#its 5 o’clock somewhere

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 1 Part 5

Touch-Starved – Crosshair - Fed up with Crosshair's dismissal of her help after a nearly disastrous escape, Doc finally snaps.

Warnings: Maybe light arachnophobia? Cursing, yelling, brief mention of injection

WC: 2,622

If not for the delicate sensors flashing across the overlay of my visor, I would have lost the others miles back, legs burning as I sprinted through the dense underbrush of the ancient forest. Fun. Yeah. I swear, next time a commanding officer called a mission either ‘fun’ or ‘simple’ or ‘easy’ I was going to strap the 70Ib medpack to their shoulders and let them see for themselves how fun it was to go racing through overgrown foliage so thick you could only hope it wasn’t concealing the massive trunk of one of those towering trees while being chased by dozens of ten-legged, very hostile carnivorous insects taller than Wrecker.

‘Scout the area for future outpost locations.’ ‘No known Separatist forces in that area, so should be an easy hike for you guys… have fun.’ That pompous old man better hope I didn’t stumble across him in a deserted hallway…

“Doc, eyes up!” Hunter’s voice barked over the com. I didn’t hesitate, body instantly responding by jerking both pistols toward the dark canopy. Those massive beasts blended in perfectly with the mess of bark and leaves, but my visor emphasized their movement and synced with sensors in the armor stretching down my arms and hands to guide my aim. From this distance, however, the handful of bolts that struck it from my rapid barrage of shots was only just enough to dissuade it from charging, sending the thing retreating to whatever web or hollow hid beyond that impenetrable layer of plant life to lick it’s wounds.  

Hunter and Wrecker were holding back the brunt of the assault behind us while Tech had raced ahead to ready the ship. Echo was somewhere near me, the ceaseless sound of his pistol the only thing granting me any certainty that I hadn’t strayed, and Crosshair laid in perfect stillness somewhere up ahead, blue bolts appearing like magic the instant one of those creatures got too close.

“There appears to be another wave incoming from the north. I suggest you hurry.” I briefly muted my com to release a violent string of curses on painfully quick, panted gasps even as I strained to force myself to move faster, hands training from one creature to the next at the relentless alerts chiming from my targeting system. In barely the span of a single heartbeat, I noted the glint of metal beneath one of those alerts, and my chest seized.

“Crosshair! Five o’clock!” The words tore from me in a panic. He was well beyond the range of my pistols; too far for any of us to do more than watch as he rolled hazardously over the branch he’d perched atop in an instinctual rush to avoid the sudden charge of the spider-like beast. The ancient tree shuddered beneath the assault, the terrible creaking of its moss-covered limb screaming over even the chaos of battle raging all around me.

“Crosshair!” Hunter’s voice boomed over the intercom just as the wood shattered. Even as he began to fall, Crosshair leveled the elegant barrel of his rifle at the creature and, with a single flash of light, sent it tumbling limp to the forest floor below. The instant he pulled the trigger, his hand darted out behind him, and I could only guess toward the desperation with which his fingers clawed into the sleek, moss-covered bark for any whisper of purchase. “There’s a vine twenty feet below you!”

The sniper barely glanced down before angling that lithe body against the massive trunk for whatever traction it might offer, rifle clasped carefully in one hand. The renewed frenzy driving me forward numbed the fire burning through abused muscle, diverting without a second thought from the path to the Marauder to sprint toward Crosshair, eyes locked on his rapid descent. I barely noticed the thin vine until his free hand snatch it midair, lower body arching forward like a pendulum for the half-second it held his weight. His mic just picked up the tiny hitch of his breath, and the rest of the forest went suddenly mute beneath it, beneath the fear in that flutter of air breaking over clenched teeth. Hand still locked around that traitorous vine, he began to fall.

Barely a dozen strides separated me from the base of the tree when his body suddenly snapped to a halt arm jerking above his head. I’d only just made out the loop of green caught around his wrist before his hand slipped free he crashed the final handful of meters to the ground.

Pistols already thrown into my holsters, I snatched the scanner from the side of my pack and slammed to my knees beside him. Before even coming to a full stop, my fingers darted out and slipped under his bucket to find the rapid dance of his pulse hammering just beneath his jaw as my other hand began the scan. Ignoring the listless flail of his arm trying to push me away, I maintained that position for just a few fleeting seconds, monitoring the rhythm while reading over the flashing text scrolling over my screen, trusting the others to cover us.

“‘M fine – get the kriff off me!” He snapped, movements gaining more strength as he finally wrenched my hand away. Beyond a sprained wrist and some bruising that would bring all manner of unsettling colors to his back, his armor seemed to save him from the worst of it. Ignoring the sharp words, I forced my arm beneath his shoulders and, with a surge of power fueled more by adrenaline than strength, hauled him up against me. He staggered beside me for barely a single stride before pushing away and racing forward on his own.

He said nothing as we ran, but I noted with painful clarity the way his right hand tucked slightly against his chest. Even if the damage was relatively minor, the pain was clearly severe enough to still even an attempt to use it. Cringing at the fresh hurt that surely tore through the limb with each stride, I tried to force my attention back to the encroaching wildlife, but the wave of fire from the others was finally beginning to allow us some breathing room.

“I want everyone strapped in now! Tech: we’re thirty seconds out.” Hunter ordered barely seconds before the top fin of the Marauder came into view. Nearly the instant my feet touched that ramp, we began to hover, and I had just enough time to throw myself into a crash seat, followed almost immediately by the others, before we were rocketing through the trees.

The quiet beneath five sets of heavy breathing offered frightfully little comfort, attention already turning to Crosshair. He glared blindly through the flooring beneath his feet, hand carefully limp inches above his thigh, jaw tensing beneath absent attempts to shift his fingers. As soon as the worst of the turbulence eased, I quickly freed myself from the mesh harness and trotted toward him.

“Try not to move it. Let me-” I started, already reaching for the swelling limb, but he quickly pulled away from me.

“I didn’t ask for your help!” He snarled, “You want to get all touchy-feely with the others, fine! But stay the kriff away from me!” For a brief moment, I was too shocked to reply, barely noting the grimace weighing heavily over Wrecker’s face, nor the annoyance in Echo’s glare as the man stalked quickly from the cabin.

“I’ll talk to him.” Hunter offered wearily, but that only fueled my rage.

“Don’t you dare.” The quiet threat in my words instantly drew his attention. Eyes shifting between me and the retreating form of his brother, his brow slowly raised in something between sympathy and skepticism. I merely narrowed my eyes before throwing my pack down and starting quickly after the sharp-tongued sniper. As soon as Crosshair saw me storm into the bunk room after him, that glare hardened into something dangerous, lips twisting into a snarl.

“No! You’re going to shut that karking mouth and listen to me!” I barked in the split second before he could unleash whatever retort boiled over his tongue.

“Or what? You’ll make me?” He challenged, shoulders rolling back as his head tipped forward, looking at me with those sharp eyes.

