#But that worked out as far as sun protection--because it was behind the fence by the time I sat

[ninjastar107]

'Caught Inbetween' - A protoman-centered MMC fic

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

The Doctor had begun to call him 'Breakman', insisting that it was because his purpose was to break Megaman in half and not because he couldn't take a direct hit without collapsing.

He laid on the ground again, seething through the power fluctuation. He was told he wasn't at risk of offlining, but the fluctuations he experienced wasn't much better. His firepower was unmatched at the cost of his stamina, and he found himself practicing finding a balance more than anything else. At least the shield did a good job giving him some extra protection. Less and less he saw Wily. big plans were being set in motion between constructing buildings and robot masters, the blueprints of which felt a bit too familiar for his liking. They reminded him too much of his old doctors work, the feelings of which he hadn't fully sorted out yet, and they all were built with one primary directive: destroy Megaman. Were all of Lights projects really 'half baked'? Was he built to be so, but only after some time together the doctor changed his mind? Why would anyone trust Light if he was allowed to do that so frequently? Wily avoided explaining why he was so shunned, and did he really need 8 extra robot masters just to take on one robot? Some details just weren't adding up.

Blues strapped his helmet and buster to the inside of his shield and swung it around his shoulder. If he wanted answers, he'd have to investigate.

--

A downpour had sparked as his traversed through the city. He had passed through a few times before, knowing the route well enough to take it with his eyes closed. Not that he preferred that, but the dark clouds could only block so much. He waved to the crossing-guard robot and followed the general flow of traffic, sticking close to those who held umbrellas. Standing in the subway, the crowd waited for the next train to stop by. It was weird not feeling tired, now would have been a perfect time for a nap. In fact, the idea of not needing to take the train in general crossed his circuits. It was far too bright in the subway anyway, and it's not like he was running on spare time anymore, what harm would walking bring? As day darkened, and the sun sank below the horizon, the rain reduced to a light drizzle. Blues hummed and meandered around, hopping fences and weaving through alleyways with ease. Green and white octagonal buildings stood within the gated perimeter. Very few lights lit up entryways and windows in glows of blue and orange, reflecting off of lines of white paint drawn on the pavement. A few bins caught his eye, particularly one labeled 'USED' that had various sets of googles and stained lab coats. He poked around, glancing through the dirtied lenses and setting them off to the side as he dug further. Eventually he found what he was looking for: a welding glass meant for onlooking only, for when touring groups wanted to see the manufacturing in action. Just the perfect fit too, maybe he could find a few spares just in case- "Hello?" Blues froze. "State your name and business." The monotone voice ordered. He turned to see a large drill bit aimed at him. The android behind it dawned green and purple armor, her dull eyes staring through him. "Blues, and you are?" He stiffly smirked. She stared at his features, "You are a robot?" "You are too?" he tried. Her arm lowered, "I am Quake-woman. You are trespassing." Blues nodded, eyeing to see the best way to get out of the situation. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." She tilted her head, retracting the drill back in. "Where did you come from?" "…." How the heck was he supposed to answer that? He pointed to the general direction he entered from, and her gaze followed it briefly. "You are coming with me." She ordered, holding out her hand. Blues complied, not wanting to wind up on a list for anything, especially without a means of getting out of there quickly. The interior was more homely than he imagined a scientific outpost would be. warm yellow walls, bookshelves, a TV, a few chairs and a couch- it felt more like a home than a place of work. No doubt the hallway led to bedrooms, maybe a lab was present deeper in? "Doctor Lalinde, I found a trespasser," Quake-Woman loudly informed, "He is inside with me." "What!" The doctors voice shrieked. An older woman with greying purple hair practically tore her way into the room. She stopped in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the two. "Tempo, you are not supposed to invite intruders into our home!" Blues felt the doctor staring at him, reading him. He saw a spark of familiarity in her gaze and quickly looked away. "I do not think he will cause trouble. He made no attempt to run or fight when I confronted him." She informed. "That doesn't mean he's not armed and wont change his mind!" Lalinde ran a hand down her face. He adjusted the grip on his shield. Tempo's grip on his arm tightened in response. "His name is Blues and he was rummaging through the used lab equipment designated to be cleaned for reuse." Lalinde blinked, the 'spark' turning to an ignition. "Really? You can let go of him," she finally stepped in fully. "You were after those glasses right? Would you like a clean pair?" "No," Blues folded his arms, unimpressed by the tonal change in the atmosphere. "I'm just passing through." "I see…" Lalinde adjusted her own glasses. "It's wet out there, do you want to stay until it stops?"

Tempo stood at attention waiting for directions. Blues glanced to her feeling uncertain of her intentions. She looked human enough, but still she was bound to such rigid structures. Was Megaman the same way? Was he still the only one who was truly caught in between? "Only if I can ask a few questions."

--

It was an accident, a cave in that crushed her and damaged her memory. What she was now was but a husk of what she was before, though not without hope. Lalinde had been working on putting what she could back together, but it was long and tedious work. Blues was relieved that it was just that and not anything else. The wonder if Light would have done the same for him lingered in the back of his mind... Wily changed his power core and it didn't change who he was, who's to say Light's plan wouldn't have done the same? Did he really run away for nothing? He pulled at his belt, a feeling of guilt running like tremors across his circuits. "Is there anything I can do to help Tempo recover?" Lalinde shook her head, "I'm afraid not much, but I think having a friend wouldn't hurt her." Tempo and Blues exchanged glances. He smirked, "I'll have to come back then."

[wooahaeproductions]

20cm (The Distance Between Me and You)

Lee Chan x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: fluff and a tinge of angst, childhood friends to ?

Word Count: 634

Warnings: first kisses

Rating: PG-13

A/N: For my very favorite fetus, Moon! @sleepymoon27 This gave me the warm fuzzies and your ask with this pairing was perfect. I hope you enjoy lots! ~Bee

Part of The Kissing Booth drabbles

“I knew I’d find you up here,” you said as you reached the top of the ladder and poked your head into the entrance to the treehouse, finding Chan sitting with his feet dangling over the open side. You had come over after dinner, which was something you found yourself doing more often than not and Chan’s dad told you he could be found out here. The treehouse was your shared safe space, the place you could go to escape the world, just the two of you.

Chan turned to look behind him, seeing you walk up the last few rungs of the ladder before you came over to sit next to him. You sighed as you looked out over the fence, past the yards of his neighbors and to the far away hills where the beginning of the sunset was starting to dust the sky. Chan was unusually quiet and you looked over at him to find that he was looking down at his hands, picking at his nails which you knew was a nervous habit of his.

“Channie…” you said, hesitantly.

“Hm?” he hummed in response and you could tell your voice was pulling him from his thoughts.

“Is there something on your mind?” you questioned, prompting your best friend to spill whatever had him bothered.

He looked at you then, his eyes scanning your face. Possibly to see what mood you were in and possibly to decide what he was going to divulge. You could see an internal struggle happening in his chocolate brown eyes when they finally met yours, his bangs slightly covering the one. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, words failing him multiple times before he gave up. He summoned all the courage he had and leaned forward. His nose bumped against yours as he pressed his soft lips against your own. 

Chan didn’t know what a kiss was supposed to be like but he didn’t think this was it. You hadn’t reacted as far as he could tell and he pulled back to find you wide eyed and frozen. He waved his hand in front of your face to no avail. Oh god. He screwed up. Did he kiss that badly? Or did you not like him? Both? Chan was straight up panicking now and hated that tears were pricking at his eyes.

You were shocked to say the least. Not only did you not think Chan felt that way about you but you didn’t realize how soft a boy's lips could be. Despite it also being your first kiss, you needed to do something to remedy the look of hurt and horror that was so clearly showing on his face. Snapping out of your trance, you reached your hands out to take his cheeks in your palms and pulled him toward you. You mashed your lips together with his for an awkward, second first kiss. 

Chan blinked, the tears that had started welling cleared and he was kissing you back, or well, attempting to. Your noses kept bumping together and he wasn’t sure where to put his hands since yours held his face. He finally settled them on your shoulders, although that still felt wrong. The two of you broke away again and you rested your forehead on his. You were catching your breath because you obviously didn’t know how or when to breathe. 

After a few seconds of silence, both of you broke out into what could be called embarrassed laughter. You continued laughing until your sides hurt and the sun had set when it finally dwindled. As awkward as it was, you wouldn’t have wanted to share your first kiss with anyone else. Now, there was a big question that hung in the air. What did it mean for you two?

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

[sanddusted-wisteria]

Earth and Sky, Ch. 4

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“Wis. Wis, Wis, Wis.” Heidi circled around, putting her hands firmly on Wis’s shoulders. “You just moved to one of the most inhospitable places in the whole Alliance! Now, I’m a native, so I don’t quite mind this place, but that’s ‘cause I have a home! A nice home an’ a nice office! When you’re out in a place like this, you gotta make yourself a nice, welcomin’ home! ‘Cause if you don’t got that place to go to when the goin’ get tough out here, it’ll be real rough on ya!” She let go of Wis’s shoulders, her expression softening. “An’ I know that ‘home’ looks different to everybody…but it looks like to you it has a big, beautiful garden! My job might be ‘architect’ on the business card an’ all… But I think I like buildin’ people homes the most! So I’m gonna help ya, and that’s that!” Wis blinked. Such a heartfelt speech…all because of a catalog page.

Also on AO3

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The bright midday sun was only intensified by the massive glass windows and the shiny metal surfaces of the Moisture Farm. It probably would’ve hurt Wis’s eyes, had it not been for the colossal man standing in front of her and Mi-an, blocking most of the light behind him.

“So. Planting.”

Wis and Mi-an stood at attention as Zeke handed both of them a funny-looking tool with a metal square at the end.

“You’re probably used to how they do things in more temperate areas. Not only is there more water, there’s more nutrients in the soil. Not here.”

He crouched down towards the planting plot in between him and the builders, laying out some straw around the edges. “Even if we use raised beds, we still gotta protect seeds from the environment and give them extra nutrients to grow. So we line our seeds up in grids and line them with straw. It’s the Straw Grid technique.” He stood up, lined his own weird square tool up with the edges of the soil grid, and drove it firmly into the ground. The straw was buried, the ends standing up like a mini fence.

“Oh…so if a sandstorm comes by, less of the soil gets blown away…” said Mi-an.

“Yep. And as the seed grows, the roots will hold the soil together a lot more. Which is good, since the straw decays eventually. And that matter gets recycled into the soil for nutrients. So this way, over time, we revitalize the soil to be more fertile for future growing.”

“Interesting…” muttered Wis. “We can’t just add fertilizer?”

“We can, but this way allows us to grow even when we don’t have fertilizer.” Zeke took some more straw out of the bundle that he had brought over and handed some to Wis and Mi-an. “Here. You try laying down a grid.”

Zeke made it look easy. Not only because he was far larger, but also because he’d probably done this thousands and thousands of times. It was hard to get the straw in deep enough, and evenly. Wis ended up hopping on her square shovel with both feet a few times like a pogo stick, which ended up working far better than just shoving it down like Zeke could. Mi-an, who was also struggling a bit, copied her.

“It gets easier with practice,” Zeke said, flat as ever, though Wis swore she could see a glint of amusement in his eye.

The grid laid out, Zeke took a packet of seeds out from one of his pockets. “After the grid gets put down, it’s fairly standard stuff. Bury the seed, but not too much, then give it a good amount of water.” The builders held out their hands, and he dropped several grains of unmilled sandrice into each. “Sandrice. Staple crop all across the Eufaula. Grows faster than a lot of the stuff we have, so it’s a good place to start. Both for you, and for the farm again.”

Wis was no stranger to planting, after years of chores on her Pa’s farm. Dig little holes with your fingers, drop the seeds in, and gently cover them back up.

“That’s pretty much all there is to it,” Zeke said when they all stood up again. “I’ll give you some seeds and a little water, and you’ve already got your planting kits. You can give it a shot when you’ve got the time.”

“Nice!” said Mi-an. “Thank you so much, Zeke!”

“Yeah, thanks. Haven’t gardened in a while, but this is interesting,” said Wis.

Zeke hummed, handing the two the promised sandrice seeds and a small bottle of water. “‘Course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. Still a lot of work to do with all these plots to fill.”

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

Wis waved goodbye to Mi-an when they stepped off the yakmel cart at the train station, turned to head for home, and immediately froze in her tracks. She groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. How could she forget?

Her property was tiny.

She could barely fit two of every type of machine into her yard and still have enough room to safely walk around. Anything she planted would either be perpetually in the shade of her house, or caught on fire by one of the furnaces.

Entering her yard and dropping her new planting kit off in her storage area, she looked around at the space she had (and didn’t have). Maybe…she could ask for a land expansion. Move the fence out beyond the southwest corner. Then she could move some things around, and set up a little planting area out in the back!

And all that lingered on her mind as she counted up 1000 gols and talked to Heidi a few minutes later about getting that expansion done. Abuzz with anticipation as Heidi was next door at City Hall getting the paperwork ready, Wis’s hands tapped and twitched, itching for something to do.

A furniture catalog on the table caught her eye. It would be a while before Wis had the means to expand her house itself and make room for more furniture, but hell, she was on a streak of dreaming up her dream home. No harm in browsing a little.

Inside were lots of nice furniture sets, from rustic to cute to almost industrial. But what caught Wis’s attention was the outdoor furniture section. First and foremost, a beautiful ivory pergola, pictured standing tall over a lush, wooded garden.

…A garden.

Wis hadn’t planted anything properly for ages. Sure, she took care of a couple houseplants back home, but a whole garden…small trees and bushes providing some much-needed shade, colorful flowers lining one entire edge of the yard, herbs and fruit and veggies fresh for the picking, a nice table and chairs under the pergola, covered by lush vines or ivy, or…

“Ooooh, plannin’ a garden?” A sheaf of papers gently set down on Wis’s shoulder. She looked up to see Heidi, smiling down at her.

“Heh. Just getting ideas. For now I should see if anything can grow at all out back.”

“Hopefully it does! Not too many people outside the Church folks and Zeke do a whole lotta planting out here, so it’d be nice if we can get even more greenery in this place.”

Wis hummed, and moved to shut the catalog to handle the paperwork, but Heidi quickly reached out and pointed at the page that Wis was just looking at. “Ohhh, that pergola’s real nice lookin’! Reckon if you get a lotta plants growin’, it’d make a great centerpiece! You wanna get that, too?”

“Ah…it’s a little…pricey,” Wis said sheepishly, eyes trailing down to the price tag: 1600 gols. Even more expensive than the land expansion. “Maybe later.”

Heidi hummed, brow furrowed. “How’s this? This catalog is for an Ataran store, so I place orders for folks. I can cover, say…a quarter the price?”

“W-what?” Wis’s eyes widened. “No, no, no, that’s fine, I’ll wait until I have enough for it.”

“Wis, c’mon! Your very own garden! You gotta have some good furniture in there to sit and admire all your hard work!”

“S-seriously, I’ll get it eventually. You shouldn’t need to pay a single gol for my side project…”

“Wis. Wis, Wis, Wis.” Heidi circled around, putting her hands firmly on Wis’s shoulders. “You just moved to one of the most inhospitable places in the whole Alliance! Now, I’m a native, so I don’t quite mind this place, but that’s ‘cause I have a home! A nice home an’ a nice office! When you’re out in a place like this, you gotta make yourself a nice, welcomin’ home! ‘Cause if you don’t got that place to go to when the goin’ get tough out here, it’ll be real rough on ya!”

She let go of Wis’s shoulders, her expression softening. “An’ I know that ‘home’ looks different to everybody…but it looks like to you it has a big, beautiful garden! My job might be ‘architect’ on the business card an’ all… But I think I like buildin’ people homes the most! So I’m gonna help ya, and that’s that!”

Wis blinked. Such a heartfelt speech…all because of a catalog page. “I, uh… Th-thanks. I’ll…pay you back then, when I get it…”

“Wis…” Heidi groaned, before standing tall over her and fixing her a hard stare. “I’ll say it again. When you get started on that garden, you will order that pergola, and you will get a 25% discount, and you will get the garden of your dreams. Am. I. Clear?”

A shudder ran down Wis’s spine. Her lips pursed. “Um. Y…yes! Understood…!”

In an instant, the warm smile was back on Heidi’s face. “Good! Now, let’s handle that paperwork, shall we…?”

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Dear Ma and Pa,

Sorry I couldn’t write last week. Things have been kind of hectic. Had to repair a watering machine for the local farm after it got attacked by a bunch of lizard…men. It was wild. Luckily that’s all settled down…not sure about the lizardmen, though.

But in other news, I learned how to plant stuff! Yeah, even out here in the sand. The growing technique’s a bit different than fields and greenhouses, since you need to account for the rough environment. Not sure what exactly can grow in someplace so arid, but the farm here’s got a bunch of different kinds of seeds that they’ve grown here for ages. Might try and experiment!

Hope you guys are well. Say hi to Nia for me if you see her.

Love you,

Wis

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

Hi Honey!

Those lizards sound scary! We saw some pictures of them in the paper, but they were all from really far away. I hope you’re not fighting those lizardmen…be sure to stay safe! But wow, the farm situation sounds even more dicey! Not surprised that you need the oomph of a machine to be able to grow enough to feed an entire city out there. But that’s just the thing for you, isn’t it? It’s great that you’re finally being given lots of good work!

Wow. It doesn’t look right, seeing that little seedling just…in the sand. Incredible that the Sandrock settlers were able to survive that long without having to rely on imports. Nia happened to be over when we got your letter and pulled out the photos, and when she saw them, she immediately lit up! Apparently she and Prof. Luo are busy cooking up some seeds that are supposed to be hardier! Looks like the desert’s perfect testing ground for that. She says that she’ll write to you ASAP once she gets her hands on some seeds to send you.

In the meantime though, we’re sending over some of Pa’s berry seeds! Plus some snacks, of course. A nice, familiar taste of home. Well, assuming that you manage to grow it out there. Let us know how they grow! Hopefully your Pa won’t want to have you start selling crops out in Sandrock… Take care out there, okay?

Love,

Ma

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

Wisty!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi hi hi!! I told the professor about how you started growing stuff out in the desert! He thinks it’s interesting! There’s not a whole lot of documentation on Sandrock’s growing techniques…guess no one else really cared about how the Sandrockers survived out there… Which sucks!! That stuff’s important to the Alliance’s history! Sandrock might be a tiny part of it, but it’s still a city with a lengthy story!

We still had some grant money left over for our seed project, so I’m gonna send you some of our stuff! And guess what…we have wisteria, too! So now you can go outside whenever you like and point at it and cackle and say that it’s you >:) (Still avoiding that corner of the Botanical Gardens out of pun-repulsed instinct…)

I’d say it’s a present, but since it’s on grant money I think I’m obligated to say that it is strictly research material. Uh-huh. Totally. Not a belated housewarming gift for my bestest friend. It totally is don’t worry about it

And I know what you’re gonna say, and NO, you don’t need to get me anything back. Well, nothing like a gift, anyway. All I need is some notes and pictures every week on how all the plants are doing! That locks it down as all research, and it’ll be on our grant’s tab!

I hope that everything grows! Maybe it’s the madness of finals, but all these plants and their seeds are kinda like my babies at the moment. But if not…well, that’s science, baby…

Your parents are both doing good, by the way! Went to your place out of habit last Saturday…brain still thinks we hang out all the time. Your Ma’s cooking’s still really good. Wish we could just pack a bunch of lunchboxes and ship them to you…without having them spoil in the burning hot desert…

Stay safe, okay? I keep hearing things about bandits and lizard creatures out there from the newspaper… Don’t go diving straight into trouble!!

XOXO,

Nia

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

Wis, sweetie,

Another package for ya! I saw your Aunt Solanum and Aunt Mentha the other day at the market, and they asked me how you’ve been holding up! Well, I told them about that garden of yours that you’re planning, and they just about jumped for joy! They asked me to give you some of their seeds too. Pomatoes should do just fine, they can grow in garbage dumps…but maybe the desert sands will finally be the thing that tames the almighty mint. Or maybe not…best to still keep it in its own quarantine pot.

I thought that’d be the end of it, but then Solanum went ahead and talked to your Grandpa…and then Grandpa wrote to just about the entire surviving branch of the Cyprens family to get seeds… So you’ve got a lot of ‘em on your hands now!! Sorry for front loading you so much…tried to get all of them to send it to ya in batches, at least. It’s not like you’ve got the time or water to get everything up! But hey, at least you won’t have to worry about any more food shortages, hahaha!

Love,

Pa

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Hi Ma, Pa, Nia…

Thank you for all the seeds, but…I think I have enough now! It’s really generous of you and the rest of the family, but (and I say this as politely as I can) can you guys…not send any more?? If you could spread the word to the family too, that’d be great. I only just got my homestead expanded by like a couple dozen square feet. It’s not a proper farm! I don’t all of these to go to waste…

But I’ll plant a couple of these to start! Some of these I know already can be grown here from what I saw from what our farm has in stock. We’ll see how it goes…

Love,

Wis

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Two whole crates.

Two whole crates full of seeds, bulbs, and starter kits.

Ripping open her second cousin’s latest package of tulip bulbs, Wis regarded the crates with a sigh. She had enough to start a proper botanical garden with a farm on the side, and yet she only had the confines of her yard to deal with.

She’d already planted the sandrice that Zeke had given her, and it was taking well. The only question was what to plant next. Certainly not starved for options. The line of soil that Wis had tilled and gridded would only hold a fifth of all her seeds at most.

Reaching an arm in and shuffling around randomly, Wis picked out a seed sachet. Parsley from her aunt. An herb patch sounded nice…just about the only readily available seasoning around these parts was salt. Everything else had to be imported from elsewhere, and Owen and Arvio both sold them for a markup. Wis reached back in and grabbed a few more of her aunt’s seeds—rosemary, thyme, peppercorn, oregano…that was a good start. Two plots each.

Shuffling around some more in the crates, Wis pulled out a bag of daffodil bulbs. Nice colorful flowers on either side of the herbs… Out came the latest bag of tulip bulbs and a bag of hyacinth bulbs, and into the soil the bulbs went.

Next up was a bag of…wisteria seeds. Wis let out a snort on instinct. There she was. She put it back into the box. This absolutely had to go on the pergola. When she could get it. Plus, it would be a bad idea to have to deal with one of the most aggressive growers a gardener could have without any kind of dedicated structure for it.

On and on she went, shuffling through the crates and planting whatever chance had her pull. Most went into the ground plots, others went into pots that Wis carried inside. By the time she figured she had enough, one of the two crates was almost empty. She crammed everything into a single crate and dusted off her dirty hands. That should certainly do for now. She grabbed her watering can and opened the spout of her water tank. It filled only about three-quarters of the way before the glugging of the tank fell silent. Hm. It had been a while since the last refill.

