#so you spend the rest of your life homesick and lacking which makes you look for that warmth someplace else

[crisisevil]

it's crawling inside the couch cushions saturday

#thinking about that thing where birth is an act of violence because you get severed from the only safe place you'll ever be in #so you spend the rest of your life homesick and lacking which makes you look for that warmth someplace else #can't wait to see my best friend and crawl into bed next to them and fall asleep together and stay at their house and feel safe all day #the horrors are relentless but so am i #crisk speaks

[sinner-as-saint]

‘Till We Bleed Out - 1.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 1 of this series. 

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real. 

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst 

You knocked on the large wooden door and took a step back, hands shaking with how nervous you were. 

You were quite far from your neighborhood, and none of your friends were in town currently. So really so there was no one who could come pick you up. Plus, the thunderstorm was making things worse. Your car had broken down for no reason while you were heading back home. And you drove down this road often, to get to the other side of the town and you always, always admired this mansion - at the doorstep of which you found yourself at the moment. 

The mansion was renowned for its unusualness. It was the largest property around so definitely whoever owns it must be extremely well-off. Another reason why it was so talked about is because no one personally knew the man who owned it. People saw him once in a while, some claimed to have seen him at the library, or at the museum or at the coffee shops. He had no friends apparently, always seen alone. No one knew of his occupation, or how he was able to afford and maintain this large estate. 

Most people said he was stand-offish, or mean, or rude or arrogant. Well, whatever he was, you were about to find out in a few seconds given that you were now knocking at his front door. What if he doesn’t agree to help? Or worse, what if he’s a creepy weirdo who-

Your thoughts were cut short as the door flew open. And the man revealed himself. Your gaze locked with his and for a brief moment, it felt like time had stopped. Blue eyes. The bluest you had ever seen. Magnetic, mesmerizing. Strong jaw, broad shoulders - the man was a dream. 

I finally found you… 

For some reasons those words echoed in your head, and you felt a pressing need to say them out loud. You had to force yourself out of whatever trance you were under and come back to reality. 

You cleared your throat. “Hello Mr. Barnes. I apologize for-,”

He cut you off, abruptly. “Come on in.” he spoke with a warm smile and opened the door wider. And you found yourself under his spell just by the sound of his voice, again. 

“But Mr. Barnes you didn’t even let me-,” you realized it would be much better if you told him why you were here in the first place, you would hate to impose. 

He gave you another smile as he waited for you to enter his home, closing the door behind you. “You’re a long way from home, I figured that the only reason why you would be here at this time is because you need shelter from the terrible weather, or maybe your car broke down.” He gave you a soft look, “So which is it?” 

You looked down at your shoes now drenched by the rain, sheepishly answering, “Both actually.” You looked back up at him and finally took all of him in. You had to admit, he was just as they described him; very, very handsome.  

Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. He looked like he was crafted by the gods above. His soft sweater gave him a very warm look, but his eyes - icy blue, they reminded you of glaciers and mountain tops, and snowstorms. He was the kind of man one could spend hours looking at. And the more you looked at him, the more details you picked up on. For instance, how perfect his nose was. Or how well he carried himself, or just how mature and wise his facial hair made him look. He was… oddly familiar. Maybe you had seen him at the library or something before.

He must've caught you checking him out judging by the smirk he gave you. You cleared your throat again, looking everywhere else but right at him. “I promise I’ll be gone by morning, Mr. Barnes.” 

He took a step forward and you froze in place. “Please, call me Bucky. And you can stay for as long as you need too, there’s no way I’m letting you leave until this terrible storm passes.” And just as he said that, you heard the thunder roar right above you. 

“Thank you.” you replied with a shy smile. Normally, whenever you came face to face with men this handsome, you’d turn into a nervous mess. But Bucky had a sense of familiarity with him. Warmth, comfort; you couldn’t explain it. “You have a lovely home.” you commented. 

Bucky looked right at you with a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite decipher. Longing? Sadness? Or was it just you who was overthinking? “Thank you.” he stared at you for a few more seconds before rushing over to the coat hangers and grabbed one, holding it open for you. “I’m sorry, it seems I forgot how to be a good host. We don’t get many visitors.” 

You happily accepted the coat and turned back around to smile at him. “I think you’re doing perfectly alright.” 

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something but another voice beat him to it. “Who is it? I heard someone come in. Is it-,” 

The woman with brown hair and a white apron, who suddenly emerged from one of the hallways, stopped talking the moment she saw you. Her lips parted in surprise and you could’ve sworn you heard her gasp. You assumed it was because of the odd time you showed up. 

“Oh…” she seemed surprised. “Hello miss...” her eyes searched for Bucky and the moment she found him, her eyes widened again.

Bucky spoke up. “Wanda, this is Y/N. She will be spending the night here. Could you prepare the guestroom for her please?” 

The woman, Wanda, smiled brightly and you wondered how she had this much energy at this time of the night. “Of course! Right away.” And with that, she left. Leaving you and Bucky alone again. You turned to face him again. 

“That was my housekeeper, Wanda. Her and her husband take care of the house.” He explained, and you nodded. 

“She seemed a little surprised upon seeing me. I didn’t mean to disturb your household at such a time, I’m-” 

He cut you off again, stepping closer and gently placing his cold hands on your shoulder. You shivered a little and he didn’t seem to notice. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t have to apologize, you didn’t disturb anyone, okay?” 

His piercing blue eyes were making it hard for you to focus on what he was saying but you grasped whatever you could and nodded in understanding. “Okay.” You tried hard not to, but you couldn’t help but be all bothered by his simple touch. His very presence screamed power, in a good way. You felt safe. 

“Good. Now come on, you could use some rest.” He held your hand in his gently, and led you up the grand stairs. He took your hand in his with such ease almost like he had done so a thousand times before, and you let him. 

You took in more and more of the house as you moved upstairs. It was the right mixture between modern and vintage. Parts of the house looked like it belonged in one of the home décor magazines you were currently obsessed with, while others seemed like they were pieces of ancient manors. It was unusually, hauntingly beautiful. 

Once you entered the guest room, you felt a wave of emotions hit you right in the face. Like homesickness, but for a place you had never stepped in before until this very moment. Nostalgia, but for a moment back in time which you had never lived in. 

The room was absolutely gorgeous. Dark wooden interior, with accents of black and gold. A chandelier which reminded you of an ancient castle, and a bed which seemed fit for royalty. “I must say, you have incredible taste in interior décor.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I take it you like the room. Very well then, you’ll find everything you need in the closets and in the bathroom.” He took a step back. “And if you need anything, anything at all, just call out.” 

You giggled as he said so. “This place is massive. There’s no way you’re gonna hear me if I call out for you.” 

He let out a little laugh. “Trust me doll, I will hear you.” And with that, he left. 

You watched him as he closed the door behind him, feeling just a little more warm after that nickname. You let out a sigh of satisfaction. Well, you were weirdly comfortable here. You walked further into the room, taking in every little detail. You took off the coat Bucky gave you earlier and placed it down on one of the couches. Taking off your heels, you made your way to the bathroom and it was everything one can dream of. 

You searched the cabinets and closets and found sweatpants and t-shirts which would fit you. Grabbing a set of clothes, you hopped into the shower and forgot about your broken down car and the thunderstorm. Instead, you thought of Bucky. What a peculiar man he is; no one in the town knows where he comes from, or what he does but here you were seeking help from him, showering his bathroom. 

There was something about him, a sense of ease and warmth which many people lack when you first meet them. But Bucky was different. It almost felt like you’ve known him all your life.  

When you stepped out, all refreshed and dressed you sensed a change the moment you walked back into the bedroom. Someone was here. 

“I brought you some tea. To warm you up a little.” 

You turned around and found Bucky sat on one of the couches by the bed. You instantly smiled, instead of being startled. He was so easy to be around. 

You walked towards him. You picked up one of the cups from the coffee table and brought it up to your nose, softly blowing on it before inhaling the lovely scent. 

“It’s chamomile and lavender.” Bucky said, and you faced him with a big smile. 

“My favorite, thank you.” you smiled at the odd coincidence as you took a sip of the tea. It soothed you immediately. 

Bucky picked up his own cup and took a slow sip as he watched you intently. “Tell me about yourself, Y/N.” 

The way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine. Which then reminded you that you never actually told him your name. Or maybe you did and you forgot. 

You held your warm cup with both hands and began. You told him your name, where you’re from, where you work and a little bit about your family. You knew you shouldn’t be giving this much detail about your life to a stranger but you were currently drinking tea in his guest room wearing clothes he provided, so the least you could do is engage fully in the conversation. 

He did a little nod after each piece of information you fed him, and you found it adorable. 

“It’s your turn.” you spoke after you were done talking about yourself. 

He smiled. It was a sad smile, or so it seemed. Surely you were overthinking. “I’m quite a boring person to be honest. I work all day, and I work all night. My family is… not around so I have to handle everything. All their businesses and companies around the country.” 

“Doesn’t it get lonely here? I mean it’s a magnificent home but, to live here alone must be quite hard, no?” 

You didn’t mean to pry but the way he looked straight into your eyes made you want to know the man a little better. Why was he so calm and collected? How is he so okay with you just being in his home? Why is he so kind? He didn’t seem old, then why did he give off the vibes of being so mature and wise, like he’s lived lifetimes before this one?

“Memories can be great company.” He answered in a tone which gave away that the man had lost a lot. Perhaps a close family member? Or a friend or a spouse? He added, “And this house is full of it.” 

“You grew up here?” you couldn’t help but ask. 

He gave you that same look; sad, longing like he was desperately trying to show certain emotion but he couldn’t. 

“I moved here. With my wife.” Those words of his caused your heart to feel heavy. “But she passed, a long time ago.” The look on his face made your heart burn for some reasons. The need to comfort him took over you but you refrained from doing so, it wasn’t your place to. 

“You must’ve loved her a lot.” You didn’t ask, you stated. Because it showed. 

He had that same sad smile on his face. “She was my everything. My lifeline.” 

He sounded so broken, it hurt. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

He smiled again. “You know, I like to think that the things we lose end up coming back to us, eventually. One way or another.” 

That didn’t really make sense to you right away, but it was a beautiful thought nonetheless. “That’s beautiful.” 

He stared into your eyes again, and it seemed like he was fighting something back. The need to say something perhaps. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.” And just as he said that, the thunder roared again, as loud as it could. 

You stood up as he did. He said goodnight and left. And you were left standing there wondering what the hell happened in the past few minutes. His presence alone made you feel safe for some reasons. Knowing that he was just a few doors down the hallway made you less anxious. Even when you settled under the covers, it didn’t feel like a foreign bed. 

You wondered why. How could you have settled into an unfamiliar home so easily? It wasn’t weird, just surprising. 

With the help of the tea, you drifted off to sleep in no time. Dreaming about ballrooms, and kissing a man inside a beautiful mansion and… and a pair of ocean blue eyes… 

A flutter on your cheek, and you looked up to find a pair of blue eyes looking down at you. “Hello sweetheart. You ready?” the man said as he offered you a red rose. 

You nodded, despite his face being quite blurry. You felt his arms around you, and you felt safe; like nothing could go wrong and this was a perfect world. You felt his lips place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Your surroundings changed and now you were at a ball, wearing a lovely rose gold gown, arms linked with the tall man. The music was unfamiliar but lovely. He twirled you around and pulled you close, your one hand carefully placed in his and the other on his shoulder. You noticed the shiny ring on your ring finger, and the wedding band on his. You smiled, realizing that this was your husband and all was well. 

Your surroundings faded again. Now you were inside your home. A beautiful home, with the fireplace warming the room you were in. Your blue-eyed husband was beside you again, the two of you sat by the fireplace and he offered you a glass of wine. You smiled, taking it from him. You felt a slight discomfort inside your mouth, around your front teeth but that was alright, it seemed like you were used to it. You brought the wine glass up to your lips, letting some of the contents into your mouth. It wasn’t wine, but you seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. 

Euphoria, you felt utter euphoria as you stared into the same pair of eyes only this time they were so red, they seemed black. He reached out and held your face in place and tilted his head just a little; deepening the kiss. He nibbled on your lower lip and shoved his tongue past your lips. Your body tingled in his arms. It all felt so right and perfect, it felt like a dream. Like a dream inside a dream. 

Gentle sin, that’s what it felt like when he pulled you closer, his hand slipping under your night dress and resting on your thigh while his other hand cupped your cheek. Your hands slid into his hair naturally and he moaned into the kiss again when you tugged at his roots a little. He kissed down your neck, his arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your body against his. He nibbled on the skin at the side of your throat, his teeth sharp and you were sure he left marks on your skin, but you didn’t mind. 

You gasped and moaned. This felt right. He pulled away after a while. He looked down at you with pink, swollen, parted lips. Slightly breathless, and his eyes showed nothing but love and passion, and a hunger like you had never seen before, but it was all familiar. His face was unclear, but you could make out certain features of his and he was oddly familiar too. 

“I love you.” He mumbled. 

You knew that voice… 

“I love you so much.” He whispered against your lips, his hand slipping in between your legs with no shame; his knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you shiver at his touch. He smiled against your lips upon feeling just how aroused you were, before he pulled away and kissed down your body. He took your sensitive nipples in his mouth. 

He sucked on the soft skin as his teeth applied just the slightest bit of pressure upon the bud. His warm tongue swirling around your nipple had you throwing your head back in pleasure. 

Your eyes closed as you relished his touch. You felt him kiss his way down your body; from your lips all the way down to your hip bones; his lips soft and gentle on your skin. 

He placed his hands on either one of your thighs and slowly spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without any hesitation. You moaned out loud as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your throbbing clit mercilessly. 

Obscene, wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful. He had dark hair you noticed. The room was getting darker and darker as well. You could see your arousal drenching the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming on the large bed. 

Your body arched off the bed for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you when his tongue slowly circled around your sensitive clit. The pressure between your legs was building up nicely. 

With a few more strokes of his tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face without any warning. He licked you clean, then kissed his way up your body again. “You’re all mine, Y/N.” he whispered softly against your lips as he settled in between your legs again. You shuddered under him and whined against his mouth, the feeling reminding you a lot of how you shivered earlier when a pair of cold hands held you gently by the shoulder. 

Your body felt tingly as he pushed himself fully into you. He lifted his head to look at you and you gasped quietly in surprise. It was Bucky. Although he still had dark eyes, and sharp canines? 

He didn’t give you time to think too much. You moaned out loud once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to relax your tense body. You wrapped around him perfectly. You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, kissing you deeply while he rolled his hips against yours.  

His body felt cold. But it also felt familiar. Being so close to him felt right. 

You whimpered as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you slightly harder. He groaned right in your ear as you felt your walls wrap around him, squeezing and clenching. This felt right. 

Panting and swearing under his breath, he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. He kissed your face; all over. You felt a little bold so you hooked your legs around his waist as his thrusts got rougher than the last. You were a moaning mess under him as your hands gripped his arms and shoulder. Your body moved against his like a rag doll. You knew, in your dream that you belonged to him, and him you. 

“I love you.” he whispered. He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. If anything, you wanted more. You needed him closer. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. He growled and bit down on your shoulder as he fucked you. He was relentless, and you liked it. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear, groaning as you tried to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He slammed into you, his hands travelling all over your body, until one of them wrapped around your throat. Your eyes watered as the pleasure became too much to handle; and you felt the pressure forming again. You felt him everywhere, each nerve ending burning and tingling. 

You squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him harshly each time he filled you up. A sweet, familiar pain formed again, and you came without any warning; gushing out all over him as he kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm. 

“Bucky... ” you sounded breathless. 

He gasped and snuggled closer to you. His eyes were back to the gentle blue again. “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ll always be here. I love you, Y/N.” 

You wanted to say it back. But then you woke up to a loud boom. You sat up gasping, and looking around frantically. You were sweating, but also cold. The room was dark, unlike the one in your dream earlier, which was illuminated by candlelight. It took you a little while to reorient yourself. The storm was somehow getting more and more loud and violent outside. 

And you just had a weird dream about Bucky. Which didn’t feel like a dream, but more like a memory. A memory buried so deep that it almost didn’t feel real. 

You were confused. What is the meaning of all this?

---

a/n: hi

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #vampire!bucky #marvel au #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you

[hops-hunny]

You Can Be the Boss

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: N/A but it’s based off of this rambling here

Summary: Women are beautiful, but they sure don’t make ‘em like her.

Warnings: Weed, Alcohol, Mentions of sex.

A/N: I wrote this to cope with the copious amounts of work I had due but I finished it all so now we celebrate!

Hogwarts had many things but one thing it lacked severely was normality. Not that it was a problem, nobody who attended Hogwarts was normal but it didn’t stop a portion of muggle born students from feeling a bit homesick to things their muggle friends did at their own schools. That’s how the talent shows started. At first, the students tried to get it officiated by the school. Dumbledore thought it was a wonderful idea!....if it was professor supervised and when it turned out that Snape was the only professor with enough freetime on his hands, the idea of having it being school ran quickly flew out the window. But looking back on it now, many were happy they went with the idea of going behind the professors backs. It wasn’t like they weren’t aware, they just had no proof of it all happening. The atmosphere of the talent shows were different from ordinary talent shows, however.

For starters, anything went. Any talent you had you were encouraged to bring it no matter how big or small it was or if it was “school appropriate”. But the pro to this was also booze and bud, meaning that everyone had a good time no matter what. Although, as it would turn out there were many talented people at Hogwarts. So, for the past few months every Friday everyone would gather in the room of requirement, watching the many ups and downs of performances. Neville started frequenting there as often as he could. It was a win-win, his friends got free entertainment and he had a chance to make some money from selling to chumps with too much cash on their hands. What better way was there to spend the night? 

His hazel eyes snapped up at the feeling of his blunt being ripped out of his hand. He went to swear, glaring at whoever was stupid enough to do that but quickly stopped as he saw who it was. He watched with wide eyes as the tip of it went between her pretty (l/c) lips, exhaling smoke. (Y/n) (L/n). She was one of those girls you either knew or you didn’t but more than likely, you knew her. Before 5th year, no one so much as spared her a glance but after a very fortunate late puberty in their current year (7th) she was slowly becoming all anyone could talk about. It was truly amazing what a haircut and a bit of weight in your hips could do for your social life. He eyed her curiously as she looked down at him.

“You comin’ tonight?” she asked, exhaling another puff of smoke into his face. (Y/n) put the joint back in his hand, moving the heavy guitar case into her now free hand.

“Yeah. ‘Spose I am.” He mumbled, eyes trailing down the expanse of her plush thighs. They were on full display due to the skirt she wore that left nothing to the imagination. His eyes locked with her (e/c) ones as she hummed, nodding as she took the blunt back from him walking off. She flashed him a smile once more, winking as she turned the corner going merlin knows where.

“Oi! What does she think she’s doing? You really gonna let her take the blunt from you like that just because she’s fit?” Ron complained, glaring at the boy who was set with the rest of their group. Neville shrugged, turning his eyes back to his book as he turned the page.

“If you’re so bothered by it why don’t you go take it back yourself?” Neville sassed. They all looked at Ron waiting for a response, laughing as he had nothing to say but a small ‘piss off’ under his breath.

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

Neville wasn’t one to put too much into his appearance. He’d usually just throw on a sweater vest over one of his uniform shirts and call it a day. However after the conversation he had had with (Y/n) earlier, he couldn’t help but wanna look nice. Was she flirting with him? He sighed as he glanced at his appearance in the mirror for a bit. ‘I doubt it.’ he thought. He shook the negative thoughts out of his head, packing his satchel with a few different strains. Just because some pretty girl was batting her pretty little eyes at him didn’t mean he was going to forget the reason he went to these things in the first place. The only other time Neville made this much money was Gryffindor common room parties and even then, it was only by a little.

But even as he was checking his appearance once again, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift. “Why am I wigging out? It’s not like we haven’t talked before.” He said out loud to himself. (Y/n) was a frequent buyer from him and even though he didn’t know her personally, she was one of the few people whose faces he remembered. At first, he was extremely annoyed by her. Who did she think she was showing up at his dorm at 3AM just to buy a bit of fucking jane? Every wednesday at the same time, she’d show up at his door (in a negligee that was far too short might he add) with that dopey look on her face asking to buy. And every single time without a doubt, he’d sell it to her. He had to admit, after a while he even started to enjoy the girl’s appearance. It gave him something to look forward to during his mundane school week.

“Ready to go, Nev? If we leave now, we can use a secret passage my brothers’ showed me.” Ron said, opening the door to Neville’s door. The lanky boy cleared his throat, giving the boy a nod as he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. Without another word, they both began their way ready for the night to unfold.

As usual, the talent show didn’t disappoint...for all the wrong reasons. Even though the cringe worthy performances were top notch entertainment and he had already made quite a bit of money, he still couldn’t stop from searching the crowd for a certain head of (h/c) hair. Where was she? After the stunt she had pulled earlier, he was sure she would be here. She had some nerve doing that and then not showing up. However, as he turned his gaze back to the stage, he saw the woman of the hour herself. She was in an oversized crochet sweater dress and a pair of combat boots. His eyes looked up in wonder as she took the stage, sitting on a wooden stool that was placed from the last sad excuse of a performance.

“It’s a bloody shame that she’s so fucking hot. Poor thing is going to embarrass herself singing up there.” Ron said, taking a sip from the beer he had in his hand. Neville nodded in agreement, taking a hit from his blunt but not really paying mind to his friend. It was hard to do so when the girl of his dreams was on the stage a mere foot away from him. He was absolutely intoxicated by her (and the few shots he had taken a bit ago) but he had to agree it would suck when she-”

“You taste like the fourth of July

Malt liquor on your breath, my, my”

She sang into the microphone softly. Neville’s jaw dropped in awe at the sound of her voice which was nothing short of angelic. He wasn’t the only one who was stunned considering the whole crowd went silent, a stark contrast from the loud chatter and laughter from before. He watched as she strummed at the guitar in her hands, looking up from the ground into the crowd. Mesmerized wasn’t even the right word to describe the state he was in. 

“I love you but I don’t know why…”

His eyes were focused on her lips, taking in every word she said. Harry nudged him, mouthing the words ‘look up’ to him as a small pause had come into the song. Neville looked at him confused before trailing his eyes up, gasping when he saw that hers were locked on his own. She smiled and flashed him a wink before continuing her song, leaning in forward. His own body began to subconsciously drift forward to but at the last second she pulled away and continued to sing.

"Did you see that? She definitely wants me." Seamus boasted confidently. The others looked at him dumbfounded at the fact he could get even more idiotic than ever before.

"Don't be fucking dumb mate! She was clearly looking at me." Ron chimed in, causing another round of even more exasperated looks to be thrown the ginger's way. They truly were dumb and dumber.

"I-I think both of you are wrong. (Y/n) was looking at.." Harry trailed off as the girl stood up, dancing around the stage with her guitar as she continued to sing. Not a single pair of eyes weren't on her at the moment. Could you blame anyone? When a beautiful girl with the voice of a siren is on stage, you'd be a fool not to. However, dumb and dumbers’ argument ceased as she made very clear eye contact with their awkward friend.

“You can be the boss, daddy

You can be the boss”

“That’s all me boys.” Neville said, a triumphant smirk taking over his place as Dean leaned over to give him a fist bump. As much as (Y/n) had him wrapped around her finger, it appeared she was wrapped around his too. All the angry glares being sent his direction were only fuel to the pride he felt growing in his chest. Such a pretty girl, the same pretty girl who plagued all his wet dreams and shower thoughts, was not only on stage singing in front of him, but directly to him as well. She reached a hand forward, tips of her fingers lightly brushing against his flushed cheeks.

“I like you a lot, I like you a lot

Don’t let it stop”

“This is totally unfair. One of the hottest chicks in our year and she’s pining over Longbottom.” Seamus grumbled, grimacing as the liquor went down his throat hard. Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“Jealous much?” he asked no one in particular, as that could be said about most of the guys they were sitting with.

“Bad to the bone, sick as a dog

You know that I like, like you a lot

Don’t let it stop”

Neville felt his own lips curl up into a smile at the sight of the one that belonged to the angel in front of him. However the cute moment didn’t last long cause once again, Ron chimed in with something else.

“Neville? Bad? He still sleeps in pajama sets!” he exclaimed quietly, earning a ‘shh!’ from Harry. The boy in question leaned forward, looking at his ginger friend.

“Is this really coming from the boy who needs Mummy’s howler to fall asleep at night?” that shut him right up. Harry snorted, high fiving him for bringing up the embarrassing piece of information. 

The girl continued to sing, eyes never leaving Neville’s for a second. Ron and Seamus’s petty comments had ceased as well. Even though they weren’t the one receiving attention, they could still admit the girl had pipes on her. When the song was over she stood up, bowing as the silence of the crowd quickly erupted in cheers and claps from the breathtaking performance. There were a few more people left but no one paid much mind to them. He found himself feeling bad for them. Even if they were good, none of them could top the performance of the night. 

As the night began to come to a close, (Y/n) found herself over to Neville again parking herself in his lap which he gladly accepted. She looked up at him, smiling shyly. It was almost comedic due to the words she had so sinfully sung to him only 45 minutes ago. Neville ignored the way his friends gawked at him. He’d deal with that another time.

“Come back to my room and split a spliff?” she asked, looking down as she picked at her fingers. He grabbed her hands, leaning in close to her.

“Only if I can eat your pussy afterwards.” he said confidently. He said it quiet enough to not draw attention but just loud enough that his friends would hear. (Y/n) felt her face grow warm as she nodded, hopping up from his lap as she dragged him off to her room.

Neville 1, blokes 0.

Extra:

“Seriously?! Is it really that easy? What does he have that I don’t?” Seamus said, mind running over the times he’d attempted saying things like that. The only place it had gotten him was on the ground after he had his balls kicked!

“It’s gotta be the weed. After all, who wouldn’t wanna sleep with the weed man? Free pot!” Ron exclaimed, trying to rationalize what had just happened.

“Aren’t you the residential booze man of Hogwarts? If that was the case, you’d have an easier time with women too.” Dean said, causing Harry to nod in agreement. Ron simply grumbled, slamming his empty bottle down as he walked off from the cackling group of blokes.

#harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter #Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #neville x y/n #neville longbottom x y/n

[wooziujidoots]

Letters to You (j.ww)

genre: flomf + a smudge of angst

pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

series: Song Fic Series! - Run to You

word count: 3.8k

summary: childhood friends should never be separated

author’s notes: are posted separately!! take a look if you’re feeling bored LOL

MASTERLIST

Jeon Wonwoo watched the scenery outside of the train window as the machine made its way to Changwon. The sun had set a good hour ago, and he was completely aware that his actions were stupid and insanely spontaneous. Wonwoo unconsciously clenches the box of letters in his cold hands, his thoughts consisted of you, his leg jumping anxiously as he waited for the train to reach its destination.

You and Wonwoo lived in nearby neighborhoods since primary school in Changwon, his hometown. The two of you got along as quiet children; you understood each other. Your worlds were filled with wonder and imagination. Your precious innocence and childhood memories revolved around each other. The two of you didn’t see a problem with spending so much time together; even as the two of you entered high school, you found time for each other despite having different schedules. The two of you always tried your hardest to find time to walk home together. It didn’t matter that the other kids would poke and prod at you to start dating or tease you for spending so much time together; you were a pair and were precious to each other.

As the end of senior year of high school neared, thoughts on colleges and universities to apply were common. Wonwoo wanted to get out of the town and see the city, he craved the excitement that his hometown lacked, but you wanted to stay in Changwon because of its familiarity and the fear of becoming homesick. And when Wonwoo finally broke the news that he had been accepted to Seoul National University, you didn’t know how to react.

Your best friend made it to a great school, and you should be happy for him, but it was your best friend who would be separated from you after 18 years of staying side by side.

The two of you sat in silence after Wonwoo spoke, the slight squeaking of the rusting swing set the two of you sat on being the only audible noise. The swing set resided in a park you and Wonwoo frequented since you were young, it being the halfway point between your neighborhoods. Going here would be your sacred spot for years in your friendship; the most complicated talks would take place here, this being one of them. As your mind filled with clashing thoughts, some of your hidden feelings for the boy were pushing you to beg him to stay. Wonwoo waited for you to process the information he suddenly pushed onto you. He shifted his eyes to you to see how you were coping; he knew it was going to be hard for the both of you to be so far from each other; Seoul being on the other side of South Korea, from Changwon. It scared him to be away from his family, but he wanted to seize the moment, but he wanted to know if you would be alright with his absence.

Wonwoo silently intertwined his cold fingers with yours, a habit that the two of you unconsciously did when in need of comfort; or whenever his hands lacked warmth. Your hands were still so small and warm in his, something that he found comical since you were kids. But now, as growing young adults, the both of you knew that fate was bound to tear the two of you apart sooner or later. With lacklustre enthusiasm, you looked at Wonwoo with glassy eyes and a painful smile, giving a soft squeeze to give him more warmth.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeon Wonwoo is no idiot. He knew that his departure to Seoul would significantly affect the both of you. The day of his departure finally arrived. He said goodbyes to family, and the two of you found yourself sitting side by side at the train platform, waiting for his train. The wait was silent for the most part, you had cried to yourself the night leading up to this day, and you were not expecting to fight your tears again today as you sat with him for the last time in a while. Without looking at him, you quietly reached for his hand and warmed it in yours. Wonwoo allowed your actions and silently watched you, a growing pit of sadness built inside him as your grip on his hand tightened with the whistle of the approaching train. It was time for him to leave.

The two of you stood up and looked at each other one last time. Your tears were flowing out now, causing Wonwoo to chuckle at you (even as you softly hit his chest) and wiped them away. You pulled him into a tight hug, the two of you pouring out your feelings into it, your tears staining his jacket and your hands clutching the fabric. The two of you gripped onto each other for the last time until the train’s doors opened. His hands slid down to your hand one last time as the two of you gave one last squeeze. And as his fingers slipped away from your warmth, he felt his heart clench at the sight of you standing alone on the platform crying. With a heavy heart and an unfamiliar feeling in his heart, Wonwoo boarded the train to Seoul with his luggage in hand.

~

It had only been a few days since Wonwoo left his hometown when he received a letter from you. You had mailed it in a decorated envelope that came in a hefty pack that you had bought from the stationary store near your school. Wonwoo recognized the envelope design and chuckled to himself, remembering how excited you got when he bought it for you. However, when he called you about the letter, you refused to speak about it and told him if he wanted to say anything, he would have to write back.

In your letter, you spoke about how life was doing in your hometown and about how it felt different without him there. You talked about his family and how you were preparing for the upcoming year at Changwon National University. You stated your purpose of the letter, explaining that although it is cliché, you claimed a warmth that one could feel when receiving a handwritten letter from someone close to you. Wonwoo let out a chuckle, humored to see your familiar behavior even when written out.

Wonwoo wrote back to you the same day and happily mailed it at the post office near his dorm. And without knowing it, he would excitedly wait for your next letter to arrive and would internally scream whenever a decorated envelope would sit in his mailbox. As the year progressed, the pile of letters from you grew. Wonwoo kept them in a small box on his desk and would read them over whenever he missed you or home. Polaroids from back home that you sent to him in each letter were taped onto his wall; a certain polaroid of you smiling with a lollipop stuck in your hair was hidden in his phone case. He found comfort in having your photo back there; he had a piece of you with him all the time, plus it was his favorite out of all the pictures of you.

His Uni friends were aware of your presence and how important you were to him. Wonwoo’s roommate, Seungcheol, would tease him often about you because the speckled man would close himself from the world until he finished the letter. Seungcheol didn’t mind, though; he found it cute how whipped Wonwoo was for the girl in the letters. Plus, you had sent Wonwoo’s roommate a lollipop in compensation for having to deal with him, so Seungcheol thought nicely of you. The rest of the 11 men Wonwoo befriended would poke and prod him about “his girl back home.” Which he would deny despite his quickening heart rate when speaking to you on the phone or through letters.

As school got increasingly difficult and the work began to pile up for the both of you, the letters stopped for a while after a mutual understanding that your lives were getting busy. Wonwoo had sent the last letter, which meant that he had to wait for you to send a response to continue the chain. Throughout the break, Wonwoo would continue to deny any claim that prompted him to miss the letters from you. He always had his phone to contact you whenever he wanted to. Despite him waving off his friends’ comments, there was a large part of him that longed to see another one of your decorated envelopes sitting inside his mailbox. There was something heartwarming about receiving letters because it took time to make and deliver. Letters took time out of your day, and he could tell that you wrote in detail, fearful of missing a detail that would have to wait for the following letter. 

Now, Jeon Wonwoo is not an idiot. He always took into mind what his friends thought about him and would reflect on his day to find ways to improve himself. One particular day was filled with his friends’ teasing had brought Wonwoo to question if he held secret feelings for you that he was unaware about. His thoughts were brought back to when the two of you were still children, racing each other to school or just simply playing in the park that the two of you would frequently return to even as you grew older. Wonwoo even remembered attending the annual cherry blossom festival with you multiple times, your families attending every so often. However, it was you who would push him to attend. One particular festival, however, he remembered holding your hand while walking under the falling cherry blossoms. As if he were put into a trance, he watched you in awe as you pulled him through the hallway of falling petals. Wonwoo furiously shook his head in embarrassment while laying down in his bed that night.

He only saw you as some childhood friend… right?

Wonwoo shivered and tightly wrapped himself in his blanket; his hands were freezing. He tossed around on his bed to rid his thoughts of you for the rest of the night. Unbeknownst to him, his longing thoughts of you would continue on for the rest of the week. He would space out so often that his friends would call him out for it, noticing an unusual difference in school performance and behavior. One of his friends, Minghao, even noticed that he would be holding his phone to rub the back of his case, to which he texted Wonwoo with concern afterwards. Wonwoo couldn’t understand why he was acting like this either. Everything that he looked at reminded him of you; even his side of the dorm had remnants of you. From the stickers you secretly super-glued onto his laptop to the blanket you gave him that was sitting on his bed. He was sick of it.

“Maybe I’m just homesick,” he would try telling himself. 

It wasn’t until he saw a particular decorated envelope sitting in his mailbox that he felt his heart rate rise at a spectacular rate as he giddily sped into the dorm room. Seungcheol was sleeping on his bed when he entered, his light snores filling up the silence in the room.

Wonwoo dropped the rest of the mail on the coffee table and jumped onto his bed, ripping open the envelope to see what you had to offer this time. To his surprise, there were no polaroids but instead, a small cherry blossom petal encased in tape. Confused, Wonwoo took out the letter to read why you had changed the usual trinket.

Your letter this time described your most precious memories together, from just sitting on the swings of your childhood park near your houses and eating whatever snack you had to chew on, to the fond memories that the two of you had shared from the cherry blossom festivals that you would drag Wonwoo to. In the letter, you told him that the sealed flower petal was from one of the festivals that the two of you had attended. It went on to apologize for the long wait for the letter and that it wouldn’t happen again. There was a small space of hesitation in the letter. The letter abruptly closed after the apology and written in a small font was an instruction to call you before reading the letter. 

There was something important that you wanted to discuss with him, you wrote.

Wonwoo felt nervous; he gently closed the letter and grabbed his phone. He glanced at his snoring roommate before getting up and leaving the dorm room, the taped flower petal in his hand. Wonwoo made his way up to the rooftop, a quieter place to have a phone call with you and he wouldn’t disturb Seungcheol, before clicking on your contact, every ring making his stomach sink deeper. 

“Hello?” 

Wonwoo unconsciously smiled before greeting you back; he had forgotten how pleasant your voice sounded. The two of you caught up for a while before asking why he had called. Wonwoo hesitated and began to fiddle with the petal in his pocket. He proceeded to tell you that he received your most recent letter and your direction to call him. Wonwoo let out a small laugh while telling you how unique the taped petal was, bringing it out of his pocket to observe it. There was a moment of silence on your end, the feeling of dread returning to Wonwoo’s stomach. You made an unintelligible noise before groaning out that there was something important that you needed to tell him. Wonwoo’s grip on the petal tightened.

“I’ve loved you for a long time now.”

~

Seungcheol could tell something was wrong. When he got ready to leave the dorm to his job, Wonwoo quietly slinked into their shared unit and laid face flat on his bed. Seungcheol called out to him and asked if he was okay only to receive a muffled groan in response. He didn’t want to leave his roommate like this, but his boss would kill him if he were late again. With a heavy sigh, Seungcheol left the dorm, shouting to Wonwoo to eat something before he gets home.

As soon as the door closed, Wonwoo turned his head to get air and pulled out the petal from his pocket. Your words were still ringing in his ear and the way you abruptly hung up after telling him that the feelings didn’t have to be mutual. His thoughts were in turmoil, did he like you that way?

Wonwoo’s hands felt cold again, he pulled his sleeves over them.

For the next few days Wonwoo was even more out of his normal self and his friends were completely aware of it. They were weary on approaching him about it though, Wonwoo wasn’t the type to speak about his feelings to them. They could tell that he would be thinking about it too, his cheeks would turn the slightest bit of pink whenever he would space out, a mumbled “she likes me” escaping him once. He couldn’t not think about you, you were everywhere to him. It was similar to when he missed your letters but enhanced because of your confession. Wonwoo would space out more often than usual, enough for the boys to actually become annoyed at him. When his studies were being affected by this though, Seungcheol decided to step in and talk to him once and for all.

It had been five days since your call and there was a small yet growing pile of missing assignments from Wonwoo’s classes. Seungcheol opened the door to the dorm and found Wonwoo quickly shoving the box of letters behind him. Seungcheol raised his eyebrows at Wonwoo and shifted his eyes to look at the taped petal on his roommate’s bed, which Wonwoo immediately covered with his hand. Seungcheol let out a tired sigh and took a seat on his own bed across Wonwoo’s, giving him a serious look.

“You and I both know that you like her,” he started, Wonwoo couldn’t look at his older roommate. “I don’t know when you’re going to accept it but we both know that this,” Seungcheol motioned towards the scattered papers on Wonwoo’s desk, “won’t end unless you finally make up your mind.”

Seungcheol stood up from his bed, “Don’t think I don’t see you rereading her letters or that I didn’t see you hide her photo behind your phone,” Wonwoo froze, “you’ve got it bad man, everyone sees it except you.” Seungcheol then left the dorm, mentioning something about joining him and Jeonghan once he gets himself together.

Wonwoo continued to think about his feelings for you through the night, his roommate’s smack of reality helped him concentrate a bit better. It was Sunday, and Wonwoo was trying to complete his missing assignments from before. Wonwoo groaned in frustration and slammed his pencil down onto the unfinished calculus homework. He shifted his eyes to his phone, his heart beating a bit faster when the thought of him calling you crossed his mind. Wonwoo peeled his phone case off and cradled the small polaroid of you in his hand, his thumb rubbing over your face in the photograph and smiling as he saw the stuck lollipop in your hair. Wonwoo then reached for taped petal sitting on his bare phone; he had been hiding it there with your photograph to keep it safe. Wonwoo felt his face warm, your words ringing in his ear once more as his heart raced.

He did love you after all.

Something inside Wonwoo snapped. He got up quickly and took a look at the window, the sun was about to set. Wonwoo hurriedly shoved your photo and the petal into his pocket, grabbed his phone and wallet, and hastily toppled his books standing on top of your box of letters. With that in hand, he ran to the train station, purchased a ticket, and hopped on a train going straight to Changwon station.

Jeon Wonwoo watched the scenery outside of the train window as the machine made its way to Changwon. The sun had set a good hour ago, the lampposts outside illuminating the dark land beyond. Wonwoo unconsciously clenches the box of letters in his cold hands, his thoughts consisted of you, his leg jumping anxiously as he waited for the train to reach its destination. It was a two-hour trip by bullet train, he didn’t care that he spent so much money on a ticket, Wonwoo needed to see you.

He sent a quick text to Seungcheol that he was alive and was going somewhere for the night and turned off his ringer, he knew he was going to receive a horrible scolding for this once he got back but he focused more on the task in hand. Wonwoo clenched his cold fingers to get the warmth that he lacked, and carefully took out your photo and the petal he had carelessly shoved inside his pocket. The laminated petal was doing well, and your photo was crumpled now from his running, his fingers smoothing out the creases on the photograph before rubbing his thumb on your printed face.

The train’s chime woke Wonwoo up, the doors of the train slowly opening. Wonwoo shook himself awake and grabbed his belongings before making his way out. He was immediately hit with nostalgia as soon as he stepped out of the train.

The station looked the same as it always did. Wonwoo’s heart clenching at the sight of the seats the two of you sat on the day of his departure. He looked at his phone to check the time only to be met with a black screen; his phone had died.

As panic started to settle inside Wonwoo, he had a running start out of the station to your house, the street lampposts lighting his way through the familiar streets from your childhood. Memories floated around him, each and every spot in this town had a memory of you in it. From the races to school in the mornings, to buying you those envelopes you loved at the stationary store near your houses, and eating snacks at the park late at night, Wonwoo found himself standing in front of your house holding your box of letters in his arm.

Your room’s light was on and he felt his heart soar. He was here. He continuously knocked on the door, his heartbeat growing faster and faster as he heard your footsteps grow louder.

And there you were. Clad in a stolen shirt of his from high school, shorts, and a pair of fuzzy socks, you were as beautiful as he had left you.

You jumped into his arms, him dropping the box of letters to catch you and latch his arms around you. You disregarded all your feelings and tears you released for the past few days, all the anger and stress were being relieved being in his arms, you buried your face into his shoulder as he lifted you off the ground. Your best friend was home.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widened, tears resurfacing once more. Did you hear that right? Wonwoo held you close to him as he whispered in your ear.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

You leaned back to see his reddened face illuminated by the street lampposts and let out a happy laugh as tears ran down your face.

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

You giggled out as he softly kissed your forehead, a soft blush rising up your neck.

“No matter the distance, I’ll always run to you if it means I can tell you that I love you.”

A bright smile appeared on your face before burying it in his chest and interlocking fingers with his.

And suddenly, Wonwoo’s hands didn’t feel cold anymore.

~

Turns out, that petal you sent to him was from the festival that you realized that you were in love with your best friend. Wonwoo teased you, laying on your bed that Monday morning. You explained that if he didn’t hold the same feelings as you did then you would rather let go of the petal than to hold onto it.

Wonwoo looked at you with sincere eyes, interlacing his cold hands with yours to get you to look at him. He sat up and pulled you up with him, him placing a soft kiss on your lips as you got up. The two of you smiled at each other, sharing another kiss.

His and your box of letters sitting next to each other on your desk, Wonwoo never felt warmer with you here.

~

Then I can find you, who cares if it’s a bit far?

I’ll follow the line that connects us two

When you said you engraved my name in your heart

Remember why my eyes grew so big

 Right now, you and I, we both need the same thing

But I don’t have it so let’s meet again later

Please be well until I get there

I’m going to run to you

#seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen angst #svt angst #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #seventeen #svt #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader fluff #wonwoo #jeon woonwoo #seventeen drabbles #Letters to You fic

[ifmywishescametrue]

and bc i have no self control. #41 kisses to shut them up for rhodeytony

So this one spiraled so quickly, because I also have no self control! And now it’s a 3.4k words of 5+1 for Rhodey and Tony’s first kisses together. Hope you like it :)

The first time is something of a joke. Tony is doing that rambling thing like always, hands moving around rapidly and coming dangerously close to smacking passersby in the face. He gets more than a few dirty looks for it, but he doesn’t seem to be noticing. Rhodey isn’t even sure what he’s ranting about anymore. Maybe one of his professors, or that annoying guy in his physics class. All he does know is that he wants to get to the cafeteria before they run out of pizza and Tony walks slow when he’s talking. So Rhodey grabs him by the wrist when his hand flies in front of him again, spinning him around and planting his lips firmly against Tony’s for just a moment. It does the job of stunning him into silence, but it also makes him freeze completely on the sidewalk. Rhodey keeps walking, and Tony has to run to catch back up. 

“What was that for?” Tony asks, eyes wide. 

Rhodey shrugs, “Had to shut you up somehow.”

Tony makes an offended squawking sound, hitting Rhodey with the too long sleeve of his sweatshirt. Rhodey’s sweatshirt, technically. 

“That’s rude,” Tony says. “You’re getting me ice cream to make it up to me.”

Rhodey laughs, slinging his arm over Tony’s shoulders to pull him along. “Whatever you want, Tones.”

______________

If the first was a joke, the second is just the repeat performance. Between Rhodey’s basic training and Tony’s recent and sudden rise to CEO, it’s been almost three months since the last time they’ve seen each other. Basic has him questioning everything and feeling like a bit of failure. He should have been able to handle it better. The homesickness, the pressure, the constant grind of work. It’s been the dream for so long that he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling he has now. 

“Maybe I should quit.”

Tony snorts inelegantly, “Pretty sure that’s called deserting and it’s a crime.”

“So I’ll go on the run,” Rhodey argues, like it’s a perfectly reasonable response. “I’ll move to Tahiti or Fiji or one of those other islands. Wait, you have a private island, right? I could go there, and if anyone comes for me, I’ll just take a rowboat out to sea, and they won’t have any jurisdiction on the water to arrest me. I’m pretty sure that’s a thing. Right? It’s -”

Tony’s lips are a little sticky from the beer he’s been drinking, and his hands are warm where they cup Rhodey’s cheeks. He doesn’t understand what’s happening or why, and at first he can’t think enough to react. When he can think again he can’t decide whether to push him off or kiss him back, and he still hasn’t reached a conclusion when Tony pulls away. He doesn’t know if it lasted two seconds or two minutes, and it’s confusing to realize that he isn’t sure which he would prefer. 

“Wow, that is effective,” Tony grins. “Thought maybe it was just me it works on, but I should try that on board members sometime if it’s that good.”

Rhodey gapes at him when he connects the pieces. “Seriously, Tony? That happened two years ago, and I’m in the middle of a crisis right now.”

"No, you were spiralling and now you’re not," Tony says simply. "Situation resolved by not talking about it."

"That's not how that works."

"Of course it is. How do you think most fires get put out? By putting a lid on them until they die."

"Alright, ignoring that that's not even true, what the hell does it even mean?" 

"It's very true, and what it means is that I have put a lid on this irrational fire, so it doesn't have the chance to spread and ignite the rest of your life. Containment, honeybear. It's about containment."

"That's a terrible analogy," Rhodey says, and Tony tosses his hands in the air. 

"What do you want from me on the spot?" 

They spend most of the night trying to come up with something better, laughing and drinking the rest of the beer in Tony's fridge, until Rhodey forgets that he was ever stressed in the first place.

______________

Their third kiss is an accident. It happens somewhere in between Rhodey deciding that he hates Tony's new boyfriend and him realizing exactly why that is. 

He comes back from six months overseas, and it's a few days ahead of what he was expecting. He told Tony Thursday, but his plane touches down in California on Tuesday morning, and he gives the taxi driver Tony's address without a second thought. Tony likes surprises, and he has no reason to think this might be a bad one. 

He uses his key to let himself in, fully knowing that Tony won't be awake yet to answer the door. The first traces of sun are just starting to filter in through the windows, and Rhodey sets his duffle bag down near the door before moving into the kitchen. Tony's refrigerator is nearly barren, but there are a few eggs and a green pepper that would be rotten by tomorrow that he can make due with. He finds an onion, too, and falls into a rhythm while dicing vegetables. 

It's this kind of thing that he misses when he's away. He misses having a kitchen and making what he wants in it, even if this isn't his kitchen or his first choice of food. But he misses the simplicity of it all. Life on the base seems alternate between too fast and too slow, but this is all his own pace. 

He hears footsteps on the stairs a little after the eggs hit the pan, and he glances over his shoulder to watch Tony shuffle into the room while rubbing his tired eyes. If he had stayed turned around a little longer, their third kiss wouldn't have happened at all. By the time Tony opens his eyes, Rhodey's back is to him again. 

Instead of instantly reacting, Tony slowly wanders over and puts his hand on Rhodey's shoulder. The words are mumbled when he says, "You're up way too early," and Rhodey doesn't have time to process how strange the sentence is, because he's being kissed the second his head turns. Not the shut up kind of kiss or even that sort of friendly peck he's seen people do sometimes. It's the kind where Tony's tongue is slipping between his lips, and his hand is wandering lower. The kind that friends don't share, but lovers definitely do. 

Rhodey falls into it without question. 

The spatula clatters to the floor from his hand, and Tony laughs into the kiss before pulling back. There's a grin and a joke on his lips that's quickly replaced by dawning horror. 

"Rhodey?" Tony squeaks out. His hand flies up to cover his mouth, and through it Rhodey hears, "Oh, shit." He looks down at the complete lack of space between their bodies, dropping the hand to raise them both in front of himself like a defense as he backs away a couple of steps. "Fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I thought - you weren't supposed to be here yet. Thursday. That's - you said Thursday. Didn't you?" 

It's like ice water with how quickly the warmth of that kiss leaves his body. 

Rhodey raises an eyebrow and plays at unaffected. "I did, yeah. Seems like you should attack an intruder instead of kissing them, though." 

Tony's cheeks turn a vibrant shade of red, and he runs a still shaky hand through his hair.

"I thought you were someone else," he sheepishly admits. "It's just that from behind you, um, well you look a lot like Ryan, and he wasn't in bed still when I got up, so I came down here, and, uh, I guess you know the rest of that story." 

Ryan, Rhodey's mind bitterly repeats. The guy Tony's spent the last three months talking about on the phone and in his letters. It's always about him in some way.  He told me the funniest story yesterday, Rhodey or Isn't he so romantic, platypus? But Tony seems happy, so he fakes a laugh at a story that definitely isn't funny retold and agrees that string quartets are romantic instead of horribly cliché. He helps him plan dates when it's Tony's turn, because apparently that's yet another adorable thing they do together. 

He just barely suppresses the sigh before saying, "Don't worry about it, Tones. It's all good."

Tony looks relieved, and after an awkward minute or two they fall back into their normal conversation like it never happened. They talk about the missions Rhodey has flown for and the designs Tony has been working on between bites of burned eggs and coffee. 

Neither of them ever mention that Rhodey kissed him back. 

______________

Tony and Rhodey are both drunk for the fourth. The music is loud at the club, and the air is a smoky haze. It's someone's birthday, he thinks, but he can't really remember anymore by the fifth shot of tequila. 

He leans back against the bar on his elbows, watching in drunken amusement while Tony tries to put the moves on someone to hold up his end of the bet. The guy looks like he isn’t quite sure what’s happening, and Rhodey laughs into the rim of his glass. All he needs is one kiss, and Rhodey will be out the contents of his wallet. He isn't even sure what those contents are, and Tony wouldn't let him check before the handshake. It could be anywhere from a nickel to fifty bucks, he figures, which is worth it to watch this complete trainwreck. 

It takes another ten minutes of flirting before Tony finally gives up and comes back over to the bar. 

“Loser,” Rhodey teases. “What happened to having ‘game so good a straight man would fall to his knees?’”

Tony flips him off and steals the glass from his hand. “He has a girlfriend, which is the only reason it didn’t happen.”

“He didn’t even realize that you were flirting with him, did he?” Rhodey laughs, and Tony pouts pitifully. 

“The no touching rule wasn’t fair.”

“A good bet doesn’t involve actual harassment,” Rhodey reasons, just like he did earlier in the night. “If you can’t get them to kiss you by flirting with just words, they wouldn’t want you touching them in the first place. It’s called consent.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “I do not need to be taught about consent. I am the king of consent. Enthusiastic, resounding consent, even.” He pauses, and there’s a dangerous look in his eyes when he narrows them at Rhodey. “Okay, I know that this about to go against everything I just said, but it’s you, and we don’t have rules, right?”

“What?”

“Just say yes.”

“Yes to what?”

Tony leans in with enough time that if Rhodey really wanted to, he could pull away. He could put his hand over Tony’s mouth or step to the side or simply tell him no and Tony wouldn’t do it. 

But he doesn’t do any of those things. 

He lets Tony cup the back of his neck to tilt his head to the right angle, and he threads his hand into Tony’s hair in return. His lips taste like the vodka and cranberry juice from the stolen glass, until Rhodey has kissed him so thoroughly that he can’t taste it anymore. 

“There,” Tony says, grinning proudly like he’s just done something exceptionally smart. His breath is coming quickly, and Rhodey’s head is spinning with the thought that he’s the one that did that to him. “I got a straight man to kiss me. Pay up.”

Rhodey laughs, full-bodied with his head tilted back. “No, man. You definitely didn’t.”

