Summery: Bucky Barnes- The God Of winter is expecting with his mortal wife… What could possibly go wrong?
He was a busy God, Dealing with whatever he deals with in his time. God Of Winter taking care of the weather on his half, wouldn’t come home until late at night. He would be either too tired to do anything, be over hungry and spend his nights stuffing his face with anything his wife had stored for him for the day, or come home horny ready for five plus rounds. Not that his wife minded the latter, But she was getting very depressed of not seeing him home as much, sure their marriage started out as a punishment for Bucky, because he was being a dick to his parents, but now whatever hate and despair is now the warmest love and adoration. They truly fell for each other. Seeing as Bucky handled the quite part of his kingdom.
“Bucky?” His wife complained, rubbing her eyes as her door creaked open to reveal a streak of light rushing in to hit the dark. “Is that you?” She complained, trying as she might to adjust to the light. She was fully sat now, the covered held to her chest in worry if it wasn’t her God and some servant.
“It’s me Doll, Go back to sleep.” He ushered her with his soft voice, she heard his heavy footsteps, he must have stayed put in his office for quite a long time, he had many things to take care of, Thanks to his parents for always dumping the shitty work load on his part of the kingdom. “I’ll be in bed in a second,” His tone didn’t suggest anything. She just couldn’t tell if he wanted her tonight sexually or not. Either way, she found her body unconsciously getting closer to his side of the bed, true to his words, in a matter of seconds the bed dipped and in came Bucky’s hands pulling his wife closer to his body, entangling their legs together as she found him placing his hand under her head for her to rest on.
“How was work?” She asked, finding it hard for her eyes to find his in the dark room, Not only was it winter outside- which would only be expected- it was also very dark at night, even stars sometimes took a disappearing act.
“I finished it faster then expected,” He breathed out, his chest feeling heavy. “So much work, I wont leave until the afternoon tomorrow.” Bucky answered, as he heard the faint disappointing tone of his wife. “We could wake up early and spend the morning together.” His tone was drifting, and so was her subconscious. With the small smile she sent in her sleep, James went to sleep feeling less heavier then when he came in his room.
He would do anything to see her happy, his mortal wife, his other half…
“Are you on your period?” Bucky asked, seeing his wife grumbling as she came down the steps. Her bare feet emitted a pitter patter as she took the steps down, as she clung to her stomach and held the railing for her dear life. Everything was cold- from the tip of her toe nail all he way up to the brim of her head full of hair.
“What is that suppose to mean?” Came her anxious reply, as they entered the kitchen seeing it completely naked of all servants.
“Your back never hurts unless your on your period, I was going to suggest we cuddle by the fireplace as you read me a book.” He was the sweeties God of them all, even Thor The God Of Thunder couldn’t hold a candle in Bucky’s way. Shaking her head, she went about to open the fridge, feeling her husband hovering behind her back.
“No, I’m not on my period.” She assured, grabbing eggs and turning around only to find her God caging her around the fridge. “But I wouldn’t mind your idea.” She smiled sweetly. slightly shoving the egg carton over his unclothed chest, hoping he would get the message to move his sorry ass.
“I don’t like egg,” James complained, puffing out his chest to his wife. “You know that…” He complained, almost feeling offended. “Or is this your way of punishing me for not being home as often.” Bucky chuckled as he found his mortal wife breaking into a small but evident smile. “Plus you haven’t eaten eggs since we got married.” Bucky inspected, dejectedly thinking to himself something wasn’t right this one morning as she pushed him away and went to cooking.
If that wasn’t a hint, he should have payed close attention to when she would sleep, it was uncommon for her to take naps at all, as she would get a well needed rest during the night- “The nights are longer in Winter Bucky, Your the God who created Winter.” She would complain each time Bucky would point out she sleeps only at night. - Bucky found it odd.
He came home from work very early, as he had finished all his duties and decided to take the whole day off in hopes of spending it with his love. And yet he came home to seeing servants covering her body with blankets because her body was shivering in the cold living room. He ever spoke to his servants, always letting his wife handle them, so when he suddenly voiced out his mind to the poor little servant who was placing the blanket snugly around The Gods wife, the little servant jumped a foot in the air and scattered like mice without heeding much less a glance.
“Whats her problem,” Bucky shook his head as he looked down at his wife and crouched down to her level. Softly placing a hand over her face in hopes of waking her. He didn’t take the whole day off for nothing. “Wake up, Doll.” He would never call her what other Gods call their wives. He always refers to her in a mortal way, wanting to make sure that she knew he loved where she came from. “Wake up,” He rubbed her cheek, softly placing the strands of her long hair behind her bitty ears.
She looked different, Not that she had changed her hair or switched up her lip gloss, She was just different. Wrinkles adored her forehead in sleep now, her cheeks seem more rosier, and she would opt to not use makeup as much as she use to wear it, her laugh lines more noticeable. Her hands always seem to be placed on her stomach, taking heed of the act, Bucky smiled to himself. “She must be on her period,” He thought once again, It has been a week since he asked her last.
Seeing the warmest hazel eyes open up, he found him self reaching for her lips in a swell kiss. And yet she pushed him off, frowning. Either she was confused or he smelled. “You smell bad-” Yup he guessed it. But he wouldn’t blame her, he was outside for most of the morning getting things off his land.
