#james let me in to your vet clinic

[gordonsgano]

Torn between having a day out in Glasgow for my birthday or getting the bus into England so I can visit the James Herriot museum 🤔

[ambridge-autumn]

May in Ambridge - Part 1

Friday 3rd May 2024

One family faces devastation...

It had been a long day at the vets’. Denise’s feet and back were sore, and her eyes were swollen. Euthanising clients’ pets was never easy, but… three in one day? And the third client hadn’t even stayed in the room while his dog took his final breaths…

One last look at the world, and that poor dog had seen his beloved human walk out the door.

Some people said it was cruel to take the life of an innocent creature, just because it was ill. Others said it was cruel to keep an animal alive and in pain, to endure treatments that might not even work.

But Denise knew: the really cruel thing was to leave an animal to die on its own, or with only strangers by its side.

The phone rang in reception, shaking Denise out of her thoughts. She remembered suddenly that she’d come into the store cupboard to get more supplies for Alistair’s clinic room. Now, then… what was it he’d asked her to fetch?

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

At the recepton desk, Paul picked up the phone. “Good evening, Lovell-James. This is Paul speaking. How can I help you?”

His father’s voice came down the line. “Hi, Paul, how are you?”

“Oh, fine, thanks, Dad, just doing some paperwork. Busy day, so there’s a lot to catch up on.” He looked down at the stack of files on the desk in front of him, and sighed. Most of these would get a, “deceased,” stamp, and go in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. It had been that kind of, “busy day.”

“Oh, right. Listen, I just called to let you - or your Mum - know not to worry if I’m not there when you get home tonight. It’s a lovely evening, so I’m going out on my bike. I’ve made a lasagne, so pop it in the oven when you like. I’m sure I’ll be home by the time you’re ready to serve it up. See you later.”

“Oh, my favourite,” Paul said, “I love your cooking.”

Just at that moment, Denise came out of the store-cupoard, carrying a box of staples and a jar of paperclips.

Paul waved her over. “Mum, Dad’s on the phone. Do you want to say hello?”

His mother grimaced apologetically, and shook her head. “Sorry, love, I’m in a bit of a rush. Love to your Dad, though! And then she disappeared into Alistair Lloyd’s clinic room, the door bumping shut behind her.

Paul chewed his lip and fiddled with the phone cord - yes, Lovell-James was still in the Dark Ages - as he said, “Sorry, Dad, she’s so busy. Um… So we’ll see you later, then. I love you. So does Mum!”

“I love you, too,” said his father, “Bye, now.”

The line clicked, and Paul was left alone at the reception desk. Alone to wonder how his father could find anything appealing in cycling, or how his mother could be in any kind of rush to deliver stationery.

He shook his head, and went back to his files.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Denise put the staples down on Alistair’s desk, and then perched on the edge.

“Now, then,” she said, “Now that we might actually have some time alone…”

Alistair grinned, and got out of his leather swivel chair. He wrapped his arms around Denise’s waist, and lifted her to her feet, drawing her close. “I was just thinking something similar myself. Listen, Jakob’s covering the surgery tonight. I thought you and I could go somewhere together, just the two of us. I’ve been wanting to try out the new rooms at Grey Gables ever since it re-opened. What do you say?”

Denise rested her forehead against his, and groaned. “I can’t. John’s expecting me home…”

“Well, tell him there’s an emergency at the surgery… or a callout!” Alistair kissed her. “I’ll book us a room at Grey Gables, and we can… spend as long there as we want… and nobody will be any the wiser.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” She kissed him, and then rested her head on his shoulder. “Bring your callout kit. I’ll tell Paul to go home without me, and let John know I’m working late.” She drew back for a moment, her dark brown eyes melting into his bright blue ones. “Are we really doing this?”

Alistair laughed softly. “I think we are.” Again, he pressed his lips to hers. “Now, go and get ready, and remember to make it look urgent.”

“You just want to see me out of breath and pink in the face,” Denise said.

They both giggled.

They let each other go, and Denise hurried back out to reception.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

“Paul, love, you’re going to have to see yourself home for supper,” Denise said, rushing past the desk, “We’ve had an emergency callout. Injured sheep.”

“What, at Brookfield?” Paul said. He’d grown quite fond of the Archers’ docile sheep. The thought of one of them geting hurt, today of all days, pulled at his heart.

“Yeah, yeah, Brookfield,” Denise lied, glad that Paul was filling in the details for her. She realised she’d have to let Alistair know what information she’d fed her son, but she’d have time for that late. “So Alistair and I are going up there, now. Can you drop the car at ours, and then walk yourself back to the Stables?”

“Dad’s cooking,” Paul reminded her, “So I’m coming over for dinner. You remember?”

Denise stopped rummaging through her callout bag, and looked up. Her face fell. “Oh, my God, I completely forgot!” A pang of guilt shot through her chest. Ruining a nice family meal…

“Don’t worry,” Paul said, “It’s lasagne. Easy to save some for later. And Dad said he wanted to go for a bike ride, so you might get back in time to eat together anyway.” He smiled brightly. “In the meantime, I shall try not to gobble it all up by myself. But I can’t make any promises. After all, everyone I love is abandoning me, and my favourite food will be right there… I might be tempted to comfort-eat.” He sighed theatrically, and then grinned. “No, really. Don’t worry. Make sure that sheep’s all right!”

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Denise waited for Alistair to unlock his car, and… well, maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise - he was a gentleman, after all - but it did: he held the passenger door open for her.

“Oh, thank you, Alistair!” she said, climbing in and settling on the leather seat. Lovell-James was certainly generous with its company cars, even if it was only the vets who drove them.

“I’ve been looking forward to doing that for so long,” he said, getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He pulled the door shut and reversed out of his named parking space, skidding on the gravel as he sped them out of the carpark. “And, with any luck, I’ll be doing it for you a lot more often from now on.”

Denise giggled. “I’l like that. John’s never really gone in for chivalry.” She reached for Alistair’s left hand, and laced her fingers through his. “God, I can’t believe we’re finally… you know! Having a night together!”

The car hummed down the country lanes, over the Am, and around the bend towards Grey Gables. Hedgerows loomed in the headlights. An owl flew alongside Alistair’s Mercedes.

And a deer leaped into the road, right in front of them!

Alistair slammed on the brakes, swerving and swearing as the tyres slid across the tarmac. “Jesus Christ!” The car stopped.

The deer ran away, unharmed.

Just for a moment, Denise and Alistair thought everything was fine.

And then something crashed into the bonnet, metal smashing into metal as a shape thumped the windscreen, cracking the glass.

Denise screamed, her hands flying up to protect her face.

Alistair gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He reached for the handbrake, put on the hazard lights, and tried to breathe.

Only one of his car’s headlights was working, now… but it was enough.

As Alistair opened the driver-side door, he could see a body lying in the road.

“Oh, God, Denise,” he murmured, ears ringing, “I’ve hit someone.”

“What?” Denise’s voice cracked. “How can--”

“I think… When I swerved… I must’ve--” Did it matter how it had happened? He’d hit someone… Someone who was on the ground now. That was the important part.

Alistair unclipped his seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

He crouched down by the casualty, blood wetting his hands. “Hello, can you hear me?” And then he saw the man’s face. A face that he knew. “Oh, God!” he yelled, “Denise, call an ambulance!”

Denise was already on the phone, stumbling out of the car. “Ambulance, please. There’s been an accident.”

She tripped over something, and cried out, “My leg!” When she looked down to see what had gouged her calf, she saw the buckled front wheel of a bike.

As the ambulance dispatcher started asking about, “breathing and conscious,” Denise staggered around the front of the car.

And then she screamed.

“Denise, give me the phone,” Alistair said, holding out his hand, “Don’t look! Don’t look at him!”

But it was too late.

Denise sank to her knees beside him, numbly handing her phone to Alistair as she stared at the man laying still in front of her.

Road-rash had obliterated the tattoos on his legs. His hi-vis cycling shorts and jersey were torn and soaked in red. And the flashing, flashing, flashing of the hazard lights kept lighting up his open eyes. His brown eyes.

John’s brown eyes.

And the last thing Denise heard before she fainted was Alistair’s voice.

“No, no. I can’t find a pulse.”

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 13

Chapters: 13/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

If someone had asked Martin where he had least expected to be on the day after his thirtieth birthday, the veterinarian probably wouldn’t have been at the top of his list, but it definitely would have made the top ten.

Honestly, Martin didn’t think he had ever stepped foot into a vet clinic before in his life. He had never owned so much as a pet hamster, and now here he stood, clutching a tiny ball of mewling fluff and trying not to get distracted by the pet toys.

He felt positively inundated with new information on all sides. There were about a million different types of pet food lining the walls, and everything seemed to be a new bright colour to draw his distracted eyes. Warning signs that made very little sense to him filled the space, most memorably ‘Large birds must be kept leashed at all times inside the practice’, and ‘Reptiles need to be secured inside their travel enclosures.’

There was indeed an iguana in a massive glass enclosure sunning itself under a heat lamp, but it appeared to be a permanent resident, not a guest. Seemingly opposite to this was the massive tabby cat draped across the reception desk.

Martin begins to panic slightly.

He desperately wished he had allowed one of his lovers to accompany him, but he had sent Gerry back to bed to sleep and Jon had been shooed off to work, both quite thoroughly hung-over.

Now here he stands, alone with his new fluffy friend, and doesn't even know where to start. Neither of his partners have ever actually had a kitten before, but at least they had both owned cats before.

Gerry had been adopted by Saturn as a full-grown boy when he arrived at the window of his shitty little flat in Edinburgh and demanded to be let in. Gerry had confessed to a romantic feeling of instant affection for the fluffy beast and had taken Saturn in without a moment’s hesitation. They had moved together as he traveled the country, eventually settling together in London, where he had found Jon again.

Jon had been raised with several cats that had all been born before him and had liked them, but he had told Martin once that he heavily associated cats with his Grandmother and his slightly cold upbringing. That was all the pet experience he had until he met Saturn and fell in love with him as easily as they’d both fallen in love with Gerry. Like goth, like feline companion, apparently.

Nevertheless, Saturn did not appreciate being taken to the vet and had never gone once since Martin had met him.

"Can I help you, sir?" A kind-looking older lady sat at reception, and she beaconed Martin forward gently.

"I- I-" He started, stuttering badly. He closed his eyes and shook himself to dispel the unfortunate remnant of his childhood. “I found this kitten, and I was hoping the vet could check on it for me?”

“And will you be wanting to surrender it into our care?” She asks, tapping away at her keyboard.

“What?” Martin shies away, pulling the cat protectively even closer to his chest.

“You’re more than welcome to keep it, but we do also take in strays if you aren’t able to.” She smiles at him soothingly.

“Oh, I want to keep her please.” Martin flushes a bit. “I already gave her a name.”

The woman smiles at him knowingly. “The vet can see you in 15 minutes then.”

She takes his contact information, and they weigh Martin’s new friend. She guesses the kitten's age to be about 2 weeks and sends him off to sit close to the iguana.

*

An hour later, Martin stumbles out the door, armed with more supplies than he could ever have imagined he needed to raise one small animal. His head is spinning, alternating between fond adoration and complete anxiety over this new task that he has given himself. Luna meows at him supportively, happy to be clean and have a full belly.

Out on the street, he finds Jon. It’s raining slightly, and he’s wrapped in a long peacoat, with a scarf Martin is certain was once his.

“What are you doing here?” Martin demands, shocked. He stumbles over to his partner, and Jon reaches out to steady him. “I thought you were at the library."

Jon presses a quick kiss to his shocked mouth, before taking several things out of his overcrowded arms.

"I know you said that you were going to do this on your own, but I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me, so I called off." He shrugs a bit, "I reckoned that I had earned it, what with all the overtime I work and don't get paid for."

Martin is filled with warmth, eyes welling a bit. "Oh, Jon."

"Oh no, don't cry. I'm sorry." Jon's face pinches in concern. "I can go if you want me to."

"No, I'm so happy you're here. I was just wishing for you, and there you were. Thank you." Martin steps towards him as best he can, and they kiss softly for a few moments, out in the rain.

In time, the kitten, haphazardly clutched to Martin's chest, makes her displeasure at the soggy conditions known. Gripping hands tightly, Jon and Martin set off towards the bookstore, just a couple blocks over.

It’s quiet when they arrive, the morning pre-work rush over, and the student and lunch crowds far off yet. The two baristas and Tim descend upon them immediately when they see the small head poking out of Martin’s coat. There is much cooing and fuss over Luna, and Martin recounts the tale of discovering her in the back alley of Gerry’s bar.

Once they return to work, Jon and Martin settle on one of the sofas, a coffee table before them. They make up a small cat bed, which Luna explores for a few moments, before sitting at the edge and staring at Martin imploringly. He scopes her up and plops her inside, before placing the tiny bed right in his lap. She happily passes out after that, the wild adventures of the morning catching up with her little kitten body.

Deciding to truly have the day off, Jon does not take out his laptop and start working on it, instead ordering their tea, picking a book to read from the store, and bringing it all over to settle with his partner.

“Thank you for coming,” Martin tells him, a soft look on his face. He leans an elbow on the back of the couch, head resting on his fist. “I didn’t even realise how much I needed you until I saw you there.”

“I know,” Jon starts, frowning in concentration, “that I’m not always the best at sensing these things, that sometimes I can be too focused on myself and the things going on in my head. I do hope that I always manage to catch the important moments, and I trust that you’ll always let me know when I don’t.”

Jon pauses, and sighs, a self-deprecating smile lining his face. He continues, “I want to learn to be who you need me to be. I want to be for you, what you always are to me. I love you, Martin.”

“I love you too, Jon.” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, before placing a sweet kiss in his palm. “You are exactly who I need you to be.”

It is a soft, hazy sort of day. The rain pours outside, and Jon lies against Martin and reads two books before lunchtime. Martin practices bottle-feeding Luna, every few hours, and Jon sits nearby watching nervously. He wonders vaguely if his partner is alarmed to be around an infant of any kind for a while, but on the third feeding, Jon seems to rouse himself and offers to give it a try.

Each time a new client comes in, there's a round of cooing and petting, and Martin worries that she’ll be spoiled rotten in no time. He imagines that if she spends much time here, he’ll have to sell cat treats and Luna will one day be as fat as a house.

At one point, Jon starts to read aloud, and Martin seems to fall asleep gently propped against his shoulder. He wakes to find Jon laughing softly and Luna learning to use him as a climbing frame.

"I think she likes you, love," Martin whispers into his hair.

"Well, I think I might like her too," Jon confesses, a world away from his scepticism of just this morning.

After lunchtime, Gerry flies into the store very manically, clutching a very strange backpack to his chest. It has a weird clear window, reminiscent of a ship’s porthole, and the rest of it is hard structured plastic.

He ducks down to kiss first Martin, then Jon, before thrusting the backpack into Martin's hands.

"What is this?" Martin asks, holding it away from himself as if it might bite.

"It's a cat backpack. Saturn has always preferred it to a normal cat basket, and I thought it might be useful if we need to take her to work with us and then back to various flats." Gerry walks around the table, bodily picking up Jon's legs and sitting beneath them. He looks like nothing so much as a large, damp bat, black trench coat flapping around him like over large wings. "I ordered her one of her own, but it won't be here for a few days, so I brought Saturn's in the meantime."

There's a beat of shocked silence, so Gerry adds, "Only if you want it, obviously."

"I- I do, thank you." Martin can feel himself blushing with odd pleasure.

He had made sure to ask them if they were okay with Martin keeping Luna, but he hadn't really expected them to embrace the situation with such gusto, and his heart burns with an odd intensity at their gestures of support.

It's almost-

It's almost like they love him, and care about all the things he cares about.

Martin sits, staring at a cat backpack, and allows the realisation to wash over him. It hits him like a tidal wave, despite the dozens and maybe hundreds of times they've said the words to him.

He feels very foolish, left floored by the fact that his lovers- well, that they love him!

Martin knows, understands even, that he has been left slightly broken by his father leaving, his mother hating him, the things that he chose to do to survive in his early adulthood. He does understand that, and yet he never realized that he was hearing Jon and Gerry say they love him and saying the words back, and yet subtly holding on to the (clearly mistaken) understanding that they don't really mean them.

It makes a sick kind of sense, clinging to the idea that they don't really care about him, so when they decide that they don't anymore, it doesn't leave him broken beyond repair.

Martin puts the cat bag down on the table, hands Luna to Gerry, and gets up. He waves at them reassuringly when they try to ask him what's wrong, before walking to the bathroom, locking the door, and sobbing like a child for several long moments.

*

As Luna grows, she spends time with each of them.

Gerry takes her most of the first nights, feeding her through the evenings and then handing her back to Martin as he leaves for the bookstore.

This means she spends quite a lot of her formative life in a bar, but when Martin goes in to check on them, he finds Gerry's plastered clientele just as enamored with the kitten as his own tea-drinking patrons.

Jon likes to have her in the late afternoons, keeping her at the library for a few sleepy hours before he leaves for the day. He tells Martin once that the children's reading group comes in during that time, and he likes to sit in with them and let Luna listen along.

The children, of course, adore her and Jon tells Martin very primly, "Listening comprehension is a very important skill in a developing infant."

Martin finds it hilarious and adorable and can't help but pull Jon into his arms and kiss him breathless, an unimpressed Luna trapped between them.

Saturn does not appreciate Luna at first, disappearing in a huff the first few times Martin brings her over to the studio.

"Don't worry about it, love." Gerry had waved away his concern casually. "He's just a jealous baby. He'll figure out that she wants to play with him eventually, and then they'll be the best of friends."

Indeed, Martin walks into the kitchen one morning to find the two cats curled together in a shaft of sunshine. Saturn is gently giving her a bath, and Luna purrs sweetly at the attention.

When Saturn notices him watching, he untangles himself, shows Martin his bum, and then disappears. He's reminded of nothing so much as Gerry himself, caught eating ice cream for breakfast, or smoking during the day, an activity he would insist is a nighttime pursuit only. The same drama is employed as a distraction technique, and Martin wonders whether the cat learnt it from the goth, or the goth learnt it from the cat.