“Oh, grow up!” I spat, stalking forward until barely an inch lay between us. “You want to act all better-off-alone? Fine! You want to insult me and push me away? Kriffing go for it! But you have exactly three options right now!” Despite the fleeting space, I brought a hand up to count off, “Keep up this damn tough-guy osik, and I put you on med-leave until that wrist heals on its own.” I held up a second finger, “You walk into medbay and take a very painful bacta injection between your scaphoid and trapezium carpal bones.” My voice lowered only slightly into a growl as I raised the third, “Or sit your shebs on that karking cot, and let me do my job.”

He offered no retort to that, fury burning in those brilliant eyes as he stared me down, but I didn’t move, unflinching beneath the intensity of his rage. How long did he stand there, mind working for some alternative; any excuse to ignore me, to prove me wrong, before, finally, his teeth clicked from the way his jaw ground, gaze sliding reluctantly to the wall just behind me. Shoulders painfully taut, he sat heavily on the bed beside us. I’d apologize to Hunter later, but his was the easiest to access at that moment.

I didn’t try to catch his gaze as I kneeled before him, once more reaching for his hand. I just caught the way his lips pulled into a slight grimace at that first contact, muscles tensing beneath the instinctual drive to pull away; to flee, but he forced himself still. Without a word, I pulled the vambrace from his forearm before carefully beginning to ease the glove free. I could feel the slight twitch steal through his arm, but, again, he fought it.

Already, the joint looked painfully inflamed. I didn’t bother requesting he focus on his breathing or offer quiet conversation to distract him as my thumbs swept lightly in tandem along his palm both to trail over each bone in search of any hidden soreness as well as to begin pushing the swelling out of the angry tissue. I could feel his gaze carefully trained on me, eyes following my every movement with a violent distrust that robbed me of my earlier rage.

Pointedly ignoring the heat burring into me from his glare, I merely focused on my own movements, softly testing the sensitivity of the apex of the sprain and surrounding tissue to map out what I had to work with. Touch dragging back to the tips of those long fingers, I carded my fingers around each digit in turn. With a meticulous calm, I dragged the heel of my palm up his, swept the pad of my thumbs along the lines of tendons and over the ridges of bone until some whisper of that tension began to ease.

I was careful not to risk looking at him fully, but managed to catch a brief glimpse of him as my touch roamed delicately over his wrist before working into the lean muscles of his forearm. That rage was beginning to fall away, something so near to fascination just touching those eyes that left me holding my breath. This wouldn’t fix the sprain; not really, but the simple act of pushing the swelling from the injured tissue would greatly help with the pain and quicken its healing. In conjunction with the bacta patches stashed in one of the pouches lashed to my waist, I was hopeful that he would be nearly back to normal before reaching Kamino.

As I began dragging long, leisurely movements from the tips of fingers carefully supported against mine, up his palm, touch growing delicate over the swelling mound around his wrist, before firmly sweeping up the length of his forearm, he finally began to lose himself, eyes drooping as his head gradually sank lower toward his chest with each laxed breath.

I felt my movements slowing, reluctant to let him go for fear of never being allowed this moment of stillness with him again. Selfishly, I found myself returning to already blissfully limp muscles, working over each joint just once more, granting myself endless excuses to warrant a half dozen final adjustments before, with a slow, reluctant breath, reaching for the kit at my waist.

Only a whisper of that tension returned to him, eyes following me almost lazily before quieting upon seeing the basic madpack, and I tried to justify that quiet in the gentleness of my movements as I carefully secured the bactapatch against his wrist with meticulously applied bandages. I didn’t pull away from him once I’d finished, hesitating a moment before finally letting my eyes find his. That stillness lingered for a long while as he passively took in the gratitude burning through me, the silent plea screaming beneath my certainty that, the instant either of us moved or spoke or simply remembered the existence of a reality beyond this room, this moment of trust would vanish.

My arm seemed to move on its own, carefully resting his bandaged hand atop his thigh before just beginning to reach for his other one, palm held open in a quiet invitation as I let just the faintest glimmer of hope touch my gaze. He glanced briefly to my open hand, mind slowly returning to some level of awareness, and I felt that cold flush of defeat wash through me as his eyes shifted pointedly away, brows just tensing before his jaw clicked shut.

Without a word, he quickly pushed himself to his feet and stalked passed me. My hands sank back to my thighs, body deflating beneath the blanket rejection as the unapologetic hiss of the door closed behind him, leaving me too aware of the isolation that left me in. Fighting back the threat of guilt and regret at the harshness of my earlier words, I resigned myself to continued dismissal from the final member of this squad I was still trying to embrace as mine and thoughtlessly reached for the discarded wrappers around me from the used medkit.

Just as I’d begun calling some bit of motion back into my limbs, ready to finally force myself to my feet, the door opened once more. Expecting a kind word of sympathy from Echo or quiet reassurance from Hunter, I didn’t bother turning to look, unwilling to let them see the lingering hint of sadness I hadn’t yet managed to force back. The shock that tore through me when Crosshair dropped heavily back onto the cot, pinched glare turned pointedly to the far end of the room as he nearly thrust his other hand toward me left me staggering, lips just parted in a tiny gasp.

If he heard the way my breath caught as I let out a long, barely controlled sigh before reaching almost reverently for the offered limb, he made no show of it. I couldn’t begin to force back the smile, the lightness that burst through me as I gently eased the gear from his arm, overcome in that flood of relief. I knew this didn’t mean he truly trusted me, nor even that he more than tolerated my presence, but it was a start, and, as the smooth motion of my hands working over his gradually lulled him back into that blissed calm, I let myself finally begin to feel some hope that, just maybe, I could find my place here.

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#star wars #tbb #the bad batch #star wars echo #the bad batch echo #febuwhump2023 #febuwhump #comfort #touch starved #star wars hunter #star wars tech #star wars crosshair #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb oc #my writing #tbb fanfic #star wars fanfic #tbb fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #massage #yelling #arachnaphobia tw

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes Drabbles

Fics with 🤓 are favorites of mine!