“I’ll take a shower,” He assured, seeing as she was gagging. “I was meaning to ask if your on your period?” He send a genuine smile her way, She had to be on her period now, its nearing the end of the month and she’s still clean. The fact of missing her period seemed quite odd, considering she has a heavy week.
“Why would you even ask me that,” She complained, James could see the gears in her head turning, he might have annoyed her with the constant talk of her month.
“Just didn’t want our home to be cold for you,” It was meant as a sweet gesture. She knew it was, but him constantly asking her about her body was starting to get to her, since it was her body and she was experiencing many pain around hr body she was starting to worry.
“Please go shower.”
James was many things, but he was not an all nighter. His wife just seemed to have enough energy at her disposal, Begging for round after round. Sideways, over, and under, even asking for weird positions. He would pound in with a strong force each passing thrust seeing as she was begging him to ravish her.
Pulling her leg over his shoulder and wrapping her tight pussy with sensations she was yet to discover. Her hands would rub her nipples, or pulling her husbands body closer to hers. As he pushed in one final time, he saw her quite down and relax under his image. The sweat gathered over his face was getting annoying so he pulled the extra covers they had laying around on their king bed and wiped his face with it. James was simply cleaning himself, but the sudden moan that left the women’s mouth had him thinking she might be The God Of Sex.
“Doll,” He huffed, looking over at the blinking lights of their clock, “Its three in the morning,” He set his body beside hers to rest, breathing in and out uncontrollably. “We’ve been at it since nine.” He complained, he was sure his wife wouldn’t be able to move by her self in the morning. Seeing as he took her by every angle.
“I need more Bucky,” She cried, reaching down for her clit. He didn’t understand her, it’s not like he deprives her of love making, in fact he would at least make her cum one way or the other every morning, right before breakfast. “Please, one last time,” She complained, seeing as he pulled her hand away from her clit.
“Fine, but this time, were doing it slow.” The God huffed. He was already worn out, He honestly didn’t think he would get tired of seeing her beg him to slap her ass or bite her thighs, but now he understood even as a God he had his limits. Pulling her over his body, he slid into her instantly, finding her breast poking fun at his lips, he began sucking and rocking her with his hands over her round ass cheeks.
Hearing her moan he closed his eyes and found solace in their room. “Oh God,”
“Im right here,” He assured, giving her his full love.
He was damn tired. Hell that was an understatement. He was sure his body was dead weight at this point. His wife wouldn’t even leave his side. At first he found it out of tune when she offered to walk with him to his work, then took note of her cherry mood, her reason behind it all? “You make my stomach feel well,”
He was growing worried for her change of mood, not that he would have her any other way, she was just changing in ways he couldn’t explain, Her eating habits were different, her constant sleeping trips became very frequent and un arranged, Her hormonal level had sky rocketed. And yet out of all of them, James still couldn’t put the pieces into place. Maybe she thought he was cheating on her and wanted to be around him more often, but she never gave him a reason to think so.
“Could we get something to eat from the village?” She asked, turning around to see her husband shuffling his feet over the shin high snow. he nodded, not wanting to spoil the mood. His wife almost never goes outside her home to the villagers. As they would always call her out on being a human. He just wanted her to feel welcomed and have fun. It’s not everyday he gets to spend with her while he’s on his work days. Plus she got a small glimpse of what his work is exactly, maybe she would stop complaining hes not home as often as she would like for him to be.
“I’m having such a great day, Bucky.” His wife greeted, wanting nothing more then to enter a restaurant and order her life away.
“Me two.” He deadpanned, tightening his crispy scarf around his raw neck.
“You made this?” He asked, arching a brow. The dining table was adored with many different types of foods and desserts. “Should I be worried?” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. His lips already watering, wanting nothing more then to sink his teeth into the food before him. His wife was an excellent cook, the best of the kingdom. And yet she never cooked as often as her husband wished.
“Yes, it’s for us,” She flattened her dress and offered to push his chair in, giggling once her God respectfully rejected her offer and went to push her chair in.
“So, I have to ask,” Bucky began as he pulled a chicken leg and some rice with veggies over his plate, “Whats the occasion?”
“You should drink some wine first-” She pointed to the glass beside his plate, and noiselessly ushered him to take a dip. “You would most likely need to be drunk…” Rubbing her hands together she watched as he skeptically took his wine glass and swirls it, before sniffing the liquid and bringing it over to his lips. His Addams apple bobing up as he drank the glass in one swing.
“Now, mind sharing this news,”
“Bucky, Im expecting.”
He stayed silent for a good five minutes. His facial expression void and out of tune. He didn’t even move a muscle, with his eyes blown up like the plates before them. And thats exactly when everything fell into place. The newly found interest in food she absolutely use to hate, the sudden urge to make love last longer, The reasons behind her visits to his kingdom, The sudden naps she seemed to fall into. It all made sense to him now,
“I just found out, its been a month…” She trailed, uncertain if he was even listening or not anymore. He seemed ejected from reality, She honestly didn’t know what to say, or better yet what to make out of the situation. And at the last minute, he picked up his head to stare right into her crystal eyes, with a strait face and the most serious tone, he spoke like The God he is, ruthless and emotionless…
Whilst my husband was in hospital with pneumonia and I was staying at my parents’ house due to being sick and not wanting to be alone, my mother thought ‘I’ll do something nice for them both, and go over and clean their home for them!’