Luna grows and settles, and Martin adores having her more than almost anything.

He takes the time, as they raise her, to force himself to accept his life for what it truly is. He puts aside the constant nagging fear that Jon and Gerry will lose interest in him one day and begins to notice all the ways they show him they love him, which makes the words all the more precious to him when they take the time to tell him.

[therollingstonys]

Last Stop Before Malibu

A very happy birthday to my best friend and co-mod, Tina!! Hope you enjoy love!! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve leans against the side of the building, watching as cars flow by, the stench of diesel heavy in the air and thick in the back of his throat. For many the travel day is ending as the sun fades, but for Steve, his day is just beginning. 

 He’s had a few customers already, nothing too fancy, just bathroom blow jobs and handies—nothing that will pay the bills though. He’s hungry and there’s not much left in his fridge, or his bank account, and the fifty bucks in his back pocket won’t do much to pay the rent at the shitty motel he calls home. 

 Shoving a hand under the rim of his ballcap he runs a hand through his sweat damp hair, nose wrinkling at the sensation—he could use a shower despite the short time he’s been out here. It’s August in the desert and that means sneakers melting on hot asphalt and two showers a day—not that he can afford to use that much water a day. 

 So he’s hot, and sweaty and maybe a little dehydrated, but he can’t waste his hard earned cash on a drink—not till he’s made at least two hundred bucks. 

 An eighteen wheeler rolls in and Steve looks up, brows lifting when a woman with red hair and curves for miles hops out. She gases up the rig and is joined a few moments later by a man with dark hair and the oddest looking prosthetic arm Steve’s ever seen—he didn’t know they came in metal. 

 The man eyes him hungrily when he strides past into the gas station and when he comes back a few minutes later he smirks at Steve on his way past. The couple stands by the rig, shooting him looks before they approach and it’s the woman who does the talking, head tilted at an angle as she studies him. 

 “How much for us both?” she asks softly, gaze trailing down his body. 

 “Two hundred.”

 It’s said fast, greedily—he’s had others ask for a threesome before and most don’t mind shelling out a little more, so he hopes that holds true for these two. They look well dressed and clean, a lot better than he’s dealt with in the past. 

 The woman nods and smirks, “Two hundred it is.” She glances around and her gaze lands on the nearby motel, “There,” she murmurs, jerking her chin toward it, “Get a room and we’ll meet you.”

 Steve nods and waits till they start to walk away to hurry over to the motel. He pushes the reception door open and is engulfed in cool air that smells like coolant from the machine vibrating under the window. 

 He smiles at Wanda and baby Peter, “Hey guys,” he says with a finger wave to the little boy, grinning when he laughs and claps happily. “Can I get a room?” he asks Wanda, sliding her a twenty when she hands over a key wordlessly. 

 She knows how he makes his money and doesn’t judge—her dead husband was the one who found her on the street, strung out and beat up by a bad john. He brought her home, gave her a new life and a baby and then died a month after Peter was born—heart attack. 

 Steve nods his thanks and waves goodbye to Peter, his laughter bright as the door swings shut behind him. Hot air engulfs him like a furnace and he shifts uncomfortably as the fabric of his shirt sticks to the small of his back. 

 He unlocks the room door and steps inside just as the eighteen wheeler pulls up. He makes eye contact with the couple and nods before closing the door, pulse skipping faster as he debates stripping and prepping himself. 

 Some clients like to do it themselves, others prefer it to be done already—and he’s not sure which these two will be. 

 The door swings open behind him and he turns, jeans half undone and hanging from his hips, to find the couple watching him hungrily. The woman saunters forward and circles him, slides a hand over his back and down to grab his ass and he shivers at the touch, pushes back into it a little.

His gaze is locked with the man’s, dark and hungry and watchful and it makes his gut clench with need. There’s a soft laugh from behind him and then a tongue swipes up the side of his neck, a hum of pleasure following it and then soft lips and softer words brush his ear.

 “Oh honey, we’re gonna have such a good time.”

 Steve emerges from the hotel room hours later, stiff, sore and tired. He shuffles down to his room and pushes inside, swaying with how exhausted he is. Stripping his sweaty clothes off takes more energy than it should and he almost cries when his shirt gets stuck on his ear for a minute and his hip bangs into the shitty Formica countertop of the bathroom sink, but then he’s free and naked and stumbling into the shower. 

 He stays in longer than he normally would, letting the water get fully hot instead of just the chilly blast he spends too little time under in the mornings. Leaning against the wall of the shower, he closes his eyes and lets the heat sink into his skin and ease away the aches.

 The woman—Natasha she’d called herself—and her partner James had used his body for hours before none of them could go anymore and his body feels every inch the used and wrung out thing it now is. 

 He’d lost count of how many times he came—the last two had left him sobbing, his cock raw feeling and his prostate so sensitive it hurt. He’s covered in hickies and scratches and his ass aches and it all feels so damn good that if he wasn’t half asleep and wrung dry, he’d be hard. 

 He stumbles out of the shower when the water turns cold and wipes a towel over his skin before flopping onto the bed, groaning as his aching body protests. The red numbers on his alarm read 12:53am and he stares at them till his lids droop and he sinks into dreamless slumber, drooling into his lumpy pillow. 

 A wad of cash lays on the bedside table, thick and smelling faintly of strawberry lube—$350–a night well spent and money hard earned.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Steve’s fridge is full, his phone paid up for another month and his room is paid up for two weeks and he still has ten dollars left over so he puts it in the safe he’d bought when he first landed here eight months ago and sighs when he sees the measly amount he’s managed to accrue in that time. 

 He has plans to go to Los Angeles and get an apartment and work on his art, but it never seems like he’s saved enough. Every month that passes brings a new expense—he still hasn’t managed to finish repairs on his motorcycle, and with every week that passes he’s not sure he’ll ever have enough to get it back to working order.

 He’s only earned two hundred dollars in the last three days—a slow week for him. He pays for yet another test at the local clinic to make sure he’s still clean and takes the PREP they give him—most clients are willing to use condoms but he’s been stealthed a few times and he’d rather deal with the side effects than have HIV. 

 He’s dusty and dirty, coated in grease and sweat as he works on his bike, cursing the wrench as it slips for the third time and his knuckles smack into the sharp edge of the carburetor. 

 “Shit! Fuck! Fucking piece of shit!” 

 He rises to his feet and sucks the blood from his knuckles, pulse thrumming as he restrained himself from kicking the damn thing over. 

 A low chuckle has him spinning to find a man more handsome than a movie star smiling at him, beard trimmed to perfection and eyes bright with amusement from behind tinted sunglasses. 

 “That’s a thing of beauty, what did she do to you?” 

 Steve huffs and laughs softly, shaking his head, “Damn bolt won’t loosen,” he says with a wave of his hand toward the bike. 

 The man nods and then grins, “Mind if I take a look?” he asks taking a half step forward. 

 Steve looks him over incredulously—his suit looks more expensive than all of Steve’s possessions and cash combined; “You’re gonna ruin your suit,” he points out, waving a hand at himself to make his point. 

 The man just shrugs and starts taking off his jacket, tosses it over the handlebars and goes to work on his crisp white sleeves. “I’ll buy another,” he says carelessly and then holds his hand out for the wrench dangling uselessly from Steve’s fingers.

 Steve hands it over and watches as the man crouches down and starts working the bolt loose by inches, sweet talking to it the whole time in a way that makes Steve’s blood heat in a way that has nothing to do with the sun pounding down on them. 

 There you go darling, loosen up for me, just like that. 

 Yea you just need a gentle touch, huh? 

 Ahhh that’s my good girl, let go for me 

 Steve turns away, flushed and thirsty, though the water he gulps down seems to do little to actually quench his thirst. 

 “There we go,” the man says and Steve turns to find him smiling brightly, a pleased look on his face as he holds out the bolt in question. His shirt and forearms are smeared with grease and Steve frowns—he’d warned the man. 

 “Uh, thanks,” he murmurs, reaching out so the man can drop it into his palm. 

 The man grins and waves a hand at the bike, “I haven’t seen a 76 Triumph since I was a kid,” he says excitedly, “Where did you find it?”

 Steve pockets the bolt and grabs the hem of his tank top, pulling it up to wipe the sweat and grease off his face as he replies, “It was my dad’s. He was a Vietnam vet,” he explains, straightening out his shirt and looking up at the other man in time to see a familiar look of lust pass over his face before it’s replaced with something polite and urbane. 

“Very nice,” the man murmurs with a nod, “well, I uh, I should let you get back to it,” he says, hesitating for a second before extending his hand to Steve, “Tony, and uh, thanks for letting me tinker with it.”

 Steve takes the proffered hand and is surprised by the calluses—this man seems more like the type to have manicured nails than work roughened palms. 

 “Uh yea sure, anytime,” Steve murmurs, smiling softly, some soft longing in his gut as the older man starts to walk away, jacket tucked over one arm. He doesn’t want him to leave, and before he can stop himself he steps forward and calls out. 

 “There’s a great diner about a mile away, has the best shakes and fries,” he blurts, “you wanna grab a bite?” 

 Tony stares at him for a long moment and then cracks a grin, “I could eat.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 They talk over burgers and fries and it’s around the time that Tony’s telling him a funny story about his best friend James that Steve realizes he hasn’t smiled and laughed this much in years. 

 He likes Tony, a lot more than he should, and more than that, he wants him. The way Tony’s hands move is distracting, enticing thoughts of them on his body and he flushes, trying to pull his attention back to what Tony’s saying. 

 When he does focus in he realizes that Tony’s smiling at him knowingly, twirling a fry in his fingers. 

 “So, I hate to be presumptuous, but if I offered to take you back to my hotel to spend the night, would that be more or less expensive than this meal?”

 Steve flushes and ducks his chin; there’s something about Tony that makes him weak and hot, desperate feeling. “It uh, it wouldn’t cost anything,” he murmurs, looking up at Tony through his lashes. 

 Tony’s brows rise for a moment before he smirks and shuffles out of the booth and pulls his wallet out, throws a handful of bills on the table and then cocks his head, “You coming sweetheart?” he asks. 

 Steve scrambles to his feet without hesitation, limbs feeling gawky and too large for the space they occupy. He follows Tony out to the flashy Audi he’d drove them here in and slides into the seat, pulse fluttering as Tony winks at him and revs the engine before pulling out. 

 They whip through the night till the town appears on the horizon and then minutes later screech into the parking lot below the building, the cheap fluorescent lights making his skin look golden as they pass beneath them. 

 It’s quiet on the elevator ride up, tense and heavy with expectation, want building between them like an electric charge. Tony’s hand weighs heavy at the small of his back, guiding him toward the oncoming door. 

 When it shuts behind them Tony presses him up against the door in a move that leaves his head spinning and guy clenching with need. Dark eyes stare up at him, smiling and hungry, the hand at the base of his throat pinning him in place. 

 “You know what safewords are?” he demands of Steve, fingers pressing into the skin of his throat, lips curving upward. Steve nods breathlessly, breaths harsh and excited between them, the heat of Tony’s hand searing into him. 

 “Good, tell me yours then get undressed,” Tony commands and steps back, dark eyes glinting. 

 “Shield,” Steve gasps, hands shaking as he works the buttons of his shirt open, heart pounding beneath his ribs as Tony walks to the bar and pours himself a drink, gaze never leaving Steve. 

 It’s a heavy thing, Tony’s gaze, like a warm, heavy blanket and he shivers under it, shoving his worn jeans down after kicking off his boots. He’s naked, exposed, and Tony’s smirking as he moves to sit on the couch, legs spread wide and an arm thrown over the back of the couch.

 He’s the picture of indolent pleasure, gaze hooded as he beckons Steve over with a lazy wave of his wrist. It feels like there’s a tug beneath his ribs, a lure pulling him closer, connected to the hand that Tony holds out to him. 

 He’s aware of every inch of his body from the cool marble beneath his bare feet to the hot heavy weight of his cock between his legs, the hot pool of arousal in his gut making him twitchy and desperate for touch. 

 He pauses between Tony’s legs and swallows hard, fighting the urge to squirm as Tony sips his scotch and smirks up at him. “My my aren’t you a big boy,” he teases, lifting a brow and giving Steve’s cock a pointed look. 

 Steve flushes a deeper shade of crimson and ducks his head, shoulders bowing forward as Tony chuckles. “You look so pretty like that darling,” he murmurs, “but why don’t you come here,” he says, motioning toward his lap. 

 Steve hesitates for a moment and then moves to straddle Tony’s lap, gasping softly when his cock drags over the silk, hips rocking forward into the sensation. Tony’s free hand falls to his hip and steadies him, grinning when Steve whines at the loss of stimulation.

 “Now darling, be patient,” Tony murmurs with a soft tutting sound, “I want to play with your pretty cock, you just sit still and be quiet,” he orders. Steve swallows hard and nods, though he can’t hold back his gasp when Tony’s hand closes around his cock. 

 Tony hushes him again and strokes him just once before stopping to play with the head of his cock peeking out from his foreskin. Steve shudders and bites his lip, holding in his gasps as Tony strokes his thumb over the head of his cock, the pleasure like electric shocks, surging under his skin and up his spine. 

 Tony watches his face as he pulls back his foreskin slowly, thumb pressing into the tender skin just below the fat head of his cock, and Steve can’t help the gasp that rises from his chest, head falling back at the rush of pleasure in his veins. 

 It stops abruptly and Steve whines, head sloping back down to find Tony has stopped touching him in favor of sipping his scotch, a smirk playing around his lips. “Wh-why?” he gasps and Tony chuckles, sips his scotch. 

 “I told you to hush darling, if you can’t do that maybe we should stop,” Tony murmurs, rueful amusement in his voice. Steve shakes his head, desperation roaring through his veins, hips arching in search of pleasure. 

 Tony chuckles again and sets aside his scotch glass, condensation from the ice shining on the sides of it and then Steve’s gasping and arching as Tony runs a cool, wet finger down his cock. 

 It’s like ice against his too hot skin and he gasps, shuddering at the sensation. Tony hums softly and does it again, gathers more wetness and trails it over Steve’s cock, watching him writhe with dark hungry eyes. 

 Steve’s never experienced anything like it; the cool pearls of water drag over his skin, teasing against his heated skin, Tony’s fingers follow behind, scaldingly hot and he’s trapped between wanting to get away from it and wanting more. 

 He’s not sure how long it continues, all he knows is that it burns and aches, and every time he whines or cries out Tony stops and waits till he’s under control once more to start touching him again.

 He’s slick with sweat and harder than he’s ever been before and Tony, Tony is hard in his slacks and watching him eagerly, but makes no move to let him come or touch him further. 

 Tears blur his vision and he’s panting, chest aching when Tony smirks and pushes him away, off his lap and down onto his knees. 

 “Stay,” he orders, pausing to smirk at Steve before striding away. Steve listens to him move about in the other room, cock throbbing and aching with every breath he takes. 

 Tony’s back a moment later with no shirt on, torso bare, trousers riding low on his hips and a bottle of lube in one hand. He motions for Steve to rise and sits back down, “C’mere,” he orders, motioning once more to his lap. 

 Steve can barely contain the eager noise he makes as he crawls back into Tony’s lap, shaking with the need to be touched. Tony chuckles and wraps a hand around the nape of his neck, “Kissing ok?” he murmurs, pulling Steve down till all that separates their lips is a breath.

 He nods eagerly and gasps when Tony closes the distance, kisses him so thoroughly it seems to steal the air from his lungs. He’s dizzy when Tony pulls back, panting as the other man grabs the bottle of lube and slicks his fingers. 

 The cold touch at his hole makes him shiver and gasp, the sound sharpening into a keen as one finger slides in easily. Tony watches him as he fingers him slowly, slicking the way before he comes back with a second finger and slides it in alongside the first. 

 Steve keens and gasps as Tony scissors his fingers, opening him up in slow, aching movements. “That’s it sweetheart, open up for me,” Tony murmurs softly, eyes bright and avid on his face. 

 He finds Steve’s prostate with unerring accuracy and focuses on it, stroking it relentlessly as Steve whines and arches, cock twitching against his belly, leaking pre cum heavily. 

 “That’s it sweetie, look how nice your cock leaks for me baby,” Tony croons, pressing harder on Steve’s prostate till he’s all but sobbing and can feel the pleasure in his gut growing like a burning ember given oxygen. 

 Tony is relentless, crooning praise in his ear as his fingers move within Steve with slick movements that drive him slowly crazy. He sobs, the desperation within him to come building to a frenzy, his cock twitching and leaking as it grows relentlessly within him. 

 “There you go baby, lets make you come from that pretty ass,” Tony croons, his stroking growing harder, faster. Steve sobs and arches, the pleasure growing into an inferno in his gut. He wails, the pleasure crashing into him, hips grinding down into Tony’s fingers as he comes. 

 He sobs Tony’s name as he writhes, Tony’s fingers still moving inside him, the pleasure sharpening in his gut till it’s like a knife. Tony relents and slows, fingers stilling inside him as he pants and sobs, lashes wet with tears. 

 His heart thunders in his chest and he barely registers the hand on his face for a few minutes as he gasps, breath hitching in his chest. When he can manage opening his eyes he finds Tony staring at him in wonder, breathing unevenly, hand on his face gentle. 

 “You are so lovely,” Tony murmurs pulling him down for a kiss that robs him of his remaining breath. He tastes like scotch and heat and Steve sinks into it, buries his hands in Tony’s hair and hangs on as the older man grips his hips tight enough to bruise.

 When they break apart neither of them are steady; he can feel Tony’s fingers tremble against his ribs. They tighten and Tony smiles up at him, softer than before, “C’mon big guy, lets go to bed,” he urges, pushing and guiding till Steve’s on his feet, cock still hard between his legs as he’s led to the bedroom. 

 Tony pushes him back into the bed and he goes willingly, knees falling open, watching with hungry eyes as Tony stares at him, entranced for a moment before he shoves hastily at his trousers and briefs, shucking them off before crawling into the bed and hovering over him. 

 He kisses Steve greedily, moaning low in his throat, fingers twining through his hair, tugging till Steve moans and arches into him. Steve's panting when they part, moaning when his cock slides alongside Tony’s. 

