#and the wild difference between James having a father who loves and accepts him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wastelandcth · 4 years ago

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Better Love - cth

part two: the wild and us

summary: Maeve and Calum meet. The rain outside puts on a show.

author’s notes: I hope you guys enjoyed the first part of this series! This part had one of my favorite scenes I’ve ever written so I hope you enjoy!

warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of breakups, mentions of food.

masterlist || request || join my taglist!

part one

Staring in the blackness at some distant star The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are To the wild and to the both of us

"What are you doing in my hotel?" she asked shakily, her wariness prevalent in the way her voice shook as she stared at the man in front of her.

The towel she was pulling closer to her body felt like nothing in the room with him. Maeve, who had only made it back to the cabin an hour prior, had expected to be alone. She'd hadn't expected to walk out of her shower to find a tall man sleeping in the bed she'd rented out for the week. She also hadn't expected the rainstorm to be so bad, her weather app claiming her entire week here would be sunny and perfect for hiking, so finding a man in her cabin hadn't been in her plans either.

And wow was he a sight for sore eyes.

"What are you doing in my cottage?" he asked, Maeve's eyebrow raising as she heard the trace of an accent, "Mrs. Bagby rented this place out to me, she never said there was someone already staying here," he huffed, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied Maeve's.

"Mrs. Bagby? Who the hell is Mrs. Bagby? I'm renting this from Mrs. Baird," Maeve said, "I was here first! You're the intruder!"

Maeve, who had always been prepared to debate with anyone, was not backing down no matter how exposed she was in front of a handsome man. She wasn't going to stand for a stranger barging into her space, she needed this vacation more than anything in this world and she'd be damned if she let this ruin it. She watched as the man in front of her opened and closed his mouth, looking like a fish out of the water as he tried to come up with a solution to the very obvious problem. If Maeve was honest, she had no idea how the confusion had happened or how they'd both ended up in this situation, but she didn't have much time to think about it.

The thunder outside shook the walls of the small cabin, rattling the jars and the decorations on the walls throughout, and it wasn't until Maeve heard the crack of lightning that she realized just how bad the storm outside had become. The view outside the window had been fogged, the colorful autumn trees disappearing behind the wall of water falling from the sky as the landscape blurred into a mixture of grey and orange with red splotches. Maeve, whose attention had switched from the man in the green hoodie to the raging storm outside, had grabbed the pile of clothes she'd left on the dresser. Without another word, she walked back towards the bathroom and made sure to twist the lock before she let out a breath.

The man in her bedroom for the week had been, breathtaking to say the least. His eyes, although wide and filled with confusion when Maeve had looked into them, were brown and shone even in the gloominess of the weather His hair was short, the tufts of blonde hair curling near the ends. Maeve guessed that his hair had been a darker color naturally, the roots she'd spotted proving her point. He looked like a kind person, maybe he was like Maeve as well, just another person looking for an escape.

That's all her trip to this cabin was meant to be, an escape.

Maeve's life had always been simple if you could call it that. She'd been born on a rainy afternoon, her mother liked to tell her it was because she was meant to outshine the sun itself. Her parents, who'd met in Scotland years before she ever came to take her first breath, had always told her about the magic the country had to offer. They told her stories of the forests so vast and large that even the biggest of problems could shrink down into pebbles that flowed away in the rivers. She'd grown up in a small town, dreaming of the wonders that Scotland had for her when she was old enough to see them.

Maeve had moved when her time at university peaked when her nose was stuck in books that spoke all about the history and the cultures that made up the world. It had been the first time in her life that she'd been away from her parents, from the only home she had ever known, and it had been so thrilling. She went from only traveling to big cities for concerts or when her father had needed to run errands to living right in the heart of all the commotion. The quiet nights that had been filled with only cicadas singing into the night were replaced by the sound of a city, alive and cheerful at all hours of the day. Maeve had never experienced so much at such a fast pace and her life at her university flew by before she had a chance to slow down. One day she was unpacking her bags in her dorm and the next she was accepting her diploma and applying to jobs around the country. She felt the burnout, felt the way her brain tensed whenever she read through application requirements and the thought of having to pack up her life again. She felt the way her eyes forced themself open while riding the train to interviews. She knew that she needed a break, a few days off to remember who she was and what she wanted in life. To make matters worse, her relationship had been going downhill. She'd met James at a social event the school had put on, both of them were in the same program so it wasn't hard to make conversation with him. After too many history jokes and a trip to the campus bar, Maeve found herself awake in his arms as he slept. She'd laid there that first night, looking out at the stars through his window, wondering why she'd felt a pull towards a different place, a different person.

That feeling hadn't stopped since that night, she'd stayed with James, he was a nice guy who made her laugh and kept her company as they both studied. But he wasn't someone she saw herself spending the rest of her life with. She had a feeling that James felt the same way even if they were both too afraid to admit that the spark that had been there before was fiddling out. The arguments were getting worse, the silence lasting longer as time went on. It wasn't until one night when Maeve had been studying for a final exam that it had all exploded. Words were thrown around, tears were shed, and she was left feeling like something was wrong with her. She couldn't understand why she couldn't love James as he loved her, she'd turn distant and pushed him away until all that was left between them was a broken flower vase and tears.

That's why she'd jumped on the opportunity to fly to Scotland when it arose. She'd been sitting at her desk, scrolling through an endless list of applications and teaching opportunities when the email had popped up. She'd read through it a couple of times, making sure she wasn't imagining the words on the screen. Her professor, who'd helped her in more ways than one could count, had recommended her for a teaching job abroad. She would have to visit the school, make sure that it was both a right fit for her and for the administration, but it seemed like they were more than ready to offer her a spot and helping her make Edinburgh her home.

Mrs. Baird, the lovely older woman who had driven Maeve up to the cabin and helped her unpack, had told her that she was glad she'd arrived a few days earlier after Maeve had told her all about why she was visiting Scotland at such an odd time of year. She'd been a curious soul ever since Maeve had stepped out of the taxi that had taken her from the train station out to the main residence Mrs. Baird had seemed to be the owner of. She'd asked Maeve all sorts of questions, which Maeve had taken as to her host just making sure she wasn't escaping from anyone dangerous or anything like that, it was a tough time to be a woman traveling alone.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll love the spot you'll be staying in then. It's very private, it'll be good for you to clear your head and relax before your big interview," she'd nodded as she packed up a few bags with groceries Maeve hadn't recalled reading about on the website.

"Oh, um, I don't think I paid for anything like that, Mrs. Baird," Maeve chuckled and shook her head, "I was thinking of just popping into town and picking up a few essentials."