In her wisdom she decided it would be a good idea to clean our already relatively clean kitchen with industrial strength jays fluid disinfectant. I’m talking the kind that needs to be heavily diluted and used OUTSIDE.
So cut to over two weeks later, and our home - every inch, every fibre of carpet, every item in our possession - smells like chemical warfare has taken place there. Like, it’s so bad that we’re both gagging and heaving and my husband nearly passed out. I thought our two cats were going to die.
So we’re currently simmering white vinegar on our stove to try and rid the place of the smell like it’s some evil spirit. I legitimately feel like I will smell it forever.
If anyone has any neat tricks to dispell the scent, let us know. Please. And don’t suggest incense, scented candles or air fresheners. Trust me, it’s wayyyyyy past that.
I’m glad you love my writing anon!! I like writing this stuff and it helps to know people want to read it!!! :)
Jesse gagged as he walked up, and Gabe laughed. He knew the
combination of body odor, unwashed clothes, and general mustiness were
bad enough that he could smell himself, but he hadn’t prepared for that
extreme of a reaction and it was more satisfying than he’d thought.
After six months in the jungle with radio silence from the outside world
and without access to any real facilities besides river water, hiding
out in caves and old bunkers to track and eliminate some rogue Omnics
and other extremists, Gabe knew he smelled and looked quite ripe.
During the entire flight back to the Swiss base after extraction, Gabe thought about:
A scalding hot shower and how satisfying scraping the grime from his skin would feel,
Real food that wasn’t freeze dried or hard tack,
He couldn’t help the way his eyes scanned the docking bay,
because if Jesse knew he was on his way back, Jack must know too. Gabe
was torn between what needs he would meet first, and while he was
leaning towards the shower and the blessed water pressure, he knew where
he truly wanted to be.
Jesse was doubled over, dry heaving dramatically, and Gabe
pushed him on the shoulder with an eye roll. “Boss,” he choked out,
“you’re worse’n’a dog that’s rolled in its own shit, ate it, and then
threw it back up to roll in it again.”
Gabe snorted and ignored him as he started to cross the dock.
Well-wishers clapped him on the back and congratulated him on a
successful mission, but they were white noise that he accepted
graciously if distractedly.
Finally, Gabe laid eyes on the object of his thoughts, standing
just inside the doorway leading to the rest of the base. His arms were
folded across his chest and feet planted beneath him, expression calm
and collected like the Strike-Commander was expected to be. Gabe was
sure he was the only one who could see the twitch in his cheek and the
impatient tap of his fingers betraying how excited he truly was, and
warmth bubbled inside him to see his own emotions reflected in Jack.
I need the help of skincare enthusiasts! What are natural and effective ways to deal with acne and acne scars both on the face and body? And what [preferably online] stores can I buy them from?
I’ve been very insecure about my body and summer is coming around..I love swimming and having fun outside during this time but my acne has gotten severely bad due to stress/stress eating and you know… summer requires skin showing/bathing suits and I honestly hate the thought of someone looking at my back and thinking “ew gross” so let me know pls!! share your knowledge to a poor soul such as myself
and random question what’s all the hype about rose oil I’m hearing? does it just smell good or does it actually help your skin?
the best part about being a monster is not caring what happens to myself
Summary: In which Phil has synesthesia - an ability to “see” sounds and “smell” colours. However Dan has a secret, which is an eating disorder. Genre: fluff & angst Word count: 6.7k TWs: swearing, vomiting, eating disorder A/N: Huge shout out to @ohmygoyouguys !!! This fic wouldn’t exist if it was’t for her!
Reader Request: Hi!! I saw u were doing request, I was wondering if you could so a samx reader. along the lines where they go on a bad hunt and the character gets hurt and sam blames himself and distance himself from the character because of his background with girls never ended well so the character leaves and he goes after her?? something along those lines and maybe some fluff and smut?? Thank you! no one have written any of my request yet so if u did it would be awesoem - (requested by @kylea-iamdivergent )
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Word Count: 6,410
Warnings: Fluff, Language, Smut (unprotected sex)
Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this took a while to get out! I hope you like it!! It’s a bit long but…I kinda liked the idea of a slow-paced…love scene…*nervous laugh*
The hallway was pitch black. I could hear the low menacing growl coming from somewhere inside the house. It was distant but loud at the same time. My spine tingled with crazy anticipation at what I might find at the end of this god forsaken hallway. A part of me knew that separating myself from Sam and Dean was a bad idea, but my first thought was that if we separated, we’d get the job done faster.
There are nine chapters total all already written. I’ll be posting them over the next week or so. These first two chapters are short and cover Azriel’s childhood and the burning of his hands.
The rest of the fic will go through the major moments of Az’s life (Illyrian Camps/Blood Rite/Morrigan & Cass/Autumn Court) and conclude with some imagined moments (specifically a major confrontation with Keir and then Morrigan) in a would-be ACOTAR3. Enjoy!
And the BIGGEST OF THANK YOU’S to @kitashiwrites for beta reading this fic for me. Your encouragement and enthusiasm was invaluable in motivating me to finish it! I don’t know what I would do without you, girl. You are an angel! <3
All the boy knew was darkness. Darkness, and silence.
one hour a day. That’s all he got. The air was so chilling each time
they dragged him outside, he almost wished he was back in that all
consuming darkness rather than suffer the freezing heartache of the
Illyrian mountains. Almost wished, but then the wind would creep up to
kiss his cheek and his muscles would tighten in a sort of cruel call and
response he couldn’t complete.
