer. It's not just their physical touch, it's how sherlock immediately called him "Liam" but liam couldn't even refer to sherlock by his first name to to his face and even then had it COVERED UP BY A TRAIN HORN because it was so emotionally MUCH for him

So i think the fact that they treat the situation of both their physical and emotional closeness so tenderly and cautiously... makes it more romantic/sexual just because not only is he worried about getting too close emotionally to sherlock (as in like. being friends) he is ALSO worried about being too close physically, which indicates that this is not a bro moment and he is repressing more than just Wanting To Be Friends With Him Real Bad.

Sherlock clearly wants to touch him, and I'm glad that he can respect the boundaries Liam has, even if they come from a standpoint of "ooh we're enemies haha"

And then it's treated so fucking catastrophic when shit hits the fan and finally they are in physical contact with each other and Liam is just tearing up about it... I think that just makes the whole situation feel more romantic instead of less.

I can't really say anything about after the timeskip, since like. they've been together in like three panels. But in general, I'd say that it's really about how they are so close and don't touch on purpose it's A Lot

[writefightandflightclub]

wait ik weird question but how do you imagine nathan's bathroom looks like

Please find me GOING WAY TOO HARD in response to this ask below the cut. I mean it, moodboards (PLURAL), the whole deal. I’m SO sorry!

Nathan Bateman’s Bathroom: Luna Goes Way Too Hard

Canon vs. Headcanon + about this post: his bedroom is underground, so if he has an en suite it might be similarly windowless, and possibly even quite Spartan. I think the complex may have multiple bathrooms though (and I’ve realised I imagined at least three different ones in my head for different fics), so if we’re bending the rules a little to imagine a bathroom that makes the most of the setting, I think the moodboards suggest the general aesthetic I have in my head. Basically, since none of the pics I found were 100% accurate, and because I’m a huge NERD, I also followed up with lengthy descriptions no-one asked for. (Look, I never promised I wasn’t over-invested... and not just in the character of Nathan and in the movie, but ALSO? The architecture / design / setting of that house is my dream, and I’m a bit of a geek about interiors and especially how they link with characters so I’m sorry if you REGRET EVER ASKING!) Of course, if anyone has other thoughts on this, or other questions I can go WAY too deep on hmu! 🧡

Bathroom mood/vibe: efficient / understated / minimalist / slightly clinical edge. Decadent but in a very subtle way. Not flashy- luxurious more because of the materials, setting, design etc. rather than anything “in your face”. Not cosy exactly, but don’t get me wrong- everything is high-end- heated floors, amazing water pressure and settings, softest towels.

Colours: raw concrete, slate grey, stone beige, wood colours, maybe a hint of teal/copper but very subtle.

Textures/materials: It’s not exactly a cosy / warm room in some ways, but the natural textures soften it a lot and make it oddly comforting. Think raw concrete, exposed rock. Glass, obviously, with the floor to ceiling wall of windows. Accents of slatted wood-panelling reminiscent of a steam room. Natural textures in accessories e.g. wood bath tray, soap dish. Amber glass pump bottles- no plastic to be seen! Maybe a hint of marble. Nothing too shiny, not even the shower fixtures- maybe black!? And nothing that looks like it isn’t meant to be there or isn’t in-keeping with the natural textures... anything too modern will be hidden somewhere seamlessly. Nathan doesn’t have a lot of tech on display for a tech genius...

Shapes: sharp lines and boxy shapes, and everything very uniform, contrasting with the naturalness of the exposed stone and outdoor scenery (parallels with the whole theme of natural vs. manmade in the movie). Boxy shapes but everything integrated into something else if possible, adding to the sense of elegance and efficiency, e.g. boxy shelves set directly into walls, or ledges popping-out to form benches. Maybe a long countertop the length of one wall with the sink set into it. Lots of continuous lines and shapes rather than items plonked around with no coherency.

Wow factor: that view though! Imagine either a free-standing or sunken tub at the far end of the room (I asked irl husband and he said maybe the bath even disappears into the floor when it’s not in use and then it’s just a giant wet room!) with a whole wall of windows looking out over the stunning, wild Alaskan landscape. It’s not overlooked so you can start the day nude having a cold shower (like the glacial waters you see in the distance) like Nathan does, or you can finish it off in a hot bath while looking out at THAT majesty, watching golden hour rake through the trees and spreading dappled, molten colour through the room. I also imagine that some of the roof is glass, maybe with a covering over the top which is retractable, (so imagine a glass cube jutting out a little from the side of the compound), so that you can lie in the bath and stargaze, and almost feel like you’re outside without being subjected to the thaw.

Layout/design: I don’t imagine shower doors, or many traditional doors or windows. I think it would be quite opened up, like a whole, multi-purpose wet room. However, I think instead there might be well-located partitions e.g. a partition separating out the toilet / bidet. Who wants to look at that?!

Functional stuff: No obvious bulbs or bright lights but soft, hidden lights. Slight lighting drama in places to highlight features e.g. lights fanning across textures of stone, running along the edges of a boxy shelf. Plus, the dim lighting is appreciated by Nathan when he’s hungover. At least one of those fancy rain shower heads. But also other attachments and taps and nozzles for whatever you may wanna do. Everything is convenient and customisable. Nathan is fussy and why would he settle for less than his exact pereference when he doesn’t have to?! And why should you?! Also, there are obviously integrated speakers in case you want to listen to music or whatever, without having to faff with a Bluetooth speaker. Nathan often likes it silent, but the option is there for when the mood strikes. Oh, and I hope he has a hot tub and lil steam room somewhere else in the development, out on a deck we haven’t seen. Maybe further into the forest, or underground.

Signs of life: Nathan’s fluffy, slate grey bathrobe. Slate grey and spa white towels. The bare minimum of grooming products (dental stuff, beard oil, grooming kit, shaver, aftershave) and a large rectangular sink with a mirror so he can groom the beard and keep his head freshly buzzed (the mirror also comes in handy so he can check-out the results of his working-out, or to have a good view if he wanna get, ahem, frisky with anyone). Although, I’m convinced that although Nathan’s routine is minimal, he probably has something fancy stashed away - some lush oils for sore muscles or facial treatments. (Basically, I don’t think he’d be entirely against a spa day.) Other things he has stashed away? Painkillers/over-the-counter hangover remedies, some scientifically proven super vitamins, who knows what else? He’s pretty secretive. Ocassionally, some magazines or journals or papers he’s been reading are casually strewn in there. He has to keep up with the outside world somehow, and we know from the post-it wall that sometimes he appreciates things analogue. Also, he subscribes to some art quarterlies that I’m clearly not fancy enough to know about, so there’s that.

How does he use the room? Headcanons etc. I personally don’t see Nathan as a bath person. At least, not unless someone... persuasive convinces him of the benefits. He’s efficient and mainly sees it as a waste of time. Also he sits down enough that he’s keen to stand when he can. Besides, for someone who works out and gets sweaty so much, showers make more sense. There are exceptions; for example, he might bathe if he’s super sore from weight-training, but he has a lil bath tray and he’s willing to risk electrocution by bringing his laptop in there so he can soak and work at the same time. However, the tub is technically roomy enough for two. And, crucially, it has middle taps, so no-one gets poked in the back if you go end-to-end. Ah, why not pour some champagne and bubbles and lie back and see how long you can keep him there. I’m sure you can put up a pretty convincing argument.