Wis decided to empty the can first before deciding how much more she needed. She only managed to fully water three of the plots…of a dozen. Plus 7 pots. And with her machines, she was going to need—

“—35 units of water comes out to…800 gols…!” Burgess said with a strained smile as he typed everything into his cash register.

Wis flinched. “Ah. Well…maybe take out 5 of those…?”

“That brings it down to around 686… Are you sure you need this much?” Burgess’s brow furrowed. “I know builders need more water than most people, but this is a lot!” His eyes widened. “N-not that I’m accusing you of anything, of course! M-maybe it’s just a leak in your piping or something! I-I just want to make sure that not a drop of water gets wasted!”

“Eheh…I’m just trying to start a garden,” Wis said sheepishly. “I thought I was gonna start small and all, but I guess I just lost track…”

In an instant, Burgess brightened back up to his usual sunny self. “Oh, how lovely! More greenery is always great! No wonder you need all this. If I could, I’d give you a discount to incentivize growing and stuff, but that’s against the rules. And what kind of water supervisor would I be if I let anyone break the rules?! But for that garden, I hope you know that you have my full support!”

Wis waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll just take 20 units for now and start growing like half of them.”

“Right-o!” Burgess punched the new numbers in with gusto. “470 gols, then! Oh, but by the way…”

Wis looked up from fishing the change out of her wallet. “Hm?”

“It won’t get you a whole lot, but you can maybe make a dew collector or two to get a lil extra water! It adds up over time, trust me! And you’re a builder, so you can get one up lickity-split!”

“Dew collectors… What are they, exactly? Moisture extractors?”

“No…not quite like the Hydrogel in the moisture farm… It’s more like a tarp that dew settles on in the morning! Director Qi should have a diagram for it…he said something about having the ‘most optimal surface area’ for it, I think.”

“That does sound useful,” Wis said, handing over the gols. “From what I can tell, I’m gonna be needing a lot more water…”

��Seems so! A-and you shouldn’t have to be spending a bunch of money every week just for that… It supports the town, but you should support yourself, too!”

Wis let out a chuckle, loading a barrel of water onto her dolly. “Hopefully not! At this rate, my plants are always gonna get fed before me.”

“Ack-! U-um!” Burgess yiped. “Don’t—don’t starve yourself, please! Plants can always handle a little underwatering but—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Wis exclaimed, waggling her hands. “D-don’t worry. But I’ll see about that dew collector…”

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

“Builder.”

No hello, no greetings, no pleasantries.

Qi was working away at something, again. Always working. Sequestered away in this monolith of a building. He looked up when Wis pushed the front door open, still every bit as inscrutable as every time before.

But just as Wis was about to open her mouth, his brow raised. “Ah, right. The Hydrogel has been assembled, correct?”

Wis nodded. “Got it up two days ago.”

“I see. Everything in order then?”

Once again, Wis was just about to respond, but Qi plowed on anyway. “Actually, don’t answer that. I know my designs are flawless. There shouldn’t be any issues. Thankfully it was but a minor diversion from my main project,” he said nonchalantly, waving a dismissive hand.

Wis suppressed the urge to scowl. No thanks from her for the diagram, then. Clearly he could thank himself enough. Best to just press on, then. “Uh-huh. Well, I need a diagram. Burgess said you had one for a dew collector?”

“Oh, that? Yes. Five disks, then.”

Wis counted out the data disks as Qi held out a hand. “I got a bit overzealous with planting and—”

“I need not know the purpose of your request,” the director cut in. “Just give me the disks, and I shall fulfill it. This exchange needs nothing extraneous.”

Wis snapped her lips shut. Alright… Try to make idle conversation? Extraneous. But stand around in a dangerous ruin and blabbing about robots and time travel…?

She let out a huff as she passed the disks to Qi. The blip of irritation seemed to go unnoticed by Qi, who just gave her a curt nod. “Good. This will be in your mailbox tomorrow morning. Now, if you please…” His gaze flickered toward the door behind Wis.

She didn’t need to be told twice, shouldering her bag and turning to leave. “Yep. Thanks,” she muttered.

She shook her head once she was outside and well out of his view. Why was he always like this? Despite the relationship between researcher and builder being nothing less than pure collaboration, this one guy seemed to think that he was above it all. Everything seemed to bother him; everything seemed to be a waste of time. Everything except space and robots, evidently. Whatever scraps of civility he had were buried under a thick veneer of unspoken judgment, a ruling that no one outside of a place like Vega 5 would be able to pass. If he didn’t make such precise diagrams, including super important things like the Hydrogel, Wis would call into question the necessity of having someone like him in the town at all.

Returning to her yard, she slid her bag off next to her workbench with another sigh. That was just the way Director Qi Heng was, she supposed. From the way things sounded, he was a fixture of this town, despite how little he participated in it.

Wis took a deep breath in, and out, trying to let her simmering blood cool off. Patient. She needed to be patient. She just got here, and she was already getting huffy over someone that wasn’t immediately friendly. Maybe he was an ass, but if she was an ass as well, that wouldn’t help anything. She just needed to focus on building. And the people that actually seemed to care about her. Get Science Man’s errands done and over with, and stay out of his way.

Looking over her new garden patch, she pursed her lips.

She had better things to do than try and win the favor of Science Man, anyway.

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

A/N: *Always Sunny episode title card* Wis attempts to win the favor of Science Man

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[unforgottenrobot]

Broadchurch: The Next Chapter

Chapter 12 - The Decision

Alec, Anna, and Daisy stood in front of the house on the hill. The one that was nearly theirs, once had the approval of one last person - Daisy. The sea breeze tugging gently at their clothes. The house looked even more beautiful on this bright day, its windows sparkling in the sunlight. Daisy’s eyes were wide with excitement as they stepped inside, her gaze moving over the spacious living room, the large kitchen, and the conservatory that overlooked the garden.

“This place is amazing,” Daisy said, her voice filled with awe as they moved from room to room. “It’s so much bigger than Dad’s place.”

Anna smiled warmly, watching as Daisy explored the house with the enthusiasm only a teenager could have. Alec followed closely behind, his usual gruff expression softened by the sight of his daughter’s excitement.

They eventually made their way upstairs, where Daisy walked in and out of each of the potential bedrooms. Anna held her breath as Daisy thoughtfully considered which one she preferred for herself. She eventually settled on a room with large windows that looked out onto the garden and the beach beyond. She spun around, grinning. “I love this room. I can actually see myself living here. Plus it’ll be about as far away from you and Dad’s room as I can get.”

Anna sighed in relief. Daisy hadn’t picked the room she’d imagined for the nursery. She caught Alec’s eye from across the room and he smiled at her, reading her thoughts.

It was important to both of them that Daisy felt at home in this new chapter of their lives. Alec and Anna might have been the ones making the decisions, but they both knew Daisy’s opinion mattered too.

——————————————————————————

After they finished the tour, the three of them sat out in the garden for a while, sipping lemonade that Anna had brought along. Alec seemed content, watching Daisy and Anna chat easily, laughing at some joke between them. There was a calmness to the moment, a feeling that this - this house, this family - was starting to fall into place.

Later, when Alec excused himself to take a phone call, Anna took the opportunity to speak privately with Daisy. They both leaned against the garden fence, looking out at the distant waves crashing against the shore.

“Daisy,” Anna began softly, turning to face her, “I just wanted to say... I’m really glad you like this place. But more than that, I want you to know that your opinion means a lot to both me and your dad. I love your dad - and I love you too. You’ve become such an important part of my life.”

Daisy turned to Anna, her expression softening. She’d been wanting to see her dad happy for a long time and she had been surprised at how protective of him she had become, but Anna had worked her way into her heart with kindness and patience.

“I’m really thankful to you,” Daisy said after a moment, her voice steady. “For making Dad happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before... And I know that’s because of you.”

Anna felt a lump form in her throat, touched by Daisy’s words. She reached out and squeezed her hand. “That means more to me than you know. You’re such a big part of his life, Daisy, and I want you to feel like we’re building this new chapter together, not just him and me.”

Daisy smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. “I do. And for what it’s worth... I think you two are perfect for each other. Even if he’s still kind of grumpy sometimes.”

Anna laughed. “He’ll always be a little grumpy, I think. But we wouldn’t have him any other way, would we?”

The two shared a quiet moment, looking out at the waves as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Anna felt a deep sense of gratitude - for Daisy’s acceptance, for Alec’s love, and for everything yet to come.

When Alec rejoined them, Daisy gave him a look and a small smile. “This house,” she said simply, “It’s perfect.”

Alec raised an eyebrow, glancing between her and Anna, who gave him a subtle nod.

“Alright,” Alec said, his voice gruff but with a softness underneath. “Looks like we’re making this place our home, then.”

Anna smiled, her heart full as she stood between Alec and Daisy. It wasn’t just the house that felt right - it was the way they were all coming together, a real family.

[shakingparadigm]

Tumblr user @ivanttakethis I hope you know I think your brain is exponentially large and also I am having the time of my life right now. that's all

I love everything that you're putting down... ahhh I actually adore this all!!

Ivan and Sua would 100% have a confrontation like in the IvanSua beef comic and reach some kind of agreement. Not exactly on the best terms with each other (I headcanon that they both almost killed each other at least once in the games) but they're willing to reach compromises and have a certain respect for one another. Sua is very distant and while Ivan did hope to befriend Sua, he settled for temporary allies later down the line.

For their special costumes I think Hyuna and Hyunwoo would focus more on the solar power aspect of their district since warmth and intensity is the best fit for their personalities (also because it ties into what Phan looks like)! There's also the fact that Hyuna is associated with warm colors like yellow, orange and red! I think they'd try to make their costumes similar since that's how it usually is for parade/ceremony outfits (even more emphasized once the stylist find out they're siblings) but maybe Hyuna's sun motifs would be a little more prominent, maybe more sun rays... Also I absolutely LOVE the idea of power lines and lights on the costumes!! I'm pretty sure most of the canon costumes are garish and look somewhat tacky (Johanna was dressed up as a whole tree and the district 12 costumes used to just literally be miner outfits, can't forget about that) so I wouldn't doubt the possibility of their stylist to dress them up in those big sun crowns and drape power lines on the outfits like tassles or something.

Till would definitely be similar to Katniss in that he's kind of been rebelling for as long as he can remember. He sneaks through the electric fence and wanders off into the woods very often. I'd like to think he brings a book with him and draws the flowers he can find, documenting them. Maybe it was a pasttime he shared with Ivan back then, who was a less emotionally and more logically inclined kid, able to recite bits of information from the books he read.

The rebellion resurging for Mizi... Augh...

It's definitely hard to watch television in District 12, but I do think that Till would have heard about Mizi somewhere and fallen in love with the idea of her. Maybe he saw a glimpse of her during the reaping ceremony tapes.... perhaps Urak was transporting coal to District 4 (apparently this is one of the rare instances of people travelling outside districts) and brought Till along to make him do work, maybe that's when Till was able to interact with Mizi for the first time. Still also a very loose idea atm! During the games he definitely seeked to protect her. I also fully agree that eventually Ivan and Till find Mizi in her depressive state and begin to look after her.

Mizi with the crossbow as a gun substitute... yes... Till with a mining tool? I raise you: a big sledgehammer. He seems like more of a swinger to me (guitar bash, bottle swing) and I think him wielding shit like a bat or a sledgehammer is just funny to think about in comparison to all the other more intricate and sharp weapons. Till goes through life swinging with blunt force and rage and hey it's gotten him this far so why stop now.

Ivan taking people out like Cato is so unsettling ngl?? Like damn okay... I mean it fits for all the reasons you mentioned, it's incredibly efficient. And the fact that he keeps trying to help Till behind his back... Ivan stealing the weapons of other tributes is so fun because he's canonically a little stealer (when it comes to Till's things, that is. Maybe Till picks up weapons and Ivan steals them from him lol).

Please do make the post about their potential outfits 🙏🙏🙏 I'd so love to see it in fact I am seating waiting patiently!! (To me Mizi would wear a jellyfish-like dress... She is Jellyfish Girl!!)

THE "FAKE" DATING/CRUSHING ARGHHHH THIS IS MY FAVORITE PART ABOUT THE WHOLE INTERVIEW THINGG!! ivantill is so everlark in this way.... oozing charisma ivan vs as charming as a wet rag till. Till acts out and tries to escape the interview but he's caught and held down until it's his time to be thrown onto the stage. Ivan knows for a fact that Till wont make it without sponsors, so he decides to pull the romance storyline (a bit to save Till, a bit because he personally wanted to). Till 100% does the Katniss thing where he's like "he seems so in love with me.... wow he's a damn good actor. this bastard. what secret strategy is he trying to pull." while Ivan is letting his impulsive thoughts win over from time to time and acting genuinely at certain moments. "He's a good actor" [sua voice] maybe he's just in love with you. Also the fact that Peeta went into the games intending to push Katniss forward and do anything it takes for her to survive, accepting the fact that he won't make it out alive. Ivan moment.

do you see the vision. DO YOU SEE THE VISION

found my old hunger games au.... will I post about it? maybe one day....

[bloodycassian]

anon asked:

ok hear me out, azriel x reader where reader can hear thoughts or something along those lines and she doesn’t know how to control it so she’s constantly hearing or feeling thoughts/emotions and it’s heats super overwhelming and az helps her through it <3

The headaches hadn't stopped for weeks. Rhys had even called over a medwitch from the continent to help, but there was nothing she could see that was wrong. They were all worried, but their worries just somehow made your head hurt even more. The whispers you could hear from them down the stairs of the townhouse were the worst part. 'Do they need a cleansing?' 'What happened to cause it?' 'Their body is doing this for a reason.' they went on and on and on, never answering each other. Each voice different through the muffling of the walls.  You were ready to scream. Pillow over your head wouldnt even block them out. You rocked in bed, hands over your ears. Nothing, no more silence ever. Just the ringing in your head of all the voices. Mor had tried asking her father if he knew anything about such subjects. Anything for help. Azriel swooped into the city streets, nodding at a few shopkeeps as he went. After being gone for the last few weeks, the welcome faces of his home were a sight for sore eyes. He held the bag of various salts and salves gently, just as he had his whole trip back. He landed with precision at the front gate of the town home. The familiar wrought iron fence squeaking slightly when he opened it. You felt his presence before he even opened the front door. The coolness of his essence seeping through the walls. The curling shadows that darkened everything ever so slightly. "Your condition seems to have...developed since I left." He set the tote down on the chair by the door, then closed it softly. The whispering became more intense, a pounding in your head that drowned out almost everything else.  "Oh-" He breathed as he walked in. A shocked look then he was grinning. "Leave us." He dismissed Rhys, who gave him a look before obeying. He took off his jacket, leaving him in a dark tunic that made his eyes look brighter. He cocked his head when staring at you, then took a breath. The shadows seemed to summon around him, making him look even more intimidating than normal. They slunk around his ankles like a fog. Then they covered the walls of the room, blocking off the light from the window entirely. The relief in your mind was overwhelming.  You choked out a sob, looking at him with wide eyes. The silence, the weight taken from your brain was like breathing for the first time. "H-how?" You panted, getting up from the bed. Sickness did not weigh you down any longer. The pounding ceased completely, alleviating your too warm temples. He came close to you, only too close because of the thin nightgown you wore. Really it was one of Cassian's old shirts that just fitted you like a dress. When you had taken his room due to your apparent illness you had found a few 'interesting' items of his that were left. "It seems your condition has...evolved since I saw you last." He reached a hand out to you, the siphons atop thrumming with a warm dark blue. You took it tentatively, your eyes slid shut -then there he was. His scent, his thoughts, his everything was in your mind. You scrambled away from it mentally, your heart slamming in your chest. He stroked a thumb over your hand. His mental voice was warm, yet rough and commanding. "Slow. Think, but slowly. I'm here, you're okay." The voice said.  His darkness seemed to follow him to your mind, coating it in a coolness that was much appreciated. "What do I do? What am I?" You took a breath, trying to center yourself. Your entire being was roaring at you to fight back against the intrusion, but he shushed you into not trying it. "You...are new. You're like me, in a way." He whispered softly, his essence drifting over you comfortingly. Like a soft blanket, cold but still comforting.  "How do I get it ito stop?" You sighed, wanting to bury your head in your hands again. He touched you then, slowly at first. Dragging a soft, textured hand up to your wrist, then pulling you in for a hug. His warmth was the opposite of everything else about him, those shadows did nothing against the core of him, his heat.  "You dont, you learn how to make it work with you." He said aloud, his presence rolling out of your mind like a thundercloud. He pulled out of the embrace, "You need to make the thoughts blend like street noise- like a crowd. Learn to select what you want to hear. "  "You make it sound so easy." You rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Azriel may or may not have glanced at how it hitched up the oversized t shirt. Hunger opened up in the pit of his stomach at the filthy thoughts. He knew it was Cassian's shirt, recognized and scented it. It made him want to put his own scent on you in several different, creative ways. He cracked a grin and shrugged slightly, "It'll be like reading a new language. But you need to learn to speak it first." He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lead you to the balcony, the shadows following you in a close bubble the whole way.  "All these people have their thoughts, their words and actions. My shadows tell me all about their outfits, their scents, their hair. Unnecessary unless they have a weapon." He gestured to a few fae males outside a townhome a few houses down. One threw their arms up in the air and stormed back inside." I can't keep them from giving me this information, but I do let it go. I dont even listen unless I detect a threat."  You let out a long breath, feeling the anxiety of him leaving already. "Please stay." His stomach dropped at the words. You grabbed for his hand. As if the open sky was demanding he take off that second. " I cant-" You kept your voice from trembling. "It's too much. Why me? Why now?" Tears threatened and you looked away. He couldnt bear to see you in such pain. He wanted - he needed to give you relief from it. He squared his shoulders and squeezed your hand back. "Are you afraid to fly?" he asked, flexing his wings. The shadows answered with their own wave. "I'm not the biggest fan-" Before you could give your list of excused you'd rather not fly, he was shooting into the air, the backs of your thighs rubbing over his deliciously warm skin. Your yelp of surprise was left behind you. You held on to his shoulders for dear life. "If you would open your eyes you might not be so scared." He laughed, his siphons glaring a bright shield around you that protected you from the wind. He flew fast, and far. His presence was the only one you felt, like a cool rain on your still reeling mind. He had sent Rhys an advisory thought before he took you, letting him know you needed some 'fun'. "If I open my eyes I'm going to vomit all over you." You said, squeezing your eyes tighter. You felt the laugh through his chest. His thumb circled the back of your knee, giving you goosebumps that had nothing to do with the slight chill running through the shield. The shirt was not nearly enough for an outing, and you doubted he was taking you anywhere with anyone who would mind. The thought sent a thrill through you. Alone. He wanted to be alone with you.  As if in approval, his essence drifted happily into your mind, caressing you as his thumb did. He flew lower slowly, enjoying your scent mixed with the cool smell of the lake below. The way the sun at this angle made your hair shine. He landed softly, setting you down only after you'd made him promise you were no longer flying.  "We're done...for now." He winked when you opened, marveling at his wind tosseld hair for a second before collecting yourself and brushing your shirt absently. He grinned wider, and the coolness you'd felt since he showed up in the town home receded. You felt...like you. Normal again, weightless in comparison after the weeks of buzzing in your head. And the view beyond his goofy grin was marvelous. A snowcapped mountain towered above, sloping to create the lake. Mixes of different rock lay everywhere. The scattered pines seemed like giants whispering in the breeze. "Listen to the birds, enjoy the silence for a while." He said, then began walking to the bank of the bright blue water. You stood in shock for a while, letting the sound of the wind and nothing else seep into you. You reveled in it, joying in the simplicity of it. Everything seemed so much louder than you remembered.  You sat on a boulder and watched him skip rocks, the short splats of them echoing off the mountainside. He skipped one after another, occasionally picking up smaller ones and pocketing them. You let your mind wander, trying to regain the feeling he had shrouded you with in the townhome. The solid wall he had put up around your mind for you. But he had said you needed to learn to let it blend in, to deal with it and not shut it out. It was an asset, not a hinderance. You shuddered at using the gift for much. You didnt care to know peoples ins and outs in normal conversation, let alone without them knowing. You attempted to summon that wall. It was like grasping at water, thick and heavy and impossible. The lingering remnants of control slipped away like sand through your fingers. You buried your face in your hands, letting the tears fall.  When he approached, you didn't bother hiding. He had been in your head, he knew what it was like. He said nothing, just wrapped an arm around you and let you cry into his shoulder. Holding you tighter on the bigger sobs that ripped out of you. 

[wintervvidow]

apricity

part one.

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, blood mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 2,364

A/N: hi! welcome to part one of apricity! set in mid-captain america: the winter soldier. this idea has been in my head for a very long time and I am super excited to finally get it out. in this story I use the term “winter widow” , similar to the “winter soldier”, it has no correlation to bucky and natasha here. prolonged italics indicate a flashback.  friendly feedback is appreciated! thank you! <3

ALSO: please know that future parts will take a WHILE. I just want to get the first part out to get the ball rolling.

MASTERLIST 

The silence is what breaks her. She swears she would have been fine if it weren't for the silence, the screams of innocent bystanders no longer existed, the smell of gunpowder burning her nose and stinging her eyes. Aside from the erratic breaths coming from both their lips, you could hear a pin drop as their eyes stared at each other in a blinding intensity as Steve Rogers called out to him, “Bucky?”

The gun feels entirely too heavy in her hands as her lungs expand rapidly, eyes unmoving from the ghost of a man in front of her. Except he isn't a ghost anymore. He's here, alive. James Buchanan Barnes, her Bucky, alive.

He’s clad in all-black tactical gear, metal arm glinting blindingly in the sun. His eyes are a stormy shade of blue, same as the ones that haunt her in her nightmares, not the kind blue she wishes she could have back. The Winter Soldier is the shell of the man she was in love with, the man in front of her was the man she learned to love all the same. He protected her even when he didn’t remember her, even the brainwashing couldn’t fully get rid of the love they both had for one another. Although HYDRA fought like hell to make them both forget. It never worked though, fragments of memory always littered their conscience. 

His brows furrow, overgrown hair in his eyes, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Deep down in her bones, she knew he was alive. The last time she saw him he was being wiped by HYDRA, his screams masking her disappearance into the winter weather. HYDRA searched high and low for her, yet they forgot that they were the ones to train her. HYDRA perfected her, taught her how to disappear into thin air, and that's just what she did. They went as far as to send the Winter Soldier to find her, but even he couldn’t track her. Florence was a ghost. 

