#it feels really good to boot up the computer and write on here man oh man

[tvrningout-a]

me: it's fine, i'll just do a lil bullet point bio to give all the important details straight-away

me, a minute later and summoning all the spooky vibes i can muster: i'm gonna write a chapter-style bio once again and hope people read it <3

[creatchie8]

Yellow Soul: Chapter Four

Persimmon

Chapter Summary: Things haven't been the same since the fight in Rhett's truck. The pressure is getting to you, and the feelings of self-doubt are not eased as others around you do not reveal their secrets.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI, Protected PinV sex, Choking (light), Cheating, Fighting (not physical, just some strong words), Risky sex (idk if it deserves a warning but it made me scared writing it lol)

Word Count: 5,000ish

A/N: As always, I love you all <3 I am really hoping to get another chapter out before the new year, as I am on break from uni!

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“Whatcha workin’ on there?”

Royal’s voice made you jump. You had heard him come in, his big boots creaking on the floors. But you did not expect him to start chatting you up when he was supposed to be working outside with Rhett.  

“Hmm? Oh, just replying back to some internship opportunities I got. Nothing too interesting.” You chuckle as you get back to typing on your laptop. You were perched on a loveseat in the living room, soaking in the silence. Perry had gone to work a couple of hours ago, promising to bring you a donut if the little pastry place by the hardware store hadn’t run out by the time he got off work. 

It wasn't like he gave you much else to do than just wait for him, the roads were terrible and both of your parents were at work. 

“I’m actually a TA for an undergraduate class, too. Before I left Laramie I had to do a ton of grading so honestly I am just thankful I get to do stuff on my computer that is not looking at papers on Cultural Competence.” You joked, looking at the older man above your screen. 

Royal sat down in the armchair across from you, the old furniture creaking under his weight. 

“Your parents must be awfully proud of you. Bein’ some busy college girl who gets good grades.” Royal remarked, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.  

“They are, and I am very thankful for it.” You confirm, nodding and smiling at him. This was kind of awkward. He sighed, the long breath coming from his nose as he stayed put.

Okay, this was really awkward.

The silence dragged on while you typed, glancing up at Royal a few times to see that he was just looking at his hands, picking at a scab on his wrist. Where was Cecilia? Surely she would be emerging from wherever she was hiding to break this uncomfortable tension between the two of you. 

“You know, uhm,” He cleared his throat, “Perry is a good boy and loves you to bits, right?” Royal says suddenly and your fingers still on the keyboard. Your palms were sweating now, heartbeat quickening. 

Did he know about you and Rhett? Did he see you two in the kitchen and Rhett didn't notice? Did Rhett tell him? 

“Of course I know that!” You smile and say lightheartedly, removing your laptop from your knees and placing it on the couch next to you, “Perry is a great man.” You add with forced enthusiasm. 

“Yes he is. He’s a lot like Cecilia, leads with his heart but not always with his brain sometimes. Just wants people to be happy, ya know?” 

“What are you tryin’ to say here, Royal?” You ask, smile faltering at his words. 

“Nothin’ sweetheart. Just… I want you to choose the life that makes you happy. I know you love my son, but remember that.” He concludes and gets up, groaning with the effort, “Rhett’s been waiting for me outside, I better get back to him.” 

Then he was gone. 

He knows. He has to know. There is no way in hell he doesn't know. God, you are so fucking screwed. 

Your stomach churns and you feel completely sick. Absolutely dirty and disgusted with yourself. This can't be happening. But you thought Royal would be furious if he found out. Not calm while telling you. You stand and rush over to the kitchen window and spot Rhett and Royal, just fixing the fence as usual. Not a fight or arguing. 

That might be good. Because if you didn't get chewed out, Rhett would absolutely be getting the worst of it. But instead, nothing. Maybe, Royal saw how unhappy you were since arriving here. He also was not a stranger to his older son’s bad mood and cruel tendencies. 

Did he want you to break up with his son? Was he warning you of something that you know nothing about yet? Why is Royal so vague and fucking confusing? 

A vibration in your pocket distracted you, pulling out your phone to see your mom was calling, but from her work phone. 

“Momma?” You hold the phone to your ear and sit down at the dining table. 

“Oh good! I am so glad you picked up. I completely forgot that your brother gets out early today, but I can’t leave work to pick him up. Can you please go to the house and wait there till I get home? I just don't trust him to be there by himself.” She explains, her words rushing out as static surrounded them. 

“Of course, I wasn't doing anything anyways.” You breathe a sigh of relief, “Let me put my things away and I’ll head over as soon as I can.” You are already up and in the living room, closing the laptop and zipping it away in the case. 

“You're an angel! If you are leaving now you’ll beat him by an hour or two, so you'll be home alone. Anyways, see you there!” She says and you can hear the smile in her voice before she hangs up. 

This is perfect. A perfect excuse to get out and stay somewhere Rhett and his dad are not. Quickly, you get up to Perry’s room and put your computer away and change into decent clothes to see your family. But as soon as you made your way to the front door, so far in fact that your hand was on the door handle, you remembered. 

Your fucking truck wouldn’t drive. Probably wouldn't even budge because of how long it had been sitting. Every time you went out you used Perry or Rhett’s truck, and you hadn't even looked at what was wrong with yours. 

Great. 

What do you do? Tell your mom you can't go? 

So you stare at your phone for a bit. Just looking at the crack in the screen protector from a long time ago. Maybe if you stare at it long enough it will come up with a solution for you? Probably not, unfortunately. 

So your fingers type and go to the first person you can think of. 

Me: Can I ask you a huge favor?

You wait so long for him to reply back you decide to sit on the bottom step of the stairs.

Rhett Abbott: What

Me: I need to go make sure my younger brother is okay but my truck won’t start. Please can I borrow yours?

You wait even longer for this message.

Rhett Abbott: Sure

Me: Thank you

When you go outside, you are confused by the sight. 

“My dad doesn't want you to go alone. Says the roads are too icy.” Rhett calls as he walks up the path to you, holding his keys in his gloved hand. His lips are pale and his nose is reddened, a sharp contrast to his light skin. Royal is still over working on the fence, down on his knees and fixing something in the frozen dirt. 

“I can drive myself.” You snapped, crossing your arms defensively. Your puffer jacket made a crinkly noise as you did so. 

“I’m not letting you drive my truck.” Rhett deadpanned, turning around before you could even protest and walking to his truck. Not even entertaining the thought of you driving. 

You all but stomped after him, upset at the change of events. 

But Royal wasn't kidding, the roads were very icy. Not enough to cause the truck to skid, but enough to make the tires spin for a few seconds when you took off. After a particularly concerning brake at a stop sign close to town, you were thankful you were not in charge of potentially crashing Rhett’s beloved truck. 

But you weren't going to admit that. 

“You really could have gone back to work and let me drive.” You huff, not bothering to look at him. 

“I don’t think you’re a very good driver.” Rhett retorted, slowing down to go over a speed bump as you got closer to the center of town.

“Not- oh my god! Not a good driver? Did Perry tell you that?” You scoff loudly, the familiar turns to your house making you sway, “I bet he did. Listen, the last time he ever let me drive was in eleventh grade and I had barely gotten my license!” Your face was hot with anger, the absolute audacity stunning you. 

“I was in the car with you guys! I was sittin’ in the back seat while you almost drove us right into the fuckin’ ditch.” He said, his normal gravely voice going up an octave as you fought, side-eyeing you the whole time. You seethed in your seat until he parked in the driveway, trying to come up with something to say.

“I was not about to run over some poor ground squirrel, that is just cruel!” You retorted, already opening the truck door.   

Slamming the door, you got out and marched to the house, cold hands fumbling with the keys on your lanyard. You were muttering curse words when you felt Rhett come up behind you, waiting for you to open the front door. 

When you finally found the right key you jammed it into the lock, jiggling until it gave way. The house was completely silent despite the constant string of curses coming out of your mouth. Rhett followed you in, which only made you angrier. You kicked your shoes off in frustration, ready to pull your hair out when Rhett did the same.  

“Why the fuck are you still here? I want to wait here by myself, not with you.” You snapped loudly, turning around when you heard the door shut and Rhett was still inside and not outside where he belonged. It was upsetting you more and more that he couldn't obey a single wish of yours. First the truck, now not leaving your own house. 

Jesus, you forgot he knew how to play the insufferable younger brother part perfectly. 

Opening your mouth to argue with him some more, you were silenced by Rhett slamming you back first into the nearest wall, getting the wind knocked out of your lungs. The family photos hanging above your head shifted with the sudden smack, their frames off-center now. 

While you were still dazed, you didn't notice that Rhett had his lips attached to your jaw, biting at the cold skin there. His hips were pressed to you and you could feel his hot erection through his jeans. 

“You're so annoying, you know that?” He muttered into your skin, and you couldn't help but knock his hat off to tangle your fingers into his hair, sharply tugging at the soft locks. 

“You don't seem to mind it though, do you?” You ask, already knowing the answer as you reach one hand down to palm roughly at his hard cock. Rhett hissed in response, the sound sharp through his teeth. The reaction made you smirk as you pushed him off of you. You fisted the opening of his jacket, unceremoniously shoving the tough fabric from his broad shoulders. 

Before he could protest, you were already walking swiftly to the living room, pulling off your jacket and sweater in quick succession. 

Rhett followed once he got the idea, stripping off the jacket that was already hanging from his elbows. You leaned on the taupe couch, fingers digging into the armrest while you still fumed with annoyance. 

Watching Rhett throw that damn jacket to the ground and stalk towards you with so much exasperation and purpose made your thighs clench together. Your cold exterior was slipping by the second. 

“Get on your knees.” Rhett commands when he gets closer to you, taking a few steps forward as he starts to undo his belt buckle. The forcefulness of his tone sends a zing straight to your pussy, the adrenaline practically making you vibrate in excitement. 

“Fuck you.” You spit before dropping to your knees before him, swatting his hands away to finish pulling out his dick yourself. He’s hard and throbbing, the tip flushed almost a purpley color. It makes your mouth water. But before you can admire him more, you feel a heavy hand on the back of your head, commanding you to suck his dick.

Fitting him in your mouth was no easy task, taking too much at once and making yourself gag on his cock. The lewd noise made him buck his hips, that firm hand pressing into the back of your skull. It was easier to draw back and fit your hand around what you couldn't comfortably fit, starting a rhythm of bobbing your head aided by Rhett’s hand. Drool gathered down your chin, his dick stretching your lips thin while you worked.

Arousal gathered in your panties, aided by the groans and gasps of the cowboy above you. Words of praise left his lips, too broken to really tell what they were. You reached up and cupped his balls, loving how he hissed as you massaged them firmly, reminding him that you were still mad. He reminded you of his own anger by giving a firm buck of his hips, leaving you sputtering and choking on his length. But you recovered quickly and with more vengeance, doubling your efforts to make him cum. 

“Fuck- stop, stop it now.” Rhett gasped before ripping your mouth off him, your nails gripping the jeans still at his thighs so he didn't back away. 

“Get down here and fuck me.” You demanded, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and sitting on your haunches. Lust bubbling under your skin as he did as he was told, dropping to his knees like an obedient dog. You felt lightheaded, almost stunned by how much it turned you on that he was doing whatever you said. 

As Rhett knelt down in front of you, he used one hand to push your shoulder. Taking the hint you laid back on the carpet. He immediately crowded over you, one hand roughly shoving under your sports bra to massage your breast and tweak your hard nipple. With a whine you arched up into him, hands flying to his shoulders. You claw at him, hopefully leaving raw scratches through his shirt to remind him of you. At that movement he pushes your shirt and bra up to rest above your breasts. 

A hand suddenly closes around your throat, actually gripping you this time and not at all like the last. His mouth closes around your other nipple, sucking and flicking it with his devilish tongue. All you could do was struggle against his grasp, pathetic noises tearing from your throat. If you could speak you would beg for some friction between your thighs, lifting them up in search for some relief. 

He was being mean now, purposely holding you down and ignoring your seeking hips. You pushed on his shoulders to get his attention and he let up enough for you to surge up and kiss him ferociously, clicking your teeth together mercilessly. 

“Rhett, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me I’ll make you leave.” You warn between messy kisses, feeling him hook a few fingers into your jeans before pulling them down in one fluid movement barely past the swell of your ass.

“Hands and knees.” He instructed and you did so, kissing him one last time before rolling over onto your tummy then pushing up on your forearms and knees. You spread your legs as wide as you can, baring your naked pussy for him. A finger swiped through your folds without warning, making you jump. It gently ghosted over your clit before it pulled away, the sounds of Rhett’s jeans being pushed down behind you followed by the foil of a condom being torn. 

Bracing yourself, sucking in a loud breath before gripping the carpet. His plush cock head smeared through your folds before entering in one sharp thrust, one you were expecting but one that was so unexpected. You shut your eyes at the sting, a whimper punched out of your lungs.

His cock was hot and heavy as it sat in you, a stuttering breath leaving your lungs in a pained whine. The carpet bit into your knees, embedding their fibers into your jeans. The feeling was no longer a foreign sensation, your body now familiar with the intrusion. 

“God, you’re such a fucking slut, taking my cock like you are made for it.” Rhett groans behind you, a hand slapping your ass, his palm connecting roughly with it. All you could do was sob, the noise coming from deep within you and rattling your chest.

You were thinking about getting violent as Rhett was paused, groping you with no shame. But as he moved you met him on every thrust, the sharp sounds of you two connecting filled the living room. Loud, embarrassing wails left your mouth as you demanded him to be deeper, rougher. 

Rhett was fucking straight through you, the head of his cock bruising your poor cervix. It felt incredibly animalistic, even the noises coming from the man behind you was akin to some feral beast on the mountains surrounding the sleepy town. 

A faint buzzing drew you out of the lustful haze you were lost in, the noise coming from the pocket of your jacket next to you. When you lifted your head from where it was hanging from between your shoulders, your stomach dropped out of you and straight to the floor. 

“S-stop, Rhett stop it.” You said with a shaky voice, the previous fire gone from your vocal cords. You lifted your foot up and smacked him in the thigh, the physical statement making him pause. But not only before he buried himself so deep that you couldn’t breathe, you swore you could feel his dick in your lungs. 

Pushing down the lump in your throat, hands shaking, you pulled the phone from the pocket, praying that it was a spam call from somewhere very far away. 

“It’s Perry.” You murmured in a small voice, the phone feeling clunky and huge in your hand as it continued to vibrate. A picture of him smiling was shining on the screen, the ‘slide to answer’ button glaring at you to use it. Your mouth felt dry and sticky, prompting you to open your mouth slightly and breathe out of it. 

It felt like you were being suffocated. 

After a long pause you attempted to slip it back into the pile of clothes on the floor, watching to forget about your boyfriend and just focus on the task at hand. But sharp fingers dug into your side, making you wince and pause.

“Answer it.” 

“What?” You asked dumbly, turning your head over your shoulder in an attempt to see him. Completely taken aback at his statement.

“You heard me. Answer it.” Rhett repeated, his voice dark. It made you gulp, fear twirling in your stomach as you looked back at the phone still buzzing loudly on the carpet. How long would it vibrate for? It felt like it had been going on for hours at this point, just staring at your vulnerable form this entire time. 

The dig of his fingers reminded you of his presence and you nodded, licking your lips in an attempt to unstick them. You felt like you were being possessed, grabbing the phone as you lowered to your elbows, sliding the button to answer the call and placing it firmly to your ear.

“Hey Per!” 

You answered as normally as you could, Rhett breathing heavily behind you. A calloused hand traveled up your spine softly, making you get goosebumps and shiver.

“Hey darlin’. Where are ya right now?” 

His voice cracked through the phone.

“Oh! Uhm… just at my mom’s house. She needed me to hang out here until she got home.” 

Your fingers dug into the carpet as Rhett began to move again, newfound heat licking at your belly. It was dizzying, trying to keep up with the conversation in your ear while also trying to listen to the cowboy behind you making the softest noises of pleasure. 

“Great then! I get off work in a bit, I’ll come over after I’m done. It’s closer than…” 

He started, but you stopped listening. Blood rushed through your ears, making it hard to hear anything due to your impending orgasm. Rhett’s fingers found your clit, dragging some of the creamy wetness from where you two are conjoined to ease the circles. 

“Y-yeah that sounds great!” 

You quickly responded, the hand that was clenching the carpet now coming up to smack around your mouth, noises threatening to slip. 

“What? Are you doin’ okay sweetheart?” 

Perry asked at your sudden response. You prayed he couldn’t hear the sticky wet smack of Rhett’s balls on your pussy, the sound becoming louder as your orgasm drew closer. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah-“ You rapidly blinked your eyelids, trying to regain focus. “Just fine! Sorry, I’m uh… I’m trying to get something heavy out of the closet. Could you- ah! Could you r-repeat what you said e-earlier?” 

Rhett’s hands on your hips moved you forcefully back and forth on his cock, spearing you like you were a piece of meat. He was letting little pants escape through his nose, and you were sure he was red faced and trying to pull it together. 

Perry laughed on the line, it sounded almost condescending. 

“I was saying- I’ll come over after work to join you. I need to talk to your dad anyway about some stuff.” 

He explained, still with that condescending tone, like you were incompetent. What did he have to say to your dad? What was so important it could not wait til like, Christmas dinner or something? 

His words made you seethe, well they would have if you didn’t have someone fucking you into oblivion. 

“Yeah, no- definitely when you’re done. Be safe driving here, the roads are slick.”

 You were out of breath, forehead completely smashed into the carpet and whole body rigid as you awaited the end of the phone call. 

“Alright, see ya later sweetheart.” 

Perry concluded, sounding distant as you writhed against the ground. 

“Yep!” It came out as a squeak, Rhett giving you a sharp thrust, “See you soon!” 

The dial tone was the sweetest sound you had ever heard and probably will hear after that. Immediately you dropped the phone and let out a loud sob, toes curling. 

“Fu- like that, Jesus Christ don’t you dare fucking stop, R-Rhett.” You growled, shoving your phone far away from your face, watching it slide under the couch. Your whole body was on fire and you felt close to hyperventilating.

 It was humiliating how he had you flattened to the ground besides your ass being in the air, a crick forming in your back. 

Rhett just grunted behind you, smoothing a hand down your inevitably sweaty lower back. Soon, the pace he set was jostling his other hand, the one so deliciously circling your clit. It was messy and not always hitting the right spots, so you decided to hit him away, replacing his hand with yours. 

You would have thought he would have protested like he did at church, but he happily took his hand back, using it to pull you harder against him on your hip. 

“Takin’ it so good- shit.” Rhett rumbled behind you between guttural noises, the sounds low in his throat. Praise always weakens you, fire crackling all the way through your body. It started at your core, zips of lightning coursing through your veins and to your fingertips. Quickly, your hindbrain took over and was controlling you out of instinct. 

“Yeah- all for you. Take it- all for you.” You barely managed to cry out before resorting to tiny ah ah ah ahs with your face pressed against the side of your bicep. There was a semi-familiar build up happening in the base of your pelvis, one that really only happens when you have your bullet vibrator pressed tight against your clit. 

As your breaths became more ragged, you felt lightheaded before you came. Eyes fluttering closed, it felt like you were soaring. Even your stomach dropped like when you ride roller coasters. 

A long, drawn-out moan left your lips and rattled your chest as you came. The feeling was unbelievable, like you were soaring high above all else. Rhett followed soon after, pulling you close while he emptied himself into the condom. His thick thighs pressed hard to your ass. A hand rubbed up and down the lower part of your spine, the gentle movement of it caused crackles of electricity to emerge in your chest.

To your dismay, Rhett pulled out. His hand that was resting on your back came down to grab a handful of your ass, making you squeak. 

“Jesus fuck- didnt think you liked my dick that much.” Rhett remarked sarcastically, out of breath as he tried to regain his composure. You sat up and turned to sit on your butt, trying to gracefully pull up your panties in a haze, your shirt and bra still sitting high up to your neck. 

“Don’t you have a condom you need to take off?” You muttered, annoyance settled back into you as you rolled your eyes and looked up.

He was staring at you, hands twitching in his lap. You blinked back, exhaling softly as your eyes locked. The sarcasm in his words didn't translate to his face, instead watching you with reverence. Even though your hair was a mess and you were sure there was drool and carpet imprints on your cheek. 

Your attention was brought back to his fidgety hands, watching as his fingers flitted together. There was a large cut on his right, the gash trailing from mid palm through the juncture between his thumb and pointer, ending just barely past that. It was scabbed over but the skin around it was still red and angry. 

Frowning, you subtly gestured to the lesion, “You should be more careful. When did you get that?” You asked softly. 

The moment was over as Rhett narrowed his eyes and swatted your arm with irritation before getting up to dispose of the condom. 

Quickly, you adjusted your clothing so it was like nothing ever happened, only the hot flush on your cheeks told anything. 

Fuck. 

The crackles in your chest turned to pangs of hurt as you watched Rhett leave to the bathroom. All this time you concluded the soreness in your heart to be feelings of guilt and self-hatred for cheating on Perry. 

Were you just actually fucking stupid? Of course you would be catching feelings. No one in the history of… well, ever would not fall in love- no, not love. Whatever this is, whatever you are doing with him can’t be love. 

You wouldn't allow it. 

It was useless to argue with yourself like this. Every waking moment was spent trying not to think about Rhett. When you saw his boots by the door it would send you into a spiral at seven o'clock in the morning when all you wanted to do was piss. When you scrolled through social media you searched up his name to look at the account he posts on once in a blue moon that you do not follow and just stare at his photos. The one time you had sex with Perry on this trip you forced your eyes shut-

You physically shake your head to rid yourself of that thought, warding it off like a bad omen. You were in denial, and you knew it. Feeling more lost now than ever before in your life. The thoughts made your lip quiver, and a headache formed around your skull like a tight rubber band. Quickly, you pressed your fingertips into your temples, trying to calm yourself as you looked down into your lap.

Socked feet stopped right in front of you, eyes trailing up his long legs and strong body to get to his face. Rhett had his hand extended towards you, calluses illuminated by the Christmas tree lights. After a moment's pause you accepted it and allowed yourself to be pulled up by him, amazed at how effortless Rhett made it seem.

Rhett did not let go of your hand when you stood at your full height. It was warm and solid, tough skin but holding your hand with all the delicateness in the world. His thumb swiped slowly across your knuckles, making you hyper aware of the chapped skin there. 

Quietly, you excused yourself to the bathroom, pulling your hand away from his. 

Finally alone in the small room, you fixed your appearance, soaking your hands in freezing water to press to your flushed cheeks. Groaning to yourself, you quickly finished up in the bathroom, not wanting to leave Rhett down there for too long by himself. 

Back in the living room, you found Rhett sitting on the couch with your phone in his lap. Watching you settle yourself on the furthest end away from him, Rhett passes over your phone, “Figured you didn't want to go digging around for your phone after you tossed it.” he remarked, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back so he could put on his baseball cap. 

Looking over his shoulder, you saw he picked up your jackets and hung them in the foyer as well. When you looked back at him he was staring at you intently, his pretty blue eyes studying your movements carefully. 

“Thank you for picking up the jackets, and my phone.” You added gently as you turned your phone over in your hands nervously. Rhett simply nodded and went back to picking at his hands in his lap. 

After a moment of silence Rhett scratched the stubble on his jaw, the noise making you look over at him. You watched him get up with a grunt, hands coming down to adjust his jeans. 

“I better go back. Completely forgot about the work at home.” He explained, and you nodded. Rhett chewed his bottom lip, looking at you with what you could only assume was expectancy. Did he want you to say something? 

“Uhmm… I guess I’ll walk you out?” 

It was Rhett’s turn to nod, turning away from you and heading to the door. You followed him, slipping your phone into the back pocket of your jeans as you watched him shrug his coat on and slip on his boots. Avoiding the small puddles of melted snow on the tile floor you opted to stand on the rug near the door to not get your socks soaked. 

Crossing your arms defensively, Rhett stood toe to toe with you, reaching up to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear. The touch softened you, dropping your arms to your sides almost instantly as you leaned into his palm, now resting gently on your cheek. 

Rhett leaned closer and captured your lips in a kiss. You could feel him smile the smallest bit as you kissed him back, igniting butterflies in your stomach. Pulling back, his thumb rubbed against your cheekbone.

“You should text me more.” Rhett stated, pecking you once again before opening the door and leaving.

Catch me on AO3 under Creatchie8 too! Happy Holidays!