"Oh don't you worry, darling! It's my pleasure. Plus, the cottage is quite secluded so it'd take you almost half a day to get to the shops and back," she shrugged, "Let's get going, yeah?"

The drive up to the cabin had been slow and gave Maeve a chance to take in the sights. The forest was alive with colors that Maeve's eyes had craved to see. It seemed like everything her parents had told her about the place they'd met was still the same. The trees still sway in the chilly breeze and somewhere in the distance, a river flowed with a power that only came with years of flowing and receiving rain. The drive itself had been plenty enough to get Maeve excited about her days of rest but the second her eyes saw the stone bridge that led to her home for the next couple of days, she knew her life was about to change. After helping Mrs. Baird with bringing in all the bags and thanking her for the candles she'd also brought, telling her a rainstorm was predicted to pass through the next day, Maeve was alone.

Her first day in the cabin had been spent unpacking and unwinding. Mrs. Baird had been kind enough to bring a bottle of Scottish whiskey, telling her," when in Scotland" and Maeve had sampled the liquor, letting it burn her throat as she stared out at the river flowing outside her bedroom window. Her trip had been going great so far, she'd successfully beaten jetlag, had managed not to burn the small kitchen down during her dinner, and she had taken a nice and relaxing show when the rainstorm had shown up the next day. She'd made sure to light a few candles around the place, not wanting to walk around in the dark if the power did go out. Then, of course, everything took a turn for the unexpected when Maeve walked out of the bathroom and was met by a man sleeping in her bed.

By the time she'd walked out of the bathroom again, fully dressed and a little more confident in herself, the power had gone out and the whole cabin had been illuminated with an orange glow coming from the candles. The man was no longer in the bedroom, but the storm outside the window was winding up more and more as the seconds passed. She knew she couldn't make him walk out in the forest during the storm, it was too dangerous and mean in general to kick someone out in the middle of a downpour. So she'd let the guy stay until the storm passed and then they'd both walk down to the main residence and sort out whatever the hell was happening.

"Calum," he mumbled, looking over as Maeve stepped out into the living room, "I'm Calum."

"Maeve," she replied with a nod, "You're not here to murder me, right?"

Calum chuckled and shook his head, which made Maeve warm and sent a shiver down her spine. His smile was nice, a murderer wouldn't have waited for her to get dress unless he was into that, she thought. She'd smiled at him, tugging the sleeves of her sweater down a bit as she looked around the living room. The candles gave the entire room a moody glow, the storm had stopped the sunshine from coming in through the windows and it had felt later on in the day than it actually was.

"So...tea?" she asked softly as she motioned towards the kitchen.

Maeve had found out that Calum, which was a very fitting name for the man sitting across from her watching the rain outside, had been in Scotland for a little over two weeks. He'd been traveling on his own, exploring the smaller cities and seeing what the Highlands had to offer. Maeve had told him about her interview, confessing that she wasn't the most prepared and that these few days before were to help her hopefully calm down. To her surprised, she’d learned that Calum was a professor at a university near his town, both of their widening at the confession of just how similar they were.

"That's exciting, what are you hoping to teach?” Calum asked, his eyes meeting hers in the candlelight, “I specialize in Art History.”

“History,” she nodded, a blush on her cheeks, her eyes glancing down to the cup of tea that had been warming her hands, “I’ve always loved studying it and I want to help others learn about it too.”

“Yeah? I get that. The history department at my school isn’t the best Some older man names Rainer runs it like it’s still warm times,” Calum chuckled, “He’s the worst.”

Maeve laughed, shaking her head as she thought about her fair share of professors who had yet to catch up with the times She thought about what kind of instructor Calum was. It was only his second year teaching so was he the one who made his students excited for lessons ahead? Did he use fun activities and assignments to incorporate them into his plans? Maybe he assigned cool projects, where the main point was to gain a bigger understanding of something a student has been wanting to talk about. Calum seemed like the type and from what Maeve had learned about the man in the short hours she’d known him, she knew he was kind and attentive.

“How was your hike up here?” Calum asked as he set the cup of tea down on the table, his legs stretching out as his head leaned on the back of the couch.

“Hike?” Maeve asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked over at him.

“Yeah, I left around like five and didn’t get here until ten,” Calum chuckled and shrugged, “And somehow you look like you just took a leisurely drive up here,” he teased, sitting up as he saw the look on Maeve’s face, “Oh my god, you drove up here, didn’t you?”

"In my defense," Maeve giggled out, holding her arms up, "Mrs. Baird offered to bring me up here"

"Oh, and she forced me to walk for five hours and fall in the mud!?" Calum whined, shaking his head as he let out a groan, "She's so not getting a good review from me, whatever her name may be."

Maeve laughed softly, watching the way Calum ran a hand down his face and pouted over at her. She was surprised at how easily they both got along, usually, Maeve had trouble getting out of her own head and talking to new people. But with Calum things just felt so carefree. She wasn't sure if it was such a good thing, opening up to a complete stranger who had been booked into the same cabin as her, but the rain outside wasn't letting up and she was more than willing to work out a compromise to share with him until the rain stopped and they could take the quad bike Mrs. Baird had told Maeve about before leaving her in the middle of nowhere.

"Do you want to go freshen up? I'm sure your five-hour hike up here more than justifies a nice warm bath," Maeve nodded, giggling as Calum glared playfully over at her, "I'll try and mix something up for lunch?"

"That sounds lovely, if the rain doesn't stop soon I'll make us dinner," Calum shrugged, standing up from the couch and walking over to the entrance of the cabin, gathering his bag and a pile of clothes that Maeve hadn't even noticed were on the floor before making his way over to the bathroom.

The rain had not stopped by the time Calum had gotten out of the bath, much to Maeve’s pleasure since she’d heard his soft voice singing along to whatever song he’d been playing. The rain hadn't stopped while the two ate their lunch, a stew that Maeve had managed to throw together in the tiny kitchen. And the rain had, surprisingly, not stopped while Calum had been bustling around the kitchen a few hours later, making dinner while Maeve read through one of the many books she’d packed with her for her trip If she hadn’t known anything about Scotland before traveling there, she would’ve assumed the Earth was flooding and that her adventure abroad would end before it even started.

It wasn’t until a crack of thunder rocked the walls of the cabin that Maeve realized just how extreme the weather has turned. The window was howling against the windows, shaking the panes with the intensity of it. The power had yet to come back and as the day had gone by, the cabin had only grown gloomier and gloomier. Their only source of light had been the many candles that their host has left them, something Maeve would be eternally grateful for. They crackled and glowed in the darkness of whatever room Maeve would get up to look out the window through. Her shadows mixed with the firelight and danced across the dark walls of the safety she’d come to know in her short stay. The river outside of the house, which was louder now that it was filled with rainwater, had grown taller as Maeve would barely see the giant rocks inside of the river which had caused the small rapids earlier in the day.

