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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Rach could you please do something soft like it’s maxwells birthday and you and alastair plan a small birthday party ( just the three of you) and he is so overwhelmed with love he can’t believe he got so lucky after everything ❤️ then you tell him you’re pregnant.

Also no pressure to write you can totally ignore this 😊

Birthday Surprise [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, food mention, mention of infidelity/cheating, mention of poverty

Word Count: 3200>

A/N: It’s April 1st which means it’s officially Max Lord’s birthday! <33 Thank you for all the Max requests people have sent in over the past week. They’ve truly been a joy to write. & Thank you @supernaturalgirl for this lovely request. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Once upon a time, Maxwell Lord had these big, extravagant parties to celebrate his birthday. He’d host at fancy venues and it would be formal, strictly black-tie, and only the elite were invited. But the truth was, he was incredibly lonely. He had no friends, only colleagues and business associates. His wife would hang on his arm, wearing real fur, and Chanel couture earrings, parading around the room, flirting with other businessmen who might’ve been more successful than Max.

He didn’t like his birthday. Growing up, he didn’t celebrate much either. The Lorenzano family could barely afford to buy Maxwell new shoes or clothes that fit, so expecting gifts and parties was the last thing on his mind. Every year though, without fail, his mother would cook him a small cake and light a candle. “Make a wish, Maxwell.” she’d whisper. It was funny how things turned out.

And when he married for the first time, it was his wife who insisted on these big, luxurious celebrations with balloons and music. The attention was nice, sure, but it always felt like it was more for her than it was for him. He’d never say anything though. Just smile and nod. As long as she was happy. She sure seemed happy when Maxwell caught his wife with her tongue down another man’s throat at his 32nd birthday party. Thankfully, that marriage soon ended, and whilst Maxwell swelled with heartache for a good few months, better things were soon to come.

Like meeting you.

About a week before Maxwell’s birthday, Alistair was... hyper, to say the least. It was way past his bedtime, and yet he was bouncing up and down on yours and Max’s bed, clearly trying to get his father to leave the room.

“Daddy, could you go make me some french fries?”

Maxwell peeked up from his newspaper and furrowed his eyebrows together. His son’s question even ruffled you slightly, as you looked up from painting your nails and tilted your head slightly.

“Alistair, it’s eleven at night. No french fries.” Maxwell sighed before looking back down at his newspaper.

Alistair hummed, looking around the bedroom.

“Daddy, did you remember to feed Lady her evening biscuits?”

Maxwell looked up from his paper again, and stared at his son.

“I fed her this evening,” You said, trying to work out what kind of mischief Alistair was getting up to now. “Ali, is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The six year old replied, and well, it was a fair response. You and Maxwell exchanged a glance before getting back to your business. About ten seconds passed.

“Daddy, can you make me some warm milk?”

Maxwell sighed, this time dropping his newspaper completely and rubbing his tired eyes. “You don’t need warm milk Alistair.”

“But I’ll struggle to sleep without it.”

“I’ll go get you some,” you told the child, but Alistair quickly extended his arm, stopping you before you could get out of bed.

“No mommy, you’re sick. Besides, I asked daddy.”

You blinked, taken slightly aback. Alistair was a sweet child with wonderful manners, that much you knew, but even his decorum right now took you by surprise. He was speaking like a fully grown gentleman. Processing his words, you simply shrugged your shoulders before shuffling back into bed and getting comfortable.

Yeah, you’d been throwing up the past few days, in the mornings mostly, but you’d drawn it down to food poisoning. It was sweet how Alistair was seemingly looking out for your health. Maxwell’s gaze flicked between you both but, in defeat, he got out of bed and padded downstairs, into the kitchen to prepare his son’s bedtime beverage. Once he was gone, and you could hear him begin to steam the milk, you snapped your fingers to get Alistiar’s attention.

“Alright Ali,” you sighed, folding your arms across your chest. “What’s going on? Why have you been trying to get your dad to leave the room for the past...” you checked the time on the alarm clock which was positioned on Max’s nightstand. “Half an hour.” Gods he was persistent. Just like his father.

“We need to do something special for daddy’s birthday.” Alistair announced, and as he uttered the words, you already knew that there was no room for questioning him. He and his father were similar in that sense too.

“What do you have in mind?” you wondered out loud. You knew Maxwell’s birthday was approaching, despite your husband never talking about it. You hadn’t even thought of what to get him yet, which was a problem.

“A party. But not like the ones daddy has for work,” Alistair explained, referring to the many galas Maxwell had hosted in attempt to gain sponsorship and investments for his company. “Like, a small tea party. Just us. All his favourite snacks and the birthday cake granny used to make him when he was a kid. I know it’s his favourite. And balloons and banners and streamers. I can draw a picture. And music. And—“

“Okay okay baby slow down, I see where you’re coming from,” you smiled, pulling Alistair into your lap. “And I like the idea. Do you know if your dad has ever had a small party like this before?”

“I don’t think so.” Alistair replied softly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure it’s perfect. We can start planning tomorrow morning when he goes to work, okay? But keep your mouth zipped tight Ali, it has to be a surprise.”

———

The day of Maxwell’s birthday started like any other. He left for work at 7:30, his driver waiting for him outside. He graced you with a quick peck on the cheek and told you he couldn’t wait to see you tonight. Now, Maxwell hadn’t uttered one word about his birthday in the past week, but even today, he hadn’t mentioned it. You’d planned on giving him his present this morning when he woke up, but your nerves got the better of you.

You’d waited to give him this gift for a week already, you could at least wait a few more hours until he got home from work.

At 9am, your best friend arrived with an abundance of helium balloons, birthday banners and streamers. At 9:30am, you tried to help Alistair pick out a smart outfit, although he was begging to wear one of his new Star Wars Ewok costumes.

“How can you eat all the cake if you’re dressed as a massive teddy bear?” you asked the boy. He sighed, knowing that you had a point.

Alistair looked adorable in his button down shirt and pants. You even fished in Maxwell’s closet to find a bow tie, hoping it would complete the look.

“I look like dad.” Alistair mumbled, fiddling with the wonky tie that you’d haphazardly wrapped around his neck.

“Exactly. You look wonderful.” you grinned, enveloping him into a massive hug.

At 12, you figured it was the best time to begin baking the cake. But to do that, you needed the recipe. When you called Ms Lorenzano, your heart blossomed upon hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Oh darling! Hello! It’s so lovely to hear from you.” she spoke into the phone, and you could just imagine her smile on the other end of the line. It was identical to Maxwell’s.

“Hello Ms Lorenzano,” you greeted, nervously curling the telephone wire around your finger. “How’ve you been?”

“I was just packing away my groceries. I got the bouquet of flowers you and Maxwell sent me yesterday. They look beautiful on my dining room table. Thank you, darling. They really lighten up the room. How is my son? Is he there?” Ms Lorenzano quizzed.

“Max is great, actually. He’s working at the moment but we were thinking about flying out to see you this weekend. If you weren’t busy? Alistair misses you very much.”

“Oh that would be wonderful! I’ve missed my little cherub so much. Let me guess, a big party planned tonight for my Maxwell’s birthday?” She beamed.

“Not quite. It was Ali’s idea to plan something small - a tea party of sorts. He was telling me about this vanilla frosting birthday cake you used to bake when Max was younger? And I was hoping you’d share the recipe with me. I’d love to try and recreate it… although my baking skills are nowhere near as good as yours.” you giggled.

“That recipe has been passed down our family for generations,” Ms Lorenzano explained and you felt your heart sink into your chest. By neither law nor blood, you weren’t family. Would she really not give you the recipe? You’d been dating Maxwell for years now. And Ms Lorenzano did always say you were like a daughter to her… “Of course you can have it.” she smiled and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as she began to list the ingredients.

“Thank you Ms Lorenzano, it was so lovely to speak to you. Max is gonna give you a call tonight. Take care, okay?”

“Okay darling. I send my love. Give Alistair a kiss from his ol’ granny. I will see you Saturday.”

Now, the smart thing would’ve been to call over the house chef and have her prepare the birthday cake. At least then, it would be void of any errors. But this was strictly a Lorenzano family recipe and the last thing you wanted to do was to disrespect Ms Lorenzano and immediately give it to the house chef. So, you figured you’d give it your best go. At least then it would be sentimental.

Maxwell was a fussy eater, only eating the most delicious and well presented foods. You weren’t sure if he’d even step a foot near this cake. As you stirred together the ingredients, something wasn’t right. It was lumpy and bubbling and -- no matter what, you just couldn’t seem to fix it. You called Alistair in, who had been colouring in a family portrait he’d drawn, to take a look, but of course, he didn’t know any better.

When the cake came out the oven, it was lop-sided and slightly burned. You figured it would be okay if you just covered it in the vanilla frosting and placed the sliced strawberries intricately on the top. But no. Luck wasn’t on your side today. The strawberries slipped off and the icing was uneven. At least you managed to put the cake on one of the fancy ‘special occasion’ plates. You could just tell Maxwell that it was made with love.

Ali helped you decorate downstairs, which proved to be a challenge. The rooms in Lord manor were extensively sized and tall, but you did your best.

“Ali, I’m going to quickly get changed okay? Would you do me a favour and bring down your dad’s presents from upstairs? You could place them on the dining room table.”

Alistair nodded obediently and did as he was told. You went up to yours and Maxwell’s shared closet and looked around, trying to decide on what exactly you should wear. You opted on a beautiful, fitted champagne coloured dress that glittered in the artificial lighting. It was one of your favourite gowns and you had worn it last summer at one of Black Gold Cooperative’s charity fundraising events. You knew how much Maxwell loved it too. If Alistair was dressed in his father’s bow-tie, and Maxwell always looked presentable, there was no reason you couldn’t make an effort to look good too. Besides, you didn’t know how long you’d have left before you wouldn’t be able to fit into these dresses anymore.

You didn’t have long before Maxwell was due to finish work. You quickly style your hair and adjust your makeup, before padding downstairs and into the dining room. Just like you had requested, all of Maxwell’s presents were neatly piled on top of the table, courtesy of Alistair.

“He’ll be home any second Ali,” you said, handing Alistair a party popper and adjusting the cone shaped party hat on his head. Alistair was absolutely beaming, his big brown eyes twinkling like starlight as he anticipated his father coming home from work. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alistair grinned.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go find a place to hide.”

Ducking down behind the stack of gifts, you waited for about five minutes in silence, until you heard the front door unlock. Alistair squeaked excitedly, hearing his dad come home and you bit your lip, quietly shushing him but unable to contain your own smile.

Maxwell was surprised when he came home. He wasn’t greeted like he expected to be. Normally, every evening after his shift, you and Ali would run into his arms and envelope him into a hug. The lack of running and hugs concerned Maxwell. The house was dead quiet, and he even found himself wondering if either of you were home.

When he padded into the dining room and switched on the light, you and Ali jumped out and screamed in unison; “Happy birthday!”

Maxwell froze, his jaw dropping open and his eyes going comically wide. He was presented with an abundance of gifts, a decorated dining room, his son and girlfriend all dressed up, and a questionable looking cake with a wax candle stuck in the top. You and Alistair ran into Maxwell’s arms and hugged him tight.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s your birthday! Look! We planned a surprise tea party all by ourselves!” Alistar squealed, tugging on his father’s arm.

“I- I- wow!” Maxwell gasped, genuinely speechless. You bit your lip and swayed your hips as you lovingly gazed into his brown eyes. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact the whole day was leading up to this moment, or perhaps just an imbalance with your hormones, but you had missed him so much. Just seeing him again made you want to weep in his strong arms. You loved him so much.

“Happy birthday.” you whispered, raising your hand to cup his face. He nudged his nose against yours and you kissed him sweetly.

“You did all of this for me?” He asked after reluctantly pulling away, still in genuine shock.

“It was Ali’s idea.” you replied, letting your body lean against his. You rest your head into his chest so much so that you could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You look… breathtaking, darling.” Maxwell hummed, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Come sit down,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him over to the dining room table. “You have all these presents, and we have cake and music…”

“The cake…” Maxwell pointed and quirking an eyebrow. “Is that… it can’t be…”

“It is, I called your mom for the recipe.” You confirmed with a nervous smile.

“I-- don’t believe it. I haven’t had this cake since--”

“I know. Again it was Ali’s idea,” you informed him. Alistair looked bashfully proud as he anticipated the cake cutting. “I know it doesn’t look the best…”

“Are you kidding?” Maxwell asked, cutting you off. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“Would I like to try some?” Maxwell repeated incredulously. “Of course!”

You lit the candle and held hands with Alistair and Max as the two of you sang happy birthday. As Maxwell blew out the candle, you told him to make a wish.

“I don’t need to wish for anything. I already have everything I could ever want. Right here.”

Maxwell got a variety of miscellaneous gifts for his birthday. A porcelain statue of a dog, a small desk flag with his company logo on it, a basket filled with biotin supplements, and of course the artwork that Alistair had created earlier in the day. It was a beautiful crayon illustration of you, Max, Ali, and of course your cat, Lady Lord. Maxwell promised to frame it and put it on his desk at work. Little did he realise though, the best gift was yet to come.

Once Alistair was tucked into bed, you and Maxwell decided to settle down and have an early night. All the eating and dancing had exhausted you both.

“Thank you for today,” Maxwell mumbled, pulling the zipper down your dress. His warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you immediately felt butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we go to bed, hm?” he asked, peppering kisses down your neck and along your shoulders.

You knew what he was hinting at, and you wanted it too. Of course you wanted it too. But there was something you had to deal with first. You were so nervous but you knew it was now or never.

“I didn’t give you your birthday present.” you announced, turning around to look your boyfriend in the eye.

“Wh-- what do you mean? You didn’t need to get me anything. This was enough. You-- you, my love, are enough.”

You smiled, rubbing his bicep and finding yourself once again getting lost in his eyes. You took a deep breath and pulled him into the en-suite bathroom. Although confused, Max didn’t say a word, and instead, he watched you in silence as you unlocked the drawer under the sink. It was where you usually kept your cosmetics, but Max’s gift had been waiting in there for the past week, wrapped up in tissue. You took it out and handed him it.

You anxiously watched as he unravelled the tissue, only to be presented with a positive pregnancy test. Your positive pregnancy test. His eyebrows knotted together and you watched his Adam's apple bop in his throat as he swallowed. But then, only seconds later, his face softened and his eyes became glazed with unshed tears. “You’re… we’re…”

“We’re pregnant, Max.” you confessed, confirming his thoughts.

Maxwell choked up and wrapped his strong arms tight around you, squeezing you hard. “Oh my God, we’re really pregnant?”

“Mhm.” you giggled, as Maxwell pulled away and cupped your cheeks with his hand. He kissed you passionately and when he pulled away, his grin was ecstatic.

“How long have you known?” He quizzed.

“A week.” you admitted.

“A week?!”

You swatted his arm playfully and shushed him.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, to confirm it and everything. But with the sickness and… I can feel it, you know?” You took his hand and placed it against your stomach. “I can really feel it.”

“I love you so much,” Maxwell smiled. “I love you so, so much.”

“Happy birthday my dear.” you replied, guiding him back over to the bed. “I love you too.”

--------x---------

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction | You’re An Idol and Get Injured On Stage [Request]

A/N: But have you seen IU and Mr Park (Her bodyguard) I want a friendship like that with someone please!!!

Seokjin:

The dance break music started to play and you handed your microphone over to a stagehand going over to the centre and holding onto your member's hands as you got onto the back of another. You were supposed to be doing a flip for the dance move but at the last moment, they'd changed the routine without giving you all time to practice.

"ARE YOU READY!?" Another beat drop hit and you jumped into the air putting your arms out at the side and attempting to land back in the arms of your teammates but the beat was off and your members didn't know what to do, Jin screamed as he watched you falling down onto the floor hitting the floor with such a large impact that sound of a bone-breaking could be heard over the loud music. The music cut out as soon as you screamed out in agony not being able to control the painful scream you were trying to hold in,

"Medic!" A member screamed as Jin rushed over to you, your leg was clearly broken as it was twisted a way it wasn't supposed to be and you were crying out in pain.

"Jin! J-Jin!" You whimpered holding onto him as the medic rushed over to the stage, the lights cut out so that no one would be able to see the extent of your injuries and you were loaded into a wheelchair, crying hysterically as you asked Jin not to leave your side.

(X)

"I think I made it look better," Jin said as he pulled the bright pink marker pen away from his newest addiction to your white cast, it was covered in doodles that Jin had done whenever he was with you. Including several inscriptions of your name next to his followed by giant pink hearts. He hadn't left your side since the night you came home from the hospital, he refused to do anything that would take him away from you.

"Four more weeks and I can get this off." You mumbled grabbing a chopstick so that you could itch inside of the cast, it didn't hurt so much anymore and the doctor said you were lucky it was such a clean break or it would have taken longer to heel.

"Four more weeks and then the physical therapy starts." Jin reminded you, he'd gotten you one of the best physical therapists in Seoul since you wanted to be able to get back to work right away, you missed being able to dance around on stage but for now you were strictly confined to a chair while you sang along.

Yoongi:

Yoongi hated that you were doing this routine, there were stagehands carrying you as you laid on their hands as if they were a bed and you had to sing into a microphone while up in the air. You'd done it so much that it no longer scared you but to Yoongi it scared him every time you got into their arms, every time you went up there was another chance you could slip and hurt yourself or they could drop you and hurt you. He was so protective of you that if it was down to him you would be wrapped in bubble wrap and told to perform like that but this was one of your fan's favourite moves that you all did. You were singing your lines as the stagehands walked you across the stage, about to hit your mark when one slipped injuring herself and dropping you onto the ground in the process. You whimpered passing your microphone into your other hand as you tried to perform the rest of the song as nothing had happened but Yoongi knew instantly something was wrong with you, the way you were holding yourself was different and you weren't moving your arm correctly.

(X)

"I told you the move was dangerous," Yoongi said as the doctor wrapped the plaster cast around your wrist to secure it in place, you and the doctor both stared at him from where you were sitting,

"Don't say I told you so to someone who has a plaster cast on Yoongi...They hurt when they're set." You told him, the doctor started laughing at the both of you as she finished up your cast.

"You'll be free to leave in about an hour, I'll get you some pain medication to help the healing." You thanked her and turned back to Yoongi who was blushing at the doctor who had been laughing at him.

Hoseok:

Award ceremonies were your favourite, you got to perform and give people their awards it was something you loved doing.

"Next up we have BTS Performing their new single Stay Gold." You said into the microphone as the camera panned out and the live show cut to an advert, your co-presenter walked off the stage and you went over to talk to Hoseok before he performed,

"Baby be careful!" Before you could even think about what he had said you foot fell into one of the holes in the stage and you tripped forward hitting your face into the floor as you couldn't stretch out to stop yourself in time. You hissed holding your face as four people all helped you stand up and get out of the hole, you hopped over to some seats backstage Hoseok wanted to rush over to you but the music started and they had to go onto the stage.

"Go! I'll be here when you get back." You promised him as a medic began rushing to your side to help you out.

(X)

That night you'd finished the show by leaning on Hoseok with one leg in the air as you presented the final award of the night, all of your fans knew that you and Hoseok were an item so this was no big deal but as soon as fans saw your ankle Twitter went wild.

"Everyone thinks you did it backstage in the dressing rooms," Hoseok laughed looking through your twitter as you groaned to yourself, your manager told you it was up to you what you were going to tell them and normally you were open and honest about everything but this was just embarrassing.

"Just tell them the truth baby, they'll find it funny but at least you can laugh along with them." You glared at him as he started laughing and recreating the face you made as you fell down onto the floor.

"You owe me ice cream." You told him as you got off the sofa and limped over to the kitchen to get something to eat.

Namjoon:

It was pouring it down above the stage and Namjoon watched anxiously from the backstage as you performed with the rest of your group. There were a bunch of other idols performing today because the show you were singing on wanted to get some shots of the final day but no one had counted on it raining and making the stage dangerous. The camera panned down to you and you began singing into your microphone while holding eye contact with the camera, something everyone had to do when the camera came down to them. You rance your way to the back of your group getting ready to do more of the routine when you slipped on the water knocking into the main rapper and sending you both falling to the floor, you cried out in agony as you tried to move your ankle to get up from the floor. There were no second chances at this, this was the final take but Namjoon rushed over to you while your band members boyfriend rushed over to them, your ankle was already starting to swell and throb and your band member couldn't move their arm.

"CUT!" The music cut out as paramedics rushed over to you and your friend,

"It's a clean break," The paramedic said as he looked down at your ankle.

(X)

"Namjoon-ah," You whined as he got up from behind you again to go and get you something to drink, you'd only just finished the water he'd given to you and now he was rushing around. It was all he'd been doing since you broke your ankle, he signed your cast and then wouldn't leave your side. You understand that boyfriends were supposed to be protective but even this was a little much,

"The doctor told you I would be fine-"

"I want to look after you." You whined out as he sat back down behind you again,

"If you want to look after me stop moving every three seconds, you're comfy and I'm sleepy." You whispered to him snuggling against him as you got comfortable on his chest, you'd spent the whole night before in the hospital waiting for the doctor to put a cast on you and you were exhausted. All you wanted to do was sleep but Namjoon insisted you stay away even though you hadn't hit your head on anything.

