#i have not had a drink since October and frankly i am over it i want to get drunk with my friends and play board games so bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

communicationthroughlyrics · 7 months

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So Fucked Up, From the Way That You Touch - Part 1

A party at the beach with your friends, to blow off some steam after a rough break up. Well, that turned into something else.

This will be a little two parter- I am working through some writer block on my chaptered pic, and was dabbling with this. It got a little long, so I am breaking it into two parts. Let me know whatcha think- the second part of this is the smutty part ;] I hope y'all enjoy!

No warnings yet ;]

The sun was beating in through the windshield of your blacked out truck, proving that it was no match for the tint you had on all the windows to keep prying eyes out of the happenings of your vehicle. You weren’t someone who participated in nefarious or delinquent activities, if fact, you were the opposite- you liked your privacy. You had always been regarded as the quiet, observant and reserved one of your friends. You coincidentally made friends with plenty of people who were the exact opposite of you- boisterous, life of the party types. Often times, you were the “ol’ reliable” of the group, always there for anyone who needed the ride home after a long night of drinking, or when someone was being cross in their direction.

You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts, before grabbing the backpack in the passenger seat that contained your beach towel, sunscreen and other necessities for an evening at the beach. You had been dreading today, trying to think of an excuse or a convenient white lie to allow you an escape, particularly with the nasty breakup you had just gone through. But your friends, they wouldn’t have it. The sun was on its last few hours before it descended below the horizon, and then there would be a huge bonfire, and the party would continue well into the night. You had been to enough of these parties to know they went until the wee hours of the morning. As you gathered the necessary items that you had obliged to bring, the cooler with your spirit of choice, and some snacks for sharing, your best friend came running up to you, wrapping you into a tight hug from behind.

“Y/N/N! You didn’t flake on us!” She laughed, pulling away and punching you in the arm. You turned in her direction with your eyebrow raised, your pointed brow just making an appearance over your dark sunglasses. She looked you over, shaking her head at your choice in attire. “Y/N, what in gods green earth are you wearing? Are you going to a funeral or something after this? It’s a beach party. Not work. Relax. ” You looked down at the dark blue jeans, black vans, and black hoodie that adorned your body. Frankly, you were so used to hiding your tattoos for work- being an officer didn’t allow for the expression of body art- so you weren’t fazed by your choices. It was just second nature. The only tattoos that were currently exposed were the ones along your slender fingers and on the backs of your hands, and the ones that you allowed to sneak up the side of your neck. Typically, you wore a turtle neck for work, along with gloves. You lifted the black baseball hat off your head, running your hands through your undercut black hair, before replacing it on your head.

“Sorry, I was under the impression I couldn’t wear white after labor day,” you smirk, and turn back to grab the remainder of your belongings. “I do wear things underneath, Mar. It’s the middle of October, beaches get cold at night.”

“Duh! That’s what the fire is for!” The shorter blonde rolled her eyes, and was already slightly tipsy, your 15 year friendship allowing you to know the woman inside and out. Marliana had known you since transferring to your San Diego middle school for the tail end of 8th grade, and then you both ended up going to the same high school and college, just for different majors. You had instantly taken a liking to her, with an affliction for blondes with accents and blue or green eyes, but became best friends, as she definitely didn’t play for your team. You grabbed the heavy bags as she grabbed the light bag, and walked around the house, down the boardwalk to the beach below. As you descended from the street to the shore, your eyes began to scan the group of people for familiar faces. There were plenty of people here you had met before, and some new people as well.

You approached a group of people already huddled around a smaller fire, knowing one of them would be your popsicle of a best friend Kennedy, who could literally live in Death Valley and still find a way to be freezing. You approached her, and as predicted, she was bundled in a few layers, her brown hair curled, and a hoodie and two jackets cloaking her rather small frame. You threw your cooler in-between yours and her chair, plopping yourself down next to her.

“Hey, Kenz.” You smile in her direction, and she turns to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders in a brief hug. “How are you, my little eskimo?” You laugh as she pulled away, bopping her nose with your finger before reaching between the chairs to grab a drink out of the cooler. She groaned at the nickname, before turning her gaze fully to yours.

“Don’t make fun of me! You know I hate that nickname,” she pouts, and you cackle. You both had been friends since kindergarten, going through every single grade together. Your paths separated in college, but after that was over, your search for a barber that could keep up with your ever changing styles was found- in your best childhood friend. Mar and Kenz didn’t necessarily get along at first, but now you think they may be closer than you. “I should be asking you how you’re doing. I'm glad you left the bitch, lets be honest- but I know its been rough for you.” She asked, already knowing part of the answer to her question.

She made no effort to hide her strong dislike of your most recent ex. Your ex didn’t like how close you were to some of your friends, particularly Kennedy, since you had known her for so long, your relationship was blunt to say the least, and very hands on. Many nights at out you would act as a couple to stave off an awkward conversation with a stranger, with her rubbing your chest, or making suggestive comments in your ear, even having kissed her on multiple occasions. But you never saw her as a partner, just a very strong platonic relationship. She was also a very expressive person, and preferred touch to communicate. You took it as part of the territory, but your ex girlfriend did not like it, and no matter how much you tried to cut back from Kennedy, it was never enough.

“It’s been ok, honestly. Just some rediscovery, and I feel like a 140 pound weight has been cut off my ankle.” You shrug and laugh, you had known the relationship was going nowhere, but the last few months had been hell. You finally ended it, which caused the woman to loose her absolute mind. But after two years of her nitpicking and pulling apart every relationship you had, it was time for it to end. Kennedy smiled, knowing that you were putting up a wall in regard to your last relationship.

“I’m just glad its over, Y/N/N. I need my cuddle buddy for movie night back!” You rolled your eyes at her response, and she slapped your shoulder. “Jerk.” She muttered, making you laugh into your drink.

“I love you too, Kenz.” You give her a slight hug, and then stand up to go mull around in the groups, catch up with some of your other friends.

After you had made your way though three or four groups, and then got roped into a volleyball game, it had finally got warm enough that you came back to your chair, ready to strip off your hoodie. Instead, you found an unfamiliar person in it talking to Kennedy with a rapt interest. It didn’t really strike you as super odd, Kenz was definitely the more sociable of the two of you, but she was definitely talking to this woman like she really knew her. But, after all, this was a huge beach party, so not out of the ordinary.

“Y/N!” Kennedy called out as you approached. “I wanted to introduce you to someone, this is another client of mine, I’ve been cutting her hair for… how long now?” She looked back to the blonde, trying to think of a timeline. A noticeably raspy voice answered, coming from the woman in your chair, almost sending you to your knees alone from how it affected you.

“7 years, I think.” Was the response.

“Fuck, has it really been that long?” Kennedy stared in disbelief.

“Yeah, I think so. It was right out of school for you, you got a job at my old stylists salon. He was sick for a period of time, and had you cut my hair instead.”

“Well, there you go, Y/N. I’ve known Scar here for 7 years. Y/N, this is Scarlett, Scarlett, this is my better half bestie, Y/N.” She gestured in-between you both, Scarlett turned in the chair, removing her sunglasses to reveal the green irises beneath, surrounded in a smoky grey eyeshadow. Her smile was absolutely stunning, and you almost needed to slap yourself to keep from staring. You gave her a quick once over, taking in her tanned figure, ripped denim shorts and a baggy hoodie. Her hand reached out to you, and you smoothly grasped it, shaking it gently. She turned your hand over, gazing at the tattoos on your hand, eyebrow raising above her glasses.

“Y/N, I have heard a ton about you. It’s great to finally put a face to the name.” She smiled, and it took a second for your brain to quit short circuiting at the confidence and beauty this woman was exuding.

“Scarlett, nice to meet you. All good things, I’m hoping. This one has a tendency to over exaggerate.” You motion to Kennedy, who promptly made a face at your remark. “I was just going to leave my hoodie here, I was getting a little bit toasty over there.” You motioned back to the volleyball game.

“Oh! My apologies, was this your seat?” Scarlett was quick to rise, but you placed your hand on her shoulder, trying to ignore the electricity you felt when you touched the older woman.

“It’s okay, I was going to go back over and play some more. I didn’t hit the gym today, so I need my workout.” You laugh, and the blonde sits back down. “Besides, someone needs to keep this one from stealing my stuff.” You send a pointed gaze to your best friend, who stuck her tongue out at you. Scarlett laughed at the exchange, before her gaze shifted back to you.

“I’ll keep an eye on your stuff for you, Y/N.” She motioned for you to take off your hoodie. You quickly pulled it over your head, and it pulled your tee shirt up with it, briefly displaying a very tattooed frame. You quickly pulled the tee shirt back down, pretending not to notice the blonde now returning the once over, and a slight lip bite when your abdomen was exposed. Kennedy definitely noticed the exchange, and smirked. Her plan was to get you hooked up with someone, but she didn’t intend for it to be this someone. You folded the hoodie, putting it on top of the cooler between the chairs, and briefly hugging Kennedy from behind.

“Thanks for watching out, Scarlett. Be careful though, this one is tricky.” You smile, pulling down your glasses slightly, allowing for eye contact to be made, and then turning and running away, effortlessly interjecting yourself back into the game. However, there was a pair of viridescent eyes that were keeping an eye on you at every opportunity they could.

After a few more rounds of volleyball, the majority of players had grown tired, and opted to separate and find other forms of entertainment. You were milling around, talking to a few more friends before the chill of the slaty air started to get to you. You stalked back to your spot, noticing Scarlett and Kennedy were both gone. You grabbed your hoodie, sliding it back over your frame, as well as a drink from the cooler. You chose to walk away from the party for a little bit, as the sun was beginning to set.

You weren’t necessarily an introvert, but large outings like this were hard on you, and you often needed to take a break or two in order to maintain your sanity. You knew of a cliff you could relax by, as Marliana often took you there when you both were walking her dog on a movie night. It wasn’t too terribly far from the party, but the sounds of music and conversation had died a few hundred feet back. You made yourself comfortable on a flat rocky outcrop, hanging your feet off the small drop to the foamy water below. Watching the sun dip below the water on the horizon, you lift your glasses and rest them on top of your head, taking a swig of your drink.

You weren’t sure how long you were away from the party at this point, but a voice from behind you almost caused you to throw your now empty can into the air.

“Pretty long way from the party, Y/N.” You turned to see the blonde smiling from the sand. “What brings you over here?”

You motioned for her to come join you, scooting over on the rock enough for there to be room for her to sit.

“Just needed to clear my head. Parties like that tend to be a lot for me. Kenz is usually the more sociable one of the group.” You look down at your hands, folding and unfolding them in your lap.

“Ah. Social battery maintenance.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You lean back, placing your hands behind you and looking up at the woman, who was staring straight out at the horizon. Her strong jawline shadowed by the remnants of what sunlight there was. You could honestly stare for days at the way the lighting affected this woman’s appearance.

“I can feel you staring, Y/N.” She smirked, giving you a side eye.

“Oh…uhh…sorry,” you respond, becoming flustered at being caught. “I would imagine people probably do that a lot to you.”

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. But yes, they do.” She smiled, turning her focus fully to you. You both continued to talk, until a chill began to take over the air. You noticed that she was beginning to shiver, so you quickly removed your hoodie, and handed it over to her, a slight smile on your lips. “Oh, Y/N, it’s okay, really. I'm fine.”

“Scarlett, you're shivering. I’m more like a space heater. Really, just put it on.” She grabbed the sweater, pulling it over her smaller frame. She looked over at you, taking in the multitudes of ink adorning your muscular arms. “Now you’re the one staring.” You stood across from her, a smirk adorning your features.

“Sorry,” she looked down, before reaching out to grab your hand. ”I’m still cold, Y/N.”

“Oh? Well, I don’t really have any more layers to share, Scarlett.”

“Well, if you’re so much like a space heater, maybe you should warm me up?” You laughed at her response. Dropping her hand, you close the gap between the both of you, enveloping her frame with your larger one. She snuggled into your chest curling her arms in between your chest and hers.

“Better?” You chuckle, leaning back to look at her.

“Mmhmm. You are like are a space heater.” You feel her relax further into you, and you wrap tighter around her. You feel her shifting in your hold, and you shift your gaze down to her. “You’re a very attractive space heater.”

“Oh, am I now?” Chuckling at her response, and resting your chin on top of her head. The scent of her perfume and shampoo wafted through your senses.

“Yeah, I’ve been keeping my eye on you all night. Kennedy was right about you.”

(PT 2)

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #lesbian nsft #scarlett johansson smut #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natalia romanova #scarlett johansson

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lordfreg · 1 year

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scribble bc im losing my mind

@hypocriticaltypwriter

i'm going insane, perhaps wacky, one might even say crazy, i'm losing my mind, my marbles, my bananas, i'm falling off my rocker so to speak.

the scimbo (batty) and sqeekem (karai) have taken over my mind. i am unable to think because of them. in this fic batty’s 17 and karai is 16 (i was working under the assumption that since batty was born in october that they were only a few months apart)

they make my brain to to really angsty stuff so now you have to suffer with me.

have to put a TW because there’s some heavy stuff; gore, swearing, implied abuse, gaslighting. (fic starts under the cut because im nice and i love you, also drink water and eat food; not while reading this)

enjoy (:

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THE STENCH OR ROTTING FLESH burned his nose. He should have been used to this now. He’s been to a recently invaded Krang site before; but this one was different.

It was his home.

Was his home.

They kicked him out, they abandoned him, they left him to rot in a harsh and unforgiving world.

And yet, Patrick felt bad. He let the stench of half-eaten corpses get to him. He flinched at the sight; destroyed building, tentacles everywhere. Mutant Silverfish eating the corpse of some person.

He shuttered at the sight, the insides of people on a vulgar display. The sight was only matched by the stench. He watched the Krang tentacles slide across the ground, the eyes looking at him intently, perhaps wondering if he should be their next meal.

Patrick kicked them away pathetically, like they were some trash on the road in his way, and continued into the rubble.

He knew no one was in their, but Master Leonardo insisted on checking every new attack sight. The leader said “Your good ears could be useful for finding people,” but the only thing Patrick found with his ears were trouble.

The Oozsquitoes still roamed the skies, turning people into mutants, that’s how Patrick turned into one, anyway.

Apparently, his appearance looked that of a human modified by the Krang. That’s how he got abandoned by the humans who ran the camp he was being raised in. Where his sibling died, where his mother was separated from him in the rush to escape New York, where his father looked on in horror as his one and only son was disgustingly mutated into a bat.

Thinking about hurt his back, it had been a pain to have giant bony wing rapidly sprout from your back. They ripped his skin, and exposed muscles, before quickly healing and making him cry out in pain.

All of it, was a painful process.

He shook off the feeling of disgust lingering on his back, and continued through the destroyed building, listening for anything, anything at all.

A sniffle, a cough, a whimper, anything.

A small, faint and quite frankly pathetic cry for help was heard.

Patrick spun his head around towards the sound, running to it. He leaped over corpses and Krang tentacles to reach the person.

He skidded to a stop when he arrived in the destroyed room he heard the sound come from. He looked around desperately, trying not to smile because he finally found someone.

The room was empty, a flipped table, a knocked over refrigerator, a woman's dead body next to a giant hole in the wall. Was probably impaled from a Krang hand, he noted.

Other then that, the room was empty.

Patrick let out a heavy sigh, was he hearing voices again? Probably, he admitted to himself.

He bent over to the floor, noticing a fully intact cell phone on the ground, slightly behind the thrown over table. Picking it up, it turned on and showed a picture of a family; a black-haired woman with two kids, a 15-year-old and a 3-year-old.

Patrick’s mouth wavered into a frown, he hated seeing kids get effected by this. They kid was probably dead by now, but still.

“H-Help...?” A scared voice asked from the other side of the flipped table.

Patrick didn’t even process it until he looked up from the phone and saw a small child, death gripping a stuffed rabbit. Mrs. Cuddles.

Patrick’s face turned into an expression of pure ‘What the Hell?’. It was the kid from the photo! That means, that woman is his mother. Where was his sister?

Patrick cleared the questions from his mind and looked tenderly at the child.

“Hey, buddy.” He said quietly, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I’m here to help, I’m with the Resistance.” He showed the child his wristband with the Mad Dog logo on it.

The child quivered before scooting over to him, and touching the engraved symbol.

“See? I don’t bite.” Patrick whispered softly, “I’m here to take you to safety.”

“Okay.” The child said, standing up with Patrick. “Do you know where sissy is?” He asked, completely trustingly.

“No, we only just got here. We don’t live here.” Patrick said flatly, looking at the child with concern.

“I wish sissy was here. She said that Stuffie would keep me safe. I don’t feel safe.” The child said, making the Mrs.Cuddles clone dance a little before dropping it to his tummy.

Patrick felt a lump in his throat. He’d been through this same thing, except he saw what happened to his sibling.

“Hey,” Patrick spoke, getting the child’s attention, “What do you say we go back to my house and try to find your sister with the help of some people who are really good at stuff like this?”

“Like, tracker?” The child said, looking up at Patrick with complete admiration.

“Yeah, I guess you could call them that.” Pat shrugged, “But they mostly fight bad guys.”

“Really?” The child turned to the bat mutant and signaled ‘up’ with his tiny, still-basically-an-infant hands.

“Yeah,” Pat said, picking the boy up, “They do that all the time.”

“So they beat the evil aliens?”

“Yeah.”

“So cool.”

“I know, right?”

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Patrick returned to the Resistance base, having talked to the child and finding out his name is Jago. But his friends called him Go-Go.

“Hmm. Cute, I like that.” Pat said, landing at the front entrance for the base. He banged on the door to wake up Cosmo, because Heaven forbid they actually do their job.

“Hey! Dork! Open the door!” Patrick shouted. “It’s your best friend and I have a child.”

“WHAT?” A voice through the intercom said.

“Just open the door, loser.”

“FINE.”

The door opened with a hiss as it slid back to reveal stairs leading underground.

“Why were so mean to that lady?” Go-Go asked.

“They’re my friend.” Patrick smiled.

He held the child in his arm as he held the rail that led down, skipping a step every so often. Once he got to the bottom he was greeted by people walking every witch way to gear up for patrol, rescue missions, daily tasks and so on.

He wrapped Go-Go in his side-cape as not to draw attention to himself, or the kid, having come back from a traumatic experience like that. The last thing the kid needed was people in his face asking him what happened.

Pat held G-Go to his chest as he maneuvered around people, soon finding Cassandra gearing up for another Krang assault.

“Cassidy,” Patrick asking importantly, “Do you know where Tam is?”

“In the Nursery, as usual.” She answered, “And it’s ‘Cass’, fucker!” Cassandra yelled after as she threw a empty tin can at him.

He chuckled and continued to make his way through the crowd and into the Nursery. He led into a hallway, dim but light enough for people to see. He rushed to the room with the sky blue door and carefully crept to the front and opened it slightly, looking in.

He saw Tamsin sitting in a chair, singing her daughter Maggie to sleep, with other napping kids around her. She was humming a song he knew too well. “Blackbird” by the Beatles. It gave him a bittersweet feeling when the melody stung his ears like a sour candy.

“Pssst! Tamsin!” Batty whispered, “I have something for you!”

“Oh! Hello, dear!” She smiled, urging Batty in. “And you don’t have to whisper, the kids sleep like logs once they’re down.”

“Okay, good.” Patrick stood up, and unraveled his side-coat, making a small, fat face with big blue eyes and black hair appear. “I found him at the Krang site.”

Tamsin gasped slightly and put a hand on Batty’s shoulder, “He’s adorable.” She gushed.

“Yeah, he’s a cute kid.” Batty smiled down at the child, who clung protectively to Batty’s sleeveless turtle neck, “But he needs someone to take care of him until I come back from another water run.”

“And you’re doing this with Leo’s permission, right?” Tamsin asked, looking at him like a mother interrogating her child.

“Would you be mad if I said no?” Batty smiled nervously.

“Yes! I would be angry because what if you got hurt? Nobody would know where you are or where to find you!”

“If I got hurt, I’d simply ping my location.” Patrick witted back.

“That takes a lot of power, power we don’t have.”

“Good thing I found this then.” Patrick smiled widely with lazy eyes as he pulled out the perfectly intact phone.

Tamsin eyes lit up, taking the phone from him. “Wow, you really are a master scout.”

“No, I just got lucky cause of Go-Go.” He said, petting the small child who was still gripping his stuffed rabbit.

“Go-Go? Is that his name?”

“No, it’s actually Jago, but everyone calls him Go-Go.”

“I miss my sissy.” Jago pouted, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Oh, darling.” Tamsin said sympathetically, reaching out for the child. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m sure we’ll find her.” She said to the child in a sweet embrace.

Batty could only stare on in concern, what if they never found his sister? What would we tell him?

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Batty returned for the second time this day, it now being night and now being greeted by his adoring girlfriend.

She joyfully hopped over to him, wrapping her arms around him and placing a kiss on his snout.

Patrick puffed up in response, “I gotta get used to that.”

“Yes, you have to, since I’m going to be doing it a lot when we’re married.” Karai hummed.

“Mhmm.” Batty melted into her embrace as he wanted nothing more then to be held by his love. Patrick snaked his arms around Karai’s waist, bringing her in for a tight hug before letting go angin.

Karai looked at him confused, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just have to talk with Go-Go.”

“You seem tired, darling. You should rest.” Karai had put her hands to his face, caressing his cheek and making the adorable ‘you-can’t-say-no-to-me’ pouty lip.

“I don’t need rest, I need answers.”

Just then, Go-Go and Niccolo had wobbled up to Patricks leg and where now tugging on it.

“Pat! Pat! Come look what me and Niccy made!” Go-Go said proudly.

“Adorable. They already have nicknames.” Batty said, still half lulled by Karai’s gesture.

“Yeah, they’ve spent the last few hours getting acquainted.” Karai said softly, “I think your son wants you to look at something.”

“Please, don’t call him my son. I might get attached.” Patrick said, pulling way from Karai and following Go-Go and Niccolo down the hall and into the Nursery.

Niccolo pointed to a small table, with drawing things spread out all over them, in the center was portrait of Batty, with Karai, holding her hand with the caption; ‘Mom + Dad’.

Patrick felt like crying. He was conflicted; does he accept the gift and accept his role as Go-Go’s father, or does he reassure the poor child that his father is most likely alive and looking for him?

Patrick swallowed back the lump in his throat, “Th-Thank’s Niccolo and Go-Go, you guys are the best.” he keeled down so they could hug him.

The two kids rushed to give their friend a hug, Niccolo’s tail wagging and Go-Go’s cheeks dusted with pink.

“Thank you boys, for the gift, but isn’t it past your bedtime?” Batty asked, picking both of them up.

“Oh!” Niccolo cried as he looked worried, he started to cry.

Go-Go saw this and reached over to hug Niccolo, petting his head and rocking him back and forth.

Patrick could only stare dumbfounded. Go-Go barely knew these kids, yet knew exactly what they needed. It was a little amazing, actually.

Niccolo stopped crying, but still had snot and tears on his cheeks. Go-Go continued to pet his head and rock him.

“Mama’s not going to be mad at you.” Go-Go said to Niccolo, “We should just go to bed.”

Niccolo nodded, instinctively turning around to be cleaned off. Batty sighed, knowing that he’s have to put Go-Go down.

After the boys were cleaned up and ready for bed, Tamsin came into the kid’s bathroom to check up on them.

“Wow, it usually takes me and hour just to get them ready.” Tam sighed, impressed with Patrick.

“Well, when you’re as tired as they are, you want to go to bed as quick as you can.” Patrick said.

“I’m not tired,” Go-Go commented. The new child looked over to Niccolo who yawned and reached up for his mother.

Tam bent down and picked up the tired boy, Niccolo snuggling into Tam’s chest and yawning a final time before nodding off to sleep.

“They really are tired,” Tam examined, “What did you do all day?”

“We played cars, and we played good guys and bad guys. And then Casey showed up after a while and told the red turtle a lot of important stuff and they left again.” Go-Go said nonchalantly, “And then we drew a picture for Karai and Pat when they get married.” Go-Go smiled up at the now blushing Patrick, ready to hear him confirm this.

“Yeah,” Pat said, rubbing the back of his neck, “They did do that.”

Tam laughed a little, “I’ve got to get Niccolo to bed. Patrick? Be a dear and help your mother-in-law and show your son the guest room.”

Patrick groaned at the names. He picked Go-Go up and carried him down the hall, past Karai’s room, Niccolo’s room, Jeremiah’s room and finally; they were at the guest kid’s room.

It was small, only fitting two beds and a bedside table. Batty placed Go-Go on one of the beds, then sat parallel to him.

“So? How does you mom put you to bed?” The bat asked.

“Mommy doesn’t put us to bed; sissy does.” Go-Go said, once again making his little bunny dance.

“Then how does sissy put you to bed?”

“She would sing to me.”

“What would she sing?”

“I don’t know what it’s called but it goes like...” Go-Go hummed a few notes, making a melody.

The melody, was one that Patrick knew all too well.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night.~” Patrick sang, his voice shaky.

Go-Go yawned, and rubbed his eyes. The child looked at his rabbit as his eyes lit up.

“Oh! I have a gift for you!” He said, reaching for his stuffed animal. Go-Go unzipped the back and pulled out a little glass vile filled with glowing blue liquid. Patrick tired to mask his bewilderment, taking the test-tube looking thing and examined it.

“Mommy said that it helped turn people like you back into people like me.” Go-Go said, patting his belly. “Mommy says she’s been doing it since the spooky aliens invaded.”

“Huh,” Patrick put the glass tube into his pocket, “What else did your mother tell you?”

“She said she worked with a man named Foun. And he helped make it. And he got kicked out for being too mean to my sissy.”

Patrick could feel the world shatter around him. There it was. The truth. The thing he’s been searching for his entire life. In a few short sentences said by a polite 5-year-old.

Furious didn’t even begin to describe how angry he felt.

“Patty?” Go-Go broke the silence, “Can you sing to me?”

“Sure,” Patrick smiled.

Patrick sang Blackbird, every verse coming out bittersweet and poignant. After Go-Go was officially asleep, it was time to do business.

Karai was waiting outside of the guest room, arms crossed respectfully, “You have a beautiful singing voice,” She smiled.

“Thank you,” Patrick said, walking past her. Before quickly turning around, placing a kiss on her lips and whispering a small “Love you,” kindly.

Patrick marched down to the end of the hallway, the leader’s meeting room. He didn’t care that they were having a meeting right now, this was far too important, and far too lied about to wait until tomorrow.

Karai hesitantly followed him down the hallway, using her sick ninja stealth to spy on him.

Patrick slammed open the door, making it obvious to everyone in the room that he was there.

“Knock next time,” Master Donatello said, leaning back in his chair, “And what do you want? We’re in the middle of a meeting.”

“I understand that, Master.” Patrick said, letting himself in, “But this is far too important.”

Raph looked concerned, “What is it?”

Patrick took the glass tube out of his pocket and held it up for everyone at the table to see.

“Anti-mutagen.”

“What?” Master Leonardo asked, completely lost.

“ANTI. Mutagen.” Patrick slammed the tube onto the table, “And Mulch knew about it.”

“How could I have known?” Mulch became defensive, “You’re just going to barge in here and accuse me of lying?”