Florence Morozov was many things before she was an assassin; she was an immigrant daughter, a friend, a nurse, and her greatest title of all, the love of Bucky Barnes' life, his fiancée. The couple, along with the third wheel Steve, were inseparable in their younger days before the second war. Where there was one, the other two were usually not far behind. 

The trio had gone to the Stark Expo the night before Bucky got shipped off to the war. That night Bucky had proposed with a small emerald ring, promising her that when he got back they'd get married, move into a little white picket fence house, and settle down. They dreamed of growing old together surrounded by their kids and grandchildren. Only that dream had been crushed under the heel of HYDRA, not long after Florence enlisted as a nurse and Steve became Captain America, notably leading the Howling Commandos. Florence worked closely along with them, acting as a medic when needed. 

When Steve woke up from his 70-year slumber on ice, Florence had a lot of explaining to do. How she was alive, what she had been doing, where she had been. She told Steve what he needed to know, leaving Bucky out of the answers. She had to protect him, even if it meant lying to their shared best friend. She would do anything to protect Bucky. 

Florence explained to Steve that when she fell off the train with Bucky, she had been captured by HYDRA and experimented on. She was sent to the Red Room to be trained and then sent back to HYDRA in the ‘50s. She was their puppet for 46 years, coined the name the Winter Widow before she disappeared in late December of 1991. Florence was on the run for 17 years before she was taken in by Clint Barton, joining S.H.I.E.L.D along with Natasha Romanoff. 

Natasha and Florence grew to be very close over the years, the trauma they both shared bonded them. Natasha was the only one to know the full story of Bucky, every nitty-gritty detail that haunted Florence in her dreams. When Nick Fury had been killed, both Florence and Natasha immediately recognized the ballistics information, a silent agreement between the two redheads to only tell Steve what he needed to know, no more than that. Florence only told Steve that she knew the Winter Soldier, nothing more. Natasha understood her secrets, she had them herself, her response of, "That's not my story to tell, we all have secrets for a reason."

Florence quickly tracked everything up to this moment. Fury being attacked, Steve's description of the shooter, the Winter Soldier attacking them on the highway only minutes ago. And then there was the chase between the soldier and Florence, trying to divert him. And it worked, Florence had managed to distract him until he got too close, the pair of lovers engaging in hand-to-hand combat until Steve intervened.

And now here she was standing in the middle of the street with a bullet in her shoulder from none other than the Winter Soldier. Flashes of the mission in Odessa running through her mind, he had shot her in the thigh then, Natasha in the abdomen. Steve stood in shock as the ghost disappeared, leaving Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Florence to be surrounded by HYDRA agents and arrested. 

Blood trickled down Florence’s shoulder as she was seated between Sam and Natasha in the back of the truck. Her shoulder felt white-hot as she grits her teeth, Sam nervously glancing at her every second. Steve sat across from them, visibly upset, lifting his head to glare at Florence, eyes cold, "You said you knew the Winter Soldier, that you two had a history, not that it was Bucky!" Steve felt betrayed, his oldest friend lying to his face for years about his best friend.  

Sam angrily glared at Steve as Florence rasped her response with a shaky breath, "Steve, I'm kind of bleeding out right now. This is going to have to wait, just know I had my reasons. I did it to protect him. And you." 

Florence knew this day would come. Bucky wouldn’t be a ghost forever. She fought herself internally every night, dreaming of him. It was always him; the good and bad, the Red Room, what happened after the Red Room, their mission in Romania, and every second in between. She was permanently trapped in her own personal hell.

Steve continued on, “It was him. He looked right at me and he didn’t even know me.”

Florence knew the feeling. Every time Bucky was reprogrammed, she had to convince him to loosen his grip around her throat, begging him to recognize her before he killed her. And every time he did, his eyes flashing in recognition and guilt. And then he would hold her shivering body against his in the confines of their shared cell, murmuring in her ear that he was sorry. And she knew he meant it. Even if his mind barely recognized her, his heart always did.

Sam questioned Steve loudly, causing Florence to flinch as she fell back down to reality, “How is that even possible, that was 70 years ago.” Florence felt bad for Sam, he just jumped headfirst into a dark world with more questions than answers. 

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. Florence, how are you even alive? Zola didn’t get to you before the fall?” Steve just asked the golden question.

Florence took a deep breath in, “I don’t know. There are gaps in time, I don’t remember much from it. They all said that the fall should have killed me but it didn’t. Then I became a lab rat. The end.”

Steve looked her directly in the eye for the first time the entire day, “They must have found him and…”

Natasha interrupted him, she knew where this conversation could lead, “None of that’s your fault, Steve.”

Florence shifted slightly, sharing a look with Natasha, silently thanking her for diverting the conversation. 

Sam shifted beside her as another wave of blood oozed out from her shoulder, he turned to the guards, "We need to get a doctor here. If we don't put pressure on that wound, she's gonna bleed out here in the truck." Florence appreciated Sam’s protective and caring nature as Steve continued glaring daggers her way. Florence knew Steve wouldn’t understand her reasoning, too set in his ways of complete honesty all of the time. He didn’t understand what it meant to lie to keep those you loved safe.

The nearest guard flinched forward, flashing the taser at Sam before turning the taser on the second guard and kicking him unconscious. The guard pulled the helmet off of themselves, revealing Maria Hill, “God, that thing was squeezing my brain.” She motioned at Sam, “Who is this guy?” Everyone shared a collective sigh of relief at the sight of Maria. 

After ditching the car, the team arrived at an undisclosed location. The doors of the truck opened, allowing sunlight to flood in. Steve helped Florence down from the truck, supporting her weight with ease. Blood continued to trickle from her shoulder as she leaned against him for support as Steve spoke while he half carried her forward into the building, “I’m not mad. I get why you didn’t tell me.”

Florence laughed slightly, her body weak, “Are you just saying that because I got shot and I’m currently bleeding out all over you?”

Steve scoffed, his body vibrating with the action, arm tightening around her, “No, Flo.”

Behind her and Steve, Sam called out for a doctor. People ran towards them from the opposite end of the hall, Maria Hill speaking over the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall, "Natasha, there's something you're going to wanna see. Steve, get Florence patched up."

The group broke apart for a short period of time, Natasha reappearing with a hopeful expression on her face as Florence grimaced in pain next to the doctor stitching her up, "Fury is alive."

All eyes remained on Natasha as she explained how Fury was alive, a medication Bruce Banner had come up with did the trick to fake his death. Florence looked to Sam as he digested this information, he didn’t know what he got himself into. She could feel Steve's eyes boring into her head, but she didn't dare look. Her mind was a constant loop of Bucky. 

Flashback: 

His calloused hand led her through the crowd of people, Steve trailing far behind. The trio had just gotten finished dancing and now they were wandering aimlessly through the busy streets of Queens. The air was brisk as it blew through Florence’s auburn hair, her dress fluttering around her calves. Bucky stopped in front of a movie theater, the lights casting a warm glow over his face as he turned to face the girl. Her cheeks were blushed pink from the chill of the air and a smile had been permanently etched on her face all night.

 The news that Bucky was being shipped off in the morning loomed over them like a rain cloud but Bucky was determined to keep her smiling; at least until the morning. His hand abandoned hers, reaching down to fish in his pocket. He found what he was looking for quickly, the velvet box small in his hand. Florence gasped at soon as the box came into the light, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew what this was, she accidentally stumbled upon it when she was putting away clothes last week. A small emerald ring.

Bucky knelt down on one knee, flipping the box open, “Flo, you’ve been by my side through everything. You’re my best girl, always there keeping me in line. I love you more than words can say. I know I leave tomorrow and I should have done this years ago, but will you make me that luckiest man on earth and marry me?”

Florence flew into Bucky’s arms in a flurry of kisses and agreements, Bucky lifting her up and twirling her. He gently set her back on the ground, slipping the ring on her finger as she giggled. Bucky met her eyes, tears glimmering in them, “I promise you, when I get back you and I will get married, we’ll buy a house and we’ll make it a happy home; kids, dogs, a garden, all of it. I promise you.” By the end of Bucky’s promise, both he and Florence were crying in each other’s arms, each one clutching the other tightly, both hyper-aware that the future wasn’t promised. 

Steve stumbled his way through the large crowd, catching sight of his two best friends hugging each other. He didn’t have the heart to break them up at the moment, so he watched on with a smile. It would all be okay.

Bucky sat in the test chair underneath the bank piecing the remnants of his memories together. He knew them. The man knew his name, or at least what he thought was his name. And he knew the girl he shot, memories of her smiling flickered through his mind. Yet they were complete strangers, their faces foreign yet home all at the same time. 

Alexander Pierce was terrified of this day, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He knew of the attachment Bucky had to the Winter Widow, ever since she disappeared in ‘91, the soldier was harder to control, more agitated and violent. He screamed her name in his sleep and when they wiped him he was always mumbling about her when he became coherent. They tried to program it out of him, and when that didn’t work, they tried to beat it out of him, hoping she would vanish from his memories the way his blood washed down the drain. Nothing ever worked. The Winter Soldier was irrevocably in love with Florence Morozov and Alexander was going to use that against him.

The Winter Soldier’s mission was to kill Steve Rogers and Florence Morozov.

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED. IF YOU ENJOYED, PLEASE REBLOG.

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Thank you all for your love and support!!  I love you guys so much and your feedback makes me smile.  It’s hard to reply to everyone but I’m keeping tabs on the taglist as much as possible.  I’ve noticed a few usernames are not being tagged on this post, so I’ll be sure to contact them.  Tumblr decided not to tag them I guess lol!  

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter.  I changed things a little bit.  We’re going a little off course of what I had before, hence the reason why this is late.  The chapter I had written at first is only being stocked away for the next chapter, which means it’ll be out sooner than this one did.  I promise! 

Happy Falcon and the Winter Soldier day, everyone! 

“Well Wanda, I gotta skitty before Loki starts wondering where I’m at,” You chuckled nervously.  Watching her fix the wall was incredible.  It was unlike anything you’ve seen before.  So unusual yet so familiar. 

Wanda smiled lightly at you.  “Alright, I understand.  But please feel free to come by anytime.  Whatever you need,” She said.  You smiled back at the woman. 

“Of course!  Maybe I’ll swing by in a couple of days to see the boys!” You waved goodbye to her and opened the door. 

You took your leave, closing the front door behind you.  Vision turned to see you come outside moments later, a confused look on his face.  “Vision?  What’s wrong, buddy?  You look paler than a ghost.” 

Vision turned to look back at the fence, where Herb and Agnes once stood.  The two had left a while ago, but he seemed frozen in place.  “It’s nothing,” He smiled.  

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking back at the fence that he seemed to stare at before he looked at you.  It was cut nearly in half.  From what, you couldn’t tell. 

“Absolutely.  I suppose I’m just rather nervous about becoming a father.  It feels like it happened so quickly.” 

“Well, I’m sure it did, Vision.  You’ll be fine though.  You’re a good man and remember, Wanda’s going to be there too.  Like I said before, it’s not like you’re doing it alone.  You’ve got this whole town.”  

“That’s true.  This town seems to be quite... Supportive.” 

“Sometimes too supportive.  It feels like everyone’s connected sometimes!” You two shared a nervous laugh. 

“Oh yes, everyone here is quite connected.  Sometimes it is almost concerning.  This town is nothing like I have ever seen before.  I feel as though you can’t keep any secrets around here.” 

“Yeah, I know how you feel.” 

~

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, trying to figure out what’s going on.  The blade was pressing against his skin, close to piercing it.  His eyes scanned the man’s face, unable to determine who he was. 

“I won’t ask again.” 

“I don’t even know who you are,” Loki replied, now glaring at the man.  

Scott revealed himself to Loki, green magic engulfing his form.  He wore the same suit as he did before, but his hair was longer now, reaching down to brush his shoulders slightly.  His green eyes were sharper now, and his face was far more defined.  Loki watched as the man morphed into a mirror image of himself.  “Do I look familiar now?” He spat out, annoyed by the impostor.  

“Quite,” He said stiffly.  Loki pushed him back while “Scott” wasn’t paying that much attention.  He walked to the other side of the room, giving the two of them space between one another.  “I am Loki.  But who are you?” 

“That’s impossible,” Scott said.  “This reality’s version of me was supposed to die in 2018.” 

“2018?” Loki questioned.  “The year 2018?” 

“Yes, the year 2018,” Scott rolled his eyes.  “What other year would I mean?” 

“What year is it now then?” 

“2023.  You’ve been dead for 5 years and yet you’re here.  The T.V.A didn’t tell me about this.  Of course they wouldn’t.”

“The T.V.A?” 

Scott ignored his question.  “Now I’m stuck in the Scarlet Witch’s fake reality with another version of me.  But they told me he died.  Is it possible?” He was thinking aloud, causing Loki to grow even more confused. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Scott shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I have a mission to carry out if I want to get out of there.  Plans have changed.” 

~

Ten minutes later you found yourself walking to Ellis Avenue.  It was close to the edge of town, and very few people lived there anymore.  The sun may have been shining and birds may have been chirping, but you felt like the air was icy as you got closer to the border.  The sign “Leaving Westview: We hope to see you again soon!” looked old and rundown, as if no one had touched it in decades.  An image of a family playing in the park was shown next to the lettering.  Perhaps once upon a time it was a cute sign.  Now it seemed ominous. 

A sense of dread and misery started to seep in as you continued walking closer to the end of the road.  It was like you couldn’t control your own thoughts anymore.  Or perhaps, it was the other way around.  For the first time this week you felt like you were gaining control again.  

Making your way to the border, you noticed that there was not a single person in sight.  The road continued on, making its way through the forest that was only a mile away.  The trees swayed with the wind soundlessly.  A part of you almost seemed to beg to leave the town.  

So you kept on walking. 

It felt like some sort of energy was trying desperately to pull you away from it.  You couldn’t understand what pulled you to this town, what kept trying to pull you back into it.  You hardly remember anything before Westview.  What was on the outside? 

You were abruptly stopped by a barrier.  It was glowing red, much like the other objects you saw a few days ago.  The vibrant color seemed to pulse and move as you walked closer.  It was an electrifying feeling, being this close to the magic that kept everyone trapped inside.  Some part of you begged, screamed for you to stay back.  The other part of you asked for the exact opposite.  

You touched the barrier, a shock running up your arm when you did.  You almost pulled back instantly, but something protected you from it.  You stared in amazement as blue shockwaves seemed to surround your hand.  They disappeared, fading off into the red barrier.  

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby.  No one seemed to be in sight, but you felt like you were being watched.  You turned back to the barrier, pushing your hand further in.  It hurt, but something egged you on, daring you to cross it.  

You took a step in, watching the red engulf your entire body.  You couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even see anything that was going on.  You had two options: Go back into the town that you’re trapped in or see what’s on the outside.  

It seemed to last forever, but it was probably because you could hardly move while you were in it.  It felt as if you were frozen solid.  Whatever it was didn’t want you to get out.  Memories were starting to seep in though.  Memories of the distant past, and memories of what had happened only two weeks ago.  

You gained feeling back in your hand again.  You had to be close to the end if you could feel it.  In just a split second you were thrown out of the barrier.  You collapsed onto the grass, taking a deep breath.  It felt like someone splashed cold water on you.  

Lights began to blind you as you heard voices all around you.  “Put her in custody, and someone get a doctor!” You heard one say.  It was distinct, clear, loud.  Whoever it was sounded like the leader. 

You felt several people pull you up from the ground, placing you on a softer surface.  A gurney, probably.  You blinked several times, squinting to see where you were.  Someone familiar stood next to you.  It was Geraldine.  Was that her name?  

At that point it didn’t matter.  Your head was in too much pain from everything else that was going on to care.  

“You’ll be okay, Y/N.  We’re going to get you checked out,” The woman reassured you.  She smiled slightly and you tried to smile back at her. 

You started to doze off, choosing to sleep and recover from the traumatic experience you just had.  For the first time in a long time you were able to dream.  These dreams weren’t normal though.  

They were memories. 

Memories of everything before Westview. 

Scott watched Loki’s body slowly disappear.  Clearly, he was just an illusion.  Something set up by the Scarlet Witch to keep Y/N in control.  He contacted the TVA on his communicator, sending them a message as he watched the body dissolve.  

He was told that this reality was created by the Scarlet Witch and that he had to get the timeline back on track.  They never told him about Y/N being involved.  They didn’t even tell him that an illusion of himself would be in it too.  

The plan would have to change if he wanted to make sure this worked.  They didn’t even give him an idea of how to set the timeline right.  Now that he knows what’s going on, he has an idea. 

And now, he’ll make sure he gets out of here in time. 

And he’ll be sure to give the Time Variance Authority hell.  

~

Wanda smiled down at Billy, sitting next to Vision who held Tommy.  She felt something turn in her chest.  Something was wrong.  Her eyes widened, and she looked out across the room, zoning out.  

Vision noticed that she seemed distracted, trapped in her thoughts.  He reached over slightly to touch her hand, bringing her back.  She turned to him and smiled.  

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked. 

“No, nothing at all.  Everything is just fine.” She said, looking down at Billy once more.  

She wasn’t going to concern him with the fact that she knew something was wrong. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth @weclassygirl @justfangirlingaround @drpepperobsessed @how-does-this-work @prideofnewberk @matterdontminduntildone

[gumnut-logic]

Wire (Bit 9)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6 | Bit 7 | Bit 8 | Bit 9

I’ve sat on this bit too long, staring at it. here, have it :D

-o-o-o-

Virgil stopped responding.

“Scott, we are running out of time.” Grandma’s voice as the scanner he had set up spat yellow over his prone brother again. There were no spinal injuries, though it all came damned close. Yet again Virgil’s heavy-duty uniform and exo-suit had saved his life. But his helmet had not been enough to protect him fully from the eighteen-storey fall, the plexiglass fractured with a massive crack as if to punctuate the damage to the man it held.

Skull and brain were far from as strong and Virgil had a head injury that was only going to get worse the longer he lay there.

His brother’s uniform had been compromised by the concrete that had dug into his belly. Rebar that had not been enough to support the building had still been enough to penetrate tough material and abdomen.

“Working on it, Grandma.” She reflected his internal panic because she was right. Virgil’s status showed all the signs of an impending crash he would not recover from. Hell, it was a miracle he had made it this far.

The little boy he had protected with his life, may not be so lucky.

But Scott did not have the time for pondering. While John, Eos and Gordon removed the pile of building from Virgil’s legs, Scott had finally been able to reach one of the two injuries of most concern and swath it up in an attempt to prevent more blood loss.

A vain attempt.

A laser cutter made a short job of cutting off his brother’s exo-suit and baldric. They had done their job.

Now Scott had good access.

Access to injury.

He muttered between his teeth as he padded the wound with more dressing. “C’mon, Virgil.”

-o-o-o-

A bird startled and lifted off pasture with a squawk.

Virgil stared as it disappeared off into the distance.

The fence was fixed and Grandpa sat beside him in the shade of one of the windbreak trees drinking from a water flask. A couple of Grandma’s biscuits sat in a lunchbox between them. Off to their right the tractor sat quiet and gleaming in the sun.

Virgil looked down at his boots, mildly surprised to find specialised blue and green rather than the gumboots he wore around the farm.

He then realised he was fully dressed in his IR uniform, but his baldric was missing.

In the distance, he could hear Scott yelling at a brother. His voice bounced across the fields from the house, rendered unintelligible by distance except for the emotion behind it. Scott was very upset.

Virgil frowned.

“You gonna have a drink? Warm out here, you need to keep hydrated.”

He turned to his grandfather and stared at his smiling, freckled face. It occurred to him that Grandpa had never seen his IR uniform, never heard of International Rescue and was one of the reasons the organisation existed.

Because he was dead.

“Grandpa?”

“You did good, squirt.”

“I did?”

“Did the Tracy name proud.”

Virgil blinked. That had never really been his intention.

“But I believe your Grandma is calling for you, and you know you can never ignore that.” He took a swig from his canteen. “Grandma knows best.”

Virgil stared at him. “Yeah, she does.”

Pale turquoise eyes smiled at him. “So, what are you waiting for? Go. Git.” He waved a hand in the direction of the homestead.

Virgil stared at him a moment before reaching over and grabbing the man in a hug. “Miss you, Grandpa.” God, the man was so small against him.

“Yeah, I miss you too, squirt. But you have business elsewhere and your grandmother will have my hide if I keep you out here any longer.” He nudged Virgil away. “Go, son. We’ll see each other again soon enough.”

“Grandpa?”

“Go, Virgil! You are needed!”

Scott was screaming.

Pushing himself to his feet, Virgil stared down at his grandfather, a man who now seemed so little yet was such a big part of his life.

“Go!”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

Virgil turned back to the farmhouse.

Scott was screaming his name.

Grass bent under his boots.

-o-o-o-

Bleeding.

Pressure on the brain.

They lost Virgil before they could dig him out.

But Scott could not accept that and fought and screamed and forced his brother to breathe, his heart to beat, for him to come back from wherever he had gone.

Because he was needed here.

That heart teased and faltered, struggled.

Scott only screamed louder.

Gordon was the breath while Scott was the heart and together they dragged their desperately injured brother out from under the building and onto his beloved ‘bird. It was Alan who flew them those few moments to the nearest major hospital. It was John who gave the hospital the sitrep as Scott and Gordon battled to keep Virgil alive.

What he needed they couldn’t give him.

So, they kept him with them until they could reach someone who could.

-o-o-o-

Next

[everlarkficexchange]

Naked To the One You Love

by: @ameliaodair​

Prompt #46: They really do toast privately in CF – Katniss wearing an orange dress for Peeta and Peeta making cheese buns for Katniss.  They wanted something their own.  No one knows about it and there’s no baby (as far as they know) but how would this change their relationship? How they make their decisions? Would anyone actually believe them when she gets to District 13? [submitted by anonymous]

Peeta, with the help of Prim and Rye has the perfect day planned for he and Katniss.  This is the day they will finally have their toasting.  Will everything go as perfectly as Peeta planned it?

This story goes hand-in-hand with my current WIP called, “Another Way Out.”  If you want to read more, you can find it on AO3 and FFN.

Word Count: 5768

Rated: M for fluff and smut and lemons.

Warning: Adult content below

Un-beta’d, all mistakes are mine

 Naked To the One you Love

| Peeta |

“What are we doing?” Katniss asks as I lead us toward the meadow.  It’s early still, the sun barely making its presence known along the horizon as it bleeds its hues of purples, oranges, and pinks into the morning sky.

“Having breakfast,” I tell her simply, shivering from the cold.

“In the snow?” She quibbles, rubbing her hands together to warm them up.  I sneak my arm around her shoulder and pull her close.  She allows it, pressing her popsicle nose into my neck.

“Just be quiet and follow me,” I tell her, which grants me a scowl— no surprise there.  When we finally reach our tree, we climb up and I surprise her by opening the door to our tree house.