Fics with 🔥 smut

Fics with 😡 angst

Fics with 💕 are fluff

Fics with 🍯 200+ notes

Fics I could possibly consider continuing 🧐

UPDATED April 7 2024

BUCKY BARNES

3 Times You Saw Him Summary: Working for HYDRA, You've only seen the Winter Soldier a handful of times, each more terrifying than the last... It isn't until you are witness to his torture that you realize how innocent the man really is. [TWS x Reader.] [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡

3 Times You See Bucky Barnes Shirtless Summary: Bucky starts going topless around you, and after several incidences, you confront him, not expecting the answer he gives you. LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

5 O'Clock Summary: Bucky comes home after drinking all night at a club. (Bucky x Reader) Based off the song 5 O’Clock by T-Pain & lily Allen 🔥🤓 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

A Broken Soldier (2) Summary: Steve breaks up with you 🔥 🍯

A Way to End Summary: Bucky knew who he was. But had his handlers known, all of hell would have broken loose. The reason he remembered himself? Was you. You had secretly helped him regain all of his past memories in an effort to take down HYDRA and all of its’ men.😡 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Always With You Summary:  After a horrific car crash leaves you paralyzed from the waist down, Bucky vows to drop everything in order to care for you until your healthy once again. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] [Bucky x Reader] 😡💕 🍯

Angels in Hellfire Summary: You offered to travel to Hell to rescue your angel’s best friend; he declines, knowing that it is far too late for that innocence to remain.[LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] [Bucky x Reader] 😡

A Stranger with a Good Heart Summary; you almost get gunned down but a stranger comes to help you.[LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] [Bucky x Reader] 💕

A Summer's Beat Summary: After numerous fighting and arguments, this was the last straw between the pair of you. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡

Baby Fever Summary: Bucky took his daughter to the park [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]💕 🍯

Bad Boy Bucky Summary: you get harassed by a stranger. You’re not going to keep quiet. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡

Bossy Play Summary: a new boss joins the corporation. Nobody knows how stern he can be [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]🧐🍯

Bottom's Up Summary: You assess the soldier after he comes back to the facility after a mission [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]🔥🍯

Cheap Thrills Summary: you lose your phone somewhere in your apartment and ask the neighbor next door to help look for it. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]🔥🍯

Christmas and Pancakes Summary: buckys daughter wakes him up on Christmas morning for breakfast Parent!Bucky Barnes, OC!Daughter, Layla [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 💕

Come Out, Come Out Summary; the winter soldier comes for the lone survivor [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 🤓😡🍯

Got Nerve? Summary: you come home from grocery shopping only to find your ex in your house. (Mafia leader! Reader, ex Husband Bucky) 😡 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Grind With Me Summary: After the defeat of Thanos, the Avengers are assembled for a convention meeting. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

High Stakes Summary: working as a casino waitress, certainly has its perks when important clientele crave your attention. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]🧐🍯

Killing Me Softly Summary: You could do nothing but beg as he killed you. 😡 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Kingpin love Summary: you met the famed mobster amputee. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]🧐

Kryptonite Summary: Bucky watches you give birth. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]💕🍯

The Loss of You Summary; (reader) dies after giving birth leaving Bucky to process the loss alone. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡

Long Live My Heart Summary; Bucky leaves you. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡

Mafia Cakes Summary: the mafia king visits your small bakery. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]💕

Marry Me? Summary: Bucky asks you to marry him [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]💕🍯

Mine Baby Summary: Sitting at a bar one night, long after you’d abandoned your friends and even Bucky at the tower, you’d finally gained the courage to explain to him why you’d left months ago. The results weren’t at all what you were expecting. Th reunion had all but been a terrible feat. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡🍯

Miracles Summary; hot dogs and the famous Avengers Initiative. What a damn day, huh? [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]💕

Overboard Summary: Bucky throws her overboard after he recaptures her ten years after his imprisonment. (pirate!Bucky x Prisoner!Reader) [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡

Pissed off Paperwork Summary; Bucky isn’t happy with your tardiness (Mafia!bucky, lackey!reader) [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 😡

Please Don't Leave Me Summary: Bucky comes to repair your relationship after the odor of you broke up. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 😡

Poker Face Summary: you discover your friend isn’t as innocent as you thought he may have been [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 😡

Secure the Castle Summary: Bucky’s come home. ] [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡🧐

Soft Mornings Summary: cuddling in bed before you go to work. ] [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 💕🍯

Soft Touches Summary: you’d thought you were alone in the compound until a worried Bucky helps you with an injury ] [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 💕🍯

Talkin' Bout My Girl Summary: Bucky isn’t sure about introducing you to Steve. [POC!reader x bucky] [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 💕

Three Terrible Flaws Summary; 3 reasons you can’t date Bucky barnes 😡 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Trial & Failure Summary: Barnes has to train you for a mission. He’s not happy with the results. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] [TWS x Reader] 😡🧐🤓

Two Times He Kissed Your Forehead...One Time He Didn't Summary: always enjoyed his kisses. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]💕😡

What He Wants Summary; you’re on the way to make money with your friends until your interrupted by the mafia king himself asking questions. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 😡🧐🍯

------STEVE ROGERS----

Nursing the Mafia Summary: You never connected the dots about the family of your patient until one day, the famed mafia lord comes strolling in

A Broken Soldier Summary: Steve breaks up with you [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 😡🍯

All For You Summary: you visit your best friend in prison after he killed your boyfriend. 😡🧐🍯 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Always Be My Baby Summary: you’re afraid to tell steve you’re pregnant. 💕🍯 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

A Trusting Moment Summary: you were working in your dress shop when your favorite pirate comes in for some patch work of his own. Seamstress Reader x Pirate Thief Steve rogers 💕 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Birthdays and Pizza  summary: you don’t know what to do for Steve’s birthday. 💕 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Caught Up Summary: Steve knows someone’s after you [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 💕😡

Daddy’s Pissed Summary: Steve comes home from work cheery until he recieves a phone call from work. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡💕🍯

Divorce in the Morning Summary: He never wanted this. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡🍯

Divorce Papers CEO!Steve Rogers x reader Summary: being the wife of a playboy millionaire boy toy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡🍯

Dirty Little Secret Summary: Pretending to be disinterested in your arranged marriage? Easy Peasy lemon Squeezy... right? [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Do You Love Me? Summary: secrets finally came to the surface. 💕😡🍯 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Late Night Escapades Summary: Steve knows he shouldn’t be lays up next to you. But he enjoys your nightly company far too much to leave. 🔥🍯 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Lie to Me Summary: you had no idea what Steve was planning with you. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

Not a Love Song Summary: Not all love stories have a happy ending. 😡💕🍯 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

One Life to Live  Summary: his life wasn’t always so grim and grotesque. Not when he held you in his arms. Mobster!Steve Rogers 💕🍯 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

One Night Stand Summary: you avoid Steve after having a one night stand with him [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]💕😭🍯

Political Cheats Summary: Steve catches you cheating on him in the shower with your daughter’s teacher [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]😡

Returning Kisses Summary: After one too many nights of hearing Steve bringing home company, you decide you can't take it anymore.[LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]💕😡

Retribution Summary: Steve starts a war in an enemy’s territory Mobster!Steve Rogers 😡 [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] [mafia Steve rogers]

Sleepover Troubles Summary: Steve’s still having nightmares over the death of his daughter. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 😡

Trust Me, Okay? Summary; you were no longer afraid of riding with Steve [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 💕

Unappreciated Summary: Steve leaves you after a long tiring relationship had gone to the gutter. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03] 🔥😡🍯

French Fries and Bruises Summary: Dating the town's playboy wasn't easy. But it was a dream come true for you. After all, who wouldn't want to date the most popular guy in town? He was handsome, and funny, and could be quite the tiger in bed... however, he wasn't exactly an honest man... .you'd only hoped that he would be different with you. [LINK HAS BEEN UPDATED TO DIRECT YOU TO A03]

#steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

[threadbareturnbacks]

Black Sails and Facial Hair - Part 3, (Long) John Silver

One of the important aspects of character creation in Black Sails is that it proports to show not the Pirate Of Legend (a la POTC) but the Origin Of the Pirate Legend. But nothing can be created in a vacuum, you cannot reference pirate legend without engaging in some sort of historical storytelling that connects to the modern audience, which is, at its heart, the stuff of pirate legend. Narrative is an ouroboros, constantly eating its own tale. 

