#when they went on royal tinder

[katherines-howard]

[mickandmusings]

indifferent

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: a year ago, the sight of jake seresin would've sent her into a flurry of tears. now, as she stares at him chatting up the bleach-blonde at the bar, all she feels is a deep hatred for the man who charmed the room with his stupid texan accent and encapsulating green eyes.

warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! seriously, this is actually a lot more smutty than usual for me; this is my first attempt at more serious smut so it's not good but we're trying new things!; angsty yet fluffy; exes to enemies to lovers (these two hate each other); no use of Y/N; sort of mean!jake, but not really; reader is described as wearing a skirt

based on megan moroney's 'indifferent'

-

As she walks into the Hard Deck, she's convinced the universe is doing everything it can to royally fuck her over.

She'd hoped for a nice night with some random but handsome Naval personnel, make him pay for drinks, give him a rather steamy and heavy make out session, and leave before it can go any further. When she enters from the beach side doors, her eyes scan the room for...Brayden? Brandon? Brian? She couldn't really remember the name attached to his Tinder profile, only remembering the beauty of a Bronco in his pictures, but he wasn't important. What was really important was the spine-chilling hate crawling up her chest as she spots the khaki-uniform-clad blonde at the bar.

Jake fucking Seresin.

Her eyes narrow, knowing her night had already soured, and it hadn't even started. She and Jake had a....history, of sorts. By history she meant deep-seeded rage and hatred for one another after a failed relationship. A year ago, she had been in a mutually exclusive relationship with the aforementioned Lieutenant Seresin, well, one she had thought had been mutually exclusive. Until she found herself worrying and fretting every time he went out with his friends. And her gut had been right, because only six months into the relationship she'd had the dreaded 'hey girl, is this your man?' message sitting in her Instagram DM. When he came home that night and had denied it all, vehemently, she might add, it had escalated to a screaming match and her storming out of the house. From that moment on, she hadn't even bothered to check-in on what he was doing in his life. She hated Jake Seresin, and as much as she told herself she was indifferent to what he was doing with the bleach-blonde giggling next to him at the bar, she knew her skin itched to ruin his night.

Instead, she decided to be the bigger person. In her direct line of vision, she found an empty table in the corner and made her way towards it. She had passed the bar successfully, and she was merely inches away from taking her claim on the seat when his southern accent tumbles into her ears.

"Didn't expect to see you here, darlin'."

Fuck me now.

She takes a deep breath before turning around meeting his tall figure. He hadn't changed, still muscular and broad, big green eyes and well-kept blonde hair. She rolls her eyes, tapping her nails against the table nonchalantly. She didn't care about him, and she would not fall victim to his charms-never again.

"What do you want, Seresin?"

His eyes widen, a shit-eating grin creeping on his face as he raises his hands in mock surrender.

"Damn, sweetheart, I'm just sayin' hello."

"Yeah I bet. Hey, Jake. Now, you better scurry back to your girl at the bar before she gets scooped up by one of your little Navy buddies."

He looks back at Coyote's girlfriend he had been casually catching up with, certainly not flirting, but if it riled up the girl in front of him, well, then he'd play into it. Jake shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Not too worried about it, not really interested."

Yeah, I bet.

"So what do you want with me? Because you're not here to play catch up, Seresin."

Jake takes a good look at her, she's obviously here for a date. Her outfit is casual enough for the bar, but accents her curves enough to attract some appeal. Even enough to make his own pants feel tight. Whoever she was here with was one damn lucky man, no matter how jealousy burned at Jake's chest.

"You look good tonight."

She audibly scoffs, rolling her eyes at the compliment.

"If you're here to grovel about what happened, save it. You should've done that a year ago."

Jake bristles, annoyed. Their blow-up fight had been a simple case of misunderstanding. He hadn't been flirting with the girl at the bar that night, he'd been helping her escape a creep who had been following her around the bar. He had to admit, the photo had been a little...compromising, when taken out of context. She'd never even given him a chance to explain himself before blowing it out of the water. They'd both yelled at one another, not bothering to hear either side of the other's statements. She left full of shaking anger, and he hadn't seen her since, until now.

"Maybe I could've groveled if you would've listened to me for two damn minutes."

She swings her head around, her own feelings bristling as she raises her voice.

"Listen to you?! The evidence was pretty damn convincing, Jake!"

He breathes deeply, cutting his green eyes to Phoenix standing at the pool table. The brunette lifts a brow in his direction. Jake knows this is going to escalate quickly, both of their tempers flaring, and for the sake of not ruining his reputation in front of his coworkers, he grips her arm and takes her outside to the parking lot.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Get your hands off of me!"

As they approach the spot where his truck is parked, he lets go of her and she crosses her arms.

"You're yellin' at me like some kind of crazy in there. My teammates are in there-"

"Oh! God forbid the great Hangman is embarrassed in front of his friends."

She's angry, flaring with an annoyance so great she's blind to what she's saying. Jake, a man known for his ego, seems to flare in the same manner. His voice is biting when he speaks.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

"I swear to God, you must get off on the idea of pissing me off!"

They're loud, yelling over one another about trivial things-her being here on a date, him flirting at the bar with another girl, stupid things that didn't amount to much, but nearly anything could fuel the fire between them. Both were still ridiculously attracted to one another, despite everything, and their feelings ran deep. Jake's face is red-between the heat of California and his searing annoyance, he had begun to work up a sweat. Not to mention how incredibly hot she looked when she was pissed. Their voices could not get any louder at one another, spouting off any detail they could think of. Finally, it draws to a head when she spits out her next sentence, her tone biting.

"You know, I fucking hate you, Jake Seresin."

Jake chuckles dryly, no humor lacing his tone.

"That's a harsh claim comin' from the girl givin' me fuck me eyes."

She recoils, crossing her arms over her chest. She knows he's right, despite her annoyance with him, she knows there's still a fire between them, one she tries to swallow despite her blood burning and her heart racing.

"You wish, asshole."

"Yeah, I do."

His response shocks her, his tone softer than before, but his eyes nearly predatory. He can feel his usual roomy uniform grow tight, his jaw clenched tightly. Her eyes dart between his own as they glimmer in the moonlight, and she finds herself unable to find a retort. No worries, Jake's voice oozes with charm and seduction.

"What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden, darlin'? You sure were all talk only a few seconds ago."

"Y-You don't mean that."

Her voice comes out small and unsure, her throat feeling dry and her entire being throbbing with the tingle of desire.

"Don't mean what?"

He comes closer, eyes never falling from her own, his calloused hands coming around her hips. He almost expects her to flinch out of his touch, but she lets him hold her against his own hips. She can see and feel the evidence of his own arousal, the usual light color of his eyes dark with lust.

"You think I'd lie about wantin' you? You're a damn fool if you think that, I've thought about you since the night you ran out my door."

She stills, her heart racing as she manages to form a thought.

"Y-You cheated on me, I'm not falling for this."

She goes to turn from his hold, but his grip on her hips is tight.

"No."

His voice is firm, demanding.

"That ain't what happened. You just never gave me a second to explain it. So I'm gonna talk, and you're gonna listen, got it?"

His voice was serious, but he was never intimidating or scary. Jake might be an asshole, but he'd never lay a hand on her, not like that.

"I wasn't flirtin' with that girl, never did, not once. That girl asked me to help her, and whoever sent you pictures of us got it all out of context. I might be a dick but I wouldn't do that to you, and I thought you knew that."

She looks at him, conflicted between wanting to jump his bones or punch him square in the jaw. She settles on simply asking a question.

"So why did you never try to call me? O-Or text me to explain?"

"Would you have listened?"

She already knew the answer to that.

"No."

He raises an eyebrow, nodding his head in a knowing look. Both halves of the couple are quiet for a minute, not knowing where to go from here. She's the first to break the silence.

"So, what does this mean?"

Jake shrugs.

"Nothin' if you don't want it to. But if you want me like I want you right now, I'd be okay with that, too."

The heat-filled tension is almost palpable, both of their chests heaving with barely contained want. Jake wants nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder and take her in the backseat of his truck, but this isn't his decision. It's hers-she has to decide if he's what she wants.

She cocks her head to the side before looking back up at him.

"And if I do want you like you want me?"

He feels himself twitch in his godforsaken uniform.

"Then you say the word and I'll make you forget whatever little shit you came here to meet."

In all honesty, she already had forgotten about...Bryson? Fuck, she really couldn't remember the poor guy's name.

"I swear to God, Seresin, if you don't touch me I'll lose my fucking mind."

Jake grins, pulling her flush against him.

"Well we can't have that can we, darlin'?"

His lips meet her own with little warning, a frenzy of clashing teeth and fumbling hands. Jake's hands meet on her back dangerously low, before he's placing his palms flat on her ass, pulling her up and her legs wrap around his waist. Her body flames at even the smallest stimulation, and when his hard-on meets her core, she lets out a provocative moan. Jake is going blind with an unbridled, insatiable want, and he wants-no-needs her, now.

"Baby," he grunts as her hips roll into his own. "You gotta stop that or I'm gonna take you right here in this goddamn parkin' lot."

She pulls back from his gaze, giving him a look as she breathes heavily, her lips plump from his fervor.

"When have we ever been above fucking in your back seat?"

Jake shakes his head and slams open the back door of his truck, wasting zero time tossing her lightly against the leather seats. Once, not so long ago, she would've given him shit for his ridiculous truck, but in this moment, with nothing but pure lust in her eyes, she was thankful for his spacious back seats and tinted windows. He slams the door behind him, and effectively clicks the lock attached to his keys before tossing them into the passenger side seat, his hands now free to grasp the supple flesh of her bottom. His lips return to the open plain of her neck, and she sighs, knowing he was headed towards the sweet spot in the junction of her neck and jaw. He finds it within seconds, and she chokes on a gasp. Her hands find purchase in his blonde locks, a lot less soft from the gel, but still comfortable. Jake groans against her collarbone from the sensation alone, his hips subconsciously thrusting to meet against her own. His lips travel down to the exposed top of her chest before he pulls back, tossing his uniform top and undershirt, dog tags dangling down to brush against her skin. He looks down at her with his hands grasping her hips.

"You sure about this?"

She nods, she'd never been more sure.

"I need your words, baby."

God, this man was going to kill her.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Jake."

In one swift move, he's yanking down the skirt on her hips, her undergarments with it. His knee separates her legs, leaving her completely exposed to his eyes alone. He shakes his head and tuts, smiling the infamous Hangman grin.

"As beautiful as the day I lost 'er."

He darts back down between her legs before beginning to ravish her completely. The next long stretch of time is spent with both of them completely lost in one another. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the air, mingling with cries of pleasure, mangled gasps, and the whispers of each other's names. By the time they both fall against one another after their heights, they're panting and sweating, completely sated and exhausted. The air is quiet, only their heavy breaths between them. Jake is the first to speak after a bout of nothingness.

"Who were you here to meet with anyhow? Hard Deck doesn't seem like somewhere you'd come for shits and giggles."

She takes a breath, rolling over to lie on his chest, tucking her head under his chin as his large hand grips her hip, pulling her closer.

"Met some guy on Tinder. Brayden? Bryson? I don't remember, just saw a really nice Bronco in his pictures. Seemed cute enough for a casual Friday night."

Jake's eyes widen, he moves his head to his hand, propping himself up to look down at her.

"Bradley, maybe?"

She shrugs.

"Yeah, maybe, why?"

"He got a mustache, lots of funky patterned shirts?"

She furrows her brow, wondering how he knew.

"Yeah, why?"

Jake groans as he lays back down, running a hand over his face. She giggles, leaning up to prop her head on his chest.

"What?"

Jake grins.

"I can't believe I was about to lose you to Bradshaw of all people."

She listens to him chuckle, but she doesn't return the action. She shakes her head, pushing blonde hair out of his face.

"You won't lose me, not again."

-

[snarky-art]

Daphne coronation day fit idea

Not sure if I’m totally happy with it but it’s a start at the very least

She went through this ceremony before she died when she was 4 and started working with The Flame, but she wasn’t wearing the front headpiece with the cyan gem in it that time. She was wearing the other one with the additional flares on the outside of it and the purple gem, the one used for the heir that’s using the flame. The cyan one is simply for an heir for the royal family. She wears it this time since she is no longer the holder of The Dragon Flame.

This ceremony is done this time after Marion, Oritel, Bloom, and Daphne have a long and serious conversation after Daphne is healed and in a much better place mentally and physically about what Bloom and Daphne would like going forward for their positions. It’s decided Daphne shall remain heir and next in line for the throne and Bloom shall remain holder of The Dragon Flame and second in line, allowing her more flexibility to visit between Earth, Domino, and wherever else in The Magical Realm she’d like to go.

Ceremony details below the cut!

Before the ceremony starts she steps into a fire at the beginning of the hall to mark her feet.

She'll have her eyes painted with soot and her forehead and the center of her lip will be marked with it too during the ceremony by an elder who has worked and trained with The Flame.

She will then dip her fingers into flame and bury them into the soot at the bottom of it (Dominions have decent fire resistance don't worry, and Daphne is especially resistant, virtually immune. The reason she got burns before dying is a mix of her body struggling to function without The Flame by focusing on the most basic functions needed to survive and because that fire wasn’t regular fire. It was imbued and caused by such potent magic with a great ill intent and want for destruction)

The ceremony is then completed and she is given a staff made from The Great Tree's wood with foliage wrapped over it and a gold egg with imagery of The Great Tree (pictured in the second image in this post) and is declared the heir proper.

Soot in different places mean different things

For the eyes, the visions of The Dragon, showing It’s will

The mouth, to speak It’s will

The forehead, to give the being It’s ideas and wisdom

The hands, to enact It’s will

And the feet, to follow It and go where It wills There's other options too for people with different disabilities, but those are the basics and the ones Daphne is doing.

For the order the 3 circles symbolizing birth, life, and death, are meant to be read in that are shown in repetition throughout the imagery, they can technically be read either way, but typically the cycles of birth, life, and death are read from bottom to top

For The Tree, it shows how life begins at the roots, where The Dragon is said to be sleeping under it, then the trunk, life as it grows, and the leaves, death, since they are the thing that wither and fall

Same on the face paint. When people die, their last breath is said to return to the dragon. So for it to be on the lips, as that's where the last breath is taken, it's typical for that. Life continues so long as breath passes through the neck, and the base of the neck is where that breath is shown to start, or at least that is what older customs believed and dictated when these ceremonies first started as remembered in Dominion history, and it has stuck ever since.

And then for it to be on the top of the old Flame symbol, it starts in the tinder, lives with the body of the fire, and then death at the top where it withers and flickers faintly.

I explain more in depth some stuff and other bits of symbolism found in Dominion culture in this post about Bloom’s Mythix also if you want to check it out!:)

[berryitalive]

1 x 1 Roleplay Plots inspired by songs by Everything Everything

So this definitely isn't a roleplay blog itself (I have no idea how rp Tumblr functions and I prefer to use Discord for it.)

Recently I have been trying to reignite my love for roleplaying and because of that it has given me reason to write out different scenarios! Since my favorite band is Everything Everything I figured I would draw inspo from them!

Album: Raw Data Feel

Bad Friday -Theme: Supernatural-

[Muse A] wakes up on a Sunday morning with a killer headache and little memory of the days before. When they enter the bathroom and cut the lights on, they see their reflection covered in blood. In a panic, they search for any wounds they may have but find none. This wasn’t their blood. Flashes of the night before, of them running in the woods to escape whatever beast was after them, suddenly flooded their mind. How had they managed to escape whatever creature was chasing them? [Muse A] looks at their phone for any clue of what happened over the weekend, only to find a blurry picture of [Muse B] in some kind of mid-transformation. What was their best friend doing in this picture? Why was the last thing they could remember was leaving the nightclub with [Muse B] after ‘last call’?

Metroland Is Burning - Theme: Apocalyptic/Supernatural-

[Muse A] and [Muse B] were subjects in a government science lab deep underground, originally they were supposed to be the answer to adapting to the changing climate…or so they were told. The lab offered 25 grand to each person to allow themselves to be injected with ‘Serum K’. They were the only two participants in this experiment before things outside of the lab went wrong. After 6 months of overnight studies and invasive tests, a county-killing asteroid hits Earth around midnight, wiping out many of the scientists that lived in the area. [Muses] heard the explosion before the lights went off in the facility. After locating each other, their belongings and a map of the lab, they make their way out of the underground building. As they reach the surface the first thing they see is Six Flags on fire. Everything is quiet, no one is looking for survivors. And to make things worse the material in the asteroid seems to cause the serum in their bodies to change their dna. Why was there no warning about the asteroid? What is this serum doing to [Muses]?

Album: Get To Heaven

Distant Past - Plot Theme: Modern Fantasy/Adventure

[Muse A] is magic royalty from an era that is all but seemingly forgotten. Days before their wedding, they get pushed through a portal to the future where there is no magic in use but instead a modern time filled with cell phones, electric vehicles and whatever the fuck Tinder is. [Muse B] seems to think [A] is their date and approaches them. [A] just wants to find their way back to their era and because [B] is clearly of ‘lower class’, it is now their responsibility to help the royal pain. (I realize world wise this is basically Onward by Pixar)

Regret - Plot Theme: Fantasy/Action

The city is on curfew due to an arsonist running loose. Several buildings and trees have caught fire in the past few days. [Muse A]’s face is in the papers as the main suspect and the authorities are searching high and low for them. [Muse B] the leading detective spots [Muse A] in a dark, hooded cloak and against their better judgment begins a chase after them. [B] manages to corner [A] in an alleyway. [A] removes the hood that was previously covering their head to reveal a set of dragon horns.

Album: A Fever Dream

Desire - Plot Theme: Fantasy/Drama

[Muse A] has been raised to hate vampires. To only see them as blood-sucking, human-destroying monsters. When [A] became an adult, they left home to train to become a monster hunter.  [A]’s only mission is to purify the world of vampire’s existence and make humanity safer. After training with the League of Slayers, [A] returns home to begin their solo hunting career with their best friend [Muse B] by their side. Things look great for [A]! However…[B] is a vampire and now has to protect their secret from [A]. Will [A’s] desire to put an end to the vampire race be stronger than their love for their friend [B]?