"Can I just nap, Namjoon I haven't slept in over 32-Hours" He sighed nodding at you and letting you close your eyes.

Jimin:

You smiled at fans in the front row as you sang into your microphone,

"I LOVE YOU!" Someone screamed loudly making you laugh halfway through your line as you began performing the new comeback single with the rest of your group when your line finished you blew them a kiss.

"I love you too guys!" You yelled back looking at your security guard who was watching you closely to make sure nothing was going to happen to you. He panicked far too much but Jimin was the one who hired your guard, he wasn't happy with the one your company had given you and hired this one instead, telling you he was the best of the best. You began singing more of your lines when a fan reached out to touch you nothing new about it but this time he'd managed to grab onto your ankle and pull you quite roughly. You slipped off onto the floor next to the stage and cried out into the microphone. The music stopped instantly and your guard rushed over.

"Y/n?!" The fan who had pulled you kept trying to grab onto you again trying to pull you towards him but your guard pushed him away asking for more security to be put in place, your fans all turned to the one that had grabbed you and helped security hold onto him to escort him from the venue.

(X)

"He touched you-"

"My ankle, he held onto my ankle and pulled me down." You corrected Jimin who was red in the face with anger. He was ready to go and find the 'fan' that had done it when your guard came into the room with some more ice for your ankle.

"He could have broken your leg," Jimin was furious that you weren't more upset about this than you were,

"It's just some ligament damage in my ankle, it'll heal." You promised him hissing as the ice came into contact with your swollen ankle on the chair in front of you,

"We found the guy that had grabbed onto you, he's a Sasaeng." You and Jimin turned to your personal guard and thanked him for everything he'd been doing, from the moment you hit the floor he hadn't left your side unless it was to go and get you some ice or something to eat.

"Are you pressing charges against him?" Jimin questioned sitting down next to you as he stared at your ankle,

"Yeah, I-I need to do something to make sure it doesn't happen again right?" He nodded in agreement holding back to the comment that he would have done something worse to the guy that touched you but you could already tell he wanted to kill him.

"I'm fine Jimin," You leant up to kiss his cheek and he sighed the thought that someone could just grab onto you like that scared him.

"I'll double up your security, triple it if I have to-"

"You don't. I'm fine." You whispered kissing him again to stop him from ranting on about it all.

Taehyung:

You were performing in one of the largest stadiums in Seoul it had been your dream to do this since you were a kid and now you were finally doing it with everyone you loved around you. Your family were in the front row cheering you on while Taehyung - your boyfriend was backstage cheering you on since he couldn't be out in the crowd.

"You guys have been amazing!" Your leader screamed into their microphone as you went to grab some water from the stage,

"It's always been our dream to be able to play here and here we are!" You yelled into your microphone picking up a bottle of water and sipping from it, you were out of breath and panting heavily from the new routine you'd just shown them - a sneak peek into the next comeback.

"We hope you guys have enjoyed watching us as much as we've enjoyed performing for you but now we have to say goodbye." As your leader spoke you pouted out into the crowd blowing kisses to fans that were watching you closely.

"We'll be back though, we'll be back and better than ever!" You promised, laughing as they all started screaming back at you.

"We want to just-" Your voice was cut off by you screaming as a firework at the front of the stage went off without warning or in the correct timing, it exploded in the air but you fell backwards onto the stage clutching your arm as the sparks hit you.

"TOWEL!" Taehyung was on the stage within a matter of seconds holding a wet towel on your arm and looking into your eyes to make sure you were okay.

(X)

"Minor burns Tae, I'm fine." You told him as he paced around the doctors office in front of you, he'd rushed you to see someone right away even though you told him you were fine and the doctor told him the same thing.

"You could have been set on fire!" You held onto his hand, you knew why he was panicking so much but it was an accident, a small oversight and no one was seriously hurt in the process.

"I'm fine Taehyung," He walked over to you sitting down beside you on the bed as he plotted to find out who was in charge of the timing of the fireworks and who he was going to have to yell at for hurting you.

"Taehyung please I'm fine," You whispered to him leaning up to kiss him on the lips but he sighed at you, he was upset that you weren't more upset about this. It was something that could have seriously hurt you but you were brushing it under the rug as though it meant nothing.

Jungkook:

Jungkook was watching soundcheck since he couldn't be there tonight while you were performing, you were walking along the thing walkway where you could connect with fans during the concert that night.

"Y/n you have to do your turn!" A stage manager yelled through a megaphone to you, you rolled your eyes doing the turn as you walked back down the thin walkway. Jungkook hated it, it was the only thing he hated about the routines that you did, the walkway was a super thin piece of metal and you all had to do a turn on it, putting yourself at risk.

"One more and you're done." The stage manager said as you began walking up the thin piece again doing the twirl but this time Jungkook watched in horror as your ankle buckled underneath itself and you slipped falling down onto the floor and cutting your leg open.

"Y/n!" Jungkook sprinted out onto the stage coming over to you to check if you were okay, you groaned running your hand down your leg to see the blood on it.

"It's just a small cut," You lied trying to move away from Jungkook but ended up limping in the process, he helped you up and took you over to the onsite paramedic who cut open the jeans you were wearing.

"Shit." Jungkook hissed looking at the gash that was on your shin, a piece of metal had cut into your leg causing the wound but it was nothing that couldn't be healed with some butterfly stitches and a couple of days rest.

"I'm still performing-"

"No you're not!" Jungkook snapped looking at you and then to your manager who was nodding along, he saw no reason as to why you couldn't be allowed to perform if you were going to stay seated the entire time.

"I'll sit on a chair on the main stage, I'll rest it I won't dance." You told Jungkook who was making it clear he was against the entire idea of it.

"Jungkook-"

"We won't let any of them onto the walkway either, it'll be taken out of the routine." Your manager promised Jungkook that you would never have to do it again and it set him at ease a little more as you looked up at him.

"I still don't like it." You nodded at him, you understood why he was upset you knew you would feel the same way if it was him in this position instead of you.

tagline:

@snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @callingmyangel @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @innersooya

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softths · 4 years

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Can you do #2 and idk the number but it was "kiss me, again" I think. I love your writing btw🤍🤍

Prompt #2 : ‘You’re awake? Fuck.’ & Prompt #47: ‘Kiss me again’

A/N: this has been heavily requested, and is of course a friend to lovers as it’s my favourite thing to write and this is probably my favourite thing I’ve wrote in a while <33 also thank you very much to whoever asked this, ily xxx

word count: 2.3k

You and Harry had become immune to the questions now, it was all simply a routine. ‘Are you two….?’ Was the most common one, with the quick glance between the two of you and the finger that would flicker between the two. ‘No.’ Was always your reply, with a small smile while Harry would laugh lightly and always reply ‘Just good friends’ mate.’

In the beginning, it was awkward, for you at least. With every question came an awkward silence and not knowing what to say. Harry would laugh and you would feel awful about yourself because of it. Was it really that funny, the idea of him being with you? But now, now it was simple. It just was not like that and never would be between the two of you. So, you had thought.

‘It’s Li’s wedding in a few months, all the boys have dates and I don’t want to be fucking nineth wheeling the whole time. Fancy coming with?’ You looked over to Harry, eyebrows furrowed, as you took in what he had said. ‘You want me to come to Li’s wedding with you?’ Harry nodded in response to your question, taking another handful of popcorn and putting it into his mouth.

“Don’t you feel like that’s a bit weird? Why don’t you take that girl you’ve been seeing?” You say nonchalantly, returning your gaze back to the TV before Harry reaches to pause it. He sighs as he does, before facing you. “Look, I can’t just bring some random girl to one of my best mates’ weddings, she’ll be in the photos and it’ll just be weird. Like really weird. You’re a friend of all of us and Liam said he wants you there, please?” He asks, well pleads really.

You roll your eyes before sighing in defeat. “Fine, but I’m still pissed at Liam for not inviting me himself and just assuming I’d be fine going with you.” Harry shrugs before pressing play again, “He just know you can’t say no to the charm of Harry Styles.” You slap him lightly, “Get your head out of your arse Styles.” You retaliate.

“When and where is it again?” You ask, standing up to refill your glass with water. “This weekend and Italy.” You gasp after taking in a mouthful of water, causing yourself to choke slightly. Harry runs in as he hears you struggling to breathe. He helps by patting you on the back firmly as you begin to cough. “This fucking weekend Harry? As in four days?” Harry shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, what’s the issue?”

“I have a job Harry. A normal job unlike you. I’m not a musician who can just take time off when I need to. I don’t have anything to wear. Fuck Harry, why aren’t you more organised.” Harry interrupted your rambling quickly, “Woah, woah, woah, shush for a second. I’ve already spoken to your boss and he said it was fine. I gave his daughter tickets to a show and he said we were even. I’ll get Lambert to contact some people and you’ll have a dress, tailored to you that matches my suit in time for when we leave okay? Don’t stress.” You nodded as you took in Harry’s words and tried to not overthink too much about the coming days.

You were stressed. You had an hour until you had to be at the venue and you hadn’t even tried the dress on yet. Harry was busy getting his suit on in the other room as you paced up and down. “Stop pacing, you’re driving me insane.” Harry barks from the other room. You listen to him and grab the dress from the hanger. You place your legs inside the bottom, stepping into it as you pull it up around you. It was a beautiful blue satin dress with a low v neck which sat on top of your chest, it fitted you perfectly and you were so grateful. You admired yourself in the mirror and finally felt like you could breathe as you fell more and more in love with the dress that was wrapped around your figure.

Walking out to see Harry, you placed your earrings in. You rest against the doorframe leading into the bathroom as he fixes his tie in the mirror before sighing in defeat and throwing his arms around. He looked stunning in his double-breasted navy suit, his handkerchief matching the pattern of the tie he was struggling to put on. ‘Help.’ He whined as he pouted and looked at you for the first time. ‘Fuck.’ He mumbled as he walked towards you. ‘You look…’ He started as you just laugh and pretended to flick your hair over your shoulder. ‘You don’t need to tell me how good I look.’ You mutter with a small laugh as he continues to gawk at you.

You reach for his tie and begin to do it up as he continues speaking. ‘No honestly, you look so beautiful. See I told you, you didn’t need to stress. Plus I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gucci look so good on anyone compared to the way it looks on you.’ He says and it was your turn to gawk at him. You slap him lightly as you drop his half-finished tie. ‘What the fuck do you mean Gucci?’ He just shrugged as he looked at you, smiling cheekily, ‘What? Couldn’t let you turn up in anything less than you are worth.” You finish off his tie before placing your hands on either of his shoulders, looking at him in the eye.

“How much did this put you back Harry?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “Does it matter?” He whines, rolling his eyes and walking passed you. “Yes it does, to me.” Harry just shakes his head, grabbing your purse, “Look can we just go?”

“Not until you tell me.” You state, placing a hand on your hip and he sighs knowing he never is going to win against you. “£2,700.” He mumbles but you hear him and he hears your gasp. “Harry!” You yell as you look at him and he instantly goes to defend himself. “Look it’s not everyday you get to go to a wedding in Rome with your best friend okay? I just wanted you to feel amazing and have an amazing time. Please, you don’t owe me anything. I did this off my own back and I hate to be that person but it didn’t even dent the figure in my bank okay? I wanted to do this! So just say thank you and let’s get going.” You sigh as he opens the door and signals for you to leave. “Okay! Okay. I’m very, very grateful and you’re the best friend ever but don’t go thinking I’ve dropped this okay?” You warn, pointing your finger at him as he follows behind you with a small laugh.

The whole day was magical. You teared up at the ceremony. You always have and always would. There was just something about love, that made you emotional. Niall passed you a tissue and Harry gave you a reassuring cuddle as you watched Liam and Maya tie the knot. You were sat on a table with all the boys and their partners at dinner and laughed along with them at Zayn’s best man speech. A few stories were spilt about all the boys and you could not help but gently slap Harry as you found out secret antics that he had partaken in when he was in his early twenties in the band. But as the night grew on, you became more and more tired.

“Harry, I think I’m going to head back to the room.” You muttered with a small yawn as you looked at your watch to see it was growing closer to one in the morning and Liam was about to lift Louis up in the air, attempting to recreate the iconic scene from Dirty Dancing. “One more drink and then I’ll come back with you.” Harry promised as his attention went from Lilo to you and then back to Lilo, yet now they were on the floor in a heap at the failed attempt. You giggle and give in, taking another sip of your drink as Harry gets up to have one more dance with the boys.

“So you and Harry, hey? He finally plucked up the courage then?” Maya says as she perches next to you, you look up as a loud roar comes from the dancefloor and recognise the all too familiar opening chord of What Makes You Beautiful. The boys begin getting over excited and shouting the lyrics at the top of their lungs. “Huh? Nothing’s going on between me and Harry.” You laugh as Maya reddens. “But what do you mean ‘finally plucked up the courage’?” Maya dismissed her comment saying it must have been ‘the alcohol talking’. You nod as she gets up to join Liam and dance with him to the overly played One Direction tune. Harry waltzed over to you before your head could begin to work at what Maya had said.

“Let’s get going love.” He said as he reached out for your hand, after reaching to pick up your heels that had been discarded onto the floor hours ago. “We’re off to bed lads. Night.” Harry yells waving, as the boys collectively wolf whistle and Niall yells, ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.’ You roll your eyes at their childish behaviour before hobbling out of the hall, wincing at the pain. “Your feet hurting you love?” Harry asks stopping as you continue to seethe in pain. “Yeah a bit, don’t worry about it. It’s not far to the room.” Harry simply shook his head and reached down to scoop you up in his arms before you could even argue with him.

“Put me down.” You say as he carries you, but you don’t have enough energy to fight him as he tells you to shush, claiming you were ‘light as a feather’. You quickly passed out in his arms and only awoke slightly when you felt yourself fall onto the bed. You kept your eyes shut as you heard Harry moving around in the room, you heard the metal of his belt, understanding that he was stripping down to get into bed.

When he stopped you felt him tapping your arm lightly. “Y/n, lovie, turn over so I can undo your dress if that’s okay?” You did as he said and felt his delicate fingertips glide over your skin as he undone the zip of your dress, he pulled the small straps off your arms before pulling the dress off of you to reveal your underwear before he placed the cover over your exposed skin and slipped into bed beside you as you moved, your back now facing him.

This was normal for the two of you. You had shared a bed together dozens of times, only in your underwear, but tonight, it felt different. He waited for a while, waiting for your breathing to change to signal that you were asleep before wrapping his arms around you. He traced your skin lightly before beginning to speak, “You looked so beautiful today.” He whispered. “I wanted to tell people you were mine today. That I was the one who you loved. The one who knew all your secrets. The person who you returned to at the end of every single day. That I was the luckiest man alive to be able to call you mine. But I’m too scared to do it. To even tell you what I want. Because, what if it changes everything. What if I don’t even get to have a part of you. What if I don’t get to be the man you come to moan about other men to. What if I don’t get to be the man you trust with everything, even the secrets that your previous partners don’t. What if it fucks up everything? I can’t do that to us. I can’t do that to you.” He sighs, placing a kiss to the back of your neck before resting his head on you.

“You’re so selfish, do you know that?” You whisper back to him, not moving. “You’re awake? Fuck.” You turn to look at him in the darkness of the room, still able to make out the features of his face.

“Yes I’m still awake. And I’m pissed that you’ve been making all these decisions for me to be honest Styles.” You say with a small laugh and he can’t help but laugh too. “I-…” He is lost for words and his mind is racing, as is yours but you know this is what you want. What you’ve always wanted.

So you don’t have to think twice before leaning down and placing your lips on his. He welcomes the feeling immediately, wrapping his arms around you to pull you even closer. You pull away to look at him as he breathes slowly, both of you registering what just happened.

“Kiss me again.” Harry states and you did just that, smiling as you kiss him again and he pulls you on top of him. When you pull away again this time, it’s you that speaks up. “Still just good friend’s?” Harry looked at you, expressionless.

“Are you fucking kidding?” He asked as he looked at you, a smile on your face that he could not help but mirror. “You bitch.” He said beginning to tickle you, as you laughed. “Don’t threaten me with the friend zone ever again, we are way past that now.’ He said, continuing to tickle you. “Okay, okay. Now stop.” You beg as you try your best to wiggle out of his grip.

“I’m in love you.” He says, placing a kiss to your head.

“I’m in love you too.”

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adventuresofclever · 3 years

Text

CleverMax: SDCC 2021 Masquerade Entry

Comic-Con@Home Masquerade Entry: Adventures of Clever Costume Title: CleverMax - Mr. Clever as a Borderlands boss Costume Description: Recreation of Mr. Clever from the Doctor Who episode Nightmare in Silver, written by Neil Gaiman, done in the style of the video game, Borderlands. Bio: They/He pronouns

Greetings all!

I realized that I never wrote about how I made my CleverMax mashup cosplay, so when SDCC posted about their At Home masquerade, I figured this was the perfect time to do so! Most of you know that I cosplay exclusively as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who, with the random mash up thrown in here and there. I’ve always wanted to be a Borderlands cosplayer, and the following is how I managed to combine the two together.

As always, enjoy the blog and if there are any questions, please feel free to contact me.

Let’s step into the TARDIS and jump back to October 20, 2009, when the first Borderlands game was released. It was my first foray into FPS (First person shooters) and I was hooked from day one. In 2012 they released Borderlands 2 which is, in my not so humble opinion, the best video game ever created. We got some of the most iconic charcters and storylines in that game. Including the best DLC ever, Bunkers and Badasses. And my second favorite villain of all time – Handsome Jack.

Jack’s sass, sarcasm and charm fits well with Mr. Clever’s personality. And in the pre sequel you get to play a version of him called the Dopplegnager. I mean, this pretty much wrote itself.

Handsome Jack from Borderlands 2 and Mr. Clever from Doctor Who

Borderlands cosplayers have aIways left me in a state of awe and admiration. The style of the game is so unique and seeing it recreated in person is nothing short of incredible. I’ve always wanted to figure out a way to be a Borderlands cosplayer. For the past eight years I have only ever cosplayed as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who. In the summer of 2019 I decided that was the perfect time to try to make this happen before NYCC.

When I initially decided to do this, it was going to be more of a mash up between Handsome Jack and Mr. Clever. I had planned on wearing Jack’s basic outfit, but in Clever’s colors with the a few add ons. Namely the bow tie and the cybernetics.

After much research and drafting, I decided against that. I ended up just turning Mr. Clever into a Borderlands boss. Same basic outfit as Mr. Clever/11th Doctor, but cel shaded and with weapons, cause Borderlands.

I made the accessories, chess set, and obviously the working cyberplanner piece itself for my Nightmare in Silver version of Clever, but I have never tackled anything this ambitious. An entire costume from scratch? Not something I thought I could do. Not knowing how to sew and being visually impaired were both challenges that I had to work around.

I started with looking around my house for various items that I thought I could use. I figured if I messed up, might as well mess up on something I hadn’t spent money on yet! I was going to toss a pair of my old paddock boots as they had some rips in the leather. Ripped leather? How very Pandora. They were the first thing I tackled.

Old paddock boots that I refurbished for the cosplay

This was my first time using leather paint and I have to say I am very pleased with the Angelus brand of leather paint. I have worn these in the rain and through puddles, and they have held up 100%.

After the boots were done, I started on the vest. I had an old black vest lying around the house that was sort of the shape and size I wanted. I don’t have a dress form, so I put it on myself, inside out, and used safety pins to make it the size I needed, then hand sewed around the safety pins. Not ideal, but it works.

I had a spare pair of black jeans, button down light blue shirt and a plain bow tie that I just ended up cel shading.

The only item that I really couldn’t figure out was the purple frock coat. Try as I might, I couldn’t find one to modify. So the coat was actually made by my friend Heather Long. I did alter the length after NYCC.

With the clothes themselves all set, for the most part anyay, it was time to paint. This was my first time trying to recreate the art style of Borderlands, often referred to as cel shading. I have a few “art of Borderlands” style books that I poured over before I sat down to attempt this.

Other than the accessories and anything leather, I used the same materials and techniques for each article of clothing. Instead of describing each seprate piece, I’ll just explain what I did to achieve the overall look.

When you look at a Borderlands character on screen, it can be a bit overwhelming. So many colors, and so many nuances of each color. I did my best to visually sift through all that, and try to establish what I thought was the base color.

Once the base color was determined, I just added blotches, blobs, shading, low lights, highlights and other variations of the base color itself throughout each piece. I recommend keeping your fabric wrinkled and using those wrinkle as guidlenes for where the lines and shading would fall naturally.

