#I will say I prefer humid heat and 100% mean it
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Can it finally rain so that the humidity might go down a bit? My skin is breaking out
#emma posts#tmi#I will say I prefer humid heat and 100% mean it#but that doesn’t mean I LIKE it#I just hate when it’s super dry and hot more#at least my skin feels moisturized like this#I went out to Montana in the summer a few years back and the flat fuck dusty ass parts were sucking the moisture out of my skin itself#at least here it’s like. still not that dry when it’s dry#there is so much water here that it goes for the stuff on the ground first#which isn’t great when we don’t get enough precipitation to re fill it#but if nothing else there is bound to be some wet spot to stand in or something#last year was luckily more wet because the two before it were dry enough that some rivers were barely streams#and we are called the land of 10000 lakes for a reason#humans really do just short circuit when put in a very different climate#my chin hurty because that one cyst thing is back and it is painful
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Over 100 and humid is better than like 30 degrees any day
LITERALLY like everyone in the notes of that post is like oh youre just saying that bcs you havent experienced real heat :) but ive experienced 110+ days some summers and i literally do prefer it to even relatively mild cold. i mean neither are ideal but in extreme heat i still feel like im able to move my limbs; when its below 45 degrees i straight up cannot do anything at all.
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I want to join in the ranking fun so, if you feel like it: acotar characters on a hike?
17. Amren- DID NOT GO
16. Nesta- ALSO DID NOT GO
15- Mor- HIKE???? No thanks.
14.- Feyre- brings a giant pack of her art supplies, sets up in the first nice valley and begins to paint. Yes, paint. Just wants to capture the moment, to soak in the beauty of nature.
13. Rhys- brought a golf cart, wearing open-toed shoes. "What do you mean we're not golfing?" Ends up banned by park service for taking a golf cart up a protected trail, waits in parking lot doing wheelies
12. Tarquin- SO HUMID. Prefers a dry heat, will not stop talking about it. Wants to know if they're ever going to swim, bails early when he realizes the journey is just the walk. NO THANK YOU
11. Gwyn- Two miles max, did not wear adequate shoes. Brought a book tucked beneath her arm to identify plants and birds but forgot water. Identifies zero birds, gets 100 mosquito bites.
10. Jurian- Does not understand point of a hike. Declares the view is not even that good. VISIBLY sunburned a third of the way up, refuses to put on sunscreen. Constantly asking if they're there yet.
9. Helion- Definitely thought there would be more drinking involved. Goes in 70's style shorts so everyone knows how muscular his thighs are. Isn't there for the right reasons. Lots of passerby's distracted when he takes off his shirt. Everyone annoyed by his in person thirst trapping.
8. Azriel- athletic but this is not his preferred form of absorbing vitamin D. Teased the whole time about how much black he wore. Doesn't want to scuff brand new shoes, has one of those backpacks you can slurp water from with a straw, refuses to share.
7. Vassa- Came with the hopes everyone was camping. Hiking with an ARSENAL of gear on her back. Exhausted half way through and FURIOUS when she realizes everyone is done at mile five
6. Emerie- Hiking goddess. Came to snap pictures and she looks good doing it. Long leggings and socks despite heat, does not seem to notice. Carrying on conversation despite ninety degree incline.
5. Eris- brought ALL his dogs. Tangled leashes EVERYWHERE. People constantly asking to pet, of course he says NO. DONT TOUCH THEM. Dogs desperately want to be pet. Carrying around way too many bags of dog poop, is grumpy about it. So worried about keeping dogs from escaping, forgets sunscreen.
4. Elain- Points out all the plants along the way, taking pictures carefully to catalogue. WAY at the back of the group, constantly having to jog to catch up. Came to soak up nature, not to get so sweaty. Wore a too floppy hat she loses in the wind at the very top, forced to go back down without it.
3. Tamlin- Wants to hike in SILENCE. Brought headphones, defeating the purpose of a group hike. So loud EVERYONE can hear. "Is that Call Me Maybe?" Tamlin pretends he didn't hear.
2. Cassian- BRUTAL PACE. PRACTICALLY RUNNING. OH MY GOD WHAT IS YOUR RUSH??? The rush is to beat the crowd and to punish ourselves for our many crimes against God. Cassian avoids being murdered that day...but just barely.
1. Lucien- Off grid hiking, tracking through woods like a bloodhound. Group? What group? They find him halfway back lounging against a tree looking unbothered. Made it to the top hours ago, just waiting now. There is a shortcut, he claims, pointing to vertical incline nicknamed "SUICIDE CLIMB" Looks like it needs equipment to get up, he claims he used his hands. Perfect ponytail.
#once again#this is objectively correct#as always i have the only right opinion on these characters and how they would behave on a hike#you know im right
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Transition
2 worlds, 2 realitys. Somehow that plane ride bridges the gap,
Getting here was actually pretty easy,though i may come through Mexico city next year. A brief overnight might be preferable to the Huatulco taxi experience. Shuffled through immigration, glared at by the ugliest woman agent yet(hey it was Sunday night and everyone else was partying the end of Dia de Muertos). Actually got the green light, the sniffer dog detected the walnuts in my bag, but i said"No, No food" so no check,and the agricultural inspector was easy too. Yes I had a jar of peanut butter and a bag of sprout seeds, but I neglected to tell them. Outside in the heat of the day the taxi mafia wanted too much so I walked to the road where the more organized drivers wanted 1800 p to Puerto. Got a collectivo(shared cab with 4 others) for 1200($100). I,d imagined we,d drop people off along the highway, but no we went to Mazunte, a 1 hour crawl , dodging drunks and dogs, to spill our extra people, then zoom to Puerto. Seems if a taxi tailgates and flashes it,s lights before racing the oncoming trucks, everything goes faster.
2 hours to Dans, and the key was under the rock as promised. Hot shower, quick snack (Pete and Jill had kindly put tortillas and eggs out for my arrival-delicious!) and a welcome bed in #3 cabana. I spent Monday unpacking my 20 kilo bag and 10 kilo carry on. Seemed OK till I dragged my garbage bucket of last years stuff out of storage(stinky stale clothes despite packaging in Big ziplocks), and the box I,d had to add on my return from MEX, and the beach umbrella, and the beach chair, and ... Bit of a treasure hunt dipping into the bin, and found that I had duplicated many small items. Looks like I,m good for razors and Q tips for some years!. Probably left them off my left behind list last year, thinking"Of course I,ll remember them!" However, clothes hung in the sun quickly cured, and the extra shirts and pants will go to the charity sale here. the corner store had fruit, granola,yogurt and juices, so all set.
Tuesday I went to the Banamex for cash and the machines liked me, then up to the supermercado for bulk goods, a 40 pound load. $1000 pesos! Somehow i packed it all to the highway and got a combi home. I waited till Thursday to go uptown for fruit and veg from the oh so busy wholesalers, another 40 pound set of bags. Lots of walnuts, almonds, cashews, for snack feeding , and a double bollio for a cheese and lettuce sandwhich. All in all i went way over budget.
What is my budget? Well I get $1800 a month pension, so that should be the limit, but since prices have shot up here just like home, I,ll be spending more. Have enough savings to cover the overruns. Mexico is no longer cheap, but it,s still affordable. With health insurance,tickets, and higher costs I,ll probably spend an extra $1000/month, but that includes a trip to Belize in March and the 1000$ for the dentist. I could find cheaper accomodation, but right now I,m up on a shaded terrace with a surf view, sea breeze, and a very safe place. Bath temp lap pool, big room and kitchen, privacy and good friends to chat with...it,s worth the xtra. As the value of the dollar slides against the peso there,s the hidden cost of inflation, but that also means my saving are depreciating, might as well spend the dough while it has any value.
Did i say it,s sunny every day, hot and bright? What,s that worth?
The sticky humidity and 33 degree temp has moderated after the roaring thunder and Gods flashbulb lightening, and hot rain, so it,s still hot but the sea breeze in the day and the mountain breeze at night keep it tolerable. I sleep under 3 fans, gradually decreasing the volume as the air cools, until first light(6am) when a sheet is cosy,
And i have a volunteer cat, skinny black and white howler who I foolishly fed and now seem to be an adoptive cat dad. Prefers chicken, eats yogurt, never seen an egg, but relents when no snacks are forthcoming. Wild? Sure likes being petted!
Enough detail for now. I,ll try to be more descriptive next time, less day to day. Adios!
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👃👂🔥💌 forrrrrrr...lya, morgaine, and a random third
Oooo fun questions!! It got long (as always) so it's under a cut:
Lya:
👃 : Does your OC smell good? Do they have a signature scent?
I think it really depends on what you think of as good? She lives in a humid swamp and spends a lot of time doing maintenance on her shithole swamp house. She's usually pretty sweaty. She showers often, though, even though the water is usually cold. If soap, slightly floral shampoo, sawdust and a bit of sweat appeals to you, she's your girl.
👂 : Does your OC have an attractive voice?
Again, depends on personal preference! Her voice has a dry quality to it and a sarcastic edge. But when she says something and means it, you can hear it in her voice, the way earnestness softens its edges.
🔥 : What’s a surefire way to make your OC get flustered?
She doesn't swoon when someone is forward with her -- she can give as good as she gets, and that heated back-and-forth is something she's quite good at. But she's a real sucker for gentle and attentive. Tuck her hair behind her ear and lean in. Let your touch linger. Pause just a moment and look at her. That gets her beet red every time.
💌 : How would they plan a romantic evening for a significant other?
Back in the city? It's cliché, but dinner and a movie or show was her go-to. She liked sitting in the dark beside someone, resting her head on their shoulder or her hand on their thigh. Stealing popcorn. Experiencing something together, then talking about it over dinner and drinks. (She's never been very good at small talk about herself. It's easier when there's something else to talk about.)
None of that is really doable with Quincy. (Imagine putting the fish man in a wheelchair with a blanket covering his fishy tail and asking for two tickets to anything while keeping a straight face. She'd have to spritz him with a water bottle the whole time. They'd absolutely get kicked out.) But I can see her turning on something they can both listen to, her lying back on the dock to watch the clouds. It's close enough, at least.
Morgaine:
👃 : Does your OC smell good? Do they have a signature scent?
She has the money to get whatever perfume she wants and the class to wear it with restraint. She tends to go for complex scents -- jasmine, leather, warm spice, earth, bergamot. Under all of that, a slight metallic tang that registers on the back of your tongue.
👂 : Does your OC have an attractive voice?
She sounds bored most of the time, and that's when she bothers to talk at all. Her voice has a nice cadence to it, though. She's very good at commanding attention when she wants to. Take that as you will.
🔥 : What’s a surefire way to make your OC get flustered?
She doesn't fluster easily -- I'm not sure if there is a reliable way to get her flustered with a 100% success rate. Her poker face is just too good. That being said, there are two approaches you could take. One, the long game, is to win over her heart, get her to think of you as more than just a passing fancy. Then, you might get her flustered even when you aren't in the room with her. The other is to turn the tables on her, to wrest control from her and boss her around. She'd never admit that she likes either of these options, of course.
💌 : How would they plan a romantic evening for a significant other?
She keeps her relationships exceedingly private. Anything that could land her on the cover of a tabloid is absolutely out. On a day where she's feeling daring, you'll get dinner together at somewhere it's impossible to get a table at. Mainly, though, she likes keeping anything overtly romantic behind closed doors. Lounging around on a plush couch with some little snacks and wine sounds just fine to her.
Gwerith (it has to be Gwer, I'm like, contractually obligated):
👃 : Does your OC smell good? Do they have a signature scent?
She smells bright and fresh. Like spring air, like ozone, like fresh cut flowers. Laundry detergent. Orchid and vanilla. There's something green and alive about her.
👂 : Does your OC have an attractive voice?
It depends on personal preference, of course, but I'd say so. She's soft-spoken and has a laugh that can only be described as musical. She's very easy to listen to.
🔥 : What’s a surefire way to make your OC get flustered?
She used to fluster more easily, but there are still plenty of ways. Push her up against a wall and tip her chin up. That does it every time. Or kiss her neck when she's trying to say something.
💌 : How would they plan a romantic evening for a significant other?
She spends a lot of her prep time thinking about what to wear! She needs to be the cutest person wherever they're going. Where are they going? Outside is a big plus, but she'll go anywhere that sounds fun. Of course, she's also more than happy to just stay in 😏
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do you have any opinions/headcanons about hotch with tattoos? would he have a few tattoos or like a full sleeve? and would they be the classic black and white ink tattoos or would there be colour? maybe even just a dash of colour for a specific tattoo, and if so which tattoo? what would the tattoos mean, if anything?
<33
I have been thinking about Hotch with tattoos non-stop lately, and it's all @goobzoop 's fault and I love them for it. Because I know it's been brought up a few times that although we all know Hotch is straight-laced and professional and realistically probably doesn't have any tattoos at all, or if he does they are lettering/minimalist with very specific meanings. But MY hc is that when he was younger, he head a rebellious streak a mile wide and he would most definitely be in a tattoo shop the moment he was old enough to get one. Just to spite his father, and to get something for himself.
I've had a lot of thoughts over the past few months about what he would have and where they would be on his body, and right now -- I can't think of them at all. Except for this one discussion I had where I imagined he had American Traditional Swallows on his hips on either side because that was such a cliché trendy thing during the 90's and he fucking would, but I also think he connects with some kind of bird imagery in a way as his first tattoo, because he was going to break away from this family's legacy and start a life all his own and never, ever have to go back. (Okay, apparently I remembered a little).
But every hc has been decimated by @goobzoop 's photo edits of Hotch with full tattoo sleeves on both arms. Y'all... I'm foaming at the mouth about this. In my head it fits and LET ME TELL YOU WHY
For those of you who are not aware of tattoo culture/history, there is a well known tradition of having tattoos precisely placed on the body so that they do not appear when wearing business attire. Made most famous by the Yakuza, (basically the Japanese mafia), who could have entire body suits tattooed onto their person (tattoos that cover every inch of their body), but the tattoos themselves stop right before the cuffs of their shirt sleeves, the collars of their suit jackets. So when dressed for work or in public no one would be any wiser to what lay beneath the layers of their tailored black clothing.
Hotch wears a full suit every day, rain or shine, winter or summer, Montana or Florida. Once he becomes Unit Chief, after Gideon leaves, he doesn't spend as much time outside work with his team. So the chances of them seeing him in anything else drops exponentially. How are they to know that, over the years, his original smattering of tattoos has grown and grown and grown until they completely covered his arms and shoulders. One in particular over his heart after Haley's death.
They would stop right before the cuffs of his dress shirts, nearly in a precise line as if the artist measured it and made a 'do not cross' line to guide by. And I think you also hit the nail on the head about the styles of tattoos he would have. Black and grey, 100%, some small pops of color here and there but nothing too bright or noticeable. He prefers heavy outlined styles: American Traditional, Illustrative, Letterwork, Japanese Traditional. Things that are prominent and withstand the test of time, less likely to warp and fade with age. And there's so many of them, they aren't a single planned piece but a collection that he's built upon for years. Goes to the same artist so it flows beautifully along the different planes and musculature of his body. And every singe one has meaning to him, and him alone. He probably has a few he would tell the meaning behind, if someone asked, but most are as private as he is, and you would have to be someone very close to him in a very intimate setting in order to get a fuller list of each image's story.
This is his thing. His one thing that's his and his alone. If you've never gotten a tattoo before, know that they are addicting. Whenever I get one I always end up getting two or three more within the following months. Hotch has just fallen into that cycle for years and years and just never gotten out of it.
But the idea that has me quite literally going feral? The image of the day he slips:
It's hot as hell. Humid as all get out. They are on a Florida case and Florida is the worst, everywhere they turn it's dead end after dead end and they are running out of time with the latest victim that's been abducted. The air conditioning is broken in the conference room they've been assigned, the rest of the precinct isn't any better, and it's over 100 degrees in the shade outside. His suit is drenched, he can't think straight he's burning up so much. Half the team left to grab food just to escape that room. So he takes off his jacket, his tie, unbuttoning the collar and then his cuffs. Rolling the sleeves up to his elbows and alleviating some of the stifling heat.
I'm biased so Reid sees the tattoos first, completely blanketing every inch of skin above Hotch's wrists, so beautifully and artfully condensed it almost looks like an under shirt -- and he has a mild bi/gay panic moment -- but ultimately doesn't say anything. Just... stares a lot. To the point he's not getting much work done, and Hotch has to sigh because he's not having this conversation and Reid probably doesn't want to either. They have an absurdly short talk about it that probably goes like this:
"I have tattoos."
"...I can see that."
"Good. Glad that's out of the way. Can you start a Jeopardy Surface on the whereabouts of the latest victim, or did you have questions?"
"No, sir."
"Right answer."
The rest of the team would have words to say I'm sure, might tease him a bit about it, but he doesn't care. They're a part of his body and they are his and the fact the team has learned of their existence doesn't change a thing about that. The more condensed and intricate his collection gets, the more proud he is of them, to the point in season 7 where he's running the FBI triathlon in that black athletic tank top? Oh yeah, they can see everything.
Other than that, when on the job, he sticks to his suits.
Although he does get a little smug every time he surprises someone when he rolls up his sleeves.
--
@goobzoop 's photo edits HERE and HERE !!! They've done some Reid ones too 💕💕💕 I am inspired.
Thank you for the ask love 😘
#I have a thing for tattoos#if you couldn't tell#this got longggg#sorry I was just... feral about this image and I have to stop myself multiple times a day from trying to -draw- it because I -want- to#but I don't have the TIME#But Goob's edits feed my hungry heart and I am both pleased and satisfied by them#no pairings really#just some HotchReid if you squint but what did you expect#y'all don't follow me for my witty tags#asks#katyswriting#Aaron Hotchner
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Black Velvet
Alright everyone, it’s finally here. I’ve been sort of salty about the lack of tall!reader fics for awhile now or maybe it’s just the ubiquitous short, petite, drowning in his sweatshirt descriptions that get under my skin but just couldn’t get a decent amount of inspiration to write one. I have been known to throw in a mention of height randomly in my fics, but my usual workaround to avoid physical descriptions of the reader is to just write Bucky as like six and a half feet tall. Hes a damn super soldier, he should be taller anyway he did not start out as short as Steve. So one day I stumbled across this post by @invisibleanonymousmonsters and for some reason I can’t explain, an idea was finally unlocked in my brain later that same day. (Inspired by a song? Me? No. Never.)
It’s kind of all over the place, so buckle in. It does take a sharp right into smutsville but also ends up flipping a u and landing in flufftown. I don’t know. I just write what the muse tells me to write.
