#Micole writes things now

[readingandwritingandreading]

Long Time Coming ~ Part 9

My Blurb: This is a longer one. I could have done two chapters but you guys have been so patient and waited long enough!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. You own nothing, I don’t give anyone permission to post this anywhere. 

Summary: Bucky had waited a long time to find an Omega. When Pepper introduces the team to her new assistant he knows shes the one.

Pairing: Alpha Bucky Barnes X OFC Omega Carina Rivera

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics

Status: In Progress

Tagging: @ashes-writing | @pioched | @littlemissthistle | @pizgloria | @casa-boiardi

Read First: Long Time Coming Masterlist

Also Check Out: Main Masterlist

“Make sure the door is locked, keep your cell phone on you, not in your purse, on your person. If you need something off the compound, have it delivered to security, don’t leave…” 

“Don’t leave the compound. Bucky, I will be fine. There’s nowhere safer than this compound right?” Carina kissed him after cutting him off. “And you’re only going to be gone a few days right?”

Bucky sighed, but nodded his head. They had spent the past two weeks holed up in Bucky’s, well now both of theirs apartment. The others had nauseatingly called it their honeymoon phase. The morning after he had claimed her, Carina woke up alone in bed to a bang and whispered cursing. Pulling on one of Bucky’s shirts and some sweats she had left their bedroom to find Sam rubbing his thigh while Bucky and Steve moved boxes around the living room. Upon closer inspection the boxes had been haphazardly packed with the contents of her apartment. 

When she had mentioned that she could have helped if he had woken her, he had simply shrugged and mumbled something about “Tony needed the other place” before heading off to get the rest of her stuff. That night she had marked him and he had worn it openly and proudly at every opportunity. 

They had heard the news the day before that Brock had somehow escaped and been spotted near a suspected Hydra facility in Venezuela. Bucky hadn’t been on a mission since he had claimed her but Brock’s escaping and joining Hydra had been an “all hands” call that he couldn’t ignore. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her but she should be safe here. He waved his hand at Fury who was yelling at him to get on the Quinjet, before kissing her and jogging over to the entrance. She stood with Pepper on the helipad and he watched her until she was out of sight. 

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

Waving to one of the tech's walking the opposite way, Carina stretched her arms and followed the trail. Waking up without Bucky by her side, combined with feeling the physical distance through their bond made her anxious so she had opted to try out the walking trail that wound around the compound. It had recently been extended and she had been itching to try it out. 

Breathing deeply she enjoyed the fresh air as she continued on. Despite it being a nice day, she had only seen the tech on the path. Checking her phone, she smiled at the background picture of her and Bucky before sliding it back into the pocket on her leggings and continuing onward. As she approached an area where she could just make out the tall concrete and barbed wire fence that surrounded the compound, she heard a yowling sound accompanied by a low whine. It was coming from the edge of the treeline just off the trail. Looking around, Carina couldn’t see anyone nearby.

Her phone felt heavy in her pocket, Bucky would want her to let someone else take care of it, not go charging into the forest on her own. Biting her lip she looked up the trail again, still no one. Pulling her phone, she frowned when she saw the no service signal flash. Tony must not be aware of a dead spot on his compound. The poor animal made another pitiful moan and Carina’s omega instincts kicked in. She scented the air carefully, she couldn’t let whatever it was suffer the time it would take to run back and find someone. Not smelling anyone but herself and a mix of animals and nature she slowly headed towards the sound. Eyes focused on locating the injured animal she didn’t see or hear the shadow until it grabbed her, one arm covering her mouth while the other plunged a syringe straight into Bucky’s mark on her neck. 

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

“Lower level clear. Ow, fuck.” Bucky yelled, one hand leaving his gun to clutch Carina’s bite. 

There was a mutter of sounds on the coms before Steve’s voice rang out. “Buck! You good? On way to your location.” 

A few minutes later Steve rounded the corner to find Bucky leaning against the wall, hand still pressed to his neck, a look of pain and worry etched into his features. “Bucky, what’s wrong?” He yelled, looking for injuries.

“It’s our mating bond, something’s wrong.” Bucky grunted, pushing himself off the wall. “It feels like lava is being injected into the mark. I have to call Carina.” He accepted Steve’s help as they headed towards the jet. 

Once outside, Natasha met them looking uncharacteristically worried. “There’s nothing here, we’ve run all the scans. The perimeter is fortified but that’s it. It’s a dud.”

Tony appeared from the jet, pausing before meeting Bucky’s eyes, “It was a distraction. Carina’s missing. Pepper said she went for a walk on the trail but her phone is going straight to voicemail and the location isn’t pinging anywhere. I launched a search of the compound but no one has found any sign of her yet.”

“We’re leaving now.” Bucky whispered but the coldness in his tone made everyone glance at each other nervously as he stalked towards the jet.

“Bucky, we need to figure out a plan.” Steve tried but Bucky whirled around cutting him off. 

“Brock has my mate Steve, my omega, he set all this up to get me away from her.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Where I wouldn’t be there to protect her.” His voice cracked at the end and Steve nodded, gesturing everyone to the jett. 

The jett was a flurry of activity as Clint pushed it as fast as it could go and calls were made to the compound and surrounding area to track down any footage in the area. 

“We don’t know for sure it was Brock, do we? Bucky should be able to use their bond and find her anyway, right?” Pepper’s face was worried on one of the screens.

“Who else could it be? We were called away because we thought he was out here, who else would know the best way to get her from the compound?” Bucky snapped, ignoring the warning look Tony shot him.

“Normally yes, Bucky would be able to use their bond” Dr. Strange interrupted, “But what he described sounds like they injected her with something to start dissolving the bond. It will immediately start weakening their conn….” he was cut off by Bucky’s roar of anger as he stalked towards the weapons.

“I made Brock a promise.” His voice was lethal as he loaded a gun. 

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

Carina groaned as she slowly came to. There was a bright light shining in her eyes but when she went to shield it, she realized her hands were bound. Turning her head to the side she whimpered as pain erupted from her mark. 

“Ah good, you're awake.” Carina blinked again, squinting to see a figure step into the light, shielding her eyes but making him hard to see. He reached to a table off to the side and grabbed another syringe. “Just in time for another round.”

This woke her up and she tried to move away but found her feet bound as well. Thrashing to try and loosen them only caused him to laugh. Stepping fully into her line of vision she gasped when she saw Brock standing over her. “This isn’t possible, you were in Venezuela. They saw you there.” 

“They saw my very convincing body double there. But he’s long gone. In fact you’re little friends are probably encountering our surprise right about now.” Brock laughed, leaning over her and catching her neck as she tried to thrash away from him. He was too strong though and she stifled a scream as he jabbed the needle into the mark, injecting her quickly with what felt like molten lava.

“What…what is that?” She gasped, gritting her teeth against the pain. 

Brock smiled, tossing the now empty syringe on the table before taking a seat. “Well, with Bucky out of the way thanks to the little surprise we left them at the empty compound, I thought it would be easier for us if I started dissolving your bond to him.” 

“What little surprise?” The way he said “us” made her skin crawl but her mind caught on to his earlier statement.

“A completely unidentifiable bomb, none of their scans will pick it up but it should be enough to take out a super soldier…or two. He tacked on with an evil grin. 

A sob broke from Carina before she could stop it as she desperately searched their bond for Bucky. She had been able to feel him the last couple weeks, almost like his heartbeat was right next to her own but now she felt nothing as a wave of sadness overwhelmed her.

“There there now, just a few more injections and all this pain will be replaced with our bond. None of this would have happened if Bucky hadn’t stolen you away in the first place. But I will fix all of it. We can grow old together happily carrying out Hydra’s wishes.” Carina was horrified at the conviction in his voice, as if her relationship with Bucky was a minor inconvenience that he could sweep away. 

“Where are we?” Carina stifled her emotions and sniffed the air, trying to get an idea of where he had taken her. She had no idea how long she had been out and there were no windows in the room.

“Far away from New York, where those pesky Avengers won’t be able to find you.” Brock smiled before standing and heading out a door. The click of the lock bolting filled her with dread. Bound in a locked room, far away from home, Carina hung her head as tears escaped down her face.

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

It had taken three days for them to find any hint of where Carina could be. It was like she had vanished into thin air. Three days of feeling the agonizing burn through their weakening bond. Strange had informed him, from a distance, that every time he felt it meant she was likely receiving another dose. That thought had pushed Bucky harder than anything to figure out where she was. He has scoured the trail, finding the spot her location had last pinged from had uncovered a small speaker along with her crushed phone. Guessing she had been drawn off the trail by sounds from the speaker they searched the nearby area and discovered a tunnel made under the fence.

Much to Tony’s chagrin the area had managed to be cloaked from their radar, creating a dead spot that went undetected. Tracing the equipment had led them to the only break in the case. The company that made it was suspected Hydra so they pulled all the surveillance they had from the company. Combing through it they found a video of a man who, while heavily disguised, they were pretty sure had been Brock. 

Tracking a trail of information on the vehicle had led them to a cabin nestled in a secluded forest in Idaho. Despite his desire to go in guns and fists blazing, Bucky had let Steve and the team do a sweep of the area. With their knowledge of the cloaking device Brock had left behind they were able to get through it and realize the cabin was just for show. It led to an underground bunker, where they assumed Carina was being held.

Knowing they had surprise on their side gave Bucky enough patience to wait as well. When they had left Venezuela, another team was sent in to destroy the base so it couldn’t be used in the future. They had found a bomb that would have taken out the whole team. Hoping it would cause Brock to lessen his security, Pepper had made a public statement that the former Winter Soldier, James Barnes had perished in the blast.

“Heat signatures look like a handful of mercenaries, they aren’t expecting us.” Natasha lowered the binoculars, turning to look at Steve and Bucky. Bucky had wanted to go alone but had finally relented and allowed Steve and Natasha to join him. 

Cocking his gun Bucky nodded, “Take out whoever you want. Brock is mine. If anything happens, get Carina out.” He locked eyes with both of them before proceeding towards the cabin. 

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

A series of thumps above her head drew Carina out of her head. She had become aware at some point that she must be in a basement and that Brock wasn’t the only one in residence. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in this room but it felt like days. Brock came regularly. He refused to untie her after she had lashed out when he let her use the restroom. Since then he fed her by hand, it made her skin crawl but she had to keep up her strength somehow. He had offered to let her shower if he could join her but she had adamantly refused even though she was filthy.

The room was sparse including only a bed, table and chair. Most of her time was spent in the bed since her feet were still bound and the pain from the injections usually made her exhausted. She was glad for the sleep though, the agony of being awake knowing that Bucky was gone was overwhelming. Brock had barged in triumphantly slamming a newspaper down in front of her. A picture of Bucky on the front along with a release from Pepper’s office. She had sobbed, not even fighting Brock when he had injected her again. 

Carina shuddered as she heard footsteps outside the door, jumping when Brock burst in looking pissed and waving a gun. He pulled her to her feet, practically dragging her out the door, a string of curses tumbling out of his mouth when he realized she couldn’t climb the stairs with her feet bound. Pulling a knife from his pocket he cut the ropes and pushed her up the stairs.

She stumbled up them as his gun dug into her back, she couldn’t use her hands and her legs were sore from being bound for days. Reaching the top, he shoved her into a small room and she gasped seeing Steve and Natasha taking out two guys, there were several other bodies on the floor. They must have heard her because they both turned and stepped towards her but stopped when Brock pressed the gun to her temple and pulled her back against his chest. 

“Let her go Brock, we aren’t letting you take her.” Steve’s voice was full of authority.

“She belongs to me, I was going to make this nice for her. But you two have forced my hand.” Carina tried to resist as he pushed her head to the side with the gun and lowered his mouth to her neck. She felt his hot breath and saw the shock on Steve & Natasha’s face but then a loud shot rang out. Brock went down, pulling her with him. Natasha and Steve were there in a flash, Steve was pulling Brock off her while Natasha pulled her away from him, quickly slicing the ropes on her wrists. Her eyes were locked on the door as a figure stepped through and headed straight towards Brock. 

“You don’t have to do this, we can take him in.” Steve said it softly, as if he felt he needed to but didn’t agree with the sentiment. 

Brock growled through clenched teeth and fury flashed in his eyes as Bucky pulled a pistol from his hip holster, “I made him a promise once, touch my omega again.” Bucky aimed and pulled the trigger, everyone but him flinching as the shot echoed and Brock dropped with a thud. 

“Bucky?” Carina sobbed as she tried to get to her feet, her legs giving out immediately. He dropped his gaze from Brock and hurried over to her and pulled her into his arms.

“I’m here,” he kissed her forehead as her face crumpled and she fell into his neck, breathing his scent in deeply. “Let’s go home.” Carina nodded in his arms and wrapped herself around him. 

#micole writes things now #bucky barnes #alpha!bucky barnes #long time coming #alpha!bucky #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x original female character #james buchanan barnes

[ireadyabooks]

Books to Read After Watching Julie and the Phantoms

By Mackenzie Cutruzzula

First things first...

If you’re anything like me you haven’t been able to get the songs from Julie and the Phantoms out of your head. Whether you love music, a good ghost story, or a little bit of both, these books are on the edge of great.

Julie and the Phantoms: The Edge of Great by Micol Ostow (On Sale December 29)

After the passing of her mom, Julie has lost her passion for music and is on the verge of being kicked out of her performing arts high school. That is, until she makes the ultimate comeback with her new band, Julie and the Phantoms. There’s only one catch: all of her bandmates are ghosts. 

Back in the 1990s, Luke, Reggie, and Alex were on the cusp of rock stardom with their band, Sunset Curve, before an unfortunate encounter with Los Angeles street food brought their rock band dreams—and lives—to an end. Now, with Julie as their lead singer, the guys have a second chance to make it big and to help Julie discover the real power of music. 

This novel based on Season 1 of the hit Netflix series is told in alternating points of view and include a full-color photo insert and exclusive story content not seen on the show!

If you love the music of Julie and the Phantoms try these reads:

P.S. I Like You by Kasie West

While spacing out in Chemistry class, Lily scribbles some of her favorite song lyrics onto her desk. The next day, she finds that someone has continued the lyrics on the desk, and added a message to her. Soon, Lily and her anonymous pen pal are exchanging full-on letters -- sharing secrets, recommending bands, and opening up to each other. Lily realizes she's kind of falling for this letter writer. Only who is he? As Lily attempts to unravel the mystery, and juggle school, friends, crushes, and her crazy family, she discovers that matters of the heart can't always be spelled out...Kasie West brings irresistible wit, warmth, and sparkle to this swoon-worthy story of love showing up when you least expect it.

Turn It Up by Jen Calonita

The Nightingales are in a serious funk. Bradley Academy's all-girl a cappella group used to be the pride of the sunshine state, but the Nightingales have recently fallen out of harmony. Best friends and co-captains Lidia Sato and Sydney Marino haven't been speaking ever since a boy came between them. And not just any boy-none other than Griffin Mancini, the lead singer of Bradley Academy's smug all-boy a capella group, the Kingfishers.The Nightingales have no chance of making it to the big state final if their captains are at each other's throats. Their only hope is new girl Julianna Ramirez. But in addition to her serious pipes, she has some serious stage fright.The Nightingales will have to come together if they want to shine at the upcoming competition and restore the group to its former glory.