“Yes.” Patrick said flatly, “Jago told me you worked on this.” He rolled the tube over to Donatello, who caught it and examined it.

“You’re really going to trust a child?” Mulch spat, disappointed that his son would accuse him of such a thing.

“Yes, I am.” Patrick huffed harshly.

“Well, I am disappointed in you! For one, you interrupt our meeting, then you start accusing me of lying! Now you’re trusting what a 4-year-old child has to say about my past life? What have you come too? Back when this all first happened, I didn’t have a choice! I had to start the Scavengers to survive! I took you in when nobody else would have! You couldn’t have survived without me! You should be grateful-”

“STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!”

The room went quiet.

No one had heard Patrick yell. Only when he needed too, at least.

But this yell was different. I wasn’t flat and necessary, it was harsh, bold and filled with hate. It was so loud it shook the meeting room, probably the entire base.

This was the first time that anyone had heard Patrick curse, either.

Karai gasped before placing a hand over her mouth, she didn’t think he was capable of saying a bad word.

Mulch stared back at Batty from across the table, shocked and disgusted.

“Young man...” the Vulture started.

“Don’t. Save it for someone who cares. You’re not my father. You’re not my dad. I don’t even like you. You hit me, all the time. I’m sick of sitting there and taking it. I’m sick of you lying to me. Lying to them.” He pointed at the bewildered Twins and Red giant.

“You lied to an entire community. You lied to your family.” Patrick took a deep breath in, visibly restraining himself.

“You’re a lying bastard.”

Patrick turned around and left the room, more seething then he had every felt before, leaving the Turtles suspicious, confused and worried.

Leo chased after him, giving his twin a knowing nod.

Donatello and Raph both stood up, Donatello gabbing his Bo staff and Raphael cracking his fists.

“So, what’s all this about you hitting the kid?”

Leonardo chased after Patrick, who strutted fast.

“Kid! Kid!” Leo cried desperately, “What the hell did you just say back there?”

“Mulch is a fucking liar! He lied to me! He lied to you! He worked on an anit-mutagen and didn’t tell a fucking soul so he could sell it helpless mutants who wanted to be human again!”

Leonardo stood there stunned.

“But-...How-... How would you know?”

“Because I’ve watched it happen, Leonardo.”

His words were bitter and harsh, saying Leon’s name without the “master” part in front really made the reality hit him so much harder.

“But, why?” Leonardo asked, “Why did you stay quiet until now?”

“I didn’t have any proof. Proof that this was happening.”

“You didn’t need proof,” Leonardo pulled Patrick into an improvised hug, “We would have believed you.”

Patrick sniffed, before bursting into tears. It was too much. He couldn’t just talk about it without crying.

Karai rushed into the meeting room, “DAD! UNCLE! STOP!” She yelled, before they could touch him, knowing what they would do to Mulch.

They looked back at Donatello’s daughter, she had tears streaming down her face and a panicked look on her face.

Donatello’s anger turned into concern for his daughter, he put away his bo staff, turning it from a giant rocket back into a stick.

Donatello, ran to his daughter, bringing her into a hug as Raph grabbed Mulch by his collared scruff.

“It’s okay, Karai. Shhh, it’s okay.” Donatello said quietly.

“I want mom,” she sobbed.

“Me too,” Donatello said, on the verge of tears.

Raph was freely letting tears fall from his eyes.

Batty and Leonardo came back to the meeting room, and Karai and Patrick embraced one another.

Patrick tenderly stoked Karai’s soft shell, trying to sooth her as she cried. They synchronized their breathing and ended up sleeping on the couch together, just holding each other.

Patrick’s grief was still heavy, but not as heavy anymore.

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

MAN am i tired, up till 3 finishing this because time is a social construct. but anyway, hope this made you tear up a little at least. and yeah, im keeping Go-Go. he’s my new baby :)

so yeah, hope you enjoyed the things making my brain rot.<33333333 might do something with this in the future, for now, just have fun reading is since it’s not cannon (to the idea i have in my head) and i just really wanted to write an angst

i am so tired-

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travels11 · 9 months

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Best Restaurants in Brasilia

In Brazil's bustling capital city tourists will be able to find an incredible number of eating options. There's no limit to the variety of Brasilia's cuisine, however these eateries are some of the best options on offer.

Many international tourists book cheap flights to Brasilia to explore Brasilia's iconic sights and neighbourhoods.

Bar Do Mercado

Brasilia is not renowned for being a buzzy or hip city. In fact, Brasilia is quite frankly well-known for being boring. It is a man-made place that does not have the authentic vibe and energy that of the cities in Brazil, Latin America and around the globe have.This is a sentiment that I will not dispute, but every now and then you will find an amazing place that will make you forget you are in the city in Brasilia.One one of those small hidden gems is Bar Do Mercado!Located on the rugged and industrial looking street W3 in Asa Sul (the South of Brasilia), Bar do Mercado with its stunning arched entry and warm light, is a welcome sight.

A Little bit of Korea in Brasilia

I make an effort not to be negative about the Travelling Chopsticks, as I do not want this to become the platform where I express my opinions. No one likes the idea of a whiner...least certainly me! This is probably the reason for my lack of blog posting over the last couple of months, since returning to the routine life in Brasilia isn't easy! I'm going to admit that I am not impressed by the dining scene in Brasilia! That's all I've said about it. It will be my sole complaint.

Fogo de Chao - A Brazilian Churrascaria in Brasilia

The most well-known type in a Brazilian eateries outside Brazil is the famous churrascaria restaurant, which is a kind which is part of a Brazilian meat house. But what makes them different from other restaurants that serve steak is their 'rodizio'-style service that is where you pay for a fixed price and waiters serve various kinds and cuts of beef to the table on a large skewer, or knife, throughout the meal until the patron has indicated that they've consumed enough.Not unexpectedly, the Brazilian churrascaria has proved to be immensely popular throughout the world. Today, you will see churrascarias in the majority of major cities in the world. One of the most well-known eateries outside of Brazil, is Fogo de Chao which has numerous restaurants across in the US.They additionally have an establishment in Brasilia and, after 2 months living in Brazil, C and I realized that it was almost embarrassing that we didn't have a chance to visit. So, on Friday night, C and I went to an impromptu steak night...um I'm talking about date night!

Cafe Ernesto Especiais - My Coffee Heaven in Brasilia

Do you know that feeling when you enter an place where you are immediately in love? The decor to the ambience and the smell seems to blend so well that you are sure you have discovered something truly special?

This was the case for me today! I attended a coffee morning hosted by the American Embassy in the country organized (look at me having a great time and attending coffee every morning!). We gathered at a café in Asa Sul (the south of the city) known as Ernesto's Cafe Especias.

Taypa, A Peruvian Restaurant in Brasilia

On October 6th, it was two years ago when C and I were engaged The date is particularly meaningful to me because it was my grandfather's birthday too. Because of these reasons as well as the fact that we had not ventured out of our neighborhood until now, I thought C and I should dress up and go to a good restaurant, have some tasty food and sip some strong drinks! I booked a table for Taypa which is a Peruvian Restaurant I'd heard great reviews about. It has also won numerous awards. number of local Awards for its restaurant throughout the years. It is located in southern part of town, it's about 20 minutes by taxi from our home (which in Brasilia is quite an afar distance! ).

Explore the incredible attractions of Brasilia and make your trip worthwhile. Also, book flights with Lowest Flight Fares to avail impressive deals. There are several places to discover here and learn more about this place. So take flights from Boston to Brasilia, and make sure to spend ample time strolling the place.

Gero Brasilia by Fasano

It is worth noting that the Fasano franchise is known throughout the country for their delicious Italian food as well as the Gero Branch in Brazil's Iguatemi mall is a perfect example of its high expectations. It is a place where taste reigns supreme and the sleek yet informal decor that evokes an old-fashioned Mediterranean atmosphere. The decor is finished by minimalist lighting, basic furniture, and indoor plant life carefully set around tables with white tablecloths. The menu features a selection of seafood and pasta dishes and exquisitely designed desserts that are as pleasing to look at and savor as they are to be savour.

Taypa Sabores del Peru

Approved by the Peruvian government, Taypa restaurant has definitely pulled out every effort to impress with its traditional Peruvian food. Although the food is elegant and traditional The ambiance is a surprisingly eclectic blend between rustic, wooden-panelled walls and earthy tones that are muted and a modern look, with striking bulbs suspended from the ceiling. The interior is classic elegance, complemented by granite and marble furnishings. The meals are basic, yet they are designed as masterpieces such as the lomo salado, which is a combination of vegetable and potato batons cooked to perfection before being placed carefully on top of a delicate spiced steak. Peruvian fish dishes also meet expectations, regardless of whether you go for the cooked or ceviche versions.

#tourism #travel #vacation

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yoongisautumnleaves · 3 years

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what does me craving soju say about me

#i have not had a drink since October and frankly i am over it i want to get drunk with my friends and play board games so bad

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Stab Me In The Front

Part 1: America’s Asshole

Intro: It’s been a year since Katie was held hostage by Hydra, and whilst she’s still working through her feelings she has an idea about how she can make other people’s lives better as a result of her ordeal. Alongside this, she needs to take a trip to Boston to meet Harlan Thrombey-SIP’s latest author. Slightly nervous about taking a business trip alone after what happened last time, Steve offers to go with her.

What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSWFW)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So, here we go. This was a request/idea from @icanfeelastormbrewing for an Avengers/Knives Out Cross Over where Katie and Steve come face to face with America’s Asshole! The tongues are sharp and the knives are out! This is set in 2015 so way before the KO storyline so therefore contains no spoilers!

Oh, @angrybirdcr I bloody love this edit and banner- the edit you have named the Ransom pre- Steve-Rogers-fucked-my-face-after-I-called-his-wife-a-hoe edit...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

October 2015

“So, Mr Thrombey, that’s all confirmed.” Katie tapped at a key on her computer to lock the meeting in her calendar. “11 am, Next Thursday, the 15th ”

“I’ll send you through the zip code and location for your GPS.” Harlan responded “The house is just outside of Lincoln, not far from Pierce Park. It shouldn’t be too far for you if you’re staying at the Harbor.”

“Thank you.” Katie smiled as she spoke into her phone.“I look forward to meeting you on Thursday Sir.”

“Oh, less of the Sir, Harlan please. And the pleasure is all mine Miss Stark, I mean, Mrs Rogers, my apologies!” The man chuckled. “And thank you for accommodating my need to pull this meeting forward by a few days.”

“It’s not a problem.” She assured him. They exchanged pleasantries again and then she cut the call and leaned back in her chair, cracking her neck, before she double checked the travel arrangements. The hotel was booked, flight was sorted, hire care was confirmed. All that she needed to do was not forget the annotated manuscript or the cover ideas.

The door to her office opened and she looked up to see Tony leaning in the doorway, waving a Starbucks cup at her, along with one of their familiar brown paper bags, clearly bearing treats.

“I love you, bro!” She smiled at him as he wandered in, chuckling, placing the drink and paper bag down in front of her. She looked into the bag and gave a moan when she saw it was a rather large, gooey looking brownie, and gave a bigger moan when she sipped her drink and found it to be a Pumpkin Spiced Latte. “Perfect Elevenses!”

“Well thought you might need one, you’ve been locked in here since seven this morning…”

“You got FRIDAY spying on me?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“No.” He denied, but at the same time the AI affirmed her suspicions.

“He has indeed had me watch you, Mrs Rogers.” “Traitor.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie chuckled

“Well I had all this Harlan Thrombey stuff to sort, Steve’s still in Copenhagen with Sam chasing the alleged latest sighing of Bucky.” She shrugged “Not much point in lying in when you’re wide awake is there?”

“True.” Tony nodded. “Are you going back to the Compound tonight?”

“I might just stay here again if that’s ok?”

“Kiddo, you own part of this Tower, it’s always gonna be your home too.” Tony shrugged, “You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks Tone.” she smiled. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt safer in the Tower whilst Steve was away, even thought it was ridiculous as the Compound was just as secure, being closer to her brother was a comfort.

“I haven’t forgotten what tomorrow is.” Tony looked at her.

Neither had she. It was a year to the day since Bucky had pulled her out of that shithole in Canada and rescued her from her ordeal at the hands of HYDRA. With a little sigh, Katie pulled off her glasses, a lasting consequence of her period of capture and torture. Ever since spending six weeks in that constantly lit cell she’d needed glasses for anything that required a long period of concentration on a computer screen or monitor if she wanted to avoid migraines. Bruce seemed to think it was something to do with the fact that her cell had been painfully bright all the time and that continued exposure to artificial light in such a way triggered a subconscious response.

She ran a hand over her face and looked at her brother, swallowing down the sudden spike of emotion, and swallowed.“I’ve been trying not to think about it.” she said gently.

“Which is why I booked you and Pepper into the Dominick for the afternoon.” Tony smiled at her, reaching over to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Well, Pepper has, I’ve just given her the credit card. Apparently you’re in for a full deep tissue massage, facial and then Franco’s booked to do your hair, oh and don’t bother telling me you’re busy as I had your diary cleared and everything reschedule to next week” He sat back, watching as she opened her mouth before shutting it, shaking her head softly. “You leave in thirty minutes.”

“You spoil me.” She smiled softly.

“Anything for my girls, plus I thought it might keep you busy whilst Spangles is otherwise engaged.”

“He was hoping to be back but when I spoke to him before he doesn’t know if he’s gonna be.” she shrugged. “It is what it is.” Tony smiled at her before he stood up “Yes, it is. And this afternoon is your pamper time so get your shit together and meet Pepper downstairs.”

“Yes sir.” she said, saluting him with a grin.

****

As with anything Pepper or Tony booked, the spa was off the scale. Katie had been meaning to go for ages, and now, as she sat in the chair in Franco’s salon she was already searching available dates to go back. She laughed and joked with the stylist and Pepper, the pair of them enjoying yet another bottle of champagne as they had their hair done. A couple of hours later, at just gone seven, Pepper dragged her out over the road and into a ridiculously expensive wine bar.

“Feeling better?” Pepper asked as Katie took a huge gulp of her Sancerre.

Katie smiled. “Much, thank you.” “You know, I’m always here if you want to talk to someone other than Steve about stuff.” Pepper looked at her “And it won’t go any further.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t wanna talk about it.” Katie sighed “You know, Pep, I see all these women out there that went through…well, you know, and I read their testimonies and I just wonder how they’re so strong, like, how can they can just stand up and talk about it?” She trailed off, shaking her head “And me? I just wanna pretend it never happened. So much for being an Avenger huh?”

“Hey.” Pepper shook her head, looking at her sternly. “Stop that, right now.” “Well it’s true.” Katie shrugged. “I mean, I’m a public figure right? But all people know is I was missing for weeks, and it was put down to a mission gone awry. I just, well, I feel like I should be out there, trying to make a difference, helping people.”

“Kiddo, what you went through,” Pepper swallowed, “I can’t even begin to imagine. And how you’ve dealt with and processed it, well, frankly I don’t know how you’ve been so strong. There is no shame in wanting to simply move on and leave it in the past.”

“I know.” Katie sniffed a little. “Thank you. Having everyone around me makes me realise how lucky I actually am. I’ve got a huge support network. Not everyone who goes through…well, not everyone has that to fall back on.” Pepper pondered something before she looked at Katie, “You know, we haven’t picked our Partner Charity for the Stark Relief Fund next year. We could make it one that deals with Sexual violence. No need to go into details as to why.” Katie considered that for a moment, before she nodded. “That’s not a bad idea.” She clicked her deep purple manicured nails against her wine glass, thoughtfully. “It would make a difference, right?”

Pepper nodded. “Absolutely. Give it some thought, see how you feel.” “I will, thanks.” she smiled.

****

Steve was exhausted but wasn’t willing to spend another moment away from his wife. So the moment the jet was down he headed straight for the garage, jumped on his bike and roared out of the compound heading down town towards Manhattan.

“Good Evening Captain Rogers.” FRIDAY greeted him as he pressed his palm to the access pad at the rear entrance from the underground car park “Mrs Rogers is in your apartment.”

“Thanks FRIDAY.” he said, as the elevator began to rise. It stopped a few floors up, and when the doors flew open he was greeted by Tony who was undoing his tie.

“Oh, you’re back.” He looked at Steve appraisingly.

“You’re up late.” Steve remarked in response.

“Just working on a few things.” Tony said vaguely. “How was the search for Tin Man?” “Well, it was him alright.” Steve ran a hand down his tired face. “Few more leads to work on. We could have stayed out there for a bit longer truth be told but, well, I wanted to be here tomorrow, you know.”

The two men shared a moment of understanding, both of them having experienced unsurmountable raw pain and anguish over the weeks Katie had been missing and it wasn’t something they were likely to forget any time soon. If ever.

“She know you’re home?” Tony looked at him again. Steve shook his head.

“Wanted to surprise her.”

Tony smiled softly. “She’s probably asleep. Her and Pep have been in the Spa all afternoon and they’ve drunk a lot so…”

Steve gave a huff of a laugh. “Yeah she messaged me before saying you’d sent her there out for the afternoon. From the spelling mistakes in the text I figured there was a fair amount of alcohol that had been consumed.” He paused and smiled. “That was really thoughtful of you, Tony.” “Well it happens occasionally.” Tony sniffed as the elevator stopped at his floor. “Listen, Steve…” Steve turned to face him. “She’s not been herself the last few weeks.” Tony scratched at his beard and Steve took a deep breath.

“I know.” he said gently “I think she’s just, well, processing, if that’s the right word. We only got back from our honeymoon three weeks ago, and it kinda hit her when we got back just what time of year it was. Whilst we were away she didn’t have time to think about it.”

“Just, well, take care of her for me okay?” Tony looked at the Soldier and Steve nodded.

“Always Tony, you had my word on that when I told you I wanted to marry her, and I meant it.”

Tony nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a look of thanks before he left the elevator on the Part Floor level. It began to rise again and Steve let out a soft sigh. Tony was right, the last two weeks in particular Katie had been a little quiet, less vivacious, almost withdrawn even. At first he had put it down to post honeymoon blues, but Natasha had pointed out that this time twelve months ago she had been at the mercy of HYDRA, with those bastards brutalising her in ways that he couldn’t even bring himself to think about. For this reason, he’d been reticent to go on the latest mission but Katie had insisted, pointing out that they couldn’t not carry on with their lives and that she would be alright.

The fact she had basically moved back into the Tower for the three days he had been gone, however, made him think that she wasn’t quite as alright as she had told him.

The doors opened on their floor and he stepped out. It was mostly dark as he headed through to the bedroom where he found that the TV was playing on the wall, but Katie was fast asleep, one of the pillows clutched to her chest as a makeshift cuddle partner. With a soft smile he closed the door and headed over to the bed. Kicking off his boots he lay on his side, facing her, and brushed her soft hair back off her face before pressing a kiss to the bridge then tip of her nose and finally her lips.

She stirred, her face scrunching up in that adorable way it always did, before she blinked her eyes open. It took her a second to focus but when she did her lips curled upwards into a soft smile which became an ear to ear grin.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He said softly, kissing her again, his hand cupping her face.

“You’re home.” She reached up to lay her hand over his. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well it worked.”

“I missed you.” He whispered, his thumb caressing her cheekbone as he leaned in for another kiss.

“Missed you more.” She shot back, her lips brushing his and he chuckled.

“Doubt it. How was the Spa?”

“Oh it was amazing.” She gushed, her eyes shining. “I had this deep tissue massage and the guy hit spots on my back I didn’t even know I had. The facial was great, and my hair…”

“I like the colour.” He smiled, gently moving his hand so he twirled a piece around his finger. The ends were slightly lighter than usual, almost a dark honey blonde, and it extended a little up the strands before evening out.

“It’s called ballayage.” She smiled at him. “I just fancied a bit of a change.”

“Looks good on you. And I’m glad you had a nice time, you deserve it.”

“How was the mission? Worth it?”

“Yes and no.” Steve shrugged. “We have a few more leads we can chase up but…” he took a deep breath “I’m beginning to wonder what the point is. He clearly doesn’t wanna be found.”

“The point is he’s your friend, your brother.” Katie moved her hand to run her fingers over his jawline, the pads scratchings lightly against his five-oclock shadow. “Maybe he just needs a bit of time to find himself first, that doesn’t mean you have to give up on him. Besides, I need to give him back his jacket.”

“And I need to thank him. For getting my beautiful girl out and safe.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year tomorrow since he found me.” She said softly

“Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“Huh?”

“The last few weeks you’ve not been yourself.”

She licked her lips and nodded “Yeah, I just, well, I didn’t give it much thought when we were on our honeymoon, you know, but since coming back and ramping up the Thrombey Campaign it’s kinda hit home a little.” And suddenly Steve understood. SIP were publishing the man’s latest book, “The Colour of Revenge” which was all about a Detective on the trail of a killer who was hunting down and dispatching of six men who had been acquitted of a gang rape and murder.

“Shit.” He let out a groan at the fact he hadn’t made the connection. “Honey, I’m so stupid not to realise that.” “Hey.” She frowned, “Don’t…” She reached up and smoothed the lines that had appeared on his brow and he let out a sigh, gently reaching up to lace his fingers with hers, bringing her hand towards him and placing a soft kiss on her wrist. “It’s better now you’re home.” She assured him gently.

He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss again.

“Is that everything?” He pressed and she hesitated again.

“I’m scared.” She admitted eventually, looking at him.

“Scared of what?”

“Going away, on my own.” The tears welled in her eyes. “I hate that they made me like this, Steve.”

He let out a sigh, he hated that she was scared too. She didn’t deserve it.

“Why don’t I come with you?” He asked, the idea suddenly forming in his mind. Katie stilled for a moment and he continued. “Not to the actual meeting, but I can drop you off and pick you up, hang around, whatever you want me to do.”

She looked up at him smiling softly, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t relieved he had offered. “Would you?”

“Of course.” He nodded, wiping the tears off her face. “You only had to ask.” “I didn’t want to. I know how busy you are here and…” “That can wait.” He held her face in his hands as he drove his message home. “You’re the most important thing in my life and if me coming with you makes you feel better then…” He shrugged “Besides, I’ve always wanted to go to Boston.”

“I know we haven’t been back from our honeymoon long, but maybe we can make a little trip out of it if you like?” Her face was suddenly hopefully “Come back on the Saturday?”

“Sure.” Steve smiled at her. “Let’s do it.”

“Oh, Stevie you’re gonna love it.” she beamed, and he smiled at the way her face had gone from being furrowed with worry to alive with excitement. “Massachusetts is amazing in the fall and Boston is just stunning…” “Well I’ll make sure I bring my sketch book.” He smiled “Give me something to do whilst you’re in the meeting.” “Thank you.” She said softly. “I’ll book us somewhere nice to eat one night. Give us an excuse to wear something pretty.”

“Like you need an excuse.” He teased, and she nipped him harshly on the arm. He chuckled and then with a groan he unwillingly pushed himself up off the bed.

“I need a shower.” He said, almost apologetically. “I won’t be long.”

“You better not be.” She muttered and he smiled, dropping a kiss to her forehead before he headed into the bathroom.

True to his word, he wasn’t long. Five minutes, tops. But by the time he came back, the TV was off and Katie was fast asleep. Thinking back to what Tony had said, he found himself wondering if she had actually slept much at all whilst he was gone.

Steve dried himself off, stepped into a clean pair of boxers and then slid into the bed next to his wife, slipping his arms around her. Once her back was nestled snugly into his chest, he dropped a soft kiss to her neck and closed his eyes, happy to have her in his arms.

****

Steve woke the next morning to find his girl tangled around him. She’d shifted in the night, clearly, and now her face was pressed into his chest, right leg snaked between both of his, her right hand was slid under his arm, lightly gripping his shoulder whilst her left rested against her head, fingers in her hair. Smiling to himself he pulled her closer, relishing the feel of her against him. She murmured something incoherently as she gently moved, her cheek pressing into the hair on his chest, the hand around his shoulder slid down to the base of his back where her fingers simply rested, soft against his spine as she continued to sleep.

And Steve was quite happy to let her nap for longer, using him as her own personal cuddly toy.

He dozed in and out of consciousness again, drifting off for another ten minutes or so, before he felt Katie stirring in his arms, and a soft kiss gently being pressed to his jaw line. He smiled at the contact and tightened his hold on her again, his eyes still closed.

“Morning, Beautiful.” He said softly, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning, Soldier.” She said, her cheek returning to his chest as she basked in the safety and warmth of his hold as his hand crept up the back of the stolen shirt she was wearing, his rough fingers ever so gentle against her skin as he trailed the pads up and down her spine.

“Sleep okay?” He asked, his eyes still not opening.

“Yeah.” She assured him, truthfully. It had been the best night sleep she’d had in days.

“Good. What do you fancy doing today?”

He felt her still and then she pulled back slightly, and at that he opened his eyes and blinked to see those gorgeous emeralds locked onto him.

“Are you not needed at the Compound?”

He shook his head “Kitten, I’ve not seen you for almost three days so I figured we deserved one together.”

She groaned “I have meetings this morning.” “That’s okay, I’ll meet you at lunch.” He said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She didn’t argue. She knew full well why he’d taken the time out, and frankly she adored him for it. Without saying a word she leaned up and captured his lips in a gentle kiss that quickly became heated, but was shattered by the piercing noise of Katie’s alarm.

She gave a groan, and made to move.

“Don’t you dare.” Steve mumbled against her mouth, his grip on her tightening.

“Stevie,” She sighed “I gotta…”

He reached over, his large body flattening her into the mattress making her giggle as he swiped across the screen of her StarkPhone silencing it.

“You ain’t gotta do shit.” He said, hovering over her on his elbows. “Except me.” He added as an afterthought.

“Oh so you’re gonna to explain to the board why I’m late?”

“Well, to be honest,” he said, dipping his head to trail hot kisses up the side of the next, “they probably won’t even notice you’re not there. I mean, are you really that important?”

“Fuck you.” She giggled back.

“Believe me, I’m tryin’” he quipped, his mouth nipping at her ear lobe. That made her giggle even more and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin.

“I love it when you do that.” He whispered gently, using his leg to part hers, leaving a large thigh pressed against her mound.

“What?”

“Laugh.” His mouth moved up her jaw line. “It makes me happy.”

“You’re such a sentimental sap.” She mumbled, as his lips claimed hers again, the heat between her legs intensifying as the kiss grew deeper, tongues lashing against one another. Steve pulled back for long enough to pull his shirt over her head before his lips returned to hers and Katie’s hand slid into his hair, one hand gently winding into the longer locks on top, her nails on the other dragging against the hairline on his neck. His hands moved, one gently cupping the side of her face, the other, gently skimming over her breast, her nipples already hardened. He gently teased one with the pad of his thumb and his mouth moved down to the other, his tongue and fingers working in tandem. She gave a little involuntary twitch against his thigh and once more his lips quirked up into a smirk.

“You want something, Baby girl?” He asked, peeking up at her and she nodded.

“Stevie, don’t make me beg, please.”

And when she asked so nicely like that, how could he ever refuse? He hooked his fingers into the sleep shorts she was wearing and worked them down, before flipping down the waist band of his boxers. Katie bent her legs as he shuffled upwards and worked into her, the pair of them letting out a groan each at the stretch as he buried himself to the hilt. Steve’s hands fell to either side of Katie’s face as he held himself up on his forearms, kissing her deeply as he flexed his hips forward, again and again, picking up a gentle rhythm.