Once all of that dried, I then went over different sections of the fabric with white and black lines. To get that crisp, almost comic book looking outline of each piece I used black sharpie, and white fabric pens as well as white fabric paint.

When I sat down to do the coat, I wanted something a little different than just cel shading. During a second playthrough of Tales from the Borderlands, I noticed Rhys and other characters had interesting logos and designs on the back of their jackets. I ended up putting a chessboard pattern on the back as a homage to the chess game between the 11th Doctor and Mr. Clever in the episode.

Great shot of the chess board and my Judd Nelson pose

The materials that I used for all of the clothing items were craft paints that I had around the house. Any brand works, but I prefer Americana paints. I then added an additive that you use to make the paint water proof and used various sized brushes. Dry brushes are also very useful if you have them.

Black sharpies of different sizes and any fabric markers are also very helpful. Heat setting is required to make the paint waterpfoof, so if you mess up before you add sharpies, you can wash the clothes and start over.

A few tips if you decide to undertake cel shading clothing: Until now I hadn’t noticed that there aren’t many thing in Borderlands that are true black. Due to the art style most things that appear black are in reality shades of grey, with a grey base colr. This makes it easier to add the lines, shading, and what not. Looking back, I should have bought GREY clothes. It was a ton of work to make the pants look like they were a mixture of greys. And as a result of so many laers of paint, they are stiff, lost their stretch and feel an entire size smaller! So I would recommend grey fabric as a base for black clothing and buy a size larger.

The pants are so stiff that I think they will stand up on their own

This entire process was way more fun than I thought it would be and I’ve since become addicted to cel shading anything I can. I may or may not have started cel shading my guest room.

After the clothing was finished, I started on some accessories and props. The first being the easiet – a wee little cybermite that I cel shaded. My cosplay of Mr. Clever always has a cybermite on my lapel, so I took one of my older ones and repainted it.

You can’t have a Borderlands character without some sort of weapon, so I painted a nerf gun that looks similar to the one that Clara Oswald holds in the episode.

I have never had to carry a gun for my Mr. Clever cosplay before so weapon checks are sort of new to me. I didn’t want to go through that at NYCC so I came up with a clever, no pun intended, way around it.

I took a photo of each side of the gun. Went to Staples and had them printed on heavy cardstock. Then I cut around the guns, glued them together between a piece of cardboard then added some black electical tape around the edges. Viola. Instant weapons check approved gun that is lightweight, and also acts a fan when it gets hot. It was a huge hit at the con. A few security guards were like “ we have to check your…wait..is that flat?” And they proceeded to play with it. I highly recommend doing this!

Gun and its flat counterpart

I am holding the flat gun in this picture from NYCC

In the actual game, you can equip your characters with mods that give them certain abilities and bonuses. In the Pre-Sequel, you can play as a Dopplganger of Handsome Jack so I searched for some of his mods and found one in purple which seemed perfect. I made the mod with cardboard, covered it in craft foam, modge podge to set, and installed led lights. The first time I wore it I put it on my belt which didn’t work. It kept falling off. I eventually put it on my lapel and wore it like Jack does. Unfortunately, someone glomped on me at a con and broke it, so I recently had to remake it all over again.

No Borderlands costume would be complete without cel shading on yourself. This was a huge challenge for me for a few reasons. One, I’m visually impaired so doing line work like this was challenging. Two, I am highly allergic to so many materials and ingrediants that finding a make up brand that I could wear was a trial and error process that ended up with many break outs and rashes before I found the perfect combination.

I used mostly eye liner pencils and liquid eye liner to achieve the look. The Wet n Wild liquid eye liner lasts forever, and is actually difficult to remove, but that is not a bad thing as it stood up to the heat of a very crowded venue.

As for the cel shading itself, I relied on many refernce photos of various characters in the game. I started with the eyebrows first as that seemed to frame the face nicely and give me a nice mischvieous look. I then just outlined the bones of my face, adding some random lines here and there. It never looks the same way twice, but that’s ok. Playing with different angles, lines, shading etc is half the fun!

The only real challenge were my hands. The make up didn’t last that long on my hands so I had to touch it up throughout the con. I also eventually started to use band aids that I cel sahded to cover up a tattoo on my inner wrist.

Figuring what to do with my hair is an on going process that I still haven’t 100% mastered. I opted to not use a foam wig as I have over heating issues on a cool day let alone trying to wear one if it gets warmer. I have had adverse reactions to craft foam in the past, so I don’t want it touching my skin, and lastly, I think a wig AND a facial prosthetic would be too much for me. So I decided to just cel shade my hair.

This takes forever to do, and I’m still figuring out better techniques every time I wear it.

I have a really great brand of colored gel, called Mofajang which I apply with a baster brush that you would find in the kitchen gadgets aisle. I also use a clean mascara brush to add some finer lines here and there. Set with way more hair spray than I ever used in the 80’s and it becomes fairly waterproof.

I have learned that due to how hard the make up and hair color is to remove, I really need to wear this on the LAST day of a con. I made the mistake of wearing it on day one of Long Island Who one year, and spent hours scrubbing my skin and hair for the next day. Far better to just leave the con with a tad bit of left over cel shading. Which makes it very interesting when you stop at a roadside bathroom on the trip home.

With the entire costume done it was time to work on the actual cyberplanner appliance.

Next time I make a variation of Clever, I will make this FIRST. Making these pieces is the bane of my existence – I love wearing them, hate making them. It’s a long process.

I am allergic to latex, silocone, scuply, most clays, and so many other things that seem to be every cosplayers go-to. When I made my first cyber piece back in late 2013, I spent weeks trying to find a substance that would keep attached to my face all day without causing a rash. Like an alchemist in a fantasy novel, I submerged myself into creating the perfect concoction. It took 22 days to finish the final product.

I admit that I rushed a bit on the Borderlands one. As a result, it doesn’t quite fit as well as my others, and is a bit heavier than I expected. I only added two working lights, instead of the usual four, to hopefully balance the piece out. It lasted through two full days of a con, despite the heat of a crowded venue, but I did end up tweaking it a bit after. Even with the tweaks, it still doesn’t fit as well as I would like. It is too heavy and brings down the entire left side of my face, making it difficult to keep my eye open at times. I really need to sit down and force myself to make a new one.

There are a few more things that I would like to add to this costume eventually. Like a belt of grenades, and maybe another gun. But aside from that, I am incredibly pleased with how this costume turned out. It is by far, my favorite Clever variation that I have done.

I hope this post gives you the inspiration to go off and cel shade something, and possibly even play some Borderlands!

#doctorwho #misterclever #mrclever #nightmareinsilver #cosplay #borderlands cosplay #doctor who cosplay #comic-con #comic-conathome #comic-conathome2021 #comic-conathomemasquerêde #cyberplanner #borderlands

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ajbwasntwriting · 3 years

Note

Can I pls request a Bucky x single mom reader? Maybe the kid recognizes him and they bond and then the reader comes and Bucky asks for her number? It’s okay if you don’t wanna write this! No pressure!! Have a great day ❤️❤️

As a child who was raised by a single mother this one was both a challenge and a joy to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This takes place like a week before TFATWS

Bucky Barnes x single mom! Reader

Tags: Fluffiest Fluff, mild ptsd and anxiety, Oranges.

Getting used to the modern world wasn’t that much of a struggle for Bucky, but the civilian modern world was a different situation. He still felt himself looking over his shoulder as he walked. He had locks on all of his windows and a sliding bolt on his front door. He had three phones, a burner he showed his therapist, a smartphone for keeping track of the news and talking to friends, and a third one that was exclusively for communicating with Wakanda. The last of which was a mixture of conversations with Ayo and memes from Shuri.

His therapist was pushing him to make friends and to try online dating. She later told him to ‘play tourist’ and explore what his locality had to offer. Something about it possibly introducing him to new people and at the very least ‘make you more interesting’.

So every week he went to a different place. He started with the Brooklyn Museum, having gone there for field trips as a kid. It was definitely more interesting now as an adult. The next place was the Brooklyn Flea, where he managed to get a record player and some records from when he was a teenager. He smiled fondly as the old tune played through his apartment, bringing back memories of flirting with pretty girls at the soda fountain and beating up bullies with Steve (Well, FOR steve at this time)

This is what lead him to be out in Brooklyn Park’s Harbour View Lawn on a Thursday Evening. They had this event called ‘Movies with a view’ that they did in the summer. The idea of being alone in a crowd of picnic-goers didn’t seem that appealing, but when he saw they were playing the original Dumbo, the same one he took his little sister Rebecca to see when he was 16 years old, he couldn’t pass up seeing the animated masterpiece on the big screen. Besides, if he got too uncomfortable no one would bat an eye to a man leaving an open-air venue.

He put some snacks, a drink, and a book(One of the ‘Lord of the rings’ series as he had been catching up)in his backpack and set out. He arrived early so he could sit on one of the benches. People from all walks of life arrived around him. Families both young and old, older couples searching for nostalgia, lovers looking longingly at each other, groups of friends looking to fill an evening, and so many children. The lawn had filled up so rapidly as people descended onto the grass, laying out their blankets and pulling out picnics they had prepared at home and purchased moments before from their favorite grocers. There was an undeniable excitement in the air as the sun was setting. Despite the fact it was the people watching that had him caught up, Bucky hadn’t noticed the small child walking up to him until she was less than a foot away from him, staring at him with big e/c eyes.

She wore a summer dress with a cardigan protecting her shoulders from the sun. Her hair was pushed back in a hairband. She was holding a yellow teddy bear that wore a silver t-shirt and a red cape and had gone limp from a combination of lost stuffing and age.

“Hi,” Bucky said, clearly uncomfortable. “Are you okay?” She walked up and sat next to him. He shifted away from her slightly, aware that this may look odd to any by-passers.

“I know who you are.” The little girl whispered to him.

“Do you?” Bucky asked, trying to remain calm. It was just a little kid, but she was freaking him out a little bit. For all he knew, this small child could be a member of some new black widow program. She smiled widely, revealing she was missing a front tooth.

“You’re Captain America’s best friend!” she half-whispered, half-squeaked in excitement. “Me and my brother saw you at the museum!”

Bucky couldn’t help the nervous laughter that came out of him. He felt himself relax at the kid’s excitement. “You saw me at the museum?” he faked intrigue. He knew there was a display on him in every Captain America museum.

Her hair bounced as she nodded. “There was a big picture on the glass and it said that you were dead, but my brother said you weren’t dead. And I thought he was being stupid, cause,” She looked around and then leaned in a little closer as if telling Bucky a secret “He can be really stupid. He didn’t even know how to tie his shoelaces until he was ten! But I’ve known how to tie my shoelaces since I was six!” She boasted.

“That’s amazing. since you were six? How old are you now?”

“I’m seven and three quarters.”

“Wow, you’re a big girl.” She nodded with a ‘yep’. “But you’re not big enough to be on your own, kiddo-”

“I’m not on my own, I’m with you.” She interrupted him. Following the trend of interruptions, a boy ran up to the two of them, holding a picnic blanket in his arms. He wore blue board shorts with a Captain America t-shirt and Iron man themed sneakers.

“Y/D/N what are you doing?! Mom is looking for you!” He yelled at the little girl. The two looked remarkably similar to each other.

“Look!” she ordered, pointing at Bucky. The boy looked at Bucky and his mouth dropped open, looking like a fish. Bucky wanted to laugh at how cartoonish it looked.

“You’re Captain America’s best friend.” He exclaimed though he couldn’t be heard that well over the chatter of people settling down and the movie being set up. “I knew that you weren’t dead, even before you were fighting Iron Man in Germany. That was so cool, Iron man was all pew pew and Spiderman was all thwish twish and you were in the middle all pow pow” The blanket had since fallen to the ground as the young boy got caught in his excitement and started recreating the movements with the sound effects, punching the air for Bucky’s punches, waving his arms around wildly for Wanda’s magic. Y/D/N looked on bored as he continued his display “and when the dust cleared you and Cap were gone, like dust in the wind.” He recounted epically, waving his fingers in a sideways motion.

“I told you he was stupid.” The little girl commented.

“You’re stupid!” he shot back. Before anything could escalate, Bucky gently put his arms between the children.

“Hey now, let’s not fight. If I have to call the Avengers they’re gonna be mad.” Bucky spoke. He really hoped this would work, and that they wouldn’t continue to fight in hopes of bringing the Avengers down to Harbour View Lawn. The movie started then, music playing out over the crowd rendering the crowd quiet.

“Mom is gonna be worried.” The boy stressed out loud

“What’s your name, son?” Bucky spoke to the boy

“Y/S/N.”

“Okay, Y/S/N. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Spread that blanket there.” Bucky motioned to the empty patch just a step in front of the bench he was sitting on. “and you two will stay here while I go tell the event people that you can’t find your mom.” The two kids spread out the blanket and sat on it. Bucky passed them his backpack and asked them to take care of it so they wouldn’t runoff. He found an event organizer and told them the situation, describing the kids. He returned shortly, the two kids not having moved as the movie played on a screen in front of the open water. He sat back down on the bench just behind the kids, paying more attention to them than the film.

“I’m hungry,” Y/D/N complained.

“That’s what you get for running off.” Y/S/N shot back at her.

“Do you like oranges?” Bucky spoke up behind them. Y/D/N nearly launched off the blanket as she yelped ‘yeah’ back at the man, twirling to look at him. He opened his bag and pulled out his orange, passing it to the little girl. Unprompted, the little girl asked her brother if he wanted half, which he happily accepted. “Sorry I don’t have another.”

“It’s okay, we share all the time,” Y/S/N explained, shoving an orange slice into his mouth.

You are a good ten minutes into the movie when a panicked woman is lead over to them by an event organizer. She runs to them, falling to her knees as she scoops them into a hug. “Oh, my babies.” She sobbed. “You scared me so much.”

“Mooom!” The boy groaned.

She rapidly thanked Bucky and the event organizer, who took their leave once they were reassured that the situation had been handled. “You are both in so much trouble!”

“Can we be in trouble after the movie?” The girl asked.

You were about to order them to get up and leave when Bucky spoke up. “I’ve been able to keep a good eye on them from up here, and there’s plenty of space.”

The joint chorus of ‘pleases’ from your two kids won you over. You sat down next to the man. You two could barely see each other in the dark, but he seemed nice. After all, he had reunited you with your kids.

“Thanks again for keeping an eye on them.” You whispered. “I hope they didn’t give your group too much trouble.”

“No,” he answered quietly “They’re good kids.”

“Not good enough,” you muttered. “They’re excitable, but that just means it’s never boring.” Bucky watched as Y/D/N turned around and pulled a full net of oranges out of your bag.

Watching the movie with company was definitely better. A comfortable silence fell among the four of you, only broken when you had offered him a couple of the bite-sized chocolate bars you had brought. The kids laughed at the movie, your little girl even cheering on the animated elephant. She threw her hands up in a cheer when he successfully took flight, making the two adults chuckle.

“Told you they were excitable.” You giggled.

“Me and my little sister were worse when he first saw Dumbo.” Bucky admitted. “We were on the edge of our seats the whole movie.”

“How else can you enjoy a movie!” you posed the rhetorical question.

Bucky had to admit he thought you were lovely. Just enough seriousness and playfulness rolled into one. So when the lights came on at the end of the movie and he saw how beautiful you were he felt his heart race a little. You were already cleaning up while your children told you how great the movie was. He gathered his stuff and went to slip out when Y/D/N called out to him.

“Where are you going?”

“The nice man probably has places to be-” you began to lightly chastise the girl when you finally saw who you had been sitting next to throughout the movie. “You’re…”

Bucky held his breath. It was one thing the kid’s thinking he was amazing; you were a grown adult. Someone that possibly knew of his history and most likely thought ill of him. He waited for you to say his old mantal, possibly with fear or anger. Instead, you smiled gently,

“James Barnes.” You spoke. A moment later you flustered slightly. “I’m sorry. I work at the Museum of the City in East Harlem. We just did a big-” you stopped yourself before you could ramble onwards. “I’m Y/N L/N.”

It was a breath of fresh air to have someone react to him in such a…human way. “Please, call me Bucky.” He smiled warmly as he fixed his bag on his shoulder. “Can I walk you out?”

After your section was cleaned up the four of you walked out, with the two kids walking ahead of you. Despite how late it was, they still had energy. You had been left to take care of your daughter’s stuffed toy while she chased your son around the park space. “What you said about your sister,” you started, trying to keep an eye on your two kids despite how eye-catching the man beside you was. “I’m guessing that was back in the forties?”

“Yeah. Me and my little sister Becca went to see it. Me and Steve took her to see Snow White and since then we’d see all the cartoon movies. Every time we’d run home and beg our parents for extra allowance and bunk off school so we could see it before the other kids.”

“Captain America and the Winter Soldier…loved Disney movies.” You chuckled. “It sounds like some click-bait title.”

“We didn’t even have to beg that much, looking back,” Bucky recalled, shaking his head. The memories of Steve having an asthma attack outside the theatre because they’d run so fast to get there in time. Becca would pull him in by his shirt while he was still wheezing so she wouldn’t miss the opening cartoons.

“According to the display, you two were quite the pair.” You replied. “They were probably just happy to have you off the street and not causing trouble.”

Speaking of trouble, your two kids came bounding towards you with an angry swan on their heels. “Mommy!” Your little girl shrieked. The swan had given up its chase but the two still charged, Y/D/N colliding right into you and Y/S/N going behind Bucky to use him as a shield.

“I think that’s enough wondering for today.” You passively suggested. Y/S/N agreed as Bucky put his arm around the young boy and keeping it there as you walked and talked. You came to the exit of the park. “I’m this way,” you said.

“I’m the other way,” Bucky admitted. The two kids said goodbye to Bucky, clearly sad to be parting. You thanked him again for what he had done and turned to go with your own goodbye. “Before you go,” Bucky stopped you. “Could I get your number?”

You were instantly shocked. Your mouth opened and closed limply for a moment. “Are you sure?”

Bucky was slightly taken aback at that question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I have two kids?” You said, almost sounding like a question.

“He knows that, mom.” Your son groaned. He looked absolutely bored; your daughter had newfound excitement.

“And I’d like to get to know more about you,” Bucky spoke. You chuckled nervously, looking away for a moment as you felt your cheeks flush then looked back to the tall man.

“I’d like that too.” You confessed, stepping forward. “Gimme your phone and I’ll put it in.”

Without a second thought, he pulled out his smartphone and watched you put your phone number in. “All setup.” You passed the phone back with a smile.

To say the two of you were riding on cloud 9 for the rest of the night would be an understatement.

#mcu bucky #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #mcu bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #mcu x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f reader #bucky fluff #mcu reader insert #reader insert #fem!reader #fem!reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x fem!reader #tfatws #tfatws fanfic #tfatws fanfiction #becca barnes

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nekoabiwrites · 4 years

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Love on the Fly Floor

My lecturer once told my uni class about this story of an actor who was crushing heavily on one of the flymen, and then they had said flyman be shirtless on the actor’s birthday when he was flown out - just to fuck with him. I loved it so much that I wrote it down and now I finally got around to writing it

(PS: the Fly Floor is where the flying is done for a show. And flying is raising and lowering pieces of set, which is done by flymen.)

AU: Theatre Pairing: Pining Prinxiety Words: 1411 Warnings: Nothing.

Summary: Roman is crushing bad on one of the flymen on his show. When his birthday rolls around, the cast and crew decide to help things along.

“Oh my goodness, Patton. You should have seen him the other day…” Roman sighed dreamily as he stretched his arms towards the ceiling. He was thankful that their current venue had provided the two of them a dressing room with enough space where he could warm up alongside his friend, rather than his usual routine of having to find another space somewhere in the building.

Patton giggled softly, trying his best not to move too much as he continued applying his stage makeup, “I dunno, Roman. Seems like you want to keep a sight like that to yourself.”

“Shut up!” Roman snapped to standing straight up, “Such stunning beauty should not be confined to just one person’s sight. It should be shared with the world!” He spun around, as if gesturing to said world. “Either way, he is far too gorgeous to be hidden so far up. He has just the most perfect face for the stage, and a strong physique too. Oh, he is so perfect…” Roman daydreamed happily as he took up a seat beside Patton, sighing as he did so.

“Alright, Birthday Boy. Maybe you can ask him for a present today?” Patton suggested, grinning widely when Roman’s face turned a lovely shade of red.

“I could never use that as an excuse! Besides,” Roman waved a hand in dismissal, “I’m sure someone like him either is uninterested in me, has a partner or is… straight.” Roman almost shuddered at the thought of someone he felt so strongly about being entirely incompatible with himself.

“How will you know until you ask, Ro?”

“…I won’t. But that is far too personal, Patton. It is highly unprofessional to pry into the affairs of a co-worker.” Roman ended the conversation there. Patton picked up on it quick and changed the subject, but the topic still lingered in the back of his mind.

“All company to the stage please. That’s all company to stage. Thank you.” The voice of the stage manager rang through the speaker high on the wall and the pair finished up their current tasks before taking the short walk to the stage. They managed to converge upon the stage at the same time as many of their fellow actors, all of which wished Roman a happy birthday when they approached him.