I would like to thank the incomparable @scottish-pepper for her amazing help and support while I wrote the thing - I couldn’t have done it without you, darlin.
Bucky x Tall!Reader
Modern day AU - think of a 40s prewar Bucky if he got a chance to grow up and lived in a small town
Plot: You have a terrible day of epic proportions but a beautiful stranger in a small town helps to make it better.
Warnings: Swearing (as per usual), smut, mentions of alcohol/drinking/bars, a brief mention of potentially disordered eating, mentions of a thunderstorm, and a very specific shitty family member.
Word count: 12K Yep. Knda got away from me
One last author’s note: This fic includes some ASL dialogue; it is expressed in italics without quotation marks. ASL is an incredibly beautiful and expressive language, and it’s in 3D!! It also has its own grammar structure, rules, nuances, and regional differences, just like any other language, and it can be a challenge to fit it into a two-dimensional space. Taking this into consideration, I’ve decided to write the dialogue with spoken English grammar because my ASL is really rusty and I don’t want to mess it up.
It’s hot. Like 100 degrees in the shade with 95% humidity hot. The trees are wilted, flowers are drooping, and there isn’t so much as a glimmer of hope for a cloud in the sky to interrupt the sun’s torture of earth’s inhabitants. The air is thick and still – there’s no movement at all – yet dangerously unsettled. It’s the kind of weather that if you sneeze, you might cause a tornado in the next county over. Of course your cousin would choose today of all days to get married. And of course her mom pressured her into going black tie, increasing everyone’s suffering tenfold.
“I can’t believe I rented a room for this. I can’t believe I spent $200 on a dress. Why am I even here? What did I expect?” There’s no answer, but of course there wouldn’t be. You’re alone in your car, driving back to a motel that you might not even stay the night in. You’d rented a room because you figured you’d have a few drinks at the reception – you wanted to celebrate the bride, she’s one of your best friends – but at this point you might as well just make the hour drive back home.
About a block from the motel you notice a bar tucked behind a gas station. According to the clock on the dash, it’s only 5:25.
Fuck it. You deserve a goddamn drink after today.
You pull into the parking lot and are surprised by the number of cars, farm trucks, and motorcycles already parked. There’s only one redneck limo, thank God – a pickup truck with a 10 inch lift kit and truck nuts hanging off the hitch, and in your experience driven only by incredibly insecure men – so that’s a good sign, right? It must be a decent place with decent drinks if it’s this busy so early in the evening. Maybe some of your day can be salvaged after all.
The hot, sticky air rushes in as soon as the car door is opened. “Gross,” you mutter; the heat hits even harder after the air conditioning in your car. Glancing over to the passenger seat, you see the hideous shoes your aunt Lydia pressed into your hands upon arriving at the wedding. “You know what, Lydia? Fuck you and fuck your ugly shoes.” You put your heels back on just to spite her.
It’s a small-town watering hole, so of course all eyes are drawn to you when you enter. And they stay on you as you find a seat at the bar – perhaps it’s because you’re a stranger, perhaps it’s because you’re overdressed.
But probably not.
The bartender approaches while drying his hands. He’s got dirty blonde hair in a sloppy undercut, a wide, flat nose, and is wearing a concert tee shirt with the arms cut off to show off his full sleeve of tattoos.
“Do you have blended drinks?” He nods. “Strawberry daiquiri, please.”
“Sure thing.”
You pull out some cash, tipping generously because your drink is a pain in the ass to make, then look around while you wait.
The bar is cool but not cold, not brightly lit but also not uncomfortably dim, is bigger than it looks, and is even busier than the amount of vehicles in the parking lot would lead you to believe. On one side there’s a jukebox next to a small stage with an empty but decently sized dance floor. There are a few high tops, then a gaming area featuring pool tables, dart boards, and a few pinball machines. On the other side of the bar you see a window with someone selling pull tabs, a station set up for calling bingo, a door to what’s probably the kitchen, and a popcorn machine filled with freshly popped popcorn. Behind you and scattered generously throughout the building are tables, some with 4 seats and some with 6, and over half of them are occupied.
“Here you go, miss.” The bartender places your drink in front of you with a polite smile. “Would you like a menu? The full kitchen is open tonight.”
The thought is nauseating. “Mmmm…maybe later.”
“Too hot to eat?” At your despondent nod, he grimaces and places a tall glass of ice water next to the daiquiri. “Thought as much. I’ll check back in a bit.” You didn’t notice his name tag until now – his name is Clint, and according to the hand illustrations under his name, he’s fluent in ASL.
Unsure if he’s Deaf and fluent in lipreading or if he’s hearing, you both sign and murmur, “Thank you,” before bringing the drink to your lips. It’s on the edge of being burned – just the way you like it. Sipping on the sweet slush is pure bliss, cooling you down from the inside out as it tempers the heat of the rum.
You sign? He doesn’t speak this time. It’s not an uncommon reaction.
Yes. I’m an interpreter.
His eyebrows rise in interest. What made you go into that?
My high school offered it, and I ended up becoming really good friends with the teacher’s daughter, who is Deaf. I made a lot of friends, got involved with the community and immersed in the culture, and I just loved it, so I figured, why not do this for a living? My dreams of being a Triple Crown winning jockey went out the window by the end of 5th grade so…
He laughs, but not unkindly. Yeah, I suppose you are a bit too tall for that. But 5th grade? Damn. His face lights up, Hey, have you heard of PATH, International? They’ve got a campus about half hour north of here. If you like horses, it might be right up your alley.
PATH International, or Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship, is an organization very close to your heart. Yes! I volunteer there every Tuesday night.
The look of surprise on Clint’s face is priceless. No shit? I’m there on Thursday nights! You must be the other interpreter the kids are always talking about - they LOVE you! And so do the horses. You know, I was Ace’s favorite till you came along. Now he won’t even look at me unless I bribe him with a treat.
You look again at his name tag, and the name clicks. Wait, you’re Hawkeye! The one that does the archery demos on horseback for the kids’ birthday parties.
He takes a theatrical bow. The one and only.
Clint “Hawkeye” Barton is nothing short of a legend at PATH. Profoundly Deaf yet impossibly accurate with speechreading, he manages to blend both worlds perfectly. He’s also a master archer both off and on horseback, which basically makes him a superhero in the kids’ eyes. There are whispers that he travelled with a circus as a teenager, that he raises horses, and that he moonlights as a vigilante, but nothing has been verified and from what you’ve been told, he will neither confirm nor deny. It’s very likely that there’s at least some truth to the horse raising rumor – Ace is technically his horse, he just loans the chestnut gelding to the program. You’d been dying to meet Clint for a few years now but hadn’t been able to make it work.
It’s so good to finally meet you!
Likewise! I’ve been meaning to swing by on a Tuesday to see who it is that stole my favorite horse’s heart, but I’m usually here. His face lights up, Hey, I’ve got some ideas for a field trip for the older kids and adults but I need to team up with an ASL interpreter since I can’t technically work as a Deaf interpreter on my own off PATH’s campus. You know, rules and shit. You interested?
Absolutely! Just let me know. You dig a pen out of your purse and write your number and email address on a napkin. You know, I’m sorry, but I’m really not sorry about Ace. He stole my heart, what can I say.
He’s a shameless flirt, but I never thought he’d actually prefer someone else over me. But now that I’ve met you, I guess I can’t be too sore about it. He seems to have good taste. He takes the napkin with a grin and folds it up before putting it in his pocket, then looks to his left when a waitress waves for his attention and nods. Duty calls. Let me know if you need anything.
Well, that improved your day considerably.
For a few minutes, anyway.
“That’s an awfully girly drink for a woman like you.” A cloud of stale cigarette smoke with an obnoxious sounding man in the middle of it takes the seat next to yours.
You don’t turn to face him; you don’t even acknowledge him. If that’s his opening line, then you really, really don’t have the patience to interact with him today. This is the guy that owns the jacked-up truck. You can feel it in your bones.
Clint makes a face from behind the drink he’s making, notices your annoyance, and shakes his head. “Dude, she’s got more alcohol in her glass than you and your four buddies combined, so don’t knock her drink of choice. She’s also clearly not interested, and way, way out of your league. Go back to your pull tabs and leave the lady alone.”
You can feel the guy’s eyes on you, but Clint keeps glaring daggers at him and he eventually leaves. You can overhear him tell his buddies, “Thought she’d be an easy lay, but you know what? Even I have standards. How do you fuck someone that tall anyway? I’d need scaffolding!” They laugh, but you continue to hold your head up high. It’s nothing you haven’t heard some version of before. He’s not clever.
Ignore them. They’re lonely, small little men.
I know. Thank you. His protective gesture is touching and completely unexpected. This kind of thing doesn’t happen very often because most people assume you can handle yourself. You can – but it’s nice to not always have to be on the defensive, and today you’re at your limit.
No worries. You look like you had a rough day, I figured you didn’t need Chad making it worse. Clint winks and turns back to his drinks.
Well, he’s not wrong, but the day can only get better from here, right? Right. You nod to yourself then sit back and enjoy your drink. Clint stops by periodically to chat, but otherwise you’re left alone.
Eventually it’s time for a trip to the ladies’ room, and you do your best to ignore the stares and chuckles that inevitably follow you. In your semi-formal black dress you certainly stand out in a bar filled with cut off shorts and tee shirts, but that’s not why they’re staring.
In your black satin and lace, modestly platformed stiletto heels – affectionately known as your ‘fuck me shoes’ – you’re well over six feet tall. Are they uncomfortable? God yes, but they’re also beautiful and totally worth it.
The bathrooms are at the back of the bar, past the dart boards and pool tables. You’re almost there when you hear something ping off one of the pool table lamps and see it ricochet across the aisle and onto the top of the glass and wood cabinets housing the pool cues.
“How – how the hell did you manage that, Rogers?” A man with dark hair and a jawline that could cut glass heads in your direction. “You were supposed to throw the chalk to me, not your imaginary friend standing thirteen feet behind me.”
“Sorry, Buck,” a blonde joins him, looking appropriately apologetic. “My aim was a little off.”
“Ya think?”
You slow your pace to watch them. The guy with the dark hair is gorgeous – well, they both are, to be fair – but the one…damn. His maroon tee shirt is fitted enough to show off his beefy physique, and his jeans hug his thighs and ass like they were made for him. He throws off an air of cocky confidence with just a hint of danger, lending a genuine feel to his bad boy image. Should you…maybe? No. No, you absolutely should not. You’re not in the right mindset to try to soothe a man’s threatened masculinity just for a bit of company.
He and the blonde reach for the wayward chalk, but it’s just out of their reach. It’s amusing to watch them try to grab for it, but you take pity on them eventually.
Time for your good deed of the week.
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Stepping between the two, you reach up and effortlessly pluck the blue cube from its spot before dropping it into the dark-haired man’s hand with a smile. “Here you go.”
Wide blue eyes look up into yours, but he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even smile. He just stares. Figures.
The blonde looks between you and his companion before clearing his throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”
The unspoken rejection from the brunette stings. Normally it wouldn’t get to you, but after today? It does. It really does. So you swallow against the burning thickness in your throat and force back the tears with a fake smile. “You’re welcome.” A few more steps and you’re in the ladies’ room, which only serves to make matters worse when you step into an open stall. As you turn around to lock the door, you can see your entire head in the mirror, poking out above the top. A pair of women walk in and they giggle, so you quickly sit down. There’s no point in taking it personally – it actually happens quite a bit in older buildings and you can fully admit that the sight is pretty funny – so you compose yourself and do what you came in to do. You slouch when you stand in order to avoid accidentally looking into one of the neighboring stalls and go to the vanity to wash up.
Even the sink mocks you by making you bend almost in half to reach the water.
A woman with dark hair and bright red lips exits the far-right stall and joins you at the mirror. “Oh wow, your shoes and dress are so pretty!”
“Thank you.”
“Did you come from the wedding at the ballroom?”
“Mmm hmm.” You glance at her shorts and flowery sleeveless top and swallow your sigh – you feel like a fucking behemoth next to her. “I think maybe I should have stopped by my motel room to change.”
“No, you look really nice!” She smiles up at you, “It’s really not unusual to have people dressed up in here on the weekends, you’re just earlier than we usually see it. I’ll give you a tip, though, in case your feet start to hurt. I know the place looks kinda crusty, but the owners take a lot of pride in it. The floors are clean if you choose to go barefoot.”
Her unexpected kindness surprises you; you’re usually shunned by other women when you’re at a bar because all they see is your height, which they erroneously perceive to be an advantage in attracting men. “Thank you. That’s really good to know.” She turns to leave but you stop her when you notice something wrong with her shirt. “Hey, hon, you’re missing a button.” The poor girl is busty, and she’s likely been flashing an unintentionally generous amount of cleavage for who knows how long.
She looks down and immediately sees the gap in her shirt. “Well, shit. I just bought this shirt. No wonder some of the guys couldn’t look me in the eye. Stupid boobs, always trying to pop out. Why can’t they just make clothes that fit real people?”
“I feel ya,” you mutter as you start digging through your purse. “Hold on, I’ve got something…here, try some of this.”
“Scotch tape?” She looks confused as she takes it.
“Double sided tape.”
Her eyes get wide as she gazes up at you. “You’re a genius. And an angel. An angelic genius!” She takes some and fixes her shirt, smiling brightly. Thank you so much!!”
Despite your incredibly shittastic day, you find yourself warming to her. She’s nice. “You’re welcome! I didn’t want a bunch of creeps leering at you. In a world of Chads, we women really need to stick together.”
“Oh, God, you met Chad?” She grimaces and shakes her head, “I’d like to apologize on behalf of the entire town. He and his friends are not a good representation of the rest of us, I promise. They don’t even live here, they were just permanently banned from the bar in the next town over and now they’re our problem, apparently. But I promise, the rest of the people here are alright.” She sticks out her hand, “I’m Peggy, by the way.”
You shake her calloused hand and give her your name. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too. If you feel like some company, just come find me. My friends and I will probably be here for a while, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”
“Thank you, I might just do that.” You flash a smile, genuine this time, and go back to your seat at the bar. What the hell, maybe you’ll take her up on her offer after you finish your drink.
A minute passes, maybe two, before someone takes the barstool next to you.
It’s him. The gorgeous brunette.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” You want to roll your eyes at your reply. Smooth. Real smooth.
“My uh, my friends pointed out that I was rude earlier, so I wanted to apologize.”
You turn to him quizzically, giving him your full attention. Is this really the same guy that was playing pool? The sexy one that projected ‘bad ass’? “For what?”
His cheeks grow pink and it throws you off guard. “It’s not nice to stare. My ma taught me better than that – she’d slap me into next week if she saw how I acted. I ain’t usually like that, I’ve just never seen, uh…”
Here it comes. The ‘I’ve never seen such a tall woman’ comment that leaves you feeling like a roadside circus freak show.
“Well, you just got an amazing smile.”
Wait, what? “Huh?”
“I’ve never seen such a pretty smile.” He shrugs and studies the bar top. “Your eyes looked sad, though. I dunno. I guess I was tryin’ to figure you out.” He turns back to you with an almost obnoxiously handsome grin, “My name’s Bucky Barnes. Can I make it up to you? Buy you a drink?”
You narrow your eyes at him, trying to gauge his intent. He seems genuine enough – he’s either a brilliant actor or you seriously misjudged him, which, in your current cynical mindset, is entirely possible.
You look up to see Clint watching as he dries some glasses. Maybe he has some insight. Is this guy decent? He’s gorgeous but does he have a personality?
Clint snorts, glancing at Bucky then back to you. Yeah. He’s a pretty good guy. He’ll treat you right.
Bucky looks like he’s swallowing a smile when you turn back to him. “Yeah, I guess you can make it up to me.”
“Really?” He seems genuinely happy at the prospect.
“Sure.”
“Great!” Apparently that’s all the invitation he needs to turn on the charm. “So what’s a gorgeous girl like you doin’ in a dump like this?
“It’s not that bad,” you laugh.
“No,” he shakes his head sheepishly, “It’s not. Guess I’m really off my game today. I can usually flirt, I promise.”
A beer and another daiquiri appear on the counter. “Thanks, man,” Bucky nods to Clint. “Hey, you wanna grab a table?” He nods his head to the side of the bar by the jukebox. “It’s quieter there. We can chat and I can show you that I ain’t, in fact, the dumbass I’ve made myself out to be.”
“Yeah, okay.” Why not? Even if you don’t know Clint enough to trust him, the kids that you work with do, and you trust their judgement. So if Clint says that Bucky is decent, you’ll believe him.
***
It ends up being a good choice. Bucky turns out to be more than decent – he’s really nice, funny, respectful, keeps his eyes where they belong, and doesn’t ask if you play basketball.
He asks the basic questions and learns that you live about an hour north of here, that you’re an interpreter, you love to read, write, and draw, and yes, you were at a wedding. Tired of talking about yourself, you take advantage of him pausing to drink his beer and flip the topic.
“So what do you do?”
Bucky takes a deep breath and sighs. “I’m a mission systems engineer with NASA.”
You blink at him. “I’m sorry, you’re what?”
“A mission systems engineer with NASA. I know, I –“
“Do you have top secret clearance?”
He looks thoroughly confused. “That’s your first question?”
“Do you? Or would you have to kill me if you told me? Have you been to space? Does the government have a plan for if an asteroid comes our way, or would we have to do like the movie Armageddon and wing it with a bunch of oil rig operators?”
Bucky appears to be absolutely delighted at your string of questions. “Well, yes, no, unfortunately no, and I can’t tell you that because has to do with national security.”
“Fascinating.” You sit back, thoroughly intrigued by the man sitting across from you. “What the hell are you doing in a podunk town like this? Shouldn’t you be in Houston? Or D.C.?”
“I live here.” He chuckles at your unimpressed stare. “Yeah, I know it’s a small town – we got a bar, three churches, a motel, a gas station, and a diner that closes by 7 pm every day. Our biggest draw is the ballroom on the lake shore and the hunting grounds in the fall. It ain’t exactly the heart of modern technology. But I grew up here, my family and friends are here, and I stick around to help out on their farm. I fly into Headquarters a few times a year, but otherwise I work remotely.”
“So what do you do?”
“The general gist of it is that I lead a team that designs, develops, and deploys missions.”
“To space?”
“Well, I mean, I work for NASA…”
“What are you working on now?” You can’t help peppering him with questions – this is so fucking cool.
His eyes sparkle. “You got top secret clearance?”
“No.”
“Sorry. Can’t tell you anything,” he shrugs with a smirk.