It was all terrifyingly beautiful.

Nature had put on a show for her and Calum, letting them in on the secret dance the forest and elements did for one another. The trees danced with the wind, swaying wildly from side to side and switching directions when they pleased. The river water jumped over the stone bridge above it, splashing cold water onto the top and lowering as it sprinkled back down onto itself. The woodland animals, who would be hiding in the safety of their own homes, hidden somewhere Maeve couldn’t quite see but hoped they’d be just as amazed watching the show that the world put on for them. It was all so terrifying and violent, the rain submitting to no one but itself as he disappeared into the river only to come down harder from the clouds in the night sky. It wasn’t until the thunder, which had been singing a song for the forest itself, cracked again that the stone bridge took its final bow.

Maeve watched as the bridge crumbles. It started slowly, one of two big pieces crumbling into the river below as if by accident. But the water was cruel and greedy, splashing upwards and sending more and more stone into its hands. Maeve, who could do nothing more than watch as their only way back out to civilization crumbled and washed away into the river below, gasped and leaned against the window. The glass shook underneath her hands, the wind greeting her palms from the outside and howling in excitement as the once-solid bridge was split into two pieces, never to meet again, as the final act of nature’s show came to an end.

“Did you hear that?” Calum asked as he walked into the bedroom, where Maeve had been watching the show, “Maeve?”

She turned to face the stranger, her wide eyes softening as she was met with the definition of a word she couldn’t place in her brain. Calum had changed into a pair of joggers, the grey material hanging loosely off his hips and only held up by a haphazardly tied knot. His upper half was dressed in a warm green sweater, the color reminding her of the fields of green she’d seen on the train ride to the small town, his board shoulder stretching the fabric a little bit in the candlelight, he looked breathtaking. Maeve knew he was good-looking, it was one of the first things she’d noticed when he’d jumped up from the bed with tired eyes that had been filled with fear. He was beautiful and kind and…stuck with Maeve.

“T-the bridge,” she stuttered out, her cheeks flushing as she realized Calum was still standing in front of her waiting for an answer, “The bridge fell.”

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lovelyirony · 4 years ago

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Hi! “If I fail, I’ll fall apart/Maybe it is all a test/because I feel like I’m the worst / so I always act like I’m the best” -Oh No! This is one of my favorite lyrics ever, and I'd really like to see what you bring out of it :) You're amazing, ily! 💞

what if maria had more of an effect on tony’s upbringing than most? howard’s still a dick but make it funny

Tony has known he was probably not the best human on earth ever since he was five and his dad made a bigger deal out of a dead man’s birthday than his own.

At age five, you don’t really know a lot about the world yet. There were about two things that Tony didn’t know that he wishes he did know:

1.) The word “fuck.” It would have helped with a lot of his situations.

2.) The concept of jealousy. He probably could have gone to a child therapist or some shit, he’s not sure if those even existed back then, or if his parents would have even let him go.

(After all, he’s supposed to be their perfect little boy, just the right amount of precocious and the other amount being something like genius or respectability.)

It is actually his mother who takes the reins on his life. Howard has effect, he has huge effects.

Maria is a socialite who absolutely refuses to let her son succumb to Howard’s devil-may-care attitude that he’s so infamous for. Her son is going to be well-mannered, respectable, and know exactly how to treat a lady of high social standing.

This involves training at a young age. Six would be a fine age.

It’s not Howard who sends him to boarding schools, it’s Maria. She ensures that he goes to the finest schools available, most abroad in Europe. She trains him out of the American accent, into something a bit more refined.

He spends summers learning different languages and different skills. He learns how to fence by the time he’s ten, and becomes quite proficient at it.

She quizzes him on established families, up-and-coming families, and never keeps him far from her sight.

Anthony Stark is not going to be a wild-child, she decides.

Anthony isn’t, for the most part. Sure, he usually stays up past what is acceptable for the night to work on some mechanic stuff and uses the word “damn” a bit too much for his mother’s liking, but that’s the reason make-up and apologies were invented.

He follows rules and is known to smile like his mother and enjoy listening to quartets play out in the open air during the summer months. He travels to Europe and participates in various activities and is the talk of many socialites who eagerly await his arrival.

He’s a portrait, holding still for all’s approval, and he’s not quite sure how to move.

That’s troublesome, he thinks.

The problem is this: Anthony Stark doesn’t have any interests outside what is required. He loves working on inventions, and they are necessary for the company to survive, but his father hates any robotic invention he pushes for, and mother thinks that if he tells people he’s rather fond of AC/DC then he’s a plague to society and will be shunned.

(He doesn’t say it to her face but they haven’t shunned Sunset yet, and she’s a whole world of problems, so rock music is the least of their problems.)

There is one thing that he pushes for: university in the United States. He’s been traveling to Europe since he was a child, and he honestly needs to do something for himself.

Maria is not pleased.

“So after I sacrifice so much for you, this is how you repay me?” she asks him over dinner.

He places his fork to the correct side.

“Yes. This is how I am repaying you. By getting a perfectly respectable college degree from a critically-acclaimed university that anyone would be lucky to attend. Not to mention it might reflect badly on Stark Industries if I don’t go to an American college. Do I not trust American institutions to run an American business?”

“You shouldn’t.”

Anthony laughs.

“Mother, they cannot teach me anything that Europe can’t. Let me go to college in the United States. Please.”

“No.”

It takes Howard to convince her, and a.) Howard doesn’t even like Anthony that much, and b.) he also doesn’t like his wife that much.

“He’s going to a damned college here, Maria. We don’t need him to go to any more of that fancy bullshit you call school over there.”

“Fancy bullshit, Howard?! Bullshit?! You mean what has gotten him this far in life and will make him a better man of social standing than you?”

“My god, is social standing all that matters to you? What are your little friends going to do, choke on their silver spoons when they find out that your son is going to an American college?”

Jarvis also convinces her.

“It will be easier to monitor his progress from a shorter distance,” he advises. “And you can visit frequently.”

Anthony gives him a very dirty look. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to mention that.

Oops.

But, Anthony gets his way. He’s going to MIT, and he has a roommate.

(Okay, so mother doesn’t know that. But he supposes she will if she ever visits. Or maybe not considering if Tony can successfully convince his roommate to “disappear” for at least a day.)

Rhodey does not give a singular shit about high society anything or anyone. Anthony Stark is a name he registers, but doesn’t recognize.