It was soft, it was gentle, it was loving, everything she knew her soldier to be and it wasn’t long before he had her writhing and groaning loudly, his lips assaulting that spot on her neck.

“So good,” he groaned, his thrusts getting deeper. “Feel so good, Sweetheart.”

“Keep talking.” She keened, arching into him as her hands raked down his back.

“You were made for me, God I love you Mrs Rogers. So fucking much.” His words were punctuated by his heavy breaths as she gave a soft cry, her head falling backwards, eyes fluttering shut as she tightened around him, her legs shuddering slightly as she came.

“Atta girl.” He panted, his hips becoming faster as he thrust through her orgasm, chasing his own. It wasn’t long before he felt the ribbons in his belly unravel and he came with a cry of his own, his head buried in her neck, hips slowing, thrusts going deeper before he eventually stilled, a loud contented sigh escaping his mouth.

After a few moments of them simply basking in the afterglow, Katie’s hands trailing through Steve’s ruffled hair as his nose slid against hers, she gave a sigh and pushed on his shoulders gently.

“Soldier, I really do need to get up.”

He pouted a little causing her to chuckle before he rolled off her and she pushed herself out of bed, heading for the en-suite. Steve watched her go before he swung his legs from under the covers,, found his boxers, pulled them on and headed down to the kitchen to make them both some coffee. *****

The idea had sprung to Katie as she’d headed out for lunch. The local shop was donating a percentage of its earnings that month to a homeless charity, and it set her mind whirring.

“So you want to donate, all the profit we make, from what is going to likely be the biggest book SIP will ever publish, to charity?” Tony looked at her.

“In a nutshell, yeah.” She nodded. “We can split it across various charities, all those that help victims of sexual assault, abuse or crime…”

“Isn’t that what the Stark Relief Fund is for?” Saul, the SI Finance Director looked at her and she turned to face him.

“Yes, but it isn’t just about the money, it’s about raising awareness.” She pressed “A lot of people don’t know those charities existed. Hell, I didn’t know about half of them until a year ago. If we do this, think of the publicity and the press and…”

She trailed off, looking at Tony. He could see the excitement shining in her eyes. She had a point, and it wasn’t like SI needed the money. SIP was her company after all, and if she wanted to use it to do something good, help people, maybe even help herself…then that was fine by him.

He shrugged and looked round the table “SIP’s vision was never about making money.” Katie beamed at her brother as she realised he was backing her “It was always about helping those who needed a hand to get their work out there…I don’t see why in this case, where they author is already so well-known we can’t use that to help those who need it.”

There was a pause and she looked expectantly round the table. One by one the board members seemed to concede, all of them that is bar their Legal Manager, Dan Robertson who was frowning.

“You’re going to have to bring Mr Thrombey on board Mrs Rogers.” He looked at her. “We can’t just use his book as part of a campaign without his permission.” “I know.” She assured him. “I’ve already realised that. I’m meeting him on Thursday next week, I’ll have a full proposal and pitch ready.”

There were a few murmurs around the table before Tony spoke. “Is that it? Are we settled?”

Everyone looked at one another, nodding, and Katie leaned back in her chair, smiling.

But, she wasn’t smiling now. She had less than twenty-four hours before they set off for Boston and her pitch was only half way through completion.

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s hands slid over her shoulders where she sat on the chair in her office. She looked effortlessly elegant, even in sweats and an off the shoulder sweater, one toned leg stretched out in front of her, the other bent at the knee so her foot was resting on the seat of the chair, her left hand was curled around her shin, her right was tapping at her keyboard, the dark blue framed glasses perched on her nose. “It’s late.”

“I know but,” she sighed, “this means a lot to me Steve. I need it to be right.”

Steve knew better than to argue. Instead he leaned over and kissed the side of her neck. “What are you stuck with?”

“I dunno it just…it all seems so impersonal.” She removed her glasses and wrinkled her nose as he sat down in the arm chair in the corner of the room “Facts and figures on sexual assaults and stuff, we all know it happens, it’s about making people want to do something about it.”

“Are you ready to make it personal?” He asked gently, taking a deep breath. He hated thinking about what she had gone through, he truly did, and if he had half a chance he’d rip the bastards limb from limb. But if she was ready to confront what had happened to her, he had to be there to support and back her all of the way, regardless of his own feelings.

“I don’t know. I was talking to Pepper about this the other day. I should be able to, I should be someone other women can look up to, being an Avenger and all but…maybe I’m just not strong enough.” “You’re the strongest person I know.” Steve leaned forward and locked eyes with her.

“I don’t feel like it when it comes to this.”

“Honey,” he scratched at his head. “Without wanting to sound flippant, since January this year, you’ve been, okay, well maybe okay isn’t the word but you’ve gotten on with things. You’ve moved forward, we both did.”

“Because we were busy, and we had no choice…”

“Well maybe,” he shrugged. “But chasing down a sceptre, fighting Ultron, mobilising a new base, planning a wedding, running a business…it’s all time consuming, stressful stuff that if you really weren’t strong enough to deal with what happened, then it would have all gone to shit and probably tipped you over the edge into a nervous breakdown.”

She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she considered what he was saying.

“Honestly…” he continued, his eyes boring into hers. “If you want my opinion I think the fact that it’s the year’s anniversary of what happened that’s playing on your mind a little. You need to stop, look back and how well you’ve done and stop beating yourself up about all the things you haven’t”

She smiled softly and looked down at her hands before she glanced back up at him “When did you get so wise?” He chuckled “Well I am ninety seven years old.”

She laughed “You don’t look a day over twenty five.”

Steve smiled and stood up. “I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, and you’re gonna stop overthinking everything and come relax. We’re up early tomorrow. You can do the rest at the hotel tomorrow evening.” “No can do, we’re going out.” Katie grinned at him “I booked the Chef’s table at Menton.”

“The what?” Steve frowned.

“You never heard of a Chef’s table?” She looked at him, and he shook his head. “Oh my God I’ve let you down, so badly. Check this out.” she tapped on her computer, bringing up the website and showed him the photos “It’s a private table with a glass wall that gives you a direct view into the kitchen. Totally impossible to get a reservation unless you book like a year in advance. Or name drop.”

Steve groaned. “You seriously dropped the Captain America wants a table line?”

“No, I dropped the Captain America’s wife want a table line.” She smirked, closing down the browser page.

“Pain in my ass.” Steve grumbled, standing up. But as he left the office there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

One that his wife had seen.

*****

“So, was it worth a name drop?” Katie asked as they walked back into the Fireside Lounge located in their hotel.

“I’m happy to overlook the fact you acted like a total brat to make that reservation, yes.” Steve grinned as he went to remove her coat from her shoulders. He looked her up and down, the tight black jump suit she was in was driving him crazy.

She grinned, and then shivered slightly.

“Cold?” He asked, frowning.

“A little, don’t wanna sit in my coat though.”

“Do you want me to nip up to the room, grab your cardigan?”

“Would you?” She asked, even though she knew perfectly well he would.

“Course.” He dropped a kiss to her cheek “You get the drinks in, be right back.”

She headed over to the bar. The bartender, Will, was the same one who had been on before so he greeted her with a smile.

“Mrs Rogers. How was your meal?”

“Fantastic thank you.” She smiled. “Can I get two Bourbon’s please? I’ll leave it to your choice, I’ll be back in a second, just need to nip to the bathroom.”

She excused herself and once she’d finally had the pee she’d been dying for since they left the restaurant, she set about touching up her make-up, smiling to herself. She’d deliberately picked this jumpsuit as she knew it got Steve’s blood pumping. It was a simple, plain black one with a V-neck line, but it was tight. Teamed with a thin red patent leather belt, matching Jimmy-Choos and purse all set off by the bright red lipstick she was sporting, she knew she looked good. Not that Steve had much room to talk, she could happily perve on him in the dark pants he was wearing, teamed with a tweed blazer and that damned blue shirt, his collar left open. Frankly, he looked good enough to eat, which she was planning on doing later.

She headed back into the bar and spotted Steve perched on one of the stools, blinking as she saw he’d changed into a simple brown, long sleeved tee, but then again he always did like to get out of his dress shirts as soon as they got home usually, so she wasn’t that surprised.

“Hey, Handsome. You changed.” She slipped her arms round him from the back. He felt different, he was softer than Steve was. He smelt different, there was a really heavy woody scent to his aftershave whereas Steve’s preferred Hugo Boss was a lot lighter and she realised with horror that Steve hadn’t changed his outfit at all.

This wasn’t Steve.

When the man spun to face her, Katie had to do a double take as the likeness was indeed uncanny at first glance, but as she blinked and looked at him she noticed subtle differences. His eyes were cold and calculating, his jaw line wasn’t quite as sharp as Steve’s and the smirk he wore on his face was nothing like the cheeky one Steve would sport. It was almost a sneer which spread across his face, every feature laced with disdain.

“What the fuck?” The man glared at her as Katie stepped back, holding her hands up in apology.

“I’m sorry, genuine case of mistaken identity,” she said, taking him in. His shirt was the wrong colour too, only she hadn’t been able to see that from the back.

“Yeah well if you’re touting for business I already got some today so get lost.” The man drawled in his light, Boston accent. “Like I just said I thought you were…hang on…” Katie frowned as his words registered “You already got some?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He looked her up and down, arching a brow.

“You think I’m a hooker?” Katie snorted.

“Pretty high end one though, I’ll give you that.” The man’s voice was now amused, as he nodded towards her chest.

“I’m not a hooker.” Katie shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“Oh, sorry. Do you prefer the term escort?”

She rolled her eyes, flashing her left hand at him. “I’m married, this was a genuine mistake….”

She moved away from him to the side, nodding at Will who slid the check over for her to sign to charge the drinks to their room.

Ransom observed her for a moment, fighting the smirk that was threatening to break across his face. After another row with his stupid Libtard cousin and his mother who had been at his Grandfather’s house before, he’d come out with the sole intention of getting laid and then so drunk he could hardly remember his name. After a visit to one of his usual fuck pieces, he’d achieved the first part, now he was concentrating on the second. He’d been initially irritated by this woman’s interruption, but now she was getting sassy back, and he wasn’t about to let it drop. He could tell she had money,that much was clear to see. The way she talked, held herself, was dressed. Whilst she wasn’t a hooker as he had originally thought (although to be fair to her, she was pretty hot, he’d consider fucking her if the opportunity arose), she was probably living off some seventy odd year old rich banker husband. Huh, maybe she wanted a fuck after all…frustrated little trophy wife.

“So, tell me. Does your husband know you’re here trying to tap me up?” He looked at her.

“You know, if I was trying to errr…tap you up, you wouldn’t be able to afford me” She shot back, signing her name on the cheque with a flourish.

“Try me.” Ransom smirked, making a show of looking her up and down. “How much for that ass?” “I’ll kick yours for free you self-entitled dick.” She glared at him before she slid the signed paper and pen back to the bartender.

Ransom gave a bark of a laugh “I’ll pass thanks.”

Katie snorted and glanced sideways at look at him, scarlet red lips pursed as she eyed him over her glass of bourbon. “Good decision, because I’ve dropped bigger men than you for fun.” “Sure you have, Dollface” Ransom quirked an eyebrow, elbow leaning on the bar, angling his body towards her. She kept hers facing forwards, arms resting on the bar top, her head shaking slightly.

“You have no fucking idea who I am do you?” Katie shook her head, not looking at the prick stood next to her. She hated using that line, but, well, when the occasion arose to get one over on a weasely little shit like this, she wasn’t going to pass it up.

“Why should I?” He snorted “I don’t know all the little bitches in Boston.”

Katie felt her mouth drop open and she was about to retaliate when Steve gently appeared by her side, dropping her cardigan over her shoulders.

Ransom recognised him straight away. He’d had it quite often, been told he looked similar to Captain America. So this meant the woman he’d been baiting for the last five minutes was his wife, Katie Rogers, sister of Billionaire Tony Stark, the Avenger, Supernova.

He’d called Supernova a hooker.

Ransom looked into his glass of scotch, turning away back to the bar, snorting with laughter.

“Sorry baby, Sam called and…” Steve stopped, frowning at the look on Katie’s face. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She looked up at him, smiling and nodding towards a cosy sofa over at the other side of the bar. “You wanna go sit down over there?”

“Sure.” He nodded, picking up his glass of bourbon, he held out his free hand for her and she jumped down off the stool.

“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure.” She snarked to the man next to her “But I don’t lie so…”

Steve frowned, wondering what had gone down whilst he’d been away. He glanced at his wife and then turned to look at the guy that was sat on the stool next to where Katie had been to see if he recognised him and did a double take. He recognised him alright, but only because he looked incredibly like him. Granted, there were a few subtle differences, but the resemblance was uncanny, to the point that at a first glance in the street, you could be fooled.

“Pal, you should keep that bitch on a leash.” Ransom spoke, his eyebrows raising and in front of him Steve stiffened.

“What did you just say?” He frowned, pulling himself up to full height.

“Seriously, man. You save the world from Nazi’s, get frozen for seventy years and then end up marrying that.” Ransom smirked, enjoying baiting the Captain “I’d ask ‘em to put you back under…”

Steve’s nostrils flared and he felt his neck getting warmer. “Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that.”

“Steve, leave it, come on.” Katie gently placed her palm on Steve’s chest. “The guy’s a complete ass hole. If brains were dynamite I doubt he’d have enough to blow his head off.”

“Well if we’re talking about blowing,” Ransom looked Katie up and down before locking onto her eyes. “You up for the job?

Katie let out a bark of a laugh, her hand still on Steve’s chest which was positively humming with anger as she turned to face Ransom, contempt etched across every single inch of her face.

“Go jerk yourself off and wipe it on a curtain like your father should have done with you.”

“I’d rather wipe it in your hair.” came the quip back.

And that was it. That was the point that Steve Rogers snapped.

There was a loud smash, the glass he was holding shattered in his grip as his fist contracted in pure anger. Katie barely had time to realise what had happened before he had stepped forward and grabbed Ransom by the front of his shirt, lifting him with ease, slamming him on the bar.

“Steve!” Katie pulled on his arm. “Baby, he really isn’t worth it, let go!”

“Captain Rogers!” Will behind the bar was desperately trying to talk him down as well “Please, don’t make me call security.”

Security! Steve wanted to snort. Like that would do any good.

“Soldier, come on.” Katie tried again, pleading to his reasonable side. “Look, we’ve had such a nice night. Don’t let him ruin it.”

Steve let out a deep breath, he wanted nothing more than to knock the asshole’s teeth down his throat, but he felt Katie’s touch on his arm and her pleading tone and he let go, shoving the man hard.

“I would tell you to apologise.” Steve snarled stepping back. His voice was steely, eyes carrying none of their usual warmth.“But I suspect it’s pointless”

“Yup.” Ransom nodded “Totally pointless.”

“Like your existence.” Katie mumbled, Ransom snorting in response. “Look, Drysdale, my manager’s told you before.” Will said, his voice laced with vexation as he shuffled from behind the bar to sweep up the glass that Steve had shattered. “Any more trouble and you’re gonna be banned.”

Ransom’s nostrils flashed angrily as he looked at the man “’I’m gonna be banned? Eat shit! He’s the one that just attacked me! He ripped my shirt!” he gestured down to where Steve had grabbed him, two tears either side of the buttons of his shirt “This is a Fendi!”

“Ransom, just shut up and apologise.” Will pressed again. “Or you’re gonna have to leave.”

“Fuck this, I was going anyway.” Ransom snarled, knocking back his drink. He stood up and pulled on a long, tan coloured camel coat before he glared at Steve then Katie “Really bad smell in here.”

Katie rolled her eyes, deciding to let him have that childish one without any fuss. But Steve didn’t.

“Close the door on your way out.” He watched as the man stopped, took a deep breath before angrily flinging the door open, his coat flapping behind him. There was a moment’s pause before it slammed shut.

“Sorry.” Steve turned, apologising to Will.

“He’s a dirt bag and a cretin.” Will shrugged, as he waved the apology off. “No redeeming features whatsoever. Well, none that I’ve seen and trust me, I’ve seen him a hell of a lot.”

“Is your hand okay?” Katie asked Steve gently. She turned his right hand over to see that there were no cuts at all from the glass, which was good.

“Yeah, fine, don’t worry.” Steve looked at her, frowning. “Honey, what on Earth just happened?” He asked her softly, as she took a deep breath, blowing it out of her mouth.

“I went to the bathroom and when I came back, well, I thought he was you from behind so gave him a hug.” She shook her head “Soon as I touched him I realised I was very, very wrong. I tried to apologise and he called me a hooker.”

“A hooker?” Steve repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I told him even if I was he wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

At that Will, who had been busy pouring them both another drink, laughed as he slid two short tumblers of bourbon back over to them. “He won’t have liked that at all.”

Steve nodded his thanks to the man as Katie looked at him. “How come?” She asked.

“Well, simply put, his family one way or another are loaded, and Ransom likes to be the flash bastard if you get what I mean.”

“What do his family do?” Katie asked, “I’ve never even heard of the Drysdales.”

“His mother and father run a real Estate Company.” Will shrugged, “A local one round Massachusetts, but you’ll have heard of his grandfather, or if you haven’t you’ve been living under a rock for the last twenty years.” “Who?” she asked.

“Harlan Thrombey, the crime fiction author.” Will replied, and Katie felt the colour drain from her face. She turned to look at Steve whose eyes had also widened, and she gave a groan.

“Shit.”

**** Part 2

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #ransom drysdale #mcu #mcu fanfic #avengers #marvel #marvel fanfic

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kiki-is-writing · 3 years

Text

the beginning and end of everything UPDATE!!!

DISCLAIMER: This is my original work. I choose to share my work here and here specifically for my comrades in the writing community. Plagiarism in any form will not be tolerated.

HI EVERYONE! I FINISHED MY NOVEL! Whooo hoooo!!!

It’s actually sort of surreal, I started it in June of 2020 and now it’s 2021 and it’s over! Ty, Jude, Ada, Dorothy, and Madison have been living in my head since October 2019, and less than a year and a half later, they’ve been brought to life! Crazy!!

A summary in case you forgot/are seeing this and don’t know who the hell I am:

Ty Kassisieh has no direction. He’s just graduated college with a degree he doesn’t care about and no clue what to do with his life. Per his parent’s request to be more like his genius twin sister Ada, he picks up a job at a local library to save some money. There, he meets his coworker Jude, who’s stuck in a position not too far from his own, and Ty immediately sees the potential for companionship. But after speaking to him, Ty discovers Jude is everything he isn’t: he’s cold, introverted, aloof, and worst of all, humorless. Soon, Ty forgets all about his initial goal and becomes determined to crack Jude and see what makes him tick.

Ty’s journey of self-discovery is uprooted completely as what begins as an investigation blossoms into a friendship, and then into something more. Ty is forced to confront the feelings he’s been pushing down since high school and come to terms with himself, his family, and the relationships he thought would never change. It’s only when he befriends a young library patron, Madison, that he finally begins to see the world for what it is and figures out how to pave his own path.

Here are some stats!

Word count: 65,900 (it’ll get at least 20k words longer)

Genre: Romantic comedy

POV: third person limited, present tense

Characters: Ty, Jude, Ada, Madison, Dorothy, Diane, Omar, Paul, Uncle Hubie, Ethel

Chapters: 15

Font: Times New Roman (sorry)

This was my second novel, but the first novel where I actually knew what I was doing, at least a little bit. And holy shit, I learned SO much about my writing process:

1. I cannot pants for the life of me. I have no idea what I’m doing without an outline. But sometimes, the outline doesn’t know best. I added a ton of subplots and off-the-cuff scenes halfway through that have no set up, gave up on subplots that weren’t working halfway through, it’s a disaster of a plot. BUt the important thing is that I know how to make it perfect. I know what the story needs and how to get that.

2. Why can I only write in bursts? I wrote like seven chapters, half the novel, in the month of July. There was a day where I wrote almost 5,000 words. And last night, I wrote for 6 hours straight, without eating, drinking, or going to the bathroom (because frankly, I forgot those things existed) and I cranked out a chapter and a half in a DAY. I had such a headache and was very hungry by the end, but it was SO REWARDING.

3. I noticed while drafting is how often bits of my real life bled through. Little anecdotes, arguments, dynamics and experiences. Those who know me particularly well can probably pick out little allusions to either some of my past works, my friends, and myself.

It was 1:00 AM when I finished, and I live on the east coast of the U.S. so we’d just had a huge Nor’easter (New England for blizzard) and I went outside in the middle of the night, in my pajama pants and my uggs, and stood in my backyard and looked at the trees and processed the fact that wow, I just wrote a novel. It was cathartic and beautiful and I 110% recommend standing in snow up to your knees by yourself in the middle of the night. Very peaceful.

As exciting as it is to be done, it’s kind of weird to be ending it. I started this novel from Ty’s first person POV, and he was just kind of another goofy, dorky character that shared my own sense of humor as well as my sense of perfectionism. But as I wrote, not only did I realize that third person worked so much better, but I started realizing how much of me and my own journey as a queer person had gone into this. It turned from a light-hearted, silly rom-com with little depth, a fun summer project to keep myself busy, to the most self expressive story I’ve ever written. I didn’t expect it to come out with much deeper meaning, it was summer and I was on a light-hearted rom-com kick, and life was carefree and silly and I wanted a book that reflected it. And then, school started, and life just descended into absolute chaos, and it was November, and it was NaNoWriMo, and I was writing my novel while watching CNN for a week straight. (But it all turned out great! New president!)

I can’t remember exactly when I started to incorporate my own struggles growing up as a queer kid, but somehow they bled through in the second half. The last scene of the book is (no spoilers) an incredible breath of fresh air for Ty. It’s something I can only wish for every queer teenager, that moment where you can finally be unapologetically and authentically queer without that nagging worry in the back of your mind. I’ve struggled over this past year with my identity, and as Ty found his place, I found mine as well.

Seriously, writing this book was one of the best experiences I’ve had. Yes, the entire time I had a separate document open, writing down every little thing that needs to change, but I legitimately feel excited for draft 2 and continuing working on this project. I think about how much this book helped me, unconsciously creating the story that I needed to hear, and how maybe, in ten, fifteen years, some queer teenager will be wandering around a bookstore and pick up The Beginning and End of Everything. Maybe just because the cover is pretty. Maybe they like the F. Scott Fitzgerald reference in the title. Maybe they heard about it on Twitter somewhere. But they pick it up, and see themselves in Ty, or in Jude, or in Madison. I know every book that gave me that feeling, I cherish them so deeply, and all I really want is for someone to get that feeling from something I wrote. To see themselves in the pages and know they’re not alone. It’s cheesy, but it’s true, and it’s important.

I think one of my favorite themes in the novel is the whole ‘someone’s got your back’ thing. I 100% did not mean for it to go in the way it did, but I was writing this as I was going through some Stuff, some stuff in which I realized that having someone, just one person in your corner can mean the entire world, if only for that moment. And if there’s no one in your corner when you need it, you can be in someone else’s when they need it. Frankly, I love how it plays out throughout the novel. There was always that theme of Ty and Madison sort of being there for each other, but as I found myself in the first semester of the school year building new friendships with incredible, smart, funny people (albeit most of that being online) and strengthening old bonds, it worked its way in, and it fits perfectly. It adds depth and strength to the story I couldn’t have done consciously.

Essentially, it is still the romantic comedy I intended it to be, but it’s also a coming-of-age (except much older than the traditional coming-of-age). Watching some of my close friends and family graduating college and continuing to struggle with their identities and places in the world I think is what truly carved out this idea. Because not everyone has everything figured out as soon as they graduate, and I feel like, as a teenager, that’s something my friends and I really need to get through our heads. A lot of us expect to have everything figured out as soon as we turn 18. But, we’re 18. There’s a lot of life ahead of us, and we can’t possibly know what we’re going to do so young. So I think that was my main source of inspiration for this novel, and I’m really proud of the way that fleshed out. Of course it needs lots and lots of work, but. I like it. The way my personal life bled through and strengthened the story is incredible to reflect on. Honestly, I really, truly, cannot wait to start working on draft 2.

taglist:

@alicewestwater @august-iswriting @lottieiswriting @phiwrites @jennawritesstories @chloeswords

#the beginning and end of everything #teenwriter #am writing #my writing #my novel #writblr #writeblr #writing update #teen writer #young writer #writingupdate #writer problems #writerscommunity #writing #drafting #nanowrimo #losenanowrimo2020 #camp nanowrimo

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kuriquinn · 4 years

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A Tender Harvest [one-shot]

Disclaimer

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25994254

Pairing: SasuSaku

Summary: Sakura and Sasuke help a village with their apple harvest, and Sasuke thinks about his relationship with Sakura. The thing about traveling together is it makes it that much easier to fall in love.

Author’s Note: So, I wrote this for the fanzine Seasons like a year or two ago and then completely forgot that it existed? And then I was trying to organize the mess that is my writing files and stumbled upon it again and figured, hey, why not post it? Especially since we’re coming up on Fall again lol. (Also, I don’t want people thinking I’m dead or something. I am working on some stuff for SasuSaku, but the creative juices haven’t been flowing as easily as they used to for this fandom…or, well, any fandom if I’m being honest. Kind of stuck in one of those “I should be writing original stuff” funks that hinders all of my fanfic efforts of late. But I am trying!)

Anyway, so here’s something (sort of) new for your enjoyment!

________________________________________________________________

Sasuke curses at the sudden lancing pain in his hand and yanks his arm out of the foliage to glare at his palm. In the centre, a wasp sticks to his skin by the stinger, its tiny wings and appendages flailing to remove itself. Sasuke gives a harsh flick of his wrist, dislodging the insect and sending it flying off somewhere near the ground.

He doesn’t kill it; if there is a nest nearby that would attract others, and there are enough of the little pests buzzing around the trees as it is.

It is early October, the hot autumn sun unimpaired except for some light haze and few bulbous white clouds in the distance. Crickets chirp, and the scent of wet earth inundates the air, mingling with sweat and the distant smell of a brush fire.

The little village where Sasuke and Sakura have been staying the last few days has an economy based largely around produce. Their apple trees, vineyards and rice fields require rigorous tending, as the yield is what keeps them from starving during winter months. They plant a lot, which means they harvest a lot, and any extra hands are welcome. Originally, Sakura and Sasuke travelled here because there was a need for a healer, but they chose to stay and help.

That’s a common enough pattern these days. Sakura keeps an ear out for places that need extra medical attention, and Sasuke fills his days with odd work. The routine is also an excellent cover for gathering information. People rarely ask them questions, too thankful for Sakura’s medical skills, and even without them, Sasuke’s arm usually discourages comment. There were enough men and women badly wounded in the war that no one needs to ask.

It also lends credence to his and Sakura’s wandering, since many people’s homes were destroyed by the war; first by the Zetsu army, and then marauders in the aftermath.

And we’ve encountered quite a few of those, too. Some friendly, some…not.

While Sakura makes house calls, he helps in whatever field where they need him. There were initially some who looked uncertain of his ability be useful, but he soon showed that his missing arm was barely a handicap.