John Silver shows up bright eyed and busy tailed and a perfect picture of a late 18th century sailor, down to the black shoes. His hair is a little too short, but reasonable and he’s rocking just a shade of a five o’clock shadow, but nothing untoward for a merchant ship in 1715. He’s a bag of snakes and like any good bag of snakes, he could get off in any port in the New or Old World and slip into the crowd without being noticed. He is, like Flint in 1704, perfectly suited to his surroundings. Flint’s crew take him at face value, but we know that this is a skin he wears that gives him more freedom than the bewhiskered pirates around him.

Throughout the first season, he stays pretty well shaved and clean. I mean, look at our boy after 5 days at sea and a shipwreck. This is the face of a man who plans to disappear into civilization as soon as he can.  He even tells Flint, “I’ll find somewhere else to survive” - His appearance isn’t predicated on fitting in or telling a story, it’s predicated on survival. He’s handsome enough, but no one would look twice if they didn’t need to.

Unfortunately for Silver, everything he says comes true. And when he says “I don’t want to be a pirate”, well, I’ve got bad news for you snake man. He might say that out loud but his face tells a different story. After the capture of the galleon and his little Stomp Stomp routine, he stops shaving. It’s subtle at first. He’s still bright eye’d and bushy tailed (haired). But his hair is longer, his face is rougher. He’s starting to ingratiate himself with the crew, starting to become essential to Flint, starting to even find a place of belonging and in doing so, he drifts further from the safety of anonymity.  

By the end of S2, he’s teetering on the edge. He’s got the mustache but compared to almost the entire crew, he’s still relatively respectable. However, look at how different it shows up in the light verses the dark. He might look like a citizen in the day, but at night his true self comes through and it’s all pirate.

Just as Flint’s door is closed at the end of s2, so is Silver’s. He can never again be an anonymous citizen, a snake in the grass. He might be able to integrate, but never again without notice. And he reflects that in his face. A full, patchy beard, very long hair barely brushed or contained - this is not a man who can step off a boat in any city and blend in. He’s clearly not taking care of himself.

Amputees are occasionally depicted in 18th century illustration - often in two distinct ways: The Good - employed and respectable (and clean-shaven) and The Poor - unemployed, whiskered, and dirty. Silver’s decided that since he can’t blend in, he might as well lean into the stereotype.   

Additionally, there are instances of white men with beards living in the ‘civilized world’, particularly England and North America, but their lives are not easy. The beard is an essential feature of their Otherness, often Jewishness, and choosing to exist with that facial hair is a conscious statement. Whether as a statement of faith or as embracing his new condition, his beard is a clear rejection of reintegration or assimilation.

Contrast Silver’s unruly mop to Flint’s managed goatee, which he keeps neat and clean. The two of them, to an early 18th century observer, would make a terrifying pair, appearing as a mad Jacobean and a feral beggar, both ready to kill and not to be trusted under any circumstance. Quite literally the stuff of cultural nightmares and a sign of society unraveling. 

Madi’s presence helps a bit, as does his standing as Long John Silver in Nassau. His hair is more managed but the beard does not get any less wild. And he mostly stays this way through the rest of the show.  

(a side note: the slick hair from the doldrums on is actually a factor of the production. Many outdoor scenes were filmed in the wind and to avoid Silver’s hair flying everywhere, it was slicked back, from Fathoms Deep)    

By the time his in the forest, dealing himself his own emotional death knell, he is as uncontained as we see him. The beard and the hair are one, there is no pretense of return or control. He has become undone, he is scrambling to grasp at the last tendrils of his humanity.  

Which makes his final scene all the more fascinating. Because the last we see of John Silver makes him look downright professional. He’s still rocking the beard, but it’s trimmed, his hair is in a neat tail, he is no longer wearing heavy layers, or even sagging his back all that much. He looks, for lack of a better word, civilized. Certainly far more civilized than we have any right to expect him to look after what we’ve seen.

He’s made his choice. He has chosen the safety of society over the wild uncertainty of war and resistance. He’s back, in essence, where he started. Able to walk into any port in the known world and be just another invalid, returning from war. 

But the last year has done a number on him. He’ll never fully integrate. He hasn’t quite abandoned his pirate self (the beard remains), but he’s willing to work within the rules. He’ll never be fully in the system, but never fully out of it. He’ll always be on the shore, never on the sea or on land. He’ll always be a character archetype, never a full person. His existence is now essentially liminal, just as he wears a beard and a ponytail, a combination that is exceptionally odd for the period, but just perfect for our last view of the famed pirate king. 

Part 1 - History of Beards

Part 2 - Captain Flint 

#black sails #black sails meta #black sails history #long john silver #john silver #fashion history #ya'll had enough beard meta yet? #i think silver's facial hair journey is a trip #i lost my shit when i saw the last scene of him with a nice neat queue the first time #it's the clearest 'im trying to fit it' thing we see him do #and such a contrast to flint who's last scene is such a fuck you to civilization and rules of propriety #they become each other's mirror #this show is going to destroy me i stg #black sails beards

[malistairesimp]

@ KI let me have a sign in my wiz dorm that says “its 5 o’clock somewhere!” plsssss

#the young wizard goes to AA #wizard101 #w101

[fizzy-tizzy]

Bump In The Night

On the day of the full moon, Woodie has told Warly he'll be coming home a bit later than usual. If only he could tell him why.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50704429

Warly frowned, staring at the old grandfather clock in the living room. 

2:04, it read. 

When Woodie had told him he’d be a little late coming home, he’d imagined that the man would still be home before midnight. He’d allowed Walter to stay up a little later than usual so he could say “goodnight” to his father, but after 12 o’clock came and went with no sign of him, he’d put the boy to bed despite his protests. Even though it was summer, making a habit of going to sleep late wasn’t good for a growing boy.

That being said, he was going to give Woodie quite the talking-to when he finally returned to the house. What on earth could he possibly be doing that would warrant staying out this late? There wasn’t much Warly could think of, apart from more… unsavory activities, and his anger slowly ebbed into worry the more the thought about it. 

Despite only knowing him for a few months, the man seemed quite straight-laced, and Warly couldn’t imagine him being involved in crime or illegal activity of any sort. He was far too concerned with Walter’s well-being to ever risk putting him in a dangerous situation like that. Walter was also a bit of a chatterbox and quite perceptive to boot, so if Woodie was doing something suspicious, Warly would’ve likely known about it by now.