[metaphoricalmusings]

portland trip notes

big long word dump!

aug 20 we headed out on the road after loading up the car drove for about 1.5 hours and stopped at a starbucks, charged the car up back on the road  passed into oregon state and took at picture at the sign stopped at yreka junction for dinner (taco bell), and went to walmart. we bought grapes at walmart (very yummy). my crunchwrap supreme was not crunchy at all, i was super disappointed.  arrived at our accommodation for the evening around 7pm. it’s a cozy mountain lodge. after we moved everything into the room, we went out for a short walk to check out the premises and golden hour. then we retired back to the room.  I had a call with miko to talk about his role as a TD and took a bunch of notes before we went to bed. 

aug 21 we have breakfast at the lodge (made waffles! very crispy. i hurt my gums eating them) we also tried the jacuzzi in our room, however, the jets did not work :(  on our way out I sniped some firewood tinder for our camping night later in the trip. drove a short scenic path along the cascade siskiyou national monument. stopped at various points to take some photos.  we dropped off stuff at our airbnb, then drove down to revolution hall to pick up our badges. checked out the vibes in the park and dropped things off into the car before walking over to dinner. we got ramen for dinner at toya ramen, justin and I swapped bowls because I ended up preferring his broth. i got a highball which was quite yummy. we shared a hojicha dessert. 

aug 23 I woke up super early again, started working on my sf zine fest illustration. at 7am when Justin woke up we walked over to Twisted Croissant and got croissants for breakfast (they were extremely delicious but also really pricey……. a ham and cheese croissant was $10 lol). it was drizzling a bit but not too bad. at 9am I took the netflix call with dan (hiring manager) in the airbnb and it went really well even though my internet cut out twice. got an email that they want to move forward with the process, and so have the panel interview scheduled for the following week.  we go to the conference and get seats in the auditorium for the opening talk. It’s pretty short, and then everyone heads outside and we’re just kind of wandering around different tables. sat for a few of the indie media circus talks in the tent. we went to dos hermanos bakery to get sandwiches for lunch which supposedly are “life changing”. they were humongous. i got a half sandwich and Justin got a whole one and it was like 2 feet long lol. very tasty and fresh and after some discussion we did agree that it was indeed life changing.  I drop by the visual art meet up at a brewery, then justin and I catch up with the photography meet up. It started raining a lot so then we sheltered in a brewery that happened to be next to where the filmmaking meetup was. We went to check it out and funnily enough I bumped into a girl that was a story artist who was already following me on instagram.  for dinner we go to the food truck cluster near revolution hall and get stuff from a mexican truck. justin got a quesadilla and I got tacos. they tasted ok (justin’s quesadilla cheese ratio was way off— too much cheese, not enough meat). unfortunately I think there was something not right about the food and it didn’t sit well for either of our stomachs.  we’re sitting at the table playing the royal game of ur when justin’s friend swings by with a pup and they chat some and I find out about cult flav which is interesting  then we head in for the side show talks, small bu animation (really neat), pudding.cool (justin missed this whole talk bc he was having shits as a result of the quesadilla) and then we went into the car for a nap before going back in for every frame a painting. I dozed off during the debut of their short film but anyway. we headed back to the airbnb after that.

aug 24 i literally called it the day before, but turns out the ppl staying the airbnb unit above us were also xoxo attendees lol. i had actually met them at the visual arts meetup—they’re a couple and also doing long distance where the guy lives in sf and the girl lives in….mexico?? not sure how thats gonna work out but yea.. anyway on day two we slept in a bit, then headed over to rev hall and justin got a steak breakfast sandwich at meat cheese and bread. I picked up coffee and a chai latte for justin at a vegan cafe nearby. they offered coconut milk as an option so I tried it, but didn’t really taste the difference in the latte.  we did some walking around and chatting with folks, then went in for the afternoon session of talks.  in the afternoon, I get a tamale and we sit down with a random girl at a picnic table to eat and chat. she turns out to be slightly a dud but then a guy named sam grover that we met at the photo meet up sat down and said hi. he turned out to be a super experienced ios developer so I was egging Justin on to ask him questions (free advice!!!) Eventually we head inside for the talks. It’s mostly talks for the afternoon, all of which are excellent. I felt genuinely moved and am already excited to rewatch some of them.  After everything wrapped up I was pretty tired—this whole thing is just a lot of socializing and I feel like I was still ramping back up after being literally in the mountains not really talking to anyone except our 8 person trek group so it was exhausting. I skipped on dinner and just chilled in the car for a bit while Justin went to eat with his friends. He brought me some food which was really nice and super tasty (kimchi mac n cheese and korean fried chicken) I was just rotting in the car with no real plans to leave but then Justin texted me that he was standing next to Tony and Taylor (Every Frame a Painting)!! it would be my last chance to say hi to them and tell him that the YouTube video they made were something I referenced a lot in my art career transition journey. taylor and I talked for quite a bit and we followed each other on IG. i was really happy lol

aug 25 - check out day

i woke up early again (last dredges of jet lag) but after doing some online research about what we should do with our last half day in Portland, i decided that we had to go see the Columbia river gorge.  Unfortunately that is a 30 min drive in the opposite direction that we are headed to after. which means that we just had to get the day started nice and early!!! Justin got up and we packed everything and were out of the airbnb by 9am or so. ate some of the chicken we had as leftovers, then we grabbed a croissant for the road and started driving east. it’s perfect weather and the scenery is great. our first stop is vista house at crown point where we get out and take some photos, enjoy the view. then we drove in to latourell falls where there’s a short hike to a waterfall. unfortunately I took us up down the wrong path so we were hiking uphill for a bit with absolutely no views lol but justin got some nice photos of plants. Eventually I realized we were going the wrong way so we turned back and go on the right track. You could walk up to the base where the water was hitting the rocks, it was actually quite cool.  After that, we headed back into town, stopping to charge at the Columbia river outlets supercharger. Also got Starbucks. Justin’s chai latte tasted like diabetes in a cup  We drove to Powell’s in downtown and checked out the bookstore (huge!!!) and then walked to a food truck area and got katsu sandwiches for lunch. popped into a blick store and got some art supplies bc no sales tax in Oregon so why not 🤑 at this point it’s around 4pm ish and we finally roll out of Portland towards tillamook. After about 2 hours of driving, we’re at tillamook cheese factory and we charge the car, go in the museum and taste some cheese. We also get ice cream and a grilled cheese. justin gets some souvenirs, I pick up a postcard. There were a lot of cows around which Justin took some photos of before we drove out. It’s golden hour at this point and the lighting is insane everything looks so good. We stop in a little town and snap some shots. It totally makes you romanticize small town life in Oregon.  After 2 more hours of driving we arrive at our hotel for the night (agate beach best western). Unfortunately we did not get a room with a beach front view but it’s ok bc we have plenty of ocean views coming later anyway. 

aug 26  I wake up early and plan the day. At 10am we go get breakfast at chalet bakery & restaurant, which is this nice little old school diner near the hotel. I got pancakes, eggs and hash browns, Justin got bacon, eggs, and a waffle. afterwards we dropped by the Walmart next door and got more grapes / last minute camping things. packed the car and back on the road, I called to check atv reservations for later in the day.  drove about 40 min to Thor’s well and looked at the tide pools. Did not see anything interesting aside from a lot of barnacle and some mussels. Thor’s well itself was really cool, Justin and I got real close to take a photo but then of course a giant wave happens to come at the moment and splash us both. Then when we’re heading back to the path, Justin jumps down from a rock directly into water somehow and soaks his shoes lol.  at around 4pm we arrive at the Oregon sand dunes and sign up to do an atv ride. the whole process to get all set up with paperwork, safety training and gear takes about 45 min. the whole time during it they keep stressing how dangerous it is and how its an extreme sport and how you can back out at any time no hard feelings. I kept looking over at Justin to see whether or not we would back out but he sat there stony faced. Low key I was scared lol I was not trying to tip over and get seriously hurt. But anyway we went out and it was a fine experience. Weather again is exceptional and the dunes are beautiful. Personally don’t think I would do it again but glad we tried it. Then we get back on the road and start driving to the campsite. I am a little annoyed bc we stop to get McDonalds and try to charge but the super charger lot is blocked off bc they were repaving it. We end up having to stop at another place and sit and wait for the charging. By the time we get to the camp site it’s dark and we have to set everything up at night. It goes pretty well though - justin’s air mattress turned out to be king sized and fills up literally the entire tent. The stars are actually incredible. You can see the whole Milky Way.

aug 27 In the morning I wake up and I make a fire for us to roast marshmallows over. i also toasted some of my leftover chicken mcnuggies (very yum) We go for a short hike to the beach which is close by to the camp site. spend some time watching the seagulls, saw this super cool moment where a seagulls dove into the water and came out with a whole starfish in its mouth!!!

there are a bunch of wild marionberry bushes around the campground and after confirming with a park ranger that it’s safe to eat, we tried it. very sour. I wanted to gather more but Justin said no…

we leave the campgrounds around 12:30pm and continue driving down towards california. we stopped at natural bridges (lol) and started hiking down to it but the path to the bridge itself was super dangerous and had signs that said DO NOT GO. back on the road, we made a stop at oregon’s tallest bridge and did a hike down to try and see a whole view of it. both justin and I peed on this hike in the woods and turns out it didn’t really have a good view of the bridge after all. but there was a beautiful abandoned beach at the end. Around 3pm we make a stop for late lunch and to charge the car in crescent city. had an incredibly dank burrito - soo good and the restaurant staff were super friendly.  we keep driving and get to eureka around 7pm. After checking in the hotel and dropping off everything in the room we go for a little walk outside to see the sunset over the water. Sunset is just ok. 

aug 28 - last day on the road! In the morning I wake up early and drive the car across the street to the supercharger and walk back. we eat breakfast at the hotel, then pack everything and I get the car back from the charger and we head out. first stop is the Rockefeller loop in Humboldt redwoods state park. we drive down the avenue of the giants on the way down and it’s actually gorgeous. Weather is divine and the light is totally giving. the Rockefeller loop is super pretty and peaceful, the kind of walk that you feel like you have to be quiet in. Except then we realized mosquitos were buzzing around us so we were like YOWZA and we speed walked it out of there really fast. kind of a bummer because it was so beautiful and we would have loved to spend more time there but justin and I are both really tasty so the mosquitoes would have eaten us up. 

Back on the road after that and it’s mostly a straight shot down to SF. We make one stop to charge in a city called Ukiah. Got in n out for lunch and then back to driving. We arrive home at 4:35pm. Yay!

[beaze11]

6:42 PM 6/7/23

Summer is in full swing

What's new with me? Since my last entry I got tinder, kind of reconnected with my ex, moved away from hayday and reverted back to clash royale. The new little mermaid movie came out and I sobbed for the whole thing. I just love mermaids so much and that has always been my favorite disney princess movie. I was hit with this insane rush of nostalgia. I have always tried to stay in touch with things from my childhood because I don't believe your interests have to change as you grow older. But seeing this movie really made me realize I will never be that person again. Obviously I don't want to be a kid again and I don't behave like a child, but the simplicity and joy that came with being a child is something that cannot be mimicked as an adult.

It's pride month yayyy. My second pride being fully out. My first pride being genuinely in-tune with my sexuality. I really wanted to go to the pride parade this year but I'm going out of town. I bought some discreet ace pins on etsy because I want something that represents that side of me but I can't have my dad finding out. Lucky for me, he has no clue what the ace flag looks like and will probably never come across that information. Multiple people have told me I should try dating women and that I might have a better experience with that. Obviously I've thought about that and would very much love to be in a relationship with a woman but that's SCARY. I am like way more scared to hurt a woman than a man.

I saw paramore live and actually died. I had to call out of work the next day because I felt so sick. I was just feeling such intense emotions and so overstimulated for hours on end. Even when I was young, I always made sure to take a break during concerts but I didn't this time and it had dramatic results.

I also went on a trip with one of my close friends for the first time. Brought out a side of her that I've never seen. She just didn't like this place and showed no interest. I was taken aback because that is literally my favorite place ever and she knew how important it was to me but she just shoved it off. Like don't come on the trip if you're just going to a bitch the whole time. It didn't like affect our friendship or anything, I just won't invite her back. you live and you learn

Currently watching: "how do rich people actually dress?" Mina Le on youtube

[lale-txt]

🍆 online dating headcanons: Whitebeard pirates

a/n: i've had the idea for those on an endless long train ride where the person in front of my swiped heavily through Tinder and Grindr and i saw it all. told @cyborg-franky about it and we took the idea and ran with it because let's admit it, they would all have very wild and chaotic profiles. will do other crews too, because they were so fun!

Ace

he would censor his profile picture with a strategically placed fire emoji 🔥 except that it‘s not an emoji but literally body parts of him on fire

uses every dating app possible. chances are high you will match him on 11 different apps but you never talk

“if you have daddy issues…. damn me too, let’s talk”

he would lie about his age but in a very obvious way

sure, everyone would believe this little twink firecracker is a man in his mid fifties, gotta serve the dilf connoisseurs too

will get pissed and block them though when they let him know he looks like a younger version of his dad (they would know)

he has the lesbian dating mindset and is willing to travel for a promising coffee date

"sexypiratethot69 is 3615 km away" "pops can we do a small detour?"

Marco

his picture is him naked with a strategically placed pineapple

a delight to match, he is easy to connect with, fun to talk to, willing to send a nude if it’s consensual, good dirty talker

will probably ghost you though

not with intention but by accident because he’ll forget the password to his phone

and let’s be honest, he does need a password protected phone with all those little mischievous men around him

he never forgot the one time Ace and Thatch matched him with a particular silver fox who lives on Sabaody Archipelago

things got awkward when they scheduled a video call and the boys thought a pineapple with sunglasses and a voice distorter could do the trick

it didn’t

Izou

lots and lots of aesthetically pleasing thirst traps, candles in the background, playing with light and angles

god you don’t know if you want to match him or be him

everyone uses Izou‘s photos to catfish

which leads to Thatch and Vista having a very awkward first date

maybe a second one, too

maybe they kiss

maybe they get married

maybe Izou murders

maybe Izou matches them all and invites them to a battle royal

Marco: "do you think maybe you went to far?"

he gets bitchslapped, then both of them go on a date and Marco has to pay for everything

as they return the battle is still going on

Marco & Izou would be sipping wine and watch the chaos, perfect date night

Thatch

his profile picture is either him standing naked in his kitchen OR in an apron that looks like a naked chest

maybe also a "kiss the cook" apron

you know those pictures on dating profiles where men hold up dead fish for reasons no one understands?

he would do the same but ask Marco to play dead as a phoenix

lifts him up by the ankle

will send you baguette emojis 🥖 instead of the regular old aubergine

he is very good at sexting

seriously, what a flirt

all the foodies on the Grand Line match him, thirsting for a bite of those thick, juicy buns of his

i would seriously cry if he didn’t match me

will block you if you ask him if he ate the fucking fruit

Whitebeard

his picture is him naked with a strategically placed boat

an old marine boat probably

Marco had to take the picture from up in the air (see you in therapy blue birb)

just imagine your parent on any dating app

they might not be the best with technology but they are shameless

he is open to send the uncensored version of his profile picture if it’s consensual, the reactions to that give him so much life

he would not shy away to tell everyone about his new matches over dinner, leaving everyone with their mouths open by the amount of matches he got

”the magic trick is adding your height in your bio. your dick size too”

everyone (including you) is now thinking about that old marine boat and what was underneath it

don’t be shy, just swipe right on him, you won’t regret it

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 20

Book: TRR

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Warnings: Language and mentions of weird sexual stuff

**Thanks @burnsoslow​. for pre-reading and “The Army” girls for snippet reads.

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

“An email from the Countess?” Ana questioned curiously, just before hitting the video attachment that came with it. Her plush lips soon curved into an enchanted grin when it became apparent who the subjects in the video were and precisely what they were doing together. “Looks like you’re about to get your hard-hitting royal news after all.”

Having finally retrieved his phone, Donnie situated himself upright in the bed and began playing the same email attachment as his lover. By the sounds of the grunts and groans coming from Ana’s phone, it was apparent to the ace-reporter what he was about to watch -- even if the occasional horse neighs were a little confusing. 

Within seconds of hitting play, the man’s jaw dropped wide open as he took in the content. 

“Holy shit, dude, Is that …?”

Ana's intrigued gaze tore from her phone screen and raised a brow at Donnie. “The King’s head guard dressed like a cowboy spanking Lucretia Nevrakis and licking another woman wearing a horse mask in a barn?” She shook her head. “Yes … and did you just call me ‘dude’?”

Ignoring her question, the couple resumed watching for a few more seconds, their facial expressions morphing from one of intrigue to utter disgust when finally Lucretia went full-frontal, nudity before the camera, then spreading wide for Bastien. “Oh, God! The hell?” Donnie grimaced as Ana slapped a hand over her mouth next to him and turned her head away. “I can’t watch this shit.” He lamented, quickly shutting his phone off.

After Ana followed suit and powered her cell off too, the pair sat in uncomfortable silence, simultaneously staring blankly at the same wall across from them, neither knowing what to say or think about what they had just watched together. Eventually, Ana lifted the satin sheet covering her waist up a little higher over her breast, a sense of sleaze and uncleanliness rooting itself and sprouting throughout her body. “I … I don’t know what part was worse: Mystery horsewoman with the guinea pig in Bastien or Lucretia’s wrinkled tramp-stamp with ‘Connie’ written inside what I can only assume is a dick.”

Donnie pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s be clear: there was no worse part. It was all worse! What the hell was that, anyway?”

The Trend editor just shook her head slowly with a glazed-over expression in her eyes; she finally spoke, “I … I think I’m going to go now.” 

“Ana! Don’t let this ruin our night.”

Her expression turned remorseful at his pleading; it had been a great night. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brine. I need to be alone.”

Neither one could look at the other. Ana slowly raised from the bed, gathering up her scattered clothes from the floor, tearing her bra from the doorknob, and then slipped on her heels. Why the Countess sent that video to them, she’d never know, but as she and Donnie exchanged a timid wave of goodbye, Ana left knowing she would never forgive Madeleine Amaranth for ruining the best night of sex she ever had.

This had to be some kind of bizarre and insane mistake.

And usually, Donnie Brine would call this “hard-hitting” new’s story into the station and scramble for the nearest camera to report on it. 

This was not something he would ever share with Cordonia, nor would the duo realize what they just watched was not the video the Countess intended to send them.

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

A baby. My baby. I’m going to be a father. Those words were all Liam could think about as he rode through the glittery neon boulevards of Las Vegas toward the hospital. At that moment, the clear blue heavens above him could open wide and strike him down with a bolt of thunder, and he’d swear he wouldn’t have felt a thing. The King was riding a wave of euphoria unlike anything he’d ever experienced; Riley loved him and was carrying his baby. Nothing in all the world mattered anymore.