“I…yeah, I guess I kind of walked right into that. Wow. So you’re really freaking smart.”
“I hope so!”
“Do you like it?”
“Being smart?”
“Your job, dipshit.”
He laughs, freely and openly, and it’s an amazing sound. “I love it.”
You can’t help but stare at him. “Wow. That’s…that’s just really, really fucking incredible.”
Bucky gets quiet. “It is really incredible. Thank you for thinking so.” He looks up, then back down as he starts peeling the label off his empty bottle of beer. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve told about my job that didn’t either tell me I don’t look smart enough to be a mission systems engineer or ask me how much money I make.” He meets your eyes again. “Or both. I get that a lot, too.”
You certainly know how shitty it feels to get those kinds of unsolicited comments based solely on appearance. It’s one thing to have an impression, but to just say those things out loud? “Well, they suck. And they’re truly shallow if they think intelligence has anything to do with how you look. But hey, at least they show their true colors right away so you can save yourself some time.” You lean forward, chin in hand, “Okay, so I know you can’t tell me about your actual projects, but can you tell me about your job? What are your responsibilities? What does a mission systems engineer do?”
Bucky lights up like New York City and spends the next 40 minutes going into detail about what he does, and you hang on every word; it’s impossible not to, really. His enthusiasm for what he does is so evident that even if the topic weren’t interesting, you’d still be entranced. And you thought he was gorgeous before? His animated passion makes him absolutely breathtaking.
You’ve both finished your drinks and, perhaps not so surprisingly, he switches to soda when you do. When unordered appetizers arrive with your new drinks, you both look over to Clint, who just winks and shrugs.
“Well I ain’t gonna complain. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.” Bucky shoves an entire ham and cheese ball into his mouth, but then has to hasashafahasa because it must have just come out of the fryer. “Ish hot! Rearry hot!”
Bursting into laugher, you slide your ice water to him before cautiously taking a bite of your buffalo wing. Considering how much fun you’ve had in the last hour, it isn’t all that surprising that your appetite has returned. “Me neither.”
The hours fly by as the conversation eventually turns to other topics, and you find yourself talking about things you wouldn’t expect considering you’ve just met. Bucky seems so open and honest that it’s difficult not to reciprocate, and if one doesn’t go into detail about what the other asks, it’s only because there’s so much to cover.
Bucky dips the last bit of pretzel into the beer cheese sauce and pops it into his mouth. “So if you don’t mind me asking, what made those pretty eyes of yours so sad?”
You take a long sip of your Coke Zero as you debate your next move. Deflect or come clean? You surprise yourself when you blurt out, “My aunt, Lydia.”
“Your aunt?”
You squirm a bit at the uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability, but you keep going. “Yeah. It was her daughter that got married today. Marie and I grew up together – Lydia is my mom’s only sister, so she was the one that took care of me when my mom had to work double shifts, which was a lot. She did the best she could, and she means well, she really does, but she’s just so caught up with appearances. My height is a, uh, a definite sore spot with her.”
“Really? Why? What does it matter?”
“I think it comes down to the appearance thing. Tall women are generally seen as less feminine, even straight up masculine. Lydia is tall, too – not quite as tall as me, but close. She claims that she got her husband through making herself appear daintier. She only wears flats and follows all the newest fad diets to make herself as small as she can because she feels that being a tall woman puts her at a distinct disadvantage.” You shrug, “She was one of the primary examples I grew up with. And to be fair, it’s not like she’s completely wrong. In my experience, guys tend to feel emasculated by me. And it’s not just men that seem to see me through a distorted lens. Even from a young age – I’m talking 4th grade – I’d hear teachers tell my mom that I seemed so much more mature than my peers, that I didn’t need as much support, emotional or academic, as everyone else. I got additional responsibilities and higher expectations. The thing is, I wasn’t more mature. I was just tall, so I looked more mature. Eventually it kind of came true, though. Other than my mom, who was single and working 2 jobs to keep me housed and fed, I didn’t really have anyone that would protect me or support me. I guess no one thought I needed it, so I just got used to doing it myself.”
Bucky shakes his head, and you can’t tell if his expression is one of pity, sadness, anger, or something else.
“But Lydia made everything a hundred times worse than it needed to be. I already knew I was outside the norm, I didn’t need the reminders. But every time I’d hit a growth spurt she would share some nasty comment on it, as if telling me that boys didn’t like tall girls would somehow stop my bones from stretching.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Mmm hmm. Despite my mom’s efforts – and the fact that being tall is actually pretty awesome – Lydia’s words really got under my skin, and even now they undermine my confidence sometimes.” You gesture to yourself and the bar, “Obviously. I should be at my cousin’s wedding right now. I don’t go to many family functions anymore, because of her. It just…it puts my head in a bad place. You know, they say it takes five to seven positive comments to balance out one negative comment? The negative is in everything she says. Everything. I love my family to pieces, but I just can’t handle her.”
“What did she say to you today?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Bucky is getting pissed.
“She met me at the door of the chapel with a pair of her ugly black penny loafers. Said that she told the photographer that I wasn’t allowed in any family pictures unless I was wearing them, because she didn’t want my Amazonian ass towering over everyone else and ruining the aesthetic.”
“Your…your ‘Amazonian ass’?”
“Eh,” you shrug and wave your hand dismissively. “It’s not the first time I’ve been called an Amazon and far from the worst thing people have said. I mean, people say it to be cruel, but Amazons were fearless warriors. I just think of it as being put in the same class as Wonder Woman. The part that hurt was that she was prepared to make sure I wasn’t in the pictures, that she thought she could just erase my existence, simply because I’m too tall for her liking.”
Bucky’s mouth drops open. “I might be overstepping here, but what a heartless bitch. No one should ever try to erase you, what a fucking idiot.”
“She browbeat Marie into dyeing her hair blonde for the wedding. Marie hates it, but did it for her mom’s approval.” You release a deep sigh, “But that’s Lydia, and that’s why I took my Amazonian ass out of there the second the ceremony was over.”
“Hmmmm.” He gazes at you. “You know she’s a princess, right?
“Huh?”
“Wonder Woman. She’s a princess. You know…Amazon Princess…it actually kinda suits you.”
“Seriously?”
“Damn right I’m serious. You’re tall? So what. You’re fuckin’ royalty. Own it, Princess. Correct ‘em. Make ‘em say it. Amazon Princess.”
“What?”
“Yep. Say it with me. Amazon Princess.”
You can’t help rolling your eyes, but there’s something undeniably sweet about the way he’s pressing the issue. It’s not good enough for him that it doesn’t bother you – he wants it to be seen as a term of empowerment and to let people know that’s how you see it.
The moment is interrupted when a booming voice comes through the sound system. “Alright everybody, it’s ten o’clock!” Someone stands on the stage, holding a mike and looking more than a little tipsy. “You know what that means!”
The bar cheers, “Free jukebox!”
A line forms immediately, and the music starts.
“Wanna dance, Princess?”
“Really? You’re going to call me ‘Princess’ now?”
He shrugs with darkening eyes and a suggestive smirk. “If it’s okay with you.”
If he keeps looking at you the way he’s looking at you right now, he can call you whatever he damn well pleases. But he doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah,” you murmur. His gaze is so intense that you have to look around the bar to break it and gather your thoughts. You happen to see Peggy; she’s standing next to the blonde that had been playing pool with Bucky, so she must know him. She catches your eye, sees who you’re with, and gives a thumbs up with a huge grin. Well, alright then. You grin back and remember what she said. “Let’s dance.”
Bucky stands, stopping when he sees you toeing off your heels. “Woah, what’re you doing?”
“Taking off my shoes?”
He shakes his head, “Princess, you don’t need to do that. I ain’t too fragile to dance with a woman taller than me.”
“I know,” and you do, “But I can’t dance in these. And my feet hurt.”
When you stand, you’re almost eye to eye with Bucky; if he were barefoot as well, you would be.
People are still lined up at the jukebox, selecting their favorites. It’s exactly the mix you would expect from a place like this – classic songs like Brown Eyed Girl, Summer of ’69, and Footloose with more modern tunes sprinkled in – the kind of music that gets everyone up and dancing.
Bucky is a great dance partner, and you’re having an absolute blast. You don’t think about your aunt, the wedding that you’re supposed to be at, or how you are, without a doubt, the tallest woman in the bar. He laughs, showing off the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, obviously enjoying himself, too.
The jukebox switches songs again, and on comes the relentless, even rhythm of Black Velvet. For the first few measures, you just stare at each other. It’s the first song to play that isn’t upbeat, and you don’t know what to do until he makes the first move and pulls you close – close enough to breathe each other in. He stares as Alannah Myles’ smokey voice drifts over the steady bass, then spins you so your back is to him.
If Bucky’s a good dance partner for upbeat music, he’s even better when it’s slow like this, when every move counts. He’s enough to handle you, and more than confident enough to do so.
Bucky stays behind you, mirroring you with his hands resting gently at your waist. Your back is against his chest, but his hips keep their distance. Just to experiment, you press yours back and hear a guttural “fuck” before he intentionally shifts.
Bucky is absolutely nothing that you expected. “You’re a gentleman.”
You can feel the dark chuckle rumbles through him. “I wouldn’t say that, Princess.” He spins you around, pulling you close but not too close, and runs his thumb along your neck. “I just ain’t in the habit of taking what ain’t mine.”
His voice sends a shiver down your spine. Fuck. You like him. One night stands aren’t usually your thing…but that’s not what this feels like. He feels familiar. Safe. You like him, and he sure seems to like you. Your mind is already made up – you’ll take the chance and see what happens. You hardly recognize your own voice when you ask, “Do you want me to be?”
“Thought I was makin’ it obvious. Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate and his eyes don’t leave yours. “Are you offering?”
You move your hand to the back of his neck and lightly scratch, watching with satisfaction as his pupils dilate even more than they were. His lips part when you pull him closer, but he waits for you to close the kiss.
The second you do, his hands slide down to your lower hips before he tightens his grip. He’s not timid; he kisses you as though you’re a well-known lover, deeply and intensely, without bothering with introductions.
Bucky suddenly breaks the kiss, spinning you around again to pull your back against his chest. This time, though, he allows his hips to rock into yours with the rhythm of the music, slow and steady and insatiable. The way he moves makes it impossible not to think about fucking him; hell, you’re practically halfway there already. His hands alternate holding you tightly to his body, maximizing contact, and running up and down your sides. Your head falls back when his mouth finds your neck, and your legs go weak when his teeth nibble that spot beneath your ear.
You’ve never been so turned on in your life.
His voice is thick when his lips find your ear, “Wanna get out of here?”
You nod, taking his hand to lead him back to the table to collect your things. “I’ve got a room at the motel a block away.”
“Good.”
When you take one last look around, you see Clint, still behind the bar, grinning at you like an absolute idiot. Have fun!
“Oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, but you can’t completely hide the smile.
You step outside to find that the unbearable heat of the day has eased somewhat now that the sun has set. It’s still warm as the humid air kisses your skin, but with the breeze it’s sultry rather than oppressive.
You and Bucky look up at the same time – the stars are barely visible through the haze of clouds. There’s a thunderstorm rolling in on the western horizon.
Bucky walks you to your car, making sure you’re in safely before getting in his own truck and following you to the motel. He jumps out of his vehicle and pushes you against the car the second you’re out of it, kissing you like it’s been days and not 2 minutes since his lips were last on yours.
He doesn’t stop until the first few raindrops hit your skin. Bucky looks up while you grab your purse and your aunt’s shoes out of the car, gathering them clumsily before locking the door. It takes a minute for you to get your room key out of your purse, but you finally manage.
“Looks like the storm is already here. Gonna be a good one if it got here that fast.” He takes your hand, “Which room are you in?”
“Up the steps, furthest door on the left.”
Bucky leads you to the stairs as you both laugh while trying unsuccessfully to dodge the increasingly fat drops of rain. He doesn’t let go of your hand until you need to unlock the door, and the second you hear the click of the lock, his lips are on yours again. He pushes the door open and guides you through, closing the door behind him with a well-placed kick. You drop your purse and the loafers, then step out of your heels as he toes his shoes off. Still connected at the lips, he doesn’t see the things on the floor and trips over one of your stilettos.
“Oh shit!” His eyes are huge, staring up into yours when he realizes he isn’t going to hit the floor because you’ve caught him by the arm. “Good catch, Princess.” Both of you start laughing as he stands up straight, but the laughter dies out when his mouth find yours again. Hungry hands roam your body while you reach beneath his shirt so your fingers can explore the taut muscles you just know are hiding beneath it. Bucky grabs the collar behind his neck and pulls the shirt off altogether, and you are not disappointed. “You like what you see, huh?”
“Damn right I do.” You’re breathless, pressing your lips against the salty skin of his collarbone.
“You sure know how to use that mouth of yours, don’t ya?” He groans, then reaches down to grab the hem of your dress to lift it over your head before tossing it to the side. “Goddamn, darlin.” Bucky eyeballs you like a starving man at a feast before his mouth is back on yours, then moves his lips to the top of your breasts while he reaches around to unclasp your bra. It joins your discarded dress as he pulls you close, groaning at the feel of your naked breasts pressed against his chest. “I don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve you walkin’ into that bar tonight,” he bites your neck and you can’t stop the light whimper, “but I ain’t gonna complain. I’m gonna make you feel so good, Princess, I promise.”
You believe him. And you cannot wait.
The two of you somehow manage to take a couple of steps toward the bed. “I’ve wanted to do this since you smiled at me after givin’ me that chalk. Those eyes, that smile, that dress, those fuckin’ sexy shoes.” His hands find your hips, hooking your panties with his thumbs to push them down so you can step out of them. “When we started dancin’ all I could think about was what it would feel like havin’ your legs wrapped around me, I want you so damn bad.”
You unbutton his jeans and fumble with the zipper, then pull his jeans and boxer briefs down at the same time, freeing a fully hard cock that is nothing short of glorious. “Then either figure out how to multitask or stop talking and fuck me already.”
Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.
He kicks off his remaining garments before pushing you against the nearest vertical surface – which happens to be the middle of the window, where there’s a strip of metal supporting the two panes of glass. You aren’t sitting on the ledge, just leaning against it to keep your balance. It occurs to you that maybe you should close the curtains, but you’re too far gone to care enough to do anything about it.
“Don’t you worry, Princess. I can do both.” His arm is looped around your waist to hold you steady while your upper back presses against the cold strip of metal. You’ve got one arm hooked around his neck and the other steadying yourself on the edge of the windowsill. Bucky reaches down, takes hold of your thigh and lifts it to his hip. He lets go of your waist just long enough to guide his cock to your entrance – and he can slide right in because you’re so damn wet – and fuck, the way he stretches you is delicious.
“Christ, you’re so damn fuckable,” he moans in your ear, sending shivers throughout your entire body. “So fucking perfect…don’t need a bed or a chair, I can fuck you anywhere I want. I could just bend you over, wouldn’t even need a wall.” Between his thrusts, which are as maddeningly steady and slow as his dancing, the cool metal of the windowpane at your upper back, the flickers of lightening, and the crashes of thunder, it’s almost sensory overload. He’s holding you so tightly that you can’t move your hips much, so you’re completely at his mercy. And he knows it.
Each move he makes is a sin; the angle you’re at all but guarantees he’s stroking your clit with every move. Delirious with the sensations flooding your brain, you can only babble nonsense.
“What’s that, Princess? Use your words, darlin,” Bucky
“So…so good…I, huh…”
He chuckles darkly, “What was that?”
He’s not playing fair but you really don’t mind – his confidence with you is a rarity and is such a fucking turn on. “More.”
“More? You want me to fuck you harder? Is that right?” He waits for your nod before flashing a wicked grin lit by lightning, then adjusts his grip on your thigh. “Anything you want, Princess, you get.”
His thrusts come harder and faster, multiplying your pleasure tenfold. Then he shifts his hand on your thigh, changing the support from holding it up to pushing it back, opening you further and allowing him to go even deeper.
Oh, oh fuck…
Your entire body clenches with your orgasm, so tightly you can’t even breathe, and your mouth opens in a silent scream.
Bucky follows you just seconds later with a growl of your name against your neck and a few last ragged movements.
He releases your thigh as he gently pulls out, but he doesn’t take his arm from around your waist. You lift yourself onto the windowsill, pulling him between your legs as you hold each other close and catch your breath while the storm rages outside. He keeps his face buried in your neck as you run your fingers up and down his back, calming you both. The thunder rumbles violently while lightning dances in the sky, but it doesn’t worry you. You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of a storm.
Eventually your legs start to fall asleep, so you begin to move. Bucky notices and hikes both of your thighs up to his hips before guiding your arms up around his neck. “Hold on, Princess.” He reaches down and lifts you, carrying you the 5 feet to the bed. After laying you down, he begins kissing you again, then starts exploring your body. “I love being cradled in your thighs like this, but there’s something else I wanna try,” he whispers as he starts crawling down. “Now I can take my time with you.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he’s going. “Really? Um, maybe I should shower first?” You’re sweaty from the heat of the day and just had some really incredible sex, so there’s no doubt in your mind that things are less than fresh down there.
“If you want to.” He keeps on his slow descent, kissing everything in his path, “But I’m happy with you just like this. I want you, right now, as you are.”
“But don’t you –“
“No. I don’t.” There’s a challenge in his eyes when he looks up from his destination. “I don’t care.” And then Bucky dives in, devouring your pussy like he’d devoured your mouth. He’s got you writhing in moments, all worries gone. But he’s a goddamn tease now that the initial urgency has been satisfied, bringing you to the edge and then backing off again and again in a beautiful torture.
You can’t do dirty talk to save your life, but you’re about to start begging when he finally looks up, chin glistening before he wipes it away with the back of his hand. “Fucking delicious.” Between the sight of him, his voice, and the sensations you’re feeling, your brain just about short circuits. Then his fingers start to circle your entrance, teasing you, making you want more before he slowly pushes two in and curls them to press against that spot, and fuck it can’t feel any better, but then somehow it does. You pull a pillow over your face but he shifts, reaching up to yank it back off and throw it across the room. “No way, Princess, I wanna hear what I do to you,” he rasps, watching you with hungry eyes and a feral grin. You’re almost there…almost…and then he puts his mouth back on your clit and your universe implodes.
One orgasm blends into another and you allow him to push your limits until you can’t handle it anymore. “Stop,” you gasp, and he does immediately. “I’m – it’s too much. I…wow.” You’re so oversensitive at this point that if he breathes too hard, you might jump out of your skin.