Today he works in the apple orchard. It’s fairly large, maybe twenty acres, and there are a hundred or so people working alongside him. Clumps of men and women are scattered throughout, picking and packing apples in large baskets. A similar number of people sit just beyond the orchard, slumped or lying on the ground, or gathered around the few wagons with water. A few children squeeze into the tiny bit of shade provided by the wagons, but in this heat there’s barely any point to it.

The only ones happy in this weather are the wasps, Sasuke decides, frowning at his palm to see if the stinger is still attached. It’s not, but the skin is already beginning to puff up from the venom.

He shrugs it off—it’s not his first injury of the day, and he’s endured much worse in his life—and goes back to twisting the gleaming red fruits off their branches. It’s uncomfortable, but he finds he’s more irritated by the sweat drenching his clothing than the minor wound.

The orchard workers have had to work in shifts because of the rising temperature, and because Sakura insists that everyone who works needs to stay properly hydrated.

Sakura…

Sasuke became aware of her proximity about a half an hour ago, obviously finished with her work in the village and now arrived to help. Since then he has been vaguely conscious of her bringing people water or traipsing into the orchard to retrieve anyone who she thinks looks tired. No one bothers to protest the way she’s taken charge, either, and though it could be her status as a respected healer, he somehow doubts that’s the reason.

He remembers what she was like back in Konoha, carrying out important errands for Kakashi and running the hospital.

As always, on the tail of that thought he experiences a half-second of guilt for having taken one of their village’s most important resources on a mission of indeterminate length. The second half-second he buries that feeling, reminding himself it was her choice.

And he has no intention of admitting it out loud, but he can’t imagine how the past few months would have been without her by his side.

Well. He can imagine; he just doesn’t care to.

A bell rings in the distance, and someone shouts, “Break time! Change shifts!”

There are groans all around—relief from the orchard workers, and resignation from the vicinity of the wagons.

Sasuke ignores the call, intending to finish filling his basket before heading in, but even as he reaches for the next branch, there is a cough from down below.

When he glances down, he is unsurprised to find Sakura there, hands on her hips. “That means you too, Sasuke.”

“I’m almost finished.”

“No, you are finished. The foreman told me you started with the morning crew and didn’t switch out with the rest,” she informs him. “Just because you’re about the greatest shinobi alive, doesn’t mean you can’t get heatstroke. And just because I will take care of you if you get a fever and start throwing up everywhere, doesn’t mean I’ll like it.”

Sasuke’s mouth tugs upward a little.

It’s been an interesting dimension to their travels, Sakura speaking to him so frankly. There were a few days when they first set out together that she was still stuttering and wordlessly following his lead in everything; a few bandit encounters and a shouting match later, she found her backbone again.

Now, the only time he sees her flustered or nervous is because he’s caught her gazing at him, or when she realises she’s said something with unintended innuendo.

“Annoying woman,” he murmurs into the tree, but the words have long since graduated from contempt to affection.

With an affected air of reluctance, he picks up the basket he was filling and raises an eyebrow at her. She grins, and says, “Come on.”

Sasuke trudges after her toward the nearest wagon, sets down his basket, and heads for the water barrels. Children pour it into cups for the workers, some darting among the amassing crowd to pass them out. This is how Sasuke ends up with one of them, and he is quick to put it to his lips.

He takes several slow mouthfuls, to minimize the risk of brain freeze, and takes pleasure in the way the liquid dissolves the dry, gummy feeling in his mouth and throat. The second cup he is offered, he pours over his head, enjoying the sensation of the cold rivulets cutting through his sweat-streaked hair and down his neck.

Sakura lingers nearby, the look on her face conveying an ‘I told you so’, which he patently ignores before joining the line for lunch. The women of the village pass out rice balls and beef skewers; he accepts gratefully, and then he searches out the nearest bit of shade he can.

There’s an old momiji tree several yards away from the larger group of workers, its leaves already turning red and gold, but still providing enough cover from the sun. He heads for that and is unsurprised when Sakura joins him.

As they pass, he notices people shooting them knowing glances or smiling in something like approval. Several young girls whisper conspiratorially. When he was younger, he would have purposely ignored such scrutiny, at times not even realising what the whispers meant. Though he still pretends obliviousness now, he now fully understands the reason for the unspoken interest.

The implication that he and Sakura are more than just travelling companions doesn’t bother him the way it might have before. In fact, he finds odd comfort in the thought. These days, they are on the cusp of something more, something inevitable. They’ll get there eventually, but he finds himself in no great hurry to do so.

Not because he doesn’t care for her—there’s no question that he does.

But too much of his life was spent hurtling from one state to the next, never content with his current existence and always wishing for more. With this—with Sakura—he wants to take his time and experience every moment.

He’s pretty sure Sakura is of the same mind.

As they sit, she sets down the plate she was balancing between her forearms, and two cups. He takes the latter, still more thirsty than hungry, and drinks deep.

Noticing his blink as a bitter taste hits his tongue, Sakura says, “There’s cold tea mixed in. That quenches thirst better than just water alone, and the electrolytes will keep you going.”

“Hm.”

They eat in companionable silence, yet another new quality to their relationship. Part of it is that now Sakura has an appetite that rivals his own and doesn’t like to waste time talking when she could be eating. The rest stems from the indescribably pull that has always existed between them, an ease one only experiences with the most trusted of kindred spirits. Words would mar that somehow, and neither seems willing to do that right away.

It is only when her meal is finished that Sakura reaches into her pack and produces—of course—two bright red apples.

“I may have snuck a few,” she admits with a smile.

Sasuke snorts. “You’re in an apple orchard. I think you could be forgiven.”

She laughs at that and bites into one of the fruits, making a tiny noise of pleasure at the flavour that has Sasuke swallowing uncomfortably. A rivulet of juice drips down her chin, and he finds himself tracking its progression.

Sakura notes his attention before he can look away, and her cheeks darken.

“Sorry!” she says, a little flustered, and puts aside the apple. “You probably want some too, right?”

There is something I want.

The thoughts present themselves unbidden as Sakura digs around in her kit for a knife, and starts to peel the second apple over her empty plate. His cheeks a little warmer than earlier, he looks away and pretends disinterest.

“Don’t trouble yourself. I haven’t even finished my lunch.”

“Then it will be ready when you are,” she quips without stopping.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches her carefully dispose of the peel and then cut the apple into eight equal slices. Anyone else would think she was babying him, but he knows this is just her way. She genuinely enjoys doing this. He is, of course, perfectly able to cut up his own fruit, or eat an apple as is. But he doesn’t like apple peels, and never has.

He wonders when exactly Sakura noticed that about him.

She holds out the plate of apple slices to him, beaming, and he remembers a similar scene, many years ago. Of her worried and smiling face, her nervous chatter and her hand holding out a plate of apples. And then the clatter as the plate and fruit itself were knocked to the floor.

This time he accepts, forgetting that he hasn’t finished his lunch, and bites into the first slice. The white flesh is sweeter than the apples he usually eats—he prefers them tart and sour—but it’s perfectly in season and tastes good.

Sakura’s lips part in surprise, and the motion causes him to nearly miss as he pops the rest of the fruit into his mouth. Thankfully, she doesn’t appear to see; instead, her eyes flick toward his hand, mouth firming.

Damn. I meant to keep that hidden.

Sakura barely waits for his hand to be empty before taking him by the wrist. “You’re hurt!”

The skin of his forearm and hand is crisscrossed with welts and scratches, as well as several wasp stings from when he was reaching into the trees. He’d forgotten about them, but with her attention, the dull hurts flare to life.

“It’s nothing,” he tells her, trying to take his hand back, but she doesn’t relinquish it.

“You always say it’s nothing. I’ve stopped believing you.”

“I guarantee everyone else working in the orchard has the same thing.”

“And I’ll get to them. But you’re here right now, and knowing you, you’re going to throw yourself back into work right away, so it won’t be until this evening when I get my hands on you again…” He raises an eyebrow at her. Her eyes widen. “That…didn’t come out right…”

He can’t help the slow smirk that pulls at his mouth, and she scowls at him.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, twin spots of rouge flaming even darker across her cheeks but holds his hand closer to her. Green chakra flickers between her fingers, seeping into his muscles and tendons, easing the sharp aching of scraped skin and pulling muscles.

While she heals, her expression relaxes, embarrassment giving way to concentration. He’s noticed that about her: when she uses her medical ninjutsu, everything else appears to fall beyond her awareness.

Still, there’s a tiny smile upon her lips and the fading colour across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones that has nothing to do with the autumn swelter.

When she releases him, she is unabashed and cheerful again. “Better?”

He flexes his fingers, studying the newly healed skin, and nods.

“Thank you.”

Sasuke straightens and reaches for another apple slice, frowning at a mild pinching sensation behind his neck. He hasn’t even rolled his shoulder once to disperse the tension, before Sakura is leaning toward him again, eye filled with concern.

“You’ve strained your neck,” she says, and it sounds accusing, as if she thinks he deliberately kept it from her.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have! I know what that looks like.”

“I haven’t done anything strenuous enough,” he replies, a little indignant because he knows his body’s limits.

“Spending the day with your arm raised overhead and twisting fruit off branches requires different movements than kenjutsu or taijutsu,” she lectures. “If you don’t take care of it now, you’ll regret it tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Stop being so stubborn! Lie down and I’ll fix it for you.”

“No.”

“Sasuke…!”

She is growing annoyed, not understanding the reason for his refusal. He is easier with her lately when it comes to touching or being touched. It’s happened often enough—huddled together in the shelter of a tree when it rains, elbows bumping when they crowd into communal meal halls, or checking each other’s wounds.

If they were alone, he would let her ease the knots from his neck and shoulders, but right now they are in front of an entire village of people. Some of whom are viewing the interchange with blatant interest and amusement, others barely concealing the smiles on their faces.

The back of Sasuke’s neck feels warm. He dislikes such attention.

A look creeps across Sakura’s face, the one that Sasuke knows he will have no recourse against, and he has to act before it fully manifests..

“If you don’t lie down right now…” she begins, her voice rising with each syllable.

“Sakura,” he says, his tone soft but firm in its finality.

Her expression freezes at that, and she blinks, coming back to herself. Then, glancing around, she spots what he has been aware of for a while—the audience of workers pretending not to be observing them.

Her look of surprise is almost comical, and her cheeks flood red once more.

“I didn’t mean— I wasn’t going to— not in front of—” she stammers, all apologies and embarrassment and avoiding eye contact. She jumps to her feet, nearly slopping tea over them both. “I have to get back. They, um, probably need help cleaning up, and I have to go out and check on the other workers, and you…well, you’re right…we can, um, your arm…I’ll just…”

He’s enjoying her fluster more than he should and opens his mouth to speak—to say something smooth in delivery or laden with implication—so that it continues.

But she’s biting her lip as if to physically stop herself from stammering, and her eyes are shining just so, even as they dart about trying to avoid his gaze, and as has become a frequent occurrence, Sasuke discovers every word in his vocabulary suddenly vanishing from his brain.

It takes him several seconds longer than he expects to remember at least one.

“Later?” he suggests.

Sakura stops her fidgeting and meets his gaze. This time he doesn’t bother hiding his small smile from her.

That unnameable something passes between them, bolstered by the rustling leaves and dense heat around them.

Then she smiles back, a gentle and pleased upward curve of her lips, and nods. “Right. Um…later.”

She hurries away after that, tripping a few times before her posture straightens and he watches her transform from his Sakura to the no-nonsense, hyper-confident medic and director.

Sasuke finishes his meal and eases to his feet, ready to head back into the orchard. On his way, he passes one of the workers who is staring Sakura with an air of awe.

“Your girl is something,” he says, impressed.

Sasuke considers Sakura once more, as she directs a group of villagers to go around picking up discarded plates and cups.

In his mind’s eye, he sees a skinny girl with long pink locks, hands on her hips and lecturing him or Naruto or Kakashi for some misbehaviour or other. In a blink it’s replaced with the brave kunoichi, bruised and battered, caring for him when he was ill, or holding him back from throwing himself into danger.

A girl who wouldn’t give up on a boy filled with darkness, even when he shoved away what she offered, be it a plate of apples or her heart.

It’s not the first time he wonders what he did to deserve her.

But he doesn’t reveal any of this to the worker. Instead, he shrugs and says with complete certainty, “She is.”

終わり

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I am trying to figure out how to fit this one into the Legacy of Fire series, but it mostly depends on me writing a completely different fic to allow that to happen, so this can exist in the same series as Miso Soup Everyday and You Are Cordially Invited. So for now it’s not part of the series...

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

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#kuriquinn #sasusaku #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #blank period #legacy of fire #romance #pre-relationship #fluff #feels #seasons zine piece #naruto fanfiction

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claraoswaldfics · 3 years

Text

Halloween Night

The throbbing in her neck was the first thing Clara noticed as she woke up. The second was that she was naked. What had happened last night?

As she pushed her fringe out of her face, she noticed a trail of clothes winding their way from the door to her bed. Heels, jumper, skirt. She lifted the covers, where she discovered her bra and underwear, neither of which were still on her body. But strangest of all were the orange knee-socks on the unoccupied pillow beside her. Were they hers?

On her bedside table, her phone announced it had finished charging. That should have taken it about one and a half hours, so either there had been a power cut last night, or someone else had recently plugged it in for her. Clara looked at the screen and saw on it a message from her flatmate, Priya.

“Noticed a redhead sneaking out of your room this morning. Congrats on losing your gay virginity!” Dozens of emojis followed; huge blocks of pride flags and fireworks lit up her screen, then the message continued, “Not going to tell the group chat until you’re ready of course, but girl, I am going to need all the deets!”

There may have been more to the text, but it was then that Clara noticed the date. November first. Suddenly it all came rushing back.

It was Halloween at Glitz.

The club itself had been dwindling for a while now and most of the cool young people had probably moved away to venues that were more ‘hip’ or ‘fresh’. The fact that Clara assumed that was still the lingo was part of why she still came to Glitz. Not often, granted. It was strictly on an annual basis now. An ersatz tradition dating back to their university days (back when they’d all briefly experimented with paganism) to dance at this increasingly outdated, overpriced discotheque every 31st of October.

Even in the rain

Clara was as usual the first to arrive. It wasn’t so much that she was always early as everyone else was always late. The whatsapp group had assured her a few hours ago that they’d be there though, so there was still a chance (however small) that they were already inside.

She flashed her ID to the bouncer, who made a point of studying it. She was 26 now, old enough to appreciate being mistaken for someone younger, but still young enough to be impatient about the delay. Or maybe it was the costume that was holding him up. Thinking about it, it must be hard to tell if someone is who they say they are when they’re dressed as Velma Dinkley.

Ever since she’d gone for a more bob-like haircut, she’d been getting a lot of comparisons to the Scooby Doo character, so it was an easy decision to lean into it for Halloween. This didn’t mean it was an easy or cheap costume – Clara Oswald never did things by half, after all. She’d been nosing around high streets and second-hand shops the last two weekends putting it together. The orange jumper was baggy but sewn so as to give a good impression of her figure. The glasses made her eyes seem even wider, and combined with the freckles she’d drawn on took five years off her face. Surprisingly it was the little red skirt that had taken her the longest to find, only appearing in a last-minute lunch-break scrabble in Oxfam, and between it and the knee-socks, she was showing a lot more thigh than she was used to.

I mean it looks damn good, she thought to herself, but it isn’t half cold…

The bouncer finally nodded her through, and soon she was enveloped by the warm haze and pounding bass of Glitz. Maybe two dozen people were on the dancefloor, jumping and swaying to a song Clara was fairly sure had come out this year, but not one she knew the name of. I’ll dance at the next one, she thought, or maybe wait until the others get here.

It seemed that almost the moment she found a seat at the bar, her phone pinged. Naomi and Ellen weren’t coming. Apparently some couple had been trying to book their wedding venue out from under them so they were resigned to staying in and shouting down a phone all evening.

That wasn’t good. Those two were the lynchpin of all group planning. It was always worth going out with Naomi and Ellen because there would always be a story the next day. This was because the drunker they got, the more they’d dare the other, and those dares usually involved even more drinking. Clara had even had to bail them out once after they got arrested for shagging on a pool table.

But without them, the group dynamic fell apart. Priya loved nothing more than when a plan got cancelled. For her it was an excuse to shrug her bra off and fall asleep in front of the tv. Clara herself only owned two bras, one good but itchy and the other comfy but old, but Priya could have five littered around the living room at any one time. She’d hidden them on one occasion to encourage future tidiness.

And Emerald, the last of the group, Clara didn’t know particularly well. She knew they kept up with Yugioh (somehow) and read PG Wodehouse, but they’d joined the group in Clara’s last term at uni and she’d had her nose too deep in books to get to know her in any great depth. No doubt they’d have put a lot of effort into some anime costume, but if it was just her and Emerald left, they wouldn’t come.

Okay Clara, it’s not too bad. Shake it off, get a cocktail in you. This night could still go well.

The two pings of doom arrived before she was even halfway through her pina colada. Two more cancellations. Urgh. This calls for a consolation drink. And make it a pint this time.

It wasn’t even nine yet and it felt like the night was over. Clara sighed audibly. Such a shame, she thought. It’s my first Halloween as an out bi woman. This should have been like gay Christmas! I had all this Sapphic energy built up inside me tonight and I’m going to waste it fingering myself in the bath reading Jane Austen again. I’m even wearing the bi flag underpants Ellen got me for my birthday!

She’d been considering the idea of a second pint for around five minutes when she got a tap at her shoulder.

“Velma!”

A jolt of electricity raced up Clara’s spine. She knew that voice, didn’t she?

She turned around in her stool just as the lights above the dancefloor shifted. The woman behind her was briefly illuminated from behind, her face a shadow, but her hair a fiery red halo. Putting a hand in front of her face for a second, Clara took in the rest of her body; a purple dress and go-go boots. Her brain rushed to piece it all together, arriving at the costume before the face.

“Daphne?” She replied, weakly.

As the lights shifted again, Clara was blessed with another view of this woman, who was somehow more dazzling out of the spotlight. She stood imposingly tall, her soft moon-like face looking kindly down on Clara. Taken altogether with her vibrant red hair, Clara felt like she was looking directly at a solar eclipse, and one she couldn’t look away from.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind. My Shaggy’s gone off with my Scooby.” The woman smiled apologetically. “Thought I might go and make some new friends and well… the costume…”

Clara blinked. In fact she blinked rather a few times. She was still trying to process the fact that an angel had descended from heaven right in front of her.

“I beg your pardon?”

The redhead explained herself again. Clara made a note to focus on what she was saying, which, she justified, involved looking at this woman’s lips a lot.

“I did a group costume with these two guys. One was Shaggy, one was Scooby; we thought we’d come here for the night, have a few drinks, have a few laughs, but instead,” the next part of the sentence involved turning her head to shout pointedly “they’re GETTING OFF IN THE TOILETS!”

Clara let out a nervous giggle. It was a good cover for the big red wave of excitation that was coursing through her body. There was something about the way her Scottishness had just announced itself in her voice that made Clara’s thighs shudder. That woman could shout!

“Shaggy and Scooby-Doo?” Clara repeated. “The dog and the dog owner?”

“Exactly!” she bellowed. “Isn’t that mad?”

“That is so mad.” Clara nodded. Agree with everything this woman says, she thought. If she asks you to rob a bank, do it.

“And after only one drink as well!” She continued, exasperated, “They. Are. Terrible!”

“I guess that’s why they call him Shaggy?” It was a weak joke, Clara knew. And I fumbled the delivery. But frankly the fact that I managed a straight sentence around this woman is a miracle. Managing a straight anything was a challenge, to be honest.

And she laughed! She laughed at my dumb joke! I made that sound come out of her! That brogue-y Scottish cackle! Oh this is the best feeling in the world!

“I know! And that dog will do anything for a Scooby Snack!”

God, me too, thought Clara, as she unleashed a laugh a lot less cool than she hoped she would.

Ahem.

“Can I get you a drink?” Clara asked, thankful she still had any rational thoughts left.

“Ooh, yes. Rum and Coke, please.” She smiled. Such a lovely smile. “Do you have a name, or should I just call you Velma all evening?”

“Only if I can call you Daphne” Clara replied with a grin, signalling to the barman. This was a bit of damage control. It was suave and flirty, but she’d missed the window to introduce herself properly, or find out this charming redhead’s name.

“Oh, you want to play that game, do you?” Clara braced herself for the next word, as the redhead’s lips formed around it. “Velma.”

Beads of sweat started to form under her jumper. It was then that Clara realised where she’d heard that sexy Scottish brogue before…

The kissogram from Naomi and Ellen’s engagement!

Six months on and I’m just as flustered.

The drinks came and Clara positively snatched hers off the table. As long as her mouth was occupied with alcohol, she had more time to think. And as always, Clara, try and play it off as glamorous and mysterious.

The more strategic side of Clara’s brain spoke up; so you know who she is, but she doesn’t know who you are. What does that mean? You know what she does for a living – is that an okay thing to bring up? Does the fact that she hasn’t recognised me yet mean my costume is too good…

…or was that kiss unmemorable?

She chanced a look. The woman in the Daphne costume was nursing her rum and coke, but her eyes were still fixed on her over the rim of her glass.

Right. So what if she didn’t remember that kiss. It was half a year ago and in her line of work she couldn’t be expected to remember everyone she’d ever kissed. Clara could hardly do that herself. What it meant was that Clara could make another first impression. A confident, in-control one.

“Miss Blake.” She congratulated herself on remembering that scrap of Scooby Doo trivia.

“Is that Daphne’s last name?” The redhead half-giggled. “I’m sorry, I haven’t watched Scooby Doo since I was a wee bairn.”

Aha! The strategic part of her brain roared into force again. I know more about Scooby Doo than her! I can leverage this to my advantage… somehow! Strategy brain realised it should probably shut up for a bit, and that the reason it had been allowed to think so long without interruption was because the rest of her brain was once again cooing at the Scottish turn of phrase.

“So why Daphne, then?”

“It was a group costume with a bunch of friends, but there were a few no-shows, you know?”

Clara made a gesture to the four people who were definitely not standing next to her “I do know.”

“Between you and me, I’d have quite liked to come as Velma.”

The seriously unstrategic part of Clara’s brain practically roared: Come into the bathroom with me! We can swap clothes right now!

She continued. “besides, what other characters are there to dress up as, as a tall ginger woman?”

Jessica Rabbit, said Clara’s brain.

“Jessica Rabbit” said Clara.

Oh shit, said Clara’s brain.

“Naughty” she chided. “But I don’t think so. Not two years in a row, anyway.”

Oh shit, said Clara’s brain again, but with purpose (and without vocalisation). This is definitely flirting! This could go well! I haven’t made an embarrassing mess of myself!

Tonight, I’m going to rock her world.

“Would you like to take a seat?”

High on her own hubris, Clara hadn’t noticed the seats either side of her were taken. Um…

“I’d love to.”

Sirens blared in Clara’s head as ‘Daphne’ draped one arm over Clara’s back and slid both her indigo tight-clad legs over Clara’s until she was Sitting! In! Her! Lap!

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you?”

In a moment, all of Clara’s newfound confidence melted and words stuck in her throat. Clara worried for a moment maybe her nose was bleeding, or her entire lower body had turned to steam, or worse, that her damn traitor face might be giving Amy some reason to stop sitting on her.

“Oh, not at all.”

THINK OF SOMETHING TO SAY!

“So…”

SOMETHING WITTY, FLIRTY AND MAYBE TO DO WITH HER COSTUME!

“Daphne…”

HERE WE GO! SHOOT YOUR SHOT!

“Would you like to get in the van with me?”

THE VAN???

“The van?”

“The um… the mystery machine.”

“Oh, the van from the show”

“Yes”

“So you want me to get in the Scooby Doo van with you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a van?”

“No.”

“But you just invited me to your van.”

“Yes.”

Clara blinked a few times while her brain rebooted.

“It’s a metaphorical van.”

“And what exactly is it a metaphor for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Truly, this is one mysterious machine.”

“…Yes.”

A few mortifying seconds later, her strategic brain came back online. As did her non-strategic brain. They both made this noise: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

The Daphne impersonator slid her legs off Clara and stood crouched at eye-level.

“Look, can I propose something?” asked the redhead “Instead of you trying to entice me out of the club, into a dirty alley, and into the back of your metaphorical van, why don’t we just get a taxi back to my place?”

Clara fell off her seat.

“Oh my God, your little flustered face!” She belly laughed. “Oh we are going to have such a lot of fun tonight! Come on, Clara.”

Their hands touched as the redhead reached down to help her up. In all future memories of this moment, it seemed to Clara like she was in Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam. Any hints of the reality, that a wide-eyed, shakey-legged sex-addled Scooby Doo cosplayer was being picked off the floor of a bar, were quickly purged from her mind by a greater realisation.

“You know my name.”

“Of course I do. I don’t get to snog many girls in my line of work.” She winked “And I make a note of the cute ones. I’m Amy.”

Clara nearly fell to the floor again.

But Amy kept her on her feet, one arm pulling her whole body to her.

“How about we get you into that taxi, I let you calm down for a little bit, and then you and I can get to know each other, okay?”

A sigh of relief from Clara; this was going well at last!

“Okay.”

“And then after that we can make out a little and I’ll put my hands up your jumper, sound good?”

“Oh God yes.”

END OF PART 1

#clara oswald #amy pond #clamy #amyxclara #claraxamy #femslash

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Text

My Dearest Inej | Chapter Eleven

Chapter Masterlist

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Chapter Eleven: A Balancing Act

My darling Inej,

Don’t think for a minute I don’t know what you’re aiming at with this letter full of questions. You may have my heart, but you can’t be privy to all of my schemes, especially when I’m now aware that your birthday is next month. Did you think I would forget? My dear, I forget nothing.

So, no, to all of your questions. I’m not telling you what I’ve been plotting lately. I’m not telling you what has been on my mind. I’m not telling you if I’ve been visiting Jesper and Wylan’s more than usual. You must wait in suspense just as Jesper did. That’s part of the experience.

And don’t make that scoffing sound when you read this. I remind you that this whole birthday gift experience business was all your idea. You have no one to blame but yourself.

How do I sleep at night, you asked? Noisily, I’ve been told, but just fine, thank you.

With all of my scheming heart,

Kaz

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

To my favorite Inej,

Has he said anything at all to you – regarding the incident in my last letter? We found him on the couch again this morning. It’s at least becoming less startling when it happens. I just wish I understood it. He has that uncanny ability to vanish without explanations, and Wylan and I aren’t sure how to bring it up since he’s so clearly bent on pretending it’s not happening.

I suppose if our sofa and our dog are what he needs right now for whatever is happening inside that ridiculous brain of his, then I’m glad we’re able to help in some small way. He’s not taking advantage of much. We only wish he’d trust us with more.

I mean, we’ve all have nearly died for his schemes on more than one occasion. Should I remind him of that? What could possibly be too much to ask of us at this point?

All my love,

Jesper

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

To our feared and beloved Captain

For her twenty-first birthday:

Cake and kvas and mysteries galore

Are awaiting your arrival

Return to Ketterdam if you wish to know more

Your presence is requested at the enclosed address, at 3 bells the 18th of October.

No questions. All will be revealed in time.

Love,

Your favorite Crows

(addition in Kaz’s handwriting)

That gods-awful poem was Jesper and Wylan’s idea. Withhold judgment until after the evening. I’ll make it worth your while.