Before taking off, it was clear that Bastien likely escaped during the brother’s brawl in the front yard of Riley’s home and apparently took the keys to the Escalade they arrived in with him. The neighborly Burt, who moments prior had a shotgun aimed at the royal duo, reluctantly agreed to drive into the city to drop them off at the hospital on his way to pick up his daughter on the east side of town. He gruffly mentioned, "my girl never learned not to kick her customers in the frank 'n' beans and steal their shit," but neither of the brothers paid much attention.

Riding in the back of a truck while sitting on a spare tire through sunny downtown Vegas wasn’t the way Liam intended to get there, but he was dead set on finding his Pussycat by any means necessary. And, of course, Leo called shotgun but was nice enough to offer his little brother the opportunity to “ride bitch”.

Liam unequivocally declined.

During the bumpy 25-minute ride to Valley Hospital, Liam wondered how it was possible to get everything he ever wanted in such a brief span of time. Literally, his entire heart's desires were being gifted to him one by one; it was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. All he ever wanted was to find happiness, a chance to love, and have a genuine family of his own -- Not an arrangement that would guarantee him a life of misery at worst or of mediocrity at best. When he stepped foot in Sin City several weeks ago, depressed and hopeless at the prospects of his impending marriage to Madeleine, never did he expect life and fate would throw him a twist in the tale. All it took was a weekend bachelor party, an awkwardly shy woman mistaking him for her Tinder date, and a ton of hard booze shared between them to change the entire trajectory of his life. 

Once the rusted-out truck came to a stop at the emergency entrance, Liam wasted no time climbing over the truck’s wooden rail sides and rushing through the revolving doors. Leo’s heavy footsteps could be heard racing behind him. 

Liam’s heart pounded as the seconds -- which seemed liked hours -- ticked by. Not since he was a young boy waiting on his mother to return from her trip in Auvernal had he been more excited to reunite with someone.

Escorted through the long, winding hallways by hospital security to the radiology department, Liam was led inside a room, where his breath instantly hitched at catching his first glimpse of Riley in two-and-a-half days.

Sitting at the foot of an exam table, dressed in a hospital gown, slender legs bare and swinging freely over the side, Riley’s head snapped up at the sound of the door opening. “Liam,” she whispered, relief dripping from her eyes before sliding off the table.

“Pussycat,” he breathed, unable to contain his emotions as she nearly sprinted the short distance between them and into his waiting arms. “I have missed you terribly, Love.”

Riley held onto him tightly, afraid to let go. “I’m so sorry, Liam. I’m so very sorry,” her strangled voice choked out. “I never should have listened to Madeleine.”

“Shhhh. You have nothing to be sorry about,” Liam assured, his hand threading and kneading through her bountiful hair comfortingly. “I watched the security footage, and I saw the way Madeleine confronted you. The way she grabbed you, the way she -- hurt you.” Liam’s face tightened before he kissed her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Riley answered meekly, “Because she threatened to release an old video of me being intimate during my first marriage. She told me if I didn’t leave, that video would get out and that it would look bad on you, and the council would likely strip you of your crown.” She squeezed him tighter. “I had to protect you.”

Liam looked down at his wife affectionately, placing both hands on the sides of her face, his thumbs wiping away the tears desperately clinging like morning dew to her eyes. “Sweetheart, look at me. The only thing you ever have to protect when it comes to me is my heart. I have guards -- although not the best -- to protect me physically. I have tradition and a birthright to protect my name and crown and a military to safeguard my country. But you, Riley ... you, have the power to destroy me. You’re the keeper of my heart. The one who makes it beat. Without your love to keep it going … well, let’s just say I  don’t ever want to know what that kind of pain would feel like.” They kissed once more as if it were their first and last one ever. 

Plucking out a blade of grass from his hair, Riley smiled brightly for the first time in days. “I’ll guard it with everything in me, Liam. I swear it.”

“You bet your sweet ass you will,” Liam smirked mischievously, grabbing a handful of her backside, causing her to belt out a laugh. “Besides, you took a drunken vow at the Graceland Wedding Chapel before Leo, Mongo, and Pinquee Kittee to love me tender, love me true; that’s about as sacred and binding of an oath as it gets.”

Riley chuckled. “I did. And we all know how those three are the greatest examples of loving and committed relationships.  Even if Mongo did try to steal you away from me.”

“Which worries me considering he’s apparently our ‘son.’” Liam said it tongue-in-cheek, but it instantly reminded him of the other reason he was in such a rush to get to his queen. The playfulness in his mannerisms tapered off, and he became more serious. Liam leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before working his way lower to the tip of her nose, her lips, and further to Riley’s chin. Slowly sinking to his knees, sliding his hands down her body until he had a firm grip on her slender hips, Liam rested his own forehead on Riley’s lower tummy.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“What’s that?” Riley asked softly.

Liam placed a lingering kiss onto the thin covering over her flat tummy and glanced up into her gleaming eyes, both filled with ceaseless wonder and rapture. “How you can love someone so much that you’ve never met.”

Riley blinked away a tear, her tiny fingers tracing feather-like trails through his hair. “I know, and yet somehow I’ve been asking myself that question since I met you.”

Liam’s eyes crinkled with a tender smile. “Me too.”

--------------------------------- 

Pacing languidly up and down the hallway outside the room where Liam and Riley were reuniting, Leo let out an exasperated huff before halting his steps to take a quick gander through the long glass window of the door. Leo smiled at watching his brother and sister-in-law embrace and seemed thrilled to be with one another again. And the prospects of -- in his mind -- becoming an uncle “again” was cool and all, but he was bored as hell. Liam was adamant about the former prince staying put and giving him this time needed to speak with Riley in private. Usually, Leo would pay no attention to what Liam asked of him, but maybe, just maybe, it was time for him to get serious and act like the adult he was. Read the room. Respect boundaries. Know when to quit.

Or maybe not.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he headed back in the direction that he and Liam had been led from moments ago, looking for something to kill time.  Strolling leisurely past a set of double doors that displayed “Emergency” in big red letters next to them, a thought suddenly struck, and he took two gliding steps backward. Leo lifted a speculative brow; there was something in the inner machination of his chaotic brain that told him to follow his gut, head inside, and he wouldn’t be sorry. Never one to ignore an instinct or impulse, Leo punched the large metallic button on the wall, causing one of the automatic doors to swing open. 

After stepping inside, he meandered around for a minute, not exactly sure what he was looking for but hoping he might catch a glimpse of a hot nurse walking around without a top on who would want to do naughty things to him. Or perhaps, a naked lady doctor with a nice ass who would manhandle him out of the emergency department, but who he’d eventually win over with his impeccable good looks and god-like sex appeal. He could pretend to be her patient, and if he were lucky, she’d have a bad bedside manner.

Passing a row of draped exam rooms, Leo noticed one curtain pulled open and a young brunette, with part of her thong showing, crouched on the floor, peeking stealthily through the blue drapery that divided the area from the patient on the opposite side.

Curious now to what this woman was so interested in from the next exam room, Leo crossed his arm and stared downward at the floor, lightly whistling a tune, as two doctors walked past him. When they rounded a corner, Leo edged closer to the curtain to listen in.

“Mr. Walker, do you feel any pain when I do this?”

“Ow! What the fuck do you think?” 

At hearing Drake’s irascible voice, Leo’s ears instantly shot up. “No way,” Leo mumbled in astonishment to himself. “Walker is here?” The last he knew, Drake was supposed to have headed back to Cordonia the day before. He leaned in closer.

“You pinched my dick with a pair of damn tweezers. Yeah, you could say there’s a little pain there. Shit!”

Leo clamped a fist over his mouth to keep from busting out. Of all the places his naughty gut had ever led him to, knowing Drake was here and having transplanted dick problems may have been in his top 100 --Nothing would ever beat running with the bulls in Barcelona with Kanye and a very stoned Prince Charles. Leo smiled fondly at the memory before shaking his head and getting back to business.

“We’re just making sure you have feeling in your penis, Mr. Walker.”

“Then touch it with a fucking finger. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you people? You wanna take a jackhammer to my knees next and see if they feel pain too?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Leo overheard the doctor tell Drake. “I expect you’re going to be fine, Mr. Walker. I didn’t see any major discoloration aside from a deep bluish hue to your testicles --” Leo snorted out loudly, causing the doctor to turn his head briefly to the disruption outside the curtain, before clearing his throat and continuing, “A hearty ejaculation or two should clear that right up. When was the last time you --”

“I’ll take care of it,” Drake hastily interrupted in a peevish tone, not wanting the physician to finish the question.

“Very well then. You should be fine. I’ll have the nurse get your discharge papers together, and you can be on your way … And, sir ... try to avoid getting ninja smacked by hookers in the future.”

“I’ll see what I can do …. asshole.” Drake snarled under his breath.

Feeling spunky, an impish grin crossed Leo’s lips as he strolled away undetected from Drake’s doctor leaving his room. “The Drakesters not going anywhere just yet,” he snickered, heading toward a cart with blue scrubs that he passed earlier. “Paging Dr.Wolfshitz to trauma room one. Stat.”

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

Still peeking inconspicuously into the next exam room, Alyssa’s gaze followed Drake’s doctor and a nurse as they exited to work on his discharge. She remained motionless and quiet, barely breathing, fearful she’d get caught. Why she hadn’t looked away yet was beyond her. What was only supposed to be a little looksie at the man, to quench her gnawing intrigue over what was below his belt, had now left her drawn to him.

And while Alyssa saw for herself that everything was normal down there, -- humungous, actually -- it was the sadness and hurt in his deep chocolate eyes that kept the perky, petite woman in spy mode. 

“You can stop hiding behind that curtain, Riley’s friend,” Drake grumbled.

“Eep!” Alyssa yelped at being caught and took a quick step back, nearly toppling clumsily over her feet. He couldn’t have been talking about her. He wasn’t even looking in her direction when he said it. She had been so careful to remain hidden. But who the hell else could he be talking to? Alyssa held her breath, hoping another one of Riley’s friends was hidden on the other side.

“I saw your little beady eyes watching me. Might as well come out from behind that curtain and laugh in my face … you wouldn’t be the first one.”

There were no doubts he was talking about her now. Frozen in panic and unable to move, Alyssa’s cheeks burned, and her heart raced at getting called out. She wondered why she couldn’t have just left well enough alone. If curiosity killed the cat, Alyssa just spent all nine of her lives.

“That’s how it's gonna be, huh?” Drake called out to her again in a snarky tone, yet Alyssa didn’t dare move. “That’s fine. I know I’m just a big joke to everyone now.” He lowered his voice just slightly in self-pity. “Maybe in some ways, I always have been.”

That stung. Alyssa couldn’t discern whether he was actually upset with her about snooping on him -- he probably was -- or as the nagging feeling in her gut was telling her: he just needed a friend. Taking in a deep breath, she skittishly slipped the curtain aside, avoiding eye contact and forcing only a diffident smile. “I’m … I’m sorry.”

He smiled back. “I’m not. I’m Drake.”

---------

With Riley discovering she was pregnant, the E.R. attending opted to forego continuing with the ordered x-rays, believing she had nothing more than a bruised tailbone from her fall, anyway. With the pain she experienced since the encounter with Madeleine, the doctor wanted her to have an ultrasound to ensure everything was fine with the baby and date the pregnancy.

Riley laid back on the exam table, feet planted and legs separated. A technician gingerly moved around an ultrasound probe under the sheet draped from her waist to her bent up knees. Riley and Liam vigilantly watched the screen, anxiously waiting for the black-and-white image to produce the first glimpse of their baby.

Flashing a timid smile, Riley glanced up at Liam, who was hovering over her with his eyes transfixed on the screen. Noticing her unsure look, he leaned down and whispered, “Everything okay, love?”

She shook her head almost imperceptibly and answered meagerly with all seriousness, “What if … what if our baby has a beard, Liam?”

The bewildered king puckered his forehead, unsure what to say. “Wh--why would the baby have a beard, pussycat?” He squeezed her hand reassuringly before she yanked it away and covered her eyes in embarrassment.

She sucked in an unsteady breath, impervious to the prodding continuing below. “Because my Aunt Clem’s firstborn came out with a tiny goatee like that munchkin from the Lollipop Guild,” she began to whimper in increasing frustration, plucking at the tip of her chin.

Liam’s eyes widened as he blew out a huff of air. “Then … I suppose … we’ll stick him in a carnival or something.” He chuckled despite himself. “Or get him one of those top hats and a cane.”

“It was a girrrrrrl,” Riley cried out, covering her face again. “My dad’s family is from Kentucky … there’s gotta be inbreeding somewhere in the past. Our baby will come out looking like a mini Chewbacca, and it’s all my fault. Oh god! What have I done to our child?” She sniffled through her rant, “If you want a divorce, I’ll understand.”

Normally able to keep a stoic demeanor in any kind of situation, Liam just couldn’t do it in this instance. He turned his face away to prevent his wife from seeing the giant smirk on his face and to take a moment to regain his composure from wanting to bust out at her theatrics. He didn’t know what the hell he married into or why this woman he loved so much all of a sudden had forgotten she was adopted. 

It would be an interesting nine months.

Riley frowned with a simper, “You can’t even look at me. I’ll have to raise this little hairball all by myself. They’ll have us in the ‘weird things’ section of the National Enquirer next to Drake.”

She was correct: he couldn’t look at her -- she was being completely ridiculous. Liam’s shoulders bounced against his stifled laughter. “Dear God, Riley. You’ve got to stop.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

Unaware of the pair of eyes at the foot of the exam table, glaring between the couple in absolute confusion, the technician performing the scan cleared her throat to break the tension. “I hate to interrupt … this.” She nodded between the two.”But, here’s your baby.” She tapped her fingertip on the screen to a small oblong shape on the monitor with a tiny white form in the center. Riley lowered her hands from her teary face and whipped her head around at the same time Liam did, both wholly captivated. “It’s too early to tell if there is a … goatee. But this little flicker right here --” She pointed out. “-- Is where the heart is beating.”

Feeling his wife’s hand grip his tighter, Liam stood motionless for a moment as he watched the tech pause the screen to get measurements before sucking in his lips and dropping his head onto Riley’s shoulder. “Did you see the heart beating, my love? That’s our baby. Our perfect baby.”

Blinking back a tear of joy, Riley turned her head toward her shoulder to meet Liam’s adoring eyes. “Thank you for not covering your lizard.”

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

Blushing from head to toe in guilt and embarrassment, Alyssa took a step inside of Drake’s room, letting the curtain fall back behind her. Twirling a section of hair around her finger, she continued to apologize, feeling it was the right thing to do. “Again, I’m really sorry, Mr. Walker --”

“I told you my name is Drake. Mr. Walker was my father’s name. Please, just call me Drake,” he insisted in a softer tone that took the awkward-feeling Alyssa by surprise.

“Drake,” she repeated as she picked at the cuticle of her thumbnail, “I shouldn’t have been watching you, and I know I invaded your privacy. I swear, in spite of what this looks like, I’m not some creeper. I just thought … “ Alyssa looked away bashfully, twisting on her feet. “you’re really handsome.” It was true, even if she knew damn well that’s not why she peeked in at him.

Drake cocked a brow, calling her bluff. “Really?” he replied skeptically. ”That’s the only thing you were looking at?”

Dabbing at her increasingly perspiring forehead and feeling the blood drain into her feet, Alyssa declared, “I think I’m going to pass out now.”

Sensing she was serious, Drake quickly tapped the rolling chair next to his bed and insisted she sit down. Walking on wobbly legs, Alyssa finally plopped down on the chair and fanned her ashen face with one hand. Drake quickly twisted the cap off an unopened bottle of cold water one of the nurses had given him and offered it to Alyssa. She gratefully took it and guzzled a giant swig from the plastic container. Soon her breathing normalized, and the color in her face started to pinken again.

Drake stared at her in concern. “Do you want me to yell for the doctor?”

Alyssa shook her head insistently. “No. I’m better now. I just got a little anxious, is all, but I deserved it. I shouldn’t have looked at you.” She paused for a moment before offering a genuine smile. “By the way: I don’t think you’re a joke, and I would never laugh at you. I really do think you’re handsome.”

He could tell what she was saying to him was true, and for the first time in weeks, it felt nice to have someone to talk to who didn’t want to discuss a certain medical procedure he’d recently undergone. “I appreciate that … Alyssa, right?” She nodded her head. “You have beautiful eyes --”

“I hate to interrupt this party, -- ay,” A doctor in blue scrubs, a surgical cap, mask, and a horrible Canadian accent came strolling in gleefully, almost out of nowhere. “It’s time for your surgery, Mr. Walkersan -- ay.”

Drake shot straight up in his bed, glaring at the man. “What?” he screeched. “I’m getting discharged. That other doctor said I was fine.”

“Oh no, no, no -- ay. Doctor … Pepper … Stein, sent me down here to wheel you at once into surgery. Your test results showed a lot of icky stuff that needs to be taken care of at once lest you lose your manhood again. Ay.”

Narrowing his eyes, Drake shot back. “What bad stuff?”

“Uh, let me see here -- ay,” Leo began flipping through a makeshift chart he was holding in his hands and pretending to scan over a particular page. “Oy me. There seems to be … algae overgrowth in the upper ... sphincter of the … Dua Lipa -- ay. And thees muy crabs have set up a colony on the Los ballsackos.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Drake asked incredulously while Alyssa patted his arm comfortingly. “What the hell is a Los ballsackos?”

“Es los ballsackos is los ballsackos.” Leo hastily scolded as he eyed Drake sternly. “We shan't have no time to waste. Das ist Viener schloggin … we remove the viewer and then the scloggin or there be little la cucarachas crawling everywhere -- la vie en rose, amigo.”

“No one’s removing my viener, or my scloggin!” Drake protested.

“Excuse me,” Alyssa rose to her feet, knowing there was something off with this sketchy acting doctor. “I speak fluent Spanish and French, and I can tell you, almost none of that made sense. Not to mention the fact that I believe part of that was German and ancient English. ¿De dónde sacaste tu título, doctor?”

Leo’s bright blue eyes dulled with uncertainty as Alyssa crossed her arms, awaiting a response. Scrambling for an answer and wishing he’d paid more attention during his language lessons, he ultimately replied with a shirk, “Eh … Despacito?”

“Despacito?” Alyssa challenged before glancing over at Drake, who was still glaring a hole into the perceived physician, then returning her gaze back to a cow-eyed Leo. “Who are you, really?”