Tony’s still a little too drunk to fully understand what he means by that, and he takes it as if Rhodey’s saying that he stole the kiss, rather than earned it. He spends most of the night after that trying to get him to kiss him again on his own accord, but Rhodey doesn’t want another one like that. He wants Tony’s soft-eyed gaze on him, and his body held tight in his arms. He wants to hear him say the same words he’s saying right now, but to have him actually mean it when he says the word please. Like he won’t be able to live for another second without Rhodey’s lips on his. 

He doesn’t want the joke anymore, but he knows he won’t ever get to have the real thing. 

______________

Rhodey is half asleep for kiss number five, and he isn’t even quite sure that it actually happens. He’s lying in a hospital bed somewhere in Germany, he thinks, and machines are beeping all around him. He can’t really remember what brought him here as he drifts in and out. There was some kind of fight - that much is obvious. He sees flashes of bullets in the sky, flames, and a rapidly plummeting altitude reading. Was it a mission gone wrong? An attack they weren’t expecting? One of the machines ticks a little faster when he tries to clear his head enough to think about it, and then darkness takes over again. 

When he partially wakes the next time, there’s something warm and solid in his hand. It shifts a little, brushing lightly in circles over his skin, and it takes him a longer amount of time than it should to realize that it’s another hand. But when he does, he knows without a doubt who it belongs to, and the thought sends him back into sleep with a warm feeling in his chest. 

He finds out later that he was unconscious for three days, and Tony hardly leaves his side for a minute of it. Rhodey doesn’t want to say how that makes him feel, so he falls back on what he does know how to say. 

“You should really at least go back to the hotel to take a shower. You’re starting to smell, man,” he says after the doctor leaves the room. 

Tony gives him a weak laugh, running his hand through his hair and grimacing at the oily texture. "Maybe in a little bit. You just woke up."

Rhodey shifts against the pillows, tilting his head to get a good look at him. His clothes might be the same ones he showed up here in, all wrinkled with a coffee stain on one of his sleeves. The circles under his eyes are darker than he's ever quite seen them before, and he looks too pale. 

Tony isn't supposed to look like that. 

He's supposed to be sunlight embodied, all tanned skin and bright eyes and fluid motion. But this Tony is slumped over in his chair, small and fragile looking like the wrong word could destroy him completely. This Tony offers him a brave face and a delicate smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and Rhodey can't stand it. Can't stand that it's his own fault he looks like that. 

Stretching his arm out, he turns over his hand to open his palm. The movement tugs at his injured shoulder, but he grits his teeth to hide the pain and it's worth it to have Tony's hand back in his where it belongs. He squeezes gently, and Tony squeezes back. 

"You almost died," Tony whispers. "You're not allowed to die."

"I won't do it again," Rhodey says, even though they both know he can't make that promise. 

Tony nods, and for now that can be enough. He switches the topic to something else so they don't have to talk about it anymore. So Tony doesn't have to say what the last three days felt like, and Rhodey doesn't have to admit that his last thought before the plane went down was regret that he'd never get to have this again. 

Tony makes him laugh until his battered ribs are aching with it, until they've talked about everything and nothing and sleep is pulling at Rhodey again. It's hard to keep his eyes open, and he fights it until he can't any longer. 

A hand runs over his hair, and down the side of his face to linger on his cheek. Rhodey leans into the touch with closed eyes as Tony murmurs, "I'll come back tomorrow. Don't you dare do anything stupid like dying while I'm gone."

He feels the warmth of Tony's breath on his skin the moment before Tony kisses him. It's a barely there, wisp of a thing, right on the corner of his mouth. There one instant, then gone the next. It's the last thing he feels before slipping into sleep again. 

______________

“I’m so old,” Tony groans, flopping down on the beach chair next to Rhodey’s. “Ancient. Decrepit. On death’s door.”

“You’re thirty,” Rhodey says, and he laughs at the pout on Tony’s face. “I’m a year older than you. What does that make me then?”

“A senior citizen, just like me.”

Rhodey lifts his beer from where the bottle was balancing in the sand and clinks it with the bottle in Tony’s hand. “Welcome to the club then. We’re happy to have you.”

Tony kicks off his shoes and tucks his feet under his thighs as he settles back in the chair. It’s quiet out here on the beach, away from the crowds and noise from the party. The crashing of the waves and the distant thrum of music are the only sounds, and they watch the water in the still of the night for a while. 

“Don’t you want to get back to the party?” Rhodey asks softly, unwilling to break their bubble of peace. “It’s for you.”

Tony shakes his head. “I like it better out here.”

“Want me to kick everyone out for you?”

Tony looks over his shoulder at the house, filled to the brim and lights flashing from every window. He leans over the inch between their chairs and rests his head on Rhodey’s shoulder. “No, they can have their fun in there, and I can have mine here.”

Rhodey cards his hand through Tony’s hair, feeling warm despite the cool breeze. “This is fun for you, huh? Sitting in silence?”

“It’s always good with you,” Tony murmurs, so quiet that Rhodey almost loses it to the ocean. He’ll always be thankful that he didn’t. 

He lets his hand go lower, slipping from his hair to run his thumb along Tony’s jaw, and it would be so easy, he thinks, to kiss him right now. To tilt Tony’s chin up and turn his head to the side just a little. To brush their lips together, slowly at first, then steadily growing more desperate as he gives in to everything he’s wanted for so long. He thinks of the way Tony would sound, if he would sigh or moan or whimper under his mouth. Tony would be sticky sweet from the buttercream on the cupcakes from earlier, and Rhodey would taste sugar on his tongue. 

“Rhodey,” Tony whispers, looking up at him. The moon is reflected in the deep brown of his eyes, and Rhodey wants to keep this image of him in him in his mind forever. “Can I tell you what I wished for?”

“Won’t come true if you do,” Rhodey whispers back. 

“I think it’s the only way it might,” Tony answers, and he seems even closer than he was before. 

“What did you wish for?”

Tony’s cheeks are flushed, and Rhodey thinks for a moment that he’s going to lose his nerve to say whatever it is. He’s ready for the joke instead, but it never comes. 

“For you to kiss me,” Tony says with an unsteady breath. “For it to mean something when you do.”

Rhodey slides his hand a little higher, and he strokes across Tony’s cheekbone. He doesn’t miss the way that Tony’s eyes flicker down to his lips. “And what do you want it to mean?”

“Everything.”

“Everything,” Rhodey repeats, and Tony smiles, soft and unsure. “I think I can manage that.”

______________

Years later, Tony still likes to tease Rhodey about their first kiss, except now it's become their thing. The interrupted sentences sometimes get finished after and sometimes don't because kissing Tony is more important than whatever it was that he had to say in the first place. 

He loses count of what number they’re on. One thousand or one million, it could never be enough. They have all kinds of kisses now. Early morning, sleep-hazed kisses, and quick, little pecks on the way out the door. Good night kisses that turn passionate and desperate as often as they stay innocent and sweet. Reluctant ones when Tony is mad at him for something silly, lingering ones in apology. 

Each one still means everything.

#rhodeytony #ironhusbands #my writing #my fic #prompt fill #warmachinesocks

[zodiyack]

Imprisoned (2,000+ Follower Special!)

Pairing: Kai Parker x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mention of murder, fluff, I dunno what else

Words: 1,154

Summary: Whilst imprisoned in the prison world, Kai reflects on his girlfriend. She’d been searching for a way to free him, despite him knowing exactly how, and the thought of her is what keeps him from giving up hope. If only Bonnie and Damon cared. 

Note: Thank you all so so soooo fucking much! I love you all from the bottom of my soul. You beautiful people never fail to put a smile on my face. I’m crying right now but believe me when I say, I don’t plan on stopping. Again, thank you, I love you guys, please stay healthy, stay safe! I’m horrible with words and I’m a writer wtf but I’m really really happy right now, I can’t stop smiling, and I hope those help in making up for my lack of friendship with ...words 😅🥰💖

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @dpaccione​, @thewarriorprincessxo​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​

Masterlist | The Vampire Diaries Masterlist

“She was...beautiful.”

“And in love with a psychotic dick.” Damon stared at Kai with wide-...ish eyes and furrowed brows. Normally, he would’ve said the same thing about Elena and her attraction to him, but killing his own family? And enjoying it? Kai was far worse.

“We don’t have time to bicker, c’mon.” Bonnie tried to urge her friend to continue their travel.

Kai chuckled. “She’s right, you know? We’ve got to hurry or else you’ll be forced to spend yet another miserable day with me. But, either way, I can continue with my story!” He reveled in the fact that he was right. He knew he was right and he loved it.

“Fine. We’ll listen, but if this is a trick, you’re gone, okay?”

“Threatening me won’t exactly make me eager to help either, Damon. Anyways, as I was saying, she was beautiful. Loving tender e/c eyes, soft lips...I miss the way they felt on mine...and a little more down south if you catch my drift?” His smile grew with his reference, widening when Bonnie and Damon shared looks of disgust. “Her embrace was...well, the closest thing I know to a real home. I am really looking forward to going home.”

“I thought you were telling us about her, not your sex life.” Damon groaned.

“And I thought I was telling a story. Now, let me continue, Y/n was the best thing to ever happen to me. She knew the real me, and she knew how desperately in need of an escape I was, both then and currently.”

“Then why don’t you just have her get you out?”

“Well, she’s trying to, but we can’t exactly communicate at the moment. I remember the one time we successfully made contact, though. ...The one and only time. She promised me she’d find a way to get me out but... I don’t know the rest.”

“I’m sorry.” Bonnie held a faux smile which quickly slipped from her face the moment Kai opened his mouth to thank her. “Not as sorry as you’ll be if you don’t get us out of here though.”

“Again, with the threats! And I thought you were the smart one. Nevertheless, I shall continue despite being interrupted for the...what is it, eighth time now?”

“Just get on with it already.”

“That I will. I remember the week before this...well, before May 10 of 1994...”

He wanted ever so badly to find an escape. The things he wanted to do, the thoughts plaguing his mind, it couldn’t be helped. But...Y/n always helped. She grounded him, made him feel safe and aware of reality. Aware that he wasn’t alone or in somewhere other than the real world.

Slipping into her room, he paused. She was nowhere to be found. His heart’s pace picked up speed slightly. Then he remembered the one place he knew she was more than likely to be. The park near both their houses, a swing-set abandoned apart from Kai and Y/n’s usage of it’s rusty yet well-functioning seats.

They met there, and years later, had their own little safe haven there. Whenever Y/n needed Kai but couldn’t reach him inside his home, she waited on a swing, vice versa. The set could be seen, with just the right angle, from both houses, therefore making it the perfect spot.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She didn’t flinch, but laughed a little instead. The sound made Kai’s chest warm. “You could just ask, rather than bribe me.”

“I thought you’d be interested in earning money. Perhaps I thought wrong.”

“Perhaps. C’mon, Parker, have a seat.” She pat the swing beside her. They swung lazily for a small amount of time. No words were needed in that moment, just the two of them and the swings. However, the time for conversation did eventually show. “I could use that penny right about now...”

“Why?” Kai’s feet hit the ground, completely halting his previous movements. “What’s bothering you?”

“The whole thing your coven does...I get that there are two new twins but...if you have to kill Jo? That’s gotta be hard on you...”

His fingers lingered on the rusted chains, visibly lost in the memory. Kai turned to Damon and Bonnie as his mind retreated to the present. A sad expression sat upon his features only for a second before he cleared his throat and put on the mask of “fine.”

“So she didn’t approve of your mass murder? Why on earth would she still love you then?”

“Easy. She loved me before and after, despite the crappy things I’ve done, she knows me and loves me. I can’t control her and I don’t plan on ever doing so. Besides...”

”Kai?” A hopeful tone could be heard in her voice. Kai whipped around at the mention of his name, curiosity cutting into him like a hot blade butter.

“Y/n? H-how is this possible?!” His arms wrapped around her tightly. Somehow, she’d managed to communicate with him both verbally and physically.

“I don’t know, but knowing your family, I don’t have long. Tell me what I need to do.”

“I don’t know either...I have the key but I’m missing a witch. Preferably a dead one but there might be a way to retrieve me from the real world...I’m not quite sure yet.”

“I’ll search the best I can, I promise.” Kai couldn’t help but smile. Even he didn’t know why Y/n was still in his life, but he was grateful. He was in love and he was homesick. “Kai...this is the only time I can visit you on my own.”

“Why?”

Her eyes welled up with tears but she did nothing to stop them from spilling from her eyes. “In order to search for you... I know you might not agree with my choice but... Kai- I have a vampire. This could take me centuries the more I think about it, but luckily, I don’t care. I don’t care how long it takes, I just- I just...I... I miss you.”

“It’s okay...” Their lips were closer and closer with each second that passed them by. Eyes flicked down to each other’s mouths, yearning to feel once again. “I miss you too.”

A sound split them apart, Kai’s father not looking too friendly. He didn’t look happy to see his son’s girlfriend in his prison world either, a bad sign without a doubt. As quick as he could, Kai turned back to Y/n and pressed her to him, lips clashing together in a feverish kiss.

“I love you.”

“I love you too-”

“You have to go.” His father was fuming. “Now!”

“I promise, no matter how long it takes, I will find a way!” Then she disappeared. Never again did she reappear, but deep down, Kai knew she was still hard at work. She sacrificed her literal life just to have him in her arms again. Y/n would never give up on Kai. And he loved her for it.

#malachai parker x reader #malachai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker #tvd #tvd x reader #tvd reader insert #reader insert #reader insert kai parker #reader insert tvd #imagine kai parker #kai parker imagine #chris wood #drabble #imagine #x reader #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries imagine #chris wood x reader #imagine chris wood #chris wood imagine #zodiyack #all readers #thank you!! #holy fuck #i'm- #i never thought i'd get this far #holy shit #i love you guys

[luniellar]

The Union: Prologue - Sebastian Stan X Chris Evans X Reader

Summary: This fictional story takes place between the three kingdoms that hold great power in the untouchable lands located in Europe. Despite the modern developments in the other countries, these three kingdoms, Callisto, Europa and Io, exist hidden from the rest of the world and embrace the cultural customs shared for centuries from the early human civilizations.

You are the daughter of the Europa Kingdom led by your father, King Jovian. This year you reached the fruitful age of 21, meaning that it’s finally time to fulfill your duty as the princess of Kingdom Europa. The arranged marriage between Kingdom Europa and Kingdom Callisto has been something that your father planned for a long time to finally bring peace between the three kingdoms. Whether you like it or not, you are the key piece to it all. King Stan of Callisto is who you will be sharing the honor of the arranged marriage. He is known by all as a man of savage fighting nature and very few words. You know there is no hope wishing for the passionate love your father and mother shared, but will you be able to bring peace to this land to fulfill your father’s last wishes? Links: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 

Warnings: Inappropriate languages  Word Count: 1.8K

Feeling the warm silky sheet underneath your hot skin, you tossed around for the 81493th time on the bed. How has no one found a way to pause time? Were we not the same people who were racing to get humans in space and encounter extraterrestrial life? Letting out a deep sigh, you sat up from the unnecessary large bed that could fit all of your servants. You always promised a slumber party with your helpers since you were very young, but it looked like that was never going to happen.

The moonlight was brighter than usual and lit up most of the room as it filtered through the lavender stained glass. The faint color bounced off your white marble walls and floor creating a soft mood around the familiar space you grew up in. Your chest hardened and your eyes welled up with tears as you had to come to the realization that you kept pushing back until now.

This was the last night you were going to spend here.

You knew since birth that when you turned 21, you will be married off for family business. Your father wanted to push this marriage back as far as possible, but he knew it was inevitable too. Most noble girls were married off before 21 so the husband could rest assured that he was guaranteed a virgin. But your father made arrangements so you could enjoy life as a princess for another few years before leaving home forever and only visiting on the few national holidays scattered throughout the year.

The relationship between you and your father was like nothing else in the world. You didn’t have any memory of your mother since she passed giving birth to you. However, despite the lack of her physical existence, you always felt close to your mother. Every night when you were young, your father told you bedtime stories of your mother. How amazing, kind, and courageous she was. As you grew up, your father took on both the father and mother role teaching you everything from basic defensive skills to sex education. You naturally smiled as your mind replayed those memories.

You felt a warm, salty liquid trickle down your face. Once it started, there was no stopping as the tears poured down your porcelain skin. Knowing that your eyes are going to be puffed up on marriage day, you turned your head up to the ceiling hoping to stop the tears. The word homesickness was not enough to describe the feeling you were feeling. How can you say goodbye to the most precious 21 years of your life?

Your father always assured you that the family you will be marrying into was one of great status and nobility. The Callisto Kingdom’s only male heir, King Sebastian Stan was well known in between the three kingdoms as a fierce leader. He had more victory in wars and battles under his belt at the age of 28 than anyone in the history of the three kingdoms. Like most arranged marriages, you only saw photos and paintings of him and never met him in person.

From the gossip around the castle, you were able to catch the rumors of King Stan. Most of the gossip almost always commented on his rough, but flawless exterior. Twenty eight years of fighting and training were ingrained into each muscle fiber. Some even gossiped about his calm and respectful manners in public which was a huge contraction to his fierce exterior. But out of all these rumors, there was one rumor that did keep you up at night.

When you were reading in the garden last week, the gardeners were gossiping about King Stan and his love interest. You quickly lost interest in your book and moved closer so you could hear them better between the bushes.

“I heard someone saw King Stan bring in a beautiful blonde female into Castle Callisto. He even witnessed them kissing in his bedroom suite.”

“Sh!” A high pitched voice cut through the lower one that just spoke. “Are you crazy?! The princess comes out to read in this garden. You don’t want to be caught gossiping, especially on matters as scandalous as this.”

“Oh,” the lower voice mumbled back softer. “Poor princess…”

Huh. Cheated on before your marriage. You swallowed your pride and silently walked away from the bushes. You would think that the virgin bride custom was something these kingdoms removed right away after centuries and centuries, but it was the most important custom that was honored. On the contrary, the ability for the king to have a harem of wives was perfectly normal. As long as he treated each woman with some half-assed respect, all was forgiven. This was why you respected your father’s undivided love for your mother. His love for her still burned bright like the sun.

You laid back down on your soft bed, sinking back into the silk covers. Your eyelids heavied down and all you saw was darkness. Tomorrow you were going to meet this quiet, mysterious, and cheating King.

✧✧✧

There was a solid knock on the door with the announcement from the familiar voice. “Princess Y/N, we are coming in to bathe you. The King has asked us to make sure you are prepared for the wedding.”

“Come in.” You responded. When you opened your eyes the sun was just starting to come up from the horizon, the room was still casted in a shade of melancholy blue. The large main doors creaked open and a group of at least 7 helpers came rushing into the room. The last two that came in very carefully were carrying a bundle of white fabric covered in crystals that scattered mini rainbows all around the room.

It was finally happening.

✧✧✧

Every helper stared at you in admiration as the last one made finishing touches to your hair. Tears welled up in their eyes as they smiled. You looked around the group taking in each of their familiar faces. The oldest helper, Lisa, who has been with you since birth stepped up to adjust the flower crown. Your chest felt like a ton of bricks crushing on your heart.

“Princess, you are breathtakingly beautiful. The King is a very lucky man. Your mother would have been so proud to see her kind and beautiful daughter blossom into a graceful woman.”

“Lisa,” you started to say back before your voice choked. At that moment, all the other helpers started to cry in sadness and happiness.

Through a flood of tears, you stood proudly and bowed to them. “Thank you so much for my time here at Castle Europa. I will never forget each of you. You were all like my mother to me.”

“It was our pleasure, Princess.” They replied in unison, returning your bow. The bittersweetness stung your heart.

✧✧✧

You stood behind the large ornate doors to the main hall. The elegant piano music played from the hall behind the door. Once these doors open, you will be walking down the aisle. You will meet eyes with your father for the last time and lock eyes with your husband for the first time.

Husband.

Your heart thumped louder in your chest anxiously. There was no more time for tears. You were representing Kingdom Europa today. It was the first step to everlasting peace.

With a loud sound, the tall doors opened wide. The all-white and crystal decorations of the main hall came into view. The brilliant summer sun showered the hall and the crystals scattered rainbows across the ceiling. The main hall of Castle Europa has never been so beautiful.

As the music continued, you stepped on to the velvet scarlet carpet that lined the aisle. The crowd was murmuring praises of your beauty and purity as you continued down the red line, keeping your eyes casted down until you reached a pair of dark brown leather boots.

You slowly raised your gaze up and met his face for the first time. He was much taller than you had imagined. You measured that you barely reached his shoulder height. Your eyes locked with his eyes. His eyes were a shade of blue, but not the kind of blue like the deep oceans of Europa. It looked as if it was mixed with some shade of green. You realized it resembled a shade of jade you received as a gift in the past.

It was too intimidating to stare at it for too long as you felt your face heat up. Your eyes quickly blinked away from his eyes and traced his porcelain skin. He had a well groomed stubble that covered the bottom half of his face. It made him look older, truly like a regal king of his kingdom. Despite the stubble, his strong jaw lines were still very noticeable.

His looks in person were nothing like the photos and paintings you’ve seen of him. The person standing before you was much more determined and had a charismatic aura surrounding him that he carried with him. He was undoubtedly one of the most attractive men you’ve encountered and you could confirm the validity of the rumors and gossip of his looks.

The ceremony proceeded without any issues except for some sobbing in the crowd. You glanced over at your father a few times who sat upright in his throne seat and smiled back when your eyes met.

"Sebastian Stan of Callisto, will you have this woman, Princess Y/N of Europa, to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage, will you love her, comfort her, honor her and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long as you both shall live?"

“Yes.” He replied. His voice was like velvet. You wanted to hear more of it, that one word was not enough.

"Princess Y/N of Europa, will you have this man, King Sebastian Stan of Callisto, to be your wedded husband, to live together in marriage, will you love him, comfort him, honor him and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long as you both shall live?"

“Yes.” You replied.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife in this union of Kingdom Europa and Callisto. You may now kiss the bride.”

Completely unaware that there was going to be kissing during the ceremony, you stared at King Stan with wide eyes in surprise. King Stan bent down without hesitation and his rough lips collided with yours. The kiss was hot and passionate as his tongue pressed into yours quickly exploring your mouth. You pressed your eyes closed to drown out the whispered in the crowd as he claimed you his for the first time. He pulled away after a moment leaving you breathless. As he pulled away, he murmured something into your ears only so you could hear. You froze as you processed his words.

“I will be looking forward to tonight, my queen.” His velvety voice whispered.

----

Hey all! The other day I had a random writing inspiration and started drafting a few words that ended up developing into a 1.8K word mess. I definitely feel vulnerable sharing this since I never wrote stories in a new world, but I hope you guys enjoy. The first official chapter will be announcing Chris Evans as a character (guess what role he will be playing!). Please look forward to the series and send me any feedback you have! Thanks!

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x y/n #the union #fanfiction #fanfic #fantasy #fandom #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #james barnes #luniellar #luniellar fiction #marvel #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fandom #Sebastian Stan fic #sebastian x reader #winter solider x y/n #winter solider x you #smut

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 127

Annnnd a-one, and a-two, and a queue-queue-queue!

This chapter has one of my favorite things in the world to write - Interpersonal relationships (if you are surprised, I’m going to assume you are new here....).

Specifically, one of my biggest pet-peeves is when friends or siblings are written in a way that shows that the author doesn’t actually have any friends or siblings they are close enough to that all rules of societal politeness go whizzing into some far-off dimension as soon as they are in proximity.

When I get to write a chapter with such close friends/ersatz-siblings and also have @baelpenrose cackling and egging me on, it literally makes my whole day.

P.S: If anyone has wondered about the ages of the characters, several are clearly lined out in this chapter......

EDIT: Fixed some insane formatting issues.

“The food festival, Sophia? Really?” an incredulous voice asked before the door to my office even opened all the way.

I resisted the urge to scream, but did surrender to pinching the bridge of my nose and breathing slowly. “Hello, Arthur. Do come in. Long time no see.  Of course I’m not busy…” My one day each week to have a few hours to myself - no mentees, no assistant, even Tyche was off work….

“We saw each other last night when I came over for dinner after sparring with Conor, and  you’re never busy on Saturdays, Alistair makes sure of it.” He dragged a chair in front of my desk for what I felt was the sole purpose of putting his boots on my desk instead of the conference table.

“I thought you two didn’t even like each other, how did you - “

He waved a hand dismissively. “Enemy of my best friend’s enemy is my friend, that sort of thing. Anyway - “

“Did you just call me my own worst - “

“You are, let’s not pretend otherwise. Anyway.” Arthur arched an eyebrow at me and waited for any further objections, but I couldn’t think of any. “The Food Festival. It’s my one favorite tradition on this ship until armed combat becomes a spectator sport, and you are putting Parvati and Hannah in charge of it?”

After a beat pause to make sure he was done, I glared at him. “Everyone has asked me that, and I don’t understand the issue.  They’ve both helped in the past, even before they started training to replace me.  I’ve handed more and more off to them each time, and they did great! Plus, they have three months, it will be fi - Wait, why do you even care, Arthur?”

He held up one finger with the authority of a deity who would have smited me if he could. “One, Parvati Fletcher does not like mapo tofu. You do. Specifically, you like it from that one vendor who grows her own Sichuan peppercorns and uses them like they are an infinite resource. Two, I spend entirely too much time working with Zach Khan, and he won’t shut up about how stressed Hannah is. Three - “ I was seriously starting to get concerned he actually could smite me at this point - “As much as I love you in the most platonic way possible, you are an obsessive, compulsive perfectionist who insists on doing everything herself and running herself into the ground so that everyone else has the time of their lives. So why are you trusting this, the largest and oldest event on the Ark, entirely to other people?” Dropping his boots from the desk, he leaned forward, palms down until we were nearly nose to nose.

“Sophia Reid, I swear on any god I can kill if you are dying…”

“WHAT!?” I squawked, jerking back and standing so fast I knocked my chair over. “For the love of little fish, I’m not dying! I haven’t had a near death experience in four years, thank you.”

“Three, not counting the fact that there is a reason Alistair makes you drink anything through a straw anymore.”