Pain ripples across his back as he
falls forward at the force of his brothers knocking him down. Hands
grab his shoulders roughly and drag him across dirt and gravel towards a
pole in the middle of the yard where his hands are bound and his wings
are strapped down.
Request: It’s gonna be my birthday this month and I really need a Bucky x fem!reader where Bucky makes me a secret birthday party because he has a crush on me and he wants to make me happy because I always feel alone in my birthday. (Of course I have a crush on him but we are really shy and we can’t talk to much with each other) (I wanna be a computer engineer living in the Stark Tower, I can’t see myself being an avenger, but my dream is to be a computer engineer) THANK YOU SO MUCH 😊💞🙏
Author’s note: I’m afraid I don’t know the name or tumblr of the birthday girl but she made a request and here it is. I hope you have a fantastic birthday love and that you like this story.
When a cup of coffee appeared in my field of vision and I raised my head to see who was the kind person who brought me the only thing that managed me to stay active in the morning and saw Tony Stark with half a smile on his lips, I smiled. “Thank you,” I said as I grabbed the hot cup with my hands, I closed my eyes and approached it to my face, enjoying the smell.
“Have you thought that maybe you have a strong addiction to coffee?,” he asked as he returned to his desk. I shrugged. What did it matter? As far as my knowledge went, no one had died from drinking coffee so I’ll continue drinking until something bad happened to me. “What are you going to do today? And before you say nothing, let me tell you… It’s Friday and girl, you need to get out a bit.”
I looked at Tony with both of my eyebrows raised.
“You barely go outside,” he pointed out.
He was right. I barely went outside but I worked and I lived in the Stark Tower so I had no reason to leave the tower. I had everything I needed there.
Every weekend, each one of the Avengers asked me if I wanted to go somewhere. Sometimes I accepted but other times, like today, I said no. I didn’t want to go outside. It was my birthday and I had stopped celebrating it a few years ago. They didn’t know and I thought there was no reason to tell them what day was today.
The reasons? To begin with, I didn’t like growing up, it depressed me. Then there was the fact that some misfortune always happened in my birthday. Or someone had an accident, or someone died or someone broke my heart. My birthday seemed to be cursed and, truth be told, I didn’t want to tempt fate.
“I’m tired, Tony,” I finally said. Tony rolled his eyes. “What?”
“Why are you tired? I know you spend all day here but you’re doing nothing right now. And I won’t begin saying that being a computer engineer isn’t as hard and tiring than being an Avenger because I’m sure you know that by now.”
This time it was me who rolled her eyes. “There are two completely different things and you know it,” I pointed out. “Beside, why do you care so much? It’s no like if you are inviting me to a fancy restaurant and pay me the most expensive thing in the menu.”
“You’re right,” he laughed and I shook my head in disbelief.
During the day, Tony came and went. Some of the Avengers also appeared in the lab but after the typical conversation, they went off to do their own things. Who I didn’t see at all was Bucky and, in a way, it bothered me. My story with Bucky was… Non-existing. We hardly spoke because we both preferred silence to stupid conversations. Besides, I was too shy and I couldn’t avoid the fact that Bucky attracted me.
Since I had met him a year ago, I had firmly believed that his face belonged to an art museum. It was very difficult to pay attention to whatever you were doing when his blue eyes stared at you. Actually, It was really hard to do anything around Bucky.
I think all the Avengers knew I liked Bucky except for Bucky. They had told me a thousand times to tell him, to take him on a date but… I couldn’t do that. If Bucky were minimally interested in me, I would know…. Right?
By mid afternoon, I decided that my work was over for that day. Despite what Tony said, I was exhausted. Maybe not physically but psychologically. I wanted to get in the shower, eat some junk food, and go to bed and sleep.
However, as soon as my feet stepped in the living room, the lights went on and a lot of people appeared from behind some furniture and screamed ‘surprise’. I screamed because I got scared. I hit my back against one of the walls and I covered my mouth with my hands.
“Oh my God, did we gave her a heart attack?,” Natasha asked as she walked over me. Before she could place her hands in me, I yelled:
“What the hell, guys?”
All of them laughed and, slowly, they approached me and hugged me and wished me a happy birthday. I couldn’t lie, despite the shock, they made me feel loved. And although I didn’t like to celebrate my birthday, I wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything in the world.
Bucky was the last to approach where I was and, like the others, he hugged me. That gesture caught me completely off guard and when he broke the hug, my eyes were wide open and my mouth was opened by the surprise. He chuckled before pulling away a lock of hair from my forehead. “Happy birthday,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you,” I said a bit confused. Bucky laughed again and, in a friendly way, I hit his arm. My cheeks turned red when I realized what I had done.
“Did you like it?,” he asked, still smiling.
“Yes, of course. It–,” I shut up suddenly. My eyes met Bucky’s, that were slightly closed because of the smile he had on his lips. “Was this your idea?,” I mumbled, surprised.
“They have helped,” he confessed. “But yes, I guess it was my idea. I know you don’t like to celebrate your birthday but I thought it was time to break the tradition of you being alone in this day.”
I opened my mouth but no sound came of it. I didn’t know what to say. I had the feeling that if my chest keep filling with emotions, would explode eventually. And all my head was telling me was to kiss him. And I guess that for the first time in history, my body agreed with my thought because I put on my tiptoes and I pressed my lips into Bucky’s. He quickly cupped my face with both of his hands and depened the kiss.