"Who am I really?" Leo replied with a smug grin as he lowered the surgical mask that was hiding his face. "I'm Dr. Wolfschitz, baby."

[decholmes]

                    D A K S H         “D E C “      H O L M E S

Name: Daksh Declan ‘Dec’ Holmes Nickname: Dec (pronounced deck) Age: 33 Birthday: November 1st Zodiac: Scorpio Occupation: Magician Hometown: Vancouver, Canada. Current Location: Gastown Sexuality: Bisexual Relationship Status: Single

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: adoption

tl;dr

adopted son of two actors that dedicated their lives to charity work

was a bit of an outcast who loved writing and magic at a young age but typically didn’t let that bother him due ot the fact that he focused solely on his family life / hobbies

went to school for teaching english and wanted to become a famous fiction writer, flunked out of uni, became a magician instead

has a very romanticized ideal of the world he lives in

Adopted at a very young age, Daksh -- who prefers to be called ‘Dec’ -- always grew up in a world of imagination and curosity. Childless and desperate to give children a chance as a great life, his adoptive parents went on to adopt once again (his youngest sister). Dec’s parents were actors in their own right, volunteering any chance they could to bring joy to those less fortunate -- at Renaissance faires with charity shows, at shelters seasonally as Mr. & Mrs. Claus during the holiday season, etc.

In turn, Dec always strived to give back. While not as graceful as his parents, he grew up with a love for magic and writing, often spending his days curating shows for school talent competitions. Of course, this came with its own set of challenges given he was seen as somewhat of a nerd, an outsider, but Dec continued to keep a good head on his shoulders and a stride in his step. He tried out for a bunch of sports, but ultimately fell short as a bench warmer for the football team.

With the hopes of becoming an English teacher, he went on to college and pursued an English degree. In that time he attempted to write a sci-fi fiction series that ultimately fell flat on its face with dozens upon dozens of rejections letters. When it came down to his degree, he fell short there as well -- as the mantra ‘those who cannot do, teach’ went literally, and he couldn’t even teach.

So he became a magician.

Taking the skills he loved so dearly as a child, he started under the pseudonym ‘The Mysterious Holmes’ and created a name for himself in the entertainment industry. While no David Blaine, he often books birthday parties and corporate events to keep the money coming. Otherwise he lives a very boring, very subdued lifestyle where much of everything is romanticized.

Dec always finds himself at the wrong place, wrong time, but somehow comes out unscathed every time due to the fact that he’s an overly chatty man with relatively earnest intentions.

PERSONALITY

+ kind, imaginative - absent, paranoid

FUN FACTS.

bisexual but only has ever had two relationships in his life that he got dumped on both times because he lived in the clouds

carries around a copy of war & peace to ward off bad energy.

a nice person when he's not royally doing stupid shit in life.

secretly owned a lizard named Benedict Cumberbatch in the college dorms and still has him at his apartment to this day.

believes mothman is real. don't fight him on this.

typically a lover, not a fighter. he isn’t one to fwb or date around as he’s searching for ‘the one’ and truly believes he’ll know them when he sees them

tried to join an adult football sports teams but bless his heart, he really isn't good at sports so he's still the bench guy.

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

adopted younger brother - mal holmes

roommate & flirtationship - deandre thompson jr

close friend & part-time assistant - jas pelletier

friend & tinder match - sawyer harris

childhood friend / former crush - gabriela cortes

personal trainer - kasey lambert

close friend & bad/good influence - hiten mosaad

tinder match - zara harris

WANTED CONNECTIONS

friends who he grew up with in vancouver

business associates that hire him out for their kids’ parties or corporate happenings

the two exes he had? but he doesn’t really remember what happened in them, but he just genuinely romanticizes what they had so it’s not great

people who push him out of his comfort shell

neighbors

his adopted sibling! currently a sister but can be changed depending

literally anything idc he’s cute

[thebestworstidea]

"The Royal Forester" by The Bedlam Boys

The song was bouncy, catchy and exactly clean enough to be sung in daylight. In fact an evening crowd would probably be disappointed by the lack of details. Especially after the ale had been flowing for a bit. However for an afternoon performance at a market day, it was a good choice.

Geralt resented vaguely that he now knew enough about music to be able to say that with confidence. Not that he was saying anything. He was in fact, sitting in the shade of the tree the little stage was set in front of. It left him hidden from the crowd of the market by the shade, and the tree itself was at the edge of the field so no one but another performer would be approaching from the rear, or really coming around the sides, leaving him in relative peace.

The sound of Jaskier’s voice was loud enough to drown out the mutters and murmurs of the crowd, and familiar enough to be relaxing, allowing him to rest. No doubt anyone who saw him would think he was asleep, but he was only resting his eyes.

The song must have been new, because as Jaskier was wrapping up, he got asked to sing it again.

He did of course.

To the outside observer, it would have appeared that he had stayed asleep until his boot was nudged. But he hadn’t been asleep (not properly) in the first place, and in the second, he’d known the bard was approaching.

For one thing, he could smell Jaskier -and that he was carrying fresh bread, at least one meat pie, and sweetbread of some sort.

“Weren’t you the one who was so very firm that we wouldn’t be staying here?” Jaskier asked and went to poke him again. “And here you are, taking a nap.”

“Hmn.” He opened one eye, and Jaskier pulled his foot back without poking him again. “Are you done?”

“Indeed I am, they’ve been quite generous;” He jiggled the bags in his arms. “I mean, a little light on the coin, but if they give me what I would have bought anyway, I’ll take it.”

“Coin’s lighter.”

“You haven’t tried these rolls.”

It didn’t take long to collect Roach from the paddock outside the inn. She grabbed another mouthful of the hay to chew while she was re-tacked, and tried to lunge for more as he got her bridle on. Shuffling, Roach gave him a dirty look, which he ignored in favor of pressing his head to hers.

Jaskier gave a squeak and he glared over at him. The bard just grinned, trying to balance his purchases into his bag. He offered one of the rolls. Geralt took it and gave a bit of a grunt, how much nutrition could be in a roll that light.

It did taste good, however, eggy with a touch of some floral flavoring.

Since Jaskier had gotten dinner, he wouldn’t need to hunt tonight. They kept walking until the evening gloom started to fade to proper dark, making it to a decent campsite that he’d used before. From the looks of things, other travelers had made use of it since, leaving a polite pile of fallen wood, and a cairn pointing towards the stream.

Setting up the camp was old habit now, duties split and handled without a word between them, which was nice. (Sometimes, when on the Path alone, Geralt would forget to do the things Jaskier normally handled until last.) He led Roach to the stream for a night time drink, while Jaskier hummed to himself, getting things set to his liking. Igni might be faster, but the bard was quite skilled with flint and tinder.

When Geralt came back Jaskier was sprawled beside the firepit, spreading a cloth out and setting the food out singing to himself without a care in the world.

“With me ribbin-run-rority ri-run-rority ri-no-ority-an ~” he sang.

Geralt nudged him over and he fell back as the Witcher moved to the pile of tack to wipe it down. Roach nibbling at some browse at the edge of the clearing, content to remain within sight of her rider. There was even a convenient log to sit on while he worked.

“Rude.” Jaskier sniffed getting to his feet and theatrically dusting off his bottom. “Never a patron of the arts, are you?” he demanded, hands on his hips.

“It was a very silly song.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be serious.” he flapped a hand

“No I mean...” he made a gesture with one hand. “the girl, if she could pace a horse like that, she should have been able to fight him. And then she had to marry him?”

“Well that part was accurate anyway.”

The Witcher gave him a skeptical look. 

“Still. White skin or not, she’d be a muscular girl. One good kick and he’d go down.”

“Oh?” Jaskier cocked one of his feet up on the log beside Geralt. The heels were not really suited for long distance walking, but his boots were solidly built, rising up to just below the knee where his pants tucked in. “An admirer of legs that can pace a horse?”

Geralt glanced down, then up again. He nudged at his knee with an elbow.

”You’re in my way.”

The looseness of Jaskier’s trousers hid the muscle beneath, but the pose tightened it across his thigh. Geralt couldn’t help but flick his eyes over the leg again, catching on the detail of the ribbon that tightened the lower cuff was trailing out over the top of one of the boots. Narrow as it was, it was woven in a pattern- unnecessarily fancy for a part of the clothes no one would ever see.

“Why was an earl’s daughter out by herself?” he added. “Even if she was clearly capable.”

“Why indeed?” Jaskier leaned over, resting his elbow on his raised knee. “I wonder.”

Geralt ignored him, finishing wiping the tack down and setting it aside. IT did bring his head closer to Jaskier’s raised leg.  Jaskier didn’t move so he shoved him again so he could use the log to spread out the drying tack.

Wandering back over towards the cloth spread with food, Jaskier started talking again.

“So- I heard that over a short space of time, humans can run faster than horses.”

“Why would anyone study that?”  Horses did need time to get up to speed. But since they could sustain speed longer once they got to it, it didn’t really matter. Though if someone was clever and nimble, they could probably take advantage of that idea with stops and starts. He’d done it once, actually when some idiot mercenaries had decided to try and steal the proof of a completed contract. Why they thought that was going to be worth it he had no idea.

“Well some people are weird about horses. No one I know, I’m sure.” He flashed a smile over, tearing into another of those sweet rolls. “I also heard a lord claiming that a well trained troupe of soldiers could absolutely keep up with the officers horses on foot.”

“I hope they complained less than you do.”

“Oh probably, being trained soldiers and not artists.”

“I’m not sure what kind of point you’re tiring to make bard. Since neither of those is a earl’s daughter.”

He almost expected Jaskier to choke on the roll, he sighed so hard.

“It’s entertainment; excitement, hyperbole, romance!”

Without stopping to check with his brain, Geralt’s mouth said

“Wouldn’t there be more romance if the girl was the blacksmith’s daughter then.”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up with glee. “Oh so you DO listen!”

“No.”

“Oh so you’re just spontaneously developing opinions on romance then?”

It wasn’t spontaneous, since the printing press had been developed, courtly romances were some of the least expensive books out there, and made up several shelves of the keep’s library, reaching back to the beginning of the genre. But Geralt managed not to say that, grunting dismissively and instead looking over the food. There was too much for him to have an excuse to go off hunting.

Fuck.

Fortunately, the bard had never needed his input to hold a conversation

“Traditionally you’d be right, the deserving, clever or dedicated girl of the lower classes rising to marry a noble is a staple. But let’s face it, most nobles wouldn’t give the price of a fig for a common girl’s maidenhead, and often don’t.” He grimaced, and jiggled his leg a little in irritation.

Frankly one of the reasons Geralt had never so much as insinuated that Jaskier should get his own horse was the faint primordial terror of how much energy the bard would have if he wasn’t doing his own walking.

“Last year there was a song going around where a charming young man keeps trying to court a pretty girl out with a flock of geese, and she keeps telling him he’s simply not worth his time. So he keeps trying, gaining rank and money- ridiculously quickly, let’s be honest, but it’s a five-minute-song, hardly a long form ballad, until he can’t go back to see if she thinks he’s worthy, now, because he’s become a war hero, and the local lord wants to reward him and brings out his daughter, and guess who it was?”

“The girl with the geese.”

“Got it in one.” he agreed.

“Please tell me he said she wasn’t worth all that work.”

“Oh no, they lived happily ever after. I should write that alternate version though, that’s great. ~Not the worth of a pin or a measure of grain, leave me alone, I ask you again /Stay lady stay, I will prove my worth yet, for your golden hair my heart it is set~” he vocalized vaguely, but Geralt was fairly sure that wasn’t one of his.  “~a paper of pins, a measure of grain, a field of kine, an acre of land/ my lady was worth more again, but two steel swords are the cost of your hand.~”

“So instead you have an athletic earl’s daughter and a cad of a forest keeper?”

“Well, the implication that she might have been okay with it until he tried to run out on her,” Jaskier admitted, jerking his mind out of recomposing a song and back to the conversation at hand.

“Hmnn.”

“No, you’re right, it is much more a punishment for her for giving in, even with that implication. And I would never want to punish someone from thinking with their heart.” He wiggled a finger at Geralt admonishingly. “Yes heart, I can hear your skin creaking with the hoist of that eyebrow. Even if it’s cupboard love or momentary love, or skin love, it’s still love. Love comes in endless varieties and I am but a humble scholar trying to capture it in a bestiary.” 

“I’m going to eat the last of these dumplings if you’re busy, bard.” They were quite good, even cold. Some sort of cheese, apple and onion filling.

“What! No!”

Geralt managed to put them down with the other food before Jaskier barreled into him, intent on getting the shallow basket away. He roiled them away from the laid out cloth, but deliberately grabbed another to stuff in his mouth as he went.

 It was ridiculous how uncivilized  Jaskier could get with the right provocation. He’d descend from upper class artistic visionary to an untrained big pawed puppy with all the grace of an avalanche. It was soothing on a certain level for Geralt, he could win instantly of course, but play wrestling had no urgency and reminded him of home. Rough and tumble, a brotherly sort of lo- affection- no interaction. With the first of the apple harvests started, he might plan a northernly route. Distracted by that, he found Jaskier’s thighs around him, pinning one arm entirely and the other partially with fairly impressive grip and strength. It wouldn’t have worked if he hadn’t managed to catch them at the narrower part of Geralt’s waist. And despite he locking of his ankles it would hardly last long.

The flaw was of course, he was out of reach of the dumplings.

“One.” Geralt said with faint amusement. “You’re proving my point about the girl’s ability to defend herself.”

Jaskier gave an offended huff and squeezed harder. Geralt snorted.

“Two. You know perfectly well I can get out of this at anytime.”

Jaskier tried to tip to the side to reach further, and Geralt declined to move with him, leading to some interesting gyrations as he fought to make it happen. Finally he just sat back and let his legs go slack, releasing Geralt’s arms from the hold. He was kind of glad, getting loose would have gotten his hands a bit  closer to bits of Jaskier he liked to pretend didn’t exist, despite far too extensive knowledge to the contrary.

They were covered in dust, but Jaskier got to the package of dumplings and shoved one in his mouth immediately.

“Anyway, that is a point in my favor as well.” He mumbled, stopping only to savor the flavor. “You could have broken out, but you didn’t. You liked me where I was.”

“Well, it is better to know where you are.”

“Sure, you say that now. You hated the bells.”

“It was a stupid outfit. They were real silver though.”

“I’m glad they were useful.” he said sourly.

“Had to happen eventually.” without thinking his finger plucked at the ribbon sticking out of Jaskier’s boot, tugging at and winding it around his finger. From this sprawl, he could see that the waist was tightened with the same narrow band of blue with yellow flowers and red edges. A dumpling appeared in front of his face, and he quite naturally grabbed it. Jaskier reclaimed his leg and made a theatrical show of counting his fingers.

“I thought the Wolf thing was just in name.”

“I don’t know if I ever said that.” 

The dry statement startled a laugh out of Jaskier, an altogether happy and pleasing sound.

“As ever your timing is impeccable.” He grinned dropping his chin onto one knee. “Still now you’re pushing for accuracy in all my songs, not just the ones about you? I shall be a beggar and you will have to support me to keep me from starving in the streets without the tools of bardic language. Or I’ll switch entirely to puns.”

“... you’d be strung up in a week.”

“Well, I am already hung.” he laughed again as Geralt growled his annoyance and reclaimed the basket of dumplings. Jaskier snatched one more and relented. When he patted Geralt’s shoulder the witcher turned away slightly shielding the last dumplings with his body, only making Jaskier laugh further, instead of reacting with a normal amount of fear in getting too near a predator’s food. “Still! That even started with a full sentence- you’ll give a good review yet. You are right, in the end my friend. It is a very silly song.”

Then they dropped to silence, the wind whistling through the trees, the soft noises as Roach shifted to get to a better patch of browse, and the sounds of food being enjoyed.

“I suppose.” Geralt said, after the last of the sun was gone and they were settling in for the night. “There’s nothing wrong with occasional silly songs. As long as they’re not about me.”

“I make no promises.”

Geralt threw a pinecone at him.

[ussgallifrey]

Mountain of the Sun [1]

✦ Summary: Sam has the shield at long last, Bucky has been seeing a new therapist, and you… you have a van and a desire to just get away from it all.

✦ Pairing: SamBucky x Non-Binary (AFAB) Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, brief implications of body dysphoria, brief mentions of chest binders, language, minor spoilers for TFATWS, post-TFATWS.

✦ Word Count: 7.5k

✦ Playlist: Here

There's something to be said about the ethereal feeling that comes with driving at night. How the blurring headlights mix with the stars. The way it stirs your soul and makes you feel something deeply sated in your bones.

What that exact thing is, however, you're not entirely sure. As you're currently downing the remnants of your second energy drink so you can move on to your gas station coffee and complimentary, slightly stale, chocolate frosted sprinkle doughnut. 

It's nearing seven in the morning now and the tops of the trees are bathed in the golden rays of an earthy June sunrise. The windshield is appropriately covered in deceased mosquitoes that the wipers just can't quite reach to properly swipe away, so you know you're heading in the right direction at least.

The road has been relatively clear of other travelers thanks to the time of day and you managed to find a radio station that was actually in range to play a few miles back. The morning hosts are talking up some local story about a water skiing cat named Prince Reggie.

With the weather turning out to be pleasantly warm and the gentle thrum of the tires on the pavement, it was shaping up to be a good day. The coffee, however, is seriously lacking in all things taste.

You had made it all the way down to Charlotte, North Carolina after a late start, a deflated tire, and a series of last-minute snack runs. This was followed by an even later start yesterday afternoon when you decided there was nothing wrong with driving straight through the night to Louisiana. 

Eleven hours now, a racing heart, and a body running mostly off of sugar and caffeine. You were doing great.

There's an ongoing list in your head as you travel further south, you see, of the many reasons why this is an act of insanity. It's followed by an accompanying list of why this is pure genius. They're both neck and neck at the moment, so the trophy is still up for grabs.

Hell, you know that reasonably this all seems like the final piece of the mental breakdown train. Spur of the moment body piercing, followed by the gender crisis, an almost tattoo, a drunken Tinder hook-up with someone who couldn't even remember your name while sober, and a cross-country road trip in a van you bought off a sketchy bidding website; check, check, and check.

Okay, so maybe things weren't going great. Maybe this was a cry for help. But who was judging at this point? Right?

Any higher being who gave a damn was probably just watching you and going we fucked it up, didn't we? We went around and fucked up a perfectly good human again.