 The older man grins and pulls back, leans over and grabs a condom from the bedside, pausing when Steve grabs his wrist. “I...you don’t have to use one,” he murmurs, averting his gaze when Tony looks at him, curious.

 “I think I do,” Tony replies, “unless you’ve got proof you’re clean?” he questions. 

 Steve nods and waves a hand towards the other room, “My phone, I have my test results for the last six months there,” he tells the other man. Tony stares at him for a moment before pulling away, striding into the other room, his ass tight and round, flexing as he goes.

 Steve sits up and contemplates his cock—he’s never come like that before, solely from his prostate, and the force of it had left him breathless and aching. Tony seems to know how to play his body, teasing out pleasures he’s never known before.

 “Heads up.”

 He looks up in time and lifts a hand to catch his cell phone, thumbing at the screen for a few moments before he turns it and shows Tony the test results. The older man studies it and then grabs it, flings it away and presses him into the mattress before he can protest the damage to his phone.

 Tony’s hands are firm behind his knees, pushing them up to his chest as he kisses him, desperate and hungry. Steve feels something at his hole and then gasps into Tony’s mouth as he pushes in, hole fluttering as Tony’s cock stretches him open. 

 It’s thick and hard and hot and he clings to Tony, gasping against his lips, dizzy as he’s taken slowly, Tony’s cock pressing into him, firm and unyielding against his soft insides. 

 It’s overwhelming, the thick length relentless, until finally Tony’s hips are flush against his and the older man is cursing and panting. Tony kisses him, inelegant and demanding, “Fuck, baby, you’re so good,” he pants, “so tight, fuck.”

 He starts rolling his hips, the drag of him over Steve’s prostate sending pleasure firing through his neurons, sparks lighting up in his brain as Tony fucks him. 

 “That’s it baby, so good,” Tony pants in his ear, “god you’re fucking perfect.”

 Tony sucks a mark beneath his jaw and then another and another, one of his hands sliding through the slick sweat on Steve’s chest to toy with his nipples. 

 Sharp pain shoots through him as Tony pinches and pulls on them, pleasure shuddering through him as Tony fucks him, cock slick and hot between them. 

 He’s unable to silence the cries that fall from between parted lips, bitten and swollen and slick from Tony’s kisses. Tony seems determined to make him scream, hands traveling over his body, teasing and torturing. 

 The cock inside him is relentless, driving deep with bruising thrusts that leave him aching and sobbing, begging for more. Tony fucks him harder, teeth closing on his throat as he wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock, stroking hard and fast.

 Steve shouts, spine pulled taut like a marionette as pleasure wraps around him, slicing into him like a razor wire embrace. 

 “That's it baby, come on my cock,” Tony growls in his ear, “god, you’re fuckin perfect,” he pants, thrusts growing wild and harsh. 

 Steve sobs, “Please, please,” he begs, writhing beneath Tony, more desperate to come than he’s ever been. 

 “Fuck wish I could stay inside you forever,” Tony says breathlessly, “so hot and tight.” Steve keens as Tony’s hand on his cock tightens, the ache enough to tip him over. 

 Cum falls in stripes across his chest as he screams and then chokes on the sound, body twitching as Tony pounds into him, hole spasming around his cock. 

 He barely registers Tony coming, hears his shout and then feels the heat of him as he spills deep inside Steve, hips pumping it deeper till finally the older man collapses onto him, breathing heavily.

 Steve floats for awhile, limbs tangled with Tony’s while the sweat on his skin cools. Eventually Tony stirs and kisses his throat, peels himself away and disappears through the door to the bathroom. 

 He’s back moments later with a warm damp cloth, wipes Steve down before tucking the sheets in around them and pulling them close together. Steve nuzzles into his throat and sighs happily, the warm rush of hormones in his veins making him soft and sweet. 

 Lips press to his temple and he smiles, falling asleep in gradients, shades of red behind his lids as he sinks deeper into the haze of sleep. 

 When he wakes the next morning it’s to an empty bed and a note on the bedside table. He picks it up and frowns at the check that slides out and into his lap. 

 His fingers feel numb as he picks it up and stares at the exorbitant amount of zeros on the paper. 

 Hands shaking, he picks up the note once more. 

 Steve, 

 I know you said it wouldn’t cost me anything, but I want you to have this anyway. Use it to get out of here if you want, fix that bike of yours, go see the world. 

 Maybe I’ll see you in Malibu sometime.

 Tony Stark 

 Steve sits for a very long time, a little numb, as his brain races. 

 He’d slept with Tony Stark. 

 Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…

 And that man had just paid his way out of this shitty little town. 

 Tapping the check against his lips, Steve grins slowly.

 He’s always wanted to see Malibu. 

[dorminchu]

WIPs [James Bond, Pokémon Lost Silver]

Wahey! Here are two mostly brand new scenes below the cut, just to prove I'm not dead! Note: Please view the post on the main page for correct formatting.

INSULT TO INJURY CHAPTER I: A THOUSAND DETAILS [REVISED]

Graduation from Oxford was a quick, unemotional affair. Madeleine had no extended family to invite—no one else of import, besides her short-term friends. The matter of her attendance was something to be addressed and then forgotten about. It was a little tragic. She tried not to let this show on her face when she had to make her commencement speech.

The ceremony went along as expected. Things were not as interesting when she could pretend her life was just as safe and boring as anyone else’s. As she was wrapping up an individual figure in the stands, no more remarkable than any other, caught her attention. It was an older man, perhaps in his early fifties, hidden partially behind sunglasses and a smart dress-hat. With a nauseating thrill she recognized his hat as well as his smile, the angles in his face a little more pronounced. To Madeleine it was like he was sneering. She did not let this discovery rattle her. If she hesitated it was on account of the crowd and her nerves and nothing else.

But when she was done, succeeded at the podium, she could only think: How long has he been standing there? Why didn’t I notice? They did not speak to one another, as it would surely draw unwanted attention. Not that it mattered. His presence was enough of an affront; why give him further opportunity to wound her pride by acknowledging him outright?

“I’m sorry,” she’d said to her roommate, “I’m really not feeling well. Just take me home.”

Even then, when she was perfectly alone, the memory of him took up residence where physical space would not permit. She tried to dredge up some residual emotions for the man who less so resembled a father and more an anonymous pen pal in recent years. Perhaps it was best for his pride if she continued to avoid him, rather than put him in a situation that would force him to admit his own daughter's indifference.

Her cotenants would be out for a while, glad to be around other normal people who didn’t skirt around crowded rooms, casing the doors and windows. Most of them, by now, thought Madeleine to be frigid, or else exceedingly studious. They’d given up a long time ago trying to invite her along on group dates—it was a losing proposition. She did not drink anything. She didn’t talk unless someone initiated and then she was perfectly reasonable. She would quietly, scrupulously vet what was offered. The other women were under the delusion that she was trying to compete with them, and the men were usually uncomfortable being scrutinised without a lick of pretence. Madeleine found it a little funny, but she was the only one.

So she didn’t mind being left behind. Most of the time. She looked around the room. It had served its purpose during her enrolment. Now it seemed intolerably small, like a holding cell. She had never thought about it this way before. Suddenly she wanted to be anywhere else.

At times such as these, she almost wished she hadn’t decided to go straight-edge—then, maybe, they would keep some alcohol in the flat. She had no friends she could call on without inviting scrutiny. The only other comparable colleague was Arnaud, a fellow Sociology major in her year. She found him tolerable enough to engage in polite conversation, though she did not want to give him or anyone else the wrong idea.

Or, hell, why not? She could use a drink.

⁂

Three years to that day, they were still talking. Well, her colleagues at Oxford would have likely referred to them as friends-with-benefits with a healthy measure of condescension—but this was misleading. It would imply some level of emotional investment. For Madeleine, he was a means of insurance. Whenever he turned up dead or missing, she’d know it was time to move on. Now, Madeleine was not completely heartless. She had taken Arnaud’s advice and transferred over to the 8th arrondissement, with the understanding that they would be rooming together. And Arnaud was easy to get along with and she could afford him the same courtesy. She had someone to come home to and he knew enough about her work ethic from their college years, and her demeanour, to not ask where she had been. She knew enough surface-level information about him that she could still keep up appearances with his friends, as well as her own colleagues at the office—to be discarded, once he outlived his purpose. The clinic was within walking distance from the flat. Open to the general public, rather than more exclusive clientele, but that suited her fine. Each day bled into the next and the seasons changed in rote, predictable manner. She’d go to bed and wake up thinking: Maybe today will be it. They’ll come to collect me. But it had been three years. The lack of apparent danger soon directed her thoughts towards various methods of escape. Usually, Madeleine found solace in identifying the root of other peoples' troubles; a faulty marriage brought on by substance abuse, or more permanent debts that could not be repaid so easily. Most were less extreme and involved simple conversations that were, in Madeleine’s view, no more impactful than the change in weather. She kept no photographs. She had a work computer that stayed in the office. She stuck to using burner phones. She did not discuss her life before Oxford or the Sorbonne with anyone. The only décor was a pot of faux flowers from an elder client; for her falsified birthday, of course. There was even a little hand-written note. The longer the pot stayed on her desk, the more disingenuous Madeleine felt. She'd investigated it a few times when she was alone, looking for wires, but never could prove her suspicions. She got rid of it anyway, just to be safe. The client never brought this up again but Madeleine could souse the hurt in her eyes the next time they met.

LOST SILVER: HIDDEN

Part of the wall had a give to it like rotting flesh. It caught on his fingers, porous and thin. Momentarily freed from the push of the unown Gold threw his body into the weak spot.

It didn’t stick to his skin but tore as like wet paper. Clean break.

Falling forwards into an empty void. Crashing on all-fours. The unown were gone. Ground had no texture but simply existed beneath him, impossibly smooth and cold. There was no light from the tunnel behind him. All the sound fell away from his ears. He felt himself screaming just to hear something but could only feel the physical strain in his lungs and throat. Unown frequency reached him through tinny speakers—overridden by static. He put his hands to his ears. It did not stop. He could feel the blood pounding in his head. Suddenly the tiny screen lit up. His hands caught on plastic. He clutched it desperately, staring into the harsh, inexplicable light of the LCD screen. A voice broke through static:

“Where do you think you are?”

Gold froze. He—

—falling forward again. Jerked out of time and space as though by an ally’s Teleport—familiar loss of footing followed by an abrupt solidity beneath his knees. Shock giving way to nausea. The last time he’d teleported anywhere was at the behest of the old guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and his abra, back at Indigo Plateau. He doubled over. His chest felt tight. He began dry-heaving, desperate for air—the serrated, raw feeling in his throat and chest told him he’d been screaming.

Dry, dusty earth beneath his fingers was baked over. The fresh air he drew into his lungs tasted warm. It was dusk. A thin layer of perspiration on his face and his palms. His stomach settled gradually into queasiness. He didn’t remember teleporting or what he had been doing before his arrival. He couldn’t recall why he was here, either.

“Hey, kid. Finally awake?”

Gold blinked. He straightened himself out and tried not to look as shaken up as he felt. The man in a lab coat and glasses looked down at him impatiently.

“We’ve been waiting for the last hour.”

Gold had no idea how to respond. His legs were shaky. He held up a hand to wave off any attempts at sympathy. “Teleport,” he got out hoarsely.

The man scoffed. “I don’t need an apology. I’ve got all the notes on my desk about what to expect down there. Nothing a tough guy like you can’t handle. We’ll be inside whenever you’re ready.”

The aide was nicer. “Gold, right? Prof. Oak’s told me about you.” She looked around his age, maybe a couple years younger. Her hair was dyed an intense shade of blue and pulled into twin ponytails. She was dressed for the season—just a pair of bright yellow athletic shorts and sleeveless red shirt, white jacket. Her body was toned—Gold had the fleeting thought that she could have been his twin, but her accent struck him as native to Kanto. She had her own POKéGEAR, too; clipped neatly on her bag, rather than on her wrist.

“Oh, uh—has he?”

“Only good stuff, don’t worry.” She extended a hand. “You can call me Kris. That other guy is Mr. Ito.”

They shook. Her gloveless hand was warm and soft, which surprised him. Gold noticed her belt—two standard pokéballs, a moon ball and a lure ball respectively. “You’re a trainer, too?”

“I’m more of a researcher. Lately I’ve been working on the Unown Mode feature of the POKéDEX. We’ll have to set yours up first, before you go down there.” She reached out towards the ‘DEX at his hip, suddenly very businesslike. Gold hesitated. She smirked. “What? I’m not gonna screw it up, I’ve done this enough times by now.”

“I never said—”

Kris inclined her head without waiting for an excuse. With a sigh, Gold handed over the POKéDEX. Kris walked over to the nearby desk. She clicked on a lamp and studied the screen for a few seconds. She whistled. “Wow! They weren’t kidding. Two-hundred and fifty on—” Mr. Ito clicked his tongue and she scowled “—yeah, okay.” She toggled through the settings with an air of aggression that suggested this was not the first time she’d been reprimanded. Gold’s amusement was undercut by the hope she didn’t break any of the buttons. Then again, he knew from firsthand experience that it could take a lot of punishment. “You’re pretty handy with that.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

What are some of your favorite long johnlock fics (like 100k+ words) ?

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: Do you have any recommendations for a hella long (80k-250k+) and hella angsty with hella good writing? Like any personal favourites, if you’re into heavy stuff ig. (Bonus points if topics include either one being suicidal, infidelity/cheating, and/or if there’s a redemption arc)\

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: What’s the longest slow burn fic you’ve ever read? Ive only been reading fan fic for 4 months, and i read one that had 150k words but i was wondering if there are longer slow burns?

@deerstalker143 said to inevitably-johnlocked: Hi, I really like your fic recs, and was wondering if you could provide a fic rec of long and sweet book-length Johnlock fics :D Thank you!

Hi Lovelies!!

OH GOD, you guys asked me these AGES ago, and I started a list and it just kept growing and growing and GROWING, especially since I’m reading a lot more really long epics these days, so it makes me happy to have a decent sized list for y’all now! I think now would be a good time to post them… and I know that people have been asking for them. So I’m putting these together since they’re long-fic related LOL Slow Burn List here if you’re interested in more!

NOVEL-LENGTH FICS: 100K+ FICS

See also: Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018) (I do have a whole bunch more since then, so just ask if you want a Pt. 2)

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w+ WiP || Fluff and Humour, Love Confessions, Romance, Snuggling) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

The Heart In The Whole by verityburns (E, 101,650 || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Drama & Angst, H/C, First Time) – Events after ‘The Great Game’ leave Sherlock dependent on his best friend and colleague. But John has a secret of his own…

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w. || Alternate Future AU || , Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It’s 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn’t need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w. || FutureAU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say:Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

Eyes Up, Heels Down by CodenameMeretricious (E, 107,845 w. || Sports Equestrian AU || Fluff, Angst, Humour, Rider!Sherlock, Groomer!John, Show Jumping, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) – Sherlock is a top eventing rider currently training at Baker Farms. John is the new groom who’s been told to steer clear of the surly rider and his horses. Part 1 of Baker Farms

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w. || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, H/C, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more. 

THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON by skyefullofstars (T, 110,758 w. || H/C, Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Whump, Nightmares, Murder, Drug Addiction, Torture) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John’s kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John’s sanity and life. Prequel to THE BOYS OF BAKER STREET. Part 1 of THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON

Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w. || Established, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis, Happy-ish Ending) –After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken {{I love Sherlock’s characterization in this… it’s so heartwrenching but very realistic}}.

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Swan Triad by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers’ attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship’s surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there’s more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin’ the eye, he has to choose… is it a pirate’s life for him?

To Light Another’s Path by BeautifulFiction (E, 128,654 w. || Post-TGG, Sick Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction / Recreational Drug Use, First Time / Kiss, Case Fic) – Teaching John to observe seems to be a losing battle, but when Sherlock falls ill and submits himself to John’s care, will he realise that there is more to life than the science of deduction? Meanwhile, there is a murder to solve, and John must try and convince Sherlock not to sacrifice his own health for the sake of the case.

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Ten Days by Engazed (E, 137,208 w. || Rape/Non-Con, Post-TRF, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Case Fic) – Sherlock Holmes has been dead for forty months, and John is at last beginning to live his life again. But just when he believes he might be happy, his world crashes back down around him. John is named a missing person. Someone is pointing DI Lestrade in the wrong direction. And as the days pass, his situation only grows more dire. It seems like the disappearance of his best friend is the only thing that can bring Sherlock Holmes back from the dead. Part 1 of The Fallen

Colors by Quesarasara (E, 140,537 w. || Pleasantville-Inspired AU || Soulmates, Colour Bonds, Alternating POV, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Case Fic, Medical Procedures) – Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We’re all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception. Part 1 of The Colors ‘Verse

How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w. || Changling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he’s destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,857 w. || O-John, A-Sherlock || Body Swap, Crossing Universes, DubCon, H/C, Angst, Happy Ending) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – “Do you just carry on talking when I’m away?”

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That’s all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn’t have much choice. There’s only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,168 w. across 46 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

Fallen Series by Belladonna_Q, mamishka (T, 222,094 w. across 3 works || Winglock || Angel!John, Angels & Demons, Faes, Christianity, Changelings) – In a world where myth, mystery, and the supernatural flourish beneath the veneer of modern civilization, Sherlock is a master of magic as well as science and deduction. But there are some things that he cannot see, riddles he cannot unravel, even when they walk right beside him in the form of one John Watson…

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate’s secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn’t he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock’s past as events conspire to threaten their future.

MARKED FOR LATER

Cake and Other Sins by  Indybaggins (E, 100,670 w. || Great British Bakeoff AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Baking, Desire, Disability, Incest (Holmescest/Holmescest with John), Masturbation, Falling in Love, Oral, Outdoor Sex, Past Drug Use, Poisoning, Voyeurism) – Sherlock and John meet as competing bakers on The Great British Bake Off. There’s intense baking, lush recipes and enticing food. Mycroft, guilt, past sins in chocolate and gingerbread. And love. That too.