The sound of a bottle of champagne being uncorked, made us broke the kiss. “It was about time!,” Tony yelled, catching our attention. “You just needed nine months and a surprise party. I hope you don’t wait until your next birthday to have sex.”
“Tony!,” I yelled. Bucky shook his head and assured that he wouldn’t invite Tony to the next party.
“Oh… my… God… that was… so bad. What are in babies? Waste factories? Old onions? A week of unwashed gym socks? All are nothing compared to this smell, ugh! I think ‘and I thought they smelled bad on the outside’ is applicable here.”
I had an amazing time writing this series and the support for it was phenomenal. I hope I can write something as fun, lighthearted, sad and happy like this series, in the future. This is the end guys. Thanks for following me on the road trip that was Full House. Enjoy.
Merry Ficmas Day 23 & 24
in someone’s life is when they are watching
their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly,” is quite
an interesting one to speculate about. Why is it that, when your life seems to
be unravelling into a heap of useless string, you can do nothing about it? Or
maybe it’s the fear of not being able to fix things that keeps you rooted in
one place as you stare blankly at the people fussing and fretting around you. Isn’t
it ironic that when you should be doing something to combat your life falling
apart, that’s when you do nothing? Almost as if some higher power is telling
you to save your energy because there’s no way to fix this one. If you don’t
try then you can’t fail, right?
How do you fight that feeling?
left maybe twenty minutes ago,” Meredith said into the phone. She turned around
at looked at Owen sitting across from her, listening to Maggie speak into the
phone, “Okay, well you call us if you see her in the hospital. Thanks.” She
hung up the phone and sat down, looking at Owen’s distant, sea blue eyes.
“Have you tried calling Webber?” Callie
suggested as she shifted her weight from her left leg to her right, standing
awkwardly next to Owen.
“I texted him,” Meredith confirmed, “She
wasn’t at his meeting.”
“God,” Callie muttered, bring her hand to
her forehead, “I shouldn’t have left the bottle there.”
“It’s not your fault, Callie,” she said,
“no one knew this would happen.” Callie nodded and sat down at the kitchen
table once more, holding her hands together as if she was praying.
“Owen,” Meredith whispered at first, hoping
to grab his attention. At the mention of his name, Owen got up and grabbed his
keys and jacket, storming out of the door and slamming it behind him. The noise
it made caused Callie to flinch and she gave Meredith a worried look.
His first thought had been to go to Joe’s,
opposite the hospital, but he figured Amelia wouldn’t be dumb enough to do her
drinking there where she could easily meet someone who knows about her past.
He’d merely gone inside to ask the bartender where the closest bar next to this
one was. And he went to check too, just in case. He drove downtown to get to
the next bar and, just like he’d predicted, her Audi was parked up outside of
the bar. He felt his stomach drop when he saw the familiar, LA license plate
and his palms sweat against the steering wheel of his car. Would he find her
drunk in there, grinding on some nobody in an attempt to forget all about her
problems at home? Or worse, would he not find her because she was already
wasted, lacking proper judgement and had long since left the bar with said
random man. He parked his car on the opposite side of the street, after driving
around the corner a second time to find a parking spot, and jogged across the
road and into the bar, not sure what or who he’d see on the other side.
When he entered, the rank smell of mixed
alcohols and beers flooded his nostrils. There were so many people that he
couldn’t see past a few feet in front of him. Following his instinct, he
managed to make it to a barstool and his worst fears were realised when he saw
a small brunette a few seats down.
“Amelia,” he shouted over the loud music,
putting his hand on her shoulder.
“You can call me that if you want,” the
woman flirted, turning to face Owen.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone
else,” he apologised, giving her a tight smile.
“Is that such a bad thing?” the woman
sultrily asked, wiping her hand across Owen’s chest and patting his shirt.
“I’m going to leave now,” Owen announced,
taking her hand and putting it back on the table, “have a nice night.”
“Your loss!” he heard her say as he made
his way through the crowd and back outside. The cold air refreshed his lungs
when he made it out and not having to smell all the alcohol and cigarette smoke
was a welcoming thing. However, now, he had to figure out where Amelia was and
why her car was still parked up here. Pulling his phone out, he dialled the
heavily memorised number into the call screen and put the phone to his ear,
listening to the ring tone. Weirdly, as his phone began to ring, a white light
came from Amelia’s car, illuminating it. There, in the dark, he watched Amelia
look at her ringing phone.
“What are you doing in your car?” he asked
when he heard the ringing stop, replaced with silence.
“What are you doing at a bar?” she replied,
looking at his bulky build leaning against the wall of the club.
“I was looking for you,” he said, looking
back at her in the car. He made the small walk down to the parking lot and
stood on the passenger side of Amelia’s car.
“Well, you found me,” she said.
Owen put his hand to the door handle of the
car and pulled on it, “Unlock the doors, Amelia. I want to talk.” Amelia sighed
and hung up the phone, the clicking sound of her door unlocking following right
after. He put his phone in his pocket and jumped in, closing the door behind
him and locking it. For a few minutes, they just sat in silence in the front
seat, neither looking at the other, too ashamed to do so.
“Why are you here?” Amelia asked, her body
turned away from him and staring out of the window.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he
“I don’t hate you,” she promised him, “I
swear I don’t. It just hurts too much to be around you right now. I want
nothing but the best for you, I really do. It’s just that sometimes I feel like
the best for you isn’t me.”