Shoving the rest of the doughnut into the back of your mouth, you head onto the empty off-ramp.

Now, next to your should I just go to therapy or nah mental list, there was the actually kind of important - but still untitled as of yet - list. This one was composed on a physical piece of paper, written in metallic blue glitter ink, and it was slowly getting crossed off in red pen.

You were three Avengers down: Tony and Natasha were gone and Steve was full MIA after returning the stones.

Thor and the Guardians were somewhere in Europe or space, maybe, you think? And of course, the Royal family was back in Wakanda. Scott and Clint had families waiting for them. Parker was a literal child living with his aunt and returning to school, so he was good there.

Danvers was a beautiful woman of mystery and therefore stood no chance of being understood by the likes of you, so her name was also crossed off.

Bruce was a strange tall green thing now and you weren't touching that whole Hulk/human hybrid concept with a ten-foot pole. He was nice enough, sure. But like Tony had said to him, the band had split. Thanos destroyed the Beatles and that was that.

Strange was still, well, strange. And kind of a dick, actually. But he was safe and alive back in New York. Not exactly friend material though.

Wanda. Oh gosh, Wanda.

The two of you had stood for a long while after Tony's body was carried away from the torched earth - watching the smoldering remains of the compound you had both called home at one point. Nothing survived the destruction. 

She didn't say much of anything then, or even after the funeral. But that vacant look in her eyes said enough. She went MIA after a week and you exhausted your search after three months. If she didn't want to be found, then there was nothing more to it. She knew where to find you if she really wanted.

With her name crossed out, however, that only left you with two people: Barnes and Wilson.

That last time you saw the super-soldier, prior to the battle upstate, was when he had his hands around your neck in federal custody in an attempt to X you out from existence. 

And Sam, hell, you saw him from time to time when he was on the run with Steve and Nat. They told you Barnes was doing fine in Wakanda and no Tony hadn't reached out yet. Then they would loot your fridge for real food and maybe take a shower before jumping on the quinjet and going off-grid again.

It was because of Sam, however, that you even had a reason to be driving like this in the first place. Because after Tony's funeral, when it seemed like everyone gave their condolences to the grieving Starks and faded back into their own realities at an alarming rate, he found you by the waterfront. 

Wanda had just walked away after a shared moment of quietly existing when he had come over to check on things. Had slipped a scrap of paper into your hands with an address and phone number after a quiet conversation that veered along the lines of purposefully careful small talk. Apparently, he offered this out to a few others in the group too.

But you had folded that paper up and shoved it into your pocket for a rainy day. And you had gone through the moments of trying to carve out a new life for yourself for a few months. It stayed in your wallet until a little less than a week ago when the crazy ideas started setting in. 

The van, a converted church bus (according to the listing), putters at the four-way stop, just outside of the village limits. You lick the leftover frosting from your index finger. 

The seller had been a slightly distraught man with a giant red beard named Preston. He had just bought it and fixed it up after living in a daze of am I really staying at his corporate job when life has been turned upside down for the last four years. Finally decided to go live his true self after the Blip by quitting his job on the spot. And then, surprise, everyone was brought back and his wife was alive and now he didn't want to travel across the western hemisphere in a Ford E350 that he called Merle.

But that turned out alright for you. Now you had the chance to live out your existential crisis in peace. 

A faded metal sign greets you as you manage to roll the beast - you were calling her Hildegard, currently - forward. You decide to stop singing along to the classic rock station on your radio as you drive down the main street after catching the attention of a few locals.

The sailors say, "Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl) // "What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl) // "But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea."

According to Google Maps, the address was the last drive at the end of a gravel road with a No Outlet sign peeking out from behind a wall of tall weedy grass. And the white-painted mailbox's house number confirms you're in the right place.

The turning radius is actually shit, but you try not to fault her - she's a big girl, after all. Just like you try not to fault the anxious uptick in your racing heart - not directly caused by coffee and energy drinks, thanks.

Towering trees line the dirt path, and with the driver's side window rolled down (hand crank, of course), you can hear the insistent buzzing of more mosquitoes. And the air that whips through the opening seems far more humid than what you would like for this early in the day.

Those thoughts are quickly disrupted by a sharp clang and bang in the distance. You turn the stereo's volume dial down low to see better.

The driveway finally gives way to an open clearing that must constitute as a front yard.

Switching into park, you pull the cluttered keychain into your center console. A cursory glance at your reflection in the rearview mirror and a reluctant good as we're gonna get after that drive before you get the nerve to hop out. The door slamming behind you draws the attention of the two men a few yards away.

Everyone takes a moment to stare at each other before Bucky calls out your last name with obvious confusion. Sam grabs the flying boomerang of a shield and tucks it against his side before smiling wide. 

"The hell are you doing here?" his voice booms.

You laugh, striding forward and away from the safety of the van. The unknown was always nerve-wracking. But so was getting removed from existence and being replanted into it, so all things considered talking to two ex-teammates wasn't that awful on the scale of things that made you go ick.

"You gave me your address, remember?"

Bucky wipes his sweaty brow with the bottom of his gray tank. When you take another look at him, you realize the man is actually barefoot.

Blinking at the shocking paleness of his feet against the rich green grass, you barely even hear him playfully say, "Hey, no autographs, all right?"

Sam brushes past him with a good-natured chuckle, "Pay the living fossil no attention."

He pulls you into a tight, one-armed hug. A little too tight and too sweaty for your comfort - particularly around the chest area, but who could deny him when he was smiling like that?

"So," he holds the shield just right - he's really stepped into the role, hasn't he?

"What're you doing my way?"

You give a little scoff, plucking at a loose thread on the hem of your shirt, "I'm on an adventure. But I should be asking Barnes the same thing, right? Aren't you supposed to be under full-time surveillance in Brooklyn, Sergeant?"

Bucky finally walks over, sweat still beading up on his new, shorter, haircut. You can't decide if it's the right look for him or not. 

"It's good to see you too, kid."

They both seem to be taking a moment to appraise your appearance. It's stellar after a full twenty-plus hour drive and a mix of chaotic sleep and quick caffeine fixes. The humidity's really doing wonders for your hair and underarm sweat too.

"You hungry?" Sam asks after a beat.

Ignoring the three new mosquito bites on your right arm, you nod eagerly.

"Good, we were just finishing," Bucky makes to grab for the water bottle at the trunk of a nearby tree when Sam clicks his tongue disapprovingly. 

"Like hell we are. Got another three sets, Buck," he has his arms crossed and everything. But you're more caught up on the fact that he just called him Buck.

Bucky shrugs his head towards you, "Yeah, and you got a guest. Be hostly and feed 'em."

The other man shoots him a look before tilting his head in your direction with a warm smile.

Sam's got a beige hand towel tossed over his left shoulder as he scrubs at the plates in the sink. The house is just full of life, that's the best way to put it.

A line of shoes by the door and pictures and knick-knacks galore. Kids' drawings and a record cabinet in the living room. Nautical-themed decor everywhere you look. It's a little jarring, to be honest. Considering where you were living up until three days ago in a threadbare studio in Hell's Kitchen. 

It's good though. Between the baseball game playing on the slightly staticky radio and the quiet chatter of two younger boys just down the hall, it's nice.

Bucky points at the piercing on your nose, mouth full of a raspberry scone. 

"That's new."

You nod, scooping up the last bite of syrup-drenched pancakes with your fork, "It is."

"It hurt?" he's got a smudge of the red fruit filling on the corner of his lip that he's completely oblivious to.

A shrug, "Not too bad."

He hums in reply and shoves the rest of the pastry into his mouth. Licking his fingers absentmindedly as he peruses the local newspaper. He makes it all the way to page three before he rests his arms on the table and looks back at you.

"What exactly is that thing out there?"

You can see the aquamarine paint of your van just through the kitchen window.

"My van."

His eyebrows kind of scrunch and raise up at the same time, as if trying to entertain the idea, "That's new too?"

With a smirk, you reply, "Her name's Hildegard and she's a beautiful woman."

Sam snorts over at the sink.

Bucky cranes his neck to look out the kitchen window, tilting back on his chair legs, "That thing's a tank."

"A majestic tank," you add, stealing the newspaper from under his hands. The Ask Alice section is of particular interest. 

Dear Alice, my husband claims he is of Asgardian descent and has been trying to do "feats of strength like his brother Thor." He keeps throwing his back out and insisting it's fine. Help. What should I do? It's just embarrassing at this point. 

"Has a bed, a kitchen, and everything," you continue as you glance up from the advice column.

Bucky drops his chair back down on all four legs and squints real hard, "Are you living in that thing?"

You bristle at his annoying stupidity and coolly counter, "Are you really couch surfing with Captain America?"

Sam bends over in a silent laugh, managing to turn off the sink, but still needing the counter to support him while he gathers his composure. After a long moment, he walks over and plops down into the high-back chair next to yours - tossing the damp dish towel onto the other man's head.

Bucky, unfazed, tilts his head back enough to where the towel is covering everything but his mouth, "You need money? Need Mr. America to make things better? A freedom fund or something?"

Sam kicks him under the table and Bucky just laughs in defeat, snatching the towel off his head and stalking over to the counter for a banana.

You eye Sam with a heavy breath of frustration. He, in return, drops his large hand on top of yours. It's warm and comforting and all-encompassing of a distant memory where things were far more normal.

"Come on. Tell Cap how much you need," his sudden shit-eating grin makes you groan and want to clobber him at the same time.

Pulling your hand away, you futilely kick the leg of his chair - it doesn't even budge for your annoyance, "I hate you both. I don't even know why I came here."

"Admit it, you missed this," Sam says with a teasing smile.

You shake your head, dropping your face into your hands, "I must be a masochist."

Bucky chokes on his banana.

The couch is surprisingly comfortable. Bucky was even kind enough to fluff his favorite yellow throw pillow for you to nap on. The crash was inevitable after eleven hours on the road, you knew that much. 

But even then, you don't stir until well into the heated amber afternoon. You try to act surprised by that fact.

The house is too loud. With all the things still in it, but now without the familiar sounds from the morning. There's a puttering fan, rotating in the corner of the room. A pink crocheted blanket had been draped on you at some point. And it's not lost upon you that the curtains in the room have been drawn shut as well. 

But the perpetrators are nowhere to be found. Sam's nephews must be out too because there's not even a sound coming from upstairs. It's just your unsteady breathing and the rotating fan puttering away.

Your skin crawls with the heat of a closed room on a summer day. The tassels of the blanket tickle your exposed knee as you sit up, enjoying the crack and roll of your shoulders as you stretch.

But the silence just drags on. 

When things are this quiet and you're left alone with your own thoughts, you really just want to claw your own skin or run far away. See: leaving New York in a camper van because the feels were hitting too hard in your lonely apartment.

That's why you find yourself gasping for air on the front porch only a minute later. At least you can breathe deeper without your binder on.

The summer air has cooled off from the humidity of the morning and there's enough of a breeze to rustle the trees and cool your heated skin. You're thankful you had the foresight to shuck off your button-up shirt before you passed out as the wind rolling off the lake feels amazing on your bare arms.

It doesn't take you long to spot them from your position on the porch steps.

They're holding back some obvious gibs when you walk down to the dock where they're fishing. Probably some choice words about oversleeping and caffeine addiction just waiting on the tips of their tongues.

You take a seat on the blue cooler behind them.

You're not entirely sure when this happened. This being their obvious friendship.

Probably somewhere between the government taking the shield and Sam taking it back for himself. You caught some glimpses on the news and a few candid shots on Twitter to get a basic picture of the situation. The Walker/Wilson discourse was still burning hot online. You tried your best to scour for the facts and not the obvious propaganda/blatant racism.

They're quietly bickering about something to do with Bucky's cast line. Sam keeps telling him to hush up cause he's gonna scare away the fish. And Bucky just keeps retorting the fact that he knows what he's doing, thanks.

It's funny to see it though. Even as they argue, Sam keeps his ribbing tighter than he used to, a little gentler and softer style of teasing. And Bucky keeps glancing Sam's way as if he's waiting for things to fall apart again.

You feel like an intruder.

Drawing your arms across your chest, now feeling the difference in the way your shirt sits against your torso, "I'll be out of your hair by tonight, Sam."

He laughs, gives a nonchalant alright. Then whips his head back towards you after the words hit him. Rod dropped down at his side and eyes wide.

"Yeah? Where you gonna go?"

Bucky's turned around now too. You squeeze yourself tighter. Even outside you can feel things getting too close and you're not actually referring to the blood-sucking insects for once.

"Not sure yet. But if you wanna tell me where the nearest gas station is, I'll get going."

Sam blindly shoves his rod into Bucky's vibranium hand and crosses over to you, crouching down to your level.

"Yeah, that's not what's gonna be happening. You're staying for dinner and breakfast in the mornin'. And like hell I'm gonna let you drive out of here before I look over that beast in my drive."

Bucky mimics behind him, "Her name is Hildegard and she's a beautiful woman."

Sam catches the glimpse of mischief in your eyes and knowingly ducks to the side as you send a wave of white energy at Bucky, knocking him backwards into the water with a shocked holler. He bobs up after a moment, hair plastered to his forehead, sputtering out lake water, and swearing like a true soldier.

Sam claps you on the shoulder with a barking laugh, barely dodging the arm that flies onto the dock as Bucky attempts to drag him down into the water with him.

Sarah just rolled her eyes when the two of them appeared on the back porch, soaking wet. Throwing them towels through the door before locking it back up.

She refused to allow them in until she had her food safely tucked away in the oven for dinner - because Sam doesn't know how to do it right she had said. Apparently, their momma's mac and cheese recipe was sacred and Sam always had the habit of fucking it up.

The kitchen was lively again - once they air-dried on the back porch and were allowed back in, but Bucky found the head chef annoying as hell and had relocated himself to the Mario Kart game in the living room with Sam's nephews. From the sounds of it, he was either winning by a large margin or losing very badly to the preteens.

Sarah had made a brief reappearance as she grabbed a drink from the kitchen - said something gruff to her brother about the way he was minding the food and his lack of seasoning. To which Sam told her to do her casserole and leave the damn chicken to him. 

She gave him a good punch in the arm for that before heading to the back office to go over the day's work reports.

The prep time is speeding by as the lake reflects the brilliant pinks and purples of sunset. The anxiety that had been building up in your body since the crash nap has started to dissipate as Sam's soft humming soothes your mind.

Despite your assigned task, you can still feel him lingering over your shoulder with a watchful eye.

"If this isn't to your standards, I'll just get out of here like Bucky," you suggest with a slight bite to your tone.

Sam takes a warning step closer, breath warm against your bare neck, "Shut it. You got it going just fine."

He returns to the oiled skillet on the stove, giving his tongs a few test clicks, as you dredge another chicken thigh through the seasoned flour mixture.

"Yeah, well your invasion of my personal bubble was making me think otherwise."

He makes a strained chuckle, "If I didn't want you here, you'd know."

You turn your head in time to catch the warm look in his eyes that he's directing your way.

"Long as you need," he adds after a beat of time.

You let that settle in your mind for a while. The open gesture you didn't know you were so desperately craving after eight months of near isolation.

The rest of the prepping goes well enough, except for Bucky sneaking out to stick his finger in the cornbread batter while Sam had his back turned. But the two hours of working in a hot kitchen is made worth it when you all sit down and tuck into pure heaven.

You have to bite back a moan as you help yourself to another serving of macaroni, "This is amazing, Sarah."

Sam's brows raise quickly. Grabbing a breaded drumstick from the serving plate he points it at you before adding it to your plate, "Yeah, well you should be eating this because it's delicious."

Bucky's dutifully eating his collards when he conspiratorially leans over towards you and mock whispers, "Someone's jealous."

"Someone's gonna get their fancy arm messed with is what's up."

The boys laugh and Sarah doesn't do much to dissuade them from it. Somehow, you end up with another thigh on your plate, but all of your cornbread has mysteriously migrated over to a certain super soldier's plate in the meantime.

Afterwards, you're on leftover duty - stuffing the last bits of food into old Country Crock butter dishes. Bucky was forced into dish duty but has been taking great joy in splashing Cass - who is on drying duty - while his older brother is trying to put everything back in the cupboards as fast as possible.

"So," he calls over the chaos of the younger boys. "Was this on your adventure itinerary?"

You give a quiet laugh as you seal the lid on the leftover casserole.

"Sure was," doing the careful balancing act as you walk to the fridge with five containers stacked in your hands. It takes some finagling, but you get your pinky around the handle and manage to get the door open without dropping anything. 

"I always wanted to see superheroes perform great acts of domesticity," you say with your head in the fridge.

He's got a plate held just out of reach from Cass, who's not interested in playing his stupid you want it? come on and jump for it game, "Huh, if you stick around you might catch Sam doing laundry later."

"Oh," you close the fridge and rest against the door. "A dream come true!"

Bucky smiles, wide and true and - most importantly - genuine. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, but it's gone just as fast as it appeared. It leaves you wondering, later in the shower, just when James Barnes got his personality back online.

You're still musing the change from the soldier on the battlefield eight months prior when you walk out onto the back porch - drying your hair with an old cotton T-shirt. The lanterns emit a golden hue on the patio seating, while the lights from the dock across the lake and the stars in the purple midnight sky dance and flicker off the water.

"Finally got that driving grime off, huh?" Sam's nursing a beer in one of the seats. 

You can just make out the outline of Bucky down by the dock, near a grove of lightning bugs.

Draping the damp shirt over your shoulders, you take a seat in the chair next to him, "Feel like a new person - thanks, by the way."

He waves his hand in a no big deal motion before taking another drink.

With a flick of your wrist, the misty white energy you're able to conjure floats through the air, down the opposite side of the table where the cooler rests. You nab the returning beer from the air, taking a refreshing sip after you pry the cap off on the table edge. 

Sam watches with an amused expression. With a humming question from you, he just shakes his head.

" 'm literally right here. You could've just asked for one."

With a smirk now playing on your lips, you set the bottle down. Condensation already beading up along the sides in the summer night air.

"What's the point of having powers if I only ever use them to beat up baddies? I mean, you never think about taking the wings out when you need to go to the store?"

He knocks his head back in a laugh, "No, I don't think about using my suit to transport my ass to the Walmart."

"Pssh," you chastise. "Gotta start thinking outside the box, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy," he points an annoyed finger at you that only has a tiny ounce of real anger behind it.

Your hands go up in a show of defeat and he has the audacity to smile at it.

A pleasant moment stretches languidly between you as he finishes his drink and you ultimately find yourself watching Bucky skip rocks along the shoreline. It's a moment you want to sink your teeth into and really savor the feeling of.