“How did - Nevermind.” I shook my head and tried to focus on the topic at hand. “No, I’m not dying. Nor am I injured, having a midlife crisis, rethinking my life choices any more than I ever do, or so much as in possession of a stuffy nose.” Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and started counting off before I could stop myself. “Conor and Maverick and I are fine. No, I’m not arguing with Tyche again. Yes, I’m still going to therapy. Else is fine. No new sentient plagues or rogue cult leaders that I’m aware of. Nor have I become immortal, queen of the universe, savior of humanity, pregnant by Noah, or possessed.” Carefully, I picked my chair back up and sat down.

“Good...to… know?” He gave me a funny look. “Who asked the most disturbing one?”

“Immortal or Savior of Humanity?” I asked for clarification. “Those were Maverick and Derek, respectively.”

The look only got worse. “I meant ‘pregnant by Noah’, but fascinating to see where your priorities lie….?”

“Oh. That was Charly.”

“Dammit,” he swore softly. “I had her pegged for ‘possessed’.”

“I’m pretty sure she is, but the suggestion that I am came from Tyche, on no fewer than 3 occasions, by 4 different entities. She seemed pretty hopeful that Else was potentially mind-controlling me in an effort to make me take a nap,” I admitted.

“That tracks.” A nod of approval prefaced the question I had been avoiding - successfully, thus far, I might add. “Now that you’ve ruled out every possible plausible reason that you would entrust this to literally anyone other than a clone of yourself, why?”

“Why what?” My face was composed in an expression of innocence so convincing that I probably deserved an Oscar.

“I can and will convince Charly to turn all your coffee to decaf, so help me, Sophia.”

Realizing that he was, legitimately, worried about me and at the limits of his usually-impressive patience, I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. You get the scoop.  Please record this and send me the loop, so I can just flick it at people who ask, please?” When he nodded, I exhaled slowly.  “It is no secret to anyone that I never wanted this job. I made the mistake of establishing the Food Festival, which as you point out is the largest event of the cycle on the Ark - the last three years, literally everyone attended in some capacity.” When he opened his mouth to argue, I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the Festival. What basically started out as a potluck because we were homesick and needed to meet - you know, the rest of humanity - is a huge, three day holiday.  It’s amazing!” I spun in my chair, arms flung wide for emphasis, before stopping to face him. 

“It also consumes my life, for months, to prepare for.  And that’s just implementing changes to make it more accessible so people don’t miss out! That doesn’t include adding things to make it more interesting or keep it from getting boring, or whatever. I literally don’t have time to do any of that!”

“So, you’re inflicting this on them instead?”

“Inflicting?” I snorted.  “Hardly. This is their final exam, their capstone project, their dissertation.  If they pull this off, I will gladly hand the entire office over to whoever is elected, cheerfully and knowing the Ark is in good hands.  But, they have to pull this off.  It’s the only major part of being Councilor of Resources and Relations that they haven’t done yet by themselves.”

He rubbed his face, looking somewhat impressed. “That’s honestly not what I was expecting.”

“I don’t think it ever is, honestly.” I shrugged at the question he glanced towards me. “For Evan, it was coordinating the weapons exhibitions.  Charly managed to pre-empt her own by designing more efficient aqueducts and filtration for when we reach Von - you know, the ones that also produce light?”

“Of course she would invent glow-in-the-dark plumbing. Who else?” Something caught up with him. “Evania Josue got away with planning an event? Seriously?”

“Oh, that’s right… you weren’t on Level One…” I murmured. When he only looked more confused, I clarified. “She was Maverick’s co-pilot when we needed people to pilot the Ark, which was not designed to pilot manually, via dead reckoning, using cameras pointed out the few viewports we have, for several weeks after the sensors were sabotaged.”

“She was whose co-pilot?”

“You really never heard this story? You practically live with seven people who were there…”

“Usually I get the bits about ‘Sophia nearly got her brains bashed out’ and ‘that traitorous bitch’, then start tuning out while I try to decide what it would take to get Charly to teach me necromancy… If Evan was the co-pilot, then why is Maverick….”

“Not in line to replace any Councilors? Arthur, we know that would be a disaster for him.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Your younger partner is a nice boy.”

“For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty seven!” I groaned.

“Nice man, whatever,” he waved off. “Which is exactly what I would like for you as a partner. You need nice partners, and blunt siblings. But I see what you mean about him being a Councilor… he’d be miserable.”

“What was yours?” I asked mischievously, dropping my chin onto my hands.

That earned me a flat stare, until he finally surrendered when I didn’t flinch. “The Twentieth/Early Twenty First History curriculum.”

“Seriously?” That had literally been the first thing he had done when Eino tapped him as a possible successor.

“I didn’t budge on points even he admitted he would have, out of fear of offending people.”

“Which is a fear you very much lack,” I pointed out.

“The truth is the truth. Coating it in sugar only makes it taste worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly before suddenly looking dangerously like he was thinking again. “There’s two of them.”

“Yes, Arthur. Hanna and Paravati are, in fact, two distinct and separate women-type-lady-people.”

“Thank you, Fee, I was well aware.” I suppressed a growl at the nickname - he knew I hated it. “I meant, only one can win the election, smartass.”

“Better to be a smartass than a dumbass,” I muttered.

“Sophia, you are forty five. Please grow up just a hair?”

“Tyche doesn’t want to be HR forever, you know.”

That brought his mind to a visibly screeching halt. “Wait, what?”

“What what?” I asked. “She does it because she is phenomenal at it, but it isn’t her passion.  She only stuck around as long as she did to make sure I didn’t trip over a chair and brain myself while I was at work.  When I’m gone, she’s gone, loser take the spoils.”

He whistled softly before shaking his head. “It’s bizarre to think of you two retiring around the same time I’m just starting the position.”

“I’ll have been a Councilor for a decade when I step down,” I pointed out.  I almost included unless I die first, but that never seemed to be as funny as I thought it was.

“But you aren’t that much older than me,” he sighed dramatically. “Anti-aging technology is frustrating.”

“Annnnd this is a natural extension of your career, with a ten year break thereabouts the middle.”  My grin was so bright it made him scowl before I finally got a begrudging smile.  “Think of it as getting elected head of the school board.”

The groan he let out probably echoed for several levels throughout the ship. I had basically just pointed out that he was becoming that which he most hated.

Or not. He seemed to recover with a gleam in his eye. “Pfft. Dean of Students, at the very least.”

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#the miys #humans are weird #found family #siblings #humans will pack bond with anything #aliens #post apocalyse #post post apocalypse #science fiction #original science fiction #haw #hfy

[the-real-tc]

Fic UPDATE! Wide River to Cross: Homecoming

Author’s Note: So close. We're so close now, dear readers. Thanks for sticking with me this far; not much longer now. I promise. As you'll see from the events in this chapter, it will be impossible to prolong the agony. (Who remembers the actual agony while watching Season 7, wondering what had happened between Jack and Lisa? I remember that agony...) All that aside, the good part about how long this story has taken me is that plot lines that have occurred down the line can be worked in, and they can make some semblance of sense. I hope. Anyway, here's the latest chapter.

Chapter 22: Homecoming

In the darkness of night, the tree-lined drive seemed eerily foreign to Lisa as the town car bore both her and Rachel to their familial estate. Though it was a view she had seen thousands of times in her life, this particular return to Fairfield granted her no trace of comfort or sense of homecoming. It was bordering on close to ten months that she had been absent—one of the longest spells she had been away since her past marriage to Dan and subsequent move to the USA.

Lisa could not help but recall other lengthy absences from Fairfield, particularly in her adolescence when she had attended boarding school in France with Rachel. While she had enjoyed those times away—thanks to her love of French culture and many outings with her doting Aunt Evelyn—the inevitable homesickness was alleviated only upon return. Now, she felt like a stranger returning to a strange place, creeping in like some interloper.

Like a thief in the night, she thought to herself wryly, fighting the encroaching discomposure without much success.

“We’re here, Rach,” Lisa whispered, giving her younger sibling a gentle nudge.

“Huh? Oh, thanks,” Rachel mumbled sleepily. “I didn’t realise I nodded off.”

She smiled slightly, watching as Rachel rubbed bleary eyes before finishing off with a long yawn. Rachel had endured only one flight; Lisa had needed three to return to Alberta. Exhaustion was indeed beginning to overwhelm her, but there was a nervous tension buzzing through her veins, keeping her on an unusual level of alertness. Now that she was back in Hudson, the mere thought of being in the same town as Jack—and potentially encountering him anywhere—set her mind spinning. How would such a meeting play out? What words could pass her lips to express to him all that was in her heart? What words, if any, would he have to say to her?

Security lights illuminated the exteriors of the stables, dispelling the shadows. Night checks would have already been completed by this hour. All was quiet now, though Lisa knew Harry Wilkes would probably still be up in his office, burning the midnight oil while waiting for their arrival.

Good ol’ Harry, Lisa thought with affection. He had been such a constant presence in her life since she was a little girl, working his way up from the very bottom as a stable hand to head groomsman. Matthew Stillman had come to trust the man with just about everything, and Lisa had done the same. Harry was dedicated to the care of the horses in a way that went beyond what was expected of a mere hired hand. Anyone else would have retired from the position by now, but Harry was still logging the same hours as he had during the past forty-five years as a Fairfield employee. He had been there through the lean years and through the successful ones.

Without her realising it, a long pout pulled at Lisa’s face as the car pulled to a stop in front of the sprawling ranch house. She knew Harry was not thrilled with the idea of her selling Fairfield, even though he was guaranteed a handsome severance package. The rest of the staff might be keen on staying on with new owners; Harry would not—Lisa was certain of that.

“Why the long face?” Rachel asked, looking over at her. “Something wrong?”

“Hmm?” Lisa shook herself. “Oh, no. It’s just that... I-I don’t think Harry is pleased with my decision to sell, that’s all.”

“So Harry’s still working here, eh?” Rachel said, lips quirking into a lop-sided smile. “Dad really lucked out when he hired him. He’s been here since before I was even born. Good ol’ Harry.”

“I honestly don’t think I could have managed without him when Dad got sick,” Lisa mused out loud.

Sure enough, the door to the Fairfield business offices opened to reveal the man in question, silhouetted against the interior lights. He waved jauntily at them, and Lisa intuited he was intent on helping them unload their luggage.

“C’mon,” she said to Rachel as she opened her door. “Let’s get out before he gets the idea we’re going to let him carry everything into the house. He’s been up all night waiting; he’s got to be tired after working all day.”

“Right,” Rachel said in agreement, though she was staving off another yawn of exhaustion.

“Ah, the two prettiest girls in Hudson have made their triumphant return,” Harry greeted them affectionately; paternally.

“Oh, Harry,” Lisa said with a chagrined laugh, “I don’t know about ‘triumphant’, and after travelling all day, we look like something the cat dragged in.”

“Ha! Speak for yourself, sis,” Rachel interjected merrily. “Harry, flattery gets you everywhere. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, Rachel.”

The three gathered for a warm group hug. As Lisa guessed moments earlier, the next words out of Harry’s mouth were an offer to bring their luggage inside.

“No, no, you take it easy Harry,” Lisa quickly stated. “You’ve had a long day, too. Rachel and I can manage just fine.”

“Nonsense,” Harry said, reaching for the largest of the pieces the chauffeur had just deposited from the trunk. “Your father would be horrified if he saw me standing by idly while you two dragged all this stuff by yourselves.”

“Chivalry isn’t dead in Hudson, I see,” Rachel quipped, following the older man with her carry-on and a smaller suitcase.

“Thanks, Harry,�� Lisa said after everything was sitting in the spacious foyer.

“Happy to do it, Lisa,” Harry said. “Welcome home.”

“Yeah... for however long that’s going to be,” Lisa sighed.

“It’s going to be hard seeing this place go,” Harry uttered with a wistful air. “Fairfield has been a big part of Hudson ever since you made it the success it’s become, Lisa. This town won’t be the same without it—or you.”

Not unkindly, Lisa asked: “Is this your way of trying to talk me out of selling?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. I know an old fella like me who’s on his way to retirement can’t interfere with the business decisions of his boss, but you know this place has always been more than just a ’job’ for me.”

“I know,” Lisa said warmly, reaching out to touch his arm in a show of understanding. “And I thank you for everything you’ve done from the day my father hired you to this present time.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, placing a hand over hers for a few moments. “I should be on my way. See you in the morning.”

“Of course.”

Harry turned to make his exit, but hesitated on the threshold. “There is something...”

Lisa waited expectantly. “What is it?” she asked when he did not continue.

“Hmmph. Nah, it can wait ‘til tomorrow,” he muttered. “Goodnight, ladies.”

“’Bye,” Rachel said, trying to suppress another yawn.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Lisa said, closing the door behind him, slightly perturbed by the man’s cryptic parting words. Whatever it was, she would learn of it the next day.

--

As cranky as Jack was at the notion of having the woolly creatures on his land, Georgie’s 4H Club project meant sheep at Heartland was good for something. At least the kid could learn about the rearing of an animal she could handle. Lambs weren’t liable to trample you, gore you, buck you off, or kick you in the head. It was decidedly not fun chasing down the specific lamb Georgie and Olivia wanted, especially since they could not agree on which one was the best one for their needs. Jack half-suspected they were changing their fickle minds on purpose, just for the spectacle of his sprawling about in the grass and weeds, grabbing at this lamb or that lamb.  

It should have been Tim’s job seeing after the sheep, but he picked that very week to head to Moose Jaw to visit with his son, Shane, so they could spend Thanksgiving together. Why was it his ex-son-in-law continued to be such an irritant and an imposition in his life? If not for Lou and Amy, the man would never again have darkened the door at Heartland.

After Georgie and Olivia finally settled on a lamb and Jack successfully secured it, he decided a little break was necessary. It was no use getting worked up over the flock again; also, the girls did not need his grumpy mood to ruin things for them. It was trial enough for Georgie to be partnered with Olivia, he knew, so he did his best to keep his cool while in their company.

Once inside the kitchen, he brewed a cup of tea and eased into a chair in the living room—the kitchen having been taken over by Peter and his laptop. The man really needed office space of some kind while he was here, Jack mused.

Why Tim felt the need to saddle his son-in-law with the nickname “The General” was beyond Jack, but then again, Tim knew exactly how to push other people’s buttons. The recent fiasco involving Tricia and her near-delinquent daughter, Jade, at the fishing cabin was a fine example of that.  

Jack sipped at his tea, trying to resolve in his mind yet again why Tim possessed such an unbridled sense of entitlement. He lacked what Jack’s grandmother would have called social graces. His unsolicited comments could be tactless. The frustrating thing was that such comments were often uncomfortable truths no one else wanted to face or accept.

When Tim had first asked how the Arizona trip had been, Jack recalled initially telling him to mind his own business. Tim, ignoring Jack’s desire for privacy had asked, point-blank:

“You missed Lisa, didn’t you?”

”Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?!” Jack had retorted. “I had a swell time.”

”You’re not fooling me, old man. What did you do with yourself down there the whole time? You couldn’t have been having that much of a ‘swell time’ because you cut it short and came home a week early!”

“I did happen to have some good times, thank you very much!”

“Yeah? Doing what?” Tim had challenged.

“Saddleback trip. Lookin’ at real estate. Meeting nice people. Camping and fishing.”

“Meeting nice people and fishing, eh? Catch anything good down there in Arizona?” Tim asked suggestively.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I hooked a very nice catfish.”

“Oooh! A catfish!” Tim had crooned, pretending to be impressed. “How big was it?”

Knowing he would not be able to lie any further, Jack had groaned in annoyance and decided it was time to cease this line of questioning. “Dunno,” he had sullenly replied. “It pulled free from the hook before I could reel it in. The sun was going down by then. I quit trying after that.”

“Ha!” Tim had laughed triumphantly. “Dinner out of a can that night, right?”

Jack grit his teeth. “No, I forgot to bring a can opener. Are you done, now?”

“You ‘forgot’ to bring a can opener?” Tim crowed in derision. “So why didn’t you just use your knife to open the can, or did you forget to bring a knife, too?”

“Oh, would you just shut up already!”

Jack stalked off and was thus out of earshot when a gleeful, self-righteous Tim muttered, “Ohhh, he totally missed Lisa.”

--

It was already after 10:00 a.m. when Lisa awoke on Saturday morning. The inevitable jet-lag felt especially pronounced this time around, and she groaned when she realised the lateness of the hour. She so wanted to soak up a few more hours of sleep, but knew work was waiting. There was the matter Harry mentioned the night before which she wanted to get to the bottom of, but the first order of business absolutely had to be contacting the real estate agent.

After a quick shower, she shared a hurried breakfast with Rachel. Her sister was still drowsy and not much in the mood to talk while they ate. When Rachel drifted back to bed for a nap, Lisa finally got on the phone to the realtor, glad they were indeed open that day despite it being a holiday long weekend. After all those months in France of dithering on this, it felt almost anti-climactic the sale would finally be happening. The deed is done, Lisa thought after hanging up. She was not sure what emotions she was experiencing now that Fairfield would officially be on the market.

Ruefully, she thought, I really should call Dan and tell him the ‘good’ news. In all truth, her ex-husband was the last person she wanted to speak to after all their less-than-pleasant email correspondences over the past several months. I wonder what Jack would think if I called him and told him I was back in Hudson? Lisa stopped herself cold. Where did that thought come from?! I would have to explain to him that I’m finally selling the old place and moving to France for good, wouldn’t I? I’d have to come up with some excuse as to why I didn’t even tell him I was coming back.

She stood from behind her desk and decided it was time to check in on Harry, brushing aside any further thoughts of both of her exes.

“Ah, Lisa! Good morning,” Harry greeted Lisa brightly when she knocked on the business office door.

“Good morning, Harry. I just got off the phone with the real estate people. Someone’s going to be by later this week to properly assess the property and get some signs posted and such.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod of understanding.

“Harry, about that thing you mentioned last night...”

“Oh, yes. That,” Harry said, lowering his voice.

Lisa caught his tone, and interpreted he was about to tell her something she would not particularly enjoy hearing. “Well, what is it?”

“It’s Dan,” Harry said in a manner that spoke volumes of disapproval.

“Dan? What’s he done now?” Lisa asked guardedly.

“You’d better follow me,” Harry said, rising from his seat.

He led Lisa out to the stables where they stopped in front of Fairfield Flyer’s stall. The champion racer seemed strong and healthy, and Lisa looked at her head groomsman, awaiting an explanation.

“Dan and some of his people and vets have been here to see Flyer and Rhapsody quite a few times while you were gone,” Harry started. “Since you have joint ownership, of course I couldn’t stop him.”

“Stop him from doing what?” Lisa asked, instantly on edge. Rhapsody was one of her broodmares.

“From getting all kinds of lab work done—and cell samples taken from Flyer.”

“Cell samples...” Lisa mused out loud.

Harry continued. “Rhapsody is already nine months pregnant. You had no idea, did you?” he asked warily as he studied her reaction. “Don’t answer that. Your expression tells me all I need to know.”

Lisa felt her cheeks flush. “I always did have a lousy poker face,” she grumbled.

“Ah, I should have known he didn’t tell you, but you know I’m not the type to interfere,” a contrite Harry said. “And given the nature of what he was doing, I wasn’t sure if you were both keeping it a secret, or what. Sorry, Lisa.”

“Don’t apologize; this isn’t remotely your fault. It seems I have a call to make to my ‘business partner’. Thanks, Harry.”

She strode out of the stables, absolutely steaming, trying to decide how best to have this conversation with Dan. Cell samples? That could only mean one thing, Lisa concluded, coupled with Dan’s recent talk about getting into horse cloning. He was trying to warm me up to the idea, she now realised.

“Where do you get off cloning Fairfield Flyer without even consulting with me first?!” Lisa exploded when she had Dan on the line.

“Now hold on just a minute, Lisa—” Dan tried to interrupt.

“No, you hold on; I’m not finished,” Lisa hissed through clenched teeth. “Harry told me you’ve been out to Fairfield to see Flyer and Rhapsody. This is the real reason you’ve been so demanding about the finances, isn’t it? You weren’t concerned about the Avignon facility—you were paying to have Flyer cloned. How many other horses did you have lined up for the procedure?”

From Dan’s silence, Lisa knew she had hit the nail on the head.

“When were you going to tell me?” Lisa fumed. “When were you going to tell me the Avignon deal was all a sham and that you were really using my investment funds to clone Flyer and God knows how many others?”

“Okay, simmer down,” Dan said, trying to placate her. “Avignon is still a go. But the focus has shifted slightly. It could be the best equine cloning facility in Europe, Lisa. If the clone of Flyer is a success, we’re going to take it to Avignon as the poster boy for the procedure in race horses. We’d be one of the first out of the gate doing this. We could make history, Lisa, because the Racing Association is bound to come around once more people get on board.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Lisa had to keep herself from shouting. “You go behind my back, and-and then try to tell me you’re shifting the focus of the breeding facility we planned in France?”

“All that stuff you learned in that Lexington conference about performance markers is great, Lisa,” Dan said, “but that’s yesterday’s science. Cloning is the future. Do you really want to be left behind?”

Lisa realised she was still too angry to have a rational talk with Dan. “Let’s table that question,” she finally said. “I just got into Hudson late last night, and I’m too tired to deal with this right now. But make no mistake, Dan, I’m not impressed you went behind my back.”

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Dan said, sounding almost relieved. “Hang on, did you just say you’re back in Hudson?”

Lisa clenched her teeth in irritation. “How else do you think I found out about Flyer?”

“Uhhh—Harry told you, didn’t he?”

“Of course Harry told me,” snapped Lisa, relishing the discomfort she heard in Dan’s voice. He sounded as if he were a guilty schoolboy.

“I see,” Dan said in resignation. “Wait, if you’re in Hudson, does that mean you’ve finally put Fairfield on the market?”

“Yes, Dan, you’ll be happy to know I took care of that chore before calling you,” Lisa replied testily.

“Good! That’s great!” Dan exclaimed. “Finally. Look, Lisa, I get you’re upset about the cloning thing. You’re right; I should have included you in that decision. But Flyer is mine, too. I think in time, you’ll see—”

“Ah, but Rhapsody is mine,” Lisa cut in. “You’re still on shaky ground, Dan. As I said just now, we’ll discuss this later. You’ll be lucky if I don’t decide to involve my lawyer with this one.”

She heard his exhalation of discontent, but she frankly did not care. Misappropriation of funds, she thought. Yeah, that has a nice ring to it.

“Come on, Lisa. Are you really going to split hairs like that?” he whined. “Aren’t we business partners in this whole breeding venture?”

It took all the control she could muster not to slam down the phone. Instead, she took a steadying breath before responding. “That didn’t give you the right to use Rhapsody for your cloning experiment without consulting with me first. But what’s done is done. Like I said, I’m not in the mood to discuss this right now. Goodbye.”

Lisa did not wait to hear Dan respond before she hung up the call.

Rachel, having awakened from her nap, was sitting at the breakfast nook in the kitchen, flipping through an old edition of the Hudson Times. When Lisa wandered in, Rachel glanced up and said, “Uh-oh. I know that look. Something’s got you mad.”

Lisa groaned. “Ugh. What tipped you off?”

Rachel smirked. “Yeah, see, there’s this vein that always pops out on your forehead whenever you blow a gasket,” she answered, motioning to her own head.

Grumbling, Lisa swiped a self-conscious hand over her face.

“Hey, it’s not like you get mad often, sis,” Rachel said, trying to lighten the mood. “It must be something big.”

Lisa plopped down wearily across from Rachel. “It’s Dan,” she began. “He’s gone and tried to clone one of my best racers—Fairfield Flyer—without even asking me, first.”

“Oh, wow. Is that even legal?” Rachel asked, folding the paper and putting it aside. “I’m not up on my horse cloning ethics.”

“It is legal,” Lisa said, “but it’s damned expensive, comes with a pile of risk factors, and the Racing Association has yet to accept clones in sanctioned races.”

“Didn’t I read something a couple years ago about clones being accepted for show jumping in the Olympics?” asked Rachel.

Lisa nodded. “Yes. The Fédération Equestre Internationale did announce clones could be entered for equestrian events. I still don’t know what Dan was thinking, though. Flyer is a racer, not a jumper, or dressage. It’s infuriating. And it’s not even about the ethics when it comes to cloning; it’s that Dan was hounding me for months to get Fairfield sold so we could get going on an operation out of Avignon.”

“Avignon?” repeated Rachel.

“Yes. You know I always wanted to retire to France, eventually.”

“Right...”

“Anyway,” Lisa continued, “I sold my share of the Dude Ranch back to Lou, and assumed those funds were going towards funding that Avignon operation. Obviously, Dan was funnelling all of it to help make the payments for the cloning procedure.” She let out another huff of frustration; Rachel eyed her with pity.

“C’mon, Lisa,” Rachel said after several moments of silence. “In the end, a horse is a horse, and we both know you love horses. When Rhapsody foals, you’re going to love that clone. So forget Dan, and focus on making sure Rhapsody stays healthy through the rest of the pregnancy.”

The words were like a thunderbolt, bringing a much-needed dose of reality. Lisa stared at Rachel for a few moments, speechless. “Are you sure you’re the younger sister, here?” she eventually asked with an affectionate smile and shake of her head. “When did you get to be so wise?”

“Oh, I have my moments,” Rachel answered airily.

“Well, I hope there’s more wisdom where that came from,” Lisa said, “because even though you’re right about loving it when it arrives, I get the feeling that clone is going to become more like a monkey on my back.”

--

Thanksgiving at Heartland was slightly less crowded than usual owing to the absences of Tim and Lou. Everyone was thankful for Jack’s surviving the heart attack and for Amy’s health and recovery after her recent scare with Zeus; Georgie was thankful in particular for her new family and for Phoenix.

At Fairfield, the celebration was slightly more subdued. Figuring this to be their final Thanksgiving together before the family farm passed into new hands, the Stillman sisters spent much of that holiday Monday* reminiscing about older, happier times, and some not-so-happy times, too.

“I used to love it when Aunt Evelyn would come to visit from wherever she had last been,” Lisa remarked as they sat together in the cozy living room, a roaring fire burning in the hearth.

“Remember her second husband?” Rachel snickered.

“Ah, yes. Uncle Merrill,” Lisa said. “With those massive sideburns we always wished he would shave off.”

“Where did she meet him, again?”

“Wales, I think,” Lisa replied. “But he was from Scotland.”

“He claimed he was some Scottish lord, right?” asked Rachel. “I seem to remember that.”

Lisa nodded seriously. “He apparently had the bank account to prove it, or so Aunt Evelyn told me.”

“Well, she was married to him the longest,” Rachel said.

“That’s true,” Lisa said, taking a sip of cider.

“Until he left her for a newer, younger model,” Rachel said.

“And she took him to the cleaners,” chortled Lisa. “Then promptly found herself another millionaire boyfriend.”

“That one didn’t last very long, did it?”

“Oh, a couple years, maybe? Then she had a few other gentlemen friends whose names I forget. Then she married Charles, the wealthy stockbroker from New York. They met on a cruise ship. Divorced him after five years.”

“Aunt Evelyn is addicted to men and to money,” Rachel said. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“Rachel, there is no nice way to call someone a gold digger,” Lisa said, a peal of laughter breaking forth.

“Ha! You said it; not me!”

“All right, Aunt Evelyn may have her... flaws... but she’s always been good to us,” Lisa said sincerely.

“Yeah... you’re right,” Rachel said. “Though you’re her favourite, you know.”

Lisa cocked her head and frowned at her sister, puzzled by this comment. “Naw. She totally spoiled us both. What d’you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing.” Rachel waved a hand dismissively. “I just got the feeling like she doted on you a little more. That’s all.”

“What? Why?”

Rachel stared at her older sister, considering for a few moments how to proceed. She blew out a breath and said, “Okay, remember that horse you had when we were kids? Silver?”

“Yes,” Lisa said, thinking of the dapple grey mare she got as a rescue. She put aside her mug, sensing Rachel was about to say something she had been wanting to say for a long time, but never had the chance to get it off her chest.

“I remember when Silver got sick a few years later,” Rachel said. “Dad didn’t think he could afford to pay for the surgery.”

“That’s right,” Lisa confirmed. “It was colic. Silver was getting old by that point, so Dad didn’t think the risk was worth it.”

“You know, I didn’t even have my own horse at the time, and Aunt Evelyn swooped in and said she’d pay for the surgery,” Rachel said, voice tainted with the slightest stain of bitterness. “You were seven when you got Silver. I remember, because I thought somehow that’s what I would get when I turned seven, too. Funny, isn’t it? We lived on a horse-breeding farm, and I didn’t get my own horse until I was ten.”

“Rachel, it’s a stupid question... did you even really want your own horse?” Lisa asked carefully.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Of course I wanted my own horse,” she said. “What little girl living in Hudson didn’t ‘want’ her own horse?”

“I know, but ‘wanting’ a horse isn’t the same as loving that horse when you finally get it, is it?”

Lisa thought back to when Rachel did receive her own horse the Christmas after she turned ten, a gift from Evelyn. In the beginning, the girl had been ecstatic, but the excitement had waned, and the horse was sometimes neglected.

“No, it isn’t the same thing,” admitted Rachel. “Look, I don’t mean to sound petty. At the time, I was jealous; I admit it. When I was younger, I thought Aunt Evelyn paying for Silver’s surgery when I didn’t even have my own horse meant she loved you more and was ignoring me.”

“I’m sorry, Rach,” Lisa said sincerely. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Like I said, I felt that way when I was younger. I thought having a horse would make me happy the way it seemed to make you happy; like it made other girls around town happy,” Rachel said. “It wasn’t until later I realised I wasn’t actually a horse-crazy girl like everyone else.”

“No, you were more boy-crazy,” Lisa said, a small smile twitching her lips.

“Ohhh, was I ever,” Rachel said, throwing back her head and casting her eyes to the ceiling.

“Do you ever regret leaving home when you did?” Lisa queried. “I mean, do you ever wish you had waited until you were a little more settled? Aunt Evelyn was willing to pay for your post-secondary education anywhere in the world like she did for me, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. And I keep saying that the timing was probably wrong,” Rachel said. “But I always come back to Ben. He’s the reason I don’t have regrets about that. I love my son more than my own life, Lisa. If I do regret anything is that his childhood probably wasn’t as happy as it could have been because of my stupid relationship mistakes.”

“Well, from what I can see, he’s grown into a fine young man, Rachel,” Lisa said, thinking of the rough patch Ben went through during Rachel’s train wreck of a divorce. “He’s learned some valuable life lessons and he’s working hard now to achieve his goals.”

“I admit I’m proud of him,” Rachel said with a smile. “I’m sorry again for dumping him on you—”

“Oh, stop!” Lisa put up a hand. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. Even though I could have done a better job when he was here, it made me realise raising a child isn’t a cakewalk.”

“No, but it is worth it,” Rachel said. “I look at Ben, and I think at least I did something right in the world.”

“Yeah...” Lisa said softly.

“He did appreciate his time here, Lisa,” Rachel said, getting an inkling of where Lisa’s thoughts might have carried her at that moment.

“I hope so,” Lisa uttered. “Though somehow, I think I acted a little more like Aunt Evelyn: dropping expensive gifts instead of making any meaningful impact on his life that would actually matter.”

“I don’t see it that way at all,” Rachel countered. “You give from the heart, Lisa. You’ve always been the generous type. And with Fairfield’s success came bigger ways to show that generosity. To be honest, I was a bit jealous of your giving nature, too.”

“And if I’m going to be honest, I was a bit jealous of you,” Lisa said seriously.

“Of me?” Rachel said, clearly shocked. “Whatever for?”

“You left home. Had a child. You... didn’t have the weight of responsibility for Fairfield that I had,” Lisa admitted. “I have loved building up the business into the success it is today, but I also thought kids would naturally come along when I was married to Dan. When that didn’t happen, I thought about you and how easy it seemed for you.”

“It wasn’t easy at all, especially when Gary walked out on us,” stated Rachel emphatically. “And I thought I’d have more kids too, when the ex-who-shall-not-be-named came into the picture and seemed like he’d be a great step-father to Ben. We all know how that turned out.”

Lisa bobbed her head slowly, knowing no further words were needed on the subject of the breakup of Rachel’s marriage.

At length, Rachel murmured: “I’m glad I came out here one last time. There was a time I couldn’t wait to leave; relieved you were the older daughter that Dad would look to for running the business. I don’t think I’ve ever truly appreciated how much of a burden you’ve shouldered.”

“We’ve both had our burdens and hardships,” Lisa said, looking at the glowing embers in the fireplace.

“I mean it, Lisa,” Rachel insisted. ��Thank you for being there for Dad, and for running Fairfield all these years. It’s just a shame he didn’t live long enough to see the success it’s become.”

“A success that’s now coming to a close,” Lisa said quietly. “When I pick up stakes and move to Avignon, it’s going to be a whole new business.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Rachel commented. “You haven’t heard from Jack. You said it yourself that it’s time to make a fresh start.”

“I know,” Lisa said. “And you’re right. But being here in Hudson, well, it’s brought back a lot of memories with him. Good memories. It hurts to finally realise that there won’t be any more of those.”

“Well, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a fine French gentleman in Avignon,” Rachel said with a mirthful chuckle.

“Oh, no! The last thing I need is to turn into Aunt Evelyn,” Lisa scoffed, chagrined at her sister’s comment. Her thoughts suddenly took her to Toulon and the foul experience she had with Alphonse. It struck her his marriage to the young Audrey had come and gone that spring, and their baby was probably due any time. I sure dodged a bullet with that one, she decided, even if my “friends” thought we would make a good match.

“You could never be like Aunt Evelyn,” Rachel said. “You’re not a gold-digger, and the money you’ve made came through hard work. And the money doesn’t really matter to you, either, does it?”

“I won’t lie,” Lisa replied. “The money matters, because I got to do things and go places I always dreamed of doing and seeing when I was a kid. But what’s money if you don’t have people you love to share it with?”

Rachel looked at her sister with sympathy. “You really did love him, didn’t you?”

Lisa returned Rachel’s glance. “With every fiber of my being. My whole world stopped when Lou told me about his heart attack. Nothing mattered after nearly losing him like that. I just wish I had the chance to tell him so.”

“Look, it’s not my place to tell you what to do or what not to do, Lis,” Rachel said. “But you’re here in Hudson now, and he’s here. This could be your last chance to tell him.”

A slight shiver ran down Lisa’s spine at the notion of facing Jack and baring her heart as she had tried so many months ago, when she made the horrible mistake of renting the hospital bed for him. “I already squandered that ‘last chance’, Rach,” Lisa said sadly. “It’ll take a miracle to convince Jack to see me again. I blew it, and now I’m paying the price.”

--

Thanksgiving dishes were washed and put away; night checks on the horses were finished; everyone was tucked away in bed. Jack, however, lingered by himself in the living room before the fire, sipping on a hot toddy. There was indeed much to be thankful for, he knew, particularly when it came to his own life. There’s much to regret, too, he thought, watching as the flames licked at the seasoned logs. While life moved on, his heart still pined for her. He was still stuck in a place of uncertainty and inaction; of wanting to reach out and of pulling back again. It’s been ten months. Lisa has moved on, surely. It would be wrong of me to call her now, after all that’s gone on between us, and mess up whatever it is she has going. I should be thankful we had whatever it is we had and let her go. With that, Jack pulled himself up from the couch, doused the fire, and crept into his bedroom. As he closed his eyes, his last thought before falling asleep was that given his angry parting words with Lisa, spoken in the heat of the moment, he was undeserving of a second chance with her. Nothing will ever bring us back together; that’s a bridge too far.

--

*To my non-Canadian readers: Thanksgiving in Canada is celebrated on the 2nd Monday of October.

TBC

[valentino-red]

sinnerman

Chapter 2

take me to the hamptons, bugatti veyron

Ralph looked over at the backseat, where Nicky was looking at Soledad like she was a mountain he needed to move. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and the kid seemed to know that she was in a pickle. It wouldn’t do to have a government agent so close to Nicky; Ralph knew this, which is why he had brought out the gun he hid in the Royce.

Little Miss Diaz-- Captain Diaz, who would have thought-- sighed; and suddenly, Ralph could see it. There were the tear-troughs, the eye bags, the stress lines; Soledad suddenly looked older than him.

“I have to admit,” she began, “that I have worked as an… intelligence officer after I was promoted to captain.”

“You mean a spy.”

Nicky’s voice cut through the tension and he was suddenly the head of the Valentino Family, not the love stricken puppy of ten minutes ago. This was the Nicky that Ralph dealt with everyday, and it was the Nicky that he saw the most of right until last night. But now that Ralph knew how his boss could be (a little bit soft, yeah, but so much happier) he sort of wished that he never saw Nicky Valentino, mafia boss extraordinaire, ever again.

“Not exactly,” Soledad said, “but that’s close enough. I would go to the indigenous tribes and make deals with them on behalf of the government, try to make sure that they wouldn’t side with the communists in the region, or ask if they knew the whereabouts of the New People’s Army. So it wasn’t really spying, it was… negotiating. Investigation, if you will. Intelligence gathering.”

The kid was eerily calm, with no trace of emotion on her face or voice. Ralph supposed that maybe this was the Soledad that existed before Nicky.

 Her gaze flickered to the gun as Ralph’s side. Her eyes didn’t widen, and she didn’t panic. No; she seemed to relax at the sight of it.

“Threats and guns,” she sighed. “Brings me back to my glory days.”

Nicky shared a look with Ralph that said ‘she’s crazier than I thought.’

“Marone,” he muttered. “Look, Sol. I don’t wanna hurt ya, ‘cos I know that I’d regret it. So give your story to me straight.”

“Fair enough,” she said, settling into the plush leather seats. Sol was the most relaxed of the trio even with her hands cuffed behind her back. Ralph had to respect how composed she was, seeing to the fact that she was unarmed with two men that she barely knew, and was in possession of firearms. 

“I guess I should start from the top. My grandfather was a general, so when I was a child I wanted to be just like him. This, of course, led me to the army; except I was twenty-one with an inferiority complex, so I decided to join the Marines.” 

Nicky watched her smile, as though she was recalling fond memories. 

“We were the elite; the best, the brightest, the few. I saw the frontline three times in my career, where the army had skirmishes with rebel groups. These are the NPA, the New People’s Army-- communists that tell poor farmers and idealistic college kids that the system is corrupt and the only way out is a makeover. All good and well, except their leader isn’t even living in the Philippines, and their higher-ups are just as corrupt as government officials. So they’re a bunch of rapists and thugs that profit from their hypocrisy.”

Ralph glanced at Nicky, who had his complete focus on Soledad. The Rolls Royce had been at a standstill for five minutes now.

“Then,” Sol said, “the rebels attacked a city in the south of the country, Marawi. I served there, got promoted to captain. My grandfather died shortly after, and that’s when I was offered a slot in the intelligence division. I agreed, got new assignments. Usually, the army uses ‘retired’ officers to gather data and intelligence. Like James Bond-- he was a commander.”

“James who?”

“Oh,” Soledad said. “He’s, uh, a fictional character. Hasn’t been created yet.”

Nicky gave a slow nod; it was surprisingly easy to believe everything that Sol told him, so easy that it felt almost like cheating. But everything she told him was too bizarre to be anything but true.

And he knew what she looked like when she told the truth; people lie in many ways, but tell the truth in one. Nicky noticed that she spoke slowly when she was talking about herself, as if she wanted to be clear and concise-- as if she didn’t want to be misunderstood.

‘I’ve got a wide skill set.’

Well, Nicky thought to himself. I guess I know what her skill set is now.

And to wrap his head around the fact that she had seen war-- it felt like having a secret that they both shared, a sudden kinship. Because Nicky himself had been at war, and had led it, had scars from it.

He didn’t know if this was what drew him to her-- but then, there were many things about Soledad that he adored. Nicky loved the way she made him laugh; he loved how her hair curled under her chin; he loved how she said the plain truth, how she didn’t mince her words. Nicky didn’t know everything about her, but he could spend his lifetime doing that.

So did he mind that she didn’t tell him about her past? No, not at all. There were things that he did that he didn’t tell her yet, and somehow, Nicky knew that Sol would understand his silence on a few spots in his life.

“Hey, toots,” Nicky said. “Ya need a pin? ‘Cause those handcuffs don’t look like they’re gonna unlock themselves.”

“Oh,” she looked surprised. “I forgot about that.”

Nicky snorted, “how could you forget being handcuffed?”

“I don’t know, maybe I was worried about the fact that a certain someone was maybe mad at me?”

Nicky got a pin that he had in his jacket, and Sol turned her back to him. He was touched at how ready she was to trust him with unlocking her handcuffs, even after his open hostility.

“I already told ya, sweet thing.” There was a metallic pop, and the handcuffs were out. “There’s no need to worry. I got you.”

She turned to face him, and the afternoon sunlight that came in through the car’s window somehow made her look more golden, made her brown skin look deeper. For the first time since he met her, Sol looked like she didn’t know what to say. Nicky placed his hand on top of her’s, both sticky from sweat; suddenly, he couldn’t see anything but her dark eyes and the curl of her hair. All at once, he realised that she had been what he was waiting for, body and soul.

“Looks like we need ‘ta get outta here,” he said, voice lower than he intended. “What do you say, toots? Wanna go to my place at the Hamptons?”

***

If Sol was going to ask if she could drive the car one more time, Ralph would explode. He had a little vein in his forehead that didn’t exist until last night. It was crazy, how bullheaded someone could be; crazier still that Nicky was looking at her like she hung the stars and the moon.

It was dark already outside, and the air was getting colder, whipping at cheeks and turning exhales into wisps of smoke. Outside the world of the Rolls Royce trees were shedding their leaves into dark green heaps that could barely be seen in the lack of light. Inside the Rolls Royce, at the backseat, Nicky had his arm over Sol, and she was resting her head on his chest.

Ralph rolled up to the driveway, noticing, somewhat smugly, that Sol barely batted an eyelash at Nicky’s mansion. He had been waiting for some girl that wasn’t impressed with Nicky’s spending habits.

Said man nudged Sol at the ribs, smiling. “Do I know how to spend money, or what?”

Said girl chuckled. “I’d go for the ‘or what’, but I don’t wanna hurt your feelings.”

Nicky put a hand on his chest, acting as if someone stabbed him. “Too late,” he rasped, collapsing into her. “I may never recover.”

Sol pecked his cheek. “There,” she smiled widely. “A kiss to make it better.”

Ralph gagged, parking at the entrance as quickly as possible.

“Get out,” he said. “I got a date with a pair of dancers tonight, and I don’t wanna have to explain why I got a toothache.”

Nicky raised an eyebrow, but Soledad slid out of the car laughing. Ralph wanted to snort-- at least someone knew how to take a joke. Nicky could be a bit sore sometimes.

“Have fun, Ralph,” Sol said. “Don’t stay out too late, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That’s not much,” Ralph rolled his eyes, walking to his car and leaving the two love birds behind. Nicky gave a small wave, his eyes warm and smiling. Sometimes the man showed his affection in small ways.

Sol paused to look at the house, with its cream colored bricks and French design. Somehow, it reminded her of her family, and a way of life that was lost to her. Homesickness settled at the bottom of her gut; that’s how she knew it was shit.

“Honey,” she said, “it ain’t that bad, but I gotta tell you. It's pretty obvious that a young man with new money owns this place. But not to worry, when the ivy grows it will look distinguished. Ivy gives everything an air of gravitas.”

Nicky peered down at her. “And how exactly are you an expert on gravitas, toots?”

“Well, I’m with you aren’t I?” Sol said it like it wasn’t flirting, but a fact. “Besides, my family is so old money that we have no money. I saw it, but it never reached me.”

“Well, honey,” he grinned, “you can reach for all the money you want. My treat.”

She punched his arm playfully, and Nicky winced at the force of it. Sol was an army captain alright.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got a swell place that’s perfect for stargazing. You can see entire galaxies up there. Wanna check it out?”

Sol shook her head, and Nicky tried his best to not feel disappointed.

“It’s a cold night,” she replied, “and I am physically, psychologically, socially, culturally, genetically and spiritually unable to stand the cold. I’m from the Philippines, and that’s at the middle of the equator.”

Nicky chuckled. “Well, I have some mink that I could lend you for New York in the winter.”

Soledad groaned. “Just throw me to the sun, please. I hate winter.”

Nicky didn’t mean to grin at her despair, but he couldn’t help it. “Too bad, toots, ‘cause I love snow.”

“Hay, susmariosep,” she muttered to herself. Nicky blinked at her, and she sighed, stepping into the house-- she was cold already, standing in the evening air.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she clarified. “But we Filipinos take revenge on our colonizers by bastardising their language, hence: susmariosep.”

Nicky led her into the mansion, and Sol was struck with how immaculate everything was. The marbled floors were shinier than a brand new Ferrari, the decor was a tasteful creme color, and the chandeliers gave a welcoming golden light to everyone under it, with Nicky’s brown eyes looking like a setting sun over still waters.

“Care for a quick drink?”

Soledad nodded, and her favorite mob boss led her to a study furnished with heavy mahogany shelves and plush velvet seats. She carefully mapped the layout of the house in her head, a habit of her’s that was born from paranoia and grew into a faint buzz at the back of her mind, like how some people ran their hands through shelves in the grocery. 

Nicky mixed her an Old Fashioned as she sunk into an armchair, tucking her legs under her. It was difficult for her to be on her guard with Nicky for too long; there was something about him that made her feel at ease, like how one feels after a good massage.

Soledad nursed her drink in its perfect crystal tumbler as Nicky told her of his place, his position, before she stumbled into the Twenties. His eyes were a hard amber as he talked about being the head of one of New York’s Five Families, of being on the cover of every paper in town, of being young and dangerous and flaunting cash. Soledad could see it happening; she could see how the very same man that made her drink and called her cute pet names was also the kind of man that dipped more than his toe in bootlegging and crime. Maybe it was in how he carried himself, or the way he talked-- whatever it was, Sol knew power when she saw it, and Nicky Valentino oozed it.

“Look, Sol.” His brows were set and stern. “I got a lot of regrets about the things I done. There’s a lot of wrongs I can never right, and that’s why I got out. The big house never scared me more than the big sleep.”

His face softened a bit, as if he was sharing a fond memory. “But becoming a man; seeing the consequences of my actions…”

Nicky Valentino’s wandering eyes settled on Sol’s, and she could see forests of unexplored secrets in their depths.

“That’s why I left. Easier said than done, though.”

Sol watched his face get flustered, ears heating up, as she took a final sip of her drink, tilting it back.

“Trouble just seems to find you, huh?”

“I have myself to thank for that. But worst comes to worst, I still got my secret headquarters.”

Sol smiled, cradling the crystal glass in her hands. “You’ll have to show me, someday. Just in case.”

Nicky returned her smile. “Of course,” he said, almost whispering. “I got one last place to show you, if you’d let me.”

Their footsteps were quick in the quiet night, as if they were teenagers slipping from shadow to shadow, scared of being found out. Nicky held her hand like it was glass, idly taking note of how light it was, and where her hands were calloused and where it was smooth.

The night breeze was fierce, blowing white curtains into the house like spectres, half-alive and half in love, reaching for something. Soledad walked beside him, and under the moon she looked like she was dreaming, in another place that didn’t exist. He brought her to a swimming pool, smiling under the stars. 

“I’m going to dip my feet in for a hot second,” he said. Soledad followed him, and they sat at the edge of the pool’s deep end together.

“Trust me, Nicky,” she muttered. “Every second with you is a hot second.”

“Yeah,” he blushed. “But you’re cold aren’t ya? Here, take my coat.”

He took his black coat off, wrapping it around her; Sol was grateful for the sudden warmth that it gave her. She breathed in deeply; it smelled like smoke and cognac.

They spent a few minutes in silence. Sol knew that there wasn’t a need to say anything. It had been a long day, and she was grateful for quiet moments like these. The oceans in her stomach settled when Nicky held her this way, when they both looked at the deep blue pool together.

“My ma used to tell me, ‘Your soulmate is somewhere out there looking at that same moon.”

Sol smiled. “Oh? And did you listen to her?”

“I was more concerned about finding out how I could sneak into the Polo Grounds and catch a ball game.” 

They shared a smile. 

“But now,” Sol said, “you’re a romantic.”

“Yeah, now I am.” They were both quiet for a heartbeat. “What about you? Is you a romantic?”

Sol looked away from Nicky and the moon, her smile getting sadder. “I never let myself think about romance,” she said. “Like I said, you don’t get to be twenty-nine years old with no boyfriend, ever, without a bit of paranoia.”

“How about me?” Nicky’s gaze was heated, focused on her. 

“What about you?”

“What happened? You met me and figured out the power of true love?”

Soledad snorted, rolling her eyes. “Not everyone goes out and buys jewelry for their future lovers, Don Juan.”

“When it comes to love, everyone’s got a chip and a chair,” he chuckled. “So long as you got a single chip and a seat at the table, you still got a shot.”

“You really are a romantic,” Sol huffed, grinning.

Nicky wrapped his arm around her; there was something behind her eyes that was still closed off to him, but he could see that she was keeping something close to her chest. He had seen that look before in the mirror, and he knew that whatever she was keeping close to her, she didn’t want to let go of yet. Nicky didn’t want to take it from her hands.

“It’s been a long day,” he said, not noticing how his voice dropped to a lower octave. “We should both hit the sack.”

Sol nodded, and the new goosebumps on her arm were not from the cold. “Where’s my room?”

“Take a hard left down the hall,” he replied. “You can’t miss it.”

***

Soledad had changed into an oversized polo shirt and baggy shorts that she had found in the dresser, and had already settled on a makeshift bed on the floor. There was something about fluffy mattresses that made her feel like she was drowning, so she took the heavy comforter from the bed and a pillow, fashioning a spot that vaguely resembled a sleeping bag.

There was a gentle knock on her door, and Nicky’s face peeped in. Surprise colored his face, and Sol smiled back sheepishly. She didn’t know why she felt embarrassed at being seen trying to sleep on the floor-- she did it many times back home, never caring about other people’s perception of her. But the way that Nicky looked a little bit concerned had her face flushing. 

It’s because it’s his house, she thought to herself. 

“Force of habit,” she explained, sitting up from the floor. “I, uh, don’t really like soft beds.”

Nicky nodded, pretending as though he understood. “Army training, huh?”

“Army training.”

He hummed lightly, rolling on his heels. “Would you like a quick nightcap?”

Nicky showed her the two mugs he was holding.

“What’s that? Coffee?”

“Coffee? At this hour? Do I look like a barbarian to you?”

“Sorry if I have a caffeine addiction,” Sol muttered. “It takes three cups to wake me up. Besides, coffee can be had any time.”

“Not if you’re Italian.” Nicky looked mildly embarrassed. “No coffee after breakfast. That’s how it’s done in the old country. So what will you have? Tea or hot chocolate?”

“The hot chocolate, please. I may be a coffee addict, but my true love is hot chocolate. I should really make you a cup some time. My recipe predates the Americans.”

Nicky smiled at her rambling as he walked over to her and gave her the cup. “Something sweet for my something sweet,” he said.

Soledad took a sip. “It’s good, but trust me when I say that mine is better.”

“Oh? And what’s it like?”

“Thicker.” Soledad blushed, hoping that he didn’t notice the double entendre. “Less sweet, more bitter. But the cacao from Davao? The best, the absolute best, I tell you.”

“My ma used to make hot coco, too.” Nicky sat on top of the bed, which was stripped of its blankets. “And I remember that she did make it thick. But my pa didn’t like it, because apparently anything that brings any kind of joy didn’t make you a man in his eyes. The irony, coming from a man whose soul was crushed by the factory.”

Nicky’s eyes were still tender, and Sol was jealous that he was able to talk about his father that easily. 

“Well,” Nicky said, standing up. “We best get to bed already. It’s going to be busy tomorrow.”

Sol remembered some things that Ralph had mentioned on the trip to the Hamptons. “Long day at your lawyers’ office?”

Nicky shrugged. “Can’t always be getaway cars and police men on your tail.”

They shared a look with each other before Nicky headed to the door. He opened it, and Sol memorised the way he looked like, before pausing. Nicky held her gaze one more time.

“I’ve chased it before; that danger. You can get hurt. Go after it long enough and you will get hurt.”

“I know,” Soledad said. She said it so quietly, she wasn’t sure if Nicky heard her.

“I just wanna be honest with you, as someone who’s been there, done that. I just don’t want to put you in harm’s way.”

Soledad sighed, sitting up straighter. She wondered what he thought of her, sitting on the floor wearing what might be his shirt.

“I’m here for you,” she told him, and it was as simple as that. “I’m not here looking for a thrill, or for money. I’ve had enough of that in my old life, and I’m used to it and the demons that come along with it. So I’m here for you, Nicky, and I’m ready to stay with you.”