“You’re not allowed to determine what is or
isn’t the best for me,” he told her flatly. In between them, Owen watched an
empty Styrofoam cup with a straw and cover on it, wondering how long it was
there and what had been in the cup before it was finished, “Have you been
“What?” Amelia asked. Her head snapped
towards him, eyes red, “Why would you think that?” Owen pointed his eyes at the
cup in between them, raising his eyebrows accusingly.
Amelia rolled her eyes and sighed, “That’s
an empty smoothie. If I drank every time I was mad, I’d be dead right now.
Better to quench my thirst with that than with tequila.” Owen still glanced at
her suspiciously, his eyes switching between her and the Styrofoam cup.
She picked up the cup and shoved it into
his chest, “Here. See for yourself.” Owen took the cup from her and opened it,
partly relieved at seeing the pink goo of leftover smoothie, but it didn’t
dismiss the fear that she’d doused the drink in Callie’s tequila.
“Where’s the bottle, then?” Owen proceeded
to interrogate her, putting the cup back in its holder.
Amelia furrowed her eyebrows at him and her
nose scrunched, “Why does everyone think that every time I get mad, I go out
and get drunk?”
“Because you’re an alcoholic. Alcoholics
tend to drink when things get hard,” he responded bluntly.
“And normal people don’t?” she asked him, “Your
people drink for everything and I’m
“Where is it?”
“Where is what, Owen?” Amelia questioned
through a tightened jaw, tired of his insistent demands, “There’s no bottle of
alcohol in this car.”
“Callie’s bottle of tequila,” he said, “It
was on the kitchen table before you left and now it’s gone. Don’t play dumb
“There was no bottle of tequila on the
kitchen table, Owen,” she said, raising one eyebrow at him.
Amelia asked angrily, “There was no bottle on the table and there’s no bottle
of tequila in my car. You can check if you want.”
“Of course there isn’t,” Owen agreed, his
voice raising slightly in anger at all the white lies she was telling him, “you
wouldn’t leave the evidence in the car for anyone to find it.”
“Okay, Detective Hunt,” Amelia said, her
voice dripping with sarcasm, “so please explain to me why I would come all the
way downtown to a bar if I had Callie’s bottle of tequila to quench my junkie thirst.”
“You ran out,” Owen huffed, his eyes
glistened and reddening, “you ran out and you were going to buy more.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Amelia laughed,
wiping the hair from her face and combing her fingers through it, “I’m barely
5”4 and not even 130 pounds and you think that I have the capacity to drink a
full bottle of tequila and go to a bar for more drinks? Not even as a seasoned,
relapsing alcoholic would I be able to drink that much. I wouldn’t be able to
speak properly right now if I had drunk that much, I would be dead. Do I look
the slightest bit drunk or dead to you?” Owen looked unsurely at her. There
could’ve been a number of reasons why she wasn’t drunk/dead right now. Just
then, his phone vibrated with a text message from Meredith. Bottle was in Callie’s car. Sorry for the
false alarm. Found her yet? It read.
“Callie found the bottle in her car,” Owen
told Amelia, responding to Meredith’s text. Yeah,
will be home in a bit, hopefully.
“Why is it so easy for you to believe that
I drank?” she asked, her voice laced with hurt.
“I don’t know,” Owen huffed, slouching into
the passenger seat, “I don’t…know.” He was relieved that the bottle was in her
possession but he felt terrible for accusing her of something so serious.
“I haven’t drunk anything,” Amelia said,
glancing longingly at the well-lit bar, “not yet, at least. I was going to;
it’s why I’m parked up here, obviously.”
“Why didn’t you go in then?” Owen asked,
looking over at her.
She looked back at him and smiled, “I saw
your car the first time it came round the corner, figured you’d come back
around and you’d probably drag me out by my hair if you saw me in there.”
A loud laugh escaped Owen’s mouth, his eyes
wrinkling at the sides and his cheeks almost squeezing them shut, “I might
have, actually.” Amelia joined her chuckles with his laughing, her face hurting
from smiling so much after. When their laughter died down, Amelia sighed.
“I thought I saw you in there, funnily,”
Owen confessed, a sheepish grin on his face as he scratched the back of his
neck, “It was a hooker.”
Her eyes opened wide, a grin slowly finding
its way to her lips as she asked him, “You mistook a hooker for me?! You
should’ve probably kept that information to yourself because now I feel like
you think I’m a hooker.”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that,” Owen assured
her, “she had hair like yours and she was sort of small…”
“So now all small brunettes are Amelia
Shepherds?” she sought to confirm.
“No- I just,” he huffed. He looked at her
and noticed her playful smile, “You’re screwing with me, aren’t you.” She
nodded and laughed softly. She hadn’t laughed like this in a while.
“What’s wrong with us?” she asked him, her
lips turning downwards a little, “Why do we always end up fighting like this?”
“I was afraid,” Owen said, “I am afraid. Of
losing you. It’s why I told you I was in love with you; I didn’t want to lose
you. I think part of the reason why I want to hold on to you so tight is
because I fear that the great chemistry that we have won’t happen to me with
anybody else again, that this is my last chance to get things right. And I’m
“That’s deep,” she commented, her dimple
showing as she gave him a lopsided grin, “you read that in a poetry book?”