“Anthony’s a mouthful,” he says a week into their cohabitation. “You have a nickname or something?”

“Ah...no? I mean, not yet,” Anthony says.

“How do you feel about Tony?”

“I...I suppose that that is alright.”

“Are you from Europe?”

“No, from New York.”

“Well holy shit, you sure as fuck don’t sound like it.”

Anthony--well, Tony now--learns quite a bit about American schooling and what he’s actually supposed to be doing to pass off as normal.

Rhodey (yeah he got a nickname that ended in ‘y’ too, Tony said he wouldn’t be the only one) takes him to the thrift store and tells him to pick out some clothes.

“...there’s a shirt that’s advertising a restaurant from Montana.”

“And? Does it look hilarious?”

“Is that the point of this?”

“Fashion is supposed to make you like what you’re wearing or like yourself. I swear if you say that those boring black suits make you feel better about yourself, I will be dragging you to any therapist that will take us for at least five dollars.”

“Five dollars?”

“Maybe less if I can negotiate.”

“Hey!”

Tony learns how to have fun. He loves it.

Rhodey makes him go to record stores and find the bargain bin, and they play the warped records and laugh as voices go up and down in pitch. Tony blasts Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden until the RA begs him to go to bed and Rhodey throws all of his pillows off of his bed.

In return, Tony teaches Rhodey how to read other’s facial expressions, dress for any occasion and be the best-looking there, as well as avoiding any sort of conflict by bringing up past embarrassments.

“Are you serious about the color of my shoe affecting my social standing?” Rhodey asks, trying to shove his foot into a shoe that was a brown color that Tony had described as a “golden mahogany.”

“Yes, I’m dead serious.”

“No fucking wonder everyone says eat the rich all of you are so fucking pretentious. It’s brown, Tony.”

“Tell that to any high society woman over fifty.”

“I will.”

As it turns out, he ends up doing it much sooner than anticipated.

Tony’s parents come to visit.

They call him Anthony. Which is gross. Rhodey hasn’t used the name “Anthony” in about six months.

“I wasn’t aware that you were his roommate,” his mother says.

“Well, here I am,” Rhodey says. “Name’s also on the information they sent out to the parents about the living situations.”

Tony tenses as his parents brush off the obvious comment on how little they actually know about his situation and move right into the room.

Maria stops at the huge poster of a rock band.

“I assume that this is...James’?”

“No,” he says timidly. “It’s...it’s mine. Their use of movement on the guitar strings-”

“Take it down,” Maria demands. “It’s unsightly.”

“Oh give the kid a break,” Howard says tiredly. “For once he’s not listening to you talk about the merits of paisley prints.”

“I’m training our son for a more successful life than yours,” Maria hisses. “Of course, you’d have to stay away from your friend Jack to understand that.”

“Rhodey, leave,” Tony says. “Trust me, it gets messier from here.”

He does think about it. How easy it would be to walk out and check in with a couple of his other friends and talk about how crazy Tony’s parents are. How he could check back in near dinner time and then Tony could tell him all about how terribly it went.

But Tony already looks terrible, and he’s doing that weird thing with his hands where he wrings them and then remembers he’s not supposed to wring them and makes it worse.

“No,” Rhodey says. “I am staying until the bitter end. Who knows? Maybe I can give your mom a heart attack when I ask her the difference between kelly and forest green.”

Tony grins.

“You can leave any time, it’s about to get...interesting.”

Tony’s family is quite dysfunctional. They can put on a good front in public, for what it’s worth.

Howard is impressed that Rhodey’s planning on going into the Air Force and then talks about Captain America for a lot of the dinner. Rhodey is very uncomfortable and then asks about business and Maria rolls her eyes and orders another glass of wine.

After Howard finishes up talking about some contract and making vague threats against businesses that Rhodey thinks might actually be in trouble, it’s Maria’s turn.

“So, Rhodey, where is your family from?”

“We live in the Boston area,” Rhodey answers.

“And what do your parents do?”

“Dad works as a consultant for a local construction company, and my mom works as a high school history teacher. They both like their jobs.”

“Hm,” Maria remarks, and it’s so light and casual and yet so cutting. Tony can see how Rhodey squirms, and he can’t just let it stand.

It’s one thing for Maria to cut her own son down until he’s nothing. Still fucked up, but Tony can handle it. He’s been handling it for years.

“Rhodey, how did your mom come to want to know she liked teaching?” Tony asks. “That sounds like it could be really hard to figure out.”

“Oh, well it all started when she was in high school and wanted to change how one of her teachers treated students. It was a really inspiring moment for her.”

“That sounds really cool,” Tony says. “What does she like most about her job?”

“Probably the kids,” Rhodey says.

The conversation carries on about Rhodey’s family until their dinner arrives and his mother manages to cut in with more questions.

“So, what else does your mother do?”

“She volunteers at the local food kitchen and helps some of the younger kids at the after-school program,” Rhodey answers. “She also makes a mean Thanksgiving turkey.”

“Would you look at that,” Tony says. “Mrs. Rhodes sounds like a fine cook, I wish I could say the same for you, mother.”

“Oh?”

Howard actually laughs at that as he signs for the bill.

“The kid is right, Maria. At some points I think your kitchen is only used for decoration.”

“Oh, and you know how to cook, Mr. Stark?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows. “I’d love to see you make anything other than coffee.”

“I’ll make toast.”

Rhodey laughs, and so does Tony.

“Ready to go?” Tony asks, and part of it is a way to get away from an isolated conversation, and part of it is to make his parents leave for their hotel room sooner.

“Tony, I want to have a talk with you before we retire for the night,” Maria says, and Tony tenses up.

Rhodey can’t protect him from that, and he squeezes Tony’s hand as they walk behind his parents.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers.

“Maybe,” Tony says. “Maybe.”

Rhodey goes into their building, and Howard waits in the car. He nods to Tony on his way out.

“You’ve...changed,” mother says.

“Well, that’s how humanity goes,” Tony says dryly, looking anywhere but her eyes.

“Rock music? These snappish remarks towards your own mother? I don’t know if this college was such a good idea.”

“It is,” Tony says. “I just...learned new things and incorporated it into my life. Nothing the matter with that.”

“Nothing wrong with that?” Maria reiterates, surprised look on her face. “Rock music is for other people, you know things that others don’t know! You can perform violin and piano, you don’t have to listen to the personal manifestation of a headache!”

“And if I like that headache?!” Tony asks. “If I like something that’s outside of what you approve, why so angry about it? Is it because you finally can’t control every single aspect about my identity? Is it because I’m not like your perfect little toy that you can make walk and talk how you like?”