K-Pop Confidential by Stephen Lee

When Candace Park secretly enters a global audition held by the same music label that made the K-pop boy band SLK famous, the last thing she expects is to actually get a coveted spot in their trainee program. And convincing her strict parents to let her to go is all but impossible ... although it's nothing compared to what comes next. Under the strict supervision of her instructors at the label's headquarters in Seoul, Candace must perfect her performance skills to within an inch of her life, learn to speak Korean fluently, and navigate the complex hierarchies of her fellow trainees, all while following the strict rules of the industry. Rule number one? NO DATING, which becomes impossible to follow when she meets a dreamy boy trainee. And in the all-out battle to debut, Candace is in danger of planting herself in the middle of a scandal lighting up the K-pop fandom around the world.

Kill the Boy Band by Goldy Moldavsky

Just know from the start that it wasn't supposed to go like this. All we wanted was to get near them. That's why we got a room in the hotel where they were staying. We were not planning to kidnap one of them. Especially not the most useless one. But we had him-his room key, his cell phone, and his secrets. We were not planning on what happened next. We swear.

Muted by Tami Charles (On Sale February 2, 2021)

For seventeen-year-old Denver, music is everything. Writing, performing, and her ultimate goal: escaping her very small, very white hometown. So Denver is more than ready on the day she and her best friends Dali and Shak sing their way into the orbit of the biggest R&B star in the world, Sean "Mercury" Ellis. Merc gives them everything: parties, perks, wild nights -- plus hours and hours in the recording studio. Even the painful sacrifices and the lies the girls have to tell are all worth it. Until they're not. Denver begins to realize that she's trapped in Merc's world, struggling to hold on to her own voice. As the dream turns into a nightmare, she must make a choice: lose her big break, or get broken. Inspired by true events, Muted is a fearless exploration of the dark side of the music industry, the business of exploitation, how a girl's dreams can be used against her -- and what it takes to fight back.

Spin by Lamar Giles

When rising star Paris Secord (aka DJ ParSec) is found dead on her turntables, it sends the local music scene reeling. No one is feeling that grief more than her shunned pre-fame best friend, Kya, and ParSec's chief groupie, Fuse -- two sworn enemies who happened to be the ones who discovered her body. The police have few leads, and when the trail quickly turns cold, the authorities don't seem to be pushing too hard to investigate further. But nobody counted on Paris's deeply loyal fans, ParSec Nation, or the outrage that would drive Fuse and Kya to work together. As ParSec Nation takes to social media and the streets in their crusade for justice, Fuse and Kya start digging into Paris's past, stumbling across a deadly secret. With new info comes new motives. New suspects. And a fandom that will stop at nothing in their obsessive quest for answers, not even murder...

If you love the ghosts in Julie and the Phantoms and are looking for something a little spooky, try these reads:

City of Ghosts by Victoria Schwab

Ever since Cass almost drowned (okay, she did drown, but she doesn't like to think about it), she can pull back the Veil that separates the living from the dead . . . and enter the world of spirits. Her best friend is even a ghost. So things are already pretty strange. But they're about to get much stranger. When Cass's parents start hosting a TV show about the world's most haunted places, the family heads off to Edinburgh, Scotland. Here, graveyards, castles, and secret passageways teem with restless phantoms. And when Cass meets a girl who shares her "gift," she realizes how much she still has to learn about the Veil -- and herself. And she'll have to learn fast. The city of ghosts is more dangerous than she ever imagined.

All the Crooked Saints by Maggie Stiefvater

Any visitor to Bicho Raro, Colorado, is likely to find a landscape of dark saints, forbidden love, scientific dreams, miracle-mad owls, estranged affections, one or two orphans, and a sky full of watchful desert stars. At the heart of this place you will find the Soria family, who all have the ability to perform unusual miracles. And at the heart of this family are three cousins longing to change its future: Beatriz, the girl without feelings, who wants only to be free to examine her thoughts; Daniel, the Saint of Bicho Raro, who performs miracles for everyone but himself; and Joaquin, who spends his nights running a renegade radio station under the name Diablo Diablo. They are all looking for a miracle. But the miracles of Bicho Raro are never quite what you expect.

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Bestowed by the ancient goddess of death, Yadriel and the gifted members of his Latinx community can see spirits: women have the power to heal bodies and souls, while men can release lost spirits to the afterlife. But Yadriel, a trans boy, has never been able to perform the tasks of the brujas - because he is a brujo. When his cousin suddenly dies, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is not his cousin. It's Julian Diaz, the resident bad boy of his high school, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He's determined to find out what happened and tie off some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

The Ghost and the Goth by Stacey Kade

After a close encounter with a bus, Alona Dare goes from homecoming queen to Queen of the Dead. She’s stuck as a ghost in the land of the living with no sign of the big, bright light to take her to a better place. To make matters worse, the only person who might be able to help her is Will Killian, a total loser outcast. More than anything, Will wishes he didn’t have the rare ability to communicate with the dead, especially the former mean girl of Groundsboro High. He’s not filling out any volunteer forms to help her cross to the other side, though it would bring him some welcome peace and quiet. Can they get over their mutual distrust -- and quasi-attraction -- to work together? Readers of this spirited paranormal comedy won't want this odd couple to ever part.

#I read YA #blog #K-pop Confidential #kill the boy band #julie and the phantoms #unsaid emily #the edge of great #spin #all the crooked saints #city of ghosts #muted #turn it up #p. s. i like you

[merthurismyotpauthor]

Let’s Think of Something Better [Chapter 7]

July 5, 2015 Oliver stares at the number in his phone once more. These digits, this combination… These will lead him to his long lost lover. It’s almost like a secret code, one he’s been trying to crack for the past few days. All he has to do is press that little button at the top of the screen. Just one little tap and he’ll be able to hear Elio’s voice. Elio had given him this number, and yet Oliver’s mind was clouded with doubt. What if Elio is going to tell him off? What if he is still angry at him for marrying Micol? So many what-ifs.

At the same time, this feels like the only chance to ever make this right. If he’d ignore Elio’s plea to call him now, it’d be the last smack in the face for Elio to say goodbye and never wanting to come back to him. He has to take this chance. Even if it won’t work out, he has to do this.

He taps the button, pulls his knees into his chest and waits for the dreaded dial tone to stop. Which doesn’t take long at all. Tuuuuuuuu, tuuuuuuuu, tuu-

“Hi, this is Elio Perlman speaking.”

“Elio.”

Silence.

“Oliver? Is that you?”

Oliver swallows hard, tears stinging in his eyes. A faint smile appears on his lips. He’d been afraid he might no longer recognize this voice, but it’s still so familiar that it stirs something deep inside him.

“Yeah, I… It’s me.”

He hears the shaky exhale at the other side of the line. “I wasn’t sure you were going to call.” Elio pauses. “But I’m so happy you did. Do you have a minute? Let me walk upstairs.”

“Of course.”

Oliver can hear soft murmuring in the background, a deep baritone voice telling Elio good luck. That must be Jean. A pang of guilt unfolds in his chest. He feels ashamed of what he’s doing. Like a cheater. A homewrecker. Yet, Micol and Jean both approve of them calling at least. They’re not doing anything wrong, technically speaking. They haven’t done anything in secret. No affairs. No kissing. No fucking. He’s still a good husband. But he does understand now that infidelity is not a physical act. It’s something that lives within you. Even though Micol approves of this, he can’t keep the voice in his head to stay quiet. Can’t shake the feeling that he’s doing something terrible and disgusting in the eyes of society. Even though this is nothing more than an action based on love.

Life truly is confusing.

“Hey, I’m back,” Elio speaks softly, and Oliver swears he can hear the smile in his voice. “Hi,” he replies. Elio giggles. “This is awkward, huh?” This makes Oliver smile as well, and the worries settle in the back of his mind for now. “A bit,” he grins.

“I’m sorry that my reply took so long. You said so many things, I tried to write an answer multiple times, but somehow nothing sounded right. I figured it’d be better to speak to you. Hear your voice.”

“Are you happy you made that decision?” Oliver asks, referring to the call. “Yeah. I… Your voice is- I missed you, Oliver. Shit.”

Oliver sucks in a sharp breath at that confession. Elio had already said so in his e-mail, but hearing it is not something he’d been prepared for. This man is messing with his head. His feelings. And he is a bit reluctant to admit that he likes it. It takes him back to that one summer, so many years ago. He can nearly feel Elio splashing water in his face. The soft tickling sensation of his fingers on his cheeks.

“I miss you too.” He sighs. “I’m so sorry. It’s been so many years, and I barely know what to say.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way. It’s so overwhelming.”

“It is.”

Another pause.

“Oliver?”

“Hmmm?”

“We can’t take things too fast. Everything confuses me at this very moment, but I do know that you reaching out to me is something that made me so incredibly happy. We have to talk - a lot. Over the phone, in person… If that’s something you would like. Jean is fine with everything. Like I said in the e-mail, he has a similar story. He told me that if he’d ever get the chance to meet his love again, he’d take it. He wants me to take it as well.”

“He does?”

“He does. Truly. I can’t believe it either. I just feel incredibly lucky that we might have this chance. I don’t want to ruin this.”

“Me neither, Elio…” Oliver whispers. He shares this feeling. The uncertainty of things. The confusion. The longing.

“So… I suggest we meet up. For real. In person. Would that be something you’d want?”

Oliver does. He very much does want that. The thought of seeing Elio in person again ignites a spark in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time. Butterflies. Like an obsessed teenager that’s being asked on a date.

“I do. I saw you’re in Connecticut?” Elio laughs. “I am. I’m secretly hoping you’re still somewhere in New England as well?” This time it’s Oliver’s turn to smirk. “I do, actually. Where do you live now?”

“Salisbury.”

“Oh. That’s… Actually pretty close, Elio. I’m in Northfield, Massachusetts. Which is a little over a two-hour drive away.”

“That’s convenient.” Elio chuckles. “Can’t believe we’ve been this close.”

“I know, right? Uhm, so, do you want to see if we can meet up this week?” Oliver asks, hoping he isn't too bold. Too fast. He’s just so excited. “That works for me. Uhm, I’m free Wednesday afternoon?”

“Should I come to your place? Be there at 2 pm?”

“Yeah, 2 pm it is.”

Just like that, it’s become real. A solid thing. It’s no longer a fantasy or a fucked-up imagination in his head. He’s seeing Elio again. Elio, the man that turned his life upside down that one summer. The man that made him realize who and what he was. What he wanted. The man he’s never been able to forget.

“Hey Oliver, I should go… I… I’m really looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too, Elio. You have no idea.”

“See you, then?”

“See you.”

There’s a soft crackling sound, and then it’s silent. Oliver takes a deep breath and laughs. This is happening. It’s happening.

----- Read More: Next Chapter Masterpost

#fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #fiction #story #gay rights #call me by your name #cmbyn #elio #elio perlman #elio cmbyn #oliver #oliver cmbyn #same-sex marriage #us legalization of same-sex marriage #lgbtq+ #lgbt #lgbt+ #lgbtq #merthurismyotp #june 26 #2015

[theseshipsshallsail]

The door to his bedroom was locked once more, and Elio lay sprawled with one arm behind his head as he tracked the progress of a large black spider across the ceiling. His stomach was twisted into knots, and rolling onto his side he punched his pillow in a fit of pique, knowing that no matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, sleep would continue to elude him. Too many memories clung to this particular ghost spot, and now that the adrenaline had started to wear off, he was mostly just trying not to be sick.

Oliver had returned a short while ago, and Elio pretended not to hear his uneven breaths as he moved about the bathroom, concentrating instead on the periodic drip of rainwater from the guttering outside. His cheeks were tight with dried tears as he glanced at his alarm clock, and feeling overwhelmed, Elio was half considering escaping to the balcony when the rap of knuckles on wood made him flinch.

“Elio?” 

It was almost a whisper, but his body tensed with dread regardless. 

“Can I come in?” Oliver asked. “We need to talk about this.”

There was nothing he’d like less, but now that he’d had a little time to process things, Elio sighed as he left the dubious comfort of his bed sheets. It wasn’t possible to ignore Oliver for the next two weeks, and though he was sorely tempted to return to their Milan apartment alone if necessary, he knew it was better to get this over with sooner rather than later.

“You can talk,” he muttered as he opened the door. “But I’m not promising I’ll do more than listen.”

“Thank you.” Oliver shuffled his feet, clearly unsure of his welcome, then stepped close enough that Elio could see the freckles on his nose. “I swear you can yell at me all you want afterwards, just -” He broke off, and Elio followed his gaze to where it had landed on his rumpled duvet. “Were you asleep?”

“Yes,” he lied, wondering if he was the only one haunted by this place.

“Do you want me to leave?”

It was courteous enough, but the connotations of his words sent an unwelcome skitter down Elio’s spine, and he found himself unable to say yes. “You might as well stay,” he said, straightening his t-shirt as he strode back to the bed. “You already woke me up.”

“Sorry.” Oliver looked uneasy as he hovered in the centre of the room.

“Non importa.” 

When Elio’s grand-mère developed dementia in her later years, he’d been too young to understand what his mother meant when she described missing someone who was directly in front of you. But not anymore. Oliver’s presence had always seemed larger than life, but here and now he appeared diminished - present, yet somehow absent. It was a lot to wrap his head around, and realising his desk chair was covered in books and dirty laundry, Elio gestured beside him.

“You can sit,” he said, raising his knees to his chest as the mattress dipped under Oliver’s weight. Just like him, he’d changed into thin cotton sleep pants, and Elio forced his eyes not to wander when a loaded silence settled over them. “You said you wanted to talk.” 

“I did.” Oliver bit his bottom lip. “Though that doesn’t mean I actually know where to begin.” 

Elio appreciated his honesty, but here they were, the two shyest people in the world, and for once he refused to make the first move. “You’ve had months to decide what to say to me,” he said, fidgeting with the chain around his neck. “So either speak, or let me go back to sleep. I’m done going in circles.”

Oliver’s shoulders slumped even further, and again, Elio fought the addictive urge to touch. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled at last.

“You’ve said.”

“It bears repeating.” Oliver grimaced as he mirrored his position against the headboard. “I wanted you to know you were right.”

“I usually am.” Painfully aware of his own lack of filter, Elio lit a cigarette to keep his nervous fingers occupied. “What was I right about?” he asked, and when Oliver looked up, his eyes were bloodshot.

“I didn’t accidentally propose to someone. I barely proposed at all.”

“Oddio!”

“No, wait!” Oliver scrambled to halt his withdrawal. “Please, just let me explain. Micol and I, we’ve known each other since kindergarten. Our parents go to the same temple - golf on the weekends - tennis on Tuesdays, the whole megillah. We practically grew up together,” he said, not helping Elio’s aggravation in the slightest.

“Are you trying to make me feel inadequate? Or are you actually circling a point?”

Oliver huffed a breath. “My point is we both saw the writing on the wall,” he said patiently. “Love is a luxury, according to my mother. And she’s not wrong - as much as I hate to admit it. Everyone expected us to settle down after graduation, so we came to an arrangement. Bought ourselves some time.”

“What sort of arrangement?” Elio asked, blowing out a stream of smoke as Oliver’s poker face made an unwelcome return.

“Let's just say it was mutually beneficial, and leave it at that. Neither of us were ever committed, but the relationship kept the heat off our backs, so we played along when necessary.”

Elio shook his head. “You make it sound so… je ne sais pas.”

“Parental obligation is a powerful motivator,” Oliver said. “But we were always better friends than lovers. That’s why last summer was so eye-opening. The way I felt about you… it was too much. I didn’t know what to do with it.” Oliver swallowed thickly. “When I said I remembered everything, I meant it. I couldn’t stop remembering. The moment I got home I was miserable. Drinking too much. Hardly sleeping. Micol took me to task and -”

“It just happened.” Elio reached for the ashtray. “Again. You’ve said.”

“I didn’t choose her over you. I need you to know that. But I’d convinced myself I’d never see you again, and if I couldn’t have what I truly wanted, why postpone the inevitable when we could make everyone else happy instead?”

At what cost, though, Elio wondered, and before he could think better of it, slid his palm over until his little finger found Oliver’s on the mattress. They both flinched at the initial contact, but Elio held firm, offering a silent comfort. 

“Would you have waited?” he asked. “If I’d said something? Would it have made a difference?”

“I don’t know.” Oliver curled his thumb under Elio’s wrist, then kept going until their hands were completely entwined. “I couldn’t have stayed, but I’m not sure I would have allowed myself to hope for more, either.”

“Mon timide Américain,” Elio muttered, offering over the cigarette in tacit acceptance. “My father would say not to give in to your fears, but to let your dreams shape your future.” 

Oliver hummed. “Your father is a wise man.”

“Persistent, too,” Elio said, still hoping to provoke a reaction. “If it weren’t for him, I might not be moving to the States.”

Oliver just about coughed up a lung. “What do you mean?” he wheezed, stretching out on his side, and Elio plucked the cigarette from his grip as he moved to join him. 

“He’s been leaving college brochures lying around since I was fourteen,” he explained, crushing it out. “Some of the most exclusive music schools in the world.”

“Subtle.”

“He thought so. Though I don’t know what good it will do.” Elio wrinkled his nose. “Some of the admission rates are notoriously low, and most applicants have been performing in public for -” 

“Hey.” Oliver tapped his bare foot with his own. “Don’t do that. I hate when you put yourself down.” 

“Sorry.”

Oliver smiled. “You don’t have to apologise, you goose.” Glancing away, he plucked at the hem of his Columbia t-shirt. “Where did you decide? To apply, I mean.” 

It was a simple enough question, but Elio chided himself for letting his guard down so easily. “Berklee,” he said, reining himself in. “Curtis. San Francisco.” 

“I bet you blew them all away,” Oliver murmured, tapping an idle rhythm over his knuckles. “Not Juilliard, then?” 

Elio offered a non-committal shrug, admitting nothing. “Less chance of running into you and your wife if I was on the other side of the country. Though I don’t suppose that matters now.” Curious, he ripped off the metaphorical band-aid. “Did you leave her? Or did she leave you?” 

Oliver rocked his head against the pillow. “We left each other,” he said, face falling as he resumed the slow sweep of his thumb over Elio’s skin. “I’d been running scared for weeks, but the second I heard your voice I knew I couldn’t go through with it.” 

Elio frowned. “My voice?”

“Hanukkah.” Oliver covered his mouth, as if shocked he’d confessed it out loud. “I hung up the phone and felt sick. I don’t think I’ve cried like that since my bubbe passed,” he said, turning towards the ceiling, and Elio’s eyes slipped closed as he did the maths in his head. “We ended it for good the next day,” Oliver continued, bringing their hands up to rest above his heart. “Micol’s not stupid. She knew I met someone over the summer. She never asked who, but I think she suspected.”

“And you didn’t confirm.”

“I couldn’t.” A flash of guilt crossed Oliver’s features. “Her sister’s a nurse. She’s heard stories,” he said, and Elio clenched his jaw as he pictured the disease that was making headlines around the world. “I didn’t want to worry her without reason.”

“Je comprends. It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not,” Oliver replied, full of self-reproach. “I’m not ashamed of what we shared. And it kills me that you thought I was.”

The air between them grew charged, and it would be so easy to slide closer, to wrap his arm around Oliver’s waist and remove those final few inches, but Elio felt stunned into inertia. There was no denying he still wanted him, desired him, worshipped him, even, but a sorry was far from a commitment, and he couldn’t afford to open Pandora’s box on a fool’s hope alone. 

“What are you thinking about?”

Elio sniffed. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want me to know?”

“Both, I suppose.” He shrugged awkwardly. “You should have told me earlier.”

“I should have done a lot of things.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

Oliver sighed. “Because I didn’t want you to think you owed me anything. Or that I expected something from you. Because I don’t,” he said, rolling back onto his side. “I’m seven years older than you, Elio. And I know you think that doesn’t matter, but it does. You’re young - no, you are,” he argued, when Elio opened his mouth to protest. “Your talent could take you anywhere. And I’m not making excuses - I know I took the easy way out - but I just can’t bear the idea of holding you back. You could have anything you want if you set your mind to it.”

“No man is worthy of all that he aspires to,” Elio quoted, watching as Oliver’s cheeks flushed pink. “We are not entitled to all of anything - not even ourselves - and happiness will never be achieved by gaining all that one wants, only in truly wanting what one has gained.”

“You read my book.”

“I read your book.” Elio leaned in conspiratorially. “Très prophétique.”

“You sound like your father.” 

“Mon Dieu...” Elio butted his forehead against him. “Will you do something for me?” he asked, and Oliver nodded readily. “For once in your life, forget about what your family wants, or what the university wants, or what you think you should want, and tell me what you want. You.” His grip tightened. “What do you want, Oliver?”

“You know what I want,” he whispered, squeezing back. “The one thing I shouldn’t.”

“But you could. Je suis à vous.”

“Elio...” 

“I missed you.”

The word was wholly inadequate, but when Oliver pulled him close he went immediately, drawn into his personal orbit. “I missed you, too. So fucking much,” he said, staring at Elio as if it was he who’d just shifted the world off its axis, and not the other way around. “I used to lie awake at night, terrified I’d waited too long. That you’d already moved on and forgotten me.”

“I didn’t.” Elio looked away, even as he reminded himself he’d done nothing wrong. “I tried,” he told him, voice shaking when Oliver’s palm faltered halfway up his spine. “I wanted to. After that phone call. But it never lasted. There was always something missing.” He stifled a yawn. “Of course, the fact I was planning to leave the country wasn’t much of a relationship builder,” he muttered, and Oliver’s hoarse chuckle warmed him.

“I would say that I’m sorry, but I find I’m really not.”

“Arrogante.”

Oliver cupped his jaw. “No. Just grateful.” Elio’s heart picked up as he studied him like a riddle he needed to solve. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he said, smoothing his thumb beneath his eye. “And I don’t just mean tonight.”

“Have you?”

“Only when I run myself to exhaustion.”

“Quelle paire.” With each pass his eyelids grew heavier, and Elio could just feel himself starting to fade when Oliver’s stomach growled insistently, breaking the spell he’d woven around them. “Hungry?” 

Oliver smiled. “A little.”

“A little?” Elio poked him in the ribs. “Are there no limits to what you'll deny yourself?”

“I’m not denying myself anymore,” Oliver said, each word slow, deliberate. “This is it. My speak or die moment. The ball’s in your court - and I’ll wait as long as you need - but I don’t want to look back in twenty years and regret the things I’ve left unsaid. Because I love you, Elio Perlman - now, then, and every second in-between - and it’s taking everything I have right now not to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness.”

On some level he must have known - despite a concerted effort to convince himself otherwise - but hearing it from Oliver’s own lips was revolutionary.

“You love me?”

It felt like coming up for air after being held underwater. 

“Is that so hard to believe?”

Elio wanted to gasp with relief - to echo the sentiments in their entirety - but as Oliver’s arms came up around him there was nothing he could do but let his tears flow free, whispered assurances filling the air between them until gradually, mercifully, he drifted off to sleep.

Elio watched the shadows dance over Oliver’s profile in the blue-gray light of dawn. His features were soft and unguarded, his eyelashes fluttering with each soft exhalation, and the solid weight of the forearm encircling his waist brought back memories of their last morning together the year before. Each tick of the hotel room clock had heralded their imminent separation, and Elio had lain there for hours in his hungover state, dreading what loomed ahead. 

He had always assumed Oliver to be untouchable, but here was the absolute proof that they’d both suffered, and as Elio traced the prominent veins of his wrist it felt like they were finally on equal footing. 

Oliver’s fingers were curled loosely, the deep lines of his palm reeling him in like a siren’s call, so Elio pressed his lips against them in supplication, letting the steady thrum of Oliver’s pulse soothe him as a litany of we called it off intruded upon his peace of mind.

Once again, they had wasted so much time, and even though part of him wanted nothing more than to fall back into familiar arms and familiar habits, the other half was terrified of getting his heart broken twice. His quintessential Adonis was flawed and fragile - aged beyond the months they’d spent apart - and while he might be offering everything he’d ever wanted, Elio knew the fears the other man harboured couldn’t be so easily vanquished. How could he trust that he wouldn't reconsider? That he wouldn’t pick someone else he could be with openly? Legally? 

Fate had dealt them a cruel hand, and needing a minute to himself, Elio eased out of Oliver’s embrace before stepping onto the balcony. The looping sparrows were his only distraction - not even Anchise braving the crisp frost to rattle around in the garden below - and Elio lit a cigarette as he leaned against the balustrade, goosebumps forming instantly in the sharp morning air. 

How long he stood there he couldn’t quite tell, but the sun was already cresting the horizon when Oliver unlatched the door behind him, and Elio found himself transfixed by the golden rays that limned the blond strands at his temple.

“Hey.” Oliver’s voice was rough with sleep. “You okay?”

“Me okay,” Elio said. “Just thinking.”

Oliver nudged his shoulder as he came to stand beside him. “Are they private thoughts?” he teased, picking up their old game, and Elio smirked, immediately nostalgic for lazy afternoons spent lounging by the pool.

“In a way,” he volleyed back, bringing the filter to his lips. “The morning after we first slept together, you said you didn’t want me to have any regrets.”

“I did.” Oliver angled his body towards him. “Not that it did us much good in the long run. But then, you were always the brave one between us.”

“Not always.”

“Elio...”

“It’s true,” he said, pinching out the cigarette. “I should never have let you go without a fight.”

“That goes both ways,” Oliver countered, reaching up to caress his cheek. “Please don’t blame yourself. It was my own cowardice that kept me away. Not you.”

“Non è vero.” Apparently, the truth brought objectivity. “Cowardice is not the same as conformity.”

“Maybe not. But they both require submission.” Oliver tucked a loose curl behind Elio’s ear. “The desire to please. To be liked. Respected. That’s just how society works,” he said with a shrug. “And the cost of everyone else liking me meant I got closer and closer to hating myself.” 

“I understand,” Elio replied, wishing his anxiety was unjustified. “But those obligations you spoke of last night? They’ll still be waiting for you when you get home. You can’t come here and say these things, then go away again like -”

“I won’t.”

“You’ll have to.”

“Not unless they carry me back on that plane,” Oliver said, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “I value my career, Elio, and I’ll always be grateful for the opportunities it’s given me. But my life in the States? It’s not enough. I need more.”

“What are you saying?” 

Oliver stroked his jaw. “I’m saying we have time to figure this out,” he explained. “My ticket is an open return, and I’ve taken some leave from the department. Six months, initially. When I spoke to your father in February, he mentioned a temporary position at the Bocconi - the Classics department.” A beat. “He’s offered to provide a reference.”

“My father...” Elio’s knees felt weak. “You planned this?” 

“Not exactly,” Oliver said, sliding a steadying palm to his elbow. “The job interview isn’t contingent on your forgiveness. More a happy coincidence. My only real plan was to come apologise in person. I didn’t dare presume you’d want anything to do with me beyond that.”

“Idiota.” 

“So I’ve been told.” Oliver brushed a kiss to his temple, and the rough catch of his stubble was enough to make the slow burn of arousal unfurl in his stomach. “Repeatedly,” he added. “In at least four different languages.”

“Mafalda speaks a little Friulian.”

“Make that five,” Oliver said with a snort, and Elio chewed the inside of his cheek as he savoured the scent of the ocean that still lingered on his skin. 

“Did you tell your parents you were leaving?” he asked, alarm bells ringing at the thought of another rushed decision, and was somewhat mollified when Oliver hummed in confirmation. “Did you tell them why?”

Oliver swallowed before answering. “I did,” he said, still sounding choked. “Though I doubt they’ll ever acknowledge it. My father’s a judgemental bastard. Always has been. And my mother...” Trailing off, he sighed through his nose. “She suggested I keep my indiscretions to myself until I come to my senses.”

“I’m sorry,” Elio said, instantly regretting the animosity he’d shown towards his own parents as of late.

“Don’t be.” Oliver sent him a look of pure determination. “You of all people have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Still. I know that must have been hard.”

“It was,” Oliver agreed. “But you know what? It made me realise something.”

“Comme quoi?”

Oliver searched his face. “That nothing’s too hard if you know what you’re fighting for,” he said seriously. “I’m done living a lie. And I know I can’t undo the past, but I swear I’ll spend the rest of my days making up for it. If you’ll let me.” 

“If I’ll let you?”

“If that’s what you want?” 

Elio’s throat felt tight. “I want you, Oliver. Us. How can you not know that by now?” 

Oliver scoffed. “Sweetheart, you’re a force of nature,” he said, carding his fingers through Elio’s hair. “It took me a week to pluck up the courage to give you a back rub. Overconfidence doesn’t come easy where you’re concerned.”

The simple touch made his scalp tingle, and Elio moaned softly, his heart pounding within his ribcage. “Say it again,” he whispered, trembling as Oliver wrapped an arm around his waist. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” Oliver said, turning his head to rub their noses together. “I love you, Elio. All of you. Not just your body, but your mind, too. Your friendship. Your voice - God, I’ve missed your voice. And this, right here,” he said, burying closer, breathing deep. “I’ve missed your scent. Wildflowers and rosemary.” A low groan rose from his chest, and easing back, he drew his fingertip over Elio’s bottom lip. “The scent of us together... it’s haunted me.”

The slick back and forth was excruciating, and the salt-tang of Oliver’s skin was enough to make Elio whine in frustration as he tangled a hand in his t-shirt. “Is this wise?”

“Does it matter?”

“Oh... it matters.” Elio rose up on tiptoes. “We matter,” he said, nipping at his earlobe. “We’ve already been through this, no? Or does seven years make all the difference to your memory, also?”

“Brat.” 

“Old man.”

Oliver guided his mouth back down, telegraphing his every move. “Can I kiss you?”

“Déjà vu encore une fois.” Elio leaned in further. “All we need now is a note.”

Experience had taught them the perfect rhythm, and it was everything he remembered and more when Oliver hooked a knuckle under his chin, tilting it up as he walked him backwards, kissing him all the while. They came to a jolting stop against the brickwork, and Elio was half hard already as Oliver slid a leg between his own, the solid weight of the erection against his thigh causing him to arch forwards, seeking friction.

“Elio...” 

There was no mistaking the raw need in Oliver’s voice, and Elio rocked his hips as his eyes fluttered open, finally ready to speak his truth. “I love you, too,” he said, lips grazing the skin above his Adam’s apple. “I worship you, Oliver.” 

“God, you haven’t changed a bit,” he said, smiling against his cheek. “Still -”

“Horny?”

“Incorrigible.” Oliver kissed him again, achingly tender, and Elio could have cried. “Perfect.”

“Not perfect.” That way lay disappointment.

“For me,” Oliver returned, almost willing Elio to believe him. “You’re perfect for me.”

And who was he to argue with that, Elio decided, opening his mouth in clear invitation.

They had time, Oliver said. They’d never had that before, and without the pressure of a deadline each brush of their lips tasted like salvation, all previous haste forgotten despite the inherent demands of their bodies.

It was a different morning after - a different set of emotions - but no less conflicting for them both, and by unspoken agreement the kisses eventually tapered off until they were simply holding each other close, listening to the sounds of the villa coming to life around them.

A new day. 

A second chance. 

A love reawakened. 

“Does this make you happy?” Oliver whispered, bowing his head once more, and a heavy burden lifted from Elio’s soul as he took his first proper breath in months.

#call me by your name #elio x oliver #fix-it #angst #hurt/comfort

[the-record-newspaper]

The killing of Rhonda Hinson part 48

                                      Criminal Profiler Pat Brown

Editor’s note: This is a continuation of a series about the Dec. 23, 1981, unsolved murder of Rhonda Hinson.

 By LARRY J. GRIFFIN

Special Investigative Reporter

For The Record

 Murder is rarely something that isn’t premeditated, at least to an extent.  Usually there is something building up to the moment the decision of [SIC] to kill is made and therefore the events of that night are extremely important.  It is also particularly important in this homicide because of the time and location of the crime making it an unlikely stranger homicide.—Criminal Profiler Pat Brown, in a Monday April 22, 2002 Profile of the Homicide of Rhonda Hinson.

 Early in 2002, Bobby and Judy Hinson contacted The Sexual Homicide Exchange, Inc. (SHE) seeking assistance in identifying the killer of their 19-year-old daughter. Specifically, SHE was asked to ascertain the person who pulled the trigger from a list of possible suspects and suggest any action that law enforcement could take 21-years after the killing of Rhonda Hinson—with little to know actual physical evidence to take to court.

Chief Investigative Criminal Profiler and Executive Officer of SHE, Pat Brown, was the Hinsons’ point-of-contact.  Born in New Jersey, Ms. Brown moved with her family to Virginia when she was but 9-years-of-age.  She attended the University of the State of New York and graduated with a liberal arts degree in 1981—the year that Rhonda was killed.  Subsequently, she achieved a Master’s degree in criminal justice from Boston University.  In 1982, Pat moved to Maryland and has resided in the state ever since.  

In 1996, Ms. Brown founded SHE that eventually evolved into the present-day Pat Brown Criminal Profiling Agency, located in Bowie, Maryland—about 20 miles from Washington, D.C., and 31 miles from Baltimore (www.patbrownprofiling.com). Herself a nationally known criminal profiler, television commentator, and author, Pat—through her agency—provides criminal profiling consultation, education, and training to law enforcement, media, attorneys, universities, corporations, and private individuals.  

And in 2002, Ms. Brown agreed to provide the Hinsons with a profile of the homicide of their daughter murdered during the first hour of December 23, 1981.

Initially, Sheriff John McDevitt was purportedly receptive to the prospect of a fresh perspective and ostensibly agreed to cooperate with SHE as they conducted their inquiry.  However, on Sunday Jan. 6, 2002, Ms. Brown complained to the Hinsons that his promise to forward a package of case information to her had not materialized.  In an email she wrote:

“We still have not received anything from the Sheriff [John McDevitt]. He was very cooperative in our first conversation and actually WANTED our analysis, so I am more than confused over what is going on.  He told you he sent us a package although he never called and asked for the address. He could have pulled it off the [web] site if he went there and clearly, it would have arrived (or if he had addressed it incorrectly) he would have gotten it back.  I called him as he requested and left the mailing address on his voice mail.  To date, nothing.  So, I have no idea what is going on in NC.”

But 15 days later—Monday Jan. 21, 2002—Pat sent another missive to Judy Hinson in which she announce that the promised material had finally arrived at her office:

“Hi Judy! Everything is fine.  I did get the package and I am finding it VERY interesting. I have sent a copy over to my partner, Dr. Sinclair, and we will be getting together to discuss the suspects and see if we are both in agreement and then will will [SIC] write up our recommendations.”  

Within the packet, Sheriff McDevitt included “good crime scene reports, police reports, and an excellent analysis of the bullet trajectory, and the movement of the vehicle.”  Immediately, Ms. Brown ruled out “an accidental shooting as a result of a shot fired from afar or from misbehaving teenagers shooting at taillights from the bridge.”

“This leaves us with a deliberate shooting,” Pat averred in a six-page summary that was completed on Earth Day—Monday April 22, 2002.  

Noting that SHE had been supplied with an “assorted suspects” list for whom there was no significant evidence implicating them, Ms. Brown’s focus fell upon four possibilities—two of which she eliminated almost instantaneously as having neither motive nor opportunity.  One was a “young group of partygoers, some who had stopped and discovered the car and the victim.”  This designation was an obvious reference to the young men who, according to their own statements and those of law enforcement, found Rhonda Hinson’s car and left the crime scene to eventually locate Officer Harry Feimster—Marc Micol, Tim Pons, Todd Garrou, Jerry Baker, and Brent Smith.  Clearly, neither had anything to do with the killing of the 19-year-old.

The second spurious suspect was a young man “who had asked Rhonda out and been refused.”   Initially, investigators considered him a person-of-interest. Judy Hinson identified this youth as Bryan Lowman.  

“Rhonda walked passed an accident involving a tractor/trailer while going toward interstate to catch her ride on the morning of December 22nd.  A crowd had gathered near the accident site; among those there was Bryan Lowman.  He had asked Rhonda out on a date.  For one thing, he was much younger than she, and I don’t even think that he had his driver’s license yet.  Well, Rhonda told him that she had a boyfriend whom she was dating—so that was the end of that.  She called me several times that day; one of those times—and I don’t remember which one—she told me about seeing Bryan.”  

Subsequent to the elimination of the aforementioned suspects, Ms. Brown focused upon the two whom she concluded were the most viable: Greg McDowell and his father, Charles. Of Rhonda’s former boyfriend, the SHE profiler wrote:

“Rhonda’s boyfriend was angry with her for attending a party that he had requested she not attend, and after talking with her after she left the party, it seems they had reached a point of breaking up.  Also the boyfriend had a history of obsessive jealousy of Rhonda and had recently written a letter in which he stated if she didn’t smile and be happy, he would shoot her with his shotgun (even if this is just a joke, it is a strange and concerning ideation).”

Attention then turned to the Rev. Charles McDowell, of whom Pat wrote:

“The father of this boyfriend is suspected of making sexual overtures at Rhonda and possible sexually abusing her.  He has since had an affair while married, divorced his wife, and subscribed to pornographic materials in spite of being a church pastor.”  

At this juncture, Ms. Brown turned attention to the events of the night and early morning of Rhonda’s death—what transpired right before and immediately after she was murdered.  In her summary, she opined that:

“Murder is rarely something that isn’t premeditated, at least to an extent. Usually there is something building up to the moment the decision of [SIC] to kill is made and therefore the events of that night are extremely important.  It is also particularly important in this homicide because of the time and location of the crime making it an unlikely stranger homicide. Someone had to know Rhonda was coming home at that particular time and on that particular route.  Because of the trajectory of the bullet and the position of the shooter, the killer knew exactly the place his opportunity to kill was the best and still protect his identity.”

It has long been debated by investigators and interested commentators as to whether or not the shooter intended to kill Rhonda Hinson.  In her summary, Profiler Brown proffered her insights:

“…Was he aiming at the car, the taillights, or at Rhonda?  Because the car was climbing a hill at the time Rhonda was shot, and the bullet went through the trunk, we can discern that the killer was most likely aiming at Rhonda’s head and he did not take into account the forward movement of the car.  Had he been aiming above the car, he most likely would have shot through the window and had he been aiming at the taillights, he most likely would have shot out a tire or missed altogether.  

“It also would seem that this killer was no sharpshooter, as then he would have taken into account the movement of the car and aimed slightly higher than the intended target. The lack of thought and skill indicate a young, inexperienced, enraged killer.”

Pat also weighed-in on the question as to how long Rhonda lived after she was shot.  She observed that, “the importance of the issue is in the specific behaviors of either Rhonda or the shooter prior, during, and after the shooting.” Her commentary is compelling:

“When Rhonda and the vehicle were viewed by investigators, she was not wearing her seatbelt and her body was outside of the car with the door ajar, the car was in neutral and running, and the window appeared to have been rolled down and up again. Should Rhonda still be alive at the time the car rolled back into the ditch, could she have removed her seat belt [SIC] and opened the car door?”  

Clearly, Ms. Brown surmised that when Rhonda Hinson was struck by the fatal projectile, she was instantly incapacitated and could not remove herself from her Datsun 210.  In her profile, she ventured to describe Rhonda’s final moments of life as she pulled away from the scene:

“…By the time she was hit by the bullet, it appears she would have been shifting into third gear.  This would explain why the car was not in gear when it was found.  The shift from first to second is very quick, but the shift from second to third requires more time and effort, as it must pass through neutral.  Most likely, Rhonda had her left hand on the wheel and was shifting with her right, when she was shot.  She only got halfway to third.  With the car now in neutral and her left hand dragging the wheel to the left, the car wheels would be turned in a direction that would cause the car to roll off into the ditch on the left side of the road and the car would still be running.

Pat Brown hypothesized that if Rhonda Hinson was incapacitated or dead by the time the car backed into the ditch, she could not have removed her seatbelt, opened the door, or rolled down the window. Moreover, she maintained that it was “highly unlikely” that the killer had any reason to roll down the window after Rhonda was dead; nor would he have reason to remove her from the car.  Even if the killer had opened the driver-side door, it is most unlikely that he would have removed her; rather she would have “pitched out” toward him.

Next the profiler applied her considerable expertise toward answering one of the most salient questions of the case:  For whom did Rhonda Hinson stop on the early morning of Dec. 23, 1981?

[nataliehegert]

I have a favorite drinking game with some very simple rules. It can be played with any alcoholic beverage, and there’s no score keeping, or turn taking. At its best, it’s a game played rather loose and fast, with a large party of inebriated and irreverent participants. Essentially, it’s a toasting game: you raise your glass and propose a toast, and, as long as the toast meets the requirements of the game, everyone clinks glasses and takes a drink. The rules are so simple, in fact, that you get drunk very fast.

The rules are this: you toast to dead white men. Any dead white man will do—he doesn’t necessarily need to be heroic or worthy of saluting—just as long as he’s dead, white, and male.

The beauty of the game is that you never run out of dead white men.

You start with politicians maybe, work through musicians, composers, authors, movie stars, comedians, explorers, photographers, painters, popes and presidents, kings and dictators and despots, and on and on and on. As the game continues someone will inevitably lose track and slip, raising a glass to someone who’s not dead yet, or someone who’s not white or is not a man. The trick is not to drink when someone inevitably yells out “Jimi Hendrix!” Those inevitable interludes, however, make the game fun, and add a small challenge to the gameplay, which otherwise will proceed at an alarming rate.

People often protest the playing of Dead White Men, finding it offensive. “Let’s toast to all women,” someone might insist. Indeed, you wouldn’t necessarily “run out” of prominent women or people of color to drink to. There are many famous women throughout history. There are many great and worthy people of color through the ages. But that is not the point. Dead White Men is not a righteous game, but it is instructive in its insidiousness. While there is arguably no lack of deceased, non-male, non-white persons out there to whom you could raise a glass, a drinking game in their honor would be an inaptly sobering exercise rather than a flippant boozefest. Dead White Men works so well as a drinking game because it can be played without really thinking, on an unconscious level.

History, at least Western history, is littered with the corpses of dead white men. Art history is likewise dominated by them—their paintings and sculptures and cathedrals and manifestos and infighting and denunciations and revelations, their strokes of genius and their cultural plagiarisms. This is not to say that their contributions are irrelevant or should be dismissed. The thinking, writing, making, and movements of European men have undeniably shaped Western history, art, and culture. Dead white men have produced the conditions of the world in which we live today. Like it or not, this is our canon.

But what if it was different? What if the rules of the game were flipped?

In the early 1970s, Mary Beth Edelson took a reproduction of DaVinci’s Last Supper and replaced the head of Jesus with the visage of Georgia O’Keeffe, and his disciples with the faces of other women artists—Louise Bourgeois, Helen Frankenthaler, Nancy Graves, Elaine de Kooning, Lynda Benglis, Lila Katzen, Lee Krasner, Louise Nevelson, Yoko Ono, M. C. Richards, Alma Thomas, and June Wayne. Around the border of the collage, she affixed the portraits of 70 other women artists—“every photograph of a woman artist that I could find.”1 Eighty-two. That is how many Edelson could find in 1971. She titled the work Some Living American Women Artists / Last Supper. It’s an iconic work of feminist art, one that has been widely reproduced, disseminated, discussed, censured, and celebrated.

In 2007, artist and writer Micol Hebron encountered Edelson’s collage for the first time in person, and looked at it for a very long time. The piece struck a very personal chord: “It was the first work of art that had ever moved me to tears. And my tears were because of the overwhelming emotion that I felt when I thought about the proposition that this work was making, which was, for me: Imagine if you saw yourself—and not a man—in all of the places where men appear in (art) history. Imagine, then, what the world would be like for you.”2

It’s a simple proposition with powerful implications. What if all the faces on Mount Rushmore looked like people like you? What if you saw yourself throughout the canon of history? What if you didn’t have to discover people like you to look to as role models and you could simply look to any number of the great majority of thinkers, leaders, philosophers, artists? What does that underlying knowledge of precedence do to your innate feeling of self worth and potential? How psychologically empowering that would be in an unconscious, unquestioning, assumed way. (For our white male readers, I’d ask you to imagine what it would be like to flip the script the opposite way. What if you grew up in a world where everyone in power did not look like you? How might that subconsciously change your perspective, your grasp on the possible or impossible, your goals and ambitions?)

“I became overwhelmed thinking about how empowered, capable, respected, supported and optimistic I would feel,” Hebron continues. “Having seen thousands of images of men in art history—men as artists, authors, collectors, writers, etc. —I realized that if I had seen women instead, my sense of what I was capable of, and of what opportunities there would be for me in the world would be RADICALLY different. And that made me cry. And then, it made me want to work to ensure that women of the future HAVE such a history to look back upon. And that’s what drives my work now.”

Certainly there are other factors at work with regards to an individual’s predispositions and aptitudes for ambition, confidence, leadership, success. Not to mention concrete socioeconomic factors that affect access, including class, education, family or personal security, physical ability, etc. But there’s no doubt that your perception of yourself, your accomplishments and your perceived likeliness to succeed is affected by whom you see represented as your peers, the successful people at the top of your field, and the leaders of the past. To put it bluntly: it takes a lot more gumption, persistence, will, and maybe even a measure of sheer delusion to even enter a field that is dominated by people who are not like you. And once you’ve entered that field and made it your prerogative to succeed within it, you still have to contend with the viewpoints and expectations of the other people and institutions within it, who may find it easier to accept and promote the people they usually do, than to try and reevaluate their preconceptions. It’s a constant struggle. And it’s a struggle that those who are blessed with the privilege of already being part of the dominant sex/race will never even need to consider.

In 2013, Hebron initiated the Gallery Tally project, which invites artists to expose gender inequity in the art world through statistics gathering and poster design. The project thrust the issue of gender discrimination back in the spotlight, following in the tradition of the Guerrilla Girls, the “conscience of the art world,” whose humorous graphic representations of inequality have been the bane and the shame of the keepers of the patriarchy since 1984.

But who remain the keepers of the patriarchy? Hardly anyone in the art world, or, really, anywhere else, would readily and openly identify as such in this day and age (Georg Baselitz may be one of the only exceptions). And yet inequality still persists, as curator Maura Reilly recently pointed out, “despite decades of postcolonial, feminist, anti-racist, and queer activism and theorizing, the majority continues to be defined as white, Euro-American, heterosexual, privileged, and, above all, male. Sexism is still so insidiously woven into the institutional fabric, language, and logic of the mainstream art world that it often goes undetected.”3 This logic is most pronounced in the secondary art market and institutional collections, but extends throughout the art world. In an interview that appeared in this magazine’s online edition, artist, educator, and the co-editor of the issue you’re reading now Jaclyn Wright diplomatically offered her thoughts regarding the controversial Selektor Magazine “100 Photographers on Tumblr” blog post (which featured only 8 women4 ). “Many times I’ve heard/read artists say things like, ‘it doesn’t have to do with male or female, I just prefer this over that,’” she writes. “Of course, everyone is entitled to his or her own preferences but if you are only looking at male artists then you should consider looking at some female artists. It’s advantageous to have a more diverse group of individuals in your repertoire,” she suggests.5 In response to the controversy generated by the blog post, Selektor apologized and explained that the list’s bias toward male artists was not intentional. In comparison, the roster of New York gallery Sperone Westwater—who represents the likes of Richard Long, Bruce Nauman, and William Wegman—also only includes 8% women6 (and only two of its 35 artists are non-white), and that discrepancy is, in all likelihood, also not intentional.

I doubt that most gatekeepers of art and culture—including many women art professionals—set out to consciously favor the works of white men. There are a great many far-reaching systemic factors and conditions at play when it comes to who gets shown, who gets written about, who gets opportunities, and who gets collected. But a major part of the problem, I contend, is due to a simple lack of awareness of the implicit biases and the lingering subconscious effects that are produced by a world that has been traditionally dominated by white men. The looming presence of the dead white men of the past—those hordes who have dominated the narrative of Western history—leads to a general cultural state in which, unless you have trained yourself otherwise, a white-male dominated lineup might not immediately trigger concern or suspicion. It’s because, subconsciously, it just looks normal.

Harvard University psychologist Mahzarin Banaji terms these “implicit biases”: “bits of knowledge” about social groups that get “stored in our brains because we encounter them so frequently in our cultural environments.”7 The names of famous men we learned in school, memorized, repeated, regurgitated (“Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison…”) establish and reinforce a connection between white men and leadership, prominence, genius, and fame. “Once lodged in our minds, hidden biases can influence our behavior toward members of particular social groups, but we remain oblivious to their influence,” Banaji writes. These unintentional biases can manifest themselves in many different ways, of which we are often completely unaware. The first step to fighting these biases is to become alert to their presence, to understand that even if we believe we don’t have them, they might in fact be lying under the murky surface of our subconscious, underpinned by generations of tradition, history, and culture that has favored certain groups over others. I’m not suggesting that we always need to insist on absolute parity, but shouldn’t we be aware of the possibility of implicit predilections? And be vigilant against unconsciously and unquestioningly giving in to them?

In the long view, for oppressed minority voices, our history is just beginning, our forebears relatively few amongst the crushing crowd of dead white men. “To make up for what’s happened so far in art history, every show should be 99% women and artists of color, but only for the next 400 years,” the Guerrilla Girls write.8 It’s good to keep that in mind when someone gets defensive when you point out bias or depressing statistics—we’ve only just turned that corner. Our Western culture, ideas, philosophy will continue to be defined by the actions and thoughts of great dead white men. Past the horizon of our most recent history, you encounter only the echoing absence of the voices of women and people of color in the tradition.9

But let’s lift a glass to our new history. Here’s to some living women artists. Here’s to all the artists of color. Here’s to the diversity of the artists within the pages of this magazine. Here’s to the strivers and the persisters. Here’s to the counters and the quota queens. Here’s to artists from other traditions and artists who invent their own traditions. Here’s to Mary Beth Edelson and Micol Hebron and the other artists who imagine what life could be like if the script were flipped. And here’s to all those old dead white men—I promise we won’t forget you.

1 Linda S. Aleci, “In a Pig’s Eye: The Offence of Some Living American Women Artists,” from The Art of Mary Beth Edelson, 2002.

2 Email communication with the author, July 9, 2015.

3 Maura Reilly, “Taking the Measure of Sexism: Facts, Figures, and Fixes”, ARTnews, May 26, 2015. http://www.artnews.com/2015/05/26/ taking-the-measure-of-sexism-facts-figures-and-fixes/

4 N.B.: This number might be 10 women, depending on names and pronouns found online. - Copy editor

5 “PS Feature: Jaclyn Wright,” Papersafe, December 21, 2014. http:// papersafezine.tumblr.com/post/105783077257/ps-feature-jaclynwright

6 Paddy Johnson, “Pussy Galore’s 2015 Gallery Report Card is Out,” ArtFCity, February 19, 2015. http://artfcity.com/2015/02/19/pussygalores-2015-gallery-report-card-is-out/

7 Mahzarin R. Banaji, Anthony G. Greenwald, Blindspot: Hidden Biases of Good People, New York: Delacorte Press, 2013, p. xii.

8 Confessions of the Guerrilla Girls, 1995. http://www.guerrillagirls. com/interview/index.shtml

9 Laura Lyn Inglis, Peter K. Steinfeld, Old Dead White Men’s Philosophy, Amherst, NY: Humanity Books, 2nd ed., 2000, p. 1.

Essay Printed in PAPERSAFE Magazine, Issue #05: Turbulent Bodies / A Cross, A Wild Sea, Edited by Jaclyn Wright & Elle Perez, September 2015

#essay #in print

[readingandwritingandreading]

Long Time Coming ~ Part 10

My Blurb: We have reached the end of my Bucky story. I'm sure there will be more starring him in the future. Thank you to everyone who stuck with me! This ending is cheesy but they have been through so much they deserve a fluffy ending.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. You own nothing, I don’t give anyone permission to post this anywhere. 

Summary: Bucky had waited a long time to find an Omega. When Pepper introduces the team to her new assistant he knows shes the one.

Pairing: Alpha Bucky Barnes X OFC Omega Carina Rivera

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, biting, shower sex

Status: Completed

Tagging: @ashes-writing | @pioched | @littlemissthistle | @pizgloria | @casa-boiardi

Read First: Long Time Coming Masterlist

Also Check Out: Main Masterlist

Everybody wants to be loved, every once in a while. We all need someone to hold on to, just like a helpless child. Can you whisper in my ear, let me know it's alright.

Steve & Natasha stayed at the controls in the front of the jet as they made their way back to the compound, giving Bucky & Carina some space in the back. There was quiet murmuring as he examined her wounds and they comforted each other. 

Arriving at the base they were greeted by the rest of the team who gave relieved smiles and hugs before letting Bucky usher her to Dr. Cho despite her protests. “Please, for my peace of mind. Let her scan you and then we will go back to our place.” The haunted look in his eyes convinced her, so she sat through the physical, holding Bucky’s hand the whole time. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up and then I'll bandage your wrists.” Bucky carried her into their bathroom and started the water while Carina pulled her clothes off. 

She was still in the outfit she’d been kidnapped in and she threw it in the trash the second she got it away from her skin. “That used to be my favorite sports bra.” she shook her head, turning to see Bucky still clothed. “You aren’t joining me?”

“I was going to get you some fresh clothes while you cleaned up.” He smiled gently, checking the water temperature.

It's been a long time coming down this road, and now I know what I've been waiting for. And like a lonely highway I'm trying to get home, loves been a long time coming.

She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. “Please stay with me. I can’t feel you right now and I…” her hand was resting on her chest as the words left her in a shudder. Bucky knew the feeling, their connection had been damaged by the injections. When they had bonded a tether had appeared right next to his heart that led straight to her. He was still aware of a whisper of it but the stricken look on her face told him that she couldn’t even feel that much.

He whipped his clothes and shoes off and gathered her into his arms. Her small sobs were muffled by the water as he steered them underneath it. “Sshhh, it’s going to be ok.” he murmured, reaching for her shampoo and slowly working it through her tangled hair.

“Can we fix it?” he barely heard the whispered question against his chest. 

Lifting her head back so he could rinse the shampoo, he smiled at her. “It’s still there, our bond, we just have to tend to it. Strange said it was like a fire.” he reached for her conditioner before continuing. “Add kindling, encourage it. Brock didn’t succeed in extinguishing it. As long as we still want each other there are embers.”

You can love for a lifetime, you can love for a day. You can think you've got everything, but everything is nothing when you throw it away. Then you look in my eyes. And I have it all once again.

Carina looked at him, her brown eyes wide and shining with tears. “There’s no one I want more than you.” she whispered, her arms circled his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He smiled into the kiss, relieved to hear it. 

Pulling back he turned to grab her loofah but she pulled him back down. “We need to clean your wrists.” Her ankles had had the benefit of her leggings to provide a barrier but the rope had dug into the skin on her bare wrists, leaving them raw and red. 

“Bucky please.” She tried again to pull him down to her but he resisted despite the scent of her arousal reaching his nose.

“You need to rest, you’ve been through alot.” His attempt to soothe her was weak even to his own ears. 

Didn't know I was lost, till you found me. Didn't know I was blind, but now I see. Can you whisper in my ear, let me know it's alright.

She shook her head, a small smile crept onto her face when she felt his arousal stir against her stomach. “I need you, I need to feel you and our connection.” 

Bucky gave in with a groan, grabbing her legs and hoisting her up his body. Gently he pressed her back against the wall, using it to anchor her with his hips. “I love you so much, if I had lost you…” his voice broke and she silenced him with another kiss, whimpering as he pressed into her. 

“You waited nearly two lifetimes for me, I'll be yours for the rest of mine.” She whispered, urging him to move with a shift of her hips. Bucky was gentle as he made love to her in the shower slowly, urging her to an orgasm before reclaiming her with a bite over the damaged one. The effect was immediate, both of them relaxing as their bond snapped into place again.

It's been a long time coming down this road, and now I know what I've been searching for. It's been a long, long highway, and now I see. Oh it's been a long time, loves been a long time coming.

Bucky and Carina were married three weeks later in a small ceremony at a cabin Tony owned. They hadn’t needed the piece of paper, their bond was stronger than ever but Bucky had wanted to tie himself to her in every way possible. For him, love had been a long time coming.

#micole writes things now #bucky barnes #alpha!bucky barnes #long time coming #alpha!bucky #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x original female character #james buchanan barnes

[readingandwritingandreading]

Long Time Coming ~ Part 8

My Blurb: *Mandatory wording about how sorry I am that this took to long* :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. You own nothing, I don’t give anyone permission to post this anywhere. 

Summary: Bucky had waited a long time to find an Omega. When Pepper introduces the team to her new assistant he knows shes the one.

Pairing: Alpha Bucky Barnes X OFC Omega Carina Rivera

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Sex, fingering, oral, biting/marking.

Status: In Progress

Tagging: @snarkandsarcasmftw  @pioched​  @littlemissthistle @pizgloria @briefdreamcloud

Read First: Long Time Coming Masterlist

Also Check Out: Main Masterlist

“If it isn’t the two love birds.” Tony’s voice caused Carina to spring out of Bucky’s embrace as he strolled into the office. “Also, are you two thinking of condensing space? Pepper told me not to say anything but I have a new recruit who could take that apartment if you moved in with One Armed Wonder, here. Unless you're having second thoughts, in which case I can get you into some witness protection or something, blink twice if he's smothering you.” 

“What? No, I’m not, he’s not…” Carina stuttered, looking frantically between the two men before Bucky placed a hand on her arm and pulled her back to him. 

“Stark is just trying to rile me up sweetheart. Ignore him. I should get to the briefing though. I’ll see you later?” Bucky asked, shifting until he was between her and Tony, blocking him from view and recapturing her attention. Tony rolled his eyes and continued into Piper’s office.

Bucky and Carina had rarely been seen apart in the two weeks since the attack. If Bucky wasn’t training or on a mission, he was laying on the couch in the waiting room reading while Carina continued her job with Piper. He didn’t like leaving her alone, which was fine with Carina, because she didn’t want to be alone. She’d had more than one nightmare about Brock’s hands around her neck and was immensely grateful to be woken up by Bucky’s scent and gentle touches as he soothed her back to sleep in the comfort of his arms. 

“Ya, of course. I’ll be there to see you off.” Carina pressed her lips to his for a brief moment before her phone rang. Answering it she waved to Bucky as he left. They were heading out on a mission to track down a rumored Hydra sleeper cell that was still small but growing. The night before Bucky had expressed his frustration that no matter how many hideouts and cells they destroyed, there always seemed to be more. 

Carina had tried to distract him with a kiss that promised more but Bucky had simply smiled before tucking her into him and proceeding to pass out. Carina huffed, thinking of it now as she set up an appointment for the possible new investor on the phone. 

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

“I don’t know Wanda, he doesn’t want to make a move.” Carina pouted, moving to grab another piece of pizza from the box. 

Wanda refilled their wine as she replied, “And you’ve told him you’re ready for the next step?” 

“Well… I have been dropping really good hints.” Carina busied herself picking the fuzz off of her leggings to avoid Wanda’s raised eyebrow. “What?” she finally conceded when Wanda kept staring at her. 

“You were assaulted, Carina. He’s not going to make a move until he is 100% sure that’s what you want.” she sighed, turning to face her on the couch fully. “Look, I try not to dig into people’s thoughts and feelings. But sometimes the really strong ones are impossible to ignore. Carina, Bucky loves you, he’s yours for the taking.”

Carina nodded while chewing on her thumbnail, rolling her eyes and grinning when Wanda raised another eyebrow at her. 

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

Bucky groaned as he collapsed into the seat beside Steve on the quinjet. “You ever think we’re getting too old for this?”

Steve laughed in response, leaning his head back against the wall. “Well we are almost a century older than these pups.” 

“We should talk to Pepper about our retirement plans.” Bucky grinned in response. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

“Speaking of settling down Barnes…” Natasha appeared in front of them, looking like they hadn’t just been ambushed by over a hundred men. “When are you and Carina making things official?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, the question had been tearing at him the last couple weeks. He wanted Carina, badly. Keeping himself from taking things past kissing and cuddling was taking all the restraint he had some days. They had said the words but everytime they were on the brink, something came up. “She was assaulted Nat, she needs time to recover.” 

“Does she still? Or does she need to be reassured that you still want her?” she grinned when Bucky looked insulted before standing up and walking to the front of the jet. 

“I want her Steve…” he trailed off. “But she’s innocent, I don’t want to hurt her.” He huffed, turning a pleading gaze to his best friend. 

Steve’s face turned wistful, staring off as if he was remembering something from the past. “Don’t make the same mistake I did Bucky. I never got the chance with Peggy and I regret it everyday. She made me feel like Carina makes you feel. If I had even the slightest chance of going back and making her mine, I would do it.” His eyes refocus and he claps Bucky on the back, standing when Natasha lets them know they would be landing at the compound in 5 minutes. 

Bucky is the first one at the ramp when it’s lowered, smiling at the sight of Carina standing next to Piper and Wanda just off the landing pad. She looks radiant in a halter top maxi dress, the blowing wind revealing a slit on one side that flashes him a glimpse of her legs. 

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

Carina takes a deep breath when she hears the shower turn off. She was ready, she wanted this, she wanted Bucky to be hers. She smiled at him when he exited his bedroom clad in a pair of sweats and a tank top, rubbing a towel through his hair. Here goes. “Bucky? Have you thought about…taking this further?” He’s frozen staring at her and she swallows before continuing. “I thought we were planning on it, and I know I was hurt but that was weeks ago and now I…” 

“I never stop thinking about it.” His bold statement cuts off her chatter. He approaches her tentatively, stopping short of touching her. His hands clenching at his sides “I didn’t want to push you. You were injured and you’ve never done this.” 

Her cheeks heat up and she looks down, “How do you know that?” 

His hand reaches out, gently pushing her chin up so he can look her in the eyes. “Your scent, it’s too pure. You smell like fresh baked cookies and warm bread. The moment I caught that scent I was hooked, I knew you were it for me.” 

“Bucky.” His name is soft on her lips.

He doesn’t waste any time pulling her into his arms and pouring all of his love and emotion into a breathtaking kiss. Her hands immediately found their way under his shirt, pulling a groan from him when she lightly ran her nails up over his abs so she could pull his shirt off.

Walking them backwards until they hit the wall Bucky pulled the string holding the top of her dress up exposing her breasts to him. A whimper escaped her when his mouth captured one of the hardened peaks and his calloused hand palmed the other one. Her whimpers became a moan when he pulled back to pull on the other strings holding her dress. 

“Bucky!” her shocked cry made him grin when he growled and tore the dress to shreds, tossing the pieces behind him. 

“I’ll buy you a million more, but anything between me and this beautiful body is going to take some casualties.” He panted, letting his eyes run over her form. 

“Bucky, please.” Carina whispered, biting her lip as she rubbed her thighs together.

With a groan, he soothes it with his mouth on hers again before bending, grabbing her thighs and hoisting her up his body. He smiles at her sharp gasp when she wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing her core into contact with the erection that was straining against his sweats. 

Walking into the bedroom he places her gently on the bed, following her down, catching her lips again before backing up and pulling off his pants and boxers grinning at her quick inhale when his erection is freed and bobs towards his stomach. 

Crawling back onto the bed he hovers over her, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss before beginning a slow descent down her body. Peppering kisses down her neck and across her collarbone before pausing to nip each nipple. Grinning against her skin when she jumps at the sensation before continuing down her stomach. She whimpers slightly when he skips down to her ankles, then begins to press kisses up her leg. She lets out a small gasp when he gently licks once across her clit before continuing down her other leg to her ankle. 

Releasing her ankle, he spreads her legs, eyes locked on hers as his mouth descends to her core. Her gasp turns into a moan as his tongue flicks over her clit and he slides one finger  inside. He groans against her flesh when he feels her wetness and slowly slides another finger in, his tongue continuing the assault on her clit. 

Her hands shoot to his hair and she pulls on the strands. “Bucky please, please” her pants are barely a whisper and he smiles up at her. 

“Gotta make sure you’re ready doll. Don’t want to hurt you.” He swipes his tongue the entire length of her slit and groans. “You taste as good as you smell.” 

Her breaths turn to pants as his fingers pick up speed and he sucks on her clit. His name is a chant from her lips as her back bows and an orgasm crashes over her. Bucky helps her ride it out before pressing another kiss to her clit. 

He crawls up her body until his arms are bracketed on either side of her head and she pulls him down into a kiss. “Make me yours Bucky, in every way.” she whispers, pulling back to look into his eyes, hoping he can see how much she means it.

“It feels like I've waited a hundred lifetimes for this.” he says, palming his erection. 

“Don’t wait any longer.” Carina grins, shimmying her hips at him. 

Bucky enters her slowly, savoring the whimper as she stretches around him. Stopping when he feels her tense beneath him. “Are you alright?”

Carina bites her lip and nods. “Ya…just go slow?” 

Bucky nods, pressing a kiss to her forehead before continuing achingly slowly. By the time his hips meet hers, his arms are nearly shaking from the restraint required to not plunge himself into her tight heat.

Carina breathes deeply, almost overwhelmed with the feeling of fullness. She bucks her hips experimentally and they both groan as pleasure washes over them. 

“Sweetheart you can’t do that and expect me to hold still” Bucky grits out. She bucks again, giving Bucky a mischievous grin. Taking that as permission, he pulls out part way and then thrusts back in. His pace starts out gentle but increases as they both give in to the yearning. 

Writhing under him, Carina’s moans urge him onwards until they are both close to their peak. “Bucky, I'm…”

“I know baby, I'm with you. Doing so good little Omega.” Bucky soothes and Carina instinctively  turns her head to the side, baring her mating gland to him. The small growl is the only warning he gives her before he sinks his teeth into her. 

White hot pleasure shoots through Carina as her climax hits and their bond snaps into place. She feels Bucky come seconds later, roaring her name. It feels like ages before her breathing returns to normal. Bucky is laying half on her and she turns her head to look at him, wincing as it pulls on the bite. 

“It should heal quickly.” Bucky smiles at her, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder. 

“I’m yours now.” Carina says softly as she lightly touches his mark.

Bucky shakes his head and presses a kiss to her forehead and his voice is thick. “No baby, I'm yours.”

#micole writes things now #bucky barnes #alpha!bucky barnes #long time coming #alpha!bucky #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x original female character #james buchanan barnes

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Long Time Coming ~ Part 7

My Blurb: I'm back!! I know I haven't posted in awhile and you probably thought I had abandoned this story. But after some set backs I am hopefully back in the swing of writing!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. You own nothing, I don’t give anyone permission to post this anywhere. 

Summary: Bucky had waited a long time to find an Omega. When Pepper introduces the team to her new assistant he knows shes the one.

Pairing: Alpha Bucky Barnes X OFC Omega Carina Rivera

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics

Status: In Progress

Tagging: @snarkandsarcasmftw  @pioched​  @ashes-writing @pizgloria @littlemissthistle

Read First: Long Time Coming Masterlist

Also Check Out: Main Masterlist

Carina came awake slowly, curled in warmth and surrounded by the comforting and unique smell that was Bucky. She smiled when she remembered how she had gotten here. Bucky had carried her to bed, depositing her gently before turning off the lights and pulling her into his arms. She had fallen asleep quickly, worn out from the day and despite what had happened, feeling safe tucked into his side. At some point she had kicked off the sweatpants and was clad only in the shirt Bucky had given her. 

She quickly became aware of the bruises and soreness from the previous night, shuddering as she remembered the look in Brock’s eyes when she couldn’t fight back. She shook it off, sitting up with a grimace and unable to stop a slight pout when she found the bed empty. 

Ignoring the pains and her reflection in the mirror she quickly used the restroom and then headed towards the living room to find Bucky. 

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

“He was let go from his position here and arrested on assault charges. Carina will just need to give a statement and see Dr. Cho to document the injuries.” Steve sighed at the look on Bucky’s face. He knew his friend wouldn’t like his Omega having to relive Brock’s attack on her. “She won’t be anywhere near him Buck, you can be with her the whole time, I can come as well. I bet we could get the whole team to come if it would make you feel better.”

“Maybe they should come, I clearly can’t keep her safe.” Bucky muttered, staring into his cup of coffee. Even with Carina safely in his bed he hadn’t slept well. Brock’s hands on her, her face when her heat started. They all replayed over and over, a mocking slideshow of ways he had failed her. 

Steve stood tall and Bucky knew he was about to get a lecture, but before Steve could reply, the door to Bucky’s bedroom opened and Carina appeared. She blushed and pulled the shirt she was wearing down her legs further when she realized Bucky wasn’t alone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” she squeaked out, her attempt to close the door was stopped when Bucky shot away from the counter and hurried to her side. 

“You aren’t interrupting, how are you feeling? Does anything hurt?”  Steve smirked to himself at the sight of Bucky fussing over the little omega who blushed harder but was clearly glowing under his attention. 

“I’m alright, just sore.” Carina replied, hardly realizing she had pressed herself immediately into Bucky when he approached. “Good morning Steve” she added softly, turning in Bucky’s arms to send a small smile his way. 

Steve replied with a smile of his own before looking intently at Bucky and raising an eyebrow. Bucky sighed before nodding and waving his arm in a gesture for Steve to tell Carina the news he had told him. 

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

Carina’s leg bounced under the table, only stopping when Bucky gently squeezed it and sent her a reassuring smile as they waited for the investigator in the interview room. Dr. Cho had efficiently and gently cataloged the injuries that had bloomed into colorful bruises overnight along with doing a general checkup to make sure nothing had been significantly damaged. She had reassured Bucky more than Carina, much to Steve’s amusement. 

He, along with Natasha & Wanda had accompanied them to the police station after the check up, silencing any objections about the number of guests allowed with a raised eyebrow. Bucky had growled when the receptionist offered them places to wait while Carina gave her account. She had let him accompany her without any protest after that. The way Carina stayed glued to Bucky’s side didn’t help their objections either. 

Bucky took a deep breath when the officers arrived and started asking questions. He wasn’t sure he could contain the anger that threatened to emerge as she replayed the night. Only the quiver in her voice kept him from storming to where Brock was being held and giving him another beating to make up for the pain to his omega.

“Thank you all for coming with me, it wasn’t necessary but I appreciate it.” Carina smiled at the group as Bucky helped her out of the car when they returned to the compound. 

Wanda pulled her in for a gentle hug, “Of course, you’re family. We protect our family.” 

“You have a couple days off, get healed up and get back to helping Pepper keep these guys in line.” Natalia followed Wanda for a hug. 

Bucky growled and glared when Steve looked like he was going in for a hug, only stopping when he put his hands up and stepped away. “Let us know if you need anything. I’ll see you at training Bucky.” 

 Carina waved as they left before turning to Bucky. “Do you mind walking me home before you go to training?”

“Do you need to grab something? I could have Wanda or Nat get it for you.” Bucky watched her. 

“Wanda get it for me? But I'm going there.” Carina cocked her head in confusion. “Am I not allowed after the attack?” 

“Oh…” Bucky scratched the back of his head with a guilty look on his face. “I guess I assumed you would be staying with me. Unless you would rather stay at your place, it’s just my area is more secure and…” he was cut off when Carina collapsed into his chest with a sob. “Hey, what’s wrong? Does something hurt? I can call for the doctor.” He looked in the direction their friends had gone. 

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck when he pulled her into his arms. “No, I’m…I'm fine, just tired but I really didn’t want to be alone and everything feels better when you’re here but I didn’t want to be in your way or keep you from your training.”

Bucky pulled back, placing his hand on her chin so he could look her in the eyes, “Carina, you are my number one priority. I will always be here for you first, whatever you need.”

“Bucky, you’re a superhero. Your job is important, people need...” Carina’s eyebrows furrowed as he cut her off.

“My job is to take care of you. I know I have been doing a shit job lately but I will be better.” He placed a finger over her lips when she tried to protest. “The first time I saw you, I couldn’t look away and then when your scent hit me…you are my home Carina. You may need more time but I don’t, I'm yours. I will prove it to you every single day. I don’t care what anyone else on this planet needs, only you.”

Carina’s lip wobbled and the back of her eyes prickled as tears formed. “You’re my home too Bucky, more than my family ever was.” She yawned and Bucky grinned, reaching down and pulling her into his arms. 

“Let’s get you to bed, we can figure the rest of this out later. All I need to know right now is my place or yours.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head when she mumbled his place and snuggled into his arms. 

#micole writes things now #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x original female character #alpha!bucky barnes #alpha!bucky #long time coming

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Some Hearts ~ Part 1

My Blurb: Guess who finally got around to watching the Reacher series! This girl. Guess who immediately fell in love with the introverted giant with biceps? Also this girl. Y'all should have known this was coming. He’s so my type, it’s not even funny. 

Disclaimer:  Alas, I own nothing but my ideas. I do not give permission for my writing to be shared anywhere without my consent. 

Summary: Reacher never needed anyone, he was a lone wolf and preferred it that way. But when he finds his mate beaten and bruised one night, she and the rest of the 110th show Reacher the benefits of being in a pack. Fated Mates, Shifter AU

Pairing: Jack Reacher x OFC Morgan Stone

Warnings: There are some darker things in this fic. Morgan is a rape and abuse survivor. Nothing is explicitly detailed but be advised. Your media consumption is your responsibility. This is a fated mates, wolf shifter AU and will contain claming, biting, mating and other wolf pack related things. 

Tagging: @pioched | @ashes-writing

Add yourself to my taglist HERE

Follow Along: Some Hearts Masterlist

Also Check Out: Main Masterlist

Margrave, Northern Georgia

He…missed, I couldn’t believe it. Wincing, I slid my feet over the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet with me and paused when I was fully standing. Pain radiates through my core, he hadn’t been gentle, despite knowing I had been a virgin. The tears hadn’t helped either and I could still feel the sting from when he had slapped me, telling me to “shut up and take it”. My lip was raw from where I had bitten it to try and stifle my sobs, and my shoulder hurt from the throbbing bite wound. But there was no pain or discomfort that would have come from disobeying an Alpha command, which meant his claiming bite hadn’t sealed the bond. 

Pulling the sheet around me, I carefully made my way to the en suite bathroom. Squinting at my neck by the light of the moon I almost sobbed. I didn’t dare turn on a light for fear of drawing attention to the fact that I was out of bed but the reflection in the mirror showed he had missed my mating gland by mere centimeters. He had issued the alpha command to “stay in that bed and be ready when I get back”  before stumbling off and from what I could tell had left the property, if the drunken yells, car doors and squealing tires were anything to go by. 

I shuddered as the situation sunk in, KJ was going to be furious when he realized. There would definitely be more hitting and he would do it again, forcing himself on me before making sure he hit his mark. And it would be soon, he was too proud of his excellent marksmanship to risk anyone finding out about this. 

You could leave, the thought floated through my brain and I clung to it. Could I though? I had no money, no family who would help me, nowhere to go. I had been isolated my whole life so my father could hide my condition so no friends to turn to. I slowly stepped back into the bedroom, my eye drawn to the closet door KJ had left open when he got dressed. I had heard a safe beeping before he reappeared and gave the command. 

You could leave, the thought came again, stronger this time as I walked into the closet and did a quick search, finding the safe behind the door. And it was…open, just barely. Like he had swung it as he turned and didn’t wait to see if it latched. With a shaking hand I reached out and pulled it open, gasping when I saw the stacks of money sitting inside with several envelopes. 

Turning away, I quickly swept my eyes around the closet. If I was going to leave, I needed to disguise myself. Once he realized I was gone, he would start looking and I knew enough about his family to know that they would hack into any surveillance footage they wanted. Dropping the sheet and ignoring the pain I moved quickly. Pulling on a pair of sweats and then layering a couple t-shirts under a black hoodie. I thought about wearing his shoes to disguise any prints but it would make me clumsy so I pulled my own on. Stuffing my hair under a hat I took a look at myself in the mirror. The large baggy clothes made me look heavier, hopefully enough to not warrant a second glance if they were looking for me. Heading back to the closet I grabbed two stacks of the cash, shoving one in my bra and splitting the other between my sock and my pocket. 

I could hear voices downstairs when I pulled the door open enough to peak into the hallway. Of course he would have left guard in place but I was praying he had been relying on the Alpha command to keep me in place. Closing the door gently, I turned to the window that faced the back of the property. It opened quietly and I breathed a sigh of relief when it looked like I could climb down. It was painful and I expected to hear shouts at any moment but I made it to the ground with a soft thud. 

Southwestern Foothills of the Adirondack Mountains, New York

Reacher waved his hand as the bus pulled away. Waiting for the dust to clear before heading down the hard packed gravel and dirt road that wove its way away from the highway and into the Black River Wild Forest. Five miles of walking later and he catches his first glimpse of Rock Hill Village, Home of the Rock Hill Pack led by Neagley. Most of the 110th had settled there making it the closest thing he had to what could be considered a home. 

Technically he owned a cabin here, it was all Neagley and Dixon’s doing. They had done all of the decorating and furnishing; refusing to let anyone else live there. Told him that when his lone wolf days were over, it would be waiting for him. 

He hadn’t been back in nearly a year but Neagley always knew when he was coming. He argued that he set off the pack boundary sensors early. She said it was because he was part of her pack whether he wanted to be or not. Regardless, his cabin was always warm and ready for him. He wasn’t sure why or when he had decided he was coming back this time. He was in New York before he even realized it, like something was pulling him here. Sure enough, by the time he made it to the shrine of the Moon Goddess in the village square Neagley was already standing in front of the bar that doubled as the pack house and her home. 

“Welcome back boss.” She grinned at him, arms crossed before nodding her head to the bar and opening the door for him. 

Two Weeks Later, Black River Wild Forest, New York

I shivered despite the coat I was bundled in. The heart of New York this time of year was cold, made colder by the wind that was threatening to blow in a storm. Fighting the urge to head back to the town I skirted around a few miles ago, I headed into the tree line. According to the map I had picked up, once I made it through the Black River Wild Forest I just had to get across the border and then I would be in Canada. Shifter laws were different there and I was hoping I would be far enough from KJ that he would never find me. 

Once I had snuck off his property, I had headed to Atlanta and taken the first bus leaving. Not wanting to risk being caught immediately after escaping. The last two weeks had been a series of buses and walking. A plane would have been faster but I didn’t have any form of identification and I was sure airports were being watched. I had avoided big cities as well, despite the desire to attempt to lose myself in the bustling crowd of New York City. 

In an effort to save money and keep away from cameras, I had spent the last week sleeping in the woods or abandoned sheds. Not that I got a lot of sleep regardless, my nightmares always woke me after a couple of hours. Every night I dreamed of KJ finding me and dragging me back to Georgia, so every night I pushed myself as far as I could. 

An hour later, the wind had picked up and a small drizzle had started falling from the sky, soaking me to the bone. I was deep in the forest now, exhaustion and cold blurring my vision as I searched for somewhere I could take shelter. 

Keep going, the thought flitted through my brain. The trees began to thin out and I moved faster, praying to the moon goddess that there was a house or something ahead. Bursting through the treeline I barely stopped myself from plummeting down a slope and into a shallow river. My senses were dulled but I could just make out light coming from ahead, a village from the looks of it. 

I had just settled on a place to cross when a gust of wind came from the trees and knocked me off balance. I grabbed a nearby bush to steady myself but the ground beneath me gave way and I slid down the slope and straight into the river. The icy water knocked the breath out of me and I just managed to keep my mouth closed against a scream when my arm slammed into a rock as I hit the bottom. 

Gotta swim, keep going. The thought bombarded me and I pushed off the river bed with all my might, gasping for air when my head crested the water. The arm that had hit the rock was useless, pain shooting up and down as I tried to swim towards the shore. The water was pulling against me and I barely grabbed a log that was sticking out of the bank. Pulling myself along with my good arm I managed to get out of the water and collapsed. I was freezing now and so tired. I’ll just rest a minute before I head towards the lights.

Rock Hill Village, New York

“Reacher, you got a copy?” Franz’s voice crackled through the earpiece.

“Affirmative.” Reacher replied, focusing on removing a tree limb that had blown itself across the fence behind the repair shop. He’d been in Rock Hill for a week before Neagley had put him on the security team that monitored the pack lands for threats. Few wolf shifters dared to cross into their territory but rogues and ferals were always an issue and Neagley ran a tight ship. Everyone in her pack had a job and role to play. Reacher respected that and had agreed to the job without argument. 

Franz’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “We just got a ping on the southern boundary by the river. Something bigger than a normal animal crossed it. Alpha wants it checked out.”

“I’ll investigate,” he replied, abandoning the tree limb in favor of shifting to his wolf form and heading towards the river. 

A couple minutes later, another wolf joined him on the path. He recognized Franz’s wolf and nodded his head, following him to where the boundary had pinged. He caught the scent of another shifter before he saw her. 

The woman was pushing herself to her feet as they approached and shifted back to their human forms. Her right arm was cradled against her chest and she was covered in mud and soaking wet. He could see her shivering and she looked terrified. Lowering his hands and putting them face up so she could see them, he slowly approached. 

The woman's eyes darted to Franz, looking him over before switching to Reacher’s, her face paleing further as she took in his size. He was used to looking intimated but a churning deep in his gut told him his wolf didn’t like that she was frightened. She locked eyes with him and his breath caught as a spark erupted from his chest and collided with one that came from hers. Glowing briefly in a shimmering light that had them all shielding their eyes before disappearing.

“Reacher, Franz. Do you copy?” Neagley’s voice echoed through the radio that had come unhooked from the earpiece during his shift.

Reacher ignored it as his eyes refocused on the woman, just catching her eyes rolling to the back of her head and her body starting to fall. He made it to her side, catching her just before she hit the ground. 

“We need Roscoe at the hospital asap.” Franz yelled into the radio, his wide eyes catching the confused look on Reacher’s face. 

“What did you find? Sensors are pinging in your area like crazy” Neagley’s voice sounded winded, like she was already running.

Standing and quickly heading towards the village, Reacher answered “We found my mate.”

#micole writes things now #reacher x ofc #jack reacher #reacher #alan ritchson reacher #not tom cruise reacher #never tom cruise #fated mates #shifter au #some hearts

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Where Do You Write?

I currently use Google Docs but they have their own issues plus I'm trying to look into something that helps me organize the different worlds a little better. I don't love the idea of a program that I have to download because I use multiple devices (home, work, phone, ipad) when I'm writing. I would rather it be something online if possible that won't cost an arm and a leg.

Recommendations?

#micole writes things now #writblr #writing tools #author tools #story telling #help me #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writerblr #writer problems

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Some Hearts ~ Part 2

My Blurb: Thank you all for the positive feedback! It really reminds me how much I love writing!

Disclaimer:  Alas, I own nothing but my ideas. I do not give permission for my writing to be shared anywhere without my consent. 

Summary: Reacher never needed anyone, he was a lone wolf and preferred it that way. But when he finds his mate beaten and bruised one night, she and the rest of the 110th show Reacher the benefits of being in a pack. Fated Mates, Shifter AU

Pairing: Jack Reacher x OFC Morgan Stone

Warnings: This chapter takes place in a hospital. There are some darker things in this fic. Morgan is a rape and abuse survivor. Nothing is explicitly detailed but be advised. Your media consumption is your responsibility. This is a fated mates, wolf shifter AU and will contain claming, biting, mating and other wolf pack related things. 

Tagging: @pioched | @ashes-writing | @titty-teetee2

Add yourself to my taglist HERE

Read First: Some Hearts Masterlist

Also Check Out: Main Masterlist

Rock Hill Village Hospital, New York

“Reacher.” Roscoe’s voice pulled him out of the flashback he was having. Looking over to the door, he nodded at her before getting quietly out of the chair. Despite protests from Roscoe, the village’s head doctor, he had spent the last twelve hours keeping a silent vigil in his little mate’s hospital room. She had already seemed terrified, waking up alone in a strange place would only make it worse.

“She’s due for a vital check and a new saline drip, i’ll stay until you get back.” The head nurse, Charlie Hubble, patted his arm as she slipped in and headed to the monitor by her bed. 

He spared his mate another glance before following Roscoe into the hallway. Noticing the clipboard in her hands he nodded to it. “How bad?” 

“Dehydrated, mild hypothermia, possible pneumonia, under-nourished, several scratches, bruises, broken arm.” She sighed, flipping a page on the clipboard “All signs that she’s been on her own for awhile. That’s not the weird part though. Some of the bruising is serious. Some recent, that she probably got when she fell in the water, but some are in the final stage of healing.”

“Why would bruising be weird?” Reacher frowned, looking at the page when Roscoe handed it to him. 

“Some of the bruises are at least two weeks old. They are in the final stages of healing…by human standards.” She shook her head, “She’s a shifter, all of her blood work shows it. The fact that the mating bond was triggered proves it. But she either hasn’t or can’t shift. If she was shifting, these older ones would be gone and the ones from last night would be halfway healed.” She pointed out the pictures on the page as she spoke. “You said she was in human form when you found her?” 

Reacher nodded, studying the pictures in front of him. “Ya, I assumed she had shifted back after she got herself out of the water.” 

Roscoe shook her head. “I don’t think she’s shifted in at least two weeks. And judging from these bruises, I don’t think she was out for a nice walk through the woods and got lost. I think something happened to her.” 

“She’s on the run from something.” Reacher crumpled the paper in his fist as the realization dawned on him. “Or someone.”

“There’s one more thing.” Roscoe met his eyes with a hint of trepidation. “There’s a bite mark on her neck,” she held her hand up as fury crossed his features. “It’s not on her mating gland, it’s as close as it can get though.” 

Before he could respond, the door beside them opened and Charlie poked her head through. “She’s awake.” 

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

A soft humming and beeping were the first things I became aware of. I felt sluggish and opening my eyes felt like swimming through mud. I managed to open them a sliver, groaning when the lights forced them closed again. 

A small gasp and then shuffling was followed by a woman’s voice. “I dimmed the lights and closed the blinds, it should be better now.” 

Opening my eyes a second time was easier and the dimly lit hospital room slowly came into focus around me. The room was small but cozy, a normal hospital setup. “Where am I?” I looked towards the woman standing beside the bed.

“You’re in Rock Hill Village. I’m Charlie, head nurse here at the hospital. You’ve been unconscious for about 12 hours. I was checking your vitals while Dr. Roscoe filled Reacher in on your injuries, he didn't want you to be alone.” She nodded to the other side of the bed where a chair had a blanket tossed haphazardly on it and a few empty food containers on the table. “I need to let them know you’ve woken up.” 

The relief I felt at not being back in Georgia flowed through me as the nurse walked towards the door of the room. She opened it a little and stuck her head through. As soon as she turned back towards me a blonde woman in a doctor's coat stepped through but my gaze caught on the figure that appeared behind her. His head almost grazed the top of the door frame as he stepped into the room and closed the door. I was reasonably sure his biceps were pushing the limits of the black shirt he was wearing and more muscles kept appearing the longer I looked at him. When I reached his face, his blue eyes were staring back at me with an amused but concerned expression.

“Charlie, can you let Alpha Neagley know she’s awake.” I jumped and blushed, not realizing the blonde woman had made her way to the right side of my bed. “I’m Dr. Roscoe. How are you feeling?” 

“I…I feel…sluggish.” I shrugged, trying to keep my gaze on her and not on the giant who had approached the foot of my bed when Charlie left the room. 

She nodded, “That’s to be expected, I put you on some medicine to help you sleep. You’re pretty banged up, especially this arm.” She pointed to where my right arm was bandaged in a cast. She spends the next couple minutes having me watch a light and listening to my lungs. “Doesn’t look like you have any head damage and your lungs are sounding clearer. How much do you remember about getting to the hospital?” 

“I remember being in the woods and the storm picking up. I saw the lights of a town…” I drifted off, trying to remember after that. “I was trying to cross the river but the bank gave way.” I shivered as the memory of the freezing water came back to me. “I don’t know after that.”

“You dragged yourself onto the bank, that’s where Franz and I found you.” The giant spoke. His voice was firm but soft like he didn’t want to startle me again. 

The door to the room opened again and another woman walked in with Charlie behind her. She was slim and while not as tall as the giant, she held herself with an authority that rivaled his. She confidently stepped to the spot beside him before speaking. “Welcome to Rock Hill Village, I’m Francis Neagley, pack Alpha.” 

“You’re the Alpha here?” I whispered, cheeks heating when the giant grinned and chuckled. “I’m sorry, I…” she put her hand up and I stopped talking immediately, fear swirling in my chest.

“No harm done, it’s usually a shock when new people find out. Especially other pack Alphas.” She shrugged and I was awed by her confidence. “Speaking of, we couldn’t find any identification on you so we couldn’t let your pack know you’re here.” She smiled as the fear ratched up a notch. 

“I’m Morgan…um Stone.” I winced hoping they didn’t notice me stumbling over my last name. I couldn’t force myself to say Kliner, they would know who to contact and my hand drifted to the spot he had bitten me. Glancing up, I noticed the giant watching me closely and I dropped my hand immediately. 

“Where are you from?” The question came from Charlie, who had made her way back to my left side, at the same time Dr. Roscoe asked how long I had been in the woods. I froze, looking between the two of them. Neither was a question I wanted to answer. 

“I…ummm…” I sputtered, glancing around me. The four of them had me surrounded and I suddenly felt very panicked. They were going to find out who I was and they were going to send me back to him. All of the work I had put in the last two weeks was going to be for nothing. KJ was going to claim me physically and secure the bond permanently, I would never get a chance to escape him again. More questions came from the three women but I couldn’t make them out anymore, panic was overtaking me and my vision was swimming. 

“Stop” the voice rang out clearly and firmly, immediately snapping me back to the present, my eyes focusing on the giant. I trembled as he looked at me and then around the room before coming to the right side of my bed. Dr. Roscoe moved aside and took his previous spot as he gently sat on the edge of my bed. His bulk was enough to cause the mattress to dip and my body shifted slightly towards him with the movement. I should have been scared by his nearness but the panic seemed to subside now that he was closer. “You’re safe here, no one is going to hurt you.” 

He spoke his words with conviction, like he had already seen my future and knew without a doubt he was right. I waited for the inherent distrust I'd always had of male shifters to bubble up but it didn’t happen. Something flickered on the edge of my memory the longer I looked at him and as the fear inside of me fizzled out I found myself believing him. 

His eyes never wavered from my face so he saw the moment I was calm again. He nodded before continuing. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. No one will make you. But I…we can’t help you unless we know what’s going on.” 