Minutiae (Or 156 Things I Know About You) by AtlinMerrick (E, 101,342 w. + || WiP, Marriage, Anal/Oral Sex, Domestic, Stand Alone Chapters, Humour, Prompts, Lovers, Short Stories) – Here, in no particular order, are some of the things John has learned about Sherlock, and some of the things Sherlock has learned about John. In the end there will be 156 mundane and unusual facts for each of them. (Um…I never stopped at 156.) (All chapters stand alone.)

A Ritual to Read to Each Other by weeesi (E, 101,463 w. || Post S3 / Post HLV, Pining, Alternating POV, Masturbation, John’s Nightmares, Mary is Not Nice, Love Confessions, Flashbacks, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, BJ’s / HJ’s, Shower Sex, Anal, John Deals With Feelings, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Injury, On Holidays, Implied Mystrade) – After Mycroft terminated his exile but before Sherlock could escape from the infuriating plane, John and Mary were whisked away by car to an unknown location.Sherlock hasn’t seen them for an entire year. He doesn’t know when he’ll see John again – until one day, he does.But, of course, nothing is simple.

Dog Days by All_I_need (E, 101,627 w. || Post-Baskerville AU, Experiments Gone Wrong, Fluff and Humour) – John has an accident in the laboratory of the Baskerville military facility. While they wait for the scientists to find a solution, he and Sherlock must re-examine the nature of their friendship as they navigate daily life and the Work, all while trying to answer the truly important questions: Is it okay to pet your flatmate if he happens to be a dog at the moment? And how exactly do you beg a self-professed sociopath for cuddles? Part 1 of Dog Days

The Bravery of the Soldier by bakerstreetgirl (G, 101,703 +w., WIP || BAMF John, John in Afghanistan, PTSD, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Sherlock Cares, Epic Bromance, Platonic Soulmates, Platonics, Flashbacks) – When a news story about a hostage situation in Afghanistan breaks, details about John Watson’s military service come to light that the doctor had kept secret for a long time. Sherlock is intrigued and John manages to surprise the British government. What John needs in light of this story and the PTSD responses it flares up, is a friend. Can Sherlock Holmes step up to the job?Deals mainly with John’s career and military background, plus epic friendship, BAMFness and a little bit of case fic. Part 1 of the Before Baker Street series

We Will Survive by anny (M, 105,960 w. || Viclock vs Johnlock, Past Viclock, Anal / BJ’s / Orgasms, Music, Jealousy, Case Fic, Social Media, Protective Mycroft, Pining John / Sherlock, Fluff, Weddings, Drug References, Drunkenness, Angst, Humour, Character Death) – After Reichenbach, Sherlock is back in London to face a new villain: Sebastian Moran. But he has to deal with John’s new life with Mary Morstan, and he soon understands that things between them have changed. With the arrival of Victor Trevor in Sherlock’s life, John will finally deal with his true feelings for Sherlock…

How Long? by TheBritishBourbon (M, 111,010 w. || Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Sherlock, Protective John, PTSD Sherlock, Flashbacks, Dark Themes, Implied Torture) – Sherlock never got to jump off the roof of St. Barts, he never got the chance. Sherlock was abducted and held for 5 years, but now he has escaped. What awaits him as he returns to reality? Part 1 of How Long Universe

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

Scotch Series by earlgreytea68 (M, 119,371 w. over 17 works || [Untagged, will tag when read]) – In which Sherlock asks Mycroft for a favor.

Did you feel it? : A soulmates AU by MorganeUK (G, 126,783 w. || Soulmates AU || Kid/Teen/Unilock, Protective Greg, Angst, Big Feels, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Mystrade, Injuries, Slow Burn, Anxious John, BAMF John, Protective John, Est. Rel., Happy Ending) – In a world where 0.01% of the population have a soulmate with whom they share pains and violent emotions… what are the odds that an ex-army doctor and an ex-addict detective open their heart and soul enough to found each others?Finally writing a twist on the soulmates trend… Hope you like it!

The Case of the Moebius Trip by Bitenomnom (NR, 129,218 w. || Time Travel, BAMF!John, Angst, Death, Post-TRF) – When John finally gives in and accepts a case for the first time since Sherlock fell eight months ago, he finds himself in a unique position: in possession of what his client calls a time machine, and desperate enough to give it a go. If it works, he could travel back in time. If it works, he could save Sherlock.

“Merry Christmas” I wrapped it up and sent it with a note saying “I love you” by starrysummernights (E, 136,580+ w. || WIP, chapter missing? || Post S4, Slow Burn, Mary is Not Nice, Christmas, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Parentlock, Past Torture / Rape) – John has moved back into 221B with his daughter Rosie after Mary was killed, but things are not exactly comfortable between him and Sherlock. After everything that has happened, they are trying to become friends again…and maybe something more. What better time than the Christmas season?! Takes place after TLD.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel.) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it’s a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Ten Days by Engazed (E, 137,208 w. || Rape/Non-Con, Post-TRF, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Case Fic) – Sherlock Holmes has been dead for forty months, and John is at last beginning to live his life again. But just when he believes he might be happy, his world crashes back down around him.John is named a missing person. Someone is pointing DI Lestrade in the wrong direction. And as the days pass, his situation only grows more dire. It seems like the disappearance of his best friend is the only thing that can bring Sherlock Holmes back from the dead. Part 1 of The Fallen {{I haven’t read this one yet so heed the tags}}

Emperor Tales of the Frozen South by cwb (M, 153,444 w. || Penguin AU || Adventure, Rituals, Fluff, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Gay Rights, Bonding, Antartica) – At the bottom of the world, two intrepid explorers make their way in the harshest of environments. An important journey must be taken, and prophecies fulfilled, but not before family meddling, political interference, and self-doubt threaten to alter the future of an entire species.If you know me at all, you know that this had to be done. Part 1 of Emperor Tales of the Frozen South

Skeletons by flawedamythyst (T, 174,262 w. across 3 works || Implied Character Death) – Sherlock’s refusal to talk about his past hides far more skeletons than John could ever have guessed at. Halloween-esque AU.

All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (E, 188,426 w. || Case Fic, Action/Adventure, POV First Person, Alternate Canon, Romance, Hurt / Comfort, Love at First Sight, Asexuality, Kidnapping, Torture, Drug Use/Addiction) – Sherlock sent Jim Moriarty to prison for killing Carl Powers at age ten. This is the story of the consequences.

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68 (M, 203,273 w. || Parentlock, Cloning, Kidlock, Dev. Rel.) – The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street. Part 1 of Nature & Nurture

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w. || Winglock, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Mystrade & Johnlock) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humor the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can’t decide what’s worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he’s always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John’s chest?

The Jewel in the Tower by PoppyAlexander (E, 207,079 w. || Dystopian AU, Violence, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Mild Dub Con, One World Government, Class Issues, Assassin John / Geisha Sherlock, Self Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Espionage, Miscommunication, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Letters/Texting, Phone Sex, Infidelity, First Time, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Injury Recovery, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Scars, Misgendering, Happy Endings) – In a contemporary dystopia, Unity is peace – despite the fact unsanctioned information, illicit currency, and every sort of danger flows unchecked in the world’s pleasure districts. John Watson, a weary hired gun, is assigned by the mysterious Mentor to investigate a subversive element lurking in the Icehouse, the world’s most famous House of Repose. As accustomed as he is to dealing with the unexpected, John is nevertheless woefully unprepared to meet the gem of the Ice house, Xie, the world renowned “drashaskaya,” the living work of art after which all other drashas are modeled. In sumptuous suites, amid trailing puddles of silk and fervent whispers in the night, John soon learns that nothing is as it seems in the floating world of London’s pleasure district. (PUBLISHED AS “At Night in the Floating World”)

The Good Morrow Series by greywash (E, 216,513 +w. across 5 works || WiP || Post-TRF Divergence, Horny John, Smut, Feelings, Negotiations, Christmas/Advent, Sherlock is a Mess, Relationships, Addiction Issues, PTSD, Therapy, Injury, Aging, Loneliness, Marriage, Family, Friendship, POV Second Person, Travel, Character Studies) – A post-S2 series where everyone has a lot of feels about everything and plausibility is stretched unto breaking. Also: fucking.

You Go To My Head by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 257,765+ w. across 8 Stories, WiP || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Doctor John / Doctor Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson (senior neuroanaesthetist) and Holmes (neurosurgeon).

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. “It is what it is.” John Watson is what happens when what “it is” becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

Enigma by khorazir (M, 289,667 w. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Case Fic, Espionage, Period-Typical Homophobia / Sexism, Pining Sherlock, Inexperienced / VirginSherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence) – It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies’ encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy.

My Heart Is True As Steel by prettysailorsoldier (E, 316,207 w. || Teenlock, Case Fic, Rugby, Fluff, First Kiss/Time, Past Drug Use, Anal, Blow Jobs) – When Sherlock and John become roommates at a prestigious sixth-form college, they both get a lot more than they bargained for. Between Shakespeare, rugby, and not a small amount of murder, it promises to be a very interesting year, but there is much more going on than meets the eye. A noose is tightening around the duo, darker and more dangerous than anyone realizes, and it will take everything they both have to unravel it before they lose everything they’ve found.

NUTRISCO ET EXTINGUO by Zoffoli (M, 327,772 w. || Alternating Second Person POV, Post-TRF, Character Study, Romance, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Mystery) – “You haven’t said what you wanted to say.” Well yes, some things take you by surprise, and you’re not quite prepared for them. Like when your best friend jumps off a building in front of you.

Deflowered - Director’s Cut by Lorelei_Lee (E, 328,535 w. || Mafia / Mob AU || Rape/Non-Con, Dub-Con, Boss John/Rentboy Sherlock, Bottomlock, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous John, Prostate Milking, Sounding, Anal Beads/Plug, Anal Sex / Fingering, Spanking, Begging, Blow Jobs, Riding Crops, Begging, Romance, Desperation, Minor Character Death, Implied Self Harm, Violence) – It should have been strictly business. Being a Mafia boss with a sadistic sexual streak, John had long since realised that his playthings were in it for the money only. Being a masochistic rent boy, Sherlock seemed too good to be true. Little did they know…

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (E, 463,024 w. || Parentlock, UST/URT, Pining Sherlock, Grieving John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Slow Burn/Build, Case Fic, First Kiss / Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide & Drug Use, Slow Burn, Sherlock Whump, Panic Attacks) – John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don’t get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 6

You can read it here on AO3, or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

The way Stiles figures it, the Alpha is the heart of the problem. As long as the Alpha is out there wanting both Derek and Scott to turn into mindless killing machines, that makes the Argents a problem too. Maybe they’ll back off when the Alpha is out of the picture? Although the amount of times Derek has been shot or stabbed, that’s a big maybe. There’s not a lot of love lost there, clearly. But the Alpha is still the biggest problem. And Stiles has no idea who it is.

He keeps circling back around to Deaton, Scott’s boss at the vet clinic, because Deaton is developing this habit of just kind of being in the vicinity when werewolf shit goes down. And when he talks, he’s always saying more than his words, even if Stiles doesn’t know exactly what he’s saying. He knows something, that’s for sure.

Except…

Except Scott works with Deaton three afternoons a week, and every Saturday. So if Deaton is really the Alpha, why hasn’t he taken the opportunity to get Scott to do his evil bidding or exert his mind control or whatever the fuck it is that Alphas do, when Scott is right there? Deaton is shady as fuck, basically, but him being the Alpha doesn’t quite add up.

Stiles has always loved solving puzzles, but when literally every person in town is a potential suspect? It’s not as easy as Law and Order makes it look, is all he’s saying. Despite his best efforts, Stiles is not going to solve this in forty-five minutes plus ad breaks.

He needs to know more about the Alpha’s victims. The bus driver, and the two guys drinking in the woods… Because if the Alpha is batshit insane, why haven’t there been more killings? Why isn’t he out there in broad daylight tearing people apart?

So maybe there’s a pattern, right?

Maybe there’s an actual motive.

He really needs to get a look at Dad’s reports.

Unfortunately, Dad knows better than to bring that stuff home, and has ever since Stiles was nine, helped himself to some light reading, and then asked Dad over dinner what carnal abuse was.

So now Dad’s files stay at work, and Stiles is pretty sure the laptop he brings home is password protected to NSA levels. Which leaves him with no choice—he needs to get to Dad’s files at the station, and copy them.

Stella, of course, is happy to help. For all that she’s a tattletale whenever Stiles is keeping secrets from her, all he needs to do to buy her undying loyalty is to make her an accomplice.

“You got this, Batgirl?” he asks when they pull up at the Sheriff’s Department.

She gives him the thumbs up. “Got it!”

Nobody has ever accused Stiles of stealthiness, or even subtlety, so lucky he’s got Stella to act as a distraction. She barrels into the station talking a mile a minute—she gets that from him—and straight into the bullpen, where she finds Dad and a few of the deputies, and proceeds to spin a tale about how mean one of the boys was at school today, and how he pulled her hair. Her outrage is palpable, and she adds the icing to the cake by announcing, “And Mrs. Svensen, she was the teacher on playground duty, said that he must have done it because he likes me. But I don’t like it when he pulls my hair! It’s not fair!”

Stiles slips away into the file room.

He finds the files on the recent killings, and photographs the pages using his phone. Even the autopsy reports, although they make his stomach churn. He does the same to Laura Hale’s file—stopping once and freezing when he hears footsteps passing—and then, more on instinct than anything else, looks for the file on the Hale house fire.

It’s huge.

Three massive folders stuffed with papers, and there’s no way Stiles will be able to copy it all.

Not in the few minutes he has left, anyway.

He doesn’t allow himself a moment to second-guess what is probably a monumentally stupid thing to do. Just unzips his backpack, shoves the file inside, and zips it up again.

By the time he gets back to the bullpen, Tara is showing Stella how to stomp on a guy’s foot and knee him in the balls in one smooth movement.  

It’s sort of hot, but that’s Tara all over.

“Want to be my guinea pig, Stiles?” she asks him with a smile, fingers hooked into the utility belt hanging off her hips, and Stiles tries very hard not to think about what it would feel like with her hands touching him. Like, he’s pretty sure it’d be worth getting kneed in the balls.

He feels his face burn. “Um… I… um. What?”

“Back to work everyone!” Dad says suddenly, putting a hand on Stiles’s shoulder and steering him firmly away from his humiliating inability to speak in actual sentences right now. “So, what did you two drop in for anyway?”

Stella skips alongside them. “Stiles is taking me to the hospital, but I wanted to see you first.”

“The hospital?”

“My Reading in the Community program!”

“Oh, right,” Dad says. He looks at his watch. “What time does that finish?”

“Five,” Stiles says. Now he’s out of Tara’s sight he can apparently remember how to use his words. “I figured I’d drop her off then go to Scott’s and do some homework before I go back and collect her.”

He’s actually intending to sit in his Jeep in the parking lot and photograph the entire Hale house fire file, but why muddy the waters with truth? Then he can hopefully return it to the station before Dad notices it’s even gone. Not that Dad will notice, right? The Hale house fire was years ago. Why would anyone want to look at the file today suddenly?

Stiles ignores the snarky little voice in his head that reminds him that the obvious connection is Laura Hale, because come on, Dad’s probably already made that connection, and probably already looked over the Hale fire file again recently, and the chances that he needs to do it again in the hour that Stella is at the hospital at miniscule at best, right?

Totally.

This is fine.

Stiles is not going to get busted.

This is fine.

“Sounds good, kid,” Dad says. “I’ll see you both at home for dinner.”

Stiles and Stella escape back into the sunlight.

***

There are four other little kids waiting at the hospital with their moms when Stiles turns up. It’s always a little awkward. Stiles is pretty bad at mom talk. Usually he just slinks to the edge of a space and plays games on his phone until he can escape, but this is a pretty small crowd and it’s hard to get lost in it. Stiles figures most of Stella’s school friends know her deal, but they don’t necessarily tell their parents, because there’s always at least someone who looks at him like ‘Why is this kid here at this thing?’

And Stiles really doesn’t like explaining his life story to strangers.

He’s saved from having to do it today when Stella’s teacher arrives. “Okay, we’re all here! Let’s go and read. Parents, you can pick your kids up from here at five!”

She saves a special smile for Stiles.

Stiles likes Mrs. Lucas, but it’s weird. She’s middle-aged, and it’s weird that she was actually his teacher in elementary school too, and the one big memory he has of her is the time he had a meltdown in class because his mom was going to die, and she took him outside and hugged him and didn’t even complain that he got snot all over her blouse. It’s awkward because he sometimes wonders if that’s her one prevailing memory of him as well, and he always feels like a little kid playing dress-up when he has to interact with her for Stella’s school stuff as like Dad’s proxy.

He smiles and waves as Mrs. Lucas ushers the kids into the hospital, and then dodges the other parents and hurries back to the parking lot.

He’s got an hour to photograph every page of the Hale house fire.

He sets his alarm on his phone and gets to work.

***

“I thought you were going home after the hospital,” Dad says when Stiles and Stella turn up at the station again.

Stella bursts into tears.

She’s not pretending this time.

Stiles watches, hollow-eyed, as Dad pulls her into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dad says, rubbing her back and looking at Stiles. “It’s okay, baby girl.”

“She got a coma patient,” Stiles says, his throat aching. “Mrs. Lucas said she was fine with it, but then we got to the car and this happened.”

Dad presses his mouth into a thin line for a moment. “Okay. You don’t need to go back next time, Stella.”

She draws back, tear-stained and affronted. “No! I want to!”

“You want to?” Dad asks, brows raising.

“Mrs. McCall says that it’s not like being asleep. He can still hear me read, so I’m going to do it again.” Her grim determination wavers. “It just makes me sad.”

Dad looks at Stiles, helpless.

Stiles shrugs. “I um, I need the bathroom.”

He’s feeling pretty close to a breakdown himself, after skimming through the Hale house fire file. He’d known, in the abstract, how bad it was. He’d even dealt with the autopsy photographs okay, since none of them looked like actual people as long as he didn’t study them too hard. But it was the other photographs that felt like a stab in the guts. Cora Hale’s yearbook photo. Talia and James Hale with their arms around one another, laughing. Patrick Hale in a little league uniform. Eight of them in total. Eight real people whose lives had been cut short in that fire.