2:38. The clock now said. He should just go to sleep already, no point in worrying himself all night.

Letting out a weary sigh, Warly reluctantly ousted himself from the couch and left the living room, heading towards his room at the end of the hall. He pulled his hair out of its signature bun as he plodded towards his bedroom, letting his hair fall down and swish around his shoulders.

He didn’t bother changing into proper pajamas, too tired to, and simply opting to shed his day clothes and melt under the covers in nothing but his boxers and an old, worn t-shirt he’d gotten years ago, back when he still worked on a cruise ship.

Warly couldn’t help but be glad tomorrow- or today, he supposed- wasn’t a work day. No way in hell he could run the diner sleep-deprived, and he would hate to have to close for something stupid like that. 

Snuggling up under the heavy duvet, he couldn’t help but feel lonely without Woodie beside him. The sheets felt colder than usual, though Warly knew realistically he was being ridiculous.

Still, it was nice having someone to share the bed with. The queen size mattress that had once been comfortably large now felt chokingly desolate without the other man to and his warmth to cuddle up to. 

Regardless, exhaustion claimed Warly quick, and he drifted off to sleep shortly after.

-

Woodie clutched his head as he stumbled towards the door of the house, fumbling around in one of the pockets of his torn flannel to find the spare key Warly had trusted him with. After a few unsuccessful attempts to jam it into the lock, he finally unlocked the door and shambled inside the house, closing the door as gingerly as he could muster and slumping up against it.

His head throbbed, his entire body shook with tremors, and he breathed harshly through his nose to try and stop himself from screaming. He pressed his forehead to the cold window of the door as he desperately blinked back tears, a small metallic noise telling him that he’d dropped the key somewhere.

He sank to his knees with a silent sob, trying to focus on his breathing and force it to even out. He couldn’t scream- not here, not now, Walter and Warly were probably fast asleep by now, he couldn’t bear waking them up. 

Especially not Walter, the thought of his son seeing him like this only made his nausea worse.

Glancing up at the old grandfather clock that Warly had told him originally belonged to his late father, he checked the time. 

5:47.

Warly usually got up around six, but it was a weekend in summer, so hopefully he’d sleep in today and Woodie could save the explanation of where he’d been for when his head didn’t feel like a shaken soda can and his hands weren’t trembling so badly he could barely move them.

He shambled down the hall, half-leaning against the wall for support. He debated popping into the guest room to tell Walter he was alright, but he really wasn’t right now and didn’t want the boy to worry over him.

Quietly opening the door, Woodie snuck into the room and collapsed onto the bed, only just having the foresight to toe off his filthy boots beforehand. He relaxed as best he could now that his mind registered that he was surely safe here, sucking in a deep breath and allowing a few tears to slip down his face.

“…Woodie?” A quiet voice piped up from beside him. He couldn’t force himself to respond, every inch of his body still aching far too much.

Warly repeated himself, and Woodie couldn’t muster up much more than a small grunt of acknowledgment. He made no moves to resist as Warly pulled him close, gently setting him against the headboard. 

“Woodie, what happened?” He kept his voice low, but the strained tone betrayed his worry. Woodie couldn’t blame him. He probably looked like shit. Warly hesitantly cupped his cheek and the man couldn’t help but lean into it, taking a deep inhale of the man’s scent. He was still reeling from his transformation, and his olfactory senses were still heightened.

He smelled of over-sweetened coffee and bacon grease, something that had grown incredibly familiar and comforting to return to at the end of the day. He’d wrapped his arms around Warly’s waist and shoved his face into the crook between his neck and shoulder before he could realize it, chasing more of that soothing scent. Warly let out a flustered squeak as Woodie pulled him closer, a flush rapidly blooming across his face. “W-Woodie?! I-is everything alright?” He stuttered out, probably a bit louder than was appropriate for this time of night.

Woodie’s only response was to snuggle in deeper, a deep grumble that sounded suspiciously like a purr rumbling from his throat. Warly was so warm, his skin was so soft, and he was just so comforting in general- Woodie wanted to stay cuddled up like this forever, or at least until his post-full moon hangover ran its course.

Upon realizing that the man was starting to fall asleep, a million thoughts raced across Warly’s mind. He should shake him awake, demand to know what he'd been doing that left him in such a sorry state, scold him for letting him worry all night, but he’d always been a little too soft for his own good. Instead, Warly laid him down on the bed and tucked him under the covers, taking his place on his own side of the mattress, and definitely did not fold and resume holding him after he let out a pitiful whine.

Warly let out a huff, anger steadily ebbing away by the second. “You have a lot to explain in the morning, mister.” He muttered out, still trying to remain somewhat firm. Woodie’s response was another cute whine, burying his face into Warly’s chest with another happy grumble. He couldn’t help the butterflies fluttering in his stomach as a result, and tentatively wrapped his arms around the man, blush worsening as Woodie leaned into it and let out another pleased noise.

Morning was going to be quite awkward, but he may as well enjoy things while he could.

#fizzy's fics #don't starve #dst woodie #dst warly #dst walter #dst #gay dads au #warlywood #woodly

[cinamun]

Currently me with today’s story update:

Honeeeeyyyyy, *deep sigh* It’s 5 o’clock somewhere. 😩

I mean I know Bishop ain’t going nowhere anytime soon because he’s having too much fun ruining Mercy’s life BUT I ain’t never been so damn happy for someone snatching something back in my life. 🙌🏽 Don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone any the fuckery, but anything to keep our girl from being tied to this MF LEGALLY is a win for me. I will take the small wins.

Do I think it’s all said and done and he’s about to pack up and leave to ruin another innocent person’s life? HELL NAH. We just unlocked another level of the fuckery, das all.

You know what…What’s the number to the Ancestors because at this point, we need the pros.

*whispers* Listen, I’ll book a flight to Sulani and gather all the things for the Kava party myself, if need be. Just say the word. Because Imma need Mercy in one piece & in her right mind (and Bishop in a body bag, for real this time).

And to our boy Jayce…

C’mon reassurance! We love to see it. That healthy love looks good on our love birds. Don’t it?

its the healthy love we love to see Chae!!! Look at the protection and security in that sleep-vice grip he has her in? hope is drooling all in that mans chest hair and not a fuck could be given. COME ON JAY!!!

But did you hear bishop tho? Him said him impossible to get rid of.... so that tells me all I need to know about the future of Mercy's simulated heart beat...

take the ring back homie, we don't need it. sis said she ain't marrying no one else after her jack so you can go on head and get the hell on (but he aint tho).

#story stuff #chile....

[dietmayos]

I couldn’t watch the space any highlights?

The space played instead of 5 o’clock somewhere like they usually do, the mastermind behind the space, Leighton, played the 10 hour loop of mamasaymamasa for three hours straight. A few times Ryan and Matt came in to yell at Leighton to tell him too stop. When the three hour mark was about to arrive, he finally played its 5 o’clock somewhere and peace was restored.