“Wow, it’s a lot bigger than last time,” she smiles, looking around the tiny room to inspect my handy work.  It was only a little more than a week ago when I found a large plank and, with Rye’s help we got it to the top of this tree.  Using some of my dad’s tools, I nailed the plank to one of the sturdier branches.  Each day since then I have come out here, adding more planks to it, and now it looks like a tiny little house.  Or well, well … more like one … very small room of a rather tiny house.  It is just spacious enough for the two of us to stretch out comfortably, but it’s a place of our own, somewhere to go when we need to get away.  It’s the closest we can get to the woods since the fence is electrified twenty-four-seven now.

We spend the morning in our little makeshift tree home, enjoying the breakfast I packed and watching the miracle of another sun rise.  After surviving the games with the love of your life, you learn to appreciate the little things in life.  Like sunrises and sunsets.  Like sharing meals with your loved ones.   Things you didn’t think were important before suddenly become of the utmost importance.  So, Katniss and I bask in the warmth from the sun and just enjoy being together like this.  With no cameras and no Haymitch.  No Effie or prep teams chasing our tails and scolding us about schedules.  As much as we love and adore all of them, it’s nice to have a break from them.  Finally, it’s just us, which is just the way I like it.

“I think it’s time to get Prim,” Katniss tells me when she sees the sun positioned above the bakery.  It always amazes me how she knows what time it is by the position of the sun.

I frown and jut my lip out, exaggerating my disappointment.  “No, not yet.  Just one more minute,” I whine, leaning in for a kiss.

“Come on Peeta, I don’t want Prim walking home alone.” Katniss contests, squirming out of my arms.  As much as I don’t want to leave right now, I know she’s right.  We leave everything in the tree and climb down, deciding we’ll most likely return once Prim is safely back at home.  Together, we walk to the school and wait for Prim just outside the gates of the school yard.  I’m not sure how much Prim knows much about what’s going on, if anything, but Katniss and I are too afraid to let her walk anywhere in the district alone.  Afraid of what Snow might do. 

Everyone, even Katniss’s mom said her father’s death was just a stroke of bad luck— that he had an aneurysm that no one knew about, that ruptured.  That if they’d had the technology the people in the Capitol have at their fingertips, they could have caught and treated it.  But we know better.  There was no Capitol technology or any fancy device that would have spared his life.  There is no doubt in my mind— or Katniss’s that Snow was the cause of her dad’s untimely death.  Of course, it wasn’t him per say, because he was clearly safe inside the President’s Mansion in the Capitol, but more than likely one of his spies here in 12.  The timing of everything was just too coincidental, not to mention the fact that he offered his condolences before it even happened.

“Oh, I told Rye we’d stop by the bakery on our way home today,” I tell Prim and Katniss, giving Prim a little wink.  It’s a lie, but Katniss doesn’t know that.  When I clued Prim in on my master plan just the other day, she was more than happy to go along with it— knowing that we all need something positive in our lives— something to celebrate.

We stop by the bakery and I breathe a sigh of relief that my mother is nowhere in sight.  She isn’t supposed to be here for another hour or so, but that hasn’t stopped her from making an unscheduled appearance before.  Rye has trouble keeping a straight face as he prepares a bag for us, filled with Katniss’s favorites.

“Hey, I uh … I was about to head out and stop by to see Dad, I can walk Prim home,” Rye suggests, also aware of my plan.

Katniss squirms in place, uncomfortable to even the thought of letting Prim out of her sight but I assure her it’s okay.  Rye will protect Prim and keep her safe.  They have grown rather close over the last few weeks … or, well, ever since Mr. Everdeen got sick while Katniss and I were still on the Victory Tour.

I remember thanking him for being there for my surrogate family and he rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, like you’d ever let me hear the end of it if I was there and didn’t help if I could.”  

‘Right,’ I thought to myself.  ‘It had nothing to do with you actually caring about them, let alone that you are a decent human being,’ but I kept those thoughts to myself.

“Prim is safe with me, I assure you that I will take extra good care of her,” Rye assuages.  Katniss squirms uncomfortably, so Rye adds, “Katniss, I promise.  You have my word.”

“Extra good?” Katniss smirks after a second, her shoulders slowly relaxing. “Maybe on your way there, Prim can teach you some grammar,” she says in that snarky tone of hers.

“Katniss, we’ll go straight home, I swear!” Prim decrees, clasping her hands together and poking her lip out.  Katniss narrows her eyes, which is preceded with a scowl, but then she finally concedes.

“Fine.  Go straight home.  NO detours.”

Prim wraps her arms around Katniss’s waist and squeals, “Thank you, thank you, thank you Katniss!  You are the best sister ever!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Katniss remarks, trying to hide her grin.  Like me, she finds it extremely difficult to deny Prim anything.

After Katniss and I collect our stuff from the treehouse, I get an idea.  “I want to make a snowman,” I tell her with a cheeky smile.

“A snowman?  Seriously?  But it’s cold Peeta,” she whines.

“That’s the point.  You can’t make a snowman when it’s warm.”  So, that’s what we do, we build a snowman until she gets the bright idea to chuck a snowball at my face.  And then— it’s on.  I scoop up a ball of snow and sling it at Katniss, hitting her square in the shoulder.

With her impeccable aim, I should have known that I had no chance in the world of besting her in a snowball fight. 

“Hey, that’s not fair,” she whines when she sees the pile of snowballs I have hidden behind the snowman.  She might have impeccable aim, but I am the youngest of three boys— I had to work twice as hard to keep up with them.

“You started it,” I tell her and chuck another ball of snow at her.  For the next hour or so, we have fun, smiling and laughing while getting snow blasted in our faces.  Katniss tackles me from the side and slams me down on my back.  She straddles my hips, pinning my arms to the ground.

“I win, you lose,” she says triumphantly, planting a victory kiss to my lips.

“That may be true, but I think it’s me who is the real winner here.”

Her eyes knit together in confusion, “And just how exactly do you figure that?”

“Well, you’ve got me pinned to the ground, I’m trapped underneath you.  I’ll gladly lose to you if this is my punishment,” I tell her with a crooked grin.

“Come on, let’s go home.  I’m cold,” she says, climbing off my hips and helping me up.  Under normal circumstances I do not need help getting around with my prosthesis.  However, the snow adds many challenges to my already uneven gait.

No longer able to feel either our fingers, toes, or our faces, we make our way back to my house to warm up.  Rye and my dad are hanging out two doors down, at the Everdeen’s, so I don’t have to worry about anyone barging in on us.  Once I get the fire started, we curl up on a blanket I spread out on the floor, soaking up the heat from the flames.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Katniss tells me once the feeling in her fingers returns and then she makes her way upstairs.  Her absence gives me the perfect opportunity to get everything in order.  The moment she is out of sight, I begin creating a mental checklist of everything I need to do.  Once I hear the water splashing against the tile floor, I zip into the kitchen and get to work.  I begin by filling a tray with the cheese buns from the bakery— Katniss’ favorite, and pop them into the oven to warm them up.  And then I take out the dough of the white bread I prepared a few days ago, made for this exact occasion.  I open the drawer that contains the papers and pull them out.  “Certificate of Marriage,” I whisper the words aloud.

“Please be okay with this Katniss,” I anxiously tell myself. “Stop it Peeta.  She loves you, you love her; that’s the only thing that matters.” I remind myself, trying to talk myself up so I don’t chicken out. 

Once all the bread is ready to go, I place them on a table next to the couch and wait for Katniss to come back down.

I am not waiting long when she comes gliding down the stairs in an immaculate floor-length orange summer dress.  The straps holding the dress up on her shoulders are skinny, and for some reason they remind me of spaghetti noodles.  It is snug at the top and gets looser the more the light orange fades into a deeper orange.  My eyes nearly bug out of my head at the sight of her.  She is beautiful, she is exquisite and stunning and just … WOW.  It must be one of the dresses Cinna sent back with her, because I’ve never seen this one before.  And although this one is clearly a dress meant for days with bright sun and scorching heat— it’s not like we’ll be going outside.

It is so unlike her when she twirls around once, a huge smile on her face.  “Do you like it?”

For a moment, I’m speechless, “I … I love it, it’s beautiful; you’re beautiful.”

She blushes, joining me on the floor and I prop some pillows up for us to lean against.

“Are you hungry?” I nervously ask her.  Dammit, why am I so nervous?

“What do you think?” She huffs, her eyes narrowing with her trademark scowl, which forces a chuckle to escape from my throat.  It’s a stupid question to ask anyone who is a resident of 12.  Everyone is hungry, even those of us who are more fortunate than the others.  I hand her the platter of cheese buns, but she’s eyeing the other tray.  “What’s that?” She asks, pointing behind my back.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I tell her and shift my body, hoping to block her view.

“Oh my God, Peeta; is that—” The papers are all but forgotten as her eyes go saucer eyed when she catches sight of the bread behind me.  She crawls over me and picks the bread up, delicately turning it over and over in her hands.  “Is this—”

I bashfully look away and nod my head, “It is,” I admit.  Her head snaps to the right— and then to the left as she surveys the room.  And then it all hits her at once as she realizes what this is.  For a moment, I am afraid she’s going to go running for the hills, but instead, she reaches for the bread knife and begins sawing at the loaf.  She frees the piece of bread and impales it on a poker before placing it over the fire.  While she rotates the poker to evenly toast the bread, she looks over to me, her silver eyes glistening with the flames and smiles.

“Do I ever tell you how much I love you?  H-how important you are to me?” She asks as her eyes meet mine.  And maybe it’s just the heat from the flames, but her cheeks suddenly flush into crimson.

All my anxiety dissipates into her gray orbs as I extend my hand out, curling a strand of her hair around my finger.  “It is implied every single day, in everything you do,” I tell her softly.

She pulls the poker back and places it down next to the hearth, but not before removing the slightly toasted bread from its prongs.  She juggles the bread from one hand to the other— again and again as she waits for it to cool.

My eyes are cemented on her while my anxiety rises to a new level as I await her next actions.

“Peeta … you are … the most amazingly incredible person I know— have ever known.  And … I never thought I wanted this, but you— you changed everything for me.  You changed the way I see the world, and I … I can’t imagine a life without you.  And … even if I could, I don’t want to.”

Woah, wait a minute, what is she doing?  Those are supposed to be my words.

‘Katniss, what are you doing?’ I ask her in our silent form of communication.

‘I think you know,’ she smiles mischievously at me.

“Uh-uhn, no, that’s my job, I had this all planned out.”

“Oh, so that’s what today was all about?” She exclaims with a bright smile on her face.  I can’t help but return the smile as I lean over and press my lips against hers.  Using my weight, I push her down onto her back and kiss her deeply— thoroughly running my tongue along her lips, sucking … pulling her bottom lip into my mouth until she shivers.

“I love you Katniss Everdeen,” I mumble through our connected lips.  “I love everything about you; even the things I hate about you, I love.” I crawl up next to her, our bodies continuing to absorb the heat from the flames as I stare longingly into her beautiful grey eyes.

“You ruined my plans, I’m not sure if I can forgive you for that,” I quip, smiling and gazing into her perfect eyes.

“What if I …” She intentionally hesitates, lifting the seam of my shirt up and tracing her fingers lightly across my stomach, “do this?” She finishes, sending goosebumps prickling against my skin and I squirm from side to side with her touch.

“Nothing’s ruined,” she promises.  “All I said, was I wanted for it to be ours; that I didn’t want the day I became yours, and you mine to be in front of a Capitol audience.  As long as it’s just us, I don’t care about the rest.”

And she says she’s not good with words.

I take her hands into mine, our heads sharing the same pillow as we stare into each other’s eyes, “Katniss, I was mesmerized by you since I was a five-year old, snaggle-toothed little boy.  I can’t even remember a time I didn’t love you; and for so long, I never thought you would give me the time of day.  I thought … for so long I thought that just being your friend would be enough, but after having your love— after having your heart … I can’t imagine a life without you.  I know you only said yes because of … well, because of everything, but I swear to you, I will be the best husband you could ever hope to have.  I—”

“Peeta, I—” She interjects, but I stop her.

“Please Katniss, please let me finish,” she nods, not pushing it any further.  I glance down to the bread and then back at her, “I offer this toasted bread to you with the promise of being your best friend.  I will listen when you need someone to talk to; when you just need to vent, my ears will be open, or if you just need a sounding board, I will be that too.  You will never have to be alone again because I will be by your side.“

‘Always,‘ I add in our silent way.

“Even when you don’t think you want me there, I will be.  I will hold your hand when you’re scared, and I will be right here, right next to you, scared with you.  I will tell you that everything will be okay— because even if it’s not, we will have each other.  I will always, always be there to catch you before you fall.  And … and I’ll give you a push if that’s what you need, too.  Because I love you.”

Her eyes are pooled with tears and her chin quivers as she reaches for our toasted slice of bread and holds it up between us. It is the only thing separating our lips.  And then I part my lips and allow her to feed me the bread, our bread.  Our little slice of heaven that signifies our love.  I sink my teeth into the perfectly toasted bread, as does she.  Our teeth sink into our promise to the other and then we seal it with a kiss.

“I love you Peeta Mellark, my husband.”

“And I, you; Katniss Everdeen; my wife.”

“I think that would be Katniss Mellark now; get it right,” she tries to scowl at me but fails, erupting in a giggle.

“I like the sound of that, Mrs. Katniss Mellark— Oh, that reminds me!” I exclaim jubilantly, nearly bursting at the seams as I jump up to collect the papers the mayor had given me earlier this week.

“What’s that?” Katniss asks me.

“It’s um … they’re the papers.  To um, make it official.”

“Seriously?  When— How?” I breathe out a sigh of relief when she doesn’t object.  That she seems genuinely excited.

“The mayor.  But … we can’t tell anyone; she’ll be in a load of trouble if anyone finds out.”

“My husband … conspiring with the mayor,” Katniss beams, glowing with pride.  I am incapable of concealing the cheesy, shit-eating grin when she calls me her husband.

As I watch her grip the pen in her hand and sign her name on all the dotted lines, I pinch myself to see if I am dreaming.  I can’t believe it; I am actually, really, truly and officially married to Katniss Everdeen— Mellark.

“Wait!  I have something for you,” Katniss says and rushes up the stairs.  I hear her run into my room and then a drawer slams before she is sprinting back down the stairs.

“You already gave me a ring, and I um … I want you to have this Peeta,” she says, her cheeks flushing as she reaches for my hand.  Refusing to meet my eyes, she slips something onto my finger.

I pull my hand up to look at what she’s placed on my finger to see a ring adorned to the pointer finger of my right hand.  Then she takes her ring off the chain of her necklace— (the one I gave her in District 4 the night of my true proposal to her— the one that once belonged to her mother, given to me by her father) and does the same.  

It’s a tradition in 12 that goes along with the toasting.  Everyone knows that your wedding ring is typically worn on the fourth finger of your left hand, but in 12, it starts out on the pointer finger of your right hand.  There was a tradition from before the dark days that said you start off like this because there is a vein … or maybe it’s an artery that runs from your finger to your heart.  And since marriage is the ultimate promise, by doing this you are connecting your hearts together.  Once the ceremony is over, then you switch it to the fourth finger of your left hand.

Katniss leans over to kiss me and we switch the ring to our proper fingers while our lips are still conjoined.  For now.  I will eventually have to find a clever place to keep mine until … until well, I don’t know.  But the Capitol cannot know we are already married.

After all the traditions are complete, I take our marriage papers to the office room upstairs and tuck them away in a safe place.  Then, with a little extra pep in my step, I find my way back to the main room and scoop Katniss into my arms.

“Peeta!  What are you doing?” She squeals like a giddy schoolgirl, encircling her arms around my neck.  Carefully, I make my way up the stairs and into my room— our room.  Who am I kidding?  It’s always been our room— no piece of paper or ceremony was needed to decide that for us.

“I am carrying my wife over the threshold.  The toasting isn’t complete until that’s been done,” I remind her with a kiss.

“Okay,” she says, nuzzling her head against my chest.  No thanks to my artificial leg, we make it up the steps successfully.  I press my lips against hers as my foot passes the threshold.  Now, all the standard traditions of 12 are complete, except for the final one.  The one that really seals the deal.  Consummation.

Just thinking the word in my head causes me to stumble.  My brain seems to forget how to gracefully put one foot in front of the other and I fall face first onto my bed, my body nearly crushing my beautiful wife.

She giggles; a foreign sound, but it is one that I cherish.  “I love you,” I say, pressing my forehead against hers.

“Smooth,” she says, and I can feel her lips forming into a smile against my mouth.

“So, now, we’re supposed to um …” There is a nervous energy between us; she’s scared, as am I.  Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified in my life, and that’s saying something— having survived an arena and all.

“Katniss, you know … we don’t have to do this, we can just—”

“What? You don’t want to?” She interjects defensively.

“No, no— I mean, yes, I do.  I was just saying … if you don’t want to, it’s okay.  We don’t have to, we can wait,” I stumble over my words trying to reassure her.

“I want to Peeta,“ she says certainly, never taking her eyes off mine.  "I have wanted to for a while now, and I think we’ve waited long enough.  Will you … will you help me unzip my dress?” Her eyes flit to the floor as she smiles nervously, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue.

She doesn’t have to ask me twice.  While Katniss and I have done many things, getting caught up in heated kisses, touching in places I would rather not mention, we have never gone this far.  We have never gone all the way.  She turns around and pulls her hair to the side, granting me access to her zipper.  I scrupulously glide the zipper down until it refuses to budge another inch and delicately slide the sleeves down her arms.  A frown of disappointment encases my lips when she begins to braid her hair.

I press my lips to her bare neck and kiss my way to her shoulder, which causes a moan to expel from her lips.  “Leave it down, please.”

“Mmm hmmm,” she moans.

“My God, you are so beautiful,” I tell her, my lips trailing down to the crest of her shoulder.  Finally, I sling her dress into the chair next to my bed and she nervously flips onto her back, incredulously facing me. 

‘Oh my God, Katniss is naked, bare to me and in my bed,’ I think to myself as I stare her up and down.

Feeling self-conscious … probably due to my ogling her, she reaches over and pulls the sheet to cover her near-naked body.

“No, what are you doing?” I ask her, tugging the fabric back.

“I just … feel so … naked without my clothes,” she says, flushing with embarrassment.

“Well, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

“Well then … be naked with me,” she says, tugging on the hem of my shirt, eager for me to remove it.  I slide my shirt off and it joins her dress in the chair.  I am hesitant to remove my pants, still self-conscious about my leg.

“Pants too,” Katniss whispers in a raspy— so, so sexy voice.

“I … I—”

“Peeta, I love all of you, even the Capitol-made parts,” she takes charge and flips me over, undoes the button of my pants, and I am too paralyzed to refuse; not that I would want to.  She removes my pants, then sits up and straddles my hips.  With nothing but our underclothes on, we are completely bare to each other, and I understand what she meant about feeling naked without her clothes.  There is nothing to conceal our insecurities, both physical and emotional.  But that’s the point, right?  To be completely open, bare— naked to the one you love.  To have nothing— no secrets between you.  However, underneath all my anxiety, I don’t know if I���ve ever felt anything quite this amazing before.  We slip under the covers and I click the lamp on that sits on my nightstand.  It emanates a soft glow, perfectly lighting the room, while producing a shadow over the insecurities.

“Can I take your leg off?” Katniss asks me.  She must be in my head again— I was just too embarrassed to take the initiative— afraid she would find my mutilated leg … repulsive.

“Okay,” I say.  For the first time I realize she’s had a lot of practice helping me put it on and take it off as she slips it off with ease.

“I don’t want any part of the Capitol here for this,” she says, placing kisses against the scar on my leg.  I pull her up to me and flip her back onto her back.

We are a tangled mess of arms and legs, our tongues dancing together in a frenzy, yet in perfect synchronicity.  As if they’d been practicing for years and years until they reached utter perfection.  I trail kisses along her neck, down to her collarbone and across her shoulders.  I want to kiss every inch of her body; I don’t want to miss a single bit of her skin.  I reach down and cup her perfect breasts in my hands and she moans out in pleasure, which causes my cock to pulse until it is fully erect.

“Touch me Peeta,” surrendering to her every command, I stroke her arms, and then add light touches to her perfectly flattened stomach.  I caress my hands up and down her legs, trying to muster up the courage to touch her there.  Finally, I do, and she’s so hot and wet for me.  I slide one finger inside her center and keep it in there while I use my thumb to rub circles on that little bundle of nerves that I know has the power to make her come undone.

Her body tenses up and I know I’ve hit the right spot when she pants out my name.  “I could be satisfied … happy, just doing that to you … every second of every minute, of every single day,” I tell her once the intensity of her climax has subsided.

“Then how would you make me cheese buns?” She says with a heavy breath.  Smiling, I inch up to her face and kiss her.  Soft and light at first, and then harder, deeper— as if I am starving and her lips are the only way to satiate my hunger. 

“I need you Peeta; I— I need you closer,” she breathes into me and I instantly know what she means. She wants me to be inside her.  We have both wanted this for such a long time, I almost can’t believe it’s actually happening.  I kiss her softly as I fumble my way on top of her.  Using one elbow to prop myself up, my other hands grips onto my cock as I tease her entrance with my hardened member.  Even without being inside her, I can feel how wet she is.  Which only causes my already rock-hard cock to pulse even harder.  She spreads her legs open for me and I fumble nervously, guiding my cock into her entrance and sliding inside her— slowly at first.

“Is this okay?” I ask her, recalling an embarrassing conversation with Rye as he gave me the intricate details that a girl’s first time can be painful, and that it’s important that they are “ready” prior to penetration.

“More Peeta, I need all of you,” she demands, locking her legs around my hips and digging her heels into the back of my calves.  Slowly, I push myself deeper into her, impaling her, until finally, I am fully submerged into her heat.

“Holy FUCK!” I gasp, crying out when my cock is surrounded by her walls.  “Is- is this okay?” I ask her again, not wanting to do anything that might hurt her.  It is taking every bit of willpower that I possess to keep my body still— to prevent my hips from ramming deep— and hard, into her.

“Oh God, Peeta, you feel so good.  Please … please, Peeta—” she begs me, and I’ve never been very good at denying her anything as I submit to her will.  Slowly, I partially retract myself from her center and then slowly, slowly push myself back inside, our pelvises grinding against each other.  Her nails dig into my back, finding their way to my ass and then she squeezes—

“Holy FUCK, how did you just do that?” I ask when her walls tighten around my cock.

“What … this?” She grins, repeating the action, “You like that?” She says in a teasing, seductive voice.

“Katniss— stop … or I’m going to … or I won’t last, and I want … this has to be perfect,” I beg her and then she reaches up, encircling her arms around my neck and pressing her mouth to mine.

“It’s already perfect because I’m with you,” she tells me in-between heated kisses.  And once again, she stupefies me with her words.

“Oh God, I love you too, my perfect, beautiful, amazingly gifted wife,” I tell her, while gliding in … gliding out of her sex.

“Katniss … I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last if you keep doing that … where do you want me to—”

“Right where you are,” she tells me, knowing what I am trying to say.

“But,” I question her with a raise of my brow.

“I took that pill Effie gave you— I mean, me,” she explains, running her tongue along my ear.

I shiver from the contact and lose all control as I slam into her— again and again before grinding into her center once more.  We both grind; hard and slow, and deep— achieving the perfect rhythm until I feel that familiar stirring deep in my stomach— and then we’re both moaning, and yelling, and whispering— shouting— gasping the other’s name and I’m spilling into her, filling her with my seed; both of us believing that Effie’s miracle pill from the Capitol will prevent any watering of said seed.

0 – 0 – 0

Curious about their “unspoken language”?  Or Katniss’s father’s untimely death?  Or who the mayor of 12 is since it clearly is not Mayor Undersee?  Come check out my THG re-writes: Changing the Game (Complete) and Another Way Out (In progress) (The final book/story is TBA).  Told in multiple POV’s.  AND, find out what happens once Katniss reaches District 13.  Does anyone know they actually and officially got married in 12?  Does Katniss get pregnant?  Does Effie’s miracle pill work for them?

[noctarcanum]

army dreamers || levi ackerman x male!oc

Rowan, the young, but promising marleyan warrior candidate was never famous for his ability to keep out of other people's businesses. After getting caught up in his family's history of titan experiments and genetically modified clans, his supervisors decide to harvest said curiosity and lack of discipline. He wakes up on a ship, sailing north, with a piece of paper in his backpack that has only one sentence written on it, over and over again: "Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home."

chapter one: the remaining

‘So, is it true?’

Zeke pushed himself away from the concrete wall he was leaning against.

‘What?’

‘That you’re the one to inherit it.’

The streets of the inner district got filled with busy adults, hurrying home from work. The two blonde boys slowly made their way through the crows, leaving the training center behind them. The setting sun painted an orange glow on the old, shiny stones and bricks.

‘Oh,’ Zeke sighed. ‘Yeah. But keep quiet!’

‘Quiet?’ Rowan exclaimed with sparkling eyes. ‘But this is awesome, you can finally be an honorary marleyan! You’re gonna be rich or some shit! Who knows about it?’

‘Those who need to know about it.’

Rowan walked next to him in silence, as he examined the stores they were passing by. Women with thicker arms than some warriors were carrying wooden boxes back from the street, cleaned the blackboards. He didn’t really understand why they had to clean them, after all, the same thing was advertised on them every day: potatoes and flour. Maybe because the price got higher and higher.

He thought about what his sister and mother did while he was away at training and then the interrogation. He doubted if Ma even got dressed.

‘Do you want to come over for dinner?’ asked Rowan. ‘You could tell Cornelia the big news!’

‘I was there yesterday…’

‘And?’

They turned at the corner but didn’t stop at Zeke’s house.

‘Do you think I have a bigger chance now to get the armored? I mean, you could say some nice things about me every now and then!’

‘Yeah, I’ll tell them about you. What nice things could I say to them, though? You are already on thin ice, that would just end up me also being punished.’

Rowan rolled his eyes but didn’t respond.

‘You’re being punished, right?’ Zeke inquired.

‘Well, yes, technically, no. They kept talking about all the things they can thank my family, and how it won’t protect me forever, and…’

‘They’re right, you know.’

‘I know,’ Rowan sighed. ‘Also, interrupt me again and you’re not getting dinner. As I was saying… they sort of agreed with me. Or I was just hallucinating out of stress.’

‘I highly doubt that’s a thing’ Zeke shook his head. ‘What on Earth did you say to them that they agreed?’

‘Well, they first shouted at me that I need to stop acting up, they can’t deal with me anymore in these times. You know, they’re about to plan the mission to retrieve the Founding… but they don’t even have proper candidates yet, they’re just stupid fuckers who never learned how to deal with pressure…’

‘Rowan, quiet!’

‘Shit, okay, got it!’ the younger frowned. ‘It was quite the speech they gave, though. About the titan experiments my ancestors did, and those… families. That the shifters they will have to send to Paradis will not only have to deal with those devils, but entire clans of genetically manipulated guard dogs, and they really don’t have the time to discipline me every time I’m too nosy. So, it got me thinking, and I just blurted it out, that they should get rid of the families first, then comes the hunt for the founding titan…’

Zeke raised a brow, his eyes locked on Rowan. He knew him too much, that tall monkey was already thinking, planning, or just revising ideas. His train of thought was interrupted by the sight of two soldiers, patrolling the narrow street.

‘When were they placed here?’ asked Rowan, as Zeke didn’t comment on the phenomenon.

‘They weren’t here yesterday,’ he muttered.

‘That’s why I asked, dumbass.’

Zeke yet again stayed silent – he did that an awfully lot of times. Rowan sometimes wondered if it simply was his nature, or he became like this after… what happened with Aunt Dina and Uncle Grisha. What he did not like to wonder about, is that what would happen to Cornelia and Ma if he got sent to paradise, like Zeke’s parents. Would they break down? Miss him? Rent out his bedroom immediately? Starve to death?

‘So, I only said the… plan or whatthefuckever to get them off my tail, but I think I really did give them ideas… I hope this makes me more favorable when it will come to the inheriting the armored titan!’ He had to blabber about something before his mind went to a darker place.

Rowan locked the front door behind them as they entered the narrow townhouse. Thick dust sat everywhere, around and on the once elegant leather shoes his mother used to wear but wasn’t picked up in weeks. The filth that Ma didn’t take care of quickly distracted him from the bad feeling he got from the soldiers on the street, this far from the fence.

‘Ma! Cornelia! Zeke is staying here tonight! What’s for dinner?’ he shouted, but got no answer, as usual.

They found his sister at the kitchen table, sleeping on top of a pile of textbooks. Her silver hair spread out on the pages, but he knew she studied for her pilot exams. Which she won’t be able to take if they’re not honorary marleyans. Another thought Rowan needed a distraction from.

Rowan gave Zeke a more comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants, after they both changed they headed back to the kitchen. Their cupboards were almost completely empty.

‘Didn’t you get the aid this month?’ Zeke glanced at him, after unsuccessfully searching for fresh ingredients.

‘The military has some good methods to keep up one’s motivation’ he shrugged. ‘We still have some potatoes and dry pasta somewhere, I think.’

They started working together in silence, Zeke knowing the kitchen just as good as Rowan. They boiled the potatoes, then the pasta, and added the remaining spices from the packet.

The meal was only enough for two.

Zeke automatically picked up one bowl and put it in front of Cornelia, who didn’t wake up to any of the noises they made.

Rowan gave the other to Ma, who even though had her eyes open, could have easily been asleep. He placed the warm bowl in her lap, guiding her bony, scarred hands to grab onto it, but her reaction to any of these arrived long seconds later. She didn’t seem to register his presence, not even when she sat up a bit on the sofa, and started eating, her greasy hair falling in front of her face, functioning like an old, ugly curtain. He stayed next to her for a while to make sure she didn’t stop after a few bites. Meanwhile, his mind wandered in his memories, trying to think back to the times his Ma was still pretty and healthy. Were they even real memories, or just the creation of a young little girl?

Zeke and he headed upstairs to get away from the smell of pasta that made their stomachs growl even louder.

‘Is it always going to be like this?’ Rowan asked quietly, not even expecting an answer.

‘This is what we signed up for.’

Rowan sat down on the bed, soon followed by Zeke. Their shoulders touched, but they didn’t pull away.

The bed they sat on barely counted as one, as it was one old mattress laid on the ground. He was supposed to get a frame, a few years back, Uncle Grisha promised to assemble one. This was the smallest promise that was broken.

He glanced out the window the mattress was placed next to. The two soldiers were still patrolling on their street.

‘We should sleep,’ said Zeke. ‘Or at least you should, you had a long day.’

So Rowan did. It was the last time he closed his eyes with full trust in the presence of him, as he didn’t wake up in his own bed the next morning. He didn’t even have any kind of bed under him, only smelly, wooden slats, and the scent of the sea around him.

He got up, thinking he was dreaming some bullshit again, but the wind in his long hair was too real. Everything got too real in mere seconds, just as the dozens of people a few feet away from him, all in chains. All in chains, except form him.

A nearby officer flinched as he spotted Rowan moving, his hand moving closer to the grip of his gun. He was clearly still a detainee, but some other kind. The ship they were on… was it sailing to Paradise? That was his supervisor’s solution to harmless bullshit he pulled sometimes? Turning him into the same mindless titan as traitors and murderers?

‘Hey, you rat.’ Burped the old officer, not even bothering to look in his direction anymore. ‘You’re not here for sightseeing, you have instructions.’

Rowan opened his backpack with trembling hands. It was almost empty – it had a water bottle in it, his knife that he trained with, and a piece of paper that got smudged ink all over it.

It had the same sentence written on it over and over again, mimicking the punishment they used on first graders in school. He couldn’t tell if it was Zeke’s or Cornelia’s handwriting.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟎.𝟒𝐊 𝐍𝐁: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE 🐚🌊✨ Lightkeeper!Harry is here and I’m BEYOND excited to show you lot this concept I’ve been thinking about quite literally everyday for MONTHS now! I love this story with my entire heart, and I really hope it resonates with some of you and that you fall completely in love with lightkeeper!harry and ST like I have 🥺 Love you! Enjoy! x

Thursday, 11 June

The universe would always balance itself out, Y/N McKay was aware of this. She was aware that if she had faith and believed everything happens for a reason, it would make the tough times of her life easier to mentally handle. If she did good, the universe would work to give it back to her in some other form. However, that didn’t mean that when something dreadful did happen it wouldn’t affect her, and she wouldn’t feel hopeless. Because she did. Very much so.

Most of her life she had lived in a constant state of harmony. She was neither displeased nor satisfied with the life she was leading because it kept her out of trouble; it kept her safe. Her entire life she had lived in peace in Winchester, a fairly prissy town in the middle of Hampshire county in England. Her father owned a business of sorts, Y/N had never gotten the details of it or how he’d gotten where he was, but all she knew was he inherited it from his father and it was expected to be handed down generation after generation in the McKay family. However, Y/N was an only child and neither her mum nor her dad thought she’d be fit to run the business when the time came.

“Nothing personal, darling,” her mother had said when it was brought up during a dinner when Y/N was still in sixth form. “You just don’t have the brains for it.”

“What your mother means to say,” Y/N’s father went on. “You’re so intelligent in your own way, running the business won’t make you happy.”

They always called it that. The business. They never told her what it was about or explained when she asked questions about it. Not that she expected her dad to be a drug lord, but it would’ve been nice to be let in on something. It would’ve been nice to be given the opportunity to feel of enough importance to someone to know special things.

Y/N looked out the window of the train, the Cornish coast stretching out as far as the eye could see, the sun not yet hanging high enough on the sky to make it dreadful to walk outside in her black oversized smock dress. The book in her lap was still open, though she’d read the same page over and over and over again, not being able to concentrate for long enough to remember what happened at the top of the piece of paper. Everything was fuzzy and she had too much to think about; too much to consider.

The last 24 hours had been the worst of her life. Yesterday had turned everything upside down and she hated it. However, thinking the universe would balance itself out and work in her favour, she was also aware that the reason her life needed help to be smoothed out by higher powers in the first place, was because it was in imbalance. Something was off. Something had thrown it off. But she forced herself to stay hopeful, knowing that if she lost that little flicker of hope in what seemed like an endless night, it’d be next to impossible to find her way back to peacefulness.

She glanced down at the book in her lap and was about to start reading again, not liking it when she had to put the book away in the middle of a chapter. She wasn’t given the opportunity as the overhead speakers sounded their soft alarm, and next second, a woman was speaking.

“Next stop is St Ives. Doors will open on the right-hand side.”

The nerves Y/N had felt in the pit of her stomach came back again, this time with more intensity than the last few. Though she realised what she was doing that morning when she boarded her train for Reading, and then again when she stepped on the train for St Erth, and yet again when she sat down on the train towards St Ives, this time it felt worse than all those times before. This was it. She was here.

She had no idea why she chose St Ives out of all places in Cornwall – in the world even –, why here of all places? Even years later, she could never seem to remember the exact moment when she chose that coastal town, or why it had appealed to her at all. Maybe it was the fact that it had a beach, or that it wasn’t particularly populated, or that there was no way anyone she had ever known would be there. The most important part however, and maybe the only reason why she chose St Ives, was because it was far away from Winchester. It was far away from her family, from her ex, and everything she associated with that town and everyone living in it.

She put The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall away in her purse, slinging her purse over her head to rest across her chest before she reached up and took her old leather bag down from the overhead compartment.  This was the only one she would risk bringing as it used to be her father’s back in the day, but he never used it anymore and wouldn’t suspect it being gone. Placing the strap on her shoulder, she walked off to the closest door, apologising when she jabbed someone with her bag on the way out.

Stepping off, Y/N instantly regretted wearing a long-sleeved dress. Though she was under the protection of the roof above the platform, the heat was still almost insufferable. It got her wondering if this was just a normal day in the very South of England or if it was an exceptionally hot one. She prayed for the latter.

She walked out of the station, staying in the cool shade for a few minutes longer as she typed in the address of the inn she was staying at. Not really knowing how public transit worked here yet, she didn’t want to risk taking the wrong bus or asking a tourist for directions to a place they’d never heard of. Instead, she put her EarPods in and went on her merry way. The second she stepped out into the sun, she was once again reminded of why she’d never wear that black dress again that summer.

The Roaming Crab Inn was on The Terrace, the road along the coast of St Ives, holding dozens of hotels and other places to stay during a visit. Y/N didn’t know why she’d chosen this exact inn, or how she’d even happened upon it. It might’ve had something to do with the picture of the old lady grinning from ear to ear on the inn’s website. A picture that was so lovely and so warm that, in the midst of everything Y/N was going through right then, it made her tear up.

She stepped into the inn, placing her sunglasses on the top of her head, and made sure her hair looked alright before walking a bit further inside. Cherry wooden panels lined the floors, walls, and ceiling, a reception desk in the same style attached to the wall to the right. Pictures of all kinds of people hung on the walls. Y/N suspected it might be locals as well as dear guests who had come and gone over the years. No lights were on as the sharp afternoon sun was sufficient in keeping the lobby just bright enough o that electricity wasn’t needed. Fake green vines hung along the ceiling and walls, as well as from different pots on the fireplace to the right that didn’t seem to be in use. Still, two old recliners stood beside it, tempting to sit down and drown in, to escape a turbulent life.

To the left was a staircase leading up to the other landings, and though Y/N hadn’t stepped foot on it yet, she already knew it creaked. This entire house seemed more like a cottage you’d find in the middle of the country, not on the coast of South England. She slowly started making her way over to the reception, and that was when she noticed the back door. Behind the desk was an old, white windowed door, a little smaller in height but a little wider in breadth than normal doors – like the entrance. It was open, leading the way out into a back garden that seemed to be both small and surrounded by the neighbouring houses on all sides. The wooden fence was covered in vines, flowers of all kinds poking out amongst them and on the ground around. The stone paved patio seemed to be old and uneven, there was a set of bistro metal chairs in all the colours of the rainbow along with a white table to match them.

A gang of old ladies sat around the table, chattering amongst themselves and occasionally laughing, all holding a different knitting project each. Y/N hated the thought of disturbing them, but she also just wanted to check in and go up to her room; maybe even go for a walk to take a look around the place she’d be in for the next few weeks.

She reached for the bell, hitting it lightly as to not make it sound urgent and intrusive. A small yelp was heard from the back garden and then the sound of the metal chair scraping against the stone patio. As she heard the footsteps get closer, Y/N glanced around, taking in the interior of the inn undisturbed one more. As someone appeared in the doorway and their eyes met, the old lady who stood there gave Y/N that warm smile of hers she’d seen online the night before.

“Hello, dear!” she chirped, placing her glasses on the bridge of her nose and walking over to the computer on her side of the desk. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you. And yourself?”

The old lady smiled, her eyes almost disappearing behind her high cheekbones. Her long white hair was fastened in a bun at the back of her head, the rest of her dressed in a pair of white trousers and a tunic with some bird print on it.

“I’m wonderful. What’s your name then, lovely?”

“Y/N McKay.”

“Ahh,” she said. “You’re the one who booked your stay last night.”

“That’s me, yeah,” Y/N chuckled, brushing some hair behind her ear.

“Till August 10th.”

“Yes.”

“Right then, Y/N,” the lady said, taking a key hanging from the wall beside her and taking her glasses off, smiling the entire time. “Let me show you to your room.”

The two walked up to the second floor, taking a right as they arrived and the inn-keeper unlocked the door. The innkeeper kept the door open for Y/N, letting her walk in first. Though the floor and ceiling were similar to the wooden panels of the lobby, the walls were white. Against the same wall that the door came to rest against stood an old blue dresser, and a fake flower in an elegant vase that seemed to be just one of the many flowers in the room. The double bed stood to the far left wall, white sheets covering it and looking so lush that it took everything in Y/N not to sprint over and throw herself onto it. There was a desk as well as a recliner, and a window on the opposite wall overlooking the ocean that was just about a minute’s walk from here.

“The bathroom is over there,” the innkeeper said, pointing at a door beside the staircase. “You share it with the other guests on the same floor as you, alright?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Y/N admitted, genuinely meaning it as well. She didn’t see the problem with that in the least.

“I’m mostly downstairs or in the next house over, which is mine,” she continued. “So if there’s ever anything you think I could help you with, do pop by.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, my goodness,” she suddenly exclaimed, walking over to Y/N. “I’ve completely forgotten to introduce myself. I’m Bessie.” Bessie smiled at Y/N again, making the latter almost want to cry for the umpteenth time that day. “And I really hope you enjoy your stay here in St Ives.”

With that, the innkeeper left Y/N to herself. Y/N let her bag and purse fall to the floor before she dragged the chair by the desk over to the window. She opened it and just stared out across the beach and sea outside. Seagulls were howling overhead, waves were crashing against shore, and the familiar salty scent of the presence of the ocean lingered in the air constantly. It was like one of those trips she’d taken with her parents every summer, a new place every year, always by the coast. Her favourite might’ve been their vacation in Bali. It was gorgeous beyond comprehension, in a way no other place she’d ever been could come close to. But she was aware she’d never go on another trip with her parents again. Not after everything that happened the night before.

Now she couldn’t rely on them any longer. She was on her own. She had no idea what she was going to do, no idea what lay ahead of her. As she at on the chair looking out over St Ives, the town she’d spend her summer in, she realised she’d never felt more forlorn.

St Ives is a coastal town located in the very south-west of the southernmost county in England, Cornwall. It is known for its surf beaches – most well-known being Porthmeor – and its many art galleries and restaurants. Tate St Ives is a gallery at the seafront and has rotating modern art exhibitions, focusing primarily on British artists. The Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden is located in the modernist artist’s former studio, displaying her bronzes and other works.Y/N, having grown up in a fairly posh family with exquisite and particular taste, knew a thing or two about art. 

She always had her purse on her, and in it she’d keep all the essentials for going out and about. Hand sanitiser, Kleenex, band-aids, pads, keys, a portable charger, and the book she was currently reading. The Well of Loneliness lay in her purse as she strolled around, a St Ives guide book in her hand that she’d bought at one of the local stores on what must’ve been their high street.

First and foremost, she wanted to do some sightseeing. She’d be here for a long time, so she might as well get acquainted with the town she’d stay in and learn its ins and outs. There is this part of St Ives called The Island, that isn’t at all an island, but it is just called that. The Island is the imposing headland that juts out into the seat from the spit of land that separates the harbour and Porthmeor beach – the most popular and most central beach in the town. In ancient times it was a promontory fort, but these days it’s probably better known as a location of the tiny chapel of St Nicholas. Walking to The Island, Y/N took in the incredible views of the ocean surrounding her, and the beach – The Townas - beside her that was cramped between The Island and Godrevy Point on the other side.

To her left was what looked to be Hellesveor Cliff, and at the very point of it, on the top of what must’ve been the most haunting cliff Y/N had ever seen, stood a lighthouse. Looking in her guide book, it didn’t say much about the lighthouse except the care of it had been passed down generation after generation by the family currently living there. It was at the very edge of St Ives, farther out than Godrevy Point. It made it so Porthmeor, St Ives, and The Townas were all guarded by these two points, the St Ives Lighthouse watching over its town and the far coast around.

Continuing on her walk, she strolled down the Down-a-long, which is the old, lower part of St Ives built on the narrow ridge of land that separated The Island to the rest of the town. This part of town is the archetypal image of St Ives with its jumble of cobble streets lined with whitewashed, old cottages, some seeming to fall apart and others in better condition. Y/N thought the street names were equally evocative and unique, some of her favourites being Salubrious Place, Teetotal Street, and The Digney. Though it said in her catalogue that fishermen used to live in the Down-a-long before, next to none lived there now as most of it was occupied by galleries, cafes, and little shows that one can shake a stick at. As she strolled through Fore Street, the main shopping street in St Ives, she walked by a vintage shop – Vintage Divine – and jotted it down on her phone.

All her life, Y/N had always loved everything vintage. She liked the thought of owning something that had once been part of someone else’s life, that had made them happy enough they wanted to hand it on and give someone else that same happiness they’d experienced. Though neither her mum, her dad, or her ex-boyfriend liked her obsession with vintage and stuff owned by others before her, their disinterest had never stopped her from going to markets or stores. However, she never bought anything unless she knew she could hide it. Now, she thought, that didn’t have to be a problem.

A few years back when she started to realise her obsession with old stuff, furniture, clothing, and books owned by others before her, she read an article online. The article had suggested that people are attracted to vintage pieces because they offer an escape. Wearing these garments, holding these ornaments, touching furniture from another time is a way to experience a different life. A life that isn’t your own and that was lived before hers or parallel to hers. Shopping vintage then created an exciting search for something special and creative, something a normal shopping trip could never give her. It was weird how much she was looking forward to going through that shop, Y/N realised, but she couldn’t wait to explore and take items home with her. Not that she expected she’d be welcomed home to Winchester anytime soon, but she chose not to think about that too much.

Fore Street was a narrow and cobblestone-clad street with people milling about trying to find a decent place for lunch. Stone cottages lined both sides of the street, either a neutral colour like white, a dull yellow, beige, light blue, or just plain, grey stone. Y/N enjoyed walking among these houses. It was a quiet town, peace seemed to be permanently settled between the cramped streets and tiny houses. Though Winchester wasn’t London with its tall buildings and never-ending bustle, St Ives was even smaller than her hometown, which made it that much more appealing to her. There was a sense of relaxation in the mere atmosphere around her that massaged the tension out of her shoulders and straightened her hunched back.

The door to the Seafood Café she was about to walk by burst open. A couple of people standing around jumped at the commotion, as did Y/N. Dressed in high-waisted loose fitted denim jeans, a white tee shirt tucked into them, a pair of orange worn down Vans, and brown curls in a dishevelled mess, the man who caused the ruckus didn’t seem to notice everyone’s attention being on him. He halted a bit as he came outside before he walked left. Y/N stopped moving, the sudden interruption in her peaceful stroll taking her off guard. The man suddenly started straight for Y/N, his head bent, eyes on the cobblestone before him. He didn’t seem to notice where he was going, not looking up in the direction he was heading. So, when he saw Y/N’s shadow, that’s when he glanced up. Their eyes met just a second before he managed to stop, preventing them from crashing into one another.

“Oh!” he erupted, voice crescendoing. He blinked twice, eyes settling on her for a few seconds before he said a quick, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I should’ve moved out of the way,” Y/N assured him, about to step to the side when she noticed his lips moving again. No words came out, though. She stood there for a few seconds, just watching his jaw and lips work, not seeming to find his words.

“Have a good day,” she went on, trying to step out of the way when the man blurted out, “Please, miss.”

She looked at him again, about to narrow her eyes when she saw a troubled expression on his face. His eyes were a little wide and he glanced over his shoulder before meeting her eyes again. The door to Seafood Café opened again, a woman and a younger girl stepping out.

“Please,” he repeated, voice low. “Go along.”

Y/N frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll owe you my entire life if you just play along for a minute or two, yeah?”

She cocked her head some to the side. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. I should-“

“-I don’t usually do this- I mean, I never do, I’ve never done this before – ever -, but-but they think I have a girlfriend and I don’t. Please-“

“-Harry!”

The man – who Y/N could only assume to be Harry - turned around to face a tiny Filipina woman and an even smaller girl beside her, who looked to be no older than ten. The two looked Y/N over, eyes scanning her from head to toe. Y/N felt like she was under a magnifying glass.

But while they took her in, Y/N’s thoughts wandered to the words the man beside her had said only a few seconds earlier. “They think I have a girlfriend and I don’t.” Was he… was he saying what Y/N thought he was saying? She glanced at him, seeing him draw a shaky breath and meet her eyes, waiting for her to make the next move it seemed. Everything that had happened in the last minute confused her. She didn’t know this man, didn’t know what he’d told these two women or why. She was also well aware that by just walking away she wouldn’t need to worry about him any longer; his problems weren’t hers. This seemed messy, confusing, and a little risky.

Usually, she wouldn’t want any part of it. The Y/N she was yesterday wouldn’t have considered this. She would’ve looked at the man apologetically before excusing herself and walking off, leaving him to figure out whatever lie he’d told these two on his own. But Y/N had changed. Or… at least that’s what she wanted to believe… Fine, she wanted to change, and maybe this was a place to start.

Harry sighed, turning around to face the two he had tried to get away from, shoulders sinking as he met their eyes. The defeat was evident in his body language; he was about to give up and just tell them that he didn’t have a girlfriend. That’s what finally did it, seeing how it took absolutely everything out of him to tell them the following. “Jasmine, I’m sorry, I need to tell you-“

“-It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Y/N interrupted him, smiling as she stepped out from behind Harry. Though she had seriously considered helping him, it still surprised her when she actually heard the words coming out of her mouth. Her heart was beating about as fast as it had that morning when she’d left Hampshire.

Harry looked at her, mouth falling open, obviously shocked by her willingness to help him. It took him a few seconds to gather himself, but once he did, he looked back at the two they were trying to convince with a bright smile on his face.

“What did you have to tell me, Harry?” the older woman asked.

“That, uhh…” He looked at Y/N again before glancing at who she could only assume to be Jasmine. “Jessa, this is my girlfriend.”

Jasmine raised her eyebrows, eyes lighting up suddenly. The girl beside her stood there fidgeting with the hem of her top, looking Y/N up and down still.

“Hi,” Y/N said, stepping forward and reaching her hand out for Jasmine. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Jasmine said, a smile coming to rest on her round face as they let go of the others’ hand. “Harry, you said her name was unusual.”

“That… I-“ Harry stopped himself.

Y/N’s lips parted, unsure how to react to that.

“That’s why you didn’t want to tell us her name, since it was so unusual. Y/N isn’t unusual.”

Y/N chuckled a little, looking at Harry whose whole face was a shade of red she’d never seen before. He glanced around him, meeting her gaze before quickly looking to the ground, scratching at his neck.

“You thought my name was weird?” She was well aware Harry hadn’t known her name until that point, let alone had any time to form an opinion on it. But regardless, she found it funny how he’d refused to give them his pretend girlfriend’s name by telling them it was an unusual one, as if they’d laugh at it.

“I didn’t-“ Harry sighed. “It wasn’t like I was embarrassed I just…” He trailed off, motioning with his hands, but Y/N had no idea what that meant. She didn’t take it to heart, though, knowing it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with his cover-up story.

“He has such a way with words,” Jasmine said, clicking her tongue at him. “Anyway, I’m Jasmine, but just call me Jessa. Harry’s stepmother.”

“And I’m Grace.” The little one stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear. The small one had the same roundness to her face as the woman beside her, as well as the same flat nose and almond shaped eyes like Jessa’s. “Harry’s kept you a secret.”

“Gracie, I haven’t kept her a secret as much as I’ve kept her away,” Harry said. “You’re gonna scare her.”

“We won’t scare her!” Jessa exclaimed. “It’s your girlfriend, Harry! We will be nice.”

“Somehow doubt that.” Harry turned to Y/N, turning his back to his step mum and what must be his half-sister. “They like to interrogate, especially Jasmine.”

“You villainise us,” Jessa said, walking closer to them and taking Y/N’s hand between hers. It took her off guard and she almost pulled her hand away, the feel of someone’s skin voluntarily touching hers felt weird.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Harry continued, ignoring Jessa. There was an apology in his eyes that he didn’t voice. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought she saw anyway. “They’ll make it hard to enjoy yourself.”

Jessa reached over and pinched Harry’s exposed forearm. He flinched away from her, glaring as he stepped back a few paces.

“Now you’re being rude.”

“I don’t want you lot to make her uncomfortable with all your questions,” Harry said, a frown etched in his forehead. He hadn’t met Y/N’s eyes directly ever since they almost walked into one another. “Besides, she’s…” Harry’s eyes fell to the guide in Y/N’s hand. “She’s sightseeing.”

Y/N smiled at Jessa and Grace, showing them the small book she was carrying with her. “I’ve just been to the Island. The view from there is fantastic.”

“Harry, the view from the Island is nothing. Have you shown her yet?”

“Jessa, it’s… she’s just…”

Finally, he looked at her, not knowing what to say that would make his stepmother give it a rest. Y/N could understand why she asked so many questions, she was just eager to get to know someone who she thought was Harry’s new partner.

“I arrived this morning,” Y/N answered, smiling at Jasmine. “We haven’t had the time to meet up properly, so in the meantime I’ve just been walking around.”

“Where’s your luggage?”

“At the Inn. The Roaming Crab.”

Jessa’s eyes went wide, looking at Harry disapprovingly again. “She’s not even staying with you? What kind of boyfriend are you?”

“She could stay at our house,” Grace said, eyes on the space that separated Y/N and Harry before she met Y/N’s eyes.

“It’s not that… It’s not like that, I-“ Harry stopped himself, dragging his hand over his face that had been bright red ever since this whole spectacle started. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“Am I?” Jessa crossed her arms.

“Yes… I-“ Harry stuttered and though Y/N hadn’t known this man for very long, she could tell he found it hard to find his words in stressful situations.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm each other. We haven’t stayed together for a long period of time before, this would be the first, so I’m staying at the Inn so we won’t get tired of each other too quickly.” Y/N hoped she sounded confident and truthful; she wouldn’t want to blow this for Harry already. After all, she had no idea how long he’d need this pretend girlfriend lie for.

A frown appeared between Jasmine’s brows and it dawned on Y/N that she must’ve said something wrong just now. Panic rose to her chest, but Harry cleared his throat.

“Except for that trip to Exeter last month, but that was only a single weekend. Now she’s here for…” He narrowed his eyes, as if the answer was at the tip of his tongue but Y/N knew she was the only one with an answer to that.

“August 12th,” she said, Jessa letting go of a small squeal at the sound of it. “Dunno how many weeks that’ll be, but I’m-“

“-That’s fantastic! You need to come to Gracie’s birthday next weekend.”

Harry stuttered a little, Jessa’s enthusiasm making him nervous, Y/N thought. “Nanay-“

“-She’s going to love that, won’t you, Gracie?”

Grace nodded her head, grinning up at Y/N. “You can put pretty stuff on my eyelids.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows some and Jessa laughed. “Eyeshadow.”

“Oh! Well, I don’t have loads of that since I’m no good with make-up, but I do have nice jewellery.” Y/N picked at the one she was wearing just then, a gold necklace she’d gotten for her birthday the year before.

Grace’s smile didn’t fade one bit at that. In fact, it only seemed to get a little bigger at the sight of Y/N’s pretty necklace. The girl didn’t say anything, but she swayed from side to side, looking excitedly up at her brother’s supposed new girlfriend.

“You’re coming then?” Jessa asked, looking so happy she might burst, and it hurt Y/N that she probably wouldn’t.

“Jessa, we have barely had time to catch up, let her breathe,” Harry pleaded and Jessa waved her hands at them.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, Y/N. It’s just…” Jasmine’s eyes fell on Harry standing beside Y/N, her eyes glistening. “It’s just so nice to know Harry’s not alone anymore.”

“I’ve never been alone, nanay.”

Jessa shook her head, sighing heavily. “Alright, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. You’ll probably want some time to yourselves to just walk around. Has she been to the lighthouse, Harry? Take her there.”

Harry sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “Nay-“

“-Fine, we’ll leave. It was so nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Jessa. And you, Grace.”

Grace gave a wave before Jessa took her hand and the two walked away, probably on their way home or whatever other plans they had. Y/N watched them for a few before turning to Harry. His blush had calmed down a little, but a bead of sweat had appeared at his cupid’s bow. If it was because of nerves or the weather, she did not know, but she was not about to ask him that.

Upon closer inspection and now that they didn’t have Harry’s stepmum and sister watching over them, Y/N could finally study the man she rescued for a total of five minutes. Green eyes that reminded her of the moors she’d spend time running through each summer, a slight stubble along his soft jawline, nose a little too big for his face, and a slight dimple in each cheek even though he wasn’t smiling fully yet. She wondered what they’d look like if he actually grinned.

“Hi,” she said, reaching her hand out. “Y/N.”

Harry chuckled softly, taking her hand, eyes staying on the place they were touching each other. “Harry.”

“I’m glad I could be of some help, Harry.”

A crooked smile reached his lips as his eyes fell to the ground and he stepped away, letting his hand fall to hit his thigh. He glanced up at her. “Thank you for that. They say they’re worried, but they’re really just nosey.”

Y/N grimaced a little, making a breathy laugh escape Harry’s lips. “Is your life more interesting than theirs?”

“Not in the least. I lead the most boring existence in the most boring town in the United Kingdom.”

She chuckled, reaching for her necklace. “Not sure you can claim that title, my life’s pretty up there as well.”

Harry tried to shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans, but the arms of his denim jacket wrapped around his waist were in the way. “Oh?”

“Blimey, I won’t keep you if you’ve got things to do. You look like a busy man.”

Harry stared at the watch on his wrist and bit his bottom lip, looking up at her through his thick set of dark eyelashes. “Yeah, I gotta be on my way actually.”

She gave him a smile, getting one in return.

“Listen, thank you so much for that. I just needed to get them off my back. You don’t actually have to come to Gracie’s birthday party, Jessa just loves when she gets to interrogate people. Her favourite sport is discussing gossip.”

Y/N laughed. “You burn a lot of calories doing that.”

Harry chuckled, scratching at his neck as his eyes fell to her neck and then shoulder. “Anyway, I don’t know how to repay you. If you’re here till August, I guess I’ll see you around.”

For some reason, Harry not really knowing what to say was funny to Y/N. It wasn’t like he owed her anything or the other way around. She’d just helped him out and now they could part ways. Easy as that.

“You don’t have to repay me, I’m glad I could help,” she smiled. “I’ll try and stay out of your way if I see you out and about. You know, to avoid the awkward conversation of telling them we’re not actually together.”

Harry’s lips tipped upward. “Right, thanks.”

“Now, since I’m talking to you,” she said, opening the catalogue again. “Where’s the Tate Gallery?”

Harry turned around, pointing up Fore Street from where they stood. “When you reach Bunkers Hill, you follow that all the way up to Back Road, then you just walk along The Digney and it’ll be on your right-hand side.”

“Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you. I… It was too much-“

“-I’m serious when I say I’m glad I could help, don’t worry about it.” She shot him one last smile before giving him a wave. “Bye, Harry.”

“Bye,” he said, giving her a short nod before she focused her attention back on her surroundings. She needed to catch the street names and get her walk to the Tate on the first try because she could really not be asked to walk back and whip her phone out. After all, Harry just helped her so it was going to be easy to just follow his navigation and get there.

As she strolled along the gallery and the rest of St Ives that day, she couldn’t help but think about that little encounter earlier. She wondered what happened after that, if Jessa and Grace demanded more information from Harry or if he told them how it was all a lie. Putting it all aside, she focused on her trip instead. She’d never meet that family again, but she really hoped everything worked out for them regardless. The last thing she needed was for this summer to be about anything but her and what she really wanted in life. She didn’t need distractions. Her whole life up until now had been a distraction.

Friday, 12 June

Being in south England and not taking advantage of the amazing beaches this part of the country offered, was maybe on the same wrongdoing scale as committing a serious crime. Y/N had gotten dressed that morning and headed straight downstairs to eat breakfast in the tiny dining hall of the Inn. It was positioned in what must’ve originally been the living room in the house, four tables placed in there with two chairs placed by each of them. The dining room had the same layout as the entrance to the Inn; wooden panels all over, flowers and plants everywhere along with pictures and candles to top it off.

When she walked downstairs, Bessie was quick to jump up from where she was sitting in her small back garden, meeting Y/N with a warm beam on her face. When Bessie asked Y/N if she’d like a meat, vegetarian, or vegan full English, Y/N startled herself by replying vegetarian. She hadn’t grown up vegetarian, but in all her life, she’d never had a purely vegetarian meal. So, instead of correcting herself, she let Bessie make her that vegetarian breakfast. The thought of eating something she hadn’t before didn’t make her anxious as she thought it would’ve, but she was rather excited about the whole thing.

Bessie came out with the tray, setting it down before Y/N and asked her if she would mind Bessie’s company. With a quick reply encouraging the old lady to sit down, Bessie ran – or walked as fast as her short legs could take her – outside and returned with her knitting. Y/N had been alone pretty much all day the day before nd she had anticipated being alone all day today as well, so she rather enjoyed Bessie’s company. She had never really envisioned this to be part of her trip to Cornwall – an old lady with her grey hair put neatly in a bun with two knitting needles holding it up, wearing a long bohemian dress and glasses perched on the end of her nose, talking her ear off and Y/N having an immense amount of fun in the process.

The sea and seagulls sounded from inside the Inn, but as Y/N put her bathing suit and summer dress on, on her way down towards the beach, the costal sounds only intensified. The salt in the air clung to her skin and the smell of seaweed got more prominent the closer she got to the ocean. She put her stuff down and brought The Well of Loneliness out again, wanting to finish the book that day because she really wanted to know how it all ended. She wasn’t sure how much time went by as she laid there, completely captivated by the world Radclyffe Hall had created within the book.

It wasn’t that Y/N particularly enjoyed the book. No, it wasn’t that. It was endlessly long and detailed, for absolutely no purpose. The writing wasn’t particularly memorable; one wouldn’t remember it for its evocative and imaginative characteristics, nor for Hall’s ability to tell instead of show. Over the years she’d studied English in college, Y/N knew that a writer should be able to balance those two out; show some, tell some. But that concept was lost on Hall. No, Y/N didn’t like The Well of Loneliness for its writing, not even the plot.

She liked the book because of the plea embedded in it. The plea for LGBT people to be treated as human; that they were normal and not a disease. Why did they have to be other? They didn’t choose this life so why were they to be punished for it by being treated differently? By being illegal? The Well of Loneliness was published around the same time Orlando by Virginia Woolf, who was one of Y/N’s favourite authors ever. Though these two books touched on similar themes of identity, where Orlando shrouded the issue of mysticism, The Well dared to discuss sexual identity openly. Y/N commended Radclyffe Hall for that.

However much Y/N sympathised with Hall and the main character, Stephen, she couldn’t help but laugh at the hypocrisy in the book. While it attempted to strive for acceptance of one minority, it also emanated an underlying attitude of snobbishness and chauvinism towards other minorities at the same time, which made no sense to Y/N. Then again, it was the 1920s, so she guessed she couldn’t really ask for anything else from a rich white person at the time.

Having finally finished the book, Y/N asked someone nearby if they could watch her things while she took a dip. There was a blonde bloke around her age and another bloke with blue hair, sitting not too far off, and when she asked if they could keep an eye on her stuff, they promised they would.

Y/N took her time swimming, trying to remember the last time she’d been on a beach where the public were allowed. It was odd seeing so many around her, but she liked it. She liked the sound of others around her. Silence was good, but in the disturbance of human noise was the reassurance of rescue. The promise that you might be lonely, but you are never alone.

Walking back up to her picnic blanket, Y/N thanked the two men before lying back down, soaking up the sun. She hadn’t been aware she’d already been at the beach for a few hours until she realised her stomach was rumbling. So, packing her stuff together and making sure her hair was somewhat dry, she walked around to see if there were any places she could sit down. The only place on Porthminster Beach was the café with the same name, and by the looks of it, it was completely full. Since Bessie had served Y/N some breakfast, she must have something for lunch as well.

Walking back the 5 minute to the hotel, Bessie jumped up from her place in the back garden, sitting back there with two other ladies and knitting like they’d done the day before.

“Hello, dear, you had a good trip to the beach?”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel completely at ease in this old woman’s company. “Yes, I did. A bit hungry, though, do you have something I could eat, possibly?”

“Of course! What do you fancy?”

“Oh, a toastie’s fine.”

“Vegetarian?”

For some reason, the fact Bessie remembered Y/N’s preference from this morning made her smile. “Yes,” she said without thinking.

“Right, just sit down and I’ll come by with your lunch, my lovely.”

“Thank you so much, Bessie.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Y/N sat down, bringing her phone out as she hadn’t checked it properly in a few hours. She wasn’t sure what she expected, to be fair. There was no one from home who would want to contact her, and if they were to, they would rather look around Winchester than call. In their minds, she couldn’t have run far. Regardless, the mere fact they hadn’t even called her made something inside her sink a little. It felt awful knowing how little she meant to them all along. So little that they wouldn’t even pick up the phone and save her a call or a text.

“Here, my dear,” Bessie said, putting down a tray before Y/N. “I’m gonna pop outside to my little knitting club, if that’s fine by you. Just come on out if you don’t have anything else to do after this, yeah?”

“Thank you so much,” Y/N said and Bessie smiled at her before she disappeared outside again.

Turning her attention to her food, Y/N started thinking about what she could do the rest of the day. She could walk some more around town, she’d seen bigger parts of it yesterday, but there were always corners of a town that needed discovering. Once she was about halfway through her toastie, hasty footsteps sounded from the lobby and a somewhat familiar figure appeared. He stopped a bit on his way towards the reception desk, as if he didn’t want to be a bother to Bessie of some kind by asking for assistance. Bessie appeared a few seconds later, grinning from ear to ear as usual.

“Hello, Harry love.”

“Hi, Bess. I…” he stopped himself, running his hands up and down the sides of his white and grey striped cotton-blend trousers, a navy blue tee shirt tucked into it and a pair of white Vans on his feet. “I just wanted to come check again.”

“For the third time.”

“Yeah, well…” He did a quick shrug. “I just wanted to check.”

“She’s here.” Bessie gestured to Harry’s right and when he looked that way, his eyes immediately found Y/N’s. She didn’t think she’d ever see him again. However, a summer in a small coastal town would make that very hard. She’d try her hardest to stay out of Harry’s way, as well as his family’s, so she wouldn’t make things awkward. She would have escaped to a town a little further south or on the other side of Cornwall, but she was settled in now and she’d already paid for her whole stay.

Though she’d promised to keep away from him to prevent any unpleasant situations, Harry hadn’t made her the same promise. And here he was. For some reason. He seemed both taken off guard to see her sitting there as well as relieved he’d finally caught her. A sigh left him, slumping his tense shoulders a little before he thanked Bessie quickly and walked to Y/N.

“Is it,” he started as he made his way over. “Is it okay if I sit down?”

Y/N nodded her head while swallowing, gesturing with her hand at the chair opposite hers. “Yes, go ahead,” she said when her mouth was free to.

“Cheers.” Harry sat down, slid a little closer to the table and rested his hands between his legs as he leaned back against the back of the chair.

The two fell into silence for a little while, Y/N watching as Harry’s eyes fixed on the small bouquet of flowers in the tiny vase placed in the middle of the round table. Yes, she loved company, but Harry’s had taken her a little by surprise and she was eager to know why he’d come looking for her. She didn’t want to try and draw a conclusion herself without hearing his reasoning first, knowing that whatever she came up with wouldn’t be correct anyway. Instead, she put her toastie back on her plate and focused her attention on Harry, who had yet to say anything. From the way he was biting the inside of his lip, she assumed he was mulling over the right thing to say. It didn’t seem to ever come when finally, he opened his mouth.

“First, I just want to say sorry for yesterday,” he said, meeting her eyes, but quickly looking to her shoulder. “It was proper daft. I was desperate and I panicked, and you were right there.” He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

Y/N just gave him a smile. “You don’t have to apologise, I’m glad I could help.”

“And I appreciate you helping me out, I really do, but… here’s the thing…” He cleared his throat. “Jessa and Gracie are right about losing their minds of this.”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh?”

“Yeah, they called and texted all last night and this morning, saying how nice it was to meet you, that I need to bring you to Grace’s birthday next Saturday,” Harry said. “And it makes me wonder if it was even worth it yesterday. I still appreciate what you did, and this is all my fault, but I think…” He trailed off again, scratching at the back of his neck. “Look, I’m doing a naff job of explaining this.”