“You know it’s not that.”

“Isn’t it?” Tony asks. “Because you want me to change every single interest that I’ve found I like by myself. I bet you want me to listen to Bach for fun.”

“I do not want you to change from who you are,” Maria says. “You have eaten at the finest restaurants in the world and now you brag about making something called ramen in a microwave. A microwave?!”

“A surprising amount of families in America have them,” Tony says. “And I’m a college student! I’m supposed to eat crappy food and then laugh about it in twenty years!”

Maria turns red, and her lips screw up into a tight line.

“I don’t think you should be here,” Maria says. “You’re forgetting your place. Your roommate is...”

“My roommate is what,” Tony starts, glaring at her. “My roommate is what, mother? You want to honestly finish that sentence?”

“He’s not good enough!” she yells at him. “You are a Stark!”

Tony stares at her for a moment. And then another moment.

“Leave,” he says. “Get the hell out of here.”

“You don’t tell me-”

“I do,” Tony says, using his full height to his advantage. “You can tell me how many times I’ve fucked up as many times as you want, but you never talk about James that way ever again.”

He twists on his heel, forcefully opening the door to the dormitory and not once looking back.

Rhodey finds Tony back in his room when he gets back from getting ready for the night, and Tony is clutching a pillow and laying face down on the bed.

“You know, you’ll have to turn over eventually to get some fresh air.”

“Leave me to die, Rhodey. Oh my god.”

“That bad?”

“That bad. She’s probably going to try and put me in a prestigious college or some shit.”

“Oof. Wanna fake your death and run away?”

“Please.”

“Well, too bad. I have a test next week, and you need to do your poetry notes.”

“But poetry sucks.”

“It only sucks because you don’t like modern poetry, suck it up and pull it out of your ass or something.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Maria is trying very hard to get her son away from MIT and towards a fancy school in Europe. She doesn’t even care where, just away from his roommate and his classic rock posters and the dormitory. Anthony needs an environment where he can focus on networking, meeting more people.

Howard says no.

He can’t even bother to remember her son’s birthday, and he says “no.”

“We need Anthony to go to an American school, and nothing is better besides maybe Cal Tech, and he’ll have to finish another year of college and Hammer Industries can use that as a sign of an unsteady heir.”

“Well then get rid of his roommate.”

“I’m not doing that, you’re asking for a PR death sentence.”

“He’s a bad influence.”

“No he’s not,” Howard says tiredly. “The kid is finally standing up for himself, and you hate that.”

“I don’t hate that he can be his own person.”

“You just wish he were his own person under your specifications,” Howard drawls. “He’s staying at MIT, that’s final.”

“Hmph.”

Howard rolls his eyes.

“Go back to planning whatever charity gala you’re hosting this week, honey. I’m sure things will be fine.”

Maria doesn’t speak against her husband, just fumes and decides she’s going to try to get Jarvis’ opinion.

Edwin is also a flat no.

“He will not forgive you if you do this,” he says, pouring her tea and adding in one sugar cube. “He loves his school, he talks about it all the time.”

“And what, he calls you?”

Edwin Jarvis realizes he shouldn’t have mentioned this.

“At times, madam. At times. Will that be all?”

“...that will be all.”

Jarvis does bring up a good point. Besides her, of course, he knows Anthony best, even if he does keep calling him Tony. Anthony will grow out of that nickname soon enough.

She has hope for her boy. He will most likely grow out of this silly little phase in life and finally appreciate her lessons.

Tony Stark doesn’t.

Well, he learns her lessons. Can appreciate some of them and how much he hates that he uses them.

But he learns a far more important lesson from Rhodey, and it shapes everything:

“You’re your own person, and you’re far better as your own person,” Rhodey says. “I wanted to kick the shit out of you when we first lived together.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did!” Rhodey explains, gesturing with his coffee mug and getting yet another stain on the pillow. (Laundry again. Ugh.) “You talked like you were from a movie from the forties, it sucked.”

“Oh, you mean the transatlantic accent?”

“It’s pretentious, just ditch it. You’re interesting enough to listen to on your own. I listen to you talk about how much you hate Picasso sculpture, don’t I?”

“You do,” Tony admits.

“So then be yourself. Use what your mom taught you sometimes, but otherwise don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, I’m a fucking genius.”

Tony snorts.

“Okay, Mr. ‘I Forgot to Run the Dishes Again.’”

“I already said I was sorry!”

Tony takes Rhodey’s advice into account when he walks into any board room. He wears the worst possible shoes with every single suit, usually uses all sorts of cultural references that fly over the old board members’ heads.

He does things his way. It’s unconventional, it’s unpredictable, and it earns him a reputation.

He’s in an interview in a suit and patterned tie (patterned with tiny robots), and the woman is smiling in a plastic way on the other side.

“Now, a lot of people are saying you’re taking the business world by storm with your unconventional methods and personality. What helped you formulate this, your father?”

“Oh god no,” Tony says, laughing. “He’d probably curse me to hell and back for even wearing this tie. My mother would drag me back down to hell again for this.”

“Then who helped you with this?”

“Rhodey, who else?” Tony asks. “He always gives the best advice, even if I’ll deny that about fifteen minutes later. He really is the reason that I’m who I am today.”

“Seems like a great guy.”

“He is. He always is,” Tony says with a grin. “Except, of course, when he doesn’t fold his laundry, that bastard.”

The interviewer laughs and moves on, but Tony smiles to himself.

He doesn’t have to be the best, he just has to be Rhodey’s. That’s all that matters.

#lovelyirony writes #maria stark #howard stark #tony stark #rhodey #ironhusbands #kind of #i'm hinting at it and i didn't outright rlly say shit but y'all know me so you should know this #anyways tony DOES develop his own personality and rhodey hates him for like three months

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years ago

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The Last Night Part XVII

A/N at the end

Part XVII

“Into town,” said Lucie, her voice pitching on the last word, in answer to her mother’s question. “We thought it might refresh Cordelia’s memories if we went to the location of the attack.”

Cordelia balked at the idea of returning to the place where she and Alastair almost died. She must have been making some kind of expression because Lucie deemed it necessary to deliver a kick to her ankle. She hissed but forced a smile.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Sona. “You’ve only just woken up. Perhaps you should rest a bit longer. Your injuries are not yet fully healed and you look in pain, darling.”

That’s because she was, but not for the reason her mother thought. Her ankle throbbed where Lucie had kicked it.

“I’ve rested for nearly a week,” said Cordelia. “I think some fresh air and a bit of walking will be beneficial. Besides, James and Matthew will be joining us.”