If you actually read of all this I both apologise and thank you 🤣🙏🙈

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Ronin

Chapter 11: Vormir

Summary: Clint finds out the price to get you back.

Notes:  I think it goes without saying that there will be helluva lotta angst and pain in this chapter. At least towards the end.

Scott Lang stood in his new suit near the back of the Avengers’ compound with Nebula on one side and Hulk/Banner on his other. Rhodey came strolling in.

“Time travel suit? Not bad.”

Banner - who had now merged his consciousness with the Hulk’s body - began to place a small tube filled with red liquid into a compartment on Scott’s hip. Scott immediately pushed Banner’s hand away.

“Hey, hey, Hey! Easy! Easy!”

“I’m being very careful,” Bruce responded quietly.

“No, you’re being very Hulky.”

“I’m being careful!”

“These are Pym Particles, all right?” Scott held the tube up in front of his face. “And ever since Hank Pym got snapped out of existence, this is it. This is what we have. We’re not making any more.”

Rhodey spoke softly and gestured with his hands, “Scott, calm down.”

Scott sighed. “Sorry. We’ve got enough for one round-trip each. That’s it. No do-overs” A short pause. “Plus, two test runs.”

He placed the tube in his suit and was immediately shrunk down before returning to normal size, yelping all the while.

The visor of his mask dissolved. “One test run.”

Rhodey sighed.

“All right. I’m not ready for this.”

“I’m game.”

Rhodey turned to see Clint leaning against the doorway in a grey muscle shirt, showing off his finished tattoo tribute to you.

“I’ll do it,” Clint stated again.

In no time they had Clint suited up similar to Scott and Nebula began programming his suit while Banner spoke to him.

“Clint, now you’re gonna feel a little discombobulated from the chronoshift. Don’t worry about that.” He nodded to Banner’s words.

Rhodey spoke up, “wait a second. Let me ask you something. If we can do this, you know….go back in time, why don’t we just find baby Thanos? You know, and….”

He then made the gesture of using a rope to strangle.

“First of all, that’s horrible.”

“It’s Thanos!”

“And secondly, time doesn’t work that way. Changing the past doesn’t change your future.”

Scott chimed in. “Look, we go back, we get the stones before Thanos gets them… Thanos doesn’t have the stones. Problem solved.”

“Bingo,” Clint muttered.

“That’s not how it works,” Nebula growled.

“Well, that’s what I heard.” He continued.

Banner turned to face Clint. “Wait, but who? Who told you that?”

Rhodey lifted up a hand and began counting off. “Star Trek, Terminator, Timecop, Time After Time.”

“Quantum Leap,” Scott added.

Rhodey kept going, “Wrinkle in Time, Somewhere in Time.”

“Hot Tub Time Machine.”

“Hot Tub Time Machine!” Rhodey repeated. “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Aventure. Basically any more that deals with time travel.”

“Die hard!” Scott paused, “no, that’s not one.”

“This is known!”

Banner threw his arms to the side in exasperation. “I don’t know why everyone believes that, but that isn’t true! Think about it. If you travel to the past, that past becomes your future. And your former present becomes the past! Which now can’t be changed by your new future.”

“Exactly,” Nebula looked over these men, wondering what she had gotten herself into joining them.

Scott looked concerned. “So Back to the Future is a bunch of bullshit?”

After a bit more of a debate, Clint found himself on a large platform that Stark and Rocket had assembled in the middle of one of the training areas of the compound. He tried not to feel intimidated by the hundreds of hanging pieces above his head or the curved arms of the platform.

Banner stood behind a control panel with Rocket, Nebula, Steve, Rhodey, and Thor. Stark was walking around, wanting to see the whole thing work up close.

“All right, Clint.” Banner began to fire the platform up. “We’re going in three, two, one.”

The mask formed around Clint’s head and the floor beneath him opened up into a quantum tunnel, sucking him in. He raced past serval atoms, not sure which way was up, before crashing to a halt in the woods outside a cabin. Quickly standing up to look around, Clint instantly recognized where he was.

Ireland.

He slowly walked towards the cabin, using the trees to steady himself as he got closer. As he walked, he found one of your gloves. Clint bent over to pick it up and run his hand over it. Suddenly, he was struck weak as he heard a voice he hadn’t in the last five years.

“I swear to god, Barton, you better have remembered the milk this time! Not sure how many more trips I can wait through to make this dough.”

“Ronin?” he whispered in shock. Then he collected his thoughts. “Ronin!”

Clint began to race for the cabin. “Ronin! ____!”

But just as Clint grabbed the door handle, he was pulled back to the present. He called your name one more time as he appeared on the platform on all fours.

Nat raced up to him followed by the team. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”

“Huh?” Clint looked around and Nat could see the disappointment mixed with excitement in his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He panted and tapped your glove against Nat before tossing it at Stark. “It worked. It worked.”

Tony caught it with the biggest grin Clint had ever seen. Now that the How worked, it was time to figure out the When.

It took the next couple of days to pin down who could go where and when so the fewest possible trips could be made. Clint and Natasha would go with Nebula and Rhodey to 2014, drop off Nebula and Rhodey at Morag, before taking the Benetar to Vormir - the place where Thanos got the Soul Stone.

Clint had a sinking feeling in his stomach ever since Nebula described Vormir as a dominion of death at the very center of celestial existence. Thanos had murdered his other daughter on that planet and the reason was so close that Clint could almost taste it.

On Morag, they lowered a pod for Rhodey and Nebula onto the planet’s surface.

Rhodey was now in his War Machine armor. “All right, bring it down, Blue. Right on that line. That’s it. Down, down.”

Nat and Clint were off a few feet, Nat kicking away some hairless rat-like creature.

Clint sighed, “hey can we hurry it up?”

Nat pretended to be bored. “Guys, chop-chop. Come one. We’re on the clock.”

Rhodey turned towards the two like they were children. “All that is really helpful.”

Nat laughed while Clint shrugged, pretending not to understand why Rhodey would be upset. She hugged Rhodey. “Take care, ok?”

“Get that stone and come back. No messing around.” Rhodey cautioned. “Hey, we got this.”

“Let’s get this done,” Clint shook his hand.

“Yes, sir,” Rhodey responded as he watched his teammates board the Benetar.

The two strapped themselves into the front seats and watched as the stars became a cosmic blur.

“We’re a long way from Budapest.” Clint joked and Natasha smiled, glad to see some part of her old friend back.

The flight was quick thanks to the jump points they used and soon approached Vormir.

Clint and Nat were now standing as the Benetar descended.

“You know, under different circumstances, this would be totally awesome.”

Nat agreed but was now starting to get an uneasy feeling herself. For the last five years, she had done everything in her power to fix what Thanos had broken. What the Avengers failed to stop. To get everything - including her sister - back. Steve himself had said to do whatever it takes to get those stones. And now she had a feeling they were about to be tested on that front.

They landed on the empty planet and began to walk along the many sand dunes to the one lone mountain that seemed to peak at two obvious towers. Every once in awhile they would have to walk around a pool of water, unsure of how deep they were. Then they made their trek up the mountainside, towards the top, panting all the while.

Finally, at the top, Nat vented. “Ugh, I bet the raccoon didn’t have to climb a mountain.”

Clint placed a hand on his side, “technically, he’s not a raccoon, you know?”

“Oh, whatever. He eats garbage.”