Bucky crawls his way back up to you, dropping kisses on your hot skin as he goes. “You’re incredible, you know that? I love how your body responds to me, I fucking love it.”
He kisses you again, and despite your sensitivity, your hunger for him grows. Sitting up, you pull him with you then push him down to the mattress. “Fuck yes,” he whispers hoarsely when you straddle him and slide down, pausing to glide your pussy along his hardened cock, but then you slide down a little farther before spreading his legs so you can kneel between them.
It’s impossible not to groan aloud when your hands find his thighs; thick, tight, and incredibly well formed, they look like they were sculpted by a generous god. “I might have to ride one of these later.”
“Please –“ Bucky swallows hard and licks his lips as he watches you in the dim, sporadically flickering light, “Please do.”
One hand moves to palm his balls while you part your lips to take him in as far as you can, reveling in his heaviness on your tongue while using your hand to stroke the base of his cock. You give it a bit, waiting until he’s writhing beneath you before you pull off and redirect your attention. His eyes grow wide when your fingers start moving down beneath his balls to his taint, pressing gently to find the very root of his cock which will then lead you to the spot you’re looking for. Pressing firmly when you find it, you begin rubbing tight circles.
“What are you – oh. Oh. Oh, fuck, Princess, oh fuck!”
It’s ridiculously satisfying to see him reduced to the same whimpering, quivering puddle you were not so long ago. You make him come once, twice, three times without ejaculating, just because you can.
Bucky’s got his forearm resting over his eyes as he shakes his head, and you take advantage of his distraction to shift your body into position. “Holy shit.” He’s breathless, shaking, “I did not know I had a spot that could do that. Fuck. I – oh Christ…“
You slide onto his cock, smiling when his hands automatically reach to grip your hips – the biology and technique can be explained later. Leaning over, you kiss him deeply then stretch your arms above him to grip the headboard. Rocking your hips slowly, so slowly, you watch him watch you.
Bucky’s lips form words but nothing comes out except for sighs and soft moans as you become more and more intoxicated by his need for you. His hands wander up and down, touching your breasts, hips, ass, and everything in between until he pulls you down for another kiss. “Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are? You feel so good. So fucking good. Wanna make you feel good. As good as you make me feel.” Bucky kisses you again, sloppily, then wraps an arm tightly around you before flipping you both.
Now that you’re on the bottom and he’s back in control, he picks up the pace considerably.
You certainly aren’t about to complain.
His hands are grasping yours, holding them over your head, and your legs are locked around his hips as his thrusts eventually begin to lose their impeccable rhythm.
Now neither of you are in control.
The pleasure has been steadily building, an inevitable tidal wave on the horizon. Maybe it’s his confidence, maybe he’s naturally gifted, maybe it’s that his body seems to fit with yours just right. Whatever it is, this is by far the best sex you’ve ever had, and despite already having multiple orgasms, your appetite for him seems to be insatiable because you’re greedy for the next one.
“Fuck, Princess, it feels so good having those legs wrapped around me,” he pants, “Goddamn, I can – I can feel you’re right there. I ain’t gonna last much longer, come for me, darlin, give it to me now. Oh Christ yes, that’s right, just – just like that.”
Your body obeys, giving him exactly what he wants. The velvet sound of his voice, his incessant dirty talk, the way he smells and tastes – everything about him adds to your pleasure induced stupor. The orgasm is so powerful that everything but Bucky goes black, and the only thing keeping you tethered to this world is the way he chants your name as he comes.
His body continues to cover yours as you wait for your racing pulse to slow. He presses kisses to your neck, cheeks, lips, and eyelids, and finally your forehead before he gently lifts himself off to lay next to you. “C’mere,” he pulls you to him, and when you rest your head on his chest you can hear how fast his heart is still beating.
Thoroughly sated and soothed by the feel of his fingertips on your skin, it’s tempting to give in and fall asleep. But not yet. Not if you want to sleep through the night.
Reluctantly, you rise. Maybe, if you’re really fast, maybe he’ll still be here when you get back. It’s probably not the sane thing to do, but you really, really want him to stay the night.
“Where you going?” Is that trepidation you hear in his voice?
You smile as you take in the sight of him lying in the bed, disheveled and clearly satisfied. “I need to shower. And wash my face – I need to get my makeup off. My eyes are getting itchy.”
“Can I join you?” He laughs at your raised eyebrow, “No, Princess, not like that. I’m gonna need some time to recover.”
“That’s good to know,” you smirk, “I was starting to wonder if you were a god wearing a mortal’s skin.”
Bucky blushes. It’s adorable. “Nah, no god here. Just a man that’s never wanted a woman so bad before. Still do,” he shrugs, “Just too worn out at the moment to do anything about it. You’re somethin’ special, I hope you know that.”
It’s your turn to feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but you hold out your hand to help him up.
The shower is tender and sweet, full of soft kisses and softer touches. This man just keeps surprising you.
He’s toweling off his hair when his eyes meet yours in the vanity mirror. “Is it okay if I stay?”
A slow smile spreads across your face – you couldn’t stop it if you tried. “I’d like that.” You slip into fresh panties and a tank top, turning to face him fully to admit, “I’d like that a lot.” Bucky beams at you before pressing a soft kiss to your lips and heads to the bed. You finish up a few minutes later and crawl in, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. There’s nothing to hide behind – no makeup, no cocktail dress, no drink. It’s just you, and this is a state that very few people see you in; no one you’ve ever dated has seen you this vulnerable until months have gone by. Some didn’t see you this way at all. “Don’t look too close. I’m very unglamorous and monochrome without makeup.”
Bucky’s blue eyes stare in yours. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.” His fingers trace your freshly moisturized skin. “I think you’re beautiful.”
Outside, the thunderstorm has exhausted itself. He pulls you close and breathes you in, and you both fall asleep to the sound of gentle rain.
***
When the sun peeks through the gap in the curtains at 6 am, you’re not even mad that you’re awake. The sight of Bucky lying peacefully next to you is something you’re thoroughly enjoying.
“You’re staring.” His voice, deep and gravelly, rumbles lightly into the silence as he opens his eyes. “It’s because I’m decent and gorgeous with a personality, right?”
“What?”
Bucky smirks as he stretches and sits up. “I should probably come clean. The bartender from last night? My parents took him and his sister in after their parents were killed in an accident. Clint and Carrie were lucky to survive – he lost his hearing and six months of memories and she was in the ICU for 3 weeks. He and I have practically been brothers since grade school.”
It takes a minute, but you finally put the pieces together. Oh. Well, shit.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop; I was just really surprised to see you sign so I didn’t look away fast enough. I’m sorry.”
You sit up and slap him lightly on the shoulder. “So, you knew what I asked him?
His smile broadens as he gives you puppy dog eyes. Yes. Please don’t be mad.
You try not to smile back as you think about it but lose the battle and shrug. “I’m not mad. Maybe a little embarrassed, but we’ve known each other for what, 12 hours? It’s not like you can tell me everything about you in that short amount of time.” You give him some serious side eye, “Although you could have mentioned that when I told you what I do for a living.”
He studies your eyes like he’s trying to see into your soul. “I told you a lot, though.”
“You did. We both did.” It surprises you, more than a little, that you aren’t horrified at how open and honest you’ve been with him.
Bucky reaches his hand up to cup your cheek and he pulls you in for a kiss. “Good morning, beautiful.” It seems like he doesn’t want to part, because he rests his forehead against yours.
Somehow your hand finds his neck, and you gently rub your thumb along his jawline. “Good morning, Bucky.”
His stomach grumbles. Loudly. “Wanna grab some breakfast, Princess?”
It makes you a stupid amount of happy that he’s not ready to leave you just yet. “Yeah. I just need a little bit to get ready.”
A half hour later, Bucky opens the passenger side door of his pickup. “Your chariot, Princess.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, taking his offered hand and climbing in. It’s an older truck, one with a bench seat, and it smells of hay, Bucky’s cologne, and sweat. It’s not what you’d expected, but it suits him.
In this tiny little town nothing is open at this hour on a Sunday morning, so Bucky pulls his pickup onto the interstate to head to a fast food restaurant a few miles away. You take the time to look around – the area is really pretty and reminds you of the drive to your grandparents’ house, all farmland and pastures. Of course, you can’t help but stare at the horses whenever you pass them. “Whoa. They must breed Appaloosas.”
Bucky takes a quick glance out your window. “Yeah, that’s the Carter farm. They raise Appaloosas and alpacas.” He’s quiet for a moment. “You like horses? Not everyone can randomly pick out that breed.”
“I love horses,” you murmur, smiling broadly when you spot a few foals among the herd. You’re too busy looking at them to notice how he looks at you.
***
Breakfast is simple, just something picked up at a drive thru window, but that’s perfectly fine with you. Bucky doesn’t pull back onto the interstate though, he instead starts driving the winding country roads. You don’t mind in the least; you simply sip your coffee, content to be exactly where you are. Considering the hour, you aren’t even grumpy. Stealing glance at the reason why, you hide your smile and take another sip.
Bucky’s fingers drum almost nervously against the wheel, then he seems to make a decision as he brakes sharply. “Sorry, Princess,” he smiles sheepishly, “You up for a picnic? I know a spot.”
His smile is infectious. “Yeah.”
He takes the left he stopped so quickly for, and then another left onto a dirt road, and a mile later he turns onto what looks like a seldom used service trail leading up to a fenced in pasture. “Just a sec,” he pulls the truck to a stop, then gets out to open a gate. Bucky quickly climbs back in, drives the truck through about 20 feet before turning in a tight circle to face the road, and closes the gate behind him before stepping up to your door. “I got some blankets, do you want to sit in the truck bed with me?”
“Of course.”
He gets the blankets and spreads them out while you grab the food and coffees, handing them to him before you climb in after him.
“I would’ve helped you in, Princess.”
“Bucky. I’m not five feet tall. I can get into the back of a truck.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m fully aware of that. But unlike the other shmucks you seem to have come across in your life, I ain’t gonna make you do something by yourself just because you can. You deserve consideration and chivalry, too.”
What do you even say to that? He’s the exact opposite of pretty much everything you’ve ever known. It’s nice.
He sits down against a box that is attached to the back of the cab. “C’mere. You look cold.”
It was hot when you’d packed your overnight bag so you’ve only got a tee shirt and shorts on, and luckily a hoodie that just happened to be in the backseat of your car. “I am, a little,” you admit as you curl into his side, allowing him to cover your legs with another blanket that he’s pulled out.
He eats one handed, keeping an arm around you to keep you close and warm.
Everything smells clean and fresh now that the storm went through, and the morning air is chilly but fresh with the light breeze. The radio plays softly, drifting through the open windows as you and Bucky eat and watch the fluffy white clouds drift by. It’s the best picnic you’ve ever had, hands down.
“So where are we? It’s beautiful here.”
“My parents’ farm.”
You turn to stare at him. “This is where you grew up?”
“Yep.”
“Lucky.”
“I am. Hey, I wanna introduce you to someone.” He stands suddenly, not waiting for a reply. You’re in the middle of a pasture, who the hell is there for you to meet? Bucky brings his fingers to his lips and lets out the sort of piercing whistle that you’ve never managed to master.
And then…and then…
“Are you fucking serious.” Eyes wide, you bring yourself to a kneeling position as a steel grey Percheron comes galloping full speed towards the truck. “Bucky!”
He turns toward you, face almost split in two by his grin. The horse slows down, circling the truck and whickering before coming to a full stop right at the tailgate.
“I’d like you to meet Sergeant.”
“Oh my God, Bucky, he’s stunning,” you breathe, unable to help yourself as you slowly move forward to sit at the edge of the open tailgate. Intelligent eyes take you in before a velvet muzzle finds your hand. “Sorry buddy, I don’t have any treats for you. But I do have ear scratches,” you murmur, firmly stroking the planes of his face before scratching behind his ears. You giggle when he sighs, and again when he mouths gently at your hair.
Bucky beams with pride as he pulls an apple out of the box you’d been leaning against, feeding it to Sergeant before sitting on the tailgate next to you. “I’ve had him for 20 years. I got him when he was just a colt. Trained him myself. He’s one of the reasons why I choose to work remotely – I just can’t imagine not getting to see him.”
“I don’t blame you at all, I don’t think I could’ve left this sweetheart either.” Sergeant blows gently in your face, then nuzzles you hard enough to push you backwards. “Oh my goodness, you are just a big baby, aren’t you, Sarge? Oh, you like that? That spot right there?” You laugh lightly as the giant horse stretches his neck toward you, seeming to thoroughly enjoy how you scratch just beneath where his mane grows.
“He likes you.” Sergeant looks over when Bucky speaks, but then turns back to you.
“Well, I like him.” Feeling eyes on you, you turn to Bucky. “What, are you jealous?” you tease.
“Yes.” Bucky cradles your face in both his hands and begins kissing you. Before you know it, you’re lying in the truck bed with him, making out like a couple of teenagers out past curfew. Time slows even as it moves, and you’d swear the minutes stretched into a blissful forever as you lay in his embrace. But the real world likes to force its way in, and the distant sound of a car’s horn brings you both back to your senses.
Sergeant is about 50 feet away, grazing peacefully as Bucky pulls out his phone to check the time. “We, uh, we should get going. I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands to myself, and my folks will be drivin’ by on their way to church in about 15 minutes.”
“Don’t feel like scarring them forever with the view of your naked ass?” You sit up and start pulling up the blankets to fold them.
“Honestly?” He shakes his head, “They’d probably cheer and then invite you over for dinner.”
Pausing your movements, you let that one sink in. “…Oh. Well that would be just as awkward as the alternative.”
He shrugs. “They’ve been dropping some not so subtle hints that they think I should settle down. They’d be thrilled just to know I spent the night with you.”
You tilt your head a bit as you watch him. “Don’t you date?”
“Nah, not really.”
“Really? Why not?”
He shrugs again as you hand him the blankets, then he turns his back to you as he puts them in the box. “I dunno. I guess I just hadn’t found anyone I wanted to actually spend time with.”
“Huh.”
“What?” There’s a challenge in his eyes when he turns back around. “That so weird?”
“No, I get it. You definitely shouldn’t settle. I guess…” he’s staring at you now, waiting for you to finish, “I guess I’m just a little surprised that someone hasn’t snatched you up yet. Where I come from, you’re quite a catch.”
“You think so? How’s that?”
Is he baiting you? Teasing you? Genuinely curious? It’s impossible to tell. “I know so. You’re smart, kind, funny, and a stupid amount of gorgeous,” you pause to level a look at him, “but I suppose you already knew I thought the last part.”
Bucky barks out a laugh but at least has the good grace to look sheepish.
“You have an absolutely beautiful horse, which wins points with pretty much every person I know. Your parents took in a couple of kids when they needed a family, and you learned a new language so you could keep communicating with your friend. You have every opportunity to move to another city, but you stay here to be close to those you care about. And,” it’s dumb, really, how you’re suddenly too shy to meet his eyes, “You’re really good in bed. Like, really really good. You’re the whole damn package.” When you finally look up, he’s staring at you again. “There’s a perfectly real possibility that you’re a total asshole and that you’ve been acting this whole time – I’ve only known you for a day – but I haven’t seen any cracks. I get the definite impression that I met the real Bucky, and he is one hell of a catch.”
“Huh.” He hops down and turns, holding out his hand to help you down. Do you need to take it? No, but you love that he offers anyway. He doesn’t let go after he helps you out, instead choosing to hold your hand as he walks you to the passenger side. Bucky only lets go because he has to, and once the gate is secured behind the truck, he takes your hand and holds it for the entire drive back to the motel.
***
Ever the gentleman, Bucky walks you back to your motel door.
“Do you have to go?” The words are out before you can think too long on them.
He’s shaking his head before your entire sentence is out, “No. Not if you don’t want me to.”
You don’t even care if you sound needy or clingy. “Please stay.”
Just like you learned last night, Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.
At least the drapes are closed this time.
***
A sharp rap at the door and an equally sharp call of your name interrupts your post-lovemaking bliss. It’s your aunt.
“I don’t wanna,” you whine.
Bucky bristles, sensing your distress. “That her?”
You nod before pulling a pillow over your head. “I’m just going to pretend I’m still asleep. Maybe she’ll go away.”
“Don’t worry Princess, I got you.”
You feel the bed shift and move the pillow. “Bucky!”
He turns back to you, eyebrows raised, as another insistent knock echoes through the room.
“You’re naked!” It comes out as a stage whisper, making you both snicker.
He flashes a shit eating grin. “So?”
Is he really gonna…
With a dramatic huff, he stops to find his boxer briefs and quickly tugs them on. Kind of. They’re sitting awfully low.
First there’s the sound of the door swinging open, then Bucky’s voice, bored and borderline intimidating. “Yeah?”
The following silence is deafening and you almost wish the room was set up so you could see your aunt’s face, but all you can see is the back half of Bucky’s sensational body leaning in the doorframe.
“Uh, hi? I’m looking for my niece? I thought this was her room?”
“You mean the tall, gorgeous drink of water? About my height? Killer smile? Was wearing, uh, let’s see, what was she wearing? It’s been awhile and she ain’t wearin’ much of anything now.”
The blood rushes to your face, but you can’t even imagine how embarrassed Lydia is right now. The thought is nothing short of glorious.
“Uh,” he snaps his fingers a few times, feigning concentration, “Oh! A black dress with the sexiest heels imaginable? Sound about right?”
“Well, yes, but –“
“Yeah, she’s here.” His tone is still bored, but you think you can pick up on an edge of amusement. Your aunt must be squirming by now, and it’s all you can do to not start cackling.
“I thought…well…the gift opening is in an hour. I thought she was going to meet us for breakfast before –“
“She won’t be goin’ to the gift opening. Or breakfast, but don’t you worry, ma’am. I made sure she ate something.”
The not so subtle innuendo almost makes you choke on your own spit.
“You can’t – are you holding my niece hostage or something?”
He laughs darkly but yells out, “Princess, am I holding you hostage?”
Your own laugher, unable to be contained any longer, bursts out. “Nope!” you call out, absolutely feeling as gleeful as you sound.
Lydia is practically apoplectic by now. “But what about the gift opening?”
“She doesn’t. Want. To go,” he growls, stooping down. “And here, she doesn’t want your fucking ugly shoes, either. Stop projecting your insecurities onto her – she’s perfect the way she is.” Bucky closes the door – perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary – and you hear the sound of the lock sliding into place before he saunters back to the bed.
“Thank you for doing that, Buck. I – holy shit, I cannot believe you answered the door like that.” Your eyes are glued to how low his boxers are sitting – he’s showing more than just his happy trail.