Both boys jolted at the mention of their names as if they hadn’t entirely been paying attention to the conversation unfolding in front of them.

“Of course,” said James with a nod. “The streets were calm during our patrol so there shouldn’t be much to worry about, Mrs. Carstairs.”

Sona’s eyes shifting between James and Cordelia and Cordelia could swear she saw a glimmer of hope in her mother’s eyes at the two of them standing together in the center of the room. “Well, that should be fine, but not for too long.”

“We’ll be home in time for supper,” said Lucie.

“I’ll alert Charles that we’ve permitted the four of you go out for a while,” said Tessa, turning back towards the dining room door. “If it’s in an attempt to retrieve Cordelia’s memories, he shouldn’t throw too much of a fit about it. But I feel inclined to say, please do not give him any reason to see through with his threats.”

“Don’t worry,” said Matthew who threw an arm around James’s shoulders. “We’ll make sure these girls stay on their best behavior.”

Tessa turned to as if she was going to say something sharp to the two boys, but Will gently urged her through the dining room door before she could.

Alastair escorted his mother to her room so that she could have a rest. He’d abandoned the pinstripe pajamas for a pair of dark tweed trousers and a simple white buttoned shirt that he left untucked. His feet were bare, with the one still wrapped in a thick cloth bandage, as he offered one arm to his mother and the other rested on his wooden crutch that lightly tapped the ground as he walked. Cordelia felt a sharp twinge of pain in her chest for leaving him alone to help look after their mother when he needed assistance himself, but she knew he wouldn’t accept such assistance. The broad slope of his shoulders caved slightly as if the weight of the world rested upon them. It occurred to her in that moment when he was walking their mother to her room that Alastair didn’t bear the weight of one single world upon his shoulders, but the weight of many. Her own included.

The thought made her ache.

“Cordelia?” A hand gripped her elbow, drawing her back to the sitting room, and she turned to find James looking down at her. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she sniffed and blinked the tears away from her eyes. “Just a bit of pain in my ribs is all.”

“Do you need Jem?” he asked and his hand slid down her elbow to grip her hand. “Or an iratze?”

“No,” she squeezed his hand to stop him from pulling her along. “No, it’s alright. It’s nothing. We should prepare to leave since we’re going to the place of my attack apparently.”

Lucie grimaced. “I’m sorry. I panicked and it was the first thing that came to mind. We don’t have to go there, Cordelia. Perhaps you and I can go for a nice stroll through the park, maybe do a bit of window shopping.” Lucie glared down at James’s hand still holding Cordelia’s and then her gaze slithered up to her brother’s.

“I have an idea,” said Matthew. “Cordelia, have you ever driven in an automobile?”

“No!” Both James and Lucie shouted at Matthew who barely batted an eye at the other two while he waited for Cordelia’s response.

She grinned. “No, I can’t say that I have. They seem dreadful.”

“Quite the opposite,” said Matthew. “The epitome of absolute freedom and mobility. I think a spot of fresh air will do all of us some good. Come along, Luce, you can help me bring Algernon around.”

“Algernon?” Cordelia asked.

“Yes, he’s named his vehicle after an Oscar Wilde character,” said James.

“His vehicle?” Cordelia balked.

James nodded. “We’ve quite a bit to catch you up on, Daisy.”

“I’d say so,” she sighed and watched as Matthew dragged a disparaged Lucie along with him out the front door.

“I would like to give you something,” said James, his fingers flexed against hers. “If you’ll come with me for a moment.”

Cordelia turned so that they were facing one another. “What is it?”

“Come along, Daisy” said James nodding his head towards the hallway leading farther into the institute. “We won’t be long.”

She gathered what semblance of courage she had left in her and let him guide her down the hall. The crystal orbs that hovered above them in a line down the length of the hallway flickered and waned to life upon their approach. Witchlight, she noted, by the warm glow it emitted like magic in their presence, lighting the darkness and displaying the vibrant red wallpaper with gold hand painted brush strokes of two swords crossed over each other in a pattern. Each sword, Cordelia noticed, had a different hilt. No two were the same. Some of the weapons were French with the delicate, ostentatious metal hilt. Some were Scottish with the curved blade instead of straight. She expected nothing else of Will Herondale’s house but to have weapons painted on the walls.

“Just through here,” said James as they came to a stop in front of an old door that appeared to be made of oak or some other type of ancient wood. Three swords, two crossed like those painted on the walls and one down the center hung in the middle of the door. Upon closer inspection, Cordelia recognized them to be the same chosen weapons of Jonathon Shadowhunter and his parabatai David, the sword going down the center belonged to Jonathon’s sister Abigail.

“Exact replicas,” said James as he shouldered open the heavy door. “Useless in battle since they’ve been welded to this door since the birth of the Institute, much to my father’s great chagrin, but a great conversation starter.” He gave the center sword a tug for emphasis.

The temperature dropped significantly on the other side of the door. Gooseflesh prickled along Cordelia’s skin as she stepped into the dark stairway going down towards the basement of the Institute. She knew now where he was taking her. The weapons room. She’d been there before with Lucie, but she couldn’t imagine why he was taking her there now.

A witchlight burned in James’s hand, illuminating the curves and plains of his face, as they started their descent down the stone steps. There wasn’t far to go, the stairwell curved twice and then spit them out in the stone walled room. Covering the walls from floor to ceiling was every type of weapon made under heaven. Cordelia felt a familiar tingle run up her spine.

“Cortana,” she whispered as James crossed the room to a wooden chest and retrieved the blade from inside, still secure in Cordelia’s gilded scabbard.

“I found it where you fell,” said James, walking back over to where she stood in the center of the room. “I’ve been keeping it safe for you.”

Once in her hands, Cordelia grabbed the hilt and drew the blade out, relishing in the song it sang as it was freed like the first draw of a violin bow across the strings. She swung it once, the hilt rolled across her hand deftly and back into her palm. She drew her finger along the edge, thin as glass, but stronger than stone.

“Beautiful,” breathed James.

“I always thought so,” said Cordelia and sheathed her beloved weapon.

When she looked up, her breath hitched. James stood only a few inches away from her, his eyes were not on the blade, but on her. She knew the expression on his face, she’d seen it before, had dreams about him looking at her the way he was now. It was the same expression he wore after he kissed her in The Whispering Room. When she’d allowed herself—really allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to believe that his affections went farther than just friendship towards her.

And when she found his affections held firm for someone else, it nearly broke her.

It was time to set aside the fatuous ideations she’d held for James since childhood and start accepting that they would never be more than the dearest of friends.