A faint and echoing voice interrupted them. “Welcome.”

Clint wasted no time pulling your sword out while Nat had her gun at the ready. A figure floated down, covered in a black hooded robe, with no way to view the face as the creature remained in the shadows.

The voice continued. “Natasha. Daughter of Ivan.”

That cause Nat to gasp.

“Clint. Son of Edith.”

Clint moved the sword to be more directly in front of his body and he and Nat moved a couple of steps closer.

Nat addressed the creature first. “Who are you?”

“Consider me a guide -  to you - and to all who seek the Soul Stone.”

“Oh good. You tell us where it is, then we’ll be on our way.”

The creature moved out of the shadows and now they could see the face of Red Skull, the Hydra leader Steve had fought almost a century ago. “If only it were that easy.”

Red Skull lead them over to a cliff on the mountainside, crossing over what looked like a ritual symbol, and gestured over the edge.

“What you seek lies in front of you. As what you fear.”

“The stone’s down there.” It wasn’t a question, Nat knew it in her gut.

“For one of you. For the other….” he trailed off as he watched Clint walk over to Nat. “In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul for a soul.”

Nat backed away from the edge and found a log to sit on. This was it. Exactly what her whole life had lead up to. Could she do it? Could she make the necessary exchange? Bring back all those lost people? Bring you back?

And you? Could you forgive her for what she was going to do? Her little Natalia? She suddenly hated herself for not being a better sister to you. For not visiting you more. Convincing you more. Being there for you more.

Nat couldn’t take back all those years, but she could do one thing right for you.

“Jesus,” she heard Clint mutter. “Maybe he’s making this shit up.”

Her eyes were unfocused as she answered. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Why? ‘Cause he knows your daddy’s name?” Clint was pacing around the mountain top, your sword back in its sheath.

“I didn’t.” She barely caught Clint looking over his shoulder at her. “Thanos left here with the stone, and without his daughter. That’s not a coincidence.”

Her words sunk into Clint and he realized what needed to happen in order to bring you back.

“Whatever it takes,” she whispered.

Clint looked over at the edge where Red Skull still floated by. “Whatever it takes.”

Those words snapped Nat out of her trance and she shot to her feet. “If we don’t get that stone, billions of people stay dead.”

Clint swallowed and nodded his head. This was it: the last time he would see his best friend. But he would do anything to bring you back. Even if it meant losing you in another way. “Yeah. Then I guess we both know who it’s gotta be.”

“I guess we do.”

Clint reached over and the two friends locked hands. He looked up and suddenly noticed the resolve in her eyes. “I’m starting to think we mean different people here, Natasha.”

“For the last five years, I’ve been trying to do one thing. Get to right here. That’s all it’s been about. Bringing everybody back.”

He shook his head. “No, don’t you get all decent on me now.”

“You think I want to do this? I’m trying to save your life, you idiot, so you can build a better one with ____.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want you to. How’s that?” Clint paused. “Natasha, you know what I’ve done. You know what I’ve become.”

“Oh, I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.” Nat was now trying to keep the tears out of her eyes.

Clint struggled just as hard, his voice cracking. “Maybe you should.”

“You didn’t.” She swallowed back tears. “With me or with Ronin.”

His lower lip trembled. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

She just nodded and Clint tipped his head down to touch his forehead to hers, for one last time.

He broke away quickly, knowing what he did next had to be unexpected. “Ok, you win.”

Then with lightning speed, he placed a hand on her shoulder and swept her legs, knocking Nat to the ground.

“Tell ____ I love her.”

Nat grabbed his wrist and then his collar to flip him onto his back. She was up in moments and pointing her wrist cuff at him, sending a mild electrical current through his body. “You tell her yourself.”

She turned and raced for the edge, only to be blown to the side by one of Clint’s exploding arrows. Nat lifted her head to watch him toss aside his bow and book it for the cliff, your sword still strapped to his back. Barely getting up in time, she raced after him and latched on as he fell over the side. In a blinding motion of moves, Nat attached something to Clint’s belt before firing up at the cliffside.

They both jerked to a stop, Nat almost slipping off but Clint grabbed her hand at the last minute. He looked down at his waist to see he was pinned to the cliff. “Damn you.”

Clint tried to pull her up, but it was too much for only one hand and he couldn’t reach her with the other. He felt her not trying to help.

“Wait.”

Nat looked up at him and whispered. “Let me go.”

Clint began to cry. “No. No. Please, no.”

She smiled softly up at her friend. Her brother in every way but blood. “It’s ok.”

“Please,” he begged.

Nat smiled one last time before placing both boots against the cliff.

“NO!”

Chapter 12

[estastone]

Macabus White Quartzite Stone Slabs For Wall Panel Tiles

White Macaubas Quartzite is a Brazilian natural stone of whites with deep random charcoal veins. White This White Quartzite Stone is available in 2cm and 3cm slabs and will add character and drama to both indoor and outdoor applications.  It's a pristine grey and white natural stone that will enhance any home remodeling project. As a durable quartzite kitchen or bathroom countertop slabs option, Macaubas quartzite can be used in kitchens, bathrooms, and bars. It can also be utilized as a fireplace surround or a hot tub surround. #whitequartzite #macabuswhitequartzite #macabusquartzitecountertops #quartzitestone #quartzitedslabs #quartztiekitchen #quarztiewall #luxurystone #quartzitecountertops #quartzitetiles #quartzitevanitytops #quartzitepanel #naturalquartzite #estastone sales@xmestastone.com

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.09

Nairi double checked the address Linden had texted her and looked back up at the set of buildings. They were squat and stuck together, looking kind of like a demountable set up someone had made permanent as best they could. The foundation was brickwork that looked more recent than the dirty siding, and about halfway up the wall it was all old windows, half of which were propped open.

The number she was looking for was around the side and about halfway down, and Nairi could smell cleaning supplies and cooking food, and hear discordant music as she walked up the ramp towards the door she was looking for. It was propped open a couple of inches by a worn paint can filled with concrete, a little angry face painted on it in red. She knocked on the window panel in the door. “Linden?”

The door swung all the way open, and Linden poked her head out, smiling at her. “There you are! Found it okay?”

She was completely bare faced for the first time since Nairi had met her, and while the denim cut offs were a familiar part of her wardrobe rotation, the oversize grey t-shirt was new, shapeless and paint spattered. There was also paint all along her forearms, some of which had managed to get onto her legs as well.

“Yeah,” said Nairi, holding up the paper bag. “And I brought lunch, as requested.”

“Oh, I’ll have to keep you around,” said Linden, grinning as she stepped back and opened the door properly to let Nairi in. She took the bag as Nairi stepped past her, digging in to retrieve her enchilada with a pleased noise.

“Having a… productive Tuesday?” asked Nairi as Linden let the door fall back into the paint can with a muffled clang.

Even with all of the windows propped open and the extractor fan wheezing loudly, the room still stunk of turpentine, paint, and something else chemical and sweet that she couldn’t quite identify. There was an unfinished counter running along one side of the room, cluttered with tubs of paint and half-filled bottles of oil, dirty jars and mugs, with an industrial sink at the end with an old microwaved plugged in next to it. One of its hinges was held on with electrical tape. The shelves under the counter had a lot of plastic tubs filling the space, labelled in masking tape and marker.