That fire that Derek said had been started by hunters.

By the Argents.

Stiles had looked at the file and felt a chill to the core at the thought of that happening to Scott and Melissa. Happening to someone just because there are werewolves in the family.

He shuffles down the corridor toward the bathroom, taking a quick detour to replace the files in the file room.

He thinks of Derek again as he closes the door and makes his escape.

Thinks of everything that he’s lost.

Scrubs at his face before he returns to Dad and Stella, but it’s okay if Dad thinks he’s been crying too. He knows how Stiles feels when Stella gets hurt.

Dad ends up clocking out early from work.

They get pizza for dinner, because nobody feels like cooking.

They eat on the couch, Stella sandwiched in the middle.

Everything feels strange and fragile, like an itch under his skin, and Stiles hates it.

It’s not fair.

Nothing in the world is far.

Later that night when Stella and Dad are both asleep in their rooms, Stiles eases his bedroom window open, grabs the keys to the Jeep, and climbs out into the night.

Because nothing in the world is fair, and Derek shouldn’t be out there alone.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

imagine no powers au where tony is still a rich businessman and meets ptsd vet bucky when fitting his prosthetic. bucky doesnt realise tony is tony stark.

Worst Case

Summary: When Bucky applies for a program for a new type of prosthesis he doesn’t have much hope of getting into it, but then a doctor who only introduced himself as Tony turns up and flips his world upside down. Not only does he end up with a new arm but also a crush that is hard to ignore as time goes on.

Warnings: Panic Attacks

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1 of 7

James (7:32 am)“Today’s the appointment”“couldn’t sleep”

Nat (7:33 am)“Don’t punch them for trying to touch your shoulder, that’s their job.”

James (7:33 am)“That was ONE time.”“And deserved.”

Nat (7:43 am)“Good luck!”“…

James (1:14 pm)“Fuck everything.”

Nat (1:14 pm)“?”

James (1:14 pm)“I’m not eligible for the program.”“Trying hard not to cry, I’m on the bus.”

Nat (1:15 pm)“Прости, дорогая!” (I’m sorry, darling!)“What happened?”

James (1:17 pm)“They pocked and prodded me for two hours then said sorry”“too much nerve damage”“they can’t do anything”“fucking shit”“brb”“having a panic attack”

Nat (1:18 pm)“Breath, James, breath.”

Two days later…

James (9:05 am)“They just called…woke me up the damn bastards”“Want me to come in again”“*eye rolling smiley*”“guess they didn’t fuck with me enough already”(9:06am)“wanna look at the freak with the nerve damage again”“fuck them…”

Nat (9:07 am)“James…”“What did they say?”

James (9:10 am)“They wanna repeat the tests.”

Nat (9:11 am)“Doesn’t sound bad. Maybe they think you’re still eligible for a prosthesis?”

James (9:12 am)“…”“…fine.”“I’ll go.”

Nat (9:12 am)“Good boy.”

(More after the break!)

—-

The guy strode into the room like he owned the entire building.

“I’m personally offended by your nerve damage. Not by you, hot stuff, I could never be offended by someone with your face. Holy crap, do you have a weapon license for that glare, that look could kill someone.”

The man didn’t even bother to say hello. Bucky was immediately put off by his bluntness and flirtyness? and the guy didn’t stop talking. He sat down on one of those stools with wheels and rolled around the room, picking up Bucky’s file from the counter. He flipped through it, pulled a face, then dropped it with a look of disgust that made Bucky want to get up from examination chair and walk out the door. The nerve the man had, he could have just slapped him in the face, would have felt the same.

“You’re the impossible patient, I hear. People’ve been talking about you, saying what a poor guy you are with that level of amputation and nerve damage.” The man rolled up to Bucky’s left side, clasping his hands together and grinning enthusiastically. “I wanted to see that for myself. I’m Tony by the way.”

Bucky was too angry to say anything for a moment and he took a deep breath before trusting himself to speak. He sat up in the chair, ready to get up.

“I would like to go now, Dr. - ” He looked at the guy’s name tag on his lab coat.“ -Banner?”

The man had the audacity to laugh.

“I’m not Dr. Banner, I just took his coat for today, we do that sometimes. Anyway, you’re not allowed to leave until I get some results.”

“Listen, Dr. Whoeveryouare - ”

“Tony.”

“I don’t care.” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “If all you want is to humiliate me further by running more tests with no results then I have no reason to stay, the other doctor made it pretty clear yesterday that I’m a fucked up case and won’t be getting a prosthesis. I can accept that, but I can’t accept that you want to put me through these fucking tests again just for your own amusement. I’m not having another panic attack so you can have a good laugh with your colleagues later. I’m leaving now.”

Bucky got up, he was shaking and unsteady on his feet, but if he could just get out of this room he could hold onto the wall and make it out of the clinic if he recalled correctly there was an alley right next to it -.

He didn’t get very far because Tony rolled in front of him with the stool and very effectively blocked his way.

“Who said anything about having a laugh. When I said results I meant results we can work with. Results that will get you a new arm.” Tony reached out and held onto Bucky’s arm, steadying him. “Sit back down please, you look like you are about to have a breakdown.”

“You’re not wrong,” Bucky mumbled, Tony’s words slowly sank in and he sat back down on the chair. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself with a long exhale. “I don’t understand. The nerve damage-”

“The nerve damage is severe, that’s true, but I’m here for the impossible cases and you fit the definition perfectly. Shoulder disarticulation, burn scars, shattered clavicle and scapula, not to mention the muscle damage and I’m guessing PTSD as well, Afghanistan?”

Bucky leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. “Iraq.”

“You okay?” Tony’s voice was suddenly quiet, concerned, a stark contrast to his in-your-face tone earlier.

“Okay enough.”

Bucky heard Tony rolling around, pulling something heavier towards them and making some noise, his best guess was that Tony was readying the machine the other doctor had already used to test the nerve reaction in his stump. He didn’t know why Tony thought he was going to get a different result than two days ago, but he also had no idea how this machine worked in the first place.

“Why me?”

“Whaff?” Tony sounded like he had something in his mouth and Bucky cracked open an eye just to confirm that the man had a screwdriver between his teeth, he had both his hands in the wiring of the machine and was doing …something to it.

“What the hell?”

“Just a sec, almost got it. Should be able to get some more sensitivity out of this thing.” Tony dropped the screwdriver from his mouth, caught it and stuck it into the machine in one smooth move. “Don’t worry, I designed this thing. I know what I’m doing.” Something inside the scanner made a whining noise and a mischievous grin spread over Tony’s face. “Done, now strip.”

Tony loosely fitted the covering back onto the machine and turned to Bucky who was still speechless.

“Strip, or do you want me to stick the electrodes on your shirt?”

“Why me?” Bucky repeated again. “Why go through all that effort for me?”

“Because,” Tony sorted through the cables of the electrodes, casually getting everything ready for testing, “when I get this technology to work with you, Mr. Impossible-Nerve-Damage, I can get this to work with everybody.”

“You sound like you invented this thing yourself.”

Tony stalled minutely in his movements but soon continued to untangle the cables. “I was part of the team, it’s an issue of personal pride. Now, do I have to buy you dinner first before you undress?” He flashed a cocky grin at Bucky.

Bucky didn’t know why taking off his shirt was so difficult for him right now, Tony had certainly seen the pictures in his files, and he had done it with the other doctor two days ago, but that one had been cold to him, almost sterile, and with the remnants of an almost break down at the back of his mind Bucky didn’t feel comfortable exposing his scars.

The flirting didn’t help.

While Bucky was still trying to get the courage to pull off his shirt he heard Tony roll around the room again and then he suddenly had a blanket in his lap. One of those white emergency blankets that the clinic kept in the cupboards and nobody had ever touched before.

“You can cover up after I applied the electrodes, no need for you to be uncomfortable. And I’m not judging, I can assure you that.”

Bucky nodded. He swallowed, then shrugged out of the hoodie he was wearing. He needed another second before he pulled off his shirt. The cold air on his shoulder was uncomfortable, the scar tissue was still sensitive there, still red and irritated even after all these months. He knew it would take time till he would be completely healed, his stump at least, not like he was going to grow a new arm.

“Can you lie a bit on your side?” Tony was adjusting the backseat of the chair and put it up a bit. “I need to get to your backside for a moment, then you can lie on your back.”

Bucky did as he was told.  

“I guess you know how these work, so just relax.”

“You say it like it’s easy.” Bucky huffed. He involuntarily twitched when Tony touched him. The skin on his fingertips felt rough on Bucky’s sensitive skin, but Tony worked quickly and efficiently, not touching him more than was necessary. Unlike the other doctor who had been fumbling with the electrodes forever before he had glued them to Bucky’s stump. With soft pressure on his shoulder, Tony guided him onto his back and then applied the electrodes to his chest and side.

“Okay, that’s it. You can cover up.” Tony turned back to the machine and started pressing buttons on the screen, Bucky unfolded the blanket and threw it over himself, it made him feel a little better about the situation. Not as exposed as the last time and also not freezing from the AC. Now he just had to wait… and hope, still he was extremely tense.

“Are you okay over there?” Tony suddenly asked and Bucky gave him a questionable look. “I feel like you’re having a moment. You’re breathing pretty hard.”

“I’m fine.” Bucky pressed. “Just…nervous. Already gave up on this whole thing and then you waltz in and turn everything upside down.”

“Yeah, that’s what I do.” He smirked then turned back to the device and fiddled with it, Bucky knew he was running certain programs to measure nerve activity or whatever. Last time most of the appointment had been taken up by the very lengthy explanation of the whole procedure, the measuring itself had only taken a few minutes. When he heard Tony sigh he knew it was already over. He prepared himself for walking out of the door like the other day, feeling utterly broken.

“Initial readings are really crappy, I can see how Dr. Richards thought you couldn’t be worked with,” Tony mumbled.

That was that. Bucky sat up, letting the blanket fall onto his lap. He reached for his shirt and started on untangling it.

“Woah there, what are you doing?”

“Getting dressed again. I’m guessing we’re done here…”

“You’re guessing wrong, hotshot.”

Bucky looked at Tony like he had just grown a second head. “But the results are crap.”

“The initial results are crap, but I’m not done yet. Get comfortable, put on some music, this is going to take a while.” With that, Tony turned back to the device and left Bucky sitting with his mouth hanging open. After Tony didn’t say anything else and just continued with his work Bucky laid back down, eventually, he also pulled out his phone and started to listen to some music.

James (7:48 pm)“That took FOREVER!”“I’m pretty sure Tony is a mad scientist”

Nat (7:49 pm)“What happened? Have you been in the hospital until now?”

James (7:50 pm)“Got out like half an hour ago dude wouldn’t let me go”“There was an actual fire in the device he kept poking around in it”“Thought the guy wanted to electrocute me more than once!”“The noises it made!!!”James (7:51 pm)“He wants me to come back tomorrow”“There were zero results today”“nothing”“my nerves are fucked and still he wants me to come in”“Can’t believe this guy”

Nat (7:53 pm)“He sounds determined…”

James (7:54 pm)“He sounds crazy! Insisted I call him Tony and he kept flirting with me!”“Should tell you how insane he really is”

Nat (7:55 pm)“James, you’re not as bad as you think you are”“A doctor flirting with his patient is a bit …weird though”

James (7:56 pm)“yeah… don’t know what to think about him”“taking a book tomorrow”“and some food”

Nat (7:57 pm)“Good idea”

James (11:43 pm)“He’s cute though *winky smiley*”

Nat (11:44 pm)“ffs! James!”

[bucky-at-bedtime]

Buddy Pt. 3

Summary: Bucky tries to save a dog when it is involved in a car accident, only to discover his cute neighbour is a veterinarian. A series of meet-cutes occur and with the help of a certain dog, the two end up tangled together.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Vet!Reader

Warnings: None!

A/n: Chapter 3 - featuring ma boi Sam Wilson. Pls Reblog guys!

Let me know what you think!! if you wanna be tagged just send an ask x

Words: 1900

Part 2//Masterlist

The next day, Bucky arrived at the clinic at 9am, newly-acquired blue leash and soft leather collar in hand, his overgrown hair tied back into a bun, and a seemingly new denim jacket pulled over his shoulders.

You greeted him at the door, smiling warmly when he handed you another latte, already sipping on his own.

“You ready?” you asked him, already unlocking the door and reaching over to switch on the lights.

He nodded, trying to hold back the grin that wanted to stretch across his face. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

The two of you walked through the clinic, making a beeline towards the room where the dog had been sleeping. When you opened the door, he was already up, limping as quickly as he could towards you and Bucky, who crouched down, affectionately scratching the dog’s head.

“Hey, you ready to go home, bud?” He whispered, wrapping the collar around his neck.

“Let’s get you sorted with some paperwork and then you can take him back to your apartment,” you stated, filing through some drawers and pulling out the things you needed. “Have you thought about a name?”

He looked up at you, surprise flickered through his blue eyes. He shook his head, “I didn’t even realise I’d get to name him.”

“Well, we don’t know what his name would have been before,” you explained, filling out the information you already knew. “He’d probably be scared by that name anyway.”

“Right.” He was sitting on the ground now, the dog panting happily between his knees. Bucky looked down tracing his fingers gently across his back before his eyes flickered back up to you. “What about Buddy?” He asked. When the name escaped his lips, the dog twisted his head around, stretching up to lick Bucky’s jaw. A smile tugged at his lips.

“I think that’s a great idea,” you chuckled, “He seems to respond pretty well to it already.”

“You think that’s a good idea Bud?” He murmured into the dog’s furry neck, subsequently getting attacked by licks.

You filled out the name on the form; ‘Buddy Barnes’  and then stood up, allowing Bucky to be alone with his new friend as you went to photocopy the forms.

A few moments later you re-entered the room, laughing when you saw Bucky lying on his back, Buddy draped across his entire torso.

“You two are cute,” you chuckled, filing away a copy of the papers as Bucky maneuvered out from underneath the dog, brushing off his jeans.

“You think I’m cute?” He smirked.

“I think that dog makes you cute,” you sassed, despite the blush you could feel rising on your neck.

He chuckled, moving to stand beside you and gently nudging you with his elbow. “Guess I’ll have to keep him around then.”

You glanced up to find that smirk hadn’t left his lips and shook your head, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your cheeks. For a moment, you found it impossible to tear your eyes away from his, noticing how similar they were to Buddy’s. The pale blue, almost grey iris’ flashed with joy and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. With a shake of your head, you managed to look away, staring back down at the papers.

“Let’s go, my first patient is gonna be here in 20 minutes and you need to get this little guy home.” You stepped back from the bench, reaching for a cabinet and pulling out a few bottles of medication. “Just some stuff for the pain - put this in his food every morning and night, and this one is just once a day.”

Bucky took the medication from you, attaching the leash to Buddy’s new collar. You walked out to the car park with them, walking at Buddy’s pace.

“I’m probably gonna call you,” he stated, “I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a dog.”

“Well, good thing your neighbour is a vet,” you chuckled. “You can drop by anytime, Buck.”

He nodded, gently lifting Buddy in the passenger seat of his car which was covered in a mountain of blankets.

“Look, I wanted to say thank you–”

“James, you don’t have t–”

“No, I want to. I don’t know how I would've handled it if you weren’t here the other night - if he– if he’d died, I–” He cut himself off, letting out a quiet sigh and running a hand through his hair. “Just, thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” you smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. His own non-bionic hand lifted to cover yours and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the warmth. “It’s always nice to get to know your neighbours.” you chuckled.

A laugh rumbled through his chest and he stepped away, walking around to the other side of the car and greeting the animal inside with an affectionate pat.

“I’ll see you soon!” he said, before closing the door.

With that, he was off, pulling away from the clinic with a smile on his face as you watched the car drive away. It was only seconds later that a car door slammed behind you, and your head whipped around in confusion.

Emily was sauntering towards you, a cheeky smile on her face.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, shocked by her sudden appearance.

“About 10 minutes - I was planning on getting some reading done before my shift,” she lifted a textbook to show you, “but that exchange was far more interesting.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” you confirmed, turning on your heel and walking back towards the clinic.

“Oh, don’t play dumb - that little shoulder touch? His hand on yours? God, you both personified the heart-eyes emoji,” she sassed, following quickly after you.

“Ok, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” You tried to wipe the smile off your face, still facing away from her.

“Oh my god, you like him,” she mumbled.

“No, I don’t - I was just helping him out - he had an injured dog, I’m a vet.”

“You’re seriously not gonna admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit!” You looked over at her standing behind the reception desk a smirk still plastered on her face as she held up her hands in surrender.

“Whatever you say,” she chuckled.

You sighed, storming back into one of the examination rooms to prepare for your first patient - a regular. The owner had 3 pugs - Basil, Lulu, and Reggie - and they were always getting into trouble. You knew as soon as they arrived because you could hear the cacophonous parade of paws on the tiled floor as they all bolted through the door, excitedly jumping up and down at your feet.

Needless to say, you managed to suppress the thoughts of your neighbour for the remainder of your shift.

A Week Passes

“Hey, Terminator, you coming or what?” Sam was standing in Bucky’s kitchen, pulling a box of leftover pizza from the fridge and helping himself to a slice.

“Yeah, just gotta feed Buddy,” Bucky murmured, strolling into the lounge room. “Did you see where he we–” Bucky stopped short when he caught sight of the open door, his eyes flickering over to Sam, filled with panic. “You left the door open.”

Am slowly turned to look at the open door, mouth open in mid-bite panic. “Shit,” he mumbled.

Bucky immediately burst into action, speeding towards the door and looking down the hall. “I swear to god, Wilson, I have had this dog for a week. I thought it was going well - he warmed up to me, stopped peeing inside, he’s taking his meds, moving better - and you show up, and suddenly I’ve misplaced him.” he ranted, speeding a few steps ahead of Sam, who was still holding a slice of pizza and had started calling out Buddy’s name. “What am I gonna tell y/n? She’s gonna hate me.”

“Dude, chill out, we’ll find your dog,” Sam groaned, looking behind him to the other end of the hall, only to bump straight into a frozen Bucky.

They had just rounded a corner, and Bucky saw something that made him come to an abrupt halt. Sam turned his attention to what Bucky was looking at and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Buddy, his paws resting on the legs of a crouched woman in medical scrubs.

“Y/n,” Bucky breathed, the name was filled with relief and surprise, and Sam immediately raised an eyebrow. He’d heard about you, the neighbour who saved Buddy and convinced Bucky to adopt him, but he hadn’t heard Bucky say your name like that. He watched his friend rush forward, falling onto his knees as his dog jumped excitedly from her to him.

“I see you’re doing a good job of keeping an eye on him,” she chuckled, scratching the dog’s back.

“That idiot left the door open,” Bucky grumbled, pointing back at Sam. “I left the room for one second an–”

“It’s okay, James,” she chuckled, standing up and brushing off her legs. “He was sitting outside my door, apparently wanted to see me. I’m Y/n, by the way.” she stuck a hand out for Sam to shake and he smiled, introducing himself.

“Cyborg over there has mentioned you once or twice,” he smiled, noticing how her eyes flickered down to her shoes, a blush rising on her neck. He felt Bucky’s elbow press into his side and shot him a cheeky wink.  “Thanks for convincing him to get Buddy, he’s been far less grumpy for the past week - but maybe that’s not the dog.” Sam slyly questioned, raising a cheeky eyebrow.

“AlrIGHt that’s enough, we’ll leave you alone, sorry about Buddy,” he rushed out, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and trying to pull him away from you.

You chuckled lightly at this, shaking off Sam’s remark.

Sam didn’t seem to be having any of it though - he wrestled his way out of Bucky’s grip and turned back to you. “You look like you’ve just finished a shift, you should come out with us! We were gonna go to the Mexican place around the corner - we can eat outside, we’ll bring Buddy, it’ll be great.”

“Yeah, I just got off work, but I couldn’t intrude–”

“No! You wouldn’t be intruding, come on, it’ll be fun.” Sam tried to convince. “Music, food, a few drinks.”

Sam watched as your eyes travelled over to Bucky, a silent question in them. Generally, you wouldn’t just randomly go out for dinner with a group of people you hardly know, let alone superheroes, but you were so hungry, and the thought of having to cook when you got inside made you want to die. Finally, you turned back to Sam, “Just let me get changed.”

Sam cheered in support as hse unlocked her door and disappeared inside, only to be greeted with a punch to the shoulder when the door closed behind her.

“What the hell was that, punk?” Bucky asked, staring anxiously at the door.

“Ok, I just did you a favour - you should see the way she was looking at you, not to mention the way you were looking at her - It’s like a goddamn middle-school disco up in here.”

“I’m going to kill you. Go get Buddy’s leash.”

“You aren’t denying it!” Sam whisper-yelled, turning back towards Bucky’s apartment. “You’re in love!”

If Bucky had something to throw at the back of Sam’s retreating head, he would have.

Part Four

Tags:

Permanent Tags: @srgtsprout @redstarstan @just-add-butter @wildefire @dewy-biitch @emilia-dawn @comfortablenihilist @averyrogers83 @kittykat101ary @chameerah @obliviousocietea @vodkasindream @ciarawriitesmarvel @lauxeyson @mylovelymarvel @breezy1415 @xxashy999xx @moroiboy @miniwroetofreezymd @feelmyroarrrr @ellaisbutteredtoast @barnesbuucky @black-shad0w-w0lf @shelteredheart @fridolf-arach @missavengeer @winters-beauty @burningthroughmybones @theglowstickofdestiny @gotov-otvechat @o0justyouraveragefangirl0o @silverbvcky @petals-sunwards @stormbreaver @movie-dates-and-choccy-shakes

Tags for Bucky: @cryobucky17 @ailynalonso15 @ria132love @stan-by-me @jitterbuck @loricameback @sebbystangirl @justawildmarebearmcrbvbfob @rodkrake @benedictcumbirbatch @imshalida @ablogbypeteparker @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency @impalatobakerstreet @freelittlearcher @2s0uls @spaniardseattleite @have-aheart @nerdgirljen

Tags for ‘Buddy’: @ablogbypeteparker @justmesadgirl @janeyboo @beezyg @buffy-morgendorffer-01 @wowkenobi @me-a-hopeless-romantic @mymourningtea @winchester- gospels-67 @bishopl @wrdro @jenpalmer @fronckie @littlemsrantsalot @guir16

[stevenslilwave]

1, 3, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31

1. The meaning behind my url: On a fine Tuesday in December 4 years ago, Jemma Anne Simmons asked Leopold James Fitz to come back to her and he did. And he continues to do so.

3. How many tattoos I have and what they are: I don’t have any and I don’t plan to get any for different reasons; I’m very indecisive, and I’m Jewish and the religion is against tattoos (but like I’m not personally against them or whoever has them, but I also wanna respect my religion)

7: Biggest Turn Offs: Okay I don’t really get… let’s just talk about in terms of crushing on someone and what would cause me to stop crushing on them; if someone is extremely rude and disrespectful, constantly negative about everything in life, not able to have a civil open conversation over debates/stuff you disagree on, and if they mock other people over things about them (their sexuality, their interests, etc.)

11. Age: 20

13. Life goal: To just be happy in life and be happy with what I’m doing in life (which I’m always afraid I won’t achieve because of my health, already lost my first job because of that)

17. A fact about my life: I want to work in the animal field somewhere so I’m trying to figure out where in the field, so I’m working on getting as much experience as I can (having worked at an animal shelter and volunteering at a vet clinic)

19. Middle Name: Would rather not say

23. What’s your sexual orientation?:

29. One insecurity: My weight 

31. Have you ever taken a picture naked?: Yikes maybe I’ll pass on this one too

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

I love the way you write Bucky - maybe a drabble with an OFC would be fun? Something sweet? :)

Kittens and Connection

Pairing: Bucky x OFC  |  Word Count: 2465 (my drabble got away from me)

Warnings: Fluff and a little angst with a pinch of smexy

“What the hell was that?“ Bucky murmured as he paused in the opening of the alley he’d been passing.  When the sound came a second time, he took a tentative step into the dingy space and frowned.

It sounded like a baby but who would leave a baby here? 

He got closer to the dumpster and realized the soft crying was coming from beneath it. Panic filled him, and he jumped into action, shoving the dumpster out of the way. “Oh, thank god,” he sighed when he realized it was only a couple of kittens. But his relief was short lived when the pile of rags they were crawling over turned out to be the thin, grungy body of what had once been their mother. 

“Poor things,” he sighed, wondering what to do now. It was far too cold for them to be out here alone, and they were much too young to survive by themselves. The only thing he could think to do was take them to the vet’s office he passed on his walk every day.

Bucky pulled his scarf from his throat and wrapped it around the two kittens before tucking them into his chest and heading out of the alley. It was a quick walk in biting wind with the snow just starting to fall until he was pushing into the heat and warmth of the brightly lit but tiny office space.

“Hi, sorry I‘m just getting ready to close up so unless this is an emergency, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomorrow,” said the woman in the white coat.

Her shock of short cropped pink hair gave Bucky pause. “Uh… are you the doc?”

“I am.” She turned around and seemed to startle at the sight of him. 

He felt the same about her. She was beautiful but so different looking. There was a tattoo on her neck, paw prints which descended from behind her ear and more peaking out from the collar of her button-up shirt. Her hair spiked up on top of her head but was close-cropped on the sides and a vibrant dark pink, a ring pierced her left eyebrow, and a stud her nose. She wore copious rings and had lavender painted nails. 

He swallowed the lump in this throat and held out the squirming bundle. “I found these guys in an alley. Their ma didn’t make it.”

“Oh!” Her entire demeanour changed from wary uncertainty to concerned animal lover in an instant. “Room one.” She pointed. “Just let me get the door.”

Bucky headed into the exam room and set the kittens down on the steel table. They meowed pitifully, prompting him to scratch the white one behind its ear, and the orange one under its chin.

They looked young, but not so young they would need round the clock care. Both seemed abnormally thin, scruffy, and filthy, but they purred and scampered closer to climb with their tiny claws up his coat. “Hey. What’s the big idea, huh? No bigger than a flea and attacking someone bigger than you?” he chuckled softly and shook his head. “Should call you Punk and Rogers. You’re just like little Steve.”

“Oh, good! You’re going to keep them. I wondered,” the doc said as she walked in and shut the door behind her.

“Huh!” Bucky gasped.

“Well, you named them. That’s usually a good indicator of someone willing to keep what they’ve rescued.” She sidled up beside him and cooed as she tapped her fingernails on the table and drew the orange kitten to pounce on her hand. “I’m Lark Waverly, by the way, resident vet and clinic owner.” She smiled at him even as she bowled the kitten to its back.

“Uh… Buck-Bucky,” he almost squeaked.

“Well, Buck-Bucky, were your parents also bird lovers?”

“Huh?”

Her eyes were full of laughter. “Buck-Buck… buccaw?”

The chicken noise had a smirk twitching his lips even as pink burned his cheeks. “Cute, doll. It’s James, actually, but I go by Bucky.”

“Ah, so it’s my stunning good looks which made you stammer?” she quipped as she picked up the kitchen and looked it over.

“Somethin’ along those lines, yeah.”

She flashed him a brilliant grin and changed kittens. “So, James who goes by Bucky, you found them in an alley?”

“Yeah. Huddled up with their mom.”

Lark, for he could no longer think of her as the doc when her name fit her to a T, tsked sadly. “Poor babies. Good thing you found them. It’s cold enough out there they wouldn’t have made it through the night.” She worked in silence for a few minutes before giving a definitive nod. “You’ve got two rather thin but moderately healthy little boys. They need a bath and to fill their bellies, but I’d estimate them to be eight weeks. We’ll put them on soft food, deal with the filth and fleas, and see how they do.”

She shrugged out of her lab coat, and Bucky blinked at her left arm. Her shirt might be a button up, but it had no sleeves leaving her arm bare for viewing. The entire thing was covered in abstract ink with feathers and pretty birds.

“Wow,” he murmured before he could stop himself.

“I like my ink,” she said, throwing him a wink. “Roll up your sleeves, chicken man. Let’s get these two bathed, and I’ll get you what you need to get them started so we can both head home before the storm gets worse.”

“Uh…” Bucky hesitated but she arched a sleek dark brow, and he found himself shrugging out of his jacket under the don’t make me make you glare. He reached for the white kitten, the one he decided was Punk, only to have Lark’s breath catch.

“Oh, I see. Is that going to be a problem? Can you get it wet?” she asked, touching his hand when he pulled the glove off.

“You don’t have a clue who I am, do you?” Bucky asked, a smirk twitching his lips as he pushed the sleeve to his elbow, revealing more of his arm.

She frowned for a minuted, looked from his hand to the arm slowly being revealed and her eyes grew round. “My god… Bucky Barnes. Well, shit.”

Not quite the reaction he was hoping for, Bucky watched her pick up Rogers and take him to the sink where she began to run what he expected was warm water into the basin. “Is… am I… is this a problem?” he asked quietly, knowing a lot of people didn’t like or trust him still, even after all he’d done to prove he wasn’t that guy anymore. “I can take them somewhere else.”

Her head whipped around, a bright blush colouring her face. “No! I mean, it’s fine. They’re fine. You’re… f-fine.” Embarrassment seemed to flood her features and make her even more red-faced.

Arching a brow, Bucky picked up Punk and moved around the table to join her at the sink. Her hands shook as she reached for the bottle of shampoo above her, stretching up on her toes, and Bucky realized how short she was. Her fingertips just brushed the container, and he reached up and took it down for her.

“Hey… uh, I’m not gonna hurt you, dollface. If my being here is making you nervous, I can go wait out there.”

She snatched the bottle from his hand, twisted the water off with the other, and slammed the container down on the counter causing the two kittens to scamper toward him in fear. Lark instantly soothed their anxious mews with soft apologies and more of her quiet cooing, a sound which had parts of Bucky perking up in the same fashion as Rogers’ ears. 

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just… OMG, I’m such an idiot. You’re going to run for the hills,” she sighed and rubbed at her forehead. 

“Not much out there can make me rabbit, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled. “Just spit it out.”

She picked up Rogers and put him in the sink, slowly cupping water over him by hand as he protested loudly. “You’re… kind of my hero,” she whispered. “It’s stupid, and you probably hear it all the time, but your story, how you came back from what Hydra did to you, it got me through a tough time in my life. Real tough. So tough that my first tattoo was this one.” She shook water from her fingers and tugged the collar of her shirt to the side, revealing a portion of a logo Bucky knew all too well above her left breast. 

“Howling Commando’s, huh?”

“Yeah.” She went back to bathing the kitten trying to claw its way out of the sink. “Seriously abusive relationship. There’s a reason I’ve got a sleeve full of tattoos. I’m better now. Hearing about your life and what you went through, how hard Captain Rogers,” she paused and smirked at the kitten before continuing,  “fought to help you, it reminded me there were people in my life who would help me if I only asked. So I asked, and they got me out, and he went to jail, and now I’m here, living the life I want because a man like you was brave enough to sit down with a reporter and talk about his experiences as a Hydra pawn. You, Bucky Barnes, saved my life. I just never expected to get to tell you so in person.” She sighed as she rinsed the shampoo out of the little orange guy’s fur. “And now I’ve probably made you super uncomfortable. I’ll understand if you want to find a new vet.”

Bucky couldn’t seem to find his tongue. He took another look, a harder look, at her arm and realized the reason her tattoo was so abstract was to hide the thick scars embedded in her skin. Circles from burns and jagged lines as if someone had sliced her open with a serrated blade. No, he knew it was a serrated blade. He knew knives and the damage they did to soft, delicate flesh. He knew the circles were likely where the asshole had put out cigarettes on her skin, yet, there she stood, looking shy and embarrassed and completely uncertain when only a few minutes ago she’d been full of spunk and sass.

“Is that why you startled when you saw me? Because I reminded you of… him?”

“No. Not at all. You’re just a big guy. He was a big guy, but he would never have come in dripping water, holding an orphaned pair of kittens. Maybe for a second, I had a moment of damn, but that’s just knee-jerk reaction to big guys wandering in my door when I’m alone.” She never bothered to look up as she wrapped Rogers in a towel and handed him to Bucky to dry off before starting the same treatment with Punk.

“So I don’t make you uncomfortable?”

“Oh, you make me uncomfortable,” she muttered. “Just not because you scare me.”

A smirk turned up his lips. “So… if I was to ask you out to dinner, would that help or make it worse?”

Her head finally lifted, and she levelled him a stare with her warm chocolate eyes. “Both.”

He chuckled softly and gently touched her cheek. “I think you’re the most unique woman I’ve ever met. I’d really like to get to know you better.”

A smile curled her lips. “Do you have a fetish for hero worship, Buck-Bucky?” she asked, the woman full of sass returning. 

“Hero worship? Nah. But a woman with a mouth on her… yeah, I can get behind that.”

“Mmm,” she purred, and her eyes turned sultry. “How kinky for an old guy.”

He belted out a laugh. “Cheeky dame!”

“So… dinner?” she smirked.

“Yeah, darlin’, and if you’re a good girl, I may even give you dessert.”

She finished with Punk and began drying him off as well. “I figured you would have figured out by now, chicken man, that I’m no angel.”

“A devil can still be good when she wants to be,” he crooned stepping closer.

“Some of us were just born to be bad,” she teased, also stepping closer until only the two kittens separated them. 

“I could get behind that too, baby,” he purred, returning his hand to her cheek but sliding it around to cup the base of her skull. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so attracted to a woman before and found his gaze locked with her lush, unpainted mouth.

“You keep talking like that, we may not make dinner,” she murmured. “How’s a girl to concentrate when you keep bringing up her favourite position?”

“Damn, darlin’,” Bucky growled and dipped his head down to taste that wicked, tantalizing mouth, only to have his phone ring and break him out of the lust induced haze he’d been wrapped in. “Fuck,” he hissed and released her to dig for his phone.

Growling at the call display, he answered it with a, “What do you want, Punk?”

“Where the hell are you? How hard is it to go get the beer?” Steve huffed.

“I got…” he smirked at Lark, “distracted.”

“Well, hurry up! We’re not holding the movie for you forever!” Steve paused before an exasperated sigh reverberated in his ear. “You met a girl, didn’t you?”

��Rescued a couple of sweet cats,” Bucky snickered. 

“Yeah? You need help?” Steve was suddenly all business.  

“Nah, I got it handled. A civilian assisted in their rescue.”

“Really?” Steve sounded impressed.

“Yeah. I’ll be back later. Start the movie and tell Stark to order in the beer.” Bucky hung up before Steve could ask any more questions. “How about that dinner, doc?”

“Well,” her eyes twinkled, “these two really should dry out before you take them home. We could always order a pizza.”

“Pizza’s good. Then,” he stepped back into her space, “maybe we can discuss these bad girl qualities of yours.”

Her brow arched, her smile turned wicked, and she sauntered away toward the back rooms of the clinic. “Maybe we can. After all, I live right upstairs.”

“Damn,” Bucky wheezed and looked down at Rogers. “I don’t care what Stark says. I’m keeping you two furballs.” They’d brought him to Lark, and he was already feeling the strong pull of his heart in her direction. 

When she leaned back around the corner and smiled at him, he knew he wasn’t the only one. “Coming, Sergeant?”

“Yeah, darlin’.” If he had his way, they both would be by the end of the night.

-The End -

[veterinary-studies]

I'm still a high schooler but I want to learn everything both to get ahead and also figure out if the veterinary field is something I would truly love. So if you have any tips or perhaps book recommendations that would be amazing.

Hello! 

First of all kudos to you for getting a head start! I think this is a great time to check out the profession and see if this is what you want. 

My biggest tip would be to get out there and get experience! Ask to shadow different vets, try and get a job at a clinic, see if anyone in your area needs a volunteer! You need to start at the bottom and its great to try and get that experience early. This may be something as trivial as walking dogs or sweeping floors for a clinic, but getting your foot in the door is a good place to start. It also allows you to see if this is what you really want. Vet med is hard, its taxing on your emotions and requires a great deal of work and sometimes even sacrifice. Go out there and see what its about, talk to vets about their experience, get your hands dirty. There is no better way to see if this is your passion. If you want some tips on how I found places to volunteer, let me know! 