[doggypuppygoodbye]

saying ‘it’s 5 o’clock somewhere in the world’ when its after 5 o’clock

[drqwingblind]

Its 5 o’clock somewhere.

It is here. It’s 5 o’clock here.

5:01 AM

[Song]

With You - Else Victor

#bandlab

[allblueteesclothing]

Jimmy Buffett & Alan Jackson It’s 5 O’clock Somewhere

Are you dreaming of a laid-back tropical paradise? The Jimmy Buffett & Alan Jackson It's 5 O'clock Somewhere Shirt is the perfect way to celebrate the carefree spirit of this iconic song. With its vibrant design and comfortable fit, this shirt will transport you to an island state of mind, no matter where you are.

Crafted with state-of-the-art equipment, our graphic tees ensure vibrant colors and lasting durability. Available in a variety of colors and sizes, this shirt is perfect for Jimmy Buffett fans and anyone who craves the beach life.

And the best part? All of our products are proudly printed in the United States and shipped in just 3-5 days. Whether you're looking for a gift or just want to treat yourself, this awesome funny shirt is the perfect choice for any occasion.

So why wait? Visit us now to grab your own It's 5 O'clock Somewhere Shirt and start living the island life today!

[danyi8305]

Its 5 o’clock somewhere they say.

[letsgoravendors]

Kitty: Morning, Anna, what are you drinking?

Cleves: Water.

Kitty: It doesn’t smell like water.

Cleves: It’s...imported water?

Kitty: Imported from where??

Cleves: ...Russia.

Kitty: Are you drinking vodka at 9 am?

Cleves: It’s actually 9:30.

#its 5 o’clock somewhere #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves #catherine parr #katherine howard #catherine of aragon #six #six the musical #six the musical incorrect quotes #incorrect six quotes #six incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect six the musical quotes #katanna #katherine howard x anna of cleves #howard x cleves #source: tumblr

[queenshelby]

ME AND THE DEVIL – PART ONE

Featuring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 3555

Warning: Smut, Abuse 

Notes: This is fiction and not historically accurate. It plays somewhere in the middle of Season 5, after Tommy met Oswald Mosley and became affiliated with him but before he planned to assassinate him.

Tag List: 

@lilymurphy03

@deefigs

@theflamecrystal 

@chrisevanshoeee

 @desperate-and-broken

@weepingstudentfishhorse

@severewobblerlightdragon

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

------

You were the oldest daughter of the chief of police in London and married to Oswald Mosley. The marriage between you and Oswald was arranged by your father who was supporting Mosley’s fascist movement.

Your husband was abusive and disrespectful towards you. You despised him and his fascist views. Luckily for you, he didn’t involve you in many political events. You were only obliged to attend functions with him where it benefitted him and his party.

You were aware that he was expanding his party but you didn’t involve yourself with politics, at least so it seemed. You knew that the fascist movement was dangerous and you hoped that, one day, your husband would pay for his sins.

You were not allowed to work, but you were allowed to volunteer at the local orphanage and soup kitchen. As the wife of Oswald Mosley, this was beneficial for his political campaign so he didn’t intervene. Little did he know that this was where you would meet one of his enemies.

Just so it happened that, on a Thursday evening when you were volunteering at the orphanage, you met a mysterious stranger.

Dressed in a comfortable but elegant dress, you unpacked several toys that were delivered from the Womens Association of Birmingham for the children at the orphanage.

The children were excited and you could barely keep up with their demand. Their excitement was overwhelming and their eyes lit up as they took the toys from your hands. It wasn’t often that they received brand new toys and you took joy simply in seeing their excitement. You wanted children of your own, but not with your husband. He wasn’t capable to be a good father and you were glad that, despite numerous attempts, you didn’t conceive.

After years, he told you that you were worthless, not being able to give him a child. But you were somewhat grateful for it. It also meant that he no longer bothered to force you to sleep with him, which never was pleasurable in any sort of way. You were pleased to learn that, after years of abuse, he found whores to be of more interest to him than you.

The work at the orphanage took you away from your miserable life. Working with children was pure joy for you and gave you the courage to inform on your husband to the communist partry. You did it for them, so that they can grow up in a world free from oppression. Your husband was the devil and you knew that very well.

Just as you went to get the last box of toys from the van, a man approached you from behind.

‘Please, let me help you with this’ the man said, taking the heavy box from your hands. He could see that you were struggling with its weight. After all, you were of small statue.

‘Thank you, Mr…’ you said in a way you would usually ask a question.

‘Shelby. Thomas Shelby’ the man said as he walked inside with you.

You showed him where to place the box so that you could unpack it as, all of a sudden, one of the nuns from the orphanage walked towards you from the hallway.

‘Please, Mr Shelby, you do not need to do this’ the nun said with a hasty voice.

‘But it’s my pleasure’ Tommy said as he opened the box and helped you unpack it.

‘Thank you’ you said with a shy smile as you couldn’t help it but stare into his bright blue eyes.

‘No thank you for the work you are doing here Y/N. It is admirable’ Tommy said with a warm smile.

‘I take joy in it’ you said before asking him how he knew your name.

Your question caused Tommy to point to your name tag.

You flushed immediately. Of course, he can read.

‘Very informal’ Tommy said as he observed that the name tag only had your first name on it.

‘Well, I like to be the children’s friend. I am not one of the mistresses or teachers here. I simply volunteer’ you said whilst, the truth was, you were embarrassed of who you were. Y/N Mosley, the wife of a fascist. Of course, you weren’t going to tell him that.

‘We need more kind hearted people like you in a world like this Y/N’ Tommy said as he unpacked the last toy from the box.

‘Please, you make me blush Mr Shelby’ you said shyly while looking up into his piercing blue eyes again.

He was much older than you, probably the same age as your husband, but he was incredibly attractive. Unlike your husband, he appeared kind hearted in his own way.

‘My apologies, it wasn’t my attention to make you uncomfortable’ Tommy said with a smile.

‘It’s quite alright Mr Shelby. Thank you again for helping with this’ you said as you were wondering why he was at the orphanage.

‘Tell me, why are you here? What is your business?’ you asked with curiosity.

‘I am having a meeting with Miss Walsh at 4 o’clock to discuss the funding of the new library for the orphanage. As you know, the orphanage has the facility on site. It’s unused and will need to be fenced. And of course, we will need books’ Tommy said. You could hear the passion in his voice for the project.

‘Are you funding it?’ you asked bluntly.

‘My late wife’s charity is. She cared deeply for children who were abandoned or lost their parents in the war’ Tommy explained.

‘She seemed like a wonderful woman and I am sorry for your loss Mr Shelby’ you said.

‘She was and thank you for your kind words Y/N’ Tommy said.

‘May I offer you a tea? Just while you wait for Miss Walsh?’ you asked.

Tommy agreed and you sat down in the reading room for 15 minutes before Miss Walsh arrived.