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

Dear Nina,

I’m sailing away from Ketterdam today having nearly every single one of my birthday wishes fulfilled but one. But I won’t hold it against you. I know why you couldn’t have been there, or at least, I understand why I don’t know the specifics of why you couldn’t be there. Just know that, at the time of writing this and always, you are sorely missed.

You would be so proud, though, with how our boys outdid themselves. I am impressed and moved and, frankly, still a little speechless. I’m honestly still replaying the memories and recalling the half-starved scrappy little things we all were seven years ago, and the two images side-by-side could not be any more different. I hope, wherever you are, the passage of time is bringing you similar new hopes. You deserve that and so much more, Nina.

Where to begin? You know, years ago, just before we started the Ice Court, Kaz made me this lofty, insane promise. That, if we did it right, we’d be kings and queens. I’ll be damned if he wasn’t right.

The day started at a dressmaker’s shop. I’d been given an address and a time to arrive, and that alone was a little jaw-dropping. It was in The Lid – an absolute premier spot I’d never even heard of when I lived in Ketterdam. I was grossly underdressed when I arrived. It’s not that I have anything against dresses – you know this. They’re just not at all practical for my line of work, and so I have none. I confess that sometimes I’ll admire them in a shop window when I’m out and about in a port town, but why in the world would I ever spend the coin on one? I wouldn’t even know what suits me anymore.

This dressmaker, though, Nina. She knew all everything about the right fabrics, the right cut, the right make. They’d booked me the entire shop all to myself, just me and the dressmaker. She found me an absolute perfect gown – I’m staring at it right now. I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do with it now that my birthday’s over. Maybe I’ll prop it up in my desk chair and have tea with it every once and awhile. It’s this breathtaking light, pastel yellow, like sunshine, with all this detailed beadwork and exposed shoulders and what the dressmaker called an A-line waist. You might know what that means. I think it’s just dressmaker code for very pretty. She tailored me into it right there in the shop and fitted me with shoes and a cloak to match.

(My one regret was having no idea what to do with my hair. You’d cringe, but I left it in the braid. A minor detail the boys overlooked.)

It took a good few hours to get fixed up in the dress, and it was nearly evening by then. The dressmaker assured me it was all paid for, and right about that time, a black carriage pulled up in front of the shop. And Jesper and Wylan had their heads out the windows, shouting like madmen at me from the streets. I think the entirety of The Lid knew then about my birthday.

Kaz was in the carriage, too, hiding his enthusiasm as he does so well. I have to tell you, though, Nina, I won’t ever forget the look on his face when I got into the carriage. He was clearly trying his best to remain cool and unaffected, but I saw it, the way his jaw dropped slightly and his breath caught. This is obviously why I can never get rid of this dress. I’m just imagining what he’s going to end up writing in his letter after this, since, verbally, he actually managed to mumble that I looked beautiful, right there in front of Jesper and Wylan.

You know, it’s interesting. When he says it, it’s not at all like hearing a man in the Menagerie say it. When he says it, it’s like it’s not just the dress. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s the same words, and yet it’s so very different.

And it only got better from there. The city was getting dusky, and the lamps were being lit. We were still in The Lid, amongst carriages and carriages of the filthy rich from the Financial District, the Government District, and tourists from all over. I kept leaning my head out the window to figure out what was coming next.

Nina – they had bought us all ticket to the Cirque Euphoric.

Maybe this means nothing to you. But it’s only the most ancient, most elite, most elaborate traveling circus in the world. It can only be afforded anymore by the wealthiest of tourists. And they were there doing an entire season in The Lid in Ketterdam, under a big top the size of two city blocks.

Nina, you don’t understand. My entire childhood, I kept posters and drawings and any relic that made its way to the markets from the Cirque Euphoric. Their high wire artists set the standard for all other performers in the business. The things they do in the sky, Nina, are things I haven’t even begun to imagine yet.

Sufficed to say, as soon as I figured out where we were going, I lost it. I did not know what to do with myself. I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I burst into tears. It was a horrifying few moments for everyone involved. They were fairly certain they’d done something horribly wrong, instead of so wonderfully right. But that only last a couple minutes. I was able to get it together before Kaz could yell at the driver to take us back to East Stave. And then the merriment resumed, soaked handkerchief and all.

Oh, Saints, Nina, it was everything I’d ever imagined and more.

I don’t know how he knew this, but Kaz had reserved us the very best seats. You don’t want to sit too high at a circus or you’ll miss entertainment on the ground. Sitting too low presents a problem, too, because you want to be able to see the footwork the high wire artists can do. We were right in the middle, just where I’d have picked seats myself. Sankta Alina, I felt like a little girl again. I haven’t been that happy in years. I’d almost forgotten what it was to be that happy. And to watch it all with such beloved friends, who knew me well enough to know I would like this, to watch and hear their reactions to the performances. They might have loved it almost as much as I did. Almost.

We took another carriage ride after, hours later, when it was dark and the streets were bustling with very different crowds. I would have assumed that was the end of it, but Kaz had made us reservations in a private dining room at a fine dining club I’d never heard of.

My entire crew from The Wraith was waiting in the dining room. We ate a meal there fit for royalty, with drinks and a cake big enough that even you might have gotten sick of it after awhile. I don’t think I’ll need to eat again for weeks.

It must have been around midnight or past when we finally rolled ourselves out of the club. We took another carriage ride, stopping first at the Van Eck mansion so Wylan could haul a decently-sloshed Jesper off to bed and hopefully not to the toilet bowl. I actually never heard how he ended up faring that night.

And then it was finally just Kaz and me. If I hadn’t been so tired then, I think I’d have tried to snog his face off the whole way home. I’d been noticing his smug little smirk all evening. He’d planned the whole thing. Like I said, kings and queens. He’d made good on his word at last.

But we were both exhausted on that final carriage ride – he’d booked me a room at the Geldrenner. And it’s not like I needed anything else at that point. The whole experience had already exceeded my expectations. He leaned back against the window, and I rested against him under his arm. We both dozed off there before the end of the ride.

Which is another point I realize I haven’t mentioned to you yet. This has been happening lately. Kaz falling asleep in unusual places. Jesper’s been worrying about it for weeks now. I was having a hard time believing it until I witnessed it myself. Tell me this isn’t weird:

We got to the Geldrenner, and I asked him to come up. Oh, calm down. Are we really going to pretend like this is shocking at this point? Frankly, given the number of years, it’s shocking we weren’t sneaking into hotel rooms four years ago. And it’s not like we do much more than kiss. Although, I thought about it. It was my birthday after all, and he had just gifted me the experience of a lifetime and a luxury hotel room to boot. I was definitely thinking about it.

But that’s not the weird part. Let’s agree that’s not the weird part, anyway. We came up, and we did very little talking. There’d been plenty of talking happening all night, and I was more interested in other things he can do with his mouth. Kissing, Nina, Saints. I can sense you doing that waggling thing with your eyebrows. I’m talking about just a lot of kissing, as soon as he let me get my hands on him. The kind of kissing every grown woman should have on her birthday, kisses that slide into more kisses, like there’s nothing else in the world happening but this.

But then the weird part happened. We’re lying on the bed (fully clothed, Nina, he even still had his gloves on), or at least, he’s lying back on the pillows and I’m kissing him, and then I notice he wasn’t really moving. And I sat back a moment, and I swear to you, he had fallen asleep. Believe me, I called him out on it right then, literally – “Are you sleeping?!” And he flinched right awake and apologized and blamed it on the kvas, and I might have even believed him.

Except Jesper keeps talking about this strange new habit of his. And, as I replay the night’s memories in my head, it does feel like something was off. He seemed paler. He seemed quieter. He seemed – well, tired.

Now I can’t kick this feeling like there’s something more happening behind the scenes. I wish you were here, Nina, and you could work your magic like you do and just squeeze the truth out of his brain somehow. I’ll have to settle for my own magic, I guess.

When I look over my letters from him, he’s off-handedly mentioned feeling overwhelmed, particularly since this kid Artie joined the Dregs. And, don’t get me wrong, the kid is kind of handful. His moods swing wide between murderous rage and affectionate admiration. But he’s not Kaz’s sole responsibility. Pim and Anika do a lot to keep him on task and out of the bad kind of trouble. I wouldn’t think this would be enough to drive him to exhaustion.

But then again, Artie is the same age Jordie was. I wonder how much that gets to him. I wonder how much time he spends avoiding that. I wonder if he allows himself to think of it at all. Would that be enough to push him to the edge? Or is it something more?

It couldn’t be me, could it? Am I becoming exhausting?

Ugh, Nina, come squeeze this out of my brain, too. And then come dress shopping with me, because it is much more enjoyable than I thought it would be.

Missing you terribly,

Inej

#six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #ketterdam #kanej #kanej fanfic #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #kaz x inej #fanfic #fanfiction

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captain-aralias · 4 years

Photo

today i have done very very little. i certainly haven’t started my COTTA but ask me tomorrow, and hopefully i will have because october is already half way done...

for now, i thought i’d post all the bits i deleted from Greener Grass, so they’re out of my head. i’ve just re-read them and i think all of them make the story worse, so it’s good they’re gone! but interesting.

plus, it’s no longer so incredibly painful for me to think about how i deleted 6,000 words from my 40,000 word fic because it’s done. so - now’s the time to share.

if you haven’t read Greener Grass, perhaps you’d like to! it’s a Wayward Son bodyswap.

here’s the stuff i wrote but didn’t use

Deleted scenes:

actually, to be honest, these are less deleted scenes, and more - alternate scenes. in most cases you can see where they came from/what they turned into.

from chapter 1:

(Baz POV)

When I get out, Simon is standing in front of the mirror trying to flatten my hair, even though I definitely told him not to.

“It’s all right, Snow – I can deal with it.”

“You didn’t bring a hairdryer,” he says defensively as I start pulling the kinks out with my wand.

I sigh, although I’m not actually angry about this. It’s just hair – it’s not as if he got it cut without asking me. That I really would have found hard to forgive.

“Do you even know what a hairdryer looks like?”

“Yes.”

“Because there’s one in the wall.”

“Oh.”

Snow’s eyes meet mine in the mirror (which is surreal, for obvious reasons) and then travel down the rest of my body.

“What the hell are you wearing? I look like I work in a bank.”

He looks horrified. As though the sight of himself in trousers that actually fit and a neatly pressed white cotton shirt is one of the worst things he’s ever seen. It really isn’t. He looks lovely.

I frown. “You needed some new clothes.” I lower my voice. “I didn’t look, if that’s what you’re worried about. I changed with my eyes closed.”

“Oh,” Simon says. “Er. You didn’t?”

“No.”

“I looked,” Simon says after a moment. “Twice.”

I stare at him and he shifts uneasily.

“I mean, did you not want to?”

“What?”

I’m not sure if my brain has shorted out from the knowledge that Simon has seen me naked, or from the clear invitation to go and look at him in the same state. Both, probably.

I can feel myself blushing. And see it in the mirror – Simon blushes easily, unlike me. It’s charming. And I can’t help but notice that the flush is spreading below the collar of the shirt I’ve put him in. (Crowley, I wonder how far down it goes.)

“It’s fine if you don’t,” Simon says hurriedly. “I know it’s a bit weird––”

“Simon,” I say firmly, “

reason for change:

i cut this back in february, so i’m not entirely sure - but basically i think it had to go because i knew i switched too early to simon’s POV because baz leaving to go to the bathroom felt so final (people leaving a room? it’s how you know the scene is over. no - that’s lazy). staying with simon meant i could write some of my favourite stuff in this chapter about him looking at baz and wanting him.

(Simon POV)

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Baz said to me as I tried to leave . “There will be a lot of vampires in there––”

I shrug. “I know how to handle vampires.”

“You certainly do,” Baz said. Then I think he realised he’d said that out loud and grimaced. “Please pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Done,” Shepard says.

“Speak for yourself,” Penelope says. “It’ll be burned into my brain forever.”

reason for change:

i mean, i kept most of this. i think i probably cut too harshly, and then missed the ‘handle vampires’ joke and put it back in in a different format.

Chapter 2

i hope you like... hundreds of version of exactly the same fucking scene.

BAZ

Lamb blinks. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it.

It wasn’t what I was expecting, either. I suppose Simon has to say something. (And admitting that he’s the former Chosen One, and we want to see whether the Next Blood can give him his magic back, is unlikely to go down well.) But I’m not sure what he’s getting at with this particular avenue. And clearly, neither does Lamb.

“You do know what the Next Blood are, don’t you?” he says. “They’re like us, physically.”

“You mean, they’re vampires?” Simon says. “Yeah. I mean, I know. But they’re not vampire-vampires, are they? They don’t drink blood.”

I notice Lamb is wincing every time Simon says ‘vampire’. (As am I. Although I’m still invisible so it doesn’t count.) It’s at odds with the confidence that he’s been projecting so far. Which is a relief, actually. It’s good to know that the vampires here are still afraid of discovery. From everything Shepard said about them, I imagined they must be running this entire city. But this one at least still has some fear.

I can use that – if I have to.

I’m sitting in the booth opposite the two of them, on a fur-lined stool (most impractical). As long as no one tries to sit here, I have a clean shot at Lamb, if he tries anything. Although he hasn’t yet. I think he’s genuinely interested in us. (In me? In Simon? In whatever we’re doing here.)

“Would you mind not using that word?” he says now.

Simon looks confused. “What. Blood?”

“No. Although why not stop using that as well? For consistency.”

“Sorry.”

Lamb waves the apology off, gracefully. “But that’s it, is it? The feeding? That’s the thing you don’t like about being … one of us.”

“Yes,” Simon says. “I mean, no. It’s one of the things I don’t like.”

“Strange,” Lamb says. “I’ve always found it rather enjoyable, myself.”

I’m horrified (I knew we were sending Simon out to talk to murderers – but I didn’t expect them to brag about it over milkshakes.) Simon looks horrified too. That’s not usually a good sign for the people he’s horrified about. If he still had his sword, it would be drawn by now.

“Killing people?” he demands.

I grip my wand more tightly, but Lamb only laughs.

“No. That’s not much fun at all, is it? But it’s hardly necessary.”

“It’s not?” Simon says. Then I think he remembers the phone (although obviously, I’m right here. And I don’t think I would have missed this, even if I wasn’t). He says very clearly: “You’re saying vampires don’t kill everyone they bite?”

Lamb sighs. “Simon. You don’t mean to tell me you’ve been draining everyone you bite? No wonder you hate yourself.”

reason for change:

pass. (maybe i should remove this commentary portion.) i know i was having big problems with this scene. as you’re about to find out.

i think i probably cut this because i was struggling, and then i re-wrote it in simon’s POV, which you can see below, and then re-wrote again very similar to what we have here.

(Baz POV)

“Then don’t,” Lamb says. “Honestly, Simon, it’s not as if it’s compulsory.”

My wand clatters to the floor. Lamb’s head jerks towards where I’m sitting, but Simon is completely focused on him.

“What do you mean, it’s not compulsory?”

Lamb’s head twists back. He tuts. “Have you really been draining everyone dry? It’s really not necessary.”

reason for change:

a different version of the above? still not really working.

(Simon’s POV)

“Because I don’t like being a vampire,” I say.

Lamb blinks. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Even I wasn’t expecting it, but I don’t think it’s the worst lie I could have come up with.

Anyway, Lamb seems to be buying this, so I’m safe for now. In fact, he’s more interested in me than ever. He leans slowly forward in his seat, but I can tell he’s just pretending to be casual. He’s really paying attention.

“And you think the Next Blood can help you?”

I shrug. “Yeah?”

Lamb’s eyebrows are right down. “I haven’t heard anything about this.”

I shrug again. “Maybe you don’t move in the same circles.”

“I try not to,” Lamb says. “Perhaps that was a mistake.”

reason for change:

ok, this is an interesting one. here Lamb mistakenly believes that simon’s telling him that the next blood can change people back from being a vampire - and that’s why he’d team up with them to destroy the next blood. which i thought was cool and fun, and made sense of lamb being an ally. but ... it opens too many doors i’m not interested in and it’s a stupid misunderstanding where a few words could clear it up. so - i ditched this.

(Simon POV again)

“Because I don’t like being a vampire,” I say.

Lamb blinks. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Even I wasn’t expecting it, but I don’t think it’s the worst lie I could have come up with.

Baz does resent being a vampire. (Even if, so far, it actually seems all right to me.) I don’t think he’d love it even if the Next Blood taught him how to survive on transfusion, rather than rats. But it’d be a something. He wouldn’t have had to eat that squirrel, the other day. Or that dog I stole for him, which even I feel a bit guilty about and I didn’t have to eat it.

Lamb is still frowning. “You do know what the Next Blood are, don’t you?” he says. “They’re like us. Physically.”

“You mean, they’re vampires?” I say. “Yeah. I mean, I know. But they’re not vampire-vampires, are they? They don’t drink blood.”

Lamb grimaces. “Would you mind not using that word?”

“Vampires?” I say and Lamb sighs.

. “You mean, eternal life, not aging. Being stronger and faster than everyone else – none of that’s for you?”

I shake my head. I’m trying not to look surprised, even though Lamb’s just told me my boyfriend’s immortal. (I mean, Baz and I always knew it was a possibility. Frankly it’s a bit of a relief to have it confirmed – now he can make plans.)

“So, what?” Lamb says. “Are you just tired of life? Is that it?”

“No,” I say.

Because I’m Baz right now and Baz isn’t. He’s thriving.

Even I’m not tired of life. (At least, I don’t think I am.) Although I am tired of my life – all the sitting around. All the waiting for something to happen. Because it doesn’t.

Or it didn’t – I suppose things have been happening again, since we got to America. I’m being interviewed by a vampire (ha) about being a vampire. That’s different. Not good-different. But different.

“I don’t think I’d want to live forever, though, either,” I say.

“You don’t have to,” Lamb says. “You’ve been given the gift of choice.”

reason for change:

in this scene i was thinking a lot about rainbow saying that she likes to position scenes in the head of the person who cares about it the least. i think that’s why i was trying to force simon’s POV for so long. that and the fact that i thought it was cool, that the reader has this secret which is that Baz is there, and that in the version i eventually went with baz is passive and gets no chance to say anything - he just has to keep reacting.

i think i switched it back to Baz because i felt he deserved to be able to react, though. and you do kind of forget that baz is there, watching thsi scene, if it’s not his POV.

it has some of my favourite lines i cut though, particularly this bit: Even I’m not tired of life. (At least, I don’t think I am.) Although I am tired of my life – all the sitting around. All the waiting for something to happen. Because it doesn’t.

never mind!

(Simon POV)

“I don’t like hiding who I am,” I tell Lamb, because I know that’s what gets Baz down the most. It’s not that he has to eat rats – or it’s not just that. It’s that he has to sneak around, so no one knows he has to eat rats. It’s that his own family won’t even say the word ‘vampire’ out loud. “I’m sick of lying to everyone. And eating rats – I don’t like eating rats.”

Lamb makes a face. “Why are you eating rats?”

“Because I don’t want to kill people,” I say, even though it’s obvious.

Or at least, I thought it was obvious. Lamb looks surprised.

“It’s not compulsory,” he says.

reason for change:

we know this one now - this is simon’s POV, and i’d switched back to baz. this is quite good, though, re baz’s family.

(Simon POV)

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Lamb says.

He must have heard it vibrating (vampire hearing – I can hear it too, if I concentrate. Not just feel it.) Something must have gone wrong. I don’t want to draw attention to the fact that my friends have been listening in on our whole conversation. But just ignoring the call now he’s pointed out is probably even more suspicious. And if something has gone wrong, I should probably find out what it is.

“Yeah,” I say. “Hang on.”

“Take your time,” Lamb says smoothly.

I slide out of the booth, pulling the phone from my pocket. It’s definitely ringing, but the screen says Fiona Pitch rather than Penelope. Which is good, I think. It means nothing’s wrong. I reject Fiona’s call and there’s Penny’s call – still connected.

“Is everything all right

“Simon? Is Baz with you?” Penny’s voice says.

“What?” I say. “I thought he was with you.”

“He––”

“How dare you hang up on,” another voice says, cutting in over the line. (It must have been magic – I think, even on a posh new iPhone like this one is, you still have to choose to change the line). And I might not have recognised it, but I’ve just seen the owner’s name on my phone. i

When I look back over at Lamb, I see Baz taking a seat opposite him.

BAZ

Baz, right?”

I’m not sure what gave it away.

I’ve been here the entire time, and Simon hasn’t described me – himself – to Lamb. I would have noticed. And it’s not like Simon and I have matching terrible-boyfriend rings or bracelets (I’m not that pathetic.)

Perhaps it’s the look of cold fury I’m giving him. I know this look well – from the other side. I know Simon’s good at fury, that it looks good on him. Like he means it.

Whenever he used to direct that look at me, I knew I was going to have to duck. Or spell him first. It’s not an unattractive look, but I never got distracted when I saw it. I knew

So right now, I think I probably look like the sort of man who’s probably thinking seriously about ripping this Lamb’s throat out. The sort of man who’s just had to spend the last half an hour listening to Lamb trying to tempt my boyfriend into destroying me, like a sort of second-rate American Mephistopheles.

But Lamb doesn’t seem intimated by Simon’s scowl. He still seems delighted.

reason for change:

this is all victim of the POV swap. i knew i was struggling writing simon and lamb’s conversation so skipped ahead to him leaving to talk to fiona, and then back to baz.... some nice stuff here, probably, but ultimately it’s just slowing the action down. baz going right up to lamb is more dramatic.

(Simon POV)

And now I’m stuck trying to explain why I called her earlier today (I didn’t – Baz must have done it while he was out shopping) because Baz never calls, apparently, unless things are bad. Or he’s broken something in the flat and doesn’t know how to fix it with magic.

I mean, they are bad. (Maybe.) But I don’t think that they’ll get any better if I tell Fiona the truth.

So far, I’ve reassured her that Baz’s siblings are all fine. (“Just as annoying as ever, unfortunately.”) And his parents are fine. (“Both in the peak of health.”) And that his exams were fine.

“I’m going to be the top of my class,” I tell Fiona confidently because Baz is. “I’m a complete genius.”

“Hm,” Fiona says, unconvinced. “Tell me – how do you set the thermostat again?”

“Trick question,” I say. “I’d get you to do it.”

Fiona laughs – and it’s nice, I think. A real laugh. I think she does actually like Baz

reason for change:

i had the whatsapp group idea and it was better. this is me leaning into the idea of simon having to pretend to be baz.

(Simon POV)

“Let’s go, Simon,” Baz says.

He stands up next to me. He’s trapped by the booth and the table and me, so even if I wanted to stay (which I definitely don’t, if Baz is leaving), I’d have to stand to let him out. I do and Baz pushes past me, so he’s on my other side – with me and the table between him and Lamb.

“And I haven’t even told you about the Next Blood,” Lamb says.

I shake my head. “You’re right – it was a stupid idea. They’re not going to fix my problems.”

“I can, though,” Lamb says as Baz turns on his heel and I go after him.

“Well. You know where to find me,” Lamb calls, even though I don’t. I don’t think it matters though.

reason for change:

i wrote them a conversation with Lamb instead - here baz is just horrified by whatever it is he’s heard (who knows? i didn’t write it)

(Simon POV)

I stand up to let him pass and Baz practically drags me out of the restaurant by the hand. Out onto the strip where music is still playing and the lights are so bright it might as well be daytime.

Once we get there, though, he freezes.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Vampires,” he says. “Everywhere. Can’t you see them?”

and another version of this...

I pull Baz’s phone out of my pocket, tell Penny we’re heading back, and hang up.

Baz turns to me as I catch up to him. He has his wand out and flicks it, casting Nothing to see here over both of us.

“There are vampires everywhere

reason for change:

this is here because i wanted to write baz seizing simon and flying him up to their room, so he has to cast nothing to see here. also, he’s freaked out about vampires. but baz flying simon up to their room is insanity, so he shouldn’t do that, and baz can be freaked out about vampires because simon is kissing him and we don’t need anyone else.

Chapter 3

thank goodness we’re out of that shitty chapter (shitty from a writing perspective. as a chapter, it works ok! but i still resent it for the problems it caused me.)

it’s highly relevant that mid-chapter 3 is where i took a break and wrote my remix - which is also about wayward son and these themes (and just forced me to stop forcing myself miserably through this chapter). by the time i had to take a break, i’d written most of the flying and the biting, but not the end of simon’s first section in this chapter, or the ending.

(Simon POV)

Last night he found out that his body was different than he’s always thought it was. That’s something I know a lot about. I also now know something about what it’s like to be a vampire. But I’m not sure that helps. I think that’s just making it about me again.

Right now, my part of the story is just to be there for him, the way he’s always been there for me. Or maybe it would be if we weren’t in each other’s bodies right now. As it is, I think I can do a bit better than that.

I’ve dragged Baz out of the hotel (not physically, although he is stronger than me, so I could have done it.) (I just gave him a hand up out of the bath.) I wasn’t sure he’d agree to come with me, but I told him we were going to pick up a burger on the way, and that seemed to do the trick.

“A full sized one?”

“Remember, you’re meeting Lamb at two,” Penny called after us. “And you have to come back here first to pick us up first. Back by lunchtime, Simon.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Now we’re speeding out of the city in Shepard’s truck. (The cab this time, not the back. But this is pretty good, too.) I’m driving. Baz is leaning against the window

Although it might also have helped that I let him wear the floral jacket from yesterday (he spelled it bigger), even though I don’t wear patterns and it’s about a million degrees outside.

It’s only fair – I couldn’t face putting a shirt back on, so today I’m in Baz’s jeans, my t-shirt and I’m wearing my own jacket because I know Baz gets burned easily. Also, I asked room service to bring me a hat with a brim when they brought us breakfast and they did. A cowboy hat. Which is

“Eat,” I tell him now, passing him a bag full of

reason for change:

i was planning to just start this chapter with them driving out to go flying. but then i wanted to write more baz angst... so all this gets cut.

also, this explains why baz thinks that simon is going to get him a burger in the draft i posted, even though simon does not ever say that ;)

(Baz POV)

Even if it would take the pressure off a bit, perhaps. I know what I like, and presumably Simon knows what he likes – but it’s far too weird. (And it’s not the same as kissing. We’ve kissed before, in our actual bodies. This is just an admittedly bizarre continuation of that.) And anyway, it’s Simon I’m desperate to sleep with. Simon who I’ve always wanted.

Simon who is still talking.

reason for change:

i gave this to simon instead!

(Baz POV)

“And you should bite me,” he says breathlessly.

I swallow. (Although honestly, it’s not as if I haven’t thought it).

“All right.”

“You’ll like it,” Simon assures me.

“Well, you’ll like it too.”

Simon groans and presses his forehead into mine.

“Fucking pukwudgie,” he says as I laugh.

...

I never thought I’d be desperate to be back in my own skin, just that I wanted Simon out of it, but I need to be myself if I’m going to be able to do any of the things I’ve always wanted to do to him.

reason for change:

no idea. maybe because it’s too much like the mage’s heir.

(Simon POV)

He doesn’t start the ignition.

“I should have thought of this sooner,” he says instead. “But I could try spelling your wings away properly. While I’m in your body.”

“Huh?” I say.

My wings are definitely already gone. We wouldn’t fit in the cab, otherwise.