“What? Everything’s technically covered.”
“Bucky.”
“Yes, Princess?”
“I – I’m not even sure how you managed it, but you basically turned your boxers into the dick version of a pasty.”
He grins, “Like I said. Everything’s technically covered.” Bucky moves closer, crawling into the bed until he hovers above you. “But not for long,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your neck. “Now, the way I figure it, we got another two hours till checkout.”
“Mmmmm…” you’d rather not think of the time. It’s necessary if you don’t want someone from housekeeping to accidentally walk in, but you don’t want this to end.
He kisses you deeply before pulling back, looking just a little hesitant. “And then, if you want, we could continue this back at my place? If you’re not in a hurry to get home?”
He’s kept his lips to himself for a few seconds, so your head manages to clear enough to process what he just said. “What? Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, I get it if you have to get back. But,” he shrugs awkwardly, his current vulnerability at stark odds with his usual confidence, “I like you. I’d like to spend the day with you if you’re free.” He kisses your neck again and nibbles your ear. “We can do more of this. I like this, too. A lot.” He pulls back to look you in the eye. “But we could also do some talkin’. Maybe you’d let me take you out to a nice dinner before you head home?”
A smile, broad and genuine, stretches across your face. “I’d like that. I’d really like that.” Even if you never see Bucky again after today, you’re hungry for whatever time you can get with him. He’s addictive and you’ve never in your life felt more satisfied and safe than you do right now.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His borderline cocky confidence returns as his hands resume roaming the landscape of your body. “Good,” he mouths against your throat, and resumes his worship of you. “It’s gonna be a good day, Princess. A good fuckin’ day.”
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#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x tall!reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#my work#black velvet#5.6.20
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Just wondering, what's OPM characters' favorite season or the kind of weather they enjoy the most? And why?
Thanks for your ask, anon! It’s been a hot minute since I did one of these. :] ❤️
Tornado of Terror: Stormy days or nights of any kind because she’s a bit of a workaholic and the rampant downpour gives her a good reason to stay inside and relax for once. She’s mildly scared of thunder so she likes to drown out the noise by blasting romcoms on her TV.
Silverfang: Hot, humid days because it eases his arthritis pain and the humidity makes for good character-building when training his disciples! Ain’t nothing like running laps on a hot day after rainfall; it’s guaranteed to make anyone wish they were dead.
Atomic Samurai: Windy days because, and he would never admit this, but the wind makes his hair look marvelous. He’ll only ever wear his hair down in public when there’s a breeze outside. Nobody has noticed he does this, everyone just thinks he picks random days to do it.
Child Emperor: Literally wtf is the outside world. I hc that he has some sort of white noise machine to emulate rainfall and other sounds of nature, because he’s always cooped up in the lab and if he didn’t hear a frog croak or a breeze rustle through the trees every once and a while, he would go absolutely insane. His favorite setting is a hot summer day by the beach, where he listens to the waves lap against the shore.
Metal Knight: same as Child Emperor except he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about going insane or not, so minus the sound machine. His favorite weather is probably violent storms because it’s the perfect brooding atmosphere and it makes him feel like a tacky-ass supervillain.
King: He’s not really an outdoorsy person so he doesn’t care too much about the weather, but he does like it overcast. Mainly because he doesn’t have to put so much effort into blocking out the sunlight so he can play videogames without that annoying glare on his TV screen.
Zombieman: I’ve said this in a previous hc, but his pale/blue-ish skin indicates that his blood flow is absolute ass, which means he’s got to get cold easily. He’s got to be cold all the time. Which I why I propose that his favorite weather is when it’s unbearably hot for the average person (around room temperature for him). He doesn’t even sweat under the heat, only when he exercises. So, while everyone seeks solace in indoor air conditioning and ice packets in 100-degree weather, he’ll be outside in a sweater saying “Hm, it’s a little chilly. Good for a jog.”
Drive Knight: Cold. Unbearably cold. The reason being that he has a lot of firepower, right? And I doubt he’s got a ton of wiggle room for any cooling mechanisms (it’s not like Drive Knight [Señor Robocop] is out here carrying a giant canister of water), so he mostly relies on the temperature of the air around him to cool down. When it’s super cold, he doesn’t have to worry about overheating. It’s not like he can really feel the temperature anyway, it’s strictly for practical purposes.
Pig God: Cold. Super duper cold the way Drive Knight likes it because my boy Pig God is perpetually on the brink of heat stroke 24/7. The reason: he is morbidly obese. Fat acts as insulation to keep heat inside our bodies, and he’s got so much of it that his body is always working overtime to make sure he doesn’t fucking die. So, on cold days, he likes to rest and give his body a break. Below zero like room temperature for him, because room temperature for the average person makes him feel as if he’s standing on the sun.
Superalloy Darkshine: Bright and sunny, baby! Perfect weather, not a single cloud in the sky and not a one raindrop. He’s super outdoorsy. He practically lives outside. His favorite activity is, of course, exercising, and he much prefers when the weather is nice so he can better focus on getting those gains.
Watchdog Man: He prefers the weather to be nice and warm with absolutely 0 wind and 0 rain. His suit soaks up liquid like a goddamned sponge and gets a hell of a lot heavier, so he absolutely HATES the rain for that reason. Wind messes up his “fur” and he ends up looking like a cumulonimbus cloud after a long day of patrol, so that’s out of the question as well.
Flashy Flash: Hail. His training regime is brutal and he prefers to do it whenever it hails, because he believes being battered by falling ice makes him grow stronger. A large portion of the scars on his body were caused by the golf ball-sized pebbles of hail that fell on one particular storm.
Genos: Bitter cold, same as Drive Knight and with a similar reason as well. I imagine Kuseno had mercy when programming how Genos’ cybernetic body would react to things like temperature and pain, so he doesn’t really mind the weather no matter it’s highs or lows. He likes the cold because, like I said previously with Señor Robocop, it aides his weaponry when cooling down and he doesn’t need to waste time worrying if he’s gonna overheat or not because he has faith that air around him will take care of it.
Metal Bat: Snow days! He and Zenko used to love to play together in the snow as kids and they still fucking do it every year because time is an illusion and fun is eternal. His favorite thing to do is build very gruesome and horrific snowmen. Like, snowmen without heads, snowmen that look like they’ve been run over, snowmen that have purposefully been built to look like they’re melting and they’re in pain. That sort of stuff. He and Zenko also have snowball fights (because of COURSE) and Badd has to try his best to not hurl the ball too hard and accidentally give her a concussion.
Tanktop Master: Same as Superalloy. He prefers the weather to be picturesque perfect. I hardcore hc that they’re workout buds and that they often go on outdoor rendezvous together, whatever that may be. His favorite thing to do (besides hanging out with the homies, obviously) is to go on long hikes. He’s actually a pretty big nature lover and WILL shed manly tears if he ever sees a deer. God forbid a baby one.
Puri-Puri Prisoner: Well, he doesn’t get as much outdoor time as he would like on account of being in literal prison and whatnot but he REALLY loves a very specific time of year just at the beginning of summer when all the bugs come out and the air is breezy but still warm. His loves to look at those bigass yellow butterflies and have picnics on the green tallgrass just before it’s been dried out by the summer heat. Oh yeah, and he’ll totally be doing this with his boyfriend. That’s the dream, baby.
Amai Mask: Clear nights just after rainfall. He loves the way streetlights reflect on the wet asphalt. This is also the weather he prefers to hold concerts in because the air is humid and cool and he doesn’t get as sweaty when he’s dancing or singing. The petrichor is nice too. If someone managed to bottle and sell it as perfume, he would be the first buyer.
Iaian: Overcast. When the sun is blocked out, he doesn’t have to worry too much about getting a heat stroke while wearing his armor during training. He also appreciates how dim it is. It’s easy for him to get lost in thought and he often finds himself standing still just to look up to at the clouds. He and Kama sometimes find shapes in them for fun between training sessions.
Okamaitachi: They really love quiet rainstorms. No thunder, no lightning, just the steady pattern of rainfall. This is the perfect time for them to relax, curl up with a good book, maybe knit a sweater, and just forget about everything that’s going on. They usually use this time to update their self care regime, like doing their hair or tidying up their nails. Overall, just a great time to chill out and keep up to date with loving themselves.
Bushidrill: He loves violent rainstorms. I hc that he’s had a pretty tumultuous life, so the havoc of loud thunder doesn’t faze him at all. He actually finds it quite nice. He’s the type of old guy that keeps a door open during rainfall just to let the smell in, or walk outside with no umbrella just for the fuck of it. He’s not terribly old, but he’s old enough to not give a rat’s ass about what other people (especially Kama or Iaian) think about his weird habits. He also likes all the nature that comes out after rainfall, too. Frogs and dragonflies are some of his favorite animals.
Fubuki: Barking hot. Unbearable. Like her sister, she’s a bit of a workaholic and finds it difficult to take a day off every once and while; but once that temperature hits the nineties? Oh shit. Fubuki Gang, pack your shit because it’s beach time baby. She absolutely LOVES the beach and actively anticipates the time of year when it becomes hot enough to bask in the sun. Going to the beach with her family was one of the few enjoyable things that came from her childhood, and she still finds comfort in it.
Saitama: He doesn’t really give too much of a shit about the weather as long as no roads are closed. The reason for this is: if there’s a sale, he wants to get there ASAFP. But, like I said, he really doesn’t give a shit either way because he can be both an outdoorsy and indoors kind of person without making any major changes to his life.
Mumen Rider: Sunny and clear! He loves to have picnics and watch the fluffy clouds! It’s also the perfect weather to go on long, recreational bike rides, which he almost never gets to do anymore. He’s also a bit of a nature lover and, like Tanktop Master, WILL cry if he sees a cute animal. Rainy and overcast days make him a little sad because he doesn’t like the gloomy feel, even if it is calming at times.
Sonic: Hail. Same as Flashy Flash, since they basically grew up on the same bullshit training regime together. The Ninja Village and everything connected to it is overall a total shitstorm, but he can’t argue with the results that made him a killer speed demon. So yeah, the breakneck training persists. And he does it while enduring the incessant pummeling of some fucking ice cubes falling from the sky. Like a weirdo.
Garou: Anything extreme. From blizzards to sandstorms, he’ll take it all, baby. Bang used to train him when the weather was especially bad to strengthen his spirit, and now that same violent weather has become sort of a comfort place. He things violent thunderstorms are calming and blizzards are like a warm blanket that take him back to the few rays of sunshine that came from his absolute clusterfuck of a childhood. He also likes to train during this sort of weather for the same reason Sonic and Flashy Flash like to train during hail: he believes it makes him stronger.
#one punch man#opm#asks#headcanon#opm headcanons#tatsumaki#silverfang#atomic samurai#iaian#okamaitachi#bushidrill#child emperor#drive knight#metal knight#zombieman#pig god#superalloy darkshine#tanktop master#watchdog man#flashy flash#genos#metal bat#garou#saitama#puri puri prisoner#amai mask#fubuki#mumen rider#king#speed of sound sonic
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tagged by @seren-dippy-tea~~ :D :D
♡ what do you prefer to be called name wise? these days i go a lot more by hua online!! if you scroll far back enough into my blog to find more of these tag games you’ll probably find my real name
♡ when is your birthday? april 26
♡ where do you live? california
♡ three things you are doing right now? impulse making a picarto.tv account so that i can stream myself writing fanfiction, petting my stuffed animals bc they’re soft, and restraining myself from obsessively checking ao3 for comments and kudos
♡ four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now? i’ve been in bnha hell for 2.5 years now and that hasn’t changed. every day i wonder how much longer i will be in bnha hell. other than anime i never talk about on this blog, i’ve been sloooowly getting through taz!! i finished balance back in march or april, and i’ve decided to skip over amnesty rn and jump into graduation bc that’s what’s fresh on my dash. i like the firbolg best but i’m on episode five rn so maybe that will change. i’m being drawn back into winx club lately, but mostly to just watch the show and complain about its bad writing. hhhh can’t think of a fourth one
♡ hows the pandemic treating you? i stay indoors all day, writing fanfiction and playing minecraft with my friends on the server i host that gets really laggy if more than four people join at once. we have a hidden gay bar dedicated to lil nas x hidden behind my giant map of the world and a server-mandatory texture pack that changes all the armor into maid outfits it’s great.
♡ a song you can’t stop listening to right now? been hit by another one of those two birds by regina spektor moods, but in like, a good way
♡ recommend a movie? my mind went from spiderverse (last movie i saw in theaters) to the matrix (last movie i saw) fight club (another classic r rated movie) to to all the boys i loved before (???) and i’m gonna just leave it off at that station. treat yourself to a good romcom.
♡ how old are you? 19
♡ school, university, occupation, other? chem major just finished first year going into teaching and will probably be chucked into a classroom for my fourth year and the prospect of its soonness floors me every time
♡ do you prefer hot or cold? when you live in a valley you enjoy the dry heat. SPECIFICALLY the DRY heat because my college is by the beach where it’s HUMID and i’m constantly just @ the locals because it’s 76F outside why am i sweating?? i shouldn’t be sweating until it hits at least 90F!!! fuck you!!!!!
♡ name one fact others may not know about you? on this blog i don’t think most of you know i almost had a fake boyfriend december 2018 as an elaborate revenge scheme/apology plan on my ex-middle-school-crush-turned-chem-rival. i always have to say almost because he backed out at the last minute and i let him.
♡ are you shy? yes. if i send you an ask off anon it means i already know you love me and feel secure talking to you.
♡ do you have any preferred pronouns? she/her mostly? saying that doesn’t feel 100% right if i think about it too hard, so sometimes i’ll use they/them too. if i don’t think about it then she/her works
♡ any pet peeves? hhhhh when kids spend more than one sentence explaining their answer. please i’m begging you do not derive the density formula for me please--
♡ whats your favorite “dere” type? i’m a certified and licensed tsundere
♡ rate your life 1-10. adhd gives me zero sense of scale so i can’t feasibly answer this
♡ what’s your main blog? this one
♡ list your side blogs and what they are used for. i have. an anime sideblog. where i’ll occasionally tell them about this blog but if my Cool Mutuals (which is all of them) find out how much of my brain is dedicated to wanting to see two specific fictional characters kiss via scrolling through that blog i will die.
♡ is there anything you think people need to know about you before being friends with you? i'm not gonna message you first unless you’ve messaged ME first at LEAST five times but if i follow you or i see you in my notifs ily
tagging @stardust-make-a-wish and @500tabsopenatonce-500tabso-pen!!
#was just gonna tag star but then i remembered nah being mutuals is fun and it's time to include mutuals i don't talk to#it has also been a while since i've done this#it's been a while since i've seen smth like this on my dash#probs bc everyone's moved to twitter as i adamantly refuse to even touch that site#tag games
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5 DRESSES TO ROCK THIS SUMMER
Ladies! The summer is here! You know what that means, it’s the NO PANTS SEASON!!! Now don’t get me wrong, there are some excellent summer pant options, but that’s a topic for another day. Most of us can agree that dresses are much more convenient than pants or trousers. For instance, you don’t have to go through your entire wardrobe, trying to find a matching bottom for your top. Oh, and the relief it provides of not having to put on a gazillion pants before finding a one that actually fits your waist and thighs and is of the perfect length! Moreover, it is also very comfortable, airy, easy to wash, has a lot of options, and is not motion restrictive. Honestly, I can go on forever! But for now, let’s jump on to our list of 5 casual summer dresses you can wear this season.
Button Front Dress
Literally, everyone has been sporting this dress in the last few years, and they have paved their way to the bestselling sections of some of the leading apparel brands. It has become one of the most trending summer dresses, and rightfully so! The buttons in the front almost give it a vintage touch (remember those beautiful skirts of the ’40s and ’50s?), and it comes in chic patterns. Not only does it provide the best of both worlds, but the dress is also incredibly breezy. Plus, you can always undo the bottom few buttons to create a faux front-slit effect.
Check out this Striped Black and White Button Front Dress by Topshop. This sleeveless midi-length number is made of 100% viscose, which breathes well in the hot and humid conditions, making it an excellent choice for this summer. The neutral colours and basic patterns make it a perfect choice for someone with a minimalist aesthetic. The vertical stripes elongate your body, and you can accessorise according to the event. Pair it with sneakers or sandals and a tan or brown bag for a casual day out. Try on some wedges and a more structured straw/bamboo bag for a dressy casual look. Dainty jewellery like necklaces or stacked bracelets work nicely with the dress as well. Don’t forget the shades!
Styling Inspiration:
Cut-Out Tie-Front Dress
Another trendy dress that has been gaining a lot of popularity is the cut-out tie-front dress. I’m sure you’ve noticed a lot of fashion bloggers slaying in them. Both cut-out and tie-front trends have been around for many years. The tie-front can be seen on different clothing items from swimwear to tops, while the cut-out dresses are notorious for making its uses look sexy with the strategically placed cut-outs. But the combination of these two has provided us with a more fresh design. The dress dials down on the sultriness as it’s less revealing and makes it more playful, youthful, and flirty. The knot provides a perfect cinch detail giving it a fantastic silhouette that will flatter anyone.
Try this Cut-Out Tie-Front Dress by Blue Steel. While the plum colour does not scream summer, the details of the dress, such as the eyelet embroidery and it being 100% cotton and sleeveless, makes it totally appropriate for the season. You can go for a monochromatic look by accessorising with blush or lavender shoes and bags. Or you can opt for more contrasting colour options such as white or yellow.
Styling Inspiration:
Off-the-Shoulder Dress
Ah! Here comes the all-time favourite summer dress option, the off-the-shoulder dress! Actually, let me correct myself; some people don’t really like it as much due to the ever slipping, non-supportive strapless bras and the restrictions it puts on moving our arms. However, I’ve seen many people flaunt this style over the years, and how could they not? The neckline highlights your collarbones and shows off just enough skin to add a sensual and flirty element.
This 100% cotton Chelsea and Theodore Off-the-Shoulder Dress is an absolute steal for the season. The almost tribal-looking patterns on it combined with the ruffle detail gives the dress a bohemian feel. Although, the colours are a lot cooler as opposed to the traditional warm tones of the bohemian aesthetic. Not only do the ruffles add a chic element, but it could also help conceal if you’re going braless. Now, it goes without saying that the best advantage of this dress style is that the neckline allows you to show off your necklaces, chokers, or earrings. I personally love to throw on a pair of big tassel earrings, or other statement pieces, that bring out the colours in the dress. Of course, you can also choose to wear simple styles of jewellery.