Roman thanked them but didn’t allow them to linger on the topic for long before starting up a new conversation. As much as he loved being the centre of attention, Roman didn’t want to seem too self-centred around his fellow cast members. He did have to travel with them for a few more months and his job would get far more difficult if they all started to despise him. His thoughts almost started to spiral into the darker side of things when the stage manager entered and caught everyone’s attention.

“Thank you all for arriving so promptly. We have some important things to get through before the stage can be reset. The most important things we’ll need to run are all scenes that involve flying people up and into the grid, so we can ensure the safety of all involved as a new flyman is joining the crew for the remaining shows. The crew are all set and ready to go, so if we could get prepared for that.”

The cast went to disperse, but a shout from the dance captain stopped them all. “Before we do that, there is one important thing we need to do!” He scurried off into the wings, followed by two ensemble dancers. They returned quickly with a card and a small cake. As if on cue, all the cast turned to Roman and began to sing happy birthday for him. It was short and sweet and Roman truly did appreciate the sentiment. He thanked them all graciously, offering hugs to all the cast around him.

“I’ll take them back to the dressing room, okay?” Patton said, taking the card and cake from Roman’s hands.

“Thank you, Patton. That is so kind of you.”

“It’s nothing! You have things to do anyway!” With that, the other man was off into the wings whilst Roman got into position.

He was handed his harness, which he was helped into before being hooked up to the thin yet strong wires that would allow Roman to be lifted. After the checks were done, the stage manager called out to him, “Alright Roman, are you ready?” He nodded in response, “Okay. You can take him up.”

Roman steadied himself as he felt his weight leave the ground. He was used to this by now, as he had been doing it almost four times a day for a while. They went through the scene, getting him moving from position to position, all under the watchful eye of everyone in the area. The scene was almost over, Roman delivered his last line and was flown high up into the grid, out of view of the audience. Underneath him, Roman knew that if he looked down, he would see the crew that were working fast to bring in the next set and another fly bar far ahead of him came in to mask his inevitable descent. It was almost over; he was so close. But Roman was never one who was good with avoiding temptation. He looked over to the fly floor and his mouth promptly fell open.

The man he’d been gushing about to Patton. The gorgeous flyman. The fantastically strong, mouth-wateringly pretty flyman. Was leaning against the railing. Staring directly at him. A smirk gracing his beautiful mouth. Utterly, wonderfully shirtless.

Roman’s mouth ran dry and his face quickly blushed as he took in the silent strength of the muscles that he could make out. The crossed arms that were resting on the bar were defined subtly, as were the rest of the chest and torso. The man’s skin was as pale as Roman had thought and it offered such a blank canvas that was just begging to be decorated. And then that infuriating yet intoxicating smirk and look that the man was giving him; he had to know that Roman was into him, there was no other explanation for that look.

The man played with his hair as he stood back up, pushing it into its usual position of almost covering his eyes before making a gesture that could only mean one thing: “call me”.

Roman didn’t know when his feet had reached back onto the ground. Nor when he’d been crowded by people. He was dazed, almost as if the sight had completely dazzled him and left him brainless. It was only when people started laughing that Roman managed to snap out of it. He noticed that they were all looking at him and that all the set was still in its original position. Roman’s brain pieced everything together in an instant, “You… you all set this up!” The laughter got louder at his realisation. Roman pouted and crossed his arms, “You’re all disgusting creatures! How could you?! Taking advantage of my situation like that! I am delicate! What if you had destroyed me?!”

A soft chuckle broke through the loud laughter and an arm wrapped around Roman’s waist, the free hand of the person behind him unhooking the wires, “What are you gonna do about it, Princey?”

Roman stood straighter, his mouth suddenly dry once more as he looked down at the black-painted nails and the bare arm. “I’m going to… to… um…”

“You are going to call me.” Roman had to fight not to shudder at the breath that fanned over his neck as the flyman whispered so close to his ear, the tone deep, rich and oh so sinful. A piece of paper was slipped effortlessly into Roman’s hand, “And, when the show is over, you’re going to dinner with me.”

“I… we, what?”

“Dinner. You know, eating, drinking, talking. All that stuff. We’re doing that after the show tonight. My treat, birthday boy.” With that, the flyman left. He sauntered off in the direction of the backstage corridor before someone called out to him.

Roman was still a little shocked from the interaction. He’d not actually considered that he’d be interested in him, let alone would be taking him out on a date… He looked down at the paper in his hand, the scribbled name above the number just about legible, “Virgil…” the name fell from Roman’s lips like a prayer.

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist Recreating Masterlist: https://nekoabiwrites.tumblr.com/post/611395890160238592/recreating-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides @hogwarts-my-love

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Prinxiety #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Creativity Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Morality Sanders #Theatre AU

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nature-and-music · 3 years

Text

Magick Tricks - Chapter 3

Authors’ note - This is a collaborated story written by @kashmir-baby and @nature-and-music involving Led Zeppelin going to a Renaissance Pleasure Faire. The year is 1975, hours before they play at a nearby venue. Robert encourages his mates to dress up and head off to a Renaissance Faire. The festivities are a blast for all of them, except for Jimmy who isn’t all too pleased with his costume (chosen by Robert) or the outing itself. However something later on catches his eye and bewitches him. Please keep in mind that this is a fictitious scenario and this story is purely written with humorous intentions and later on nsfw between adults (Jimmy x Female oc). If you are under the age of 18, please click away and do not read any further.

Our collab was quite long, so we had to break it up into chapters. @nature-and-music will be uploading the odd chapters and the epilogue. @kashmirbaby will be uploading the even chapters. We will provide the continuing chapters at the bottom and the previous chapters at the top.

Chapter 2: https://kashmir-baby.tumblr.com/post/636152384435994624/magick-tricks-chapter-2

Chapter 3 - Testing the Magick Waters

The hour flew by; the boys had congregated in Robert’s room after having changed out of their costumes, where they had enjoyed a drink or two before meeting the rest of their crew downstairs. They piled into the limos that had lined up awaiting them outside the hotel, and made it to the venue shortly after.

More drinks flowed in the dressing room as the boys prepared for the night ahead.

“You think your bird - I mean, your maiden - is gonna show, Robert?” Bonzo asked him, winking, as he pulled on his overalls.

“Do I think my charms are effective? Yes. More than Jimmy’s, anyway!” Robert replied, unable to resist another wizard joke. “We’ll find out now - won’t we. Jimmy, you done fluffing your hair? It’s time to go.”

“You all indulge me too much.” Jimmy said, reluctantly turning away from the mirror. The four of them left the dressing room to walk the long hall to the stage. The crowd’s chanting was growing louder as the concert’s start approached. They reached the stairs and out they went, visible to the crowd now and greeted by deafening screams.

Bonzo began to drum the opening to “Rock And Roll,” kicking off the show. As usual, Jimmy scanned the crowd. He thought he spotted Robert’s maiden out of the corner of his eye; he did a double take, and sure enough, there she was. She stood on the fringes of the crowd, by Jimmy’s side of the stage. He glanced over a few more times - she was watching Robert, of course. Her long brown curls bounced as she grooved to the song, and she was wearing a low cut blouse that left little to the imagination. He looked over at Robert, but he was clearly entranced and likely hadn’t noticed her.

Jimmy told himself to concentrate as they moved into the next songs. He cleared his head and immersed himself in his playing, getting lost in his solos, and playing off the other members’ rhythms. He willed himself not to look at her, as she would only distract him.

As the set progressed, he could feel that this was a good show - they were playing at their best and the crowd was responding incredibly. When Bonzo took over for his drum solo in “Moby Dick,” Robert, Jimmy, and Jonesy rushed off stage to down a few drinks.

“Robert - did you see her? She’s here.” Jimmy told him as they sat down and waited for their cue to rush back out.

“No - I hadn’t noticed. Ha! I can’t wait to tell Bonzo she actually showed. Where is she standing?”

“My side. We should tell Cole to go and round her up, invite her out with us after the show.” Jimmy replied.

“That is a great idea. I’ll mention it to him.” Robert got up to find Cole, and Jimmy and Jonesy chatted with the roadies. A few minutes later, they heard their cue. They went back on stage to play the last two songs, and finish the show.

The crowd shouted ecstatically as the musicians stood arm in arm and gave a bow. Jimmy kept his eyes out for Cole as he searched for the mystery woman; he grinned, eagerly awaiting for her presence. Once the four of them walked backstage, they could hear the excited screams of women trying to push their way past the security guards, but to no avail. Quite an ambitious and restless group that were in need of being with them.

“Should we let them through?” Bonzo asked excitedly.

“You go ahead, I’m waiting for someone,” Robert answered, swishing his sweaty curls to further agitate the fervid crowd.

“We’re waiting for someone, Bonzo,” Jimmy butted in giving his mate a bit of a glare.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Bonzo gladly walked toward the guards and happily introduced himself. Jonesy noted that he would keep an eye on him, following the drummer. Finally, Cole arrived from another part of the stage, bringing her. Jimmy and Robert felt their hearts palpitating against their chests and their blood flowing throughout; as well as in a more specific area. She was quite a marvel to behold, chocolate brown hair that was tightly curled from the top of her scalp down to her back. Her skin radiating a lovely glow from the sweat that poured down, as a result of her dancing earlier. Eyes that placed the two of them in an almost hypnotic state. And her body, so finely sculpted that no carver with any amount of talent, of any time period in history, could so eloquently recreate with marble.

“Oh my God! You were incredible, all of you! I’ve never seen or heard anything like it!”

“I take it you enjoyed tonight’s performance, love?” Robert inquired, as he positioned a hand to his hip, consciously positioning his finger in a pointed motion toward his tightened member.

Jimmy cocked an eyebrow to the overly confident singer; feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. Not another repeat of Robert’s antics, there’s no way that he was going to charm her again. Still, Jimmy was no angel himself, he was feeling just as needy and lustful toward her. He took a step forward and extended an open hand.

“I’m Jimmy, this here’s Robert. Or Percy as he’s also known,” Robert scowled at him; how dare he. “What’s your name? I never got a chance to ask you earlier, my apologies.”

“Ooh, such a gentleman. My name is Caroline. It’s wonderful to meet you and you too, Robert,” she added shaking his hand as well.

He seized his moment and placed an affectionate kiss to the back of her hand, whispering, “Enchanté,” as he gazed into her eyes through his lashes.

No one could resist such a corny attempt at an introduction, her giggle definitely indicated that; Caroline certainly found it thrilling that both of these men were interested in her. Robert placed an arm around her shoulder, his fingertips resting just above her protruding cleavage. He informed her that the band, the crew, and the entourage were going to have a little celebration back at the hotel. She joyfully accepted the invitation and walked with Robert toward the parked limos. Jimmy could feel his skin burning up, he was fumigating at the sight. How? How could she possibly go for that arrogant and boisterous man? He was not going to give her up that easily.

Upon returning to the hotel, Jimmy locked himself in the room. There must be a way to get her back. What more could he do? When he sat on the bed, he heard the sound of paper rustling. Turning around he noticed a few small brown paper bags all sealed up. He shook them and heard the sound of quiet clattering; these must have been the jewelry that Jonesy and Robert bought from the vendor. After opening one of the bags, a ruby ring tumbled onto his palm; it was quite a beautiful gift. Jimmy sighed heavily, wondering if he should have bought something earlier; speculating if giving Caroline anything would have made a difference. He lied on the bed, frustrated and unsure of what could be done.

Something dark and silver had then caught Jimmy’s eyes, his Sun and Moon book was on the windowsill. His eyes widened as he checked over the index page, quickly thumbing through the pages until he found what he was looking for; a spell. Not just any spell, an enchantment spell that would cause her to fall for him. The instructions indicated that love can be easily conjured through simple means; acquire something that you intend to present to the one that you desire. Of course, give her the ring. Jimmy followed the details closely, tightly closing his fist, picturing her in his mind, and reciting the Latin incantation three times. After taking in a deep breath and opening his palm, he placed an affectionate kiss to the ruby ring.

“You will be mine.”

Chapter 4: https://kashmir-baby.tumblr.com/post/636152914146099201/magick-tricks-chapter-4

#led zeppelin #jimmy page #jimmy page x ofc #robert plant #john paul jones #john bonham #collab fic #classic rock #classic rock fandom

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dakotacrisis · 5 years

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Transferred (15)

In this house we love and appreciate Marinette Dupain-Cheng!

This the end of the official story but there is a bonus spin-off chapter I’m gonna be posting later that is pure Kagaminette (or is it Marigami?)

---

“Kagami!” Marinette was shoved into the limo. “What do you mean? I can’t go! Look at what I’m wearing!” Marinette gestured to her overalls, Chat Noir t-shirt, and converse. “This is a fancy fashion fundraiser!”

“I know. We have something for you to wear at the venue which is why we’re getting there early. Calm down, we got an entire outfit and we’re gonna do you up with hair and make-up. You’re gonna be the belle of the ball.” Kagami was trying to calm down a frantic Marinette.

“You were supposed to be--”

“Shush.” Kagami chuckled, “It’s fine. It’s gonna be great.”

“You’re killing me.” They pulled up to the back of the hotel. The girls rushed inside and were met with Aurore waiting for them. She was wearing a lilac dress with ivory flower embellishments around the bust.

“Hello girls,” Aurore was beaming, “Kagami, you look great! Marinette, you are going to look fantastic. Come with me.”

“Treat her well!” Kagami called to them as Aurore dragged her away. “I’ll see you in there, Marinette!”

“Aurore, please tell me what is going on.” Marinette begged as she was pulled along and into the elevator. Aurore didn’t let anything go as they sailed up and up and up. They finally stopped and Aurore dragged her up to a door. She knocked on it and the door was opened by Sabrina. She was in a simple turquoise tea length dress and had her hair curled and pinned.

“She’s here!” Sabrina pulled Marinette and Aurore inside what Marinette realized was Chloe’s room.

“About time.” Chloe stood in the center of her room in a long high neck black and white dress with twin high slits. Her hair was loose from its usual ponytail but pinned back away from her face with a little golden hair comb.

“Chloe, what is--” Marinette was cut off as the trio pushed her into the bedroom part of the room. Hanging up was the outfit Kagami had mentioned.

“I don’t know how you got that but don’t you think it’s a little much?” Marinette said.

“Not for what you’re gonna be doing.” Aurore was hopping from one foot to the other.

“But what are we doing?”

“Stop wasting time, Dupain-Cheng. We got an event to get to.” Chloe and the other two were practically pulling her out of her clothes before Marinette kicked them out to get dressed herself. After she was dressed Aurore pulled her away to do her makeup while Chloe tackled her hair.

“And she is perfect,” Aurore held up a mirror, “What do you think?”

“I look nice but I would love to know why I’m here in the first place.” Marinette was getting impatient.

“Recognition, Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe smirked, “This is the most covered charity event of the year and you are a walking centerpiece in this dress. So go down there, head held high, and let everyone know who you are. Got it?”

“Got it.” Marinette wasn’t gonna argue with Chloe about this.

Together the girls rode back to the ground floor. Chloe explained what Marinette would be doing and left her in the hands of the butler while the three others went out to a limo to take them around to the front of the building. Marinette waited behind the little stage that was set up in the hotel ballroom, occasionally she would peek out to look at all the guests. She spotted the table where Kagami and Adrien were sitting. Chloe, Sabrina and Aurore were also at the table. The parents: Mrs. Tsurugi, Mr. Agreste, Mr. and Mrs. Bourgeois, and even Marinette’s parents were sitting together at a table right next to the teenagers.

What were her parents doing here? They didn’t mention any of this! They were gonna get an earful when they get home.

After everyone was seated and comfortable, Mr. and Mrs. Bourgeois got up and came onto the stage. Marinette stepped back into the shadows as they welcomed the guests and talked about their hopes for tonights fundraiser.

“Now, this program is not just to fund the arts but to bring prominent artists and designers of the next generation into the light. Around the venue you will find many pieces that our young creators have been meticulously working on and will be able to continue to create thanks to your generosity this evening.” Mayor Bourgeois said. “Every year we choose one of these young upstarts to highlight as our next big name in the industry. Many high profile names today I would say, owe their jumpstart to success to this award. Clara Nightingale being last years winner and even our own Gabriel Agreste having received this honor back in the day.”

“To announce this years next big name of the arts is Gabriel’s son, Adrien Agreste.” Mrs. Bourgeois said. Everyone applauded as Marinette assumed Adrien stepped onto the stage.

Was this…

“Thank you everyone for being here tonight.” Marinette recognized Adrien’s voice speaking over the microphone now. “As Mayor Bourgeois already explained, this honor is more than just a title. It is a starting point to a road paved with opportunities. One that with hard work, an open mind, and eyes full of creativity will lead to a successful career.”

“That is why it is my very great honor to introduce our choice for this year’s Next Big Thing, Paris’ own Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

“I--I--”

“Go, Marinette!” Tikki chided her.

Marinette regained her wits and walked onto the stage. The entire room was applauding her.

Adrien stood at the microphone with a proud smile and a hand extended out to her. Nervously she took it and he pulled her closer towards him. “Did we surprise you?”

“Yes, I think it’s safe to say you did.” Marinette didn’t know whether to blush or cry. “Why though?”

“Cause you deserve it. More than anyone I know.” His smile softened into something sweeter that made Marinette’s insides melt.

Adrien turned back to the microphone. “Marinette is wearing a ballgown that she designed and constructed herself. Just one of many creations that she’s made. But her talents don’t end there. I could go on and on about how she is Jagged Stone’s preferred designer for accessories, posters, and album covers. How she created the stage outfits for the up and coming band, Kitty Section. Heck, it would take me all night to list how kind and creative this girl next to me is.”

Marinette was definitely gonna start crying.

“Marinette, things between us may have gotten off to a rocky start but I am glad that we are such great friends today. You are always putting yourself out there for your friends, your family, for justice, for creativity, even for strangers. Life can be tough but you push forward and soldier on with a smile on your face and a can-do attitude. In this day and age, when evils like Hawkmoth and corrupt politicians and everyday jerks have dragged the morale of the population down, having someone like you that chooses to see the beauty in the world is something we need now more than ever. There are many kind and creative people in the world but there is only one Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she will never be able to be recreated.”

And the tears were falling. No stopping it now.

The crowd erupted once more into applause while Adrien handed her a tissue. “Kagami told me to bring this up with me. Good thing she thought ahead.”

“Yeah,” Marinette let out a bark of laughter between her happy sobs. “This is--that was--I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, ladies and gentlemen.” Adrien gave her one final moment to soak in the undivided adoration before escorting her back to his table. She stopped by to hug her parents and thank the adults for choosing her before settling in with her peers.

“Surprise,” Kagami smirked.

“I can’t believe you guys,” Marinette was still trying to calm down, “How did you even do this?”

“Lots of careful planning.”

“And my dress?” Marinette gestured to her ballgown, the one Lila had gotten her miscredited from in the newspaper, “I put it in storage after the Lila incident.”

“We explained the situation to your parents and they gave it to us with the promise that we would treat it with the utmost respect.”

That would explain why she seemed to have more space in her closet.

A small dinner was served and then a couple more people came up to speak about the night. More young artists were highlighted before everyone was encouraged to go and take a look at the pieces around the room. There seemed to be art of all kinds there. Paintings, sketches, sculptures, clothing, short movies, music samplings. There was a table lined with story excerpts people could read from young authors. Journalism articles hung on the walls like pieces in a museum. There was even a part of the room dedicated to carpenters and the amazing furniture, instruments, and wooden toys they made.

Several people during the night came up to Marinette inquiring about her dress and possible other designs she had created. Kagami was quick to show off her own dress and brag about Marinette’s skill in making it.

Many of the people at the event were critics and renowned fashion designers that handed Marinette business cards with promises to make her their protege. Things got a bit heated when two designers started trying to outdo the other with their offers forcing Adrien to swoop in and politely extract Marinette.

Eventually the party started to wind down and people were making there way home. Mostly the older adults that couldn’t quite keep up with the number of young people in the room.

“Hey, Marinette,.” Adrien approached her. At some point in the night he had ditched the jacket and tie and was walking around with his vest open and top button of his shirt undone. “I saw your parents head out. You didn’t join them?”

“Not yet. I wanted to enjoy the party a little longer.” Marinette looked around the room, “What about you? I don’t think I’ve seen your father around.”

“He had one wine glass too many and headed home. I figured he wouldn’t notice if I showed up a little later than when I was supposed to.” he grinned in a not so innocently Adrien way. “That being said, are you doing anything after this?”

“Seeing as how my original plans for tonight was to veg out in my room binging old romantic comedies I’m gonna say no. Why?”

“Well, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to that bowling alley we went to before. It’s open till two AM all week so I thought that you and I could go for some late night, over-dressed, bowling catastrophe fun.”