Linden crossed the room to a section where the floor was covered by an old bedsheet, sitting down on a wheeled office chair with the back broken off in front of an easel holding a canvas that was mostly pale green. She nodded as she picked up a tall ceramic mug with a lid, and she drank deeply from it, gesturing at a ratty couch under the windows on the wall. The mug had a strip of masking tape wrapped around it, ‘NO TURPS >:|’ scrawled on it in thick marker.

“Yeah, I got my wash layer down for the base of this bad boy,” said Linden, setting the mug back down and jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the canvas. “I spent a good chunk of last week fucking around with thumbnails, but your housewarming gift is officially on the way as of now.”

Nairi, sat on the couch. A strut creaked under her, threatening to crack. “You don’t have to—”

Linden waved her off. “I told you, your walls are too bare, and this is literally my area of expertise. How was your morning anyway?”

Nairi shrugged. “Okay, I guess? I really only got out of bed when you texted me.”

“Nice for some,” said Linden, grinning at her. “Layabout! How do you and Aggy get anything scheduled? She’s up by six and in bed by ten sharp.”

Nairi shrugged, unwrapping her own lunch and shifting uncomfortably on the terrible couch. “I guess we’ll find out; I’m having dinner at her apartment tonight.”

“Co-sy,” said Linden sarcastically, setting her enchilada on the folding table next to her ‘not turpentine’ and a clear jar filled with what was presumably turpentine. She picked up a flat paintbrush and dabbed it at her palette, rolling her chair forward and making a couple of light, decisive strokes on the green. “You two are enjoying yourselves, then?”

“I think so,” said Nairi, not entirely certain if she’d messed something up or was missing something. “Have you got plans for the night then? Or are you working?”

“Both,” said Linden promptly. “Got a hot date with a cool hook up, and then a much hotter date with the rest of next month’s rent check. Can I ask you a favour?”

“Sure,” said Nairi, chewing slowly. “For your cool hook up or next month’s rent?”

Linden turned her head and bounced her eyebrows at Nairi. “Next month’s rent check. Si’s kind of a dickhead, but he’s only dangerous if you don’t like T.S. Eliot or are allergic to, like, papercuts, or lignin, or something. I need a safety check in for when I finish my job. I have a couple of people I’d usually ask, but the one I normally go to during the week has a daughter in hospital for her appendix, and Flo takes melatonin to keep her schedule, like, regulated during semester so asking her to wait up on a school night is a no-go.”

“I should be able to do that,” said Nairi, nodding, partially because her only other option was asking what the hell ‘lignin’ was. “What do you need for it?”

“It’s just waiting for me to call when I’m finished with my job, or calling to check in, just to make sure I haven’t been murdered or whatever,” said Linden, leaning back a little to scan the lines she’d marked out on the canvas. “I’m booked for eleven, so I should be done before one. I’ll like, send you the address and the number for my work phone and stuff.”

Nairi nodded again. “Okay, sounds easy. So, if I can’t reach you by one, what do I need to do?”

“I’d tell you to call Nick, but he’d only call the cops so you can probably just cut him out of the equation and go straight to them. I’d like, rather not with them, like at all, ever,” she emphasised this with a slashing motion of her paintbrush, “but if it comes to that, then tell them like, I’m on a first date with a guy my dad thinks is creepy and I promised to check in or something, I don’t know.”

If she had the address, then… well. “Why would Nicholas call the cops if he knows you’d hate it?”

Linden rolled her eyes extravagantly and set her brush down, going for her enchilada again. “Because he believes in the power of the system, doesn’t approve of my job, is convinced that one day cops will magically stop being shitty to me, and also he apparently still thinks I’m sixteen.”

“Right,” said Nairi, slowly balling up the foil and paper of her lunch. “He uh, cares a lot about you, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s an old friend of my dad’s,” said Linden, nodding and swallowing. “Looked out for me when I was a teenager, you know? He’s still convinced that every time he turns around I’m gonna run off and nearly get myself killed again, it’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Again?”

A rueful smile flickered across Linden’s face. “Yeah, I ran away from home when I was about fifteen. Jim’s the one who found me and got me off the streets at first, but Edie and Nick were the ones who really made sure I got on my feet.”

“Right,” said Nairi, and she hesitated. “Jim’s a friend of theirs?”

“Was, yeah,” said Linden, glancing down at her lap to brush off an invisible crumb. “He died when I was about nineteen. Lung cancer, you know. It happens.”

“Damn,” said Nairi, not sure what to say in the face of that. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too, sometimes,” said Linden, her smile a little lopsided as she looked up. “It was a long time ago, though—water under the bridge and all that.”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, glancing at her hands briefly. “So what, Nicholas is worried that you’ll end up in a gutter?”

“Street corner, more like,” said Linden, dryness creeping back into her tone as she popped the last piece of her enchilada into her mouth, shaking her head. “He was pretty pissed off when I got out of college and went straight back to hooking.”

Nairi snorted. “Yeah, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d ‘approve’ of that.”

“Real stick up his ass, yeah,” said Linden, nodding again. “Edithwas the fun one when I was a teenager, so you can imagine what a downer life was back then.”

“A little, yeah,” said Nairi, her mouth twitching. “I didn’t know anyone like that as a teenager, maybe it would’ve helped me out some.”

“Oh, I know that feeling,” said Linden with a laugh, giving Nairi a carefully measured side-eye. “He’s very useful to have around sometimes—my taxes get filed on time every year and all that.”

Nairi laughed. “Nothing shows you care like robust budgeting, huh?”

Linden cackled with laughter, a loud, startled noise. “Yes! Exactly—god, you should have seen him when I got my first apartment. He came with me to sign the lease and he interrogated my landlord, did his own goddamn tour, took his own photos of the place when I moved in and hunted the guy down to sign that he’d seen them, made copies of my bond payment, and thenhe was on me every single month to make sure I had a receipt for my rent.”

“Ferocious,” said Nairi, grinning at her.

“And wildly disappointed in me the first time I got evicted,” said Linden, grinning back at her.

Nairi laughed without expecting it, the lines around her eyes creasing. “You’re a menace, then?”

Linden was smiling with bright eyes; head tilted a little. “Damn right I am. Nick’s been putting up with my shit for ten years, I really thought he’d’ve clued in by now.”

“Maybe he thinks you can be better than shit?” suggested Nairi.

Linden’s smile softened a little as she picked up the paintbrush again. “No, he’s a little better at managing his expectations than that. I mean, he sticks up for me with dad, but it’s not like I get away scot free when I fuck up!”

“Your dad’s not a fan of the hooking I take it?”

Linden made a wheezing sort of noise as she went for her paint again. “Oh god, no, my dad doesn’t know about the hooking, he’s an attorney, he’d kill me. That’s part of why Nick fucking hates it, he doesn’t like lying for anything, least of all my sorry ass.”

Nairi nodded again. “Okay, so, your dad’s just kind of a dick, huh?”

Linden paused and turned her head to look at Nairi, giving her an annoyed look. “No, he’s fine. We don’t get along that well, is all. And that whole thing where I was a missing teenager for four years and then came back queer and punk didn’t exactly help things either. We’re fine, I’m going up for dinner with him in a couple of weeks, actually.”

“Right, sorry,” said Nairi, holding up a hand. “I never met my parents, I don’t know what’s like, normal or whatever.”

“It’s fine,” said Linden, shrugging at her. “People get the wrong impression sometimes, is all.”

