#her love for curly blond men has cursed this show for far too long

[hannahwatchesbigbrother]

Hmmm what a funny thing to post after jag had been saying that he was going to cut Matt. Totally shows no bias that production may have. I’m sure the 3 hour long dr jag was just in was just a coincidence. The feeds outage was a very cool convenience too. I’m sure there was nothing funny going on. Matt’s just that great of a player 🤪 /s

[helahades]

James and the Siren

(Prewar!Bucky x Black/WOC!Siren)

Summary: There’s magic in Brooklyn before the war. She takes the form of an alluring Siren with an appetite for predatory men. While at the beach one day, Bucky gets involved in something that draws Her attention. Will he live to tell the tale?

A/N: This is the surprise project! If you’re dead set on Greek Mythology accuracy, this is not the fic for you. I’ve definitely taken some liberties.

Im not sure if I’m planning to do a part two, but if y’all show interest in this, I’ll consider it! Quick shoutout to @xbuchananbarnes for being a lovely angel and betaing this and encouraging me all the way. Also to @invisibleanonymousmonsters for being the sweetest and helping me put my scrambled ideas together. ♥️♥️♥️Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Two minor deaths. Creepy guy following someone. Injury. Blood mentions. Drafted, scared Bucky. Fighting. Drowning if you squint. Sad and confused Bucky. Overuse of cheesy water imagery. Me completely ignoring the reality of New York’s geography. I did what I wanted skskksk.

Word Count: 4.2k

—

Light.

Light like smooth honey.

Light like tree sap in glittering in the sun, spread across the sand in a broken mosaic, tumbling in waves to just barely provide the light Bucky needed to see his notebook.

The day feels so bright his eyes won’t open wide, and yet shaded in the trees, Bucky can’t see.

Shuffling with their branches, the leaves danced as the wind blew through them. Everything here seems to have its own rhythm, from the clouds stretching and inching across a leaden blue sky, to the filtered light leaping from one wave to the next.

These purities make Bucky feel like he can breathe, in a time that has been near suffocating.

He’s been sad.

Sergeant James. That’s all he is now. In a week or so, Uncle Sam will come to retrieve the body he is, and he will leave most things behind. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to serve—actually maybe he doesn’t. But is that so wrong?

He can’t understand why Steve wants it. He’s not foolish enough to think that punk has the same roots in Brooklyn anymore, not with Sarah gone, not with the way the guys around here treat him.. But Bucky can’t understand how Steve can be so…ready. He won’t say it to anyone, but he just doesn’t want to look Death in the eyes quite yet.

Bucky finds himself praying for some force to steal him away in the night. He dreams of things otherworldly.

Bucky finds himself trying not to think about how it will only be good news for his mother, who loves him, but whose wallet will breathe now that she’s not feeding a growing man along with her multiple daughters.

Bucky finds himself at the beach in Brooklyn, writing random things in a journal. He doesn’t know how to get the feelings out. He can’t write words on paper in a place his mother won’t eventually find and be heartbroken by them.

So he writes nonsensical things. He scribbles. He’s no artist like Steve, but it feels like it's enough. And he watches the glistening shores, waiting for what lies beyond—or at least what he hopes exists.

Jenny and Dot and Nancy and all the girls say there’s something big in these waters. Maybe it’s someone who swims. But maybe... it’s magic. Maybe it’s some sort of impossible magical creature that makes dreams come true.

That’s what they tell Bucky behind their giggles, but really they know She’s a protector.

—

One day, Jenny was walking home, and felt a strike of ominous energy in her heart. She had taken the long way, because she likes to see the clear waters of the ocean. Sometimes it feels like nothing else is clean in New York.

But as she came upon the beach she cursed herself for this choice, and hurried along the sidewalk that overlooked it all, for she felt someone walking towards her, and with intention. Hearing a chuckle from behind, that was closer than it should be, she realized the man must have noticed her change in body language and begun to advance upon her.

Step.

Step.

Step.

It took everything within her to refrain from breaking into a run, but she was wearing her fancy shoes, and wasn’t confident in her ability to run in them. She wonders if she’s out of normal step, and tries to walk to the beat of her heart, only to find that it’s racing. Clutching the sides of her skirts, she breathed in deep and let it out into the salty air. If he would hurt her, she certainly wouldn’t show him fear.

As if she could see into the time not yet passed, and knew all would be fine, she started to breathe again, tension beginning to unwind from her veins. Then a wave of it hit. It was power and reassurance, like a hug from a mother, like a proud smile from a teacher.

Jenny chanced a look behind her in the same moment. The man was frozen. He was desperately looking to the rocky shores in the distance below them, no longer pursuing her.

Somewhere inside was screaming to her that it was time to go home. But everything was heavy and light and fresh, and she was feeling the strange seduction of the waves too.

She took one—two scooping steps backwards in alarm when the man urgently began to move again. Only, he was stumbling down the bouldered bank in a rushed, yet somehow lethargic shuffle. As he finally got into the sand and clambered onto the rocks overlooking the ocean, a head breached the water!

Dark cascades of curly hair wrapped around and around in tight coils, and curtained the sides of her angelic face.

She was alluring, and glowing bright and faded, as living moonlight. Her skin was deep brown and cool, like driftwood or seashells, also washed by the sin she consumed.

Jenny would have been surprised at their breath holding skills, had her soul not already known the truth. For just a fraction of a moment, the being’s energy was focused on her, before the attraction released Jenny, and safety flowed through her and guided her home.

Then. They turned on the man, and he leaped into the depths.

No man bothered Jenny again after that day.

—

“—not a soul heard from that chump again!”

“It’s them canary lookers by the beach!”

Bucky sat and tried to process. The fellas that hung around the dance hall had all sorts of stories.

But he’s a smart kid. Smart enough to put two and two together.

When the girls all talked about this creature that supposedly lives in the beach waters, they speak of it—of her— as some sort of guardian angel, maybe a friend.

When the guys tell it, she’s a man eating broad that swims naked and eats innocent family men. Every guy knows another one who hasn’t come back after hearing a smooth song and wandering down to the beach like they were possessed with something wild.

A man of science, as Bucky believes himself, but a dreamer all the same, he wants to believe the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

—

Bucky can’t deny the beach has its magic.

He feels alone at school, at the diner, walking the streets, sometimes even with Steve.

At the beach though, things are alive and awake. He doesn’t understand why some guys can’t stand the place. Some guys, and Bucky sees no coincidence in it being the shadier ones, feel as though they’re being watched if they edge too close to the coarse sands.

To Bucky, there is energy, but it just feels like peace. Peace that is much needed as he reconciles maybe never returning home after shipping off. Notebook forgotten, Bucky looks out across the cerulean waters and tries to make out waves as far as he can before the blur of them mixes with the skyline. He’s already sweat out the gel in the front of his hair, and some of the growing strands are ruffling in the salty wind.

Just then, a couple guys from school waltz down the hillside behind him, and begin walking down the beach, laughing obnoxiously and making jokes all the way down.

Roy and Charles. Maybe the only two people Bucky's age in the city that match him for size and strength. They love to let the world know. They’ve given Steve one too many rough looks, and frazzled too many skirts for Bucky to be comfortable with them.

Roy has stick straight mahogany colored hair that never seems to be without a perfectly gelled style. He will abandon dates if he dances too long and fears he might have sweated it out. Standing just a bit taller than Bucky, he was stocky, blocky, and cocky. He will soon, like Bucky, outgrow the food budget of his parents.

Most kids from school think he’s been big since birth. He must have gone straight from baby to man, or been delivered here by a bone tired stork, some say. For all that muscle and size, there is not a bone of charm in him, or anything interesting about him. His skin is a dull beige. He tries to make up for all of this by being as loud and obnoxious as he can, filling up any room with his desperation.

Charles has all the charm. The whispers say that Roy follows him hoping to catch a personality. With loose blond curls and granny smith sweet eyes, he can turn on his games, and dames, in just an instant. He seems to have a permanent flush of the skin, enhancing the smattering of freckles across his nose. He is lean and lanky, and just as tall as Roy. Something about him unsettles Bucky. Charles seems to always be thinking something strange, and every girl who ever loved him has always regretted it.

They both thought it was a shame Bucky refused to hang with them, and held a strange reserved animosity towards him at the rejection. What are they doing here though?

They secretly feared the depths. It was only when Bucky noticed Roy’s sloshed stumbling that he felt dread wash over him. Once they reached the bottom of the hill, Charles patted Roy on the back and turned to leave, as if he had only come to escort his friend.

How strange, Bucky thinks.

In a moment of weakness, Bucky looked down, not caring to be caught watching the waves. He’s not sure why.

Bucky decides to leave the drunken Roy to his business. If he does something stupid wandering the beach, that is his own problem.

That is…until he saw Roy wasn't just relaxing or wandering. Jenny was further down the beach, standing just where the tide won’t touch her. Loose from her usual tight curls, her hair waved like a banner in the breeze as she stood watching every movement of the tide. She’s a liberated picture, like she found out how to breathe, like there’s nothing to fear, and Bucky would have kept admiring, had he not severely doubted the intentions of the meathead making his way closer to her.

He found himself on his feet, and followed after the young man. Now there were two suspicious gazes on Roy…and one on him.

Following carefully, he was slightly behind when Roy arrived at where Jenny was.

“Ya floozie,” Roy slurred before stepping closer, “think nobody knows what you did to my Uncle Kenny?”

Still watching the waves, Jenny made no indication she had heard him at all. Roy took a deep breath, like he was ready to yell. Before he did, she finally looked his way.

“What malarkey,” she spat, looking up into his eyes.

Stepping closer to the tide she kept her eyes on Roy, and noted Bucky looking at her just behind him, trying to decipher the intensity in her stare.

“No one did a thing to him that he didn’t already have comin’.”

Turning red, darkness bled into his stare as he lunged for Jenny. Running up just behind, Bucky tackles him into the water, falling in beside him.

Roy scrambles up into the sand and locks eyes with Bucky, standing bristled, like a cat given an unwanted bath.

“This ain’t your fight, Barnes! That tramp’s gonna learn!”

“Give it a rest Roy…”

“That lyin’ bat,” he continued to slur, “All these dames lie! Now somebody’s gotta pay, and it was this floozie who gave him up to—“

Roy vaguely gestured to the ocean and became distracted, considering something else for just a moment.

Then Roy turned to Bucky, who had put himself between him and Jenny. Shivering in the breeze that suddenly felt frigid, his eyes seemed to turn wild. Roy began to pat down his soaked slacks frantically, as if fearing he lost something in the gritty tide.

On alert now, Bucky prepared for a fight, moving himself in closer to block him from getting to Jenny. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Leave him be, Bucky,” she pleaded, only now stirred by the thought that Bucky could be hurt. She didn’t know if her protector could stop this.

Bucky couldn’t stop to consider why Jenny didn’t fear for her own safety, because with a brash guffaw, Roy’s desperation blew away as he found what he had been looking for. A glitter of a threat gleaned off Roy’s shiny blade, and he seemed to sober up, drunk on something else. Bloodlust.

“Walk away, Barnes.”

“You first.”

Bucky started to take a deep breath of the salty air in preparation, but had to cut it short when Roy lunged. Instinctively throwing one arm out behind him to shield Jenny, Bucky left himself open.

One free arm and a bad stance in the uneven sand wasn’t enough. A burst of pain and heat stretched across his chest in an instant.

Grunting, he pulled both arms forward and shoved Roy. Hard. Roy stumbled, but managed to keep on his feet, throwing a crossbody punch that Bucky knocked out of the way, using Roy’s momentum against him. Using that opening, Bucky swung a fist into Roy’s unguarded side just under his ribs. That took him down.

From the ground, Ray scooted back as Bucky advanced on him. A wet blob of chunky sand sailed through the air, and Bucky coolly side stepped, evading it. It would have directly hit his chest wound.

Looking like a cornered animal, Roy stopped scooting away, and when Bucky got close enough, he swung his foot up right into Bucky's groin.

Bucky was down too now, and after catching his breath, Roy was the first to get back on his feet.

Trying to fight the fire in his nerves, and the rough sand tearing at his chest wound, Bucky yelled with all his might as he writhed in the sand.

“Jenny, RUN!”

She backed up in a daze, from where she had been watching with worry, and the gravity dawned on her, just a moment too late. Turning abruptly, having no choice but to take her eyes off Roy, her chunky heels pounded sloshing wet splashes through the soaked sand.

Four of her strides were one and a half of Roy’s. But now Bucky was up, and he ran after them both, intending to tackle Roy and wrestle the knife away.

It began like a change in the air. A frequency finding itself, humming with the tune of the moon pulling the tide, and adjusting to its prey. It was like the evening cicadas, until it rounded into something lovelier. It had a sonorous resonance, like the cry of a damsel worn by a widow sneaking around her net, waiting for entanglement.

It was rich like a church choir and seductive like sin. Both Roy and Bucky were frozen upon hearing the melody. The familiar feeling of protected comfort washed through Jenny, but she immediately felt dread at realizing Bucky was also in a trance at the siren song.

“Not him,” she breathed.

Then, She appeared.

The melody grew into a spiked honey of sorts, warming with command. The men straightened from their tense stances, and inched ever so slowly toward the water.

Her song grew sharper, and she rose higher from the water, scales like gold scattered on her arms, sensuality running down Her neck and chest like flowing oil.

Finally, Jenny ran to Bucky and threw herself into his arms with a shriek, pressing her cool palms to either side of his face.

“Not him!”

The song swallowed her pleading. It had been seen. The girl. Two men after her.

First it was Roy. He took big steps forward, Her allure magnetic to sin, and the ocean swallowed him suddenly, as it does.

She flipped back then, slick abdomen curling over the surface before a long emerald tail followed, entering the water silently, sending ripples that Bucky reached out to touch. Still looking desperately at Bucky's greying eyes, and trying to hold him back, Jenny began to cry.

“Oh please, Bucky, please. I never would wish this on you. I'm not sure what you’re hearing, but don’t listen! You’re too good.”

Bucky wanted to breathe. He’s been so tired. The waves call him.

When She returned, Jenny felt it before seeing it. She studied Jenny. Torn lovers had, on occasion, tried to rescue bad men from the curse. For just a moment, she reserves judgement, wondering if this is that. She studies Bucky. Sees the gash across his chest. Puts it together. Then she’s gone.

Bucky falls to his knees and the clouds seem to wash out of his vision, his familiar diamond eyes blooming back to their shade. He lets out a shaky breath, and Jenny throws her arms around him. They stay there, on their knees, startled in the sand, before Jenny pulls herself up, a funny look on her face as she looks at his wound.

“Y-You stay. Stay right here, James! I’ll get somebody!”

When the tide washes in and back, the sand and shells part to reveal the knife. Bucky snatches it up and presses it into Jenny’s hand without thinking, looking at her intently.

She shivers at the silent message, but knows it's not her who needs the protection. Then she runs, hoping to find someone who will know what to do. She wonders as she leaves... what life will be with Roy dead and gone. She wonders what Becca Barnes will say if she sees her at school if life never returns to her brother. Will Bucky ever tell what happened today? She sure won’t.

As Jenny disappears into the distance, Bucky realizes the clouds have eaten up all the direct sunlight. He stares in the direction Jenny left, still there in the sand, trying to process what happened. Where’s Roy? Is Jenny alright? Can he die from this cut? Would that save him from the war?

He absentmindedly looks to the water, before gasping and freezing in place. The creature is back. It had saved Jenny… sure. That was good. Bucky never liked Roy, but now he’s dead, maybe, and that’s a lot to reconcile. Now it’s staring at him again. Will it—She—sing him into another spell? What does She want?

Her eyes melt from whiskey brown to honeyed gold in an instant as she assesses his pain. Twirling where she is, she lies on her back in the water, with the slow fanning of her multi gem colored tail propelling Her languidly across his field of vision. This allows Bucky to take in Her captivating form. Now that She doesn’t deem Bucky a threat, everything about Her is warm from Her eyes to the undertone of Her skin. He can’t believe what he’s witnessing, and considers the fact that he may have died already.

Stretching Her arms behind her head, she paddled both arms in full motions until She reached the cool, flat stone She had been searching for. It extended from the sand into the sea, and was littered with weeds and grit from the high tide. With a casual turn of Her wrist, the debris parted down the middle and slid off into the water.

Twisting towards the flat rock, She planted two surprisingly human hands onto it and pulled Herself gracefully and easily atop it. Lying flat on Her stomach, She curled her golden emerald tail up toward the sky, then further toward her body. Finally deciding she was comfortable, after lying her head on crossed arms, she regarded Bucky again.

He felt a pull towards Her, like a silk lasso on his heart, but it was softer than before. She wanted him to choose. It was, of course, impossible for him to resist Her, and he was up, walking the stretch of the beach it took to close the distance. Coming to kneel next to Her, he was closer than he had ever been, and was transfixed by Her beauty. He also noticed that she seemed to be wrapped up in the water's surface tension, for it seemed to glide over Her skin, even when She was out of it. It parted for a moment though, when Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and She, once again, grabbed ahold of his soul.

A wave of sedative-like calm overtook Bucky, and he only watched as She assessed him. Rising off of her arms, Bucky rose too as She reached for his chest and placed gentle, and surprisingly warm, hands on either side of the gash. With sweetly sure and surely piercing golden eyes still on him, She rolled her palms against his chest, pulling sand from him and his skin back together in just a moment. Then, with a final palm in the center, where the gash had previously been, Bucky’s face twisted into something comical as he felt something beneath the newly healed skin shift, and the pain disappeared.

Propping Herself on one sinewy arm, She reached for his face with the other, gently pressing a palm to his cheek, gently curling Her fingertips, and rubbing small motions with a gentle thumb. She appeared somber for a moment, then almost mournful as She looked into his baby blues, reading something he couldn’t see.

“Thanks,” Bucky said softly, wincing at how croaky he suddenly sounded.

She hummed a small confirmation and it flowed easily through the air, like the sound of bells or wind chimes. Pulling Her hand back from his face, She lowered Herself mostly into the water, crossing Her arms at the edge of the stone and gazing up at him.

He had so many things he wanted to say, but the surrealism of this moment was making abstractions of his thoughts. It hits him. There's magic in Brooklyn, and there had been all along. It feels right, but wanting to believe, and being made to see no other truth are two different frames of mind. He is still having trouble processing. Is Roy dead? Is Jenny okay?

Will Steve be okay without him? Bucky knows he’s strong, hell, Bucky would say Steve is stronger than him. Steve has got enough determination and courage in one finger to win several wars. Put him in a healthier body, and that punk would be unstoppable.

Actually, Bucky is sure everyone will be okay when he leaves. He’s glad about that in many ways, but in many others, it just makes him feel like a grain of sand, respective to the universe. He knows everyone will be okay. Bucky is just not sure about himself.

As if She could read the focus of the lines of stress etched into his face, Her gaze focused intently, and She began to think of how to word Her sentiments. She reached to hold his icy hands in Her warm ones, and Her eyes darkened to an amber brown as She grew less playful, gently somber.

“Everything changes, James,” his name was a lullaby from Her mouth, and he could not help but to listen, “that sort of…”—

—she paused thoughtfully, trying to find the word.

“That sort of fluctuation,” she continued, “is the only thing that is sure in anyone’s existence.

Some part of him was melting into ease, but he still was not sure what she meant.

“You will not be afraid. Not forever. Even once you have...left. Nothing will stay as it is.”

She looked, sort of at him, but more so beyond, as if there were some greater picture, as if she could see his soul.

“What is forever, is the gracious creature you are. And not a soul can take that from you, James. Not a soul.”

She raised one hand out of his gentle grip, straight to his heart, where his old wound once was. Now calm, and entirely transfixed, he realized, She has now healed him twice. Then She pulled away.

He feels the finality of the moment, he tries to rush and say something else.

“R-Right now they say it should only be a year...or two. But then I’ll be back.”

Eyes falling shut, She pulls in and releases a slow breath, and Bucky can't tell if it's the water of the sea gliding down Her cheeks.

“You will be back. And we will see each other again.”

Reaching a hand to his face, She presses a couple of fingers to his forehead, and his eyes flutter closed. He slumps into a sleep, and before he falls, She raises both hands, bending the energy behind him, and She slowly lies him down in the sand.

“Goodbye, for now, James,” she whispers, trying not to mourn the pain of his future lifetime, before disappearing into the depths.

—

“—ucky, Bucky, Bucky, JAMES!”

Jenny shook him with all her might, tears threatening to spill. When Bucky’s eyes open, he becomes distressed too.

“Heya doll, easy! I’m alright, I swear it.”

She gasps in a shaky breath before they pull each other into a long hug. A few seconds in, he looks over her shoulder and out to the depths. Trying to get a grasp on the events of today, he hopes it all wasn't a dream. Then, he remembers Her words.. He suddenly feels warm, emotions rushing back in a flurry.

He gets the sudden ache to see his family, to see Steve, to go dancing. After all...

Nothing will stay as it is.

—

lovely darlings who are very inspirational:

@xbuchananbarnes @threeminutesoflife @invisibleanonymousmonsters @honeychicanawrites @thorsthot @avintagekiss24 @sapphirescrolls @jtargaryen18 @propertyofpoeandbucky @papi-chulo-bucky @tropicalcap @smollest-soybean

[kayteewritessteve]

DT - Twitter Drunk 2/3

Description: One stupid drunken night leads to an uncomfortable week from hell. That only gets worse when you are forced to face the problems, that your drunken escapades caused, head on. Yeah, you are never going to drink ever again.

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 9,250 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Lots of curse words, awkward moments, and a slightly frustrated reader. Little angst here and there, but lots of stupid humour.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Steve’s POV

Steve finds himself seated at the breakfast bar in the towers main living area. Sam and Bucky on either side of him, as they all silently munch away on their individual bowls of cereal.

The tower is relatively quiet this morning, which is both relieving and scary, all at the same time. The tower feels very much like a small child to Steve, when it is eerily quiet, that’s when he truly had to worry. That’s when he should probably go investigate and prepare himself for the incoming chaos that he may find.

Though the fact he can physically see Bucky and Sam currently, does give him some peace of mind. Those two, together, were mayhem and destruction personified. Anytime they were out in the world together, something usually ended up broken. Be it a window, a plate, a car, or Steve’s mental stability.

However, the lack of a Stark currently, in the silence of the tower, was a little unnerving, if he’s being honest. Though at least when Tony was alone, he stuck mainly to only blowing up parts of his lab, or other people’s personal lives. So he didn’t really need as much supervision as the other two did.

But when the three of them were together, now that was another story entirely. They honestly reminded Steve of a show he used to watch as a kid, The Three Stooges. Though they all sort of switched roles, just depending on the day really. However most days Tony was Moe, while Bucky and Sam were Curly and Larry, respectively. But the odd days they’d switch roles, ya know, just to keep things interesting.

Steve sighs quietly to himself at the thought, as he makes a mental note to see if he can track down some of The Three Stooges videos to watch again. He always did enjoy that show—well, that is before he had to basically live it in real life. So yeah, maybe he won’t look those videos up now.

The sound of hasty shuffling feet catches his attention and he looks up just as Moe—excuse me, Tony, enters the kitchen, looking slightly frazzled and far too overly excited for this early on a Saturday morning. Steve internally groans because he knows Stark is about to drop some sort of bomb on them all.

Something clearly happened that Stark finds incredibly funny or worthy of the whole tower knowing right this very second. He is honestly surprised Stark doesn’t just use Friday to play a pre-recorded message throughout the tower so that everyone can learn of the news at the same exact time. That would be far more efficient, if you ask Steve, but does he plan to mention this idea to Stark? Not a hope in hell. That man doesn’t need anymore ideas to help him gossip more quickly and effectively.

No, Steve will just let him continue to work for it. It keeps him busy and less likely to mess with anyone around him, so that’s a small win, in and of itself. Plus he’s pretty sure that Tony truly enjoys actually seeing the looks on peoples faces when he shares his random news with them, so that would probably explain why he does this all in person.

Tony catches sight of the three men and the wicked grin on his face only grows, and this time Steve externally groans.

“There you guys are!” The older man says quickly as he makes his way towards them, “have any of you happened to check out Twitter yet, this lovely morning?”

Steve furrows his brows, yes, he has a Twitter account, but does he actually use it? Hell no. He can barely even figure out what Twitter is for, honestly, let alone how to maneuver the hell site. And anytime he does get on his account, the tweets—what a ridiculous thing to call them—are usually pretty descriptive and very, very highly inappropriate to say to a complete stranger. When Steve had mentioned the aggressive tweets to Sam and Bucky, they had both burst out laughing and when they’d finally managed to reign themselves back in, Sam had told him those were called ‘Thirst Tweets’—Whatever the hell that means.

That was when Steve came to the unwavering realization that Twitter just was not for him. Though Bucky seemed to pick the site up rather quickly, and now he was tweeting with the best of em.

Steve shakes his head at just how stupid those words truly sound. He’ll never fully acclimate to this time, nor the strange and invasive customs, ideologies, and ethics that comes along with it. Don’t get him wrong, this century does have a lot of really amazing features, such as better healthcare, easy access to information, more equality and a larger variety of much, much better tasting foods.

But some days he did miss the simple things from the 40’s. Meeting people in person, going to the movies unbothered, the anonymity that came with a lack of widespread media, and just going out for a drink and some dancing with a good pal or your girl—not that he did a lot of dancing back then, nor did he actually have a girl, but still, life was simpler then, less wasteful and a heck of a lot less superficial.

“No,” Sam answers, and Bucky just shakes his head before following it up with a, “why?”

“Oh, well, then the three of you are truly missing out,” Tony grins widely, his eyes locking with Steves and instantly the latter knows this cannot be good. “Someone wrote a very sweet and long winded Tweet about our little Capsicle here.” He chuckles, gesturing to Steve, and the super soldier is now positive the older man is actually vibrating with excitement currently.

“No way,” Bucky’s eyes grow wide as he quickly pats himself down then pulls his phone from his front pants pocket.

“What does it say?” Sam hastily asks, as he tries to reach across the counter for Tony’s phone. But doesn’t even get close as the billionaire quickly yanks his hand, the one holding said electronic, away from Wilsons reach.

“Simmer for just a moment, my dear Sammy. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, I’m planning to read it out loud for all of you,” he happily says, putting his phone up in front of his face as he clears his throat loudly. Then he begins to read the tweets, raising his voice probably in an attempt to sound more like a woman.

“‘Do you ever just hear of someone in passing, or see them in the media, and have this instantaneous deep longing emotion within you. Not a longing in the sense of wanting them, but entirely due to hoping with everything inside you that they find their true happiness one day..’‘..‪That they wake up in a few years and smile, like truly smile, because they are exactly where they wanted to be. Where they deserved to be. That they’d ended up with every desire they had yearned for. And I’m not talking about material objects. I’m talking life goals and accomplishments..’‬‪‘..I’m talking about the true important aspects of life. The things that actually matter in the grand scheme of it all. Well, that is how I feel whenever someone brings up Steve Rogers. Or whenever I see an article or a news story about him. I instantly have this desperate want for him..’”‬

Sam cuts in, a goofy grin on his lips, “girl, I feel that. I also have a desperate want for Steve whenever I see him.” He turns to playfully wiggle his eyebrows at Steve, while Bucky and Tony burst out laughing. ‬

‪All of this only causing the blonde to shake his head and drag a large hand down his face in exasperation. Knowing instantly that these 3 were never going to let this go, he just silently prayed that no one else in the tower had seen these tweets yet. Don’t get him wrong, they were sweet as hell, and made a slight blush creep its way onto the super soldiers cheeks, but he wasn’t really a huge fan of the spotlight. Never had been, never will be, and this very much put a blinding light smack dab on his face. ‬

‪Tony quickly attempts to steel himself once again, but he can’t stop the chuckles from bubbling out as he continues to read. Every few words a snort or giggle escapes the confines of his lips. “‘..to be happy. *snort* Truly and utterly happy. The man deserves exactly that, and yet so much more. *small giggle* What with everything he has done for us and this planet. *snort* If anyone in this world has earned their happily ever after, *small giggle* it’s that man.’” ‬

‪Steve just groans and lays his forehead against the cold surface of the counter, as the three men continue to laugh boisterously around him. This couldn’t get anymore awkward and embarrassing, and Steve wasn’t even the one who wrote the tweets. ‬

‪“What are we laughing about?” ‬

‪Whelp, obviously Steve spoke too soon, clearly it could get worse. And much, much worse at that. He slowly lifts his head and then promptly drops it back down to the solid surface with a thump. ‬

‪“Oh Nat!” Tony excitedly calls out, “you’re just in time! We were just discussing the most recent fan tweet for ol’ Rogers here.” ‬

‪“Ah yes,” she snorts, “I also truly hope Steve gets every desire he yearns for.” ‬

‪He doesn’t even have to raise his eyes to know she has a playfully quirked brow at the moment. He can just feel it on her, staring smugly at him. ‬

‪“You saw it already?” Bucky chuckles. ‬

‪“Are you kidding? Who hasn’t?” She cackles, her voice sounding much closer now, “I even already retweeted the entire thing.” ‬

‪“Me too!” Tony quickly chimes in, “I had far too much fun responding to that third part.” ‬

‪“Shit, I need to retweet this now too!” Sam adds, and Steve can hear him shuffling around next to him, most likely attempting to find his phone. ‬

‪“Oh, same,” his traitorous best pal says from beside him and Steve’s head snaps up to narrow his eyes at his buddy in outrage. But Bucky just smirks right back, shrugging his shoulders and then focuses on the phone in his hand. ‬

‪Everyone falls silent as they tinker on their phones, Steve getting up to wash his dishes so he can make a hasty exit from the kitchen. But before he can even turn the water on, a low whistle rings through the room, “damn Punk, you gotta see this dame. She’d give Vivien Leigh a run for her money back in our day.”‬

‪That only slightly peeks Steves curiosity, but only slightly—who is he kidding, that’s a complete lie. The truth is, now he really wants to know what she looks like, but he refuses to let any of these dickheads know that. He’s always had a wee bit of a crush on Vivien Leigh, ever since he’d seen Gone With The Wind. But he ignores Bucky’s obvious use of Vivien to entice him, and instead just nods nonchalantly as he continues to wash his dishes, “I’m sure she would.” ‬

‪“Tin Man’s right,” Sam starts, “this woman is insanely attractive. Steve, man, you gotta check her out,” and just as his friend finishes his words, the unmistakable sound of a stool being pushed back echoes through the room. ‬

‪Steve just hums as he quickly dries his bowl and spoon, before putting them away, “maybe later, Sam. I ah,” he scrunches up his face, which luckily no one can see as he is still facing the cupboards. “I have something I need to attend to at the moment.” Yeah, that didn’t sound convincing or truthful at all. But he doesn’t give anyone a chance to retort as he makes a beeline out of the kitchen. ‬

‪Though he doesn’t miss Bucky playfully yelling, “yeah, I’m sure you do.” And the hidden meaning of those words makes Steve shake his head, and flush just a little as he hastily makes his way down the hallway. Clearly his lifelong best friend knows him far too well, and is more than aware that Steve is sneaking off to both avoid this conversation and privately creep this sweet tweeting woman. ‬

‪Which again those words sound utterly and completely ridiculous to Steve. ‬

‪It had been a couple of days since Tony had come barreling into the kitchen, and since then Steve’s Twitter app had been taking a damn beating. ‬

‪Not in the sense that he’d started posting more, but in the sense that he’d been going on it more. He’d actually asked Bruce that Saturday afternoon if he could walk Steve through how to maneuver the hell site a little better. Figuring Bruce would be the least likely to judge or mock Steve for the request. Nor would Bruce tell the others that Steve had asked, as if they all learned of this, they’d know exactly what he was up to, and why he wanted to know how to use the app. ‬

‪When he’d arrived back to his room after promptly fleeing the kitchen and his overzealous friends, he’d opened the app and tracked down the famous tweets. Which honestly wasn’t hard at all, as damn near everyone Sam had set up for Steve to follow had retweeted the posts by this point. So they were basically his entire main page. ‬

‪He’d clicked around for a bit, until he managed to finally end up on her—Y/N’s page. And then opened her picture only to abruptly drop his phone. Though luckily for the tiny electronic, it never actually met the ground, all thanks to his ridiculously fast reflexes. ‬

‪He’d then just stood there, awkwardly wide eyed and staring at her picture. Because shit, Bucky wasn’t lyin’. She did give Vivien a run for her money. She was stunning, and upon scrolling through her page and reading her other posts, he learned she wasn’t just beautiful on the outside. ‬

‪He’d then noticed a few retweets from some girl named Lindsey, figuring that must be a friend of hers, he opened her page. Instantly noticing a string of retweets of Y/N’s original lengthy post, and jokingly commenting about ‘how much did you drink last night, girl?!’ Though in a lot more words than just that, he was paraphrasing her friends actual response here. ‬

‪And that’s how Steve figured out that obviously when Y/N drank, she wrote sweet and thoughtful messages to and about complete strangers, people she idolized or looked up to, or just plain admired—which yeah, that wasn’t really normal. But in all the best ways. Most people who tweeted him were vulgar and far too descriptive. He honestly didn’t get many heartwarming messages from the public, so these words really stuck with him. They brought a smile to his face. ‬

‪And on top of all of that, she’d been drinking. And most of the drunk people he’d ever encountered were all either loud, rude, belligerent or far too flirty. Booze giving people the liquid courage to say the things they’d never voice sober. Liquor basically heightened a person's internal personalities, which wasn’t always a good thing for some. So the fact that she was so damn sweet when intoxicated, only stood to reason that her sober was probably a true sweetheart, through and through. ‬

‪Which all only made Steve yearn to actually meet the woman behind these thoughtful words. Though he knew that would never actually happen, because reaching out to her now would be weird, wouldn’t it? ‬

‪I mean, would she even want to hear from him? Would she even be interested in possibly meeting him? Would she even respond to a message from him? From the looks of it, she hadn’t posted anything since that night, so maybe she was avoiding her social media at the moment. Maybe she just wanted this all to blow over, and maybe Steve should want that too. Maybe he should just let this all rest, and continue on with his life as normal. ‬

‪It’s not like they’d meet and fall madly in love instantly, or end up becoming something more than that. It’s not like him just letting this whole situation blow over would really affect him all that much, right? Maybe she only felt that way about him because she’d been drinking. What if sober, she had completely differing opinions of him. ‬

‪Yeah, that’s very unlikely, he knows that. But truthfully, Steve was ridiculously nervous at even the thought of interacting with her. I mean, he never really had ‘game with the ladies’, as Sam had put it. And he’d never even really entertained the idea of meeting someone, or dating someone, since he’d woken up from the ice. He’d just focused himself and his mind on his job, and didn’t even allow any hopes of love or a relationship to infiltrate his head. Because he knew once he really, truly thought about it or gave it any weight in his mind, that he’d come to the unwaveringly obvious realization that he was alone. That he was lonely and wanted more than anything to have someone special in his life. Someone who saw him for him, for Steve Rogers the man, and not Captain America the legend. ‬

‪But now all of this had crashed those very thoughts that he’d avoided for so long into his head, like a dang freight train slamming into a car stuck on the tracks. And now all he could think about was how desperately he wanted a person, a gal to call his own. Someone to go to bed beside every night, and wake up wrapped around every morning. A woman to share his free time with, to tell about his days, his stresses, his accomplishments and goals. And have her do the same in return. ‬

‪But even with that all bouncing around in his head, he was scared. Truly and entirely terrified. Because with opening yourself up to another, giving love a shot and taking the leap to see where it goes, came the potential of heartbreak. Came the possibility of ending up hurt and even more alone, if it all fell apart in the end. ‬

‪And yeah, you can’t have true happiness without taking a chance on it. You can’t succeed without first trying. But Steve had struggled his entire life, he’d fought to get where he is today, he’d sacrificed so much of himself and his life to get where he is now. To be at the place he is now, and even though being alone was a sore spot for him, his heart wasn’t tattered. It was fully intact again, and he really just wanted it to stay that way. ‬

‪He’d finally reached a place where he was actually content with his life, where he was proud of who he was and how far he’d come. And he refused to mess with the happy balance he’d found now. ‬

‪Was that a foolish choice for him to make? Oh definitely. But was he going to just continue to be stubborn and pretend like he was truly happy in this moment? Hell fucking yes.‬

‪Steve was ridiculously stubborn, and he fully knew it, and owned it, 100%. ‬

‪Steve walks into the kitchen to grab a midday sneak before heading back to hide in his room. And the second his eyes land on the current occupants of the space he almost groans loudly. ‬

‪Tony, Nat, Sam and Bucky are all lingering around the kitchen island, talking about what Steve can only assume is his personal life. Or rather, the lack thereof. ‬

‪There are only two days left until the press release and Steve has been basically avoiding his friends for the last 2 days. Ever since Tony cornered him in the gym trying to give him the full run down on Y/N. Where she worked, where she’d gone to school, where she’d been born and raised, everything.

‪All things Steve honestly had no business learning from the billionaire. Who had actually proudly admitted to doing a full background check on the woman, as if that was normal to do at a complete stranger. Steve had instantly scolded the man, citing that it was only ridiculously intrusive and unacceptable to creep into someone's personal life like that. Especially someone who none of the team actually knew. ‬

‪She wasn’t some criminal set on world destruction, nor was she a person of interest to the team in regards to a mission. She was a civilian, a regular person, and she didn’t deserve having her entire life picked apart and invaded like that. She deserved her privacy. ‬

‪Tony had then tried to talk Steve into contacting her, even just a small message to her Twitter account to thank her, or something of the like. But Steve wasn’t interested, he was still happily stubborn and pretending to be ignorant to the longing feelings within him when it came to Y/N. Because honestly, he didn’t know her through a dang hole in the ground, let alone should he be feeling this way about a woman he’s never even met, let alone spoken to. This was outrageous, these strange feelings were ludicrous. ‬

‪So no, he doesn’t feel anything towards her. And yeah, he knows wholeheartedly that that’s a blatant lie, but shoot him for trying to think rationally here. For trying to be logical to the fact that one shouldn’t feel this strongly for a damn stranger. So, by day he’ll just continue to fake that he isn’t interested. That he hasn’t checked out her account or photos, that he hadn’t been day dreaming about meeting her. He’ll just continue to pretend like he wants no part of this in front of the whole team. ‬

‪But then by night he’ll check out her twitter, like every night since she’d posted, and wonder what she’s like in person. Wonder if she’s easy to talk to, if her laugh is infectious, if her smile is like the sun, if her mere presence alone is truly calming. ‬

‪She still hadn’t posted a damn thing since the famous tweets, so clearly she was avoiding her social media. She hadn’t even retweeted a single response, nor deleted the original posts. It was like her account was completely frozen in time—pun not intended. ‬

‪Tony had just stood there, continuing to pester Steve about Y/N, up until Steve had opted to completely ignore the man entirely. After he’d stopped responding, Tony had finally dropped the topic and left, but not before vowing to get Steve on board with this ‘operation get Rogers a date’ mission, as the billionaire had hilariously nicknamed it—Note the sarcasm. ‬

‪And once Tony had left the gym, and the door slamming shut had confirmed he was truly gone, Steve had glanced over his shoulder to fully affirm he’d left. And instantly noticed the manila folder sitting on a bench where Tony had been standing. And it didn’t take a rocket doctor to figure out what was in that folder. No, Steve was instantly aware it was most likely a full and complete write up on Y/N. ‬

‪He chose to ignore the folder, or at least he’d put in a solid effort to ignore it. But after a little while—read, literally 2 minutes—Steve finally caved and hesitantly walked towards the folder, wiping his sweaty hands on the towel he’d kept over his shoulder. And once he reached the folder, he glanced around as if to double check there was no one watching or present to witness his next move. ‬

‪Then he gingerly scooped up the folder, staring at the outside for a moment before taking a deep breath in and opening it up. To only be instantly met with a stunning photo of Y/N, that adruptly confirms his earlier thought, her smile is like the sun. ‬

‪And as he delves into every fact and detail about her, all the things Tony had managed to dig up about the woman, the irony is not lost on him. He’d literally just chastised Tony for invading her privacy, and yet, here he was, doing the exact same thing. Lapping up every little detail he could about her. ‬

‪At least Tony had invaded her privacy for semi honourable reasons, he’d only done it to help a friend out. Where as Steve was doing it entirely for selfish reasons. His desperate need to know everything about her, yet being entirely too petrified to actually reach out to the woman, to just speak to her. To give himself the chance to learn all of these things about her, from her, as was the way it should have been. ‬

‪The only thought running through his mind at that point was: What an utter schmuck he’d truly turned out to be. ‬

‪Back in the present, he halts his steps and honestly contemplates if he should slowly back out of the kitchen, before anyone even notices him. But he never gets that chance as 4 sets of eyes snap up to land on him, and he knows escaping now unscathed is highly unlikely. ‬

‪So with a deep breath in, he enters the lions den, entirely prepared for the razzing and ridicule he was about to endure from his, so called, best friends. As they continued to chide him for having not made a move yet, as they continued to inform him that they were displeased with his lack of action in all of this. ‬

‪And as they kept reminding him of what happened the last time he’d waited too long with a gal, and yeah, those comments cut deep. But only because he knew they were entirely accurate, and that’s why they truly cut as deep as they did. He was well aware of his shortcomings in the romance department, but did that stop him from stubbornly pretending like his friends were entirely wrong? Of fucking course not. ‬

‪Because Steve Rogers was thee most stubborn man on the planet, and he was entirely proud of that simple fact. ‬

‪He’s standing on stage, Tony droning on and on about God knows what. Steve had tuned out a while ago, his mind still all over the place. Still focused on entirely different things than the current topic of the day. He should be focused on the facility's grand opening, and Tony’s eloquently chosen words, but yet again, for the millionth time this week, his thoughts are on Y/N. The woman he feels like he knows damn near entirely at this point, yet has never once laid eyes on. Not even so much as seen a glimpse of in real life. ‬

‪And how truly creepy does he sound right now? This was some next level stalker behaviour, as Sam would call it, and he freaking knows it. God, did he know it. ‬

‪Bucky’s elbow making direct contact with Steve’s left side ribs, jars him painfully from his reverie. He manages to only wince slightly at the forceful hit before snapping his eyes at his best pal—who may lose that title soon if he isn’t careful—and glaring at him. ‬

‪Bucky just grins and leans in towards Steve, as he whispers, “don’t look now, Punk, but it appears a little Tweety Bird is in attendance with us today.” Then the brunette nods his head in a direction towards the back of the audience. And yes, Steve is well aware of who he is referring to, as Tweety Bird is the name his ‘friends’ had been using to refer to Y/N as all week. And don’t even get him started on how much that nickname truly irked—‬

‪Hold up. Wait a tick. What did Buck just say? ‬

‪Steve's eyes quickly scan the crowd before landing on her near the back. And God, he couldn’t have missed her beautiful face even if he’d tried. He honestly isn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed her before. His super soldier eyes clearly need to be checked as they so obviously missed the stunning woman hidden in the masses. ‬

‪He finds himself completely and totally trapped in her stare. His eyes locked onto hers as if they were high powered magnets, and not even his super strength could pull them apart now. He is just about to break out into a huge grin, just at the fact he actually got to finally see her in the flesh, but then his mind catches up to the moment. ‬

‪And wait, wait, why is she even here to begin with? ‬

He snaps his eyes to his possible ex-best pal, and narrows them accusingly. If Bucky is behind this, he can kiss his best friend title goodbye. And Steve will happily inform him that Sam has taken up that position now, just to be as petty and childish as he possibly can.

But all he receives in return is a wicked grin from Bucky, as he nods his head towards Tony. And just like that, Steve flicks his intense gaze at the billionaire in question. Wishing in this moment that looks could kill, that he had that super power. Because if they could, if he did, Tony would be laying on the floor right now. But luckily for the smaller man, he doesn’t have that ability, though Tony will wish for a quick death once Steve gets his hands on him.

Once this is all over, and everyone leaves so there are no witnesses, Tony will get what’s coming to him. Mark his words, Tony Stark will learn a valuable lesson tonight—

Movement catches his attention and he flicks his eyes back to see Y/N hastily packing up her things. Wait, she isn’t leaving yet, is she? The press release isn’t even halfway done yet. She can’t just leave, not before he has a chance to actually speak to her. To actually, finally, interact with her. She is here after all, he’d be an idiot if he didn’t use this to his advantage now.

Maybe Tony will be safe after all. He did sort of give Steve this opportunity after all. Maybe Tony’s meddling wasn’t entirely bad this time. Though he would still need a stern talking to about interfering with other people's lives.

Her eyes lock back on Steves and he can see the tears pooling in them now. His perfect eyesight honing in on them, and his heart feels like it’s about to break. She’s tearing up? Why is she tearing up? He sees a tear slip down her cheek as she quickly wipes it away just as she turns and hastily heads for the exit.

And watching her retreating form snaps something in Steve—well that and another well positioned elbow jab from Bucky. As if trying to break Steve out of his head, while also urging him to do something.

Steve shakes his head and then quickly makes his way to the edge of the platform, jumping off it and landing gracefully on his feet before taking off at full speed after her.

Members of the press moving out of his way, and snapping photos as he runs passed. But he isn’t focused on any of that currently, he just needs to reach her, to stop her from leaving just yet. He just wants to meet her, to talk to her in person.

He vaguely hears Tony trying to wrangle in the press, trying to regain their attention as he makes up some excuse for Steve's abrupt exit. He’s guessing Tony saw her leave just like Steve and Bucky had.

He stops when he reaches the first road, and glances around, quickly pinpointing her form hastily walking towards the main road. Her head down as she goes and he begins to jog after her and once he gets close enough he calls out, “Hey, hold up.”

He watches as her steps falter and then stop entirely, her shoulders deflating slightly as her arms rise up a little. Though he can’t make out exactly what her hands are doing currently, but a gut wrenching thought tells him she is probably wiping away more tears. However then she slowly turns to face him, keeping her eyes down as if the ground is the most fascinating thing she’s ever encountered.

And all he wants is for her to glance up, to look at him, to allow him to finally truly take her in. He desperately wants that, he is about to beg her for it honestly. But he is so tongue tied in this moment, he can’t even think of a single word to say. Nor is he sure his voice will even work at the moment.

After a moment though, it appears she’s managed to locate her voice. But she still keeps her eyes down, even as she speaks, and her voice is nothing like he’d imagined it would be. It’s way prettier sounding then his mind could have ever conjured up.

“I um, I’m really, really sorry,” she starts and then clears her throat, “I shouldn’t have come here today. I ah, I didn’t want to ever make you feel uncomfortable in any way. And I guess I just need to apologize to you for my ridiculous antics last week. And ah, and for stupidly agreeing to come to this junket. I’ll just um,” she glances over your shoulder momentarily, as if looking for an escape. “I’ll just be going now,” she quickly says as her eyes finally meet his. And he is instantly aware that she has been crying, confirming his earlier worries. She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder as she takes a small step back. “Sorry again, for um, for everything.”

Their direct eye contact momentarily stuns him, so much so that he had yet to fully comprehend her words. He is just happily lost in this moment, hoping it doesn’t actually ever end.

But then it does, and he is instantly thrusted back into the here and now when she turns and quickly continues down the road. Hastily moving away from him yet again. And fuck that if he is going to let her get away now. Not yet at least.

He quickly catches up to her, softly saying, “wait,” as he gently grasps her elbow in the hopes she’ll turn back around.

She takes a deep breath and then turns to face him again, just as he’d hoped and he quickly, be it reluctantly, removes his hand from her skin. Their eyes connecting once again. And shit, what does he do or say now?

Before he can even realize what he’s doing, his hand rises up to rub the back of his neck as he rips through a bunch of different thoughts as to just how he should proceed here. What he should say to her now.

“I ah, I wasn’t—“ he pauses realizing his mistake then quickly corrects himself, “I’m not uncomfortable about you being here,” he shakes his head, “not at all. I just—firstly, I just wanted to apologize to you, actually. I know they probably forced you to be here today, I don’t really know how, but judging by your reaction to all of this, I’m guessing you really had no say in being here.“ He sighs deeply, “I had no idea that they’d actually invited you, so I can only assume that Tony played a huge hand in all of this. He really likes to insert himself in other people's lives, so I apologize that you got dragged into this. He doesn’t really know when to butt out.”

She nod slowly as her eyes flick down to the ground again, “it’s okay. You really don’t owe me anything, I honestly brought this all on myself. I um, I don’t blame anyone else for any of this, but thank you for saying all of that.” She looks back up at him, “it really helps to hear. This week has just been—“ she halts her words and sighs deeply as she waves a hand around. “Sorry, that’s really not important. Um, just basically thank you, ya know, for easing my mind with all of this.”

He can’t help the frown that forms on his lips, she honestly believes that anything she has to say isn’t important? God how wrong she is, he’d enjoy nothing more than to hear her talk for hours. Even about absolutely nothing. And God, he really shouldn’t be this damn smitten with her already. He shouldn’t be feeling this damn connected to her already. He’s doomed, but yet, he honestly has no issues with that fact. He quickly wipes the frown from his lips and shakes his head, “don’t mention it, but I should really be the one thanking you.”

Her eyes instantly widen, and it takes everything in Steve not to chuckle at the shocked look now on her face. Her eyebrows slowly crinkle in the most adorable way, as her mouth hangs open just slightly. It’s honestly the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen. And he’s seen a lot in his time.

And then she seems to pull herself back together, “I’m sorry if this is rude, but um, why exactly would you owe me a thank you?”

He can’t help the stupid smile that forms as he tries to hide it by glancing over his shoulder to ensure that no one had followed them. Mainly anyone from his team, if he’s being honest. The press following him is nowhere near as much of a possibility as his fellow Avengers, and also nowhere near as embarrassing.

Seeing that luckily no one has, he comes up with a quick plan to ensure that they aren’t bothered or overheard. “I’ll explain all that, but first, can I show you something?”

She nods quickly, “um, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, great. Just uh, just follow me then,” he quickly says before he starts to lead them both towards the spot he’d decided would be the best choice for privacy. And to ensure no one overhears either of them.

Reader’s POV.

You fall into step with the giant man, curious where exactly he is leading you to. He hasn’t said anything since you both began walking and you honestly have no idea what to even say to him. The silence isn’t too bad, though that’s honestly a lie, the silence is actually extremely awkward.

You have no idea what he still has to say to you, nor where your currently heading towards, nor what he feels about all of this. I mean, yeah, he said he wanted to thank you, but for what exactly? You have no fucking clue. And shit yeah, that’s a little unsettling, if you’re being honest.

Your hands start to clam up again, as you keep your eyes down, watching your steps to ensure you don’t eat it. Because that would just be so magical if you did biff it right now. Ya know, in front of Steve Rogers and all.

He’d probably think you were just a ridiculous klutz, or an accident prone nincompoop. But really, you just aren’t the best on heels, and as you both have now left the glorious cement behind and are trekking it through the compound’s vast green space, falling is a very real possibility. You hoofing it through the dang wilderness now, as if you’re some seasoned hiker on a nice, scenic Sunday adventure, instead of a small, sightly out of shape, journalist in high ass heels.

You stealthily side eye your adventure buddy and wonder if he’d give you a piggyback ride. I mean, that’s a ridiculous thought, but like, would he though? Ya know, if you asked really nicely and remembered to use your manners? He is rumoured to have insane strength, so he could probably easily chuck you over his shoulder, as if you weighed nothing at all.

Oh God, why do you now want nothing more in this life, than to be slung over Steve Rogers shoulder like he’s some damn caveman. Shit, yeah, that’d be hot for sure.

You shake your head and stifle the laugh that wants to bubble out of you, as you focus back on the ground ahead of you. What a ridiculous person you truly are. Who even thinks something like that about a complete stranger, let alone Steve Rogers—Though, come to think of it, probably a lot of people think things like that about him.

Once again you feel a large warm hand on your elbow and you halt your steps to glance up at him, curious what’s happening. Oh shit, what if he can like, read minds or something, and just no one actually knows about that enhancement of his? Fuck, please God say he can’t.

Though let’s just test that theory, ya know, just to be sure. Hello? Steve? You there? If you are, fyi, my favourite number is 9. And I think you have a fantastic ass—shit, just ignore that last part—

“We’re here,” he says quietly, and his hesitant expression leads you to believe that he can’t, in fact, hear your thoughts. And thank fuck for that.

You nod—no clue why you do, you just do. And then quickly glance around at your surroundings, only to then have your mouth fall open at the beautiful sight before you.

You hadn’t even noticed where you’d ended up until this exact moment. You are standing on the edge of a large body of water, and with a quick glance over your shoulder you realize you are surrounded by trees. The facilities buildings no longer even in sight, and it fells like you are in the middle of nowhere, like there isn’t a single soul around.

Your eyes slowly slip back up to meet the large blondes piercing blue ones, a smile on your lips. “This please is beautiful,” you whisper before your eyes drift back to the water ahead of you. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“Yeah,” he sighs deeply, “it is. It’s ah, it’s one of my favourite spots on the compound to escape to. Ya know, when I just need a moment alone, or some time to think.”

You side eye him again, seeing him just staring out at the water now, and then your eyes drift back to the water as well. “I can totally understand why, it’s so quiet,” you whisper, as if speaking too loud will ruin the tranquility of the location. “Thank you,” you glance back at him, his eyes on you now. “For showing this place to me, for sharing your secret spot with me. I honestly needed a peaceful moment like this,” you sigh, “it’s just been such a long and gruelling week. So, seriously, thank you.”

He nods, “I’m sorry to hear your week hasn’t been very good. Is there anything I can help with?”

“No,” you shake your head, but then halt the action as a thought crosses your mind. “Unless you happen to have access to a time machine?” You ask playfully.

He chuckles, “I do actually, but why do you need a time machine?”

“Just so I can fix a few mistakes from my past,” you nonchalantly answer, but then his words fully sink in and your eyes widen once again. “Wait, actually?”

“Yeah, actually,” he grins as he brings his index finger up to his lips in a ‘shh’ motion. “But that’s just between us, no one actually knows that we have one.”

“Damn,” you mutter as you glance back out at the water. “And here I thought self driving cars were insanely futuristic. But a time machine blows that out of the dang water.” You quickly shake your head, looking back up at him, “sorry, yes, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell a soul.”

He just smiles down at you, “perfect.”

A few moments of silence go by as you both just enjoy the comfortable moment, just standing quietly at the waters edge. As if time has come to a complete stand still, and no one else exists in the world. But then your mind reminds you of the real reason he brought you here, and your curiosity won’t allow you to stay silent any longer. “Um, I believe you wanted to tell me something,” you turn to face him, giving him your full attention.

“Right, right,” one of his large hands comes up to rub the back of his neck again. “I ah, I just wanted to thank you. Ya know, for all the kind things you said about me. Honestly, it was really refreshing to have someone say all of that to me. I’m not really used to people caring that much about me—“ he shakes his head, “no, that’s not the right wording, I mean more, the sentiments behind your words. Lots of people idolize Captain America, they wish him the best, but not a lot of people actually acknowledge me, Steve Rogers, as a person. So it meant so much to me that you were talking about me, the guy from Brooklyn, and not the hero persona I live in the shadow of every day.”

Before you can think better of it, you reach out to gently lay your hand on his forearm. And yeah, you have to force yourself to ignore the instant tingles and warmth that floods your system, just from merely touching him. This is not the time to perv out.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. You truly deserve so much better than that, and I apologize on behalf of my generation for making you feel less important than the Captain. Because honestly, that couldn’t be further from the truth. There would be no Captain America without there first being a Steve Rogers.” You remove your hand from his arm, “and furthermore, Steve can and will live on without the Captain, but the Captain cannot live on without Steve. It’s impossible, he does not exist without you.”

He just stares at you, silently, as his face holds an unreadable expression.

Feeling like you might have overstepped or said too much, you quickly shake your head, “I’m sorry, ignore me, I’m totally rambling again.”

“No,” he shakes his head now, as if snapping out of it, “please don’t apologize, I was honestly just a little caught off guard by all that you’d said—in all the best ways, I promise.” He smiles, “I can’t even begin to explain how truly amazing it is to actually hear someone say that. After all these years. It’s just,” he sighs contently, “it’s just really nice to hear, is all.”

You smile up at him, glad your rambling meant so much to him. He deserves to hear these things, and you believe every word you’ve said wholeheartedly. You wouldn’t have said them if you hadn’t. You may be a lot of things, but a liar or a fraud weren’t one of them. If you deeply believed something as true, you always voiced those thoughts. “I’m so glad to hear that,” you say quietly as you turn to face the water one last time. “I guess we should probably get back. Ya know, before someone comes looking for you,” you glance up at him and smirk. Knowing full well that no one is missing you currently, but you can only assume Steves absence hasn’t gone unnoticed by his team members, nor the press.

And honestly, you don’t need anymore gas thrown on the raging fire that is your life currently. The press would have a damn field day if they caught wind that you two were hiding out in some secret place, alone—Oh God, just imagine the headlines for that.

He sighs, nodding, “you’re probably right.”

Then with a final glance at your surrounds you both head back, you pull out your phone along the way to finish ordering your Uber. Because you refuse to walk back into the conference, side by side with Steve. It’s probably just best if you leave now, before anyone clues in that you both were together this whole time.

You reach the road again, and luckily managed to not fall or break a heel. Which is honestly a feat in and of itself. You’d have to put ‘skilled heel hiker’ on your resume once you got home. Because honestly, that was something any future employer of yours should really know, and appreciate.

You stop walking and Steve notices instantly, turning to look back at you, his brows furrowed in the cutest way. You have to stop yourself from reaching up to smooth out the lines, because it’s weird to touch strangers, right? Yeah, yeah, it’s weird.

“I’m going to head out, I’m sure I’ve missed the entire last part of the conference by now, and I kind of want to beat the rush of exiting press,” you say, which is all true, you just might have also strategically left out the main reason as to why you’ve chosen to leave early.

He nods, “ah, yeah, that’s a good point.”

You smile up at the beautiful man one last time, you’re not entirely sure if you’ll ever see him again, so you take a moment to memorize his features. Ya know, so you can happily and accurately daydream about him later. But then the sound of an approaching car hits your ears and you glance to see your Uber pulling up and—shit. Of course he would have the fastest response time of any Uber driver in history. Because yeah, clearly you aren’t supposed to spend anymore time with this amazing human. That’s just your damn luck.

You turn back to him, and saying goodbye now honestly sucks, but you both have lives to get back to. “Thank you again for showing me your spot, Steve. And for just taking the time to talk to me, it made my whole week so much better,” you smile as the car pulls up beside you both. The driver quickly confirming you are who he is picking up.

“No worries at all,” he smiles back, “it made mine as well.”

Your smiles grows at his words and you reluctantly force yourself into the car, waving as it pulls away.

And as it makes its way down the road, you slump back into your seat, releasing a deep breath. This afternoon will forever live on in your head; the day you met Steve Rogers in the flesh. It will, from this moment on, be your all time favourite memory, hands down.

Steve’s POV

Steve stealthily makes his way back to the compound, rejoining the touring group as his teammates show the press around the main areas of the facility. He falls into step next to Buck, who is lingering near the back to ensure no press members sneak off or get lost.

“So,” Bucky pipes up quietly after a few moments of them just silently walking side by side. Not even turning to look at Steve, and instead keeping his eyes fixed ahead of them both. “How was it? Did you manage to catch her?”

Steve smiles widely, he couldn’t prevent it even if he’d tried. “Amazing, Buck. I did catch her, and she’s just,” he pauses, no words really holding enough meaning to describe Y/N. “she’s amazing, in so many ways,” he finally finishes, even though the word he’s picked really doesn’t do her justice.

Bucky grins widely, “so, when do you see her next?”

And Steves steps falter just slightly at his pals words.

Bucky stops walking altogether, gaping at Steve. “Punk,” he says slowly, “please tell me you got her number?”

“Shit,” Steve cringes as he stops walking as well, he knew he was forgetting something. He then sighs loudly as he drops his head forward. “I totally forgot.”

Bucky groans loudly, “Punk, we talked about this! Rule numero uno, always get the cute girls number!”

Reader’s POV.

You’re sitting at your dining room table, laptop in front of you as you slowly work on the Avengers article for your boss. You had luckily gotten a bunch of photos and recorded most of the conference, so you have more than enough to work with. Which, thank fuck for that. You really need to keep your job, at least for now, at least until you can secure something better.

Your phone starts to ring and you glance over at where it currently sits on the table beside your laptop. You pick it up and see it’s an unknown number—which yeah, that’s a little odd.

You hesitantly answer, unsure who it could be, “hello.” But then there is no response, you pull the phone away from your ear to see if the call is still active, and it is. You put it back to your ear, “hello?”

“Uh, yeah, hi, sorry. Is this—is this Y/N?”

“It is, may I ask who’s calling?”

“It’s um, it’s Steve,” he says and instantly you almost gasp because how did he— “Steve Rogers,” he quickly clarifies, as if you wouldn’t have figured that out already.

You giggle, because this man is just far too adorable for words. “Hi Steve, how are you?”

“I’m good, I hope you don’t mind that I’m calling you. I was going to message you on Twitter but I honestly couldn’t figure out how to do that. And I’m not really any good at texting, so a phone call just seemed like the best option.”

You smile widely, barely containing your laughter at how flustered he sounds. “I don’t mind at all, it’s so nice to hear from you. Though I am a little curious how you even got my number.”

“I ah, I sort of had Tony look it up for me.”

And that does cause you to laugh, “I should have guessed. So, what can I do for you, Steve? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I just,” he takes a deep breath, and now you swear you can hear voices in the background, you just can’t make out what any of them are saying. A scratchy sound rings through the phone, as if the mic is being covered by something and then you hear a louder muffled voice now, but still can’t make it out. However then the scratchy sound stops and Steve speaks up again, “I ah, I was just curious if you’d be interested in maybe going out to dinner with me sometime this week? I mean, ya know, if you’d be interested in that,” he pauses for a second then quickly adds, “Did I already say that?”

You hold back the excited giggles that want to break from your lips, he is clearly flustered by this and the very last thing you’d ever want to do is make this worse for him. Or to hurt his feelings by laughing at him putting himself on the line like this. Asking someone out is nerve wracking enough in this day and age, let alone when they laugh in your face—or over the phone—directly after you ask.

“I’d love that, Steve. Which day did you have in mind?”

“Friday?”

“Friday is perfect,” you grin widely, then you quickly exchange details and give him your address as he insists on picking you up. You both then say your goodbyes and hang up. And the second you put your phone back on the table, you squeal loudly.

You have a date with Steve Rogers in 5 short days, and you honestly couldn’t be more excited for it. And this all came to pass because you’d been on Twitter Drunk. Who would have ever seen this insane turn of events coming. You certainly wouldn’t have.

And shit, what is Lindsey going to say about all of this? Oh God, when she finds out she's going to just die. You pick up your phone and dial the familiar number, knowing that she’ll be pissed if you don’t tell her right away, or if she hears it from anywhere else other than you.

“Hey Y/N,” her chipper voice plays through your phones speaker.

“Linds, you’ll never guess who I have a date with on Friday. But you have to promise you won’t tell a soul, or so help me God, I will disown you!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @starstucknature @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @jasminecalia @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @capricornprince118 @just-ladyme @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 4 Part 2

Hope you’ll like it! 

Some bigs news in this part.

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey Thursday March 14

Let's recall who was Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey : he was a gifted hunter, loved by many, venerated by all. He was also very proud of his cooking skills. Besides, he was smart and good-looking. There's no need to hide it : I'm the best. So he could handle everything. Or at least he thought until today. Because not only he had a date with the baboon, which already flustered him more than necessary, but he had to protect the baboon at the same time. As soon as they had come back from France, Summer had informed him about the situation. A mysterious hunter had put a price on Liam's head : 5000$. Whoever slept with Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey's boyfriend and proved it to the hunter community would earn 5000$ ! Needless to say, Liam, who was already famous, became the target number one. The community went crazy. The junior went mad. He yelled at Summer more than he ever did. He called Nancy and ordered her to find the prick who started this mess. Nobody would touch his baboon.

"Hey Dami, are you alright ?"

The lad raised his head to meet Liam's eyes. I must've looked terrible if even him noticed something was going on. Fuck that. I'm the one supposed to be worried here.

"Everything's fine." he replied. "The street is too crowded that's all."

A fuckin' good way to get somewhere with less people... And less hunters who might see them.

"Okay." smiled the baboon. "Come with me."

For someone who spent most of his time the head in the clouds, he strangely knew his ways in the town. He led Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey to a little park. I will die before I admit this place is beautiful.

"Raphaël led me here when he came to visit." revealed the baboon. "I think it's quiet and heart-warming."

They found a spot to sat and the junior thoughtlessly took his place on his boyfriend's lap.

"The soccer guy." he recalled. "Are you close ?"

Since this Muller is a very gifted hunter himself... I hope he didn't hear about the reward.

"He's my oldest friend I guess." replied the baboon, far aw ay his thoughts. "I know him for a very long time and I know we're close but... He's a mutant so I never fully understood him you know ?"

A mutant sure. I'm getting used to the idiot's delirium now. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey was about to say something when he heard a discreet but yet audible gurgling.

"You're a walking stomach, aren't you ?" he half-asked, half-teased.

"Not my fault if your bag smells so good !" complained the baboon. "I'm restraining myself for one hour now !"

The blond junior sighed. How come he found this each time cuter than the last ? Maybe I am cursed afterall ?

They ended their date around 10 pm. Apparently, the baboon needed to sleep early or he would be sluggish the next day. To my humble opinion, he's always sluggish... But Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey still had business to do. The campus was a warzone. Those filthy hunters were up to no good. Well, he didn't fear the idiots who already tried their luck. But there were some old and smart assholes who might cause a fucking problem. Until I found out who is the damned idiotic cocky bastard who started this barbaric mess, I'll need to remind them who is the fucking boss. The junior arrived to the football premises. He entered in the lockers hastily, without taking notice of the guys and girls who where having fun around him. Some invited him but hell, he hadn't the time. Sadly. He entered in Archie's office only to find him and the midget talking. This later had swollen eyes. He looks like crap.

"Midget you go out." Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey. "You can still come back to offload later."

Nate frowned but didn't protest. The quaterback told him to wait in the next room and to help himself if he wanted something. Then, he focused back on his guest.

"Yo Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey." he smiled. "Must be very important if you show up angry like this."

"I'm pretty sure you heard about Liam's head price. A foolhardy dopey son of a bitch dared to do that."

Archie nodded. A loud gurgle made clear he was starving, but the junior didn't care. Your damned stomach isn't the priority right now.

"I told my pack to not get involved." he assured. "Do you have any idea who may do something like this ?"

"A foolish cocksucker who has a death wish." Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey replied. "I want you to keep me posted on everything you hear. I will find this motherfucker and I'll shove my dick so hard in his buttocks that he'll pray for forgiveness."

Of course, he wouldn't actually do that. A prick like that didn't deserve a taste of his wonderful cock.

"Okay." agreed Archie. "Anything else I can do for help ? You want me to ask some guys to protect Liam ?"

"There is no need for that, I'm dealing with the baboon's protection myself." explained Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey. "And I don't trust your men even if I trust you. Packs ain't so reliable when that much money is at stake. Anyway, open your eyes and ears and tell me when you find something. I want the asshole."

The blond lad was already angry. But when he arrived at his appartment this evening, things got worse. His grandfather was here to welcome him. He never comes until he has something important to tell. This time wasn't an exception.

"Your mother and sister are coming next week." he announced. "They're eager to see you."

"That's not reciprocal." Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey retorted.

"Young man, I count on you to be nicer than you tend to be around campus." warned the old man.

Fuck this shit. Now was not the time for useless distraction. He had a bigger matter to resolve than chatting with his idiotic family.

"Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey, don't give me that look. You'll behave to not embarrass me in front of your own mother. It would have been nice if you could introduce her to your girlfriend or boyfriend, but I heard you don't have an official one yet..."

What with the condescending tone ? You really are an old geezer sometimes. And I have a boyfriend so there ! The junior didn't answer. He grunted his consent and went inside. Now he was more than angry. Since he had met the baboon, everything was turning crazy. First, he, the best hunter in the world, had fell in love. Talk about nonsense ! And now, his boyfriend was the target of the community. He hadn't the time to see his mother or his sister ! Fuck it. Fuck them all. He was so pissed, he couldn't call Zack right now. First, he needed to calm down. And he knew only one way to do that. Sex. A lot a sex.

Liam Saturday March 16

The loud laughters caught his attention. He had been thinking about living pancakes for a moment now so he didn't know what was happening. He quickly noticed it was Rebecca's doing. She and her friends were grouped around Nick, who seemed unhappy about the situation. They're still making fun of him ? The forces of evil were heartless. Liam got up to help him but Theo arrived. The captain quickly stopped the teasing and everyone went in the pool. They were doing a special training today and even if he didn't participate in tournament, the young lad took the occasion to swim. He was about to dive in the ocean (yes the pool but he liked to think it was the ocean) when someone grabbed his wrist.

"Wait please." begged a soft and whining voice.

Liam turned and ended face to face with a girl he didn't know. She hadn't released his wrist yet. However, when he looked at her, he instantly understood who she was. Her curly brown hair, her charming blue eyes... These graceful curves and almost shining body... The witch. She's here.

"Hi." she smiled. "My name is Lucy Lopez and I..."

He didn't let her finish. He freed himself and cannonball dived in the ocean (the pool yes !). I need to go away as fast as possible. I can't believe she's here. The witch. He swam straight to the other edge, got out of the water and ran. The witch ! I saw her ! He was so afraid and so excited. (Afterall, it was his first time meeting such a young and yet powerful witch.)

He arrived at his flat out of breath. He had never ran so fast in his life. But well, at least he had escaped from the witch. He entered inside and went for a little snack. Nate was in the living room, eyes focused on his cell phone. Liam sat next to him, mouth full of pancake. (He had dreamed of these delicious pancakes since Dami had offered them.) (And as he expected, they were god-sent !).

"I met the witch." he announced.

His bestfriend raised an eyebrow. He looked preoccupied.

"Now isn't a good time to talk about shit." he mumbled.

The chestnut lad wasn't a very bright person but he could tell Nate was feeling worse than usual. Maybe the witch was only a distraction ?

"Is there something I can do for you ?" he asked.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what happened that night and why it was haunting his bestfriend. Of course, he was well aware Nate had nightmares often. He perfectly knew there was something bad his friend kept for himself. But he didn't had any idea how to help.

"I wish I wouldn't be able to think anymore." complained the short lad. "I'm stuck in here, facing my demons alone and it's so frightening. But I don't want to go outside either. I feel like I haven't the right to go outside... And I know I can't bother Archie all the time."

Liam nodded silently. What can I do for him ? (The question was more for the unicorn than himself but they remained quiet. Those ungrateful horses !).

"Let's play videogames together." suggested eventually the chestnut boy. "It will distract you from bad thoughts."

This evening, Nate went to bed early. Dami arrived around half an hour later with diner. He had brought enough to feed the whole building but well... Liam didn't want to share with said building ! Nick looked at the feast and sighed.

"How the hell am I supposed to watch my figure when you're bringing that much delicious food here ?" he asked.

"Shut up." grumbled Dami. "I'm gaining weight too and I'm not complaining."

Liam's roommate didn't reply. He took a bit of everything and left the room to go play. The chesnut lad didn't think about it anyway : he was already eating. He gobbled two dish in a mere five minutes. Then, he went for a third helping.

"You sure look happy when you're stuffing your face." commented his boyfriend.

Himself was eating at a slower pace. He moved his plate next to Liam, and sat close to him. Almost without thinking, he put his head on Liam's shoulder.

"You're gonna be sick." he whispered. "At least go for it slower."

"You won't believe me, but I was kind of a slow eater back in highschool." laughed the freshman. "I think I just missed food so much during the past ten months... I'm making up for the time."

"It doesn't mean you have to choke yourself." sighed Dami.

They continued to discuss lightly while eating. Since he took the time to talk with his boyfriend, Liam slowed his pace but it didn't prevent him to devour as much food as he could. And when he went to bed this evening, he was full and very contented with himself.

Nicolas Sunday March 17

< TheSavior : Dont feel very good. Won't play be4 one hour at least >

< Abeautifulwomen : okay. I ve work to do >

< Imagenius : Guys big news !! The hunt at my college I got sme more news ! I think i can manage to participate ! >

< TheSavior : dont wanna know and dont care. >

< Abeautifulwomen : I'm listening >

< Imagenius : So i dont hav any specifics but one of my roommate told me i can be a hunter and try my luck if i want. It's about catch a dude and hav sex with him >

< Abeautifulwoman : So you really re gay ? >

< Imagenius : Joker. Anw maybe there is a reward or smthg ? I am interested >

< Abeautifulwomen : On a unrelated topic what do you think abut a couple who hid to evryone they're a couple becuz one of them is scared for his reputation but revealing the truth could save their couple ? Askin for a friend lol >

< Imagenius : Why are you ignoring me ? :( And above all it remind me i'm single >

< Abeautifulwomen : Your fantasy hunt is booooring ! You re single becuz you suck sry to be honest. It's just i think my friend smhow ended in a relationship with someone but doesnt want to admit it cuz he isnt the kind of guy who hasn't special relationship in the first place. >

< Imagenius : i think your friend is as fake as your pseudo-feminity dude >

< Abeautifulwomen : fuck u gay man ! >

< TheSavior : You are so annoying both of you smtmes >

* TheSavior is offline * * the chat is now closed *

A knock at the door resonated in the flat. Nick removed his headset and sighed. He wasn't in the mood for social activities. But whoever waited behind that damn door was being very impatient. The young lad heavily stood up and went to the entrance. He opened with reluctance and glared at the stranger who was bothering him on a sunday afternoon. It was a tall and elegant girl. She smiled cheerfully at him. I'll end up blind if she continues to smile like this.

"Hi." she said. "I'm looking for Liam Strucker ?"

Nick didn't answer straight away. He looked closer at her first. She was truly beautiful, with soft features. Her clothes showed nicely her curvy body. She is hot but also a little suspicious if you ask me. Now, Nicolas Lawson wasn't someone who meddle in his friends business but Liam didn't need any extra problems right now. The dude was a lunatic who believed in unicorns and aliens ! I don't even know how he managed to get a boyfriend.

"He's not here." he eventually replied. "He's at the gym."

It was a lie, since Liam was with Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey for the afternoon. But Nick had quickly understood this relationship was supposed to be kept secret. Not that he knew why but he liked Liam enough to respect that wish. The girl pouted in a cute way.

"Damn that's my bad luck. I really needed to talk to him."

I'm one hundred percent sure he doesn't know you. His roommate didn't know many people. And anyway, he probably didn't remember many either.

"I'm Lucy Lopez by the way." she chuckled. "Nice to meet you."

Nick rolled his eyes. He didn't actually hate girls. He was a proud bisexual who could appreciate a beauty when he saw one. But he was so fed-up with girls. Rebecca and Barbara made sure of it. He had been very interested in the first one. He had tried to be cool, to be fun and everything but it hadn't worked at all. As for the second... I'm ashamed to admit it but yeah, I thought she would be a nice girlfriend since she was second in the promotion and all... Thus, Nick had understood not a long time ago that he just had terrible taste in girls. And Liam and Nate ain't very helpful in that department... So he decided he didn't like this Lucy Lopez. To make his point, he closed slowly the door right in front of her. She looked surprised, but let him do. And in a instant, he was happy to be alone again.

< TheSavior : taking a break to grab smthg to eat >

< Abeautifulwomen : you said that one hour ago >

< Imagenius : I'll do the same. Playin' while eating is the best >

< Abeautifulwomen : can't deny that. Now I'm hungry too. >

< TheSavior : take your snack fast and we back to game. My roommate fell asleep in the living room lol >

< Imagenius : pic ? >

< Abeautifulwomen : Gay ? >

< Imagenius : Fke girl ? >

< TheSavior : not the roommate you want to see guys. The other, and he woke up already. He's going to his room now. Evryone is rdy to play ? >

< Imagenius : Wait a sec, I spilt my beer. Fuck there are crips everywhr ! >

< Abeautifulwomen : Im rdy. Ima i'm sure you're a fatty xoxo >

< TheSavior : i am a fatty and fuck you thank you very much >

< Imagenius : You would be surprised im actually very fit... or not... but fuck me pls ? >

< Abeautifulwomen : dem gays >

To be continued

Dami has so much work to do. While his boyfriend is completely in his delirium, he has to protect the boy from a whole community!

Nate is not doing fine either, so there’s that...

And yes! Nick was interested in Rebecca, and even Barbara. But he didn’t know how to approach them, so he tried here and there. Didn’t work well. Also, his online friends are crazy, don’t mind them.

[alfiesolcmons-blog]

Summary: Tommy Shelby and Alfie Solomons come in contact with a gangster in Manchester that is turning up all their business endeavours. The man behind this business is not who they expected it to be. Word count: 2,927 Pairing: Alfie Solomons x OC x Tommy Shelby (not a typical love triangle, I promise. and a lot of broken hearts) Warning: violence, murder, criminal activity, alcohol consumption, drug use, sexual scenes, curse words, period typical sexism, period typical racism AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281704/chapters/32943615 

xxx

There were no telegrams from Liverpool. No news about the safe voyage of Tommy Shelby’s investment that was planned to cross the Atlantic ocean tomorrow. There were no telegrams telling him what had happened, or if his investment had even boarded a ship to America. Tommy sat at his desk in the Shelby Company Limited building, he bit down on his teeth tightly. He had stopped the rest of the shipments by the canal, he was not about to lose a great deal of money and it wasn’t Tommy Shelby’s style to make bad judgements on his business ventures. He was truly baffled.