“Shut up,” he laughed, resting his hand on
her thigh. Her leg flinched when it felt his hand and she looked down at it,
putting her hand on top of his.
“I thought I could handle living without
your smile, without telling you things about my day and not hearing about yours,”
Owen said, looking at nothing in particular, “Then, when we broke up, it was
so, so hard and the next day was even
worse. I was a mess and we weren’t even broken up for that long. I threw the DC
thing way out of proportion and I just…
“What I’m trying to say is, yes, I’m in
love with you, but I shouldn’t have told you that just because I was afraid to
lose you. That was something insecure that I did and it’s my fault. So, I’m
willing to wait until you’re ready to, you know, say it too…therefore there’s
“I love you,” she said. It was quiet, as if
a passing thought. But he froze, like it was the most important thing in the
world, his hand squeezing impossibly hard on her leg. His lungs tightened and
relaxed at the same time, his stomach flipped and his heart beat was impossibly
“Say it again,” he said, delving deep into
the blues of her irises. He needed to know that she’d meant what she said and
wasn’t just repeating words to make him feel less like a fish out of water. He
needed to know that she would say it again if she had to.
“I love you,” she repeated, this time with
a small smile. There was something about the way she sat there, quivering like
a leaf in the wind, that made him want to pull her into him and hold her
forever. She’d known she loved him for a while but she was afraid of telling
him, maybe because of rejection or some other foolish reason. However, sitting
in the car with his hand on her leg, she felt reassured, confident to the point
where the words were already rolling off her tongue like they’d been waiting
for a long time to be heard. And they were. She loved him. She was terrified of
the feeling, but it was there. And he deserved to know.
“Okay,” he said, nodding his head at her.
“Okay?” she asked him, confused, “I just
told you that I love you and all you have to say is okay?”
“You expected me to say it back?” Owen
“Well, yes!” she said, her cheeks becoming
rosy with embarrassment, “y-you just told me-“
He was grinning at her.
“You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?” she
asked, repeating his words from earlier on.
“Not fun, is it?” he chuckled, flipping his
hand over on her thigh to hold onto her hand and lace his fingers with hers.
“You’re an ass,” she told him, smirking.
“I love you too,” he said, brushing his
thumb against the skin on the back of her hand, “just in case the joke wasn’t
“Get out of my car,” she yelled playfully,
pointing towards the car door, “go home.”
“Okay, okay,” he surrendered. She unlocked
the car door and allowed him to leave but, before he closed the door, he turned
around and ducked his head back inside, “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“I know,” she answered, starting her car.
He shook his head and pulled back, closing the door behind him and patting the
hood of her car.
The sweet smell of waffles mixed with other
breakfast items flooded Owen’s nostrils when his door was opened by a little
“Uncle Owie,” Bailey voiced when he arrived
at Owen’s bedside, “Mommy and Aunty Maggie are making breakfast and told me to
tell you and Aunty Amy to get your butts outside for when it’s ready.”
Owen stretched his arms outwards and then
over his head before flipping over to respond to Bailey, “Tell your mom we’ll
be out in five minutes.” Bailey nodded and smiled, prancing out of the bedroom
and closing the door.
“Was that Bailey?” Amelia asked in a hoarse
voice, turning over to bury her face in Owen’s chest.
“Yeah. Apparently they’ve made breakfast
for us to consume,” Owen said, circling his arms around her torso as hers
linked around the back of his neck, “hopefully we don’t contract food
“Maggie’s a good cook,” Amelia reminded
him, “she’s probably doing everything.”
“That means it won’t be ready for another
10 to 15 minutes,” Owen thoughtfully remarked, “which means…” He tilted his
bodyweight away from her and pulled her on top of him, receiving a protesting
squeal in response.
“We have plenty time for this,” he pressed
his lips against hers, “and this.” His hands moved from her hair to her
shoulders, eventually disappearing beneath the covers.
“No, we don’t,” Amelia laughed, “10 to 15
minutes isn’t plenty time.”
“I’ll be quick,” Owen negotiated, rubbing
his erection against her.
“Lock the door first,” she reminded him,
pushing his hands away from her waist.
“I told you guys to come down ten minutes
ago,” Meredith berated Owen and Amelia, “what were you doing?”
“Nothing,” both said in unison. Meredith
gave Owen a suspicious look and tugged on his pyjama pants, looking into them.
“Sex? Really?” Meredith asked in a hushed
tone, fearing one of her kids might hear her, “Didn’t you have enough of it
last night?” Owen shrugged and flashed his boyish grin while Amelia took a seat
by the kitchen table. Maggie, one by one, brought the plates of food to the
centre of the kitchen table before handing everyone a plate. They all sat at
the table, while the kids sat at a mini table next to them, and ate breakfast
together one last time. They laughed and teased each other, ruffled Owen’s golden
locks and shoved one another’s shoulders; they even threw bits of food at each
other like a bunch of wayward, broken siblings. Living with the sisters for six
weeks had given Owen a big and little brother role that he hadn’t been able to
experience with his own family in forever. He’d never forget the time he spent
in their house being teased, teasing and getting up to no good. Heck he’d even
miss buying them their tampons but maybe he was only saying that now because he
was in a good mood. When they were done, Owen had offered to wash the dishes
while they cleaned up the tables and kids and got them ready for school.
“Need some help?” Amelia asked, leaning sideways
against the sink with her arms folded.