“Your wings,” Baz says. “I know no one’s been able to properly remove them before – even Doctor Wellbelove was talking about surgery. But I’ve always assumed it was because you were the one who cast the spell. So it’s possible that, now I’m in your body, I’d be able to get rid of them for you.” I’m staring at him. “I know we both hope that you’re going to get your own magic back,” he continues carefully. “But in case that doesn’t work – or in case you can’t control it …”

reason for change:

i tried to write this baz-magic wings thing in a few times, because i wanted simon to be able to tell baz that he likes his wings now (and it makes sense that baz would think of this). but ultimately it didn’t flow, that’s the reason i never managed to put it in. i gave baz the revelation instead of simon, re his fangs. so simon doesn’t get this big thing about his wings not being that bad - which obviously leads into what i eventually wrote for the ending which is that simon still.... isn’t completely comfortable in his body, he didn’t have exactly the same revelation that baz did. this is me trying to give him that, though.

(Simon POV)

“Do you want to see Lamb?” I say.

Baz makes a face. “Not particularly. It’s more of a necessary evil.”

“Because he can tell you lots of vampire things?” I ask. “Or because of me? Because if it’s the latter––”

“Of course it’s the latter,” Baz says.

“Then I don’t think we should go,”

“I don’t need my magic back.”

“Are you sure?” Baz whispers.

reason for change:

i probably cut it in favour of what i wrote below.

but essentially it’s all cut because i stopped writing this fic for a month and when i came back i realised that it was still chapter 3 and they couldn’t have this revelation yet!

(Simon POV)

Today, I’m even less keen on seeing Lamb again than I was yesterday. It just seems so pointless. And since Baz barely eats, and I am Baz at the moment, I’m not even that excited to go to a restaurant. (Besides, my mouth still tastes of him. However good this place is, it’s not exactly going to measure up, is it?) But I suppose we do have to go, don’t we?

Because Lamb’s still got lots to tell us. And it’s clear, Penny will kill me if we don’t get to try the food.

It’s just – Baz really doesn’t need transfusion if he can just keep drinking from me. And I can’t help thinking I should really have a better excuse to be tangling with possibly hostile vampires than a curry and maybe getting my magic back.

“Do you really think magic will make your life better?” Lamb asked me yesterday. And I said no.

Baz is already climbing out of the truck-bed and casting “Every time a bell rings” on his wings. I follow him, taking the driver’s seat. After a while he joins me in the cab of the truck and straps on his seltbelt.

I still don’t start the engine.

“Snow?” Baz prompts. “Do you need me to drive?”

I shake my head.

“I’m thinking.”

“Unusual,” Baz says – which is shitty of him, but I think I like that he’s being shitty. He stopped for a while, like how he stopped touching me. It feels like good sign that he’s started again.

“About going to see Lamb.”

“We’re already going to be late,” Baz says.

“I know,” I say. “But. The thing is. You’d still love me, even if I never got my magic back.”

Baz’s eyes flick to his trousers. He smooths down the fabric, even though there’s nothing wrong with it as far as I can see.

“Yes,” he says, without looking at me.

“Right,” I say, relieved. “So, I don’t need my magic back. Which means I only think we should talk to Lamb if you want to.”

Baz’s eyes flick back to my face. “How–?”

“Fiona told me,” I say. “On the phone last night.” I’m just going to say it – it’d be weird not to say it. “And it’s mutual, by the way. In case you’re wondering.”

Baz raises an eyebrow.

“Right.” He looks out the window for a moment and then back to me. “Needless to say, this is not how I imagined this moment going.”

That’s an understatement – he’s in my body, I’m in his. I’ve got at least a pint of Baz’s blood in my stomach and we’re in a truck in the middle of a desert. (I didn’t exactly plan this.)

“What I was actually going to say,” Baz says, “is: How can that possibly be your only consideration?”

“Because it is,” I say. “Before, I thought I needed magic to keep you––”

“You don’t,” Baz says quickly.

I nod. “So, fuck it. I’d only be shit at it again, anyway. I’m not going to risk you and Penny just so I can go back to being terrible at magic.” I don’t say that this would probably make me even more depressed, but I can tell we’re both thinking it. “I shouldn’t have even made you come on this trip. But I don’t mind speaking to Lamb again. If you want to. He seems all right.”

He doesn’t really. It’s just Lamb’s never tried to kill us, which makes him among the nicest vampires I’ve ever met. It’s still a relief when Baz shakes his head.

“I’m getting older. Frankly, it’s a relief. The only normal thing about me. And if I am immortal, I’d rather not think about it.”

That sounds about right. It’s what I’d do.

“Let’s not go then.”

Baz nods. “Just to be clear – you did say you were in love with me?”

“Yeah,” I say, grinning. “Yeah, I am.”

I take his hand and squeeze. This time Baz does smile. He pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket with his other hand and dials a number.

“Bunce – order takeaway. Simon and I have better things to do than talk to more vampires.”

Then he leans over (he gets caught in his seatbelt – I unbuckle it for him) and climbs into my lap.

reason for change:

as above - it’s the wrong time in the narrative for this confession, even though they’re mostly past their shit. and i thought i wanted to write this slightly withdrawn confession where it’s not overblown and we use the confessions they already got from other people, but... i think it’s wrong for this story.

AND.... because i wrote my remix of bazzybelle, i wrote this thing where simon says ‘i love you’ in the middle of a sentence and baz almost doesn’t notice. so that’s good - i got it out of my system there in a much better place - and when i came back to this one, i was like... right... i mean, they can miss lamb because they were kissing, not because they just didn’t want to see him. that makes sense.

(Baz POV)

It’s not long before Simon gets hungry again. By which I mean, I get hungry again. I make Simon drive us back to the centre of Vegas where we can pick up a burrito and a milkshake.

“I’ve wanted one since last night,” Simon tells me, although I notice he still leaves most of it to me.

Last night feels so long ago.

Last FINISH

I can’t believe he loves me. (I can’t believe I didn’t cry when he said it. Although it probably helped that Simon managed to make the declaration so confusing that I wasn’t entirely sure I’d heard him correctly.)

FINISH

Bunce’s idea from earlier that we get other

“I should have thought of this sooner. I could probably spell your wings off permanently.”

I’ve tried before – so has Bunce. It hasn’t worked. Doctor Wellbelove has talked about surgery because nothing he knows has been at all effective. But I’ve always assumed the reason no spells have worked is that Simon wasn’t the one casting them. While it’s clear that’s never going to happen now, there is still this small window of opportunity where Simon’s body at least does have magic. My magic.

I thought Simon would be pleased with this suggestion, but he looks positively alarmed.

“But we already have a spell to hide them.”

“I know.” But it’s extremely inconvenient.

“I can ask Doctor Wellbelove if I change my mind,” Simon says – but I can’t

reason for change:

i’m leaving these weird half sentences and notes to myself in because a) that’s how i’ve stored them and b) i think it’s interesting to see where the thought processes dropped. this is another shot at the wings conversation. also - it picks up the milkshake thing from chapter 2.

i don’t seem to have kept it, but i wrote something where simon kept comparing baz’s fangs dropping to an inappropriate erection. (it seemed funny at the time)

and i never wrote it, but i think the reason i wrote that was because i was planning a version of this restaurant scene where they go to a bathroom and simon bites baz again and it’s just silly and playful after the intense stuff out in the desert. anyway - the low key version is better.

plus - the other thing to say about this chapter, i guess, is that about this time the thing about minors happened in thsi fandom. and i think i was trying to keep this chapter teen-rated so that no one would get upset. i wrote a much more sexual version of the bite. (which is still pretty sexual - i couldn’t get rid of it all) but i stripped back as much as i could and left a content warning at the top of the chapter.

Chapter 4

(Baz POV)

They’re Lamb’s people, right? Highly flammable.”

He makes a call from his watch. Tells whoever is on the other end to, “Let them get inside the house and light it up.”

“You got it, boss,” the person on the other end of the line says before hanging up. Braden grins at me as I stare at him in horror.

“What?” he says. “You think I wasn’t prepared for this?”

He wants to me to know what he’s done – because it’s clever. Because he’s that kind of supervillain. He tells me everything.

He had a truce with Lamb, but he wasn’t stupid enough to trust him. He always knew Lamb might turn on him – when Braden was close to his answers. When the time was right. That’s why the Next Blood has flamethrowers built into the ceiling of this house, the same way other homeowners might have sprinklers. It’s why the walls are lined with stainless steel, so the building doesn’t burn – only the carpets. Only the people.

I don’t even know what happens if Simon dies in my body.

Not that it matters that he’s in my body, because if Simon’s dies, however Simon dies, I’m done. My life is over. My life is Simon.

I have to stop this.

And I can.

I feel the fire crackling to life in my palms. (I was waiting for the right moment to try and escape. This is definitely the right moment.) I see Braden’s eyes widen. But before I can thrust the fire into his face, everything goes dark.

Not completely, dark, though. Just darker.

I’m outside. And it’s dark outside. It’s after midnight. Two days must have passed.

I pull fire into my hand again and throw it at the nearest vampire.

“What was that?” Penelope shrieks behind me. “That wasn’t me.”

She turns towards me and I grin. “Hello Bunce.”

“Baz?”

“Did you miss me?”

reason for change:

oh hey, did you think that the bit where shepard says - why does everyone have machine guns that are no use against vampires?? might be setting something up. well - it wasn’t initially. and then i thought - oh, it could be a sign it’s a trap and wrote this.

but my plan had always been to have baz confront lamb inside the house, pretty much exactly what happens in the fic, and for it to be a short-ish distance to simon. creating this fucking death trap inside the house means that all the bits with the gang and lamb have to be outside the house - and it just made the action really weird. also, it meant that baz - a vampire - literally has to run into a burning house to save his BF. who - as we know - is already saving himself.

(Baz POV)

Everything’s on fire.

Penelope Bunce cast a bubble around me with what I think was the last of her magic and I ran straight into this house, even knowing what Braden was going to do when I got here. (She tried to tell me she’d go instead, but she was clearly exhausted. Anyway, she’s not the one who knows where Simon is. And she’s not his boyfriend, I am.) (I told her to get back to the truck – and then I told Shepard to make sure she actually went. I also told both of them not to trust Lamb, even though apparently he’s been helpful so far. Fortunately I didn’t see him, so I didn’t have to choose between rescuing Simon, and setting my kidnapper on fire.)

It’s hot. And there’s smoke everywhere. Even though I was only led down these corridors a few hours ago, I can barely see where I’m going. I’m just stumbling on

reason for change:

because i realised this made no sense.

(Baz POV)

Fortunately, Simon seems to agree.

He kicks out at the window over the golf course. It cracks loudly. He kicks it again and this time the glass shatters. Falling in jagged pieces to the floor. Letting the night air in.

I cross over to him and look down. It’s only a few stories, I should be able to “Float like a butterfly” although it’s going to need a lot of magic. Magic I might need when we get down.

But Simon Snow doesn’t need magic to fly.

His wings are outstretched behind him, filling the room. He offers me a hand. “Come here?”

I know what he’s planning. I also know he can’t lift me. Not easily.

But making yourself weightless isn’t as difficult as a controlled fall. I cast “Light as a feather” and let him pull me in by the waist.

“Cheat,” Simon says as I wrap my arms round his neck. “I could have done it.”

I hang on as his wings I wrap my arms around his neck.

Tighter, as I feel my feet lift off the floor. As Simon carries me out and up, his wings beating powerfully behind him. I hold on to dear life, to Simon.

I shut my eyes

“I love you,” he says. Clearly. Easily. As though he’s thought about it and he doesn’t have any more doubts.

reason for change:

i wanted the i love you to be in baz’s POV, which is why i wrote this for baz - but it made this final baz section super long, leading into the prologue that also starts with baz. the weightless magic is nonsense and had to go. otherwise, i think i just wanted simon back in the story again. and the flight is his victory.

also - i tried to play myself again and put the ‘i love you’ before the end. KEEP IT TO YOURSELF, SIMON, FOR GOD’S SAKE.

Prologue

(Simon POV)

I’m sitting out on the sand, with my boots off and my jeans rolled up. It’s still early, so it’s quiet. No one else is on the beach besides a few dog walkers. Agatha says the taco-stands are amazing but they don’t open until later.

I can just hear the waves and the birds. I can hear myself think.

I’ve been to the sea before, but not like this. I was always there because I had to do something. Rescue Agatha. Find an underwater city. Try and convince the selkies to give back the ancient totem they’d borrowed from the Mage.

I’ve never just been on holiday. Even this trip turned into a quest almost immediately.

It makes me think maybe I should talk to Fiona about joining the WhatsApp group. Even though I would have to keep dealing with Fiona. (She’s sent someone to deal with Braden. I told her to leave Lamb alone for now, as I don’t think he’s hurting anyone. She said I should mind my own fucking business.)

Maybe I should try and actually go on holiday.

Somewhere quiet.

Somewhere peaceful. (Baz would like that.)

Somewhere with a double bed. (Baz would definitely like that.) (I reminded him I’d seen him naked earlier, while he was in the shower, and I’m pretty sure I heard him destroy Agatha’s shampoo rack by mistake.)

reason for change:

i was really struggling with simon’s bit of the prologue. i wrote most of baz’s final section (as well as the first baz section, which was easy) before i came back and wrote this.

this is me trying to work out what simon might be thinking about. again, i wondered if i’d blown all the revelations simon needed to have about himself in the previous chapters - but i worked it out.

then, after i’d written almost everything, i remembered the rock (it probably feels like i wrote that in just so simon could throw it away in this scene, but i literally thought of that an hour before posting. i wrote the rock so that braden would say ‘your magic’s gone!!’ originally he was going to be looking at simon’s blood, but then baz pointed out in his POV section that his blood wasn’t magic ... so... magic rock).

(Baz POV)

Simon’s eyes are still damp, but he’s smiling. “I don’t know why.”

Crowley, I think I’m crying now.

“That’s because you’re an idiot. Why wouldn’t I?” I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “Listen, I admit I saw this on Oprah, but Maya Angelou once said––”

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them,” Simon says quietly.

Strange. He must have seen that episode too. Not impossible (demonstrably) but I didn’t think it was his kind of thing.

I nod. “I know who you are, Simon Snow. You’re the bravest person I know. The most extraordinary.” Now I’ve started, the words are easier. “You’re the love of my life.”

I have more to say. I could probably talk about Simon’s virtues for hours, if I properly thought about it, but he tackles me before I can. Pressing me down into the sand. The ocean laps at our ankles as Simon kisses me.

“Shit. I’m getting sand in your hair,” he says after a while.

“I don’t care,” I tell him, even though I’ve just blowdryed it.

He doesn’t believe me. (I suppose Simon knows who I am, too.) When Penelope Bunce runs down the beach towards us, Simon is holding my hand and watching me trying to spell grit out of my hair.

reason for change:

i love a cyclical narrative - and although my story doesn’t begin with this quote, wayward son does. plus, greener grass is about showing someone who you are, so i thought it was appropriate. but i also knew it was cheap for baz to have seen the same show, even as i was writing it. and i think the nail in the coffin is that i struggle not to think of ‘you’re the fucking love of my life’ without thinking about the bill nighy storyline from ‘love actually’. would anyone else have thought of that? i doubt it. but it was there for me.

and this kissing scene is just so me - i find it embarrassing how typical it is. anyway, it went to be replaced by a slightly different kiss scene.

and that’s all i have! except that i struggled with the final ending. i sent it to giishu, who sensibly suggested i just leave them on the beach (which was everything i’d written so would totally have worked) (arguably better? we will never know).

but i really wanted this ‘troubles at watford’ ending - to show that they’d learned enough that they could handle anything now, as they were together.

i don’t know how obvious it is, but this is the feeling i was going for -

there’s still something in that, i think. might keep hold of it and think about it a bit more. we know seuss is important to the world of mages.

thanks for reading the fic! and all these bad bits.

#my deleted scenes #carry on #wayward son #my content

20 notes · View notes

couldbeasong · 3 years

Note

1-60 for the ask meme

Ope sorry I did not see this until today. I think I know the one? If it’s not the one you meant just lmk lol

1. Selfie?

You can have this picrew but I wish to be unperceived.

2. What would you name your future kids?

For female names I like: Harmony, Slyvia, Edelweiss, Bethany, and Opal

For male names I like: Uriah, Aiden, Kai, Levi, and Luke

3. Do you miss anyone?

My grandpa and Midnight (old dog)

4. What are you looking forward to?

Going on vacation in a few weeks, the end of the semester, and seeing @calligraphywitch tomorrow

5. Is there anyone who can always make you smile?

@calligraphywitch and my other girlfriend. They’re hilarious lmao

6. Is it hard for you to get over someone?

Romantically? Not really. You kinda gotta just accept it and move on. In the past, always being like: this will never work because of reason xyz helps.

Friendship wise? Absolutely. It depends a lot on the emotional investment I put into the relationship, but I find myself still missing people I haven’t talked to since High School or Middle School.

7. What was your life like last year?

It was weird being a freshman in college and trying to survive. I had a lot of family problems going on along with one of my best friends from High School being on her death bed for a while. A bit of a crisis of faith as well. But we survived, God willing! I miss pre-pandemic times tho

8. Have you ever cried because you were so annoyed?

Ask my brother. I’m sure there’s been an instance.

9. Who did you last see in person?

My grandma across the room from me!

10. Are you good at hiding your feelings?

I hide them so well I can’t even find them!

I like to pretend they aren’t there and repress them a lot but idk if I’m good at hiding them from others per say.

11. Are you listening to music right now?

I’m in a zoom meeting for class, so I guess my professor's voice?

12. What is something you want right now?

Freedom

13. How do you feel right now?

Kinda tired, kinda nauseous, kinda bored. Idk I probably need to drink some water.

14. When was the last time someone of the opposite sex hugged you?

Uhhhh idk about a week ago? My last hug was probably a week ago too XD

15. Personality description

I like to think I’m funny

16. Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn’t?

I work in customer service- everyday (:

17. Opinion on insecurities.

Everyone is insecure about something. It’s kinda fascinating how even though all of humanity is exactly the same (in terms of our struggles and insecurities, we don’t vary) we still judge others for having them. Confidence is seen as a virtue and the most attainable goal. Society profits off of your insecurities tho so be aware of what they are and don’t let yourself be scammed.

18. Do you miss how things were a year ago?

Certain aspects perhaps. But 2019 is gone. It performed and then it left. It can’t hurt us or help us anymore. There’s little use in dwelling on that and wishing for 2020 to be 2019.

19. Have you ever been to New York?

No, but I swear Ima go one day and see a show on Broadway.

20. What is your favorite song at the moment?

I have like three I’m cycling between rn

When You’re Home from In the Heights

Wake Up by Jenny Owen Youngs

Together by For King and Country

21. Age and birthday?

Old enough to know better and October

22. Description of crush.

He’s super great and super intelligent, not to mention super in love with God. Frankly, he deserves better than me. I gotta lot of self-improvement that needs to happen, but we’ll see what happens XD

23. Fear(s)

Heights, drowning, spiders, super dark streets and rooms, not being good enough

24. Height

5′5″ respectfully

25. Role model

It’s changed through the various stages of my life. Rn tho a few of my Christian online friends

26. Idol(s)

I mean I stan Brian David Gilbert, but I don’t idolize him lol

27. Things I hate

Cheesecake, sickly sweet stuff, when someone grabs the receipt out of the printer even though it’s way more effort for them to do so than for me just to hand it to them and it throws me off of my rhythm, fudge

28. I’ll love you if…

You exist (and even not then because fictional characters just hit different lol)

29. Favorite film(s)

Tangled, Ella Enchanted, Enchanted, Howls Moving Castle, Princess, and the Pauper

30. Favorite tv show(s)

Brooklynn 99, Parks and Recreation, Ouran High School Host Club, My Hero Academia, and Bojack Horseman (I’m going through a phase with it rn lol)

31. 3 random facts

Blue is my favorite color, I own almost nothing in blue, people are better at identifying members of their own race better than members of other races.

32. Are your friends mainly girls or guys?

Girls- they’re easier to talk to and approach. Tho I stan and love my guy friends. They are kings.

33. Something you want to learn

Everything? Idk I have an insatiable desire to learn and it switches. Consistently, I want to learn how to make my own clothes, play either piano, guitar, or violin, and detail cars.

34. Most embarrassing moment

Uggg I’m not talking about it and neither is @calligraphywitch

35. Favorite subject

I really enjoyed Statistics as much as I have hated it. My all-time favorite class I have ever taken tho was AP US Literature

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?

Graduate grad school, get married, travel overseas

37. Favorite actor/actress

uhhh probably Chris Pratt or anyone who was on Parks and Recreation. Tho Broadway actors, I love Christian Borle

38. Favorite comedian(s)

John Mulaney

39. Favorite sport(s)

I miss playing softball and volleyball so prolly those

40. Favorite memory

There are too many to count. But usually, involve good conversations under the stars after 2 AM.

41. Relationship status

Have a picrew of my sister and me. Keep scrolling and mind ya business (jk ily anon)

42. Favorite book(s)

The Bible lol but fictional book wise, I will always love the Warrior Cats series. Red Queen was pretty lit. The Hourglass Door gave me a love for time travel aus lol. And Library Wars is near and dear to my heart.

43. Favorite song ever

You can’t ask me thisssss

Idk Hope is what we crave by For King and Country

44. Age you get mistaken for

24-30 it depends on the context

45. How you found out about your idol

@calligraphywitch

46. What my last text message says

No xD not disney

47. Turn-ons

When you have a musical playing and the end of one song is the start of another so they bleed into each other. CHILLS or when a line of poetry just expresses how someone feels. OR when different parts harmonize just right

48. Turn-offs

When my computer deletes my homework right before it’s done

49. Where I want to be right now

In a little cabin in the woods

50. Favorite picture of your idol

51. Starsign

Scorpio

52. Something I’m talented at

Reading peoples emotions

53. 5 things that make me happy

Music, Friends, Deep Conversations, Hugs, and God

54. Something that's worrying me at the moment

So much to do so much to see

55. Tumblr friends

Friends and mutuals include:

@calligraphywitch @an-assortment-of-forks @repentance-brings-healing @synthetic-blanket-hairs @loneallegiance @boywiththewand @knightof-cups @a-lil-strawberry @linkedwolf @indygo @obnoxioushair

There’s plenty more than that and I love you all ^^

56. Favorite food(s)

Tacos, Crab Ragoons, Salty Foods, RICE

57. Favorite animal(s)

Wolves and cats

58. Description of my best friend

Artistic, beautiful, supportive, hardworking. She is hilarious and an amazing person. There’s so much to the many reasons I love her I just can’t do it in words

59. Why I joined tumblr

Back in the 7th grade, my friends all had one and helped set me up with one. And that’s that.

60. Ask me anything you want

You want nothing ig lol if you want to submit one I can answer it still

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ibelieveinharrystyles · 4 years

Text

Chapter One: Something New

this is the first part of my new series i hope you enjoy it :)

Forever? Masterlist

31st October 2015

Somehow Ashley was late, well she wasn’t late late, just later than she had said she’d be, who knew getting two trains from Holmes Chapel to Sheffield could be so time consuming. She panted heavily as she approached the security at the back entrance to the arena, showing them her driver’s license, and they checked her name off of the guest list, Paul led her down the corridors and through the arena to catering where Harry was sat eating food from the buffet, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a month, but they still managed to speak pretty much everyday. She quietly approached her best friend who was sitting across the table from Niall, clearly involved in a heated debate. “Guess who?” she chimed, covering his eyes with her hands.

“Susan Boyle?” he joked, before Ashley lightly slapped him round the back of the head.

“You’re a little shit, you know that don’t you?” she told him as she placed her bag and jacket on the chair beside Harry.

“But you wouldn’t have me any other way would you?” he replied, standing up and hugging her from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, his exquisitely decorated arms holding her tightly. “I’ve missed being your little shit.” Harry told her, “Food! Do you want some food? I told Sarah to make your favourite because I knew you were coming.”

“You’re a soft bugger aren’t you?”

“I think I prefered little shit.” Harry chuckled, his cheeky grin stretching from ear to ear.

“So how’ve you been?” Harry asked eagerly as the two of them found a space at a spare table, Ashley tucking into her plate of cheesy pasta and salad.

“Not bad, It’s weird not being in education, when I decided to take a gap year I thought I’d be buzzing, but I’m so bored.” She explained, twirling the pasta on her fork.

“Well I’m just happy to have you here love, I missed you.” he smiled, picking at Ashley’s pasta.

“I missed you too H, do you reckon you’ll come back home when the break begins?”

“For a little bit, I’m back at Christmas, but it looks like I’ll be in LA for New Years this year.”

“Oh I bet you will,” Ashley teased.

“What do you mean by that?” Harry smirked.

“You know exactly what I mean Styles! I do use social media you know, I’ve seen the pictures of you and Kendall, as long as you’re happy I’m happy, you are happy aren’t you?” she replied.

“I am Ash, I think I am.” Harry replied, sitting back in his plastic chair.

“What do you mean you think?”

“Alright Ashley? How’s tricks?” Louis asked as he took a seat beside her.

“Not bad, not bad, I hear congratulations are in order though, dad! that’s pretty crazy.”

“Yeah it’s mad innit, I’m excited though, lookin’ forward to it.”

“I’ve seen you with your Doris and Ernie, you’ll be a great dad.” she assured him.

“Cheers darling that means a lot,” Louis replied.

“I’ll see you two later.” Harry stood you, prepared to slip away before the topic of conversation turned back to him.

“Hey Styles! You didn’t answer my question.” Ashley called after him.

“Forget what I said, I’m happy. Promise.”

The final show was less than an hour away, the boys and their respective family and friends were all sat in catering together, the mood was different, everyone would always be so hyped up for a show, but today they were mellow, there was the same laughter there had always been, that was unmistakable, but it was different, everyone was reminiscent, talking about their favourite memories of the band that had been such a massive part of their lives. Ashley could sense Harry was quieter, he sat next to her twiddling with his thumbs and fiddling with his hair that Lou had only just fixed. “You wanna go for a walk?” She whispered, nudging his arm, he nodded.

The pair found themselves sitting on some steps behind the stage, the shrieks and chatter of the fans surrounded them as they did, “What’s eating you up H? I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before.” She rubbed her hand up and down his back, letting him know she was there if he needed her.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” Harry asked, looking at the floor.

“I think you’re making the right decision for you, look at it this way, you wouldn’t drive a car from London to Scotland without stopping off in Liverpool for petrol on the way, and you ,might decide not to stay in Liverpool too long, but on the other hand you might like Liverpool a lot, and you might decide to stay in Liverpool longer then you’d planned. What I’m trying to say is H, the last five years have burnt you all out, you wouldn’t be human if they hadn’t, no one would blame you Harry, how could they?” Before the band Ashley had always looked to Harry for advice, like she would an older brother, but ever since the X Factor final the tables turned, Y/N would always assure Harry that somehow everything was going to be alright.

“I’ve been offered a solo record deal.” Harry told her quickly, like it was a plaster he’d been meaning to rip off of his skin.

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“It’s three albums, no time scale, no pressure.”

“Looks like you’ll be stopping off in Liverpool a little longer than originally planned.” She told him, causing Harry to let out a loud chuckle, he rested his head on her shoulder and let out a relieved sigh, “Do you remember what I told you that night at the X Factor Final? when you were a skinny sixteen year old in baggy jeans, and I was a little fourteen year old with a terrible fringe.”