[twwpress]

Creator Spotlight #20: worldsofdreamers

Welcome back to the TWW Author Spotlight! For every spotlight, we’ll ask each featured author the same ten questions (as well as questions you submitted on Twitter!). This week we’re sitting down with @worldsofdreamers (worldsofdreamers on ao3)!

1) What are your top 5 desert island fics by other authors? 

Healthcare Reform by hufflepuffhermione This fic is one of those that had me itching to read each update as soon as the notification hit my inbox. Absolutely everything I could have wanted in a season six au and more. The angst and romance are perfectly balanced and the transition from marriage of convenience to more had me tossing my phone across the couch more than I care to admit. Captures the magic of Josh and Donna beautifully and truly just how much of a dumbass that man is when it comes to his feelings.

just stay this little by mikaylawrites a sweet fluffy filled post canon josh and donna and their babies fic. So sweet and heartwarming I cry every time I read it. Happy families are my weakness and my oh my are they happy here. The perfect pick me up fic.

Yichud by Lily_Padd_23 a short lovely Sam and Josh fic that takes place after they get married. One of the first fics I read with this pairing as I was exploring the archive in this fandom, long before I ever considered writing fanfic again or for this fandom. I really love how it captures their dynamic and the jokey, easy-going nature of their love. The way it’s clear that they are best friends and lovers is something special and reminds me so much of my own relationship. They are absolute dorks and I love them so much it hurts.

brothers in arms by hufflepuffhermione A character study of Josh that is so unbelievably gorgeous it rips your heart out and knits you back together. I reread it recently and it’s just as poignant and impactful as the first time. In my book it’s required reading for anyone who loves Josh, found family, and interconnected stories. I could go on and on about how much I love chosen family but I’ll refrain if y’all just go read this fic as soon as possible. Have tissues nearby because you’ll need them.

for every year’s a souvenir by crossingdelancey A CJ and Toby fic with some background Josh and Donna. It has everything I love in a story from The West Wing universe, chosen family, Josh being CJ’s annoying little brother, plus a second chance romance for CJ and Toby with a family to boot, and a happy ending for all of them. What more could you possibly want? Other than more that is, an absolutely stunning fic all around.

2) Do you have a favorite character to write? Favorite ship(s) to write? Are there characters or ships you'd like to write more of?

I like writing Sam a lot, he is on-screen a lot but we don’t always see into his head like we do with some of the others. He’s a good canvas to play with and create a backstory that serves for whatever story you want to tell. Plus the information we do have about him creates touchstones to build from. His complex family structure and background as a writer are something that all my narrators typically share across original and fan works so he’s very easy for me to fall into writing. The typical advice is write what you know after all (even if I don’t particularly think that’s great advice all the time).

Currently I only write Sam/Josh and that’s really fun for me but once this story cycle reaches a logical conclusion I’m open to writing other pairings if the right idea comes along. I find the dynamic between Toby and Congresswoman Wyatt fascinating, especially in my current watch through of the series.

3) Tell us about your writing process (setup/location? Night or day? Snacks/beverages? Computer/phone/notebook? Music or silence? Anything else you want to share is welcome!)

Generally my ideal writing circumstances are the same when it comes to original fiction or fanfiction. Block out all the noise around me with noise canceling headphones and a character playlist. As someone with ADHD it’s vital to be able to tune into what I'm doing with as little outside distraction as possible. I use google docs for the actual story because I can write and edit on multiple devices without having to worry about flash drives and then physical notes in a designated book depending on the project. I have to have music, at least two beverages, usually one that’s caffeinated, and if at all possible a blank wall ahead of me.

My process for West Wing fics specifically starts with watching the source material that overlaps with wherever the AU is headed and cherry picking the moments that are relevant in the larger context of this universe as well as backrought things going on in the administration. Typically this also serves as a way back to a Sorkin-esque style from my original fiction. I also make a point of tracking Sam/Josh and any other relevant characters, specifically the interactions they have with each other. I also love researching moments of real world politics both of the time the story occurs and present day and leaving them around as easter eggs for the government dorks of the world like me.

Typically there are also a few songs from my obnoxiously large music library that become the soundtrack of a piece and that’s how the “title track” comes out. With my most recent fic Secrets (Just to keep you) the title track was Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. The whole time I was writing this story I was listening to a lot of the unreleased tracks as well as Adore You from Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson’s album Walls, and Taylor Swift’s reputation which just beautifully fit the feeling of a secret love that you’re desperately trying to keep under wraps, the heat and tension that bubbles over when you’re finally alone with that person and the secrets we all carry around.

 4) What writing advice do you have for others who may be reading this?

You can’t force inspiration or at least I can’t. She sort of just comes to you, I've found the more I read, listen to, and watch the more she finds me.

At least that’s what happened when I considered writing in this fandom. I’d just watched Season 1 episode 19 Let Bartlet Be Bartlet the night before and was in the car on the way to get groceries or something and was listening to the Harry Styles and the line “Kiss her and don’t tell” from his song Keep Driving got stuck and all through the store I was thinking about that episode and what would change if we as the audience knew Sam was bisexual and had this unexplored history of allyship? Why was he the one in the room with the guys from the DOD taking the meeting about DADT? It sort of snowballed from there into a character study in my notes app and then a fic of the same name came out.

 5) From where do you usually draw your inspiration? (Other forms of media, music, tropes, etc?)

Usually fleeting moments in the canon mixed with a song lyric and the question what if?

Sam and Josh having a cat that Josh is at odds with in my universe came from the line about Josh yelling at Donna’s roommate’s cats. It made my partner laugh the first time we watched the series together and now every time the line comes up he brings it up.

The whole idea of exploring a long term relationship between Josh and Sam has been ping ponging around for years in my mind because of the interactions they have at Gage-Whitney and on the street outside.

I’ve been a fan of the show for nearly two decades so I have a lot of history with the characters and there are sometimes when a song just clicks for them or a moment in the show.

 6) What is the fic you've written that you're most proud of and why?

Probably Secrets (just to keep you). It’s my longest fanwork to date and I really enjoyed writing a summer romance over the summer. I’m a sucker for romances that are equal parts tender and spicy and while there are things I’d change about the process I’m proud of the fact I actually put it out in the world.

 7) What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd read 1000 of? What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd write 1000 of?

I’m a sucker for a friends to lovers arc and a clandestine romance. I will watch or read the “oh shit… I love them” moment over and over again.

I love a second chance romance and will read or write them until the end of my days. I love exploring how you find your way back to someone who hurt you and who you also hurt. The negotiations of it and the exercise in trust it takes to open yourself up to the potential of being hurt again.

When it comes to writing I’m a big fan of stories that deep dive into the small moments in canon and attempt to bring more depth to characters.

 8) Is there anything you'd like to try writing-wise that you haven't yet?

I don’t typically write m/f main pairings in anything I do but I’d love to write something about Toby and Andy pre-canon. I think if the right idea came along it could be a really interesting character study. It would also give me the opportunity to humanize and flesh out the grumpy men of The West Wing which is one of my favorite things to do. Also I love Andy so much she always steals the scene for me.

 9) What's your go-to Starbucks/coffee shop/other drink order?

Always the largest available size of cold brew or iced coffee, with one or two packets of sweet and low. If I'm feeling fancy I add a splash of oat milk and a pump or two of cinnamon syrup.

Whenever possible, Dunkin or a mom and pop shop over Starbucks. I have chronically bad luck with Starbucks beans being burnt or my drink being undrinkable in some other way like getting dairy milk instead of plant milk. I've stopped risking it.

 10) Do you have any current projects you'd like to promote or anything upcoming you'd like to tell us about?

My ongoing AU series Love of my life has five entries currently with at least two more on the way. Whichever tumbles out faster will be the next update tentatively scheduled sometime before Valentine’s.

The first one, Holy Orange Bottles, a multi-chapter post-rosslyn recovery story through the eyes of Donna, Sam, and Josh’s mom. It explores the sheer amount of tragedy that has hit the Lyman family and how the four of them (and Harry the cat) work together towards a new normal. It’s pretty emotionally taxing for obvious reasons so I’ve been tackling it in small chunks.The title comes from the Taylor Swift song Soon You’ll Get Better and the chapter titles come from The Mountain Goats song Matthew 25:21

I also have a one-shot that covers the portland trip in season two titled A Clock That’s Ticking. It’s the first one I’m writing from Josh’s Pov and covers the meeting with Congressman Skinner and what would change if he knew about the election night conversation between the President and Dr. Jacobs. I also wondered what would change if after hearing the display of period/party typical allyship how Josh would address the assignment. And without giving too much away what would happen if Josh revealed his identity to Leo and the president. The title for this one comes from Holding onto Heartache by Louis Tomlinson which from the first listen hit me as such a Josh song and instantly became the title track to the piece despite the fic being nothing more than a series of scribbled notes when that album dropped in November. 

 Submitted questions:

From @S4MWILS0N: fave ep ? fave season ? fave plot arc ? fave character ? fave character duo (platonic and romantic) ? actor you’d most like to meet irl ? plot line you wish you could get rid of ? funniest and most poignant one liner ?

Episode: Five Votes Down (Season 1 Episode 4) Ultimate comfort episode and I watched it so much during the 2020 election cycle after hard campaign vol days that I can still quote it word for word.

Season: Season 2 without question.

Plot Arc: It’s tied between the MS storyline and the post-in the shadow of two gunmen PTSD arc.

Favorite character: When it comes to a favorite character it feels nearly impossible to pick just one. It fluctuates so much depending on where I am in the series or if someone is asking senior staff/assistant level or recurring character. Right now though it’s probably CJ, but I will always be a Josh fan with all that I am. From the first episode I watched nearly two decades ago he’s always been a forever favorite. I love that disaster of a man so much.

Romantic Duo: I think it’s nearly impossible to walk away from a viewing of The West Wing without a deep affection for Josh and Donna, even as someone who strictly writes in an alternate timeline where they never were or will be together.

Platonic Duo: Currently it’s Margaret and Leo, it changes a lot but I love watching them so much.

Actor: Allison, I would probably collapse to be fair but Allison.

As much as it would be cool meeting Bradley or Richard would be way too much for me.

Plot line you’d get rid of: Toby and the leak, because what the hell was that.

One liner: either “There’s literally no one in the world I don’t hate right now” or “I’m so sick of congress I could vomit”.

Infinitely applicable to modern American politics, especially recently with the speaker vote. Also the grumpy nature of Toby Ziegler in that episode speaks to my soul on such a deep level.

 From the editors (borrowed from a past Q&A, originally asked by @donnamossburner): what’s a fic that’s been sitting in the back of your mind forever and you hope one day you can finally write it?

A somebody’s going to emergency, somebody’s going to jail Sam/Josh alternating pov deep dive because the scene where Leo tells Sam to go home and that Josh told Leo about Sam’s parents haunts me. I can just imagine Josh telling Leo as a last effort of trying to reach Sam. It’s well documented throughout the series that Josh looks at Leo as a sort of father figure so I see him going to him for advice and it all comes tumbling out, his fears and doubts and how he just wants to help but can’t. In my mind it parallels The Crackpots and these women with the N.S.C. card and the conversations Josh has with various folks about it and how lost he is.

Thanks again to worldsofdreamers!! And thanks to everyone who submitted questions. If you’d like to be featured in a future Creator Spotlight, message us here, email weeklypressbriefing@gmail.com or DM us on Twitter!

xx, What’s next?

[hwrryscherry]

The one where Harry and Model Y/N go undercover in the internet

characters: HARRYxMODELY/N

blurb: Harry and Model Y/N go undercover on the internet with fake accounts on TikTok and Instagram for an interview for GQ magazine on a video pre Grammys.

word count: 3.3K

HARRYxMODELY/N masterlist

author's note: HI GUYS! This is a request that I received a while ago but only finished it now because of school and all that stuff that I've told y'all a million times. Anyway, I tried my best on this request cause I think I lost my way of writing a little lol but anyway, I hope you like it and I hope that for the ones who misses Harry and Model Y/N this can be a great gift. Love y'all and thank you for the constant support and love on them💜 Stay Safe and Always remember to tpwk and that you're so golden💜💜💜

It was about 3 pm when you and Harry naturally came into the studio set on the building of GQ magazine with tender smiles on your faces covered by masks as you greeted everybody in the room in which there wasn’t many people in it. Harry was dressed in one of the many Gucci shirts he owned, with freshly washed hair that made you smell his pleasant scent from inches away just because he was wearing your favoured one and you'd always recognize it. You also detected the many rings on his fingers, including the one that you had bought for him as a 27th birthday present and by god, he was so thrilled about the ring and had a big smile on his face all day so he felt like he wanted to use it every day. Oh and how good his birthday was. You weren't able to have a party, obviously, but you still managed to celebrate somehow. In the morning, you gave him his favorite breakfast and then he, Gemma and Anne stayed on a zoom call for about an hour. You bought some yellow balloons to put in the living room just to give that birthday vibe and during the night, you had no more than four friends in your LA house, all properly protected and saved. You just ordered a few pizzas and watched some of Harry's favorite movies. It was simple but with an incredible energy, receiving a tiny group around while doing something y'all liked was everything Harry wanted most, mainly because he would have to wake up early the next day to go to the set of "Don't Worry Darling." as they were about to finish filming.

But today was another day. In earlier Febraury, the GQ magazine team reached out to your businessmen with the proposal that you and Harry would record a video together answering questions about your relationship to be published before the Grammys and after you consider whether it would be the best thing to do or not because of the many reactions you could get from it, you both agreed to do it. You’d always try to consider every little possibility when it comes to your and Harry’s relationship as the media can be very mean and disrepecftul.

Instead of Harry, you had a black miniskirt, long sleeve white blouse and a small black blazer with your Fendi plaid boots, which was Harry's personal choice for today as you’ve told him that he could chose an outfit for you to wear. You two spent a few minutes in the makeup chair doing touch-ups on your hair and makeup right before you were both ready to shoot. You walked from the makeup table to the center of the studio where you could see the crew behind the cameras and the big white background with a table and two black chairs right in the center. The table had a computer upon it only. After sitting down and having the microphones popped at you, you looked up when you heard the directors asking if you were ready and when you nod and the count is over, the camera started recording.

   ‘‘Hi, I'm Harry Styles!'’ You greeted the camera with a big smile on your face, eliciting a laugh from Harry about your unexpected "joke.". Honestly, today was a good day for both of you where you were both in an extremely good mood. Unlike the other days where you were quarantined, you were emotionally untired and in the mood to film and have a small social interaction, which is rare.

   ‘’And I'm Y/N Y/L/N!'’ Harry said joining in the joke with you and then looking at you as he waited for you to say the rest of the introductory phrase but only realizing you were smiling at the camera without saying anything.   '’Y/N!'’  Harry called calmly causing you to turn your head to face him and realize he wanted you to continue instead of continuing himself.

   '’Oh sorry, I thought you were going to continue'’    You whispered conspiratorially to him before taking a deep breath and resting your hands on the table when you returned your gaze to the camera.   ‘’And we’re gonna go undercover on the internet today!!’’

   ‘’Yeah, I'm scared!'’  Harry said when opening the laptop that was over the table and turning it on. You sat back in your chair so that you could see the laptop screen clearly and smirked a little when you heard your boyfriend's words.

   ‘’Hm... Let's do TikTok!'’   Harry said after a few seconds in silence while thinking. Harry's words made you chuckle his words because you knew that Harry doesn't comprehend anything about TikTok and didn't have an account but you both would usually find yourselves in bed watching tiktoks for hours. '’Which username should we put in?'’, Harry asked without taking his eyes off the screen.

   ‘’You should be! I’ll expose all of your deepest secrets in this video'’   You said while raising your eyebrows in a playful way eliciting a laugh from Harry, one by the way, that he tried hard to sound a little desperate for people watching  '’Alright, what should we do first?’’

   ‘’Put ‘’simp4harry’’ !"  You said with a smirk on your lips as Harry let out a nasal laugh but put that username either way.

   ‘’Okay, but how did you think of that username so fast? I think it’s very creative'’  Harry asked as he finished creating the account.

   ‘’It's the username I put on everything!'’  You answered as you ran your right hand through your hair.

   ‘’Oh yes? So is this your Only Fans username?'’  Harry mockingly asked making you laugh and take your eyes off the screen and look at his face.

   ‘’No, I don't even have an account on Only Fans, for God's sake Styles'’. You answered as mockingly as he did, '’Why? You have one?'’  You asked calmly.

   ‘’No, I'm a one-woman man!'’ Harry said to cause you to smile convincingly.

   '’Can someone get me a bottle of water, please?'’ You asked gently for the people who were on the set and smiled thanking the person who brought you.

   ‘’Thank you!'’   You answered sounding a little bit shy, even though you’re a public person and listen to compliments quite often, you still don’t know how to react to them. You took a deep breath and raised your eyebrows before using your finger to point to the laptop screen as he opened your tiktok account,  ‘’I mean, I don’t even know why I’d be one of the best ones to follow since all I post on tiktok is unnecessary and stupid things that goes through my mind during the day.’’

   ‘’So inconvenient!'’  Harry whispered playfully. You two had this habit of being sassy to each other, and everyone around you was used to it. This craze started because the first time you guys hang out together in Shanghai, you just talked like you’ve known each other for years and not just five hours.

   '’I didn't drink water today, do you want me to be thirsty? I thought you loved me!'’   You used a dramatic tone when speaking before drinking a sip of water.

   ‘’I did!'’   Harry replied in a low tone finishing logging in the TikTok feed.

   ‘’What do you mean ''you did''?'’   You answered in a loud tone holding the laugh with Harry.

   ‘’Okay, focus on TikTok! Focus on TikTok!'’  Harry said with a laugh as you now brought his attention to the screen as well,  ‘’Hm, let's look at my girl's account!'’, Harry said as he typed your tiktok username in the search bar. You took a sip of the water in the bottle and put it on the table,  ‘’AND by the way, do you guys know that this woman over here was listed by The Cut as one of the best tiktokers to follow today? And I’m so proud’’

   ‘’Well, I love how you appreciate your talents, love!'’  Harry replied sarcastically with a smirk on his lips making you chuckle. He didn't like it very much when you belittled something you did, even if it was something that was really bad, he didn't like it. Not just with you though, but with all the people in the world. Harry doesn't like it when people don't recognize their worth.

   ‘’Ok, here’s the first one! I’ll be reacting to it!'’   Harry spoke in a playful tone while clicking on the video as he knew very well it was not a react video but to answer questions. Harry clicked on the first video, this time you were propped up with your face close to the camera with folded arms dubbed to the sound that was in the background. You then take the transparent glasses pulled over the beige in a matter of color that was in front of you on the table and put them under your eyes never failing to dub the song. Then you move away from the camera and can see you are wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. And then you take your Louis Vuitton Coussin PM silver bag and place it on your shoulder before the video ends   ‘’Alright, so on this video you don’t do anything else than mimicking to the song.’’

   ‘’No, but like, seriously!'’   You complemented. '’We’ll watch some of them, and you’ll see how silly they are!

   ‘’I know that’s why I said that it stupid!'’   You exclaimed as you crossed your arms on the table. ‘’Let’s see the comments'’   You, yourself clicked on the comments area with your hand before Harry did and observed as comments poped up.

   ‘’Ok so the user @username1 asked ‘’How does it feel being the coolest person ever’’, tell me Y/N, how does it feel like?'’  Harry asked with a smirk to you as he turned his head to encounter your face with raised eyebrows.

   ‘’Oh, it feels so nice!'’ You responded in a playful tone causing both of you to laugh at your conviction, even though you knew it was a teasing tone and not narcissistic  ‘’Everybody knows I’m like, the coolest person alive so...'’  You convincingly said running your hand through a few strands of your hair and then take a deep breath and put a lock of hair behind your ear.   ‘’No, I’m just kidding. I’m not cool everyday, honestly there are days that I’m the most annoying person ever so I definetely have my good and bad days.’’

   ‘’Oh and those annoying moments'’   Harry said in an ironic tone, letting out a dramatic sigh causing you to frown and slightly open your mouth as an offense while holding your laughter as you exclaimed a loud '' excuse me?’‘ as an answer. Harry returned his attention to the comments on the screen again and frowned and brought his face slightly closer to the screen to read   ‘’Okay so @username2 asked ‘’new trend: are you engaged?’’. No guys are not. We’ve never been engaged.’’

   ‘’I feel like we’ve been engaged since 2017!'’   You said sarcastically remembering all the rumors about engagement, babies and dating. Since the first time you has met there were rumors, thousands of them, all the time but you and Harry chose not to comment on them as it would just be a big waste of time.

   ‘’Exactly and we weren’t even dating in 2017!'’  Harry complemented by looking away from the camera at his nodded face. '’But anyway...’’   Harry said taking a deep breath  '’I love how random your tiktok actually is!’’

"I know! I am planning a whole video to film on Grammys day because I'm in love with my outfit and i’m so excited for it!" You said changing the subject but being excited about the idea. After the announcement of nominations and with all the excitement you felt for Harry, you agreed you would attend the Grammys together; it was something important because not only was he running for three awards but also because you never attended any events side by side, except at the 2019 Met Gala. Then the pressures would increase but Harry knew it would be so much easier if he had you there with him. Because whether or not he took the awards home, he knew you were there and he would be grateful for at least being nominated for sure.

"Wait, which outfit did you pick? " Harry asked as he left the tiktok site on the laptop and entered Instagram. Harry selected searched for the hashtag of both of your names as a ship name on the explorer, so it would be easier to find what both of you wanted. "You showed me three different outfits but didn’t told me which one you chose!"

"Oh, I choose the black Prada one!"  You answered calmly. Harry stopped using the laptop and turned his head quickly to face his face causing you to look surprised and confused at him due to your reaction. It was his favorite outfit from the three that you had shown to him. "What?I wanna look great before you win your first award and I start ugly crying."

"Oh my god, you’re probably more excited than me." Harry said turning his attention back to the laptop screen.

"Of course I am, I cannot wait to walk around telling people that my boyfriend is not only a three times grammy nominated but a grammy winner!" You answered as you grabbed the water bottle that you had previously asked and drinking a sip.

"Anyway, let’s see!" Harry said as he started searching through the hashtag posts, also drawing his attention to the same screen. You then see a post that catches your eye and points it so that Harry can click. The post was a picture of Harry on the Met Gala carpet with ‘’Harry pierced his own ear for the Met Gala with a needle’’ written on it. "Ok, that’s true! But, now ask me why I had to pierce my own ear?!"  He asked ironically, as if he were playing a trick on you, because he knew very well you had a mini argument that day since you refused to pierce his ear with the fricking needle.

"I told you I wouldn’t do it! Do you even have any idea of how dangerous that was?"  You replied right after rolling your eyes, but your tone of voice remained calm and you didn't get heated when you spoke. "You know you need to sterilize, right? And what if you had caught an infection? Do you really think I was going to do that? You're an adult. I can't stop you, but I wasn't going to pierce your ear."

"Hey, hey, hey!" He said causing you to stop talking and look at him. Harry raised his eyebrows and looked at you with a smirk before speaking. "The thing is: I really wanted to pierce my ear, and we wear finishing getting ready in New York. I asked Y/N if she had a needle. Neither her and Alessandro wanted to do it. Literally no one wanted to do it but I was very much decided so I did it myself and my ear is completely fine by the way" Harry said the last part making you roll your eyes again while looking at the camera and take a deep breath.

"Anyway..." You said as you dived back into the posts. In one of them you read someone saying in a comment that you and Harry would probably never fight. "Here, this one says ‘’I feel like they’re the type of couple that never fights and when they do, the fight lasts for 30 seconds’’".

"Absolutely untrue!" Harry said almost that immidiately while you nodded agreeing with him.

"Guys, every couple in the world argues. It’s natural, it’s not because we don’t have big arguments and talk shit about each other on the internet that we don’t have conflicts or understatement" You explained. You and Harry are really compatible, but you still have your moments and it’s important to recognize it. No relationship is perfect and disagreeing on things is absolutely understandable.

"Yeah, specially ‘cause we’re different people that come from different places and had different experiences. As long as the disagreements are not causing you serious mental and emotional harm is normal" Harry complemented your thought. It’s important to notice when a relationship is not making you feel good anymore. If your unhappy for any reason is important to leave and to search for help if needed. "See, if you could change anything in our relationship, what would it be?" Harry asked making you pay attention to his words and face as you thought attentively in silence for a few seconds.

"I think I would probably change the fact that we’re usually really far away from each other!" You said calmly while looking at him. "Like, you’re always travelling and so I am, so I feel like it can get hard sometimes because of that and I’d definitely would change that if I could do it without like, changing our whole careers and lives."