I spared the rest of the room a glance, they didn’t look angry, just a mix of curiosity and concern. Charlie gave me a comforting smile, “Why don’t I go get you something to eat and drink. Are you allergic to anything?” I shook my head and she headed out the door. 

Sending a quick prayer to the Moon Goddess that I could trust these people I gave them a quick rundown of my story. The bonding ceremony, skating over the details of the failed claiming, how I had decided to make a run for it and stayed under the radar the past couple weeks, slowly making my way towards Canada. 

When I finished Charlie had returned and set a bowl of soup and a cup of water on a tray she swung over my bed. The giant still hadn’t moved from his spot by my right knee, it was comforting in a way and I could feel the heat radiating from him.

I had told the story with my hands in my lap, fiddling with my arm band so I didn’t have to watch their faces. Now I risked a peek up. Roscoe was scribbling notes on the clipboard while Charlie looked over her shoulder, the Alpha had one hand on her hip and the other on her chin looking like she was scanning through her memories and the giant was still watching me but there seemed to be a glint of something angry in his eyes that had me immediately turning my attention to the soup. 

“There is something I’m curious about, if you don’t mind me asking.” Dr. Roscoe asked and I nodded for her to continue while I took a bite of the soup. 

“Your bruises and injuries. Judging by your story and the healing progress some of those are from the night you were…” she pauses, casting a quick glance at the giant. “From the night you escaped. Why haven’t you shifted? You would be more healed and would have been able to travel faster.” 

Although it's awkward with my left hand, I take another bite of the soup to buy myself some time. I knew when I woke up in the hospital this would come up, any halfway decent doctor would be able to tell I didn’t heal like a normal shifter. My father had paid a lot of money to find a cure for my condition but had never been able to, I was sure he had killed them afterwards. I was always going to be a payday for him and he couldn’t let it get out or my value would diminish.

“I can’t shift. I’m not even sure if I have a wolf.” I cringed, waiting for the mocking or scathing remarks but there was nothing but the sound of Roscoe making another note. 

I looked at her but she just smiled, like I hadn’t just dropped something huge on her. The Alpha looked thoughtful but not upset, “I think that’s enough questions for now. We should let you get your rest.” The three ladies seemed to take that as their cue, Charlie showed me the button I could press if I needed anything before she headed out the door, the other two following her.

I turned back to the giant who hadn’t moved and was still watching me carefully. “I…I didn’t catch your name.” My words were a whisper but I know he heard them. 

“I’m Reacher…Jack Reacher, I'm your fated mate.”  

#micole writes things now #jack reacher #some hearts #reacher x ofc #reacher #alan ritchson #not tom cruise reacher #alan ritchson reacher

[readingandwritingandreading]

From The Ground Up ~ Part 4

My Blurb:  Sorry for the delay, this one got away from me. I had hoped to post it last week but *shrug* life. Enjoy! Taglist is always open!

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Summary: Drew’s been in the wrestling business a long time and seen his fair share of Alpha & Omega drama. He’s certain when he finds his Omega this won’t be a problem, until the scent of cherries and orchids fill his senses and Cassidy Riley strolls into his life and he realizes a real relationship has to be built from the ground up. 

Pairing: Alpha Drew McIntyre x Omega OFC Cassidy Riley 

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics

Status: In Progress

Tagging: @pioched​​ | @ashes-writing​ | @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore​ | @thebookwormcat

Read First: From The Ground Up Masterlist

Also Check Out: My Whole Masterlist 

I groaned when knocking on my door roused me from sleep. I waited a minute to see if they went away, huffing when they knocked again. Untangling myself from the sheets I stumbled to the door flinging it open without looking to see who it was. I stared at the hotel employee standing by a cart with a shocked look on his face as he took in my bare legs. Belatedly I realized I was only wearing a t- shirt that didn’t make it much past my boy shorts.

Pulling the shirt down I cleared my throat, “Can I help you?”

He stuttered before replying, “Your room service order.” He gestured to the cart covered in trays of food. 

“I didn’t order room service” I replied, earning a confused look as he pulled out an order form from his pocket.

“Cassidy Riley, room 337?” He read before looking at my room number with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, that's me, but…” I was cut off by the door across the hall opening and Drew stepping out. He looked wide awake and was already dressed in a shirt and jeans. The smile on his face gave way to a flash of desire as his eyes raked over me turning into a scowl when he saw the server. He moved quickly, nearly shoving me into the room to block me from the view of the poor server who looked terrified in the face of Drew’s hostility. 

“That will be all” Drew growled before grabbing the cart, pulling it in and shutting the door to my room. I stared warily at his back as he seemed to be struggling to control himself, his hands flexing. “You should put pants on.” His voice was low and I shuddered before turning to my suitcase, pulling a pair of sweats out and retreating to the bathroom. 

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

I struggled to tamp down the rush of desire that had swept through me when I opened the door to my room. The sight of my mate, in just a shirt, hair rumpled had nearly been my undoing. It did nothing to quell the fantasies that had haunted me all night of her long legs wrapped around my waist while I claimed her. The rage followed next when I saw the server looking at what was mine, it had taken everything in me to not pin him against the wall. His fear was enough for now. 

Cracking my neck, I surveyed Cassidy’s room. Her scent was everywhere and I breathed in deeply letting it calm me. She was neat, the only mess being the blankets and pillows sprawled across the bed. Don’t think of her in the bed Drew. I chided myself before getting to work on breakfast.  I pulled the desk out from the wall and placed the armchair on one side, with the office chair on the other side before arranging the plates on the desk. 

Cassidy emerged from the bathroom a moment later looking more awake. She had brushed her hair back into a ponytail and pulled on a pair of sweats. She stayed by the door but looked at the food and I faintly heard her stomach rumble at the sight. I pulled the armchair out and gestured for her to sit, “I thought we could have breakfast together but I didn’t know what you liked.” I smiled when she laughed but took the seat I offered. 

“So you ordered the whole menu?” She grinned at me when I shrugged and handed her a plate. “Well you should know, I’m allergic to those.” She pointed her fork at the bowl of strawberries and I grabbed them quickly heading towards the door. Opening it I saw Pete walking down the hall and shoved the bowl in his hands. He looked at me for a second before shrugging and continuing down the hall after popping a strawberry in his mouth.

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

I hid my laugh as Drew helped the older lady to her new seat. It hadn’t been much effort for him to sweet talk her into trading him seats so he could have the one beside me but now she wouldn’t stop talking about what a fine man he was and how I was so lucky to have a strong alpha looking out for me. I had definitely seen her grope his butt when he reached for her bag and she was clearly trying to go for it again. I bit my lip when he finally plopped into the seat next to me and tried to look innocent when he looked at me and rolled his eyes. 

“To be fair you have a nice butt” The giggle burst out of me and he chuckled as well. I had become more comfortable with him during breakfast and our conversations flowed without too many awkward pauses. I was beginning to think maybe the other night had been a fluke and he wasn’t going to be a caveman. 

“I’m glad you think so.” His eyes searched mine and the giggle died at the intensity of what I saw. I found myself leaning towards it when the stewardess began her safety briefing with a loud announcement and I jumped back. 

“So what do you usually do on plane rides?” I asked softly when the stewardess finished. 

“Sleep,” Drew admitted with a grin. “I’m a great napper. What about you?” 

I laughed at his response. “I don’t usually sleep, I get too nervous something might happen. I mostly read. I always keep a couple books handy.” I held up my bag. “Plus I can use it for defense if an Alpha gets handsy.” I raised my eyebrow at him and he put his hands up. 

“No one will touch you without permission if I'm here. Not even me.” he added gravely and I nodded, believing him completely. “What do you like to read?” He asked after a moment. 

Shit! “Oh…um.” My brain scrambled to think of a response that was anything but what the contents of my current books were. “Just you know…books.” I motioned with my hand as I felt the heat rising in my face. 

He looked at me curiously before quickly reaching into my bag and snagging one of the books. I was nowhere near fast enough to stop him so I covered my face with my hands instead. His breath hitched beside me but he didn’t say anything and I peeked from between my fingers to see the look on his face as he studied the cover before flipping it over to read the back. 

I paused, I may as well tell him, it was out there now. “I like to read historical romances…preferably the ones set in Scotland.” I lowered my hands and glanced at him nervously. He was still studying my well worn copy of Highland Wolf by Hannah Howell.

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

I stared at the book I had snagged from Cassidy’s bag, hope blooming in my chest as I took it in. She was embarrassed beside me, I didn’t need our bond to know that. The misery in her tone and the blush that crept up her chest and face gave it away. She snatched the book away when I turned towards her, stuffing it quickly back in her bag.

“The irony is not lost on me.” She muttered, crossing her arms. “Hannah Howell is my favorite, she specializes in medieval Scotland.” 

“I feel very qualified to be your Alpha all of a sudden,” I grinned, making a mental note to get her opinion on my ring gear from now on. 

She groaned before shoving my arm. “Can we talk about something else? Anything!” 

“Aye, fine.” I laughed at her glare when I turned my accent up a notch, noticing how it made her cross her legs tightly. “How did you end up in WWE?”

She relaxed at the question, “I moved to Florida hoping to be a news anchor. I was on at like 4:00 in the morning on a tiny station for awhile, which as you saw, I am not a morning person, didn’t end up working out. I hopped around to a few different things, waitress, secretary until I met Kayla. We hit it off right away, she introduced me to Byron and they convinced me to apply as a backstage interviewer.” She shrugged, staring out the window. “I was comfortable doing that and I love to travel so when they offered I accepted. I haven’t looked back since.” 

The rest of the flight continued in a similar fashion. I learned she was a few years younger than me, born in July. She was surprised that I had a degree in Criminology but nodded approvingly when I told her it was because my parents wanted me to have a back up. She told me about her family; her parents were true mates and she had one older brother who was an Alpha but hadn’t found his mate yet. A wistful look appeared on her face when she told me about how her parents had always encouraged them to wait for their true mates before settling down. She blushed when she realized what she said, looking down at her lap. 

I grab her hand and press a soft kiss to her wrist, enjoying the small gasp that escapes her. “My parents were true mates as well, if it wasn’t for me and my sister, my dad wouldn’t have made it after mom passed.” I breathed in Cassidy’s scent, letting it combat the pain that always came with talking about my mom. “She would be thrilled that I found you after all this time.” 

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

An ache in my stomach started the second we made it to my gate in Atlanta. Different than the pain in my head when we are apart, this one settles in at the mere thought of us being separated. The next show is in three days and didn’t allow us enough time for us to both travel to both our homes to restock so we decided we would have to split in Atlanta. After that it would be a couple weeks of full time shows and travel leading up to SummerSlam. We had made plans to facetime tonight a few hours after we both landed. Him in Tennessee and me in Florida. It would have to work for now, he was willing to wait until I was ready and while my opinion was far better then it had been the first night, I was still wary. 

My flight left first and we had made it to my gate just as the first call was made to start loading. Drew pulled our suitcases to a stop before grabbing my arm and gently turning me towards him. “I need to ask you a favor.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, he was looking around anxiously like we were about to be attacked. 

“Can I scent you? I know it’s only a couple of days, but it goes against every one of my instincts to let you get on that plane without me. I have waited too long to find you.” His words are a plea and my heart softens at the look in his eyes. He’s respecting my boundaries by not going full caveman but he’s still an Alpha. 

I step closer to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face to his chest inhaling his scent. He stiffens for a moment before wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me tighter. I’ve always been tall and somewhat gangly for an Omega who are usually shorter with softer edges but Drew fits against me perfectly and Kiya’s words flash through my brain. Made just for you, right in front of your face.

The second call for my flight rings out and I smile up at him as we pull apart. “Looks like you’d better hurry.” Drew grins before gently rubbing the inside of wrists against his neck and a shiver runs through me when he places a lingering kiss on the mating gland on my neck. 

He smirks when he sees the glazed look in my eyes as he pulls away, quickly unzipping his hoodie and wrapping it around me. “Just in case, be safe.” 

I smile at him before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You too, I’ll talk to you tonight.” I feel his gaze on me as I hand over my ticket and head across the bridge. I give him one last glance as I turn the corner, the ache in my head already starting to grow. 

The ache grows as the plane gets further from Drew and I can almost pinpoint the moment his plane takes off in the opposite direction halfway through my flight. I bury my nose in his hoodie and breathe deeply letting his scent comfort the ache some but it doesn’t last. Even trying to read is useless, the characters all appear as Drew in my head and during a spicy scene I realize an Alpha a couple rows away is eyeing me. 

By the time I arrive back at my apartment I'm exhausted from the travel. I quickly text Drew that I am home before unpacking my luggage and starting some laundry. I sigh in relief when I find a full bottle of wine and quickly grab a glass and my laptop, setting up camp in my living room until it’s time to Facetime Drew. 

Flipping through Netflix doesn’t help me relax so I settle for calling my mom instead. As expected, she is thrilled when I fill her in about finding Drew and over an hour later I have to remind her that he will be calling soon and I have to go. 

#micole writes things now #drew mcintyre x ofc #drew mcintyre #alpha!drew mcintyre #alpha!drew #From the ground up

[readingandwritingandreading]

Some Hearts ~ Masterlist

Summary: Reacher never needed anyone, he was a lone wolf and preferred it that way. But when he finds his mate beaten and bruised one night, she and the rest of the 110th show Reacher the benefits of being in a pack. Fated Mates, Shifter AU

Pairing: Shifter Jack Reacher X OFC Morgan Stone

Warnings: There are some darker things in this fic. Morgan is a rape and abuse survivor. Nothing is explicitly detailed but be advised. Your media consumption is your responsibility. This is a fated mates, wolf shifter AU and will contain claming, biting, mating and other wolf pack related things.

Status: In Progress

Part 1

#micole writes things now #some hearts #jack reacher #reacher #reacher x ofc #alan ritchson #amazon reacher #fated mates #shifter au

[readingandwritingandreading]

State of the Blog Address

Another fic done, another status update.

First off a special shout out to my bestie and storyline coordinator @pioched. None of this would happen without her. You guys have no idea how much work she does behind the scenes to help me out.

Completed:

Hold You Up - Marcel Barthel x Kiya Bryant x Fabian Aichner

Heartbeat - Ethan Carter III x Adalynn Strowman

Yours - Dominik Dijakovic x Skye Simmons

The Day Before You - Ridge Holland x Lyssa Hutchinson

Long Time Coming - Bucky Barnes x Carina Rivera

In Progress:

From The Ground Up - Drew McIntire x Cassidy Riley 

Coming Soon (In no particular order):

Finally Home - Ari Levinson x Brianna Collier 

Rescue Me - Marcel Barthel x Sofia (Reese) x Fabian Aichner

Cross Every Line - Marcel Barthel x Alina Lawson x Fabian Aichner

What If - Julius Creed x Fiora Osborne

Some Hearts - Jack Reacher x Morgan Stone

I have a new system in place for doing fics and I really think it's going to help me get them done in a more timely manner.

If you are interested in being on any taglists feel free to add yourself HERE

You can find my Masterlist HERE

All my fics are also on A03 HERE

#micole writes things now #bucky barnes #jack reacher #julius creed #marcel barthel #giovanni vinci #fabian aichner #ludwig kaiser #ari levinson #drew mcintyre #ridge holland #dominik dijakovic #dijak #ec3 #ethan carter iii #james barnes