To just sit and be with friends again, it's proving to be calming and upsetting all at once.

The table used to be larger and far more crowded. There was pizza and bickering over who ordered what. Steve would try to delegate and Thor would have snuck off with a whole box of Meat Lovers Supreme for himself. Tony would be trying to ridicule whoever got the pineapple and anchovy atrocity. It seems like a lifetime ago when things were that kind of stable.

"You gonna talk about it?"

Sam, with his knowing brown eyes, watches and observes and reads you like a book.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You steady yourself with a breath and lean forward on the plastic tabletop.

"Not sure how you were handling all this…  post-Blip stuff. But, I don't know. I just got this urge to go do something a few weeks ago. You get removed from existence and you get a new appreciation for life, I guess."

He hums softly, "I was just a stop along the way?"

Squinting at his interpretation, you shake your head, "More like a starting point. You know, you two are the last ones on my list that I could get a hold of? Everyone else just… ping, ping," you mimic tiny explosions with your hands.

"They have their own lives to go back to living and the original crew is basically no more. Compound's under new management - " Sam snorts at that, " - and I was just feeling…" don't say lonely, don't say lonely, "... nostalgic."

By now, Bucky's started to wander back up to the house, though his face is still shadowed by the limited natural light from the stars.

"I don't know, Sam. New York just felt - " you rub your forehead with the palm of your hand as a headache decides to start forming for your troubles. 

" - it felt too big and too small. Everyone was gone and I think I was just existing up until a week ago. And I just wanted to get back to living."

Bucky approaches, hesitating at the edge of the patio for a moment before Sam beckons him over with the jerk of his head.

"I want to see the world and do normal touristy things. Get lost and end up at a weird-ass landmark. Eat the greasy diner food. Camp out under the stars. Just more than sitting around waiting for the next big thing to come knocking. Cause if I stayed up there any longer, I was gonna lose it."

The super soldier drums his fingers on the table for a moment, having only caught the tail end of your confessional.

"Where you heading after this?"

You give a hapless shrug, "West."

He nods, though his face looks entirely uncertain.

"And is this a finding yourself solo personal journey trip or…?"

His lips curl up into a smile when you tilt your head back to laugh.

Finally removing the T-shirt from where it had been resting on your shoulders, you shuck it over into the empty chair between you and Bucky. The air feels cool along your skin now and you almost wish you had grabbed an overshirt from your bag.

"I mean, I'm not planning to grab any hitchhikers, but I'm open to some travel buddies.

Sam smirks, "Someone's gotta keep you from blowing that thing up."

The shocked gasp you make only furthers to spur them on.

"What?" he admonishes, "I heard that engine run. You either got old oil, the wrong oil, or no oil in it. Not to mention," he's now leaning forward and pointing at you with each listing.

"Your back tires aren't the same as the front ones. Your exhaust pipe is hanging on by a thread. And I bet you anything that the AC ain't working either."

Bucky gives a low whistle.

Leaning back in your chair, you cross your arms, "Well damn, Samuel. Give me the number for a mechanic already."

"Like hell, I will."

He stands abruptly, his chair screeches as it's pushed back along the woodgrain of the porch. And then he's walking, in the dark, to where your van is parked.

"C'mon," he calls.

Bucky shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile, before following after him.

You keep the swear on the tip of your tongue to yourself as you shoot a beam of white light their way, illuminating the path for them.

It's almost one in the morning and Sam's got his arms covered in grease. Bucky's taken great joy in exploring the interior of the van. Poking and prodding at every little thing: the bobblehead on the dashboard and the beads hanging from the rearview mirror, a collection of crystals on a tiny shelf, the three potted succulents over the counter.

He digs through your pile of snacks on the passenger seat and grabs the unopened bag of gummy worms for himself to snack on as Sam tells you to start the engine again.

By the time your personal mechanic has moved under the van to explore a possible hole in the lines and pipes, Bucky has plopped himself down on your bed. He's finished browsing through your small collection of books now, having exhausted himself with perusing your belongings. 

You had dropped down the mosquito nets at the open doors - held on by magnets so the little bloodsuckers weren't getting in - and turned on the fairy lights along the top of the cab for some ambiance.

"This is nice," he murmurs, head resting on the single decorative throw pillow. 

Perched on the small kitchenette counter next to him, you give a genuine, "Thanks."

After all the teasing they had given you about the van, it was nice to finally hear a bit of praise on something you were actually proud of. He lifts his head enough to catch your expression, his blue eyes soften.

"She's a beautiful woman."

That makes you snort with laughter, slightly drunk on beer and exhaustion. You can hear Sam tapping on something beneath you, followed by a sharp swear, and the general buzz of bugs congregating by the glowing white orbs in the lawn.

Bucky, after tossing the empty bag of candy up into the tiny sink, scooches over on the bed, messing up the blue and gold striped blanket you had bought at a flea market in Virginia.

He extends his right arm out to you, "C'mere."

And after a moment, "I mean, it's… it's your bed and all. You look tired, kid."

Your mouth quirks up into a little smirk as you catch the faint blush on his cheeks.

"Damn right it is," you affirm before plopping down next to him, face down. 

You can still smell the detergent you had used on the bedding. But it's mixed with something musky and masculine. Shampoo or deodorant or sweat, you're not sure.

When you manage to pick your head up, you're met with the dark treeline through the open back doors, though the gentle golden twinkle of your battery-powered interior lights makes it swirl and shift. Your head feels heavy as you rub your face against the blanket, head nudging something solid and warm off to your side.

"Should come with me," you find yourself saying. "Both of you. I like you guys. It'd be fun."

You feel more than hear Bucky's laugh as it reverberates through the mattress, "That so?"

Humming in agreement as your eyes fail to open, "Be like that family. The singing one on tv, with that one song."

Bucky rolls to face you, probably catching on to the fact that you're seconds from sleep. But he keeps going, "We're gonna be singing?"

You're lazily humming the theme song or maybe it's that one hit about thinking about loving someone. 

"The Partridge Family, right?" Sam's voice is like honey as it drips down your body. He's close but somehow so far away.

"The what?" Bucky asks softly, a smile clear in his voice.

You can hear Sam's feet on the floorboards because that one spot by the sink always creaks. 

"Doesn't matter, c'mon and shut it. Sleeping Beauty's almost out."

You shake your head against the blanket, welcoming the warmth that's there radiating on your right side.

" 'm not, jus' sleepy."

Someone teases you with a gentle sure you are.

Things get really hazy after that point. You can hear them talk in low tones about air filters and new carburetors and how bad the oil in the engine was. Something even softer yet about bags and a break and it wouldn't be a bad idea if we just…

But you're still wrapped up in something comfortable and warm and it doesn't take much at all to finally push you over the edge into a deep dreamless sleep.

When you wake to the gentle rays of the morning sunrise streaming in through the windshield, you find that there's a body radiating pure warmth curled up along your back. You can smell the motor oil and faint tinge of Irish Spring soap. Sam sleeps facing away from you, his arms curled around one of your pillows, breathing slow and easy.

After lifting your head up and shaking out the tired brain fog from your mind as you stretch, you also catch the sleeping super soldier sitting in the rotated driver's seat with his feet kicked up onto the fold-away table, snoring softly. His boots are haphazardly thrown on the floor next to Sam's, joined by an open tool bag and a pile of grease-covered rags.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed, sparring Sam a final longing look before shuffling across the floorboards and hopping out onto the cool dew-covered grass without waking either of them up.

The house is quietly buzzing to life with a wafting aroma of fresh coffee and something sweet lingering in the air.

"Morning," Sarah greets gently. Her back is turned as she loads up a cooler with food.

"Good morning," you offer back with a stifled yawn.

She turns her head to give you a once over before pulling a clean mug from the cupboard - moving her things over on the counter to give you access to the coffee pot, which you are seriously grateful for.

That's how the guys find you, not even twenty minutes later. Nursing the purple mug with a baby photo of Sam printed on it, and getting along way too well with his sister for his liking.

After Bucky stopped snickering and Sarah grabbed the boys and headed into work, Sam rolled his eyes and snatched away the mug and tossed it in the sink. It took you a solid minute to stop laughing as he tried his best to act unfazed.

Later that morning, after Sam directed you to the local auto shop where he picked out new tires and talked to the mechanic for nearly an hour about the guy's family, and only after he gave the van his official seal of approval, did you return to the house.

The doughnuts you had grabbed on the way weren't anything in comparison to the breakfast Sam had whipped up the day before. But his easy smiles and gentle quips were just as nice.

He pointed out different stores and houses and a grove of trees that him and his sister used to play in. Having to circle the lake to get back, he convinced you to stop by the dock where the family business is up and running.

Sarah and the boys are hard at work as he glides over and easily picks up some crates to load the boat. You find yourself helping AJ with the buckets of ice, having to haul them across the dock from the interior storage building for the cold tables.

"... might be good for you, after all this," Sarah says to her brother, walking back to the boat.

Sam's got his hands in his pockets, face nearly unreadable in the morning light, "That's what he kept saying last night too."

"Well, if you got Barnes tellin' you to do something…" their conversation trails off when they enter the cabin.

About an hour later, Sam's striding over to you - wiping his hands off on a rag. You've been helping with the cash box in their absence. 

"Didn't mean to get you stuck working."

Lulling your head to the side, you offer him an easy smile, "I don't mind. It's a good change of pace."

"Yeah," he leans back against the plastic table. The sleeves on his white button-down are rolled up to his elbows.

"Slower pace is good sometimes."

You find yourself nodding in agreement, "Can't spend every day chasing bad guys."

He's quiet for a moment, gaze focused on the bright blue water of the lake. And then he slaps your shoulder with the back of his hand, a smile back in place.

"C'mon, before Buck tries to steal my wings again."

You blink.

"Wait, what'd you mean again?" 

Chasing after him, back to the van, he grabs the driver's seat for himself. You don't mind too much as you hop into the passenger's side and toss him your giant keychain.

Holding it up by the Kirby squeeze ball, he gives you a long hard look.

"The hell is this?"

You offer him the look he deserves for such a dumb question. 

"My keys," you spell it out for him.

He has to shuffle through them before he finds one with the Ford logo, "For what? Every room of the compound?"

"Hmm," you shake your head with a small laugh, "something like that."

Sam has the wisdom to say nothing further, kicking the old girl into drive and heading back to the house.

Bucky's lounged out on the front porch steps, working through something in a journal, when you pull up to the house. He tucks it into the duffle bag behind him and walks over just as you both get out.

"Sounds better," he offers.

Sam grins, "We got a hell of a deal with it."

"Superhero discount," you tease as you join them by the driver's side door.

"New tires, good oil, and a new air filter. We're in business."

You catch the slip of the tongue there with the we're instead of the you're and you try not to get too hung up on the idea of it.

"So," Bucky rocks back on the heels of his boots, "you heading out?"

They both look to you, faces pinched and torn between indifference and distraught.

"Well, if I'm bugging you too much then yeah, I'll get going," the teasing tone falls flat.

Bucky rolls his eyes with an easy laugh, " 's not what I meant and you know it."

"In that case," you shuffle your sneakers on the grass as you work yourself up to say goodbye. "Then yes. I wanna get on the road before nightfall."

Sam gives Bucky a look before stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, "Still looking for some company?"

Blinking, you stare at him - trying to find the joke in his features, "You serious?"

"Could use a break," Bucky smoothes.

You look between the two of them, unsure, and not wanting to get your hopes up, "You're for real?"

They nod, humming in affirmation. Sam has his arms full of you in a hot second of bubbling joy as you fawn over the two of them for agreeing to something that was actually crazy. 

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta keep an eye on you two," Bucky teases as he grabs the two duffle bags from the porch steps.

He had packed. He had packed bags for the two of them because they wanted to hop in that van and go somewhere with you. It almost made you want to cry. You missed this.

Sam returns with a solid lock box and a circular leather bag that you have a pretty good idea of what it's containing.

"You never know," he shrugs as he passes them along to Bucky in the cab.

He's got the bags stored in the empty space under the bed, but seems hesitant to put the shield too far out of reach. 

You can't believe your luck here. Hopping up into the driver's seat, you start the engine and your baby purrs. 

"This is going to be amazing," you announce, nearly shaking with excitement. 

Bucky clicks into the third seat, just behind yours, after shoving the shield into the space between his seat and the small shelving unit, "Or the worst idea ever."

Sam laughs, having claimed the passenger seat for himself.

"Maybe a break ain't such a bad idea, Buck."

"Yeah, Buck," you tease as you kick her into drive and turn in the small circle of the drive.

"Live a little!" you say to him over your shoulder, cranking the radio up as you head down the driveway at a speed that's much faster than necessary.

Your backseat driver gruffly swears in another language as Sam starts belly laughing next to you. The sun is shining and the breeze is perfect as you pull out onto the main road.

Sooner or later, love is gonna get ya // Sooner or later, girl, you got to give in // Sooner or later, love is gonna let ya // Sooner or later, love is gonna win.

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[caitdjarin]

happier

Bucky Barnes x Reader

- Part two to ‘traitor’.

Warnings

Angst, Jealousy, Language, Mentions of Sex, Bucky being toxic and possessive, Arguments, Yelling, Australian/English spellings

gif is not mine

Yours and Bucky’s “friendship” literally just consisted of arguments and him apologising. A small list of reasons why he was mad at you and argued with you were

- You created a tinder account, which he had found

- You went out on a date

- You fucked someone

- You fucked someone else

It was mainly him being jealous and it royally pissed you off, you tried to talk to him or get anyone to talk to him about it, but he would not listen. It was like he thought he had some claim on you because you agreed to be civil with him and possibly start a friendship again, like before you were dating.

You had been doing particularly well with Bucky for a while, it was pleasant. Bucky had stopped his bullshit for a couple of months now and you felt like you were on the path to a friendship with him. Without all the arguing. That’s when you decided to sign up to sing at a local bar that you all went to regularly. You felt as if Bucky would be mature enough to listen. As you were about to invite him, he started an argument again, you started to think he was doing it on purpose. When you were together, every argument ended in unbelievable make-up sex. This time, he was mad that he saw someone walking out of your apartment.

“James, stop.” You yelled. “You’re acting like a fucking child. I am single, I am allowed to do whatever the fuck I want, and I will do whatever the fuck I want. You know that we will not be together again, stop causing these arguments trying to make something happen because it will not.”

He, of course, walks off.

You don’t tell Bucky about the bar. He won’t handle it well, but you invite Nat, Wanda, Steve and Vis.

-

Starting the song was probably the hardest part, pouring your feelings into the world and letting your friend know how you actually felt during.

“And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me? And now I'm pickin' her apart Like cuttin' her down make you miss my wretched heart But she's beautiful, she looks kind, she probably gives you butterflies” Finishing the verse, you look out towards Nat and Wanda, where they’re smiling back at you, giving you the courage to finish.

“I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, I wish you all the best, really Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on her I hope you're happy, but don't be happier”

Concluding the song, you look out in the crowd again, this time finding a familiar face, with bright blue eyes. You felt your face drop. Walking off the stage, you find yourself moving towards him.

“Bucky, you’re here”

“Yeah, Steve let it slip that this was happening, wanted to support you.” He replies, walking out of the venue.

You walk back into the venue and find Nat, Wanda, Steve and Vis.

“You did incredible, I am so proud of you for putting yourself out there.” Nat speaks loudly, trying to make sure you hear over the music. Wanda hugs you quickly before telling you she’s proud of you as well. Vis and Steve just smile at you, unsure of how to proceed when they literally just heard a song that was clearly directed at their friend. You all walk out of the venue.

“Why did you tell him, Steve?” You say softly.

“He asked me what I was doing tonight, and when I told him where I was going, he started questioning me a lot, so I just let it slip. I am sorry, I should’ve told him not to come.” He answers truthfully.

“It’s okay, I guess he was going to find out anyway.”

Bucky always thought you had an incredible voice, mainly hearing it while you were cleaning the apartment you once shared. Hearing it again made his heart melt. Until he registered the lyrics. Knowing how you truly felt about the breakup and how he handled things was like a punch to the gut. He was hoping that him causing arguments would bring out the sexual tension and then he’d be able to get you back but as he heard your voice cracking as you sung, he knew that he had lost the one thing in his life that made him the happiest he’s ever been.

Finding out your new co-worker was your ex-fiancé, was very weird. You had just started a new job as a professor at a small university. Rafael was always polite; you were in the same department, so it was a bit difficult to avoid him anyway. One day, you noticed a small band on his ring ringer.

“So you got married?”

“Yeah” he smiled, “Peter and I did over the weekend.”

“I am so happy for you, Raf, I know you wanted this for a long time”

“I am really sorry about how it all happened, I know I treated you badly and I should have- “

“You didn’t have to do anything, Raf, you weren’t ready to come out. It might’ve hurt a little, but you deserve to not hide who you are and be with someone who is the complete opposite of who you are attracted to.” You say, cutting him off.

“How are do you always see the best in people, even when they fuck you over?” He questions.

“Because I’ve seen the good and you can’t be defined by your mistakes. I have to go now though, Congratulations again.” You say, walking out of the shared office.

You had to talk to Bucky, clear the air, make sure everything was okay. First stopping by your apartment to drop off some papers and your laptop.

You found Bucky sitting at the steps, waiting for you, you assume.

“Hey, do you want to come up?” You say as he looks up at you. He follows you up. Opening your door, you lean against it to let him in, he walks in taking in your home for the first time.

“It’s definitely you.” He smiles.

“I spend a lot of time here, have to make it nice and comfortable.”

“I am so proud of you; I hope you know that. Your voice was incredible.”

“Thank you, Bucky, I really appreciate that.”

“Why didn’t you invite me?” He asks, sadly. You sigh.

“I was going to, then you started that stupid argument and it made me feel like I shouldn’t. I am glad that you came anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I just wanted you back and didn’t know how to get that across without arguing.”

“Bucky- “You start. He says your name cutting you off.

“I know now that it will not happen, and I am okay with that, I just want you in my life still.” He states. “You were right in that song by the way. She made me happy temporarily, but nobody will ever make me as happy as I was when I was with you.”

“I will always love you, Buck, I always have, and I think I always will. But us breaking up brought up some real problems in our relationship for me that I think I just overlooked because I was so in love with you.”

“I will always love you too.” You watch as a single tear comes out of his beautiful blue eye. You hug him, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest. He pulls you in closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head. You stay there for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. Once he leaves, you dig through your wardrobe. You find all your books with your notes in them.