Somehow Nairi wasn’t shocked by this. “Will I hit another pothole if I ask about your mom?” she said instead.

Linden laughed. “I never knew her. I asked about her a bunch when I was a kid, but my dad was kind of really evasive and I stopped asking—I sort of got the impression she died when I was extra small or something. Edie reckons that whoever she was they were never really, like ‘together’, ‘cause apparently I was a surprise baby for everyone who knew him.”

“Oh, I don’t think kids work well as surprises,” said Nairi with a wince.

“Definitely not,” said Linden, grinning widely. “He did okay, though.”

Nairi shifted uncomfortably on the couch again. “You turned out okay, so he must have.”

Linden snorted.

Nairi’s phone chirped in her back pocket and she tugged it out to check the message. The couch creaked ominously as she shifted again, and she paused, glancing down at it. “Just out of curiosity, how much did you pay for this couch?”

“I didn’t, I nicked it from a guy who was throwing it out,” said Linden, taking a drink of not turps as Nairi’s phone chirped again. “Who’s texting?”

Nairi glanced down at her screen, tapping open the messaging inbox. “Agatha. She’s just checking that we’re still on for tonight.”

“You’re not gonna disappoint her, are you?” teased Linden.

Nairi looked up at her, not sure what to make of the way her tone had dipped. “No?”

Linden hummed, her mouth twitching. “Well, don’t party too hard then,” she said in the same tone again, and she turned her attention back to her canvas.

[amptoverelectric]

A Quick Guide On How To Read An Electrical Panel

```html

Empowering You to Master Your Electrical Panel | AMPT Over Electric's Insight

Empowering You to Master Your Electrical Panel | AMPT Over Electric's Insight

Feeling baffled by blinks, buzzes, and bewildering circuits in your electrical panel? Dive into the depths of understanding your home's heartbeat with our enlightening guide – it's electrifyingly simple!

At AMPT Over Electric, our seasoned electricians don't just provide residential and commercial services to Calgary's bright sparks; we also equip you with the knowledge to keep your home's energy flowing safely and efficiently. So, let's amp up your know-how!

An electrical panel, also known as a breaker box, isn't just a grey metal box of mystery. It’s the central hub for your home's electrical system, and getting to grips with it means you're more prepared to flip the right switch when needed, and to communicate clearly should you require our expertise. Knowledge here is more than power – it's safety, too.

Reading your electrical panel is easy once you understand the basics. It’s like a map to the electric treasures of your home. Every circuit is a path to an appliance or room, and the breakers are there to stop any potential overload that could spoil the journey. Now, if detangling this web of wires makes you twitch, don't fret! Our expert upgrades and services ensure your system is always up to the current standards, pun intended.

Think about future-proofing, too. Dreaming of a hot tub oasis in your backyard? Longing for an eco-friendly commute with a home EV charging station? We're here to make those dreams a reality with professional installations that ensure you won't blow a fuse. From providing that extra spark to your recreational space to making charge anxiety a thing of the past with our reliable EV charger installations, we've got the power and expertise to electrify your world.

Still, a word of caution: while understanding your electrical panel is essential, tinkering inside is a task for certified professionals. If you're experiencing surges, flickers, or other abnormalities, it's time to call in the cavalry. That’s us: trusted Calgary electricians, always ready to restore the spark in your life with safe, efficient, and top-notch services.

Ready to enlighten your home with premier electrical services? Dial into AMP'T expertise by calling us or requesting a quote directly from our homepage. Let's brighten your day!

```

[moonbeambucky]

Addicted (Part 1)

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

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

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

ADDICTED MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t walk.

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

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

Don’t walk.

She doesn’t listen.

Her feet carry her to his door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re wet.”

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

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

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

“Long day at work?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N freezes as the cup reaches her lips.

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

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

“I can’t,” she finally answered him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 2

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

Perm. Tags (open): @all1e23 / @asphalt-cocktail / @badassbaker / @bibibucky / @borkystank / @breezy1415 / @buckybabybaby / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @buckyofthemyscira / @bvckybarnes / @california-grown / @chameerah / @chrevastan / @crazyfreaker / @crazyinspiration / @driftingtonystark / @emotionallysalty / @fandom-addict-aesthetics / @hana1379 / @his-paradox / @holland-stan-posts / @jaamesbbarnes / @jamesbvck / @jbuckbrnes / @kentuckybarnes / @kenzieam / @majesticavenger / @miraclesoflove / @mizzzpink / @neoqueen306 / @nerdypisces160 / @notimetoblog / @novaddictx / @palaiasaurus64 / @prettyyoungtragedy / @royallylazy / @sexyvixen7 / @sgtjbuccky / @stanclub / @stevehesaidabadlanguageword / @supernaturaldean67 / @survivalistflowers / @suz-123 / @teamcap4bucky / @the-wayward-robot / @toongtii / @tropicalcap / @undyingart / @valhalla-ally / @wintersoldier1017 / @wintersxsoul / @wonderlandmind4 / @wonderless-screwup

Addicted Tags (open): @annathesillyfriend / @dahkness / @dreamer821 / @guera31 / @hardygal69 / @inquisitor-selvala /@its-bucky-barnes-bitch / @jessieray98 / @kiki5283 / @lostinthoughts23 / @marvelfansworld / @mrsfox79 / @mypassionsarenysins / @n3rdybird / @notyourtypicalrose / @p-marie-sp / @rainbowkisses31 / @sad-af1121 / @starksrhodes / @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 / @thorfanficwriter / @whyugottabsorude

Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you!

[architectnews]

Travertine walls enclose Casa ZTG in Guadalajara by 1540 Arquitectura

Mexican studio 1540 Arquitectura has created an inward-facing home for an older couple that features tall, marble-clad facades with limited openings.

Casa ZTG is located in the metropolitan region of Guadalajara, within the western state of Jalisco. It was built in a private residential area with single-family dwellings.

An opening in the facade reveals a glimpse of a garden

Local office 1540 Arquitectura aimed to create a residence well-suited for its occupants – an older couple.

"The goal was to create a timeless and elegant atmosphere, both in form and in materials, that will reflect the personality and age of the owners," the firm told Dezeen.

A pool of water reflects the marble walls

For a flat site, the firm conceived a 1,200-square-metre building that is roughly rectangular in plan. Exterior walls are made of brick and are covered with Roman travertine marble.

The front elevation consists of a tall, opaque wall that is lined with an L-shaped reflecting pool. In a lower corner of the facade, a rectangular opening provides access to the interior and offers a glimpse of a lush garden.

Travertine walls continue inside the house

Similar to the street-facing elevation, the home's side walls have a limited number of apertures. The architects decided to create an "introverted" home due to the lacklustre surroundings.

"It is located in a private cloister that does not offer any interesting views to the outside, only the facades of the neighbouring houses," the architects said, adding that limited glazing also mitigates solar heat gain.

Corridors wrap an interior garden planted with trees

The home has three levels, one of which is below ground.

In the front half of the main floor, lofty corridors wrap around the verdant garden. Arrayed along these hallways are a kitchen, a living room, a formal dining area, a small office and a master suite.

The house is arranged over three levels

Retractable glass walls provide seamless access to the backyard, which features a terrace, swimming pool and hot tub.

On the upper level, the team placed three bedrooms and a lounge. The basement holds a garage for the owners' car collection, service areas, and a sauna and steam room.

A block of green marble serves as a room divider

Refined, earthy materials are found throughout the residence, including European oak for floors, wall panelling and ceilings.

In the public zone, Verde Apli marble was used to create a chunky partition between the living room and formal dining area.

Grey marble forms a wall between the bedroom and the bathhroom

Marble was also used in the master suite. In this case, grey arabescato marble forms a wall behind the bed, which separates the sleeping area from the bathroom.

In the dressing area, panels are wrapped with natural leather in a greenish hue.

"In both the architecture and furniture, we decided to use a selection of materials, shapes and details that possess timeless sensorial, physical and aesthetic characteristics," the team said.

The grey marble is visible in the en-suite bathroom

Established in 2015, design firm 1540 Arquitectura has created a number of projects in its home state of Jalisco, which is partly bordered by the Pacific Ocean, including an event space and cellar at a tequila distillery, where the architects used materials such as wood, steel and local stone.

Photography is by César Béjar.

The post Travertine walls enclose Casa ZTG in Guadalajara by 1540 Arquitectura appeared first on Dezeen.

[jmeddows2]

Purple Thunder (Roger Taylor Series) Part 8

(present/old) Roger Taylor series

Notes: I always try to make the chapters longer but somehow they always nearly end up short? There won't be many more parts, so this series will come to an end soon, but I want to continue making one shots on this one. I listened to "Off to the races" by Lana Del Rey while writing. I had in mind, that reader wrote it about experiencing this chapter.  sorry for mistakes etc. English is not my first language.  Warnings: cursing, cheating, smut

The doorbell rang and you knew exactly who was waiting to get in on the other side. So you opened it. “I missed you so much, my love” Roger got inside and gave you a long kiss. “Hate being away from you” he mumbled against your lips. “Why did you tell him?” “Did you two meet up?” he loosened the hug he had you in. “yeah. Had lunch together.” “I’m sorry, darling. But you know he can keep a secret. At least for a while. Raised him right” he gave you a kiss on your forehead and you felt his smirk against you.

“But why did you tell him that we are sort of seeing each other?” “Sort of? Really?” He almost sounded disappointed. “I’m planning on getting a divorce for the chance of a sort of relationship?” “You what?” you were clearly shocked. Even though you kind of hoped to be with him, you never expected him to take action that fast. “Did you think I was joking?” Roger chuckled. “I already told you how I feel about you! I want to be with you, (Y/N)! I’ve made a fool out of myself for holding back my feelings too many times now. I want to get it all right with you.” Roger traced his fingers along your exposed skin on your arm, which your tank top could not cover completely.

“Let’s go on a holiday! Maybe the Maldives, Bali, anywhere you want. I want to spoil the hell out of you! Massages, sunsets with good food and fine wine… Just the two of us”

“I have to go to New York in two days” you interrupted him and he stopped his movements completely. “Because of your boyfriend?” “yeah” “I’ll come with you! Wait! we'll go right now” he took your hand into his again. “Now?” you chuckled, not believing his words. He could not come with you. What about Josh, the press, his wife? Anyone would find out. “Yeah.” you shook your head and he continued. “One phone call and the plane’s ready.”

He didn’t lie. It only took one phone call to inform the pilots, a flight attendant and a personal assistant of his. The latter made sure to gather some of his clothes, that he wasn’t able to pick up from home and book a fancy hotel, that met Roger’s requirements. He only texted his wife, saying he wasn’t able to make it home, due to complications with the upcoming tour. A foul excuse, which he used one too many times already. And it made you feel kind of bad.

But the warm leather of the cozy white crème seat on the plane, let you forget about everything that was wrong about this scenario real soon. There where you now. On Queen’s personal private jet. Your first time on one of those planes at all. In total, there were six creme lounge chairs on the plane, two grey couches that could fold out to make a bed, a one-person bathroom with a kind of marble sink, varnished wood paneling and soft highlights to light up the room a bit. Once the plane was up in the air, the flight attendant was already there, waiting to fulfill all of your needs.  

Roger was opposite you with a smirk on his face, pouring two glasses of red wine. He looked handsome with a black shirt on, sunglasses tucked to the front of it. Holding the glasses he looked classy, just like a million dollar man. You couldn’t stop admiring him, but the thought of why you had to fly out always crept in he back of your mind. You were on a mission. To leave things in the past and start a new chapter.

Roger handed you the glass and you clinked your glasses together. “To us.”  “To us.”

The flight attended provided you with some hot towels and you kept wondering what she must be thinking, seeing you on Roger going on a trip together. Giving you more privacy, she went to her own cabin in the front, near the cockpit on the jet.

“You look worried. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” Roger caught you biting your nails. Of course you were worried, stressed and terrified. You shook him off, you needed to finish this on your own, a day left on preparing yourself how to end things with Josh. You knew there was only one way out. Once touched down in New York, a driver was already waiting to pick you up. Next stop – Four Seasons Hotel – a 4, 300 – square foot penthouse with a 360 – degree view of the city. The view was breathtaking, especially at night the lights made sure to light up every part. Uptown, Downtown, Midtown. It was all there.

As you admired the view, Roger came to hug you from behind, leaving a view kisses on your neck when he finally came to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Roger… it’s… it’s too much.. so expensive…” finding the right words was hard. Expensive wasn’t even a word to describe the whole atmosphere. It must have cost him a fortune.

“you are going to have to get used this love. This is only the beginning.” He whispered in your ear and took your hand to lead you through the penthouse. The master bedroom and bathroom overlooked the Central Park through oversized windows, that guaranteed the perfect sight. In the bathroom there was a big Chinese onyx-clad infinity soak tub which you soon made good use of.

When the tub was filled up with warm water, Roger additionally turned on the six body jets that were also included, as well as other fibre-optic lighting options. You’d gone for the color red. Relaxing in the tub felt perfect after such a long journey, to even top this moment Roger started massaging your shoulders. Two glasses of champagne bubbling on the little table next to the tub. Roger worked your shoulder blades, letting his hands roam further and further down your back. A sigh left your lips when his fingertips made its way up higher again, until he lightly grazed the sides of your breasts. He leaned in closer, so you were able to feel his breath on your neck and he started kissing it. Roger’s hands reached forward to cup your breasts, dragging his thumbs over your hard nipples.

“No marks, Roger” you shakily breathed out, turning your head back to face him. He silenced you by closing the space between the two of you.  He moaned into your mouth when your tongues met and with both bodies pressed tight against each other, you were able to feel his hardness. You grabbed his shaft, teasing him with a few pumps, while he slid his hand between your thighs. He started to circle  your clit with the pad of his thumb, which earned a moan from you. He grew more confident in his actions and started thrusting his middle finger into your wetness.

Faster and faster, a tingling feeling building in your stomach when you were suddenly shaken from your trance, as Roger picked you up to sit on the edge of the tub. He lowered himself down to your core, until his mouth was pressed against your dripping folds. He groaned dragging his tongue upwards towards to your clit,  back down, then up again.

“Roger fuck” you moaned and he hummed at your core, making you feel good from the vibrations. He quickly flicked his tongue over your swollen clit, until you were not able to take it anymore. Not wanting to come yet, you reached down to kiss him on the mouth, tasting yourself in the process.

“My turn” you smiled at him giving him one more peck on the lips. “you don’t have to, darling” he tried to avoid the situation again, just like the first time. “c’mon Mr. Taylor” you patted for him to sit on the edge, receiving a smirk from him as he shook his head in defeat.

Once he sat, his cock was already hard. You stroked him, staring into his blue eyes. A loud moan left his mouth when you leaned forward to give his tip a kiss. You started dragging your tongue down the underside of his shaft, tasting him, until you took his already throbbing cock into your mouth and sucked lightly. Your hand kept stroking the base of his shaft and you started bobbing harder.

“Fuck , your mouth… it feels so good babyyy” Roger moaned. “St…stop or I’m going to come” you tasted the last drop of salty precum and pulled away, wanting to extend the moment even more.

“I want to be inside you love, please” you both slid back into the water. Roger pulled you closer between his legs and lifted you up, to sit in his lap. His cock brushed against your entrance. The anticipation was killing you, so you started biting your lip. You leaned in to passionately kiss him again, while lowering yourself on his cock. You rubbed his tip against your entrance, earning another groan from him, then in one swift motion you sunk down on him. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning, feeling him all the way deep inside of you.

“God you’re so fucking tight” Roger moaned “blows my mind every fucking time” His words encouraged to rock faster and harder against him. You gasped as Roger wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, teasing you and dragging his teeth along them. The sensation made you flinch. 

“Aww look at you, being all sensitive” he teased. You clenched down on him, but that only fueled the fire in him, that you were now able to experience for the first time. He turned you around, slamming into you hard. Roger’s hands were cupping your breasts, his teeth bit into your shoulder, fingers pinching your nipples and you were trying to hold a scream back. A scream of pleasure.

“Fuck me Roger, harder” Your hands reached forward to steady yourself on the edge. He snapped his hips into you harder and harder, like never before.

“I’m so close Roger… I’m gonna come” you managed to breath out. He let out a deep growl, pounding into you.

“Cum for me love”

A wave traveled through your body and you came with a scream “Daddy” You blushed in embarrassment, not intending to call him that. At least only if he was OK with it.

That was exactly what sent Roger over the edge. You could feel him twitch inside of you and felt his thick stream of warmth fill you up. with a growl he pulled out of you and wrapped his arms round you for a hug. You both sighed into the hug, still able to hear the others heart pounding. Once your breathing was back to normal and the water back too cold you decided to take the rest of bottle of champagne to the bedroom. "Sorry about the daddy thing. kind of slipped out." you blushed. "It's ok love" he kissed your cheek. Of course he digged it. 

“Was that true what you said about the divorce earlier? “ you looked up at him, bodies pressed against each other on the cozy king size bed.

“Of course, I already talked to my lawyer I’d never lie to you, my love” he stroked your hair. “I’m sorry” you put your head back again to his chest. “About what? “ he asked curiously. “about everything I’m going to put your through.” You explained. “the divorce, starting everything new. Having to explain everything to your wife, kids, the whole world. I have a bit of a reputation.” You mumbled into his warm skin.

“you’re not putting me through anything. I want this just as much as you do. And no matter how hard things are going to get. With you by my side, I’ll be able to do it all. We will be able to survive together.” He smiled making you look up at him again. It made you weak and nearly crumble, as he took your hand into his, giving your forehead a final kiss, before the two of you dozed off in each other’s arms.

You met Josh at an Italian restaurant near the four seasons hotel. He was already waiting at the table with a bouquet of roses. His serious face broke into a smile and he jumped up as soon as he saw you approaching the table. “Hi babe. I missed you so much” He hugged you and gave a peck on the cheek.

You ordered food and drinks and while consuming it all, you noticed that this was going to be the last time you would ever be in each other’s company like that. You were going to break up with him as soon as this was over. Your thoughts were completely consumed by painting all the different scenarios and scenes this night could end in. But what was about come, you never, ever could have guessed.

“(Y/N)” you were pulled back into reality.  Josh reached forward to take your hand in his. “We’ve been together for a while now. You know, I’ve never felt like this with someone else before and the scene right here isn’t perfect, but I just can’t wait any longer.”

“Josh… what’s going on? “ you  nervously laughed at him.

He got up and down on one knee and pulled out a red velvet box .

“(Y/N) will you marry me? “ you were shocked, dumbfounded, but the moment was soon interrupted by camera flashes.

Both of you had to run, so you didn’t get to answer at the scene. But once back in a cab, Josh demanded an answer.

“So, what do you say, will you make me a happy man and do me the honor of becoming my wife? “ he smiled with the velvet box wide opened and a shiny diamond sparkling into your direction.

“I’m sorry… Josh. I can’t” the smile was wiped off his face and tears started to form. He was embarrassed. “it’s because of him, isn't it? “ you didn’t say anything, you both knew the answer. Without any further discussion,, he demanded the cab to stop, got out and left you alone.

Meanwhile news went through about the newly engaged couple. And by saying they reached everyone, they seriously reached EVERYONE.

That’s what you came to realize when you found yourself alone back in the hotel room, except a note on the kitchen counter that read:

‘Congrats on the engagement – Roger’

[amymel86]

all along

And here’s the thing that was meant to be a drabble in response to the prompt ‘prostitute’ but ended up being too long!...

“No!” Shae snapped, a threat blazing hotly in her eyes. “Absolutely not, my lady!”

Sansa sighed, letting her perfectly straight spine relax against the carriage seating as they swayed along with every bump and dip of the dirt road. They were lucky to have been allowed to ride within such luxury, it was only afforded to them because Ros had offered her services to the driver. Still, he was to take them as far as the Crossroads Inn and would allow them no further.

For weeks since both Shae and Ros had smuggled her from the city, the three of them have tried to evade the Gold Cloaks – even going as far as using a dark dye on both Sansa and Ros’ red hair. Their aim is to somehow line their purses with enough gold to travel to Gulltown and board one of the ships there, crossing The Narrow Sea and getting as far away as they can from the teeth of the Lioness who haunts Sansa’s dreams.

Both older women have been using their particular trade to gain funds but it is not enough, not if they want to set sail soon – Sansa can practically feel the hungry lick of a lion’s tongue at the heels of her feet.

They needed more coin and they needed it quickly. She hadn’t truly meant to imply that she would join the women in their trade; what would she, a maiden, know of giving carnal pleasure to a man anyway? She blushes just to think of it. But she needs to help some way.

Ros eyed Sansa contemplatively, her shrewd green eyes dancing up and down her form. “There might be something to be done,” she says.

Shae turns sharply in her seat like an angry whip. “What do you mean, ‘something to be done’? I swore to protect my lady and I will not let any filthy man lay a finger on her – not one!”

Ros smirked. “Men pay handsomely for something they think is out of their reach, and sometimes the scent of the forbidden fruit is all that they want for.”

***

The Inn at the Crossroads was busy with its long hall and benched seating. There were wooden kegs at one end and a blazing hearth at the other. Jon hunched over his ale, tearing into his bread with his teeth as he eyed the other patrons. There were people from all ‘round it seems. He overheard northern voices and witnessed highborns and commonfolk alike.

“Hello, handsome,” a woman with dark hair purred in his ear. Jon flinched away, which only served to make her chuckle. “Don’t be afraid now,” she said, grinning. “Do you want warming this evening?” she asks, voice low, leaning over the bench table before him, so very obviously displaying ‘her wares’.

Jon’s eyes flicker to her chest and then back up again. He has no plans in making use of a woman in that way. Taking up his ale, he lets slip a gruff, “no,” before taking a gulp.