“You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

They smiled at each other, and Sol forgot how to breathe.

“Takes one to know one.”

Nicky turned off the light, closing the door behind him as gently as he could.

***

That night, Soledad dreamt of the midday sun on the top of her head. There were gunshots, but she couldn’t hear them. She only knew how they felt, because with every beat of her heart a new one was fired. There was a familiar weight in her hand, and her trigger finger squeezed. Bullets flew and people died like leaves falling from acacia trees.

***

She woke up to orange stains in the sky. The sun greeted her, as though they were lifelong friends. Her hands folded blankets and fluffed pillows with no thinking on her part. This was routine, and Soledad knew the rhythm of it. The only thing that was missing, she thought to herself, were small lizards and the occasional cockroach. Sol smiled; she didn’t miss those things.

She changed back into her yellow dress, for propriety’s sake, before setting off to the direction that she deduced the kitchen was. As luck would have had it, she was right, and before she set foot in the place she could already smell breakfast.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “Can I help you in any way?”

A stout woman with wild curly hair came up to her, wiping uncooked batter on her white apron. “And who might you be, missy?”

“Soledad Diaz, ma’am.”

The older woman shook her head, muttering something about a new hire, before ordering her to chop onions. Soledad smiled, not wanting to correct the chef, and got to work.

There was something about holding a knife that she enjoyed, and she did her part in making breakfast. There were four of them working; the stout woman, a younger black man, an old hispanic lady that spoke in broken English, and Soledad. She had traded a few words with the woman (“de donde eres?” Sol asked. “Cuba,” the old lady replied, smiling through the steam that rose from a nearby pot. “Cuba.”).

Bridget, Joshua, and Mamita. Soledad enjoyed working alongside them, but soon excused herself, saying that she needed to go to the bathroom. Bridget had let her go with a wave of her hand, not taking her eyes off the sausages that she was frying.

Sol went back to her room, humming a song from her youth. She idly wondered if Mamita knew any Spanish songs that she knew, and suddenly Sol missed the guitar that she left back home in the Philippines.

Her thoughts came to a stop as she spotted a familiar face holding a basket full of petals, back facing her.

“Nicky?”

He turned to look at her, blushing harder than he ever had since she met him. It was adorable, and she laughed, only a little bit sorry that it was at his expense. He scratched the back of his head, and Sol idly looked him up and down. He was only wearing dark blue slacks and a white button down, but he looked good. Better, even.

“I didn’t know you were already up, toots. Army training?”

Soledad nodded. “Army training. Anyway, what are you doing? That’s going to be a pain to clean up.”

Nicky crossed his arms, and she could see his muscles underneath. “I wanted to surprise you when you woke up, but I guess you’re the one that surprised me. Breakfast’ll be in an hour yet, so maybe we can move to the veranda? It’s got a view of the pool.”

“Trust me,” she smiled. “I know that breakfast is coming in an hour.”

...

A/N: no beta we die like men. literally just finished this five minutes ago. i have no idea where this story is going, so i’m just sprinkling seeds for future angst that may or may not sprout. uh, in this chapter i tried to go for a more prose-y style, and i wanted to sort of start a bit the nationalistic streaks of sol here, since i figured that she’d have to be somewhat in love with her country, since she was a soldier.

i’m a little concerned that the romance part between sol and nicky is fast, but since it’s fast in canon, i suppose it’s alright for now. especially since they both have skeletons in their closet, that again, may or may not pop up later.

if yall have any suggestions, or anything that u wanna see, please tell me!!! do yall want scenes that are mainly canon compliant, or divergent? should i include more of the canon dialogue? i love feedback, mainly because i don’t have a lot of people to brainstorm with, so pls dont hesitate to drop me a dm!!!

Prologue | Chapter One 

#nicky valentino #nicky valentino x oc #nicky valentino/oc #nix hydra #fanfiction #nicky valentino fanfiction #tatw #two against the world #hay salamat thank the lord this is done #for now

[winterromanov]

Prompt idea: AU meeting Bucky on a flight back to nyc, hitting it off but neither has the guts to ask for #s and regret it, but they run into each other later

pairing: bucky x reader

You’d made it to your terminal with minutes to spare. Your chest is heaving from violently running from one part of LAX to the other, dragging your broken, three-wheeled suitcase lamely behind you. Nevertheless--you make it, passport and boarding pass between your teeth, sweat pooling in the small of your back. You don’t run, you absolutely don’t run, but you make an exception for the two hundred and fifty dollars you’d spent on this flight back to JFK. And the wages you would otherwise miss if you didn’t make it back to New York City tonight.

Relief flooding you, you quickly join the back of the queue heading out onto the plane. You manically check your passport, hoping you’d not managed to drop something on the way over. Because that would just be typical you, wouldn’t it? 

“That is some impeccable timing you’ve got there.”

You look up from your frantic scanning of essential documents and see a man--also travelling alone, by the looks of it, the space between him and the couple in front too wide to be friends or relatives--his grin teasing and light. If you weren’t sweating enough already, the gaze of this man would probably do it. Blue eyes, tired from travel, maybe. Dark hair. Very pretty. Extremely pretty.

You attempt to pull yourself together, throwing him a slightly flustered smile back. The queue moves gradually forwards and you tug your unwieldy suitcase forward, grimacing as it squeaks loudly linoleum. “Let’s say that punctuality is not one of my strong suites.”

The man rubs his eyes in exhaustion. “And let’s say that I’m the exact opposite.”

“You’re one of those people who arrives at departures like seven hours early, huh?”

“Eight.” He smiles, and you notice his hand luggage is a neat little backpack, unlike your ten-year-old faithful monster half-broken at your feet. “Need to leave plenty of time for duty free, you know?”

He’s not holding any paper bags from the expensive cosmetics counters, no cut price bottles of wine, not even any snacks. Not a shopaholic, just anxious. You’re flustered, late, but not unobservant, even of strangers. “I mean, I wouldn’t. As much as the bargain Chanel was calling my name, I did literally just sprint here. I think my sister thinks I’m insane.”

His expression is tongue-in-cheek. “Not just your sister.”

“That’s a brave statement from someone I’ve just met.” You run a hand through your mussed-up hair in an attempt to tame it, not helped by the humid LA heat. Attractive man is talking to you, after all. That doesn’t happen so often. “You always like that?”

“Not always,” he says, but his sentence is cut short as he reaches the front of the queue and hands one of the stewardesses his boarding pass and passport. You jerk your bag off to the side to the second open desk, letting another go through your documents, but by the time you’re finished (as always, the lady seems to scrutinise every pixel in your photograph--your misjudged bangs from three years ago don’t make you look that different, surely) the gentle, teasing man has gone.

-

The air hostess directs you to your seat at the back of the plane and you find you’re in one of the sections to the right, not really looking at the other passengers as you try to find row F. When you eventually find where you’re supposed to remain for the duration of the flight, you blink in surprise.

“Mad girl,” To his credit, the man looks just as surprised at the coincidence as you do, looking away from the phone in his hand. “You sitting here too?”

“Yeah.” You half smile, struggling to stuff your bag in the overhead locker. He clambers out to help but you manage to squeeze it, wedge it in between his backpack and the lady in front’s briefcase. “And for the record, my punctuality aside, I’m not actually insane. Probably more verging along the lines of ridiculously ordinary.”

“I happen to think that ordinary is a myth,” he replies, subtly scanning your figure as you slide into the seat beside him. He has a copy of McEwan’s Atonement on his open tray, dog-eared and yellowed, perhaps borrowed from a friend. “Never met anyone ordinary in my life.”

“You might have to take that back after spending five and a half hours in my company.”

His glance is bemused as he shifts the headphones looped round his neck--you can hear faint conversation, listening to an audiobook or podcast of some sort. “I’m Bucky, by the way. Well. James. But everyone calls me Bucky.”

“(Y/N),” you offer in return, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

-

It’s funny, because not once in the many years you’ve been old and responsible enough to travel alone has anyone engaged in as much conversation with you. For someone clearly so anxious about flying Bucky is open and friendly and funny and you think, maybe this is his coping mechanism. Then again--you can feel something lingering below the surface, something that makes you feel that you’re actually getting on, that you could have met in any place in any town and felt exactly the same. He asks about your family and you ask about his. Apparently he was in LA because his little sister is at film school and crippled by homesickness, so his body in her apartment for a few days made her feel a little less alone, a little less far away. He knows you’re a photographer, spending the last six days taking pictures for a client’s wedding on Venice Beach.

A couple of hours into the flight you begin to scroll through movies on the screens in the back of the seat, discussing the ones you both have or haven’t seen. He likes everything other than films about space--they give him existential horror--and you’re a bit wary around anything scary, so his finger hovers over Paddington 2.

“Surely a film about a well-mannered bear with a British accent can’t cause any problems,” he says, offering one of the headphones he’s plugged in between the seats. He wants you to watch a movie with him. Literally with him. 

Well. You’re not going to say no. You take the ear-bud and pop it in, easing back into your chair, the film entertaining but his bright facial expressions even more so.

-

He tenses as the plane lands, his knuckles white round the arms of his seat. You wonder if it would be cool to splay your hand over his own, squeezing it in an attempt to calm his nerves. But you don’t know him, really. You don’t know him well enough to do that. And you wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

So you lay back, close your eyes, feeling just a bit ridiculous as a vacuum opens in your stomach.

-

You’re tempted to ask him for his number as you make your way to the luggage carousel, walking in step with him. Instead you’re both enveloped in silence. Instead of actually, you know, fucking saying anything, you spend so much time trying to consider the words rather than biting the bullet and just doing it. Your lack of punctuality doesn’t just extend to your inability to make it anywhere until the last minute. 

You often don’t say things until it’s too late, too.

“Have you got anyone waiting for you at arrivals?” he asks, pulling a cap from inside his bag over his head. The airport is packed, as usual, and you keep getting thrown around by tourists in sunhats and rushing businessmen. His hands grip round your shoulders to steady you immediately, towering above you.

You like him. You like him you like him you like him.

“Nope,” you reply, and a curious look passes over his face. The luggage carousel is in view and yours comes by but Bucky reaches out first, placing it down next to you. His doesn’t come long after. “What about you?”

“Nah. We could share a cab, if you want?” You usher out in the main entrance where you can see the black 11pm sky, hazy with the artificial orange from the lights in the city. “I never asked. Which part of the city are you from?”

“Queens.”

“Ah,” he grimaces, “I’m Brooklyn. That’s quite the distance.”

“In opposite directions.” You wonder if you visibly sink, melting between the tiles on the floor. “It’s cool, I was going to get the subway anyway.”

“We could go Queens first, I don’t mind--”

There looks to be hundreds of cabs lined up outside along the entrances, people piling in and out and journeying back into the city. You’re stood opposite each other and he’s looking down at you, face conflicted, but you know it’s stupid for him to share a car with you all the way to Queens only to have to spend even longer to get back to his own place.

Just ask him for his number, you fucking moron. This doesn’t have to be the end.

Your mouth opens, the vowels and the consonants on the edge of your tongue but again. Again your words fail to come, trailing behind you like your dumbass suitcase with its missing wheel. “No, it’s okay. I’ll get the train.”

“I...” Bucky starts, and for a moment you think he’s going to be the one who asks. The one who says he doesn’t want this to be the first and only time you meet. But it’s just your luck you meet someone almost as useless about these things as you are. “I guess I’ll see you?”

“Yeah.” You swallow hard. “See you.”

He looks over you desperately for a second, wondering if he might touch you. A goodbye squeeze of the shoulder, maybe a hug, but instead he rests his arms at his sides and gives you one last sweet smile before heading into a cab. You wait until his cab disappears before you decide to move. You can’t bring yourself to do so until then.

-

As soon as you get back to your apartment you face plant your pillow and scream into the fabric for at least five minutes.

-

The months pass quickly as they always seem to do and while Bucky stays in the back of your mind--mainly because every other man you meet is nowhere near as attractive as him, physically or otherwise--you don’t let it weigh you down. You know the possibility of ever meeting him again are next-to-nothing, and who the fuck spends their time pining after a man they met once on a plane? You’re often quite pathetic, but not that pathetic.

It’s July when you’re contacted to photograph the wedding of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts out in the country, the weather warm and the sky faultless blue. An old, crumbling manor house serves as the perfect backdrop for the big day, the ceremony itself held in the grassy, wildflower-adorned grounds in front of the porch. You follow around the staff as they prepare in a dusty pink summer dress, snapping some photographs of the exterior before the guests arrive for the vows. Eventually, you trail into the kitchen, hoping to get some pictures of the cake before it is cut and distributed out.

It’s then--it’s then you hear a familiar voice, shouting for the head caterer.

“Hey, I was just checking that--” 

He pauses when his eyes settle on you. You almost drop your incredibly expensive camera into a bowl of flan.

“(Y/N)?” James says, mouth swinging open like a door on a loose hinge, “Jesus. I didn’t...”

“I’m the photographer,” you reply, like it isn’t obvious. You’re just surprised. “I’m Tony and Pepper’s photographer.”

He blinks. “I’m a friend of Tony’s. My God. Fate was really smiling on me today, huh?”

You grin is borderline ridiculous. “I think maybe she was.”

-

He writes his number on his reservation card with Natasha Romanoff’s lipstick. The night is in full swing. Everyone is either drunk or dancing. Mostly both.

“Not letting you go this time, mad girl,” he says, his body coming closer and closer to yours until your barely centimetres apart, your breathes hanging heavy. His number is pressed into your palm. “I think I’ve been hitting my head against my bedroom wall every single day since I got into that darn cab. My landlord is going to be suing me for damages.”

You bite your lip, clutching your camera. “And I’m being a really bad photographer right now.”

“Oh, come on, no-one will notice. I know for a fact Tony’s finished almost a whole bottle of Scotch.” His smile is almost shy. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

“No idea.” You shrug, but your eyes remain focused on his. “I think I mentioned there is absolutely nothing remarkable about me, Bucky.”

“And I think I mentioned that I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t remarkable.” His hand finds yours and you let your fingers relax in his grip, curl round them. “Dance?”

You should be taking pictures. You should be doing your job. But there is a handsome man in front of you with a smile that could make the sun rise and put the whole fucking night sky to shame. There is a man in front of you who you watched leave once already. There is a man in front of you who wants to dance, who wrote down his number in Chanel Rouge Allure, who has spent the last six months with you hidden in his dreams and a dent in his wall as a receipt.

You can’t not dance with him.

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#I CANT RESIST AUS OKAY #im sorry about the fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

[fortressclan]

Bloodspeckle had lived many moons at this point in his life. Seen cats live and die, battles lost and won. He had seen many, many things. Not much surprised him anymore, or so he thought. However, it seemed the mercenaries Redstar had gained had made it their life goal to prove him wrong.

When Redstar announced the arrival of outside cats, that was when the remaining cats of Redclan had decided that the fight had gone on too long, and had left. Bloodspeckle couldnt blame them, but it did make his job a bit lonelier with only three other cats in the camp, one of which couldnt even communicate properly. Bloodspeckle found himself talking to his birds more during the period where the newcomers had joined the clan, finding more comfort in them than he did the others. He started dedicating more time to his work, spending less time with the clan. He could tell some of the cats who had known him before the others arrived were concerned, but he brushed them off, saying he was working harder to accommodate the sudden growing numbers. It was a lie. Why should he have to heal these buffoons who looked like they could barely fight a mouse, let alone a full cat? The day of the first battle was Bloodspeckle's first surprise.

Baystep and Firecrackle had volunteered to stay behind to guard the camp, while the rest had gone to the border of the two clans in a patrol. Apparently they had discussed earlier the plans of the battle, but Bloodspeckle had been paw deep in a loner's chest at the time, having been attacked by the loner and making them meet a quick end. The small group quietly split up to surround the small patch of land they sought to take, leaving Bloodspeckle with little clue on where to go. He took a look around, debating who to concern himself with first. It didnt take long, spotting the large mass of fur and what he prayed was muscle and not just more fur, and he slunked over beside the large tom. The tom, who Bloodspeckle remembered having been renamed Heavyclaw, looked down at him with a distrusting glare, and Bloodspeckle took a step to the side. He wasnt scared, he had lost the ability to fear a while back, but had enough manners to treat Heavyclaw with respect. The tom made a sound that Bloodspeckle took for one of thanks, before the quiet wait began. It took only a few heartbeats for the enemy patrol to come around, and immediately all hell broke loose. Bloodspeckle wasnt sure what to expect from the ragtag team of strays, but 'Slaughter' was definitely one way to describe it. It was Scorchleap who attacked first, picking a long lanky black tom who reminded Bloodspeckle of one of their own cats, Raccoonheart. Looking at the battlefield, he noticed various cats who looked strikingly similar, but Bloodspeckle brushed it off, having more important things to concern himself with. The battle didnt last long as he set down the herbs he had brought, and he watched as the large tom wrecked havoc on the Rushwing look alike. He swore he heard something snap as Heavyclaw slammed a paw down on the other- a rib, maybe?- before the retreat was called. The enemy patrol ran away, leaving their side victorious. Bloodspeckle quickly got to work and ran over with cobwebs and poultices, respect for the newcomers growing.

The second surprise came a moon later, while he was looking at a corpse he had 'found'. Bloodspeckle had tried to keep his work hidden from most, very aware of what reactions he would get. He had found nothing too interesting inside, much of the same stuff he had found many times, but when he looked up from his activities, he was surprised to find Baystep there, staring at the mess. At first Bloodspeckle didnt know how to react, and even began trying to find an excuse to why he was mucking around in some poor cat's body, but was rather stunned when Baystep walked over and began asking questions, unfazed by the body. "What does this little thing here do?" He had asked, leaving Bloodspeckle speechless before explaining with genuine excitement what he believed it to be. Excitement wasnt a feeling he felt very often at the time, but Baystep's interest and lack of morals had seemingly revived his passion. Not soon after did Bloodspeckle decide to give the others a chance, opening up a bit more and making time to talk to them. Bloodspeckle realized that clan life had dulled his senses as he learned more of these cats, and that there was much more outside of the clans than just patrolling and constant fighting.

The final surprise came three moons after the second. The presence of the others wasnt a foreign feeling anymore, and a welcome one at times. He had helped many with their injuries and sicknesses, and found himself enjoying his normal work once again. He was ecstatic when many had agreed to test some herbs for him, and looked forward to every visit he got. He had grown to become good friends with Baystep, and surpringly Heavyclaw. The latter often visited for any wounds he had recieved, and opened up when Bloodspeckle had begun to join in the fighting. More and more it seemed the large tom was coming in for smaller and smaller wounds, even coming in once for what Bloodspeckle suspected was a faked headache. Bloodspeckle didnt mind at all though, soon finding out Heavyclaw was much more than just a large and destructive cat. The two talked often while Bloodspeckle worked, giving Bloodspeckle some often much needed mental challenges with some topics they discussed. That morning Heavyclaw visited to check up on the medicine cat, having brought a rabbit to share. Bloodspeckle took a few bites inbetween sorting through his herbs, before Heavyclaw spoke. “You are sweet, when you want to be." That made Bloodspeckle pause for a second, processing what Heavyclaw had said. Sweet? Him? Bloodspeckle didnt vocalize his confusion and surprise, instead making inquisitive sound to push Heavyclaw to continue that train of thought so he could hop on and figure out exactly where the last stop was. "I have seen you with the others. You treat them kindly. In your own way. You play with the little Firefly, listen to tiny apprentice to amuse him. Heal Heavyclaw's and other's wounds, care for small prey." Bloodspeckle paused as he continued to list small things that had apparently added up. The garden he, Baystep, and Houndsnap had made. Giving poppy seeds to Hawkslash when he needed them, even if that happened to be when the sun was rising. Letting Scorchleap sleep in his den when the tom felt homesick after the camp changed, despite the fact the tom snored like a monster. Bloodspeckle was about to say something, about to brush Heavyclaw's examples as small signs of respect and nothing more, but paused as Heavyclaw began talking about those outside of their current clan. The mothers he had helped through birth, the endless battles and wounds that had never seemed to end. The secrets he had promised to keep a secret, even if it meant to break the code. Bloodspeckle had tried to get a word in throughout Heavyclaw's monologue, but shut his mouth with a click once Willowshine's name was mentioned.

"Loner told Heavyclaw." Heavyclaw explained, watching Bloodspeckle with a firm stare, before his voice dipped low and quiet. "Apprentice is not from clan. Heavyclaw is not dumb, I can tell. He-" Heavyclaw abruptly cut himself off, before shaking his head slightly to himself. Bloodspeckle could fill the blank in, though. "I've seen the vay Raccoonheart looks at him. Villowshine came to me ven she suspected she was expecting." Bloodspeckle said with a cold tone, warning Heavyclaw to be careful about the subject. The memory of Willowshine hurt a bit- she had been a good cat, and perhaps even a good friend at one point, and now she was just... gone. Of course, Bloodspeckle wasnt sure if Raccoonheart was entirely the father, but a part of him still wanted something, someone to blame. Heavyclaw simply nodded, and brought him out of his thoughts. "And you have not told a word to anyone, not even little apprentice. You have kept secret safe." Heavyclaw reasoned, wrapping his tail around his hind paws. "You can be sweet." He said with a tone that suggested anything Bloodspeckle could say would have no effect on his belief. Instead of fighting it though, Bloodspeckle sighed and shook his head. "Vatever you vish to believe, mein Kumpel." Bloodspeckle replied, as he let the memories go. Heavyclaw let out a sound that almost sounded like a chuckle, before the subject got changed. The two chatted a while more, before Heavyclaw had to excuse himself and leave. Bloodspeckle said goodbye as Heavyclaw ducked his way out of the entrance, and the medicine cat noted the barely touched rabbit still in middle of the den. Maybe Heavyclaw had been right, that he was growing soft and kinder to the new cats in the camp. While Bloodspeckle mightve hated and feared the idea in the past, Bloodspeckle wasnt entirely the same cat anymore. With hesitant curiousity, he welcomed the idea that these cats would remain a part of his life, even if it was for a short time. With all the surprises in his life, a few more couldnt hurt, could it?

#tf2 #tf2 au #warrior cats #warrior cats au #sil writes #sil answers #tf2 medic #tf2 engie #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #heavymedic #im sorry this took so long! #hope u like it ajndksd

[dungeons-and-divination]

Oath of REDEMPTION PALADIN - Draconblood DRAGONBORN - Prisoner

I don’t necessarily have a love for paladins despite how much my characters usually end up being “spiritual”. But I gotta admit, I was kinda fascinated by what came out from his story and I wouldn’t mind playing him myself at all. I hope you all enjoy him just as much.

NAME: Zral’thid Benorax (52yo)

TAROTS

Mind: Knight of pentacles (upright) I wasn’t really expecting to get a card with so many positive traits linked to a character with that kind of background. Apparently Zral’thid has always been a person of common sense and practicality, someone that believes that honest hard work is the way to truly achieve your dreams. It made me wonder how he even got imprisoned in the first place, but don’t worry, you’ll found out about it later. I still had from this immediately the feeling that because of his very determined and loyal nature, he probably was doing something related to protecting other people most likely. It also seems like his time in prison made him even more committed to the kind of person he used to be though, like instead of breaking him, Zral’thid found purpose in the punishment. Very noble intents indeed then somewhere in there.

Body: Five of wands (reversed) This card just confirmed that impression that there was some kind of struggle that Zral’thid had to live through. It was something deep in his mind and spirit, so much so that he felt physically ill at times. Till he just exploded and did something rush, totally contrasting his practical nature. It seems his time in jail was enough for him to find peace and harmony once again. Where others might have surrendered to despair, he found a new balance, like I already mentioned, in his focus for order. I do feel like he also probably came to a solution to the dilemma that made him end up in jail in the first place, even if maybe it wasn’t necessarily a solution he wanted at first or particularly liked.

Spirit: Page of swords (upright) The tarot are being very good to me with all these confirmations of my impression going on here. Indeed, Zral’thid found a balance between his protective nature and the need to be patient, to wait for the right moment to act. He’s more vigilant, but he’s still the same man that doesn’t like injustice and always tries to be fair to people. He will always be inquisitive, on the hunt for the truth and a stickler to rules, but he’s also well aware that the justice system isn’t always right nor fair. All in all, he has this tormented, wise, loner vibe to him, but deep inside he’s just an overprotective bear that prefers to use words to defend people instead of a sword because of his oath.

Past: Eight of cups (reversed) So, I had already pretty much a good idea of what Zral’thid’s “past” tarot could have in store for him. I was not surprised when a card that expresses a deep discomfort with the status quo came up, then. I knew that he’d been kind of struggling with something but at the same time his instinct to follow the rules was probably holding him back from acting of whatever the problem was. Yet, this card adds a layer of fear for the uncertainty that lies within the change that his actions might have brought were he to actually succeed. I felt like I needed to clear a bit where this fear might have come from, and the deck gave me a Four of swords reversed. Which made me even more confused for a moment. Then I remembered that one of the meanings of this card is losing faith, and I can see him crumbling under the pressure of whatever situation he was dealing with and losing the righteous path he’d been following, especially if he felt like there was a lack of support or deceitfulness around him. Maybe not a lack of faith in his deity, but on something else then.

Present: Six of cups (upright) It just makes sense that after that big hit from the “past” tarot he gets something related to nostalgia of better times. Yet, Zral’this is well aware that he remembers them as good times cause he did not know, at the time, of the deceitfulness around him. So, like I said previously, despite his facade of the loner wolf, he actually craves the company of a new family so that he can leave behind that homesickness for a home that he knows he doesn’t belong to anymore. Very, very fitting indeed.

Future: Four of pentacles (reversed) I’m so happy that this is the last tarot for him. A hopeful ending after such a hard life is just what Zral’this deserves honestly. So, I really hope that he in fact has the chance to let go of the past, that he stops regretting not being able to do more for his people. But especially, that he realizes that he absolutely can’t control what happens to others, and that he can only do so much to save the world when it crumbles around him. As a general suggestion on how to play him, I’m pretty sure I said enough already, but in case it wasn’t obvious, I’d say have him be slow to trust the people in the party, especially those that like to lie a lot. He’s not necessarily gonna be confrontational with them; actually, he’s probably just gonna be quiet most of the time. Just, I imagine him being able to open up at first only with those that are more open and friendly with him in the first place.