Styling Inspiration:
Floral Dress
Anything floral is my favourite! These prints have been trending for so many years now, and personally, I don’t think they are going any time soon. Afterall, why mess with perfection? While breezy floral dresses are more of a staple springtime outfit, it is also well sought out during the summer. It’s cliché yet classic. Everybody loves flowers; it represents joy, celebration, love, new beginnings, amongst many other positive connotations. These dresses are very versatile in the shape, size, type, and bloom of the flowers (along with the different dress silhouettes, of course).
Marhabha offers a variety of floral dresses. However, I am biased to the Floral Dress by Gap. It made up of 100% viscose material, which keeps it breathable, light, and airy for the summer. The cinch at the waist provides structure to the otherwise flowy dress. You can pair it up with dainty jewellery, wristwatch, sandals, or sneakers with a satchel to throw in your essentials, and you’re ready for your brunch with friends. The floral pattern provides enough texture, so I would say keep it simple on the accessories. But hey, if you can pull off bold, colourful pieces, then why not?
Styling Inspiration:
White Dress
A simple white dress is not a summer statement piece, right? Wrong! I believe it is the LBD of the sunny days, a summer essential. It is appropriate for almost every summer occasion and gives you a crisp and fresh appearance. I know that we must all be a little too cautious while wearing an all-white outfit, but trust me, it’s worth it. A white summer dress is a no-brainer; we know it is the perfect colour for summer as it doesn’t absorb heat (shout out to middle school science!). Also since there is no actual colour, it gives you so much freedom to experiment with fabrics, styles, and accessories.
For instance, this All White Dress by Kaporal has textures, embroidery, and a silhouette that gives it a bohemian vibe. It is perfect for a casual day out to the beach, a picnic, or even brunch. You can accessorise with gold accents for a classic look, or experiment by adding pops of colours. You can also wear it over a white button-down shirt to add more structure and add on a nude or white pump. Or you could make it more casual and lean into the boho aspect and pair it up with a straw hat, jute bag, sandals, or some statement jewellery. The options are endless with this one!
Styling Inspiration:
Information Sources:
https://www.quora.com/How-many-women-prefer-wearing-skirts-or-dresses-instead-of-pants
https://magicpin.in/blog/best-dresses-for-summer/
https://www.vogue.com/vogueworld/article/best-summer-dresses-shopping-under-300-dollars
https://www.glam.com/fashion/shop-button-front-dress-trend
https://sewingiscool.com/is-viscose-breathable-in-hot-weather/
https://runninginheelsblog.com/why-the-cut-out-tie-front-dress-is-so-popular/
https://www.thefashionspot.com/style-trends/796435-tie-front-tops-and-dresses/#/slide/10
https://www.besttrendsforlife.com/blog/off-the-shoulder-vs-cold-shoulder
https://www.thetrendspotter.net/all-white-outfit-ideas/
https://fashionmagazine.com/spring-fashion-2013/floral-print-trend/
Picture Sources: All inspiration pictures are taken from Pinterest.
#onlineshopping#casualdress#summeroutfit#summerdress#casualsummerdress#shoponline#onlineshopingwebsite#marhabha#shopmarhabha#onlineshoppingdubai#dubaifashion#dubaishopping#summerfashion
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Hott Yoga
SPN Fanfic
Characters - Sam, Dean & Castiel, Donna (mentioned)
Summary - Sam drags Dean to a hot yoga class, and Dean ends up liking it a lot more than he thought he would!
Word Count - 1,878
A/N - this fic was inspired by this tweet!! It was too great to not write!! There will be more to come!
Warnings - sexual thoughts, blatant male objectification, it’s just fluffy crack!
There were quite a few things that Sam did that Dean just could not get in to. Listening to music dated post-1978 (with very few exceptions), waking up at ungodly hours of the morning, even trying to eat turkey bacon, insisting that garnish was a food group, running (not even from anything), and yoga.
That being said, there were a few little brother tricks Sam held up his sleeve for when he really, really wanted Dean to do something. Today, what he really, really wanted was for Dean to go to a hot yoga class with him. Dean had adamantly refused until Sam had volunteered to do the dishes and laundry for two weeks. How bad could a little stretching be?
That was how Dean found himself in sweatpants and a wife-beater, sweating his ass off in a 100-degree room, trying to bend in ways his body was not built to bend in. The only thing that was keeping him there was their instructor.
He was a tall, well-built man with relatively short sweat-spiked black hair. He had broad shoulders that led down to slightly slimmer hips. He was not a small man; the fact emphasized by the leggings he was wearing.
Yes, the man that was talking them through the poses was wearing leggings and a tank top that was about five sizes too small for him, but that was somewhat excusable in this heat. The leggings, that Dean was not staring at while the man bent into another pose to grab his ankles, had angel wings on them. Big, giant wings that spread across his tight, round ass, expanded around his thick muscular thighs and trailed down his calves.
Dean was feeling flushed, from the humidity, obviously, and the exertion of trying to contort himself like a human-pretzel. Sam snickering beside him caught him off guard while he was attempting to be a tree; he lost his footing and slipped on his sweat covered mat when he tried to regain his balance. After he shot a deadly glare at his brother, he turned to see a hand in his face, presumably there to help him up.
When he looked past the very strong and capable-looking offering, he found strikingly blue eyes laughing at him. They belonged to the angel-winged-ass yoga instructor. Not that he needed the assistance, he grabbed his hand and hauled himself into a standing position then swiped the sweat from his brow.
“May I?” the man asked.
“Huh?” Dean was not distracted by the sweat pooled above the man’s collarbones, nor the seemingly perfect way his hair happened to swoop.
The man laughed and dipped his chin before looking him in the eye, not something very many people were comfortable doing. “I can help you with this pose, if you’d like. If it’s okay to touch you.” He nodded toward Dean’s entire body with a seductive quirk of his eyebrow.
Dean couldn’t think of anything he’d like more than to have this man’s hands on him, so he just nodded and put his arms up over his head. The man walked around behind him and put one hand on his lower back, then grabbed his shoulders and maneuvered him into a more upright position. After he was satisfied with that, he wrapped a hand around his left hip then put his other hand on Dean’s right thigh, gently guiding his leg to turn out while holding his hips still.
With his mind in a fog, Dean stood there with his right foot on his left calf and his arms raised above his head, thanking whoever would listen to his pleas that no one was paying him enough attention to see the massive hard-on he was sporting for their yoga instructor. The man kept ahold of his thighs and put his mouth tight against Dean's ear and told him to take in deep breaths and to look skyward. He was able to inhale twice, but when he went to look up, he began to lose his balance again.
He only wobbled a little bit before he abandoned the pose altogether and stomped his foot down. Sammy would just have to find another yoga buddy because Dean was not cut out for this hippy, wanna-be workout shit. He got all the workout he needed hoisting transmissions into vehicles at work. He had planned to apologize to the super-hot hot yoga man and duck out early, but the second he turned around, the man’s smile short-circuited what was left of Dean’s brain.
“It's not as easy as it looks; is it? With some practice, you’ll get it.” The man’s smile was so genuine Dean really had no choice but to agree with what he hoped was a self-assured grin. The man smiled a little wider then announced to the class, “Let’s finish this up in lotus pose.”
It was then that Dean realized that one of the man’s hands was still on his hip. He applied a little pressure, so Dean got the hint to sit down along with the rest of the class; everyone else seemed to know what a lotus was. After a quick glance around, carefully avoiding the angel wing-framed bulge in front of his face, he sat cross-legged and put his hands on his knees.
Sammy snorted beside him, and when Dean turned to shoot him a look he felt hands on his, flipping his palms to face up.
“Palms up and put your fingers together,” the blue-eyed angel man corrected him. “And, if you can, tuck your feet in above your legs, like Donna, over there.” He motioned to a cute blonde woman who kept her eyes closed, but smiled a dimpled grin at the mention of her name.
Dean tried his best to get his feet up, but only managed to angle them so that his toes were favoring upward. After an approving nod, the man went back to the head of the class and assumed the same position with ease, then motioned for Dean to take a deep breath and close his eyes.
Considering that he was sweating his literal balls off, and was sporting an almost painful boner at being manhandled by this gorgeous legging-clad dude, Dean was the most relaxed he’d been in a long time. Within moments his body was no longer sore, he was hardly registering the sweat dripping from his face, and he felt… peaceful.
Far too soon, the man announced the end of the class with the sound of a small gong, and everyone fell into hushed chatter. Plans for lunch, after showering, or meeting up at some other time or for some other class were being made. Sam offered Dean his hand to stand, which he begrudgingly accepted, trying not to moan as he extracted himself from the floor.
“See,” Sammy smiled down at him, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Dean chanced a glance over his shoulder to where the yoga-man was talking with the cute girl, Donna. “Yeah, I can see why you come here.”
Sam laughed and made a face that Dean knew only preceded an observation he knew he wasn’t going to like. “I thought you might find something here worth coming back for.” Dean just nodded and grabbed a towel to wipe his face off. Sam leaned in and whispered, “He’s single, I checked.”
Dean balked for a moment before Sam leveled his stupid, little brother, you-can’t-lie-to-me face, then he huffed. “Whatever, Jolly Green Giant, get out of here, you’re cramping my style.”
He shot his brother a smirk and a wink, then made his way over to intrude on what he was sure was a conversation about the newest juice cleanse. Smiling at both of them he waited patiently for an opening in the conversation to interject an apology.
“Sorry to interrupt; I just wanted to say thanks… for, um, helping me out earlier. Yoga isn’t really my thing.” Dean laughed, and the woman excused herself to the showers.
With a pointed look at the other man, she left.
“That’s what I’m here for…?”
“Dean. And you are?”
“Castiel,” he responded, offering his hand once again.
Dean shook his hand like his father had taught him, thumbs shoved together, fingers gripped tight, but not squeezed. Castiel was only caught off guard for a moment before returning his firm handshake; commendable. They stood there for a moment, definitely not holding hands and staring into each other’s souls.
“I’m going to need that back, at some point.” Cas, which was what Dean had resolved to call him, joked.
“Oh, yeah.” Dean laughed and took his hand out of Cas’s grasp.
If Cas could stop smiling at him like he was, Dean could probably have said something really cool, maybe asked him out for drinks sometime. As it was, all Dean could think about was not looking down at the bulge in those God-forsaken, not-so-angelic, leggings.
“So, will I be seeing you next week?” Cas laughed at what must have been the face Dean was trying not to make, then added, “for another class, I mean.”
Dean ran a hand along the back of his neck and answered honestly. “I’m still not sure yoga is the thing for me, especially if it involves this much sweating!”
“That’s just for the hot yoga class… if you’d prefer, I do have a standard class on Tuesdays and Thursdays; same time.”
How could Dean say no to this man, especially when he’s looking at him like that? “That sounds awesome.”
“Does it?” Cas was asking honestly, who is this man? Dean decided right then and there that he would find out who this attractive, strange man was.
“Well, I mean. Sure.” There was a slight pause where Dean probably should have resolved to stop talking. “Don’t knock it till you try it, right?”
As Dean rolled his eyes and mentally chastised himself, Cas laughed. A full-bodied, eye-crinkling laugh that Dean noticed showed the gums over his top teeth; he was terrifyingly attractive, in a dorky, unconventional sort of way. Dean was so screwed, hopefully literally.
“How would you like to grab a smoothie with me?” He was still laughing, which made Dean feel equally off balance and a little giddy.
He blinked a couple of times to bide his time while he processed what exactly Cas was asking him. “Uh, sure.”
“Great. Meet you out front in fifteen minutes? Gotta wash all this sweat off.” He motioned to his entire body.
As if it were beyond his control, Dean openly checked the man out, marveling once again at his thick thighs, somehow encased in those damn feathered tights. He bit his bottom lip to keep from voicing his inner thoughts and shook his head, laughing at himself.
“Or maybe, I’ll just stay in this.” The heat behind Cas’s eyes left little room for interpretation.
“Or…,” Dean could not believe he was about to say this, “maybe I could help you out of those.”
Dean took a shot and rested a finger on the waistband of the leggings. They were soft and warm and pulled taut over Cas’s hipbones. The too small, to call it what it was, crop-top, perfectly showcased that well-shaped ‘V’ that dipped teasingly into his bottoms.
“I would like that.”
To be continued...
Read part 2, Steam Shower here!
Please reblog if you liked it! Feel free to ASK for anything else you may like to read or if you would like to be added to my tag list!
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Something about my fishes
It'll be about mermaids, whom I have created for D:bh AU. However, as a species, they are completely beyond the scope of this AU.
upd: links! Refsheet with Connor and Nines.
So you can perceive it, like I'm talking about my species of mermaids!
Please forgive me my English, it’s probably incorrect in some places. But I try very hard!
I decided not to complicate and took the canony canon - image of mermaid and next I did upgrade it a little to my liking, because it’s too boring to take just fish tail and human body.
Well, let's walk on the main facts!
Mermaids don't have gender difference outwardly
In fact, they do not even have human markers that distinguish a woman from a man visually and not only. However, I admit presence of women’s tits (for example), because sometimes you want to emphasize femininity, without slipping into femboy and all of that. This is purely “cosmetics”. And not related to what is inside fish.
Some difference may be inside! That's - hermaphrodites
This is convenient, because fish will simply adapt to partner and there will be no unnecessary problems with finding a partner.
I thought about it for a long time and came to conclusion that such a feature is quite logical, cause mermaids have absolute disregard their children and they have absence of maternal instinct. Found something to learn from people, haha! In a sense, they take "quantitative-quality". Thus, they never think about family, they live in group for fun, and mostly prefer to surf their waters alone. They are not monogamous, although I will lie if I say that this is 100% information. Everything has its exceptions. In the end, we have non-animals and non-people in conjunction. This is something average, they brain is quite well divided into instincts and self-awareness in this world. And a characteristic feature that distinguishes them from ordinary fish - their preferences and likings.
About posterity
This is simple! They are like super parents - throwing their child almost immediately. But it's worth making a reservation that, ofc everything depends on a type of mermaid itself and her personal preferences on children’s account. But for the most part on 7 days after birth, mermaid loses interest and stops taking care of lil' fish at all. Mermaids chase children away. Mom (only one parent brings up a kid) hint that they are no longer happy to see child and "that it is time for you, son, to look for your place in life". And those 7 days that lil' fish spends with mama - he actively eats, learns what he can to eat and whats not, hunts and copies behavior of parent; in the same time mama protects child from predators that smell newborn flesh. After month skin and scales become harder and more durable, which coupled with claws and teeth makes young mermaid a perfect and formidable duelist, with shark for example.
But this is a month later. Which he still have to live. How to live first year and first decade. In general, judging from a purely human point of view, fish “grow up” in 8-9 years. And at 17-19 they may well wouldn't afraid anything, including their fellows. This means that in times of Great hunger, they become a cannibals.
Mermaids grows to 30-40 years. Depending on type of fish, they can grow up to 2-2.5 meters. After the end of growth, they can change color skin. Cool!
With regard to development of their social skills and everything else - something is laid before birth, but something is acquired through communication with their own kind. In general, they are not talkers and prefer to remain silent. But ofc we have some nuances.
Mermaids can be divided on coastal and deepwater
This is only conditional.
Coastals - mermaids with more human features in communication, behavior and emotions. It is trite because they spend their time in company of people for quite a long time, or just watching them.
And deepwaters on contrary - wild creature, living by natural canon and extremely rarely swim around people, and if they do this, then most often solely out of curiosity or hunger.
All fishes are different and this is influenced by a set of genes and process of their childhood. So this is quite a flexible loophole for customizing them into what do you want. You can create as something alienated and wild, and on another side - absolutely human and peace-loving. And all of this covers by canon!
Inetersting fact: Connor is coastal, Nines - deepwater. Just because the first one was among the people and stayed there.
Further more specific facts about their appearance, behavior, etc.
Their body covered by delicate skin, in some places with scales. All fins without exception are mobile and have either cosmetic or auxiliary functions. There may be as many of it on body as necessary, or not at all.
Gills are located on neck, smoothing it, like fatty folds or pillows. Actually, they have a certain percent of fat, which makes neck soft and pleasant to touch. Gills are hidden inside. I do not advise you to stick a finger in it, as well as trying to touch gills feathers!
Mermaids are viviparous, like dolphins. Kid after birth is like a little crocodile - he eats what he sees and is ready to stand up for his right to life (although very badly). Plastic body allows you to give birth to lil' fishes of sufficiently large sizes. I think you know how it works.
They live to 80-90 years. For people mermaids are not hostile, if not very hungry. Coastals - like to hang out with them, and deepwaters - just watching and avoid contact. You must learn one important rule! Do not swim with mermaid. On occasion, they can drag you to bottom and throw, purely out of curiosity and just for fun and play (a very interesting game, yes), dragging you down until you runs out of power to swim back every time or until you punch fish, what provokes him to bite. Next on situation: either mermaid will throw bitten or will drag off and eat.
Fish bite is very dangerous. Not even with it strength (although I still would not advise taking risks, you may well lose half of your face) but with saliva, which mermaids use like toxin, relaxing and disorienting bitten one. In fact, you just turning into a "vegetable", you can still thinking, but can not move and resist. In small doses - makes things like that. In large - makes sleepy and dream. Lethal bite would be unlikely, too much of poison is needed to completely shut off. Toxin is useful on hunting for large fish, human and for defense.
Mermaids don't blink like us. They have a third eyelid, I think everyone knows how it works. It protects eye. On land this eyelid serves as a humidifier. In Basically, this can be called a classic blink. Under water they don't blink at all.
Contact with earth gives fishes stand up on feet! Acquiring appearance of a full-fledged person, and not a piece of bream with hands. However, they are still not humans, and this buff only gives them legs. Skin, fins, gills, scales and their natural color - stay here. Only gills can disappear completely under skin, leaving barely visible lines, it's unallowing them to turn into crackers. Organs of reproductive system are hidden in both forms.
They often change shape only when they come contact with land or water - otherwise there have a risk of damaging skin, gills or even suffocating (well, this is hard). However, if fish wants it may well take its canonical shape and lying on couch, yep. But we have some important things here - situation around, humidity and temperature. In more humane form dry air and high temperatures are easier to carry. Cause mermaids still needs moisture and coolness.
They eat all meat and fish. Vegetation less often, but they can. Fishes have super hunt tactic - float and kill. Miracle!