“Well, if not me, how about my friend over there?” she asks, stepping aside to afford him a view of the table she gestures to.

Jon lowers his tankard. There are two young women at the table but his gaze is drawn to one of them. She wears a plum-coloured hood over her dark hair and her beautiful blue eyes look wary. Her cheekbones are high and refined, and she has the most perfectly shaped set of lips he’s seen on any woman. Something about her stirs him, making his breeches feel a little tighter.

The whore who had approached him smirks and seats herself beside him, eyes alight and clever. “I hadn’t meant her,” she clarifies, seeing him stare hungrily at the girl wearing the hood. He looks away, ashamed. “She,” the woman continues, “is a fine highborn maiden,” she strokes Jon’s arm with a single trailing finger as she talks. “She’s never known a man’s touch and we, as her travelling companions will see to it that it stays that way until her future lord husband gets the delight himself.”

Jon grunts and stuffs another piece of bread in his mouth. “Then she won’t want any dealin’s with a bastard like me,” he says, hoping the whore would leave him be.

“She doesn’t have to know.”

He turns his head towards her again, brows knit in confusion. “What?”

The woman smiles. “I can’t let you touch her, obviously, but...” she looks around, lowering her head and her voice, “... my lady will bathe tonight, and I have seen her hand slip every time she does,” her own hand travels across his thigh, brushing against his clothed cock, making him jolt. “You will get a good show,” she tells him. “She won’t know a thing.”

***

This was wrong. He knows it, and yet he allows his boots to follow up the narrow wooden staircase towards one of the rooms at the inn some time after the whore’s offer. She opens the door and steps aside, allowing him to enter. The room was small, yet still larger than his, with three cot beds, one small window and a hearth at one end. The fire blazes now, though it is sectioned off by a wooden modesty screen. The light and warmth calls to him and Jon takes a step forward, foot scuffing in the reeds on the floor. The woman’s hand shoots out to halt him before placing a single finger across her lips, urging him to keep to silence.

“Who’s there?” a voice calls from behind the screen and Jon hears a delicate slosh of water.

“Just me, my lady.”

The whore holds out her hand for payment, her brow arching in encouragement.

Jon licks at his lips. Thoughts of that beautiful girl from down in the drinking hall being bare and wet just the other side of that screen were whispering to him now. He truly is a depraved bastard it seems, since he finds himself quickly handing the woman some coin for his lusts.

“Pay double and I’ll help you while you watch,” the woman offers with a whisper, her hand brushing over his clothed cock again. Jon shakes his head. Somehow the notion of that seemed too filthy.

Aye, and watching a woman as she bathes isn’t indecent enough?

Jon ushered his thoughts away before he decides to bolt from the room. The whore guides him over to a wooden chair placed next to the screen.

“I’m leaving the door ajar,” she bends to whisper in his ear, “and I’ll be on the other side of it. You don’t touch her,” she warns, “or I’ll be in with a dagger for your throat.” Jon nods in understanding before the woman places a neatly folded square of linen on his knee. “For the mess,” she grins, smoothing it down with her palm.

***

Sansa doesn’t know if she has any natural skill at this. Ros had assured her that ‘watching a pretty highborn maiden frig herself in the bath’ (as she put it) would draw many a man eager to give them coin. She’d said that ‘someone like her’ was akin to forbidden fruit, and to the commonman, her sweetness would be too enticing to bear.

She heard Ros’ steps retreat and knew that a man was sat just behind the screen. There was a small gap between the hinged panels and every now and again, the fire’s flicker revealed a hungry grey eye pressed to it.

Sansa’s cheeks were aflame and it had nought to do with her hot bathwater. She sunk low, dipping her hair and then sitting tall again, making sure to have her breasts in view for her paying voyeur. Thinking she may have heard him inhale sharply, Sansa felt a little bolder. Biting her lip, she gently trailed her fingers over the curves of her breasts, imagining that handsome fellow Ros had been talking to down in the hall. She hopes it is him behind that screen and not some old, fat man with sweat on his brow and yellowing teeth in his mouth.

Cupping herself, Sansa imagines her hands were not her own, but belonged to that dark-haired stranger from downstairs. He had looked strong and northern, it had stirred something within her, something that the image of him had only served stoke. Pinching her nipples, Sansa hissed, her head falling back and her chest arching upwards. There was a shuffling noise from behind the screen and Sansa found that the idea of that handsome northerner watching her as she performed such wanton acts was a heady one indeed.

She should not feel as pleased as she does at the strangled groan her voyeur lets slip when one of her hands travels down between her legs. Sansa releases a pleasant hum, one hand kneading at her breast, the other causing light rhythmic sloshing noises as she rubs at her sensitive pearl. If she concentrates, she can hear his breathing over the sound of her bathwater and the fire crackling in the hearth. It is laboured and jagged, every now and again pulling in sharply and held in his lungs. The knowledge that she could excite such a reaction without the man even needing to touch her inflamed her immoral desires even further.

Letting out a little gasp of pleasure, Sansa’s eyes flutter closed and a crease forms on her brow. Her fingers move faster and faster, seemingly in time with the shuffling and panted breaths of the man behind the screen. She imagines him stroking himself, doing it for her and her alone and suddenly the sensations are all too much. She lets out a little cry and her body pulses in pleasure. There’s a thumping in her ears but she can still hear the grunts and curse come from the stranger behind the screen.

“My lady!” Ros bursts into the room, panic high in her voice. Sansa has barely come down from her bliss but Ros practically shoves the whole modesty screen aside, revealing her voyeur. Sansa doesn’t have time to deny to herself the truth that she’s pleased it had been that very same northerner from the hall. He even looks more handsome this close up, with a bearded jaw and hair secured in a tie. His eyes are wide at being exposed, and it’s then that Sansa remembers he’s meant to think she hadn’t known he was there all along.

And she’s still bare before him.

He’s wiping his hand with a cloth as he rises quickly, but Ros has blocked her view, rushing towards her to help her from the tub. “We have to go!” she urges. “We have to go now! A Lannister man, he recognised Shae as your ladies’ maid!”

Panic rises up her throat like bile as she’s standing, stepping into the robe that Ros offered.

“Sansa Stark, I know you’re up there!” a man’s voice called.

“Sansa?” her voyeur asks, taking a step towards her. Ros grabs the dagger from her belt and points it in his direction. His hands go up and he licks his lips. “Sansa, it’s me!”

She squints at him. This close he looks so much like father, but younger, and his lips are different; more full. In fact he looks the very picture of her half br-

Oh!

“Jon?” she croaks, moving around Ros and running into his arms. He held her tightly as she tries desperately to will away the realisation of the shameless act she had just performed before his own eyes.

The door to their room opens suddenly with a crack, a single man in red and gold strides inside, roughly tugging Shae along with him, her upper arm in his tight grip. “Sansa Stark,” he commands, “you’re coming with me, by order of the Queen.”

Jon releases her and instantly assumes a defensive position. “No, she isn’t,” he rasps at the man, unsheathing the sword from his belt, the metal singing in the small room. “Get behind me,” he tells her and Sansa’s heart refuses to beat until there’s Lannister blood spilled on the floor and she’s fleeing the inn with Shae, Ros, and now Jon too, her pulse thrumming in her veins and her head trying to ignore the story of how she has reunited with her brother.