FULL BACKSTORY

Zral’this was born in the house of family friends. By the time he was born, his father, Galxer, had already been executed for treason and his mother, Praam’teth, was still a member of the same rebellion group his father had been part of. It wasn’t long after his birth before his mother had to flee the Realm and leave him behind to avoid being executed herself. (The rebellion was trying to get rid of the people that had forcibly taken power of the Realm he was born into.) With no other family left to raise him and none of his mother’s friends left in town to help him (since they all were put to death or had to go into hiding), Zral’this ended up in an orphanage, where he was raised to despise his own family and believe in the laws of the new established power. It wasn’t a happy childhood, but the orphanage was basically a preparatory school before he was allowed to join a true military academy. So it was pretty much a given that when he reached the right age he started to train to become part of the Realm’s army. Being part of the military, despite how unimportant he was all in all, made Zral’this have a taste of the corruption he had vague memories of his mother and her friends talking about it all before he “moved” to the orphanage.  Despite how much Zral’this hated himself for doing it, he started giving information of what he overheard to someone that approached him once they recognized him as Praam’s son and they presented themselves as an old friend of his mother. It wasn’t long before Zral’this was found out for giving information to a newly reformed rebellion group. Despite his crime, it was decided that he was just to spend some time in jail instead of being put to death, in hopes that he would see his mistakes and return to his service of the Realm. Apparently, one of his superiors saw some potential in him and believed he could make a good general out of him, with enough time. In prison, Zral’this had time to reflect on how wrong he had been to trust the Realm; just because the people in it had shown some mercy in raising him, it didn’t mean that everything they did was right. Actually, it was mainly the contrary. He’d just been a pawn, like many others before him and many more would become if nothing changed.  With that realization, came the calling of a greater purpose, the growing knowledge that sometimes the better course of action is in fact not action, but waiting for the right moment or the right word placed in front of the right person. But most of all, he wanted redemption, not for himself, but for the people he hurt while following a leader that aimed only to hurt and manipulate their people instead of serving them. So, Zral’this promised himself, and the god that started to guide him, that he would make the world a less violent place with each world he uttered once he got released from jail.

SUGGESTION CORNER

Suggested features Ability scores: High Charisma and Strength, Low Constitution (I know, I don’t really think a lot of players would actually do this. Cause it’s not really a good thing to do mechanic wise. But sometimes you gotta do these things just for the sake of it. It was my first instinct.) Skill proficiencies: Athletics, Religion; replace Deception from the Prisoner Background with Persuasion (discuss it with your DM, obviously). Gaming set proficiencies: Cards or Chess Other: his Ex-Convict feature can seem a little bit in conflict with his backstory. But it’s actually not. Once again, a little bit of rephrasing, and everything is fixed. Instead of knowing people that accept bribes or having a chance to find shelter with criminals, he knows guards that are lenient because they don’t really like the people in power, or he might have an idea of where to look for groups of rebels that are organizing uprisings against tyrannical people in power. Give it a little bit of a flavor with the help and approval of your DM.

Suggested Characteristics Trait: I hoard information, you never know what may come in handy. Ideal: I never betray those who trust me. Bond: I will not rest while others suffer fates similar to mine. (This is referencing unjust imprisonment and unjust laws.) Flaw: I hate lying. If the choice is between dying and lying, I just might choose dying.

#tarots #dnd #dnd character #dnd 5e #paladin #dragonborn #oath of redemption #prisoner #knight of pentacles #five of wands #page of swords #eight of cups #four of swords #six of cups #four of pentacles #high charisma #high strength #low constitution #never not gonna say I'm sorry for the crappy quality of those photos #still italian so if my english is weird that's why #that flaw is harsh but I mean

[contreparry]

"Comfort hug" with a pairing of your choice for dwc!

Here’s some adoribull for @dadrunkwriting!

Dorian wasn’t exactly a subtle man. He was refreshingly easy to read, even with all the sarcasm and razor-sharp insults. Dorian was honest, and he didn’t hold his tongue even when it would make things so much easier for him. Frankly, his lack of self-control was endearing. Dorian would let you know exactly what he thought of you, and he didn’t mince any words. He was also kind, the sort of kindness that he seemed almost embarrassed by. He couched every act with his sarcasm and wit, but he still did good with a reckless bravado that was... admirable.

Bull liked the man, despite his reservations about him being Mage, Vint, and Altus. Three days around Dorian Pavus and Bull had to admit that he was a damn good man who was trying his best. He admired his fire and spirit, his determination, his intelligence, and most of all he liked his honesty. You never had to wonder what Dorian Pavus was thinking- he’d tell you in his own way, and you could trust in that.

It also helped that Dorian had a nice ass, was an enthusiastic and skilled partner in the bedroom, and he was nice to spend time around.

So when Dorian was quiet after they tumbled into bed together, Bull knew something was wrong. He wasn’t about to say anything, because Dorian wasn’t one to talk about his problems, but the tells were obvious. Dorian wasn’t naturally quiet unless he was asleep, and even then he talked in his sleep. So Bull rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow.

“So, wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” he asked, and Dorian sighed heavily before looking up at him, his hair mussed and pressed against the pillows like a dark crown.

“You’re irritatingly observant, you know,” Dorian said, and when Bull didn’t comment on it Dorian stopped glaring at him and instead looked up at the ceiling. It wasn’t avoidance. Bull knew him long and well enough to know that much. Dorian just needed some time, and Bull was a patient man.

“I... believe that I’m homesick,” Dorian said carefully after a long silence. “Tevinter’s a shithole, you won’t find me denying it, and at least half of the nobility would love to see me dead, but I... miss it. Parts of it.”

“The weather,” Bull suggested, and that brought a small smile to Dorian’s face. He was handsome when he smiled, his eyes bright with amusement. He also had dimples, which was pretty fucking cute.

“Kaffas, yes! It’s endless winter up in these mountains,” Dorian said with a chuckle. “And the food is...”

“Not exactly spiced, eh?” Bull prompted with a grin.

“Fereldens aren’t acquainted with the concept of flavor,” Dorian retorted. “Though their ale is passable, I grant you.” Dorian sighed again, then rolled over in the bed until he was staring Bull in the face again.

“It feels wrong to miss my homeland when I’m fighting against it. Or its bloody past come to life, as it were,” Dorian explained. “It’s... baffling. Annoying, really, and it’s not as if anyone else understands how much it hurts to want something while being revolted by it at the same time-”

“Right. C’mere,” Bull wrapped an arm around Dorian’s waist and pulled him close until they were pressed together, legs entangled together. Bull rested his head on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling, Dorian’s head resting on his shoulder.

“’s alright to miss where you’re from, Dorian. Everyone does, in some way,” Bull said softly. “You’re allowed to miss your home.”

“Stop being thoughtful,” Dorian grumbled, but he burrowed closer and didn’t say anything more.

#my writing #da drunk writing circle

[lost-tanuki-tales]

Trekking down the tunnels

Prompts: Exhaustion, Collapse  Cast: The Disaster Five Word count: 6.4k

* * *

Grenelant looked up from his papers and blinked muzzily, then realized he felt a bit dry. The opiel looked over to the side of his room and the clock- digital, they called it- showed him that it was already morning. Another fleeting night spent pouring over knowledge instead of resting without proper hydration... It was no wonder he felt so tired. The chair raked across the floor as he stood up, his webbed fingers a mere few inches away from touching the low ceiling when he stretched, and then he brushed down the many layers of fabric of his outfit to tidy his undesirably unruly appearance. He quickly and efficiently swept up the documents strewn about on the surface of his desk to form a neat pile on the side and left the room.

The ship was quiet in these parts, as it often was when the two humans went about their respective business. Grenelant was grateful for it. The less he had to listen to them squabble during one day, the better. He headed down the hallway for the sanitaries and felt around for nearby humidity, once again unpleasantly reminded of how inorganic this place was. His membranous wings flickered in troubled annoyance at the thought of spending such a long time aboard, so far from the marshes and rivers of his home planet. Nostalgia, in turn, dawned in his heart when his thoughts brought him back to his home and family. Grenelant missed swimming in the underwater tunnels which seamlessly connected with those on the surface, missed the comforting thrum of water beneath his wings, missed the soft flutter of fish drifting close to his skin, missed the fresh humidity of algous upholstery that was so much more comfortable than the dry chairs on this ship.

He promptly berated himself for allowing his mind to meander down such a wistful lane. Here in space, he was less of an opiel than he was Ophena's ambassador, and it really would not do for him to behave like a child. The Court had known this would be Grenelant's first interstellar mission yet they'd still trusted him to see it through, and so he would. He had to. He hadn't worked so hard all his life only to fail on his first real chance to prove his worth to the most powerful people on Ophena. Homesickness wouldn't get the best of him after a mere three weeks of travelling in a spaceship when they still had at least five months to go- and Grenelant tried not to grow to disheartened at the reminder that this was only in the best case scenario.

The opiel let out a discreet sigh as he checked on the water reserves again, a nervous habit he'd aquired five days after they'd lost the ship's external humidity collectors. Lack of sleep wasn't the only reason his skin was abnormally dry; he'd soon noticed the reserves and sanitaries hadn't been meant to take into account the needs of his species on their own, and so he'd had to make do with less frequent immersions, in more shallow depths than he would've liked. It had been enough, for a while, but now Grenelant was starting to feel the effects of neglecting an important part of his biology. He didn't want to give the earthlings reason to think he'd ever rely on them after the last fiasco he'd been forced to take part of, but he couldn't push it back any longer. Pride be damned. He needed their help.

"Captain Trust."

She spun around in her seat and her head tilted back to face him. "Leonida. We're just the three of us here! There's no need to remain so formal, Grenelant, I keep telling you."

Arkady was sitting in front of a panel on the far left of the control room, where he'd stopped rummaging for a few seconds to watch the tall amphibian step up to their captain. Now he was rolling his eyes as he checked the wires, and Grenelant heard him mutter to himself: "Here we go again."

Leonida shot him a look. "What?"

The man didn't look up from what he was doing and mumbled: "Nothing."

"Spit it out, Arkady."

He finally glanced at her. "Sir, no offense, but getting annoyed because Grenelant can't call you anything other than Captain yet won't change anything. It took me two weeks to stop calling you that and I still slip up."

"He's never called me Leonida and he's been here for three!"

And I was injured on the second by your fault, wryly thought Grenelant, but he kept quiet.

Arkady shrugged. "In my division our superior was on a total power trip, and we both know how the army goes in general. You can't expect me to drop the habit of calling superiors by their title. Not everyone's like you."

She crossed her arms. "You two are just the most stuck-up people in the universe."

Grenelant took advantage of the lull in their conversation to say: "You'll have to forgive me, Captain. Hierarchy is very deeply ingrained in the ways of my people."

"I think I'm beginning to get that," Leonida said with a little smile that was bordering on wry and teasing. "All right, Grenelant, what did you want with me?"

"There's an issue concerning our water backup supply."

"I don't know what you're going on about, I check the levels every day and there's enough for three weeks just like there's meant to be," said Arkady with a frown. "Why would you even check those? That's my job."

The subtext was clear: why was Grenelant lowering himself to the menial task of checking parameters within the ship when he was the ambassador, only here to sit around and symbolize the cooperation between two planets? Not to mention that this was an insult to Arkady's abilities as the ship's technician.

Grenelant faced him. "You've had enough water for your consumption, but not for mine."

"What do you mean?" asked Leonida. Her tone of voice was concerned.

"We lost the water processors on the outside of the ship and the regenerative system isn't nearly enough on its own to replace all our daily water consumption. My species requires frequent submersion in water and I can't reasonably deplete the reserves without putting us all in potential danger, which means I've had to restrain myself from following through with that habit. Unfortunately, I don't think I can hold this less than ideal rythm for much longer."

"Grenelant, why didn't you say anything before?" exclaimed Leonida, suddenly straightening in her seat. "How often do you usually need to do that?"

"Two times per day."

"And how many times have you been doing it?"

"Once every two days, and even then, it seems to be quite unreasonable of me to use so much water. I've been keeping the levels relatively steady but this won't do in the long run. I'm aware they aren't supposed to dip beneath 90% outside of an emergency situation and continuing like this will lead to violation of protocol if we don't find a solution to my problem."

"Are you all right?" Leonida was frowning now, her gaze calculating as it looked him over. "I thought your hair looked a little dry. Is it dehydration?"

She didn't sound worried, but rather like she was watching out for a flaw she'd need to fix. Grenelant preferred the captain's analytical concern over useless fretting, it made him feel less like he was doomed to be in their debt once they'd figure out a way to provide him with the water he needed.

"I'll be fine as long as this doesn't last. What do you suggest?"

Leonida glanced over at her second. "Arkady? Any ideas?"

Arkady had disappeared behind the panel again and he grumbled: "I'm not the smart one here."

"Well," she said thoughtfully, like she hadn't actually expected him to say anything worthwhile, "I guess we'll have to see if there's another planet we could land on to get water earlier. I would've made sure the reserves were bigger if I'd known." She turned around to step up to one of the screens and asked: "Why'd you keep quiet about this?"

"I didn't realize it could get this dire. Obviously your people didn't take into account what would happen if the collectors stopped working."

"Probably not," bluntly agreed Leonida as her finger swiped across the luminescent surface. It figured. Grenelant didn't know why he was still surprised by her brutal honesty. "Okay, let me just reprogram our route and we'll be on our way to get more water."

They eventually docked on a small deserted dwarf planet amidst the nearest icy belt they could deviate towards and disembarked in heated suits, except for Leonida. Her standard outfit seemed to serve many, many purposes and Grenelant was quietly admirative of its versatility, watching in fascination as the brightly colored plates of Leonida's body shifted from red to a reflection of her surroundings. The air wasn't toxic, which he was grateful for as it didn't warrant wearing a suffocating helmet.

The pure water was concentrated deep below the first outer layer of the planet which meant they couldn't just land and take it; they'd need to get close to it and bring back full containers. Leonida showed Grenelant how to use the crafts meant for exploration and collection in a hostile environment: flying vehicles that glided close to the ground, small enough to fit through natural tunnels and big enough to bring back consequent amounts of food or water or whatever samples they'd see fit to pick up. Grenelant trailed at the back on the first half of the first day of their descent because it took him some time to get the hang of the commands that weren't made for his long, webbed hands, but eventually he managed to catch up with them and remained at their level. Their progress was stopped very soon when it became clear that even the considerably downsized vehicles wouldn't allow them to go very far; the tunnels hadn't remained wide enough. There was a short moment of deliberation and eventually Leonida told them they'd go on foot.

"What?!" Arkady's exclamation crackled through the radio. "How're we supposed to bring back the water on foot?"

"The containers have wheels, we'll drag them along."

"Cap- Leonida, sir, they'll be way too heavy once we fill them!"

"Right." There was hesitation on Leonida's end. "Sorry, Arkady. I forgot you don't have our strength."

"Wow, thanks," quietly mumbled the man. He probably hadn't intended to be audible but Grenelant heard it well enough, and he had no doubt it was the same for Leonida. She didn't react.

"Grenelant, just to be sure, I assume you're strong enough to carry yours alone. Right?"

"Yes."

"Would two containers be enough water for you until we reach the next checkpoint on our trajectory?

"Yes, but I have another proposition since we're going on foot."

"Shoot," said Leonida.

Grenelant addressed their technician. "Dragunin, would you be able to modify the water purification machine so it could recycle greater volumes of water in the same time as it currently is?"

"I'm pretty sure I can pull that off, yeah," answered the man.

"Then I'd advise you to only take one tank, Captain Trust. The water purification machine should be able to recycle enough water for me to use it once a day and I'll get by like this until we get more water through safer means. There's no need to burden ourselves with superfluous weight if we can do this the easy way."

"Oh, good!" enthusiastically said Leonida. "Should be a breeze then! It'll go fast if we're three to carry a single container. Happy, Arkady?"

"Never been happier," grumbled Arkady.

"It's settled then! All right, everyone, let's go."

Leonida moved fast. Grenelant had already noticed when they'd been walking through crowds that her strides were always long and quick and determined; however, he'd yet to see her moving on this kind of bumpy, treacherous terrain, and he was reluctantly admirative of how easy she made it seem. Where Arkady kept slipping and stumbling, where Grenelant's webbed feet had to be carefully positioned, Leonida never once hesitated. She was the one doing most of the pulling for the container. It was like she could see the path laid out before her while both Grenelant and Arkady were left to struggle in her wake, rocks crumbling beneath their steps. The opiel kept one hand warily pressed up against the wall in case he lost his footing, and the human seemed to want to prove he didn't need such support by keeping his own in his pockets. His arms ended up shooting more often than not to catch himself and in the end Arkady kept his hands out as well.

They made good progress on the first day. They rarely paused because Leonida was so intent on getting the water as soon as possible so they could get back on their regularly scheduled route. Grenelant appreciated that this woman who was to guide them to Ophena's lost colony was someone who knew exactly what she wanted and would follow through with it no matter what unexpected events occurred; determination was a primordial quality in a leader. She was overly confident and got them in more trouble than Grenelant would've desired, but one thing was for certain, and it was that Leonida Trust knew very well how to lead. He wondered if she guided large troups with that same efficient will and certainty. It was likely. Captain wasn't just a title for her, she had the aura of a commander.

As for Arkady... Grenelant glanced over at the human. He may have been from the same planet as the captain, but he had neither the stamina nor the steady demeanor of his superior. Grenelant knew Arkady was more of a human than Leonida, he'd studied them for some time after all; the records did say that humans were more fragile and less resiliant than opiels but Grenelant hadn't thought it meant they tired out so fast. Arkady was slower now. They hadn't had much opportunity to sleep the night before, as this planet was unknown territory and Leonida didn't want them to linger too long in the same spot in case there was a danger roaming around that they weren't yet aware of. These tunnels didn't seem to be an entirely natural geological structure. Leonida had listened when Grenelant had pointed this out, and so they'd kept moving.

So far there had been few pauses to eat and sleep during which Leonida had always been the one to keep watch. The night had lasted two hours at best. Grenelant didn't require any longer time asleep but he could tell that Arkady did. This was the second day they were trekking through the dark tunnels- the third since they'd left the ship- and in the harsh light of their suits which made their surroundings pale and nearly blinding, Grenelant saw the dark bags that had appeared under the man's eyes. Another thing he'd noticed was the way Arkady didn't ask for pauses. The human was obviously relieved when Leonida told them they could stop, but he never asked. Grenelant himself wasn't feeling well. The tunnels humidity, while cold, did help a bit; however he'd gone too long without taking a dip in a body of water while already dehydrated from the start. His wings were clumped together in a very uncomfortable way and his skin felt clammy. He hadn't yet reached the point of dizziness but he knew it wouldn't be far now.

Arkady tripped. The human had been tripping more often, and he hastily caught himself on the tank. "Fuck!"

"Watch your step, Arkady," rang out Leonida's tranquil voice the way it had every time.

"I know!" annoyedly spat the man, and he ragingly pushed himself up to straighten but tripped again immediately after. Grenelant was fast enough to catch him before he hit the ground.

"Are you alright?" he inquired.

Arkady pulled his arm away with a snarl. "Let go!"

The opiel let go and Arkady scrambled back to his feet with a powerful glare. Puzzled by this display of hostility, Grenelant steadily said: "I was just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," seethed the human.

Leonida had turned around to see what the fuss was about and she said: "No need to be so grumpy, Arkady, we're almost there."

"I'm grumpy because I'm goddamn tired. Fuck, aren't you?"

She shrugged and turned around. "Nope. Battery's still good."

"And I bet frogman's just fine, too," resentfully muttered Arkady.

Grenelant immediately took offense to the term. He'd seen what frogs looked like and although he couldn't deny there was a resemblance, he really didn't like being compared to those little heaps of slimy skin and protruding eyes. He coldly retorted: "Yes, and I'd certainly feel even better if you stopped your ceaseless whining."

Leonida muffled her laugh behind her hand and Arkady shot the opiel a murderous look.

"I'm not whining, I'm tired! What, I can't even say that without getting judged?"

Grenelant ignored him. Arkady opened his mouth to keep complaining but then seemed to think better of it. His shoulders slumped, he shook his head, and he resumed pushing the container.

Arkady's stumbles increased in frequency over the next hours and when he outright tripped over and fell on his rear, Grenelant decided to speak up. "Captain Trust, I think we should take a break."

She turned around, watching Arkady awkwardly pick himself up, and said: "Do you need one? We're almost there. Half a day at most."

That glare again. Grenelant didn't like how resentful Arkady's blue eyes were and he especially didn't like the disdainful way the human turned his head away from him, as if Grenelant had done him a personal offense by asking for a short rest.

"I'm good to go, sir," Arkady answered.

"Okay," she answered with a nod. "Grenelant?"

"We should stop."

"I don't need a pause," growled Arkady.

Grenelant looked down at the human and steadily said: "I do."

Arkady's features slackened a little when he realized he'd been acting quite like everything revolved around him, and then he frowned and looked away. It looked like embarrassment. Grenelant supposed it was some sort of consolation that while egocentric and prone to complaints, the human wasn't completely devoid of a sense of self-awareness.

Leonida let go of the tank. "Then you two sit down for a bit, I'll go check the perimeter. Don't fight again, your arguing gets loud and that's really the last thing we need here."

"Understood," said Grenelant, and he bent his knees to sit. Arkady waited for Leonida to disappear before going to lean against the wall and sliding down to the ground. There was a short while of silence, then Arkady let out a weary sigh and let his head tip back against the wall.

Grenelant looked around the place and he noticed something dark sticking against the wall a few feet away from the human, so he slowly pushed himself back to his feet and came closer. He was tired, but that wouldn't stop him from investigating this place. He felt Arkady's gaze on him but didn't pay attention to the human, instead kneeling down in front of the dark spot which turned out to be long strands of black hair. Curious. Grenelant reached for his bag and took out a vial, always eager to take samples back to the ship to study, and Arkady shifted to take a closer look at what he was doing.

"What's that?"

"Fur," said Grenelant. He wasn't one to hold a grudge against another person, even if said person was incredibly rude at best. "Either from the creature that made these tunnels, either from one that took residency in this place."

Arkady didn't say anything. Grenelant glanced at him and saw that he really didn't seem reassured by the news.

Grenelant put away the vial in his pack and added: "I did tell you both that these tunnels weren't the result of natural causes."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," tensely said Arkady.

He looked wary as he crossed his arms on his knees and hunched over. Grenelant didn't exactly blame the human for being scared, he wasn't confident himself either. It had been jarring enough to meet other civilizations than those of Ophena; now they were stuck on a planet they'd thought deserted until Grenelant had observed it likely wasn't, and they had no clue what the life forms inhabiting it looked like. It could be dangerous if the creature living here turned out to be a predator. Grenelant stood up, and that was when the first wave of dizziness washed over him. He wavered and steadied himself against the wall.

"Woah," came Arkady's voice from a distance. "What's with you?"

"I'm just- Lack of water. I've told you about this too."

"You did, yeah... You should probably sit down."

"Yes." Grenelant didn't even step away from the wall, just let himself drop to the ground right there. He couldn't tell if he'd voluntarily sat down or if his legs had given up on him. The latter option was unlikely, he was an opiel after all. Legs were the strongest part of them.

"Do you not have any water left?" ventured Arkady after a beat.

"I do, but it's drinking water, and not nearly enough for what I need at the moment."

Arkady fell silent again and laid his head back against the wall. There wasn't much else to say. Grenelant closed his eyes and waited for the spell to pass, and when he opened them again he saw that Arkady had done the same. Grenelant took advantage of the fact that Arkady wasn't looking to gauge the state the human was in. Grenelant was no expert on these creatures in particular but he knew enough to observe that the fact that Arkady had paled, coupled with the fine tremors in his hands as they rested against his knees, meant that he was just as exhausted as Grenelant felt. Arkady may have denied needing this halt but it was obvious this was beneficial for the both of them. Grenelant wondered if a human different from Arkady and Leonida would have been able to keep up in the same conditions. After all, Arkady was the unique soldier who'd been chosen to accompany an army captain on a mission through space; that had to mean his abilities were above average and that he was far from weak in human standards.

Leonida returned a few seconds later and the sound of her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "All right, guys, I didn't see or hear anything weird. How are you holding up, Grenelant?"

He looked up at her and admitted: "This isn't the best I've ever felt in my life. I may be reaching a limit soon."

Leonida stopped in front of him. "And what does that entail?"

"It starts with dizziness. That phase lasts a while, and eventually issues with thermoregulation come into play, as well as loss of strength."

"Life-threatening?"

"It can be, yes. But it takes time to reach that point and I've only just started getting dizzy. There's no need to worry. At worst, I'll survive until the next stop the way I have up until now."

Leonida stared at him, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "Your health wouldn't be good."

"No," acknowledged Grenelant. "It would be much better if we could bring water back to the ship."

"Have you had this happen to you before?"

"Once or twice, yes. But never beyond the dizzy phase."

"So then we'd better hurry before you get worse."

Grenelant glanced in Arkady's direction. His head was now fully resting against his arms and his breathing had a calmer rythm. Leonida turned to follow his gaze and they both stared at the human.

"We might want to give him a chance to sleep," said Grenelant. "Doesn't your species require at least seven per day to function optimally? He hasn't even had half of that in two."

Leonida nodded with a musing air. "I tend to forget what it's like to be human. He complains a lot so I thought as long as he was vocal, he was probably fine, but I might've been pushing him a little too hard."

Grenelant looked up at her. "I've been meaning to ask, if it's not indelicate..."

"Shoot," she cordially said as she sat down next to him.

"You come from Earth and you look similar to Dragunin, but what are you exactly?"

"I was human once, if that's what you were wondering, just like this guy. Now I'm more of a machine than what I used to be." She flashed him a smile. "It comes in handy."

Grenelant nodded. Though he was tired and rest was preferable, fascination pushed him to continue the conversation. "Is this common where you come from?"

"No." Her smile turned pensive. "Definitely not. A lot of people told me I was crazy for wanting this."

"Why?"

"Modifying the body you've had for all your life is kind of... an extreme decision. And my transformation was a first. They hadn't had successful attempts before me so people thought it would fail and that I'd die or become irreversibly crippled, stuff like that."

"...I can't imagine what it must have felt like to go through such a thing."