Going through all your papers with your songs on them and all your little thoughts you had written down throughout your breakup and as you were moving on, felt nostalgic. Remembering how you had felt about Bucky, how your emotions were so strong and how you would scrub your skin lighter, fearful that you might speed up the process of your body renewing and creating something that hadn’t been touched by him. You decide to burn them all. You want to remember the good in your relationship moving forward. You would forever love James Buchanan Barnes, but you loved yourself more.

He may not have been my soulmate but he’s the man I am going to tell my children about when they ask what love feels like.

[beckydoesthings]

various fics of hxl that i adore reading! this list is quite lengthy, but feel free to message me if you have any questions!

*will continue to be updated. also, if i mistagged you, i apologize, i do not know how to tumblr*

Love Is a Rebellious Bird

E | 134k | @100percentsassy and gloria_andrews

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

i think this tickled every bone of my musical self and also made me cry (are you seeing a theme here??) one of the first fics i fell in love with and one i keep coming back to.

Collision

E | 226k | @tequiladimples

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

the world building in this one is insanity - so much good mythology mixed in and it made me screech with joy. i think i can firmly say that i did not expect where the plot went, but that made the story so much better.

Flour and Chocolate

M | 145k | @danosphere91

It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.

Then he approached the display cabinet.

And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.

What. The. Fuck?

Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.

OR

Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.

the miscommunication in this fic is SO REAL and makes for a good read. the rest of the flour and chocolate series is also fantastic. i thoroughly enjoyed both the ziam and ed/niall arcs that bring the whole story together.

run away home

E | 106k | @hattalove

Louis stands, in the middle of a clearing with his hands in his pockets, and stares. This boy—God, this gorgeous, gorgeous boy. He seems so clumsy, confused at the best of times, but there’s a wisdom about him as he speaks, a maturity that belies his age.

Louis is hopelessly, wildly attracted to him.

or, louis is a successful jockey down on his luck, struggling to get his life back on track after an injury. harry has a horse, a house fit for a prince, and a broken heart.

it takes them a while to figure out that they need each other.

this makes my inner horse girl extraordinarily happy - even if i don’t know anything about horse racing. louis’ story in this is beautiful and makes the whole piece worth a read.

waiting for the tides to meet

E | 60k | @nauticalleeds

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

gorgeous soulmate AU that gives me summer cruising vibes. worth the read for the lettuce scene alone (i kid, i kid)

Do Not Go Gentle

E | 70k | @afirethatcannotdie

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

okay i’ve watched maybe 3 episodes of Gray’s Anatomy, but i feel like this encompasses the vibe of the show: medical stuff with a hefty dose of angst and sexual tension

Falling For Me Won’t Be A Mistake

M | 58k | @all-these-larrythings

Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn't know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he's ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him.

one of my favorite mpreg fics so if that’s not your cup of tea, then don’t read it. i love surgeon harry with a vengeance, but honestly Gems and Niall are iconic in this one.

Watching the World Fall

E | 11k | @crazyupsetter why won’t it let me tag :(

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

i have a soft spot the size of Antarctica for Late Late AU fics (we stan James Corden) and for exes to lovers so this checks all the boxes.

autumn leaves

E | 27k | @suspendrs

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

love love french AUs and while this one isn’t sunshine and rainbows, it’s a beautiful yet heart wrenching piece. warning for period typical homophobia

caught up in your love affair

NR | 8k | @disgruntledkittenface

“And the corgis took to you straightaway,” Harry remarks.

“That’s true,” Louis chuckles.

 “I’ve spent the last 29 years being barked at,” Harry deadpans, jerking his hand toward Louis, “this one walks in, absolutely nothing.”

Louis outright giggles at that, saying, “They were just lying on my feet during tea.”

“Wagging tails,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“It’s because they don’t understand flirting,” Louis tells him, “you can’t charm them the way you do everyone else.”

Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

just. 8k of royal fluff. that’s literally it and i adore it so much.

Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You)

M | 54k | @rainbowsandgucci

”Due to unforeseen circumstances, help is needed here at the orchard for the impending apple season. Looking for someone able to start within the next week or two at the most, is willing to do whatever miscellaneous tasks are needed, such as picking & packing apples, running the cash register, and other handywork that may need to be done. Must be good with customers, and able to lift up to 50lbs. Help will be needed until at the least the end of October. Please contact the number found on this page, or come out to the orchard and ask for Harry. All the love xx” --- Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles. Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn. He also starts to fall in love with Harry. Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

i never thought i would enjoy an apple orchard fic?? but it’s so good?? farmer harry makes me laugh to think about, but the heartbreak in this fic is so. real.

Mine Would Be You

E | 114k | @crinkle-eyed-boo

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

exes to lovers drama but make it extra sad. the fact that we see so many facets to this story just makes it all the more painful, yet beautiful. this fic also reminds me of how much i love one mister niall horan.

One for Luck

E | 96k | @leavingonatrain

The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles' deep, deep voice, he's just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he's officially back on Great Britain's Olympic team. He's also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there's a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life's grand.

(AU: Louis and Harry are professional riders on the British Olympic team.)

again, i know nothing about horses, but i like to pretend i do for the sake of this fic. it’s beautiful, it’s smutty what else could you ask for?

Nothing But You On My Mind

E | 83k | @absoloutenonsense

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

i absolutely. definitely. sobbed tears at this fic. it’s just so beautifully painful to read. don’t want to spoil anything, but this is a must.

Adore You

M | 67k | @isthatyoularry

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

i strongly relate to harry in this one! one of my favorite historical AUs and honestly i love the thought of louis in well fitting suits.

leave it to the breeze

E | 81k | @hattalove

Louis couldn’t be prouder of his bake, but there’s something—there’s something. Something about Harry Styles and the earnest way he measures, pours, mixes, scrapes. Something about the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he knocks the air out of his batter.

or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people's business. also featuring liam as louis's best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur.

i. love. the. great british baking show. baking + h&l is amazing. and another reminder as to why niall is the absolute best.

Paint The Sky With Stars

M | 62k | @icanhazzalou grrr let me tag

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

gorgeous historical fic that’s so accurate and painstakingly written. i keep coming back to it!

When It’s Late At Night

M | 25k | @all-these-larrythings

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

remember when i said i love Late Late AUs? yeah. i love that louis gives absolutely zero shits in this fic until he gives all the shits.

Chasing Empty Spaces

E | 79k | @domestic-harry

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

gorgeous historical AU that goes through Harry’s struggle with his sexuality wonderfully. this one also made me cry.

Resist Everything Except Temptation

E | 100k | @domestic-harry

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

OR

The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

love this pirate AU that’s got one badass gemma styles. also, harry as a super cool pirate in gorgeous clothes makes me super happy!

i’ll make this feel like home

E | 49k

Harry to groans himself and then takes a deep breath. “Okay, well. Here’s the thing. I peed on a stick.”

Louis isn’t able to get more than a shocked “What!” out before Harry’s steamrolling on.

“I peed on a stick and it says it’s positive, but you always prattle on about how it’s best to go to the doctor’s before you get excited, you know to confirm it because sometimes hormones are off or you have like a tumor or some shit and get false positives and what if I’m dying and-”

“You’re pregnant?!” Louis shouts out, stomach dropping as the words leave his mouth.

“Um, yeah… maybe.”

[the one where Louis' hopelessly in love with his best mate... who just happens to be pregnant with another man's baby.]

baby momma harry with hot mess!Louis is a recipe for disaster, but this one has plenty of fluff to make up for it.

Hands Clasped Tight

E | 44k | @afirethatcannotdie

“What am I looking at here?” Harry asks.

“This, my friends, is a ‘proof’ Instagram account, run by your students,” Liam announces.

“It’s got all this stuff about how the two of you are together,” Niall adds.

“I heard about that,” says one of the math teachers. “Confiscated a kid’s phone today when they were looking at it. I have to say, the evidence that you’re dating is pretty damning.”

“Really,” Louis says dryly. “Do you think being married for three years might have something to do with it?”

Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married.

love love teacher harry and louis that’s mostly funny fluff with a little angst. just a teeny amount. reminds me of my own experiences with meddling students haha.

*updated 2/16/21*

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 1

AO3 | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.

This fic was inspired by this post by @ironwoman359​ and I’m so grateful for the inspiration because this has turned into a passion project for me!

Pairings: Logince

Word Count: 1566

Warnings: Anxiety, Bruising/Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Logan is an anxious and emotional mess

    Logan opened the door to his new quarters and peered inside. He hesitated, surprised. Just the main room was larger than any place he’d lived previously. He paused, glancing around in awe before finally stepping inside. The room was ornately decorated with bright red tapestries featuring the royal family’s crests and bookshelves lined the stone walls. He swallowed, suddenly nervous being here. He couldn’t help but feel out of place among the elegance of the space around him.

    Logan closed the door silently behind him and shivered slightly as a cold breeze drifted over him. He walked over to the fireplace, setting his small bag of belongings on the royal blue couch on the far side of the room. He rubbed his arms to warm them against the chill settling into him. He knelt down, pulling some logs and tinder out of the stash of firewood on the side of the mantel and strategically placing them into position for a fire. He worked in silence and a few minutes later, he had a small fire roaring in the fireplace.

     Unsure of what else to do, he walked through his new quarters, his thoughts still reeling in disbelief at the day’s events  He marveled at his new space. Not only did he have the large, main living space but also a private bedroom and study. The space was fully furnished and filled with decorative trinkets that, no doubt, would be worth more than his entire bag of personal belongings.

    As far as Logan could tell, the only thing missing was a space to cook, though he would assume there would be a communal space for this. He made a mental note to ask about that tomorrow and wandered back to the couch, collapsing into the soft cushions. He took a deep breath, trying to settle the growing panic in his chest.

    A soft knock at the door suddenly jarred Logan back to reality. Confused, he stood up and took another breath. Steadying himself, he went to the door, pulling it open. He nearly choked when he saw the prince standing before him.

   “H-hello, sire. Can I help you with something?” he said, his voice cracking. He couldn’t help but look away in embarrassment.

    The prince held his hand up, smiling. “You can relax, Logan. I’m merely stopping by to check that you were finding your accommodations to be suitable. How are you settling in?”

    “Oh,” he paused, surprised, rubbing his wrists.  He still couldn’t bring himself to meet the prince’s gaze. “Everything has been more than satisfactory, sir. More than I ever could have expected. Thank you.”

    “Call me Roman, please Logan. I cannot abide the formalities. I am glad you’re fairing well so far.” He smiled, stepping into the room and letting the door close behind him. Roman gestured to the couch, indicating that they should sit. Logan obliged, sitting down on the couch across from the prince. “Surely though, you must have questions, now that you've had a chance to see everything.”

    Logan struggled to find words. “Well, I was curious if there was a communal kitchen. This space is impressively furnished but I noticed there wasn't a place to prepare food.”

   “Oh, no. You needn't worry about that.” Roman waved him off. “You are my personal advisor now. Your meals will be delivered to you by the kitchen staff daily. You need only to let them know if there are any foods you prefer not to eat. Or that you do, I suppose.”

    “Oh.” Logan felt another wave of shock settling into his stomach.

    The prince noticed Logan's expression change. He smiled sympathetically, quickly changing his approach. “I’m sorry, Logan. I know this is lot to take in right now, but I promise it will get easier."

    “F-forgive me. I won't let my personal feelings affect my duties. I made commitment to you and I intend to follow through. You need not be unsure of my skills.” He said. His words came a bit too fast, badly disguising the anxiety he was feeling.

    “Do not stress, my friend. I do not doubt your capabilities.”  The prince smiled gently, leaning back into the couch. “Please, I want you to know that you are welcome you to take whatever time you need to adjust. You have been through a lot in the past week. I won’t fault you for needing a bit of time to rest and recollect yourself.”

    “You are too kind, sire.” Logan said, breathing deeply.

    “Please, call me Roman.”

    Logan hesitated. “I'm not sure that is wise, sir.”

    “Please, indulge me.” Roman paused. “At least when we are alone. I will concede it's probably best that you continue to address me formally around the other nobles for a while.  It’s best to maintain a good reputation until you have properly established yourself among the court.”

    “I think I would prefer to remain formal either way. It feels strange for me to not acknowledge your status.” Logan said, a bit quietly.

    Roman smiled, defeated. “Whatever makes you more comfortable is fine for now.”

    Logan smiled back appreciatively, biting back a yawn. Roman nodded, knowingly.

    “Perhaps I have stolen enough of your time for tonight.” He stood gesturing for Logan to follow him to the door. As they approached the door, the prince turned to face him, resting a hand on Logan’s shoulder. Logan tensed, but managed not to flinch away from the contact. “Please, let your anxieties rest. The past week was unfortunate, but it will not reflect your time here. I give you my word, Logan.”

    “Unfortunate is a bit of an understatement—” Logan stopped suddenly, realizing he'd spoken aloud. A wave of anxiety washed over his body and his knees felt weak. He spoke quickly. “I'm sorry, sir. I did not mean to speak out of turn—"

    Roman hushed him, gently squeezing his shoulder. Logan was immediately silent. “Logan. Please. Believe me when I say it is fine. I encourage you to speak your mind. You will not face repercussions from me.”

    Logan nodded nervously.

    Roman sighed as he released Logan’s shoulder. “Anyway, you are right to speak out. My phrasing was callous. I did not intend to diminish your experience. I only wish for you to understand that it is over and that you need not fear me.”

    Logan's jaw instinctively clenched from the memories or the past few days. “I know,” he said, forcing his voice to stay upbeat. “I am grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me.”

    The prince looked at him with concern but ultimately seemed to decide not to push Logan. “Very well. Get some rest, Logan. We will meet again tomorrow and I will show you more of the castle.”

    “Thank you, sire. Good night to you.”

    “Good night, Logan,” the prince said, closing the door behind him. Logan stood at the door in stunned silence for a moment after the prince had left.

    How did I get here? When did my life become…this?

    Just over a week ago, his life had been normal. He’d trained under the local apothecary. He traded. He came home to his tiny hut and lived his boring, normal life. He'd never have dreamed that he’d be standing here now. Never in his life would he imagine that the prince would speak to him, let alone visit him in his personal quarters. Logan nervously ran his fingers through his hair as he paced the room.

    His mind was overwhelmed and yet, despite his racing thoughts, he yawned. His mind may be busy, but his body had begun to ache with exhaustion.  

    He turned slowly and walked to his new bedroom, turning to the western wall. A small, bronze water basin sat in the corner of the room and a jug of water had been left out for him. Logan moved over to it and splashed some of the cold water onto his face, looking up to the mirror hanging above the water basin. He barely recognized himself. His face was covered in purple and blue bruises. The swelling felt like it started to fade but the dark color was still prominently visible on his face. His hands clenched at the edges of the water basin and Logan looked to the ground for a moment. In the corners of his eye, he could still see the dark bruises on his wrists, sparking a new wave of anxiety and dark thoughts. He choked back a sob and looked back at the mirror, trying to clear his mind.

    His muscles tensed looking at his reflection. Suddenly, he felt overwhelmed as his inner frustrations and anxiety boiled to the surface and he had the urge to yell. Or throw things. Or both. His body went limp. He couldn’t lose his composure. Not here, not now. So, instead, after a minute, he forced his muscles to relax, taking a deep, slow breath as he turned to the bed. He walked over and climbed into the soft sheets, kicking of his shoes and pulling the blankets on top of him.

    Logan laid there for a while, his body stiff with tension. Silence hung in the air as he waited for his mind to give into his body’s need for sleep. His mind stubbornly resisted but after a few minutes, he felt his mind begin to slow. Soon, his eyelids drooped and sleep finally claimed him.

[duchessofostergotlands]

An anon asked something to princessanneftw about Tim accompanying Anne that got me wondering... how do charities decide which royals they want to visit or become their patron? Obviously some of them are obvious such as Kate and early years/kids or William and air ambulance/military. For the other patronages or just visits in general (such as the recent farm visit from the Cambridge’s) who usually decides which royals will go or if multiple will go? Some are kinda random (to me) so who typically makes these patronage decisions - the charity? Royal staff? Did queen Liz make a tinder for matching her family with patronages?

Hello :) so I’ll break this down into two parts, patronages and engagements but for both options there are multiple potential routes in.

1) Patronages - so some charities may write to them or email them and say “hey we think you’d love to be our patron.” The royals office can either politely decline or accept and take them on depending on what the royal wants. Some are a similar request from the charity but made on personal connection: Julia Samuel and Michael Samuel both have positions at patronages (CBUK and the Anna Freud centre) and are family friends. Others will be identified by the royal or their office and an approach would be made. And then there’s the wild card where things are passed down. After Margaret and the Queen Mother died they literally wrote all her patronages on pieces of paper, laid them out on a table, and people picked what they wanted and shared the leftovers between them! That is unsustainable ultimately so doesn’t seem to have happened with Philip’s death - and I doubt William and Kate would go for it in particular - but some patronages are handed down during the royal’s lifetime. Usually these are important patronages with a long history of royal involvement - some with Royal Charters so they have Royal in the name - that align with the new patron’s interest like the Royal Photographic Society went to Kate because she takes photos, the National Theatre went to Meghan as she was an actress etc.

2) Engagements - similar to the above some charities write in and ask for a visit. If there is interest then they’d go through the process patronages go through which I’ll outline in a bit. On some occasions a royal will make a personal request to visit a charity they have heard good things about. It’s not as common but does happen. When they go on tour or on an away day they outline the areas of interest for the royals and then the organiser - the host country or county - submits a kind of proposal for a programme for the day. The staff at the palace then go through it with them. Patronages are contacted a few times a year to ask if there are any dates in the diary they might like to have a royal engagement and then similarly would be asked to do a basic proposal if the royal is interested. For some things like commemorative events - ANZAC day as an example - the Queen would likely look at diaries and make the request based on who is available and appropriate or the government would request a specific person.

[phykios]

people on ao3 were thirsty for this fic so... here you go, tumblr ❤ 

put on the red light M, sex work au, modern royalty au, no powers au  [read on ao3]

🌊🌊🌊

Sometimes, she really regrets being best friends with Piper.

Said best friend still gapes at her from across the table, jaw practically on the floor. “Never?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Never.”

“Not even, like, at school?”

“When I would have had the time?” she asks. “I was attempting a five-year program in four years, and then… well, you know.” And she does know, all about the very exciting drama that went down in Annabeth’s senior year.

Piper is still flabbergasted. “Not even high school?”