You enjoyed your conversation with Tommy. He seemed like a smart man, elegant, firm and yet kind hearted.

The conversations you had were mostly about the orphanage and plans for the education of the children. You loved to read and you liked the idea of a library. You shared ideas for fundraisers and it was evident to you that Tommy was intrigued by you. His eyes wandered everywhere, from your face, down to your hands, which is where he noticed your wedding ring.

‘You are married. Do you and your husband have children?’ Tommy asked.

‘No, we do not. How about you Mr Shelby?’ you asked.

‘A son and a daughter’ Tommy said.

‘Then you are lucky’ you responded just as Miss Walsh arrived.

You said goodbye to Tommy and, just as he was about to leave with Miss Walsh, he asked you whether you would be interested to help with the establishment of the library since you were familiar with literature.

You were surprised that a man like him would personally involve himself with a project like this. It was more common for rich men to simply provide the funds. But, he seemed to care for this particular project, so you agreed.

A few weeks after your encounter with Tommy, the books arrived and you volunteered to sort them and arrange the library for the children.

Tommy came by one afternoon to see how the project came along and offered you his assistance. But most of the time it was his sister Ada who attended the library to catalogue the books with you.

She was a kind woman, socially aware and most defiantly in favour of the communist movement.

Despite your numerous discussions about politics, Ada never thought to mention that her brother Tommy was a politician himself. In fact, she didn’t like to speak about him at all.

Another week later, you were surprised to see Tommy at the library at lunch time.

‘Good Afternoon Y/N’ Tommy said as he brought in another box of books.

‘Mr Shelby, I am surprised to see you’ you said. This was your third encounter with Tommy and you were pleased to see him. You were intrigued by him.

‘I thought you could use some help since my sister is busy with errands today’ Tommy said.

‘So, you came here to help me catalogue books?’ you said sheepishly.

‘Making appearances Y/N, that’s all’ he said as he began to unpack the books.

‘Thank you, Mr Shelby, but…’ you said and before you could continue, Tommy interrupted you.

‘Please, just call me Tommy’ he said as he handed you the books.

You climbed up the ladder to put them onto the higher shelves just as Tommy advised you that, the truth was, that he had meeting with Miss Walsh again but that he set aside some time for the library beforehand.

Tommy and you talked for a while as you shelved the books. You noticed his eyes gaze over you again on several occasions in particular when you stepped up the ladder. He was clearly looking at your ass, possibly even your underwear, but you didn’t mind.

Every time you came down from the ladder, he stood uncomfortably close to you, so close that you could smell the scent of his aftershave. It smelled like musk and he was clearly chewing mint, probably to hide the smell of the cigarettes.

He was handsome, very handsome and the look he gave you every time he handed you more books from the table was intense. A look of want and desire. Or were you imagining it?

Unfortunately, your encounter with him only lasted for about thirty minutes before he had to excuse himself in order to meet with Miss Walsh.

You said goodbye to Tommy with a warm smile and received a smile in return.

Just after he left, you went on with cataloguing the books. It was a slow process and you were the only volunteer on duty that day. Your husband approved. Doing community service was beneficial to his party and political goals. It shows that him and his family care for the community.

But you simply did it because you felt it was right and gave you a purpose.

You spent nearly every day at the library and almost all books were catalogued.

After another half an hour, you had one more box to shelf for the day. You were focused, your mind entirely with the books.

To your surprise, just as you stepped down from the ladder to grab more books for the top shelf, your face was just above Tommy’s face. You couldn’t believe that he was there. You never heard him come back.

‘How long have you been standing there?’ you asked as your foot touched the floor.

‘A few minutes, just enough to admire the view’ he said sheepishly and you weren’t sure whether to smack or kiss him.

But, before you could make up your mind, he leaned in and took the kiss he’s been desperate for since the moment you’ve met.

The kiss was gentle at first, brushing his lips against yours a couple of times, then locking them together in a haste, allowing your tongues to explore each other.

You had never been kissed this way before and gave into him completely.

Your mind told you to stop, to push him away. You didn’t know this man and if your husband was to find out, it would be detrimental for the both of you.

But in your heart, you wanted this so badly. This and so much more.

As your tongues played with each other, coyly at first, then like long-lost lovers, Tommy’s hands ran over your back all the way down to your ass.

His lips tasted sweet and his hands sent shivers through your body.

Without breaking the kiss, Tommy’s hands wandered beneath your skirt, gently and passionately.

‘Not here. The reading area’ you whispered just after you broke away from the kiss.

Tommy nodded just before he planted his mouth just above your clavicle.

While planting gentle kisses over you, Tommy navigated to one of the long desks in the reading area.

He was so gentle, a feeling that was unfamiliar to you. Despite the fact that you barely knew him, you somehow trusted him and wanted him.

Just as your back hit the desk, Tommy lifted you up to sit on it before gently pushing your legs apart.

He moved in between your legs while continuing to kiss you. His skilled fingers began unbuttoning your white blouse, revealing your lace bra.

No words were spoken as Tommy ran his index fingers down the inside of the straps of your bra, over the edges of the cups, then down your cleavage, all while gazing his eyes over your body.

He kept this tease up until you got impatient. Your breathing became heavy as he pulled the bra down, freeing your breasts. Your areolas were covered in goosebumps and your nipples were puffed up. The reading lamp lit all your curves in titillating contrast and you could that Tommy enjoyed what he was seeing.

Not ever had a man looked at you with such desire. You only ever been with one man, your husband, and this was new territory. You actually enjoyed yourself and were feeling guilty about it.

‘So beautiful’ Tommy whispered just before his lips kissed, licked and sucked their way to your stiff nubs on your breasts.

His hands cupped, squeezed and kneaded your smooth flesh and you moaned deeply and gripped the edge of the desk behind you.

Tommy flicked the tip of his tongue across your nipple before nibbling naughtily around it. Not ever had anyone paid such attention to your breasts and you started to feel something that was unfamiliar to you.

You could feel a tingling sensation build up in between your legs and your lace panties were getting wet.

Just as Tommy continued to stimulate your breasts, you gasped and threw your head back as his teeth ever-so-gently brushed up against your nubs again.

Tommy’s hands soon moved from your breasts down beneath your skirt, brushing over the inside of your thighs.

You pushed your legs together for a moment, unsure whether to give in or not.

You despised being touched there by your husband but this was actually enjoyable.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Tommy asked, noticing your reluctance.

‘No, please don’t’ you said as you decided to let him proceed, opening your legs again.

You were slightly embarrassed by the wetness pooling in between your legs but, to your surprise, Tommy seemed pleased with it.

‘You are so wet Love’ he smirked as his fingers finally brushed over your panties just before he crashed his lips back onto yours.

You moaned into the kiss as his fingers pulled aside your panties and you could feel his finger tips roam over your entrance.

You tried hard to relax as Tommy’s fingers ran up and down your slit and started spread your juices.

He teased your entrance, just slipping in a single finger and only to his first knuckle.