Grenelant's species had a single morphological change during their lifetime and it was in their early stages of life, just like babies and adults in humans. Once the second form was aquired, it was for a lifetime, and to change one's own appearance was practically unheard of on Ophena. Grenelant had in fact been very surprised to learn that humans often chose to change their sex, and in doing so, shift the nature of the secondary sexual characteristics aquired during their puberty. Nothing so extreme had ever been done on his home planet.

"I chose this. I don't regret it," stated Leonida. Then she smiled at him again. "You might want to take this time to rest too, Grenelant. You do look pretty pooped."

"Pooped?" Grenelant frowned, hoping this wasn't an insult the captain had come up with out of the blue. No matter the planet, insults often came down to talk about excrements.

She laughed. "It means tired, don't get your panties in a twist." A second to realize, and she added: "That one means 'don't get worked up over it'."

"I see, thank you for explaining. I think I'll do as you said."

"Good." She got back up in one fluid motion, and as usual said: "I'll keep watch."

Vibrations were what startled Grenelant back to consciousness : vibrations travelling from the packed earth at his back to the core of his body, his lung and his eardrums. He saw movement on his right. It was Leonida rushing up to them, her features pulled tight, and when she saw that he was already awake she ran to Arkady to shake her second-in-command awake.

"Get up! Get up, we have to go!"

Arkady blinked awake with a groan and he squinted at her in confusion. "Wha-?"

She grabbed him by the collar and hefted him up as if he weighed nothing at all. "No time to explain, gotta run!"

He was about to answer when a horrid screech suddenly echoed through the tunnels. Arkady's eyes widened with fear and Grenelant picked himself off the ground as hastily as the human stumbled after their leader. A rumbling sound travelled through the air around them and dirt started pattering to the ground. They stilled when the earth over their heads started cracking and crumbling.

"Get back!" yelled Leonida.

She pulled Arkady back in the direction they'd just come from so brutally that the human was thrown to the ground in an undignified pile of limbs, and Grenelant reflexively leapt back just as part of the tunnel collapsed in the spot they'd occupied just a second ago.

"Shit!" swore Leonida as she picked her second off the floor. "Run!"

"What about that thing we heard-" started Arkady, but she cut him off with a roar.

"Run!"

They ran. They ran back towards the spot they'd been resting in but didn't have the time to reach it before the screech resounded again, this time unmistakably close.

"It's above us!" yelled Grenelant.

Leonida looked up sharply and then grabbed the both of them to shove them up against the wall.

Arkady yelled, "What-"

Thunder exploded when the ceiling caved in, silt and rubble tumbling everywhere around them, and horror truly dawned on Grenelant when he saw the shadow of something huge slithering down from the dark network of tunnels showing in the split layers of earth. Grenelant didn't see it for long because then Leonida was grabbing him by the collar and forcing him to duck down with Arkady. There were several impacts above him and it took Grenelant a moment to realize that it was the sound of rock hitting metal- of rock hitting Leonida. Just as he understood that she was shielding them with her body, a final slab toppled down on the group of three and their captain took the brunt of it. He had the time to see the tight expression on her face before her light shorted out. Then there was silence, save for the light sounds of dirt sifting and pebbles bouncing on the ground. Arkady and Grenelant were unharmed, still caught in the protective brace of Leonida's arms.

"Oh, fuck," Arkady was the first to say. "Shit, what was that?"

"Captain, are you all right?" Grenelant quickly asked when Leonida didn't move.

"Just- Give me a moment. Give me a minute." She sounded fine, but the fact that she was staying so still was worrying.

"What's wrong?"

"Just recalibrating some stuff, routine, don't worry about it. Took a nasty blow."

"You took a few of them," Grenelant said. He couldn't believe she was still standing, much less that she was able to talk, yet there she was. Just what kind of human was she?

Arkady shifted next to him and his light moved with him, brushing over Leonida's front, and then he asked: "Are you hurt or are you just stuck?"

She let out a little laugh. "I might be just stuck. I'd advise you two not to move until I can."

"How long will that be?"

"About ten minutes, I think."

Arkady audibly swallowed. "Can't we try to dig out?"

"And that, Arkady, would be the best way to get all the dirt to collapse on you," teasingly answered their captain.

Gren could make out the change in pace of the man's breathing and he carefully turned to look at him. "Are you all right, Dragunin?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm uh, I'm fine," hastily said Arkady. He swallowed again and ran a hand through his short hair. "Just not a fan of small spaces, you know."

Grenelant didn't know, but he chose not to say that. Arkady seemed to be very uneasy and the opiel didn't want to risk saying anything upsetting in this situation.

"Just a few minutes," said Leonida. "Keep it together."

Arkady clenched his fist and lowered his arm back in his lap, nodding. "Yessir."

"How are you both doing after all that running around?"

"The adrenaline sure woke me up," said Arkady.

"I hope we find the water soon," answered Grenelant. "It'll be safer for us once I've recovered."

"Do you have to stay in there for an hour or something for it to work?" inquired Leonida.

"I see you've taken great pains to learn about my species," annoyedly said Grenelant.

She smiled, embarrassed, and admitted: "I'm not really the studious kind."

"Between thirty minutes and forty-five," said Arkady. The other two looked at him in surprise and he defensively said: "What? I got briefed on this operation too. I have good memory."

"That's correct," said Grenelant, and he looked up the Leonida. "Will you be able to remember that, Captain?"

"My, my, are you giving me sass, Grenelant?" she said with a wide grin. "Here I thought you were doomed to eternal formality. Oh, and sass means you're being mouthy."

"I would never," gravely said Grenelant.

Next to him, Arkady shifted and grumbled: "Shit, that was one nasty earthquake."

"I'm almost done recalibrating, we should be able to check out the aftermath soon."

"I think I saw what caused it," quietly said Grenelant. Leonida's brown gaze grew sharper and Arkady's head snapped in his direction.

"You saw something?!"

"Just a shadow. There's definitely something living down here."

"Great," muttered Arkady.

"We'll have to be careful," said Leonida. Something clicked, and then she let out a sigh. "All right, finally."

Her arms slowly moved and she pushed herself away from the wall a small fraction, and dirt fell on Grenelant's face. He wiped it away from his eyes and mouth and watched as she flexed her fingers, then shifted her left arm to hold it over their heads so that it would still hold up most of the packed dirt above them while her right arm reached behind her. She felt around each side of her shoulders and then said: "Okay."

The frame of her body tensed and she started pushing outwards. It took Grenelant a moment to realize that she was moving the huge slab of rock out of the way even thought it was easily twice her size and likely incredibly heavy. He didn't think he'd ever cease being surprised by her strength. More dirt sifted through and pattered on the ground beneath Arkady and Grenelant.

"What do we do?" asked Arkady.

"Don't move yet." Her voice didn't even sound that strained. "Actually, Arkady, I want you to take position beneath me, don't want you getting squashed if there's another rock behind it. Grenelant, get ready to help me if we have to catch something heavy."

"Yes, Captain." He straightened a bit and yet another clump of dirt hit the middle of his face, which he annoyedly brushed away.

"Okay," she grunted again, and she braced against the slab until it finally started sliding a bit faster. Soil was sloughing off and Leonida warned them both: "Hold your breath, just in case."

Once she was sure they'd complied, Leonida gave the slab a final shove to the side, burying it in one of the walls of dirt that encased them. Fortunately, the slab had been the last big thing to fall so nothing came tumbling down on top of their heads but the brittle dirt and pebbles that poured in their space. Leonida reacted fast and grabbed Arkady by the collar.

"Sorry about this, try not to bump your head or anything."

"What, wh-"

Leonida was already throwing Arkady outside like a sack of supplies. Grenelant felt the hefty thump of the man's body hitting the surface and a loud: "Ow, what the fuck Leonida?!"

"Quit whining!" she yelled back, and before Grenelant had the time to react she was hefting him up as well.

"Wait, I can jump!" he hastily told her before she could eject him like she had the human.

She opened her mouth to answer but Grenelant decided to show her before they lost more time in this space that was quickly filling up, and he wrapped his long arm around her waist before bunching up his muscles and jumping in one powerful thrust. The soil that had reached up to his knees grabbed at his legs, but the opiel had anticipated it and jumped with enough force that getting out of the hole was no problem at all. He landed smoothly on the surface and let go of the captain, who looked positively elated.

"That was awesome!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"You couldn't have told us you could do that before she threw my ass outside?" bitterly asked Arkady, who seemed to be nursing a sore butt.

"Maybe he couldn't carry two people at once, Arkady, have you though of that?"

"Actually, I can," Grenelant corrected Leonida. "You didn't leave me time to tell you. If I'd known your plan was to throw Arkady out than I would've suggested carrying you both out of here from the start."

"Whatever, the important thing is that we're all out of that death trap safe and sound," stated Leonida with sparkling brown eyes. "You think you could do that again, but like, for fun?"

"For fun?" echoed Grenelant.

"Right, you probably don't know what that means," she mischieviously answered. "That's fine, we'll talk about this again when we get out of here. Hey, Arkady, you figure you could check the damage on my back? I'm pretty sturdy but I want to make sure it's nothing too bad."

"Yessir." Leonida turned around to show him her back and Arkady quickly scrambled to his feet so he could come closer to examine her. After a few seconds of smoothing his hand over the plates of her suit and checking her neck and shoulders, he declared: "Looks like you're pretty okay, Captain. I mean Leonida. I don't know what the hell it takes to get through your exoskeleton but it's definitely not a whole goddamn tunnel collapsing on top of you."

Grenelant went to lean against the wall of the tunnel, feeling dizzy again.

"My head?"

Arkady moved up and eventually said: "Yeah, you definitely took a nasty blow there. Not too bad, though. It cracked but I can repair that no problem, I can do that right now if you want."

Leonida spun around on herself. "No, let's get the tank and find that water for Grenelant first. I want him to get back in good health ASAP."

"Cap- Leonida, it'll only take a few minutes," insisted Arkady.

"And whatever that thing was can find us in less. Look at him," said Leonida, gesturing to Grenelant who was trying his best to stay standing upright. "I'm pretty sure we'd be better off not going a round two while he's like that.You'll repair me while Grenelant takes a break, and after that we'll book it."

Arkady turned to Grenelant. "Can you even walk?"

"Just give me a moment, please. It'll pass."

Leonida didn't give him a moment, promptly grabbing him as she walked by and tugging on his arm so that she was supporting him despite her shorter stature. "Let's move, Arkady."

"Yessir," he answered, and they headed back towards the rest area from earlier to fetch the abandoned tank.

#oneshot prompts challenge #tnktwrites #the disaster five #tdf leonida #tdf arkady #tdf grenelant #prompt fill #whump prompt fill #whump #whump time #exhaustion #collapse #dehydration #claustrophobia #cave in #tdf #tdf tale #tnktwrites whump

[whitefoxed]

Little Wonders

Thread with @algrimthestrong​ | Written to this | Chapter 2 

Algrim flashed Lise another smile, nodding encouragingly at the boy as the little one followed the elder’s lead and began to eat. Foxes, as Algrim knew, were de facto omnivores, though it was hardly a surprise to him that young Lise favoured meat over vegetables. In fact, it pleased him to see that the boy did not hide his preference, yet made an effort to add some variety to his meal. As Algrim was eating, he watched Lise carefully from across the table, hoping the familiar taste and textures would help ease the child’s fears a little.

Noticing Lise’s wandering gaze, Algrim helped himself to a second serving, eating slowly and in silence to grant his young guest an opportunity to study the room and his mentor-to-be in peace.

“I hope the food was agreeable?” Having cleared his plate at last, Algrim rose from his chair and rounded the table to stand by the seated child. When he noticed a smear of gravy near Lise’s chin, the elf reached out a hand and gently dabbed at the stain with his sleeve. “There.” He smiled down at the boy then held out his hand to help Lise hop off the chair; Algrim could feel elven magic saturating every cell of the small body, shackling him to the realm.

“Perhaps you would enjoy a nice, hot bath?” he suggested, locking his gaze with Lise’s. “And then we can get you fitted with a more appropriate attire.” He nodded towards the bed where a set of finely-tailored clothes had been laid out for Lise, a grey tunic embroidered with intricate, ornamental flourishes of silver thread at the hem, sleeves, and collar, a pair of matching cotton trousers, and soft leather slippers.

Being shy, Lise never did directly stare at Algrim but started with focusing on the minor details he previously missed in the room. Details such as the more intricate designs rather than what the furnishings were, the carvings and style of abode. Then very carefully, he peered at the elf’s white hair to the make of his dark robes, stealing glances at Algrim’s face as if he was trying to figure out the other’s age. For most part, he did so while hiding behind his pretence of drinking water.

When Algrim spoke again, Lise’s reply was as quiet and clear as a brook’s babble. “Yes, I liked it.” He answered as he watched the elder walk to his side, surprised momentarily by the dabbing before realising something must have smeared on his face. Still, Algrim’s smile was disarming and the child took his hand without hesitation, hopping off the chair onto his own two feet. Feeling heavier than he was before the meal, Lise only assumed it was because he overate, rather than magic binding him to the realm.

Innocently meeting those dark eyes, Lise nodded to the bath, before following Algrim’s line of sight to the set of new clothes on the bed. Instantly his eyes lighted up with interest, recognising its quality and beauty that would surely match himself. But a moment later, those bright eyes became blinks as a hesitant expression crossed his face. His hand in Algrim’s tensed and he turned his head to look up at the elf, tightening his little grip with the faintest, most careful tug for attention and sympathy. “Can I keep my clothes?…” They were, after all, his last belongings from home.

At Lise’s question, Algrim fell silent for long moments, his face turning pensive, sombre even, as he considered the boy’s request. With Lise having passed over into the world of the dark elves, all ties to his former life were to be severed. Memories, or the longing for a life irrevocably lost, would only hamper his assimilation into Svartalfar society. His clothes he would outgrow eventually, though Algrim understood the child’s wish to keep a memento of his old life - of the family he would have no choice but to leave behind. He could feel Lise’s wish resonate within himself, a poignant echo of his own past, and Algrim, who cherished and treasured what little material keepsakes remained of his beloved wife and dearest children, could not bring himself to deny the sweet boy’s request.

“Yes,” he told Lise, squeezing the child’s small hand softly in return, “you may keep them. But,” he added as a condition, holding up a single, slender finger, “this must remain a secret just between the two of us. Sentimentality is not something the king approves of…” For the briefest of moments, his expression wavered, the solemn look on his face slipping away to reveal but a fraction of the pain and hurt he carried within his heart before another smile, this one being flat and strained, quickly took its place.

The bathing chamber, like the rest of Algrim’s quarters, breathed subtle elegance, dark, muted colours dominating the room. Drawing a bath for young Lise was a matter of minutes, and soon a tub of hot water was waiting for the boy with the soothing scents of lavender and lilac filling the air.

“Will you be fine on your own,” Algrim asked, stepping back from the tub and motioning for Lise to come forward, “or do you require assistance?”

Apprehensively waiting for Algrim’s reply, the young pup bore with his best patience in hope of the best answer, despite the elder’s rather pessimistic expression. As fates would have it, his little hope was not disappointed, drawing out a smallest smile from the child. Algrim’s finger however, held his attention with worry, which only eased after he heard its accompanying words.

Watching the elder’s expressions change, Lise followed Algrim into the bathroom and digested what he heard thoughtfully while listening to the clear sounds of water filling the tub. Looking up at Algrim, Lise nodded and shook his head to both questions respectively as he made his way closer to the bath. “I can bathe on my own.”

Then with just a little hesitation, the boy started to undress, folding his clothes as he did so to find a nice place to put them. Somewhere, preferably within his sight. The culture he grew up with was open with bathing among their same gender, especially as a child. But with his mixed heritage, came the slight pause before. In the end, the child figured he would find out if it was appropriate or not if the elder left and proceeded to get in the tub.

Only once he was in, did he quietly speak up. “Was the man who brought me here… the king?”

Stepping back to let Lise undress, Algrim made a point of keeping his gaze fixed on the window until the boy was shoulder-deep in the water. Usually, he would have allowed him his privacy, but he thought it better to remain in the room with him in case Lise needed anything. To all appearances, the child seemed to take well to his new surroundings, though some homesickness was to be expected and would surface sooner rather than later once the full realisation sank in that there was no returning to Midgard. By accepting the food that had been offered to him, Lise had passed over into the realm of the fae, making it impossible for him to leave without their consent.              

After taking a large, soft towel from its hook on the wall, Algrim pulled himself a stool to sit on. He folded the towel and placed it on his lap, ready to pass it to Lise whenever the boy was finished bathing. Lise was not the first changeling to grow up in Svartalfheim, and he would not be the last. He was, however, by far the most promising child to have ever been stolen from his parents - which was why the task of Lise’s education had fallen to Malekith’s right-hand man. While Svartalfheim’s natives preferred to fill their need for warriors and mages out of their own ranks, they were not above recruiting outsiders if they thought them a valuable addition to the realm’s forces. As a nine-tailed fox spirit, little Lise was one such addition.

“Yes, that was the king. His name is Malekith - Malekith the Accursed - and he rules over all of Svartalfheim. The Wild Hunt answers to his call. Beware, though, for he is not a merciful king,” Algrim warned, seeking to instill some healthy fear in his young charge. “I imagine you will not see much of him until you are older. He may call for you to be formally presented before the court, but aside from that you will spend most of your time studying and training with me.”

Absentmindedly, Lise started playing with the bath water, although he did so discreetly. It felt nice and warm, and the child wanted to stay in it. Looking up at the elder answering his question, relief flickered over the boy’s face when he heard he would spend most of his time with Algrim instead. The terror Malekith struck upon him by forcefully removing his glamour would not fade anytime soon.

Chewing Algrim’s words, Lise noticed the soap and only began bathing with it as he spoke again. “Is the Wild Hunt like the one on Halloween?” Lise thought the phrase was similar, shampooing his hair and rinsing with a ladle he found. “I thought fae don’t speak of names.” He continued, before pausing and looking at Algrim again, silver orbs flickering to those pointy ears. Obviously, the boy had derailed from the original topic of getting to know Svartalfheim better.

Taking his tails in hand, he carefully soaped the wet fluffy mop. By now his gaze had fallen onto the task at hand, but its lack of focus spoke of how he was lost in his thoughts. There were many different kinds of fae, and though he knew of those from western myths, he was personally more familiar with those of the east. Hence it was a little troublesome not to mix the traits and details of those he learned together, trying hard to recall what little he knew of European fae. After all, tales of the Nine came from the same region.

Algrim watched the child carefully for his reaction. Lise did not strike him as the least bit rebellious or troublesome. The boy seemed as docile as a lamb and as innocent as a newborn pup, accepting Algrim’s guidance with a readiness the elder had not expected from a child who had only recently been taken from his parents, but which pleased him all the more. Of course, there was the possibility that this would change once Lise entered the troubled waters of puberty. For the foreseeable future, though, Algrim was confident that the boy would prove to be a model pupil.

“Samhain, or Halloween as you know it, is the night when the veils between the worlds are at their thinnest and those who wander into the realm of the fae may find themselves trapped forever, never to return to the mortal world,” he explained. “Malekith is the leader of the Wild Hunt, and woe betide those who cross their path as they wreak havoc on humankind. But this need not concern you, young one. You are safe here, with me. Who knows, perhaps one day you may even join them in the hunt,” he mused.

The advisor nodded sagely when Lise pointed out that elves ought not to speak of their names. “You are right,” Algrim confirmed, astonished by Lise’s keen knowledge. “But who said the names we told you were our true names?”      

Taking Lise under his care filled him with both hopeful purpose and a sense of underlying dread, for whatever happiness the boy would shine into Algrim’s heart would only last till the day on which Lise came of age and took his intended place among Malekith’s forces. But that day was still far away…

A smile took his lips as he watched Lise soap his tails. Hoping that it would amuse the child, Algrim took from a shelf a small, ornate metal container that was filled with a sparkling grey powder. He sprinkled some of it into the water, which began to bubble and fizz as iridescent clouds of whirling colours started to spread around Lise.

Samhain. Lise recalled reading that too. But it was reassuring to know he wouldn’t have to be close to that scary king, having little interest in joining some kind of nightmare parade. The boy was now rinsing the soap out of his tails in the water, rubbing at his own soft fur.

Speaking of names, Lise looked up again. “Then how does anyone know what their true name is? Eomma said we’re fae.” And he doesn’t have a true name or anything like that. It was something he had always wondered about. “Humans forget their own names if it’s not used too.” Won’t fairies and elves forget? Most people did not have the same capability to remember things like he did, as the boy understood.

Lise’s attention was caught when Algrim took the small metal container though. Its decorative design was enough to entrance a child, much more so when the powder in it sparkles. And upon contact with water, brewed rainbows around him. Distracted from whatever conversation they were having, the young fox’s mouth hung open in wonder and surprise and was soon playing with the water and colours, swirling them with his hands to make patterns. “What is that? Is it a bath bomb?” He had never seen such colours from a bath bomb before, his natural curiosity taking over once more. Then he scooped it up to wash over himself, trying to see if he could get the colours on his body. He had always liked art.

Eomma. Lise’s mother, most likely. Algrim nodded, watching the boy. “That is true – you are  fae - as am I - but not all of us are alike. There are many different breeds and they take different shapes and sizes, some of whom are extinct now, others are regarded as mythical creatures, and some are worshipped as gods. True names can be forgotten, though it is a rare thing to happen and all but unheard of. They can also be stolen – or yielded up. Revealing your true name means giving another person power over you,” he explained, his voice turning sharp with warning, “which is something you must never do. As for you, little fox—” He reached out to gently pat Lise’s head, seeking to put him at ease, “—you are still so young. You may yet discover what your true name is.”

As Algrim had hoped, Lise’s reaction to the powder was instantaneous, captivating his attention and holding him rapt with wonder. “It is fairy dust,” Algrim explained, smiling. For the time being, he was content to simply watch Lise absorbed in play as only a child could be as he rubbed the glittering particles onto his skin, turning himself into a living canvas. It would not be permanent, though; the bath water would wash it all away again.

“Well, I think it is bedtime for you,” Algrim anounced after some time. “We do not want you turning into a prune, after all.” Standing up, he put the towel he’d been keeping on his lap down on the stool and went to retrieve a pair of soft cotton pajamas from a nearby shelf, which he set down as well. “Finish your bath. I will be waiting for you outside.” He’d already decided that he would stay the night with Lise, to fend off bouts of homesickness and keep the bad dreams at  bay.

Listening to Algrim, the little boy learned more about true names on his first day in the faerie realm. While his mother taught him many things of their kind, not everything was in detail as he was still so young. Lise’s attention was held when the elf’s meandering words turned sharp, and he learned yet another new rule today.

Except, he still didn’t know what his true name is, if he had it.

So he played with the water and colours while he ‘bathed’, enjoying watching the brilliant hues stain on his skin - which made him all proud thinking it looked lovely and showed his favourite parts to Algrim. When the colours started fading back into the water however, and the water itself was cooling from lukewarm, Algrim spoke again.

Looking up, he caught sight of the towel and pajamas, and watched the elf leave the room. The boy dallied in the tub a little longer, he wasn’t afraid of the cold. Rinsing himself with the ladle one last time and washing off the remaining colours (which he was worried about staining the new clothes),  Lise climbed out of the tub and began to wipe himself dry. Eomma always used a spell to get him nice and warm again, but he still haven’t learned it. Remembering that brought water to his eyes instantaneously, and a small whine sniffled out as he wrapped himself in the towel. But he still kept in mind that Algrim was waiting for him outside, so he started to get dressed too.

By the time he exited the bathroom with the towel around his neck, his tails and ears had gone ethereal (intangible), with a little red around his eyes.

Letting Lise finish his bath in peace, Algrim went back into the main room to busy himself with his work until the child would be ready to join him. When the boy emerged from the bathroom a little later, his tails and fox ears had vanished, leaving him looking much like an ordinary child. Seeing the tear tracks on Lise’s face, Algrim’s heart ached with sympathy. Other children would have been screaming and bawling until their tears ran dry, but Lise bore his fate with an outward dignity one would not expect from such a young boy. But that did not mean that the separation from his mother did not affect him, as evidenced by his red-rimmed eyes.

Sliding from behind his desk, Algrim crossed to where Lise stood. “Shall we put you to bed then?” he suggested gently. “It has been a long day for you.” To think that only hours ago Lise had been playing in a park on Midgard… It was best not to linger on that thought. Had it been wihin his power, Algrim might have sent him back to his mother, but that was not for him to decide. After consuming the fae food, Lise would not be able to leave the realm unless the king allowed it, and even if he managed to sneak out of the castle unseen, the Accursed’s hounds would quickly track him down.

Algrim scooped Lise up in his arms and carried him to the bed, where he set him down on the fur-covered mattress. He then went to retrieve a silver tray a servant had brought in earlier, on which sat a steaming mug of tea, a herbal concoction that would help calm the child. After blowing on the tea to cool it to drinking temperature, he held the mug up to Lise’s lips. “Here, drink this. It will help you sleep.”

After helping Lise settle in bed and pulling the covers up to his chin, Algrim drew himself a chair and sat in it. In the years to come, he would be both teacher and guardian to Lise. “Go to sleep, dear one. I will stay with you tonight.”

Dressed in a grey tunic and pants that felt very much like pajamas with too long a top, the little boy hugged the damp towel around his face just in case… his face got wet again. When Algrim came closer, he looked up and found some comfort in the adult, especially when he was picked up once more in his arms. Lise clung, even as he was set down on a furry mattress that he wasn’t used to. But he didn’t insist when Algrim moved to leave, letting go and sitting all forlornly on the bed till the elf returned.

The mug that was brought to his lips looked hot and his nose wrinkled at the foreign scent. It didn’t smell bad, just new. Lise sipped at it carefully. It didn’t taste bad either… he drank it all slowly but obediently. By the time he finished, the concotion was already working and he had a hard time keeping his eyes open. A gentle nudge and he was curling on the bed, burrowing into the furs. But still he didn’t want to sleep. The child tried to hold Algrim’s hand when it brought the covers up. He didn’t want Algrim to leave. It was scary otherwise.

If he slept, would he wake up to find himself back at home? If he slept, would Algrim be gone and the scary king be back? He should say good night to Algrim, but he really didn’t want to sleep, even if he was told to. Blinking at the blurry sight of Algrim sitting next to him, he couldn’t fight the tea any longer and soon his breaths became steady rise and falls of the covers.

#algrimthestrong #t.algrimthestrong #t.algrim.little wonders #t