Annabeth takes a sip of her drink. “I wasn’t exactly a hot commodity in high school.” She’d been passively pretty all her life, but she hadn���t exactly been what some might call Girlfriend material, capital G. She’d stuck to her fifteen year plan to the letter, eschewing most social contact, working herself into the ground to overcome ADHD by sheer force of will and get into Harvard, a plan which allowed approximately zero time for a boyfriend. Not that there were even boys that she had really liked at the time.

The only boy she had ever considered liking in that way, well. She had lost contact with him a while ago.

“I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it or not, Ripley, it’s true. I’ve never had sex. You happy?”

“I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, are you ace?” Piper asks. “Because that’s totally cool, of course.”

She shakes her head. “Definitely not ace.” She has a minor collection of personal massagers and insertable devices should she ever need to take care of an urge, and plenty of fantasies she can call on whenever the need arises--a system which has worked just fine for years.

“I just…” Piper stares, unconvincingly. “How?”

Shrugging, she takes another sip of coffee. “Just never got around to it, I guess.”

It’s not something she’s proud of, but by the same token, it’s not something that brings her shame, either. It is what it is; Annabeth, a notable workaholic, has never had sex with another person in her life. In some ways, it sucks, sure, but in other ways, it’s been a blessing in disguise. After all, no previous partners means that there’s no one to spread any dirt on the newly minted Princess Anja Elisabet of Sweden.

But Piper isn’t having it.

“Do you… want to have sex?” she asks. “Like, ever?”

As the daughter of one of the biggest movie stars in the world, she knows that Piper has had her fair share of high profile relationships, something that earned her a little bit of a nasty (and, quite frankly, racist) reputation among the paparazzi, which is ridiculous, since Piper is one of the most effortlessly gracious and classy people Annabeth knows. Piper does not go slinging herself and her partners around in the media like some of her contemporaries; instead, she likes to keep her personal details a bit closer to the chest, sharing them only with trusted confidants, like Annabeth, who knows full well how much Piper enjoys the act of sex. Sex for Piper isn’t dirty or taboo, it’s fun and it’s being close with other people, it’s liberating and exciting and intimate, and she extols its virtues whenever asked to give her opinion.

She makes sex sound really good, but never in a way that makes Annabeth feel ashamed for never having done it. Until now, of course. “Well… yeah,” says Annabeth. “I’d like to. I mean, I think it’d be kind of nice, you know, to do it at least once.”

“But then you’d have to start dating,” Piper surmises.

“Yeah,” says Annabeth, glumly.

Dating is a notorious problem for people in her line of work. Royalty, not architects, that is. Dating for architects is easy; just find someone who doesn’t mind the type A personalities and the obsession with work. Dating for royals is… significantly harder, and not really something she wants to engage with right now. She’s only been a royal for a few years, after all—she still feels like it’s a big cosmic joke, that someone is going to unearth some old documents or reveal a couple of forgeries that will bring the whole thing crashing down, and she doesn’t want to bring an outsider into all that drama, let alone deal with it herself.

Piper takes a sip of her drink, thoughtful, then lays out her next question carefully. “Have you ever considered a one-night stand?”

Annabeth stares. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not! People do it.”

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “people. Not me.”

“It’s really not hard,” Piper says, “I’ve done it plenty of times.”

“What, you want me to make a tinder?”

She laughs. “God, wouldn’t that be a riot. But no, I mean, there have to be other single royals or celebs around. Why not one of them?”

“Because they’re all insufferable social-climbing jackasses that make me want to rip my skull out of my face every time I’m forced to listen to them at a state dinner.”

“Okay, then.” Never one to be deterred, Piper pulls out her phone, then waits until Annabeth has taken a sip of her drink, presumably to keep her from immediately disagreeing, before dropping the bomb to end all bombs. “Let’s get you an escort.”

Annabeth snorts iced coffee directly out of her nose.

“Shit! Sorry!” Piper shoves a handful of napkins at her. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, do you need water?”

Wheezing, Annabeth shakes her head. “Give me a sec,” she coughs, fingers covering her mouth.

Thank God she’s got her trusty, anti-pap hat on. If anyone took a picture of her like this, her uncle would probably disown her.

“What the hell, Piper?” she rasps when she can finally breathe again.

“I’m so sorry, I should have timed that better.”

“No, I mean—”  she coughs again. “The other thing.”

She raises an eyebrow. “The escort?”

“Keep your voice down!” On instinct, she glances around the London cafe, looking for any stray microphones. Satisfied that no one is listening for the moment, she turns back to her insane best friend. “Yes, the… that thing.”

“It’s not that crazy,” says Piper, turning back to her phone. “We’ll find you a really nice one, someone super high class and discreet, draw up an NDA, and then you can cross it off your bucket list. Man or woman?”

“Man, but—" she sputters. “I—I can’t see a prostitute! Can you imagine the scandal if it got out?”

Forget the iced coffee thing. The princess of Sweden, caught with a hooker… Annabeth is nauseous just thinking about the media circus.

“Not a prostitute,” Piper corrects. “An escort.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Same umbrella, but no.” She types away, faster than Annabeth can keep track of. “Pimping is illegal here, but escorts usually have managers.”

“Be that as it may,” because Piper seems to have forgotten the key part of this conversation, “I can’t have sex with an escort.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” The million and a half legitimate reasons not to go through with it all fly through her mind, getting lost somewhere on the way to her mouth. “Because!”

Piper just smiles at her. “I’ll get you a really nice one, promise. Think of it as a late birthday present.”

“It’s September.”

“Early Christmas, then.” And she grins, full of teeth. “Just trust me, okay? Let me take care of it.”

Famous last words, she thinks, popping a bit of scone in her mouth.

***

7PM, the Dorchester Hotel. Dinner first, then… whatever, later.

Annabeth can’t help but arrive early. She’d never been a punctual person before, but apparently now it’s been beaten into her with all the rest of her princess training.

Five-star hotels are still something of a novelty for her, even though she’s stayed in quite a few by now. Thankfully she’s never stayed here before; she’d be too worried someone on staff would recognize her.

She had thought that she’d show up early, psych herself up a little, get emotionally prepared, or at least have a little time to calm her racing heart before her… date… showed up.

Unfortunately, as punctual as she is, apparently, he’s beaten her to the punch.

He’s exactly where he said he’d be, wearing exactly what he said he’d be wearing; black suit, blue tie, gold watch. Her heart is beating so loudly, she’s sure he can hear it from across the room. “Um, excuse me,” she asks, a little more timid than she’d like, sidling up to the man. “Paris?”

At his name--well, she assumes it’s his name, but it’s probably a pseudonym now that she thinks about it--he lifts his head up, his lips already quirking up in a smile that she can only describe as troublemaking. “Bethany?”

Right. She used a pseudonym as well. A second pseudonym—one other than Anja. “Yeah,” she smiles in return, her shakiness easing.

“Hey!” He stands up from his seat in the lounge, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“You too.” She realizes with a pang; he is so tall. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a trim waist, startlingly green eyes and thick, curly black hair. And… “You’re American?”

“I am,” he says, unashamed. “The accent gave me away, huh? Hope you weren’t looking for something else.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she assures him. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s fine!"

He grins, crookedly, and she feels her heart skip a beat. “I’ll take it. Shall we head to dinner, then?”

***

Dinner was amazing, of course. The food, the atmosphere, and the company, she fully admits—all exceptional. Paris is an amazing conversationalist, she discovers, smart and funny and attentive, even gently teasing her a little. “You’re American, too, you know,” he’d said, sipping on his glass of wine, “so you can’t give me any grief over my lack of an accent.”

“I don’t live here,” she’d retorted, pointing her fork at him, “unlike some people I could mention.”

“Where do you live?”

“Ah, well—” Covering up her hesitation by taking a bite of chicken, she’d thought quickly. “Grew up in the States, but recently I moved to, um, Sweden, to be closer to my family.”

He’d nodded. “Expat, huh?”

“Something like that.”

He’d listened to her, really listened, chimed in at appropriate moments, made surprisingly insightful comments about her job and her life, and, well, he’s kind of perfect. If he weren’t an escort, he’d make an amazing boyfriend. She tells him as much, in the elevator on the way up to his room.

“Aw, thank you!” He smiles at her, a single dimple popping out under his strong cheekbones. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Why do you do this, anyway?” she asks. “I mean,” oh God, that question is some kind of faux pas isn’t it, Christ what the hell happened to all her etiquette training, “you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to—”

“No, it’s okay,” he says as the elevator door opens. They’re up on a high floor, where the higher high rollers like to stay, and she follows him as he walks confidently down the hallway. “It’s not an offensive question.”

Still, she feels pretty shitty for asking. “I’m sure you get asked that all the time.”

“Most clients honestly aren’t all that interested,” he admits, shrugging a shoulder. “They need something, I can provide it. It can be a little transactional at times, but I’ve met a lot of really cool people, so it all balances out in the end.” Arriving at their door, Paris swipes his keycard, holding it open for her like some kind of butler. “After you.”

The room is enormous, even for a five-star hotel. It is a full-on suite, with a seating area and separate bedroom, a large wooden desk off to one wall, a gorgeous, floor-to-ceiling window that looks onto Hyde Park, full of lights dotted about like mini constellations. “Wow,” she breathes, “look at that view.”

“I never get tired of it,” Paris says, coming up behind her. “No matter how many times I come here.”

“You come here a lot?” she asks. She almost follows it up with a question on how he can afford it, but she ruthlessly quashes that down.

“My clients like it,” is all he says.

“I’m not surprised, all that 1930s deco in the lobby. The façade is a little plain, though, in my opinion.”

“Oh yeah? How would you do it better, Miss Architect?” She gets the sense that he’s teasing her. It feels oddly intimate for the situation—he’s not a friend, or a boyfriend, or even a date. He’s an escort. Providing a service, as he put it. He shouldn’t be so friendly with her.

And yet. “Well, I love Neoclassical, but honestly, I’m not super into hotels.”

“What are you into, then?” Casually, he undoes his tie, sliding it off his neck. She swallows.

“Um.” Focus, girl. “Office buildings, monuments. I dunno. I just want to… I just want to build something good, you know? Something permanent. Proof that I was here, you know?”

“Something permanent, huh?” He speaks softly, a respectable distance away, but she’s drawn in anyway, by his open shirt collar and his easy demeanor and his stupid sea green eyes that remind her so much of— “That sounds really nice.”

Then he steps up to her. His hand, warm and big, draws up her arm, fingers tracing lightly over her skin, and she shivers. He cups her neck, fingering the hair at the base of her scalp, and leans in, his lips parted. He smells like salt, like the perfume of the wine they shared, like the sea on a sunny morning.

“Wait,” she murmurs against his lips.

Immediately, he pulls back. “Is something wrong?” he asks, concerned.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just—” She swallows, her heart racing. “I just need a minute.”

“Of course.” He takes a step back, and she has to stop herself from pulling him in further. “Do you need anything? Water, champagne? They always stock the minifridge.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just, I’ve never… done this before.”

“What, hire an escort?” He grins, rakish. “I can tell.”

“Not that—I mean, yes, that too, but I mean—I’ve never—” She huffs, annoyed she has to have this conversation twice in one week. “I’ve never had sex before, okay?”

That shocks him a little. His eyes widen, taken aback. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Chuckling weakly, she rubs a hand on her arm, looking out the window. “So… yeah.”

“So, don’t take this the wrong way,” says Paris, “but, there are easier ways to get laid than by using a professional. I mean, I’m grateful for the business and all, but, well, look at you.” He looks her up and down, somehow simultaneously respectful and entirely indecent. “I don’t think you’d have a problem getting a date.”

“It’s… complicated.” Understatement of the fucking millennium. “My friend thought this would be the easiest way to… go about it.”

Paris laughs. “You don’t agree.”

“I don’t… not agree,” she says. “I’m just. A little nervous.”

He nods. “I’d bet.” Chewing his lip, he looks towards the bedroom suite, and Annabeth tries not to think about how those teeth would feel on her mouth instead. “How about this; why don’t you take a shower? It might help calm you down a bit.”

“Won’t you be lonely?” she quips, a moment of reckless bravery.

“I have a few calls I can make,” says Paris, eyes dancing. “Go on. Make yourself comfortable.”

***

She has to hand it to the five-star hotels; the shower is always outstanding. Amazing pressure, amazing heat, it definitely rivals the plumbing in some of the castles she’s stayed at. And the robes, always so soft and warm, though a little on the small side. This one just barely covers her ass, which she figures isn’t a huge problem for tonight, but still.

When she steps out of the bathroom, she can hear Paris talking. “Uh huh,” he says. “Yeah. No, it’s going great. Professor Kleio said she’d write me a recommendation. She was really impressed with the last build. Yeah.” She runs her fingers through her wet hair, pushing it back from her face. “No, the conference is next month. Probably. Pretty sure I can get Tyson to help, but I don’t think it’ll get that far before the end of the week. Uh huh.”

Paris had taken off his suit jacket at some point; she can see it hung up in the closet on a hanger, perfectly pressed. He’s still in his shirt, but he’s unbuttoned it, the sleeves rolled up around his forearms. It is effortlessly attractive, even from the back. She coughs lightly, unwilling to startle him, and he turns, giving her another up-and-down, this one decidedly less respectful than the first.

“Hey, I gotta go, I’ll call you tomorrow. Say hi to Estelle for me. Love you.” And he hangs up.

“Your girlfriend?” she asks.

He smiles, all soft. “My mom.”

Something in her melts at his tone. “Aw,” she coos. “Is she back in America?”

“Yeah. I don’t get to see her all that often, so I try to call her every day.”

It is so unfathomably sweet, sweet and… humanizing, as weird as that sounds. He’s not just an unbelievably handsome man with a jaw cut like a diamond and a five-star rating, according to Piper, he’s a person with a whole other life that she knows nothing about. It’s liberating, in its own way. She can make mistakes with him, and he’ll understand. He won’t judge her, not against his other clients, or even his other partners.

Swallowing, she slides the robe off her shoulders, slowly, achingly. Maybe he turned the heat up while she wasn’t looking, because all of a sudden, she feels hot all over, from her cheeks to her chest and down, and down. Maybe it’s all coming from him, from the heat of his gaze on her, his pink tongue coming out to wet his lips. She wants it, wants them, wants him, on her and in her and all over her.

But he stays on his side of the room, waiting for her to take the plunge.

She steps up to him, close but not touching, breathing in the heady, strong scent of him, raking her eyes up his body for a change. Even through his shirt, she can tell he’s fit, the exposed skin of his arms tanned a deep brown, thick, coarse, dark hair running up to his wrists. On his right arm, there is a black trident long and straight, crossed by an old, white scar. “What happened here?” she asks, lifting her hand to trace it, leaving visible goosebumps in its wake.

“Sailing accident,” he whispers. “Long time ago.”

There’d been a kid at her summer camp for troubled teens who’d gotten thrown off his boat and hurt like that, once. She remembered so vividly, because she’d been on infirmary duty that day, and all she could think about while wrapping up his arm was how fucking stupid he'd been, how he could have gotten himself really hurt, how badly she’d wanted to kiss him.

She'd moved across the country before she'd gotten the chance, though, and no one else had ever made her feel like that since. Until now. “Got any other ink to show me?”

But instead of answering, he leans down, and he kisses her.

She’s been kissed before. She’s never had sex, but she’s done some kissing in her life. It’s usually pretty awkward, in her experience, too much of one thing and never enough of another.

Nope, not Paris. Of course, he’s also a phenomenal kisser. Why she expected anything else, she’s not sure.

His hands come up to circle her neck again, his thumbs running against her cheekbones. He kisses her, pouring passion and intent into her, his mouth soft and sweet against hers. And then he slips her some tongue, and it’s a whole different ballgame.

“Take off your shirt,” she whispers into his mouth.

He does, effortlessly, without detaching himself from her. It’s a smooth, easy motion, and she is delighted to discover that he is as firm as she suspected he was, the muscles jumping under her touch.

Almost without her realizing it, he backs her up towards the bed, her knees hitting the edge of the mattress. He lays her out against the sheets, his bare chest hot against hers. “Before we go any further,” he says, and she can feel the vibrations of his voice all throughout her body, “tell me—have you ever made yourself come?”

She flushes at his words, the dirty talk which should sound stupid but instead comes out all sultry and sexy. “Yes,” she says, breath hitching as he nips at her neck. “Yes, I have.”

“Good.” He smiles into the skin of her collarbone, traveling down, and down, and down. “I want you to show me how.”

“Isn’t that,” she pants, “your job?”

“Hmm, you’re right.” He pushes her thighs apart with his shoulders, bright eyes staring up at her as he licks his lips. “Let me get to work, then.”

Breathing heavily, she curls her fingers into the ten thousand count sheets, eyes fixed on the ceiling pattern. She can’t look at the dark head between her legs, can only breathe in through her nose as he kisses up the skin of her thigh, higher and higher and higher until…

Jesus fucking lord almighty.

***

“I found the perfect guy for you.”

“Piper, come on.” Theses brunch dates of theirs were starting to get a little repetitive. “I let you set me up with a professional, but I draw the line at a blind date.”

“Have I steered you wrong yet, your highness?” Piper asks, knowing grin firmly on her face.

Annabeth blushes. So what if that night with Paris was the most incredible experience she’d ever had? Doesn’t mean she’s ready for a full-on relationship, yet. “No,” she says, rubbing her temples.

“Great!” Then she does something that Annabeth doesn’t expect—she starts packing up. “So he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, so bright it borders on painful, her nose scrunching up. “I invited him to brunch. But he’s really, really nice, I promise.”

“Does he know about—”

“No, he doesn’t, but if you wanted to spill, he’s a fantastic secret keeper.”

“How do you even know—”

Piper glances over Annabeth’s shoulder, eyes lighting up, waving a hand. “Friend of a friend of Jason, he’s a grad student at Cambridge, he’s doing his dissertation on naval history, so you know the king will love him.”

“Piper!” Annabeth half-calls, half-hisses at her friend as she stands up “Piper, you can’t just—”

“Hey,” says a voice behind her. A very familiar voice. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was joining us.” She turns around. Slowly. “Nice to meet you, I’m… Percy…” he trails off, sea green eyes widening behind a pair of thick, black glasses, beneath dark, curly hair. On his arm, a black trident stood out against his skin, straight and proud.

“Percy, meet Annabeth,” Piper says. “Annabeth, meet Percy. Okay, have fun you two!”

And she waltzes out of there, completely unaware of the absolute shitstorm she left in her wake.