This must be what foreplay was all about you thought as you kept giving in to your moans.

‘Tommy’ you moaned, desperate for more and, just like that, Tommy suddenly bit your neck gently while plunging his finger deep inside you.

Your moans turned to a gasp and a whimper as pleasure flooded your senses. You knew that Tommy had just left a hickey and, whilst you should be concerned, it just made you even wetter.

Tommy kept kissing and biting your neck as he added another finger inside of you and explored you with his fingers. The tip of his finger found many crevices but, unbeknownst to you, he was searching for your g-spot.

‘Fuck, oh god’ you screamed all of a sudden as Tommy’s fingers pressed upwards, earning you smirk from Tommy.

He had just found what he was looking for and, based on your reaction, it was evident to him that he was the first to have found your sweet spot.

Just as he relieved the pressure inside you, he pushed his fingers up again, and again, each time causing you to moan loudly.

‘Shh Love, one of the nuns might hear you’ Tommy whispered sheepishly just as he pulled his fingers out of you.

All these sensations were unfamiliar to you.

‘Please don’t stop’ you pleaded. It felt so good.

Tommy pulled you close for another kiss to shallow your moans before slipping his fingers back inside of you.

His fingers began to push against your g-spot again, running smooth circles and stimulating it just the right way. You were panting. It was ecstasy and you could feel an unfamiliar tension build up in your stomach.

‘I am going to make you come now Love. Try to be quiet’ Tommy said and you had literally no idea what he was talking about until, all of a sudden, he pushed into you with more force.

Your whimpers soon turned into shouts and you clenched onto Tommy’s arms firmly.

It wasn’t long until Tommy could feel your walls tighten around his two fingers.

‘Oh my god’ you moaned before you held your breath, not knowing what was happening to you as you felt your orgasm roll through your body.

‘That's it Love’ Tommy said satisfied as he continued to stimulate you.

You gasped as electricity shot up and down your spine while Tommy kissed you again to soften your screams.

He could hear footsteps approach and quickly withdrew his fingers.

‘Mr Shelby, is everything alright?’ one of the nuns asked loudly.

‘Yes, I am just helping with the books’ Tommy said with a grin on his face as he rearranged his pants to deal with his throbbing erection.

You were quick to button up your blouse before the nun approached.

‘I just thought I could hear a scream, that’s all’ the nun said.

‘Yes, that was me, I caught a splinter from the ladder and Mr Shelby just helped me get it out from my finger’ you said, your face still flushed and your hair messy.

‘Mr Shelby, if you do have a minute, Mr Connel would like to discuss the article in the paper for your campaign’ the nun said. ‘We thought that you had left but when I saw your car I hoped that I would find you here’ she added.

‘Of course’ Tommy said and, just like that he left.

‘It was nice to see you Y/N. Perhaps we meet again sometime soon’ he said with a grin as he followed the nun.

‘Likewise, Mr Shelby’ you responded.

You wanted to so much more but, since you almost got caught, it was probably for the better that you didn’t take this further.

You were hoping to see Tommy again but, for the next couple of weeks, he didn’t attend the orphanage.

You asked his sister Ada about him with some curiosity.

‘My brother is probably busy in Westminster. Although, who knows. I have given up on following politics. Why are you asking?’ Ada said.

‘Politics? Is Thomas a politician?’ you asked surprised and slightly concerned.

‘Yes, he is a member of parliament. Did you not know?’ Ada asked surprised.

‘I had no idea’ you said, wondering whether he knew your husband and whether you were nothing but a political stunt. Was this planned by an opponent? Did Tommy know who you were? Or was it a sheer mistake?

All these thoughts were wandering through your mind as Ada was talking to you and you didn’t listen to a single word she said.

‘Y/N? Are you alright?’ Ada asked.

‘Yes sorry, I am fine’ you said just before finishing up for the day. You had to make your way home soon before dinner.

You excused yourself and headed home. The thoughts however wouldn’t leave your head.

Your husband wasn’t home when you arrived. As usual, he was either with your sister or at the whorehouse.

You didn’t care much and enjoyed the nights on your own. You were no longer sharing a bedroom but you hated to cross his way when he was around. A black eye here and there or some bruises and scratches were the norm when he was there.

The next morning, Oswald walked through the door at around 8 o’clock, just in time for breakfast.

‘Did you buy yourself a dress for tonight?’ he asked after shouting at the maid. The coffee was too cold for his liking.

‘Oswald, please’ you said, trying to reason with him as the maid left rather upset.

‘Then you get the fucking coffee, wife!’ Oswald shouted and you got up, taking his cup and walking towards the kitchen.

‘There you go’ you said as you returned with a fresh cup from the kitchen.

‘See, that wasn’t that hard now, was it? Even my fucking wife could manage’ he said to the maid as he took a sip.

‘Now dear, did you get yourself a dress? Something outstanding for the gala?’ Oswald asked.

‘Of course. You will approve. It is very elegant and expensive’ you said.

‘Good. We need to make an impression. You will meet the new members of my party and, as you know, all politicians judge each other. There is no room for mistakes’ Oswald explained.

‘Of course, I understand. Now would you please excuse me. I will need to freshen up’ you said before Oswald waived you away

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #ada shelby #oswald mosley

[zoebeeeeeeeee]

Every winter the Wolf School witchers bring back trinkets and gifts from their travels to show each other, they call them “Traveling Trophies”. One year Lambert brings back a stein that says “Its 5 o’clock somewhere”, Eskel brings... fuckin something but the point is that the year that Geralt met Jaskier he forgot to grab something and the only thing he has is a “don’t forget about me” favor Jaskier gave him. OFC Geralt cant pull out this little silk handkerchief with buttercups embroidered on it so he pretends he just didn’t so anything that year.

Eskel does find the favor though. He and Lambert are all “oooooOOOOOOOO. Geralt~~~~~ Who gave you this?~?~?~?~?~” and Geralt is all red faced and broody and tries to be dark and broody and mysterious but its his brothers so of coarse it doesn't work on them. Lambert says “Is it from that bard that wrote a song about you?” and when Geralt goes even more red Eskel and Lambert lose their goddamn minds and its the start of brotherly pestering every year after.

“Geralt, what did Jaskier give you this year?” “Did your lovely little bard give you another favor?” “What did Jaskier bring us this year?’

and then the mountain and when the pestering continues Geralt just kind of shuts himself away in his room for a while. The next year Lambert and Eskel dont pester him about trinkets but he does bring back something from his travels and the tradition continues.

and then....

and then..........

Geralt brings Jaskier to Kaer Morhen. Lambert and Eskel absolutely lose their shit all ovver again, scaring Jaskier and embarrassing Geralt and basically Eskel and Lambert are like “best traveling trophy, 10/10, nice work bro.”

#Idk #woke up thinking about this #yes that means Jaskier is a trophy wife #i dont make the rules i just write them #gerskier #witcher #geralt #jaskier

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

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#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader