#i hope it's worth it. i hope people appreciate it. this chapter felt like shaving drywall off with my bare fingernails

[orcelito]

You guys better clap for my baby I'm gonna shove it out the door and be like "wow! 11.2k words! And it only took 5 weeks! Isn't that amasing :)" and you have to clap for my baby or I will be sad

[animemangasoul]

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

[In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.]

Chapter: 8/10?

His mission debrief was held in private with only himself standing in the middle and Master Yoda sitting across from him. Feemor was grateful for that. It was a small thing, a tiny gesture of consideration but it meant a lot to him and Feemor was sure his Great Grandmaster was aware of it, after all, Yoda had always been kind to him and that hadn't changed even after Qui-Gon Jinn disowned him.

So standing there; ignoring his throbbing knee for all it was worth, he carefully and with enough detail to suffice, summed up his mission.

The disastrous mission that nearly cost him everything. Might still be costing him everything. With the haunting voice at the back of his mind, echoing a constant reminder off his stripped humanity, of his lost dignity of……

When he closed his eyes at night, he could still hear it. The roars, the thirst for blood, the calling of death. He could still feel the grim of filth under his nails, the rot of expiration on his skin and he could taste it, the pain.

He'd fought in the Pits for over a year and a half and it clung to him like the stink of penance yet to be absolved.

After all, how could he call himself a Jedi if he'd killed to survive?

And yet….. here he was, back in old Jedi robes, skin clean, shaved head although marred with scars, actually alive with dust of blonde locks peaking out and hiding his damaged scalp.

He was tainted, Feemor knew that all too well. Maybe if he'd been a Shadow he would have been able to set aside the disgust, the horror, the guilt, but…. He wasn't. He was just an ordinary Jedi Master who'd gotten himself into more than he could handle and then felt too honour bond not to do the logical thing. The smart thing. He'd let his emotions rule him and now…now he was giving his report as if…. As if what he'd done, what he'd sacrificed had all been part of the mission.

"Hard on yourself you are," Master Yoda spoke up, breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Believe this you might not, but the right thing you did. Saved those Padawans and force sensitive kids you did with the choice you made."

Feemor swallowed thickly, eyes blinking furiously to hold back the stinging of tears. The pride in Master Yoda's voice was obvious as the sun was bright and any other day, any other time in his life Feemor would have soaked it in like a starving wild animal thrown a piece of meat . But after everything….. After his failed mission….. After all that he'd been through. The praise felt like hot coal against his skin and he found himself recoiling away from it. Eyes drilling into his boots, bottom lip catching between his teeth.

How had everything gone so wrong?

The mission had been simple. Track down missing lightsabers currently being sold in the black-market by a notorious black-market dealer, known to have belonged to the Coruscant Temple's missing Padawans. Report back and let the Shadows handle the rest. Simple enough. Or it should have been. It's after all the reason why he took it in the first place.

Coming back from a grueling long mission on the outer-rim, Feemor had taken it as a chance to finally get that break he'd been putting off for so long. He would go, track down the dealer, report back and let a Shadow take over.

Simple enough.

Simple….enough.

But it wasn't. Because loathe as he was to admit it, Feemor was nothing if not Qui-Gon Jinn's former Padawan and if there was anything that their lineage was infamous for was their ability to get into more trouble than was imaginable. The simplicity of the mission should have clued him in from the very beginning. But it hadn't and that was his first mistake.

And now here he was, unable to breathe a single minute without remembering the hands touching his skin, without recalling the foul breaths of those masked men, sizing him up like nothing more than the slave he'd become. Unable to go a day without remembering the fear, the terror of even taking something as innocent as a nap for you never knew……

["Left, you could have," Master Yoda had said when he'd come off the ship yesterday. "Choose to stay you did."]

And he had. He had chosen it. No one had forced his hand. No one had been there to force him. The slice of a knife, the burns of hot metal rods, the combats of death, he'd endured it all for a chance to track down the kids. Kids he'd found out weren't actually dead but being……

He'd chosen to stay in the darkness. Freedom had been in touch. Fresh air, warm clothes, home, it had all been so very close. He'd managed to escape the clutches of Mir'randa, managed to collect his lightsaber, info chip in hand, just a step away from his passage out of the accursed planet. He could have taken it, but he hadn't because at the end of it all. Despite everything he'd been through, everything he would continue to endure, he was a Jedi. So when he'd sensed the new shipment.

The force sensitive shipments.

The choice became obvious. So painfully obvious.

They'd been kids after all. Some unknown, unfamiliar but most of them….. They'd been theirs. Jedi Padawans. Their missing Jedi Padawans, and now those kids, terrified, hurt, having been through force knows what were about to be pulled into the very nightmare Feemor wanted to escape, and what had he done?

He'd watched as his window of escape closed. Watched as his last hope off the planet disappeared with a single droid; carrying a single chip meant for the Jedi temple and he'd made his way back inside. Back into the darkness. Back to the clutches of Mir'randa, back to being less than human. Less than a Jedi. Knowing this might very well be the last time he'd be able to sense the force dancing and flittering around him because this time around he knew his force-suppressant collar would likely be impossible to remove.

And for what?

For…..

What……

Gritting his teeth, Feemor dug his fingernails into his palm, the jolt of pain bringing him back to reality. Back from there.

"Sit down, you should." Feemor choked down a strangled noise of despair and shook his head, left knee straining under him.

"No thank you, Master." For he would be damned if he let himself show weakness. Not when he'd failed so spectacularly. Not when he'd only manage to save seven of them. Just seven. Four Padawans and three force sensitive kids.

Only seven when there had been sixteen.

He'd only managed to save seven……seven kids out of sixteen.

His stomach turned. An image of the Pit flashing through his mind for a single agonizing moment before he brutally shoved it to the back of his mind with the rest of his darkest deeds.

Seven.

"Will that be all, Master Yoda?" He managed to keep his voice stable even as his knee screamed, his heart thudded like the dreams of war and his scars ached with every breath. "Because I need to find my former Master and have a long overdue conversation with him."

A flicker of amusement danced across his Great Grandmaster's eyes before it was drowned out by concern yet again. If the concern was for him, for Qui-Gon, for Obi-Wan? Feemor didn't quite know. But he appreciated non-the-less. "A talking to he needs," the old troll rumbled, gimer-stick hitting the ground twice. "But first to the Halls you need to go. Grateful I am for the people of Dugmulo for taking care of you and the young children, but a secondary check up by our own, ease my heart it would."

Feemor smiled, it made his cheeks ache, strain. "Of course Master," he said, clasping his hands under his robes and giving a shallow bow; his knee protested but he refused to let it bother him. "I'll do that right away."

After all, he had all the time in the world now, didn't he?

He'd busted the ring, he'd shut down Mir'randa's Games, he'd…..yes, yes he'd failed to save them all but he'd saved some and those he hadn't been able to, he….. those Padawans, their bodies, he'd recovered them for the proper Jedi burial they deserved and for the others, Master Yoda had secured a journey back to their own families as their last resting place. Had it broken something fundamentally vital within him to do so? Perhaps. Had it cost him sleepless nights fraught with horrors brought on his creaking shoulders, horrors he'd been subjected to and caused himself to keep them all alive for just one more day. Yes, of course, yes. But…..

It was all over now, wasn't it?

He'd come back. He was home. Where he belonged. It had taken weeks.

After the Pit, after the Jedi came to the rescue, weeks of bacta tanks and treatments and several weeks more to ensure the safety and security of those kids who still----

He swallowed thickly, refusing to allow himself to collapse in front of his Grandmaster, no matter how much that might help liberate the choking guilt clawing at his throat because how could any of these kids trust him still after everything they'd seen him do? After the scars and burns and tears and blood. After seeing the filthy arena filled with the bodies of their fallen under the same sky as the cheers of their spectators?

How did anything he'd done to get the word out, to stop the trafficking, how did any of that lessen his desperate actions to keep them alive for another day, another week, another month, year…..how did it make up for it?

But he had all the time in the world now.

All the time.

And he'd come back for a reason. For Obi-Wan Kenobi. Because with all his newly acquired scars, still, no matter how, somehow being repudiated by Qui-Gon ran the deepest.

So what could he do but try and help his Padawan brother the only way he knew how? Running off to go fix what his former Master had somehow managed to break in his absence. As if Xanatos hadn't been enough of a nightmare to deal with as it was.

Maybe after he took care of that he could answer back Kuflo's insisting messages and Androlet's updates on how things were going Dugmulo. Maybe, maybe.

The Halls would just have to wait a little while longer. Because if he could do one right thing today, maybe it would be his first act to wipe away the blood marring his soul.

He took a step back from Master Yoda and turned to the door, wincing at the strain that simple action put on his knee; saying a soft goodbye.

"May the force be with you Great Grandpadawan."

Feemor's lips twitched, it didn't reach quite reach his eyes. "May the force be with you as well, Master." And with that, he left.

One foot in front of the other. Eyes focused on nothing but the path ahead. Ignoring the murmurs around him, the gossip, the looks of concern at his bandaged appearance and his limp. He ignored it all. Only allowing himself the briefest glimmer of satisfaction at the positive mutters on one Obi-Wan Kenobi that he caught every now and then. Apparently being the new Padawan of the Master of the Order was something to behold.

It did hurt a bit, Feemor silently had to admit to himself, not having had the chance to take on the kid himself.

After all, that was the primary reason why he'd wanted to rush back to begin with, despite initially deciding to supervise the imprisonment of the Gamers, but it hurt less knowing that the kid hadn't been thrown to the side for too long. That he hadn't been alone, confused, broken hearted for months as he wondered what he'd done wrong to be discarded like his time with Qui-Gon meant nothing that he was worthle…..clenching his fists tight enough to leave dents, Feemor gritted his teeth.

This wasn't about him. Going down this path would only lead to his suffering. Only reopen old wounds he was not quite ready to acknowledged. So he needed to focus on the here and now. This wasn't about him.

It was about Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and little Skywalker and what he, Feemor could do to make things better. That was it. Nothing more. After all, hadn't he already lost his chance to get to know his Padawan brother with his own indecisions? He could have gotten to know him any time he'd wanted, but he had….he'd been so angry, so hurt, and he'd refused to have anything to do with the must innocent party in all of it. And that wasn't, shouldn't be an excuse.

So Master Windu was fine. Great even. The perfect Master probably. The one who stepped up when no one else would.

And…. He…..Feemor….he was not well. Not anymore. So taking on a Padawan brother who probably didn't even know who he was, that was just a recipe for disaster. So this was good. 'Yes,' he told himself firmly, taking one step after the other as he traced his steps from the council chambers to the Room of Thousand Fountains. 'This is good. Master Windu is a perfect choice so all I can do for Obi-Wan now,' when his knee nearly buckled under him, he again regretted not putting on the brace. 'Is to find Master Jinn and set things straight. For the betterment of everyone.'

'One problem with that plan though,' he grimaced, slamming a hand against the nearest wall for stability. Taking a moment to be grateful he was in an empty hallway and no one was there to witness his momentary weakness.

Frowning down at his right leg, he bared his teeth in frustration. Looked like his knee would refuse to carry him all the way to his destination after all.

"Kriff it," he hissed, teeth biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Kriff it all."

The agony coursing through his leg was almost unbearable. It had stiffened significantly on his walk over to the Council debriefing and Feemor should have known then that he wasn't going to make it but……

Weakness Is Death

That had been a mantra, his mantra that he'd lived by for what felt like forever. Instilled it in the kids. Bad'kuu, Kuflo, Gaa'ah, Androlet…. Everyone. He'd said it so many times it was all he knew how to say to them anymore. Weakness is death. To show a vulnerability was to allow yourself to be broken. To be scrapped from the inside out. The fingers. The touching, the prodding, the dragging…….

Weakness Is Death.

So Feemor refused to show it. To wear the brace, not in front of Yoda. Not in front of those who'd already seen his failures. Not when he needed to be strong and honorable to show…. To show he hadn't fallen.

He hadn't even been allowed to come back until several Jedi Masters had confirmed he hadn't turned. He was good. He was still a good Jedi, tainted yes,  but not fallen. Not yet. And what a relief that revelation had been. To know that despite everything he'd done, he could still call himself a Jedi. But he wasn't delusional enough not to know he was still under keen observation. Falter once, fall one time and it was all over.

So, no knee brace.

He'd managed to make due in the Pit. Fighting with a bad knee was disadvantage enough without him broadcasting that fact to the entire arena. Spectators and fighters alike. He'd always had a weak right knee ever since that disastrous first mission he took as a Master, but it hadn't been too hard to deal with at first, even if he'd had to take up Jar'kai to make up for his lack of mobility when it acted up.

Jar'Kai had been a way for him to compensate for his damaged knee at first, nearly two years in the Pit however, and it had solidified itself as the only form he could trust to keep him safe. To keep him alive.

Protect yourself for no one else will protect you under the skies of Miiir.

Sinking to the floor, eyes blinking back the sudden wetness burning at the edges, Feemor allowed himself a moment to just loathe it all. The regret, the pain, the failure, the shame. And then he breathed in and let it go.

It wouldn't do to dwell on the unchangeable.

Shoulders sagging he let his head drop back with a gentle thud against the wall behind him and he let his eyes fall shut. It all felt rather heavy. Being back here, being back home.

Maybe a moment to rest his eyes would be enough. Just a moment. Until the pain dulled. Then he'd go see Master Jinn, talk to him about missing his recent appointments with the mind healers and maybe…..maybe finally get the chance to talk things out. Yeah, maybe.

But a moment turned into two. And two turned into three and before Feemor could help it, he was clutching at his knee with both hands. The agony unparalleled.

It burned like thousand knives being sliced through his skin simultaneously. Feemor grimaced, head throbbing with the nausea bubbling in the pit of his stomach, screaming at him in aguish. 'Make it stop,' he thought, squeezing harder, fingers digging into the joints, face ashen and bottom lip bleeding. 'Kriff, make it stop.'

And then, it did. Not by much, not even half way but enough to bring a sense of clarity to him. And it was only when his mind wasn't being clouded by the bolt of sheer agony dancing through his body; paralyzing him in place, that he noticed the cold hand resting across his forehead and one atop of his joined hands. Soothing sense of warmth intermingling with his force signature and somewhat dulling the pain coursing through his veins. And Feemor breathed, raising his eyes to come face to face with one Obi-Wan Kenobi.

----------

"Stop," he ordered when he finally found his voice behind the sudden lump in his throat, gently pushing those hands away even as he instantly missed the soothing force healing that came with them. But Obi-Wan looked like death warmed over himself and Feemor would be force damned if he let his first action back home be to hospitalize his Padawan brother. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

The young man kneeling in front of him didn't look convinced, brows furrowing slightly and lips pursed, but he did back away, choosing to sit down next to him; grunting as he adjusted himself against the wall, cane coming to rest by his side. Feemor raised a brow in question, making his Padawan brother laugh lightly.

"Anakin had his first lightsaber practice today," he said in answer, tapping his cane lightly. "I still have a hard time getting around so---" His smile is hallow and Feemor felt it echo in his soul.

"Yeah," he muttered back, looking down at his knee, toes curling with each pulsating burst of electric pain shooting down his leg. He shouldn't have walked on it for so long. "I get it."

"I suppose you do."

Feemor snorted. "When you say Anakin?"

"Skywalker, yes." Obi-Wan's voice was much more lighter this time. "He was….really excited about it and asked me to come so I did. I was on my way back when I----" here he trailed off, but Feemor knew exactly what he was trying not to say, and it made him flush with embarrassment.

"When you found me lying on the floor trying to tear my leg off with my bare hands?"

"Well," Obi-Wan muttered. "I wouldn't exactly say, lying." Feemor stared and Obi-Wan snorted. "Okay, you looked pretty helpless."

"Hey, you don't look so great yourself."

The answering grin was a lot brighter and more real than Feemor had expected and it tugged at his heart. Because somehow despite the dark circles under the kid's eyes, despite the paleness and the fragility to his frame, somehow, when he smiled, really smiled, Feemor could almost drown in the regret of all the wonderful years he'd missed with this kid. The years he could have known him if he had been less of a coward.

Checking up on him religiously didn't make up for not being there for him. For not protecting him against what was likely Qui-Gon's darkest years. To not be a buffer, a confidant, to be a brother. In that sense, Feemor supposed he was a lot like his former Master. Who was just as guilty in tracking his movement as he was in tracking Obi-Wan's without ever taking the first step in meeting the other party half way.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His not so Padawan brother. Or all the more his Padawan brother for being tossed aside like himself.

Running a bandaged hand over his head; still feeling that momentary flicker of surprise at brushing against tufts of growing out blonde hair, the broken Jedi Master breathed in deeply and let it all out.

"Feemor," he said, pointing at himself. "My name is Feemor Einar."

Obi-Wan's eyes glittered. "I know."

"Oh?"

The Padawan nodded, fingers tapping away at his wooden cane. "You're the talk of the Temple."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan's voice was neutral as anything and Feemor silently allowed himself to be impressed. He'd never been very good at keeping his emotions in check. "Sounds to me like you stopped a force sensitive trafficking ring and ended a barbaric gladiator tournaments in one single mission."

Feemor couldn't quite suppress the flinch at those words, and it made him burn with shame. "Not soon enough I'm afraid."

"I didn't mean---" Obi-Wan started, clearly noticing his sudden change in demeanor. The harshness in his force signature, the darkness and Feemor internally cursed himself for losing his grasp over his emotions, for his Padawan brother should never sound so uncertain and worried around him. "I didn't mean to bring it up I only heard----"

"It's okay," Feemor cut him off, careful to keep his voice gentle this time despite how his soul screamed and his heart longed for him to hide away for all eternity. "I didn't mean……" He sighed. "It's just been….tough."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yeah."

Digging his nail into the crack between the tiles, Feemor focused on the pressure on his barely growing in nails and opened his mouth, keeping his voice playfully light. "I hear you're pretty famous around these parts yourself."

A beat and then another, silence filling up slowly between them and it's all Feemor could do to try and find a way to backtrack and try again? Figure out another way? Help? When his Padawan brother, pressed himself even tighter against the wall and clutched at his cane. "You could say that," he whispered, tone strained and part way broken. "You could say that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A single shake of the head.

Feemor hummed softly in understanding. "Then Obi-Wan Kenobi, it's a pleasure to officially meet you."

A huff. "Likewise Master Einar."

"You know who I really am, don't you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Not for long. Just after," The kid pulled at his braid. "Thanks for the bead by the way."

Dragging his focus away from his knee, Feemor nodded. "Of course."

A welcoming silence fell between them this time and Feemor was content with it. To sit there with his Padawan brother, after everything, just sit there with him. Not moving, not doing anything. And enjoy his company even if he didn't quite know how to connect with him yet. Even if they still had so much to talk about. And it's not like he didn't have a good reason. After all, the simple thought of trying to stand on his busted leg made his stomach do nauseating flips. But he couldn't stay here forever, not when he needed to see Qui-Gon and sort this all out, not when he still had that medical check up and the kids back at----

So when Obi-Wan bumped his cane against his shoulder and said "You look like you need this more than me," it's all Feemor can do not to drag the haunted looking kid into a desperate hug meant to suffocate with affection. Instead he grinned, taking the offered cane but still remaining seated.

"About Qui-Gon---"

"What about him?"

"I'm sorry that he did that to you."

Obi-Wan paused. And then, "I'm sorry he that to you too."

Feemor nodded back. "Thank you." And he meant it. Of course he meant it for there were very few who could truly understand what he'd been through and sympathize, even if he would never wish this on the kid given a choice, he was still so very grateful for the shared understanding no matter how much it grated on his dignity to admit so. "And I know it doesn't mean much, but I promise you Obi-Wan it wasn't your fault. Master Jinn, he's just…." He should really be getting up, but----. "He lashes out when he's cornered and that reflects badly on him and not you." He really really needed to get up and or he might never get up at all today and yet----. "You are wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi, I promise you that."

He should get up, but when the kid took a sharp intake of breath, then tentatively rested his head on his shoulder after a brief second of hesitation; auburn hair brushing under his chin, Feemor couldn't quite make himself do what he had to do because there was something that was so much more important right here, right now. "I'm going to punch him in the face." He didn't know why those words came out, but he meant them. And---

Obi-Wan laughed, it sounded a little bit broken and a little bit wet but it put a smile on Feemor's face and this one didn't quite ache as much. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks," he said, shifting closer so the kid could rest on his shoulder more comfortably. "I'll make it a good one."

Obi-Wan bumped their shoulders together and Feemor bumped him back, eyes feeling suspiciously damp.

Repudiated Padawans of Qui-Gon Jinn ought to stick together after all.

The End

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

[sd1970x]

Marinette, work in progress - Chapter 1

Read also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203645/chapters/63770623

----

“One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.” Simone de Beauvoir

There is almost nothing about Marin Dupain-cheng's life, an aspiring clothes designer, that makes them happy. Certainly not the bullying they keep getting at school.

Marin doesn't even know her true gender identity yet.

Both of these are about to change. But would that be enough for her to fight the demons within? ----

CW - Homophobia

Pronouns note: in the beginning of the fic, as Marin(ette) is very much closeted, I am purposefully using he/him pronouns as these capture the correct perspective feel. Pronouns will change as soon as she realizes who/what she really is.

---

So, this is my first work after almost two years of not producing any new ones. I am planning to explore mental challenges involving the crossing of the gender barrier, the very same ones I am now fighting after discovering my own gender identity, as I was writing it in a Miraculous Ladybug fic.

This work is planned to be about a dozen chapters and around 30-40k words when complete.

Thanks go to: V- for inspiring this fic and for being the amazing and caring person they are. Wonderful beta feedback and copyediting: Skye, MyKeyboardDidIt

(further thanks will be updated as goes! if you helped with beta/ideas just hit me up and i'll add you!)

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

"Dear, your alarm’s been going off for fifteen minutes! You’re going to be late for your first day of school!”

You say that as if it’s a bad thing. As if I don’t want to be several hours late. Or days.

“Yeah Mom, I’m coming.”

Marin dragged himself out of bed, his form hunched as he made his way to his closet, regarding his clothes with indifference.

I Don’t even like any of them. And I doubt they would solve the real problem here. That I do not like what I see in the mirror.

Myself.

His hand drifted to a random shirt of no particular interest and he casually tossed it over his head. He shuffled over to the bathroom, glancing at himself in the mirror.

Ho-hum. Same old me, isn’t it?

His hair was in its usual mess on top of his head. Foregoing using a brush, he ended up lightly combing through his hair with his fingers until it looked somewhat acceptable.

I guess that’s okay, he thought while shrugging.

As he was brushing his teeth, his eyes strayed to his face. Studying it. Scrutinizing it.

I ought to shave better than this, He thought. His hand reached for the razor, but he stopped short of picking it up.

What even is the point. Either way, trying won’t make any difference.

The image in the mirror appeared to give him a judgemental look, his own blue eyes prying into the inner parts of his soul.

Well, at least these eyes aren’t half as bad. Perhaps they would have been of some use if they had been matched with another person altogether.

He sighed and turned his head away, as if that would be enough to make the thought disappear.

It wasn’t.

The stairway creaked just a bit as he went downstairs to the kitchen where his parents were already toiling about.

“Your need to patch up your shave, my boy,” Tom said. “You want to look good for the ladies, don’t you?”

I’m not into girls, Dad.

Maybe one day I’ll gather the courage to tell you that.

“Well… not really…”

After all, what difference does it make?

“Come now, where’s the spirit? Every girl is different, they can’t all be like Chloe,” Sabine interjected, attempting to be helpful but having just the opposite effect.

“Ugh, Mom, why’d you have to mention her at all?”

Marin frowned as he sat down for breakfast, unable to drive Chloe’s image away from his mind. He took a bite off of his omelette and was struck by the apparent blandness. He set the fork down, sighing quietly to himself.

And there goes my appetite. It’s not the omelette that’s the issue though....

A sip of fresh juice did the trick, the taste too strong to be overridden.

“Cheer up, buddy!” Tom came over. “Take these macarons to school, maybe a tasty start would help lighten up your day!”

“Thanks, Dad, these are awesome.” He said as he picked them up, giving him a half-hearted smile in return.

I appreciate the gesture..., but it feels more like bribing my classmates with these. Guess anything is worth a try at this point.

---

Marin walked into school where everyone was bustling about and chatting with old friends.

Bright banners greeted the students and everything still felt pristine and clean. The corridors even had flower bouquets placed as decorations. Marin took a breath of air, relishing in the floral scent, and proceeded to enter class.

The classroom was freshly painted and even the furniture had been patched with an attention to detail. Marin barely allowed himself a moment of excitement, before despair and weariness took hold again.

It may look different, but looks won’t change anything for people like me. It’ll still be an endless test of mettle against bullying and harassment.

He cautiously went for his seat and observed his classmates.

So there’s Nino, he’s kinda-sorta okay with me. Something I could never say about Kim. Max hasn’t been mean either, but he’s with Kim, so... At least I don’t see her , maybe we’re not in the same—

“What do you think you’re doing?” a loud cry halted his thoughts and confirmed his fears.

Chloe. The nastiest of them all. Here’s to an old-new welcome, a start-over that amounts to absolutely nothing.

“Ugh. Here we go again,” he muttered quietly, hoping Chloe wouldn’t pick it up.

She came over, an accusing look plastered on her face.

“That's my seat.”

“But Chloe, this has always…” he attempted to retort, then quickly backtracked.

“Fine, just… take it. I don’t care.”

“Take it? It’s always been ours.” Sabrina added, bearing the same mocking countenance.

Sabrina helped herself to one of Marin’s macarons uninvited, then made a puking motion.

“Ugh, they are so gross!” she said, even though she was quick to pocket one for her friend as well.

Chloe paid no heed to the macarons as she was already busy teaching Marin the new rules.