Sipping her juice, Y/N just smiled at him till she put her glass down. “Take your time.”

He took a deep breath. “Think I might tell them it’s all fake. I don’t have a partner and that’s fine.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, being single is fine.”

“Only thing that’s stopping me is the fact that Jasmine will be crushed. Ever since my dad died, she’s been so worried about me living alone in the lighthouse.”

There was so much to unpack in that sentence that Y/N felt herself retract a little, scanning his face for what the appropriate reaction to that would be. Harry must’ve noticed her silence so he glanced at her face, eyes going wide.

“Oh! Don’t feel like you-“

“-I’m sorry about your dad.”

“No, that’s okay, he hasn’t been with us for two years now,” Harry went on. “That was a real mood killer. Bringing up my dead father with someone I barely know.”

Y/N smiled. “Think you fake breaking up with me was a great mood killer before that was even brought up.”

Harry smiled a little at that, those deep dimples just barely gracing his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” She wiped at her mouth with the napkin, brows slowly coming into a frown. “You said something about a lighthouse… do you live there?”

“In the lighthouse?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I’m the lighthouse keeper.”

Her frown deepened a little.

“What?”

“I didn’t think those existed anymore.”

“What, lighthouses?” Harry’s smile widened, amusement tracing his pink lips.

“No, lighthouse keepers.”

He shrugged. “Here’s a living, breathing example of one.”

She couldn’t help her laughter. “Fine, I take it back. I don’t really think about lighthouses enough to give their keepers much of a thought either.”

“Too bad.”

Y/N just shook her head some, noticing a slight redness to Harry’s cheeks that hadn’t been there a few seconds earlier. “You were saying about Jessa.”

“She’s worried about me living alone in the lighthouse. Says I’ll be lonely and that she thinks about me sitting up there crying my eyes out or summat.”

“Do you? Cry your eyes out?”

“No, I like having my own space. I like living there alone. She’s just being a protective stepmum, looking out for me and all that. Like, yes, I’m still sad Dad is dead, but it wasn’t like he lived with me in the lighthouse anyway. He lived with Jasmine and Grace.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “She doesn’t want you to be alone ‘cause she thinks you don’t want to be.”

“Exactly,” Harry said, pausing a bit before mumbling something that sounded like, “That’s why I’ve told them for a few months now that I have a girlfriend.”

She narrowed her eyes some.

“To get them off my back, innit? I don’t want them to think I’m miserable, ‘cause I’m not. But when I told them I had a girlfriend, they got so happy, yeah? I just tried to be as vague as possible, didn’t give them a name and they didn’t ask, assuming I wanted to keep her secret. Jessa hasn’t bugged me about this in weeks… Until yesterday.”

Y/N started piecing everything together. “That’s why you stormed out of the restaurant.”

He nodded. “And ran into you.”

Y/N couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “The idea of just telling them I was your fake girlfriend just fell into your head once you saw me?”

Harry chuckled and shifted his gaze away from her, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah. I never do stuff like that. I hate uncertainty, so trusting you yesterday when I didn’t know if you’d play along… well, it took five years of my life.”

 She laughed. “If I hadn’t then the whole lie would’ve been obvious to Jessa and Grace.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help then,” Y/N said, really meaning it as well.

“Yeah, and thank you so much for doing so. It really helped me out… if you look away from Jasmine texting me five times today alone to organise a dinner with you and all of us.”

They both laughed a little at that and when Y/N glanced at Harry again, he was looking down at his hands in his lap. After a brief pause, he met her eyes again.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, and thank you for helping me. I’ll tell them everything now, I don’t want you to have to hide while you’re here for two months.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

For the next few seconds, they looked at one another in silence. Y/N thought back to the moment she’d seen Harry, how it might’ve taken her a few seconds to catch on, but her main instinct had been to help him. She thought of the gratitude on Harry’s face when she played along, how she hoped he one day would find an actual girlfriend that would have just as big of an impact on Jessa and Grace as it seemed she herself had. She was about to tell Harry this when the sound of footsteps sounded from the lobby again.

A woman Bessie’s age walked in, a bag slung over her shoulder and sunglasses in her short black hair. As she stepped inside, she spotted Harry and Y/N sitting together and her mouth fell open, a grin coming to rest on her wrinkling face.

“Bessie, you didn’t tell me these two were going to be here,” the old woman said, walking into the dining area. Bessie stepped out from behind the wall that hid the reception desk from the dining hall. At that, Y/N’s stomach dropped. Bessie must’ve heard their entire conversation. By the look on Harry’s face, he was going through a similar near-death experience to the one Y/N was currently enduring.

“Hi, Mrs Rose,” Harry said, no one seemed to notice the slight tremor to his voice.

“Harry and his new girlfriend,” Mrs Rose said, looking between them. “You know, you lot are the talk of the town.”

“We are?” Harry asked, the surprise in his voice so evident it made the older women laugh.

“Yes, of course! Jasmine told everyone!” Mrs Rose continued, looking to Bessie who was already nodding her head.

“Not everyone, but she told her friends, and you know how people like to gossip around here, don’t you, Harry?” Bessie gave him a smile and Harry smiled back, though it did not reach his eyes. “Anyway, Florence, this is Y/N. Y/N, Florence.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Y/N said, grinning at Florence who stuck her hand out. The two shook hands as Florence beamed back at Y/N. “So, the whole town knows?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case,” Florence said, turning to Bessie who made a noise of agreement. “Jessa can talk about everything and anything for hours, but if her stepson gets a girlfriend? That’s the news of the century and she will not shut up.”

“How lovely,” Y/N said, not really knowing what else was appropriate in this setting as Harry hadn’t opened his mouth once to say anything.

“It’s a little less lonesome up in that lighthouse now, hm?”

“Oh, uhm…” Harry looked at Y/N and then back at Florence, his words having completely escaped him. Y/N was about to come to Harry’s rescue when Bessie took them both by surprise.

“They stayed here tonight,” Bessie explained and Florence looked at her with a furrow between her brows.

“Why on earth would they do that? Harry’s got a perfectly nice place by the lighthouse.”

“Who are we to question the decisions of our youth?” Bessie linked arms with Florence. “Let’s go outside, Flo dear. Leave the lovebirds to be by themselves.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Rose,” Y/N called after them.

“And you, Y/N!”

The second the two ladies were out of sight, Harry and Y/N shared a wide-eyed look, both of their panic equal it seemed. Y/N took a sip of her juice, somehow thinking it would calm her down. It did not.

“Jasmine told everyone,” Harry said, voice a whisper so no one walking by or sitting in the back garden would hear them. “She told everyone.”

“She can’t have… right?”

“You underestimate Jessa. If she was kidnapped and put in a gag, she’d be able to talk through it and move her jaw and teeth in a way that would obliterate said gag.” Harry ran a hand over his face. “She’s very chatty.”

“You’ve painted a vivid picture.”

Harry sighed, leg bouncing and eyes distant as he seemed to be racking his brain for a solution to the situation they were finding themselves in. “I was gonna tell Jessa it was a lie. I was gonna tell-“

“-You still can.”

“But everyone knows now. It’ll be well embarrassing for us when we have to tell people on the street that ‘oh yeah, that ol’ thing, we only pretended to be a couple so people wouldn’t be all up in Harry’s business,’ I somehow don’t see that going down well.”

“Then there’s only one thing we can do?”

“What’s that?”

“We pretend to be a couple.”

He stared at her, his facial expression very neutral, and though Y/N didn’t know him well enough yet, she did think she could decipher when he was displeased and when he was not. He seemed to be mulling it over, wanting for her to elaborate before he made a final decision.

“Everyone knows, I’m leaving in August, we can just say we broke up when August comes around.”

Harry nodded, thinking for a moment before he asked, “What will people say when they see us separated on the street then? Like, we’re not seen together.”

“People need to spend some time apart; it’s exhausting to be around another person 24/7.”

Harry nodded again, contemplating their predicament. “There’s always a lot of parties around here during summer. You don’t have to tag along, but you might have to if Jessa’s gonna be there.”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N admitted, shrugging her shoulders some. “I don’t have anything to do all summer, anyway. Might as well be in a fake relationship with a bloke I barely know and help him all I can.”

This made a breathy chuckle leave Harry’s lips and he held her gaze some before having it fall to his folded hands. “Well…” he said, suddenly reaching his hand across the table. “I’m Harry Edward Styles.”

Y/N laughed but took Harry’s hand, shaking it lightly. “Pleased to meet you, Harry. I’m Y/N Bernadette Angelica McKay.”

Harry whistled under his breath. “Mouthful.”

“What happens when you’re brought up in a posh family.”

Harry smiled at that and sat back in his chair. “I guess… I-I guess we should talk about how we got together and all that.”

“Yeah, make a story so it sounds more believable.”

“It’ll help if we have the same story, yes.”

She couldn’t help her laughter again, but it was cut short as Harry’s phone in his pocket started ringing. He sighed, taking it out and looking at it before putting it back down.

“Look, I gotta go.”

“Oh.” Y/N, having thought they were going to plan their fake dating history, blinked in confusion when Harry stood from his chair and looked at her apologetically. “We’ll see each other at some point.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, walking off toward the back garden, calling Bessie’s name as he did. They exchanged some words Y/N couldn’t hear and Harry disappeared into the kitchen for a minute before resurfacing again. Standing in the lobby, he looked at Y/N through the doorway leading into the dining area, mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with something to say.

She just gave him a smile, hoping he understood that she just wanted him to take his time. It took one more sigh and a little staring contest before Harry finally found his words.

“You know where to find me, my house is the very tall, pointy one on the outskirts of town.”

She chuckled, watching as he walked out of the front door and down the street. Y/N found her bag, putting it on her shoulder as she got her lunch tray and sat it in the kitchen as she’d done after her breakfast that morning. On her way upstairs, Y/N turned as she reached the front door that was left open to welcome guests. Stepping into the doorway, she looked out over St Ives.

Seagulls were still screaming overhead, the sound of people down by the beach hung in the air all throughout the day, it smelled of seafood and summer, and just beyond the small town, on a tiny hilltop and on the very tip of a cliff, stood a lighthouse. A white lighthouse that rose high above the whole coast around it, protecting everyone. Locals, foreigners, and sailors. And it was operated and taken care of by the bloke Y/N was going to spend her entire summer in a fake relationship with. It didn’t seem real, and yet, that was exactly what it was. She didn’t have Harry’s number and knew next to nothing about him, but – as he put it – he lived in the very tall, pointy house on the outskirts of town. It was impossible to miss it. She could find her way to him, even in the dark.

The lighthouse keeper, Y/N thought to herself as she took in the lighthouse again through the window of her room once she walked upstairs. I have to pretend to be in love with a lighthouse keeper. And somehow, Y/N realised when looking back on that particular summer, that wasn’t the weirdest thing that would happen to her in St Ives.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 2 August, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic​ 🌊 @bopbopstyles​ 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh​ 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @honeydearly 🌊 @juliassgem​ 🌊 @summerfeelng​ 🌊 @sunflower--styles 🌊 @withallthelove-a​ 🌊

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

🕯Anon said: hi sweetheart 🕊 can you write about armin having a quiet night with the reader? something like wearing comfy pajamas, fairy lights, cute little candles, incense, soft songs and maybe some reading? and they just cuddling? 🥺 i think about that whenever i go to sleep and do all of the above, but i'm just by myself lmao anyways, thank you so much 🌸 (btw i'm the anon who asked you about the armin x painter!reader 🥺 hello 🥺 i just love how you write can we be friends please) 🕯

Quiet night with Armin

{ Armin x Reader | tw:none | sleep help, comfort, fluff | modern }

{ "Twilight, Valley of the Genesee" 1865 by Samuel Colman 1832 - 1920 }

Shimmering golden hues weaved across pastel blue walls in the form of strings, crossing the bookshelf before making a turn at the plants corner, illuminating the room with a soft warm glow.

Your head rested against the satin pillow, just right above Armin's shoulder, close enough that you can see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. The ends of his hair ghosting over your cheek whenever he leaned to tell a particular clever line of the book he's been reading to you.

You can't exactly remember the name of it, but you can clearly recall his excited smile this morning when showing it to you.

"It's one of my favourites" he said, "the last time i got to reread it was in high-school, has it really been that long?" And that's all you can remember from the conversation before it got sidetracked by him asking if you had lunch yet.

There's definitely something to be said about rereading a book over and over again, a sense of familiarity, an attachment to the characters, plot and world setting. It's almost magic how quickly your comfort book, show or movie can turn a horrible day into a nice one, making it the silver lining.

Looking at the way Armin would pause for a second after some lines, or chuckle at random scenes, like it's an inside joke between him and his mind, you can tell he's definitely recalling some good memories.

Just like how he's adding to his list of comfort memories by sharing this experience with you, he wants you to be a part of this silly book he once picked up as a child and continued to revisit every few years.

You glance at the remaining pages, just as he flips another one to start anew. You've already finished a third of the book, only a quarter remaining.

It's not that you're getting impatient, but it's more that the soft blanket draped over you, the warmth of Armin's body pressed next to yours and the sound of his voice, are all luring you into a hazy cloudy state where your eyelids feel too heavy and turning your head to check the clock seems too exhausting.

How long has it been? since you curled up against him right after you went to put your empty hot chocolate mugs in the sink.

You don't have the heart to tell him that your brain stopped registering the words he's saying and instead listens to the tone of his soft-spoken voice and reacts accordingly. Stealing another glance at the remaining pages, you notice a few missing, okay good, just a few more. You can hold on right?

Right?

Forcing your eyes open, you suppress a yawn threatening to rise before curling even closer to his shoulder, face against his neck, hand over his chest.

Instead of focusing on his calming heartbeat, you try to focus your attention on different things, like the smell of snowdrops flowers filling the room from the scented incense sitting on the nightstand. 

Snowdrops, the milky bell-like flowers who befriended the cold harsh snow herself.

An ancient German tale that Armin told you, on one early spring morning. When the universe was just in bloom, as the earth shaped its form and the plants dressed themselves, when the god in the heavens above just created snow, she was told to go seek her colours from the flowers below.

She came with her request, but the flowers turned their heads, refusing to acknowledge her for she is the reason for the harsh weather, deeming their life spans short, overzealous and jealous, protecting their colours from the merciless lady snow. 

She was left all alone, friendliness, colourless with no love or sympathy from a soul.

Except for one, came knocking on her door, head bowed down and humbly offered to share. Snowdrops were the flowers that warmed the snow's heart, and so white was the colour in which snow was known.

Snow made a vow, to always protect her one and only friend, even from her own self. Under her watchful gaze, snowdrops were gifted with warmth that let them be the first flowers to bloom when winter bid her goodbyes as spring was arriving soon.

You've never seen snowdrops the same since, their delicate and shy nature standing out between all the proud flowers, you even suggested planting some to Armin.

"...but sweetheart" you remember him saying with a frown, " snowdrops are poisonous."

…

Yeah, and so getting their scented incense was the second best option available.

You hear the sound of another page being turned, fewer left to go, just hold on a bit longer.

Wondering the room with your eyes, your gaze fell on the straw sunhat hanging from the on the back of a chair. It's Armin's favourite, he'd always wear it when the sun was particularly bright that day.

you remember him saying it was a gift from his grandpa when he was a child.

His grandpa...didn't you visit his farm a few months ago?

...yeah you did, you can recall clearly, how you were:

Squinting your eyes to avoid the bright sun, you wiped the sweat collecting on your forehead before leaning your head back against the wooden wall. The occasional passing cool breeze distracting you from the dryness in your throat, even after moving to sit in the shade your skin still felt too hot.

The grassy fields in front stretched wide before ending in white pained fences, where the crops patches for vegetables started.

The sudden gentle waves of cool air against your skin made you glance to the side, where Armin was fanning you with his hat, while holding a tray with two ice filled lemonades in his other hand.

"Are you sure you don't want to go inside?" He said, sitting next to you before handing you the cold drink, "you've already done a lot, I'll do take care of the rest."

You've been helping Armin with the farm work since sunrise, feeding the animals together and watering the crops, saying you're exhausted from the scorching hot sun was an underestimation.

And yet, somehow Armin seems unaffected. Not a sign of being bothered as he sat there next to you with his rolled up sleeves and cuffed pants, the slight flushing to his face was the only thing he got from the sun.

"Yeah, I need to lay down a bit." You remember saying, after emptying your drink in one go.

"If that's the case then-" setting the tray aside, Armin patted his lap while looking at you, "Come here."

Too tired to protest, you layed your head on his thigh, feeling your back stretching and the cool air from his fanning was already making you feel better.

"You know, there's a story my grandpa used to tell me about the sun."

An Australian folklore, about a time when the earth was merged in absolute Darkness, when even the stars refused to light up the sky.

Eternal darkness was the fate of humanity, as people were spent their lives carrying torches to light up their way.

Gnowee was an alone mother in a forsaken world, left to fend for her little son. Each day while he slept safely, she'd venture into the the fields in search for plants or seeds. Knowing very well that's it's a matter of life and death if she couldn't come back with something edible.

Each day she'd come with whatever she could find, feeding it to her son even if it meant sleeping on an empty stomach.

But with food scarce and the abyss looming at every corner, things were harder each day.

One day after rocking her child to sleep, she quietly left with her torch to dig for yams she saw on her way last time. Retracting her footsteps, it was a long journey but she knew it'd be worth it.

And so she walked and walked till she reached the place, began digging the ground but dirt and mud was all that she could find. But she couldn't just go back to her son empty handed, and so she wandered far.

She wandered so far in fact that she reached the end, not the end of her journey but the end of the earth itself.

Somehow, in someway she managed to pass from under it, her will for her son to live another day far greater that anything, and so she emerged from the other side.

The void.

Where nothingness lived.

Looking at the vast empty space, she didn't know where she was, the line between the ground and walls was so blurred that she thought she's floating.

Panic and dread filled her mind as she raised her torch higher and higher, attempting to clear a path for her to see. For she had to go back to her son, all alone sleeping by himself.

Climbing the sky was her only solution, as she wondered the world, unknowingly lighting up a path with her as she went.

"And so the Sun Goddess wonders the sky above, in search for her son." Armin told you that day, before offering you his own lemonade to drink because he was still worried about you.

...

You can't recall how that day ended, you think you might have fell asleep on his lap right after.

The fairylights on the wall reminded you of the clear stars sky you've seen while on the farm, his grandfather was a really sweet guy too.

With your mind still coulded in drowsiness, your hearing was also delayed apparently, since you just noticed the book in Armin's hold was closed with him staring at you with a smile instead.

Moving so he could set the book on the nightstand, Armin turned towards you before pulling you closer to him, making sure the covers don't slip off of you. He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with love in his eyes.

"I'm sorry baby, did I take too long?" He said, glancing at the clock behind you answered his question. 

You shook your head, murmuring a slurred "it's alright." 

Posture visibly relaxing, he gave your cheek a small kiss before resting too on the pillow next to you, a yawn escaping him.

With half closed eyes, you saw him cuddling close to your chest, features softening as he bid you goodnight. Your hand moved to stroke his hair just like he always liked, lacing your fingers through the soft strands you closed your eyes too. 

Warmth took over you, the feeling of his soft breath near your neck, the comfortable weight of his arms around you, the slow ticking of the clock, it all rocked you to sleep as you happily gave in.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 4

Based on the votes from Part 3, option B was chosen-- Hero will lie to Leader, and trust Hacker. But time is running out, and they must make their move fast. Perhaps, however, they have moved too fast.

Thanks so much to everyone for reading, and special thanks to @whumpilicious​ for coming up with Hero’s plan!

CW//Mentions of breakups, mentions of concussions, crude jokes, shapeshifting, forced sedation

“No. They need to be here.”

“And why would that be?”

Hero’s attempt to suppress a shiver failed as a single bead of frigid sweat ran down the back of their neck.

They could tell Leader the truth. Hell, they would likely never get a chance as good as this one. The leader of an entire team would be an incredibly powerful asset, an incredibly powerful ally. They could have Villain out of there before Hero could blink.

Or, they could lock them away in some underground bunker, never again to be seen by human eyes.

It was an untenable risk. If Villain was ever going to be saved, Leader needed to remain ignorant.

When had they started thinking of this as a rescue mission?

They expected that realization to make them feel sick, but it did anything but. Instead, it reaffirmed their decision.

“There’s a reason the rehab facility is in the city.” Hero finally replied, after a long moment of shaky-eyed staring. “If anything happens, we’re close by. I’m sure the villains housed there are well aware of that fact. Moving Villain farther away... it’d put them even further out of my sight. It’d make my worries far worse, I assure you.”

Leader raised a brow, looking down at Hero a moment, as if studying a particularly interesting piece of artwork. At last, they nodded.

“I may not understand why you are so worried about this hypothetical escape plan, but I will humor you.”

“You won’t say anything to Director?”

“I will not give Director my opinion on the matter. But it is my duty to report your performance. The terms they outlined are very clear. If you do not stop distracting yourself with this silly venture within the week, Villain’s transfer will go ahead. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Hero bit their lip.

“Do you report... everyone’s performance?”

“Everyone under my command? Yes.”

“But there’s dozens of teams.”

“I am aware.”

“Surely Director does not look over everyone’s performance reports.”

Leader’s mouth pursed.

“They are very busy, so I assume they do not.”

“Did you mention my performance to them?”

“No.” A crescendo of discomfort seemed to reach its peak within Leader, whose gaze quickly moved downwards, to the table.

Hero felt their ears grow red, yet they could not stop themself from pushing.

“They noticed on their own.”

“Yes.”

“The others have had slips, before. Remember when Teammate broke up with their partner? Or when Other Teammate had their concussion?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Did Director say anything then?”

“No. What’s with all the questions? I don’t know why Director is so worried about you, but it’s not my job to question their motives. It’s my job to make sure that the city stays safe, and that you keep your eyes on the road.”

Hero suddenly felt awfully lightheaded.

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Just one.”

“Have you ever met Director?”

A moment of silence resounded as the gears in Leader’s head ground.

“No. No one has. We communicate only over E-mail.”

“Wait, one more question.”

Leader frowned.

“Do you have any pictures of Director?”

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“This is like, the equivalent of walking into the White House and pretending to be the President. You know that, right? You get that?”

Hacker’s voice was even more high-pitched and anxiety-twinged than usual.

“I am well aware.” Hero nodded.

They were well aware of how stupid the idea was, but they hoped that wasn’t evident in their voice. That was the only thing that really mattered, considering that they were currently speaking to Hacker on the phone, though it didn’t stop them from struggling to keep their shoulders level and their gaze steady.

“And you still want to do it. You still want to walk into the White House and pretend to be the President.”

“You’re really proud of that metaphor, aren’t you?”

“A little. Answer the question, though.”