"Yeah, I’d probably change that as well!" Harry agreed nodding to you as he was thinking as well. "I’m very grateful for quarantine on that point because we could spend more time together without being so long apart from each other. Of course I wish it was on different situations but I’m grateful for that" Harry said and you could understand that completely. You and Harry had been dating since 2018 and had spend months apart from each other and only you both truly knew how hard it could get sometimes, specially when you had the whole world to judge both of you.

"I fully understand it! Sometimes I think about everyone who spent this past year alone, and I’m really grateful for having you with me...LIke, you’re my best friend, you know this" You said looking at Harry’s face. He had a growing tender smile on his face that was starting to make you nervous and emotional on the same time as you remembered the past year. You felt your eyes getting wet and let out a chuckle looking away from his gaze. "I’m getting emotional! It’s all about my cancer rising today!"

"Oh sure, it’s always zodiac’s fault!" Harry said laughing and then looking at the screen and the crew on the backstage while gesturing with his hands. "That’s probably one thing about Y/N that you guys don’t know. She fully believes on zodiac signs and those stuffs. Actually, there was one time when she told me that we couldn’t be together because our signs were incompatible."

"Okay but like, Harry is an Aquarius and I’m a Taurus. We are incompatible when it comes to zodiac signs!" You said between giggles as you tried justifying your point even though Harry knew you were joking when you said that to him. He didn’t know at the time though he was very much surprised and scared when you said it.

"But anyway, I’m glad that we spend this time together. It’s been weird and funny at the same time like the spaghetti day!" Harry said holding his giggles as he watched your eyes widen because you knew exactly what he was talking about.

"NO, we're not talking about this!" You talked fastly while laughing at the same time as Harry as you both remembered that one night in quarantine when a spaghetti night went completely wrong and he came on the kitchen to see you and a kitchen with spaghetti and tomato sauce all over the floor and the walls and how you cried to convince him to clean the whole kitchen alone and failed. "Ok, let's finish the video here before things are leaked!" You said giggling.

"Alright, this was very nice. Thank you GQ for having us and I hope we weren't the worst guests you've ever had!" Harry said joking even though you both knew that it was quite hard to be very open in the media specially about your relationship but you tried your hardest.

"Don't forget to watch Harry peform on Grammys on sunday!" You said.

[pascalpanic]

Fixer Upper PART ONE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Nothing seems to go right in your new house. When yet another thing breaks, a certain handyman comes to your rescue.

W/C: 2k ish

Warnings: language, joking mentions of a house being cursed (it isn’t), reader has dirty thoughts bc it’s Frankie and he’s hot

A/N: this one goes out to my anons who’ve been sending me stuff about frankie as a repairman! I loved the idea and I thought it would be super fun to write! This will be part ONE of three-ish! ps idk if any references to reader’s gender are in this part but there certainly will be some in the future so.

It’s been a while that you’ve lived in this house. Since that day you hauled in the cardboard boxes, you’ve been feeling that your life is the epitome of Murphy’s law. Or rather, this damned house is.

Nothing ever goes right. The heat breaks in the winter and the air conditioning breaks in the summer. The plumbing needs work when you need it to work, and the oven only ever breaks halfway through cooking something. Seriously, you swear this place is cursed by some hex determined to pester you out of living here.

You’ve never exactly been the handy type. You don’t know much about mechanics, heating or cooling, the electricity and wiring in your house, any of it. By now, you wish you’d taken the time to learn it at some point rather than hiring someone every time.

The first sign was that the June heat seemed inescapable. You’d been outside all day, and you figured it was just your body taking its time to adjust to the cooler, indoor temperature. Then you never cooled down. When you stepped out of the bathroom after a shower and found the air to be nearly as muggy as that of the steamed bathroom, you realized that the air conditioning must be off.

Well, it was on. The problem was that it wasn’t working. You opened all the windows, and figured the night breeze would cool you, then you became worried about serial killers and crimes and promptly shut and locked all of them again. With the fan in your bedroom on, the air at least moved, but was still thick and heavy.

In the morning, when you wake with no blankets on and sweaty sheets, you dial the repair company as fast as you can. You inform them of the situation, and they tell you they’ll send someone out your way in the next hour or two.

The air is still somewhat cool outside, so you give the front porch a shot once you get changed out of your pajamas and take yet another cool shower. The heavy dew is an indicator of just how humid the air is, and you relish every little breeze that passes by and cools you down. You conduct your morning business outside, hoping to have this problem fixed before the sun reaches a height where the temperatures will rise exponentially.

About an hour after the call, the repair van rolls up into your driveway and parks. “Thank God,” you murmur to yourself.

Your focus returns to your computer, but you hear the door slam shut and look up to find the repairman there. He wears khaki cargo pants and a gray t-shirt, complete with a ball cap on top, with dark brown curls peeking out from the bottom. He fastens his tool belt around his waist as he walks up to the porch. “Hey there. I’m Frankie. I’ll be taking care of you today,” he informs you, a kind smile on his face. You already like him. “I got the basics from the boss, but can you tell me more about the problem?”

Looking up at him from the seated position you’re in, you give an awkward smile. Suddenly, you wish you’re better dressed, fixed up and looking nice. Even in work clothes, this man is beautiful. It makes you a little nervous, you in your pajamas and him looking like a god even in cargo pants. “I wish I could, but I don’t know anything about the air conditioner and how it works other than how to change the settings. All I know is that it isn’t working.”

He gives a good-natured chuckle, a soft bounce of his chest beneath the shirt. He looks down at his tool belt and his scruff brushes against the collar of the gray. “Well, let’s go give it a shot. I’ll need you to show me around, show me the control panel and the main system.” God, he’s handsome.

“Oh, of course,” you nod and stand, leaving your laptop on the small table. “Well, right this way. And please, you don’t need to take your boots off. Those look complicated,” you laugh as you look at the heavy tan boots at the bottom of his body.

Frankie nods and looks around as you lead him through the house. He doesn’t take his boots off, since you insisted, but he does give them a generous wipe on the doormat, careful not to track anything in. “It’s a beautiful place,” he tells you honestly, with a half-smile that just tugs at one of the corners of his ridiculously soft-looking lips.

“Thanks,” you shrug and show him to the control panel. “I try. Okay, here’s the button thingy.”

“The button thingy?” he teases, which leads to laughter from the both of you.

“If I knew what it was called, you wouldn’t be here,” you tease him back and shake your head.

Frankie uses the tools from his belt to take off the casing. You lean against the wall as he works, admiring the way his hands nimbly check the wires and paneling behind it. He holds a small flashlight between his teeth to look into the wall cavity.

“I can hold that for you,” you offer, and he moves his mouth for you to take it from him.

“Thanks,” he says, popping his jaw slightly to adjust from the awkward angle of holding it between his teeth. “You don’t have to. I’m just here to fix it.”

You point it at the same spot. “I might as well be some help, considering I don’t know shit about my own house.”

Frankie laughs at that, stealing a glance your way that makes your face warm before his gaze returns to the electrical situation. “Well,” he declares after a few seconds. “The wiring must not be the problem here. This all is working fine, so it must be with the actual system.”

“Great,” you groan. “The part I know even less about.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he chuckles and screws the panel back into place on your wall, making sure everything works properly and he didn’t mess with any functions.

Leading Frankie to your basement, you show him the cluttered laundry room and the central air conditioning unit. He’s already analyzing the system, and you back off to let him work. He looks focused. “Holler if you need me,” you tell him as he gets on his knees to look at something, daring to gently pat his shoulder. It’s strong, muscular beneath your palm.

Heading back to the kitchen, you open the fridge and sigh. For a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes and just enjoy the cold air it produces. Hopefully, your house will be the same soon enough. Grabbing two tall glasses, you fill each with ice before pouring half sweet tea and half lemonade into the glasses.

You stand in the kitchen with the freezer open, sighing at the cool air it provides. Not sure how long he’ll take, you scroll through your phone. It’s surprisingly quick, you find.

“Hey, I found it!” Frankie calls from the basement.

Carrying the two glasses, you return to the laundry room to find him reorganizing his tool belt. “Here,” you tell him with a smile as you hold out the drink. “Least I could do. It’s unbearable in here.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and lifts the glass to you in a miniature salute before taking a sip. Frankie then launches into a detailed explanation of the issue with the A/C unit, using all kinds of terms you don’t understand and mentioning parts you didn’t even know were included in the machine. “I got it all fixed up, though, and it shouldn’t take long before it’s working just as good as normal.”

You sigh in relief, swallowing the sweet drink and smiling at him. “God, thank you so much. You don’t even know how awful it was in here.”

“If it’s anything like right now, I do,” he chuckles. The man takes the hem of his t-shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, revealing a muscular but soft body beneath it, with a beautiful little trail of dark hair leading to beneath his belt. Is it terrible that your first thought is that you want to lick it?

You force the image from your mind with another swig of the drink. “Yeah, just about. Well, how much do I owe you?” You ask the man, leading him out of the laundry room and into the basement that’s already feeling cooler.

“Oh, nothing right now,” he shakes his head as you lead him upstairs and to the kitchen. “I just tweaked some things for you, didn’t need any parts or anything, so it’s just gonna be labor.” He seems to remember something. “Ah, shit. I gotta have you sign something. I’ll grab the paper from the van and be right back,” he tells you and leaves his drink on the counter, half-jogging outside.

While he’s outside, you lean against the cool kitchen counter and let yourself daydream. This Frankie guy certainly is attractive, and his personality is definitely something you’re interested in. What if the situation right now played out like a porno, and he fucked you on the countertop? You certainly wouldn’t complain. You noticed his hands and feet are large. Certainly he must be big somewhere else too. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you murmur to yourself. Why did my mind have to go there? And why is the thought so hot? He’s a sweet man too, clearly goofy and sweet. Why is your mind going there then? Really, upon further pondering, you just want to hug the man, admire his strong body pressed to yours in an intimate but innocent gesture.

“Sorry, what was that?” Frankie calls out as he walks into the house again.

His voice snaps you from your daydreaming. “Oh, just talking to myself,” you say quickly and cheerfully, taking the paper from him. The top is printed with repairman name: Francisco Morales. Francisco. That makes you smile. What a cute name. The rest is filled with the details of what he did to the machine to fix it, and you sign and date at the bottom. “Here you go, Francisco.”

His tanned skin turns a little pinker on the cheeks. “Great,” Frankie smiles and takes it back.

“Before you leave,” you tell him quickly, darting to grab your purse from the entryway, “here.”

Frankie walks to you and you hand him a generous cash tip, with a stupid smile stuck to your face. “Thank you, wow,” he says, voice honest in its surprise as he notices the total of the money.

“Of course. I really can’t thank you enough. God, it’s been painfully hot in here and I really just can’t stand the heat,” you ramble, your voice speeding up. “And… yeah. Thank you. For your company, too.”

“Just doing my job,” he tells you with a smile, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, here.”

From his pocket, he pulls a little rectangle of paper with his name and company on it. “The shop number is on here; if anything changes, just call and ask for Catfish.”

“Catfish?” You ask with a smile, puzzled.

“My old military nickname. It’s what the guys around there call me,” he shrugs, shy at the nickname.

It makes you laugh a little, and you tuck the card in your purse. “Well, Catfish, thank you. I’ll be sure to use this next time I have some stupid thing I can’t repair myself.”

“Please do,” he chuckles, a shy smile on his face. “I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks!” You call again and cringe. That’s, what, the ninth time you’ve said that now? He walks to the van and you give him a wave before retreating back inside. God, now you can’t wait for this shitty house to need another repair. You’ll certainly be asking for Catfish.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal

[anemcia]

//No prompt needed, but lately I’ve been wanting to express how much this community has impacted my experience positively and I want to take the time to give special shout-outs to those who make me smile when I see them show up:

@kiealer - Starting off strong with you, my dear. You’re genuinely one of the sweetest souls here and I care for you so, so much. Part of the reason I’m making this post is because you’re much too hard on yourself over things you can’t control. You’ve ruined nothing, and people are only weary because of what a shitty person did. Nothing to be done there and I have often prayed for your heart to be healed with time. One step at a time baby, I swear you are never alone in any of this. I can guarantee no one will give you issues over your comfort ship without getting instantly pistol whipped. NazuBlack IS CANON and you have every right to post headcanons, share shippy pics and gush as much as you like to whomever you want. Who the hell can tell you ‘no?’ YOUR CITY, YOUR RULES. 

We’re in the middle of a fantastic RP over discord (I NEED TO REPLY BTW, I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE FOR THE WAIT) and it’s made me realize I shouldn’t have to be so shy in gushing about CellDew, YOU helped me get a lot more comfortable in my skin, that is no exaggeration. I’m not here to force you to post anything, Kona, it’s how you feel and what you want to do. You deserve to be comfortable and feel fluffy goodness with your OTP, damn it don’t WE ALL? Guess I’m gonna have to knock your inbox down with prompts just because I want to feed into my fav ship around the block. You owe nothing to no one, don’t ever apologise for running your blog the way you want to. Be indulgent, make it known that NazuBlack is here to stay! Believe me, I’m not going to let anyone tell you otherwise without a size 12 boot up their ass. 

@saiyanandproud - Can I just say that I’ve been secretly a big fan of Mariko for well over a year? ;0; Sometimes get a little embarrassed over that fact, but our rp’s have really picked up recently and it’s making me thankful that we actually have a proper theme going on between our babies!! ;w; I love seeing all of Mariko’s little shenanigans on the dash with everyone, her personal relationships blooming while she herself is growing as a person with every thread I peek into. Like I’ve stated previously, for an OC based around a limited concept of being a time patroller, she really extends her reach past her occupation. Mariko is a well rounded OC who aspires for genuine recognition as a hero, even if she dares to fly a little too close to the sun. She’s nobody’s fool, incredibly straightforward and a fantastic friend. All that aside, you’re such a humble mun and I enjoy even just holding little conversations about our day or how you’ve been holding up. Seriously, I’m glad you’ve stuck around tumblr this long for us to write great stories together! I’m positive any veterans familiar with her would be so damn happy to see she’s as active as ever!

@viopolis - It started with my HUGE juicy eyes over the fact an actual Dr.Gero graced this community, but my Lord did I absolutely stay for your highly talented world building with Dek, Khett, Nucleo, and many more OC’s that deserve equal praise. I love digging into your posts involving the Aseity, what it means for everyone involved aboard the vessel and how it connects them together. I envy that level of dedication with story weaving, how it fits so perfectly even with canon characters like Cell-- oh MAN speaking OF HIM. You’re the only other person I’ve met who understands how green mean bastard bug functions without adding unnecessary traits to his personality. Your basically my Cell twin in that regard, some minor differences for sure, but generally on the same page. THAT, AND CLEO! MY ADOPTED GOTH SON. Each time I see his face is the moment I feel my arms wanting to hug the computer monitor, like... Wow, I love him just as much as I do Cyto and thats a lotta love. I certainly WILL NOT forget about Dek because they’re a mischievous alien CREATURA I wish to smoosh with my hands respectfully. Look I just... I really love all your muses dude, absolutely blessed to have a chance to interreact with any of them! Not to mention you yourself as a mun are VERY COOL AND SWAGGY, it’s nice to share ideas and squeal equally about it all. Again, massive props, you deserve every drop of it.

@risingsouls - You are the lady with FIREY LAZER OPINIONS and damn it Momo, I admire that energy. I love the passion you hold over Nabs, Vegeta, all the muses you carry tightly in your protective fist because YOU’VE WORKED SO HARD ON THEM. The beautiful amount of time you’ve placed into writing your story, how many chapters you’ve reached because YOUR PASSION is damn near unrivalled by the majority here. I envy you massively for having accomplished so much writing and character exploration the way you want to, like... I salute you baby, you’ve shown everyone here that your dedication for you precious babbies are not to be trifled with. On top of that, you’re generally a very chill mun to hang with and are open to playing games and having good times. OH, and of course when YA GOT THE TEA... ALWAYS HAPPY TO LISTEN. I know I’ve been major absentee lately, but I want you to know I’m always admiring near or far. I’m glad to know that despite everything, you truck on and push forward through all the shit you’re given. Momo the STRONG. Momo the inspiration. I NEED whatever juice you be sipping to get into gear and JUST... WRITE MY OFFICIAL CELLDEW STORY ALREADY.

@synthetixviola - Lets be real, you run one of the BADDEST BITCHES in this RPC. I love a baker who could kick my ass up and down the street and serve me a cake with “sorry u lost most of your teeth” written neatly in icing. I really got to know her through the awesome tournament Momo was running and I just... Love all her energy + bonus relatable mom moments. She’s a beauty, she’ll rip open someones asshole on a whim, she’ll sell you something nice on the side and be a wonderful example of how Gero ruined her life with the android shenanigans. I can’t blame her hate boner for the RR army, who really could in her position? No one can deny that Lila is a fantastic OC and I’m so happy that I can see her beautiful purple hair grace my dash when you post. Also, can I just say that you’re also so very cool and easy to chat with? Seriously, stay coolio because you’re one of the cooliest ;3c

@unboundpower​ - THE GREAT AND POWERFUL USER OF ACTUALLY VERY WELL WRITTEN FUSION FRIENDS, THANK GOD. Seriously Nebula, before you really made yourself prominent here was when there was some... Not so great Gogeta / Vegito / Four blogs kicking around and I can’t say it was terribly interesting. You have every right to gatekeep what you’ve built for yourself and your handsome boys, because you’ve fleshed them out so well that I don’t think many can match your energy. Give yourself credit where it’s due, you’re running characters that are a little more challenging to write and you do it so naturally. The complexities of being themselves, owning up to their own love lives as individuals, the break away from just being ‘fusions’ of Goku and Vegeta and BECOMING a new soul altogether. I’m so happy to see how far each lad has grown and I love seeing your shippy stuff with Nabs ;3c It’s just plain adorbs ya’ll, love to SEE IT. Plus you’re a sweet and cool mun who DESERVES hugs and pats for just being you! Also, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, apologies for not wishing that for you sooner!! I hope you’ve been having better days ahead!!

UMM I’D POINT THE CAMERA TO THOSE I HAVEN’T MENTIONED BUT YOU ALL ROCK IN YOUR OWN UNIQUE WAYS!! Seriously, you guys are what keep me coming back to this hellsite, it’s nice to see everyone enjoying themselves and having fun with one another in peace. It’s what I want to keep seeing as long as I’m around to witness the fun!​ Thanks for keeping this community sparkling, you’re very much appreciated for being here.

[iwishicanbeagoodpianist]

the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.

[justkending]

Is that seriously your password? (Birthday One-shots)

Prompt: Is that seriously your password?

Challenge: justkending Birthday drabbles and one-shots

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2100+

A/N: This was asked for a by anon, so thank you to whoever you may be! I thought this was cute little one-shot once it came to me! Also, coming up with the password took me a seconds, but then I heard Sebastian's voice in my head and well... Here we are;)

“Hey FRIDAY? Who all from the team is in the compound?” Y/N shouted from Tony’s lab where she was working on a new piece of equipment for her uniform. 

“Everyone is out either on a mission or off the compound premises for personal business,” the AI responded. “However, Sergeant Barnes is in the living room reading.” 

“He works. Can you ask him to come down here?” she continued, never breaking from her computer screen she was typing away on in front of her.

“Of course,” FRIDAY responded before going quiet for a minute and speaking back up. “He seemed rather confused by the request, but he’s on his way.”

“Always paranoid that one,” Y/N mumbled before shouting a thank you and going back to typing a storm. 

A few minutes later, Bucky cautiously peaked through the glass doors to the lab and saw Y/N completely entranced in whatever she was working on in front of her. She was typing and scanning the screen quickly and then immediately turning to a notebook beside her to write whatever it was down. 

“Why are you calling me down here out of all people?” he said almost concerned. 

“Because everyone else is either fighting bad guys or off away from the compound doing their own thing,” she responded, finally breaking away from her computer screen upon hearing his voice. 

“Oh,” he nodded before looking around and hesitantly coming in more. 

He didn’t care to come down to Stark’s personal man cave much. Tony still threw sarcastic insults and passive jokes at him every once in a while even though they had made up and moved on. But it was Tony. He was kinda that way with everyone. Either way, they only really crossed paths if they absolutely needed too. 

“Here, come here for a second,” she waved him over, pushing back her chair as she stood up and stretched some. 

Bucky listened even though his face showed he was confused and hesitant about it all. It wasn’t Y/N either. They were actually good friends after all the missions and team dinner and movie nights of getting to know each other. They shared a lot in common. She was an old soul for a pretty young member of the crew and Bucky admired that. Because of her mannerisms and interest, they got a long rather quick. It made it easy for them to instantly click. 

“What are you doing?” he asked when he saw her raise her hands and projections of pieces of her suit for missions popped up in pieces in the air with what looked like notes and statistics floating around them. The blueprints for it all lit up in front of them without a screen to stay on. He may never get used to the advancement of technology because anytime he saw something new, something crazier would pop up soon after.

“I came up with some new little tricks for my suit. It’s not not a bad outfit, but there’s always something new that can be better and improved,” she shrugged, moving the pieces around in the air with her fingers. 

Oh yeah, and next to Tony and Banner, the woman could maneuver through almost any form of technology as if it was as easy as learning how to count to 10 on your fingers. 

“I only have the metal on the bottom of my boots, and it’s worked for this long. But, I feel like there’s ways I can discreetly add more throughout the suit without weighing it down, making it easier to maneuver when I’m airborne.”

Another note to know, Y/N was an enhanced. She had the ability to bend and manipulate any form of metal. So the metal that Tony had built into her shoes made it to where she could lift herself off ground level and fly. However, through trial and error, they noticed that they couldn’t really add it to many other places as it weighed her down and made fighting a lot less agile. Don’t get it wrong though. She made it work. She just preferred it to be better. 

“Sounds like a smart idea.” He paused in the silence as she continued to analyze the layout in front of her silently. “Did you just want company to show off that big brain of yours, or am I supposed to give you an opinion?” 

He was sassy with her. She was sassy back. It was the way of their friendship for the most part. 

“No, Barnes. I need you to give me your password,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him with a stink face before moving back to the computer. He chuckled at her facial expression and followed her to her setup. 

“Why do you need my password? You have your own account,” he questioned, watching as she went to log into the files under SHIELD's confidentials. 

“No, actually. Mine went caput last night,” she huffed. “Some weird glitch happened, don’t ask me how because you would think Stark tech is more advanced, but whatever caused it made my account go haywire. In saying that...” She clicked a few more things moving faster than Bucky could keep up with on the screen. Then she turned to him and leaned back on the counter. “Tony was supposed to make me a new one or fix it, but he bailed on me today for brunch with Pepper... In Capri.” She let out a big breath. “So until he gets back, I’m at a standstill getting the information I need to fix this.” The smile on her face showed she was done telling her story. 

“So you need my password to get confidential information?” he asked, crossing his arms and putting his weight onto one leg. “What kind of confidential stuff are we talking here because I don’t need Tony going through my history and asking me questions I can’t answer,” he pointed with raised eyebrows. 

“Highly doubt he cares or has the time to go through your history, Buck,” she laughed, turning back around and raising her hand with a swift motion bringing the chair to her without actually touching it. 

Bucky looked down at it as it moved and noticed the metal base of it. He was always shocked anytime she used her powers. For one, she was rather graceful with her own for the most part, so the act of watching her do it, was somewhat mesmerizing. But also, he was still trying to wrap his head around people born with abilities like that. Wanda really threw him for a loop the first time he met her. 

Shaking out his head and following to stand by where she was sitting, he argued with her statement. 

“Yeah, I’d think about that again,” he winced. “Out of all the people Tony is going to keep an extra eye on, who do you think it is?”

Y/N paused and turned to him scrunching her nose. 

“Ok, yeah you’re right,” she nodded. Bucky sent her a look in agreement. “But I promise it’s not for anything crazy. I just want to find a resource for the lightest metal we can get our hands on. I think if I can get some of that, I can place it throughout my suit to not weigh it down as much and make any hand to hand combat about 100x easier and more fluent.”

“Sounds like a solid plan. What file do you think is going to hold something like that?” he nodded, crossing his arms again and leaning his backside on the table facing her in her chair. 

“The same one that talks about vibranium,” she sassed some. “I just want to run some analytics to see my options on what will be most malleable for the suite. Some metals may be lighter, but that doesn’t always mean suitable for tons of kinesthetic motions.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he shook his head, smiling at her. 

“I know. I got the beauty and brains,” she smiled with a shrug, but she was playing around. Y/N was never one to boast about herself. She was as humble as Tony was egotistical. “Ok, enough small talk. What’s your password, Barnes?”

All that was left to do on the page she had pulled up was type in said password and she was in. 

“Uh, I don’t really want to say it outloud,” he said, becoming bashful all of a sudden. His arms tightening around him self consciously. 

“Why?” Y/N asked with a tilt of her head. “Scared I’ll remember it and hack your account? May just search for some things that Tony would love to tease you about.”

“Haha,” he said flatly. “And no. I know for a fact you would never do that. You’re too nice for that,” he responded. “It’s just. It’s an embarrassing password.”

“It can’t be that bad. Come on, just say it Mister so I can get my research done!” she persisted, poking his flesh arm. 

“Here, let me just type it,” he said, moving to the keyboard. 

“Nuh-uh,” she said moving the keyboard with a flick of her wrist out of his reach. Damn practically everything for having some form of metal in it. “I’m too intrigued now. I want to know what it is…” The mischievous gleam in her eye showed Bucky he probably wasn’t going to win this. 

“What happened to your sweet innocent self?” he said slightly shocked by her antics, but not able to hold back a chuckled. 

“It’s her off day today. She needed a break… And a little fun,” she smiled wider. “Come on. Just tell me. I promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“I don’t think you can keep that promise.”

“Have I ever not?” 

“I mean that one time when you promised to make chocolate chip pancakes because I was having a bad day, and then ditched me for a mission,” he noted. The fake hurt was exaggerated in his eyes. 

“Hey! I have no control over when something like that comes up,” she pointed at him. “You know that too on a personal level.”

“Still never got those pancakes though,” he said, letting out a disappointed sigh as he shook his head. 

“Ugh, fine. How about this?” she started, leaning back in her chair. “You tell me your password, and if I laugh then I go make you those famous pancakes now. If I don’t laugh, you have to drop that whole thing and not bring it up again.”

He weighed his options watching her. The two staring into each others eyes bargaining in silence. Sure Bucky didn’t want to say his password, but worse case scenario she laughed, maybe teased him a litt, but he got pancakes. And he knew she would laugh… 

“Fine. But just know, I like my pancakes with extra chocolate,” he sighed, relaxing his muscles some. “And whip cream.”

“Won’t need to. I’m tough enough to not react to whatever it is,” she smiled, bringing the keyboard back over. “Ok, so what is it?”

He stayed silent for a minute. God, he hated saying it outloud. Not that he really ever had to, but still. It was embarrassing. 

“It’s… It’s WienerSoldier1917,” he mumbled. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N said with wider eyes. She heard him, but she was wondering if she heard him right. 

“The W and S are capitalized…” he practically whispered looking down. When he didn’t hear a response but insead deafening silence, he looked over seeing her biting her lip and trying her best to suppress a laugh. Her face became slightly red and her eyes started blinking fast as she tried to pull herself together. “Yeah, I’m definitely getting those pancakes,” he sighed with a shake of his head, not being able to hold back his own soft smile. 

Not even two seconds later, Y/N was in a laughing fit. Practically falling out of the chair. If Bucky hadn’t caught her when he did, she would have gone over the side and brought the chair down with her, but he casually kept the chair from tipping with one arm. 

“Oh, that’s just too good,” she finally got out after a few minutes of full on, stomach aching laughing. She wiped her eyes at the few tears that had come down and shook her head. “Is that seriously your password?”

“You know Tony came up with it! And he knows I don’t know how to change it!” Bucky defended.

“Oh, Tony. What a comedian…” Y/N sighed, catching her breath. “Ok, back to business.” She typed in the password not being able to hold back yet another round of laughs as she typed it out. Bucky just rubbed his temple as she went about her research and giggled. 

After pulling up a few things, she turned to him.

“Ok, I own you a batch of pancakes now,” she smiled, standing and organizing the desktop. “I’ll come back and finish up down here later.”

“You’re not even upset you laughed, are you?” Bucky said following her in step to the door. 

“Oh, I knew I was going to already with how you were acting. I also knew I was hungry and up for something sweet anyway,” she shrugged. “Win, win for me.”

“You’re a punk,” Bucky faked shock, nudging her shoulder with his own before opening the door for her. 

“Eh, like I said. Sweet-innocent Y/N, as you called her, has a day off,” she smiled up at him before wrapping her arm through his. “Hey, and after breakfast? I’ll show you how to change your password,” she looked up at him with a wink.

The two chuckling and talking as they walked upstairs arm and arm to the kitchen.

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​  @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @marvelfansworld @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​​  @xostephanie​​ @averyrogers83​​ @awesomenursingstudent​​ @gh0stgurl​​ @cs-please​​ @carls1022​​ @jjlevin​​ @rainbowkisses31​​ @carls1022​​ @anise-d-castle6​​ @deannotmoose​​ @their-bibliophile​​ @kitkatd7​​ @willowbleedsonpaper​​ @mariaenchanted​​ @snffbeebee​​ @couldabeenamermaid​​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​​​ @charmedbysarge​​​ @jbarness​​​

@bellamy-barnes​​​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​ @death-unbecomes-you​​​ @heyiamthatbitch​​​ @lizzymacy555​​​  @srrymydood​​​ @xa-dia​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​ @morganclaire4​​​ @connie326​​​ @captain-asguard​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky​​​ @shower-me-with-roses​

[buckys-other-punk]

 Merciless

Pairing: Asshole Ex-Boyfriend!Chris Evans x Reader

Request: Could I have a part 2 to Insensitive were the reader comes back and she’s a bad bleep?

Summary: A couple months after their breakup, Y/N has changed since the last time Chris saw her. 

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: mentions of previous cheating, alcohol, cussing, mentions of sex, and badass reader aka justice lol I don't know 

A/N: Hello! Thank you @vanillabqrnes​ for the request apologies for this taking forever and I hope you like this! Also sorry to those who follow me, I promised to write more and that didn’t happen, but here’s something lol. Whenever I wanna write I open my computer and then bam writers block. Also please don’t mind any minor mistakes this is unedited. Anyways hope you enjoy and I’ll meet with you at the end of the fic ; ) 

Previous Part

It had been six months since your breakup with Chris and honestly you were doing great. I mean at first after all the rage you remembered the good memories from your relationship. While recalling those “good”memories you realized that four months prior to you finding out he cheated that he had been acting strange and distant. But you’ve moved on and could care less about that asshat.

You quickly moved on and actually you’ve completely changed your mentality when it comes to relationships. You have started to become more comfortable with yourself and not let anyone walk over you. Your closest friends have noticed your change in demeanor and they love it. They have literally called you a badass heartbreaker, solely because you have turned down almost every guy who reminded you of your asshole ex-boyfriend.

With your new look and attitude you were able to find the perfect match for you. You met your boyfriend, Henry *cough Henry Cavill cough*, at a party hosted by a mutual friend. The two of you were trying to avoid the crowd which didn’t help since the two of you were seated at the bar. You both had people flock towards you offering to buy drinks, which you both rejected. The two of you noticed one another when a woman asked Henry for his number, he declined, then she started flirting with you. You shook your head and scoffed, turning her down as you stood from your seat. You walked closer to the man taking a seat right next to him. After that the two of you had a pleasant conversation about who had the most people to hit on them, you won, and then the rest is history.

Your new relationship was completely different from your previous one. Henry adores you, treating you way better than you know who ever did. Also lets just say the sex was clearly better and you learned new things about yourself with your boyfriend. You never really got to explore that side of you when you were with Chris. He would be the one to take charge and never let you try something new.

Anyways you and Henry were actually going to lunch at one of your favorite fancy restaurants. Opting to sit near the open glass window you ordered your food. You didn’t give a fuck how these rich people were staring at you because you were wearing. You wore a long leather coat showing the right amount of cleavage and thigh high black boots. Henry wore a white button up shirt that clung to his muscles and dark blue dress pants. You laughed at a joke that Henry made, you glanced out the window and your eyes widened. Henry looked outside and he felt his blood start to boil.

*Chris’ POV*

After the break up the infamous Chris Evans was having a slightly rough time. He still didn’t understand what he did wrong. Then about a few months later Brittany, his second girlfriend while dating you, dumped Chris because she apparently found a better, richer man. Chris had been miserable in his house ever since. He thought about calling you after his break up with Brittany, but then he thought a grand gesture would be better. So he ordered the most expensive bouquet of roses and had them delivered to your house. 

A letter was immediately sent back saying that you had moved out of your small apartment, but the man who lived there kept the expensive flowers. Chris yelled out in frustration which startled his maid. She tried to comfort him telling him what he wanted to hear, that you would eventually come back to him, but deep down she knew that what she said was a lie. She knew about what her boss had been doing, but Chris offered to pay her to keep quiet.

Chris never stopped thinking about you. He would walk by your old apartment, sometimes even drunk. The man who lived there always saw him through his window feeling a bit bad for Chris, but assuming he probably deserved the heartbreak. As more months passed Chris decided that drinking would help numb the pain. It didn’t, drinking honestly made him think about you even more. Thoughts and images of you flooded his head and he didn’t know if he wanted them to stop or continue.

Chris decided that going out with other women would help, the break up messed his game. He would accidentally call his new girlfriends your name and some would stare at him with a blank face and the rest would ignore it. Eventually he found a woman who resembled you to the tee. The two of them were together for a while and Chris was kind for getting tired of her because she wasn’t you. He decided to go to a fancy restaurant to make reservations for their most elegant seating to break her heart. That’s when he saw you through the window with a man.

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

Henry looks back at you, “Is that?” You nodded your head and stood up from your seat. “Be nice.” he huffed as he remained in his seat unfolding the napkin on the table and placing it on his lap.

You stormed out of the restaurant stopping Chris from entering. Chris was shocked by how you dressed, he never saw you dress like that before. You saw Chris eye your entire body looking from your head to toes stopping at your chest.

“What do you want?” you harshly said crossing your arms over each other.

“Obviously, I’m here to make a reservation.” he snarkily replied. “How was I supposed to know you would be here?” 

“Bitch, I don’t know?!” you exclaimed. “It’s not like this is my favorite restaurant.”

“Again, how was I supposed to know that?” Chris angrily replied.

“Seriously?!” you huffed. “You’re still a dick you know that?”

“So what? You gonna teach me a lesson?” he flirtatiously said.

“God, you’re disgusting.” saying as you turned away from him.

“Wait,” he stopped you, grabbing your arm and pointing to the window, “who’s that you’re with?” 

Snatching your arm back from him. “That is my boyfriend, no begone.” you said shooing him away not caring about the people who were staring.

“Boyfriend? I bet he doesn’t treat you as well as I did.” he says c, crossing his arms. You slapped his face hard and shook your head.

“Oh, you're one to talk.” you yelled back at him. “You never changed, did you? You’re still an asshole prick that just wants a nice woman by his side to make him feel better about himself.”

“That’s not true!” he exclaimed.

“Oh really? Then tell me the real reason why you’re here?” you questioned looking at the man.

“As a matter of fact I’m taking my girlfriend here.” he replied with a smirk.

“Yeah, to break up with her?” you asked, shaking your head.

“How’d you know that?” He placed his hands on his hips.

“Because that’s what you did to the girl you dated before me, asshole.” you exclaimed.

“Well, why not after I break up with my current girl, you and I find a nice place to properly talk.” he smirked at you.

You walked closer to him and he smiled as he felt your chest against his. He looked down at your cleavage and back up to your face smiling even more. You put your hand on his shoulder smiling at him and that’s when you kneed him in the crotch.

“Go find someone else to feed your ego. I’m busy.” you said as you walked back to the restaurant and your boyfriend.

As you sat down on your seat, your boyfriend placed a kiss on your cheek. “Were you nice?” he asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“I tried to be.” you huffed as you looked out the window staring at your ex who laid on the ground in pain.

“Well, looks like I need to teach you some manners then.” he smirked.

“You sure do.” you smiled, winking back at him.

A/N: Ahhh hello!! How was that? I feel like this wasn’t my best but at the same time not bad. lol I literally have no clue how to write a bad bitch reader (because i ain’t one), but hopefully I did this request justice! Thank you for reading and lemme know what you though of this. Feedback is very much appreciated and lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my stuff!

Taglist:  @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @sebtheromanianprince​ @aquabrie @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan​  @anbrax5553​ @wintersoldierissucharide​ @caplanbuckybarnes​ @miraclesoflove​ @kitkatd7​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @fandomsandxfiles​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

^^please lemme know if you wanna be added/removed for future tags or dm me if I forgot you^^

[ravenluvsppnbc]

Tattoo parlor au

thanks for the request! i hope this is suffice. <3

Chloe woke up on Tuesday, nerves filling her body. The sun had just risen. The birds were chirping and flying around in circles through the sky. Chloe’s alarm had woken her at eight. She took a cold shower, wishing not to waste the hot water, and was drinking a warm latte just ten minutes after. She watched the morning news, mumbling curses at the political pieces. By the time she was dressed, the news was playing a puppy segment. She smiled, switching off the television when it was done. She left the apartment by ten.

The redhead walked down the street to meet her two best friends. Aubrey and Amy were standing on the block corner, waving obnoxiously. Today was the day Chloe had been waiting for with nerve. It was also the day Aubrey had been dreading. Amy was very excited. They would be getting tattoos. Matching tattoos. The three girls had become a “groupe de trois” in college when they joined an a cappella group. Chloe and Aubrey were already years into college when freshman Amy met them.

They decided to get matching tattoos weeks ago. Today was finally the day. Aubrey leads the others to her car, which she had parked in a carpark an hour prior. The girls laughed, driving to the only tattoo parlor that Aubrey had approved. Aubrey could be a bit picky, but it balanced out Chloe’s open mindedness and Amy’s boldness. The three pulled into the lot at 11:50, which Chloe thought was perfect. Aubrey thought that they were late. Their appointment was at noon.

Chloe’s boot clomped against the ground as they entered the shop. Aubrey was taken aback by the soft rock that filled her ears as the door shut behind them. A little man with long hair peeked his head over the desk. He had a sleeve of skulls, and a nose ring. Amy walked closer to the desk and said, “Hi, we’re here for some tats.”

“Did you have an appointment already?” Little man asks.

“Yeah. We’re supposed to be scheduled for noon.” Aubrey chimes in, stepping closer to the desk.

“Alright perfect. Uh Beca is just finishing up with somebody at the moment and then Jackson is just hanging out in the back. We’ll get going in a minute.” The man said, standing up and walking back.

A guy, who Chloe assumes is Jackson, walks to the front desk and takes Aubrey to the back. Chloe and Amy stand at the front, listening to the music. A brown-haired woman in a leather jacket and doc martens walks out of a curtain with front desk man and another guy in a black tank top. Chloe can’t stop staring at this woman, who she assumes just got a tattoo. Only now, Chloe realizes, the woman jumps behind the front desk and looks at the computer. Amy walks to the back with the small man, waving.

“You’re also getting one?” The woman asks, making eye contact with Chloe.

“Yeah.” Chloe mumbles bashfully, as the other woman scans her body.

“Alright, I’m Beca” The woman says, grabbing Chloe’s hand, “Come on then.”

Beca leads Chloe to the back of the tattoo shop where theres a black curtain hanging from the ceiling. She helps Chloe into the chair. Chloe scans the space. Beca has band posters on the walls, a record player in the corner. “OO Oasis,” Chloe says, pointing to the wall, “I love them.”

“Yeah,” Beca says, sitting down on a chair, getting out a tattoo gun and ink. She spins her chair towards Chloe with a smirk. “So are you gonna tell me what your name is?”

“Oh, sorry. Just nervous that’s all. Uh. I’m Chloe.”

Beca smiles. “Don’t be too nervous,” she says, turning around to prepare the equipment, “You’re really pretty, whatever you get is gonna look dope.” Chloe smiles, blushing.

After a moment of silence, Beca speaks up again, brushing the previous comment off of her shoulder. “So what were we thinking of getting?”

“Oh I’m thinking something simple. I want it to say, ‘Bella’ and then I want to put a burrito next to it.” Chloe says.

“Well I do hope that you and Bella stay together for awhile. This one might be a little hard to explain.” Beca says, letting out a chuckle.

“Oh it’s not a relationship tattoo-”

“Oh I’m sorry. I totally just-”

“No it’s cool. It makes sense that you’d think that,” Chloe says, giggling. “My friends and I met in college. We were in an a cappella group called ‘The Bellas’ and then a guy threw a big ass burrito on one of them. So. That’s what that is.”

“So,” Beca says, sitting back down, “No burrito-obsessed girlfriend named Bella?”

“Nah.”

After a few more minutes of silence, Beca turns to Chloe to show her some sample stencils. Chloe really likes all of them, even though it is very hard to take a burrito seriously. Chloe points to the one on the left, and Beca tosses the other one onto the table. “So where do you want this thing?”

“Well I don’t really know. I was thinking maybe my shoulder. I don’t know where they’re getting theirs.”

“Shoulder sounds good. I can put a stencil there so you can see what it looks like.” Beca says, printing a second stencil. “Which arm?”

Chloe points to her left. “Do you want me to move my shirt?” She says, nervously fumbling with the hem of her sweater.

“Only if you’re comfy with it, but I don’t know how great I can do it through this. It is recommended.” Beca jokes, before Chloe pulls her top off entirely. Beca gasps, her eyes lingering on Chloe’s toned abs. Beca curses herself. She shouldn’t be flirting with a client.

Beca places the stencil onto Chloe’s left shoulder, and grabs the mirror to show her. “That looks great.”

“Alright, then we can get going. Do you want some tunes? I have a record player back here, you can pick something. But beware. It sounds super hipster coming outta that thing.” Beca says, pulling Chloe in the direction of the record player. Chloe picked Nirvana.

“Good choice.”

Chloe’s eyes follow Beca as the brunette went to the sink to wash her hands. She throws her leather jacket to the chair next to her, revealing a sleeve of patchwork. “Oo. Did you do those yourself? I love that.”

“Some of them,” Beca says, wheeling a cart over to the chair, “What’s your favorite?”

“I like this one,” Chloe says, pointing to a skull with Hozier lyrics next to it.

“Yeah I did that one. I like the skull, but the song isn’t as meaningful as it was when I did it.” She explains, chuckling. “Don’t do song lyrics.”

“Noted.” Chloe mumbles.

“Ready?” Beca says, hooking up the machine.

“Yeah.” Chloe says, exhaling.

Beca reaches for Chloe’s arm, and grabs the machine. Chloe scans over Beca’s sleeve, looking at each tattoo. After a few minutes, Chloe mumbles, “Shit.”

Beca immediately takes the needle away, and sits back in her chair. “Everything okay?” She asks quickly.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about something. Didn’t mean to spook you or anything. It’s all good.”

“Alright.” Beca says, moving back towards the redhead. She continues tattooing, looking up at Chloe each time she felt her tense up. At one point, the redhead moved Beca’s hair out of her face. Beca swears that she saw Chloe bite her lip. The brunette blushed and continued working on Chloe’s arm. Chloe knew what she was doing, and she liked it.

“Okay, I’ll get started on the burrito now. Just to be clear—you wanted a line drawing? Like not shaded in?” Beca asked, moving the needle away from Chloe’s arm.

“Yeah that sounds perfect.” Chloe said.

After a few more minutes of tattooing, Beca tilted her head to the side, running the needle along Chloe’s shoulder. Chloe caught a whiff of Beca’s perfume. She was intoxicated by it. The slight woodsy scent, but not campfire. The sweet scent made Chloe’s mind wander. “Oh my god. What perfume are you wearing? I literally. Like. I just want to keep smelling you. That sounds weird. What is it?” Chloe said, stuttering over almost all of her words.

“Well. Thanks. It’s ‘Sappho’ by Lush. All the girls love it.” Beca said with a wink.

“So that’s the goal?”

“Not always, but it’s appreciated.” Beca flirts, smiling, wiping a towel over Chloe’s shoulder.

“Do you flirt with all of your clients?”

“No. I’m really not supposed to. But you’re making it a little hard at the moment.” Beca says, blushing as she cleans up the cart.

“Oh. Sorry.” Chloe says, feeling a little ashamed.

“Don’t be sorry. I like it,” Beca flirts, writing on a few papers. “Here’s your guide to having a tattoo. Basically what you should and shouldn’t do. And something you should do—uh. My number. It’s in there. I don’t know what you’re into but I’d love to take you out.”

“I’ll definitely call you.” Chloe says, leaving the space.

She meets Amy and Aubrey back at the front, where they compare tattoos and pay. Chloe leaves a nice tip. She makes eye contact with Beca, who is now standing behind the desk, as she exits the shop. Beca sends her another wink.

When Chloe gets into the car, she opens up the paper to find Beca’s number written neatly with a signature next to it, and a heart. She adds Beca’s number to her phone, as they drive away.

[fandom-blackhole]

Hi, are you still taking AU requests, and if so: can I get a 77 & a 94 with Agent Whiskey?

I am ALWAYS down to take more of the AU/Tropes! In fact, I should really reblog that post again because I'm in a bit of a writing stump...

Also, this gives me a chance to really test out my Agent Whiskey writing skills, and I wrote this as a little intro into the world I have planned out for a Whiskey fic

77. In Vino Veritas (I am ashamed that I had to google this...)

94. Hair Brushing/Braiding

Send me an AU or 2??

October. It was already October, and  you were only a few weeks shy of having been with the Statesmen for an entire year. It seemed like yesterday that you were recruited. You could still see the glinting eyes of Champ as he asked you to join his rank of agents. You'd thought he was mad at first, playing along just for curiosities' sake, but one thing lead to another, and for all the coincidences out there you joined the Statesmen and started working on October 31st, Halloween day. Which was a bit laughable if you considered your line of work heavily involving human direction, being a forensic pathologist and all.

A year... you still couldn't really wrap your head around it. But then again, you were still getting used to this job, after all it seemed like the places was was made to keep you on your toes at all times.

"Cherry, darling, you have got to stop staring at you computer like that. Gonna strain those pretty eyes of yours if you keep that up," speaking of keeping you on your toes, you jumped slightly and your eyes jumped from you computer's digital calendar up to meet those of your favorite, and least favorite, fellow agent.

"Whiskey," you sighed out, "Please tell me your here for something more than just to pester me. I do have work to do."

Whiskey only grinned, and pulled out the chair in front of your little desk before sitting down and leaning back into the chair.

"Now, I would never do something like that to you, darling! I just wanted to come check in on you, make sure you're not stressing yourself over your work."

You sigh harder, and run your fingers over your temples, before looking up giving the man across from you, whose eyes were sparkling with playfullness but sincerity, and you couldn't help but shoot a small smile back at him. "I am fine Agent Whiskey, and I appreciate the concern, but I do have quite a bit to do."

"Oh come on, its almost lunch, let me take you somewhere to get something, on me."

He was smirking now, and you were just shaking your head softly. "No, thank you for the offer, but I did pack a lunch, and I plan to eat right here so I can get through the paperwork that has been piling up."

"Please darling?"

You only shook your head again, and sent him a look of, "this is not a fight you're gonna win", and Whiskey sighed before slapping both legs with his hands and standing up, "Well, I guess I won't argue with you this time, but the offer stands whenever you want to take it."

And with that he left you alone in you office as you sigh and relax back into your chair, a soft pang of regret echoing through your chest before you turned back to you computer, this time to actually get work done.

---

He stayed away from your office for a few days. Something that surprised you a bit considering how much he loved to show up and distract you while he wasn't away on a mission. You didn't hate Whiskey, not at all. In fact, you found yourself constantly fighting a loosing battle with how much you were falling for his charms and teasing. He was a good man, and you new that, but it didn't change the fact that he was a serial flirt, and he probably only came to you for how you flustered and reacted to his advances.

When he walked into your office this time, all swagger and shiny white teeth, you had been gathering your things to head down to your lab, nearly running into his chest as you opened your office door.

"Now, Cherry, had I known you were so eager to jump into my arms, I might have come by sooner."

As always, you sighed and felt hear creep onto your face, before taking a step back and clearing your throat, "Agent Whiskey, please, I have to get to my lab, I have work to do."

He just stood there, smirk plastered on his face, before he held his arm out, and said, "Well then, let me have the honor of escorting the pretty lady?"

You just rolled your eyes and shouldered past him. "Agen-"

"Darling, we both know you can just call me Whiskey, you don't have to be all proper with the agent each time."

Shaking your head you started walking down the hall, listening as his booted footsteps followed after you with a slump of your shoulders. "Agent Whiskey, don't you have work you need to be doing, instead of following me down hallways?"

He only chuckled in response, stopping next to you as you stopped in front of your lab's entrance. "Ok ok, i know when I'm unwanted, I just wanted to make sure you knew about the yearly Halloween party, and make sure you're going this year."

You knew about the party. It was one of the few things the Statesmen did together as a way to let loose and hang out with their friends and fellow agents. You'd been invited to come the year before, but considering you went even officially apart of the organization yet, and you knew no one but Champ, you had not gone to the party. And in all honestly, you were planning on doing the same this year. You still felt to new to really enjoy partying with people you barely knew, having only a few people you did actually converse with, and you meant to tell exactly that to Whiskey, but the second you made eye contact you were a goner. He was looking at you with some sense of eager hope, one that made you ache with guilt for even think about telling the man no. Damn those puppy eyes.

"I....I guess I hadn't really thought about it until now. I guess I could show up for a little while."

The grin that spread across Whiskey's face, highlighting his singular dimple in one cheek had you fluttering under his apparent happiness. "Wonderful! I cant wait to see you there, darling. Find me and ill buy you a few rounds of drinks!"

Still grinning he took a step back, before grinning out, "and don't forget to dress up, it is a Halloween party after all."

And with a wink, he turned and left you cursing your inability to withstand his charms as you shakily pulled yourself into your lab.

---

You shouldn't have agreed to this. You felt silly, and standing outside the party venue you found yourself repeatedly pulling on stupid black gloves that went with your "mad scientist" costume. This is ridiculous, you should just turn and leave and just sit on your couch and watch Stephen King movies all night as you eat far to many fun size candies.

But you were already here, you were already wearing this joke of a costume with black smudges painted across your face as proof of a failed experiment, so you just sighed and yanked on the labcoat dress before taking a deep breath and walking into the party.

Your arrival wasn't late, but you certainly weren't early either. The party had already been in the swing of things for a little while as Purple People Eater rang out across the venue. It was obvious that a few of your fellow agents had already been going after the drinks as they partied, and you couldn't help but cringe a bit at the sight of so many people moving about.

You were debating over staying or leaving again when you heard a loud, but very familiar laugh echo from your right. Turning your head, you had to bite your lip to stop from laughing as you seen Whiskey saddle up beside you. You thought he'd been the living embodiment of a cowboy before, but now, there was no doubt about it. Whiskey had really played into the stereotype, doning a pair of chaps with fringe along the sides, a lasso loosely wrapped around the shoulder of his pearl snap button down shirt, a vest matching his chaps fringe and all, and of course his stetson and his usual cowboy boots now paired with spurs for good measure.

"You, darling, really look every part of a beautiful mad scientist, and id love to be put on the mission to take you down," he finished with a wink, and this time you could help the small giggle that escaped you.

"Please, I didn't think you could look anymore like a cowboy, yet here you are looking like you step out of an old western! Where have you parked the horse? Out back?"

Whiskey chuckled, smirk spreading as you teased him, and his eyes lighting up as he leaded down and whispered, "No horse, but you know what they say, save a horse, ride a cowboy."

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, looking around the room before you turned back to Whiskey and saying, "I remember you promising me some drinks?"

Grinning, Whiskey motioned for you to walk first as he followed behind to the closest bar. If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel your hands shaking with nerves. You'd never really teased Whiskey back like that before, and while you had enjoyed it, and could tell he had liked it as well, you couldn't shake the nerves that seemed to be following you, the nerves that always followed you when Whiskey was near.

You downed the first drink Whiskey had gotten you, even as he chuckled in surprise before ordering you a second as he only sipped on his own iced whiskey in his hand. The two of you talked, well Whiskey mainly talked, telling stories about past missions and what heroing things he's done, though some seemed a little far fetched to believe no matter how much he insisted upon them. You laughed, and teased him a few times, and as time ticked on and you finished more and more drinks, you found yourself enjoying the party and happy that you actually came.

Then, as you started swaying a bit back and forth from the amount of alcohol you had consumed, Whiskey leaned forward and said, "I think its time I get you home. I think you've have enough fun for one night, darling."

You wanted to put up a fight, you were having fun and going home meant that your time with Whiskey would end, that all this false confidence you had gotten from your liquid courage would fade and you'd be back to just flustering at his teasing words as he followed you down the halls or sat in your small office, and you didn't want that.....you were having fun...you were having fun with the man you liked... a lot...."

Looking up, Whiskey was staring at you, deep pools of brown swirling as he took in your face, which only confused you, was there something on your face? But then Whiskey smiled softly at you, and said, "Come on, I'll drive you home," and you could only melt at his soft words and expression as he guided you out of the party and towards his vehicle.

The second you were seated, you felt your eyes dropping, the weight of the day paired with the alcohol finally making you sleepy, making you slur your words as Whiskey asked for you address, but you eventually got it out as you leaned against his side.

You fell asleep on the trip to your home, only waking as Whiskey nudged you and helped you walked to your home. He even took your keys, opening the home for you as you stumbled inside, not even bothering with changing clothes as you walked to your bedroom and collapsed onto your bed.

"I know you're tired, darling, but you need to shange into something more comfortable, or at least get these boots off, Cherry."

You just whined and rolled onto your back, lifting your leg trying fruitlessly to yank the boot off, before you heard Whiskey chuckle and walk over to help. Gently, you unzipped and pulled off your boots one at a time, making sure to lay your legs back onto your bed softly. He stood there for a few seconds looking over you, before asking, "Anything else you need?"

It took you a few minutes, but in your intoxicated state, all you could think about was how ratty your hair must look, and how you didn't want to deal with it in the morning, so with puppy eyes and a slight piut on your lip, you asked, "Brush my hair for me?"

Whiskey startled, not expecting that to be your answer, but he smiled and nodded, "Of course."

Gently, he sat you up on the bed, before sitting behind you with the brush in hand. "Tell me if I brush to harshly, ok darling?"

You just nod, and sigh when you feel the first knots coming free from your hair. Whiskey was so gentle when brushing your hair, treating you like you'd break if he applied too much force, and after each brush stroke, he let his fingers slide through the untangled locks of hair, occasionally brushing against skin and making you shiver. By the time hed finished, you'd fallen asleep from the soothing movements.

---

The next morning you woke up to a glass of water and some aspirin on your bedside table with a note from Whiskey that just said, thanks for coming last night and little drawing of a cherry, and no memory past Whiskey mentioning something about an electronic bull from hell the rest of the night and getting home a blur with only a soft voice and white teeth.

While when Whiskey woke, all he could think about was your words you had not meant to say aloud,, right before you both left the party, "you were having fun with the man you liked... a lot...."

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[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Six (part 1)

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3293

Warnings: ANGST, bad language words

A/N: Tumblr sucks. It forced me to split this chapter up because I exceeded the text block limit. That’s just how I write! Link to part 2 at the end.

A/N 2: Thank you again to everyone for showing this story so much love! And thank you to everyone for your patience and support as I struggled to put this out. As you can tell from the multiple parts, it was a doozy. 🥰 divider credit- @firefly-graphics​

In case you missed the update, I will be publishing a new chapter every other Saturday from here on out. Schedule is in the Masterlist in my header.

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

Monday morning rolled around, and your good mood from the weekend followed you into the office. Spending all of Saturday and the majority of Sunday texting James had lent to this early morning cheerfulness. You couldn’t help the smile on your face. You had even managed to arrive before most of your team.  

You hummed a sweet melody as you booted up your computer and organized a few files for Timmons to peruse. They were statements intended for the press needing his approval about a particular prominent CEO or A-list celebrity client. The firm was not confirming nor denying any knowledge of said client’s whereabouts the previous week or why there was photographic evidence of them coming out of FlashDancers NYC. Other files included those seeking rebranding approval for existing companies looking to revamp their image.

Most importantly, today was contract signing day for Stark Industries. 

You had compiled the document from a generic template the company used for all its clients, manually plugging in Stark Industries’ information in the correct spots and changing or omitting any services rendered or not. E-signing contracts were not only environmentally responsible, but they also saved a lot of your time from printing out numerous copies of a single agreement.

All you needed now was Timmons’ go-ahead to email the contract, and Pepper Potts could plug in her Jane Hancock.

Seeing Timmons enter the workroom, tweed coat draped over his forearm and attaché in hand, you rose from the seat behind your desk. You shuffled into his office after him.

He hung his jacket from the coat rack in the corner near a bank of expansive windows and placed the small, leather case he’d been carrying on the sturdy oak desk. He pulled out a stack of papers and tapped the pile against the desktop to straighten them before setting them down. Looking up at you briefly, he tugged out his laptop next.

You positioned a mug of coffee on Timmons’ desk, turning the handle just so, making it easier for him to grab. You cleared your throat gently. He glanced up at you again.

“Here’s the media statements for today,” you said, handing him a group of manila folders. You smoothed down the hem of your cardigan, smiling at the reminder of Bucky. You wished there had been a way to apologize to him again. He had left your apartment with such a pained look on his face. Maybe you could ask Peter. “And the Stark contract pdf is ready to go. I can email it over to you for final approval.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Timmons replied absent-mindedly, lifting the organized piles on the desk as if looking for something.

“Oh, okay,” you returned, nodding your head diminutively. “Do you want me to forward the contract on to Ms. Potts, then?”

“Ah-ha!” Timmons exclaimed, plucking a pen from underneath a stack of envelopes. He twirled the writing implement in his hand and peered at you, finally taking in your presence for the first time that morning.

An uncomfortable feeling washed over you as he evaluated you from head to toe. What was he looking at? Your hands tensed into fists as you continued to wait for his answer, growing impatient.

“Should I go ahead and do that, then, sir?” you asked, folding your arms across your chest like a protective suit of armor to deflect prying eyes.

“Yes, yes. That should be acceptable,” Timmons answered.

It threw you off balance. What had gotten into him? Timmons always had to have the final say on everything. It was so unlike him!

“Just so we’re clear- I will be sending the Stark Industries contract via email to Pepper Potts to e-sign,” you said, seeking clarification. You wanted to dot all i’s and cross all t’s because you weren’t going to lay your ass on the line for a misunderstanding. Especially not with something as crucial as the Stark Industries account.

“What? No, there’s been a change of plans,” he corrected.

You stared at him dumbfounded. Was he purposely trying to give you mental whiplash?

“Change of plans,” you affirmed. “Has Stark Industries decided not to use the firm, sir?”

“Oh, no. They’re still going with us,” Timmons said, rearranging the clutter he’d made on his desk.

You dropped your arms to your sides, although inside, you felt like throwing them into the air in frustration. Why was he so vague? He was usually wholly transparent with you. “Would you mind explaining it to me, please?” you asked, borderline annoyed. “Last time I checked, Stark Industries’ contract signing was still on the calendar for today’s agenda.”

“And it still is,” Timmons acknowledged. “It’s moved to an in-person signing.”

Your stomach plunged to the floor. Shit! You hadn’t printed out the contract! When was the appointment? How much time did you have? So many questions flew through your head.

How could Timmons keep something like this from you? Your heart hammered in your chest. You practically wobbled on your feet. Were you going to be sick?

I’m going to get fucking fired over this, you thought, trying to steady your breathing.

“Will you be ready to go in twenty minutes?” Timmons questioned, sitting down in the comfy desk chair and opening his laptop.

“Go?” you squeaked, attempting to recall how much you had in savings. You shook your head, trying to understand his words. Was he already asking you to clear out your desk?

“Yes. The car will be here at nine,” he said, keyboard clacking as he typed something.

“Car?” you asked, finding great difficulty comprehending the situation. Your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Timmons regarded you in bafflement. “Have you been drinking?”

“What? NO!” you declared. You didn’t need that added to “the inability to perform required tasks” as a reason for your firing.  “I’m-I’m just really confused, sir.”

“About what?” Timmons asked, sitting back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.

“Well…” you started. “What do we need a car for?”

His chocolate brown eyes shone with what you imagined might be excitement. “To drive upstate, of course.” He smirked as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desktop.

Upstate? What was upstate?

Timmons’ smile broadened as realization crept across your face. “Are we-”

“Yup!” he interrupted gleefully. He was like a child in a candy store. “We are headed to the Avengers Compound with a personal invitation from Tony Stark himself!”

You blinked several times at your boss, not entirely computing what he’d said. You were usually a lot quicker on the uptake than this. Why were you having such an off-day? 

“We?” you asked, shaking your head clear of the cobwebs. Why on Earth would he bring you along?

“I need someone who knows the ins and outs of these contract signings,” he said, fiddling with his pen again.

Wasn’t that his job?

“I’m just the schmoozer- the people-person,” he admitted, shrugging. “You’re the real brains behind this whole operation.

You nodded your head in agreement. He wasn’t wrong. The office would collectively collapse without you, and it felt good to hear your actual boss say it out loud.

“You better not forget it, either. Especially when my job performance evaluation comes around,” you asserted.

Timmons swiftly saluted you as if he was the subordinate. You huffed a laugh at him while shaking your head with incredulity. You took a step or two toward the office door before looking over your shoulder at him.

Timmons had turned back to his laptop screen already and started typing again. “So, twenty minutes?” he asked with an air of levity.

You faltered, nearly tripping over your feet. “Wait? You were serious about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Timmons wondered, looking up hurriedly from his laptop.

“I need to print out the contract and make copies, for one thing,” you mentioned, almost accusatory. Maybe if he had warned you ahead of time, you wouldn’t be so defensive.

“Already taken care of,” he soothed.

“What do you mean it’s ‘already taken care of’?” you asked, raising your hands to make quotation marks with your fingers.

“I had one of the other grunts do it last night.”

You gaped at Timmons like a goldfish, mouth popping open and closed. Did you hear him correctly? Timmons did something to make your job easier? You could hug him right now! You felt like pinching yourself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

Once you gathered your wits again, you glanced to your feet bashfully. “Oh,” you spoke, absently fingering the bottom button of your cardigan. “Thank you.” You smiled gratefully.

Timmons returned the smile with one of his own. “You’re welcome.”

“Nine o’clock, then,” you agreed, moving further toward the doorway.

“On the dot!”

Words couldn’t even begin to describe the Avengers Compound. You’d seen it on the news, sure, but that didn’t compare to seeing it in real life. It was grandiose, imposing. You felt dwarfed in size looking up to the high rooftop. 

It was almost ostentatious in a way. Much like the man who designed it. Larger than life.

Tony Stark.

Tony had insisted he take you and Timmons around on the tour of the compound. You still hadn’t seen the need for a tour.

“When Tony Stark invites you to tour the Avengers compound, you don’t say no,” Timmons had said in the car-ride up when you questioned why it was necessary.

It was all superfluous, really. Like Tony was trying to woo the firm to sign them, not the other way around.

A headache was forming at the base of your skull as you waited in line at the reception desk to return your visitor security badge.

The tour of the facility seemed to have been drug out longer than it needed. Tony had appeared overeager to show off every little gadget or trinket. Or maybe he just liked to hear himself talk.

When Timmons excepted the lunch invitation after the tour was completed, you felt the urge to run down to the armory, grab a gun, and shoot yourself in the foot. You were kicking yourself for ever agreeing to come on this dumb tour.

As the line slowly dragged forward, the muffled noise of men’s voices caught your ear. It sounded like an argument. Your line of sight followed to where the altercation originated.

Standing twenty feet away was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, clearly disagreeing.

Your breath stilled as you watched the two super soldiers quarrel in a near-stage-whisper. What could they be fighting about?

From your place in line, you saw Bucky shake his head adamantly, his chestnut hair swishing about his shoulders. He might have even stamped his foot like a child, but you were too preoccupied with the look of abject horror on his face. He turned away as if to flee, but his friend caught him by the shoulder to stop him.

Were you causing this reaction from him?

You looked to your right to see if there was possibly someone else. All you noticed, though, was an empty space. Had you hurt Bucky’s feelings that badly? Your stomach clenched. The last thing you wanted was to be on an Avengers’ shit-list.

Glancing back to the two men, you caught Steve gesturing Bucky forward with short sweeping motions of his hands. Bucky shook his head again, stubbornly.

Even at this distance, you could feel the frustration rolling off Captain America.

Like a sucker-punch to the gut, you suddenly became very aware you were eavesdropping on Captain America and his best friend.

Your cheeks heated instantaneously, embarrassed of your staring. You shouldn’t be spying on them, you admonished. No matter how much your curiosity is piqued. 

It was none of your business.

You turned away from them, facing the reception desk again.

As hard as you tried not to pay attention, you could still see what looked like wild gesturing from the corner of your eye.

What if they started fighting? Shouldn’t you be conscious of your surroundings for your own safety? You fidgeted in your spot as you debated your moral compass.

Fuck it, you thought.

As you peered over to the two super soldiers, Steve shoved Bucky forward gently, causing the latter to trip over his booted feet. Bucky glared back at his friend, his hands clenching into fists. Steve shooed him further. You could barely make out the word “Go!” on his lips.

As if in slow motion, you eyed Bucky taking step after step toward you. Was he coming over here?

Once you realized what was happening, your heart plummeted to your knees as your head whipped around to the front of the line.

Bucky Barnes was definitely walking over to you. 

Had he noticed you staring?

You tried to stabilize your heart rate with slow, easy breaths, but Bucky was beside you much sooner than you could imagine.

A waft of aftershave hit your nose- woodsy and deliciously masculine. Your stomach swooped.

God, he smelled good.

Without having to turn your head, you could feel his brawny mass hovering near you.

How do you play this?

Perplexed? 

“Oh, my gosh! I had no idea you’d be here!” Of course, he wouldn’t believe that. This is where the Avengers lived. He’d probably think you were a stalker.

Apologetic?

“I’m so sorry Peter and I made fun of you! Will you ever forgive me?” Nah, too needy or clingy.

Or--

Before you could think of any other ways to portray the situation, you heard a large gush of air escape from Bucky. Was he nervous?

“Hey-hey, (Y/N),” he said, voice shaky.

You gazed to your left. Bucky looked as white as a ghost. Had his ego taken that big of a hit?

At that moment, you wanted to do nothing more than wrap him in your arms and tell him sorry, and everything would be okay. You couldn’t, of course. You didn’t know the guy. So you settled for the next best thing.

You smiled at him beatifically. “Hello, Mr. Barnes.”

Like a veil had been pulled, his demeanor changed instantly. He returned the smile. “Ja-” he started but scrunched his nose as if he’d made a mistake. “Please. Call me Bucky.”

“Okay, Bucky,” you replied.

Timmons turned around, ahead of you in line, and eyeballed you. You gave him a dismissive look, praying he wouldn’t butt in.

“So, you here visiting?” Bucky asked, observing the badge in your hand.

“Sorta. It’s a work thing,” you remarked, waving the plastic fob in the air. “Stark Industries has hired my firm as their PR representative. It was signing day.”

“Ah,” Bucky said, nodding in understanding.

“And I got the tour and lunch courtesy of Tony Stark,” you added.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky’s eyebrows raised in interest. “What did you think?”

“Honestly?” You watched Bucky shake his head in agreement. “It was extremely overwhelming. How do you not get lost in this place?”

Bucky laughed. Crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes, yet he looked so boyish. He was beautiful.

“When I first got here, I did several times,” he huffed. “Every hallway looks exactly the same!”

“Right?!” you exclaimed. “I kept thanking my lucky stars that I had a tour guide!” 

Timmons rolled his eyes and pivoted, facing front.

“Steve had to draw me a map to help me find my living quarters after the third time,” Bucky confessed, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, no!” you empathized, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. “That must have been so embarrassing!”

“Bird brain caught wind of it and gave me shit for weeks,” he lamented.

You gave him a confused look, not understanding who or what he was referring to.

Realizing his mistake, Bucky corrected, “Sorry. Bird brain is Sam.”

“Because he’s Falcon?”

Bucky bobbed his head yes, looking a little sheepish.

“It’s clever,” you grinned. “I like it.”

Bucky reciprocated the smile, and your chest warmed. It was a feeling you usually felt while texting James. Light and airy.

Finally making it to the reception desk, you relinquished your security badge to the pretty blonde in the too-tight sweater set. She handed you a clipboard to initial and fill out your departure time.

While signing, you surveyed the blonde as Bucky stepped closer. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, and she bit down on her bottom lip. Was she giving him bedroom eyes?

A new kind of warmth flooded your body. It felt a lot like jealousy as it snaked its way up to your ribs and circled your collarbones, which was absurd because you had no claim to this man. You’d met him one other time. Why would you feel this way?

Shoving the clipboard back at the receptionist, you spun toward Bucky. He regarded her politely and nodded, “Ma’am.”

Her shoulders slumped, and a frown slithered onto her painted lips. Somehow you felt triumphant, but not sure why. Bucky hadn’t picked you over her.

Your heart thumped harder in your chest as you walked side by side with Bucky, nearing the exit. You were suddenly overcome with the feeling of apologizing. What had you told James if you ever saw Bucky again? Apologize profusely and ask him to coffee.

You smiled at Bucky once again as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. The sound of a throat clearing resonated nearby. It wasn’t until you glanced up did you register Timmons standing so close. You had nearly forgotten about him.

Trying to gather your courage, you glimpsed between the two men. Bucky was squinting suspiciously at Timmons, and it made you chuckle lightly. “Easy tiger,” you assured. “That’s my boss, Roger Timmons.”

Bucky’s blue eyes widened a fraction, and he raised a hand in hello. “Sir.”

Timmons raised his chin in acknowledgment before looking down at his watch. You took it as his way of telling you to hurry up.

Okay, it’s now or never.

“Would you like to go to coffee with me?” Bucky blurted out, cheeks coloring pink.

Your eyes roamed across his handsome face. The boyishness was back, along with a touch of uncertainty. He was sweet, regardless of what the media claimed about him. Your lips curled up into a broad smile. “You read my mind,” you revealed, then winced. “That’s not one of your superpowers, is it?”

Bucky tittered. “No, no mind-reading.”

“Good,” you said, relieved.

“Whaddya say? Coffee?”

You dipped your head in a slow yes. “It’ll have to be after work, though.” You motioned over your shoulder with your thumb. “The slave driver over there is taking me back to the office to put me to work.”

Giggling, as you heard a scoff come from behind where you were standing, you reached into your purse and pulled out a pen and an old receipt. You quickly jotted down your work address. Handing it to Bucky, you began moving towards Timmons. “I get off at five,” you called. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.” You waved goodbye.

Bucky smirked. “Don’t work too hard!”

You flashed him one last smile before disappearing through the exit door.

You had a coffee date with Bucky Barnes!

You couldn’t believe it! The giddiness swelled inside you.

You gazed at Timmons’ profile as you walked to the waiting car parked at the curb. He had that look on his face.

It was a long drive back to the city. There was no way you could endure it if he started up now.

You gave a stern look before you stated, “Whatever you’re thinking, keep it to yourself.”

Timmons threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“Uh-huh,” you said dubiously. Timmons smiled smugly as you both climbed into the town car.

Chapter Five | Chapter 6 (part 2)

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[ill-skillsgard]

Faust x Faith - No Looking Back

Warning: 18+ smut, public sex, violence, blood, arson, implied death, mentions of non-consensual touching (nothing explicit and no r-words used,) mentions of stalking, unconsciousness, anti-religious themes, strong language.

Note: Hey, hey. I’ve wanted to write this for a while, but haven’t had much time. This isn’t based on any requests—just something I feel needs to happen to move the universe along. After this, I’ll be basing future FxF stuff off drabble requests instead of going story-heavy for a bit. Likes, comments and reblogs are suuuper ‘ppreciated!

Summary: - Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration - 3.6K words -

Faust makes good on his word to protect Faith, taking drastic measures to assure her assailant never bothers her again.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

Thin raindrops pattered the man's leather jacket as he walked through the streets with his hood drawn up and his eyes low. For two days, the drizzle persisted and melted the black snowbanks into slush. Though the dismal atmosphere kept most inside, Sven had good reason to travel across town on foot. The promise of a girl's company waited at the end of his route, and he put off his regular nightly routine of masturbating to fetish porn for—what he hoped was—the real thing.

He glanced at his cracked phone screen every few minutes to check in with her, making sure she hadn't changed her mind, that she was serious. From the earnestness of her messages and the speed at which she replied to his questions, he determined she meant what she said about wanting to meet. Finally, his luck was turning. He’d show that miserable bastard Faust who was the better man.

- What abt ur bf? Lol

- What about him? Not here, is he?

- Thought u were a good girl.

- Haha, not really. Are you close?

- Ya. Y r we meeting at this random place?

- I need you to promise you won't tell a soul. If you can prove that to me, maybe we can keep meeting up.

- Lol ok. I PROMISE I won't say a word😉

- Thank you. Hurry, please. It's cold out!

- Be there in 5. I'll let u wear my jacket altho idk might not need it😉

- Hehe omgosh. You're making me blush.

- I'll make u do way more then blush baby. Just wait.

Sven lengthened his strides and turned the corner onto a hill leading toward the industrial area of town. Down the slope, he walked past several warehouses and legions of trucks parked inside barbed-wire fencing. It was a peculiar site to meet up, but his rendezvous insisted on a place nobody would think to look.

Betting his night would take an erotic turn, Sven popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed away the cigarette taste. He was seconds away from the spot she chose to meet, and his chest constricted with excitement. His boots crunched over gravel and garbage as he walked down a narrow alley between two faceless buildings. There was an open lot at the end of the lane, where he assumed she was waiting. As he made his way through the dimly lit alley, he whistled to make his presence known. The shrill tune reverberated off an overflowing dumpster to his left, and as he stepped to clear the reeking trash receptacle, something hard and blunt swung out at eye-level and flattened him to the ground.

Dazed and blinded from the sudden strike, he tried moving his mouth, but only a bubble of blood popped from his lips. A piercing stream of sound filled his ears as the edges of his vision turned dark. A large black figure came into view above, haloed by the soggy grey sky in the deepening veil. The featureless shadow chuckled deeply before a heavy boot's tread put out his lights.

~*~

Several hours passed before Sven's eyelids shuddered. By then, his assailant had had plenty of time to tie him to a wooden chair and organize his instruments of punishment. A headache blistered through the man's skull, throbbing in his eye sockets until he gained enough consciousness to open them. When he saw the person who had knocked him out, his throat closed and the gasp ripping through came out high-pitched.

"Faust... Please... Don't—" Sven hiccoughed. "Don't do this. I'm sorry. I'm SORRY!"

Faust, who had been facing the doorway at the end of a long red runner, turned toward Sven, holding a hammer's handle in one hand while cradling the head in the other. A malicious smirk peeked out from a curtain of black hair. He took a step forward, the clomp of his leather boots echoing through the church. Each step made a menacing sound that bit down on Sven's nerves and rattled his sensitive skull.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I know you hate me, but please, don't hurt me. I swear I'll never talk to her again!"

Faust approached, flashing the obsidian hammerhead. He tossed the tool in his grip and stuck his hand into his pocket, producing several five-inch nails.

"No! God, no, please! Faust! Don't do this!"

The black-haired giant stopped to admire the curve of the hammer’s prongs. Sven looked around the empty church and saw a jerrycan taking up space in a nearby pew. He immediately started struggling against the jute rope binding his wrists and ankles to the chair as Faust drew nearer, smile uncoiling.

"I already gave you the chance to never talk to her again. Remember?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry means fuck all to me. You should know that. The only reason you left the campsite with your dick intact is because of the witnesses," Faust said, then spun around with his arms out, showcasing their solitude. "Now, it's just you and me."

"Please don't," Sven muttered through swollen lips. "Fuck, I'll do anything!"

"There's nothing you can do. Nothing a sorry sack of human waste can provide this world to make me change my mind."

"SHE LIED!"

Faust jingled the nails in his jacket, reminding Sven who held the weapon.

"Whatever she told you... It's not true! I was at the party, but I didn't do anything to her!" Sven's voice cracked.

"Oh... So you didn't follow her into my bedroom?"

"No! I talked to her for a minute, and that's all. That's all, I swear, Faust. Don't kill me."

The stomp of boots neared the altar where Sven struggled in the chair. He twisted to loosen the rope and slipped one hand out. Faust grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the arm of the chair, readying a nail between his lips as he gripped the hammer. Sven let out a scream, stifled instantly by the hammerhead. Faust wedged the metal between his teeth and hissed.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll use this to smash your teeth out like a goddamn window. Understand me?"

Sven nodded and quaked as Faust placed the tip of the nail against the soft, flat part of his forearm.

"Stay still. If I fuck up and hit the Radial or Ulnar artery... You could bleed out before I'm done. Gotta get it right between the bones." Faust slapped the pale skin to reveal blue veins. He pressed the nail’s tip in place and rose the hammer above his head, bringing it down and stopping short of the head as Sven shrieked.

Faust cackled. "Jesus Christ, dude. Did you really think I was gonna nail you to a chair?"

Sven groaned, relieved and moist with cold sweat. "Faust, I'm serious. Please, man. You gotta believe me."

His dark laughter continued, bouncing off the high ceilings, the wooden pews and polished floors. As Sven let out his own nervous chuckle, Faust brought the hammer down in one swift pull, then slapped his hand over Sven's gaping mouth to stifle the screams. Howling, Sven rattled his head back and forth as a searing bolt of pain tore through his right arm, crackling in his shoulder where it burned and burned.

Faust tore his phone out of his back pocket and brought up a video, slamming the screen into Sven's face. The video of him grabbing Faith in his room while he was states away watching the live feed from the camera he'd set up on the desk.

"I knew these little cameras would come in handy. See? I know what you did, you stupid fuck. And you know what else? I would have just beat the shit out of you had I not stopped by your place before our little meeting."

Sven whined, tears pouring from his eyes in steady streams.

"Oh, yeah. That's right. I went into your room... Saw some interesting things on your computer. At first, I thought it was just standard fucking creep shit. Snuff porn, torture... Teen girls. None of that surprised me... Until I dug around and found your little stalker file buried in your folders. You didn't even encrypt it. How fucking stupid are you?"

"I'm sorry," Sven shook.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"I'm sorry for touching her. I should have left her alone."

"What'd you think was gonna happen? That she wouldn't tell me? Or that I wouldn't believe her? And now I know you've been following Faith around, taking pictures of her, you fucking predator. And what about those other women, huh? You sorry about them, too?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I know I have problems! I'm trying to get help. Please, Faust. If you let me go, I promise I'll do it. I'll get better. I haven’t hurt anyone!"

Faust shook his head slowly, grunting in refusal. "No. I meant what I said when I told you I'd crucify you if you went near Faith again. I'm doing the world a favour."

Sven hung his head and bled from the grievous wound pinning him to the chair, shuddering weakly from his injuries. Faust would never relent. He'd witnessed the drummer's cold disdain, the malignant hatred living inside that made him turn to the dark with open arms. Faust wasn't an actor. He pledged himself to the darkness with unyielding conviction, never one to take such things lightly. This realization depleted Sven's will to reason with the man.

Faust gripped another thick nail and drove it through Sven's left arm, smiling as blood dripped from the wood onto the church altar. The violent yelps filled Faust with morbid delight as he pressed the bloodied hammer under his victim's chin and raised his face.

"You're gonna die tonight, Sven."

"What makes you better than me? You'll be a murderer," Sven stuttered. "You hurt people, too."

"You and I are not the same. Don't ever compare yourself to me. You're a coward, and I warned you. Tread on what's mine, and I'll destroy you. That's what I said."

"All this over a girl? Are you fucking crazy!?"

Faust stooped to one knee, looking up at Sven as though the insult had cut him. Faust's brows arched, bottom lip jutting outward as he studied Sven, who closed his eyes. Then, Faust rose to his feet, leather stretching from the motion. Faust tapped his chin, smiled, and leaned over to whisper, "yes... Totally fucking crazy."

With a powerful kick to the chest, Faust sent the chair and Sven toppling backward. He then unzipped his pants, pulled out his manhood and giggled as he emptied his bladder on the weeping man. While Sven cried and moaned, Faust closed his zipper, whistling merrily. He left Sven on his back and snatched the jerrycan from the pew, taking slow, calculated steps while twisting off the cap and dousing the altar in gasoline.

As the gas trickled, Sven's desperation mounted. He could not flail, so he screamed. Faust gently reminded him what he'd do to Sven's teeth if he carried on shouting. The pinned man blubbered and begged, but Faust ignored his pleas. Inside his head, all Faust heard was the sound of flames rushing into a circle around Sven, crackling over the carpet and up the old church's wooden beams. By the time the roof caught fire, Faust had planned on being long gone.

"Please, Faust... You'll regret this! I know you're a serious person, but this is too far. You won't be able to live with yourself!"

"Wrong. I couldn't live with myself knowing I let a vulture like you walk this planet freely." Faust poured a trail down the floor runner, far away from the altar. He tossed the can aside and looked up at the Catholic saints' stained-glass portrayals and Jesus at the center of it all, staring down with sad eyes. Faust took a book of matches from his pocket and ripped one from the bunch, running its tip across the ignitor strip until a small flame burst to life. Faust flicked the match to the ground without a second thought, and the flame ate up the gasoline trail swiftly. The church was illuminated, and the colourful glass windows came to life. Faust raised his eyes to the forlorn Jesus and leered while the fire spread.

He did not stay to admire his work or revel in the cries of a man burning alive. Faust fled before the fire consumed the church, not once looking back or wondering if his victim had somehow escaped. He trudged through puddles of slush, hair swinging in the wind, white shadows of breath leaving his mouth.

It was time to get back to finish the tour. But he had one more stop to make.

~*~

Faith left the mall after helping close the book store. She received small smiles and nods from the mall staff as they locked doors and unfolded security gates. Some of the people she had spoken to before, and some she had only seen in passing. Though she returned their pleasantries, inside Faith was fretting. She tried not to worry about her boyfriend or ask where he was under strict orders to go about her day as usual.

She stepped into the evening air as the sun sank, taking the blue from the sky along for the descent. Wisps of white cloud stretched across the pink and violet above. Faith took in a deep breath and walked to the bus stop situated between a movie theatre and a dollar store. She popped her earbuds in and turned on a song that reminded her of Faust; one he wouldn’t like. His music taste had no room for the upbeat indie rock she enjoyed. Still, she smiled when the lyrics reminded her of him.

The scent of cigarette smoke caught her attention, and she looked around, finding no culprit. She wondered where the smell came from if nobody was around but soon forgot when the city bus appeared in the distance. It had to make a long trek around the parking lot before it pulled up at the movie theatre. Faith readied her bus card to scan as another cloud of smoke enveloped her senses.

Faith whirled around, and there he was, all black and leather, white teeth clutching the filter of a cigarette. Faust smiled, his words bolting from his mouth as she clamped her arms around him and crushed her face into his chest. The leather and musk brought tears to her eyes. She ripped out her earbuds and tried not to weep.

He hushed her, lifted her off the ground and retreated into the shadowed alley between the theatre and the store. By the time the bus pulled up, Faust had pressed her against the brick wall behind the building.

"Faust. Oh my gosh, where have you been? I was so worried," Faith gasped.

"Sh, don't ask questions, baby." Faust smothered her mouth, holding her thighs around his waist.

"Mm—I love you. Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re here! I love you so freaking much."

"I know you do," Faust breathed against her lips. "I love you, too, babe."

"Tell me where you've been!"

Faust shook his head and kissed her neck instead. She raked her fingers through his hair, knocking his hood down so she could see him unobstructed.

"Told you... Don't ask... Mmkay?... Stop asking... Just let me... Mm—fuck!"

Faith pulled his pelvis inward with her thighs, rubbing against his crotch and the heavy bullet belt wrapped around his hips. In their cloud of lust, Faust pushed his black jeans down just enough to free his erection.

"Fuck, I love your little skirts. Makes it so easy," Faust murmured.

The thought of Faust showing up disquieted her, but his lips on her skin and his desire thwarted these anxieties for a while. She set aside her questions, happy to have him in her arms again and overcome by arousal. When he stretched her panties aside and pushed into her, they both froze in expressions of excruciating ecstasy. Faust tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and Faith clutched his shoulders, already writhing from the intense fulfillment between her legs.

Just as she thought Faust might drop her, he bent his knees and hoisted her higher up on the wall. In his arms, she weighed close to nothing. She missed feeling tiny against him.

"Miss my cock?" He growled in her ear.

"Yes, baby. Oh my gosh, of course, I missed it. I missed my big man."

"Yeah? Fuck, I miss my little pussy," Faust breathed. "Mm, show me those gorgeous tits."

Faith unbuttoned her work polo and stretched the collar down around her breasts for Faust to bury his face. Though there wasn't an abundance of flesh to lose himself in, Faust shivered from the first taste of her nipples. With muted groans of pleasure, he rammed into her until Faith could no longer contain her cries, unaccustomed to his girth. Faust absorbed her whimpers with his mouth, coaxing her tongue until she only hummed.

He felt ferocious from the last twenty-four hours. If he could make Faith scream without drawing attention, Faust would have slammed her into the wall and fucked her until she shredded her vocal cords. He had to keep a low profile. Even visiting Faith was a considerable risk, but one he relished taking as she clamped her thighs and rutted against him.

He supported her ass in both hands and shifted off the wall to fuck her standing up. While he took her this way, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered, whispering, "yes, fuck my pussy hard, big boy. Oh, I love that big cock inside me."

Faust unhooked and held her out so he could watch her breasts jiggle with every bounce. "You still taking your birth control? I'm gonna fucking bust so hard inside you, baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, baby, do it. Fill my pussy, please. I want your cum."

Her dirty talk and sweet sobs for his cock pushed him over the edge. He cradled her head as he pushed her against the wall and throbbed between her legs until empty. Faust pulled out and immediately turned her around and bent her over to watch globs of fresh cum dripping from her wet slit. He used one finger to push some of it back inside and had her suck off the rest. Afterward, he pulled up his pants and compressed her against the wall, one hand over her mouth while the other worked her clit in gentle circles. Faust didn't stop until she squealed and shuddered against him, muffled in his jacket and writhing from the manual orgasm.

When Faith calmed down, he released her and stepped away, pulling a cigarette from the squished pack in his jacket pocket. The lighter's flame created an orange halo around his face and promptly died. He smoked like nothing had happened while she fixed her skirt, buttoned her polo and zipped up her coat.

Faith smiled up at her lover, the night blotting out most of his features.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said.

"Not for long," Faust exhaled.

Her heart quivered. "Wait, what?"

"I gotta go back."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"What? No! But... You just got back," said Faith.

Faust shrugged, his leather jacket speaking for him. The evening matured, consuming the details of her hurt expression until the streetlamps along the road came to life.

"Why did you come here?"

Faust took one last long haul off his cigarette and flicked it down the alleyway. "Listen to me, Faith... You need to quit asking questions. I'm serious. The more questions you ask, the worse it'll be. And you and I did not see each other tonight. As far as you know, I'm on tour. Understand?"

"Yes," Faith said to appease him.

"I want to stay, trust me. But I can't. You know why. All the answers you want, you already have. Don't keep bugging, don't mention it ever again."

"I want to go with you," she whispered.

"No. You stay. Go to your classes, go to work, go visit your parents. Everything normal. And I don't want you moping around either. You put on that pretty smile, and you pretend for me. I'll call you in a couple of weeks before the last show and arrange a way for you to get there."

"What do you mean you’ll call in couple of weeks?" Faith whined. “What about goodnights?”

"I don't have a phone anymore."

"Why—? Oh, um... Okay. I understand."

Faust gathered the girl up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Good girl. I love you, and I miss you."

"I love you, too."

He tipped her face up and sensed tears forming in her eyes. Faust shook his head. "No crying. We'll see each other very soon. Just a couple more weeks."

"I know," she sighed.

"I love you more than anything, Faith. Now, go catch your bus. Should be here in a few minutes."

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm on tour. I'm not even here," he explained.

Faust kissed her again, smoothed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face the bus stop. He urged her along. "No looking back. Hop on the bus and go do your schoolwork."

"Okay," she said, determined to make him proud. Faith walked out of the shadows and into the lamplight hovering over the depot. Across the lot, the city bus pulled in, and though she longed to turn around to see Faust watching over her, she kept her eyes forward and waited. When the bus pulled up, and the doors drew back, she stepped onto the platform and smiled at the driver as she scanned her pass. Faith took a seat in the back and put in her earbuds. She searched through a list of bands and selected the only one whose logo was illegible. As she pressed play, she listened to the immediate assault of the drums, their constant and violent beat. Faith smiled—warm in her chest and between her legs.

[rjhpandapaws]

Bad to Work With

Ch 3: Things to (Never) Learn from Hindsight

//Going to preface this with the fact that I didn’t mean to write angst, it was supposed to be fluff

Gavin wasn’t one to learn from his mistakes. A considerable feat considering the sheer number of mistakes he’d made just in recent history. He would suffer the consequences and come out on the other side only to make the exact same mistake or one that was worse. Hindsight wasn’t something he benefitted from. He looked back on most of his mistakes with the knowledge that it would only be a matter of time before he did it again. Up until recently he wasn’t a victim of situational regret. This was one of the few times he wished he could go back and undo something. Not so much the night itself, that wasn’t what he had come to regret; but the elevator ride. If he had managed to keep his mouth shut for once in his life he wouldn’t be staring down yet another coffee cup adorned with a sticky note. It was a different cafe this time, they always were. It seemed like whenever Gavin left his desk there would be a coffee waiting for him when he got back. This was the first one he had ever gotten that was waiting from before he’d arrived.

It wasn’t even that it was bad coffee. These niche cafes Richard was finding had amazing drinks. Gavin had even gone to some of them on the weekends. The thing of it was that he had a system despite the fact that his desk looked like a bomb had gone off. Richard didn’t know what the system was and he would set the cups in whatever open space was available and then leave. On the few occasions Gavin didn’t notice them in time they wound up getting knocked over. When they fell it was either onto the other papers or into his computer terminal. The papers were usually salvageable; but he was pretty sure Silas was ready to murder him. He probably had it plotted out and everything. Gavin sighed quietly and picked up the foam cup. There was no logo on this one, so he found it safe to assume it was from one of the newer cafes in the area. The sticky note on the other hand was short and simple. Gavin would have even dared to call it sweet if it were from anyone other than Ricard. He stuck his note to his monitor like had with all the others and settled in at his desk for another long day.

The issue was Gavin was almost endeared by it. He hadn’t been in a romantic relationship since high school, and no one had ever tried like this. Not for him anyway. It was making what was left of his resolve wear thin. Richard had learned exactly one thing about him and ran with it. The level of emotion to it all was what had Gavin on edge. He didn’t do feelings because he wasn’t good with them. It was less draining to just have a night with someone and then go their separate ways. He’d never had to resist his own wants like this. He avoided repeats for a reason, he wasn’t about to change that. He wouldn’t let things get beyond coffee. Except, as he waited for his computer to boot up he texted Richard.

Me: Thanks for the pick me up. Coffee Supplier: Of course, I’ve been meaning to try out that cafe for a while. Me: It’s pretty good Coffee Supplier: Definitely. Coffee Supplier: Have a good day Gavin. Me: Thanks, you too

It was the first time he had actually messaged Richard. He had saved his number to be polite, but never planned to actually use it. He hadn’t expected to have a normal conversation. It was nice in a way.

That’s where it should have stopped, would have stopped if Gavin had been stronger. The short text conversations became just as routine as the coffee and sticky notes. They didn’t really talk about anything meaningful, and made a point not to talk about work. It was almost like talking with Tina; if there wasn’t that unspoken something hanging over them. The temptation lingered, as it always did. The easiest excuse to use was that Richard was his superior. The truth of it was that Gavin was scared. The last time he had loved someone he wound up burned with his heart in pieces on the floor. He’d been younger and dumber then, but he still wasn’t sure this was a risk he was willing to take again. So it stayed small. Limited to brief conversations at work, notes passed through coffee, and text messages when they had the time. He stopped keeping the notes on his monitor after Hank had asked about them. They had their own desk drawer now. If he kept these things compartmentalized he could pretend that he wasn’t slowly being pulled in.  Gavin was short sighted, so at the time it had seemed like a full proof plan. Out of sight out of mind, that sort of thing. Even though he knew ignoring his problems only made them worse. Just this once he hoped it would work.

It turned into a bad week. The kind when he was just praying to make it to Friday. He made plans with Tina to meet up at Eden on Friday night. He just wanted to have a night to let go for a while. Be someone else. Monday was fine, but Tuesday marked the start of everything going wrong. It started with his computer crashing; it wasn’t coffee related for once, and things kind of stock piled from there. The heat went out in his apartment complex, and then his car decided to finally die on him. He had ignored the Check Engine Light for too long. He was at the point that if anything else went wrong this week he was going to fucking lose it. Friday, thankfully enough, was his half day. He wasn’t in the office long enough for things to go wrong. He worked through the morning and pulled a disappearing act the moment the chance arose. He planned to sleep for a while before meeting up with Tina at Eden and then leaving with a stranger. He had things he wanted to forget, and blue eyed problems to ignore. Eden was packed, like it always was on Fridays. Business types and the lucky public who could manage the cover charge were all out to get relief from their weekly boredom, and Gavin was right in the middle of it. Dancing with strangers and accepting any drinks that were offered to him. Anything to take his mind off of his problems. Especially the blue eyed one that had been haunting him recently.

He was in the sweet spot. Just past too drunk to give a shit, but not absolutely wasted yet. Which also meant that he was just beyond sober enough to recognize the steel blue eyes of the person he was dancing with. That they were the same eyes he was drinking to drown out. All he was concerned with was how well they fit. In any other circumstance the fact that this felt so familiar would have been cause for alarm. He was a little more sober by the time they managed to stumble out to a cab. Not enough to care, but enough to confirm that yes, this was something he wanted to do. Gavin was more caught up in the moment than he was concerned with the mild prickle of familiarity in the way this man said his name. He chalked up the ease with which he was unraveled to desperation. Anyone could be an expert in Undoing Gavin Reed if he was desperate enough for an escape. Tonight happened to be one of those nights and every red flag was excused and brushed aside in favor of chasing the pleasure. They were a problem for Sober Gavin. He would have the rest of the weekend to deal with them.

Consciousness came back to him slowly, like it always did after a night of drinking. He was rested and contentedly sore in ways that meant he had followed somebody home. Whoever his companion had been, they weren’t one for cuddling. He rolled over and found himself alone. It was slow to sink in that this particular room was a little too familiar. Once the thought made it through the haze of his hangover Gavin cursed under his breath. His memories of the club were hit and miss at best, he remembered dancing with strangers and drinking more than he probably should have. There were stern blue eyes sprinkled into them here and there. Gavin had done a repeat. That moment of clarity was accompanied to the door of the room quietly opening. From the look on Richard’s face he clearly wasn’t expecting Gavin to be awake yet, “Oh. Good morning.” “Hey.” He replied groggily as he sat up. There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence as Richard set Gavin’s now clean clothes on the bed. He gave him a onceover before retreating from the room like the devil himself was on his heals. It made Gavin feel sick to his stomach. He had definitely fucked up this time.

He got dressed slowly and tried to figure out what to do. Apologize was the obvious answer. But for which thing? All of them? The list of things he hadn’t done wrong was probably shorter at this point. When he finally gathered the courage to leave Richard’s room he was met with the strong smell of coffee. This was the moment of truth. “Your friend Tina says you owe her fifty bucks.” Richard said without looking at him, “And if you ever leave without talking to her again she’ll take your coffee money.” Gavin flinched, “Sorry you had to deal with her. Sorry for everything really. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” “Which ‘this’?” He asked as he turned around with two mugs of coffee and held one out to Gavin, “Sleeping with me again, or being so drunk that you didn’t notice who you were with?” “All of it.” He admitted and held the mug with both of his hands like the warmth would protect him from his mistakes, “From the first time till now. For the text messages. Everything.” “Did you even mean any of it?” There was an emotion to Richard’s voice that Gavin didn’t want to dwell on. He was being given an out, and he wasn’t about to pass it up.

If he were a better person he would have been honest. Instead, he set the mug down and reached for his phone. “No.” He said as he stood. He didn’t look at Richard as he walked to the door, “It’s been fun though.” When the apartment door clicked shut behind him there was an air of finality to it. Another mistake he wouldn’t learn from. There was no coffee on his desk on Monday morning. Things were finally back to normal, so he didn’t understand why it felt so empty.

[thestraggletag]

Roll for Initiative, a Rumbelle D&D Fic

Summary: Tales of the Enchanted Forest was the hottest online D&D game, in part for its charismatic players, in part for the twisted turns of the DM's mind and in part because of the outrageous chemistry between its greatest OTP, the party's beautiful bard and the Dark One, an anti-hero side-character who is there to provide information and uncomfortable levels of UST. Mr Gold thinks it's a harmless flirtation that could never become anything else, just like his silly little crush on the town librarian, Belle French.

He's wrong.

Rating: Explicit.

Author’s Note: Surprise, @argoslight​, it is I, your Gifter! Sorry to make you wait till near the end but I just had way more banter to write in me than I thought. I hope you enjoy your gift. I’m so sorry to not be able to add more D&D elements but since I don’t play I don’t have a lot of idea of what could be done. Also I apologise for any mistakes! And thanks so much to @little-inkstone for her help and D&D knowledge.

The castle was quiet when she entered, her steps echoing against the stone. It was gloomy inside, curtains obscured and decor sparse and sombre, the castle living up to its name. But there were flowers on the table, moon lilies, her favourite flower. They bloomed only in the Eastern Mountains past the Old Wall, but she had long since suspected he grew some on one of his enchanted hothouses, with the excuse of using them for potions. 

“Where’s the rest of your pretty little troop of do-gooders, dearie?”

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing around the empty halls of the castle. Thankfully she did not need directions, knowing exactly when to turn and where to go. Soon she found herself in a vast room, with a table on the centre and curios filled with oddities and the like. Some others were displayed on pedestals, including a rather fearsome sword and a nasty-looking crown made of thorns. None of the artefacts were what she sought, but she was not there to bargain for an item, but rather for information.

“Off on their own quests, taking care of other things that need doing.”

The voice tsked, seeming not to approve.

“They let you enter the lair of the beast alone? Some heroes.”

The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and walked towards the unlit chimney. Immediately a fire blazed to life, as if the castle itself was trying to cater to her comfort. The fire provided much-needed light as well, revealing the profile of a man in the shadows. Or something that looked like a man, at least, if not for the reflective scales that covered his body and its strange eyes: gold irises around catlike pupils.

“I asked to come alone. I felt like we could talk more openly this way.”

She removed her cloak, ostensibly to drape it across a chair near the fire and let it dry. The creature, however, seemed to read more into the gesture, tsking again.

“You come here all alone, a pretty little lamb, and take off the only real bit of protection you have. Reckless, dearie, most reckless.”

 The creature stood up, walking slowly towards the light, revealing more of its form as it approached her. Leather pants and a long, reptilian-looking vest and coat. It wasn’t particularly tall but power emanated from it in suffocating waves. She closed her eyes, finding his cloying presence strangely comforting. Then again, she had always been odd. 

“Once again your pitiful little party of friends needs my help. How they weigh you down, Beauty.”

He stepped fully into the light then, revealing a being more creature than man, the reptilian skin and claws as off-putting as his unnatural eyes. She should’ve taken a step back, should’ve gone for her blade or the dagger tucked into her left boot, but she didn’t. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she felt at ease in his presence. Well, perhaps not quite. She certainly felt a strange sort of anxiousness in his presence, a fluttery sort of feeling that she attributed to being particularly attuned to his magic. None of the other members of her party felt that way. If anything, he repulsed them, which wasn’t something she could understand. To her he was… magnetic.

“Are you in the mood for dealing or not? I can trade for information.”

He snorted.

“With what? Your little band of misfits is dirt poor. That idiotic paladin of yours ruined your last mission. You really should think about ditching the man. All brawn, no brains. At least your rogue is a smart woman.”

His gaze left her briefly, running down the length of her clothing: sturdy black boots, a nicely-cut dress that stopped around the knees and a sturdy belt with a few pockets for her spells. But the clothing, as well-made as it was, was dated, old. Looked worn and was signed and stained in places, and it left a lot of her frail human skin exposed. She had not been able to afford an upgrade in a while, preferring to spend her coin in what could benefit the group.

His moue of distaste disappeared once his eyes fell on her cloak. Well, his cloak, since he had been the one to make it. It was a lovely thing in varied shades of green, shot through with golden thread, his trademark. She had bought it off him a long time ago, a simple thing to keep her warm during cold nights and dry when it rained. Miraculously, though, it also did not sustain damage, looking exactly the same as when she had first put it on.

“I’m glad at least my protection is serving you well.”

He ran a claw along the seams of the cloak, making it glitter, like to like, magic calling for its own. He looked smug, as if pleased she was wearing something he had made.

“It does more than we bargained for. I’ve been blasted with magic strong enough to burn through most fabric but it has not even frayed. How strange of you, Rumplestiltskin, to lose out on a deal.”

He shivered when she said his name, walking behind her to the safety of the shadow she cast next to the fire.

“Can’t help it if my magic is just that powerful, my dear. I’m glad you are a happy customer. Always thought that cloak was a nice bit of magic. Can’t fault you for always wearing it.”

She felt him close in on her from behind, to the point that it almost felt like they were touching.

“It smells like you. That’s why I wear it all the time.”

The noise he made behind her was inhuman, a cross between a whimper and a growl. His claws scrapped against the back of her dress, the feeling muted by her stays, but she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and that alone was-

“Hey, this is a decent stream! Keep it PG for the kids, you weirdos.”

“Damn it, Grumpy, I wanted to see how long it would take them to snap out of it!”

“Sorry, Snow, but I ate a big dinner and I aim to keep it down.”

The messages in the chatroom wheezed by, mostly disgruntled complaints about their OTP never catching a break. The other participants in the stream were mostly silent, their mics muted likely to hide the amused snickers. There was no video feed on any of the members of the party, all of them represented instead by artwork to preserve their anonymity. Once upon a time that had been a fanciful choice, and perhaps a way to stay safe when interacting with strangers on the internet. Now it was mostly to keep their private lives from being overtaken by the popularity of their stream. “Tales of the Enchanted Forest” was shaping up to be one of the hottest D&D online streaming shows, already on its third campaign and counting.

“Beauty is just trying to get us some answers, Grumpy. We can’t just go stumbling about hoping to run into some fairy wand by chance.”

“Oh, it’s that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Enough! Can we get back to the campaign already? It took me weeks to plan and it kinda hinges a bit on the Dark One helping, which needs to happen today.”

“Fine by me, dearie, if the dwarf can curtail his temper.”

The party was composed of five characters, a paladin, a cleric, a bard, a rogue and a thief, which along with the Dungeon Master made up the regular cast of every weekly stream. But given the popularity of the show, and the amount of time they had been playing, they had managed to amass a good amount of side-characters, guests invited every now and then to help the campaign move along and keep the interest of the audience. And by far the most popular of those guests was the Dark One, a wizard of unknown lineage and tremendous power that served both as an antagonist and a pseudo-ally depending on the situation. 

His presence was likely the reason why the livestream’s numbers looked so robust. He had amassed quite a fanbase, due in part to the commitment the player put on the character (the voice-acting was above and beyond what anyone could’ve expected from an amateur performer, and the backstory was quite complex, revealed in bits and pieces fans had meticulously assembled together) and in part to the chemistry he had managed to develop with the group’s bard, a half-human named Beauty.

“Okay, let’s all go back to what we were doing.” The DM’s voice was authoritative, though also more than a bit pissed off. “Okay, Beauty, you were about to try and cajole the Dark One to sell you the information you needed in return for a vial of water from Lake Nostos. Though the water is valuable, it’s not guaranteed to be enough to tempt the wizard. You have to roll at least a 13 in persuasion to make the trade. Roll when you’re ready.”

...

Rumford Gold stretched within the confines of the small backroom of his shop, where he had his computer stuff set up. Initially he’d bought the computer to better conduct his online business. His laptop at home wasn’t cutting it and it was better to photograph the antiques, update the website and handle the deliveries from his place of business. He had bought a good camera, some light fixtures and, on a whim, a microphone, for instances where he might need to virtually communicate with clients. It was something that was happening more and more, especially because a lot of his clientele was European. The internet had truly turned his antiquing- more of a hobby than a profession originally- into a profitable business.

He had gotten into watching D&D while waiting late at night for a client to become available in Austria. He had played as a lad, one of the few happy moments he could remember from his childhood in Glasgow, but had given it up once he had met Milah. And after they were over he had been too involved in making something of himself to remember past childhood enjoyments. But apparently D&D had evolved with the times and he had gotten into the habit of searching for and watching online D&D campaigns in his spare time. From that to actually being a side-character in one of them took almost no time. It was frightfully easy to go back to that frame of mind of playing make-believe, only now he had a distaste for the clean-cut heroic types and more of an affinity for the morally-grey, shady characters.

So he had auditioned for the role of evil-wizard when there had been an opening for a side-character in his favourite D&D stream, The Enchanted Forest. And though the DM had written what he considered to be a very flat, uninteresting character, he had been able to give it his own spin. He knew the DM hated him for it, hated when he deviated from what was expected of him, but people loved him. It was half the fun, pissing the DM off.

The other half, he had to admit, was Beauty. The one with the brains in the group, clearly, a half-human, half-fairy bard with an uncanny ability to think ahead, and arm herself with knowledge. Most of the other members of her party were more apt to try and decapitate something than negotiate with it, or even befriend it. Beauty prided herself on more of a gentle approach, which sometimes got her treated as the “fragile” one. He thought it just made her all the more interesting.

Their flirting had just kinda happened. He was half into it before he realised it had begun at all and by the time he had grown conscious- and self-conscious- of it fans were lapping it up and loving it. Even the DM, as loath as he was to admit it, found the banter engaging, even as if stole the spotlight from his story and where he wanted it to go. So every now and then he got invited into a stream, sometimes to interact with the whole party and sometimes, like the session he had just finished, to speak only to Beauty. And what was supposed to be a brief conversation before the party moved to greener pastures became a whole session, with the chatroom full of engagement and the view count off the charts.

But the DM had had a short tolerance span tonight, and had nipped things in the bud much sooner than usual. He felt… unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Itchy, almost, in a way. So he was more than happy when he received an email from Beauty, who seemed to share his dislike of how the session had played out. They had started doing that more often, sharing emails after a session, even when he did not participate in it. It was harmless, he thought. Just an innocent online flirtation that could never realistically turn into anything. Not that his more in-person romantic overtures could ever pan out. He was in his third year of being completely smitten by the local town librarian, and in his second year of being able to put two words together in front of her without the help from Scotch, something he was perhaps a bit too proud of. And though he had decided very early on that the whole thing was utterly hopeless he had not been able to steer his thoughts or affections away. Realistically he was perhaps more in love with the idea of Belle French than the reality itself, given how little he had personally interacted with the woman. But he knew just enough to fill in the blanks and create a beautiful picture of how he imagined her to be: bookish- an easy assumption given how many times he had caught her in public places absorbed in a book-, kind, generous and delightfully able to hold a grudge and enact revenge when the time came. A bit reckless, and sometimes quick to form opinions, but also quick to revise them. A tactile person, with a great sense of fashion and a carelessness about what was expected of her.

He saw her in his head as clear as day, but little of that image was based on any personal knowledge of her. So, perhaps, he had found in Beauty a fictional substitute, someone he could talk to, and flirt with, without consequences, adopting the persona of someone more confident, more at ease with that sort of thing. The Dark One was comfortable in his skin in a way that he could only pretend to be sometimes. All the money and power he had accumulated over the years had helped him evolve from the spineless, cowardly lad he had once been, but when it came to certain situations, especially those that necessitated a level of vulnerability, he was still hopeless.

Perhaps, he wondered, it was better to think about his online liaison with Beauty as the real thing. They wrote to each other often, in and out of character, and over the course of their correspondence he had confided in her more than he had in any other person alive. Small things at first, every day peeves and details. Nothing that could identify them, certainly, but surprisingly intimate nevertheless. And over time it had grown to stuttering confessions and barings of the soul on both sides. She had told him of her teenage years in a mental asylum, the product of an overwrought widowed father trying to do right by his grieving daughter. He had had a few choice words to say about that, uncharitable thoughts about her father prompting his own willing sharing of the sad story of his childhood, neglectful father and all. It had felt nice, to confide in someone, someone he trusted.

He glanced at her email, where she lamented how their scene had not been as long or as satisfying as she had wanted, and saw she was proposing to meet later in a private stream to finish it the way they had both wanted. She had proposed something similar once or twice before and he had politely declined but now he wondered why not take her up on her offer. What was stopping him? His imaginary idea of Belle French, who in reality had never given him more than a polite smile in passing? Too young, too good, too beautiful to ever see him as anything other than an old cripple? Whatever he had built with Beauty felt infinitely more real, and attainable. A relationship without ever meeting in person seemed ideal in many aspects and, perhaps, if and when it came to meeting in the real world, his physical shortcomings would not be relevant, nor would it his rather uncharitable reputation.

He sent her a quick reply to arrange a meeting, feeling like a bit of roleplaying was, in the end, quite harmless. And if it were to lead to something a bit more meaningful, well, perhaps it was about time.

…

“Water from Lake Nostos. A key ingredient in most powerful potions and even some spells. I’m sure it could prove useful to you.”

The bard showed him the glowing crystal vial hanging from a long chain around her neck, with the glowing milky-white water from the cursed lake in it. He made a move to get closer to inspect it but the woman took a step back, tucking the vial back inside her bodice. The wizard’s eyes lingered there, hiz gaze growing intense. The bard felt her skin flush in response, something that felt a bit like fear but wasn’t running down her spine.

“And I’m sure a new wardrobe could prove useful to you, dearie. You’re practically wearing rags.” Rumplestiltskin made a show of running his eyes up and down her form with just enough disgust in his face to make it seem as if he was only noticing the rather sad state of her dress. 

“It’s my best gown, I’d thank you not to insult it.”

He made a moue of disapproval, shaking his head for good measure.

“You’re far from your days as a princess. I hope seeing the world is worth putting up with your band of idiots that waste most of the gold they earn with your wit in pointless goose chases that you know will lead nowhere.”

Beauty didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say to contradict what he thought of her party, none of which was charitable to say the least. And she also knew that he was aware that all of it was worth the freedom she had won when she had left her life in her father’s castle behind. She did miss one or two things, perhaps. Her mother’s vast library being one and, perhaps, some of the fashions. Not so much the silhouettes- she had never liked how the sea of petticoats she was always forced to wear restricted her movement- but the fabrics and colours, certainly. And the shoes.

“I’m here to make a deal, Dark One. Are you doing business today or not?”

Lesser creatures would’ve rather bitten off their tongues that throw cheek at the Dark One, but Beauty did not even bat an eye, lips curling in a defiant little smile that had the wizard smirking, something like admiration blooming in his chest. It’s what he loved most about his little bard, her spine of steel. And perhaps her blue eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t do business with raggedy urchins, dearie. If you want to sit down and negotiate you’ll need a bath.” He made a face, as if he could smell her across the room. “And a change of dress, while I put your current outfit to wash… Or set it on fire, I haven’t decided yet.”

She could tell that he was pulling his punches, that he was playing at being repulsed by her state of dress and hygiene just bad enough that she would see he did not really mean it, not in any real way. She would’ve been able to tell either way, but it was nice that he thought it important to spare her feelings. And she couldn’t deny that a bath sounded heavenly after so many weeks on the road, sleeping out in the open and washing in freezing-cold creeks whenever possible.

“Well, if you insist…”

He took her to a well-lit and spacious bathing chamber, with the biggest copper tub she had ever seen, already filled with warm, soapy water that smelled of vanilla. She wasted no time after the door closed behind him, stripping quickly, careless of her worn and mended garments, and slipping into the tub. It was heaven on her tired muscles, and her dirty skin, and though she would’ve stayed there for hours she knew that every minute spent bathing was a minute less with the Dark One. Their time was limited. If she didn’t return to camp in the morning her party would venture into the castle, likely thinking the most dreadful scenarios. She could picture Charming attempting to kick the front gate open and getting hurt for his troubles. She could not let them worry for her, or risk the rapport she had developed with the Dark One by coming in unannounced. 

She got out of the tub with only a bit of reluctance and found a towel that she was convinced was enchanted to dry her faster than possible. She found clothing laid out in the adjoining dressing room, the undergarments soft and made of pale cream fabric and the dress of a lovely velvety, forest-green fabric, with a belt embroidered in small pearls that matched the detail about the neckline. She put it on gladly, twisting every which way to lace it up at her back. Living a less princessy life had made her acquire a number of small skills, including the ability to dress up mostly by herself even in gowns that did not lace up at the front, like most of her travelling clothes.

She did not spot her mauve travelling dress or her boots, but she was sure that Rumplestiltskin had whisked them away and would subtly mend them with magic, though she was sure he would deny it if she were to point it out. The green dress was accompanied by matching slippers, butter-soft and silent as they touched the stone floor. She made sure to dry her hair out, noticing how it shone red-gold in the flattering light of the candles, and took her time brushing it and styling it out of her face, so it fell flatteringly down her back. Her neck and most of her upper torso was bare but for the chain keeping the vial of water tucked safely against her breasts, the wide neckline of the dress dipping low enough to leave her collarbones bare, but she didn’t mind it. She was inside the Dark Castle, with the Dark One. She was safe there. On the road she always had to think about not attracting unwanted male attention. Here she rather felt like the opposite.

It was a silly infatuation, and many would argue any interest or desire on her part was due to the wizard’s power, which some would say was an aphrodisiac potent enough to make some look past the Dark One’s rather unfortunate exterior. No one would ever believe her if she confessed she rather… liked his appearance. The green-gold skin, the wild hair, the talons, but also the exquisitely-tailored pants and vests, the frothy cravats, the slim coats. A beast and a gentleman. A rather enticing combination, she had found.

She went downstairs into the trophy room once more, where two massive chairs were pulled up next to the roaring fireplace, the main source of light. The Dark One was sitting in one of them, a snifter gingerly held by a clawed hand, containing some sort of brown-gold liquid. He glanced at her the moment she entered the room, unwilling or unable to hide his appreciation for what he saw. He had removed his coat, leaving only his high-collared vest and one of his open shirts to cover his upper body, no forty cravat in sight. He seemed less guarded, more adventurous than he usually was when it came to matters of intimacy.

“You clean up well, dearie. Wish I could say the same for your dress. A wash will only do so much for it, but I refrained from throwing it into the fireplace. You’re welcome.”

“Good, as it’s not your property to destroy.” Beauty sat down, with a poise that betrayed her royal upbringing, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles. “So, Dark One, are you prepared to deal with me now?”

She had dealt with him dozens of times before, she had no idea why it all sounded so much like innuendo now. She couldn’t say she minded it.

“Of course, my dear. I’ve had time to think about our deal whilst you were splashing about in the tub.” His sing-songy voice broke, getting suddenly deeper for a second or two, as if he was struggling to retain his composure. “The vial is certainly a good start, but perhaps not quite enough. Now, I’m prepared to be generous given our long and fruitful history of dealmaking together, but I must also keep up certain appearances. So I thought I would also demand… an evening of your time.”

He tried to make it sound sinister, but she was past getting scared of him. At least in the traditional way. She raised an eyebrow, adopting a rather coquettish expression.

“And what would an evening of my time entail exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

She made a show of thinking it over before offering her hand, which he shook without delay.

“It’s a deal.”

Several hours later she had won two games of chess, one game of checkers, and was sipping from her third coupe of sparkling wine as she listened intently to a story about a deal the Dark One had once made with a king from a distant land. He was a gifted storyteller, engaging and funny, knowing exactly when to pause or gesticulate to keep the flow of the story just right. The king in his tale was rather unfortunate, in the sense that his hubris and arrogance had led him to make a deal with the Dark One that he did not understand. Most of Rumplestiltskin’s deals seemed to be like that, Beauty thought. And when he came to collect people dared be indignant that he demanded what they promised in the first place.

“The king was furious. Never let go of the grudge. Hired several assassins to try and kill me. A waste of gold, of course.”

He let out a trilling laugh, which soon proved to be contagious. Somehow, over time, it felt like their chairs had moved closer, because if she stretched out a hand she could easily touch him. Odd.

“Serves him right, for making such an open-ended deal. What a rookie mistake.”

She didn’t recall removing her slippers but she must have, because her feet were enjoying being pressed against the soft cushion of the chair. He made a gesture for her to lean close, which was a bit of a balancing feat, but she managed. Her heart skipped a bit when he leaned close too, almost pressing his mouth against her ear.

“You have no room to talk, sweet. You struck a very vague deal yourself, committing to an evening of conversation, chess ‘and the like’. That little turn of phrase is an invitation to all manner of sins, even the darkest and most decadent of debaucheries.”

He hissed the last part, making her shiver. Not content with letting him have the upper hand she turned her head so their lips were inches apart.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

She could tell she had shocked him into inaction. Cocky Dark One, always in control of the conversation, always one step ahead of everyone else. It was nice to see him floundering, to catch him unprepared. Finally he gulped and put a little distance between them.

“Aren’t you the bravest little poppet.”

“My mother always said ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’ I’m a firm believer of the principle.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, both his hands clutched at the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her to it. She knew she was supposed to be scared but she felt nothing but excitement, a buzzing just beneath the skin that made her strangely needy for something. Touch, perhaps, or more. The feeling was so overwhelming she did not realise at first that the laces of her dress were coming undone, as if invisible hands were painstakingly pulling them loose. She tried to make eye contact, but he ducked his head, pressing his face against the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She sighed, noticing how gentle he was, his touch feather-light, and discovering that she would not mind a rougher treatment. He was restraining himself, she realised, trying to be a gentleman. Sweet, but not what she wanted from him at that moment. Feeling bold Beauty carded a hand through his hair, pressing his face more firmly against her skin.

“Please, Rumple.”

Those two words seemed to have a magic of their own, producing a sudden and radical change in him. He moved too fast for her to see, wrapping her up in his arms and depositing her on the long dining table on the other side of the room. She did not know whether he used magic or simply moved inhumanly fast, but either possibility excited her, reminded her of the power of the creature looming over her, claws tugging at the unlaced bodice of her dress, dragging the velvet down to expose her undergarments. She was wearing the underbust corset he had provided over the snowy linen shift he had also left for her, so it was easy for him to simply tug the shift down a bit to expose her breasts. He leaned forward, nuzzling the space between her breasts, making a sort of satisfied purring noise as he sniffed up her clavicles and down her throat. Then, once he was happy with the level of squirming she was doing, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth, with all of its sharp teeth, around one of her rosy nipples. It was a strange feeling at first, more unfamiliar than pleasant, but when he began to suck it changed completely, little shocks of pleasure running from her nipple to between her legs. It was amazing, more than she had ever achieved with her own hands whenever she could get some privacy at night, and the feeling doubled when he grasped her untouched breast, his long claws estimulating the other nipple.

She sunk both her hands in his hair, fisting it in an effort to keep herself from squirming too much, feeling both aroused and impatient. She kept waiting for him to tire of her chest and move further down but when he was finally done sucking her nipples his head moved north, his lips blinding searching for hers till they were kissing. It wasn’t anything like any kiss she had experienced before, not even the unpleasant smack her former fiance had forced on her. Though it was just as forceful there was a wild quality to it, one she had never associated with the affectionate gesture. It was heavenly, the release of passion, far from cooling her down, setting her on fire, stoking her need for him till it felt like she would explode if he didn’t give her relief. 

He must have sensed it, her desperation calling to him like a siren song, because at some point he let go of her mouth to travel south, past her aching chest, and velvet-covered belly to where the skirts of her long gown kept her modestly covered. He wasted no time dragging the heavy fabric up, letting it pool around her hips along with the white linen of her shift. She did not have any other undergarments, having not been provided with any, so she was completely exposed to his gaze, from her milky things to her round hips. She squirmed, trying to picture what he must be looking at, the trim thatch of chestnut curls at the apex of her legs, obscenely drenched by this point and making a poor show of trying to hide the pink, glistening flesh beneath.

“What a lovely cunt you have.” His voice was dark, guttural, a monster trying to speak like a man. It thrilled her. “Let me drink from it, precious.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing instead to simply bury his head against her flesh, his tongue rough and wide as it lapped at her field parting them to seek out the bundle of nerves that was throwing for attention. She arched her back, feeling like it was only her firm grip on her thigh and hip what kept her anchored to the table. She fell into a rhythm of sorts, her body seeking out something she could not find but his mouth striving to compensate, to give her what she needed. It was heavenly and seemed to last an eternity, the sensations building up till everything but them faded away, all sensations muted. She felt him move to, thrusting his hips against the edge of the table, making it rattle in a way that spoke of his sheer brute force. It was heady to have someone like Rumplestiltskin, who had always strived to don the mask of a gentleman around her, be so unhinged, so animalistic. More than anything it was that complete loss of control what drove her over the edge. She cried out, feeling her inner muscles coil and her senses spiral out of control, her orgasm leaving her dizzy. It seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. She laid there for a while after the feeling passed, feeling satisfied and wanting at the same time. A few seconds later he also keened, slumping against her still-parted legs, his hair tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.