“Listen. Adrien's arriving today and the last thing he needs is someone who needs straightening like you giving this class a bad name. Stay away from him, get it?”

Marin tried his best to ignore the obvious insult and focus on the more pressing question.

“Who’s Adrien?”

Both Chloe and Sabrina chuckled, making Marin regret asking.

“Adrien is a famous model. Pretty, rich, glamorous, someone to look up to. Like me. And just like me, he’s everything you’ll never be and everything you’ll never have.” Chloe fawned over her imaginary description as Sabrina took up the task of reprimanding Marin for the question.

“A loser that doesn’t even know who Adrien is, needs to sit as far away from him as possible. You’re enough of an embarrassment to our class as is.”

Marin opened his mouth as if to deny every word, but opted against it.

You’re wrong. One day, I’ll be a famous and successful designer and every single one of you will be sorry for how you treated me. I just have to persist through this. I won’t bite it this time.

He picked up his bag wordlessly and slowly went towards his designated seat.

At least that’s what he planned to do, but the new girl pre-empted him as she grabbed him by the hand and helped him to the seat next to her. Apparently she had overheard the conversation and didn’t plan on letting it slide, at least as far as her expression read as she looked towards one Chloe Bourgeois.

“Hey! Who elected you queen of seats?” She cried out.

“I did. Good luck dethroning me with your pariah friend.” Chloe laughed at her.

It was then that Miss Bustier entered the class, finally putting a timely end to the whole ordeal.

“Has everyone found a seat?” she called.

“Hey. Don’t let her get to you.” The new girl turned towards Marin again.

He nodded.

“If only I could… She makes my life miserable. My only comfort is the thought that I’ll be free once I graduate.”

“I’m Alya, what’s your name?”

“I’m Marin” He replied. “Pleased to meet you.”

“For those of you who don't yet know me,” Miss Bustier called yet again, “I'm Miss Bustier and I'll be your teacher this year.”

At least with the lesson going on, I should be safe from unnecessary trouble.

Marin pulled out his history book, the same one from last year, bearing yet another reminder. "Marin the Gay-boy" scrawled over the cover, courtesy of Kim.

Safe, huh.

“Everything you’ll never be, Everything you’ll never have.”

Like a clean history book.

It was then when the memories came back to life, a flashback from last year.

---

“Who did this?”

Marin looked about, trying to discern any dead giveaways by his classmates. Too many of them seemed to be smiling too mysteriously to be able to get anything out of them.

You need to stand up for yourself! Show them weakness and they’ll hunt you down like prey!

… easier said than done.

He took another good look at his history book. A small red scrawl was now adorning it, not unlike a barb stuck in flesh and equally painful.

“ Marin the Gay-Boy ”.

“Please… tell me who did this.”

Weariness engulfed his voice as it went weak.

I’ll find out who did this! I’ll…

Drip.

Drop.

The book’s hardcover had just won yet another adornment, as Marin’s teardrops started collecting over it.

Marin picked up the book, tucked it by his side and blasted away from class, his legs carrying him as far as he could, a bout of laughter coming from his classmates in his wake.

By the time Nino found him, his tears had mostly dried out.

“I saw it, dude. It was Kim.”

Marin sighed.

“Thanks, Nino. I… there’s nothing I can do about it, now can I?”

Nino nodded.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

---

I may have missed first period and the picking of seats, but I haven’t missed out the first day entirely. I guess luck is somewhat on my side, today.

“Hey there, Adrikins. Here’s your seat, I saved it for you. Right in front of me!”

So, I have that going for me as well!

“Thanks, Chloe, that’s really nice of you!”

As Chloe and her friend Sabrina went to do something else, Adrien found it to be an opportunity to introduce himself to other students around. What caught his attention the most about the nearby student were his orange headphones, seemingly a fixture of his appearance.

“Hey, I’m Adrien, pleased to meet you!” he offered his hand and got answered with a sturdy shake.

“Yo, I’m Nino. So, you’re that guy Chloe mentioned earlier?”

It was at that moment that he caught something happening out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s that all about?” he called towards Chloe and Sabrina, as both were putting gum on one of the seats.

“The brat that sits here needs a reminder of his place in the hierarchy. I'm just commanding a bit of respect, that's all.”

“You think that's really necessary?”

“Ah, you've got a lot to learn about school culture, Adrikins. Watch the master.”

Hardly convinced, Adrien went about trying to remove the gum from that seat, as he heard another male voice.

“Oh. So that’s your method of choice. How original.”

The voice sighed as Chloe and Sabrina laughed.

“Uhhh… I…” Adrien tried to protest, as he turned towards who he presumed was the seat’s owner.

The first thing that struck him about this boy is that he had a good amount of untapped potential. Smooth black hair, bright blue eyes… given proper care, he could look so much nicer, but he was relatively unkempt and his clothes were poorly matched too.

“And to think I imagined this year would be any different. Stupid, stupid, stupid. ” The boy lamented.

“No, no, I was just trying to take this off!” Adrien tried to salvage the situation, but to no avail.

All the while, Chloe and Sabrina continued to laugh.

“I see you’re in cahoots with Chloe. You don’t need to play pretend with me.”

“See?” Chloe said, “Gay-boy here knows his place. As he should.”

Marin just covered the gum with spare tissue paper and sat by Alya.

“There you go. Adrien Agreste, daddy's boy, teen supermodel and Chloe's buddy.” Alya quipped.

“I bet he’s used to not seeing or caring how people beneath his status feel,” Marin muttered.

---

Alya had little interest in the class, but much more interest in her table partner. She quickly learned that Marin wanted to be a famous designer after he graduated. While she wasn’t a professional, the sketches Marin gave her seemed really good. But there was something else to watch for, too. How his face had lit up when he handed her his sketches. For a moment there, he seemed to be another person altogether. His face brightened up as he took at least a hint of pride in his handiwork.

And you should. Not to mention that a smile looks so much better on you than that sad face you had on earlier.

They had a free hour just after class, so Alya was only mildly surprised when Marin caught her hand and pulled her towards somewhere as he ran forward.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked.

“The best place this school has to offer.” he grinned and continued to dash forward.

“I present you… the art club room!” he exclaimed.

It’s as if he’s another person entirely.

Marin waded in, showing Alya all the different areas the art room had to offer.

A wall for street art, mostly cleaned from past works but still bearing color marks of older works. Desks used for writing, pen scratch marks still visible even after having been cleaned for the new year. Drawing stands, also marked by some uncleanable paint blots. Then there was...

“... Here it is. A state of the art sewing machine, My best and only friend in this entire school.” he laughed, but in a moment the smile dropped from his face.

“That… I…”

He sat by, not nearly as happy as before, and pulled a derby hat from the nearby drawer.

“I worked on this last year and haven’t managed to finish it yet.”

Alya picked up the hat and casually caressed the fabric. It felt somewhat sturdy yet comfy.

Marin flicked the machine on and seemed to be mulling his next move. Eventually, he just turned it back off without doing anything.

“We technically shouldn’t be here without a teacher, so let’s go.” His passionless voice took over again.

Alya could see this was nothing but an excuse, but she declined to call it out. Her instincts told her there was no chance on earth Marin wasn’t keen on violating this rule more than once.

“It really is a lovely place.” She tried to brighten up the atmosphere, with mild success.

“And I loved the hat.” She said as she handed it back for Marin to place in the drawer again.

That seemed to work a bit better.

“Wait ‘till it’s complete, then. I’m sure it will suit you well.” Half a smile crept to Marin’s face.

---

Marin bid Alya farewell as he left the classroom and slouched towards the school’s main doors.

He cautiously opened it, only to find rain pouring outside and the sky filled with grey clouds.

A fresh start, huh? The morning’s nice weather is already gone. At least the bleakness isn’t hiding anymore.

He stood by, still sheltered, when he found out another person was standing next to him.

That Adrien guy. And he just noticed me. That’s the last thing I need right now.

“Hey!” Adrien called.

He slowly sidestepped to maintain a safe distance between them and turned his head away, muttering a slight ‘hmph’.

“Hey, listen buddy… I really was trying to remove that gum from your seat.”

Marin turned his head around and looked at Adrien, wide-eyed.

I… I must be dreaming. Did he really just say that?

“S-so… you weren’t…” he tried to piece together his words and found himself unable to do so.

“Of course not. I came here to study, to make friends… I’m not here to harass or insult people, where’s the sense in that?”

He is sincere about it. Somebody that doesn’t see me as the “gay punching bag” everyone else does.

“I didn’t even get your name.”

“It’s… It’s Marin.”

Marin’s heart nearly skipped a beat, one that he was sure Adrien managed to hear even with the rain’s sound muffling it.

And then, there was an inaudible sound he missed.

A cracking sound, as the nearly-impenetrable shell, one that was built layer over layer of self-defence from bullying and mistreatment, sealing off his emotions, gave just a little bit of way.

Adrien let his hand out of the shelter, feeling the raindrops accumulating.

“So, Marin, It’s raining and I’ve got a ride, need an umbrella?”

He nodded ever so slightly and Adrien pulled out a black umbrella. A click and a whoosh and it was now open, handed for him to take.

Marin cautiously reached out for the umbrella Adrien handed him, his hand shaking and trembling.

That’s… so nice… so… so unlike…

No sooner than he had picked it up though, his hand slipped and triggered the activation switch, the umbrella closing shut over him.

Adrien laughed for a brief moment and gave Marin a slight friendly shoulder bump.

“You keep safe, alright buddy?”

“A… al… alr-...”

Marin barely even noticed his bag dropping, hitting the ground with a ‘thud’ and his personal effects rolling about on the wet pavement. His eyes were transfixed as Adrien waved goodbye and proceeded towards his pick up car.

He’s not going to insult me or beat me or humiliate me.

Someone I can trust. Someone I can rely on.

I feel… safe next to him.

.

.

Oh, Adrien!

Maybe things were going to be different after all.

---

Unnoticed by them both, there was another figure watching the exchange, clad in a hawaiian t-shirt and accompanied by a green looking creature.

“Are you sure of your choice, master?”

“Yes. He will make a fine Chat Noir…

… and she will make for an unforgettable Ladybug.”

next

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (iv) waitress au

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

tags are open c:

chapter 4: it only takes a taste

Time goes by so fast and I swear my uniform shrunk in the washing machine. I’ll have to ask doctor Barnes when I’m gonna start showing cause the girls say I still look normal but my clothes disagree.

Thank god Quentin’s still clueless about the baby and I’m happy about it. I just wish he’d find a job, that way maybe I could tell him and we could save money together instead of me doing all the work while he’s out having all the fun. I don’t mind that he spends a lot of time at the bar with his friends, it actually gives me a breather from time to time. I wouldn’t complain at all if he was buying his six packs with his own money. I’m worried about him though. He comes so late every night and he’s always in a bad mood, always complaining. Let’s just hope tonight his football team wins or I won’t hear the end of it.

“Y/N, did you bring me leftovers again? You bake god knows how many pies every day for the diner but you can’t bring your husband a single one that’s actually still warm and, oh I don’t know, whole?” He puts the plate aside and moves around the table to where I’m standind. God, the nerve of this man!

“You know I’m in a bad situation right now. Being unemployed ain’t easy sugar. I stay here alone all day browsing the tv, it’s taking a toll on me mentally. The least you can do is try and cheer me up a little but you’re always so tired when you come home!”

“Well, Quentin, if I didn’t have to pick up all those extra shifts to be able to pay the bills every month, then I wouldn’t be so tired. But if I don’t do that we’d be out in the street! Just go apologize to Tony, he might give you your job back!”

“Don’t you dare even mention that son of a bitch. He’s the one who should apologize to me! He took me for granted. I gave his construction company the best years of my life. I even quit my dreams for that asshole and this is how he pays me? Hell no! I’m not going back there ever”. I’ve never seen his face so red with anger before, it was a mistake mentioning Tony Stark, he simply hates the man. I’ll just manage things myself, like I’ve been doing, I guess.

“Okay then, but don’t expect me to come home to you all giddy and excited, when I work my ass off while you watch football all day and drink beer all night with god knows who. Whatever differences you two had at work ain’t my fault, Quentin. I’m gonna go to bed now, I don’t wanna keep fighting with you”. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, I can’t even stand to be in the same room as him.

-

It’s been four weeks since my first visit to the doctor and my next appointment’s this evening after work. Wanda really hit it off with Steve and since that day, they’ve been on several more dates. He even comes to the diner once or twice a week and he’s the perfect gentleman to her, both me and Nat are really happy for them. Right now he’s stuffing his mouth with my famous Spaghetti pie while listening to Wanda talk about the differences between disinfectant and bleach.

Nat’s acting strange though. I don’t know what’s up with her but she hasn’t been late to work this whole past month! Sometimes she’s even earlier than me, already helping Sam in the kitchen. Those two don’t seem to hate each other that much anymore, which is odd but appreciated.

-

Maria’s reception desk has sugarless lollipops in a vase and they look disgusting but I’ve been craving them since the last time I was here. This is my second appointment. I know the basics. I’ve met my doctor and nurse now. Then why does this feel like it’s the first time I’m here all over again? I even shaved my legs this morning and wore my hair down, but why? I open the camera app on my phone to use as a mirror. Is my face too plain? Should I have put some lipstick on? Jesus, it’s just a doctor’s appointment. I can’t help but hear Nat’s voice in my head say “yeah, but he’s a really cute doctor”.

“Doctor Barnes will see you now, Mrs. Beck, you know the drill. The robe’s in the chair”. Maria breaks me out of my trance and I follow her, change and wait for him.

“Hi, Y/N, it’s good to see you back, how have you been feeling?” He has a little more stubble on his face today. Good for him. Gives him an edge.

“Not too shabby. I still get morning sickness, thank god it only happens when I’m at work and not home, heh”.

“Oh, most women would want it to be the other way around”.

“Right. Um, Doctor Barnes?”

“Please call me Bucky, what is it?” He types on his computer and I bite my nails before asking.

“When do you think I’ll start showing?”

“Well, you’re only 6 weeks along, so maybe not for another three months or so. But in my opinion, women look beautiful when they show, motherhood really brings-” And here he goes. Nope. No more talk about that.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I just, I haven’t told a lot of people and I’m not sure I want to yet. That’s all”.

“Okay, well, let’s check that tiny baby of yours, hop onto the table please”.

I do as he says and he smears some cold gel on my still normal belly, and then starts moving the scanner around.

“There’s the little peanut! You ready to listen to their heartbeat?” Bucky smiles at me softly and I nod.

I find myself feeling excited for the first time. And then I hear it. Steady and strong. And doctor Barnes disappears from my mind. For an instant I just hear that sound and I can’t wait to hold this baby in my arms. Everything feels connected and right.

“I’ll print you some pictures to keep and I made a recording of the heartbeat so you can have it too”.

“Thank you, I have another question though”.

“Shoot!”

“Did you like the pie?”

He’s blushing again. The rosy tone in his cheeks makes the blue of his eyes even brighter.

“Did I like- Oh my god! I can’t even begin to tell you how much I LOVED that pie! It only takes a taste, doesnt it?”

“What?”

“Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything as biblically good as that pie. I think I ascended into another dimension the moment I had that first taste. Did you really make it? Cause if you didn’t I need to know the store so I can get some more, now be honest!”

Wow. No one’s ever described my pies with such enthusiasm. I know they’re good but biblically good?

“I really made it”. I smile and tuck my hair behind my ear. Goodness, I’m the one who’s blushing now, but he is complimenting my work! 

“That’s amazing! You know you could win contests with those skills? I am not lying when I say I was transported to heaven”. I’ve never seen a man be so adorably excited over pie. It’s my new favorite thing.

“You know, I can bring you some more if you want? That is if you don’t mind eating more sugar, but don’t worry, I won’t tell your doctor”. His lopsided smile made my insides do a funny thing I hadn’t felt in a long time. This needs to stop.

“Ha, that’s funny. My doctor is my wife, she’s a dietician actually. But we’re getting a divorce, so maybe I’m divorcing the diet as well.”

And I made things awkward.

“I’m sorry”.

“It’s okay, hey, your pies are worth the few extra pounds”.

Sure, act like you don’t know how attractive you are.

“Well doctor, I’m glad you liked my pie. I gotta go now”.

“Oh, great, well um, here’s the recording and pictures. Tell Maria I’ll see you in three weeks. Have a nice weekend, Y/N. And please, call me Bucky”.

“Thank you, Bucky. Goodbye”.

 Something shifts when I say his name and he smiles in a way that makes his eyes light up. He opens the door for me and my stomach does a funny thing when I get a whiff of his scent again, it makes me want to stay there and smell it one more time just to keep it in my mind for later. Those pregnancy hormones must be all over the place.

-

chapter 5: you will still be mine

pls reblog if you liked it c:

[destroy-the-cannon]

IT’S HERE!

Hey everyone! It’s finally happening. The long awaited Olivia x MC fit is happening. I’ll leave the rest of my thoughts as the bottom as not to bore you, but I’ll put one tiny thing here: there’s actually no Olivia in this chapter. I know, I know! She’s the whole reason you’re here. But I had to do a chapter without her to set up for something you’ll see in a future chapter. I promise, it’ll prove worth your wait. Anyways, without further ado, let’s get to it!

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, queer romance, eventual lemon(s).

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, death, illness. Language. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Paige couldn’t remember a time in her life when she wasn’t working towards something. She busted her ass all through highschool, working her way into a scholarship at a decent university. From there, she had concocted a simple, five-step plan:

-Graduate with honors

-Get into a fantastic business school

-Get an amazing, ultra-high paying job

-Pay off debt

-Buy a good house for her parents, and live out the rest of her life comfortably.

But no. Nearly a month after she graduated from college, her dad got diagnosed. As he spent more and more time in the hospital, the bills rolled in. Charge upon charge upon charge, until Paige’s mother had spent up their retirement funds and was looking into getting a second job. So, naturally, Paige stepped up. She got a job working at a tiny bar downtown, and sent her every spare dime to her family, rooming with strangers, because all her friends still lived back home in California.

And then, just as Paige thought her existence couldn’t get any bleaker, it did.

She was sent one final charge, then never any again.

After that, she threw herself into working extra hours at the bar, no longer having the energy to look into jobs anywhere else. For two years, she worked and slept, worked and slept. The only person she ever really talked to was Daniel, a friend who was good for cracking jokes and aimless chatter, but not ideal as emotional support. So, completely on her own, she did her best to heal. She cried till she couldn’t, screamed, cried some more, and did anything she could to try and lessen the complete suffocation that was her grief. Each day, she did whatever she could to wake up feeling a bit lighter, until she felt almost nothing at all. It took two years, but she was finally starting to feel like a person again.

That’s when she met three of the five people who were going to change her life forever.

That day, it was just the men who happened to be in the restaurant. This did make sense, because it was a bachelor party, after all. Not that that was easy to tell, just looking at them. Their clothes ranged from a simple denim-and-white-jeans look to a three piece suit, leather shoes, and a pocket square. Honestly, who still wore pocket squares? Paige shuddered just looking at it. It seemed that she was dealing with a typical group of douchey, overgrown frat boys. It would suck while she was serving them, but usually at least one of them would remember to leave a decent tip. She sighed and strode over, pulling out her pad.

“Hi, what can I-” She broke off for a tiny moment before resuming. “What can I get for you today?” Trying to cover her tracks, she flashed a bright smile.

The reason she had broken off was sitting there, watching her. He wasn’t dressed particularly flashily, in his garnet sweater and khakis, but he had an air of quiet importance about him, something almost noble. His posture was perfect, his hair done with not a strand out of place, a neatly shaved face, a perfectly straight and clean collar. It was the little things about him, things that one didn’t typically find in a crappy downtown bar, that made Paige even warier. He grinned a small, curious grin at her. Before she could respond, the man in the suit began to speak.

“So firstly, I’d like to ask about your wine. I’m assuming there’s a separate list?” Mr. Denim and a (quite cute, actually) guy in a black button down traded amused glances over Sir Suit’s shoulder.

“Sorry, we don’t. We have a good selection of beer an-” He cut her off with a horrified look. She’d never seen such a prim rage before; she had to stop herself from snorting.

“There’s nothing else? I’ve never even heard of some of these labels before! I’d think I’d like to speak to your mana-”

“Tariq.”

The sweatered man, the quiet one, lay a hand on Mr. Suit’s shoulder. His voice was warm, strong, and seemed to contain just a hint of some foreign accent that Paige couldn’t place. He smiled apologetically at her.

“That’s completely fine. We’ll take a bottle of your finest whiskey, and four glasses.”

“Great. Will you be having anything to eat with that?” She was making some strangely intense eye contact with The Sweater (she’d have to try and catch his name) when Tariq cut in obliviously. She was really starting to hate this guy.

“Yes, we’ll each take a filet mignon, medium rare, prepared with a bearnaise sauce.”

Paige blinked. The man smiled blandly at her as though this was a perfectly normal request.

“Sir, the closest thing we have to a filet mignon is the deluxe burger.”

Now it was Tariq’s turn to blanch in horror. “Burger?”

“Sounds great! We’ll take four.” Mr. Denim cut in, shooting a glare Tariq’s way.

“Right then. I’ll go put your order in, and I’ll be right back with that whiskey.”

She turned and made her way back to the kitchen, trying to fight back the smile that threatened to take over her face. Taking out Tariq, this seemed like a group of pretty decent guys. Usually, she expressed nothing more than a vague sort of interest in customers, a kind of unattached curiosity. But listening to them laughing and yelling, she couldn’t help but to want to pull up a chair and join them.

Sighing, she pulled out their glasses and whiskey. She was putting in their order when she felt eyes on her. Without moving, she peered out of the corner of her eye.

The three friends were talking, except for the quiet one. His eyes traced the curve of her neck, and her spine tingled with awareness of his every move. She arched her form just a bit, trying to be as subtle as she could, and his eyes slipped lower.

Just as she was about to turn, his friend elbowed him. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the quiet one smiled and turned his attention back to the group. She didn’t miss how his eyes fluttered back for just a half second, darkening, before he focused back in on the booth’s conversation.

She sighed, and grabbed the whiskey. Oh, well. This was going to be a boring night, but hopefully, in terms of tip, a fruitful one.

* * *

“Excuse me?”

Paige turned to find the sweatered man from before.

“I think we’re about to head out, and I didn’t want to do so without apologizing.”

The bar had emptied out completely, and the two were completely alone. Sweater’s friends were jostling around out front.

“Apologizing?” She frowned. “For what?”

“Well, I know we kept you late, and my friends can be pretty…” He paused. “Demanding.”

“Demanding, huh? Well, it was nothing I can’t handle. I’m used to it by now.”

“Well, be that as it may, I’d still like to apologize. We’re about to head out to a club right near here. Could I buy you a drink?”

“Which club are you going to?”

“Oh, well…” He winced. “We were actually hoping that you could help with that. We’re not from around here.”

“In that case, I know just where you should go.” She scanned him with a critical eye before making a decision. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy that would particularly enjoy some wild party spot. There’s a great little secret cove right near here you might like.”

He grinned in relief. “That sounds amazing. I’m getting just a bit tired of the traditional bachelor party antics. Why don’t you lead the way?”

“Sure, that sounds awesome! Let me just get out of this uniform, and we can get going.” She turned to go, then stopped short. “Before we go, can I get your name? I’m Paige.”

She turned to offer her hand, expecting a firm shake. To her surprise, he leaned down and actually kissed her knuckles. An honest to god bow-and-kiss. As soon as he’d done it, his eyes widened in embarrassment before shrinking into a wince. “Sorry, that’s an, ah, custom. Where I come from. It’s tradition. I just- just forgot you don’t do it here. I’m Liam.” He was clearly quite mortified, but Paige smiled. She thought it cute, and made her feel oddly regal. There was something so gentle in the gesture, it was almost reverent. Sweet. Grinning, Paige ducked back into the backroom, changing into an emerald-green dress she kept in her bag. She paused for a moment to check her reflection, fluffing out her hair and dress. Confident, she followed Liam into the night air.

As soon as she stepped out, the first thing she heard was: “Daaang! The waitress is hot!”, quickly followed by a more earnest: “That uniform didn’t do you justice.” Before she could respond, Liam stepped forward.

“Hey. Paige is a guest among us, and I doubt she appreciates you commenting on her appearance like that.”

If he didn’t before, he now had her full trust.

She was pretty used to receiving comments like that by now, and it didn’t particularly bother her. At least these guys didn’t seem to have any cruel intent. She got much worse in clubs or on the street. But it was rare to see another man stick up for her like that. Liam barely even knew her, and yet he was ready to call out his friends for her. Instantly, she found she liked him even more.

The guys stuck their head down and muttered apologies. They seemed sincere enough, and clearly eager to earn a fresh start, so Paige let it go.

“So, the waitress is coming with us?” Mr. Denim piped up, looking Paige over.

“Actually, we’re going with her. She’s picked out our next destination.”

“So she’s our tour guide now.” Denim raised his brow. He didn’t seem malicious, per se, just skeptical.

“Hey, Paige very graciously agreed to show us around, so play nice.” Liam turned to her. “Lead the way!”

“I’d love to, but can I get the rest of you guys’ names first? I can’t be referring to you three as ‘you there’ this whole night.”

“I’m Maxwell! Maxwell Beaumont.” Button Down grinned and shook her hand enthusiastically.

“I’m Drake Walker.” Denim stepped forward and also shook her hand, though much less enthusiastically.

“Great. And you’re Tariq, right?” She pointed at the third man, who was smiling at her in a way that did actually make her just a tad uncomfortable. He nodded, his smile growing.

“Awesome. Let’s get going!” She spun around, and they followed her into the night.

   * * *

They emerged from a small swath of greenery into a beautiful little cove. The starlight shone on the ocean, and the whole place seemed mysterious and magical. Like anything could happen.

“We should build a bonfire!” Drake looked happier than he’d been all night.