“That sounds great--”

“Sorry Adrikins, but we already have plans tonight.” Chloe cut between Adrien and Marinette.

“We do?” Marinette stared at her.

“The sleepover.”

“Sleepover?”

“What are you, a parrot?” Chloe scoffed, “We’re having a girls night in my suite. No boys allowed.”

“But--what--when was this?” Marinette sputtered as she was pulled away from Adrien by Chloe.

“Oh. Bye, Marinette!” Adrien waved to her, “Have fun! I’ll text you later!”

“Bye!” Marinette squeaked out as she was whisked out of the ballroom.

They went back to the elevator and up to Chloe’s room. “Are there any more surprises that you have in store for me tonight or is this the last one?” She asked.

“You love it.” Chloe smirked. Kagami, Sabrina, and Aurore were also in the elevator. Sabrina and Aurore weren’t a surprise but Marinette hadn’t expected Kagami to be with them.

They entered the suite and the girls started to dress down removing their heels and accessories. “Makeup wipes in the bathroom and pajamas on the bed.” Chloe said, “I got foot massagers by the couch and room service on speed dial.”

Marinette went to the bed and saw that there were matching silk pajamas for each girl in their favorite color and monogrammed with their initials. Red for Kagami, teal for Sabrina, sky blue for Aurore and honeycomb yellow for Chloe. Marinette’s was a nice powder pink with the initials MDC stitched across the pocket in cream threading.

Marinette waited her turn to change into her new cozy pajamas and joined the rest of the girls around the couch. Kagami and Aurore were deciding what movie to watch while Chloe had Sabrina make a list of what they wanted room service to bring up.

“Hey,” Marinette approached Chloe. “Can we talk?”

“Sabrina, you know what I like. Finish ordering. Also, make sure those two pick a decent movie.” Chloe told Sabrina before standing to talk to Marinette. “Yes?”

“I know we’ve rarely seen eye to eye and I would be one of the furthest things from a friend in your opinion but I wanted to take a moment and say thank you. Not just for the fundraiser and this deluxe sleepover but for going above and beyond with your takedown of Lila. It was incredible and to think you did that for me--”

“And an amazing grade.”

“And an amazing grade.” Marinette agreed, “It means so much. I don’t know what all of this makes us, not friends exactly, but maybe not enemies? Playful adversaries?”

Chloe’s holier-than-thou smile softened. Her walls dropping just for a moment. “We’re allies. Not always but I wasn’t just going to let one of the few people I respected be disgraced by a knockoff mean girl with dead anime mom hair.”

“What hair?”

“Nothing. Something Adrien told me. It doesn’t matter.” Chloe huffed. Her walls going up again. “I may not have my miraculous but that doesn’t make me any less the superheroine I am.”

“I know it doesn’t.”

Chloe smiled.

Marinette wished she could give Chloe her miraculous more often. With her identity being outed it was just too dangerous. But maybe she deserved a new miraculous. Nothing would fit her as perfectly as Queen Bee but Marinette had hope that she would do well with a new power. So long as she didn’t advertise her identity to all of Paris again.

A knock at the door drew their attention. “Room service!” A voice called from outside.

“I’ll get that. You go make sure Tsurugi and Weather-Girl chose a good movie.” Chloe flipped her hair and sashayed over to the door.

Marinette hopped the couch and sat down. The buffett of luxury junk food was laid out before them. They all got comfy in their seats and pressed play on the movie. Kagami leaned against Marinette as the movie played and ended up falling asleep halfway through. Marinette didn’t have the heart to move her so stayed put. Not that Hawkmoth himself could get her to move from that spot. Who knew Kagami was a cuddler?

As excited as everyone had been earlier once the movie started playing everyone started dropping like flies. Marinette had nodded off as well at some point and only woke up again when she felt something being draped over her. She squinted her eyes open and saw Chloe walking around putting blankets over the other girls.

She could pretend all she wanted but there was a good person inside Chloe. She rarely came out and even then most of the time it was to help make herself look better. But there were times, behind closed doors, with no witnesses around, that Chloe was kind just because she wanted to be. Maybe it was those moments that Adrien always got to see that helped the friendship he held with her. Maybe Chloe would become even nicer. Maybe she would continue on her little tirade of pompous superiority. It was anyone’s guess.

Marinette was glad that the chance for Chloe to become someone even better than she is was still an option. A year ago she would have thought it impossible. Of course a year ago there wasn’t a butterfly terrorist and people getting turned into monsters every other day. So it seems a lot can change.

Chloe was nice, Lila was gone, Marinette had loving friends, and Kagami was softly snoring on Marinette’s sternum. It was about as perfect as she could hope.

Tomorrow may be uncertain but it wasn’t for her to worry about. Not when she had people she loved to stand beside her…or sleep on her. Marinette readjusted the blanket and stretched herself into a more comfortable position without waking Kagami and went back to sleep.

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(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14)

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@northernbluetongue @ladylb @immatureidiot101 @lady-flora-of-slytherin @zazzlejazzle @shamefullove @heredemaquam @kristycocopops @schrodingers25 @sublimemagazinestarlight @crazylittlemunchkin @daydream-wannabewriter @trainflavor @never-neverland @mochinek0 @persephonebutkore

#we stan a talented creampuff!#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #kagami tsurugi #chloe bourgeois #salt fic #transfer au #writing

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fieryrondo · 4 years

Text

my report on skate canada 2019 and how i fell in love with figure skating all over again (part 1)

It’s taken me about a month to sit down and write this. Not necessarily due to lack of time (though that is a factor) but because the experience was so much. Even now, with grainy photos and videos taken with a trembling hand as proof of my time there, Skate Canada feels like a bit of a fever dream. The best kind that leaves you breathless, heart-pounding and longing for more.

I’m not a stranger to traveling alone but this would be my first international venture for something solely recreational, something solely just for me. A purely selfish pleasure. The planning itself was a.process that evolved over the course of months. And to be honest, there were times when I thought this trip wouldn’t happen at all. My flight, booked months in advance, got moved up several hours earlier than expected, forcing me to decide between missing part of the gala or to stay an extra night. Personal problems drained my stamina, and several bouts of poor health stoked the fear that this day would never come. It only became real when I set off for Boston, carry-on, and swan plush in tow, for the first leg of my journey.

Kelowna, a charming lake-resort town in the middle of nowhere British Columbia. There are no direct flights from the East Coast there and I ended up having an overnight stopover in Toronto. From what I saw from the vantage point of the aircraft, Toronto was a beautiful city and reminded me a little of Los Angeles. However, I had little time to appreciate the city. I checked into a hotel to shower, warm up some leftovers, and resurrect my dying phone.

(above) My companions for the journey.

The swan was for Yuzuru, I know it is traditional to give him a Pooh bear but I picked the swan because it was the first program of his that I saw and to this day, it is still my favorite. It has a lot of meaning for me. The Sakura Pooh was my lucky charm, the Pooh ears a last-minute purchase.

Due to my schedule, I had to miss the first day, which itself was a bit of a risk. Isn’t it crazy? Traveling thousands of kilometers just to watch half a competition? I certainly thought so. Not to mention how Yuzuru performed during the short would have a direct impact on how he would approach the free skate. Skate Canada has never been his strongest competition. Even if he was the overwhelming favorite, like most fanyus, I’ve learned to take nothing for granted. When I heard that he skated well in the short, I breathed a little more easily before settling down to draft my letter.

“Perhaps it’s a bit forward of me, a complete stranger, to wish you this, but congratulations on your chest muscles” was the opening line of my letter, as suggested by my good friend Tanya over @turistinmyowncity. I was too embarrassed to actually take photographic evidence but rest assured I did include it. I like to think that it may have made Yuzuru smile. A gold foil origami crane was added for additional luck. Like many fans, I was keeping my fingers crossed for Yuzuru’s first Skate Canada title.

And then it was off to the airport again, this time for the second leg of the flight. Unlike the first flight, not so many passengers were flying to Kelowna and we all got to pick our own seats.

It did not occur to me that catching Yuzuru’s practice was even within the realm of possibility until I had realized that we had arrived in Kelowna 30 minutes earlier than scheduled. A fanyu i had been corresponding with had texted: “Yuzuru’s skating second to last in practice. If you hurry, you might make it.”

*insert dramatic cinematic action sequence where I race to the nearest cab driver, shakily request to be taken to Prospera Palace expediently without breaking any traffic safety laws and then quietly die to the barely heard strains of Origin while the main entrance security guard painstakingly searches my luggage.*

One of the most vivid memories I have of Skate Canada is dragging my ridiculously bulky carryon (gimpy wheel and all) up the flight of stairs in Section 114, trying to flatten myself and become one with the stairwell wall and not get in anyone’s way. A volunteer took pity on me and let me stand on the top of the steps for a closer look. The first thing I saw, of course, was Pooh-san, that bright splash of red and yellow works perfectly as a homing beacon.

I missed Origin but was able to catch the last few minutes of practice. As for first impressions go, I’m afraid I don’t have anything particularly new to offer. Yuzuru looks as exactly as he does in photos. Sharp, precise, graceful. And fast! He kept practicing what looked like his entrance into quad loop.

With men’s practice over, I met up with fellow fanyu VentusCantabile, an extremely sweet person with an excellent singing voice :). I dropped off my luggage at our Airbnb (conveniently located two blocks away) before rushing back over to the arena for the free dance. The venue itself is not that big so even in seats from the nosebleed section you can get a pretty good view. I was in section 112, the closest I could get to the judges' side view and also got a decent(ish) view of the kiss and cry.

I must confess that I don’t really follow ice dance and am unable to provide anything insightful. To me, everyone looked absolutely stunning. I cheered extra loud for Sara Hurtado/Kirill Khaliavin, the first Spanish ice dancers to win a Grand Prix medal. It’s no secret that I miss Javi terribly since his retirement so it was so nice to see Spanish figure skating continue to make strides. Sara’s story is also particularly inspiring. Like Javi, she has worked extremely hard to put Spanish figure skating on the map.

Other teams that impressed were: Gilles/Pourier, Hubbell/Donohue and Fear/Gibson. Fear/Gibson had an especially fun program and the Russian family next to me were so cute in that they were cheering for all of the European teams.

And then it was time for the ladies.

Media will talk about Trusova’s mindbogglingly difficult quads, Rika’s sublime triple axel, Medvedeva’s fight of a free, but the free skate of the night for me personally was Marin’s La La Land. So tenderly skated! Marin is so lovely and a true pleasure to watch live. To watch her bravely skate through (bandage and all) the best free she’s had in ages, how meaningful it must have been. And thus the first sea of Japanese flags washed through the stands.

Here is Evgenia! Her dress is actually extremely beautiful. A very charismatic skater, there were a lot of fans who had come from overseas to cheer for her.

Cute podium :)

Then a break for lunch. The funniest thing I found about being in Kelowna is how it is no exaggeration that figure skating fans just take over the town. The restaurant we went to was packed full of figure skating fans. Talking with fanyus was surprisingly easy. A bit awkward at first but it wasn’t long before we were easily chatting about scoring GOE guidelines and work and other fandom interests.

Then back to the rink for pairs. Given that there was a dearth of filled seats in the lower rows, I half-guiltily took the opportunity to sit a bit closer.

Watching pairs. Is. Terrifying. Lifts are hella more impressive. Twists are gravity defying. Throws are put your hands together and pray the guy does his part to help his partner land those jumps.

Vladimir Morozov lifting Evgenia Tarasova. I appreciated them a lot more live. Their elements are huge and so so clean.

Boikova/Kozlovskii are also now officially my favorite Russian pairs team. I had originally planned on filming their free since seeing quality pairs skating is such a rare opportunity in the US (cough, cough, please invest in pairs more, usfsa). I could not take my eyes off of them for one second. They were so confident and radiating electric charisma from start to finish. A young team with a very bright future!

Between the break, I also spotted Elladj Blade and Kevin Reynolds, the latter was kindly signing autographs. I was too shy to approach either of them but let me tell you Kevin is very sweet with little kids.

And then on to the men! The arena was starting to fill again so I ended up moving up a few rows. I was nervous (for a variety of reasons) but this was ultimately the event I came to see. Watching men is a bit like Russian roulette, you can either expect magnificence or implosion (or sometimes both). Not too many falls but pops are quite painful to see, especially when you know they are so costly. Still, there was a lot to like. Watching Matteo made my heart ache because his style reminds me so much of Javi’s (and doing a flamenco program does not make that association any easier). Roman is also really gorgeous to watch live, but he was so nervous during the free he was unable to show us what he’s really capable of.

At some point, you can sense the audience’s point of focus shift, probably during Camden’s skate (also really liked Camden!). I was sitting pretty close to the side of the skater’s entrance and noticed that all of the fans right by the stairwell had their phones/cameras out. Stairwell shooting is always a reliable indicator of Yuzuru’s arrival ^^

That roar of approval when Yuzuru takes off his jacket is something else. Origin 2.0 is a beautiful costume and way, way more sparkly in real life. Photos don’t quite do the sparkles justice.

Those six minutes of warm-up were honestly some of the most stressful I’ve experienced. Yuzuru kept drilling the quad loop, the jump that he had been having trouble with during practice. After he had gotten a beautiful one under his belt (good, please do that again in the free), he seemed to calm down.

I found it very difficult to concentrate on the other skaters in the second group. By then the stadium was packed and every seat was filled. I had doubts about whether or not I would even get the chance to throw my gift onto the ice because I was so high up and nowhere near the aisle. Worst case scenario, I would just keep my swan.

Keiji!!! He was so fun to watch here. I really love both of his programs this season and he was totally on from the very first jump! Not gonna lie, I saw my life flash before my eyes when he almost ran straight into the boards on his second sal, and then the dainty single toe on the end made me laugh. :)

So it never occurred to me, a formerly strictly broadcast viewer, the amount of time that skaters have right before they skate. There is SO much time. While they were doing the slow-mo replay and the judges were punching buttons, Yuzuru was already whizzing on the ice. He landed a very beautiful quad toe. Feather light. Airy. Calm and commanding, he looked good to go.

youtube

At this point, I put down my phone. Although part of me cried at the thought of not having a personal recording of Yuzuru’s free, it felt important to focus entirely on him with my own two eyes.

There are no words that can quite describe what I felt when watching Origin. When I look back on this skate, I can only remember how hard I ground my teeth. How I could feel the opening drum beats like the beats of a human heart. How my knuckles whitened as they grasped the edge of my hard seat. Yuzuru went for the loop and spun out, clinging on to the ice by the edge of his blade. Not the prettiest landing but he made it.

The sal next, smooth as silk. Step sequence, violin choreo(!!), that scream for the prettiest triple lutz I’ve seen. Quad toe. How many quads left. My fingernails were digging into my plastic wrapped swan. THAT FUCKING QUAD TOE-EULER-TRIPLE FLIP. Ahhhhhhhh, roll of thunder, hear our cry.

The CLAPPING. 6000 voices in perfect synchrony. Every completed jumping pass felt like a victory charge. That bionic knee bend determination to eke out that double toe. All jumping passes cleared. At some point I must have started breathing again. A song in my heart, indiscriminate joy squeezing the heck out of my vocal cords. Lay down that ina bauer! A tiny slip on the hydroblade but he’s done it. He’s ground the silver curse to dust. When you’re screaming at the top of your lungs but you can’t hear a thing because everyone else around you is screaming louder than you. Final clapping sequence. Dramatique pose, punch the air. Sound your barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

322.59!!! Feels. So. Damn. Right.

#yuzuru hanyu #skate canada 2019 #season: 2019 2020 #personal #my ears are still deafened from the screaming #part 2 will be gala!

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years

Text

A Met Gala one-shot

somewhere, someone in the world wanted to kill us for leaving these clothes on the floor of a college recreation facility.

4.5k of flirty, well-dressed, smut

***

Okay, so maybe I did feel a little bit out of my element. I mean, style was never my thing. Fashion was never my thing. That’s why, after 6 years of really trying to make it, I was selling music--not the hottest trends.

“You’re going to be fine,” Jenna said behind me, her smile big and bright as I stared out the window as the car rolled to a stop.

The weather was beautiful--and I was lucky. Early May in New York City didn’t exactly always lend itself to warmth and sun. And the feathery, pink dress/cape combo I was wearing didn’t exactly lend itself to the most confidence.

I knew the drill. Jenna and Britney had run through things twice already in the short ride from the hotel. I’d get out, wait in line, walk the carpet, greet the co-chairs, head inside. I’d eat some food, mingle with some people, and enjoy the night.

I knew a few people who’d be there. Sophie Turner, Zendaya, even Hailey Baldwin (Bieber? Still not clear on that.) So I’d be fine. I’d be nice and social and it would be fine. That’s what I kept repeating to myself as I heard the door on the other side of the car open and shut quickly.

Britney, my amazing manager and time-keeper for all things Met Gala, seemed to be opening my door before I could even process it. There were chirps of excitement from people gathered nearby, but no camera flashes yet--which was appreciated.

I’d walked red carpets before. In fact, I tripped and caught myself on Saiorse Ronan’s shoulder only six months earlier--so I figured tonight couldn’t be that bad. I stepped out, gaining more noise from the fans who’d gathered to catch glimpses, but I didn’t expect for some screams to break out the way they had.

I was new, after all. My debut album had dropped in the fall, I was still in the middle of my first headlining tour. I wasn’t exactly A-list yet. I was surprised when I even got the invitation in the first place.

And when Moschino offered to dress me, I was even more surprised that I was popping up on people’s radars. And not just people--fashion people.

“Stella Mayfield--walking,” I heard a voice next to me, a woman in a black gown was apparently communicating with whoever (and whatever) was inside the giant tent opening straight ahead. Jenna could sense my nerves--she reached over to rub my shoulder and offer a smile. Thank god I had the two of them, plus Danny, my one and only security guard.

Danny’s job was more of a precaution, I think. I’d yet to be in a situation where people were really rowdy or wild. I mean, there’d be fans gathered outside my hotel on tour and people outside of the venues. But I’d never seen Danny had to launch into action. I mean, I’d never been mobbed or anything.

So I had a buffer. I had Britney and Jenna and Danny all night. We could leave when we pleased, I reminded them. Which I think was more of an out for me if I got too nervous or overwhelmed by all of the fancy clothes and money in one room.

We waited in line, I watched as the photographers and reporters on the side of the big steps would scream people’s names, hoping to get a glimpse or a wave or an answer to a question.

Soon enough, the woman in black--who’d escorted us all the way in--spoke my name into her walkie-talkie and gave me a shove forward. So much for a warning.

I smiled immediately, thankful that people seemed to know who I was (and care), and I posed at the bottom of the stairs for the group of photographers who seemed to be giving me the nicest directions.

“Can you turn this way, Stella?”

“It’s great to see you, Stella, are you excited to be here?”

I chose the woman with the short blonde hair to talk with--she seemed the most approachable and most interested in actually hearing from me. I told her that yes, I was excited to be here, no, I wasn’t bringing a date. Yes, I was dressed in Moschino, and no, I wouldn’t be leaving with anyone.

I did my best to make eye contact with a few of them, Britney had always given that advice for big events like these. She said that when you’re trying to still make a name for yourself, it was good to give answers and be friendly and make them write about you.

I was pulled up the steps, though, by Britney, who gave me some easy directions to pose in two different spots on the stairs. And soon, when I neared the top, I saw the co-chairs--undoubtedly, the people I was most nervous to see.

It wasn’t that they were worlds more famous than me (that didn’t help), it was more that they were the ones who ultimately decided who got to come. Anna Wintour approved the invite list and somehow, I’d been cool enough to not get cut.

My heartbeat was steadily rising, and when I met the final step, Lady Gaga gave me the biggest smile I’d ever been greeted with.

“Stella!” She beamed at me, opening her arms wide to give me a hug. Jenna, Britney, and Danny seemed to stay back. “I’m so glad you’re here! We were so hoping you’d come!”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” I smiled, letting her embrace me. Someone--who I didn’t recognize--was in front of me and schmoozing with Serena Williams. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“Are you kidding me?” She pulled back, apparently surprised by my graciousness. “You’re the hottest thing right now, live it up! It can be weird, I know. Big event, big names. Enjoy yourself tonight. You’re a star!”

I was shocked, really--not just by her beauty and her gown and her niceness, but by the fact that she seemed to say exactly what I needed to hear.

“Darling, so good to meet you,” Anna Wintour greeted me, reaching a hand forward to tug at my long brown hair. “Absolutely love your gown!”

I was getting pushed along--the line behind me was apparently longer than I’d realized and people were eager to get inside. Serena Williams and Alessandro Michele seemed to be caught up with someone (extravagant makeup and a blonde wig made it hard to tell who it was), so I looked up at Britney, who gave me a shrug when she saw that I was stuck, and I sidestepped the mystery guest.

Harry Styles, clad in a black get up, offered me a small smile and leaned in to hug me, speaking over the crowd as his lips grazed my ear. “Great to meet you, you look beautiful,” he said.

I pulled back slightly, a flush rising on my cheeks as I cursed myself for being starstruck at an event where my main job was to just act like I belonged.

“You do too,” I offered back, immediately wondering if he’d appreciate being called beautiful. Was my 24-year-old girl showing too much? He smiled back and I moved on. We’d met in passing once before, I knew Niall a little bit better after writing a song with him in 2018, but we’d never actually spoken.

“Your album is amazing, it’s seriously been the soundtrack to my life lately. Listen to it all the time, really,” he nodded, his eyes sweeping over my face.

“Seriously? I’m so flattered, thank you!”

He pulled his eyes away from me then, smiling at the person behind me, who clearly wasn’t appreciative of my loitering. A pang of disappointment washed over me, but he brought his eyes back down. “We’ll talk later, yeah? Find me inside, or I’ll find you!”

“Sure, yeah!” I nodded, getting shoved away from him by the moving line before I could even give him another hug.

I let out a breath, happy to have more space from other bodies and thankful for the fact that Jenna, Britney, and Danny were once again by my side.

“You did it,” Britney smiled, clapping her hands together. “Walked your first Met Gala stairs. And you shined,” she said.

The first thing I did inside was get a drink. Not only because I needed one, but also because they were free. Not just your typical open bar free--these were top-shelf, well-made, served with a smile cocktails that had these pretty pink straws that poked out of the top.

Whatever Jenna had ordered for me tasted like lemon. I wasn’t mad.

The dinner was delicious--I was seated with people I barely knew, but I was fine enough once I’d had some liquor and some food. I’d popped by the table in the back--where everyone’s entourage was seated--to visit my three staff and make sure they were fine.

But just as I’d expected, they were more than entertained by the food, the drink, and the company. So when I walked back to my seat and spotted Harry incredibly close to my table, I sipped the end of my drink (strong, not well mixed at the bottom), and took a deep breath.

“Hi,” I said quickly, offering him a smile as he pulled his eyes from his current conversation partner and brought them to meet mine. In a typical situation, I’d feel sorry for interrupting and might have even avoided it altogether, but something pulled me towards talking to Harry again.

Maybe because he was the only person (aside from Lady Gaga) who’d made me feel completely comfortable all night.

He said his goodbyes to the man in the red suit before opening his arms to hug me again. “You’re alive still!”

“I am!” I laughed a little, mainly because I was surprised I’d lasted this long. Parties (especially with this many famous people) were exhausting. I wasn’t sure if he’d had four redbulls already or was just filled with adrenaline, but he seemed awake and excited and like he was having the time of his life.

“Me too, I’m also alive, which is good.” He nodded seriously, stepped a bit closer to me to let someone pass by us.

The lights were dim--we were in the strange space between dinner and dessert. There were dancers on stage and music that played along to their movements, but the entertainment hadn’t yet truly started.

“You must be exhausted,” I said, extremely aware of the fact that his arm brushed against mine.

He let out a laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “Long day, but it’s fine. I can sleep tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked, pulling my head back in confusion. I was under the impression that I’d be home and in bed by 1am. At least, that was the limit I’d subconsciously set for myself.

“There’s a few after parties,” he nodded. “I’m hosting one with Gucci at The Fleur Room. You’ll have to come!”

I felt stupid for a second, stupid for not realizing that of course there’d be after parties and of course I should go. I mean, in all honesty, this was work. I needed to mingle and network and meet celebrities and get my name out there.

“Right,” I said, trying to play it cool. “Of course, I’d love to!”

“I’d love to see you there,” he said, letting his eyes pause on mine for a second longer than usual. “Your album is seriously amazing. Where’d you record?”

“Mostly L.A.,” I said. “I’ve been working a lot with Ricky Reeves, he produced most of it.”

“You did a song with Tom Hull, too, right? He did a song on my album!”

“I did!” I smiled, I’d completely forgotten that we had that in common. Tom Hull--Kid Harpoon--had worked with a slew of amazing artists. When he reached out and asked if I wanted to work on something with him, I was touched.

“He’s a genius,” Harry said simply. “Total genius with lyrics.”

“I know--I swear to God the song we wrote took us like ten minutes and it’s one of my favorites.”

“Try For It, right?”

I nodded--trying to mask my excitement that he knew the name of my song. I knew he’d said he liked my album, but everyone says that when you release your first major-label project. A part of me wondered if he’d really been listening to it as much as he said.

“I have to say, though, I think Break Me is my favorite.”

I laughed, once again completely flattered that not only did he know my album, but apparently, he had favorites. I leaned up to speak into his ear--the music was louder and people were cheering for the dancers on stage. “It’s my favorite, too, but don’t tell anyone. Kinda ruins the whole songwriter I love all of my songs equally thing.”

Around 11pm I needed a break. I dipped out of the main ballroom and headed down a hallway, thankful that Danny was distracted by Jenna and Britney to give me some space.

My heels on the floor echoed as I walked--I didn’t know where I was headed, but I wasn’t worried about finding my way back. I turned down another hallway, which left me in an empty exhibit room.

But that’s when I heard a laugh.

I peered around some sort of statue (again, music was my thing, not other forms of art), and saw Harry, slumped against a wall with a phone pressed up to his ear.

He looked up and met my eyes, offering a wave as he informed the person on the other end that he had to go. I tried to motion at him that I was sorry for walking in, but he pulled the phone from his ear, pressed a button, and shoved it back in his pocket.

He’d changed--his top was now white and a big, almost goofy looking bow-tie adorned his neck.

“Hi, sorry, I was just,” I motioned back down the hall that I came from. “Trying to get some air.”

He let out a laugh. “My thoughts exactly.”

I was quiet for a second, still feeling guilty for walking in and hoping that he didn’t think I’d purposely followed him back here. But he spoke again before I could voice any of those thoughts.

“This is your first Met Gala, right?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, but I didn’t say more. I could tell he was thinking.

“Mine too--pretty busy. That was my mum, asking if it was going alright. She just woke up back home.”

He kept his eyes focused on something past me--I could tell he was thinking more to himself than he was saying out loud.

“Were you nervous for today?” I asked suddenly, my voice still quiet so as to not echo throughout the room.

He brought his eyes back to me at this and a grin overtook his face. “Are you kidding? I was practically in the fetal position before the carpet.”

“Are you serious?” I laughed in response. “You seem so,” I searched for the right words. “Put together and calm and used to it.” I didn’t mention that he looked so attractive, was so talented, and I was practically on cloud nine due to the amount of conversing we’d done.

“You’ll get used to it,” he nodded, his smile smaller now but just as genuine. He gave me a look as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Am I cut out for this type of stuff?

“I’m somewhat used to it,” he said slowly, but he looked down at his high waisted pants. “Still getting used to this type of thing, though,” he plucked at the waistband, his eyebrows furrowed together to get a laugh out of me.

“I’ll get used to it,” I nodded my head, appreciative of his humor and his groundedness.

“And until then, you’re doing a great job of faking it.”

I was chatting and laughing and drinking with Alexa Chung in the corner of the big athletic complex when Harry sidled up beside me.

“What’re you drinking?” He asked, leaning in closer to me so I could hear him--once more--over the music. Alexa watched with a smile as I held my drink up to him, offering a taste.

He took it from me, and I watched as his lips pressed against the same place that mine had just been. He scrunched his nose to more accurately judge, and when he handed it back to me, he smiled.

“Whatever it is, I want one, and it looks like you could use another.”

He found me afterwards, two identical drinks in his hands and a smile on his face as he pulled me aside to cheers to a successful night for the two of us. And we drank the drinks together, admittedly faster than we probably planned. And then we had another.

And then I danced beside him as Mark Ronson played different songs and we took stupid selfies with people who popped over to say hello. I’d lost Danny long before--though I assumed I was in his sight--when Britney and Jenna said goodnight. They told me to have fun, enjoy myself, and most of all, don’t end up naked or black out or anything that would end up on the internet tomorrow (this) morning.

But that wasn’t me. I wasn’t that type of person.

“Do you need a break for a minute?” Harry asked, his arm snaking around my waist as I smiled up at Alexa as she said something about Cher’s performance earlier.

I looked up at him quickly, his face was close to mine and his lips brushed against the side of my temple again when he spoke. “I could use a break, is what I should say.”

Alexa seemed to not mind at all, in fact, I could have sworn that she gave him a playful wink as he draped his arm over my shoulder and I started to head away from the commotion.

“A water, a snack, all of it sounds nice,” he laughed, bringing his eyes down to me as we climbed down the stairs from the DJ booth. “And maybe one more of those lemon things.”

“I have no idea what’s in them,” I laughed. “So if we’re ridiculously hungover, don’t blame me.”

“I would never,” he laughed, letting his hip bump into mine somewhat as we made our way for the door.

A man in a suit--not Danny, but who looked like he might have been Harry’s version of Danny--opened the door for us right as we approached, leading us into a hallway with bright yellow chairs that lined the wall. Celebrity guests were seated all along, drinking and chatting and taking obnoxious pictures in their best-attempt at Camp.

It was then that I caught sight of Danny, who said something to the man who’d been holding the door open, and gave me a subtle wave as Harry withdrew his arm from around my shoulders.

I waved to Joe Jonas (who seemed to smile when he saw me) and felt, for the first time all night, like I actually was starting to belong.

“Still a little crowded,” he said, looking each direction down the hall. One way was towards the entrance--cocktail tables lined with flashy tablecloths and extraordinary floral arrangements. He looked to his right, nodded his head in that direction, and then looked down at me again.

He walked away from me, and I turned back to give Danny some kind of please don’t follow me look before falling into step beside him.

“What’s down here?” I asked, a laugh escaping my lips as we headed farther down the dark hallway.

“No idea,” he shook his head, a smile on his face as he licked his lips. “But somewhere to sit and take this bow-tie off and just talk for a second would be nice.”

And so we found a room that had a desk and a blackboard and Harry decided to write our names in chalk in big, obnoxious, somewhat drunk handwriting.

He sat on the desk then, loosened his bow-tie, and smirked. “It’s been nice to get to know you tonight.”

I smiled, hoping that if my cheeks looked red, I could blame it on the alcohol. “Thanks for making me feel so welcome,” I said.

He smiled, holding the red fabric in his hands. “I should say the same--I was definitely freaked out to be here and be co-chairing, but I would say it’s been successful.”

“Me too,” I nodded assuredly, thankful that I’d long turned in my feathery pink ensemble for a gold and shimmery gown--one that showed just enough cleavage and was markedly more convenient to dance in.

I wouldn’t have done what I did next if he didn’t look up at me with an innocent--yet somehow completely daring--smile. In two steps, I was stood between his legs, my hands on his face, and my lips against his.

And in half a second, his hands were around my waist, pulling me closer to him. We stayed like that for a minute, but soon he stood, stepped me backwards, and flipped our positions. Now I was against the desk, he worked one hand at the back zipper of my dress, and my hands were fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

My thoughts were racing and my pulse was too. He deepened the kiss and I shrugged out of the top of my dress. When I felt the fabric of his shirt against my chest, I was reminded, ever so timely, that I’d opted to be braless all night.

Harry didn’t seem to mind, however, because soon his hand was around my breast. I made a noise when we connected, which must have turned him on even more, because he suddenly started working at removing his own shirt to be less fabric between us.

His lips were warm and soft and something about the possibility of being walked in on made me terrified and excited all at once. He made me nervous and unsure and hyperaware, but he also made me feel comfortable and like I fit in.

I kissed him harder--thankful for the fact that he seemed to be handling his pants on his own. They looked extremely difficult to get on, so getting them off was sure to be quite the task. I tried not to worry, though, and it didn’t take much to distract me because he pulled away from me for a second.

“You’ve looked beautiful all night and this is not normally what I do,” he said, his brows dipped inward as he tried to explain himself.

In all honesty, I wasn’t really worried and I wasn’t even thinking about how many times he’d done this before. But now I was.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he moved his head to get a better look at my face. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” I said, probably too quickly. “It’s fine--I just, I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

He let out a laugh, his eyes scanning over my face once more. “I’d be so honored,” he teased.

He kissed me again, this time, his hands were searching my body, searching for skin and searching for connection. I let them wander, finding the hem of my dress before pulling it away from my skin. I pulled my mouth away from his for a second--a dip in his brows told me he didn’t appreciate that--to slide his pants down from his hips.

I could feel his erection against me as he worked at the final buttons of his shirt, and I let my hands find it as he kept his lips connected to mine. He let out a sharp exhale at that, making a noise of pleasure as I palmed him over the fabric of his boxer briefs.

He pulled away from me quickly, taking me by the hands to stand me up. His fingers tugged at the fabric of my dress--somewhere, someone in the world wanted to kill us for leaving these clothes on the floor of a college recreation facility.

I didn’t have much time to think about that, though, because after Harry shed his shoes and his undershirt, he picked me up and set me back on the table, nodding his head in direction to lay back.

His mouth was against me in seconds, his fingers pulling away the thin strap of my thong as his tongue worked against my center. It was jarring, really--not just because of the sensation, but because of how quick he had my back arched and his name floating from my lips.

He seemed to like that, though, as he inserted two fingers to pump in and out of me while his tongue drew abstract circles.

“Yeah, baby?” his voice was deep and throaty. “Feel good?”

I let out a moan once more, reaching a hand down to grab at his hair, keeping his tongue pressed against me. He let out a cheeky laugh, my dependence on him seemed to feed his ego.

I let my own hand wander to my chest, playing with my own nipple. When he saw this, he muttered under his breath. “Shit, Stella.”

He pulled away quickly, pulling his boxers down to reveal what I’d been waiting for. I sat up on the desk, scooching closer to the edge to give him better access. He held his own hand around his shaft, and he smiled up at me before letting his tip enter slowly.

He immediately let out a moan, his hands reaching around to make contact with my butt--pulling me closer to the edge so he could go deeper inside of me.

“Fuck, Stella, you’re so wet for me,” he breathed into my ear.

Maybe it was the fact that we were in some sort of athletic office--maybe it was the fact that I could get in so much trouble for this. But whatever it was made it even more sensual to feel his cock up against my clit as he moaned in my ear.

“As soon as we got here I knew I wanted my night to end with you,” he said--which struck me as sweet and incredibly sexy at the same time.

I reached my arms up to his neck, holding him close to me as he rocked in and out. “You feel so good,” I told him.

“Yeah?” He said, a smirk on his face again as he leaned in to press a kiss to my lips. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

He started to go faster, his hands still keeping my butt close enough that he could hit the right angle. “I want to fucking fill you up, Stella,” he said, his voice lower and deeper than before. “You feel so fucking good all around me.”

“Fuck me, then, Harry,” I told him, and the direction seemed to get him even more excited. He pumped faster, the desk beneath us started to squeak, which caused laughter on both parts, and soon, he moaned into my ear as I felt him come inside of me.

He kissed me again, deep and genuine, and then pulled away and laughed. “Fucking someone in a school office where we might get caught. That’s pretty camp.”

#harry styles #harry styles met gala #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles drabble

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beckzorz · 5 years

Text

Dressed to Kill: Killer Shoes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Words: 9852 Summary: Ever since Bucky found you on that island beach, you’ve been each others’ best-kept secret. So why are you looking at him like he’s a stranger when you’re supposed to be miles away? Warnings: NSFW (language, smut), 18+ A/N: Sequel to Dressed to Kill, one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, for @jewelofwinter‘s 1.5k writing challenge! Congrats to my dear Jessica on this awesome milestone! My prompt was booze. Hope you enjoy!!!

Sidestepping a tipsy woman’s flailing arm, Bucky snags a fingernail-sized quiche off a passing waiter’s tray. He pops it whole in his mouth, ignoring the snort of derision from the comm device hidden by his ear.

“Jesus, Barnes, you’re supposed to be the classy one.”

“Shoulda sent Wilson,” Bucky mutters as he dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

Hill just chuckles. “Yeah, probably. If only he wasn’t the most recognizable superhero in America.”

How he manages to keep from rolling his eyes is a mystery. Thankfully, Hill doesn’t say anything else, even when Bucky makes the mistake of licking his fingers after eating a tiny, glistening slider.

For some reason, the cocktail party spirit is evading him tonight. Hill doesn’t know why, but she sure as hell knows he’s not on top of his game. If Sam were here, he’d be giving Bucky even more bullshit than Hill.

Well, Bucky knows the reason if no one else does. No one else had better know.

You’re his secret.

He’d be doing better if he didn’t know you were in town. He might have smuggled you a ticket, finagled your help, done something more fun than this private eye bullshit somewhere private—but no, you’re working too.

A different place, different mission, different target.

Presumably a different end goal, too. Well, whatever. Hill might judge, Wilson definitely would, but Bucky’s done too much murdering of his own to give a fuck if you’re off murdering someone who deserves it tonight.

He assumes they deserve it. You might have unconventional methods of making the world a better place, but that’s what you’re doing.

What he’s doing, too, even if tonight is the biggest pain in his ass since that long mission posing as security in Ukraine. If only you weren’t working. God, how nice that would’ve been. Bad table manners aside, he’s done his job. There’s loads of nooks and crannies in this place that’d be perfect for—

Bucky chokes on his champagne.

A woman just walked in. Black dress, deep lipstick, killer heels. Under all that, a face and body to die for.

It’s you.

Bucky turns away, face hot. He wipes his mouth as daintily as he can to disguise the utter bafflement he feels. Is the room warmer than before? He can’t tell. All he knows is that the mingling crowd is too much. Last time he’d seen you in a crowd…

He surreptitiously adjusts his pants. Best not to think about that now.

What the hell are you doing here? Did you finish your mission? How the hell did you even get a ticket?

He traces the outline of his phone in his breast pocket. It’s quiet. Can he sneak it out for a look, or is that too rude?

No, fuck that, he doesn’t need to look. If you’d called, or even texted, his phone would’ve vibrated.

Why didn’t you call?

Hell, why aren’t you looking at him? Talking to him? Running your hand down his lapel…

Bucky chances it. He turns around, but you’re leaning against the bar, eyes resolutely elsewhere. Mission be damned; the assignment can wait a few minutes. He makes his way through the crowd, silk dresses whooshing against his suit as he squeezes between clusters of the rich and ambitious.

He’s not the only one stunned by you. You’re smiling coyly at the bartender, whose eyes keep drifting back to you as he mixes a drink and slides it your way.

Huh. Bucky’s never seen you drink a martini before.

You stir the olive through your drink, eyes drifting down the bar and passing over Bucky with no more feeling than if you were looking at a stranger.

A chill runs down his spine.

You’re good at your job, damn good, but there’s never been a single moment that you haven’t reacted to the sight of him. For the first time, Bucky looks closer. The curve of your neck, the size of your breasts…

Ah.

Quite.

He orders a whiskey from the bartender, props himself on the bar with his elbows, and tugs his phone out of his pocket. Clicks off his comm device. Dials a number. Waits. His lips curl into a smirk when someone picks up.

“Hey, darlin’.”

—

You cross one leg over the other and lean back in your chair, lips pressed tight together as you adjust your phone against your ear. The man across from you watches with a sympathetic grimace as he cuts his steak.

“Ballsy of you to call after all this time,” you say stonily.

A pause, then a low chuckle that makes you glad you’re wearing closed shoes—Nicholas can’t see the way that sound curls your toes.

“Well, better late than never, right?”

“No, I think never would have been better.”

Nicholas nods approvingly. You reach over and slide your hand into his, mind a million—or more accurately, a quarter dozen—miles away.

“If you have something to say, say it,” you continue. “Otherwise—”

“I can see you when I close my eyes.”

You can hear the smirk in Bucky’s voice, but the next words come out sounding less sultry.

Less sultry, more ominous.

“Sometimes, like right now, I don’t even need to close ‘em.”

What?

Questions swirl in your brain. What the hell does he mean? He can see you? But you’re miles away, in some rich loser’s eat-in open-concept kitchen—

You swallow, set your jaw, and squeeze Nicholas’ hand. His eyes are blue, but they’re the wrong shade, the wrong shape.

Wrong everything.

“That’s very sweet,” you drawl. “But you can stop wasting your time. Go use those cheap lines on someone else.”

You hang up and groan, burying your face in your hands to disguise your racing pulse.

“Just block his number,” Nicholas says. He takes a sip of his wine.

“I will,” you lie. A few deep breaths help settle your nerves, but your mind is reeling. A sniff for good measure as you recreate some semblance of composure. “God, I can’t believe I let him get under my skin.” You rub your arms and shiver. “You think you know a person…”

“People can be awful,” Nicholas says. He sets down his fork and pats his knee. “C’mere, you.”

You glance at him from under your eyelashes as you set your napkin on the table and sidle around to drop on his knee. You loop your arms around his neck and press your cheek to his shoulder.

Nicholas settles his hands on your hips, his thumbs tracing circles low on your belly as he murmurs placating nonsense in your ear. You’re not listening. You’re busy unsticking a patch from the inside of your wide bangle.

“—and you know you can always trust me,” Nicholas says.

You cup his neck in your hands, the finger-sized patch latching seamlessly onto his skin and already starting to dissolve.

“I know,” you murmur.

You lean in slowly, but Nicholas blanches. He lurches to his feet, sending you sprawling to the floor.

“Nicholas?!”

“I—I’m sorry—I think I ate—”

He darts to the bathroom, and within seconds you can hear him retching.

Finally.

You climb to your feet and grab your phone, mind racing back to the Bucky problem now that Nicholas is out of the way.

What the hell did he mean, he can see you? How can he? Does he mean he’s watching a video feed? But there aren’t any here. You turn your phone in your fingers and bite your lip. Bucky’s working tonight, same as you—well, sort of. It would be silly to call him back before you’ve even thought his riddle through. Not to mention while Nicholas is still on his feet. You don’t know how much that patch will affect him.

How can Bucky be seeing you if he’s miles away? It’s impossible.

Unless…

Unless—

“Oh shit,” you mutter.

Someone is impersonating you at the party.

Someone.

Is impersonating you.

At the party.

Well that just takes the cake.

You slip your phone back into your purse and go knock on the bathroom door.

“Nicholas? Are you alright?”

A groan.

“I’m coming in,” you tell him. A beat, and then you push the door open with as concerned an expression as you can manage.

Nicholas is back on his feet, but he’s pale and shaky. Perfect.

“Oh, love!” you gasp. You rush over and steady him. “Let me help you.”

“You’re a godsend,” Nicholas says weakly. He leads the way to his bedroom—his apartment is sprawling; how the hell does he manage? Who needs this kind of space?—and lets you tuck him in.

“Shouldn’t have had that steak,” he says. “You did warn me it looked a little off…”

“Oh please,” you tell him. You press a kiss to his brow to conceal your scowl. Can’t he just go to sleep and stop talking? You’d only warned him about the steak in case of emergency. You hadn’t expected to need to pull off that trick… “Rest, dear. I'll come by tomorrow to check up on you, alright?”

“You’re an angel,” Nicholas mumbles. He smiles, finally letting go of your hand.

Angel?

You pull back as fast as you reasonably can, a little queasy yourself now. No one calls you an angel but Bucky. It’s wrong, sickening, to hear it from this dumb jerk.

It’s a disgrace. How dare he.

You’re out of Nicholas’ place before you even have time to consider your own mission. So much for his bank accounts, his trust funds, his shady offshore properties…

Well, screw that. It can wait. You’ll be back tomorrow.

—

Easy enough to catch a cab, easy enough to namedrop the most upscale venue in the city. Easy enough to hook into the video feeds you’d had Kasie hack into back when you didn’t think you’d be going.

You call Bucky as the driver peels away from the curb. He answers in a ring and a half.

“Didn’t know if you’d call,” he says.

“Is she wearing a black dress?”

“Uh… yeah. How’d you—”

“Feeds are fuzzy. Can’t tell for sure if that’s her,” you say curtly.

“Don’t be like that,” he says.

You bristle as you fix a fresh patch to the inside of your bracelet. Just in case. “Like what?”

“Like you aren’t glad I called.”

You close your eyes, tip your head back. “I’m a little preoccupied,” you murmur. “Not every day I find out my cover’s blown.”

“We’ll figure it out, darlin’.”

Bucky’s voice wraps around you, almost as comforting as if he was holding you in his arms. You'd had to hide your delight before, at Nicholas’ place, but no one’s looking at you this time.

This time, you let yourself smile.

—

The first time you’d met Bucky, you’d swept from the street up marble steps not unlike these. Of course, back then the whole point had been to distract him.

You smooth down your skirt as you wait for Bucky to let you in. This time, you’re distracted even before you walk in the door. Bucky’s nowhere in view and you’re already a bundle of nerves. Of course, Bucky’s not the one making you nervous.

He really should be, you decide. You’ve never not gotten a swoop in your stomach from catching sight of him, whether through a rifle scope on a rooftop or from the bottom of a carpeted staircase. Or from a bed. And he’d looked so good in the feeds, blurriness aside… No man had ever looked better in a suit.

If nothing else, thinking about Bucky is doing wonders to distract you from the more pressing problem. Who has time to consider the implications of someone posing as your double when in just a few moments, you’ll be able to run your hand down his velvet lapel?

A sigh escapes your lips. You lean against a column by the door, gazing down at the street. Cars start and stop as they ease by, the occasional bike or scooter weaving between traffic. Black taxis reflect the last pink stripes in the sky, the white streetlamps, the red-yellow-green of the traffic lights. Pretty, but your focus is still caught up with the man coming to fetch you.

It’s been too long since you’ve seen him, touched him… You’ve been in the same city for a few days, but his team is too perceptive for him to have snuck away. Every meeting with him has been snatched, secret. Your hands curl, fingernails digging into your plans.

What you wouldn’t give to have the freedom to have him whenever you want.

The desperation, the need tugging at you makes you feel like an addict, but god if Bucky Barnes isn’t the best drug there is.

“There y’are.”

You flinch, pulse racing under your skin, as that smooth voice washes over you. A swallow, and you press your eyes closed just for a moment before looking at him.

It’s the same exact rush you’ve gotten every single time you’ve seen him. The swoop in your belly, the clench of your thighs, the way your mouth goes dry when his lips quirk into their customary smirk. And gosh, that suit looks even better in person. It’s black, with sharp lines that mirror the sharp line of his jaw, and a velvet lapel that you just know won’t be nearly as soft as his lips. All your frustration melts away.

Finally.

“Hi,” you breathe.

Bucky offers you his arm, his blue eyes dark as they drink you in. A new dress, a black dress, the perfect match. The style he likes, with a fitted bodice and draping skirt. You hook your arm through his elbow, trying to hide your relief at finally being with him. Not to mention the absolute thrill of having his strong, solid arm under your hand…

Bucky flashes his ticket—and a SHIELD badge—at the doorman, who lets you both in with an inquisitive frown. Did he see your doppelganger earlier? No matter.

“Nice of you to join the party,” Bucky teases.

You snort. “I’d thank you for the invite if I wasn’t so damn aggravated.”

Bucky drops a kiss against your hair as you study your surroundings. A gilded lobby, just shy of ostentatious, with a a row of polished wooden doors leading into the function hall. Two concierges at the long counter by the doors, glassy-eyed and bored until they notice you looking, at which point they turn on megawatt smiles. You bite your tongue as you smile back. Ah, nothing like customer service.

That’s at least fifty percent of your own job, really. All that simpering at Nicholas…

You shudder.

Bucky pauses mere feet from the door—you can already hear the lounge singer crooning away—and frowns down at you.

“Y’alright?”

“Sure, sure.” You adjust your hold on his arm, then step back. Time to get back in the game. You rub your temples. “Is there a plan? Or are you just winging it?”

Bucky scratches his cheek, brow pinched. “She seems to be focused on one guy in particular, but I don’t know if it’s about murdering him or what.”

“And you just left her in there?!” you gasp. He rolls his eyes.

“Calm down, darlin’, no need to blow a gasket. Got my backup to come in, keep him busy. But not so busy the other you suspects.”

You let out a stream of air between your teeth. Fine. That works.

“Anyway, if you’re done accusing me of not knowing how to do my job—” he shoots you a sardonic look bordering on a glare— “I figured we’d just corner her, get her out, get her talking.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

You brush past Bucky, eyes ahead, and push the doors open before he can stop you. Enough talking. Time to take this bitch—whoever she is—down.

—

Unlike the first—and only—time you’d been dressed to the nines together, you’re geared up. These are your killer shoes, with the blades hidden in the soles and a needle inside the right heel. There are two holsters hidden under your skirts, and false pockets granting easy access to your pearl-handled pistols. Your necklace hides a garrote, your bangle a drugged patch.

And you’ve got murder on your mind.

No one, not once in your entire career—or maybe even life—has ever pretended to be you. No catfishers, no copycats…

Well, not that you have a style that enables copycats. You’re an assassin, not a serial killer.

There’s a difference.

Right now, though, you feel the self-righteous pull of a worthy target more than ever. How dare she steal your face.

Barely anyone glances your way when you enter into the function hall. High ceilings, sparkling chandeliers, bubbling champagne passing by on a waiter’s tray. You snag a glass, but Bucky nabs it out of your grip before you can so much as take a sip. You scowl at him, but his eyes are twinkling as he drinks.

“Thanks,” he says. He offers the half-empty flute back to you, but you ignore it.

“Where?” you demand. “Where is she?”

Bucky tilts his head, and you turn to follow his gaze. There, at the bar, a woman in a black dress. Thicker straps than yours has, a fuller skirt… But it’s a close enough match.

A chill runs up your spine. Is that what you look like, in the flesh, from the outside? Are those your shoulders, your ears? Is that the curve of your cheek?

How?

You turn back to Bucky, heart pounding, a million questions on your lips. He touches your elbow and leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“She’s nothing to you.”

A shiver runs through you at the low timber of his voice. You pull back and meet his eyes. They’re burning, bright with determination and dark with—you can’t tell. Murder? Desire? Both?

He nods once, squeezes your hand, and melts into the crowd. You press your hand to your pounding heart. A few people glance at you, but you deftly avoid their gazes. A waiter passes with a tray of hors d’oeuvres; you take a tartlet, bat your eyelashes at the waiter, and trail after Bucky, caviar bursting in your mouth.

You don’t have any problems spotting him. He’s leaning against the bar now, chatting you—her up. Her shoulders are tense; you can see her back, and you have a suspicion she’s not quite able to meet his eyes.

Bucky calls the bartender over and orders her a drink; you can just make out the coaxing smile in his voice as he asks, “What’s your poison, doll?”

“Is booze poison to you?” your double asks. She shakes her head. God, even her voice sounds like yours. Eugh. “A martini, please.”

You slip between two men and slide onto the barstool right next to her. She’s still facing Bucky, and she doesn’t turn her head quite far enough to realize she’s been cornered.

“You know,” you drawl, calm as day, “what I really prefer is champagne.”

The woman freezes. Bucky slides his half-full flute of champagne past her to you, and you take a long, slow sip, gaze fixed on Bucky. His face is serious, but there’s a thrill behind his eyes.

Your double shifts back on her stool, twisting to face Bucky even more, sliding out of her seat. You stand up too, your breasts nearly pressed against her back. From here, you can see the differences. Her skin tone is a little darker, shoulders a little broader… The hair at the nape of her neck isn’t quite the right shape either.

You fiddle with your bangle as you wait for something, anything to happen. Should you play your cards and drug her? Chase her to the bathroom, corner her there? Or let Bucky lead her away, keeping her head unmuddled for easy interrogation?

It’s a choice you don’t get to make.

The woman spins, and the sight of your own face snarling has you reeling, breath catching and eyes going wide. It’s you, but it’s wrong, backwards, wrong wrong wrong—

A harsh shove sends you careening back, and then she darts off. You knock a stocky woman halfway over, barely managing to catch yourself on some man’s sleeve, but your eyes are latched onto her.

Did she really think she could run away from the Winter Soldier?

Your double only makes it a few quick steps before Bucky’s hand clamps onto her shoulder, spinning her back to face him, his SHIELD badge tucked in his fingers, a thin, dark-haired woman rushing forward to assist.

The man whose sleeve you're holding helps right you, and you shoot a sorry to the woman you’d nearly knocked over. She’s too busy gaping between you and your doppelgänger, her eyes round as dinner plates.

Now that your double’s being led away, your fury dissipates. She failed, she’s got her head slumped, and she doesn’t look anywhere near as good as you. A giggle escapes your lips, and the stocky woman stares.

“Evil twins, am I right?” you say.

The woman blinks, too shocked to answer, and then you dart after Bucky and the others, a bounce in your step and every single wrong thing turned right.

You weave between hobnobs as they slowly sink back into their sedate ignorance. How strange. How could anyone go back to their dull party when there’s something like this going on?

Bucky opens a door, and his associate drags your double through. You step ahead to follow, but he catches your eye and shakes his head just before he vanishes.

You freeze. Right. Of course. You can’t just run after him. He’s working. Your relationship, if you can call it that, is a secret. He’s an Avenger. And you’re just…

You’re…

Someone puts a hand on your back. You stiffen.

“Jeez, Mal, what the hell happened while I was in the bathroom?” a low voice mutters.

What the hell…?

You turn and take in the bland face of the middle-aged white man frowning around. Your heart skips a beat, and you let out a slow breath between your teeth. You know that face.

“Some woman got dragged off by the feds,” you whisper, linking your arm in his and angling him away from the bulk of the crowd.

His eyes widen as he looks around, more scared than confused this time. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” you say curtly. “Come on.”

Your grip is solid on his arm, but he puts up no resistance as you lead the way to a door, not the one Bucky dragged your double out of. Mal? Is that her name? Is it short for something? Mallory, Malia?

No. Malinda.

The name rings a bell, but for the life of you, you can’t place it quite yet. You push your guesswork aside as you lead the man—his name is Christian Havemeyer, old money, shady enough to get him onto your radar—down one carpeted hallway and then another to an out-of-the-way powder room.

Your radar.

Oh, of course. Havemeyer was connected to Rex Carston, your target back when you’d first met Bucky. And Carston’s date that fateful night had been Malinda.

Is the woman who’s stolen your face the pretty woman who’d been on Rex Carston’s arm the night he died?

Well, Bucky will find out. Right now, you’ve got your own job to do.

Havemeyer is pacing, hand clutching his dyed hair—there’s no way a man with so many wrinkles on his neck has hair that black—as you lock and lean against the door. You slide your hands into your pockets, watching Havemeyer carefully. He doesn’t seem armed. Better than that, he doesn’t seem the least bit suspicious.

Well, that’s about to change.

“Got any ideas?” you ask. He whirls on you, face red.

“What the hell do you think? You said this event was clear!”

“Well, clearly I missed something,” you say evenly. “That doesn’t mean we can’t still follow through.”

“Follow th—follow through?” Havemeyer gapes, then narrows his eyes. He looks you up and down, realization dawning in his face. He steps back, glances around. “Wait. You—”

“Hmm?” you drawl. You push away the lacy strap holding one of your pistols in place and curl your fingers around the grip. No point turning off the safety; you could take this guy barehanded.

Well, probably. It better not come to that.

Havemeyer’s face shifts from fear and confusion to stern determination. He steps towards you, puffing up his chest and balling his hands into fists.

“Where is she?” he hisses.

You raise your eyebrows, impressed despite yourself. Well, to be fair, he doesn’t know you’re armed to the teeth.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“You’re not Malinda,” he snaps. He takes another step.

A little too close for comfort.

You draw your pistol and press the barrel against his gut faster than he can blink. “Down, boy,” you say coolly. “You should know better.”

Havemeyer slowly puts his hands in the air. You push your gun against him, and he steps back one, two, three times before you’re satisfied. You click off the safety, just for added measure.

“Now,” you say, “let’s talk.”

He swallows. “Maybe you can put down the gun first.”

You tap your chin. Consider.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Behind you, the doorknob rattles.

Well, fuck.

You keep your eyes on Havemeyer as you turn your head towards the door, trying to listen over his ragged breathing and your own. Not that your breathing is ragged.

“Mr. Havemeyer?”

A deep male voice, one you don’t recognize. Havemeyer’s face lights up as your stomach drops.

“Help!” he calls.

“Bad call,” you snarl.

A vicious crack—they’re shooting the door open. You shoot Havemeyer in the kneecap, his howl music to your ears. He collapses like a wet rag. You kick him low in the gut, further immobilizing him, and swing the chair at the counter around to wedge it under the doorknob.

You drop into a crouch and whip out the knife from your left shoe. Havemeyer is curled around his knee, whimpering.

Suits him, the bastard.

You dig your fingers into his jaw, the knife scraping against his clean-shaven cheek, and dig the barrel of your pistol into his wound. He sobs, scrambling, but you don’t give in.

“Talk.”

You’ve got a minute, maybe, before his goon opens the door. But it’s enough.

Havemeyer doesn’t just talk.

He sings.

—

A swift kick to the head knocks him out. Kind of you not to kick him in the knee; the pain would’ve done the trick, but meh. You’re not really here for him. It’s just a nice little bonus, learning things.

Anyway, better not to get blood on your shoes.

You wipe the barrel of your gun, bloody from being jabbed against Havemeyer’s knee, on his suit jacket. It’s been seventy-five seconds since you told him to talk. You really are good at your job.

Of course, you still have to deal with whatever’s waiting behind the door. It’s been quiet. Have they gone for help?

The powder room had no other exits, not even a window. Well, whatever’s waiting outside can’t be worse than things you’ve faced in the past.

Hell, you’re the woman who faced down the Winter Soldier and came out on top—well, not literally on top, but…

Eh, maybe later. Hopefully later.

You press an ear to the door, listening, not daring to breathe. It’s silent in the hall.

Worth the risk. You’re a professional, after all. If some rich man’s security is good enough to get you, you probably deserve to get caught.

You step back and whisk the chair out of the way.

The second you do, the door bursts open.

Oh, bother.

Tall, broad, bulky—you’re nearly pinned by his long arms, but you manage to duck aside. Still, he knocks your pistol out of your hands. You tighten your grip on your knife as you whirl to retaliate, but he jumps back. Your knife grazes his open jacket, cutting a neat slice in the thick material. You don’t have time to admire the clean cut because he’s lunging again.

And he’s got a knife too.

Oh, bother.

You kick the chair in his way, scrambling at the inside of your bangle. He throws the chair at you. It hits; you stumble back, but there’s just enough time as he tosses the chair aside. You hurl yourself at him, latching the patch from your bangle onto his neck with one hand while you drive your knife into his thigh with the other.

He grunts—more pain tolerance than his boss, apparently—and aims his knife at you. But with the patch administered, you’ve got a hand free.

He’s got no chance at all.

Well, let’s be fair. He never had a chance.

A knee to the groin, an expert twist of your hand, and his wrist cracks. This time, he does howl. He stumbles back, away from your knife, back through the open door into the hall. You stalk after him, a feral grin on your face as he slumps against the wall.

“That’ll teach you to pick on girls,” you tell him.

“Who are you?” he whimpers.

“None of your goddamn business.”

Your knife is still bloody. You hike up your dress and carefully wipe the blade clean on the inside of your skirt, still watching the bodyguard carefully.

A low whistle echoes down the hall.

You pause, a smile edging onto your face as you tilt your head. You don’t take your eyes away from the bodyguard, but your whole body lights up. You can sense Bucky from meters away.

“See something you like?” you call.

The bodyguard blanches.

You don’t blame him, really. It takes a really dumb criminal to be delighted to see the Winter Soldier.

What does that make you?

A lovestruck idiot, probably.

Bucky saunters down the hall, smirking. A pair of handcuffs dangle from his right hand; his left hand is tucked neatly in his pocket. “I might.”

Havemeyer’s bodyguard shifts a few inches down the wall as he holds out his trembling hands, one at an unnatural angle. Bucky spins him to face the wall and cuffs his hands behind his back. You slide your knife back into its slot in your shoe as Bucky shuts the bodyguard into the powder room.

“This yours?” Bucky asks.

You turn, still smiling, and reach for your pistol. But Bucky holds it out of your reach, the pearl handle clinking against his metal hand. You stick your hands on your hips and raise your eyebrows.

“That’s mine,” you tell him.

“No time for that now.” He loops his arm through yours and drags you down the hall. “Hill’s on her way over.”

Hill? Is that his associate?

Her?

You press your lips together as you run alongside him. Envy coils unpleasant and heavy in your chest.

Her?

You’re not jealous. You know Bucky well enough now to know he’s got no eyes for anyone else.

But… someone he can work with? Someone he can be in public with? Someone he can see without subterfuge, without shame…

You don’t have regrets about your career. None whatsoever. You’re talented, you’re passionate about it… Some people think murder is wrong, but the world is far better off without certain people in it.

But Bucky—he’s from another world.

A world where you’re not welcome. Not you, not your team, not your delight in a perfectly executed kill. He can ravish you all he wants—all you want, if you’re being honest—but at the end of the day, you’re just a dirty little secret.

It’s never bothered you before. Right now, though?

You hate it.

Bucky drags you down a back staircase, gripping your hand tight. You burst outside into a back alley, the fresh air cool against your clammy skin. A high fence shuts out the rest of the world, but when you look up, you can see the hazy sky, stars barely visible past the light of the city.

“That went well,” Bucky says cheerfully.

“Mm,” you answer, feigning cheer. “Can I have my gun back?”

“Oh this?” He dangles the pistol in front of your face, smirking. You stare stonily, not taking his bait.

Bucky’s smirk drops as you stand there. He passes the gun to you; you check the safety and slide it back into its holster, refastening the snap with a muffled click.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice low.

“I—” You draw your lower lip between your teeth and start to pace. A glance at Bucky; he’s confused, worried, his playfulness fading fast.

But the right words don’t come out.

“What did Malinda say?”

His face screws up, adorably confused. Even as you’re metaphorically kicking yourself in the foot, you’re half breathless by how much you love to look at him.

“Huh?”

“Malinda,” you say again. “The woman impersonating me.”

“Ohhh.” Bucky nods, his face smoothing. “She didn’t give her name, though I assume Hill is on it. Without her mask, it shouldn’t be hard.”

Your eyes bug out. “Didn’t you recognize her?!”

He frowns. Tips his head back. Then his head falls forward, chin nearly brushing his chest.

“Well, shit,” he says. “She was there when we met, wasn’t she?”

Oh my god.

“More than that,” you snap. “She knows who I am! She was Rex Carston’s dinner date the night we—”

You clap your hands to your mouth, but Bucky’s caught on. He steps closer; you step back, until your back is against the wall. He’s boxing you in, face stern.

“What’s this really about?” he says, voice low.

You lower your hands. They’re trembling. “She knows me, Bucky. She has to know me. How else…”

What else is there to say? If she’s in SHIELD custody, and she knows you, she’ll talk. She’ll talk, and you’ll be on their radar.

And then Bucky really will be in bed with the enemy.

“I hate being your dirty little secret,” you mumble, eyes fixed on his lapel. “I don’t want to have to be your enemy too.”

“No,” Bucky says firmly. He grips your face and tilts it up towards his. “You’ll never be that.”

“I'm basically that already!” You knock his hands away, shove him back. “Bucky, I’m tired of sneaking around! It was fun, but I’m tired of it! You don’t care, but I’ll never be good enough for your moralistic friends, and I’m tired of it.”

He blinks.

“But they like what you do,” he says. “I mean, the ones that matter.”

Thank god you’re leaning against the wall, because you’re pretty sure you just fainted.

“Excuse me?”

“They don’t know about us,” Bucky says slowly, “and they don’t know what all of you look like—at least they didn’t—but your team is on SHIELD’s list of outfits not to bother. An unofficial list, but it still counts.”

You’re a fish. A gaping fish. Bucky scratches the back of his head.

“Assuming you don’t take a sharp left turn in the evil direction, I mean,” he adds.

He peers up at you from under his eyelashes, hands stuffed in his pockets. Even with the sharp-as-knives suit and cheekbones, he looks more adorable than ever.

With Bucky clearly nervous, you find your voice.

“So all this time,” you say slowly, “there hasn’t been a reason to be all—” you gesture vaguely— “secretive?”

Bucky’s lips quirk up. “Well, I mean, there’s fun in intrigue. At least…” His tiny smile fades. “I think so.”

“Well shit, I think so too!” You snort. One step away from the wall, towards him. “I’m not in my line of work because I don’t like intrigue. But my god, Bucky, I could have been your date all night! You’re telling me I’ve been missing out on you for no good reason?”

“I figured you had good reason,” he retorts. He steps towards you now, his hands light on your waist. You melt into his touch, warmth spreading from his hands so close to your skin. His face softens. “I never wanted you to think… Shit, angel, I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.” You brush a hand across his face, thumb tracing his sharp cheekbone with a new kind of reverence. He’s close, his darkening eyes fixed on your face, your barely parted lips.

The world is wide open now, isn’t it?

You lean in, his breath on your lips before he stops you. His eyes dart over your heads, by the door—a surveillance camera, red light holding steady.

The very thing you’ve avoided.

The very thing you’re done with.

“Fuck that,” you murmur.

You grab his chin and kiss him, rough and hard and without mercy. He gasps into your mouth, and you bite his lower lip before drawing back. No blood, but his lip’s already swollen, dark pink and even more plump than usual. He’s the one gaping now. You drag your thumb across his mouth, admiring it.

“Fuck that,” you repeat. “Let them see.”

He stares. “Seriously?”

“Am I a liar, Mr. Barnes?”

“Not in the usual way,” he says, lips twitching.

“I’m serious. Now kiss me before I change my mind.”

Bucky crushes his lips to yours. You knew it was coming, but his intensity still tears a cry from your throat as he slams you back against the concrete wall. His hands knead your hips; his teeth nip at your lip just as you’d done to his.

Well, fair’s fair.

Heat thrums though you. You thread your hands in his hair and tug hard enough to break the kiss. His head falls back and you waste no time in leaving a mark against his neck, frantically unbuttoning his jacket, his shirt. He hisses into the open air as your teeth press just deep enough against his throat to hurt. Your lips follow your hands, kissing across that sculpted chest, fingers stealing touches of his skin as his hands skate up your sides.

When you reach the last button on his shirt, you snake your hand straight down his pants and take his hardening cock in hand. His hands squeeze painfully tight on your waist, but you revel in it.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You draw back, lick your lips. Smirk coyly at him from under your eyelashes as you stroke him lightly, one hand still tracing his chest.

“Something the matter?”

Bucky shakes his head and leans one arm against the wall. He’s panting, but he manages a grin all the same. “You and your mouth.”

“Oh, you want my mouth?”

You fall to your knees, cement biting into your knees through your dress, but you don’t care. You tug his zipper down with your teeth and pull his cock free. A fresh wave of want surges through you.

Damn if he doesn’t look like the best snack in the world.

One hand around his base, the other cupping his balls, you draw him into your mouth with a hungry moan. Hot, heavy, perfect; god, there’s that delicious stretch you’d been missing, the taste of him, of Bucky, heady on your tongue.

It’s like your first time together. You on your knees, his hand in your hair, him singing your praises, your mouth around him and your hand cupping your own sex, touching yourself through your dress, desperate for release but too busy tasting him to beg him for more.

It’s like then, but it’s not. Because right now, you’re not lying to him. You’re not fooling him, distracting him. No ulterior motive beyond letting the whole world know how much you want him.

How much he wants you.

No more hiding, no more sneaking, no more looking over your shoulder—it’s all you and him, him and you, the two of you together—

Bucky’s hips are rocking now, seeking you out. Lipstick stains his cock dark in the shadows, but you can’t take your eyes from his face. That beautiful face, a flush across his cheeks and a pinch between his brows. Those beautiful eyes, so dark and full of that thing that neither of you have to hide anymore. His panting echoes in the alley, sweet sounds falling like the first spring rain. Beautiful, vital relief. Your skin prickles, pressure building as you struggle to breathe.

You squeeze the base of his cock as you relax your throat, drawing more of him into your mouth. You hum around him, the vibrations pulling a fresh stream of whimpers from his pretty mouth that makes a fresh rush of want pool between your legs. God, it’s filthy how he’s moaning your name, leaking in your mouth…

“Fuck, yes, f—fuck!” he rasps.

A swirl of your tongue around his head, suction so strong it makes your cheeks hurt, and the lightest squeeze of his balls. Then your hand dances back, teasing his rim, and Bucky shouts his release, spilling down your throat as you swallow hungrily.

You pull back and lick your lips clean, smirking up at him as you lightly graze your clothed breasts. Just a pause, to let him come back to himself. And to bask in his afterglow. Looking at him like he is now, flushed down to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut in bliss, is like looking at God.

It’s not long before Bucky’s eyes open. He tugs you up. His breathing is heavy, but he catches it enough to kiss you long and tender, one hand still buried in your hair. You moan into his mouth, breasts tight against his chest. Can he taste himself on your lips?

You break the kiss with a gasp as Bucky pushes you against the wall. He smirks and starts bunching your dress up around your waist, his body still pressed against yours. The air is cool on your legs, all the more so when your thighs are bared.

Bucky leans his forehead against yours, both of you panting as he grips your thigh, toying with the lace of your holster. He shifts his wrist, his eyes blacker than the hazy sky. His touch between your legs buckles your knees; you’re held up by his chest on yours and his other hand on your waist. His hand slips under your panties.

The merest brush of your clit and the world shudders, all your focus zooming in on that tender touch. You’ve been on the precipice for what feels like hours, and his touch, Bucky’s touch…

It’s everything.

You clutch his arms, chin trembling as you try to hold on. His fingers dip between your folds, circle wet and slick against your clit.

“Let go,” he murmurs. He nuzzles your neck, teeth scraping against your collarbone as he works his magic. His left hand holds you steady against the wall, the concrete scraping your shoulders. “Let go for me.”

He curls one hot finger inside you, and it’s enough to tip you over the edge. A cry tears from your throat as you quake in his hold, sparks shooting through you. He coaxes you through, sweet sounds—full words, perhaps, but you’re too overwhelmed to make them out—falling from his lips as he slows his ministrations.

You ease down from your high as Bucky takes his hand away. He’s gentle, his eyes dark but so damn sweet. They’re the first thing you see when you resurface.

He sucks his fingers clean, smiling all the while, as you steady your breathing. He smooths your skirt back over your legs, zips his fly, buttons his shirt. Your face screws up.

“What, is that all?” you manage.

Bucky’s laugh echoes loud and clear in the alley. He slings his arm around you, squeezing your bum fondly as he leads you away. “Not a chance.”

—

The city twinkles outside of the wide windows of your hotel room. Warm lighting, a queen-size bed that might be a bit snug for Bucky—well, it’s upscale, not platinum; you have a budget, after all—and his suit jacket already hung in the closet. Bucky’s standing in his shirt by the window, on the phone with Hill. Maria Hill, Nick Fury’s right-hand man.

“I ran into an old associate,” he tells her for the third time. His voice is steady, though you can see in the reflection his lips pursing. He’s being just vague enough to keep her suspicious. He’s quiet for a moment as you fill a cup in the bathroom sink.

You wander back into the bedroom, nerves humming. The whole cab ride over, Bucky’s hands had been all over you, light and teasing and just enough to keep you right on edge. And the elevator ride up to the seventh floor had him rutting against you like a dog in heat.

Now he’s putting your patience to the test with his drawn-out call when all you want to do is scream his name. You clench your thighs as you swallow, waiting for him to finish. But he’s still got the phone to his ear.

This won’t do.

You finish your water and lick your lips dry, the taste of your lipstick heavy on your tongue. Is his cock still stained with it? You’re dying to find out. The cup clinks against the dresser, abandoned. Bucky’s eyes meet yours in the window reflection as you wander over to him and lean against his back, circling your arms around his waist to start unbuttoning his shirt for the second time tonight. His lips twitch.

“Hill, listen, I gotta—”

“Not until you explain yourself, Barnes.”

You sink your teeth into his shoulder as you slide your hand inside his pants. He jerks, nearly dropping his phone.

“Fu—Hill, it’s fine, just—”

You palm his cock through his boxer briefs.

“Fuck!” he gasps. He slams his fist against the window, but there’s no swallowing back what’s just come out of his mouth.

Hill’s silent for a moment. Then she laughs. “Oh, I get it. Have fun, James. Don’t forget your paperwork!”

Click.

Bucky twists in your arms with a growl. His phone thumps against the floor as he forces his mouth on yours, bruising. He grips your upper arms and pushes you back until your knees hit the bed. A shove, and you’re falling, lips parted from his onslaught as you bounce on the mattress.

“You little devil.”

The low tenor of his voice sends a shiver through you. Bucky crawls over you, his open shirt brushing your arms as you push it down his shoulders.

“Thought I was your angel,” you murmur.

Bucky sits on his haunches and shrugs off his shirt. You lick your lips as you feast on him with your eyes alone, your fingers light on your breasts. Bucky’s eyes fix on your hands. He sucks in a breath as you squirm, nipples hardening under your dress.

“Whatever you are, you’re divine.”

Bucky stands for just long enough to push his pants and briefs off, barely giving you a chance to see how hard he is. But you see well enough: cock jutting out, thick and heavy. And yes, still painted with traces of your lipstick.

He pushes you further up the bed until your head’s on the pillow, then settles back between your legs. His hands knead your thighs, spread them apart. It’s his turn to lick his lips.

“And I’m going to worship the hell outta you tonight.”

Bucky glides his hands down your skirt. You twist your hands in the blankets, breathing shallow as you watch him. He lifts your leg and presses a kiss to the inside of your ankle, fingers dancing along your shoe.

“Killer shoes, huh?”

You laugh breathlessly, but you can’t answer because he’s kissing his way up the inside of your leg, his hands sliding up your skirt so smoothly that you’re a mess before he’s even reached your thigh holster. Fuck grabbing the blankets; you bury your hands in his hair and pull.

You half expect him to resist, but no, he lets you pull him between your legs, pushing your dress up over your waist. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the crotch of your panties, his tongue flicking against your clit. You cry out; your hips buck against his face, but he only chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. He peels your panties away, shifting so he can toss them away with the rest of his clothes. You reach for the satin bows on your holsters, but he grabs your hands.

“Safety’s on, leave ‘em,” he says, eyes glinting.

Your eyebrows fly up. “Really?”

He shrugs and tucks his hair behind his ear. “What can I say, watching you at work earlier was a turn-on.” You giggle and run your foot against his side.

“Let me guess, you want me to keep my shoes on too.”

“If it’s comfy.” He winks. “Think you’ll accidentally kill me if I drive you too crazy?”

You nudge at him with the toe of your shoe until he falls back onto you, his cock nestled between you. You twine your arms around his neck and kiss him til you’re out of breath.

“Kill you? Never.” You bump his nose with yours. “Now eat me out, or I might start charging you for my time.”

Bucky laughs out loud. Music to your ears. Then he dives back between your legs, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and settling on his elbows. One last wicked look, and then he latches his mouth to your clit, sucking and flicking and oh god you’re ruined, you’re wrecked. He’s pulling your soul out with his lips. Your hips buck up again, but he stills you with a single warm hand. Sounds fill the room, sounds you barely register as your own moaning.

He’s insatiable. His tongue dipping inside you, fucking you, his metal thumb circling smooth as silk against your clit. His other arm holding you in place so he can devour you, all your whimpers and cries and moans be damned. Your legs are shaking, thighs squeezing his head so tight you’re sure he’s suffocating, but no, he’s just lapping you up, humming, every vibration building you into a tighter frenzy. Sweat beads on your brow, on your chest—you grab hold of his hair, your breasts, the blankets, anything to ground you, but it’s impossible because he’s there, right there, his hips thrusting against the bed as yours strain towards his mouth.

More, more, more; it’s a chant in your mind, on your lips, back arching off the bed as his soaked metal fingers vibrate—

The throes of your orgasm are enough to wake the dead. Bucky lifts his head to watch you come undone, his hand still working on your clit. He lifts his arm from your hips, but by now you’re no more than a pile of mush on the bed, your silky dress sweaty and tight on your body, too much against your sensitive breasts. You twist bonelessly and reach for the zipper.

“Let me,” Bucky murmurs. He slides the zipper down slowly, careful not to let it catch on your skin. Peels the dress down until your arms are free, your breasts free in the open air. A few gentle tugs, and it’s gone, and you’re bare beside him.

Bucky doesn’t touch you, not yet. He hovers next to you, his hands reaching and falling back every second until you look at him and smile.

“C’mere, you,” you mumble. He settles in your open arms, propped on his elbow, his torso stretched across your chest. You brush back his hair and let your eyes drift across his body. Your gaze lands predictably on his cock, still red and hard and lipstick-stained, a bead of precum just at the tip. You take him in hand tenderly, reveling in his quiet hiss. “Poor Bucky. So much time worshipping me he hasn’t had a moment for himself.”

“I mean, you did—fuck, darlin’, just like that—you did suck me off earlier,” he says breathlessly.

You keep stroking him, your hands gentle, rubbing the lipstick stains into new shapes on his skin. Bucky’s tense, every muscle from his neck to his abs to his thick thighs in stark definition as you work along his length.

Bucky tugs your hand away all too soon. He settles between your legs; they’re spread wantonly, heels and lacy holsters an added bonus. His cock is scorching between your legs, sliding slick between your damp folds as he teases you.

“Fun as that is,” he rasps, “I just wanna be inside you already.”

A thrill shoots through you. Bucky rocks his hips gently, teasing, not fast or hard enough to provide relief. You tilt your hips, moaning, anything to spur him on. This dragging out the inevitable is torture.

“Fuck, what are you waiting for?” you gasp.

No warning, no caution—Bucky slams his cock home. Your body arches off the bed as you cry out, tears springing to your squeezed-shut eyes as he sinks deep, so deep it’s just shy of painful. But god, there’s no pleasure in the world better than this. His thick cock in you, his pelvis putting pressure on your clit, stars once again bursting behind your eyes.

Bucky doesn’t give you any time to adjust. His thrusts are fast, long, deep. Your feet scramble for purchase, heels catching on the blanket. A harsh rip as the comforter shreds, but it barely registers.

He notices. He growls, pulling your leg up, still pistoning in and out, pounding you into the bed. With your knee against his chest, he’s hitting all kinds of spots inside you, the ones you’d barely known of before him. Your walls flutter around him, a wail tumbling from your lips—

“Oh god, fuck, Bucky!”

Bucky litters your chest with kisses, alternating between tweaking your nipples and teasing your hypersensitive clit until tears run down your face and all you can do is beg.

“It’s ‘kay, darlin’,” he pants. His pace slows, the long drag of his head tugging at you, pulling fresh sobs from your throat. “Fuck. Look. Look how pretty y’are,” he urges.

You force your eyes open and stare between you. His cock, red and shining from your arousal and his, sliding in and out, your cunt stretched tight around him. You clench the muscles there as he sinks in once more, his prolonged groan enough to make you laugh triumphantly until he rolls you over, his hands strong on your waist as he sits you up, the movement shifting his cock inside you. You hiss and steady yourself with a hand on his chest.

“You seriously expect me to hold myself up? I’ve had two orgasms tonight and you’ve had none,” you tease.

Bucky’s eyes glitter. He rocks his hips up. You can’t move.

“You’re the one who was desperate for more,” he quips. “Prove it.”

“Ugh, fine.”

But you smile as you plant your hands more solidly on his chest, one finger just close enough to trace the scars at his left shoulder. You circle your hips, moving slow and small until he’s clenching his jaw. But he doesn’t beg for more. He just watches you, his hands still on your waist and his eyes black with lust.

The little movements prove your undoing before his, every roll of your hips providing fresh pressure on your clit. You mewl with pleasure as you start to bounce more solidly on his cock, chasing the building pleasure. Every slam has you both gasping. Your nails scrape against his skin, digging in, leaving marks. His hands shift to your breasts, just holding them, rubbing his palms back and forth across your painfully hard nipples. Every shift of his hands, every drop of your hips, every thrust of his send a shower of sparks through you until your whole body is fireworks, starbursts behind your eyes, fire in your blood—

One hard thrust of his hips when you’re not expecting it, one intense burst, and you seize up, shudders racking through you as he holds you up by your chest, walls milking him, eyes unseeing, all of you focused on the pleasure between your legs and the twitching of his cock inside you until he too explodes. He spills inside you, your name falling from his lips, offered up to you like a never-ending prayer as you fall forward to kiss him because you have to, you must.

“Bucky,” you murmur into his mouth. “Bucky.”

Every inch of skin is hot, damp with sweat, but you couldn’t move if the world was on fire. He’s wrapped around you, in more ways than one, and you never want to let him go.

And for the first time, he doesn’t have to go. Whatever his people think of him, they’re leaving him alone. Let the Winter Soldier blow off some steam, they must be thinking, and he’ll be our perfect operative when he gets home.

You smile into the crook of his neck as he strokes your back, your neck, your hair. He is perfect, isn’t he.

It’s a while before either of you have the strength to move. Bucky rolls you off him.

“Stay,” he murmurs. He drops a kiss on your forehead, and you watch his bum as he heads to the bathroom. Your eyes slide shut as you listen to him run the tap, splash water on his face. You don’t hear him come back, but you blink your eyes open again when he settles next to you. He cleans you up with a damp washcloth, tugging your shoes and holsters off as he works.

“There,” he says. He tosses it all off the bed—well, he puts the holstered guns gently on the nightstand—and lies down, pulling you into his arms. You wiggle your toes, stretching out your feet as you snuggle into his side.

Bucky’s quiet, oddly so. Usually he at least says how much he enjoyed himself. He’s never been shy with his words before.

Nerves gnaw at your stomach. What’s the matter with him? You’re not sure how to break the silence, so you let it settle, and wait.

It takes time, but eventually Bucky sighs and kisses your hair.

“It’s real fuckin’ nice that I can stay,” he says quietly.

You nod.

“And…” He swallows. “Were you serious earlier?”

You look up at him with a frown. “About what? I say a lot of stuff, y’know.” He chuckles, but sobers quickly.

“Were you serious about wanting to… be my date?”

The words tumble out of his mouth.

You sit up, heart pounding, and lean over him. His face is cupped in your hands, your eyes are fixed on his, and the whole world is in his hopeful smile. You kiss him, chaste and heartfelt as a ingenue.

“Am I a liar, Mr. Barnes?”

“Not in the usual way,” he answers.

“There we go,” you murmur. You push the damp hair off his forehead. He’s gazing up at you with something past liking, past wonder, past fondness in his eyes. It’s mirrored in yours, whether you acknowledge it or not. Either way, here you are, with him, with everywhere to go. “There we go.”

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