Hero exhaled, exasperated.

“Yes. I’m doing this. There’s no choice.”

“Your hesitation went away really fast. Did you finally grow a pair of balls or-”

“We only have a week.”

“Oh, god. There’s a time limit now?”

“It’s a long story, but, TLDR is, Villain needs out of there in the next week.”

“Otherwise?”

“They’ll be transferred out of the city. Out of our reach.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Damn indeed.”

“Well, then, what do we need to do?”

“Did you grow a pair, too?”

“Maybe. I’m not about to go guns blazing with you, but... Let’s just say I’m invested in how this all turns out. Any help I can offer from behind a screen, I’ll do it. Are you sure we only have a week? Is there any other option?”

“Well... The ultimatum is that if I don’t get my performance up in the next week, they’re going away. The Organization’s director thinks it’ll help me.”

“Then just get your performance up?” Hacker sounded perplexed.

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

Hero gritted their teeth.

The way Hacker spoke, it made the situation sound so simple. As if Hero could just decide to forget years of fighting, of... of whatever they and Villain had. They couldn’t just go on. They should have been able to. Anyone else would have been able to.

But they couldn’t. They knew that their best efforts would not be enough to keep Villain within striking distance, no matter how much sweat they poured in.

“Because... Because I know it isn’t. And, besides, the sooner we get them out of there, the better.”

“If you say so, boss. What do we gotta do?”

“Can you send a fake email? Make it look like it’s from someone important?”

“In my sleep. What do you need?”

“Tell the rehab unit that they’re to expect a very special visitor.”

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It was a stupid plan. Just as stupid as walking into a hostage situation pretending to be a reporter.

But, in the end, that plan had worked. Just not quite in the way they had wanted it to. 

On the outside, the appearance of the rehab center had not changed a bit. Even the childish artworks in the windows remained static, untouched by the hands that had supposedly created them.

Yet, despite the appearance remaining unmoving, when Hero gazed upon the brightly-painted structure and its white picket fence, they could not help but feel as though they had swallowed a stone.

It all felt so wrong. A vicious Villain contained in such a cutesy building. If Villain themself knew, they likely would have been sick. Or furious. Or sick and furious.

If everything went right... they would know, soon.

That was all the plan that Hero had worked out. They had an entrance plan, and a car. Thinking ahead of that made them feel awfully lightheaded. Besides, future thinking like that was far too optimistic for their tastes. If, and only if, they made it out of this alive, then they would think ahead.

Until then, their future plans consisted only of what step they were to take after the current one.

“Do you have visual?” Hero whispered.

“You don’t have to be so quiet.” Hacker’s voice crackled in their ear. “You’re still in the car, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just don’t want them to think I’m talking to myself like some kind of nutcase.”

“Maybe Director is a nutcase. No one knows. That’s what you’re basing this whole gimmick on, right?”

Hero sighed. “Just about.”

They pulled down the car’s sun visor, flipping up the little panel that covered the miniature mirror embedded within. Even with how long they had had their powers, they did not think they would ever get used to looking in the mirror and staring upon a face that was not their own.

Director’s face looked awfully like it belonged on the front of a magazine. Well-cropped black hair, a curling, defined jawline that led to ears adorned by modest steel studs.

“What time is it?”

“Can’t you look at a clock?”

“I want to make sure I have the disguise right.”

“Well, they’re expecting you in about five minutes. Do you think Director is early? Or punctual? Or-”

“I think if I sit in here for another second, I’m going to lose it.”

“Guess they’re gonna be early, then.” A nervous sigh. “Are you ready for this?”

“I think so. You’ve got point, right?”

“Yep. They’ve got their security stuff pretty well protected from remote infiltration, but so long as you’re nearby the building itself, I should be able to see everything the cameras can see.”

“What are you... what are going to do if I fail?”

“I think I’m the last thing you should be worrying about, in that scenario.”

“No. You’re a civilian.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, and last time you were calling me a criminal.”

“That’s not... don’t worry about that. Right now, you’re a civilian, and you don’t need to get yourself wrapped up in all this nonsense. So, in the very real event that I fail, what are you going to do to protect yourself?”

“I... I can cut the connection. The thing in your ear, it’ll look like nothing more than a normal earbud. Is that good enough for you?”

“Yes.”

“And, once you’re in there, don’t reply to anything I say. Not unless everything goes terribly wrong.”

“Got it.”

“Now, we ready for real?”

Hero gave a sharp nod.

“Let’s do this.”

Stepping out of the vehicle, they forgot just how tall they were in this form. They could change into all forms of animals, operate just fine as bird or beast, but existing in the form of another person never ceased feeling terribly odd to them.

They didn’t do it very often. But, this time, it was the only choice they had. And if no one had heard Director’s voice before... then their plan should work just fine.

It was far too many ifs and shoulds for their taste, but that wasn’t important. Not while Villain was still in there.

Hero slammed the car door as authoritatively as they could manage, keeping their gait even and steady, even as they moved in an uncomfortably restrictive suit.

They were at the door far too quickly. They settled their jaw, then, and entered the White House, pretending to be the President.

Behind the front desk was seated the same labcoat, though, now, they had a far more formal posture to them. Upon Hero’s entrance, they seemed confused on whether to salute or bow. After a few nervous moments, they settled for a simple:

“Hello.”

Hero flashed Director’s pearly white smile.

“Good afternoon. I hope I’m not too late?”

“O- Oh, of course not. It’s an honor to have you visit our humble facility.” Labcoat’s ears grew rapidly red in hue. “Would you like a tour, maybe? Or to meet with our head doctor? Or-”

“Oh, no, none of that will be necessary. I am sure we are both far too busy for all those formalities. You must run a very tight ship, here. It is very nice.”

“Thank you! Thank you, sir.”

“Of course. But, no. I do not need the tour. Perhaps another time. For now, I do not have all too long. Would you be kind enough to show me to Villain’s room?”

“Of course, sir.” Labcoat leapt up from their seat, still looking as though they wanted to bow. “It’s just this way, if you would please follow me. If that’s okay.”

Hero nodded in gratitude, following Labcoat through the steel door that led to the rest of the facility.

There was considerably more life to the building’s various rooms, compared to the last time they had visited. The common room at the front saw a group of villains stiffly sitting around a board game, moving the pieces at an agonizingly slow pace. Another watched an old movie on the television, their posture oddly perfect.

Hero tried their best not to show their discomfort.

Instead of leading them straight, into the dining hall, Labcoat turned left to one of the patient wings. The two of them walked past what must have been twenty doors, each of which had a name plaque upon its surface, stating proudly who resided within.

The door at the end of the hall did not have such a name. Instead, it had a simple label.

‘43′

Room 43. Villain’s own personal hell.

“Would you like company? Or would you like your visit to remain private?” Labcoat ducked their head as they spoke.

“Private, if you would not mind.”

“Of course not! Whatever you say, sir. When you are ready to leave just knock, uh, on the door. I’ll let you out. If that’s okay, um, or I could- Actually, no I don’t want you to have to knock. How about this.”

Hero felt their stomach twist, the organ confused about just how well the plan had turned out. To their great surprise, Labcoat reached within a pocket, producing a small metal key.

“Just use this.”

“Thank you very much.” Hero dipped their head, taking the key in turn. Like a mouse skittering from a cat, Labcoat was gone in an instant.

Hero was alone, outside the door. Their stomach sickened, though this time it was not from surprise.

Their plan was going perfectly! They couldn’t have hoped for better. They even had a key, and...

And they couldn’t do it. They felt their legs to be frozen in place, their mind instead filled with a spiraling cascade of images. Images of what their nemesis used to be.

And now...

“Hero.” The voice in their ear was soft. “Villain needs you.”

Hero nodded. They placed their hand upon the knob, and turned.

A gust of sterile air wafted out. Hero entered, closing the door behind themself.

Leaving themself alone with Villain. Some small part of them expected a witty one liner, a passive-aggressive joke. But there was none; only the mechanical whirring of medical machines.

And the slightest rise and fall of their nemesis’ chest.

They did not tell their legs to bring them to Villain’s bedside, but that is where they ended up. On the security footage they had seen, it had been nearly impossible to see their unconscious nemesis’ face.

Now, they had the best view in the world.

Some part of Hero had expected peace. Expected their former foe to have been spending their unconsciousness in a state of bliss. Certainly not an ideal state, but a comfortable one.

Instead, Villain’s closed eyes twitched, tiny movements flickering through their fingers. 375 days, and they were still fighting.

Of course they were. They would never stop fighting.

Hero didn’t notice as their hand reached out, practically on its own. Villain’s hand was cold.

Their face... everything about their face was too perfect. Too clean. Their mouth was locked in a permanent, blank frown. Their brows twitched, but did nothing more than that.

Villain’s eyes did not open.

Hero squeezed their hand tighter. The heartbeat monitor registered the slightest quickening of pace.

It was a knocking that broke Hero from their trance. They dropped Villain’s hand, stumbling backward, turning just as the room’s door opened to reveal a pair of blue scrubs.

Head Doctor smiled.

“Friend.” They chirped. “I’m so glad you could come visit. I missed seeing you, last week, but I understand how busy you are this time of year. How are you finding everything?”

Hero gulped.

Their imitations were perfect. They knew that, and they were quite proud of that fact. Just about any animal, they replicated with ease, and they could morph their face to match that of anyone they so chose to copy.

Appearances were easy. But there was one limit to shapeshifting.

Hero could not imitate voices.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Hero is too far in. Keep up the ruse - How should Hero explain their voice?

B.) There’s no way to get out of this. Take the risk and run! - How should Hero make their escape?

[malienessan]

Well, I got a little inspired by the awesome pictures of Rhett golfing. @rhettjmc was it something like this you had in mind?

Can you help me find my balls?

THWACK!

The red ball flew in a perfect arc, over the fence at the 300 mark and landed with a thud in the thick grass, in the general vicinity of a couple of dozen other red balls.

THWACK!

The next red ball mimicked the previous almost perfectly, over the fence, landing with a thud.

THWACK!

And again.

THWACK!

And again.

It had been going like that for a while now. Rhett “Red Ball” McLaughlin was grooving it in a way like he hadn’t been since he was on the pro tour. As a matter of fact, a small crowd had gathered behind him, studying his technique, the perfect hit he made with every swing, his skill. Well, a few might have studied his physique as well. He was tall, 6ft7, with long, curly amber hair, that was partly covered by a trucker hat at the moment. And that strong body, well, he could really get some clubhead speed

THWACK!

“You ready to go man?”

“Oh, I’m just watching this guy drive.”

Rhett could clearly hear the mumbling coming from behind him. He almost smiled a little to himself but managed to refrain. He knew it would be way cooler if he didn’t acknowledge it.

Another ball.

THWACK!

It had been almost six months since Rhett played his last game. Life had been good since, he’d played a fair bit of golf, mostly for fun. He was working as a pro at Pinehurst so the game was ever present in his life.

But this.

Just swinging, driving ball after ball, no, that was a long time ago. His back wouldn’t usually let him either, but it had been good for a while. Probably because of the sweet massages he got from his love and former caddie, Link “Blue Balls” Neal.

THWACK!

Apparently someone in the party was ready to leave, but as far as Rhett could make out, they weren’t in agreement. Maybe it was time to break out the 7 iron? He adjusted his trucker hat, protecting his head from the sun, but letting his amber locks flow freely over his shoulders. His Ray-Bans perfected the look he was after.

THWACK!

Yep, he still got it. The red ball landed exactly where it should, Rhett didn’t even have to look after it, he could feel it in his body that it was a perfect hit.

THWACK!

“Damn…”

Oh, the audience was captivated. It was like being back on the tour, Rhett could feel the adrenaline, the endorphins, the need for attention and appreciation.

THWACK!

The second to last ball joined the dozen other red balls and Rhett pegged up his final one. He could hear some rustling behind him, he figured his audience knew that the show was all but over and had decided to leave.

He lined up the shot, swung back and right as he let the club descend…

“Babe, what are you up to?”

THWOOKK…

Nothing in this world could have gotten Rhett out of his groove, except the gorgeous man standing behind him, cheeky smile on his face, blue eyes twinkling. Rhett grinned at him, before turning towards the general direction in which the golf ball was heading and shouting “Fore!”. Hopefully it wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Link! How long have you been standing there?”

Rhett put his club back in the bag and went up to his lover, giving him a kiss on the cheek, brushing his silver-streaked hair behind a beautiful ear. All of Link was beautiful, Rhett told him everyday.

“Long enough to see a bunch of men ogling you. And I know you could hear them, you filthy bastard.” His words were followed by a wide smile and a gentle touch at the growing hard on Rhett was sporting. Rhett glanced over his shoulder, they were pretty much alone.

“Oh, come on, you know how it is. And besides, I only have eyes for you, honey.” He patted the plaid clad butt, Link always wore such tight pants, and Rhett loved it. “Do you have 15 minutes to spare?”

Link tried to look scandalized but failed miserably. “What did you have in mind?”

Rhett pulled off his sunglasses, he wanted to have a proper look at his boyfriend. Then he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out two red balls, one for luck, and a spare, for extra luck. He threw them into the small grove nearby, and it sounded like one bounced off a tree trunk and one landed directly in the thick grass, impossible to see.

“Can you help me find my balls?”

He smiled at Link, who grinned back and took the lead, dragging Rhett by the hand.

A little while later, Link actually did find Rhett’s balls, and took a firm hold of them.

[one-boring-person]

Hey!!!how are you?

Can i have some Rambo Headcanons??

Maybe the old rambo moving nextdoor to a young(24), farmer? (They/them pls), and maybe eventually him developing a crush or Wanting to protect them since they’re always so nice and caring towards him?

Thank you!!(these are for my birthday lmao, im a complete and total rambo simp. And i feel old rambo would really enjoy calming down and helping around with someone who loves him)

You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to write these as soon as I read the request! It's so wholesome, so I hope I've done it justice! And happy birthday! I hope you like these 😊(also I'm good, thanks for asking!)

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x younger!reader headcannons.

Warnings: mention of PTSD, vague injury detail.

A/n: I'm sorry if this is not as expected, I'm still getting to grips with writing headcannons 😅

Masterlist

The ranch had been in a state of disrepair when John first got there, walls thinning, paint peeling, buildings empty and soulless. He hadn't expected things to be as they were when he left, all those years ago, but the evident lack of care surprised him.

The house had been empty, which he eventually figured out was die to the fact his father had passed a good few years prior, and hadn't left anyone in charge of the ranch.

This meant that everything was as it was when he left, photographs hanging awkwardly on the walls, dusty furniture shoved out of the way.

Naturally, the rest of the ranch was also in pretty poor condition: the stables were practically overrun with weeds and foul smelling hay, one lone horse still nosing weakly at the empty water bucket on the floor. Taking pity on the animal, and feeling a need to help it, John took it out onto the field, which is where he first saw them.

Across from his father's ranch was another, smaller one, where horses and cattle grazed in the fields, a single car parked up beside the main house, which was in a much better condition than his own newfound home. In one of the fields, running around with a young foal, was who he assumed to be a ranchhand.

For a moment or so, he had stood and watched as the figure ran in circles with the youthful horse in tow, admiring their seemingly high spirits - he hadn't felt high-spirited in years.

After he'd helped the old horse from the stables out (cleaning out a stall, feeding it with feed he found in a storeroom), John had gone back to the house, almost forgetting the figure across the field, intending to head to sleep.

A couple of days passed after that, before he saw them again, though this time, they also saw him.

He'd started work on the house, having collected what he needed from a nearby town, and was sat on the roof of the main building as the sun glared down at him. Taking a brief pause from his work, he'd looked up and seen them in the field again, this time astride a larger horse.

They were racing around again, until the rider noticed they were being watched, at which point they slowed to a halt and looked around, quickly spotting John on the roof. From that distance, he couldn't tell what their expression was, but they raised a hand after a moment or so, waving up at him. Hesitantly, he had waved back.

Later that day, when he'd been sat on his father's old rocking chair on the veranda, taking another break, John had noticed someone coming up the road towards him. Standing out of instinct, John soon realised it was someone astride a horse, the rider carefully trotting up the drive, their face becoming clearer the nearer they came.

Still cautious of people, John had acted somewhat guarded as the person rode up to him, a broad smile on their work-weathered youthful face. In their hand, they carried a small box, which they cradled awkwardly on their thighs.

Approaching him, they'd tipped their hat, a battered Stetson, and greeted him, introducing themself as (Y/n), the owner of the ranch next to his. They'd spoken cheerfully, as if unaffected by the hardships of life, which they may well be. That's what John thought anyway, until they openly and happily told him about the passing of their parents, four years ago. The ranch had been left to them, leaving them in charge of the business.

Their first encounter had been somewhat awkward, but it didn't seem to bother (Y/n), and they left after ten minutes or so with a genial smile at him, stating that they'd be happy to help if he ever needed it. They also left behind the box, which John soon discovered was filled to the brim with cookies, a food he hadn't eaten for decades. Trying one, he soon rediscovered a love for them he didn't remember he had.

In the following weeks, John managed to fix up the house, getting it ready to live in properly, with some very brief help from his neighbour. They'd been round earlier in one week, dropping off another box of cookies, and had offered him access to their tools, which they brought round soon after.

After this, John felt it was only right that he invited them round for drinks as thanks, something that still made him somewhat uneasy. Somehow, he did feel reassured when they happily agreed and turned up the following Sunday, the two of them sitting in comfortable quiet on the veranda, sometimes talking, other times staying silent.

This became a regular occurrence.

Every week, (Y/n) would go to John's, or vice-versa, the latter soon learning to trust them and enjoy their company, finding himself in a better mood than he had been in in a long time. Their openness to talk or listen (even if he said very little) comforted him, allowing him to forget the nightmarish things going through his head near-daily.

After three months, (Y/n) had started coming round much more often, many times just appearing in the middle of the day to help out with whatever task needed doing, unafraid of doing dirty work. They later told him it was because they enjoyed his company far too much, and often actively sought it out: they made it clear that his quiet, brooding nature was an attractive quality about him that reassured them.

It didn't take long for them to become close, the two seemingly working at a different wavelength to the rest of the world, one that only existed between their small ranches.

They helped John procure his first horses, lending him one of their own to help build up the numbers. The differences between each ranch soon became blurred, the fence running through the middle of their respective fields eventually disappearing as they merged their ranches together, continuing with business individually with the help of the other's land.

John had long since accepted, within himself, that he would not find someone to spend the rest of his life with, not after Sarah. It was a sad truth, but one he had to live with.

That all changed when he suddenly realised he had fallen for his neighbour, the one person he now trusted and cared for more than anyone in the world.

He'd realised this when their face first started appearing in his nightmares, after a close accident that nearly resulted in catastrophe. (Y/n) had fallen from the roof of the stables, thankfully landing on a stack of stray hay which softened the impact, leaving them in severe amounts of pain for two days. Their face became part of the repertoire in his head, nightmares about their death soon plaguing him even further, as he finally acknowledged the newfound love he felt for them.

Because that's what it was: love.

It couldn't be anything less, he was too damaged to have heedless fancies, and his emotions were far too strong towards them. Since he'd moved in, (Y/n) had always been there, acting as a friend he never had, steadily working their way into his life, bettering it in ways he never would've thought another person could, supporting him through the episodes of flashbacks he was now prone to having. They had showed him love and care he hadnt experienced from anyone else. He valued them highly, prioritising them over himself, and he knew he was heavily attracted to them, but he told himself "no", don't ruin the friendship.

They didn't make it easy to repress the urges. No, they only managed to win him over more and more with their caring, loving attitude, though their youth managed to awaken some form of paternal instinct John never knew he had. He felt the need to protect them at all times, and he would do his best to uphold this, but he knew his feelings were getting too strong.

Somehow, he managed to miss all the loving glances, and little tells (Y/n) inadvertently laid down before him, the rancher have g developed similar feelings for him, though they'd never admit it to John, knowing how human interaction like that could be upsetting for him.

Eventually, it had taken a beautiful evening, with the sun spilling its last bloody rays on the dry landscape as the two sipped beer from bottles on the veranda, for them to finally admit to each other how they felt.

It just happened: one minute, they were leaning in to replace their bottles on the table, the next, their lips are just touching, breaths mingling as they struggle to do rain themselves. (Y/n) had finally leaned in, pressing their lips against his, pulling back almost as quickly as they moved in, a horrified, embarrassed expression on their face.

They'd apologised instantly, terrified that they'd screwed up their relationship, rambling and cursing until John had recovered and kissed them again, cupping their face in his hand as he pulled them closer. It had been too long for him, and the touch was just incredible, goosebumps rising along his spine as he poured all of his love and care into the kiss, pressing as close as possible.

Somehow, (Y/n) had ended up in his lap, head on his chest as he cradled them, relishing in the feeling of having a solid, supple body against his own after so long, and one that means him no harm, too. They knew where they both stood, and it kickstarted a close relationship.

(Y/n) moved in with him after their second foaling season together, where he'd seen their parental instincts kick in, particularly when they'd then worked to socialise the foals by playing with them. The memory would always stick with John: something about the carefree youth in their face as they ran around with the frolicking horses reminded him of the good in his life.

Life was good, everything was going mostly well.

Naturally, there were some days when he'd relapse, having particularly bad episodes that would be harrowing on both him and (Y/n), though they were always there to help him through it. Their soft words of love and worry would easily permeate the cloud of despair, and had break down in their arms, enjoying the sensation of being held.

They often held each other. Even if it was just a quick hug, or an embrace from behind as one pressed up against the other's back, touch became a large factor in their relationship - John relished it after the more callous touch he had grown used to.

Kisses, too, became a large way of showing their affection. Little ones here and there between jobs, deep passionate kisses up against the wall of the house, or sloppy making out on the shared seat on the veranda, it all counted for their love, and they thoroughly enjoyed partaking in them.

(Y/n) was always there, even when Gabrielle and Maria joined them. They were there when Gabrielle died, and they were there to avenge her death, choosing to go out with the man they loved.

Both of them liked to cook, even if John's meals were a little...plain...so they often spent hours in the kitchen with each other, fooling around with whatever they could, John's face alight with more smiles and grins than he thinks it's ever been.

They went riding together, finding solace in each other's company on their many trails through their land, the horses often coming home tired after so long of being out.

Sometimes, John got self-conscious about his age in comparison with their's, thinking he is too old for them. Everytime this happened, (Y/n) would reassure him that they love him for who he is and doesn't care if he's not as young as he used to be, it never would matter.

Marriage was never really a thing they considered. John never had much time for the state anymore, so why get them involved in their relationship?

They considered themselves married, and wore rings to show it, but it was never a legal affair. Nevertheless, the union had always been a happy one, and John could honestly say that he had been wrong about himself: he had found love.