“I am will not be engaging in manual labor.” Tariq looked like he was about to throw up.

“I forgot who I was talking to. What I meant was, I’m going to go build a bonfire.” He practically skipped off. Paige could’ve sworn she heard a giggle. The men turned to take in their surroundings.

“This place is awesome! Skinny dippiiiiiing!”

“Keep your pants on, Maxwell.”

Liam turned to Paige as the other two bickered. “Thank you for taking us here, Paige. I can tell the guys are enjoying themselves already.”

“Forget your friends. Do you like it here?”

“I love it.” He was completely sincere.

“This is my secret spot, so I’m really trusting you here.” She was teasing, but he looked her directly in the eye as he responded. “I will do everything I can to be worthy of that trust.”

There was a moment there, where he held her gaze. But he looked away and turned his eyes to the sky as he spoke.

“There’s only one problem. How am I supposed to buy you that drink now?” He’d made his tone light as meringue, but there was a tiny crease between his brows.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll just keep owing me.”

“Seems fair enough to me.” They stood together for a second, until Drake called out.

“Guys! The fire’s ready!”

He beamed as he motioned for them to sit. His proud beam suddenly reminded Paige of a particularly peppy golden retriever. She stifled a giggle as she tucked her feet under her.

“Hey, can I ask you guys something?” She had grabbed one of the  beers Drake had insisted they get from a convenience store on the way. She sipped from the bottle, trying to appear casual. Maxwell looked up from one of the pop-tarts he had picked up. “What’s up?”

“Well, what’s up with you guys? What’s your deal?”

As soon as she asked the question, the atmosphere shifted noticeably. The air grew thick with tension. The boys traded nervous glances, each one visibly uncomfortable. Finally, Liam spoke.

“Guys, it’s fine. She deserves to know.”

“Are you sure?” Drake’s puppy-like grin had vanished, replaced with a look of guarded skepticism.

“Positive.” Liam nodded, and they all turned to her.

“Okay. Paige, there’s something you should know about us.”

“Alright…” It suddenly occurred to her that she was on a remote island with four strange men who were now all staring at her, and why did she think this was a good idea? She tried to tamp down her growing panic.

“As you know, we’re not from here. But where we are from, specifically, is... Cordonia.”

“Okay. And this is a secret why, exactly?”

Liam shifted again. Clearly, there was more.

“Well, we’re not just tourists. I mean, we’re not really, ah, average citizens.”

Hm. Well, that wasn’t too surprising. Liam’s controlled manner, the way Maxwell kept looking over his shoulder, Tariq’s pocket square. But what, exactly, did this all mean? They were either spies, mega rich, or criminals. She waited for them to go on.

“What I mean by that is… well, we may have left some things out in our introduction. Drake really is Drake Walker, but the rest of us are different.”

Maxwell piped up. “I’m Sir Maxwell Percival Beaumont. Of Ramsford.”

“I am Lord Tariq Nadar, of Larada.” He bowed and leered at Paige in a way that caused her stomach to lurch suddenly.

“And I am Prince Liam Cicero Constantine Rhys, prince of Cordonia.”

Prince of Cordonia. The way he kissed her hand. The way the other men seemed so keenly aware of his every command. His cordial behavior. She had been flirting with a prince. An heir, she guessed.

But, if he was an heir, then that could mean-

Oh, God.

“Whose bachelor party is this?”

To her horror, Liam raised his hand tentatively.

“It’s mine.”

Shit! Ew, ew, ew. Her opinion of him dropped right down to the ground. Of course he was fucking engaged. He had been flirting with her, checking her out, and he was engaged! Fuck that, fuck him. She hadn’t even been that into him, so any disappointment she may have felt was swallowed by anger and disgust. She was almost ready to leave when he jumped in, probably sensing her rage.

“I’m not engaged. I mean, I will be, but I don’t actually have a fiancé yet.”

Oh. She lowered herself back onto the log, smoothing her pinched features.

“But wait. That doesn’t make any sense. Why have a bachelor party if you’re not even engaged yet?”

“That’s what you're concerned about? Not the nobility thing? I mean, I would- ow! Drake!” Drake elbowed Maxwell into silence before turning to Paige to explain.

“Liam’s at the age where it’s finally time to pick a future queen. The social season begins the day after tomorrow, and by the end of it, Liam’s gonna have a bride. They try to win the favor of the king and queen, catch Liam’s eye, demonstrate their queenly abilities through a series of competitions, blah blah blah. We’re throwing a bachelor party now because the next one’ll basically just be a press event with a bunch of nobles he barely knows.”

“Oh.” It was all she could manage to say. What the hell was she supposed to say? This was a huge bomb to just drop on her casually.

“I hope you don’t think we’re trying to fool you. If that is the case, it’s completely understandable-”

“I believe you.” Oddly enough, she knew they weren’t lying. Somehow, in her bones, she just knew. These were genuine nobles, ones she’d just happened to somehow convince to spend the night out together. Her, the broke, tired waitress. Intellectually, she knew this was an absolutely wild and preposterous thing she was doing, but emotionally, that just wouldn’t register. This felt right, like an evening out with three old friends and one Tariq.

But then again, this was different for them. They weren’t used to spending time with people like her. She was suddenly keenly aware of her own casual behavior, how she’d treated them like any old group of people. They weren’t. She started to gather up her things, fussing with her bag. She should leave them. Why would they want to spend time with someone like her?

“Does this mean I should have been curtseying? Bowing? Using your proper titles?”

“Well, personally, I wouldn’t have minded if you had-”

“Shut up, Tariq.” Maxwell twisted towards her. “This night has turned out to be awesome. You’ve turned out to be pretty awesome. And it doesn’t have to end! Let’s stay out! Just keep thinking of us as regular tourists. Don’t go.”

“I-” She stopped. “Okay. I’m staying.”

Her answer seemed to have surprised her as much as it did them. But she meant it, truly. She was having fun, and as weird as this night had turned out to be, she felt like she had made friends. Real friends, not work ones. This night would become a cool story she told at parties, and these people would become ones she’d wonder about and obsessively google for years to come, she was sure. So she didn’t leave. She sat with them, and it was one of the best nights she’d spent in a very long time.

* * *

“Paige! Wait up!” Paige turned to find Maxwell running after her. Her face split into a surprised grin. “Maxwell! What are you doing here?” He bounded up with a bright look about him. “I’m here for you! The plane leaves in like half an hour, and I wanted to catch you before we left.”

It was the morning after the bachelor party, and Paige was trudging to work. The sidewalk was choked with people rushing from place to place, and Maxwell was struggling to hold his ground.

“And why did you need to catch me, exactly?” Surely, from the beam on his face, he wasn’t just delivering a lost earring? Hope started to tickle at her insides, though what it was for, she had no idea.

“I wanted to make an offer. Obviously, it’s totally cool if you want to say no, and there’s no pressure or anything, but I had to ask.”

“Okay…” What was he doing?

“Come with us.” Her expression must’ve been absolutely shocked, and he hurried on upon seeing it.

“Liam looked really happy last night. Like, uncharacteristically happy and smiley. And you seem really cool, so I got to thinking. You could come with us. You’d be sponsored by House Beaumont, and you’d have a real shot at it! It wouldn’t be easy, since you’re not technically nobility, and House Beaumont is kind of-” he stopped himself. “Um, I mean, it would be hard. Is what I’m saying. But cool! Fun! Are you in?”

“Sorry, what is ‘it’, exactly?”

“Oh, yeah, shoot. Liam’s hand in marriage!”

Liam’s hand. In marriage. The sidewalk seemed to spin. She liked Liam just fine, but marriage? There was no way. She knew it, deep down in her soul. She wasn’t going to marry him, and she never would.

She glanced back over her shoulder, back at the bar. The whole place seemed grubby and hollow. Daniel was wiping away at the counter, a faraway expression on his face. He was dreaming of an out. They had dreamed of that out together, on mornings like this.

Paige pictured elegant palaces, glamorous parties, beautiful people. She imagined dancing the night away, drunk on champagne and laughter. She imagined stolen corridor kisses and secret rendezvous in lavish gardens.

She turned back to Maxwell.

“I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes. I’ve got some packing to do.”

Son that was the first chapter! It’s out a bit later than I’d like, but it’s out! Sorry again about the Olivia thing. I promise, she’ll be a key character in chapter two. 

I’m really new to publishing my stuff, so if you have any tips or suggestions, please let me know! 

[mxvladdy]

A Break

Part Duo. Some fluff, some plot. I guess? I just like writing this one. 

Chapters: 1-2-3-4

Two

Hanzo left later that evening with a chaste kiss and a promise to call when he could. You watch him go, waving him off from your little balcony stopping only when he became lost in the sea of people below. The gold of his ribbon disappearing in the blur of faces and colors. Alone again you flop down onto your bed staring watery-eyed up at your ceiling fan. The quiet around you no longer the comforting kind, his soft-spoken presence a larger comfort then you thought. Already you missed the feel of him draped over you in bed, his gentle snoring in your ear.

Glancing at your alarm clock you debate whether it was worth it to get up and do something with your evening or just call it an early night. Fuck it. You were gloriously sore and sleeping sounded amazing right now. Work could wait for tomorrow. Laziness winning over you rose kicking off your leggings slipping under the covers of the freshly made bed, courtesy of Hanzo. Stretching out on his side of the mattress you reach out to your bedside table, fingers ideally pulling Hanzo's latest gift to you.

The metal of the pendant was cool to the touch. The light silver chain of the necklace shone brightly from the twilight outside. Thumbing over the tiny owl impression on the drachma you smile longingly. Slipping it over your head you tuck the coin under your shirt.  

Greece. What an adventure.

You wished he could have stayed longer this time to talk about his travels. Greece had been a place you dreamed of going when you were younger, but gave it up to get your career off the ground. That was your life now, bookkeeping and payroll. Our business needed you more than you needed to travel. Perhaps one day you could feel confident enough to leave the shop for a world tour. Or maybe even a romantic getaway with Hanzo, see if you were really compatible.

Admittedly your romance had been a whirlwind from the start. A drunken kiss with a handsome stranger that should have led to nowhere but a musty motel room followed by an awkward goodbye. But instead, you woke up with his number and a promise of an actual date. Half a year later Hanzo had a drawer of clothes and a toothbrush in the bathroom. Snuggling in deeper under the sheets you yawn clicking off your lamp drifting off with your phone clutched in your hand. You sleep peacefully wrapped in your boyfriend's warm floral scent till a light buzzing wakes you. Your phone vibrates, the light blinding you when you unlock it. Not that you care.

Hanzo (3:14am): 

Shuttle just landed. Be safe for me.

You (3:14am):

Always will :*

And you too please! I find myself rather attached…

Hanzo (3:16am): 

Ha. I will try not to freeze to death.

Hanzo (3:16am): 

Perhaps you could warm me up next time?

You snort wrinkling your nose at his flirting.

You (3:16am):

Yes sir! But it’ll cost you

Hanzo(3:20am): 

A price I will willingly pay.

Hanzo(3:22am): 

I must go, I’ll call when I get the chance.  

You (3:23am): 

Goodnight! Miss you already

You wake late the next morning groggy but warm, tangled in the sheets. Alarm screaming obnoxiously close to your face. Blindly, you swipe at the phone silencing the noise and rise. Waddling groggily you head to the bathroom to get ready for the day. You arrive an hour late grinning ear to ear. Your friends and employees glancing up smirking at your poor excuse for calling in sick yesterday. You let them work heading to the back to get your workload started for the day. Setting up in the back of the store in your favorite corner you look over your new assortment of dried leaves, flowers, and fruits.

The background noise of the shop and quiet music overhead lulling you into a comfortable trance. You hum under your breath pulling your scale closer to you blatantly ignoring Tabatha. She circles you like a hawk, keen eyes looking for any opening to start grilling you. The heat of her gaze latching on to the blemishes and love bites you didn’t even bother hiding. Placing your pestle down you sigh turning to her. “Ok. Ok. Lay it on me girl.”

Tabatha moved in fast plopping down next to you grabbing your pile of dried lemon rinds. “In all the time I have known you I’ve never seen this.” She starts shaving the rinds down smaller. “You skipped work, unannounced. During peak season!” She rounds on you dumping the shavings into their allotted jar. “I’m so proud!” You laugh tension you hadn’t noticed you were carrying in your shoulders dissipating. “I’m serious!” She continues. “All this time and I’ve never seen you finally blow off some steam till he showed up.” Tabatha smiles and leans closer flicking a soft curl ticking your ear. “You know you have to bring him around for drinks and leftovers sweets. Shit, the rest of the team wants to meet him too! Your pictures don’t do him justice.” You nod promising to ask next time he came to visit.

The rest of the day moved on from there at breakneck speed, the front portion of the shop bursting with patrons. The back with employees running about, fresh herbs, pastries, and coffee carafes in hand. The din of your business running smoothly a comfort to your frazzled mind. You finish your newest blend with a flourish, sprinkling dried ginger into the jar closing it with a satisfying ‘snap’.  

“Yo Boss! Can you cover the front while I take my break?” Switching places you wish your employee a good break. Perching at the register you make small talk with a few regulars as the evening lull hits. Greeting a cluster of teenagers as they entered you pause mid conversation taking in the new customers coming in behind them.

Oh. Well, this was rare. Omnics came in from time to time sure that wasn’t unusual. You make it a point to welcome everyone equally, as did your employees. But omnics always came in with human companions or solo to pick up an order or gift. And they most certainly never glowed. You eye the two curiously. The green one wandering aimlessly picking up different jars of teas and homemade jams before being over a display case of brightly colored macaroons. The other taller one was dressed in baggy pants merely looked at the counter before making eye contact.

“Ahh~ greetings.” He spoke. His voice, while naturally monotone it held an underlying tone of levity. “I wish to inquire about your tea selections. I have heard you have a unique variety.”

“Oh course!” You blush embarrassed that you were caught staring. “We have a small selection of in house blends, but the bulk of our products are sourced from fair trade shops from India, China, Japan, and Africa.” You recite by heart pulling out your display tray. The omnic looked down at the cards reading each selection as you described them nodding along patiently.

“What a peculiar name?” He picked up your latest custom blend. Southern Dragon. “How do you come up with the names?”

“I let my staff pick and vote on names. But this one-” You smile softly popping the tin open. “I named after someone.” The tea itself didn’t look like anything fancy sure. The blend of reddish-brown sticks looked like something someone could scoop up outside, Tabatha had joked about it often. “ Hojicha, roasted in house with dried ginger and imported nashi pear. This is the first season we are caring it as I like to buy fruits only when in season. It isn’t one of our most popular yet, but many customers have appreciated the mild caramel flavor and slight sweetness of the peaches and gentle tang of the ginger.”

“I see, that sounds very pleasant. I would like a bag of that and perhaps the sharp lemon for my pupil.” You nod scooping out the desired amounts into two small bags weighing them swiftly.

“And anything for you?” You smile less genuinely at the smaller omnic as they all but swaggered over. You had felt his gaze the whole time you had been chatting.

“Hmm.” They leaned on your counter visor not leaving you, long metal fingers clicking on the marble counter top. “I’d take a small shortcake and a three-pack of macaroons, the matcha ones; if they come with your number.”

You freeze choking on your smile, even the other omnic seemed surprised.

“Genji-”  

“We have our business number on the bottom of our boxes and bags, and a popular online storefront.” You ring him up quickly handing him his order.

“Mmm. I was hoping for something more...personal.” They continued voice dropping low into a slightly clipped purr.

“No.” You cut them off quickly, smile gone. “I have a boyfriend.”

They gasp in mock shock. If they had lips you were positive they would be stretched into a shit eating grin. “What a lucky man.” They tip heavily turning without another word to the door, phone out texting animatedly. You look blankly at their abandoned companion waving a hand uselessly at the door.

“I apologize. He sometimes forgets himself. I hope my pupil didn’t offend? I would like to return at a later date.” They bow low in compensation. “I will have him apologize properly when we meet again.”

Meet again… You jerk your head awkwardly still processing what in the world just happened.

“Woooow,” Tabatha drawls wrapping an arm around you watching the two take their leave, the taller one levitating the moment they were outside. “ Wow . Popular with all types huh? Thought I was gonna need to come in here an’ knock heads.”  

“Please,” You scoff recovering to wipe down the counter. “That has to be one for the books, right next to that time I fell in the school fountain at graduation. All white- like a dumb ass.” Tabatha howls with laughter already walking back to your shared office.

“A beautiful day in history. But damn that green one was mighty pleased to hear you were taken.”

“Ha-ya.” You frown rubbing your arm. Now that you think about it it was kinda weird. Perhaps they were a friend of Hanzo’s. He never spoke of omnics, cowboys and old vets, but you would think highlighter green would stick out.  

Tabatha came back talking to the last of your closing staff noticing you were still looking out the window. “Hey- you ok?”

“Yea-yea. Just thinking about it now.” Your friend frowns discarding her armload to lead you back into your office dropping you in your chair.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. But how ‘bout you get started on the paperwork, and I’ll cover the front in case they come back.” You agree already pulling a stack of orders to you booting up your computer. You get a few hours of work done in peace as your employees filter out for the night, bidding you and Tabatha a good night. With a huff she collapses to the couch watching you work for a moment.

“You forgot didn’t you.” Hmm? Tabatha meets your blank stare dark brows raised into her hairline prompting you. Blinking you try slyly to look at your calendar. Was it someone's birthday? Anniversary? “ Gurl ." She jokes. "Dick that good you forgot whine and cheese night?” Oh. Oops. 

Whine and cheese night had been a tradition since grad school, then when you went into business together. Every last Sunday of the month you two had a few too many drinks and bitched about anything that came to mind that month. Tabatha chortled grabbing your keys and turning off your monitor. “Good thing I remember. I got some new vintages and some fancy cheeses I stole from my girl’s fridge.” She leads you out of the shop locking up the building pushing you out into the brisk night air. You walk the short distance to your flat listening to her talk rapidly about her upcoming trip with her girlfriend to France. “Handsome take you anywhere yet?” She asks finally taking a breath at your front door.

“Does the city fair count?” You ask flipping on the lights to your kitchen. You glaze at your friend's face. Clearly it did not. “He isn’t around often enough to do something like that. Not that I mind,” You add quickly trying to get your piece in before she decides to cut in, her frown growing. “We had plans to rent a beach house for a weekend but he had an emergency at work. After that, we just do stay in dates or stuff around town.”

“What, he always on call or something?” Tabby flops hard onto your floor pillow kicking off her shoes. “Or like too afraid to tell his boss off?”

You snort passing your lounging friend an overfilled glass of zinfandel. “Bit late for the background check ain’t it?” She accepts the wine gracefully wiggling deeper into the cushions stealing your remotes. “Besides, I like just having lazy days here. He travels a lot for work so I’m sure that gets exhausting. I doubt a road trip would be relaxing for him. I like just having him here even if it is to just sleep.”

“Rrrriiiggghhtt. ‘Sleep’ .” She snorts looking wholly unconvinced as you settle into your favorite recliner sticking your tongue out teasingly. The two of you get lost in your favorite show then, talking on and off between mouthfuls of pizza and chips. “So-” Tabatha rises a few hours later popping her back. Eyes going to the liquor cabinet dramatically. “Wanna bring out the good shit and tell me all about your impromptu to vacation day?” She wiggles her brows, popping the cork out of your favorite gin bottle pouring you way too much. Downing your first glass in one you hunker down for a long night.

For the second night in a row, buzzing wakes you. The vibrations sharp and rhythmic against your thigh. Groggy from booze and gossip you dig around your chair. “‘Ello?” You mumble wiping drool from your cheek.

“Ah. My apologies-I forgot about time zones. Would you like me to call you back.” Hanzo. You perk up a little stumbling over your passed out friend to your bedroom door.

“No-no. I wouldn’t want to miss this.” You beam rubbing the sleep from your eyes clicking your door closed softly. The haze of the day prior leaving you with his smooth voice, his soft chuckle in your ear made him feel like he was there. The warm presence on your back instead of your sweat-soaked tank clinging to your frame.

“The same can be said for me- but I really should let you sleep. I merely wanted to hear your voice before my… shift started.” Faintly you could hear the sounds of laughter and clinks of plates in the background.

“Where are you?” You ask beyond curious, hoping for a satisfying answer. He paused again, the sound of merriment and chattering fading into the background. “Breakfast and a shift change. It was my turn to cook along with a friend. He had an idea for a 'traditional American breakfast'. It is very hearty, the others are excited. I expect I'll have heartburn for the next week now.”

“Aww! You’ve never made me breakfast!” Ah shit. “Not that that’s a problem!” You backpedal. “Life is hectic and we both have hard schedules.” Silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Hanzo shushed you gently over the phone. “No, you are more than within your right. I do not do all that I would like with you, yet you set aside time for me every time you can.” You snort into dead air. It wasn’t that hard for you, Tabatha all but forced you to take weekends off from work.

“It’s ok. Don’t make it feel like a duty, love. I just… wish we could do more couple like stuff you know?”  You twine your fingers feeling childish for even complaining.

“I understand that feeling, I have been neglectful. Allow me to make it up to you?” You hum faking thinking hard on your answer. “ Darling.”   Your chuckle behind you hand practically hearing the pout on his elegant face. He continues with a huff. ��After this assignment I’ll ask for personal leave. A few weeks perhaps? We can do whatever.”

“I like the sound of that.”

[bubblywrites]

Running From A Name Chapter 4

A/N: 

I had to use a converter for the lira.

130,000 lira = 80 usd 980,000 lira= 60 usd

“You know you’re acting childish.” Angelo said. Alma continued walking, pretending not to hear him.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me over a couple of customers? I don’t even see why it bothers you.” Angelo's voice seethed with frustration.

As much as Alma wanted to act petty, Angelo was right. The restaurant had all types of people as customers. Marco had every right to let in who ever he wanted into the restaurant. Business was business. But that man, Capra, was no regular customer. He reminded Alma of the suited men that loitered around the streets and restaurants of Sicily. The same suited men who were always busy, but did not work jobs that matched their attire. They also instilled the same fear in Alma that Capra did.

Alma stopped walking and turned to look at Angelo. An annoyed sigh left her lips. “Maybe it’s because you’re used to him Angelo, but when I looked at that man, I froze in place. I felt too scared to even breathe. Only dangerous men give out that kind of aura.”

“I understand that Capra spooked you a little bit, but that’s just how he is.”

“That’s bullshit.” Alma slammed her hands on her mouth. She had forgotten Miguel and Emilio were in the wagon. Miguel gasped and pointed at Alma. “Oooo, you said a bad word.”

She dropped her hands from her mouth to speak to Miguel properly.

“Well, sometimes when people are angry they use bad words.” “But you said if we ever used bad words, you would pinch us.” “I know.” “Can I pinch you?”

Alma huffed and stuck out her arm to Miguel. He used his tiny fingers to pinch her as hard as he could. She reeled back her arm, trying to shake out the stinging. She gave Miguel a stern face as he giggled at her. Alma bit back a scolding and continued walking. When she turned the corner, she was greeted by colorful street vendors selling all types of fish and fresh produce. Further down the street, there were little boutiques that sold trendy clothes as well as small obscure shops that sold everything from perfume to religious knicknacks.

As they walked through the market, fishermen were shouting out their products at the top of their lungs.

“FRESH OCTOPUS FOR SALE!” “GET YOUR SWORDFISH HERE!” “FRESH SQUID HALF OFF! FRESH SQUID!”

Angelo’s head snapped towards the fisherman yelling about squid. He sped up his pace to get a closer look at the man’s merchandise. Angelo maneuvered through the crowd with ease, careful not to bump into anyone. Alma almost tripped several times trying to keep up with Angelo. "Bruno was right. The people of Naples really do move differently."

Alma grabbed Angelo’s arm to hand him the money and shopping list Marco gave her. He thanked her and focused his attention back onto the fisherman.

“How much for three squids?” Angelo pulled out some of the money from the wad bills, ready to pay the man. The fisherman hungrily glanced at Angelo’s hands and told him the price. “130,000 lira.”

Angelo’s face twisted with irritation. “Don’t try to con me. You said half off, so that should be 980,000 lira.”

“My squid is very fresh. It is worth that much.” “Like hell it is. Vinny sells it cheaper than your half off price.” “Fine. 980,000 lira.” “That’s more like it.”

The fisherman tsked and bagged up three squids. He shoved them into Angelo's left hand as he snatched the money out of his right. Angelo smirked smugly at the fisherman. “Try harder the next time you try to haggle me”. He placed the squid in the wagon. Miguel and Emilio poked and picked at the bag, playing with the squids’ tentacles.

“Where’d you learn how to negotiate like that?” Alma asked. “You just get used to people trying to pull a fast one on you. Plus, the old man was hellbent on making sure I knew how to get the most for my money.”

They moved through the rest of the marketplace buying everything on Marco’s list. When they finished shopping, Angelo stopped in front of a clothing boutique. “We need to buy you new clothes. You want to try this place?”

The clothing store was called Canali’s Boutique. It was a small, all white store that had skinny mannequins posing in stylish dresses and flashy clothes. Additionally, it had tiny lights hanging off the walls that created a hipster aesthetic to the place.

“I was hoping to buy more casual clothes. Maybe I’ll get these clothes when I’ve settled here in Naples for a little longer.” “They sell casual clothes. These are only up to get your attention.” “Maybe we should come back after we drop off the stuff from the market. I rather not bring in a bunch of fish and vegetables into a clothing store.”

Angelo shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough.”

As they made their way back home, a pair of boys close to Angelo’s age rode up to them on their bikes. One of the boys was of medium height with olive colored skinned and had curly, fiery red hair. The other boy was shorter in stature with fair skin and a shaved head.

“Yo Gelo, what's up.” The boy with red hair pointed at Angelo’s chest. “Who’s baby is that?”

“I always knew you’d mess up and get a girl pregnant. I just never thought it would be this early.” The bald one said laughing.

Angelo scoffed, threading his fingers through Isabella’s tuft of hair. “First off, she isn’t mine. This is my baby cousin Isabella. The other three here are also my cousins. Second, I would never mess up that badly and get a girl pregnant. I’ve done a lot of things to piss off my dad, but I don’t think he would let me come home after that one.”

Boisterous laughs ranged out from Angelo’s and the two boys’ mouths. He calmed down and introduced the them to Alma. “These guys are my friends. The red-haired one is Giuseppe and the bald one is Manzo.”

“I’m not bald. It’s a shaved head.” “You might as well be bald.” Angelo and Giuseppe said in unison.

Manzo rubbed his head, sucking his teeth at his friends.

Alma fought back a snicker and introduced herself to them. “My name is Alma. These are my brothers Miguel and Emilio.”

Giuseppe and Manzo waved at them.

“Gelo, you trying to hang out at my place.” Giuseppe asked.

Angelo looked back and forth between Alma and his friends. Alma grabbed his shoulder. “Let me get Isabella. You can go hang out with your friends. I’ll take all the stuff back to Marco’s place”.

“You sure? I don’t want anything bad happening to you.” “I’ll be fine. I’m used to being alone.”

That last sentence escaped Alma's lips on accident. She stared at the ground, afraid to see the face Angelo was making.

“You and your siblings can come if you want. I don’t mind.” Giuseppe blurted out.

Alma lifted her head to contemplate his offer. She had no problem with the idea of hanging out with Angelo’s friends. However, she didn’t want to annoy them with a baby around.

She shook her head at him. “Miguel and Emilio can go with you. I’ll go home and watch over Isabella.”

“My sister babysits. She could watch over your siblings for you sometimes.” Giuseppe started to rub the back of his neck.

“Oh yeah, Angelo mentioned this morning that your sister babysits. I would really appreciate it. If I find the time, I might just take up your offer to hang out.” Alma smiled softly at Giuseppe.

The hint of a blush crept onto his face which did not go unnoticed by Alma. Giuseppe's eyes drifted to the side, trying to avoid her gaze as he whispered “no problem”.

“I think Giuseppe has a thing for your cousin Angelo.” Manzo said in a teasing voice. Giuseppe’s face flushed even more.

“Really man, my cousin. You could’ve had a thing for any other girl but my cousin.” “I-I-I never said that. I mean she’s cute, no I-mean. Nevermind.” Giuseppe choked on his words.

Alma chuckled as she unstrapped Isabella off of Angelo’s chest to attach her to her own. After doing so, she helped Miguel and Emilio out of the wagon.

“Make sure to keep these two safe Angelo.”

“Don’t worry I will. And I won’t be gone long.” Angelo shot a glimpse at his friends then leaned in to whisper into Alma’s ear. “After I come back, I’ll tell you everything I know about Buccellati and Capra.”

Alma was taken aback. That was the last thing she expected to hear Angelo say.

“Are you serious?” “Yeah. I just can’t do it in the house. I have a place we can talk about it privately. But you can’t tell the old man I told you any of it.” “Got it.”

The two of them nodded at each other. Angelo grabbed Emilio and Miguel’s hands and strode up to his friends. Alma grabbed the wagon’s handle and waved goodbye to them. She paused for a moment to wink at Giuseppe. Another blush crept onto his face. Alma laughed to herself as Angelo’s face churned in disgust.

“Marco, I’m back.” Alma called out into the kitchen. Marco pulled focaccia out of the oven and greeted her. He frowned when he saw that she was alone.

“Where’s Angelo and the others?” “His friends showed up. I told him to go hang out with them.” “He let a girl walk home alone. Especially one with a baby. I know I taught him better.” Marco shook his head.

“I was the one that insisted, zio. I had to beg him to let me go.” “He still should have walked you home.”

He grabbed a small plate off the table and slid a slice of the focaccia onto it. He handed it to Alma along with a glass of water. Alma thanked him and bit into the bread. She leaned back into her chair in delight as the fluffy, flavorful bread melted onto her tongue. Isabella mimicked Alma in trying to bite the bread. “Sorry Izzy. You're not ready for solid food yet.”

Marco chuckled at Isabella and pointed to a high chair in the corner of the room.

“I had to look everywhere for that thing. I thought I threw it away. You can put Isabella in there so you can have some time for yourself.”

Alma was bewildered at the idea. “Are you sure it’s safe for a baby to be in the kitchen?”

“Angelo is still alive isn’t he?” “Fair point.”

Marco went to grab the food out of the wagon to start preparing it. Alma took another bite of the bread before speaking. “I wanted to drop your stuff off then go back out to buy clothes.”

“Alright, be safe. Try not to get lost, the city is still new to you. Also, try not to get pickpocketed.”

“I’ll only go to the areas I’ve been shown so far. Thanks for watching over Isabella for me.”

Alma stopped herself from asking Marco about Capra. He would probably brush off the question or tell her the same thing Angelo told her about Capra. She put the plate in the sink and left the kitchen.

On her way out of the restaurant, Alma observed the secluded seating area of the restaurant. Capra’s deep voice was oozing out from behind the wall. The rest of the restaurant was empty, so Alma sauntered up to the wall, crouching down to listen in. “This is so stupid. This is so stupid.” Even though she berated herself, Alma could not pull herself away from Capra's conversation with Bruno.

“Those street thugs will be near the club tonight. I’ll hold down the place on the inside in case they come into the club. You watch from outside.” Capra said.

“Understood.” Bruno responded with no hesitation.

“There won’t be that many of them. More than likely, it will be the same five. Lead them away from the club. I’ll join you outside and take out three of them. You take out the other two. Use your stand if necessary.” “After we complete this assignment, Passione’s territory will expand further right?”

“Not necessarily. Mostly just Polpo’s territory will expand with this club. This spot is just convenient for the organization as a whole.” Capra finished talking. Bruno did not give an audible confirmation for his orders. They continued eating their meal with light conversation.

Alma had multiple questions, none of which had any answers. "Who were these men they were talking about? What club? What was a stand?" The only questions Alma had answered were why Capra scared her so much and what Bruno’s connection to him was. He and Bruno were exactly like the nicely dressed men from Alma’s childhood neighborhood. They were mafia members.

[saundraswriting]

Need Some TLC Chapter 6: Gratitude

(I lied on the last chapter? I guess I had one more ready that needed formatted. Told you all I am freaking clueless.)

SUMMARY:You discover just how far these two men are willing to go for you. You wonder at your inability to portray your thanks, they seem to ignore your determination to be polite.

WARNINGS: None. 

Masterlist // Previous // Next

Your eyes popped open, your alarm jarring you to full awareness. You got out of bed and made your way into your apartment, the event of the previous day fuzzy and vague. Until you saw the Blue Planet case on the coffee table.

"Cool. Cool. Yesterday happened, for real. Captain America and The White Wolf broke down my door, in an attempt to save my life. Sort of. Then we had lunch and Captain Rogers replaced said door." You spoke to yourself. "Jeez, those two men." Your tone of exasperation was undermined by the fond smile you had. The apartment was clean enough when you went to bed but it somehow felt more lived in and looked more clean. You shrugged it off as morning fog. "Whatever, breakfast time." You walked to the fridge and saw the note left on the fridge.

"What. What? What?! Groceries? Tony? Tony Stark?" You asked the note in your hand. When it didn't answer-as expected-you shook it and threw it on the counter. You wrenched open the fridge, freezer and pantry. All three were full to bursting with food that was most definitely not there last night. Both made and not, and packaged and not. You knew your mouth was gaping open like a fly trap but You could only blink in awe and confusion, your hands trembling. Your cupboards were full of someone else's time money and effort. The most anyone has every done for you.

'Go thank them you idiot! Be polite.' Your manners snarled at you. The thought hit you in the face. You twitched and raced across the hall.

"Sargent Barnes! Captain Rogers! Open this door. Right now." You knocked frantically. You had a second to be thankful for the lack of neighbors. "Captain! Sargent!" You knock again.

Steve throws the door open, eyes wide. "Y/N! what is wrong? Are you okay? Do you need help?" Steve questioned. You pushed your way inside, ignoring his questions and muttered invitation.

"Where is the Sargent?" You ask. You turned in a slow circle, gaze never settling-searching.

"I'm right here, doll. Everything okay?" Bucky came out of the bathroom in only sweats, leaving his Wakandian arm on display. He was wiping away the shaving cream on his face but missed a spot by his ear. You quickly moved on, not wanting to lose you determination.

"Is Mr. Stark here? I would like if he was." You kept searching, trying to squash your nerves.

"Yes, for exactly one minute. Who is asking?" A man you could only assume was Mr. Anthony Edward Stark came out of Steve's room, thumbing at his phone.

"My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I am a nurse at Mercy Hospital. Mr. Stark, I want to thank you for helping these two men dote on me last night. It wasn't needed at all. But I greatly appreciate it." You looked at the other two men in the room. "I woke up to a spotless apartment, and more food then I will eat in a month probably. I-No one has ever stepped up to help me. No one has ever surprised me before with anything, let alone groceries. Honestly, Life is overwhelming and my coping mechanism is to work and work and work, then when I take a breath, I am lost. I have absolutely no idea how to thank you." You paused to blink quickly and sniff. "I can only offer myself. If you need a person for anything, a medical emergency, or an extra player for game night, or a warm ear to ramble to, I will be there." You made eye contact with the Captain and Sargent. Your pause made Tony look up for a half a second. "My door is always open and my coffee pot is always ready." You grew embarrassed by your heartfelt declaration, fidgeting with your hands.

"My, dear. A friend of Frostbite's and Capsicle, is definitely a friend of mine. Now you are positive about refusing F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Tony for the first time since he came out of Steve's room made full eye contact.

You waved your hands in front of you. "Mr. Stark, No. I am just a nurse. You have much bigger fish to fry than a nurse who doesn't know when to quit." You rejected his offer politely.

"Very well. But if I or they deem it necessary then you lose. They scare me more than you." Tony grinned and shot you a saucy wink. "Now, boys and girl, some of us have day jobs. Chao." Tony waved at the soldiers and headed out. Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes shouted their goodbyes just as the door shut.

You and Sargent Barnes turn simultaneously to look at Captain Rogers who was looked over from where he was staring at the door. "No. Absolutely not. Drop it. He helped last night a lot. We talked a lot about the girl-across-the-hall and then I sent him to sleep in my bed. God only know when he saw on last." Captain Rogers tried to end the discussion before it began. He pointed a finger authoritatively before stalking towards the kitchen.

"Yes, dad." You and Sargent Barnes chorused. Captain Rogers began getting things around for breakfast. Sargent Barnes joining him.

"Y/N, any interest in joining us for brunch?" Sargent Barnes offered. Captain Rogers smiled and nodded in agreement. You looked around, the facts settling in causing you embarrassment and anxiety. You had just barged into their apartment after demanding them to let you in to thank them aggressively for being so caring and thoughtful.

"Um. No. I think this is my cue to go, Sargent. Captain, sorry to ruin your morning. I don't want to impose or over-stay my welcome." You shake your head. Sargent Barnes glances over at you from where he is putting plates at the kitchen island.

"Y/N, I though we talked about this. I am Bucky, James is you must. And he is Steve, Steven if you must. We are friends, family. You don't have to be so formal. Relax a little." Bucky reminded you. You nodded once a jerky motion. Bucky and Steve could see your growing uneasiness. The looked at each other, in their moment of distraction you took a slow measured step backwards. You pushed down the feeling that you were running away, you would rather avoid any confrontation about your impulsivity. One step turned into two and two turned into three. Finally you could feel your fingers brush the doorknob.

" Bucky stepped in front of you, wanting to squash any miscommunication. His broad bare chest took up your entire field of vision. You were eye level with his collarbones. His scent of sage, cedar and sandalwood made your mouth water. You forced your gaze up higher and higher past his neck and jaw and lips to lock onto his steel-blue eyes. You felt warm and flushed, obviously your extended exposure to these men was not helping you build immunity to their looks as you thought. Bucky's eyes twinkled with mischief and you hoped he didn't know what reactions he caused you. But you knew he probably had some awareness about it with his enhanced senses. 'Can he see my pupils dilate? can he hear my heartrate pick up? My breathing? Can he smell my arousal?'

"Doll, we did that stuff as a thank you and an assurance that you are taken care of. You make my nights better just by knowing you are around. You accepted having Captain America and the Winter Solider leaving across the hall from you without even batting an eye. You just welcomed us into your life like it was no big deal. You reminded us what it means to be normal, and that means the word to me. We-I wanted to do this because you are the most important person to me. Maybe except Stevie over there." Bucky was rubbing your upper arms like he couldn't help but touch you, to push his thoughts into you, make you hear him, understand him.

"But yesterday, you risked your life to save me. Neither of you had any idea the fire was small. Then you fixed my door. Then you decided to provide me with at least a month maybe even more than that worth of food. And you expect nothing in return? I owe you." You tried to argue. Bucky was shaking his head before you even finished.

"Nope. You think we would let you sleep through a fire alarm? That is ridiculous. You could barely walk that morning. The door thing was just manners. and providing for you? That is just to help my state of mind. I won't worry about you so much. I know that you work too much and care for yourself too little. I can't not help. So you have no argument points." He flashed you a toothy smile, trying to relax you.

"Okay then, I guess I should just accept my fate as your girl. Not a bad thing, being Sargent Barnes' girl." You smile at him. "Captain, three eggs sunny side up! Please." You toss over Bucky's shoulder. If you thought you had seen Bucky happy before, it had nothing on the mega-watt smile he was wearing now. His eyes were bright and twinkling, teeth showing, you could even see dimples. You next breath was a half second late-snagged in your throat.

"My girl. That is right. Glad you have come to accept it." He laughed lightly before letting you go. You decidedly did not miss his warmth as the two of you went to sit at the island while Steve made you breakfast.

"Captain, may I ask something of you?" You looked up as Bucky slid you a coffee made exactly the way you like it. Steve hummed while poking at your eggs.

Please ask Mr. Stark out, This is getting sad. Take him to dinner, or coffee. I am not saying drop to one knee-"You stopped at Steve spluttered at you handing over your eggs. You dug in with gusto, needed to get ready for work. "People as smart as him, they need outlets. The need someone to listen as they ramble and talk for the sake of talking. People like him, get shut down a lot. No one wants to listen to the genius rant about something over their heads, they are seen as annoying or snooty. They get shut down a lot. They get easily ignored. Sometimes just having someone listen to them is enough to make a connection." You stood up and rinsed your plate putting it in the dishwasher. "If I may be so bold, you have been given two people to love. Do not squander your second chance." You patted his shoulder and upon seeing what time it was gasped. "I have to go. I am scheduled till 3am, hopefully. Bye Steve! Bye Bucky!" The sound of the door shutting and your dishes in the dishwasher was the only sign that you were there at all.

Bucky blinked at the now closed door and tucked back into his food. He shot a glance to Steve every few minutes. 'Battle plans in nanoseconds but working out feelings will take 7-10 business days.' "Steve, I know you have to rethink every interaction you have had with Tony but we also have to go to the compound later for our classes." Bucky gently reminded his best friend. Steve nodded and hummed in agreement. Bucky just rolled his eyes and began tidying up the apartment.

A few days have passed since your impromptu breakfast with the two super-soldiers. Your bosses had spoken to you about 6 12 hour days rather than 5 8 hour days this week. You gladly accepted because with 32 hours of overtime and each 4 hour shift being 100 cash bonus. Your bills would be paid easily.

'Especially with all those groceries the boys got for me.' You were getting ready for your fourth 12 hour day with some hesitation. You worked a 'catch all' unit, and lately it has been rough goings. The ICU and Med-Surg units had been busy so you had some hard patients to deal with, tracheostomies and chest tubes and packing wounds and IVs and...and...and...You were getting tired. Being the most senior nurse on the floor for the evening shift you had to help the others a lot. Which was fine for you, nursing is a team-effort after all, didn't make you less tired though. Honestly, the long hours helped with that, you knew everything you needed to know, working on muscle memory to get through parts of your shift.

You knew just in the four days you had lost weight, you didn't have time to eat during your shifts, relying on water to keep you going. you were barely think straight as you left your apartment. You stumbled out of the door, drinking a protein shake, cursing yourself vividly. You were going to be late at this rate. You swung your bag hard onto your shoulder not registering the slight resistance it meet. You were busy locking your door and mentally checking your pockets.

"Not even going to apologize for assaulting me with your bag?" A gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Hmm. Sorry, my bad." You tossed over your shoulder having decided you were good to go. You turned around to see Sargent Barnes beside you. "Sargent Barnes! How are you? I've missed you lately. Been busy at work, the both of us." You said, grinning up at him.

"Hello, Y/N. Nice to see you too. We were working at the compound, Avenger-ing has been keeping us on our toes. But we both are okay. Now, are you going to apologize to me properly?" Bucky leaned against the wall next to your door, arms loosely crossed, eyes fixed on your face. He could see the weight loss in your face-cheeks gaunt-eyes dull and glazy, bags large and dark purple.

Your face scrunched up in confusion for a moment before clearing. "It was you? I'm sorry. I am bit in the clouds, I am on day four of 6 12's. It isn't easy right now, census is high on the floor. are you hurt?" You swiftly began running your fingers over his chest and shoulders and arms trying to discern any injury.

"Now, doll, as much as I would love to sit here and have you touch me all day. I can promise ya, that little tap from your bag ain't gonna hurt me. Now, are you eating okay? Do you have a decent lunch packed? What about water?" Bucky was quick to turn the mother hen card on you. He couldn't handle you touching him so innocently so suddenly.

You stepped back, warmth coloring your cheeks. "I think I am late. I am going to leave instead of disappointing you with my answers. you continued backing up not looking away from Bucky and him not looking away from you.

"Y/N, you need to take care of yourself. I can see you lost weight just in these few days." Bucky lectured. You sent him a small smile.

"Bucky, thank you. For caring, I promise, I am fine. This isn't the first time this has happened. I eat a bit, but too much stress caffeine and sleep deprivation leads to limited appetites. I don't have that much time to eat when I am on shift anyway. I do have to go though. Tell everyone I said 'Hi!'. Text me, we'll hang out. You darted into the elevator and were gone in seconds.

Bucky sighed deeply and reached his hand into his hair and gave it a good yank out of frustration. You were ignoring your bodily needs again. He also couldn't shake the sensation of your fingertips slipping over his clothes. You hadn't even batted an eye at touching his left arm. His arm hadn't been a source of insecurities for a while now, but it always caught him off guard when someone accepted it with no thoughts. He entered his and Steve's apartment obviously distracted.

"Bucky, you're back. What took so long?" Steve asked. He had a smirk curling in the corner of his mouth.

"You know what stopped me. Y/N did. She was leaving for work. we chatted a bit and she left." Bucky didn't want to tell Steve how the conversation went. It was between you and him. He could tell the two of you were getting closer and didn't want to jeopardize that with Steve's input. Bucky also knew that Steve knew you two had talked, even if he didn't listen in-he had to have heard you.

Bucky heading into his room to change out of his jeans and into sweats. They had no where to go and nothing to do. Bucky got settled in the living room, him and Steve discussing you and their jobs and which item on the List they would check out today. "I am going to do something for her. Maybe bring her some lunch later?" Bucky mused. Steve voiced his agreement, Bucky got to planning.

You went to work. You dashed from room to room to room, changing tubes and dressing and passing medications. You only sat twice; once to go to the bathroom and once to chug a whole bottle of water. Evenings were always busy, you tried to help the other nurses and your aides as much as possible but with the intensity of the level of care right now, it took everything you had to do your job. Finally after several nonstop hours you could take a breather. you were tired and dehydrated and nauseous. It was almost nine and you still had 6 more hours. You still had to chart and begin the discharges for tomorrow-two pleasantly confused fall victims from a local nursing home. Tank goodness, you were here for a few more hours.

You had killed 3 hours with paperwork, You were pointedly ignoring the clock, you had a feeling that it wouldn't be telling you good news. That minute your supervisor walked up to the desk with an apologetic look on her face. You signed and nodded. "What is 4 more hours. I'll stay. However, this is getting old. She isn't showing up for the extra hours she should be stopped from getting them. I know for a fact Annabelle needs some OT. Ask her maybe?"

"Thank you. I will keep that in mind and shoot an email. It's another $100." He shrugged before walking away. You heaved a sigh and darted off for more coffee.

6:30 AM, light turning on made you jump. To help everyone almost all  the lights on your floor turned off, pardon some recess lighting in the ceiling. The housekeeping and Dietary staff were doing their rounds. The sight of disgruntled, coffee-sucking, barely-awake people gave you hope that your bed was soon coming. You were so patient, waiting at the desk for your relief to come in. You had been pushing back tears for several hours now. You had the entire unit to yourself and 4 aides. three people had fallen and one ripped their stitches open. You had completely checked out, staring blankly and bleary-eyed at your computer screen, waiting for the blessed phrase-

"Good Morning!" The chipper voice jerked you out of your fugue state. You blinked and blinked again. There sitting so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed was your relief. Sarah was a pleasant morning person type. "Another 16? Y/N, you must be crazy. You'll kill yourself at this point."

You waved off her concern. "Nope, just broke. I have bills to pay. My rent isn't cheap. Anyway, what beds? I had em all." You grabbed your report sheet, hoping you can read it.

Sarah told you who had what beds. You could see concern still lingering in her eyes. "I can't believe the whole unit was yours."

"Yeah, Beth called off and Jude was pulled to another unit. They know I can handle it. I take it and do okay. My fingers are ready to fall off and it was a terrible night." You two waited for the last nurses to come in and you quickly handed off your patients, "Good thing about all the hours? Report is quick. See you at three." You gathered your things and booked it out of the hospital.

You got in the elevator and shook off your tiredness to make it to your place. Your place, where the door was ajar, but not broken, and you could here two familiar voices arguing.

"I have no idea. What did she say yesterday?" The first voice said, higher pitch than the other, Steve.

"She said day 4 of 6 12's. It has been longer than that! Something could be wrong. Something could have happened. She could be hurt, Steve. This voice was deeper and gruff, steady but stress had it cracking. Bucky.

Bucky, it's Y/N. She is a nurse. Sometimes emergencies happen. Did you try calling her?" Steve was as usual the voice of reason.

"Her phone goes to voicemail." Bucky sounded so lost and defeated. "If something happened...I can't...Steve." Bucky was trying to keep his composure. You couldn't really stomach these two wonderful men worrying about you to this level. You gently pushed the door open. "Well at least my door is still intact." At your comment the two super soldiers whipped to face you so fast your neck hurt.

"Y/N!" They chorused. Steve stepped closer, looking you over with a practiced eye. Bucky stepped right in front of you, reaching out and running his hands over your head and back and arms, checking for injury. You allowed it, not like you had a choice.

So what can I help you boys with?" You stripped off you shoes and bags, putting you lunch bag on the counter. You were so tired but didn't want to kick them out until they were satisfied with your safety.

Bucky watched as you put everything away, a sluggishness and lack of motor control telling him how tired you were. "You didn't come home when you said you were going to. I got worried. I know you are cautious and careful but other people aren't."

"Sorry my relief called off. I needed to stay. My phone died around 2. I didn't bring a charger." You explained. Bucky and Steve nodded. "It happens quite a bit." You muse aloud. "I will put your numbers in my bag somewhere..." You trailed off. Bucky knew you would forget this conversation even happened, so he would take care of it for you. 'Maybe Tony would give you a StarkPhone. As an added safety measure.'

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that you need to be kept updated." You said. Your petulant tone but them on edge.  Bucky pursed his lips. He and Steve knew that you had been alone a lot. You never felt that you had people to help support you.

"No. You don't need to ask us for permission. You can do what you want. I wanted to see you last night when you came home-or rather this morning. As your friend and neighbor, updates are nice but not necessary. I worry. That is all. I may have overreacted." Bucky said, he ran his hand through his hair.

"No. You aren't controlling me. You are asking as my friend to have me check in. I used to do it to my classmates and such in college. Nothing different. In your line of work a missed check in can be devastating. I should be more understanding. We are friends and neighbors, we need to communicate. I will try to do better." You sighed and smiled. You walked over to Bucky and pulled him into a tight embrace. Bucky froze for a millisecond and squeezed back, relishing in your warmth and softness. He pulled away and you took a step back to pull Steve into a similar embrace. "I am the luckiest gal in the world. To have you two caring after me." You looked between your guys.

"I'll try not to panic so quickly. Now, you have been up long enough, sweets. Why don't you head to bed? Steve has to head to SHEILD for a meeting. I was hoping that maybe I could--" Yu cut off Bucky before he could finish.

"Bed. Yes. Now. You? Stay, please? Bye, Stevie" You nodded once at the two men. Steve twitching at the nickname. "I don't mind you staying while I nap. I could use the company." Your end of the shift adrenaline was fading very fast, leaving you tired, unbalanced, and drained.

"Very well. Night, Y/N. See you two later." Steve headed out the door, locking it on his way out. Bucky pulled out a documentary to watch, and you headed to bed-stripping out of your scrubs before leaving Bucky's eyesight. In a flash averted his eyes, preserving your modesty.

After your nap you stumbled out of bed and paused looking between the bathroom and the kitchen. You weren't sure where you wanted to go first.

"Afternoon. I wanted to thank you." Bucky interrupted your debate.

"Thank me for what?" You answered, mentally shrugging off your shower until you were done talking.

"Not many people like me. Even at work. You accepted me wholly. Thank you for that. You have been there through a lot. MY rehabilitation and acclimation. I am glad Steve and I found you." Bucky sent a grin at you from the kitchen. Just like the last time it made your breath catch in your throat. He was so unbelievably handsome. You had always know that from an academic standpoint but lately, it was haunting every interaction you had with him.

Sargent Barnes, Bucky, I am glad you found me too. My family-we don't get along well. Even less so since I decided to move to New York and go to school and get into healthcare. I like to think I don't need anyone but no one should be alone. Not a workaholic nurse or a 100 year old human experiment volunteer, or a victim of 7 decades of torture and evil brainwashing or a multi-billionaire CEO. I want to help people heal mentally, emotionally, physically. People include you and the others and everyone else." You were steady. You peered at him, like you could see every thought and insecurity that passed through his head and were going to single handedly rip them out and stomp on them.

Bucky froze at your earnest declaration. He tuned to you, his pulse quickened in his chest. He knew he was supposed to answer you but he was still processing your words. You in one statement made him feel like he deserved to be here. He knew he was far from healed but he was doing better than ever and it was thanks to you and your unconditional love for him and Steve and people. A love he would spend every day being thankful for. 'I am in love with you,' He thought, desperate. You loved him enough to see through him, and his monstrous past. He decided then and there he would make you see how much he loved you.

You saw Bucky hesitate and decided to end the conversation, seeing it was making him uncomfortable, or so you assumed. "Did you finish Blue Planet? Also I need to shower. I have another 12 hour shift that will probably become a 16 hour shift. So I won't be home until 3 or 7 in the morning. You began hurrying around your apartment gathering your gear and clothes for the day.

“I did. I loved it. The ocean is so scary but cool at the same time. How was your nap? Hurry and shower, I will pack your lunch and make a grilled cheese." Bucky nudged you towards the bathroom. It was all sickeningly domestic and you didn't want to think those thoughts too much.

"Great. I will need some coffee and I will be good to go. A girl could get used to all this constant providing and coddling." You laughed and shut the bathroom door.

"Anything for you, doll. Anything for you." Bucky murmured before starting on lunch for the two of you.

You flew through your shower before sitting down and wolfing down a sandwich and chasing it with coffee made exactly how you like it. "I am going to be late." You raced around gathering your lunch bag and work bag trying to put your shoes on at the same time. "Bye, Sargent Barnes. See you tomorrow." Yu slammed the door shut, thoughts of how much Bucky was growing to mean to you swirling through your head-distracting you. You mad it three steps  when Bucky opened your door.

"Y/N! Your keys and name tag!" He yelled at your back. You turned around and snatched them from his hand. Functioning on sleep deprivation and coffee and adrenaline, you stretched up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek "Thanks, hun." And you were gone. Bucky blinked at you but you had already vanished. He placed his fingertips where your lips just were and smiled. He knew that you didn’t mean it but that didn’t mean he would treasure the feel of you lips on his cheek.

The day passed slowly. You came back after your 8 hours off to find several people were discharged and no one was scheduled to come in today. To pass the time you texted Bucky some of the things your pleasantly confused geriatric patients were saying to you. You texted him about some frustrations with healthcare. He answered every message, actively listening and giving support. You texted him to tell him an aide came in with a possible flu case and didn't wear a mask cause "She didn't feel that sick". With her sick you needed to pick up the rest of your week 11-7 for aide shifts. However, your boss's boss came down and gave you an extended weekend and another $500 in bonuses.

"She is absolutely crazy. Crazy I tell you." Bucky said. Steve looked up from them book he was reading.

"What is she on trouble?" Steve asked. Bucky shook his head. He and Steve had talked about what had happened before she left for work. Bucky knew that Steve would be supportive, had been pushing for this for a while. But Bucky was nervous, he was going to take this slow. It wasn't anything he wanted to rush. He had waited this long, he could be patient.

"she has to do more 16 hour shifts cause someone came in possibly with the flu. She has been busier than usual on the floor and hasn't been eating. I can practically smell the caffeine in her blood." Bucky ranted. He had decided the other day to tell Steve what had been happening between the two of you. Bucky hadn't been one to keep things from Steve and he wasn't going to start now. He also could use another perspective. Steve agreed with his slow and steady method for now.

Steve smiled into his book. Since Bucky admitted his feelings to himself, his mother hen instinct was honed in on you with a vengeance. It was a nice turn of pace from it being honed in on him. "Oh, poor Y/N. Well, she'll come to us if she needs us. Now let her work. Us and Sam and Nat were going to lunch remember." Steve put away his book and swatted at his friend's head.

The next few days passed in a similar manner. You stumbled home at 8-ish to collapse promptly in your bed and sleep until it was time to get up for your next shift. You were tired. Tired down to your toes. Every day though Bucky was in your place working on lunch and coffee. You were in awe. No one had ever been around to help with your workaholic tendencies got the better of you. Bucky helped keep you fueled with more than willpower and sugar. He helped keep you healthy. The last 5 days had been spent working 16 hour shifts and on one memorable occasion 20 hours. This was the most you worked in recent months and the least amount of staffing.

However tired to you were it finally came- you day off. Finally you achieved your first day off out of the 3 that were given to you by your floor's  supervisor. You had worked 20 hours to get to this moment and you could cry you were so tired. The world was fuzzy around the edges but moved too fast to track. You jaw felt loose and you were positive you had been drooling at one point. You tongue was heavy and clumsy. The few words you tired came out broken and slurred. You were wheezing, unable to catch your breath. You were shivering constantly even though you felt warm. You stomach rolled violently anytime to paused to catch your breath. You were at the elevator-waiting to go up. You could see your reflection, you hair stood up all over, you panted trying to keep from puking and passing out in turn. You had a gray tinged to your skin. 'Amy did come in sick. Could I have caught it?'

The elevator opened on your floor with the super soldiers. You dug out your keys and the bight red one caught your eye as it reflected the light.. Th last time you were tired to this point you had slept through a fire. You stepped down the hall, still thinking if you should use it.

In Bucky and Steve's apartment, they and Sam and Natasha and Clint and Wanda and Pietro were enjoying lunch and some board games. Bucky was looking at his phone every 5 minutes.

"Dude, what are you waiting for?" Sam asked.

"Y/N. She has worked a lot this week, 4 16 hour days and one 20 hour day. She is supposed to be home already, for her weekend off. She's usually back round 8. it is past noon. She isn't doing great. I am worried." Bucky spoke to his phone willing it to vibrate with a text.

"Bucky, your girl is fine. She's tired. Probably home asleep already. She is a nurse, give her credit." Natasha said.

"I know. But she isn't mine. I love her, but she isn't used to attention. I don't want to scare her off. Anyway, I am going to start lunch.

Bucky stood up and everyone froze to the sound of a key in the lock.

"Steve! She is coming here?! Quick! Make some room on the couch!" Bucky and Steve jumped up. Steve clearing a path to the couch to prevent you tripping. And Bucky pulled out a shirt and sweats for you to wear and grabbing his pillow and a small blanket for you to use on the couch. He knew you would pass out instantly.

They finished just as their door swung open.

Masterlist // Previous // Next

*******************************************************************************************

So? Longer chapter, I know it is seeming to rush here but I promise I fixed the pacing in the next chapter. I wrote most of this sleep-deprived in the small hours of my own 16 hour shifts.

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 26/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774 

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Rey was ready.

She was dressed in jeans, high-heeled boots, and a flowing top that exposed most of her back. It was sexy  enough for a concert, comfortable enough to wear all night, and most importantly, perfect for her inevitable confrontation with Ben Solo. Her hair was swept up in a half-ponytail and she had picked out a pair of silver pendant earrings for the occasion.

Her makeup was minimal in that it consisted mostly of nude tones, but she had taken more care than usual in applying it—she looked much better than she did during her daily bouts of tourism. A small bag completed her ensemble, containing the essentials: her wallet, phone, and car keys.

The concert venue was on the outskirts of the city, nestled between a massive parking garage, a few fast food restaurants, the rear end of a warehouse, and a few motels. A mediocre scene at best. Bozeman was not a city known for its animated nightlife: it was frequented by the tourists going or coming from Yellowstone and its inhabitants lived almost exclusively off of this influx of temporary visitors. This wasn’t the kind of place where tourists stayed for more than a night, not that many tourists would attend a rock concert in the first place.

Yet the parking was already full of  vehicles, their plates registered in Wyoming, Montana and Idaho. Tonight was going to be packed—a congregation of neighbors, friends, and visitors from the surrounding towns and ranches.

The entrance was a free-for-all, alcohol flowed freely as empty bottles of beer and stray cigarettes littered already the cluttered ground.

Rey took BB8 out for one more walk before locking her in the car with the window rolled down, making sure she had plenty of water and dog treats. She didn’t want to attract any more attention to her already infamous eyesore from 1977, so she had parked a little further away, near a McDonald's, where she had also spotted a familiar pickup truck. It featured a “Kylo REN” bumper sticker, the logo not unlike one of the posters near the entrance of the concert hall.

She hesitated. Should it go through the main entrance? He had mentioned an all-access backstage once; could she possibly come in through the back?

When in doubt, text him.

I’m here. Should I buy a ticket or do you have the backstage pass  you offered?

No response.

Shit.

He was probably busy.

She made her way behind the building and finally recognized one of the musicians (Skylar?) who was leaning against a wall, cigarette in hand. She approached him with her best smile.

“Hi, I 'm Rey, you know, a friend of Ben...uh...Kylo Ren’s. he told me something about a backstage pass, can I come in?”

Upon closer inspection, she noticed his broad shoulders, immaculately shaved head, and intricately tattooed neck and forearms. He deigned not to respond immediately. He lowered the eyes and practically leered at Rey from top to bottom, pausing to take a long drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke in her face.

“He didn't say anything to me. Nice try. Go through the front and pay the price.”

Rey winced. Something about this guy made her skin crawl, she could see in his eyes that this was all an act.

“Is Syed Ren is there? Can I talk to her?”

“What Syed is up to is none of your business.”

Okay...why was he acting like such a guard dog?

“Well,” she insisted, “in that case, maybe you can inform Kylo or Syed, wherever they are, that Rey is out here waiting for them?”

The musician took a step forward and bent slightly to reach Rey’s height, forcing her to reflexively take a step back. He was much taller than her. Classic intimidation technique; it discouraged escalation without attracting attention.

“Listen up, kid, I dunno who you think you are, but nobody’s gonna bother Kylo Ren. Wait your turn and pay your dues or get the hell out.”

Rey gritted her teeth. Her smile was acerbic. “Perfect. Let's do that, then.”

Idiot! She would’ve appreciated if Kylo and Syed had told her about Skylar’s garbage personality when she was still going back and forth about the whole maybe-I-should-follow-you-on-tour-and -drop-by-now-and-then idea. She was hoping she could be more forgiving to Kylo, but of course that proved to be useless. Now she only hoped he would break a leg tonight—literally. Fuck him and his rockstar life. Maybe he would draw the short straw one day and end up cleaning other people’s messes for a change. Maybe that would take him off of his grand fucking pedestal.

Eventually, with no other option (as evidenced by her very silent phone) Rey skirted back around the edge of the building to the entrance. She paid for a ticket—a paltry 19 dollars—and stepped inside.

The room was overheated, and already well full. Rey elbowed her way to the front as much as possible, getting as close as she could to the stage. Suddenly, she felt a hand press against her buttocks as she navigated through the crowd.

Hell, someone was going to pay very dearly for this.

She was spun around, swiftly grabbing a wrist while her fingers formed a vice-like grip around it. At the end of said wrist was a bearded man in a ridiculous hat, with an equally ridiculous expression on his face. He had expected, no doubt, to find her embarrassed and intimidated.

“Whose hand is this?” She yelled as loudly as she could, “because it just happened to grab my buttocks out of nowhere,”  she spat acidly.

The bearded man pulled his hand and tried to flee, but Rey held firmly. She looked him right in the eyes.

“Say, haven't you misplaced something?”

“Uh...hey...” mumbled the guy, visibly panicking now. Another girl jumped in to help her, grabbing the man’s shoulders to shove him off to the side.

“Get lost, there’s no room for pervs here!”

Soon, a group formed around them to collectively push the man out of the door. Rey’s heartbeat soared and suddenly she felt like her confidence was limitless. Yes, by the end of the concert, she would get ahold of Kylo and Syed—Skylar or no Skylar—to hell with waiting outside all night!

In a matter of minutes the lights went out. Amid the whistles and the cheers of the audience, Rey felt her heart skip a beat in recognizing the unmistakable silhouette of Ben Solo on the stage. He was all black again: black Doc Martens, black jeans, and a plain black crew neck t-shirt. Although his shirt was simple, it was very fitted, revealing the shape of his muscular  chest and broad shoulders. She remembered touching that chest, tracing the outline of those hard planes with one hand while using the other to dip below the waistband of those jeans.

Suddenly she felt unbearably hot.

But that was just because of how crowded it was. Right?

Somehow, there were only five people on stage. She looked for Syed in vain, her eyes widening with realization that the guitarist wasn’t there at all. What did that imply? Truth be told, she was a little disappointed; she’d had the every intention to deal with Syed too. It was strange how Rey felt like a target in what seemed to be a folie à deux between Syed and Kylo. There was no use in confronting one of them if the other got away.

She was surprised to find herself swaying to the rhythm of the music, whistling and clapping along with the audience. It must have been the music itself, a paradoxically beautiful cacophony that resonated with the rage she had buried inside and fit perfectly with the mood of the evening.

Kylo Ren felt it too. His voice was hoarser from the screaming, his breath more uneven, his stage presence even wilder than the last concert in Denver. Rey could see in the urgency of his body language a fury that seemed to spill out of him and into the microphone. It was almost a display of violence. Her own anger paled in comparison to his, the vast tidal wave of emotion that emanated from his being.

The atmosphere was electric, the crowd  unhinged. Rey knew the lyrics by heart, after a thousand kilometers worth of repetition, but she was still shocked to find herself belting the chorus at the top of her lungs with the rest. She admittedly knew nothing of the history of Kylo Ren, she didn’t know where she would find the story of his life (on the walls of some gallery?) or where they would end this unexpected journey. But at least she had found a new favorite band, and their familiar melodies had become her anthem—the anthem of her own journey. She would never forget this vintage car, or these desert roads which wound past rugged mountains, or the mesmerizing way Kylo’s hair fell to his shoulders. The dense, silken ebony  that framed his face in wild strands that stuck against his forehead when he was on stage.

The music stopped, the room became dark. Kylo Ren's voice rose in silence:

“This next song is about how we deal with the unexpected, inspired by someone who turned my life upside down. This is my song for her, "First Rain".

Rey felt herself blush to the roots of the hair. Was it a song for her?

Maybe it was for Syed? He hadn't specified anything, was it just her imagination? Did he know? Was she being watched?

Suddenly she found herself unable to move a muscle, frozen alone amidst a sea of nameless faces. Their eyes watched Kylo Ren intently, but him—he was looking directly at her. His gaze pierced through the crowd, unmistakable. He had written it for her. She immediately felt the urge to run, far, far away. But looking into his eyes, she found herself incapable of it.

His gaze held her captive. Dark and hypnotically odd, like his hair, like his clothes—like everything that was ever made in his image. His face was too long and his earlobes too detached, a round sliver of flesh peeking out from underneath of a curtain of black on each side of his face. She bet they were sensitive enough that if she pulled on them he would—

What on earth was happening to her? Was she really going to melt like a lovesick teenager for the first guy with a guitar who bothered to write a song for her? He didn’t even have a guitar.

But he sang words of love.

Better yet, he sang of other things: of a meeting that was more of a collision, of confrontation, of misunderstandings, of sharing secrets, of lies, so many lies...it was all there.

It was all written for her.

She wanted to put her own feelings into words, but her mouth was dry. Her lower half betrayed her desires as her heart hammered even harder. What was he trying to tell her, and, more importantly, what was she going to say in response?

When the music stopped the audience broke out in cheers, but Rey was struggling to breathe. He had sung the entire song while looking right into the eyes, so much so that the crowd around her had receded somewhat, providing them the semblance of privacy.

It was there that she found herself at the center of a circle of people, in the middle of Bozeman, Montana, and in some sense, at the center of the universe.

Then Kylo Ren broke the silence once more as the deafening roar of rock resumed, jolting the audience awake, and Rey was suddenly anonymous again, drowned by a sea of people once more.

She could barely hear the rest of the concert. She was furious with herself for falling into a trap as sickeningly cliche as a song in her name. It was unbearably romantic and...and irresistible.

She couldn't go on.

She left the room, feeling feverish, taking longer and longer strides until she made it to her car, where she collapsed onto the front seat with heaving breaths.

BB8 pawed at her and Rey let the dog bounce excitedly around the car.

She would wait here until the end of the concert, until Kylo and Syed were available. From where she was sitting she could see Kylo Ren’s truck, and she could just make out the entrance to the concert hall. They would be impossible to miss.

Rey was shaken, emotionally drained, even. That song had almost certainly lasted a few minutes, but it had seemed as though he had sung for hours.

Something had happened then, while his eyes held hers as his voice wrapped around her whole being. The room had suddenly felt deserted, like they were alone in the world. It had been so unexpectedly and deeply erotic that she had lost the notion of time.

She didn't know if she wanted to laugh or sob. Her skin felt tingly, crying out to be touched. She had never smoked in her life but she wanted a cigarette.

She grabbed the sweater she had left on the passenger seat, and buried her face in it before unleashing a scream that emptied out her entire lungs—a visceral cry  of anger, of frustration and of relief, simultaneously primal and liberating.

Finally she felt better, leaning her head back again before dozing off.

It was the movement around her that drew her out of drowsiness. The chaotic din of the audience leaving the venue, the roar of engines and bursts of random conversation.

How long had she slept? The concert was over, the people were leaving the premises. Soon she was surrounded only by the vehicles of the tech crew, and those of the Knights of Ren. She recognized the group, two women and two men, walking across the lot.

Rey got out of her car and leaned against the door, ankles crossed, as she scrutinized the darkness. Where was Kylo Ren? He better be out here.

A car approached. A dark grey SUV, which parked near the  pickup.

Rey’s heart began to pound in her chest when she recognized the silhouette in the driver’s seat—a leather-clad woman with a mohawk.

She shuddered. If Syed was there, Kylo would show up soon. Rey was going to call out to her when something stopped her in her tracks.

Syed was holding a knife.

Rey held both hands over her mouth to stifle the cry that threaten to escape her throat and give away her location as she slid down into a crouched position, praying she could just disappear. Syed slipped past the SUV and stopped in front of the black pickup. With one fluid motion, she slashed the rear-left tire, her fist clenching tightly around the hilt of the blade.

Then she directed her attention to the rear-right tire, until she had methodically slashed all of them. BB8 began baring her teeth and growling, but Rey coaxed her to be quiet.

This was highly unusual. Weren't Syed and Kylo supposed to be accomplices in some crazy scheme? Guided by intuition, Rey bent as far as she could in the direction of the Falcon’s boot, taking only a few moments to find what she needed.

Then she hushed BB8 again, who lay unhappily on the back seat, and silent as a shadow, she crossed the road in the direction of the concert hall.

[windsroad]

for part 2 of “fics I may never finish” have chapter 1 of my critical role regency au! there’s another chapter and a half after this.

Chapter 1

The country surrounding Emon did not know what hit it when Vax’ildan and Vex’ahlia Vessar arrived.

Sir Percival de Rolo, fairly new to the country himself, did not know what to do with them, either. He had recently rented Greyskull Manor after making his fortune through the navy. He had made back all he had lost, at least monetarily—no one was quite willing to ask after what he had lost otherwise. However he had, to the best of his abilities, not rocked the boat.

But Mr. Vax’ildan Vessar and Miss Vex’ahlia Vessar… they were entirely willing to do so. Gleefully so, it seemed, as though they did not recognize the rules they were breaking. Which was not surprising, Sir Percival conceded. The Vessar twins were the natural children of one Mr. Vessar of Syngorn. They had been raised by their mother, outside of good society, with little knowledge or care of their parentage. Mr. Vessar, an ambassador to Emon, had recently called for them to join him. He claimed them publically and wished them to enter society.

Or so they say.

Sir Percival, as much as he liked to stay removed from anything one could remotely call troubling, found the stories of them interesting. And he had a duty to fill as the most prominent member in the country to greet any newcomers. So Sir Percival found himself writing invitations.

Vex and Vax sat together in their father’s drawing room and stared in dismay at the invitation they had just received.

“We’ve been invited to a ball,” said Vex, surprise hiding the bit of worry in her voice. “I mean, invited, on purpose, to a private ball.”

Vax waved it aside, tossing an embroidered cushion as he did so. “He’s just doing it because he has too. We don’t have to go.”

Vex rounded on him. “Brother, you don’t mean to say you’re not going? We must go!”

Vax leaned forward in a conspiratorial gesture. His dark hair hung loose around his shoulders, shadowing his face and aiding the dark look. “Vex’ahlia, you needn’t impress them! They’re not worth it.”

Vex shook her head. “No, I… I want to go. Please, let’s go. I can’t without you. Think of the fun we could have!”

Vax sighed and leaned his head back in defeat. “Fine. But only for you, Stubby!”

Vex smiled and settled back into her seat, satisfied that she’d successfully convinced her brother of her way. She picked up the task she had been pursuing before the footman had been delivered the invitation—cleaning and restringing a hunting bow. A decidedly unfeminine task that their father disapproved of greatly. 

“But you must be careful of these titled men,” continued Vax. “All stuffed shirts, the lot of them. I know you can handle yourself whatever may happen, but that’s no reason for you to go out and get your heart broken by conniving—conniving—”

“Me!” said Vex, looking up from her bow once again. “If those with high standing trouble you, surely you don’t think I haven’t noticed you noticing that charming girl with the red—” 

“You’ve defeated me,” said Vax. “No need to continue.”

They both paused a moment. Vex attended to her bow. Vax fiddled with some trinket he had picked up god-knows-where.

“Do you think she’ll be there?” he asked.

“One can only hope.”

Vex insisted that she and Vax must prepare for the ball. They must appear wealthy when they wreaked havoc upon the upper echelons, she said. Vax slipped into a small shop selling trinkets and baubles while his sister sifted through ribbons, hair decorations, anxieties. He’d always had a bad reputation—and the bad habit to go with it—of a filcher. Sometimes he saw pretty things he felt no one would miss and his family’s money purse would certainly appreciate.

He didn’t need the money now. It was merely out of habit that he looked at wares in the window. But walking inside, something of his was stolen instead.

The man at the shop counter—the owner, Vax thought—was a well-dressed man of dark complexion and charming visage. As Vax walked in, the man smiled brightly, aimed like a sunbeam. Vax found himself forgetting the baubles he’d admired.

“Good- good day, sir,” said Vax, stumbling over his words. He cast about in his memory for the name he’d seen on the sign outside. “Mr. Gilmore, you are?”

The man laughed a charming, rich laugh, and stuck his hand across the counter. “And you are Mr. Vax’ildan Vessar. The whole town is talking about you,” he said. “You must call me Gilmore. I foresee us becoming great friends.”

Vax grabbed Gilmore’s hand in greeting. “I usually prefer to stay out of people’s attention,” said Vax’ildan, shaking Gilmore’s hand and smiling like an idiot. “Gilmore it is. But then you must call me Vax’ildan.”

“Vax’ildan!” said Gilmore. “You move so fast!”

Vax laughed and realized he was still pumping the other man’s hand. “Vessar is my father,” he said, letting go and casting his hand out to some object, any object, to put on the counter between them. “It is not the name I was raised under, and I feel no ownership towards it.” 

They paused. Vax took a breath and looked down to see what he had grabbed. “I would like to purchase this, ah, thing.” It was a small figurine, not three inches tall, of a white horse rearing up on its hind legs.

Gilmore packaged the figure prettily, and they exchanged the money and item. “I hope to see you around,” said Gilmore.

“Of course,” said Vax helplessly, taking one last glance.

Vax finally let the breath he had been holding go as he stepped outside. He was in trouble.

Vex rifled through ribbons and fabrics, trying to find just the right item she needed. Her brother had taken off, which was normal for him. She did not mind—she could handle herself just fine, thank you.

The bell above the shop store tinkled as two voices came in behind her.

“So you think I should get her a ribbon? That will do it?” said a smooth man’s voice.

“Sure! She’s always using those. For dresses and hair and things.” The second voice was gruff, deep.

“I trust you, you do know her best…”

Vex stopped what she was doing and turned to see who had come in. This was a situation she simply had to involve herself in.

They were an odd pair. One was short, very short, of a slight build, dressed extravagantly well. His dark hair was pulled from his face neatly, and his chin was shaved smooth.

The other was much his opposite. Tall, well-built, with a thick beard and bald head. His clothes appeared like those of a farmhand.

“Hello!” said Vex, putting on her most charming smile. “May I ask, who is this gift for? I think I could be a great help.”

The shorter man flashed back an even more dashing smile. “A young woman out by herself!” he said, bowing. “People will talk. I am Scanlan Shorthalt. A pleasure.”

“Grog,” said the giant man. “Strongjaw.”

Vex’ahlia curtseyed in turn. “Vex’ahlia Vessar,” she said. “People are already talking.”

“I have heard some tales of the Vessar twins,” said Mr. Shorthalt. “The girl you ask about is Miss Pike Trickfoot. We were discussing what I might bring her as a gift.”

“I thought some ribbons,” said Mr. Strongjaw.

“You know what would be grand!” said Vex, her mind turning. She was aware of certain rules of etiquette, and she took great pleasure in ignoring them. One does not invite others to other people’s balls. “I know that there will be a ball at Greyskull Manor. Buy her something she can wear—not ribbons, maybe a comb—and ask her to wear it there.”

Mr. Shorthalt leaned back on his heels. “Miss Vessar, that is quite good,” he said. “I will have you know that I and my students are providing the entertainment at this ball. I should be quite glad to see her there.”

“So I will see you there! That is wonderful! Will I also see you there, Mr. Strongjaw?”

He pointed at himself in shock. “Me? I’m just Grog. I’m not usually. People don’t invite me to balls.”

“Oh, you must go!” said Vex’ahlia. “It will be great fun. I shall be upset if you do not.”

Grog looked down at Mr. Shorthalt. Scanlan shrugged. “Well, thank you for your help, Miss Vessar.”

Vex watched them leave, chatting about parting ways so Mr. Shorthalt could purchase flowers, before she finally picked out her ribbons, paid for them, and left to meet her brother.

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told

Spoilers up to Chapter 37 of Baghdad Waltz

Hi everyone,

I’m so very sorry for being so late with getting Chapter 38 out. Writing that Spent Brass put a delay in everything, though it was really crucial to get it posted before this next chapter.

This has been a really tough chapter to get right for me. I’ve gone back to the drawing board more than once for a couple scenes. I’m not sure when it will be out, but I’m working on it daily and making some good progress. Thank you for sending me your words of encouragement and letting me know you’re thinking of me! I’m thinking of you too and know you’re really looking forward to more. It will be a doozy, in terms of content, so I hope it’s worth the wait.

In horrifying news, BW is turning THREE YEARS OLD on March 13th. Kill me. (But not before I finish this fucking thing.)

In the meantime, here are some answers to some Asks-------

Thank you so much for the very kind words. I’m so pleased that this story checks off so many of your boxes, and I’m relieved to know that the structure and methods I’ve chosen for storytelling have lent to a balanced narrative where you can appreciate both of these characters. I figure people don’t have to like each character equally, or at all. I just really want their choices make sense, for each character to have a distinct psychology, to have each action and reaction be believable, even if it is infuriating or illogical (it can still fall within the character’s internal logic, based on their own worldview). And I am so honored that this fic can serve as some inspiration for your own. God knows I have mine I go to on the reg when my stuff sucks and I can’t string two words together to save my life.

This is a deceptively silly question, I think (because I can’t keep anything simple). Working out together would be a nice little nostalgic throwback, wouldn’t it? I sometimes pop back to earlier chapters when they were in Baghdad and think about those times with a wistful smile. I think about the way they related, the way they looked, the relative lack of complications in their lives, and it’s such a profound departure from the way things are now.

Steve obviously has kept up his gym going with Matt. We’ve also seen that working out for him is about more than just being swole and hawt; it’s about control and regulating his emotions. And for Bucky, working out used to be a way of maintaining peak fitness for his career, which was one of the ways that he evaluated his self-esteem. If he was fit, he had value. Also, if he was fit, he was sexy, and we know that sexual capability is also one of the primary currencies he uses to determine his self-worth. He also used the construction of his physique as a way to develop his masculinity, the correct form of [gay] masculinity, rather than being a twink or a sissy. This was always a struggle against Bucky’s natural slim body composition, which has become his default again now that he’s been out of the military.

Now Bucky faces a couple of hurdles to exercise, whether he would do it for health or for building his physique. He has the challenges brought about by his many injuries - compromised grip in his left hand due to his massive forearm injuries and inconsistent rehabilitation efforts, ongoing pain in his right foot and a continued limp from that, significant back and hip pain due to very heavy load bearing and overcompensation from his foot injury. This would make it challenging for him to engage in any intense fitness program. What he really needs is to go back to physical therapy, and probably occupational therapy as well, but last time didn’t go so hot last time.

Even if he didn’t have to contend with his injuries, Bucky is at a bit of a crossroads in terms of how much energy he wants to put into rebuilding and maintaining his ideal physical self, which seems to be based on some prototype he picked up long ago (more on that in a future chapter). No chest hair, no body fat, muscles, a perfectly shaved asshole at all times… But he’s not 21 anymore. He has a boyfriend now. And even though he’d probably love to go to the gym to shoulder in on Steve’s time with Matt, I wonder if he would want to go for himself anymore. I wonder if going with Steve would be intimidating or make him feel pressured to fall back into his old patterns. Because now at least he has the excuse that he can’t lift heavy, that he can’t run, so he might as well not even try. But if he could, it would be interesting to see where his path would go as a 31-year-old man.

See? You thought it would be a simple “Yeah, there’re totes gonna go to the gym together, chapter 41, stay tuned!” or “No, probs not, I don’t think he’s much of a gym goer anymore.” Alas. I give no simple answers. This is why you have to wait 5 months for a BW chapter.

This is a good observation. Bucky loves himself a good drunk pizza. He also watches a lot of food-related TV when he drinks. Bucky has had to think a lot about food for various reasons. One is building muscle and physique when his body is telling him NO I WILL NOT. One is not eating so that he can get drunk faster. One is eating the right kind of diet so that he can have anal sex without having to worry about digestive issues (constipation, feeling too full, not being ‘ready,’ too much or too little shitting), which is a thing he would take seriously a hardcore bottom. I see things like pizza as a comfort food, family food, something Winnie would get for them every Friday night after they moved to New York. It’s a very emotional food for him, but he knows it’s “bad” for all of the aforementioned reasons, because it will make you fat and slow your buzz and stuff up your colon, so he might be most inclined to eat it when deep in a bender and doesn’t give a shit about those other things. Because Bucky not only drinks to forget and manage intense emotions, but he drinks also to just relax the relentless march of self-perpetuated, often absurd rules about what and who he is and what he can and should do. So yes, Bucky has some disordered eating, most of it functional, though a lot of his lack of eating recently is likely anxiety-related and/or stomach illness-related.

Another excellent observation. For those who might need a refresher, since this was in chapter 36:

The morning after Bucky shows up at Steve’s drunk and they have sex and many revelations are made about drinking during their relationship, Bucky gets honest about what happened the day before. He tells Steve:  “I had my interview. It— I really don’t know how it went. I was so out of it. I’ve been so fucked up these past couple weeks. Just— it’s been bad. Really bad.” He tells the story of what happened at Scott’s. Steve asks why Bucky didn’t tell him he was struggling, and Bucky says that he didn’t want to get into it. Steve shifts in to talking about whether they should get back together.

I think there are a couple things here I could say. Yes, Bucky saying that he’s struggling is an example of some unusually straight-forward honesty that’s also a personal risk for himself. That’s a real measure of progress! But while I think this honesty is something that’s pretty new, the fact that he’s in a bad place mentally is not new information to Steve. I think back to the chapter before, after Bucky’s PT appointment with Luke, where he was clearly very distraught and having an extremely difficult time. Steve couldn’t get him to say what was happening then, but it was clear that it was something very major.  So I don’t think this really felt to him like a major revelation, like Bucky’s really been holding it all together perfectly while imploding on the inside. I think this observation was more like, why didn’t you just TELL me you were struggling rather than having to have me wonder and then get wasted and come here drunk? Steve has a long history of asking Bucky if he’s okay and getting the brushoff. He’s probably starting to get tired of always asking and getting shot down.

Another part of your question is also very valid - is this the right time to get into a relationship??  Haha. Ha. Well, nobody said these two were good at making relationship decisions. But on a more serious note, Bucky having struggles is not only not new information for this month, it’s not new information for their relationship. Bucky has always had a secret life of pain that Steve has had to wonder about, ask about, beg to be let into, and he probably figures that one of the best ways he can affect change is if they’re in a romantic relationship. It will let him get close, give him some leverage, etc. So although it might come off as callous, Bucky’s struggles are the rule rather than the exception, and Steve probably figures he needs to get this relationship locked down so that he can get them into therapy and much-needed help.

Of course, there’s plenty of dramatic irony here, right? Steve doesn’t know what we know, which is that what Bucky is struggling with here is the REALLY BIG STUFF. He probably just thinks it’s his usual stuff. So. We’ll see where that goes. Bucky is going to maintain this illusion for as long as he possibly can.

Yes, @pitchforkcentral86​ and I had several conversations about whether Bucky should have an animal. It’s a common trope in fic, and a joyful one to read. (Omg, I didn’t know about Alpine until now and I am thrilled!) And yes, service dogs, emotional support animals, therapy animals, pets, they can all be very healing, can provide meaning and purpose, and can also help to structure the lives of people who feel destabilized in various ways.

However, I have held back on giving Bucky an animal because a) his aforementioned history with animals, and b) I’m not sure if that’s what he needs at this point in his journey. I do really think Bucky has some sort of healing that needs to take place around animals. He loves animals. He loves nature and is a true soft boy (TM) who has been deeply hurt by his experiences. It was very inconsistent with his values to do the things he did, see the things he saw, and it’s so painful that he doesn’t know how to reconcile it.

But he’s in such a precarious place now emotionally, with such low resources, and he can barely even share the smallest pieces himself with other humans. People are a lot more complicated, yes, but animals are a lot of responsibility. He would be so hard on himself if he didn’t do a good job, if he didn’t react well to his animal companion, etc. And I think it would probably be more bang for his buck to devote that energy to trying to increasing his emotional intimacy with his partner or his sponsor or other important humans in his life who are asking for his trust. He could GO BACK TO THERAPY EVEN.  

I do think something that would potentially be helpful and pretty low resource cost is to have a therapy animal in his life, like something he could go periodically, a therapy dog at the VA or something he could visit and pet once in a while. It would be a good start.

But that’s just my thinking for this character specifically. I think service/emotional support/therapy animals are wonderful and can create incredible bridges for people to improving their quality of life.

Well, that’s all for now! I will continue plugging away at BW and will get it to you as soon as I can. Thank you, as ever, for your patience! And thank you for the wonderful Asks <3 <3 <3

[zeldafanlegends]

Author’s Favorite Scenes:  Excerpt from  The Legacy of Myriad Book Two - Rise of Power:  Chapter 2 -  Matters of the Heart

After Link and Zelda's victory at the Temple of Fire, Myriad sends them to Lake Hylia to unleash the power held within the Temple of Water, though the temple may be the least of their concerns when Ganondorf begins retaliating against Hyrule itself.  With no other place to go, the people turn to a revolt forming to fight his tyranny, and it's here that Zelda learns an unexpected truth concerning Link's past.   Meanwhile, Link discovers the truth behind another long kept secret when his path to defend Hyrule leads to a confrontation with the King of Evil himself.

Full Story Available on:

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Ao3

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"We don't need a sword for that. Just give me your dagger.”

Looking down at her hip, Zelda took the weapon and handed it over despite her uncertainty over his request. “You can't learn swordplay with a dagger, Link.”

“No, but you can find the right tools using it. Just stay right here."

Confused, Zelda watched as he disappeared into the nearby trees. Sounds of shuffling followed, redoubling her bewilderment. What's he doing?

Waiting patiently, he finally seemed to find what he was looking for when the word, “There,” came from the trees followed by his return with a medium thick branch in his hand.

Bringing it toward her while cutting the leaves from its sides, Zelda smiled brightly—he was making a wooden sword for practice.

Removing the blanket from her shoulders, she tossed it into the tent and walked over to wait until he was done shaving the thick branch down to size, then handed the dagger back to her. Returning it to her belt, she looked back up as Link moved beside her and took her hand, placing it on the bottom of the limb followed by putting her other beneath it.

"I carved a notch so you can see where the guard is,” he pointed out. “Have you ever used a sword before at all?"

“Impa showed me some basics, such as the proper stances."

Parting her legs to show him that she was telling the truth, he watched with an approving nod, then moved behind her. Looking back, Zelda watched as he took her arm and moved it so that it was bent just slightly inward.

"Keep your elbows bent but close to your side," he explained. “That way it's harder for opponents to hit you, and you can lash out more easily.”

Stepping back again, he asked, “What else did Impa show you?"

Zelda replied by turning the limb in a circle using one hand, and did it fairly quickly. "I've only practiced doing that much. I used my left too, just to make sure both of them were capable."

Nodding, Link commenced with showing her some basic swipes followed by making her perform them a few times, and she caught on rather quickly. A patient learner, she was easy to work with, giving the impression that she'd be at a basic level of swordplay in no time at all. Everything he showed her, she took in with interest and adapted, making him feel as if he were doing a good job teaching—a relieving thought.

The worry of becoming too distracted by something such as her beauty to keep his focus was prevalent. But though he wasn't oblivious to her feminine appeal, it didn't take his mind off of what they were doing as much as he'd expected—with a little effort, that was.

Whenever they got closer, he kept his gaze away from her face and helped her along without fault.

In the reverse, Zelda couldn't help but appreciate his method of instruction and how easy he made everything seem. If she made a mistake, he showed her exactly what she'd done and explained the reasons why it was wrong without becoming impatient. Furthermore, he never teased her, leaving her much more comfortable learning.

Still, she did find herself blushing every time he put his arms around her to correct her position.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice the pink staining her cheeks, too busy providing instruction by cracking little jokes like so if a cucco flew at you, what would you do?

Such comments had her laughing too much to immediately continue, and after spending an hour working on methods of using the blade, Link announced his intentions of showing her some basic footwork.

Eager to learn, Zelda followed his instruction to the best of her ability, but found this part of her impromptu training more difficult for a simple reason—the damp ground. The recent rains left the terrain slick with mud, though she didn't complain if only because fighters didn't get to choose their setting.

So she tried to be as careful as possible, but that didn't stop her right foot from sliding abruptly after making a turn.

"Whoa … are you alright?" Link asked.

Smiling, Zelda nodded and immediately corrected herself, then attempted the same move again and succeeded.

Seeing this, Link commended her and continued providing instructions on pivoting through example, leading her as carefully as possible. Just as before, she picked up on the movements easily, though neither of them noticed a small rock in her path, and at her next turn, her boot came down right on top of it.

Gasping as she lost her balance on the uneven surface, she stumbled backwards.

Instinctively, Link reached out, thankfully close enough to grab her waist and use her momentum to swing her around. Sadly, the wet ground didn't help him keep his footing, causing his own downward tumble as he held Zelda close and used his body to cushion her fall.

Once they landed, both fought to catch their breath, and Zelda swiftly lifted her head to stare down at him in surprise, then rolled aside and turned her gaze to spy the rock nearby that caused their mishap.

Grumbling at the sight of it, she mused, “Maybe we should take a break. There's no sense risking injury over training me to use a sword.”

While Link had no qualms with continuing their practice, he could agree the risk of injury didn't seem worth it. But before he could agree, she suddenly started snickering and regarded him with mirth in her violet blue eyes.

"The look on your face."

Confused, he shook his head. "What about it?"

"You looked so concerned when I stumbled,” she explained, then covered her mouth contritely with an apology, even as a few more snickers escaped. "I'm sorry, I'm not picking at you, honestly! I can't help it though."

Sitting up with her, Link smiled at the sound of her mirth, finding it much more enjoyable than the frowns and tears she'd shed the previous day after saving those girls.

Still, he excused, “I thought you'd hurt yourself, and besides, you would've gotten mad if I'd let you fall."

Zelda gave him an incredulous look, shaking her head as she tried not to grin while exclaiming, "I would not!"

"Sure, say that now," he teased.

"You're impossible," she returned, playfully shoving his arm with a few snickers before looking herself over with a regretful sigh. Their clothing was getting damp because of the rain-soaked ground, prompting her to state, “We should get up before we catch a cold."

Turning to get her leg under herself as he pushed himself forward with the same intentions, the simultaneous movements brought them closer together—so close their noses nearly brushed. Instantly, they stopped moving as their gazes locked, forgetting their intentions of getting off the wet ground completely right along with the rest of the world.

As if a magic spell was cast, some force held them motionless, as well as speechless in a barrage of erupting emotion, and neither knew how to react.

Link's breath left him in a rush, and with another inhale, he caught her scent, that floral aroma that always seemed so familiar. Every time he caught it, it felt like going home again, comforting and incredibly alluring. At the thought, his gaze dipped to her lips, his battle to ignore his attraction fading as he slowly moved forward until the tips of their noses met.

Still, despite the strength of his desire, he stopped, unwilling to go any further until he knew she wasn't feeling uncomfortable. All the while, the logical side of his mind hoped she'd pull away, he just couldn't remember why.

Not when this felt so … right.

But she didn't move—and when her eyes slowly closed, his breath hitched, heart racing at a pace that was matched only by Zelda's own frantic pulse.

Is he … going to kiss me? Her head swam at the thought, the world spinning as he'd leaned in closer, and she shut her eyes against the dizzying sensation. Each emotion that rose in response was more intense than the last, rattling her, and yet she knew deep down she was ready for this, wanted to lean up and take it despite the heat in her cheeks.

Yet she was frozen in place, fearing a single movement would cause everything to stop, and it would simply never happen.

But their lips were only a breath apart, the warmth of his—

"It is you!"

As if a wall had come down between them, Link and Zelda jolted apart at the excited voice coming from nearby and instantly looked in that direction. In turn, the purple glowing orb of light that was Nissa sailed over them, coming around at an arc, her wings chiming excitedly.

"Mira, Link! I'm so happy to see you both!"

"Nissa?" Zelda drew out, still dizzy, though the fog of what just happened was quickly fading. The thought turned her cheeks an even brighter red, and when Link stood next to her, she looked up to see him offering his hand while clearing his throat—and something deep inside was screaming over their interrupted moment.

Still, she reached up and slipped her fingers into his, keeping her gaze away from his face the entire while if only to prevent him from seeing the embarrassment in her eyes.

"Yes!" Nissa responded, completely oblivious to their would-be kiss as the Hylians stood before her. She simply went on, "I thought I heard someone talking and laughing, so I came to see what was going on."

Smiling as the fairy flew in to hug her neck, Zelda reached up to pat Nissa's head with her fingertip.

"What are you doing out here," Link asked, striving to keep the irritation out of his voice—and it wasn't caused by Nissa's arrival.

Instead, he felt guilty for giving into his urge to kiss Zelda, for taking advantage of a situation without even stopping to ask how she felt first. The notion of it made Nissa's interruption feel welcome—in a way.

Still, he did want to know what Zelda was thinking at that moment, and whether she was uncomfortable at all.

Yet he had to push the thoughts away when Nissa responded, "Oh! I left Kakariko to travel home and tell my people more about what I'd learned from Impa. Then I used the Fairy Pools to travel to a fairy cave near here, and I was just leaving it when I heard you two."

Lifting into the air again, the fairy zipped back and forth between them as if looking them over before adding, "Link, you look so handsome! Oh! And you have the Master Sword!”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Link drew out, "Yeah, we've been through a lot since the last time we saw you."

"I'll say! Well … oh! I should take you to the cave! The fairy maiden there can help you both! They told me they would be happy to aid the two of you."

Hearing this, Zelda looked at Link for the first time since they'd almost kissed, inquiring as casually as she could, "Would you like to go there?"

"Why not?" he returned just as casually, asking Nissa, "How far is it?"

"Not too far! You won't even need your horses! Come on!"

As the fairy zipped away, they turned to follow, both unaware of the other's appreciation for her presence preventing an awkward situation after their interrupted kiss. After all, trying to explain away their actions would be difficult, and Nissa's arrival gave them time to consider things before making the attempt.

Yet, as they walked, Zelda could feel her heart skipping a beat every time she replayed the scene in her head, and found herself disappointed, not to mention confused. Was she a bad person for wanting to kiss her childhood friend so badly?

Perhaps not—after all, he was the one leaning toward her, so maybe he wanted it just as much as she had.

The realization that Link might harbor the same types of feelings had her blushing the entire way to the fairy cave. Or … was she just being a silly, infatuated girl? She had no experience to draw on where it concerned matters of the heart, and for all she knew, Link had simply been swept up in a random moment, considered her attractive enough to capitalize, but didn't truly feel anything deeper for her.

The notion brought to mind the way the women in Roshala had waved at him, even whistled as if he was the most attractive man to ever ride through town. But they didn't know the half of it. He was not only handsome, but also noble, kind, and compassionate.

Any girl would desire a man such as that, meaning Link could have his pick if he put his mind to it—and so many options didn't really bode well where she was concerned.

So no, the fact that he'd nearly kissed her wasn't an indication of harboring affection in a romantic sense.

That aside, her own feelings could be confused. She'd watched him fight like mad to protect her, and he always found ways to ease her sorrows. Such acts could easily lead to feelings of infatuation, but didn't necessarily indicate a true affinity.

Or that's what she told herself for the sake of her sanity.

Besides, the last thing she needed was to be so distracted from their goals, and he needed a doting woman about as much as he needed a flock of cuccos chasing him.

So she made up her mind, and came to a solid conclusion. If the topic of their interrupted kiss came up again, she'd simply tell him she hadn't been sure of his intentions and hope it sounded feasible enough to be believable.

As for the conclusion? Matters of the heart were definitely complicated.

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Full Story Available on:

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Ao3

[mlmdarkfiction]

Oh, Where Have You Been, Billy Boy?

A multichapter fic of Billy Lenz X Transman!Reader

Story Description:

You've taken the newly vacant position as head nurse of The Ontario Criminal Institute, a hospital to take care of and study the criminally mentally ill. One of the patience under your care happens to be the infamous Billy Lenz, a man who was caught one year after highhandedly destroying an entire sorority brutally. All you want is to give Billy, and the other patients at the Institute, the help and care they seem to have been seriously lacking under the direction of the last head nurse.

Chapter 1 Description;

TWs: none for this chapter

You experience your first day of training at the Institute and have your first interaction with the infamous Billy Lenz. 

Taglist: @datenightfright

Read Below:

There’s lots of reasons to be excited for starting your new job. It pays better, it has better benefits, and most importantly is closer to your home. Really, there’s only one major downfall about your new job, the patients. You’re going from being an Extensive Care nurse to a nurse in a facility holding the criminally insane. Before you rarely had any conscious patients to deal with, but now you’d be thrusted into a world of not only awake, but highly dangerous patients.

The thing is, you feel a lot of sympathy for these individuals. After all, criminals or not, they’re sick. And sick people need care. That was the main thing that drove you to take the job, not the extra pay or the benefits, that’s all nice of course, but more than anything you wanted to help people.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Sergei, your boyfriend of the last five years, hovers nervously behind you as you dress in your scrubs, ready for the first actual day on the job. He’s been against your decision to go work at the Ontario Criminal Institute since the very beginning, you’d thought he’d gotten more used to the idea, but obviously not.

“It will be fine, Serg.” While you appreciate his concern, he as always, comes off a bit too strong. You wish he would understand that you’re not only capable of taking care of yourself, but capable of making your own complex decisions as well. “Besides, today is just to get the feel of things. Mrs.Macaty will be there the whole time to show me the ropes.”

You’ve not yet met Mrs.Macaty in person. What you know of her mostly comes from the phone calls you had over the phone, and what the head of staff at the institute had told you during your initial job interview. Mrs.Macaty was the head nurse for the institute, and had worked there for many years before finally deciding a few months ago to put in her retirement. Before she left the Institute for good she promised to show you what will be expected of you.

“I love you,” You press your lips to Sergei’s stumbled cheek as you make your way to grab your car keys. “You really need to shave.” With that you’re out the door.

-

The drive to work is about as nice as you’d expected. Most of the trip was regular early morning commute and traffic, but about half way the scenery changes. You go up through the mountains for twenty minutes before you catch sight of the Institution.

It’s a huge intimidating building. But it doesn’t scare you nearly as bad as it had during the time of your first interview. Still, even as your observe the heavily secure building, you find yourself doubting if you can really ever get used to working in such a gloomy place. You catch the humor in it. No, you’re not afraid (at least not outside the healthy realm) of your new job, that’s easy to adjust to, no the thing you’re having trouble coping with is the gloomyness of the facility.

It’s laughable. You muse to yourself about all of this as you park in the visitors entrance, and walk your way to the first set of doors accompanied by a matching set of metal detectors.  Although it’s unlikely any of the patients actually have visitors coming to see them, it’s nice of the hospital to even allow visitation.

“There you are,” Speaks a little old woman, shrunken with age, her hair in a high bun, and what you can only manage to describe as a friendly scowl taking her face. “You’ve last the first test.” The guard to her right hands you back your car keys, but not before telling you to place them in your locker.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show the boy the ropes.”

“So you’re Mrs.Macaty I’m assuming?” On your face is your best professional smile as you extend your hand out to her, but it seems she has no desire to shake your hand in turn. In fact she stairs at it for several silent awkward moments until you allow your hand to fall back to your side. The awkward silence makes you uncomfortable but thankfully after only another moment of her scruntinizing stare she clears he throat and finally leads you away from the main visitors entrance.

“This here’s the locker room. You can dress here in the morning if you don’t wanna wear your scrubs to work. There’s also lockers. You’ll be gettin’ one of your own today, all personal items, and sharp things like your keys go in there.”

It’s a decently sized space, the lockers lining the walls in a way that reminds you more of a high school locker room than anything else. With what little you can make out of coats and uncomfortable looking shoes left behind, you would guess the majority of your new coworkers would appear to be women. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, in fact it’s quite common in the nursing field, you had just hoped given the circumstance there may be some more male nurses than you are used to. It’s always a bit isolated to be one of the very few male nurses in a hospital.

“Now, before we get started, do you have any questions?”

“Oh- Um,  no ma’am.”

“Good, come on then.”

Mrs.Macaty shows you the ropes. You watch as she gathers medication for the patience on her part of the ward, and follow behind her as she gives them to the patients.

“Use a tongue depressor to make sure they took them, and be carefully, some of the nasty fuckers spit.”

The way she treats patients makes you upset, but you do your best to cope with it, all smiles and nodding, just wanting to get through the day. You try to give her the benefit of the doubt. You try to imagine how taxing it must be for he to have done this everyday for so many years.

She leads you to a door and then stops. “This man, this man will be the bane of your very existence as you work here.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an…”

A bit of an exaggeration is what you were going to ask her, but you trailed off as you see the patient name displayed on the door.

Billy Lenz.

The first patient whose name you actually recognize. You knew about the case, at least a little bit, about the sorority girls he’d murdered a year before he was caught, about the phone calls he made to his victims, how he was eventually caught because of the calls.

You remembered that case. You remembered it because you were in college yourself at the time, far away from the sorority, but at the time it had reminded you of an incident from when you were in high school. At the time you had felt such sympathy for his victims, and a deep fear that you could have easily been a victim as well. It was an overreaction by far. The calls you’d gotten in your senior year of high school on the family phone were nothing like the nasty calls those poor girls had gotten, it was just repeated calls of nothing but deep uncomfortable breathing.

Mrs.Macatay knocks on the door first, opening the sliding compartment to speak.

“Are you decent Billy?”

There’s no response,

“He hardly talks,” She tells you beginning to unlock the door. “Well he talks, but he never says anything worth listening to.”

You nod, mouth feeling like it’s filled with cotton, still caught up in your fears of a possible high school stalker. When the door is open, when you see Billy, a pathetic looking man, thin, and glaring at both you and Mrs.Macatay from beneath the locks of matted hair that covered his face.

Pity. You feel pity for the man. It’s obvious from his appearance alone that he’s not been getting the basic care he deserves, the basic care the facility is supposed to guarantee it’s patients.

When Mrs.Macatay approaches, paper cup full of pills in hand, Billy reacts violently. He hisses at her, dropping from his bed, and backing up against the wall.

It’s obvious to see he doesn’t like her. He’s trembling, and it’s that feeling again, that pity that entices you to act.

“Mrs.Macatay, would you mind if I gave Billy his medicine?”

Both parties stop, their attention on you.

“I watched you give the other patients their meds, and this will be my job from here on out, right?”

She eyes Billy warily, but nods backing up as she makes her way toward you. That’s another thing about this job, to never turn your back to the patients, lest you open yourself up for a possible attack.

“Billy,” Mrs.Macatay speaks the way your teachers regarded problem students, aggressive and authoritative. “This is ____, he’s going to be your new nurse.”  

“Hi Billy, it’s nice to meet you.”

He’s curious as you approach, his head is tilted, and although he stays scurried towards the back of the room and continues to tremble he doesn’t hiss at you, or lash out.

“Can you take your meds for me Billy?” You offer the paper cup to him, shocked by how quickly he snatches it from you. Despite his speed it gave you time to see his hands, nails bitten into bloody quicks, scratches on his arms and wrist. He wasn’t being taken care of at all.

Anger rises quickly in your throat, and you force it down. It would be different, with you in charge, you’d make sure the patients were all taken care of properly. That they got the help and care they desperately needed.

Billy takes the pills dry, or at least seems to. You’re relieved he’s behaving, after the way Mrs.Macatay had acted.

“Can I check your mouth Billy, to make sure you’ve taken them all?”

He hesitates, but nods moving closer to you. You barely catch it, the tail end of a murmured whisper hushed out by the scuffling of his clothes.

“ -pretty little mouth- “

Billy opens his mouth and even lifts his tongue for you. There’s no need to use the tongue depressor much to your relief.  Any reason to not get close to a patient’s mouth is acceptable in your book. The last thing you needed on your first day of work is to come home with stitches and a bite mark. You’re sure Sergei would just be thrilled with you, and your new job if that happened.

“Thank you Billy.”

You back up slowly, making your way to join Mrs.Macatay by the door. “We’ll be back later today okay?”

“Was...Was Billy a good boy?”

He catches you off guard with the question. You almost stop in your tracks. He seems lucid enough, at least right now, and the meds will help keep him that way. It just surprises you to hear him speak in third person like that.

There’s a click of disapproval, or maybe disgust, from Mrs.Macatay behind you, and you fight the urge to frown at her behavior.

But you don’t. You don’t frown, you don’t stop moving. You show no reaction to the sudden questioning or to Mrs.Macatay’s unprofessoinal behavior. Your caretakers smile remains on your face as you respond.

“Yes Billy, you were a very good boy today. Thank you for being good for me and taking your medications.”

The door to Billy’s room closes, and you let out a long held breath. Professionalism drops, along with your forced caring smile. That was stressful.

Mrs.Macatay and yourself are only just beginning to walk a way, pushing the medicine cart along with you, when you hear Billy again.

“ Bye, bye, pretty nursie… ”

And looking back you see him. Billy is looking at you through the metal sliding compartment Mrs.Macatay had left open, one green eye visible to stare at your retreating forms.

[imagine-loki]

Light Lost

TITLE: “Light Lost” CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT:  Chapter three: “Worst day ever (?)”

AUTHOR: apandorasboxofstories

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki competing with Thor for your attention. http://imagine-loki.tumblr.com/post/74350440578/imagine-loki-competing-with-thor-for-your

RATING: I think it should be alright for everyone as of now. NOTES/WARNINGS: I have been trying to write this fic for a few years now. I have never been happy with how it has turned out any time I tried to write it, so I have given up each time. This time, I have been given some (loose or more than that) inspiration from part of a few different imagines that I have seen. As well as some songs I’ve been listening to. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as I try again.

Feedback would be GREATLY appreciated and encouraged. <3 (Please also note, there will be some sad stuff in this story – which is now also on AO3, here!) 

… … … … . .

By the time Emily was waking up the next morning, she had no idea what time it was. It took her a couple minutes to register it when she saw the clock in her kitchen, and by then she had to make her choice on whether or not she was going to call in to work to let them know she’d be late, or just get ready and hurry herself to get there. On top of that, she had to decide if she wanted to waste time on eating or not. In the middle of trying to decide these things, Emily came to the realization that she hadn’t made dinner. Her dog, Carole, needed to go out. And Her cat, Billy, needed to be taken care of as well. She was also wondering how in the world that she’d slept so long. Usually, she couldn’t sleep that long without being incredibly exhausted first.

In her rush to get herself ready, Emily went to take a shower and almost forgot some of her clothes. Each thing she did wrong or perceived herself to have done wrong, only stressed her out that much more. Blood circled the drain from all the times she’d accidentally cut herself shaving, an untied shoelace nearly tripped her. It was a small amount of things, building up into a mountain; not one thing was going right.

At the very last second - after she remembered that Loki was still here - she scribbled a note apologizing for not having made breakfast this morning..or dinner the night before. She felt so horrible for it, and was hoping that she could make up for it.

On her way out the door, Emily forgot her purse. Having no time to even realize that, she ran to work as quickly as she could.

Upon arriving, her stomach churned at the sight of her boss. Cursing her out for being late, he threatened for the millionth time to fire her - she half suspected, because he was looking for any reason to get rid of her. Not because she was a bad employee, but because she was an ‘eyesore.’ Something unappealing to look at, in his opinion. That, and he had someone prettier wanting to work there, anyways - his cousin.

“I’m sorry, sir.. I.. I overslept. I did my best to get here, and..” Emily ran her hand through her hair, trying to gather her breath. Shutting her eyes for a moment, she felt a first pang of pain in her chest. It was unlike normal pain, and for some reason felt a little familiar to her. As if she’d felt it before.

“Oh, is that so?” her boss barked out at her, arms folded. “Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Because if you want to keep your job here, you’re pulling a triple-shift..” he gave her the most evil look, almost looking to be reveling in her shock. “If you mess up, you can just kiss going to see that no-good sister of yours goodbye for awhile. Today’s not the only time I’ll have you do it if you come in late again. It’s that, or you’re fired, Garnet. I’d keep that in mind, if you even think about objecting. Just so you know.”

Emily froze, a swirl of emotions welling up in her chest. She was getting sick and tired of her boss taking shots at Rayna, who couldn’t say anything to the contrary to defend herself. However, she also knew that he wasn’t playing when he kept telling her that he was going to fire her. So, she swallowed those feelings, muttered an occasional, soft ‘yes sir,’ or ‘no sir’ in reply, and waited until he was gone to let a shaky exhale go. Mentally, she was furious.

Some days, I wish you were the one stuck in the hospital in a coma..

Emily thought bitterly, before she stopped herself, imagining a whole family of people who felt like she did because someone that she cared about was stuck in a coma, unable to do anything, and on life support. As hard as it was to imagine it, she guessed that there might be people who cared about her boss the same way that she did about Rayna, so she now felt bad for wishing such a  horrid thing upon innocent people - whether she was angry with him, or not. His family had done nothing to her.

To help calm herself, Emily hummed to herself as she worked, and slowly was able to get her mind off of things. For a little while, anyway.

The resolve that Emily had able to get herself to, to remain calm and at least reasonably pleasant, weakened as time went on. Customers were apparently feeling particularly picky and rude today, and especially with her. Her boss kept hanging around, reminding her of all his threats; even without saying a word to her. It was in the looks he gave her - his body language.

Around the end of her first shift, which had actually been a shorter one, one of her co-workers came to her to let her know that a phone call had come in for her. She was in the middle of cleaning the floor at the time, so she pushed herself up off of it slowly. Drying her hands, Emily went to the phone. She’d just found out that it was the hospital calling her, when her boss came around the corner.

“I pay you to work, Garnet. Not yack on the phone!” He stated, an angry expression on his face.

Emily made a face, and tried to gesture to him that it was important. To wait. He was quiet for only a few seconds, before he started in again.

“Sir, please..this is important..” Emily sighed sharply, furrowing her brows together, as she tried to hear what the phone call was for. He was still ranting and raving, when the reason for the call finally reached her ears. All other sounds faded out, as a numb, sick feeling rose through her body. It started with what felt like the hardest punch in the stomach; the pain in her chest returning with a vengeance afterwards.

“What..?” Emily finally was able to croak out, her throat feeling tight. The voice on the other end of the phone repeated itself, hitting her harder the second time. All color washed out of her face. Her grip on the phone would have been enough to strangle it if it were alive - her knuckles were turning bleached white.

“N-no..you’re wrong. I payed that already! Put it back! Y-you have to..please!” A shakiness entered her voice, as hot tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. The answer of ‘we can’t, she’s already gone’ and ‘you have our utmost condolences’ did her no good. Nor did the sound of the phone clicking as her boss took it from her and hung it up.

Frozen by her pain, Emily’s mind reeled. She was trying to process it. Trying to figure out how a hospital could make such an error - not checking their systems a second time, before taking someone off of life support. Still trying to process everything, she barely registered that her boss was yelling at her.

“This is the last time I put up with you,” he was saying.

Pain shot through her chest, causing her to recoil as if stabbed. Breathing shaky, rattly at best, her glance finally meeting his. “She’s dead..”

Her voice trembled, as tears fell down her cheeks. “My sister is dead.. They took her off life support.. They said I didn’t pay it, but I did..” Emily shook her head. “A..a malfunction with the system, or..something..I..” She tried to make sense of it, and had trouble. Meanwhile, her boss wasn’t hearing any of it. And customers were wondering what was going on. What all the commotion was.

“You’re making a scene,” was the callous remark that her boss gave her, before continuing to agitate the situation by beating down on her sister. On Emily’s work ethic.

At last, she had enough.

“This..this is all your fault!” Emily finally accused, pointing her finger at him. “If you had paid me what you’re supposed to, I could have put more money in there and then there would be no mistake!” Her voice shook, and more tears fell.

“You’d better watch it,” he warned, an angry scowl on his face. “You are way out of line. You know I pay you as much as you’re worth here–you’re lucky you get anything at all! You’re no better than that sister of yours. If she was here, I’d fire her and then fire you, too!”

Co-workers frowned, unsure what to say or do. Their attention was drawn from the loud argument, to the flickering lights all around them. Fear filled many of them and of the customers, who could do nothing but watch.

…

Outside, a feeling of uncertainty and concern was filling someone else.

Having found and read the note that she left him, Loki had been busy taking care of the undone things at Emily’s apartment for her. It was supposed to be a surprise - something to make her smile. If not for that, he would have noticed her purse sitting in the kitchen, and went to take it to her sooner.

Clutching the bag tighter, Loki was cautious as he went into the restaurant. The flickering lights did not seem a good sign to him. But before he could even try to piece together what might be going on, he heard Emily screaming at someone else. At least, he thought it might be her - he’d never heard her scream at anyone; not in the few days of knowing her now, anyway.

A sudden explosion of light and the sound of someone hitting a wall, drew his attention towards the kitchen area. People were panicking, there was a man laying in the floor groaning in pain, and not far from him, so was Emily. Aside from the obvious remnants of tears on her face, she seemed to be clutching at her chest in pain. Her nose was bleeding, and she looked paler than usual.

In a not-completely-instant act, more than one thing happened: the restaurant began to piece itself back together, as Loki carefully picked her up. Memories began to be drawn out of as many people as he could - or changed, for those who proved more difficult to do so with - as he carefully picked Emily up. Given he was still learning how to do a lot of this, it took more out of him than he would have liked. A last bit of magical energy was used, to put them somewhere else, so he could safely call up to Heimdall to bring him back.

This hadn’t been the way that he wanted to tell her, or to show her.. But it seemed that things were out of his control, now; as they usually ended up being anyway. Nor had it been his intention to have to leave her pets behind - they meant so much to her, which he could see. Leaving them was a hard choice to make, to get her to someone that he knew could help her. Seeing as he didn’t trust the so-called doctors of this realm to see to it that she was helped properly, it meant taking her to Asgard now; to see a healer.

The thought that perhaps he could come back and get them while she recovered, crossed his mind. Surely, by the time she were to wake up from this, enough of his magic would have returned to be able to retrieve two pets.. This in mind, he looked up to the sky, took a breath, and called up to Heimdall to bring them back.

All the time, hoping that this wasn’t going to all end up being a big mistake. After all, she’d just shown an enormous amount of power - something that he’d felt coming off of her since having first re-met her - so he was fairly certain that she wasn’t human. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

[flannelplanet]

Summary:  Touch. It’s a fundamental human need. Bucky Barnes, however, was starved of it; never had a kind hand laid on him during his time with Hydra. His therapist had some work done by a very well-known tattoo artist in Brooklyn, and suggested that he try it out. That’s where you come in. You’re very well known for tattooing people with sensory problems. It’s your niche. You’re very understanding. You have quick reflexes and a soft touch. When Bucky walks through your office door, you just know you have to help him.

Warnings: Yo! Angst ahead! Also, happy Bucky, smitten Bucky, adorable Bucky. All the Bucky. The reader has a hard time keeping her shit together because BUCKY.. 

A/N: This definitely ends in a cliffhanger. No worries, the next chapter will be up soon! Feedback is appreciated. I hope you like it :)

taglist is open  summer skin masterlist [X] previous chapter [X]

Summer Skin

Chapter 2: I CAN DO ANYTHING, ANYTHING, ANYTHING I WANT

The following session with Bucky’s therapist was short, sweet, and to the point. The doctor asked how the tattooing went, what feelings and memories the contact evoked as well as the machine, and what he thought of the entire process. He walked her through the time the two of you spent together and let her know that he would be going back, and that he was looking forward to it.

“Thank you,” he told her. “I didn’t think it would help as much as it has, and I’ve only gone once. This could really be something for me, Doc.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Sergeant, I’m glad. Just be careful and if you feel yourself slipping during a session with her, call it off and go back another day. One sitting won’t be a cure-all for you. It’s much the same as it is when you’re with me. Some days are great, some aren’t, and it’s up to you to be able to tell the difference.”

Bucky took the therapist’s words to heart, understanding the implication there. He might be reformed, but he was still frightening when his mind wasn’t right. He made a mental note to pay closer attention before leaving her office.

-

Clothes were everywhere. Tac pants and jeans were strewn along the floor, various tees and shirts were all across the bed. It was absolute chaos in Bucky’s room. For a skilled assassin, he sure did have a lot of clothing and he was really kicking himself for it now.

A knock sounded on his door and he sent a wordless prayer of thanks to whichever god was listening. He opened it, gesturing for Natasha to enter. “Gee Buck, what’s got your panties in a twist? Hot date tonight?”

He rolled his eyes impossibly hard. “No. Please don’t make this more awkward than it needs to be. I have my next tattoo sitting today and I can’t ask Steve what to wear because he’s being Steve about the whole situation.”

Natasha nodded. “So Steve wants to be the best man in your wedding, you mean?”

“YES.”

“He’s exhausting. Okay, so what are we working with then?” She strode her way over to the mess Bucky had created, looking at him and then turning to the options he had laid out. “Wear the grey vintage tee with the leather jacket. It will bring out your eyes. Go for the medium wash jeans, the tighter ones make your ass look amazing. Oh and wear your hair in a knot. Girls love that, especially on you, Barnes.” She paused once again, looking him over one last time. “You know what, shave your face too, but not all the way. Leave a little dusting of stubble.” And with that, she left him to it.

-

“No, Steve. You’re not coming this time. End. Of. Story.” As much as Bucky loved his best friend, he sure could be an exasperating son of a bitch.

“But Buck!” Steve whined.

“I said no.”

-

Bucky strode into The Skin Canvas with purpose. He was determined to have another successful session and if he were being honest with himself, he was excited to see you again. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something warm about you and a man who has spent so many years of his life literally frozen could really get used to the feeling.

As he approached the counter, Adam waved. “Hey Bucky! I’ll see if she’s ready for you.” The super soldier nodded, swaying on his feet as he awaited Adam’s return from the back.

Bucky took a moment to reassess the lobby of the tattoo shop. The walls were a welcoming shade of yellow but they weren’t overpowering. The accents were all black and there were splashes of color everywhere; blue and red and green and purple. The shop had a mellow vibe to it, laid back. Bucky decided he really, really liked it there.

Adam returned to his spot behind the counter and gestured to your office as he said, “You can head on back, man.” Bucky thanked him and did just that.

-

Thank god you weren’t mid-bite when Bucky entered your workspace because you would have choked on your chocolate. He looked different somehow, yet still the same. You had to be staring, you knew it, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Bucky noticed your eyes glued on him (how could he not), and he began looking himself over. “What, do I have food on my clothes or something?”

Busted! “Oh, no Sarge. Nothing like that. You look pretty incredible today is all,” you told him, figuring if you were busted anyway there was no use in lying about why.

Plus, the flush that covered his skin was worth the blunt honesty. “Really? I mean, thank you.” Then he smiled at you. Really smiled. And you had no idea how you were going to manage to get through the day because that smile—totally genuine and breathtaking—nearly brought you to your knees.

You shook yourself. This was not your typical behavior. Usually, you were professional and well mannered, and you were worried, especially with Bucky’s past, about coming off too flirty. You made a mental note to reign it in a little bit.

“So how does it feel right now?” You asked, intrigued to see how the serum helped the healing process.

“It actually feels great! I kept ointment on it and it was pretty much completely healed the day after our first session. I’m ready for a second round for sure,” he told you, lifting his shirt up at the hem and tugging it up over his head.

KEEP. YOUR. SHIT. TOGETHER. You let your eyes rake over his chiseled body on their way down to the tattoo and even though it was just line work, it already looked amazing. You were proud of your work so far and couldn’t wait to bring the rest of the tattoo to life.

“Looks great! When you’re ready, go ahead and get situated. I grabbed the pillows already,” you told him pointing to the corner of your little tattoo room.

He contemplated for a minute before shrugging and sitting down without them. “Eh, I'm feeling adventurous today. Let’s try without pillows and see how it goes.”

You watched as he took a seat on the leather bench then lowered himself down onto his back. Once you were relatively sure he was okay, you began pulling your colored inks out of their designated spots on the shelf and grabbed some cups. “Did you want the colors to match what Steve had on the drawing?” You asked. An idea was shaping in your mind, and it did not match the star-spangled monstrosity Steve had filling the design.

Bucky surprised you though, saying, “I’m not married to the idea. I’ve seen your work and I respect it. If you’re thinking something else, by all means help yourself, doll.”

Smiling, you turned away from him and began pulling ink tops off and filling cups with it. “You respect my work?”

Bucky felt himself flushing again, embarrassed by his forwardness. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Feeling the shift in his temperment, you turned back to him. “I heard stories, you know. The infamous James Buchanan Barnes, ladies’ man extraordinaire. How come you’re getting all bashful with me?”

Your bluntness startled a laugh from him, and goddammit you’d do anything to hear that low, throaty sound again. “Well, you know. Circumstances change. I see the value in a good woman more now than I ever did before. Makes me nervous that I’ll fuck it up and say something stupid.”

It’s your turn to laugh at that. “Bucky, people say stupid shit all the time. They still get laid.”

“Ha! I guess you’re right. Steve is my best friend! You’d think I would know that by now!” There it was again; that laugh.

“Well, how about we make a deal,” you began, turning to face him now that your equipment was set up and your gloves were on. “Why don’t we just forget about saying stupid shit and have ourselves some genuine conversation while we continue this masterpiece, huh?”

His eyes softened and his smile widened, the laughter had gone but the happiness still evident. “You got it, doll.”

“Excellent! Do you want to sanitize today or would you like me to try?” You were eager to see what the experience would be like for him today. He made amazing progress in just one sitting, but people tended to regress slightly before moving forward again.

You could see the struggle taking place in his mind as it was written all over his features. “Listen, you don’t have to push through everything today. You’ll be back in another couple days and we can try again th-” You stopped your own rant when you felt Bucky’s rough fingers gripping your own.

“Uh, Sarge? What are you doing?” You asked, not sure where he was going with his actions.

“Relax, doll. I’m trying something. Is this okay?” You nodded, urging him to continue. “I think, maybe, if I can hold on to your hands while you do it, at least until I get used to your hands on my skin again, it’ll be better.” That was actually a genius idea. You told him as much, too.

He let your hands go so that you could grab the sanitizer and a paper towel. After you poured a bit of the sanitizer on the towel, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his skin. An audible breath left his lungs. “You’re ok, Bucky. You are in control,” you said, making sure your voice was soft and steady.

He pulled your hand towards himself and winced slightly at the initial contact. He relaxed immediately, though, and looked up at you. His face was illuminated with pride and his smile made your heart flutter. “You’re doing great!”

“I’m gonna let go of your hands now. Can you, um, would you mind keeping them there? Just for a few more seconds?”

Bucky slowly let go of his grip on your hands and let his own fall to his sides, marveling at the way your hands moved gently over his skin. “This feels… different. Good.”

“Awesome, Sarge! The sanitizing is done so I’m going to remove my hands now, okay?” He nodded, watching as your gloved fingers pulled away from his abdomen. He found himself wishing that you didn’t have to pull away at all.

You had grabbed your tattoo machine and with it in hand turned back toward Bucky once more. “I’m going to use a little more contact during this session due to the colors and the amount of space needing filled. If you get cagey and need to stop me just say the word. I’ll stop the machine to check on you every once in a while, too.”

“You're very understanding,” he told you with a thoughtful smirk.

“It’s what I pride myself on,” you said with a wink. “I’m going to put my hand on your skin now, okay?”

Bucky nodded, bracing himself for the contact. When the needles touched his skin, he couldn’t help but jump. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Will I ever get used to that?”

You thought about it while you filled in a section, then as you paused to wipe the ink and blood away you shrugged. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone not have that reaction at first contact with the machine.”

Bucky nodded. He had begun to relax, sinking into the chair as you moved. Your hands hadn’t left his skin completely since the machine turned on and he was practically giddy with pride at how well he had been handling it. Actually, when he really focused on the area you were touching, he could admit that the feel of your hands on his skin felt kind of nice.

“You doin’ okay up there, Sarge?” You asked, feeling him slip into his own mind and pulling him back to the present.

“Yeah. Just reflecting, I guess. Having your hands on me is a good feeling. I’m starting to get used to it.”

“That’s amazing to hear! I still want you to tell me if you need a break though, okay?” He nodded, eyelids drifting closed as he sank into the rhythm of the tattoo machine and the sound of your voice. “Why don’t you tell me about Steve?” you asked, hoping for some conversation. It would be easier to see how his mental state was if he were talking.

“Where do you want me to start?” He asked. It seemed as though most of the world knew everything there was to know about their friendship. “Have you been to the Captain America exhibit?”

You laughed. “Of course I have. I know the basics, but I want you to tell me stories. Something no one else would know.”

Bucky smiled softly as he searched through cloudy memories of his best friend. “Well, when we were kids, I was always getting us into trouble. I mean, loads of trouble. This one time, we were out with these two girls and I remember sneaking up into my date’s room. Both girls went through the front door of her house, but Steve and me couldn’t very well walk in behind them. I started climbing the gutter on the side of her house and her dad must’ve heard because this scary looking giant of a man came storming out ready to murder me I swear.”

You began laughing, clearly picturing the story playing out in front of you. “Oh my god, really?” you asked as you wiped his skin. “Did he have a shotgun or something?”

A shit-eating grin practically split Bucky’s face in half. “No, no. He was just a huge wall of muscle. But Steve, he had no regard for self-preservation. And he was a nice guy. He actually went and chatted the guy up, telling him he was just making sure his daughter got home and up to her room alright before taking off, giving me the chance to climb all the way up without the guy even noticing!”

“You’re kidding, right?” You were totally invested in his words.

He shook his head and placed his metal hand over his heart. “It’s the god’s honest truth!”

“So, what happened after? Did Steve sneak up too?” A furiously red blush began spreading across Bucky’s face and neck, creeping down his torso. “You’re a sly little shit, Bucky Barnes. Tell me you did not.”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t, doll.” He was staring at you as he said the words with a smoldering look in his eyes and good lord if this was what a flirty Bucky was like you were in for it.

“Well I’ll be damned. You really are a ladies’ man.”

You heard a soft sigh spill out of Bucky’s mouth before he said, “Correction, I was a ladies’ man.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. “Are. Present tense. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Have you seen your face?” And with that the blush covering his skin was back with a vengeance.

-

The two of you continued through the session telling stories and laughing, while you periodically checked in with him. Things were going so well you didn’t even take breaks and before you knew it you were finished for the day. His skin was red and angry, but it was looking beautiful.

Bucky had been quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought you presumed. You finished wiping his skin, maintaining contact as much as possible. You were so proud of the progress he had made. “Alright, Sarge. You’re finished,” you told him, removing your hands from his warm skin.

It was then that you noticed it; the smallest of whimpers followed by a hoarsely whispered “no.”

Shit, shit, shit. He laid flat on his back, as tense as could be. His hands were formed into fists, clenched tightly at his sides and sweat covered him from head to toe. Once the situation registered in your mind, you moved as quickly as you could.

You tore the gloves from your hands and began speaking to him softly. “Bucky, it’s okay. You’re safe.” You moved closer to him and placed your hands on either side of his jaw, rubbing his scruffy cheeks. “Bucky,” you repeated, “it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re in the tattoo shop.”

Another strangled whimper left him and your heart began pounding into overdrive. “Bucky!” Your voice had gotten louder and you began carding your fingers through his hair as you spoke. “Bucky, you’re okay. You’re safe. Please. Open your eyes for me.”

You continued carding your fingers through his hair and talking to him, reassuring him, and finally after a few minutes he began to come out of it. His breathing slowed, the tension left his limbs, and his eyes opened to look at you. “Doll?”

“Bucky! Holy shit you’re back. Thank god.” Your hands were still in his hair and you made no effort to move. “What happened?”

“Can I… Uh… Can I grab some water?” He asked, ignoring your question.

You looked at him carefully before saying, “Yes, I’ll get it for you. I’m going to move my hands away from you now but I’ll be right back, okay?” He nodded and you walked out of the little room, giving him space to process what the fuck just happened.

-

He had been joking and laughing and telling stories, and before he knew it he was remembering bits of his time as The Soldier. Missions. Being treated like an object. Hydra. It was horrible. Blood was everywhere. It was so cold, always so fucking cold. The only thing keeping him grounded was your hands on him, ironically enough. Until they weren’t on him anymore.

He could hear you talking to him. He heard his name, he felt your touch, but he couldn’t move. For a fleeting moment he even feared it was Hydra coming for him. He knew better, though.

After a few moments, he fought his way out of the memories. He was okay, he was safe. He was with you.

-

After getting him a small glass of water, you instructed him to get off the bench and check out the work you had done on his tattoo during that session. He was a little shaky still, but after giving his approval he let you bandage him up.

“Listen, Sarge. I noticed how you conveniently dodged my question about what happened, but we need to talk about that. We need an open line of communication and trust between us, okay? I’m going to take you out for some coffee and make sure you get back to the tower safely.”

He didn’t even have the energy to fight you on it.

-

The two of you approached and entered your favorite place to eat in all of Brooklyn: Frankie’s Donuts. It was an absolute dive, but you hadn’t found better coffee anywhere ever in your entire life and their food was amazing, too. You found a small booth in the back of the restaurant away from prying eyes and ears. After placing your coffee orders, you turned to face him.

“Now that we’re here… Wanna tell me what happened back there?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Do I have to?” The look on your face told him your answer. “Alright. I guess with all the storytelling I just started kind of falling into old memories. Hydra memories. I was okay though, I think your hands on me kept me grounded. When you pulled away I guess I just… Panicked.”

“Is there something I could have done to prevent that from happening?” You wondered if you should have stopped to check on him more when things got quiet. Maybe you should have stopped for a break even if he hadn’t asked for one.

“No, doll. This was all on me. I should have spoken up.”

He moved so that his forearms rested on the tabletop and his hands were clenched in front of him. You covered his hands with your own as you spoke. “Bucky, I know those memories must not have been nice ones. Do you want to talk about them?”

“I… uh… I don’t remember everything. I just get snippets of memories every so often, so there’s not much to talk about. But a lot of it is just the same thing over and over again, just different scenarios.”

You thanked the waitress, who had stopped to drop off your coffees, before looking to Bucky. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. You don’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He’s heard those same words from just about everyone he’s encountered in the time he’s been back yet none of them meant anything compared to yours.

-

The mood subtly shifted as the two of you sipped your coffees and made small conversation. He asked questions about you, where you grew up, your favorite color, your family, your friends, and he even stuttered through asking if you were single. You told him how you began painting, what drew you to tattooing, and why you find it so enjoyable.

Conversation between the two of you came easy, and before either of you realized, hours had passed. “Hey, we’re closing,” the waitress said as she brought you the bill. “I hope your date was lovely,” she added thoughtfully.

Bucky turned the darkest shade of red and you snorted a small laugh out. “Thanks, Marge. You’re sweet!”

“Why didn’t you tell her we weren’t on a date?” Bucky asked when his wits returned.

“Because she’s a sweet old lady. And besides, I wouldn’t hate it if this were a date, you know,” you told him with a wink.

His answering smirk sent the butterflies in your stomach into a tizzy. “In that case, doll, I do believe I’ll be paying,” he said, snatching the bill from your hands. You stood there with your jaw hanging open as he paid. “C’mon, doll. Steve will start to worry if I don’t get back soon.”

You snapped your jaw shut and followed after him as he walked out of the diner and onto the streets of Brooklyn. Instead of letting you walk him to the tower, he walked you back to the shop where your car waited.

-

“Thanks for the coffee, Sarge,” you told him as you walked toward the shop. “I can’t remember the last time something like that happened.”

The two of you approached your car and he lightly grasped your arm. “No, doll. Thank you. For everything you did today.” He pulled you in towards him allowing you to wrap your arms around his waist. He hugged you back and as he pulled away, placed the smallest kiss on your cheek.

-

It was on that journey from Brooklyn to Manhattan that Bucky realized he had gone on a date for the first time in over 70 years. With you. Fuck him if the thought of seeing you again didn’t feel like the most amazing thing.

-

“Stark?” Bucky yelled as he walked into his lab. “You in here?”

“Over here,” Tony called from behind a table looking at the mechanism of something Bucky couldn’t even begin to even want to comprehend.

“I have an idea. Oh and a favor to ask of you…”

taglist: @jaamesbbarnes​, @wintersthor​, @i-imagineandpretend​, @thefutureofdaxam, @seasidespecter, @kris-lair (tag not working), @impalatobakerstreet, @angelklementieffs, @trenchcoatdevilsworld, @giveusbackourbucky, @miniaturekingdomjellyfish, @pizzarollpatrol, @puppy-barnes, @i-am-a-fandom-slut, @buckysothiccbarnes

[bee-kathony]

McTavish & Beauchamp | Chapter 5: Proposals

What would have happened had Jamie and Claire kissed that first night at Leoch when Jamie held her in his arms? Would it have led to more?

Chapter 1: Firsts Chapter 2: Decisions Chapter 3: On the Road Chapter 4: Behind Closed Doors Chapter 5: Proposals

Claire offers a proposal...

Before the sun rose, I felt Jamie stir beside me. I watched as he dressed and then he came to me and bent his head down to kiss me. “I dinna wish to leave ye or ye’re bed Sassenach but I dinna think we want anyone to see me comin’ out of ye’re room sae early.”

He was right of course, if any of the men saw Jamie leave my room in the morning they would suspect that we had been doing… well what we had actually been doing.

“Oh alright then Mr. McTavish, if you must leave me then kiss me some more.” I moaned and grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him to my mouth. Jamie kissed me slowly, savouring the feel and touch of his lips on mine.

Our mouths parted and he stood, crossing the room to open the door. “Sleep Sassenach, we willna leave for a few hours still.” He smiled and left the room, it didn’t take long for me to fall back into a blissful sleep.

A few hours later it was my turn to rise and I gathered what few belongings I had and met the rest of the men outside, already saddling and preparing for the day’s journey.

I spotted Jamie a few feet away and he met my gaze, giving me his version of a wink and turned back to brush his horse.

I couldn’t look at Jamie without remembering how he felt inside of me, how he touched me and kissed me and God did I want him.

Good Lord Beauchamp. Behave yourself.

Moments later we set off to another village to collect the rents. My thighs had grown sore from spending so much time on the horse.

That’s not the only reason Beauchamp.

I readjusted myself on the horse and tried not to think about what Jamie and I had done the night before, mostly so I wouldn’t be distracted and fall off.

But it was quite difficult as Jamie rode ahead of me and I could see the strong lines in his body and the way he moved up and down as we set off at a gallop pace.

I didn’t realise someone had said my name until I looked around and all the other men had stopped. I pulled on the reigns to stop my own horse and Dougal gave me an odd look, “Lass, did ye not hear me? We’re stoppin’ to refresh the horses.”

“Oh… alright then.” I said and then Jamie was there to help me off the horse. He grabbed my waist, held me tight and pulled me down to him. We stood there for the length of a heartbeat with not even space for air between us and then we composed ourselves and Jamie grunted and went back to his horse.

“Lass, come wi’ me.” Dougal demanded and began walking down the road.

“Where are we going?” I asked but followed, not wanting to get reprimanded. Dougal didn’t answer but kept walking, leading us down to the river.

He went out into the water, scooping some into his hands to take a drink. He motioned for me to do the same and I did. The water actually felt soothing as it ran down my parched throat.

“Who are ye?” Dougal said, shaking me out of my haze. “An English lady of Oxfordshire. That’s what ye’d have us believe. But ye would seem to be a lady of strong political opinions eh?” He asked, now standing directly in front of me.

“There’s no harm in an opinion” I replied.

“Ye’ve seen things. On the road. Ye tell the Redcoats and we’ll be put to crosses just like the men we cut down.” He stared down at me, still accusing me of being a spy.

“I’m not a spy.” I said just that.

“Maybe not but ye’re sowing the seeds of doubt in our midst, working to undermine the cause.” He almost spat out at me.

“I’m trying to warn you.” I pleaded. There was no easy way to say… I’m from the future and I know the outcome of what you’re trying to accomplish with the Jacobites and it isn’t a good one.

“Eh? Warn me about what?” He questioned me again.

“I’m trying to save your life.” Before I could say anymore or he could respond someone spoke from above where we stood.

“Madame,” a Redcoat, “A pleasure to see you again.” The same Redcoat that had asked if I was in danger back in the village when I tried to return the goat to the hungry family. I saw Dougal reach for his broadsword but unclench his hand, we were outnumbered.

The man climbed off his horse and came to walk closer to us, “Once more I ask you, is everything alright?”

I had to think quick, “Hello again Officer.”

“Lieutenant Jeremy Foster, of His Majesty’s Army.” He looked to Dougal, “This time I do mean to ascertain the lady’s well being.

Dougal walked forward standing in front of the officer, “The lady is none of ye’re concern.”

“And you are?” The officer asked.

“Dougal Mackenzie. War Chief and brother to Colum, Laird of the Mackenzie Clan and the lands upon which you stand.”

“Mackenzie or not, if you are holding this English lady against her wishes… you will be dealt with.” The officer spoke to me agian, “Tell me Madame, are you here by your own choice?”

If I wanted to leave, if I wanted aid from the British officers, now was my chance. But I didn’t.

“I appreciate your concern Lieutenant but I can assure you. I’m a guest of the Clan Mackenzie.” I felt Dougal ease beside me.

The officer looked tense, “Nevertheless, I’m sure my Commander will wish to speak with you. He’s presently in residence at the end of Brockton, will you accompany me?”

“Well… if the lady goes. I go.” Dougal stated and I was glad. English men they were but strangers they were also.

“Very well then.” I said and then Dougal and I were suddenly on our way to meet this Lieutenant’s Commander, whoever he may be.

I knew only too well what Dougal was feeling. A Scottish village it may be, and on Mackenzie land at that but for Dougal it was now enemy territory and he was the Outlander.

We had reached the village within an hour and quickly the Lieutenant was leading us to his Commander.

I found the Commander to be surprisingly kind, he soon offered me to sit down with him and the rest of his fellow officers and eat with them.

I prayed that Dougal would keep his mouth shut and not cause trouble but the Commander and him did not see eye to eye. Dougal was asked to wait in the hall as we finished our meal.

“I’ll be downstairs.” Dougal said to me and then left for the taproom.

I ate with the men and actually found I enjoyed talking with them. It was nice to talk with people that came from the same place that I did whether or not it wasn’t the same time.

Just as the Commander was raising his glass to make a toast a man came barging in.

“My Lord, are you aware that at this very moment-“ he said but was interrupted by the Commander.

“Randall, are we under attack sir? You’re putting the Claret at risk, I suggest you step outside and rid yourself of half a leagues worth of dust.”

“By all means… we must protect the Claret.” The man turned to the door but he caught my gaze. It was “Black Jack” Randall, the same man that I had first met after I had arrived through the stones, the man that had tried to rape me and the same man that had flogged Jamie.

We held each others stares and the Commander noticed, “Am I mistaken or do you two know each other.”

“For a moment there, the lady did look familiar but I can see now I was wrong.”

“I had the same exact experience, how unusual.”

“Well then Captain Randall, allow me to introduce Mistress Claire Beauchamp of Oxfordshire. Captain Jonathan Randall.”

I raised my glass, “Captain.” Randall opened the door and stood in the hall, kicking his shoes against the doorframe and patting off dust.

Randall told the Commander how Dougal was downstairs, obviously concerned with how a Scottish Laird seemed to be occupying the same space as the rest of them.

“All this time living with savages…” Randall looked to me, “I have to wonder if Dougal Mackenzie shared more than just bread and water with the lady, perhaps he’s also shared his bed.”

“How dare you!” I spat out. It wasn’t Dougal’s bed I was sharing, my cheeks blushed and I hoped he would think it was from the wine.

“You cross a line sir.”

“If I am wrong I apologize. What other reason would the lady have to choose these barbarians over her own people. These aggressors who wantonly shed English blood.”

“Scots just want the same freedoms we enjoy. Freedoms we take for granted. They are not the aggressors, we are. It is there land and we are occupying it.” This was the wrong thing to say, everyone’s eyes were on me. I suddenly felt like I was now on the outside.

“I must say Madame, I find your sympathies extraordinarily puzzling.”

“I can assure you Lord Thomas, my loyalties lie with the King.”

“No doubt your time here has mudded your proper English thinking.” He turned to the Commander, “My Lord, I think the lady has lived among the savages too long.”

Just then a man came through the door shouting, “Sir! Three enlisted men have been fired upon by person’s unknown just outside of town.”

The Commander forgot the previous conversation, now concerned with his men, “Any casualties?”

“One dead and two wounded sir. We brought the man badly wounded here, he’s downstairs and we sent for the surgeon but no one is sure of his whereabouts.”

I had to help in any way I could, my instincts kicking in, “I’ll go.” I stood from the table, all eyes on me. “I told you, I have medical experience.”

I walked downstairs and immediately assessed the situation. The man’s arm was badly wounded and I saw no way around amputating it. With help of the men standing around I tied a tourniquet around his arm while the local surgeon appeared, wielding the saw and managed to cut off the man’s arm, no anaesthetic available.

After I cleaned up and saw that the man would survive, I returned to the room upstairs.

Apparently I had been gone for quite some time because what I now saw was Randall having his face shaved by another officer.

“Where is everyone else Captain?” I said, still wiping my hands on a wash cloth to clean them from the man’s blood.

“They left. Had… more important things to attend to than the pleasantries or entertaining the likes of you.” He replied.

“Fuck. Damn you.” The officer shaving his face had nicked the skin, I watched as a small bead of blood trickled down his square jaw.

“Sorry Captain, on my life it was an accident.” The officer stuttered and wiped the blood away.

“Take my things away to my lodgings. Then come back and see to it that we are not disturbed.” Randall said and the officer grabbed Randall’s things and left swiftly.

“Now, Nurse Beauchamp.” He turned to me “What you said earlier, well it puts where your loyalties lie in a very questionable light. I can only hope that honest will be met with honesty.”

“My honesty will match yours Captain, I assure you.” I said holding my ground.

“Let us begin with who you are and why you are here in Scotland” He replied smugly.

I told him the story I had crafted, how I hailed from Oxfordshire, not that he believed me, and how I had been separated from my servant after an attack on the road and fled to find help. That is why I was so distressed in our first meeting by the water. My first few moments after I had arrived through the stones.

“You know Mistress Beauchamp, that I don’t believe a word you say. I will look past this as there is a cause more important that your origins that I must ask.” He came to stand in front of me.

“I know that Dougal Mackenzie is raising funds for the Jacobite cause. I merely lack the necessary proof to take him into custody. You will furnish me with that proof.”

“Jacobite cause- I have no idea what your-“ I began.

“You must stand there and pretend that you have lived among the Mackenzie’s these past months and not heard them voice support for that failure James and his whitless offspring Charles Stuart?”

“Mr. Mackenzie would have to be whitless indeed to discuss treason in front of an English woman.” I scoffed.

“Unless, that English woman was sympathetic to his cause.”

“I am not that woman.” I replied.

“Then prove it, have you seen any of your Scottish companions attempting to raise funds for the rebellion?” He raised his voice a level.

“No I have not.”

“Have you not heard a single Mackenzie speak Jacobite treason” Randall was growing angry, more agitated with every passing moment.

“How many times must I say it?” I was growing angry as well.

“I would not believe you if you told me that night is dark and day is bright.” Randall said.

“Captain, am I under arrest? Because if not then I refuse to submit further to this interrogation.” I made way to move.

“You will not leave this room until I am sure you are as innocent as you claim to be. Perhaps I should try other methods beyond just talking.” Randall grabbed my arm and pulled it behind my back, inhibiting my movements.

“Corporal Hawkins” Randall called for the officer to come into the room.

Once inside the officer stared back and forth between Randall and I.

“Hit her.” Randall commanded the young officer. He looked at him, eyes wide and searching for an escape from this room.

“Sir? You want me to hit this lady? But-“

“Do it.” Randall said, holding my arms behind my back, keeping me hostage against his body. Where the hell was Dougal?

“Do it!” He shouted at my ear. Surely someone would hear if I screamed and come running.

Before I had a chance thought the officer approached me, striking my face. The palm of his hand slapped against my cheek, stinging the skin and bringing tears to my eyes.

“Don’t slap her you idiot. Hit her!” Randall demanded, pushing my body out towards the boy as an offering.

“Please, please don’t do it!” I begged him, unable to stop the tears that ran down my face.

I gasped when his fist collided with my stomach. Breathless, Randall released me and I fell to the floor, clutching my stomach with both hands.

A moment too late, Dougal ran into the room. He saw me on the floor and came to me. “Ye alright lass?” I was unable to speak.

Dougal turned to look at Randall and was thwarted the chance to hit him as more officers came rushing in the room.

“If ye don’t mind sir… I’ll be takin’ the lady somewhere she will be kept safe and out of ye’re reach.” Dougal slid his hands under my knees and back, carrying me to the door. As we passed Randall who was now standing in the middle of the room, face still half shaven, I spat at him, “Damn you Randall.”

“She is a British subject is she not?” He inquired once again. “Bring her to me tomorrow, at Fort William. If you do not then I shall be forced to arrest Mistress Beauchamp for treason.”

Dougal said nothing but grunted and walked out of the room. I heard Randall shout at us, “You cannot get away that easily!”

When we got outside the building, Dougal set me on my feet, “Do ye think ye can ride lass? Are ye hurt badly?” His concern was very much appreciated after what happened in that room.

While it was true, I was a British subject and I called England my home, the treatment from Randall only persuaded my desire to stay with the Highlanders, savages or not.

“Yes… I think so.” I grabbed my waist, still catching my breath from the last blow.

“C’mon, let’s get our horses and leave this God forsaken place.” I couldn’t agree more.

The ride back was painful, with every trot or gallop of the horse, my stomach clenched and pain shot up my spine. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. If I truly did see Randall again, there would be nothing stopping him from hurting me further or worse, killing me.

Before we returned to the other Highlanders, Dougal slowed down and eventually came to a halt. “Come” He said and I followed. What now? Another interrogation? We reached a spring and he stooped down to take a drink and told me to do the same.

“Are ye a spy for the English?” He asked yet again.

“No! For the last time I’m not and English spy! Can we be done with this already?” I said, I was growing rather impatient with being questioned.

He nodded, “I ken ye’re telling the truth lass. This spring, some call it the liars spring, smells like the fumes of hell itself and if ye drink from that and ye prove untrue, it’ll burn ye’re gizzard out.”

“A magic spring?” What the hell, I knew they believed in folk lore but if this was all it took for him to believe me…

“Well ye’re a healer, surely you believe in the powers of magic?” He said matter of factly.

I was a healer and in this time that often equated with being a witch. “I doubt Captain Randall will be so easily convinced.”

“Aye, well. Ye don’t need to see him again. Not if ye do what I tell ye.” He crossed his arms in front of him, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“Don’t you have to bring me to Fort William tomorrow? Or else Randall will come looking for me and arrest me and you as well?” How would he get me out of this?

“An English officer canna compel a Scottish person unless there is proof there has been a crime committed and even so canna force a Scottish subject from Clan lands without permission from the Laird.” Dougal said.

“You’ve been talking to Ned Gowan?” Ned knew the law and Dougal had obviously been afraid that something like this would happen.

“Aye, I have. I can only legally refuse to hand ye back to Randall, if I change ye from an English woman to a Scot.” He said.

“Into a Scot?” Was he saying what I think he was?

“The only way I can do that… is for ye to marry one.”

“I cannot do that!” I shouted, throwing my hands up in the air.

“Would ye rather go to an English prison?” He retorted.

“What!? You’d have me marry you, is that it then? You better think again-“ I shouted back.

“Not me lass. As much as I’d like to grind ye’re corn… I’m a wedded man” He said.

“Good” I replied, “Because I don’t want to marry you. I want to marry-“ Shit. Shit, shit shit shit. Damn Beauchamp, you couldn’t think before you opened your bloody mouth?

“What was that lass?” Dougal smiled, his eyes now full of keen interest, he was listening to me now. “Ye don’t wanna marry me but ye have someone else in mind is that it?”

There was no back tracking now. I had said it and I might as well come out with it before he forced me to.

“You’re correct. I do have someone in mind.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Mr. McTavish.” I said quietly, unable to meet Dougal’s stare. I only looked up when he started laughing.

“What’s so funny about that? Why are you laughing?” I demanded. “Don’t think he’ll agree to it?” My heart was pounding. Here I was, arranging a marriage between myself and Jamie. I knew Jamie must harbour some feelings for me, after all we had shared our bodies with one another multiple times now. But did he love me? Did he want to marry me?

“Och, tis’ only I’ve seen the way he looks at ye lass. The lad has eyes for ye, ye ken?” He stopped laughing long enough to come near me and place his hand on my elbow. “Jesus. Young Jamie, marrying a Sassenach.”

I yanked my elbow out of his grasp, “Well. Shouldn’t we get back.”

“Aye, I need to speak to Ned Gowan and you… you best speak to Jamie.” He laughed again and climbed back on his horse. I followed and couldn’t put together a coherent thought the entire way.

The men were eagerly awaiting our return, not knowing where we had gone, only noticing our absence. Jamie immediately came to me, seeing the pain evident on my face.

“Leave her be Jamie. She’s been through enough with that damned Randall.” Dougal said.

“Randall? It was Randall who…” Jamie placed his hand on my cheek, “did this to ye?” There was anger in his eyes, a hatred for the man who had hurt him and now me.

“Aye, I’ll tell ye what happened… and what needs to be done. Ned, I need a word or two.” Dougal motioned for Ned to follow him and they began speaking of what I assumed were the marriage plans for Jamie and I.

Jamie’s hand was still on my cheek, I reached up to grab his hand and leaned my face against his open palm.

I was so nervous, my words came out shaky, “Jamie, I need to speak with you… about something rather important.” He looked so concerned.

“Aye, let’s talk over here then, Sassenach.” He put his hand on my waist and I noticed odd looks from the other men. It was about to get a lot more strange around here once they learned the news.

Jamie led me off to the side and we sat down by a large boulder. “What is it lass? Are ye hurt? I canna bear to see ye hurt. Where did ye go?” He returned his hand to my cheek, his thumb softly caressing.

I smiled, “One question at a time please sir.” He looked almost bashful.

“Before I answer any of those questions first… I need to tell you something. You see…” And I explained what happened with Randall, how he accused me of having allegiances with the Highlanders and his plan to question me. He stayed silent as I told him this, nodding every now and then.

“So Dougal said I should marry… a Scot. So that I will be protected from Randall.” Jamie flinched and grabbed my hands that were resting in my lap.

“Who does he say ye should marry?” Jamie asked, a slight tremble in his voice. I looked down at his hand in mine and then I looked at my own hand and saw the ring on my left hand. Frank’s ring. My stomach flipped as I looked up into Jamie’s eyes.

“You.” I smiled and felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

“Me? Was it Dougal who said it should be me?” He asked.

I blushed and turned my head to the side, “Well… it was actually me who suggested it. I wasn’t too sure you would agree though.” Jamie placed his hand under my chin and turned my face back to look at him.

“Sassenach…Claire. I would want nothing more than to marry ye.” He smiled and then laughed, like his body could not contain the joy he was feeling.

I pulled him to me and held him tight, his arms wrapped around me and we sat there embracing each other until Jamie was the first to pull away. “When is the Wedding then?”

“Dougal said it would need to be tomorrow. As Randall said that if I was not returned to him by tomorrow evening then he would come looking for me and arrest me.” I noticed Ned coming our way, holding a piece of paper in his hands.

“Aye, tomorrow then. We shall be… Husband and Wife” Jamie said proudly.

Ned approached us and handed me the paper, it was a Marriage Contract. “Sign this my dears and then we need to make a few more arrangements before you shall wed tomorrow.”

I took the pen Ned held out and signed the contract, giving it to Jamie to sign next. Ned smiled, taking it from his hands and left to tuck it safely away in his saddle bag.

“Jamie, you’re real name isn’t McTavish is it?” I never felt an urgency to learn his real name but now that I would soon be taking his name, I figured I should know.

“Nah, Sassenach it’s not. And I shall tell ye my name… your name” He blushed and stood, pulling me to my feet, “Tomorrow.” He kissed my cheek and began walking back to join the other men.

“Jamie!” I laughed. Tomorrow I would not be Claire Beauchamp. I would not be Claire Randall. I would become someone else entirely, someone who was falling for this man. There would be no returning to Craig Na Dun, not anymore.