She slid the strap of her scabbard over her neck so that it lay across her shoulder. “Lucie and Matthew are surely waiting for us by now. We should go.” She turned to leave, but James reached for her hand pulling her gently back towards him.

“Wait,” he said. “Cordelia there is something I must ask you while I still have the courage to do so.”

Cordelia felt a burning, sick feeling in her stomach, but she didn’t pull away.

“That night, when you left London, you told me that you loved me,” he said, his eyes wide searching hers. “I need to know—”

“There you are,” said Lucie from the entrance to the weapons room. “How dare you leave me alone with Matthew and his precious metal trap. Come along before someone sees the mobile sitting on our lawn and reports us to the Clave.”

Cordelia turned from Lucie back to James. She could feel the heat in the tips of her ears. She suspected that they would need to have this conversation, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Her heart pounded in her chest as if screaming her answer.

“We’ll be right there, Lucie,” said James, his eyes still firmly held Cordelia. “A minute longer.”

Lucie, having realized she interrupted something rather personal, did not argue but rather turned on her heels and walked back up the stone steps. They listened to the echoes of her shoes against the stone until the noise disappeared, but Cordelia still suspected that Lucie was not far away and had an ear towards the conversation.

“You want to know if it’s still true?” asked Cordelia. “Of course it is, I’ll always care about you, but that does not negate everything that’s happened. It was selfish of me to agree to your proposal when you so clearly loved someone else. You only did it as a favor to my family and while I am extremely grateful for that, please don’t feel that because I am back for the foreseeable future that you are obligated to uphold that promise any longer.” She exhaled and dared to look at James again. His expression remained impassive giving her the courage to place a hand on his shoulder. “You should be allowed to pursue the one that you love; not feel indebted because I soiled my name. We both know it hasn’t been fully intact in some time. I would have done it for any of you.“

James reached up and covered the hand that was resting on his shoulder with his own and she saw that where the silver bracelet usually hung from his wrist was now gone. She looked to his other wrist, but found that it was bare too.

“Come along, Daisy,” said James. “There is still quite a bit we need to catch you up on.”

(Author’s Notes: This chapter gave me so much trouble, I’m not really sure why. Forgive me, I don’t feel like it’s one of my best, but I wanted to have something for you all to read tonight. With helping my sister, starting work again, I’m going to start posting bi-weekly, every other Sunday, so that I have a bit more time to work on each part. I hope you guys enjoy something in this messy, inconsistent chapter. I promise that the next one will be significantly better and with more Jordelia. Next post coming Sun, Oct 4)

#chain of gold #The Last Night #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #jordelia fanfiction #james herondale #james x cordelia #Cordelia Carstairs

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years ago

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Skin Deep ~ Part 4

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! As @that-one-person reminded me, we were overdue the next chapter of Skin Deep! I hope this has been worth the wait. As always, if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know! Also, requests are open and I love when you re-blog and like my work! Thanks for all your kindness!!

This is the 4th Part of our Story with links below to the previous chapters! ENJOY!

Skin Deep Part 1

Skin Deep Part 2 Skin Deep Part 3

Pairing; Loki x Reader, Steve x Reader, Bucky, Natasha, Nick Fury, Thor and Valkyrie round out of cast! Summary: Picking up where Part 3 ended: You’re on the run with Loki, who wants answers. Steve comes clean to an old friend, Natasha and Fury make a plan. Warnings: References to violence, smut, intergalactic travel, and some kissing!

From his vantage point at Steve’s grill Bucky noticed the almost frantic vibration coming off his oldest friend from all the way across the lawn. And Steve wasn't carrying any champagne. In fact, he was whispering furiously to Natasha, shaking his head.

Looking to the skies, Bucky smelled the electricity in the air. It made the hairs on his human arm rise, antenna to trouble, tuning into the wrecked wavelength his friend was putting out. It was about you, of that Bucky was certain, and with your own strange behavior tonight, he knew trouble was en route. He had let you sneak away, sensing your breaking point, knowing your need for a minute alone. It was the reason you were such great drinking buddies. You let Bucky be himself and he returned the favor. Besides, something in Steve was different these days, something Bucky didn't exactly like. His friend, Captain America, hero to the weak, was pushy. Aggressive. Angry.