“No I don’t, that whole night is a massive blur.” he replied.

“You were anxious about the future, I told you that moment was just the beginning but you weren’t sure, and I said to you, tell me that in five years when you’ve got number one albums, won awards and sold out arenas, and frankly Harry my sentiments remain the same, you are going to do amazing things in the next few years, and the world will get to see the real Harry Edward Styles.”

The final show had drawn to an end, there were tears, before, during and after the show, mostly from the mums, tears of joy that their sons had accomplished so much, but also tears of sorrow, the feeling of uncertainty, not knowing what the next few years would hold. “You alright?” Ashley asked Harry whilst they were standing at the bar in the midst of the after party.

“Yeah, just about, come here,” he wrapped his arms around her, swaying from side to side as the music changed, “I’m so lucky I get to call you my best friend.”

“It's that song H, the one that Gemma had on that day we first met.” Ashley told him, gazing up at her best friend.

“We best go dance to our song then.” He replied, taking her by the hand and leading her to the dancefloor, the two of them dancing how you would expect two slightly drunk people to dance “But you don’t pull my strings cause I’m a better man moving on to better things!” Harry shouted, as they continued to dance together, laughing hysterically as Ashley held onto Harry’s hands.

“Strong dance moves Ash.” Niall chuckled as she returned to the bar, “Oh this is Matt, he’s been part of our tour crew for the UK leg, Matt this is Ashley.”

“Nice to meet you.” His Geordie accent thicker than any she’d heard before, his hair was combed back on top, and short at the sides, leading her to infer he was a peaky blinders fan. “Those were some impressive dance moves.”

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Niall announced taking his beer from the bar, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” He whispered to Ashley, sparking a small grin on her face.

“What are you drinking?” Matt asked as she took a seat on the barstool beside him.

“Heineken.” She told him, he raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, “Were you expecting me to say white wine or something?”

“Usually I can tell what sort of drink someone would go for, how about you grab us a table and I’ll bring your drinks over.”

Ashley had no clue what possessed her to invite Matt back to her hotel room, he said he fancied a chilled one where it was quieter, and she quite agreed, the music was intense and the chance of having a proper conversation was slim to none. “So how long have you known Harry?” he asked, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

“Ten years, we were neighbours when we were kids, and I guess we’ve just been best friends since then.” She explained.

“So you’re not together?” He asked.

“God no, Harry’s like my brother, he’s always looked out for me, I’ve always looked out for him.” She explained.

“And what does your boyfriend think of how close you two are?”

“I haven’t got one.”

“There’s no way someone as fit as you doesn’t have a boyfriend,” he told her, edging closer to where she was sitting on the bed, placing his hand on the bare skin of her thigh, gradually sliding it up, under her skirt.

“You’ve got protection haven’t you?” she asked, reciprocating his kisses.

“Of course I do.” He told her, unbuckling his belt, his kisses became more intense as he hovered over her, there was no connection, not on Ashley’s part anyway.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead.” Ashley stirred from her sleep to see Harry knelt beside her bed, “I bought you some food petal,” He told her, stroking the hair from her face, before passing her a face wipe to remove last night’s makeup from her face.

“What did I do to deserve a friend as good as you?” She asked, sitting up in bed as she took a croissant from the plate Harry had placed beside her bed to nibble on.

“You’re clearly just born lucky.” He told her, “So tell me, where did you and Matt get to last night?”

“Oh shit.” she fell back against the pillow, hiding her embarrassed face from Harry, “We slept together,” she whispered.

“And he’s not here now? He’s literally just left you here? If I weren’t the calm person I am I’d be out of here looking for him.” Harry exclaimed, the anger in his voice apparent.

“If I’m honest H, I’m not bothered whether I see him again or not, he wasn’t the best I’ve had.”

“Who was?” Harry asked, clearly intrigued who his best friend had been with.

“Luke.” She shot him a knowing look, waiting for him to figure it out.

“As in Australian Luke? When did that happen?” He asked.

“The Take Me Home Tour Show in London, it was only one night Haz.”

“How come you never told me?”

“Do you tell me about every aspect of your sex life?” She replied quickly.

“I best leave you to get ready,” he stood up, making his way towards the door, “Quick one love, if you are going to have sex next door to me in the middle of the night could you keep it down a bit, these walls are paper thin.” He turned on his heel, smirking cheekily as he strolled out of her room.

“You’re a little shit Harry!” Ashley shouted after him.

“Love you too!” Harry shouted back, sighing to himself as he left the room.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #lockscreen #niall horan #harry styles #thoughts #one direction #one direction memes #solo harry #fanfiction #harry styles best friend fic #best friend harry #choose love #stay home stay safe #treat people with kindness #timothee aesthetic

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner: Stab Me In The Front

Part 1: America’s Asshole

What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSWFW)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Square Filled : “Mistaken Identity” @avengersbingo A/N: So, here we go. An Avengers/Knives Out Cross Over where Katie and Steve come face to face with America’s Asshole! The tongues are sharp and the knives are out! This is set in 2015 so way before the KO storyline so therefore contains no spoilers! You don’t need to have read SSM to understand or enjoy but please do so if you wish.

Main Masterlist

**Shout out to @icanfeelastormbrewing for being my Insult Partner when I was writing this!!**

PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG and COMMENT, This is probably my fave part of this fic I’ve written to date!!

October 2015

“So, Mr Thrombey, that’s all confirmed.” Katie said, tapping at a key on her computer to lock the meeting in her calendar “11 am, Next Thursday, the 15th ”

“Thank you.” Katie smiled as she spoke into her phone, “I look forward to meeting you on Thursday Sir.”

“Oh, less of the Sir, Harlan please. And the pleasure is all mine Miss Stark…I mean, Mrs Rogers, my apologies!” The man chuckled “And thank you for accommodating my need to pull this meeting forward by a few days.”

“It’s not a problem.” she assured him. They exchanged pleasantries again and then she cut the call and leaned back in her chair, cracking her neck, before she double checked the travel arrangements. The hotel was booked, flight was sorted, hire care was confirmed. All that she needed to do was not forget the annotated manuscript or the cover ideas.

The door to her office opened and she looked up to see Tony leaning in the doorway, waving a Starbucks cup at her one of their familiar brown paper bags, clearly bearing treats.

“I love you bro…” she smiled at him as he wandered in, chuckling, placing the drink and paper bag down in front of her. She looked into the bag and gave a moan when she saw it was a rather large, gooey looking brownie, and gave a bigger moan when she sipped her drink and found it to be a Pumpkin Spiced Latte. “Perfect Elevenses!”

“Well thought you might need one, you’ve been locked in here since 7 this morning…”

“You got FRIDAY spying on me?” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“No.” he said at the same time the AI affirmed her suspicions.

“He has indeed had me watch you, Mrs Rogers.” “Traitor.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie chuckled

“Well I had all this Harlan Thrombey stuff to sort, Steve’s still in Copenhagen with Sam chasing the alleged latest sighing of Bucky.” she shrugged “Not much point in lying in when you’re wide awake is there?”

“True.” Tony nodded. “Are you going back to the Compound tonight?”

“I dunno.” she shrugged “I might just stay here again if that’s ok?”

“Kiddo, you own part of this Tower, it’s always gonna be your home too.” Tony shrugged, “You can stay as long as you want.”

“I haven’t forgotten what tomorrow is.” Tony said gently, looking at her.

“Funnily enough me neither.” she sighed “I should be celebrating, a year to the day Bucky broke me out of that fucking shit hole in Canada.” she pulled off her glasses, another remnant of her time with HYDRA. Since she’d been kept for 6 weeks in that horrific cell she’d needed glasses for anything that required a long period of concentration on a computer screen or monitor if she wanted to avoid migraines. Bruce seemed to think it was something to do with the fact that her cell had been painfully bright all the time and that continued exposure to artificial light in such a way triggered a subconscious response.

She swallowed “I’ve been trying not to think about it.” she said gently.

“Which is why I booked you and Pepper into the Dominick for the afternoon.” he smiled at her “Well, Pepper has, I’ve just given her the credit card…full deep tissue massage, facial and then Franco’s booked to do your hair…and don’t bother telling me you’re busy as I had your diary cleared and everything reschedule to next week” he watched as she opened her mouth before shutting it,, shaking her head softly. “You leave in 30 minutes.”

“You spoil me.” she smiled softly.

“Anything for my girls, plus I thought it might keep you busy whilst Spangles is otherwise engaged.”

“He was hoping to be back but when I spoke to him before he doesn’t know if he’s gonna be.” she shrugged “it is what it is.” Tony smiled at her before he stood up “Yes, it is. And this afternoon is your pamper time so get your shit together and meet Pepper downstairs.”

“Yes sir.” she said, saluting him with a grin.

As with anything Pepper or Tony booked, the spa was off the scale. Katie had been meaning to go for ages, and now, as she sat in the chair in Franco’s salon she was already searching available dates to go back with Natasha and Wanda. She laughed and joked with the stylist and Pepper, the pair of them enjoying yet another bottle of champagne as they had their hair done. A couple of hours later, at just gone 7pm, Pepper dragged her out over the road and into a ridiculously expensive wine bar.

“Feeling better?” Pepper asked as Katie took a huge gulp of her Sancerre.

Katie smiled “Much, thank you.” “You know, I’m always here if you want to talk to someone other than Steve about stuff.” Pepper looked at her “And it won’t go any further.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t wanna talk about it…” Katie sighed “You know, Pep, I see all these women out there, read their testimonies and things and I just wonder how they’re so strong, like, how can they can just stand up and talk about what happened to them?” she trailed off, shaking her head “And me? I just wanna pretend it never happened. So much for being an Avenger huh?”

“Hey…” Pepper shook her head, looking at her sternly. “Stop that, right now.” “Well it’s true.” Katie shrugged “I mean, I’m a public figure right? But all people know is I was missing for 6 weeks, but it was put down to a mission gone awry. I just..well, I feel like I should be out there, trying to make a difference, helping people.”

“Kiddo, what you went through…” Pepper swallowed “I can’t even begin to imagine. And how you’ve dealt with and processed it, well, frankly I don’t know how you’ve been so strong. There is no shame in wanting to simply move on and leave it in the past.”

“I know.” Katie said softly “Thank you. Having everyone around me makes me realise how lucky I actually am. I’ve got a huge support network. Not everyone who goes through...” she swallowed, not quite able to say it “not everyone has that to fall back on.” Pepper pondered something before she looked at Katie, “You know, we haven’t picked our Partner Charity for the Stark Relief Fund next year…we could make it one that deals with Sexual violence. No need to go into details as to why.” Katie considered that for a moment, before she nodded “That’s not a bad idea.” she clicked her nails against her wine glass, thoughtfully “It would make a difference, right?”

Pepper nodded. “Absolutely. Give it some thought, see how you feel.” “I will, thanks.” she smiled.

****

“Good Evening Captain Rogers…” FRIDAY greeted him as he pressed his palm to the access pad at the rear entrance from the underground car park “Mrs Rogers is in your apartment.”

“Thanks FRIDAY.” he said, as the elevator began to rise. It stopped a few floors up, and when the doors flew open he was greeted by Tony who was undoing his tie.

“Oh, you’re back.” he said, looking at Steve appraisingly.

“You’re up late.” Steve looked at him.

“Just working on a few things.” Tony said vaguely. “How was the search for Tin Man?” “Well, it was him alright.” Steve said, running a hand down his tired face “Few more leads to work on. We could have stayed out there for a bit longer truth be told but, well, I wanted to be here tomorrow, you know.” Steve said, shrugging.

The two men shared a moment of understanding, both of them having experienced unsurmountable raw pain and anguish over the 6 weeks Katie had been missing and it wasn’t something they were likely to forget any time soon. If ever.

“She know you’re home?” Tony looked at him again. Steve shook his head.

“Wanted to surprise her.”

Tony smiled softly, “She’s probably asleep. Her and Pep have been in the Spa all afternoon and they’ve drunk a lot so…”

Steve gave a huff of a laugh “Yeah she messaged me before saying you’d sent her there out for the afternoon. That was really thoughtful of you Tony.” “Well it happens occasionally.” Tony said as the elevator stopped at his floor. “Listen, Steve…”

Steve turned to face him.

“She’s not been herself the last few weeks.” Tony scratched at his beard and Steve took a deep breath.

“I know.” he said gently “I think she’s just, well, processing, if that’s the right word. We only got back from our honeymoon 3 weeks and it kinda hit her when we got back just what time of year it was. Whilst we were away she didn’t have time to think about it.”

“Just…well, take care of her for me ok?” Tony said, looking at the Soldier.

Steve nodded “Always Tony, you had my word on that when I told you I wanted to marry her, and I meant it.”

Tony nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a look of thanks before he left the elevator on the Part Floor level. It began to rise again and Steve let out a soft sigh. Tony was right, the last 2 weeks in particular Katie had been a little quiet, less vivacious, almost withdrawn even. At first he had put it down to post honeymoon blues but Natasha had pointed out that this time 12 months ago she had been at the mercy of Hydra, with those bastards brutalising her in ways that he couldn’t even bring himself to think about. For this reason, he’d been reticent to go on the latest mission but Katie had insisted, pointing out that they couldn’t not carry on with their lives and that she would be alright.

The fact she had basically moved back into the Tower for the 3 days he had been gone, however, made him think that she wasn’t quite as alright as she had told him.

“Hey sweetheart.” he said softly, kissing her again, his hand cupping her face.

“You’re home.” she said, reaching up to lay her hand over his. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

“Wanted to surprise you.” he smiled.

“Well it worked.”

“I missed you.” he said softly, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.

“Missed you more.” she shot back and he chuckled.

“Doubt it. How was the Spa?”

“Oh it was amazing.” she gushed, her eyes shining “I had this deep tissue massage and the guy hit spots on my back I didn’t even know I had. The facial was great, and my hair…”

“I like the colour.” he said smiling, gently moving his hand so he twirled a piece around his finger. The ends were slightly lighter than usual, almost a dark honey blonde, and it extended a little up the strands before evening out.

“It’s called ballayage.” she smiled at him. “I just fancied a bit of a change.”

“Looks good on you.” he smiled “I’m glad you had a nice time, you deserve it.”

“How was the mission?” she asked “Worth it?”

“Yes and no.” he shrugged “We have a few more leads we can chase up but…” he took a deep breath “I’m beginning to wonder what the point is. He clearly doesn’t wanna be found.”

“The point is he’s your friend, your brother.” Katie smiled, moving her hand to run her fingers over his jawline, the pads scratchings lightly against his 5-oclock shadow. “Maybe he just needs a bit of time to find himself first, that doesn’t mean you have to give up on him. Besides, I need to give him back his jacket.”

“And I need to thank him.” Steve said, “For getting my beautiful girl out and safe.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year tomorrow since he found me.” she said softly

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“The last few weeks you’ve not been yourself.”

She licked her lips and nodded “Yeah, I just…well, I didn’t give it much thought when we were on our honeymoon, you know, but since coming back and ramping up the Thrombey Campaign it’s kinda hit home a little.” And suddenly Steve understood. SIP were publishing the man’s latest book, “The Colour of Revenge” which was all about a Detective on the trail of a killer who was hunting down and dispatching of 6 men who had been acquitted of a gang rape and murder.

“Shit…” he let out a groan “Honey I…I’m so stupid not to realise that…” “Hey.”she frowned, “Don’t…” She reached up and smoothed the lines that had appeared on his brow and he let out a sigh, gently reaching up to lace his fingers with hers, bringing her hand towards him and placing a soft kiss on her wrist.

“It’s better now you’re home.” she said gently. He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss again.

“Is that everything?” he pressed and she hesitated again.

“I’m scared.” she said eventually, looking at him.

“Scared of what?”

“Going away, on my own.” she sighed, tears brimming in her eyes “I hate that they made me like this Steve.”

He let out a sigh, he hated that she was scared too. She didn’t deserve it.

“Why don’t I come with you?” he asked, the idea suddenly forming in his mind. She stilled for a moment and he continued “Not to the actual meeting, but I can drop you off and pick you up, hang around, whatever you want me to do.”

She looked up at him smiling softly, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t relieved he had offered. “Would you?”

“Of course.” he nodded, wiping the tears off her face. “You only had to ask.” “I didn’t want to.” she admitted “I know how busy you are here and…” “That can wait.” he said, holding her face in his hands as he drove his message home “you’re the most important thing in my life and if me coming with you makes you feel better then…” he shrugged “Besides, I’ve always wanted to go to Boston.”

“We can make a little trip out of it if you like?” she said, somewhat hopefully “Come back on the Saturday?”

“Sure.” he smiled at her. “Let’s do it.”

“Oh Stevie you’re gonna love it.” she beamed, and he smiled at the way her face had gone from being furrowed with worry to alive with excitement. “Massachusetts is amazing in the fall and Boston is just stunning…” “Well I’ll make sure I bring my sketch book.” he smiled “Give me something to do whilst you’re in the meeting.” “Thank you.” she said softly. “I’ll book us somewhere nice to eat one night. Give us an excuse to wear something pretty.”

“Like you need an excuse.” he teased, and she nipped him harshly on the arm. He chuckled and then with a groan he unwillingly pushed himself up off the bed.

“I need a shower.” he said, almost apologetically. “I won’t be long.”

“You better not be.” she muttered and he smiled, dropping a kiss to her forehead before he headed into the bathroom.

True to his word, he wasn’t long. 5 minutes, tops. But by the time he came back, the TV was off and Katie was fast asleep. Thinking back to what Tony had said, he found himself wondering if she had actually slept much at all whilst he was gone.

****

And Steve was quite happy to let her nap for longer, using him as her own personal cuddly toy.

He dozed in and out of consciousness again, drifting off for another 10 minutes or so, before he felt Katie stirring in his arms, and a soft kiss gently being pressed to his jaw line. He smiled at the contact and tightened his hold on her again, his eyes still closed.

“Morning beautiful.” he said softly, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning soldier.” she said, her cheek returning to his chest as she basked in the safety and warmth of his hold as his hand crept up the back of the stolen shirt she was wearing, his rough fingers ever so gentle against her skin as he trailed the pads up and down her spine.

“Sleep ok?” he asked, his eyes still not opening.

“Yeah.” she assured him, truthfully. It had been the best night sleep she’d had in days.

“Good. What do you fancy doing today?”

He felt her still and then she pulled back slightly, and at that he opened his eyes and blinked to see those gorgeous emeralds locked onto him.

“Are you not needed at the Compound?”

He shook his head “Kitten, I’ve not seen you for almost 3 days so I figured we deserved one together.”

She groaned “I have meetings this morning.” “That’s ok, I’ll meet you at lunch.” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She didn’t argue. She knew full well why he’d taken the time out, and frankly she adored him for it. Without saying a word she leaned up and captured his lips in a gentle kiss that quickly became heated…but was shattered by the piercing noise of Katie’s alarm.

She gave a groan, and made to move.

“Don’t you dare…” Steve mumbled against her mouth, his grip on her tightening.

“Stevie…” she sighed “I gotta…”

He reached over, his large body flattening her into the mattress making her giggle as he swiped across the screen of her StarkPhone silencing it.

“You ain’t gotta do shit…” he said, hovering over her on his elbows. “Except me.” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh so you’re gonna to explain to the board why I’m late?” she looked at him.

“To be honest...” he said, dipping his head to trail hot kisses up the side of the next “...they probably won’t even notice you’re not there. I mean, are you really that important?”

“Fuck you.” she giggled back.

“Believe me, I’m tryin’” he quipped, his mouth nipping at her ear lobe. That made her giggle even more and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin.

“I love it when you do that.” he said gently, using his leg to part hers, leaving a large thigh pressed against her mound.

“What?”

“Laugh.” he said, his mouth moving up her jaw line “Makes me happy.”

“You’re such a sentimental sap.” she mumbled, as his lips claimed hers again, the heat between her legs intensifying as the kiss grew deeper, tongues lashing against one another. Steve pulled back for long enough to pull his shirt over her head before his lips returned to hers and Katie’s hand slid into his hair, one hand gently winding into the longer locks on top, her nails on the other dragging against the hairline on his neck. His hands moved, one gently cupping the side of her face, the other, gently skimming over her breast, her nipples already hardened. He gently teased one with the pad of his thumb and his mouth moved down to the other, his tongue and lips working in tandem. She gave a little involuntary twitch against his thigh and once more his lips quirked up into a smirk.

“You want something baby girl?” he asked, peeking up at her and she nodded.

“Stevie, don’t make me beg, please.”

And when she asked so nicely like that, how could he ever refuse? He hooked his fingers into the sleep shorts she was wearing and worked them down, before flipping down the waist band of his boxers. Katie bent her legs, as he shuffled upwards and worked into her, the pair of them letting out a groan each at the contact. Steve’s hands fell to either side of Katie’s face as he held himself up on his forearms, kissing her deeply as he flexed his hips forward, again and again, picking up a gentle rhythm.

It was soft, it was gentle, it was loving, everything she knew her soldier to be and it wasn’t long before he had her writhing and groaning loudly, his lips assaulting that spot on her neck.

“So good…” he groaned, his thrusts getting deeper. “Feel so good kitten…”

“Keep talking.” she keened, arching into him as her hands raked down his back.

“You were made for me, God I love you Mrs Rogers. So fucking much…” he said, his words punctuated by his heavy breaths as she gave a soft cry, her head falling backwards, eyes fluttering shut as she tightened around him, her legs shuddering slightly as she came.

“Atta girl.” he said, his hips becoming faster as he thrust through her orgasm, chasing his own. It wasn’t long before he felt the ribbons in his belly unravel and he came with a cry of his own, his head buried in her neck, hips slowing, thrusts going deeper before he eventually stilled, a loud contented sigh escaping his mouth.

After a few moments of them simply basking in the afterglow, Katie’s hands trailing through Steve’s ruffled hair as his nose slid against hers, she gave a sigh and pushed on his shoulders gently.

“Baby I really do need to get up.”

The idea had sprung to Katie as she’d headed out for lunch. The local shop was donating a percentage of its earnings that month to a homeless charity, and it set her mind whirring.

“So you want to donate, all the profit we make, from what is going to likely be the biggest book SIP will ever publish, to charity?” Tony looked at her.

“In a nutshell, yeah.” she said, nodding “We can split it across various charities, all those that help victims of sexual assault, abuse or crime…”

“Isn’t that what the Stark Relief Fund is for?” Saul, the SI Finance Director looked at her, and she nodded.

“Yes, but it isn’t just about the money…it’s about raising awareness.” she pressed “A lot of people don’t know those charities existed. Hell, I didn’t know about half of them until a year ago. If we do this, think of the publicity and the press and…”

He shrugged and looked round the table “SIP’s vision was never about making money.” he said, and Katie beamed at her brother as she realised he was backing her “It was always about helping those who needed a hand to get their work out there…I don’t see why in this case, where they author is already so well-known we can’t use that to help those who need it.”

There was a pause and she looked expectantly round the table. One by one the board members seemed to concede, all of them that is bar their Legal Manager, Dan Robertson who was frowning.

“You’re going to have to bring Mr Thrombey on board Mrs Rogers.” he said, looking at her. “We can’t just use his book as part of a campaign without his permission.” “I know.” she said, nodding. “I’ve already realised that. I’m meeting him on Thursday next week, I’ll have a full proposal and pitch ready.”

There were a few murmurs around the table before Tony spoke “Is that it? Are we settled?”

Everyone looked at one another, nodding, and Katie leaned back in her chair, smiling.

But, she wasn’t smiling now. She had less than 24 hours before they set off for Boston and her pitch was only half way through completion.

“I know but…” She sighed, “This means a lot to me Steve…I need it to be right.”

Steve knew better than to argue. Instead he leaned over and kissed the side of her neck. “What are you stuck with?”

“I dunno it just…it all seems so impersonal.” she removed her glasses and wrinkled her nose as he sat down in the arm chair in the corner of the room “Facts and figures on sexual assaults and stuff…we all know it happens, it’s about making people want to do something about it.”

“Are you ready to make it personal?” he asked gently, taking a deep breath. He hated thinking about what she had gone through, he truly did, and if he had half a chance he’d rip the bastards limb from limb. But if she was ready to confront what had happened to her, he had to be there to support and back her all of the way, regardless of his own feelings.

“I don’t know.” she said softly “I was talking to Pepper about this the other day. I should be able to, I should be someone other women can look up to, being an Avenger and all but…maybe I’m just not strong enough.” “You’re the strongest person I know.” he leaned forward and locked eyes with her.

“I don’t feel like it when it comes to this.” she sighed.

“Honey…” he scratched at his head “Without wanting to sound flippant, since January this year, you’ve been, ok…well maybe ok isn’t the word but you’ve gotten on with things. You’ve moved forward, we both did.”

“Because we were busy, and we had no choice…”

“Well maybe…” he shrugged “But chasing down a sceptre, fighting Ultron, mobilising a new base, planning a wedding, running a business…it’s all time consuming, stressful stuff that if you really weren’t strong enough to deal with what happened, then it would have all gone to shit and probably tipped you over the edge into a nervous breakdown.”

She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she considered what he was saying.

She smiled softly and looked down at her hands before she glanced back up at him “When did you get so wise?” He chuckled “Well I am 97 years old.”

She laughed “You don’t look a day over 28.”

He smiled and stood up “I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, and you’re gonna stop overthinking that and come relax, we’re up early tomorrow. You can do the rest at the hotel tomorrow evening.” “No can do, we’re going out.” she grinned at him “I booked the Chef’s table at Menton…”

“The what?” Steve frowned.

“You never heard of a Chef’s table?” she looked at him, and he shook his head “oh my God I’ve let you down…so badly. Check this out.” she tapped on her computer, bringing up the website and showed him the photos “It’s a private table with a glass wall that gives you a direct view into the kitchen. Totally impossible to get a reservation unless you book like a year in advance…or name drop.”

Steve groaned “You seriously dropped the Captain America wants a table line?”

“Yup” she popped the p as she smirked, closing down the browser page.

“Pain in my ass.” he grumbled, standing up. But as he left the office there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

One that his wife had seen.

*****

“So, was it worth a name drop?” Katie asked as they walked back into the Fireside Lounge located in their hotel.

“I’m happy to overlook the fact you acted like a total brat to make that reservation, yes.” he grinned as he went to remove her coat from her shoulders. He looked her up and down, the jump suit she was in was driving him crazy.

She grinned, and shivered slightly.

“Cold?” he asked, frowning.

“A little, don’t wanna sit in my coat though.”

“Do you want me to nip up to the room, grab your cardigan?”

“Would you?” she asked, even though she knew perfectly well he would.

“Course.” he said, dropping a kiss to her cheek “You get the drinks in, be right back.”

She headed over to the bar. The bartender, Will, was the same one who had been on before so he greeted her with a smile.

“Mrs Rogers. How was your meal?”

“Fantastic thank you.” she grinned “Can I get 2 Bourbon’s please? I’ll leave it to your choice, I’ll be back in a second, just need to nip to the bathroom.”