“I’m almost done,” Owen told her, rinsing a
plate. He handed it to her and she took it, drying it off and putting it in the
“Actually, I wanted to ask you something,”
Owen voiced in a nervous tone.
“Sure, what’s up?” she asked nonchalantly,
tiptoeing to reach the top shelf and put away the plate.
“I’ll ask you later,” Owen said, brushing
her off as he noticed the other sisters coming into the kitchen with the kids.
“Okay, so I’m going to drop the kids to school
and be back before the moving van comes,” Meredith told them, “don’t trash the
“No promises,” Amelia said as they left the
The moving van was mainly for the pool
table, seeing as Owen didn’t bring much after he’d left the trailer. Meredith
had gotten tired of the table and how much of the living room it took up, so
she ceremonially pawned it off on him, offering to pay for the expenses of
carrying it from her house to his apartment. After getting the workers to put
it in the truck, accidentally chipping off a piece of one of Meredith’s dry
walls, Owen was finally ready to leave. He re-entered the house and grabbed his
bags from his bedroom, meeting Amelia on the way out.
“So this is goodbye, huh?” she joked,
trying to hide her sadness about his impending departure.
“I don’t want it to be,” Owen replied,
dropping his bags and moving closer to her.
“Well, there’s always-“
“Come with me,” he whispered, pressing his
hand against the small of her back and pulling her to him, “move in with me.”
Amelia looked up at him, stunned for a
second, “Are you serious?”
“I am,” he grinned, ecstatic that she
seemed to be leaning towards a yes.
“Uh,” Amelia said, pulling herself out of
his grip, “wait right here.” Before he could say anything, she dashed upstairs
to her bedroom and left him, returning a few minutes later.
“Here,” she said, handing him a toothbrush,
one of her shirts and pants, and a pair of socks.
“This isn’t enough clothes, Amelia,” he
said, laughing at the sleepover kit. That’s when he realised.
“You’re not moving in with me,” he said,
“I can’t move in with you, Meredith needs
me here,” she reluctantly told him, “Derek would want me here to help her. And
we have so many unfinished things to talk about, now is not the right time. One
happy week doesn’t make our relationship stable.” He nodded and smiled sadly.
She was right.
“Ask me again in a few months, though,” she
added, moving to give his cheek a peck, “I just might say yes.” The statement
definitely gave him something to look forward to in the future.
“So then what’s this?” Owen asked, looking
at the items in his hand.
“For when I sleep over, silly,” she said,
winking suggestively at him.
He laughed and stuffed the clothes in one
of his bags, “Okay. I’ll hold onto it, then.”
“Van’s ready,” Maggie shouted from outside
the house. Owen yelled an okay before turning back to Amelia. He felt like he
was running out of time and it made him feel nervous and stutter on his words.
“Amelia, I-,” he began, not sure what else
he could say to prolong the moment.
“I know,” she responded, smiling
euphorically, “I love you too.” Owen nodded
and turned to leave, looking back at Amelia once more and waving. This wasn’t
the end, he told himself, it was just the beginning.
soggy, soaking mess
everything around me has gone
numb; no circulation
my lips are blue and
there is a white hot feeling now
and it’s burning through my chest
2. I am only afraid of the dark when it wants to scare me.
3. forgetting where I’m sleeping now,
I thought you’d still be next to me
but my sheets are vacant
and my head is throbbing
and all I can ask
4. there’s fog outside
consuming the streets
and rain taps
and I’m aching for someone
to reach for
and it’s empty houses
cold, soft-spoken dread
cigarettes and loneliness:
the smell that never left
5. tracing my skin with
creating more maps upon myself
of all the places you loved to go
but won’t anymore
because maps become lost
when we do
6. it’s hard to find myself again
in small rooms with
written all over the walls
walls I could easily escape at one point
but now they’re closing in on me
and the white hot feeling sets in
deer in the headlights
didn’t move fast enough
and feeling crushed by steel,
again and again
no matter how hard I try to prevent it
it always happens that,
for some reason,
things never work out in ways
we want them to
or need them to…
always a disappointment
8. I am feeling hopeless and lost again
and the feeling of
is actually the worst
I’ve ever experienced
and I am not good at dealing with
you should know that
9. memories I hold close
become ghosts inside of me
haunting me always
with what I had
what I have,
and the latter always
shatters my bones
because it’s only gotten worse
it’s only getting worse
10. I miss your skin
and all I can do now
is hope that you’re sleeping
better than you have in months
and that your dreams help you
in ways I cannot;
I wish that you find yourself among the stars
and the moon
because you are a child of the moon
and your happiness
and your destiny are more important
my selfish loneliness
and longing for you.
I just re-watched The Gathering episode. When Claire gives Lagohaire the potion she’s told to sprinkle it on the threshold. How’s about Jamie later in life telling Claire how Lagohaire was coming on to him but she smelled bad. And yes, I am a 12 yr old. 😜
“Ye did what, Sassenach?” Jamie asked, chuckling.
“I’m not proud of it—though there have been moments I wished I’d prescribed she take it internally,” Claire confessed as Jamie’s fingers twined with her own above the covers.
“Ye said this was before the Gathering?”
“I came across Laoghaire outside my door of an evening—I thought it was chance. I kent I smelled manure but assumed it was me, though I’d bathed earlier tha’ day and hadna been back to the stables. Didna seem polite to presume it was her—nor likely either.”