I would also recommend looking into the vet school you want to attend and see what their requirements are. If there is an undergrad required to apply, then look for a program that you like and fills the requirements. They also might have requirements for a letter of recommendation, or a certain number of vet experience hours, so beginning to network early and make connections is great. There might also be different events you can attend at the vet school. I know my school has a program called discover vet school which has a lecture and lab series anyone from the public can attend. There might also be free events or open houses, and I know some schools even hold vet camps. Also see if the school you want to attend for undergrad for has a pre-vet club. These clubs often allow outside members where you can attend their events and stay in the loop with what the vet school requires/ any interesting events or opportunities. 

In terms of books- I wouldn’t worry about learning anything you will be taught in vet school. You’re years away and will be taught all that stuff in more complexity than you can imagine. Sure if you find a vet book that piques your interest go for it, but don’t try and study it. When I was in high school I really just read things that kept me engaged and excited about the profession and motivated me to keep going. There are a number of books out there telling stories about the vet industry, James Herriot (?I think) being one of them (though I have never read those books). My favourite book was Equine ER by Leslie Guttman- it really intrigued me to peruse equine medicine and was really interesting to read. 

I would also recommended watching TV shows - Take this advice with a grain of salt. TV is dramatic and sometimes unrealistic, but it really kept me going and gave me the motivation to go out and volunteer and go out and study hard. A lot of the road to vet med is hard work and doing the dirty jobs but I found watching these vet shows really inspired me to keep it up. Some of my favourites were The Bionic Vet/ Super Vet (Dr. Neil Fitzpatrick), Bondi Vet (this might be called something else now) and my absolute fave, Dr. Oakley Yukon Vet. I would stay away from Dr. Poll ( I am sure you have heard about this). 

Lastly I would recommended Tumblr! I’m sure this seems obvious but there are bunch of vets and vetlings on here that post really cool cases and information, and there might even be one on here that attends the school you want to go to!

Hopes this helps! 

[what-if-rpg]

Welcome to the family, NAT! Your application to AVERY FABRAY was accepted. We’re really happy to have you around! Make sure to read the beginners checklist, and remember, have fun! We can’t wait to roleplay with you! Have fun!

IN CHARACTER

CHARACTER NAME: Avery Jade Fabray CHARACTER AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: Thirty Two - 28th May OCCUPATION: Vet Nurse at Pet Clinic FACE CLAIM: Lily James HOMETOWN & CITY WHERE LIVES NOW: Shreveport, Louisiana - Lima, Ohio SEXUAL ORIENTATION & GENDER: Female - Demisexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single POSITIVE TRAITS: Caring, Devoted, Approachable NEGATIVE TRAITS: Absent Minded, Naive & Stubborn CHARACTER QUOTE/LYRIC: Take me my heart and my soul, pick me apart and look inside.

HEADCANONS

Avery has always been a big family person, she dreams of the picture perfect, butter won’t melt kind of ordeal right from being born with a twin. Unfortunately for Avery her dreams were crushed by the big reveal of her father’s other family, she was devastated by the news, but shocked to learn there was a whole other family for her right round the corner. When it was revealed Avery was hesitant to reach out at first to her two new sisters, she was intimidated at first mainly because she didn’t want to hurt her mother by getting in contact.

Being a lover of nature and animals it was almost certain Avery would be the kind to fall into the works of animals, she’s always had the idea in her head that she’d like to save anything and anyone she could. Studying Veterinary Science in college Avery became more of an animal lover, finally reaching her goal and getting a job at the Pet Clinic, it was mostly to get away from her family dramas back home and a damn good distraction when it came down to the idea of helping out in the world through the lives of furry animals.

Avery is kind, a little too kind when it comes down to it. She can put on a fake smile and no one would know she may be hurting inside. She likes it that way, she prefers to solve everyone else’s problems before her own which can be a blessing and a curse when it comes down to her friends and family. Her heart lies with the dedication of being the helper around, she’s approachable but reserved when it comes to her person life and traumas. Coming from a now broken home Avery has a goal to not let what lied in the past define her and wants to spread the love and gratitude the world deserves.

Being a workaholic, Avery never found that special connection with someone, as Avery experienced puberty, she struggled with how she felt about every change she went through. It took her talking to Flora and letting it all hang out about her feelings to understand how to deal with it all. With Flora’s help, Ava realized that she was always nervous because of her attraction to both boys and girls. Her mother never judged, but she was quick to warn her daughter that others might not be so accepting. Thanks to the advice, Ava experimented with girls on the down low, but she wished she could be more open like she was with the boys she dated. However being demisexual she finds it hard to find a real connection with someone that is worth fighting for. She’s had so much bad luck in the past that sometimes she thinks it’s not worth the hassle. Though as a real dreamer she hopes someday that she can recreate what her parents never could and for now she chooses to put that love into her friends and family.

CONNECTIONS

RUSSEL AND FLORA FABRAY (parents): After it was revealed she had a whole other family Avery distanced herself a little from her parents, mostly her father. When it comes to Russel it’s a fake smile at the dinner table whenever Avery is around him as every word that comes out of his mouth is empty in Avery’s mind. But with her mother she is close to as she feels bad that Flora has to deal with the other family, she does her best to be there, but doesn’t like the drama. DANIEL FABRAY (twin): Being born from the same whom Avery’s relationship with Daniel was always close, they were the two peas in a pod who stuck by each other and agreed on ‘most’ things. That hasn’t changed as the two grew up as Avery will always be there for Daniel if he ever needs her. Juliette (sister): While there may be an age gap, there has never been a bad love between Avery and her younger sister. She adores Jules and has ever since she was born where the young 5-year-old Avery was ecstatic to have sister join the family. She spent more time with Jules then she did her brother some of the time growing up, she watched her younger sister grow into a successful and beautiful young woman and is ever-so proud of her work as an author. She misses the old times with her sister as they live apart now but that has never faltered just how much Jules means to Avery. FRANNIE & QUINN FABRAY (half sisters): There hasn’t been a day since she found out that Avery hasn’t been curious about what her sisters are like. She will go to send out a message to them but always changes her mind out of fear, she longs for the making up of lost years she could’ve had with her two sisters. She has no bad feelings towards them one bit but feels awful for their father’s mistakes so Avery has not yet gained enough courage to reach out.

[mad-hare]

so I want to start keeping a small group of meat rabbits, out of necessity and to learn. I have had a rabbit as a pet for 12 years but no idea how to start with meat rabbits. starter tips? any resources you like? how much will i be spending in startup and vet bills? feel free to ignore this q if it’s too much to ask

Hi anon, two books that I own and recommend are Rabbit Production, and Ferrets, Rabbits, and Rodents: Clinical Medicine and Surgery

https://www.amazon.com/Rabbit-Production-James-I-McNitt/dp/1780640110/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1522528098&sr=8-2&keywords=rabbit+production&dpID=31LHRS-%252BjWL&preST=_SY291_BO1,204,203,200_QL40_&dpSrc=srch

https://www.amazon.com/Ferrets-Rabbits-Rodents-Clinical-Medicine/dp/1416066217/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1522528109&sr=8-1&keywords=rabbit+clinical+medicine

Please click read more for more info talking about rabbits as meat animals, don’t click if you don’t want to see that. :)

These are more expensive books but they are professional resources written by veterinarians and professionals in the rabbit industry. Generally with meat rabbits, they are medicated with over the counter drugs like Penicillin or amprolium when needed, but you will not be spending a lot on vet care (unless you have very nice rabbits you are attached to). Dental issues in a breeding rabbit are unacceptable so those rabbits need to be culled out. Respiratory issues also tend to warrant a cull as they are too persistent. Coccidia is a fairly common disease you may have to deal with, but should be avoidable with good sanitation. A rabbit that is sickly and needs to be coddled is not going to produce desirable offspring, so you should only be keeping animals that are naturally strong and do well without help!

A book I don’t own, but I see recommended, is Raising Rabbits the Modern Way. Bob Bennett is very knowledgeable about rabbit rearing (I own a similar book by him that is the Storey’s Guide to Raising Rabbits.

https://www.amazon.com/Raising-Rabbits-Modern-publishing-classic/dp/0882664794/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1522528123&sr=8-1&keywords=raising+rabbits+the+modern+way

There are lots of cage companies, and you may choose to build home made cages out of wood material, but https://www.kwcages.com/ has a good range of cage styles. For floor wire, it is vital that you get 14g or 16g 1X.5 galvanized wire. Do not make rabbits stand on cheap thin hardware cloth because this is what damages their feet. The lowest maintenance would be modular cages suspended several feet above the air, and you can therefore have a manure pile build up for quite some time before cleaning it out. Some people will build a worm raising system under their rabbit cages to do worm compost overtop rabbits. Tray systems allow you to stack but you need to clean the cages more often.

Most people will buy meat mutts for cheap and just be happy with whatever they get. If you want to actually get more your money’s worth, I’d recommend investing in better stock, and perhaps getting interested in rabbit showing as well. Rabbits that have the body structure show breeders go for have better dressout and will provide you with better rates of gain. Generally rabbits get processed once they hit 5lbs live weight, and it’s common for lines hitting 5lbs at 8 weeks or 12 weeks. One producer noted to me that her fryers would eat the same amount of food by hitting 5lbs whether it took 8 or 12 weeks.

Getting rabbits with proper bodies will provide you with more meat and less bone when they hit that 5lb mark.

Both of these rabbits are Californians that people could sell you as meat rabbits. This first rabbit would not dress out very well, its loin is not very full and you can see it slopes down and doesn’t have much of a butt going on. TBH this rabbit is actually decent in structure for home meat production, but you should have a good understanding of how rabbit toplines work and what the proper shape is to get a good harvest. This will help you make choices for successors over time.

This second rabbit was bred by Californian legend Bob Donnell, this rabbit has a very full loin and would dress out very well. The shoulders are another common weak point in animals and you want nice tall shoulders. You can see this rabbit is built entirely different than the one above. The rabbit below has a shorter more compact body, but this actually produces a higher ratio of meat:bone. If you want superior meat rabbits you would have to stick to more competitive breeds, such as New Zealand Whites, Californians, or Satins. Generally heritage breeds will not have the structure to offer superior production.. but for home production you may choose a different breed to raise! It all depends on your goals (set goals!!), I know some people like to figure out how much feed they are spending and how much meat they are getting. It is a very common complaint I see that people say their rabbits are eating way more than they should be, and it is likely due to lack of knowledge in selecting proper breeding stock. Let me if this helps or if you want different advice.

[geminimoonbeamx]

Moths Wings/ Part 1

A/N: I know what ya’ll are thinking. Wow, this bitch is starting another series. But hear me out, I think we all need some god ol’ fluff in our lives. I know I need some in mine, and Daddy!Bucky has been all over my feed lately. I HAD to put my own spin on it. It’s still cannon Marvel, just if Bucky took some time to focus on rebuilding his mental health instead of jumping from battle to battle.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: None really for this chapter except the usual of cursing. That will never change.

Summary: When Bucky takes sometime to focus on himself- partially because he knows he needs it and partially because the team has seemed to Veto him off the island- and moves upstate he meets Y/N, a bright, kind single mother and her four year old daughter Phoebe. His heart’s been frozen for so long, but it cant help but melt as he get’s to know the little family and falls in love with the possibility of happiness.

You come beating like moths wings; spastic and violently- Passion Pit

✨✨✨

This was good for him, good for everyone. He needed this.

That seemed to be Bucky’s inner dialogue, his mantra of sorts these days. It had been months, nearly a year, since he, Steve and the rest of what had been dubbed as “team Cap” had returned to the city. Since Tony had extended the olive branch. Apologies had been said, and bridges had started to mend. Everyone trying to put their egos and pride and feelings on the back burner because that’s what this hero business was about, wasn’t it? The good of the world, of the people.

Tony had even allowed him into the Tower, for a time. Bucky had his own suite and though it was huge and just as lavish as everyone else’s(he had been a little nervous that Stark was gonna stick him in a broom closet…not that he hadn’t endured worse) it felt clinical and too…open. The loneliness seeped in from the high ceilings and had him crawling. He did the therapy, endured the twice a week sessions with the Phycologist that actually wasn’t so bad once Bucky go used to her.

It was the advanced technology in the building that first started to set him off. It brought back memories of being strapped down…of computers and electric shocks. And then, it slowly turned into the entire atmosphere of Avengers tower. As much as everyone tried to welcome him, attempted to let him know what he was apart of the team, he was relapsing. The panic attacks and nightmares coming at an overwhelming rate.

Sam, with all of his experience with PTSD ridden vets, is the first to speak up.

“It’s not good for him, man” He tells Steve one day when it’s just the two for him “He isn’t going to make any progress here. It’s too much, too soon”

And Steve knows he’s right. Even though he wants to be selfish, wants to keep Bucky as close as possible, he knows that he’s not doing him any favors by doing so. And so it goes, the talks, the decisions.

Everyone had decided that Sam was right. Even Bucky had, after some pushing. Being back in New York City was too much, it brought back too much at once. And so Pepper brilliant, of course, suggests that he moves. Out side the city. Close enough that if they really needed him he could be retrived in a snap, but far enough that the sounds and sights of the city weren’t assaulting his senses constantly. Bucky hates it, that they have to have a meeting over him, that they had to adjust and team up to help him- but he knows that he’s more of a hindrance then anything there. So he goes with what they set him up with.

The suburbs. A small town about an hour and a half, give or take, outside NYC.

It’s an odd fit for him. He was a Brooklyn boy(or at least he had been) through and through and it was so…quiet here. The house that Tony had purchased was unlike anything he’d ever inhabited. It had always been apartments for him, semi seedy ones that looked down on overpopulated streets. Even when he was on the run he kept to bigger cities.

The air here was different.

Bucky finally felt like he could breathe.

It had been a few weeks since he’d made the move and he was still getting adjusted. The home that he’d been given, Stark had objected that-

“I’m not giving it to you, it’s not a Christmas present. Think of it as coming out of your paycheck, Elsa”

Was nice. He liked it. It seemed…smaller then his suite back at the tower, which he’s grateful for. Single floored, two rooms. A decent sized living room that linked with an equally decent sized kitchen. Of course, all the appliances had been updated. A bathroom and a garage; where his car sat.

It was all he needed.

Steve, and his therapist had encouraged him to make it his own. That it was his home, his safe space, and he should treat it as such. He’d sat with Pepper she’d helped him order the furniture, he was still getting the hang of online shopping, but damn, did he like the convenience.

The couches were brown leather, a Laz-e-Boy recliner sat in front of the flat screen mounted to the wall; the one that he could watch ball games and catch up on all the movies and shit he’d missed over the last decades on. The hardwood had rugs, and the walls had a few paintings. It wasn’t anything special or extensive, but it was what he’d wanted. What kept him comfortable.

He liked being alone, although Steve visited him almost every fuckin’ day. He liked the time and space to continue to sort out the memories in his head and document them in the journals like Dr. Schnapp had, had him doing for months. He fell into a nice routine; going for a run in the morning followed up by doing the Yoga exercises that actually worked(even though he’d felt like a total tool doing them at first) then making himself breakfast, and eating said breakfast while he read the paper. Then he’d fix up the house, fix up the motorcycle he had in his garage. Do anything to keep his hands and mind as far away from idle as he could. And then he’d finish his day with another run, a microwave dinner, and a hand full of sleeping pills.

Again, nothing special. But he didn’t need it to be, he just needed to feel…

Normal.

And that’s how his day had started, normal as any other. Run, downward dog, eggs- and now he was working on the motorcycle. The garage door up, letting the nice breeze in while he tinkered. He’d hooked his iPod up to the speaker and Bing Crosby filled the space gently. He hummed along mindlessly as he focused on the many parts in front of him.

He can be completely immersed in something, and yet his enhanced senses can detect and pick up on sounds from a mile away.

He hears the peddling, and then the screeching stop and then the tumble. His head snaps up at the sniffles and cries that follow. Across the street a little girl lies, her trike beside her. She looks like she’d taken one hell of a fall…

Bucky cant help it, he gets up from his place and walks over to her, making sure to grab his glove off of the counter and slide it onto his mech hand as he goes.

“Hey…” He starts as he approaches and she sits up slowly. She’s teensy tiny, cant be older then five, he asses.

“Hi” She looks up at him, her eyes teary as she pulls up her skinned knee and looks at the blood there.

“Are you okay, I saw you fall?” Bucky asks, his eyes scanning the surrounding street for a parent.

“My knees bleeding a little” She sniffles “Mommy’s gonna be so mad. She always tolds me to wear my knee pads”

“Where is your mom?” Bucky continues, crouching down to her level.

“At home” The little one shrugs and he’s confused.

“At home? Okay. Where’s home?”

She seems to get suspicious at that, her big Y/E/C eyes narrowing “I’m not suppos'ta talk to strangers”

Bucky chuckles. Smart kid, flawed thinking. She’d been talking to him for nearly a minute. “Wise words to live by”

“But your my neighbor, so it’s okay, right?” She babbles on “We’re not suppos'ta be strangers anyway. I’m friends with Mr and Mrs. Miller. So we can be friends too- I’m Phoebe”

Bucky doesn’t know what to think of the girl. There she is, scrapped knee, tears in her eyes, asking him to be friends.

“I’m, uh, Bucky” He takes her out stretched hand with an amused grin. She then begins to complain about her knee again, “It hurts” “It might need stiches”

He’s just about to tell her all she needs is a Band-Aid when he hears a screech.

“Phoebe!” It’s a woman’s voice that sounds distressed and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out it must be this mystery little girls mom. You come running, frantic, to the scene. Putting a hand over your heart when you see them.

Oh, Bucky thinks. He’s seen you around. Walking a dog down the street sometimes when he goes for his morning runs. You’re pretty, it’s plain to see. With your soft looking hair and your rosy cheeks. He’d noticed the sway of your large hips as you’d walked the dog in passing a few times…

“Phoebe Marie!” you scold, your chest heaving as you bend down “You scared me half to death! What have I told you, you cant play outside without me!”

Phoebe’s bottom lip furrows and Bucky thinks it may be the cutest pout face he’s ever seen. “I’m sorry!”

You look from her daughter and then to Bucky who perks up, abeit awkwardly.

“Hey, sorry. I saw her fall, and it was pretty nasty so I came over to make sure she didn’t do any serious damage” Bucky explains himself, fully aware that she could take this the wrong way. Grown men coming up to children wasn’t always received well.

You don’t look upset though “Thank you so much for that. She’s always been a little bit…adventurous? She’s going to either brake her neck or give me a stroke” you announce, your tone gentle and grateful as your fingers daintily scan over Phoebe’s knee before taking off her unicorn helmet. “I’m Y/N, by the way”

You throw a smile at him and he feels…weird. When was the last time anyone had smiled at him that way? With such raw kindness.

“I’m James, but you can call me Bucky”

Where did that come from? He wonders at the smoothness.

“Well ,Bucky, thank you again. She’s a little scraped up, but I think she’ll live” You look at your daughter pointedly and she adverts her gaze, guiltily “You moved in a couple weeks ago right? I think I’ve seen you around? We live a few houses up that way”

“Yeah, uh, I haven’t been here long”

“You liking the neighborhood so far?” You’re just being friendly, Bucky assures himself. He’s had therapy for this. He can talk to strangers, it’s okay. Plus, just like Phoebe had said- you weren’t really strangers. You were his neighbor.

“I am. It’s really quiet, but I think I like that” He converses, following suit as you stand up. You pull the girl into your arms, situating her on your hip effortlessly.

“Yeah? You move here from the city?” You inquire knowingly and he grins smalley.

“I did” Bucky answers “Brooklyn”

“Queens” You grin right back and he chuckles at the proudness and slight excitement in your voice “I know it’s a little bit of an adjustment, but I swear, once you get used to it here, you’ll never want to go back”

Bucky nods, processing that. When he doesn’t reply, you realize that maybe you’ve overstepped…

“I need to go patch this little soldier up. I know it’s over kill, but thank you. Again” You giggle, trying to fight the awkwardness “If you ever need anything, just holler. We’re all pretty tight on this col-de-sac. We do lame barbeques and everything”

“Yeah- yeah, I’ll keep that in mind” He couldn’t imagine going to a neighborhood shin-dig, but he humors you all the same “It was really nice to meet you, Y/N- Phoebe”

You agree. You’d been curious of the man for weeks, meeting him finally had been a pleasant surprise “Likewise. Well- we’ll let you get back. Have a good rest of the day” You scoop up the tricycle with your other hand and give him one last sweet smile before retreating.

“Bye Bucky!” Phoebe calls over your shoulder, waving her little hand overzealously at him and he cant wipe the smile on his face as he waves back to her.

He goes back to his garage, picks up where he’d left off. He thinks about the small encounter for the rest of the day, up until he takes his sleeping medication and falls into a dreamless sleep.

Read PART 2 

A sweet little start to this story, if I do say so myself. If you guys want to be tagged in upcoming chapters, let me know! 💛 Oh, and PS, listen to Moths Wings by Passion Pit. It’s this stories anthem.

[dickie-gayson]

Rockabye

CHAPTER 1: LOVE AND DEVOTION

Summary:  After an accident took Bruce from their family and their 'uncle' forced them out, Dick's been left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. He's tested day in and day out on just how far he'll go to keep his siblings safe and warm.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth, Thomas Wayne Jr.

Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort

Length: 3k+

Other: Dick adopts and takes care of his younger siblings. Jason is an overprotective little brother. Civilian!AU, Stripper!Dick, Waiter!Dick, the other siblings are all students, Thomas Wayne Jr is Creepy AF toward Dick. Jason wants to be a pediatrician, Cass wants to be a Dancer, Dami wants to be a vet, and Tim doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Find It On: Ao3 Fanfiction

LOVE AND DEVOTION

The faint scent of citrus and smoke lingered in the air as a cacophony of music and drunken chattering painted the room with what could only be described as grating background noise. In the dim lighting of the strip club, the hazy trails of cigarette smoke could be seen hanging in the atmosphere. Nine Lives was as refined an establishment as it was sleazy in its backdoor dealings. The traffic it drew varied from patrons eager to get drunk and ogle the entertainment to shady individuals with less than noble intentions. Anyone who spent time in the underground crime scene knew of this place, if for no other reason than the owner of the club; Sal Maroni.

Dick hated this place with every fiber of his being, but he needed the money desperately. Had he any better option, he wouldn't hesitate to take it. Sadly, there were surprisingly few opportunities for a former circus performer and ex-cop. Perhaps it had less to do with his resume and more to do with who is family is, or rather was. Being the son of a deceased billionaire garnered little sympathy, even one as benevolent as a Wayne. If only they knew why he was searching for a job. In the end, his pride wasn't worth a damn when his little siblings were starving. There wasn't a thing on this earth he wouldn't do for them. That much was being proven every day.

He could still remember the moment he found out about the accident. His world fell apart around him once more. And while he and his brothers and sister had been grieving, their 'uncle' swooped in to pick the remains of their inheritance clean. He'd taken the manor and evicted the five as well as their butler without a moment's hesitation. It was the single most callous display of human greed and malignance he'd ever seen.

There'd been a moment of hope that the six wouldn't be left homeless. Thomas had taken him aside, an almost kind expression on his face. It made Dick's skin crawl. The man was never kind. It had to be a ruse in an effort to further his own agenda. The words that came from Thomas' lips, the sliding hand and growing leer only justified that thought. He'd let them live in the manor, all of them, under one simple condition. He felt disgusted, downright nauseous at the memory of the proposition alone.

Thomas never used to be like that. Sure, he never was a pleasant man. There was something innately...unsettling, almost evil, about him. A bone-deep coldness that no amount of money or faux-grins could hide. Being around him for any length of time felt like sitting next to a hungry cobra. He was far too calculating and distant from anything even resembling human emotions to be comforting company. Still, what he proposed was sick. Dick noticed the mounting change over time. Thomas had always been interested in his acrobatics, but never in any way more than clinical interest, to see what asset he could be to the man's enterprise.

That began to change as he aged. When he started to grow into himself and fill out into his current appearance was when those icy, appraising stares turned a little more into interested leers. Touches drifted and lingered uncomfortably. Words turned almost slimy to the ear. He wasn't the only one to notice. His father confronted Thomas in a fit of explosive rage and it quickly turned violent. Had Alfred not split it up, the cops surely would have been involved. After that, Thomas made himself scarce. In fact, the next time he saw his 'uncle' was at the funeral. The man had the audacity to arrive late without an ounce of remorse or sadness. One would never believe his little brother lay in the casket from the uncaring way he lingered in the back. The entire time, Dick felt those unsettling eyes watching him like a hawk.

After that is when Thomas evicted the five and fired Alfred. He'd fought tooth and nail with the man. How could he just kick out his niece and nephews, one of which was thirteen and sickly and the other only nine? That oily little smile gave him a clue just what sort of proposition was coming. Even though he'd been expecting it, it still didn't stop the sickening feeling from rising in his stomach. Despite the fact that it made his gut churn in horror, he actually contemplated accepting the terms just so his siblings and unofficial grandfather had somewhere to sleep and food to eat. Jason, bless his soul, intervened with an anger and vicious protectiveness that matched their father's. It was what kept him from taking the deal. However, not a day went by where he didn't think of calling Thomas up and accepting.

He was pulled from the thoughts as he made his way out of the back halls of the strip club, deftly stepping around other dancers. It was reaching one in the morning and his shift was officially over. He took his tips and couldn't wait to get back to their shitty apartment and just crash for a few hours. He halted midstep when his eyes landed on the familiar form of his little brother hunched over a breakroom table, steadily writing away. He couldn't help but let out a slightly frustrated sigh. Jason knew better than to be here, especially on a school night, especially at this time. Then again, the teen never cared much to follow rules he didn't like. It seemed to be a family trait.

Quietly, he crept up on his brother and peeked over his shoulder to see what had him so enraptured. It appeared to be an essay about the Catcher in the Rye. He could remember reading that in high school, though it hadn't really caught his attention well. Jason was far more enthusiastic about school and its entailed work than any of the other siblings. He'd even been a Class Officer, whatever that meant. Dick liked to tease him about being a nerd, despite his 'James Dean, rebel with a cause' style he had going on. Never before did he see a guy rocking a leather jacket, combat boots, and riding a motorcycle so excited to do extra credit homework. The kid was going places, that much was known and Dick couldn't be prouder.

For a moment, he just stood there and watched his little brother scribble furiously and make agitated noises while erasing. Then, he cleared his throat, causing the younger man to startle violently. He had to duck a backhanded punch. The string of swears slipping from his brother caused him to laugh lightly. Dick slung his arm over his shoulder and nudged him.

"What are you doing here?"

The spread of crimson across his cheeks showed that he was sufficiently embarrassed. Naturally, to cover up that perceived weakness, Jason shoved at him with a glare. It wasn't nearly as intimidating when his face was doing a good impression of a tomato. He never was big on showing anything he considered a 'weakness', even something like caring. Really, he couldn't blame his brother. With his past and where he came from, something like that could be held against him.

"What does it look like? Waiting for you, dumbass."

It was hard to take it as an insult when the words were mumbled out with a genuinely caring edge. Dick just sighed and leaned back to let Jason gather his stuff and stand.

"I told you not to wait here for me, especially on school nights."

The look he got was only mildly scathing in nature, which was a plus.

"Yeah? And I told you I don't care. There are way too many creeps around here."

An amused little smirk curled the corner of Dick's lips. While his brother might have trouble really expressing himself - who didn't in his family? - he had a real heart of gold. It was adorable.

"Aww. how sweet. Your concern is really endearing. You don't think I can take care of myself?"

His attempt at ruffling Jason's hair was thwarted by a dodge and half-hearted swipe from the younger boy.

"Shut up, dickhead. I know you can, but these assholes don't play fair. I'm just evening the odds."

There was that slight twist of his features that showed just how embarrassed he was to display any concern. The thought that his seventeen-year-old little brother was 'evening the odds' was almost surreal. Though, he couldn't really deny that he was growing to be intimidating in stature. The two were damn near eye level now with Jason being broader built and more heavily muscled, cutting an imposing figure.

"Alright, alright. C'mon, you know Alfie's waiting up to chew you out, and by proxy me. Plus you gotta get up in like five hours."

Jason just let out a scoff and very pointedly rolled his eyes.

"So do you. You don't sleep, I don't sleep. That's the rules."

It tugged at Dick's heart how serious Jason was about that. He'd been fighting with his brother over this since everything fell apart. Jason figured if he refused to sleep until Dick did, it'd encourage the older man to sleep more and take better care of himself. It was as endearing as it was heartbreaking.

"That's definitely not the rules. If you start falling behind in school because you don't sleep, it'll be harder for you to get a scholarship."

Jason just looked at his feet with a scowl firmly in place at the words. He knew it to be true, but that didn't mean he liked it.

"Wouldn't need a scholarship if that asshole didn't take everything."

His words were filled to the brim with a searing hatred and Dick mirrored those feelings. Though there was a touch more fear on Dick's end, for obvious reasons. With a low sigh, he put a hand on Jason's shoulder as they made their way toward the exit.

"I know. We'll work things out though, we always do. Besides, you're so damn smart, Jay. Colleges are probably lining up with scholarships for you."

Try as he might, Jason couldn't quite suppress the pleased little grin from appearing on his lips. Getting praise still felt strange to him, even four years after being taken into the family. But it was a nice sort of strange. It's one reason he fought so fiercely for them all, even if sometimes he wanted to throw his little brothers in a ditch somewhere. They all came from broken backgrounds yet they managed to find a common thread in their pains that tied them together in this strange little fucked up family of theirs. Even that absolute douchebag that is Bruce's older brother couldn't shatter their bond. If anything, he only served to make their attachment to one another stronger. Still, if Jason had the opportunity, he'd shatter Thomas' everything with a baseball bat, no hesitation.

"Damn right they are. Who wouldn't want me to attend their school?"

A cocky, crooked grin was sent Dick's way, causing the older man to laugh lightly.

"Exactly! I can see it now: Doctor Todd, the renowned pediatrician. They'd be crazy not to snatch you up."

Jason was quiet for a moment, that small smile still in place. There seemed to be an added heaviness to his features, a sort of sadness that Dick was all too familiar with. Without looking at him, Jason spoke in a small voice.

"You think Bruce would be proud?"

The words caused Dick's heart to break all over again. For what seemed to be the millionth time, he cursed the drunk driver that had caused the horrible accident that took their father from them. He gave Jason a tight, one-armed hug, knowing he wasn't big on physical affection.

"Absolutely. We're all so proud of you, Little Wing. Don't ever forget it."

That heaviness that seemed to weigh Jason down lightened just a bit at the heartfelt words. He'd always had an affinity with kids and loved to help others. His decision was only solidified after the accident when the doctors couldn't save Bruce. It had also caused Tim internal injuries, resulting in him needing to have a kidney removed. Some trauma never left and he's been borderline sickly ever since. They needed special - and pricey - medication to keep him healthy. Jason wanted to help those like his family, those that lost it all. He'd planned to work in a free clinic as he knew all too well how bullshit the medical system has become.

Dick tossed a casual 'bye' to his coworkers as they went out the back. They returned with a chorus of good-byes, many of them tacking on 'Little Wing', much to Jason's intense mortification. Dick had to bite his tongue not to laugh at his brother's cherry-red face. The scowl would be more threatening if it didn't look closer to an embarrassed pout. He got a shove for his efforts. Jason huffed and crossed his arms, looking all the part of a moody teen now more than ever. Dick just shook his head in amusement.

Both brothers walked in silence down the darkened Gotham streets, each lost in thought. They made careful to avoid alleys like the plague. 'Evening the Odds' didn't mean they felt even remotely safe traversing those passages and with good reason. The chances of them getting mugged or worse were astronomically high, even if they were two grown men. Well, one grown and one almost eighteen, but Jason certainly looked the part. Dick would very much rather drive to and from work, but he did so as little as possible. Their money was tight as is, he couldn't afford the gas, repairs, or payments to maintain a vehicle. That hatred for Thomas in him burned a little brighter.

At Jason's insistent nudge, Dick crossed the street. He gave his brother an inquisitive look only to notice the sharp way he was staring at one particular alley. Quickly, Jason averted his eyes in an effort not to be caught looking by whoever the hell was lurking. Dick didn't see anyone but he trusted Jason's instincts. He grew up on these streets and knew the ins and outs better than any of them. If he thought something was up with that alley, they could take a detour around the entrance. Anything to keep his baby brother safe.

He didn't ask and Jason didn't tell. That's how it usually was with the streets. Better to keep quiet and pretend you didn't see anything than make yourself a target. Dick sighed softly at the life they now led. One day, it'll change. He swore it. No matter what he has to do, he'll change it for them. Until that day, they'd scrape by one way or another.

There was an obvious ease of tension once they stepped into their shitty apartment complex. It was small, the walls were cracked and yellowed, the floor looked and felt like it hadn't been cleaned in ages, and he's pretty sure their neighbor was a drug dealer, but it was better than the streets. They only had two bedrooms to split between six people. It was a tight squeeze, especially compared to the cushy life they had at the manor.

The two tiptoed around the creaking floors in an effort not to disturb the sleeping kids. Before he got far, Dick noticed Damian fast asleep on the couch, clearly waiting for him to return. He frowned lightly as he debated on moving the young boy to his room but decided against it. Damian was a notoriously light sleeper and he wanted to disturb him as little as possible.

The eldest brother continued on his path and peeked his head into one room to check on his other younger siblings. Tim was curled up on a beat up mattress and Cass was sprawled out on the mat next to the bed, both sound asleep. Or so he thought. Cass appeared to have heard him despite his best efforts and looked over at the door, body tensed to move. Once she recognized the intruder as Dick she relaxed and flashed him a small, tired grin. He gave her one in return and signed an apology. She just gave a light shrug before curling back up to sleep.

Dick moved from the doorframe and looked into the other room. As he suspected, Alfred was up and sitting in a chair, reading a book like it wasn't after one in the morning. The elderly man glanced up, looking as put together as ever despite the time. Dick gave him a small wave and smile. Alfred returned it in like before marking his place and putting the book down. It looked as if he didn't want to sleep until his two eldest were safely home. Dick hated that. He just wanted the others to take it easy, not wait up for him because he couldn't get a better job in a safer place. They deserved better than they were getting. It grated on his every nerve.

Jason gave him a somewhat awkward shoulder-pat as he moved passed him to lay down on his own mat. It was his way of being affectionate without having to get too touchy. He gave the younger man a slight grin and quiet 'good night' before making his way toward the bathroom to take a shower. He needed to wash the stench of the club off him. It helped him feel cleaner on a more than skin deep level. Not to mention his customers at the diner probably wouldn't appreciate the scent of liquor and sweat or the copious amounts of glitter coming off of him.

It had to be a brisk shower, the hot water rarely lasted long, much to everyone's frustration. Once he was clean, he made his way to the living room to get a nap before having to take his shift at The Monarch Diner. That place was possibly as bad as Nine Lives. He's pretty certain they hired him because he was nice to look at. They encouraged him to flirt with customers in hopes of better tips and returning patrons. Well, it certainly worked. He's had enough creepy people returning just to try and get with him. Both Jason and Damian have nearly been banned for attempting to throttle some of the more touchy customers.

Since then, he's toned down on the flirting, even if his bosses insist otherwise. It wasn't their asses on the line. They weren't the ones who had to look over their shoulders for literal stalkers. God, he hated working there but there wasn't much else for him to do. He's constantly looking for better jobs but without success. Even Alfred's taken up a job working at a hotel to clean the rooms in an effort to keep the income somewhat steady. It only made Dick all the more determined to find something, anything, better.

He slipped onto the couch quietly, trying to disturb the nine-year-old as little as possible. The kid, attentive as ever, woke at the shifting of the cushions. Spotting his eldest brother, Damian curled up closer to him. Dick wrapped him in a hug and ran his fingers through his raven locks to try to coax him back to sleep. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head and tried to enjoy his few hours of peace. It'd get better for them, it had to.