The next morning Tommy drove to Small Heath to the betting shop for his regular visits. When he approached the long street of Watery Lane, a mountain of broken crates were visible in front of the main door to the shop. Tommy’s stomach sunk, he knew exactly what it was. He parked the motor car and walked angrily toward the crates that were slowly accumulating a crowd. He was right. They were his crates, packaged with bottles of his own concoction of gin. Most of the bottles were broken. Tommy clenched his fists before he stuck his hand in a crate that held a folded piece of notepaper.

‘Try Harder’ was written in wide curly cursive. Tommy began to shout for someone to clean up the mess before he went inside to flip over a table. The crates outside could have easily made him £10,000. He was fuming. It didn’t take him long to send someone to Liverpool to see who was running the ports. He had connections in Liverpool, but now Tommy was assuming that he may have been sold out. He would have to wait a day to see who he had made an enemy of.

xxx

Alfie Solomons had his head in his hands as his eyes scanned the documents on his desk. He had run through some complications. The port he had been using to export his rum had been taken over by parliament and the British Crown. Alfie’s associate in Bristol had handed over the port's earnings and had gone straight, already headed for America before Alfie could cut him a smile for walking out on their business relationship. There was no port near London that could ship his illegal alcohol under the radar. A headache this problem had induced lasted too long for Alfie’s comfort. There was no chance he would ask Sabini to use the port to the South, he had been double-crossed far too many times. His only hope right now was to figure out if Tommy had taken hold of Liverpool, and if Tommy would be willing to let Alfie weasel himself in to continue forging his empire of illegal liquor.

The telegram was short. All Alfie needed was an audience. “I’ll be in Birmingham in three days, to pay an old mate a visit.” Vague with a dash of intimidation was Alfie’s style.

xxx

Alfie was quick to show his dissatisfaction with Small Heath upon his arrival. Every time he was there he never failed to comment on the smell, mostly smoke, gas, and often times piss as well. He was at the Shelby Company Limited offices. It was an upgrade from the betting shops Alfie had once visited, and a far cry more prestigious then his own hidden distillery disguised as a bakery.

Alfie strode into the building his chin high, his slight limp making him look even more intimidating than necessary. The woman at the desk dared not to look at him as he walked by, making his way to Thomas’ office.

As Alfie opened the door, he called out to Tommy who was sat behind his desk scanning documents like Alfie had been days prior, a similar look on his face.

“Tommy!” Alfie got his attention, his arms outstretched. This eccentricity always seemed so odd to Tommy.

“Good to see you Alfie” Tommy had always been good at looking bored. “Why have you come?” He never usually got to the point so quickly though.

“I had an associate, ya, he sold out to the crown, the fucking pollack. So, I’ve lost my port.”

“You’ve come to see if I can help you in Liverpool then?” Tommy lit a cigarette and motioned to Alfie if he wanted one too. He declined with a wave of his hand, cigars were more of Alfie’s thing. Alfie waited for a response to Tommy’s own question not planning on repeating the question again. “I have a problem me’self. Last week, all my booze, meant for America, was destroyed in Liverpool and sent back to me with this note.” Tommy pulled the note out from a drawer in his desk and handed it to Alfie.

Alfie read the curly letters, try harder, letting out a laugh. “It’s funny, innit?” Tommy wasn’t amused by Alfie’s chuckle.

“I had one of my men sent out to Liverpool. He came back yesterday with important information. I’m headed to Manchester next week.”

“What’s in Manchester?” Alfie asked, as he placed the note on Tommy’s desk and began to rub the sides of his beard with his right hand.

“The docks in Liverpool are run by a gangster named Rhys Holloway. He has a truce with all the shipping companies and ports in Liverpool, has half of Wales under his control and also has a few docks in Bristol—” Tommy eyed Alfie, as Alfie gave him a dissatisfied frown. “Holloway has also done business in Newcastle, but has no leaning there.”

“Well, he gets ‘round don’t he?” Alfie answered blankly, he was obviously quite impressed with the Holloway fellow but annoyed that he hadn’t known what was going on up north, while he was preoccupied in the south.

“I’ve made an appointment with Holloway for next week,” Tommy started.

“Right then. I’ll be sending one myself. Keep in touch,” Alfie got up from his chair abruptly. He had received all the information he needed. Tommy had no sway in Liverpool, the person he needed to contact was Rhys Holloway. 

xxx

Alfie was able to make contact with Rhys Holloway’s secretary and had a meeting scheduled for the following week. He had prepared properly. He had found out that Holloway was a cutthroat with a strange nickname that didn’t match the persona Alfie had created in his head. In Manchester, the public called Holloway ‘Silver Spoon’. Holloway was in the same business as Alfie transporting, Absinthe and Rum. Rhys Holloway went under the radar through a dealership of fabrics and textiles. Mainly importing silk, velvet, satin, and chiffon, from France and exporting it to America and developing his own work in between. Alfie had to commend Holloway, Alfie assumed that it was much easier to move alcohol through fabrics and textiles.

Alfie was travelling to Manchester, he had a band of five men to back him up if things went wrong. But if something truly went wrong, five men wouldn’t be enough. It ended up being more of a formality than anything else. Holloway & Sons Company Limited was located on the edge of the city centre in a long four-story building. It looked far more liable then Shelby Company Limited, and far more liable then Alfie’s bakery, it was still underground after all.

Alfie walked to the main doors, looking down at his pocket watch to check the time. As he entered the double doors, he found Tommy and a group of Blinders around him in a waiting room. Alfie raised an eyebrow, as Tommy watched him walk to the main desk. A woman with blonde short hair checked Alfie in to speak to Rhys Holloway.  Alfie made his way to the waiting area and sat down. Tommy stood tall in front of him.

“What’s your time?” Tommy asked, with no greeting. He was asking about when Alfie would be in for a meeting. Alfie hadn’t expected to be at the Holloway Company on the same day as Tommy, but here they were and sitting in the waiting room at the same time. Alfie clenched his jaw before he answered Tom.

“Half past two,” he said nonchalantly. Tommy rubbed his face with his hand, the distress was evident.

“This has to be a trap, Tom.” It was John that spoke up behind Tommy.

“We’re in at half past two,” Tommy added, looking straight at Alfie. Alfie stood up from the chair and leaned closer to him to whisper.

“Are ya armed?”

“Not all of us, too many coppers in Manchester,” there was an uneasy silence between them as they both tried to figure out the odds of them surviving the meeting they were about to enter into, with not enough weapons, and possibly outnumbered.

A woman in a deep red dress strode out of a hallway to their right, she looked far more glamorous than the walls of the building, she seemed out of place, a little too ethereal for the mahogany walls and glass windows looking into different rooms. Her hair was a long, dark chestnut brown and styled elegantly behind her. As she approached the group she asked for Thomas Shelby and Alfred Solomons to follow her, and just the pair of them. Both Tommy and Alfie were alert, at any corner and at any open door an assailant could be ready to throttle them. But they arrived at a dimly lit office, so far unscathed. The woman moved so gracefully as they stepped into the office, Alfie and Tommy couldn’t help but watch her backside as she moved. She walked to the end of the room and sat down at the desk, where a golden plaque that read ‘CEO Rhys Holloway’ signalled to them that they had arrived at the correct location. Alfie gave Tommy a look before he sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk, Tommy took the chair next to him.

“When will we be expecting Mr. Holloway?” Tommy asked the woman in front of them. She was arranging papers on the desk and then looked up to answer him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she pouted at Tommy, but it seemed more like she was mocking him. She stood up and moved to the corner of the room, where there was a liquor table with several bottles, some only half full on top of it. “Do either of you have a taste for absinthe?” she looked back at them a playful smile on her lips. “It’s an acquired taste, I must say.” She poured two glasses of the soft green substance and handed it to Tommy and Alfie. As they drank, they both understood how it did take an acquired taste. The liquid burned the walls of their throats far more than any kind of rum or whisky ever had.

“Right,” Alfie had grown impatient with the silence that followed. “Are we expecting Holloway today or not? I have other things to do.” The expression on his face showed that he meant business now, and as beautiful as the woman was he couldn’t sit there just staring at her.

“You’re talking to ‘er,” she stated, looking unamused for once as she stared Alfie down. Her hands clasped together on top of the desk.

“What?” Tommy said, disliking her vagueness.

“I’m disappointed in you two, truly.” She leaned back in her chair as she took a swig of her absinthe. “When you send someone down to check on who is running the North and Wales, send someone competent, it’ll help with first impressions and not making yourselves look like proper fools. I’m Rhys Holloway, and I’m not too happy to be making your acquaintances right now.” She turned her head away from them, showing her sudden disinterest.

“Well, I can’t say I like surprises, but I’m amused.” Alfie started cracking a smile, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he was slightly turned on by her insults towards them.

“You’re Rhys Holloway?” Tommy asked, he was great at keeping a neutral face, Rhys envied his ability.

“The one and only, now what do you want?” she answered. Her mood had changed drastically but Alfie was still entertained by the situation. Rhys Holloway was not a man, but a woman, and an exceptionally beautiful one at that.

“You owe me compensation for destroyed and missing merchandise, but that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“Well,” Alfie cut Tommy off, as usual. “I’m not here for that. We have no problems, no bad blood and I’m looking for a port to use, and you have seniority in the West.” Alfie tipped his head at Rhys for her acknowledgement as Tommy looked at him rather annoyed.

“I’m not looking for any alliances, and I’m not looking to pay compensation to anyone at the moment, so the door is right behind you both, you are free to leave.” She had extended her hand toward the door behind them, an insincere smile graced her face as she went back to her paperwork. The previous attraction Alfie had felt for Rhys took a place in the back-burner as he looked at her unimpressed.

“I’m not leaving empty handed, sweetheart” Tommy spoke nonchalantly. Alfie scoffed at him, it may have been the wrong time to speak to Rhys that way. But she had called Tommy a sweetheart when they had walked in.

“Sweetheart?” Rhys cracked a smile, neither Tommy or Alfie could figure out the meaning behind it. “Oh you,” She started, her voice like a cat’s purr. She got up from her chair slowly and as unthreatening as possible. She stepped around her desk, her fingers gliding on the smooth wood of her desk, both Alfie and Tommy swallowed down hard as they watched her demeanour change again to something more seductive then they were prepared for. “You should really be careful with what you call me, you might make a wife out of me.” Alfie watched uncomfortably as Rhys’ hand reached Tommy’s chest, and glided up his freshly pressed suit up onto his shoulder. She stood behind him and bent down to whisper in his ear, but Alfie had been far too distracted to notice that as she moved to pull a blade out from under the slit of her dress. It was tightly pressed against Tommy’s neck now, there was no chance for him to move.

“Call me sweetheart again.” She had said it softly against Tommy’s ear. Tommy couldn’t deny that he was aroused by her, but he didn’t answer her. If he spoke it would be enough to leave a graze on his neck. Rhys placed a soft kiss on his cheek, Tommy couldn’t understand her, she was so strange. Alfie was left to sit there quite jealous of the events unfolding, he was debating if he wanted to cause a scene as well, just to get a piece of her.

As Rhys moved away to stand by the window that looked out into the city, Alfie stood from his chair to address her.

“Alright, Rhys, Darling, I’ve travelled far to see ya, right, and I thought I was going to meet someone else, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want an alliance of some sort, alright? I’m very open to negotiations. You want something I have, go ahead and take it, right.” Alfie was mostly talking about his cock, but his informal deal went both ways. Rhys looked away from the window to look Alfie up and down. It was obvious to Tommy that she was playing games now, she was trying to fool them, she wasn’t normally like this. It was a persona, an alter ego. Tommy watched the scene unfold from his chair, as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and held it in between his teeth so he could pull out a lighter.

Rhys smiled at him sweetly, almost innocently as she finished inspecting Alfie’s frame, his cane in one hand, the other in his pocket. Rhys moved quite slowly this time, as she pulled a gun from underneath her dress. She had done it purposely. She pointed the gun at Alfie this time. Her hand at the ready to pull the trigger.

“Show me your hands,” she said softly, she didn’t even seem alarmed. She was clearly playing games, avoiding the purpose both Alfie and Tommy had gone to Manchester for. Alfie held both hands in front of him showing no weapons in his hands. Rhys turned away, boredom in her face as if she were hoping for him to show off some kind of weapon in his hands. All the while Alfie was still excited by her, he was a complete and honest masochist, Tommy was too he just didn’t want to admit to it.

“Alright boys, that’s enough for today, I’m tired.” She sounded bored again, as she moved toward her desk to pick up her glass still half full of absinthe. She downed the rest of the drink before she spoke again. “We’ll be seeing each other again I assume,” she looked at Tommy first, and then at Alfie by the window. This time she wasn’t joking around they could tell by how bored she appeared, she was done playing her game. Tommy left the room quietly, first, but Alfie stayed for a minute or so just to look at her as she looked over documents at her desk. He left without a sound truly hoping he would be seeing her again, not just because he was attracted to her, but because he really needed her help.

[reganapologists]

Lily of the Nile Blue Eyes

Summary: Negan is freshly widowed, taking Lucille’s passing hard. He’s also the recently made owner of a flower shop. He runs into Rick – a tattoo artist – and suddenly Lucille’s passing isn’t so suffocating anymore. Thanks to Lucille?

Word Count:   2448

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Negan x Rick

Warnings: Modern! AU – so no zombies. Foul Language, Sexual Imagery and Language, Negan being Himself as Always,

Author’s Note: This is a one-shot for Regan Week filling in the AU slot! (Sorry I’m late but my tumblr wouldn’t let me submit!)

Author: @genevievedarcygranger

Tagging: just for those that I think would be interested @purplemuse89 @noodlecupcakes @binegan @crownedcarl @neganstonguething @hatterized @negans-network @ocegion

Sitting in his wife’s flower shop – now his flower shop – Negan wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with it. Lucille was always the florist, the horticulturist with the green thumb. Not only did she run the shop, but she brought her work home, too. Their lawn was the envy of the neighborhood with rose bushes and azalea bushes. Even in their home, they never had plastic plants, always orchids that were meant to die after a year, but Lucille kept alive and watered with an ice cube. There were cacti and hanging ferns everywhere – a damn fucking jungle, Negan would bitch jovially.

Despite all his joking around, Negan didn’t have the heart to tell Lucille no. Lucille was terribly allergic to pet fur, so they never have pets. They never had children either since Negan shot blanks – something he considered lucky in his younger days when he sewed his wild oats without having to worry about any accidents. Since he married Lucille, though, he hated not being able to give her what she wanted. The plants became Lucille’s children instead, and Negan was not allowed to touch them since every time he did, a plant died.

He didn’t mind, there were plenty of other chores for him around the house. But ever since Lucille got sick, they had let Olivia run the shop. Negan tried so hard to keep the plants at home alive as well, but he killed them all. And sometimes he wondered if it was because of him that Lucille died, too.

Did he neglect her? Not exactly, but he did cheat. Funny how soon after the one time he strayed from his wife, she ended up in the back of an ambulance not even a week later. God, he wanted to blame his infidelity on this flower shop so bad. They had been fighting, not unusual for them. Both he and Lucille were emotional and passionate people. That didn’t just mean good sex or loving with all their hearts, but that meant fighting hard, too, and being quick to anger. Usually, they could forgive each other, but they needed time to themselves to do that. The flower shop had been Lucille’s excuse to avoid him – it was prom season, and she had corsages and boutonnieres to make. Sulking, Negan went to the bar in the funk.

That was his first mistake. He shouldn’t have been drinking that much, he knew he had a problem. Lucille hated when he drank. Then the next morning he realized his second mistake. He woke up in a bed that wasn’t his with a woman who wasn’t blonde and wasn’t Lucille. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember her name. Frankie? Tanya? Negan couldn’t even remember if it was a good fuck either. A fuck he couldn’t remember would ruin his marriage – Negan felt damned for that.

When he went home with his tail between him legs, he confessed everything – and Lucille cried and cried. For three days, she pulled long hours at the flower shop, and Negan didn’t go anywhere besides work and his home. But after those three days, she came back and said she forgave him. Negan couldn’t believe his luck or her grace – and he was right about his luck because when he got that call from the hospital, everything from there went to shit.

Stage four ovarian cancer. The doctor gave them their time: three to six months. Dr. Carson was too damn generous in his estimate. Lucille didn’t even make it to two months. Well, Negan was a mess for six months after she was gone, but he never went back to that bar and he never saw anyone else.

He had handled everything at home, but all that was left was Lucille’s business. Olivia had been kept busy, especially during wedding season, but now that it was closer to winter, Negan figured it was time to decide what to do with the shop.

So here he sat, staring at the bills and expenses and profits. Fuck, he was a baseball coach, not a damn accountant. He didn’t know what these meant. Sighing, he looked up at the sign that had the store’s name on it is cute, curly script that Lucille hand painted herself: Lucille’s of the Valley. At the time, he hadn’t understood the play on words, and Lucille teased him so much about it. But now when he stared of it, he thought of how many times he personally put lilies – Lucille’s favorite flower – on her grave. Honestly, he wondered why she didn’t have daisies already springing up. Negan doubted that she’d stop gardening even in death.

Fuck, he missed her. He couldn’t stay here a moment longer, he was starving and just torturing himself as he drowned in memories of her. Negan left the shop in a whirlwind, snatching his black leather jacket up as he walked out the door, heading for his favorite Chinese buffet. It’s a testament to his grief that he hadn’t been there since before Lucille was diagnosed. It was one of their favorite places, less than a block away from her shop that he also avoided like the plague. Well, they had damn good food and Lucille’s ghost couldn’t keep him away from that.

Staring at his shoes, Negan had been so lost in thought that he didn’t look up until after he had already pushed the door open – bell tinkling overhead in a familiar chime – and stepped inside. The smell was the first thing he noticed – not like the familiar cooking oil at all. Secondly, he didn’t hear Chinese music softly playing, but – Kings of Leon?

Then he finally saw that this wasn’t the Hunan at all. Judging by the designs on the wall that replaced the gilded Chinese dragon, this was a damn tattoo parlor. Confused, Negan actually ducked back outside to check and see if he had gone too far, but no, the Hunan had been nestled between The Peletier Laundromat and Morgan’s Cuts (a butcher shop) for forever.

Must have gone outta business without me and Lucille eating here, Negan thought to himself wryly. His mouth twisted, a cheap imitation of his old smile. Negan’s next thought was a lot bleaker.

Nowhere is the same without you, Lucille.

“Excuse me, but did you have an appointment with us?”

Startled, Negan spun on his heel, caught off guard by the question. For some reason he didn’t understand, his feet had carried him back inside of their own accord and now he was standing face to face with one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen. Pretty pink mouth, facial hair lined with almost as much silver as Negan’s was, brown curls clinging to the back of his neck. The bluest eyes he’d ever seen – cornflower blue, Lucille would say, but since Negan has been putting lilies on her tombstone, he would say Lily of the Nile blue. She’d probably get a kick outta that. With a guilty start, Negan immediately felt uncomfortable for wondering what his wife would think of Ol’ Blue Eyes that he was eyeing up while she wasn’t even cold yet.  

“Sir?” The man repeated, and cocked his head at him.

Was he staring? Shit, he was staring. “Shit, sorry for loitering,” Negan immediately tore his eyes away and started tapping his hands on the counter, feeling awkward. “I, uh, don’t have an appointment, I just thought this place used to be a Chinese buffet.”

“The Hunan?” Blue Eyes guessed.

 Negan clicked his tongue and shot him some finger-guns, “That’s the one. Best fucking egg drop soup and egg rolls in town.”

Amused, Blue Eyes smiled a polite and small smile, barely there and yet just – fucking beautiful. “Yeah, I hear that a lot since we still get a lot of their old customers wanderin’ in as if we still got some fried rice in the back. We don’t by the way, before you ask.”

Surprisingly, Negan wasn’t all that disappointed for the lack of food – or that hungry anymore. Clicking his tongue, he joked, “Damn, and I was in the mood for some kung-pao chicken.”

Blue Eyes batted his eyelashes at Negan’s off-the-cuff cursing, but didn’t seem all that affronted. “I’m more of a shrimp lo-mien guy myself.”

“Gah, I can’t fucking stand seafood. Whenever me and Lucille would go out, she’d get the lobster and I’d get the steak.” Abruptly, Negan stopped realizing what he said. Though Lucille was always on his mind, he didn’t make a habit talking about her. It felt good to say that, but dropping her name so easily while he was flirting – shit, was he flirting? Shit, shit, shit.

“Lucille?” Blue Eyes perked up, and Negan flinched when he used her name. “Is that your wife?” Blue Eyes’ blue gaze pointed flicked down to his left hand where that golden band was still there around his finger. Negan hadn’t had the heart to take it off yet.

“Yeah,” Negan’s voice was thick with emotion when he finally answered. He swallowed everything down before he continued, “She was.”

 “Oh, I’m sorry,” Blue Eyes immediately apologized, “I still wear mine, too.” He showed his own silver band, and Negan marveled at his beautiful hands before even glanced at the ring. “My wife Lori passed almost three years ago. It’s still hard sometimes, but it gets better,” Blue Eyes explains and then those blue eyes go wide. “Oh, I shouldn’t have assumed, you could just be divorced.”

“No, no, she’s dead,” Negan confirmed, confused on how he was feeling since he was feeling so much. “Fucking cancer.”

 “Childbirth.” Blue Eyes nodded in understand, and Negan curiously didn’t feel like he was being pitied for once. This man obviously understood the tremendous pain. “Do you have kids?” Blue Eyes asked, southern drawl so soft now, “Lori being gone is harder on my son Carl than it on me.”

“No, we couldn’t have kids,” Negan answered easily enough. He had expected this to be hard, but it wasn’t. It felt good, cathartic to talk about it – especially when Blue Eyes was as easy on the eyes as he was on the ears.

“Oh,” Blue Eyes blinked, apologetic and unsure.

 “No, it’s okay,” Negan rushed to assure him and then laughed. “We had fucking plants instead. Helluva lotta flowers. Lucille ran a flower shop.”

“Lucille’s of the Valley?” Blue Eyes exclaimed in seeming disbelief, “I go there regularly. I’ve been wonderin’ why I only ever see Olivia now.”

A little in shock, Negan’s brain processed this slowly. First it was how Blue Eye’s said Olivia’s name with ‘uh’ rather than an ‘o’ sound – it was damn cute in his thick country accent. Then there was the fact that Blue Eyes knew Lucille – and Negan had to wonder if Lucille was playing a trick on him in heaven or something. This was too perfect. Was this a test?

 After the moment stretched out a tad too long, Blue Eyes apologized again, “Lucille was a wonderful woman. I doubt she’d ever tell you about me, but I’m Rick Grimes.”

Instantly, it clicked in Negan’s head. Rick, Rick, Rick, he remembers that name, of course he does. Lucille would babble about how some cowboy would ride in and ask for advice on his carrots. At the time, Negan would get jealous at her gushing about another man, and they’d always end up having sex after Lucille dropped his name. Damn. What kind of luck is this? Is it even luck? “Rick Grimes,” Negan licks his lips, his mouth tingling after saying the man’s name. “Lucille fucking loved you. I thought you were a farmer, not a, uh, tattoo artist?”

Blue Eyes – Rick Grimes – blushed a pretty pink, like a carnation. Were carnations pink? Fuck. Why is he getting all poetic and shit. Negan’s thoughts were interrupted when Rick drawled, “Well, I was never a farmer. Sheriff’s deputy. Got injured on the job, couldn’t afford the risk anymore as a single dad. Got a job here. The owner Daryl and I went to art school together.”

“Injured? Shy-eet. There’s a fucking story in there somewhere, Rick.” Negan bowed over, propping his elbows on the counter with his fingers curled underneath his chin, brushing his knuckles through his small beard he’d been growing since Lucille’s funeral. “Also, I thought you cops had to go to some academy or some shit, not fucking art school.”

 Rick shifted from foot to foot, blue eyes glimmering at Negan like damn sapphires. “I’m not sure there’s much of a story, um, I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I know I heard it before, but I’m terrible with names.”

 “Negan,” he introduced himself with a wide smile, and his cheeks actually hurt, he hadn’t smiled this big in too long.

 “Negan,” Rick repeated sweetly, and Negan swore that something in his stomach fluttered. What the hell was that?

This was too much, too soon, and Negan really should be heading back to work and get some lunch. A little regretfully, Negan sat back up and listed to one side. “Well, Rick, this was nice, but I really gotta go find some fucking food and head back to the shop.”

Surprisingly, Rick looked a little regretful, too. “Oh, okay. Well, tell Olivia I said hello. I’ll probably swing by some time for some advice on my lettuce.”

Something old and instinctive reared its ugly head in Negan and he barely held back from spouting off that piss-poor excuse for a pick-up line that made Lucille laugh every time: Lettuce fuck. Lame. “Yeah?” Negan said instead, “I hope I’ll see you around the shop then, Rick.”

 “What, you don’t want to come back and let me work on ya?”

Honestly, Negan can’t tell if Rick’s flirting until he remembers that Rick is actually a tattoo artist. He wants to believe it is flirting. “Maybe I’ll schedule an appointment for a damn tattoo when I go through my fucking midlife crisis.”

 “Can’t be too far away then,” and Rick smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Negan is as astounded as he is delighted by Rick’s behavior. “Fuck you, Rick,” Negan quips good-naturedly, “You’ve got just as much silver in your beard as I do, damn it.”

 “Mine are from kids,” Rick smirks, “Doesn’t count.”

 Like a shark, Negan grins, and it hasn’t escaped his notice that he’s lingering around. “Uh-huh, and I coach kids, Rick. Another reason I can’t get a tattoo.”

“Not anywhere visible anyway,” Rick countered smoothly, and Negan’s shit-eating grin flashes dangerously. That has to be flirting.

“Uh-huh, I’ll see you around, Rick,” Negan promises.

And Negan keeps his promise frequently and often.