They lay that way for what seemed like ages, while they scrambled to try and collect themselves. The afterglow did not feel awkward or uncomfortable, and it loosened up her tongue enough to venture out that she had hoped for an even more intimate act, a joining that was even deeper than what they had done.

 “A deal for such a prize would have to involve all my deepest secrets, my most valuable truths.” He paused, pressing his forehead against the silky inside of her thigh, like a penitent would. “One day, perhaps.”

...

“Do you want to meet? I think it’s time.”

The orgasm had mellowed him out, otherwise he was sure he would’ve at least panicked a little bit. But in the afterglow of what they had just shared, albeit virtually, a meeting did not seem like such a bad idea. In hushed voices they arranged the time and place, tomorrow at a café and bistro in Boston. Nice and public, for both their safety. They knew both lived near Boston, so it seemed natural to pick the city. The drive wasn’t too bad, and he hoped it wasn’t a great inconvenience to her either.

Reluctantly they said their goodbyes, both trying to prolong the moment a bit more till they were both close to nodding off. With a final, reluctant goodbye they both disconnected, leaving Gold to clean himself up and make his way home. With his rumpled suit, disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow it must have looked like the walk of shame. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

...

He woke up in a happy mood, perhaps the best in a long time. Far from feeling stupid or embarrassed about his little bit of roleplaying-turned-porn-session he felt smug, empowered by the notion that he had made a smart, desirable woman come with only his voice and imagination. He felt like he was on the brink of something, as if an exciting possibility was opening up for him. 

He went about his day with a bit of a spring in his step, though most citizens of Storybrooke would be pressed to notice. It was only when he saw the book on gardening he was due to return to the library that afternoon- his two Moth orchids had developed small water-soaked spots on the leaves and he had wanted to consult some verified sources instead of relying exclusively on Google search results- that his mood dampened somewhat. As nice as last night had been- bloody fantastic rather- it did make him sad, somewhat, to give up his crush on Belle French. However unattainable it was still nice to have it, that bit of feeling that did not need to be reciprocated to be real. It had been nice to feel something for someone for a change, to look forward to each smile and each small conversation. But it wouldn’t be right, and what he had now was more valuable in any case. Perhaps, with time, he would grow out of his infatuation with the librarian and they could be friends. That would be rather lovely.

He crossed the street towards the library around three o’clock, wanting to beat the rush caused by children being let off school, a busy time for one of the only kid-friendly places in Storybrooke. There were some patrons about, and the afternoon light made the library look truly beautiful. Miss French truly worked miracles with her limited budget.

He found her easily, shelving a few books in the poetry section, and tried not to preen when she smiled widely at him.

“Mr Gold, hi! Always a pleasure. Here to return a book?”

The librarian was always sunny and welcoming, but she looked even happier that day, an excited sort of energy practically rolling off of her in waves. Thank goodness he had decided to give up on his silly little crush, otherwise he might have buckled under the power of her brightness. 

“Yes. And you look particularly happy today, Miss French, if I might say so.”

The librarian smiled even more, if possible, and leaned close, as if to tell him a secret.

“I have a date tonight.”

It hurt, the slightest bit, the shock making him take a step back, but less than it would have yesterday. And perhaps, he reasoned, this would be good. This would put them both in the path of becoming friends, allowing him to leave his crush behind much faster. He forced himself to enquire politely after the lucky man, listening as she talked about someone she had been flirting with for a long time now, and it seemed like the relationship was finally ready for the next step.

“I’m really happy. And very nervous. It feels like such a risk, after all this time building something that could easily fizzle out with a first date. But I’ve always believed in doing the brave thing, and bravery will follow. It’s what my mother always said.”

She had turned back to shelve a book as she finished the last sentence, so thankfully she did not see his jaw drop and his eyes widen, his surprise so visible no one could’ve missed it. His heart lurched in his chest, sheer and sudden panic making it difficult to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t possible. Belle was Beauty. Belle was Beauty. He tried to contradict the notion in his head but he had known Beauty’s British accent was passable but fake, and it made sense for him not to have identified her voice when she usually spoke with her natural Australian drawl, something he associated so closely with her. Everything else he had ever found out about Beauty, in and out of the D&D setting, coincided with what he knew, or thought he knew, about the librarian, one of the reasons why he had developed a crush on her in the first place.

The initial shock was followed by a spike of elation and then a sinking feeling of dread. He needed to cancel. She would be disappointed, but more disappointed if he didn’t and she realised her crush was a man a good deal older than her that was known for being the town monster. It would be awkward and she would not be able to escape him after it, both doomed to meet each other often, given the small size of the town. He could not put her through that.

He stopped himself then, noticing the familiar dark turn of his thoughts, dipped in so much self-loathing it was almost stifling. And he wondered if he really was thinking about Belle or about himself. Being a coward, taking the easy way out. He thought about how he had woken up, the world full of promise and the future bright with the possibility of something great on the horizon. And how he had felt brave last night, to leap into something that had been so worth it. Perhaps it was time to be brave more often. Do something, however small. Put the ball in her court, somehow.

“I wish you the best of luck, then. Perhaps some other time, if you’re not too busy, you could pop into my shop. I have a few antique books I feel you would appreciate.”

It was a nice recovery, and he was happy to see her smile, apparently welcoming the proposition. Everyone knew Mr Gold’s shop was only to be entered when making deals. He didn’t really allow idle perusal of his stock and no one had the money or interest to buy his antiques. His business was conducted mostly with people from major cities on the East Coast.

“Wow, an open invitation to traipse into Mr Gold’s shop, that’s not something one sees everyday. What do you want in return? I hear only deals can grant you access to the shop.”

She made sure to make it clear she was joking, something he appreciated. Feeling emboldened by her kind gesture he adopted a slightly higher pitch and replied:

“Oh, nothing much. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

Being close enough he got to see as it dawned on her, as her brain quickly processed what he had said and where she had heard it before. And he knew, knew because of the way she looked at him, as if she did not recognise him, as if he was a brand new person to her, that she understood the implication, what he had meant to tell her without actually telling her. 

“Hope to see you soon, then. Good luck with the date.”

He turned around before he could second-guess himself, feeling terrified by what he had exposed but satisfied at the same time. This way it was Belle’s choice to show up. For all she knew he had no idea that she was Beauty. She could make up an excuse and simply not meet her, and their worlds would never merge. If she did not want to pursue anything between them all she had to do is cancel the date, or not show up. He would respect her decision and never push for anything, or acknowledge their online relationship in the real world.

He sent her an email just as he was about to get into his car, letting her know that he understood that this meeting was a bit of a risk and he would understand if she backed out at the last minute. There were other things he could do in Boston, and he was not adverse to having dinner by himself. And they could still be friends, no matter what she decided. He was halfway to Boston when he heard his cell phone ping, letting him know he had a new email. As he expected, it was from Beauty:

“I’m on my way. Can’t wait to meet you! See you soon.”

He smiled.

[winter-fox-queen]

We All Deserve a Fairy Tale Chapter 5

Warnings:  Here be smut, my loves.  Minors be gone, because it is explicit.  First time writing smut, so I hope it works.

Frankie x female blank slate, use of first person.  I think there is cursing.

Frankie ghosts you, then something happens to change it…

Thanks to @sharkbait77​ and @hnt-escape​  If you want on my tag list, tell me.  :)

I waited a week.  A week and a half.  And I broke down, finally, and texted.

Got the edits back for my next book.  I hate this part.

After a moment, a reply.  You got this.

Hope?  Maybe?  Or was he just being nice?

I responded anyway.  

Maybe we can go out and see that movie tonight?  Have dinner?  A little fun before I chain myself to the computer?

No response.

I waited a day, but my stomach churned the whole time.

I texted again, after getting myself good and wound up.  You don’t owe me any explanations.  But please respect me enough not to ghost me.  You’re not interested in me, that’s fine.  But don’t leave me dangling.  You’re better than that.

I hit send, regretted it immediately.

Your right.  What’s your address?

“Shit.  Shit.  What have I done?”  I whispered as I typed it to him.  

About five away.  K?

Yeah.  Thanks.

I ran back inside the house and straightened myself up.  Military minutes must be shorter than civilian minutes because I heard him pull up sooner than I was ready.

I went outside, to the back yard.  I waved at him, half heartedly.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and came over.

“Hey.”  He gave me a soft smile.  Everything about him was guarded.  OK.  Well, I asked him to come over and officially tell me to take a hike, so, I guess I deserved it.

“Frankie, I…”

“No.  I, uh.”  He looked at the ground between our feet.  It was more dirt than grass.  “Man, you weren’t kidding about this place being a wasteland.”  

I laughed despite the rock in my gut.

He looked up at me, a little sideways.  “Let me say my piece and go, OK?”

I hugged myself, and nodded.

“I like you.”  He said so quietly that I had to lean closer to hear him.  “Like you more than I’ve liked anyone for a long time.  And I mean that.  But wanting you in my life doesn’t mean I get to.  I’ve killed — “

I started to object, say something about the army and of course he did and he did what he had to…

He saw it and said, firmly, “No.”

I closed my mouth and he nodded.  “No.  I’m talking about…less than a year ago.  Some friends and I went on a mission.  We said it was to help stop a major drug dealer but it was just…”  He’s breathing a little heavier, now.  Unable to look at me, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs.  

“People died.”  He looks at me, then, the anguish in his eyes, the guilt.  “My own fucking actions lead to one of my best friends getting killed.  If I hadn’t taken that shot.  If I hadn’t wrecked the fucking chopper…”  

He steps forward and takes my hands in his.  They’re clammy, shaking.  “The mail you saw, it was a reminder.  My friend’s widow, she’s angry and looking for answers and she doesn’t want any of us to be happy.  And she’s right.”  

I try to find words.  I feel like I’m in a cave in, trying to scramble over rocks and debris.  

“I don’t deserve to be happy, and I don’t deserve you.”  He touches my cheek for a second, a butterfly landing and running away.  “I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna block your number.”

He kisses me.  His lips are hot.  When he steps back, I say, “So you’re not going to give me a choice?”

“Why would you want one?”  His voice is incredulous.  There’s an echo, under his words, I can see it in his eyes, in the frustrated way he throws his hands out.  Why would you want me?

I shook my head.  “You say you like me, but you want to close yourself off?  Not give me a chance to get to know you, help you if I can?”

“It’s for the best.  You see that, right?”  There’s a desperate edge.  

I shake my head.  Everything that can possibly hurt does.  I’m supposed to be so good at words, and I can’t find the right ones, the ones to reel him back in.  

He adjusts his hat.  “No, you don’t.  I love your books, but they are fairy tales.  You can’t make a good man out of a monster.  It’s not how the world works.”

“You’re not a monster.”  

He’s all twitchiness now, looking at his truck, desperate to get out of this situation.  It makes me mad, how badly he wants to go.  How I know I can’t fix this.  “Don’t bother blocking my number.”  I say, as I turn on my heel.  “I won’t bother you again.”

He whispers my name and it is so pained that I almost turn around.  But I don’t.

***

I don’t block his number.  I can’t.  I focus on work.  My job that lets me eat work.  My book.   My hands shake on the keyboard, sometimes, as I try to make the story mine again.  It’s hard to write a love story, even one with murder and mystery, when your own heart is broken.

It was ridiculous.  I didn’t even know him that long,  but the loss of him hurt.  It made the story feel pointless.  What right did I have to sell these lies?  To make people believe in love and romance and happily ever after when you can meet someone so amazing and wonderful, and have to watch him walk away?

I kept working.  I’d get over it.  I had to.  It’s not like I’d built anything with him.  I was just aching for the possibilities — the things I tortured myself about.  The things I imagined I m might have lost, with Frankie.

And damn it, I missed him.

But life continues.  And sink faucets wear out, making you have to run to the local home improvement store, wandering the isles with an armload of new faucet, fittings, plumbers tape and everything else the YouTube videos I’d consulted said I would need.

The universe has decided that I have not suffered enough, because I can see him, Frankie Morales in the flesh, frowning at the back of a box like its his greatest enemy.  He was in the home security section.  

I could sneak by.  He was way too interested in what he was holding in those lovely, large hands of his.  I dashed by, head down, determined to just get past him, but some lady with a cart pushed past me at the same time, and my arm load of stuff got jostled.  I was able to save the most expensive bit �� the faucet in its box, the long flexible connection thingies — but the plumbers tape, in its plastic hard shell donut jumped out, fell onto the floor, and rolled right over to a well worn work boot.  Spun like a top.  Settled right against his toe.  I looked up, too nervous to enjoy the view (much) and right into his eyes.  His lips were parted, like he was a little surprised to see me.  

“Hey.”  I said, and then, because I didn’t  know what else to do, I turned and fled back the way I came.  I knew where the plumbers tape was, I could just go get another…

“Hey.  Wait a second.”  

I stopped, took a breath, smiled like everything was perfectly normal.

He held up the white plastic Judas.  “Um…your faucet break?”  And then he winced.  “I mean, obviously.  Um.”  He placed the tape on top of my pile delicately.  He was holding a box in both hands tight enough to warp the cardboard.

“It’s old.  I thought I would try my hand at replacing it…can’t be that hard.”

“No, but plumbing can be really picky if you’ve never done it…”

“Don’t offer.”  I whisper it desperately, before I can even think about it.  I can tell he’s working himself up to it, and the thought of him in my house is like a punch ion the guts.

“It wouldn’t be a problem.”  His dark eyes study my face.  Sad.  A little desperate.  For a second I think, maybe he misses me, too.

“No.  I got it.”  I say softly, looking at the floor again.

“Do you still have my number?  If you change your mind?”

I nod at the container.  “Go back to your project, Frankie.  I can handle this on my own.”

Did you know, plumbing is an utter bitch?

Throw in some more curse words in the last sentence.  I certainly used every one I could.  

Two hours later, I get a text.  

Frankie:  How did it go?  

I want to sob.  Instead, I put myself together and write a fairly moderate response:

Me:  I have decided that I will now do my dishes in the bathroom sink.  Who needs a sink in the kitchen?  A total waste.  

Frankie:  The offer is still open?

Me:  How did you know?  Did you just look at me and think, she is too inept to be able to do this herself?

Frankie:  No.  I don’t think that at all.

Frankie:  Let me help?  Please?

Me:  Since you said please, I guess I can allow you to come rescue me.  

Frankie:  OMW.  

I looked at the time, and decided to order pizza.  It was only fair.

Twenty minutes later he’s under the sink.  “You did a good job.  I think maybe you just cross threaded it…”

“Oh, no…did I ruin the threads?”

“It’s probably OK.  I’ll just use a lot of tape…”

And he does some magical things with a wrench and the bright pink tape, which he wraps around the threads to make them more water tight.  I try not to admire his long legs or the rest of him, spread out on my kitchen floor, as he half lays in the bottom of the sink.

The doorbell rings, and I go pay for the pizza, and when I come back he’s turned on the water, and he’s kneeing in front of the open sink bottom, using a paper towel to see if he can find any leaks.

“It looks OK?”  I ask tentatively.

“Yep…you really did have it done mostly.  Just that one spot.”

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly.  “I bought us dinner?”

“You are awesome.”  He does a quick but of clean up so he can shut the sink doors and washes his hands in the newly repaired sink.  He tosses his hat onto the end of the island, and I want to run my fingers through his hair.  He does it for me, absentmindedly pushing the hair off his forehead.  

We sit on either side of my kitchen island, sharing pizza.  I don’t know what to say.  

“It’s a nice apartment.”  He said quietly, picking up another slice.

“It’s cheap, not far from my day job.  It works.”  I shove a hunk of crust in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else.  I knew this would be bad.  Here he is, sitting a few  inches away.  I could touch him, but I’m not allowed.  It’s a rotten feeling, wanting something and not being allowed to have it.  To feel his fingers wrap around mine.  To have that easy, happy camaraderie again.

“What are you thinking?”  I ask, when the silence gets too much.

He shakes his head.  Wads up his napkin.  Puts his plate in the sink.  Locates the trash.  Such a good guest.  

“I shouldn’t have come.  But I wanted to see you.”  He said this quietly, as if he isn’t sure he should admit it.  

“Well, if you hadn’t, I’d still be under the sink wondering why the damned fittings are still leaking.”

He gives me a gentle smile.  “You would have been ok.”  

“Lucky I didn’t block your number, huh?”

He smiles and kneels down, picking up tools and putting them back in the box.  Sorting his from mine.

“It was nice of you to come help me?  I might be a bit snarky, but I really am grateful for the help.”

“I was happy to.  Where do you keep these?”  I took my tools off him, put them and the plumber’s tape in my tool drawer.  

“But why?  Why were you happy to help?  Why did you want to see me?  You couldn’t leave here quickly enough the other day…” I smile to take the sting out.  “Not that I blame you, the yard is a hot mess.”

He touches my face gently.  “Hush.”  I stop my babbling, lean into his touch.  

“You asked me a question, awhile back.”  I muzzle his hand.  “I never got to answer it.”

“What was that?”  

“You asked me if I wanted you.  And I do.  Very much.”

He made a huffing sound, as if he had been gut punched, and then, slowly, slowly, leaned in and kissed me.  “I miss you,”. He whispers between kisses, his hands framing my face like I’m a delicate thing.  “I miss you when I wake up.  I miss you when I lay down to sleep.  I miss you when I’m driving.”  And each sentence he punctuates, gently, with a kiss, to my forehead, to my nose, to my mouth.  “I barely know you, but you are already woven into my thoughts…”

I’m holding him tight, kissing him back.  I bump my nose against his, sweetly, and I saw, “Then why?  Why stay away?”

He pulls back as far as I’ll let him, sits down again.  I see the ghosts in his eyes again, and I remember the lyrics from a song I used to love, “There’s ghosts in your eyes, they cry when you smile…”

“I shouldn’t have come…I’m a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“No, not if you’re just going to push me away again.  That’s cruel.  I never thought you’d be cruel, Francisco Morales.”

He winces like I punched him.  

“If it’s too soon to tell me, that’s fine.  Just push it aside until you trust me.  Or until it matters.  I don’t care about your past, what you’ve done.  I know you well enough to know you did what you had to do at the time.”  I give in to the longing to touch him, I run my fingers lightly through the curls at his temple before letting my hand drop.  He’s watching me like a landmine he’s stepped on.  His fingers ghost over my hips.  Grip them gently.  Pulls me between his thighs.  Now it’s my turn to be wary, as he pulls me close.  His dark, liquid eyes study my face, I can almost hear him weighing and sorting.  Lay your secrets on me, beautiful man.  I want to tell him.  But I wait.  I wait until his large hands encompass me, run over my waist, the softness over my ribs, glide up the sides of my breasts so softly I am not even sure he touched me, to cup my face.

 “I want to be who you think I am,” he says, and I smile gently.

A decision is made, in those fathomless eyes.  And he leans close, and he kisses me again.  The last kisses were loving.  This kiss is passionate.  Deep. So full of longing I could cry.  I let my lips part and his tongue traces, licks inside.  I make a little sound and grab his wrists, pushing them aside so I can wrap my arms around him, if I could meld myself to him, I would have then, melted inside of him like gold, fixing his cracks.

He stands, the stool scraping against the floor.  The sound is jarring, lifts me out of the lust sodden moment.  “If you want me, baby, you have me,” he says in that rough honey voice of him.  “Show me the way.”  

I take one of his hands in both of mine, I kiss each knuckle.  I’d been playing with the idea, and now here I was.  I could still say no.  I could slow things down, I could be sensible.  

But I’d never wanted anything so deeply, so profoundly, as I wanted him.  Every time I touched his skin, I felt like something lost had been returned to me.

I smiled a little at him, and backed away, pulling him with me.  “This way, sweetheart.”

His lips are on mine the second we cross into my bedroom.  Once Frankie Morales makes a decision, he is all in.  His hand cups the back of my head, holding me so he can kiss me, his tounge sliding against mine as his other hand slips under my shirt.  I pull back and tug at his shirt.  “Off.”  I command, and he grins and sheds it.   My shirt and my bra join it on the floor.  I press my breasts to the warm smoothness of his chest.  I run my hands over his ribs, his stomach, as his mouth claims mine again.  His skin is soft and warm, strong muscles flexing under my hands.  I kiss along his jawline, I lick and kiss the constellation of freckles on the side of his neck.  He moans softly in approval as I nip and kiss my way to his shoulder.

His own hands slip up to my breasts, weighing them in his hands, squeezing gently. He runs his thumb over one nipple, then bends to lick the other into his mouth, sucking gently, his tounge flicking at the hard peak.  His freehand is splayed against the small of my back, holding me in place.  Pleasure shoots through me, and all I can do is cling to him.  He lets me go and pushes me gently.  I fall back onto my bed, tearing at the button on my pants, needing to get everything off, needing to feel his skin, his warmth, his strength and softness.

“Condoms?”  He asks, one knee on the bed.  “I didn’t think…”

I shook my head.  “I’m on the pill?”

His eyes darken further, and he asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod and hold out my arms, and he gives me the sweetest smile.  He stands up again and undoes his pants, sliding them off, and he’s naked and beautiful and I just want him wrapped around me.  He slips into my arms and kisses me again, his arms holding him over me.  He gives me a little of his weight, grounding me.  It feels so good, skin sliding against skin, warmth against warmth,

His slips a hand between us, and I clench at the thought of him touching me just as he slides two thick fingers between my folds, rubbing my clit gently, exploring me.  “So wet.”  He whispers, kissing my temple.  “So soft.”  He kisses the tip of my nose.  “So hot.”  And his takes my lips again, his fingers rubbing my clit, making me shake with building pleasure.  “I want to taste you, sweetheart.  I want to make you come on my tounge…can I, baby?”

I nod.  I don’t know who can resist that voice, rough with lust and promise?  He kisses his way down and I spread my legs wider, and he gently licks — a test lick, from my entrance to my clit.  He licks my clit, hard, with short licks before drawing me into his mouth and sucking me.  He is fervent, as he works, and I can’t think about anything but the heat of his mouth.  As the pressure and pleasure builds, I’m making the most needy sounds, unable to control myself.  His slips one finger in, then a second, exploring, touching, then another, stretching and reaching for that spot.  The rippling explosion leaves me shamelessly arching into his mouth, crying out his name like a prayer.  

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, kissing the inside of my thigh, rubbing his beard against the soft skin.  

He comes up to kneel between by thighs.  His eyes meet mine as I struggle to compose myself, and his hand gently comes up to very gently lay across my throat, his thumb tracing my chin.  

“Are you sure?  Where do you want me to come?”

I nod frantically. “Please, baby, I want you.  Inside me, please…”

His hand slips away from my throat to rest on the bed above my shoulder, and I miss the warmth of it as he gently strokes my skin, settling his hand on my thigh.  He takes his cock into his hand, stroking it before rubbing it against my clit, causing me to whimper.  He runs the head of it up and down a few times, his eyes slipped closed, his jaw going slack, that lush lower lip parting.  I wish I had a picture…he was beautiful.  Skin made gold by the fading light, thighs splayed under mine.  I felt the head of his cock in my entrance, and he pressed in, a slow hot stretch until he was sheathed completely.  

“Oh, fuck.”   He whispered.  “You feel so good.  So fucking good.”

He lowered himself back on top of me.  “You feel so huge inside me, baby,” I whisper in his ear.    “You feel like heaven.  Please…fuck me, honey.  Please…” And he started moving, slow at first, the changing the angle and speeding up.  With every thrust he pressed against something that felt so good…I was seeing the proverbial stars as he gasped in my ear, making soft sounds of pleasure every time he slammed home.  I nipped at his shoulder, and he was looking down at me, dark eyes studying me.  

“Frankie, I…I can’t think, I don’t know what to do…”  

“Don’t think.  Just let me take care of you.  It’s all I want to do…”  He captures my mouth in a sloppy kiss.  “Just let go.”

And I do.  I cry out his name as he continues to move, the friction making my high last.  He speeds up, and I cup his face in shaking hands.

“You’re so beautiful.  I want to feel you come, Frankie, honey, come for me.”

He moved to kiss the palm of my hand, then his eyes squeeze shut as he finds his own release.  I can feel it, spilling hot inside of me.  I welcome him as he lowers himself down completely, unable to stay up on his forearms any longer.  He tried to shift off, but I cling to him.  I welcome his weight.  His strength.  

I don’t want to let go.  I never want to let him go.