If mermaids suffers from a great hunger, they killing indiscriminately - theirs-others. They acually may even go on land for searching meat. Great hunger - term for a very difficult period of life when mermainds literally have nothing to eat. This happens of course very rarely, but with development of human civilization many species of forage fish have declined or have shifted their habitats, forcing mermaid to either follow people or suffer. Hungry mermaid is an extremely dangerous creature, reminiscent of something like Wendigo. Only one goal stands before his eyes and he will do everything to finally satisfy his hunger, otherwise he will die of exhaustion. Quite often on land, by the way. It can be said - they are throwning to coast in despair and die because of ignorance of banal fact that they dry and roast well on sun. Ignorance of this is more characteristic of deepwaters guys, they generally know a little about strange Outside.
Their body temperature is unstable. It depends on environment. Heat is contraindicated to them, as well as hot water, but frost drives them into hibernation, forcing to find a place to hibernate and digging a hole somewhere like a frog. They can freezing, but survive winter (probability 50/50). Their wintering skills not perfect and why the hell are they to for them? Only if one stupid mermaid decides to spend time on land, celebrating Cristmas. In water they have more or less stable indicators and they rarely expose themselves to changing waters, only again if they do not run for people, which destroy their feeding points.
In fact, their instrument of adaptation to two completely different habitats is unique for this kind of humanoid fish. After all, when they go on coast, not only their form but also some of foundations in their head will change. For example - hibernation. In the sea mermaid does not hold such a thought, moreover, he does not have a fad in his mind "winter has come - it's time to sleep." They are active all year round, while on land - winter, as the season, affects them very much, forcing them to be more passive and sleep a lot of time. If mermaid have a lucky to find a warm home and care, then instead of the frozen ground he will sleep in heated blankets (this is necessary, otherwise he will be cold - fishes are not warm-blooded)! And here is a funny fact that their content at home is equal to the content of a reptile or froggy. Only too clever creature, but still cautious and somehow living in half with their mind, feelings and instincts.
Thus, mermaids are no longer even fish, but some sort of amphibians, hah. On land they breathe fully, with oxygen, while in water they get it through up with gills. Unfortunately, they cannot combine two types of breathing at the same time, but can harmoniously switch from one to other. That allows them not to change shape every time they are pulled out of water.
These are my fish. Simple but with its own features. As always, I do not pretend to be super originality. All my species are created purely for stories and fun, so don't be so angry.
Thank you, buddy, for your time! Peace x
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First off, I just want to say thank you to everyone who is giving this series love and support! It means a lot to me to see people reblogging and tagging it as useful information. That just really makes my day! Now, without further ado:
Part 3 in Surviving University (and other not so fun but important things)
Here I am going to go over how I both prepare for and partake in class lectures. Enjoy!
Part 1
Part 2
RE: College can be a trip sometimes so, seeing as I’m going into my third year, I think I have enough background to put together a list of tricks and habits that have both helped/hurt me in the long run. I struggled really really hard when transitioning from high school to college because I have severe social/general anxiety and am not good at dealing with new situations. My grades reflected that for my first semester, but I learned fast and am now going strong!
note: not all of these may apply to you and your university as every place is different! Despite this, if you are an incoming first year or struggling college student, I hope at least one of these tips help you!
Lectures (in general)
This is mainly for the Freshman audience!
Raising your hand to go to the bathroom is something that doesn't really happen in college.
it might seem polite but you're not a child anymore and you don't have to ask to go relieve yourself. No one can stop you. It is wise, however, to understand your surroundings. If you are in a small classroom setting (like you were probably used to in high school) then waiting for a pause in the lecture before getting up is polite and looked kindly on. If you are in a large lecture hall with hundreds of others, you can get up at any time, walk outside, do whatever the hell you want and come back in and no one gives a rat’s ass how long you were gone.
you also don’t have to bring your stuff with you if you plan on coming back. You can just ask the person next to you if they can watch your stuff (I do this all the time) and you’ll be fine (I mean, as long as you’re not leaving a wad of cash or something on your desk. Someone might take that lol)
No one cares that you’re wearing pajamas. It's your life, do whatever the hell you want. Unless you plan to go talk to your favorite teacher about a possible reference for a job or something important where appearances matter, you can wear anything. Not gonna lie, I've seen my fair share of butt cheeks in too-short shorts and muscle tees that are seriously low cut (not that I mind~), but at the end of the day it's college and you’re an adult. What outward image you want to display is totally up to you and they can't do shit about it (unless you’re literally in your underwear or something totally obscene like that, which is, yes, illegal). But seriously, you can get away with a lot.
As a sub-note, I personally live in Florida where it's hot, like really hot, and the humidity is most often at 100% so these “underdressed” occurrences are not uncommon. If you live under similar conditions where most people strip to fight the heat I'd give one fair warning: the AC is no. joke. You might end up freezing your ass off no matter how hot it is outside because the majority of the day you aren't in the sun—you're in a classroom that's blasting an AC that no one ever touches. I usually opt for a t-shirt under a flannel or some other type of over-shirt that can be taken on and off when needed. Find what works for you.
If you want to skip a class, pick the second meeting (this means if it’s a M/W class, skip Wednesday). Yes, I know. You're condoning skipping class? Yup. I am. But there are rules. First, you need to make sure you are confident in the subject. For me, that means English classes. That's my forte and that's what I'm focused on, so I feel comfortable skipping a class or two when I need to study for one of my more difficult subjects or when I feel I just can't sit in four classes that day. The second rule is to make sure you aren't actually missing anything like a quiz, or project overview that is going to be delivered that day. Lord knows you can't make that shit up (many times even if you have a legit excuse). Anyways, many classes have a set number of absences you can have (mine are usually 4 tops--unexcused and excused). Figure out how this may work for you.
I don't get sick but once every two to three years, so I can divvy out my skips easily, but for some people, they need to take certain things into consideration. I'd advise you leave an absence (or two) for a situation that might not be under your control. If someone in the family dies or you need to go to the hospital for some unspeakable reason, you don't want to have to be worrying about failing a class by being there. Understanding your personal situation is key to making this work without ruining your college career.
Deciding if you can arrive late is very circumstantial depending on your professor, yourself, the weather...it's a bit of a wobbly situation. I personally like to get to class 10 to 15 minutes early as I hate rushing and the thought of standing at the front and trying to find a seat while half a class is already there (despite the fact that they probably don’t even care) literally makes me want to hurl. Often times, the teacher will only arrive just as the class should be starting (or later). Yeah, as you can see lots of factors go towards whether it's a good idea to be late, so just analyze and make a decision (better late than never anyone?)
If it's a small classroom setting, again, it's usually a good idea to apologize quietly and take a seat quickly.
Sit wherever you’re comfortable. I see many people suggesting sitting up front, but everyone works differently. I personally prefer the front as it is easier for me to partake in class discussion (I feel pressured when I can see people turn around to look at me) and I don’t have to strain to see. Some people like the back where they can see the whole room and fidget without feeling like they are distracting other people. Some people don’t care.
No there aren’t assigned seats in college, but after a few days, seats might as well be. People tend to sit where they are at the beginning of the year the same as at the end of the year (give or take a few days where you’re later than usual). This is most probably due to the fact that students rely on people in their proper seats to help them find their seat quicker. Even professors rely upon students sitting in the same seats for attendance purposes. Try not to move the general area of the class you attend, or it may throw everyone off!
Lectures 1.2 (preparation)
This is just how I do it I by no means am telling you it is right or for you. Take the information as you will and enjoy!
The night before, make sure you have the readings read and the classwork done (whatever that may be). I can attest to the power of doing the readings (as one who is in multiple English classes and therefore has A LOT of readings). I had a class last semester that I barely did any of the readings for and, although I got an A, I didn’t enjoy it at all. Not only that, but I can’t believe the number of times that I complained I “didn’t learn anything.” Like, no shit, Michaela. You didn’t try. Getting readings and classwork done, even if it isn’t for a grade, will make your life so much easier and you might even find yourself enjoying the subject as you will get a much better understanding.
If you find something confusing or an obscure thought pops up while doing your readings/work, write it down. It will give you a way into class discussion and will help you tons in understanding the topic. I can’t count the number of times in which I know I had a question but by the time it came to the lecture I’d forgotten it.
Before lectures, I like to do a little researching on the topic outside of the textbooks. There is a lot of interesting information out there that can aid you in discussion when in class. Building a relationship with the professors of your major is key to your educational career as you move forward and the best way to do that is by getting them in their element and finding a common ground (I’m still working on this as I don’t like meeting new people).
Make sure you have everything you need. Whether that be a full case of pens and highlighters and your favorite notebook or simply your laptop and a water bottle, you don’t want to show up without the necessities.
Lectures 1.3 (how I do the thing called class)
To start on the most basic level, I get to my seat and set my desk up. I’m super anal about order and my OCD tends to kick in here so you probably won’t have to the compulsive problem I do to situate things over and over again because they’re a little tilted (like just chill Michaela), but however you do it, get yourself prepared before the professor starts the class. It’ll get quiet really quickly and (for me at least) shuffling around in your bag for your stuff is super uncomfortable and embarrassing.
During the lecture, I write down a lot of things besides the notes from the PowerPoints. For me, the notes I take in lecture are really messy. I not only cover what is in the slides, but also anything my teacher says that isn’t there. Usually, if the teacher decides to go off on a topic, it is important and you should pay extra attention to it (unless it’s obvious that your teacher just goes off the rails all the time). I also tend to add reflective commentary and any questions I may have (and their answers).
On the topic of questions, don’t be afraid to ask them. It is severely important for your questions to get answered. You thought them for a reason. You clearly don’t understand something and need a little more detail to do so. It does you no good to have a question sitting there in your head without an answer. Knowledge is power people. Even if you have to wait till the end of lecture because of shyness, do it. You’ll be thankful later.
If your lecturer has included them in their slides, copy the graphs or models (even if it looks like chicken scratch) those charts are more than likely going to show up again later on during a test or quiz because they are short, simple, and cover a heap of information. Get. It. Down.
I absolutely love when a teacher creates an example for better understanding. They usually come up with something that is simple and easy to understand and that is something that has become EXTREMELY helpful for when I’m trying to understand theory, philosophy, and language (yes, even the English language gets me). Examples given by teachers are also something to keep in your notes as they are usually never generic and can be helpful down the line when you need to write a paper.
After lectures, you should always engage with the material again. I do this by rewriting my notes. It has been scientifically proven that writing helps with long-term memory of ideas and conceptual information. Writing the notes twice helps me even more. By creating a format of my notes (as opposed to the bland first draft) I am able to make a snapshot in my head of those notes and thus remember the information (this is just something that helps me as I have a slightly photographic memory. You by no means need to doll up your notes. It’s a lot of work and not for everyone so don't feel bad about doing something more minimal!)
For vocabulary, I swear by flashcards. I, of course, have the vocab in my notes already, but I use flashcards for memory as they are not only a technical third time of writing the vocab., but they also help in giving a flash in my memory of the characters (Chinese) and their meaning. The repetitive motion of flipping the flash card also helps when I try to think back to the vocabulary I went over. If you are able to remember the routine, you can effectively form an image in your head of the word and remember the information more clearly (ok, I know this might not work for everyone, but that’s how my mind works. I would compare it to a “Mind Palace” where schemes and events are created to aid with memory of a certain topic, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say my memory is that good.)
That last point was sort of a sneak peek into Part 5! I really hope you enjoyed this. It was a little more personal as how I go about my lectures will differ as what will work to you, but I always find it fascinating to see how others work academically. If you have any questions or want to comment on your own experiences, please do so! Part 4 will be up next Sunday and will be covering assignments (homework and papers) and the tips I have for that as well as my own commentary of the “proper” ways to study *please, note the sarcasm and heavy eye roll*
Thanks for reading and enjoy the rest of your day!
#orangeblossomstudies#college#advice#lecture#notes#studying#studyblr#irvistudies#oswiestudies#gloomstudy#taystudies#evergracest#studtaeingkim#stillstudies#diaryofamathstudent#emmastudies#studylustre#studyksj#entraindapprendre#original
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Thank you for accepting the prompts !!
Nony! I haven’t forgotten you! I was hoping to get farther along with the entire story before I posted the first chapter, but I didn’t want you to think that I had abandoned your prompt. So here it is, a Medieval Fake Dating AU, Winteriron Style.
Far From Home (AO3)
Relationship: Tony/Bucky
Summary: Bucky, fleeing from the sinister organization of assassins known as Hydra, agrees to help kidnapped nobleman Tony get back to home. Unfortunately, it turns out that fleeing the Holy Land while hiding from both Hydra and the Ten Rings was the easy part…
Bucky put his head down and concentrated on his breathing and the rocky ground beneath his feet; one wrong step on the uncertain gravel and he’d be lost, recaptured by his pursuers. Because of the twists and turns of the wadi he was in, he couldn’t hear them behind him, but he knew they were close. They were also on horseback, which was his only advantage right now; the uneven ground of the dry river bed would slow them down and, if Bucky were lucky, give him enough time to find a place to hide. This part of the country was a maze of dry creek beds, awaiting the rainy season to fill up and temporarily turn this sunburnt, acrid region into a veritable Eden. It would take Hydra weeks to systematically search them all.
The risk, of course, was that Bucky would himself get lost in the maze and die unpleasantly of thirst and exposure, but he’d far prefer that than getting dragged back to the Old Man of the Mountain in chains for another round of “re-education.“
A shadow in the wall of the wadi caught Bucky’s eye and he changed course to investigate. Hidden from the main course of the canyon was a smaller river bed; following it up, scrambling over boulders and water-polished gravel, he traced his way to the irrigation channels of an abandoned farm, weedy and marked by stunted, twisted olive trees. The collapsing farmhouse was too obvious a hiding spot so he searched instead for the well that was likely somewhere on the property. He found it in a far corner, haphazardly boarded over, and with a prayer he slipped between the boards into the dark shadow of the well. Bracing his back against one wall and his feet on the other, he slowly and carefully made his way down, wondering just a little too late if there was going to be water at the bottom.
But it ended up dry, which was probably why the farm was abandoned. To his surprise, though, when Bucky dropped the last few feet to the bottom of the well he fell backwards when the ground moved under his feet.
“What the hell?” Bucky said, drawing his dagger as the darkness at the bottom of the well moved and became a lump, then a head and a face appeared.
“Who the hell are you?” The face hissed in French. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh, hiding?” Bucky answered in French as well, rusty though it was after years of speaking Arabic. "Who the hell are you?“
“You can’t hide here, I’m hiding here! Get your own spot.”
As Bucky’s eyes grew used to the darkness he realized that the man had been hiding under a dark blanket to conceal his pale skin from anyone looking into the well. “There’s room for us both,” he said. He looked up at the narrow sliver of sky visible from the top of the well. It would take far too long to climb back up, he would lose every minute of the lead he’d gained. “Please.”
“Ok, fine, get under here.” The man gestured and threw the blanket over both of them. It was hot and humid and smelled of sweat and dirt, but Bucky was grateful for it all the same, though it would provide scant protection if anyone decided to fire down into the well.
“Who are you hiding from?” Bucky said, voice so low it was almost inaudible. Every sense was strained for the sound of voices or horses, but so far the only sounds were birds calling to each other far in the distance.
“The Ten Rings,” the man said just as quietly. In the darkness, Bucky made a face. Sometimes rivals and sometimes allies of Hydra, the Ten Rings were a nasty bunch of jackals drawn from the dregs of every invading force that had thought to own the Holy Land. This man must have been very lucky or incredibly skilled to escape. “You?”
“Hydra.” Bucky slid his hand under his clothes and pulled out a flask of precious water. He took just enough of a sip to wet his mouth, dry from running, then he held it out in the direction of the voice. “Water?”
“God yes,” the man said, fumbling in the dark before he found Bucky’s hand. “Thank you.” Bucky winced as he heard the man take a large swallow, but he had no idea how long he’d been hiding here nor how far he had fled before he’d found the farm so he bit his tongue as the man handed the flask back.
They both fell silent for a while, listening to the world go by the dubious safety of their hiding spot, until Bucky could tell that the sun was starting to set. “Were you going to stay here all night, too?” Bucky asked, risking a glance outside the blanket. Sure enough, the sky was starting to darken.
“No.” The man pulled off the blanket and peered upwards. "To be honest, I didn’t really plan this far.“ It was still light enough that Bucky could finally get a good look at the man he’d been hiding with for hours; he definitely had the look of a captive, hollow cheeks and unkempt hair. Despite that, Bucky could tell that under the scraggly beard the man was not an unhandsome one. “I’m trying to make my way to Acre, how about you?”
“Anywhere, as long as it’s away.” Bucky tested the walls of the well, wondering if there was an easier way to climb up than the way he’d climbed down. “How were you going to get out of here?” Bucky asked. Underneath the man’s baggy, ill-fitting clothes Bucky could tell that he was shorter and slimmer than Bucky himself so there was no way he could have climbed down the same way Bucky did.
Sure enough, the man produced a pair of thin metal rods, thicker than a hoof pick but thinner than a chisel. With a little bit of effort, he was able to drive one of them into the dry and cracking plaster between the stones of the well. “It’s going to be hard, but easier than trying to climb up like a spider.”
“If you trust me, I will go first,” Bucky said, holding a hand out for the picks. “I can make the holes, and then you can climb up behind me.”
For a long moment the man was silent, eyeing Bucky warily. From what Bucky could tell, the picks were made of solid pig iron, which while it wasn’t gold or silver, it was still a valuable trading commodity now that every scrap of iron, good or not, was needed for weapons for the Holy War. Eventually, though, the man handed them over. “I’ll wait for you at the top and give them back,” Bucky promised, and he slowly made his way up, using the picks to chisel out hand- and foot-holds all the way up. When he got near the lip of the well he paused, even though his arms and legs were burning, and searched carefully for signs of people. Though the sun was already past the edge of the horizon, Bucky could tell that the farm was still deserted. “All clear,” he called back down, and after a few minutes the man’s head popped out of the top of the well.
“Thank God,” the man said, taking a deep breath and stretching his limbs, turning his face to the sky as if it were something he hadn’t seen in a long while. The North Star was already out, shining serenely in the rosy sky, and the moon was low and fat at the edge of the horizon. “By the way, my name is Antoine,” the man said, holding his hand out.
“Iacobus, but call me Bucky,” he said, shaking it and handing the picks back over. “Thank you,” he added. “For helping me.”
“Yeah, about that,” Antoine said, hugging his arms around himself; as the sun went down, the air had grown noticeably chillier. “If you’re not heading in any particular direction, how do you feel about helping me get to Acre? I mean, two heads are better than one, right? Maybe people will pay less attention to us if we travel together instead of apart.”