She excused herself and once she’d finally had the pee she’d been dying for since they left the restaurant, she set about touching up her make-up, smiling to herself. She’d deliberately picked this jumpsuit as she knew it got Steve’s blood pumping. It was a simple, plain black one with a V-neck line, but it was tight. Teamed with a thin red leather belt, red leather Jimmy-Choos and a matching bag all set off by the bright red lipstick she was sporting, she knew she looked good. Not that Steve had much room to talk, she could happily perve on him in the dark grey suit he was wearing, teamed with a black dress shirt, his collar left open…he looked good enough to eat, which she was planning on doing later.

She headed back into the bar and spotted Steve perched on one of the stools.

“Hey handsome” she said, slipping her arms round him from the back. But the moment she did that she realised something was off. He felt different, he was softer than Steve was. He smelt different, there was a really heavy woody scent to his aftershave whereas Steve’s preferred Hugo Boss or Gucci, depending on his mood, were both a lot lighter. And when the man spun to face her, although the likeness was indeed uncanny at first glance, his eyes were cold and calculating, his jaw line wasn’t quite as sharp as Steve’s and the smirk he wore on his face was nothing like the cheeky one Steve would sport. It was almost a sneer which spread across his face, every feature laced with disdain.

“What the fuck?” the man glared at her as Katie stepped back, holding her hands up in apology.

“I’m sorry, genuine case of mistaken identity…” she said, taking him in. His shirt was the wrong colour too, only she hadn’t been able to see that from the back.

“Yeah well if you’re touting for business I already got some today so get lost…” the man drawled in his light, Boston accent. “Like I just said I thought you were…hang on…” She frowned as his words registered “You already got some?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” he said, looking her up and down.

“You think I’m a hooker?” Katie snorted.

“Pretty high end one though, I’ll give you that.” the man said, nodding at her.

“I’m not a hooker.” she shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“Oh, sorry. Do you prefer the term escort?” he raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes, flashing her left hand at him. “I’m married, this was a genuine mistake….” she said, her temper rising slightly. She moved away from him to the side, nodding at Will who slid the check over for her to sign to charge the drinks to their room.

Ransom observed her for a moment, fighting the smirk that was threatening to break across his face. After another row with his stupid Libtard cousin and his mother who had been at his Grandfather’s house before, he’d come out with the sole intention of getting laid and then so drunk he could hardly remember his name. After a visit to one of his usual fuck buddies he’d achieved the first part, now he was concentrating on the second. He’d been initially irritated by this woman’s interruption, but now she was getting sassy back, and he wasn’t about to let it drop. He could tell she had money, that much was clear to see. The way she talked, held herself, was dressed. Whilst she wasn’t a hooker as he had originally thought (although to be fair to her, she was pretty hot, he’d consider fucking her if the opportunity arose) she was probably living off some 70 odd year old rich banker husband. A trophy wife. Huh, maybe she wanted a fuck after all…hell, he might not have to pay for it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

“And does your husband know you’re here trying to tap me up?” he looked at her.

“You know, if I was trying to errr…tap you up, you wouldn’t be able to afford me” she shot back, signing her name on the cheque with a flourish.

“Try me.” Ransom shot back, making a show of looking her up and down. “How much for that ass?” “I’ll kick yours for free you self entitled dick.” she said, sliding the signed paper and pen back to the bartender.

Ransom gave a bark of a laugh “I’ll pass thanks.”

Katie snorted and glanced sideways at look at him, scarlet red lips pursed as she eyed him over her glass of bourbon. “Good decision, because I’ve dropped bigger men than you for fun.” “Sure you have Dollface” Ransom quirked an eyebrow, elbow leaning on the bar, angling his body towards her. She kept hers facing forwards, arms resting on the bar top, her head shaking slightly.

“Why should I?” he snorted “I don’t know all the little bitches in Boston.”

She felt her mouth drop open and she was about to retaliate when Steve gently appeared by her side, dropping her cardigan over her shoulders.

Ransom recognised him straight away. He’d had it quite often, been told he looked similar to Captain America. So this meant the woman he’d been baiting for the last 5 minutes was his wife, Katie Rogers, sister of Billionaire Tony Stark, the Avenger, Supernova.

He’d called Supernova a hooker.

Ransom looked into his glass of scotch, turning away back to the bar, snorting with laughter.

“Sorry baby, Sam called and…” Steve stopped, frowning at the look on Katie’s face. “You ok?”

“Fine.” she said, looking up at him, smiling and nodding towards a cosy sofa over at the other side of the bar. “You wanna go sit down over there?”

“Sure.” he said, picking up his glass of bourbon he held out his free hand for her and she jumped down off the stool.

“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure.” She snarked to the man next to her “But I don’t lie so…”

“Pal, you should keep that bitch on a leash.” Ransom spoke, his eyebrows raising and in front of him Steve stiffened.

“What did you just say?” he frowned, pulling himself up to full height.

“Seriously, man. You save the world from Nazi’s, get frozen for 70 years and then end up marrying that.” Ransom smirked, enjoying baiting the Captain “I’d ask ‘em to put you back under…”

Steve’s nostrils flared and he felt his neck getting warmer. “Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that...”

“Steve, leave it, come on.” Katie said gently, patting Steve on the chest “The guy’s a complete ass hole. If brains were dynamite I doubt he’d have enough to blow his head off.”

“Well if we’re talking about blowing...” Ransom looked Katie up and down before locking onto her eyes. “You up for the job?

Katie let out a bark of a laugh, her hand still on Steve’s chest which was positively humming with anger as she turned to face Ransom, contempt etched across every single inch of her face.

“Go jerk yourself off and wipe it on a curtain like your father should have done with you.” she said.

“I’d rather wipe it in your hair.” came the quip back.

And that was it. That was the point that Steve Rogers snapped.

“Steve!” she said, pulling on his arm. “Baby he really isn’t worth it, let go!”

“Captain Rogers!” Will behind the bar was desperately trying to talk him down as well “Please, don’t make me call security.”

Security! Steve wanted to snort. Like that would do any good.

“Baby, come on…” Katie tried again, pleading to his reasonable side. “Look, we’ve had such a nice night. Don’t let him ruin it.”

“I would tell you to apologise.” Steve snarled stepping back. His voice was steely, eyes carrying none of their usual warmth “But I suspect it’s pointless”

“Yup.” Ransom nodded “Totally pointless.”

Ransom’s nostrils flashed angrily as he looked at the man “’I’m gonna be banned? Eat shit, he’s the one that just attacked me! He ripped my shirt!” he gestured down to where Steve had grabbed him, two tears either side of the buttons of his shirt “This is a Fendi!”

“Ransom, just shut up and apologise.” Will pressed again, “Or you’re gonna have to leave.”

Katie rolled her eyes, deciding to let him have that childish one without any fuss. But Steve didn’t.

“Sorry.” Steve turned, apologising to Will.

“He’s a dirt bag and a cretin.” Will shrugged, as he waved the apology off. “No redeeming features whatsoever. Well, none that I’ve seen and trust me, I’ve seen him a hell of a lot.”

“Is your hand ok?” Katie asked Steve gently. She turned his right hand over to see that there were no cuts at all from the glass, which was good.

“Yeah, fine, don’t worry.” Steve looked at her, frowning. “Honey, what on Earth just happened?” he asked her softly, as she took a deep breath, blowing it out of her mouth.

“I went to the bathroom and when I came back, well, I thought he was was you from behind so gave him a hug.” she shook her head “Soon as I touched him I realised I was very, very wrong. I tried to apologise and he called me a hooker.”

“A hooker?” Steve repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I told him even if I was he wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

At that Will, who had been busy pouring them both another drink, laughed as he slid 2 short tumblers of bourbon back over to them. “He won’t have liked that at all.”

Steve nodded his thanks to the man as Katie looked at him. “How come?” she asked.

“Well, Ransom’s mother likes to claim she’s a self-made millionaire. Fails to mention the million dollar loan her dad gave her to start up her business like, but that’s by the by. Simply put, his family one way or another are loaded, and Ransom likes to be the flash bastard if you get what I mean.”

“What do his family do?” Katie asked, “I’ve never even heard of the Drysdales, and I’m pretty well connected…”

“His mother and father run some real Estate Company.” Will shrugged, “A local one round Massachusetts, but you’ll have heard of his grandfather, or if you haven’t you’ve been living under a rock for the last 20 years.” “Who?” she asked.

“Harlan Thrombey, the crime fiction author.” Will said, and Katie felt the colour drain from her face. She turned to look at Steve whose eyes had also widened, and she gave a groan.

“Shit.”

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

#stark spangled banner #knives out #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #ransom drysdale #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #cross over #americas asshole #americas ass

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curiousview-blog · 3 years

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How to be a non-drinker: A guide for normal people

Image credit: Tom Arnfeld, ‘Chrysalids & Wildthings’ festival 2017

I haven’t had a drink for ten years at the time I am posting this. That hardly seems possible after being so deeply in love with alcohol, my teenage sweetheart. I started drinking when I was fourteen, and regularly got drunk until I was 41, with a couple of maternity leaves. Ten years! I’m beginning to forget I ever spent half my life drunk and that's why I am writing this. I don't want to forget all the joys of learning to live sober and all the less joyful things I went through in order to escape from drinking. Some were (are) big, some were (are) small, but almost all were unexpected.

I’ve met quite a lot of people trying to quit drinking who are put off by the idea of joining a support group – but that was something I found vital to putting me on the path to an alcohol-free life. I began to wonder if I might offer some of the camaraderie, support and fun – yes fun – that I experienced there but in a written form. Because writing is what I do, and I like to think I do it quite nicely. I’d like these posts to be a warm hug, an encouraging grin and a two-finger salute to the world for anyone embarking on the (frankly terrifying) road to being sober. Something for normal people who haven’t suddenly morphed new born-again evangelical personas just because they have quit the booze. Normal people who are anxious about sober life, but who want to laugh about it too.

I stopped drinking on 7th March 2011 after waking with a hideous case of THE FEAR and a(nother) sickening hangover. I looked in the mirror. “Enough.” I’d seen this person in the mirror and said the same things countless times before, but this time was different. I didn’t feel alone in my resolve. I don’t want you to feel alone either and that’s why I’m writing to you. Sharing experiences, no matter whether joyous or painful is what makes us social animals, and I know that without the relief of having support and community when I quit drinking for good, I wouldn’t have managed it. It was like falling into a huge, old squishy sofa. One of those creaky leather ones that manages to be incredibly soft but hardwearing and firm at the same time.

Over the coming weeks I will be sharing my reflections on becoming and living sober. It was three years ago that I first wrote these texts and they were intended for a book. Every day I got up, poured a mug of coffee and hand-wrote from my heart, in the dark, before anyone else was awake. I kept it a secret for a long while, too new and tender to deal with questions about whether the world needed yet another book on quitting alcohol. Since then, being sober has become more fashionable, Dry January is now a national institution, and Sober October has also appeared on the calendar. There are many more wonderful books, blogs and guides to living sober published now. Supermarket shelves and instagram adverts are filling with no-alcohol elixirs, and exciting options for the discerning non-drinker. Maybe one day these texts will make it to book form, but as that hasn’t happened yet, I decided to put them out there in the world because it feels like it’s time to do so. There are 28 articles all together and I’ll be posting one every Sunday, starting tomorrow - 7th March 2021 - my ten year sober birthday.

Elizabeth Gilbert, in her book ‘Big Magic’ says we should never create art to help others, but instead, express what we need to in order to help ourselves. If we try to do otherwise it just comes over as preachy and do-goodish and possibly quite judgey and I’m sure as an apprentice non-drinker you’ve already had your fill of people like that. So this writing is born from that place – my need to tell you my story and if it helps you too, then I’m delighted. I have a sneaky feeling it will, even if you don't agree with everything I say or see yourself in my experiences all the time, because sharing stories is the absolute best way to learn anything and feel part of something bigger than yourself in the process.

With love, and a nice cup of tea,

Sam xx

#quit drinking #alcohol #quit alcohol #stop drinking #control alcohol #addiction #self-help #women's writing #women and alcohol #alcoholism #dry january #sobermovement #livingsober #soberliving

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madneywhre · 3 years

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The Misfits Chapter Three!

Trigger Warning: Internalized homophobia and religious trauma, neglect, mention of death of a parent(s), alcohol addiction, swearing, use of marijuana, and a panic attack. Word Count: 3,350 Feel free to review, and leave a comment or criticism! Update: I am thinking I will update weekly or bi-weekly on Thursdays! I am trying to get in the grove of a posting schedule.

The time had come, midterms. With the group stressing through the AP Psych midterms Dave offered his house to study despite being conscious of the size. It just made sense, his parents weren’t home and they always had food. The agreed time was 4:00 that afternoon, they would study for a few, grab dinner, and study until later. The group figured if they combined their knowledge, they would be able to finish their study guide-- in which it was made clear that completing it would almost guarantee a passing score. The group also knew that with Spencer there it would be easier, and they may get done sooner. They really should have started to study sooner, seeing as how the exam was in three days. Spencer walked through his household in the dark, as his mother had forgotten to pay the bill again this month. The young boy tried to figure it out, he tried to figure out how to make his mom better-- it started with pleases and finished with her cold, long fingers backhanding him in the cheek, resulting in a purple bruise he passed off as hitting his face on a doorknob, or getting elbowed by one of the bigger kids. He noticed his mom was in a trance, staring out of the window and muttering to herself. He then saw her pacing nervously over the worn carpet with cheap liquor in her hand, a cigarette with a long cherry burning down the stick. He tried to step in and stop her, so it hadn’t become uncommon for Spencer to go to bed with a small bruise forming from where she would slap him, accusing him of spying on her only for her to forget it the next day. He tried to convince her to drive him, but she accused him of spying for them again, and he realized that it there was no way that she was gonna drive him. So he set out to walk, peering at the angry sky through the window. He used the little data that he had on his phone, of which his deadbeat father still paid despite his absence to find the way to Dave’s house. He rarely used it, not liking the technology because of the fear his mother instilled in him. About a block into his journey he paused and looked up into the dark sky, seeing the furious clouds, and felt a few raindrops fall onto his thin face. His long-sleeved shirt that was much too thin for a rainy October day became increasingly wet. He started to shiver, walking faster now to make his body warmer. The rain started to come down harder and he brushed the too-long hair out of his eyes that were now becoming soaked. He jumped as thunder clapped and thought to himself ‘this is going to be a long walk’ Sandy stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as a dark pungent liquid sloshed around in a dirty cup. JJ stormed out of the house, infuriated. Her mother’s drinking had gotten unbearable, she kept finding empty liquor bottles in the garbage, tabs on the floor, and the freezer was more stocked with vodka and tequila than it was food. Quite frankly, she couldn’t do it anymore. She needed the escape. She needed freedom from the suffocating sadness in her house. So naturally, she called Emily and of course, she came for her. They sit in awkward silence until they arrive at Emily’s house and sit on her bed. The smell of the alcohol burned into her nostrils, as she tries to cleanse her senses with the calming lavender sents of Emily. “Ugh! I fucking hate living there! There’s too much shit” JJ rants, her voice quiet but venomous as the stress pulsates off of her. She looked miserable in the clothes she was wearing. Tight and form-fitting-- though it looked great, it was most definitely not something that she should be in when she was this upset. So the first thing Emily did was go to her closet and find a pair of black sweats followed by a dark yellow hoodie that just about swallowed JJ. “You look miserable. Go change and we’ll talk.” Emily said softly, trying to lighten the mood but failing. JJ nodded with a small huff and went into her bathroom, changing quickly into the clothes that smelled like Emily, her senses calmed as a small smile spread across her face. The blonde came back out and plopped onto the bed next to Emily, tension thick in her chest. As if Emily can feel it, she hands her a medium-sized joint burning slowly as smoke comes from its end. “It will make you feel less… well just less. Just trust me.” Emily watched her expression as she sat up and took a small slow drag from the burning paper. JJ did what felt natural and inhaled only to cough. “That’s okay, try again.” And so she did. A couple of times until she felt an unfamiliar calm wash over her senses. Not necessarily high, but definitely calmer. She passes the joint to Emily before flopping back down, “I hate living there. All she does is drink. All. Day. She works from home and drinks. She cooks… well orders shit food, and drinks. She is turning into my grandmother and it is terrible. Everything changed when… when she died… Nothing is the same! Is it too much to fucking ask?!” She rants as small affirming nods and hums come from Emily, “I mean, is it TOO much to ask for your mother to be sober enough to realize you’re not even home!? Or that she’s driving in the car still?! Is that really too fucking much?” “No… no it’s not. I’m sorry... Is there a way you can talk to your dad?” “No. Fucking asshole left. Left me in this shithole.” “I’m sorry JJ... I truly am. Let’s just focus on something else.” And so they did, they smoked and laid close, relaxing while watching a movie or two until it was time to go to the study group. Aaron had been preparing for this day, books scattered along his bedroom floor soft music in the background. He puts everything aside for his brother Sean, who seems to be having school issues of his own, Aaron reminds himself of the man he has to become. His father had left, thankfully-- so he had to become the man, the father figure. To raise his brother when his mother couldn’t. He tried his best to be a good brother, a good son, a good student. These tests were important to that. Crucial. After this, he could relax a bit, let loose as he let Dave take the ropes. Sean LOVED going over to Dave’s, he got to experience the childhood that every kid could ever want over there. Not only that, but it gave Aaron the opportunity to relax and let go, letting himself be a teenager. He would get to hang out with his friend and let go of the responsibility. When he took Sean over to Dave’s with his, he would allow his brother to play with the games that the wealthy teen’s house was stocked with, Sean was able to be a kid too. It was really just healthy for the both of them. Derek and Penelope had been driving for a while, drinking sugary drinks from Starbucks, and holding hands. They decided to have a date day before the study group since they didn’t have much time alone anymore. Though this time was slowly coming to a halt, “Derek… is that Spencer?” She asked, seeing a small figure, shivering in the rainy weather. “I’m sure it…. It is, isn’t it?” He responded, slowing down to the drenched figure Spencer looks over nervously and sees Penelope and calms down, seeing Derek’s window roll down, “Hey kid… why are you in the rain? It’s freezing out there!” “I uhm… I was walkin to Dave’s… for the study group tonight.” Derek looks over at Penelope with a worried glance. Why couldn’t the kid's mom drive him, and how the hell was he getting to school every day? He takes in a breath and nods to his back seat, “Get in Spence, you can just stay with us until the study group. Okay? We were about to grab lunch, are you hungry?” Spencer contemplates for a second before nodding “ ‘M sorry… Your car is gonna get all wet” He mumbled, climbing into the backseat as a crack of lightning, followed by a roar of thunder sounded overhead. He jumped and closed the door as Derek reassured him it was perfectly fine. Penelope looks back and sucks her teeth “Der, you have a hoodie right?” She asked, smiling to herself as he nodded. “Here Sug, take off that wet shirt, put this on, it will keep you warm.” She told the young boy, his hair flush against his forehead as it dripped with small droplets. “Okay…” He responded, pulling the wet shirt off and quickly reveling in the dry comfort of the hoodie that was much, much too big for him. The group went to lunch and then to an arcade, and then--just for Spencer, they went to the big library, allowing him to check out a few books. Derek and Penelope were worried for him, worried for his condition because they noticed something else, a purplish, yellow bruise forming on his cheek that was an obvious handprint. Something was going on and they were going to figure it out. They weren’t going to leave this alone, not this time. Not after the clues that they have seen. Not after the lack of food, dirty clothes, and unkempt hair. Not to mention the ripped shoes and broken pencils.

The groups started to flow in, Aaron and Sean first, then JJ and Emily-- who were still a little buzzed, and finally Derek, Penelope, and Spencer. The first plan of action was the homework packet in which they had due for the midterm. It was a prep packet that was every bit of fifteen pages long, covering everything they had gone over or talked about in the past nine weeks. Little bits from previous exams, of which they had weekly, and questions over the 5 chapters of the textbook they have started to read, front to back. After a while Spencer looked over at Emily and scooted closer to her, a small sniffle forming. He was already starting to get a cold from the rain. He was so nervous to go home, what if his mom came out of the episode and realized he wasn’t there? What if they wouldn’t take him home? How would he get the cold that he caused to go away… how would he clean his clothes? The water bill hadn’t been paid… he had run out of water. His train of thought was broke when Emily naturally rubbed his back with her free hand and smiled softly, not that she would let anyone see it; however, despite her attempts to hide it, JJ noticed and blushed. God, that smile was like crack to her. Addicting. After quite a few hours and rumbling stomach noises, Dave had decided it was time for a break, and for pizza. Though, choosing what kind was not easy. There were many raised voices, and each time Spencer tried to speak up, he was spoken over, making him shrink down. It was too loud. A hand flew up-- innocent of course, just Derek patting someone on the back but it caused him to flench and yelp. Suddenly, all eyes were on him, he was quivering like a wounded puppy, covering his face with small tears forming. His chest felt tight, his breath hitched, but then sped up rapidly, his lungs heaving with each breath. The sight made the noise stop immediately. Emily spoke softly, kneeling beside him “Hey bub, what’s wrong?” He shook his head and sat on the floor slumping against the wall as he shook. Fear taking over his responses, and his fight or flight making him freeze instead. Soon enough he muttered two words “I’m okay.” Two words he muttered way too often, his personal mantra. Emily took into account the noise, knowing how he felt about loud sounds, and how to fix that. She nodded and pulled him into her lap, holding him close, and covering his ears with her hands to muffle the sound around them. With the silenced sound and the comforting scent sent around him he curled up in her lap, his messy curls fanned against her pale chest as he breathed with her, his eyes fluttering closed. The group looks at each other worriedly. Normally Spencer wasn’t like this. He was sensitive, jumpy sure, but he never reacted like this. He never flinched. They sat silently before being jumped out of their thoughts with a ring of the doorbell. Pizza. No one moves for a moment, looking around in before Rossi scrambles up, clumsy but quiet. He tips the delivery man more than he would like to admit and sits the boxes in the middle. “Eat, but be quiet. Don’t wake the kid.” He warns Spencer's head perks up with the smell of the pizza, looking around sleepily “ ‘za” he says, a small sleepy grin on his face. Emily smiles and rubs his back, cutting a glare at Derek who was almost gushing at them, “Yeah kid, pizza. Eat some, then I think Derek over there is gonna get you home to your mama.” She says softly, not expecting him to tense at those words. “I don’t wanna go home…” he mumbled, his voice going stoic, the fear was more than he wanted to deal with. He wanted to stay here with Emily. He wanted to feel safe. Emily glanced at Aaron worriedly, then at Rossi when the silent observer of the room spoke up “Bub, can Spencer stay with us? He’s a good friend, even if he’s younger than me.” Sean speaks up from the back of the room. Aaron nods and glances at Spencer, looking for his word of approval. “Whadyou think kiddo?” “Uhm… Can I please?” He asked quietly, nuzzling into Emily’s chest. “Well, are you sure your mom-” “She doesn’t care. You sure you don’t mind?” He interrupts Aaron quickly, not wanting to explain. Aaron is taken aback at how quickly he responded and he nods, “Sure Spencer. Of course, you’re welcome always.”

Everyone trickled out of Dave’s home group by group, Aaron leaving last. He stayed around because Spencer had fallen asleep again on the couch and he wasn’t about to wake that kid up. It was obvious he never slept with the dark purple rings around his eyes, leaving him puffy. Emily drives back to her house with JJ in her passenger seat. She could feel the tension in between them, the discomfort from JJ’s side. Though it was nothing Emily had done. The suppressed voice in the back of her head ‘don’t do it. Evil. abomination. Wrong.’ A list of the pastors' sermons. The words that he spewed at the conjugation, spewed at her. They cut deep. Every time she looked into the mirror she saw disgust. She sees failure. An imperfection. A giant stamp of hellfire and brimstone. A bubbling in her chest as she felt the impending doom of Sunday morning service. The one day her mom was sober enough to be around other people, but not enough not to be an absolute asshole. JJ was snapped out of her thoughts when Emily tapped her knee “And we’re back to the house. Common up to my room, and we can talk about whatever has been on your beautiful mind.” She says, trying to butter her up and flirts a bit-- it was hard not to at this point. Hard not to let herself fall. Though it did cause an obvious burst of tension between them. “I’m not too sure that you want to know what’s going through my mind right now.” She mumbles, making her way up to Emily’s room and plopping on her bed face down. “Oh, I’m sure I do. I love to hear all of your thoughts. Don’t worry about scaring me off.” JJ let in a shaky inhale “Abomination. Dirty. Disgusting. Evil. Hell bound sinner.” “Woah! Hey! What the hell blondie, what’s happening there.” Emily stutters out, sitting closer to the younger female. JJ looks up with tears in her eyes, “I’m dirty, I can’t help it, but I’m dirty. M-my pastor said and I t-tried to pray it away. I t-tried to be perfect. I thought that if I made myself fall for a Christian boy I would be okay. But I’m not! I’m not okay because girls are pretty and guys are okay. All Christian boys are gross, and I’m TIRED of HATING myself. Leviticus 18:22, For man, shall not lay with a man as he lays with woman for it is an abomination.” She starts to sob out, her cheeks getting heated from the wet tears stinging her cheeks as she sobbed into the fleece blankets. Emily looked over and placed a hand on her back rubbing it softly “You’re okay Jennifer, you’re okay. I promise. You’re not dirty, you’re gorgeous, you’re not disgusting, you’re so amazing and I am so sorry that some man-caused you to feel that. That you have to feel that at all. God… I don’t know him or anything but…. But he loves you blondie. He does, so just fuck the pastors. Love who the fuck ever because you were born that way. You hear me?” She nods and sniffles “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sobbing in your bed. I’m sorry. You’re pretty too. God, you’re gorgeous.” She says too quickly, blushing as she realizes her confession “You’re gorgeous too JJ. Let's get some rest, we can talk about this in the morning, don’t worry about whatever you said that made you get all quiet and we can talk later.” Emily says softly, a smile playing on her features. JJ nods with a small smile, turning so her back is to Emily. She pulls the blanket up to her chin and almost allows herself to relax into Emily’s touch, but she doesn’t and she keep herself close to the wall. Penelope and Derek decided just to stay at Penelope’s house, her aunt wasn’t home and they just wanted to be with each other. They lay in her bed and she rests her head on his chest, grounding herself with the rise and fall of his breaths. Derek carts his hand through her hair silently as he notices her tensity. After a few moments, he finally speaks up “Baby girl, what’s wrong?” He asked softly She takes in a shaky breath, “I just… I just miss my mom… and my dad.” She admits softly, her voice barely above a whisper as if she was afraid of the confession. She had been pondering over the thoughts. She wanted to tell her mom about EVERYTHING, have a girl talk. Just be her daughter again. He nods and kisses her forehead, “I’m sorry baby, I know it’s hard but when I start missing my pops a lot I talk to him. I talk to him about you, school, football… everything really. I know he can hear me, and I can feel him with me. Sometimes it’s a dream, but sometimes it’s just a calm that washes over me.” Penelope nods and sniffles, “I know… I’m sorry for crying all over you. You’re such a good boyfriend, thank you for understanding me and my issues. Thank you” She whispers into his chest Derek nods and kisses her head again “It is my greatest pleasure Penny. You’re so strong my love” and with those words, the couple cuddled and fell asleep arm in arm, limbs tangled in a comforting way as they breathe each other's oxygen, the stress of the world away while they’re in each other's arms.

#themisfits #kala writes

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