“Um…” Bucky tried to think of a polite way to say, “I don’t think you’ll be able to keep up with me,” because even if the man had been in good shape prior to his captivity, months of being held by the Ten Rings had undoubtedly taken a toll on him physically. Meanwhile, Bucky was at the peak of his training, able to jog for miles in the heat of the day without faltering and go days without food or sleep. On the other hand, the man had a point; fighters who traveled by themselves were treated with suspicion and mistrust and frequently driven out of towns at the first sign of trouble.
“I can pay you,” the man added when Bucky’s hesitation grew telling. “I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but if you can get me to the Knights Templar station near Acre, I’ll be able to pay you, I promise.”
At the mention of the Knights Templar, everything started to make more sense. “The Ten Rings were holding you for ransom,” Bucky said with dawning realization. That explained why a man like this, with his good, even teeth and flawless French, was being held by an organization like the Ten Rings.
“Yes. I mean, they were also making me work for them, but I am pretty sure they kidnapped me for ransom.” That explained the callouses on the man’s hands, which were certainly not something a fancy, ransom-worthy French noblemen would have. Bucky wondered what kind of work they’d had him doing.
“Yes, I’ll help you,” Bucky decided. Taking another look at the North Star, he turned and started walking. "Acre is this way,” he said over his shoulder. “But we should reach the closest town by daybreak, even if we have to take a rest.”
Antoine jogged a little to catch up. “You haven’t said how much you want in return for your aide.”
“Depends on who finds us first, Hydra or the Ten Rings,” Bucky said dryly. “I’ll tell you what: if either of us get killed on the way to Acre, I’ll give you a 100 percent discount.”
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Changes: Prologue
In honor of hitting 100 followers, I decided to stop procrastinating on posting this so here it is. My first fanfiction!
Summary: Logan Summers: One friend, a 4.0, and a huge secret. He wouldn't have it any other way. Virgil Mathews: barely surviving high school, let alone possibly being moved away from his one and only friend just so he gets to experience what its like to “Have a family”. Patton Pennington: can’t remember having a friend in real life, hopes that his parents taking in a foster kid can change things for him. Roman Royal: Arguably the most popular boy in school, but when he hears that the high schools are merging next year, will he be able to mend his checkered past?
Pairings: slow-burn analogical, slow-burn royality (because I don't know how to write anything else)
Warnings: Angst, bullying (verbal and physical), mentions of pain, injuries, foster care, crappy writing, please tell me if I’m missing something!
Word count: 2,670
Tags: none yet, but please put in an ask if you want to be on it!
***
Running through the playground towards the woods is not how Patton envisioned the end of his day at his summer program. But now that he thought about it, he really shouldn't have expected anything else. He knew that Roman was going to be there. He also knew that Roman Royal had an agenda against him since the 4th grade, and he also knew that Roman would never let him get away.
“Just stop trying to run, you can’t get away from me!” Romans' voice was louder than before. Patton pushed himself to run faster as he passed between the swingset and into the trees. Sticks and wrappers lied all over the ground along with leaves that hadn't quite faded away from last fall. Patton ducked left and right swerving around the biggest trees to see if he could throw Roman off, occasionally lifting a hand to get his curly red hair out of his eyes. He didn't dare look behind him, nor did he have time to before he got a close up look at the flowers spread on the ground. The body sitting on his back stood up and flipped him over as tears ran down the cheeks that were already stinging from scrapes. The look of anger on the tanned boys face made Patton start to squirm. Roman looked angrier than he ever had before.
“What did I tell you?! You’re so stupid, no wonder your parents hate you. That's why your mom got another boyfriend isn't it?”
“Please stop!” Patton cried, but his bully continued, setting his knees onto Patton's wrists.
“Cause you weren't enough for her, you and her husband were so stupid she needed someone smart huh?” Roman hissed, his raven black hair falling over his eyes in small waves. He leaned in close to Patton's face, his breath hot and humid.
“Th-that's not why! People can like more than one person, and like any gender--” Patton protest was cut off by a fist colliding with his jaw.
“Shut up! No one wants to hear you talk anyway.” Roman growled, the heat and anger in Patton grew.
“Why are you so mean to me? I’ve never done anything wrong to you!” Patton screeched, praying that his papa might get out of work early. And that maybe the sound of him pulling into the parking lot would make Roman leave him alone. Roman’s nose scrunched, causing his freckles to fold together in the wrinkles. Finally, all of Patton's fidgeting paid off and he was able to wrestle his wrists free from Roman. Before the taller boy could pin him again, Patton placed his hands next to his sides and used all of his might to push his body up and throw Roman off of him.
Before the other had time to react he was running again. His eyes scanned the area if he could just make it to the parking lot… Someone had to be there, and Roman would have to leave him alone. Then he can just tell his parents that he fell while playing tag. That should work, it's worked before.
He had almost made it to the edge of the woods when there was a sudden weight on him again, dragging him down face to face with a candy wrapper. At first, his only thought was, ‘huh, a Hershey's bar’, before his mind actually caught up to what that meant.
Of course Roman would've caught up to him. Roman was bigger and stronger than him even though Patton was older.
“Stop running away you coward!” Roman growled flipping Patton over again. Patton barely had time to lift his bruised arms over his face before he was suddenly being pummeled. He could hear Roman yelling something at him, but what he said seemed to be blurred out behind Patton's own thoughts. He never really imagined this ever happening to him. Sometimes it made him wonder if his dad had just read him too many fairy tales growing up.
He kept his eyes shut, too afraid to move. Too afraid to make Roman angrier. Too afraid to make his mom worry. He choked back tears and kept biting his lip. He wondered if the iron he was tasting meant that he broke through the skin on his lip or that there an abrasion from somewhere else on his face. How would he explain this to his parents? He didn't want it to get worse, and telling parents always makes it worse. After a second he realized he no longer felt the pain of Roman’s beating. He wondered if mental pain worked like that too. That maybe after a while of feeling it, you just become numb. A loud honk threw his mind to a halt, along with the boy sitting on his torso. The weight on his stomach was lifted as Roman got up, it was probably his dad's car.
“I hate you.” Patton could hear roman grumble. “Pennington is a stupid last name I hope you know. It's stupid like you.” He spat. Patton left his arms over his face as he heard the sticks crunch under Romans feet. He continued to lay there for a while, even after he heard the tires pull out of the parking lot. He didn't even put his arms down until his heart stopped beating all over his body. It took awhile for him to sit up and look around. The area had settled into a quiet swish of tree branches, with the occasional car horn from the road that wasn’t too far away. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands before taking a deep breath. He had to get cleaned up and think of an excused before Papa came for him. He also had to find out where Roman hid his backpack anyways.
Patton pulled himself up and made his way to the playground on jello-feeling legs. Walking across the wood chips to the concrete stairs that lead up to the side doors of the school he let his hand glide across the rusted railing. The doors were luckily still unlocked, meaning there must've been other summer programs in session. He could hear his sneakers squeak as he traveled down the hall, turning right, dragging his hands against the could green lockers. Sometimes he wondered why they even had lockers since they didn't let anyone use them. Well, there was this one that was always unlocked on the second floor. But that was Patton's secret hiding place. He took a left into a small hallway where the boy's bathroom was. Before he could open the wooden door, he noticed a backpack sitting in the trash. Of course, that's where Roman left it... Patton sighed and took it out before flinging it over his shoulder, letting out a small gasp as it rubbed against his arm. He blinked away the tears that stung at his eyes and pushed the door open, hoping he’d never have to see the face of Roman Royal ever again.
***
To say that Logan didn't enjoy the presence of other people would be an understatement.
Even at age 11 he found others to be irritating and assumed he would prefer to be the only human left in existence if it weren't for the fact that others were a necessity for the creation of books. If he was going to be honest, books were the only reason he tolerated people other than his father. His dad was the one to introduce him to books, knowledge, and facts after all. Being the famous lawyer, Robert Summers, one of the first things he taught Logan was that the truth is more important than anything else. While his father did teach him his favorite life lessons, he was often gone on business for weeks at a time working different cases. And while he was proud of his dad, his absence left Logan alone with his mother. She was the reason Logan ever had to go against his core beliefs about the truth because she always helped him to realize he didn't deserve the truth no matter how hard he tried. When Robert did come back home he would always bring Logan a new book to read. This book Logan would carry around, even after he finished it, until his father returned with a new one.
Logan retracted his hand from the brick wall of the foster center to flip to the next page of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It didn't really matter that he had read this chapter 4 times already, just that he had something to read while he walked to the library. He didn't look up from printed words as he placed his hand back on the wall, feeling the ridges numb his fingers as he dragged them across. He’d memorized his way to the library when he was 7 and walked the path at least 4 times a week. Logan looked up and swerved away from the wall to avoid the white stairs that protruded from the building. After he quickly looked back down and ignored the fact that in doing so he joined a group of children exiting the foster facility. Kids shoved him from all sides causing him to huff and push his glasses up in frustration. Clamping his book shut with one hand Logan looked up to see if he could navigate out of the crowd. He slowly pushed in with the other kids to make it to the outside of the group, and he almost did. Except that he noticed something that caused him to hesitate. A smaller boy who was completely covered in dark clothing, including a black hoodie with the hood drawn up. Logan immediately decided it was more important to let the younger child know of the safety hazards of wearing so many clothes in the hot summer afternoon. Walking a couple blocks in a large group would make it even worse, it was possible the kid could suffer from a heat stroke at this rate. After a second of contemplation, he pushed his way through to the other kid, now noticing the boy wasn't much smaller than himself up close.
“Um, excuse me. You are aware that it is 82 degrees Fahrenheit, are you not?” Logan asks looking down at the top of the boys hood. He looks up and sees a giant marbled white building up ahead, that he instantly recognized as the library. He looked to his right to see the bricked barber shop between the bodies. Then to his left, over the heads of the shorter kids to see the apartment building Logan's favorite librarian lived at. Often he would accompany her on her walk home from the library after staying later than he intended, though he seemed to intend to do it more often now as he enjoyed the conversations they could have about the language use of the author he was currently studying. It took him a couple moments to reel back and realize he still hadn't gotten a response.
“Hello, my name is Logan. Perhaps you didn't hear me, its 82 degrees out right now. With the way you're dressed it is quite likely you will suffer from heat stroke if not properly ventilated.” Logan tried again. This time, he made sure to observe the hooded child. Logan noticed the way he shook inside of the jacket, His breathing also appeared to be shallow. Logan brushed off the fact that he was ignored, again, and chose to lean forward to see the boys face. It was pale, blue eyes wide while his dark russet hair fell over them. It didn't take long for the pieces to fall into place in Logan's brain. The dark clad child was experiencing a panic attack.
Before he could formulate a plan of action to best help the boy he was suddenly pushed by the taller girl to his left. He looked over and noticed the group was moving around to climb up the tall steps to the library. His eyes returned to the shrinking boy he had previously been pushed into, the boy seemed to be trying to force himself further into his hoodie. Logan huffed at this and went back to planning how he could best help the boy. Bringing him to a quiet and unpopulated part of the library was probably his best bet. Along with running through the breathing exercises, Logan had memorized a month ago.
Logan noticed the boys sneakers as they walked up the stairs. They were black, not an uncommon color when someone wanted shoes to last and appear clean with minimal upkeep. But they had few scrapes and did not appear to have any dirt stuck to the sides. At first, Logan assumed they were relatively new. Until he noticed that the leather was dulled. Meaning that this boy didn’t participate in outdoor activities such as sports or other outdoor games Logan never understood the appeal of, causing his sneakers to remain looking new.
Logan was again snapped out of his thoughts by a hand grabbing his sleeve and yanking him back. He looked up immediately to see the white marble of one of the pillars guarding the doors. he turned to his right to thank whoever had stopped him from walking face first into the column to see the hooded boy still holding onto his sleeve. His hood was down now, most likely from leaning forward quickly to stop Logan. Logan opened his mouth to utter an apology but was stopped by the way the other boys blue eyes seemed to reflect the light from the sun.
“Are you ok? You didn’t actually walk into it, did you? I thought I had grabbed you in time but I guess not, sorry.” The boy muttered, again shrinking into his hoodie.
“Nonsense, you stopped me right on time. Thank you for that, and I apologize for making you have to grab me, and for getting distracted by your eyes.” he stated, not seeming to notice the boy begin to blush. “I don’t know if you were able to hear me properly earlier, but my name is Logan. Logan Summers.”
“O-oh, I’m Virgil.” The boy stuttered in reply, it seemed that his adrenalin from having to save Logan was wearing off and turning back into extensive worry. It especially didn't help when he noticed he was still holding Logan's sleeve. Logan didn’t say anything as Virgil let go of his sleeve and dug it back into his own pocket. The taller boy now looked up to observe the area. It appeared that the rest of the group had gone inside, leaving the street quiet and empty. The only other person on the sidewalk was the old Mr. Crocker who owned the grocery across the street, sweeping the sidewalk like store owners often do in movies set in the early 1900’s. He turned back and looked at Virgil, who now had his hood pulled back over his head.
“We should probably head inside. I know a quiet spot in the back of the library I think you will enjoy. Is that alright?” Logan asked, Virgil just looked up and nodded slightly.
“How old are you anyway? You talk like a doctor in the movies.” Virgil giggled, his mouth opened into a small smile and Logan was able to see a chipped front tooth.
“I am 11 years, 4 months, 7 days-” He gets cut off by a laugh.
“Alright, alright. I get it calculator watch.” Virgil laughed, shaking his head. Logan opened his mouth to lecture him on why it was rude to interrupt someone, but noticed that the boy seemed calm now. He definitely didn't feel like scaring this boy back into a panic, especially since something about him made Logan enjoy talking to him. “So, is this area of the library really a quiet place?”
***
A/N: Sorry this is crappy, hopefully, the next chapters will be better. They will be less angsty, I can say that!
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#analogical#royality#sanders sides fanfiction#fanfic#virgil sanders#logan sanders#roman sanders#patton sanders#tw:bullying#tw; injury#tw:pain#tw:fostercare#tw:angst#nesa writes
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It's Hot & I'm Sweaty: My Favorite Functional Fashions For Summer
My latest for HJU:
It's August in the Sunshine State, so welcome to hell, or I mean Florida.
Florida is an interesting place: in the cooler months, equestrians from all over flock here for our sunny, warm winters and beautiful competition venues in Ocala and Wellington. And then they leave, because by May (when the weather is nice in other places), Florida becomes the most miserable place on the planet.
Trying to squeeze in a ride in between thunderstorms (or hurricanes, let's be real) and 90-plus-degree heat and 100 percent humidity is no walk in the park. Let alone just TRY to look "presentable" while doing so. But if you're a full-time, die-hard Florida resident like me, you've got no choice.
Whoever had the common sense to say: "hey, let's add spandex and other breathable, mesh material in riding clothes" has been a godsend in recent years. This new "athleisure" trend (think: yoga pants) has greatly improved my ability to ride in these downright awful conditions.
I've compiled a list of all the things I'm grateful for in summer, which as it turns out, is mainly just functional clothes. But they are oh-so important.
Not all breeches are created equally. OK, so I'm a hunter rider mostly, and have grown up in Tailored Sportsmans. While I do love my TS, they are almost unbearable to ride in during the summer. Sure, they stretch more than they used to thanks to new fabric technology, but they are just too stinkin' hot and not nearly breathable enough. I'm also a fan of my forever durable SmartPak Pipers, but they too get weighed down with sweaty thighs and often cause chaffing. (TMI? Sorry.)
So come peak summer, I upgrade to my SmartPak Hadley breeches, which are wonderfully light and airy. The fabric stretches every which way and stays in place, whether you need a belt or not (no chaffing FTW!). They fit true to size (thank God) and are moisture-wicking. SmartPak is so smart, they even made them stain and water resistant.
My other go-to pair during summer is Eq Athletica Manoonies breeches. The name is just as cute as the actual breeches, which honestly fit more like yoga pants than any pair of breeches or riding tights I've worn before. Unlike other brands, the Manoonies have an interesting "silicone grip" in the place of a traditional knee patch, which makes the pants more comfortable and more free-moving than the standard breech. Plus you can wear theses after a ride in the real world, and they look like fashionable athleisure pants. And they are DURABLE. After riding a few horses one Saturday, I spent the afternoon landscaping my front yard and I never bothered to change. These breeches are heavy duty.
Luv u Sun shirts 4 eva. OK, sun shirts aren't new by any means, but they are a frickin' lifesaver. I tend to prefer Equi In Style sun shirts, which come in a wide variety of colors and with beautiful lace mesh under-arms if you want to be fancy. I prefer EIS because of the grip of the material at my wrists -- they don't slide around and don't require a loop around my thumb. I've completely soaked myself with the hose after a ride before (it felt too good not to do it) and my EIS shirt dried out in just minutes.
Say no to skin cancer. Get the EquiVisor. I'll admit it, at first I thought the EquiVisor trend was stupid. These wide-brimmed additions to helmets make us look like aliens. It took me a few rides to get comfortable with my new field of vision with the visor, but ever since then, I haven't looked back. My goal is to age gracefully, and not look like a shriveled, old-leather raisin in 10 years' time, and the EquiVisor will help me in that endeavor. It shields my entire face from the sun. Definitely still swear sun screen, though.
The girls need support in the heat, too. How many bras have you ruined in record time because you've sweat through them one too many times? *crickets* No one? Well, let me be the first to tell you this can actually happen. Invest in a properly ventilated, but super supportive, sports bra for the summertime. Something that is easy to peel off your stinky, wet body at the end of the day, instead of becoming mangled when trying to remove the damp, gross-smelling contraption. I prefer brands like Nike and Under Armour, but there are some great ones out there just for riders, too.
Non-slip Reins are a MUST. There's nothing worse than not being able to maintain proper feel because your fingers keep slipping on your horse's sweat, which is lathering into your reins. My absolutely favorite pair of reins to school (and to show) in are "In Horse We Trust" reins. You can literally light them on fire and they won't melt. I'm not kidding. (They sent me a lighter to try it myself!) But whether you ride in gloves or not, these reins are the most grippable I've ever personally used. Plus they have easy-to-set stoppers so you can personalize them for each horse you ride.
Add Gatorade, La Croix, 100 spf sunscreen and some heavy-duty DEET bug spray, and you're ready to take on the world (or Florida in summer).
#summer#summer riding#horse junkies united#equestrian#breeches#jodpurs#horse#horses#horse back riding#ottb#tailored sportsmans#equivsor#equestrian fashion#equestrian problems#fashion#summer fashion#summer looks
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