And when Steve looked at you, there was a gleam, a spark of possessiveness that gave Bucky pause. Sure, you were amazing. Funny, smart, undeniably sexy in a way all your own. Bucky understood wanting you, he even got the need to have you, hold you, lock you down with a ring. If only Steve could see how unhappy you were. Each time Bucky saw you, the strain had pulled more of your joy away. Sure, you baked pies, smiling the whole way, chirping platitudes and teasing Steve. That happiness, though, it never reached your eyes. Telling Steve that an engagement ring was too much, too soon, Bucky had tried in his very stoic way to prove that you weren't ready. Never fully able to give his buddy his blessing, Bucky had opted instead to provide you a shoulder to lean on. And lean you did. Slugging back vodka shots at all these parties, in the quiet and seldom used spaces of kitchens and dining rooms, you had talked easily with Bucky. No topic was too wild or off limits, with the exception of Steve. Anytime the name of your new love came up, the subject would change. You'd deflect and Bucky let you. Maybe he should have pushed harder, he thought as Steve stomped his way. Maybe Bucky should have forced you to talk about whatever issues you and Steve faced, tried his hand at advice, or offered excuses for his best friend’s erratic behavior. If Bucky had done that, then perhaps the stifling stench of trouble wouldn't be pooling around the party, pulsing through all the high energy people gathered together. “Buck… come here, would ya?” Sure, Steve sounded like himself. Jovial, a little concerned in that serious way he had, but not mad. For some reason, it reminded Bucky of the way Steve’s father would talk, just before he’d beat the ever loving hell out of Sarah… or Steve. It soured the stomach of battle tested Sergeant Barnes. War was coming. “Sure thing, punk.” Cocking his head, Steve couldn’t quite look his friend in the face, opting instead to focus on the open back door of his farm house. Would you come strutting out of it, unaware and un-phased? Steve prayed for that, even if his gut told him otherwise, “Bucky, you said my girl was in the ladies’ room?” Tucking his hands in his pockets, nodding solemnly, “Yea, Stevie. Yea. She had to piss. It happens.” Waiting for the battle was exhausting and Bucky just didn’t have the patience to stew in the slow burn of Steve’s anger. Clapping a broad hand along the neck of the Winter Soldier, Steve pulled his friend close. To anyone looking, the embrace would seem brotherly, kind. What they couldn’t see was the tight grip used to keep Bucky contained, or hear Steve’s heated harsh whisper, “Where the fuck is she, Buck? I know you know. So tell me.” Reacting instinctively, pulling against the restraining hook of Steve’s palm, “I don’t know what you’re talking about… she went to the bathroom, I came out here.” “Well she’s gone now and so is Loki-” Stepping back out of Steve’s reach, “Wait. Loki was here? I thought you said he left. Opened the Bi-Frost or whatever. Disappeared.” Almost growling, Steve ran desperate hands through his blonde hair, ignoring Bucky and turning to Natasha, “We need to let Fury know. Set a perimeter. Loki won’t be able to get off the planet, not without help anyway.” “Fury’s involved? Steve, what is going on?” Jabbing a finger into the chest of his best friend, Steve spun, spitting, “You let Loki kidnap my fiance, that’s what’s going on! And now I have to find her and rescue her before that greasy alien asshole does something else to the woman I love!” Rearing back, Bucky inhaled, lifting his shoulders. If you have to fight a friend, fight fair, he thought. Already Bucky could read violence in Steve’s muscle movement. The graceful way Steve bounced on his toes to build momentum into his fierce throw was minute but effective. Dropping his right arm, just a touch before stepping into his swing, Steve's eyes screamed murder and they were locked onto James Buchanan Barnes. A swish of air brushed at Buck's dark hair as the blow missed. Bucky easily blocked the punch, grabbing his pal at the wrist and twisting until his chest was pressed into Steve’s back. It was as fluid as the ballet you had forced them to attend a few months back, quick and clean movements, executed flawlessly. Bucky felt Steve spin in his grasp, planting his feet, preparing to toss the Winter Soldier on his ass. His counter maneuver was a leg sweep, one Bucky was ready to use, when Steve went limp in his grip. Natasha had sucker punched her mission partner in order to get his attention, “Steve. You gotta relax. Bucky didn’t know and you’re drawing attention. Too many eyes around here, ya know?” Natasha waved to Tony, a gesture that said, no worries, everything is ok over here. It was enough to satisfy the playboy, who turned back to his cocktail and conversation with Rhodes. “I'm fine. It's fine. I’m just…” unable to find the right word, spiraling, Steve sagged towards the ground. Catching him at the waist Bucky steadied his woozy friend as Natasha brushed off help from the other guests. Returning to the pair of soldiers out of time, The Black Widow, barely containing her disgust, “Bucky, get him inside. Steve, I'm sending everyone home, then I’m going to make a call.” True to her word, Natasha whispered something to Tony and Pepper, Bucky clocking their reaction of concern for both you and Steve. It was very clear to the Sergeant that The Avengers were not in on this mission. None of them were permitted to hang around the farm house with Nat going so far as to walk out with Clint and Rhodes. Bustling Steve into the kitchen, Bucky kicked a chair free from the table, dropping his buddy on his ass. Still a little amped up from the almost altercation outside, Bucky decided to put a bit of distance between him and his childhood friend, resting his hip against the counter, "What the hell was that, Steve?" "Stay out of it, Bucky." "It's too late for that, punk. Either you start talking or we take this back outside." Side eyeing the super soldier with a metal arm, Steve tugged at the corner of a pretty place mat sullenly, "Fuck you." "Language!" "You think I give a shit about bad words? Now? No… things are too far gone." Waving his hand, begging for more, "Care to elaborate, Cap?" Steve had a second to consider his options. He could let Bucky in, tell him what was going on, hear his opinions on the situation at hand. Or… not. "You don't need to be involved. Once Nat gets back, it's best if you go." Thunking into the opposite seat, Bucky leveled his grey gaze on his pal, "And if I say no?" "Look, it's an off the record thing. Tony, the rest of them? They know nothing. I don’t need you sticking your nose in-" That was all it took for the dam of Bucky’s own outrage to burst. With a wood rattling slap to the custom built dining table, open palm connecting enough to make Steve jump, "Damn it, Rogers! My nose is in this already. Hell, you were ready to half kill me over this… over her, not fifteen minutes ago!" Sighing, hard and heavy, Captain America pressed back in the wooden chair. He saw the questions in Bucky's look, the need to unravel this mystery, the desire to find a way out for his friends. And Steve realized that to accept his buddy's help, Bucky would need the full story. The truth hurts and Buck's words stung Steve. Bucky was right and in the end, he reasoned, they might need him to help bring down Loki. After a second of consideration, a rough hand sliding through his blonde locks, "Fine. FUCK! Fine. What do you know?" Crossing his arms over his chest, stern voiced but curious, Bucky started, "Just you and Nat reporting to Fury? Small team." "Small mission. At least, at first." Trying not to give anything away, making Bucky work for it felt good, almost like a return to his life before Loki, before you. Tapping his metallic finger on the table, Bucky resumed his questions, "So, how does Loki figure into this?" Leaning forward, Steve lowered his voice, “Weapons tech. Power. More than when he attacked New York. He’s been off world gaining followers, an army, and a throne.” “So the plan was to keep Loki away, right?” Nodding, Steve’s inflection solemn, “By any means necessary.” Rocking his head back, as if slapped, Bucky’s eyes widened. Just the implication of those words, by any means necessary, used by Nick Fury meant that this mission was crossing a line from mundane into murderous. "And she was your way in." It started to take shape, the whole sorted plan, Natasha’s involvement and Steve’s role in it all. Bucky felt that prickly sensation again. Bowing his golden head, Steve shook it yes, "Only… I wasn't brought in… I… volunteered." "Ok, but why?" Inching closer to the truth, waiting out the Captain, Bucky nodded for him to continue. When Steve wasn't forthcoming, Bucky nudged his foot with a sharp kick, eager to accelerate the story. For a second that frantic, frenzied energy flashed through the room again, pulling on Bucky's sixth sense, "Because I wanted what Loki had… who Loki had. I wanted her, so bad Bucky. So bad." “Steve… come on, man. There are other girls out there-” Cutting his friend off with a shout, “Why should that asshole have her? He doesn’t deserve her. Before he left, she was always so sweet, so cute… then he… abandoned her! Left her! Man, that was… just so hard to see.” “Yea… I know. I mean, I remember when she and Loki were together. And I know his leaving was hard on her.” “Hard on her? She… she stopped eating, stopped sleeping. God, I could hear her crying all night. Know how hard it was to keep away? To know that Loki had forgotten her?” Steve kept talking, about you, about loving you, and the lengths he went to in an effort to court you. He followed up with all the ways you denied him, over and over, until Natasha intervened. That all of it played into Fury’s plan was a convenient cross-point, coincidence, until things had gone wrong this afternoon. Bucky let him tell his story, knowing full well it was merely a version, a fairy tale wrapped around the rotten apple of truth. In Steve’s world he was the hero, wronged by fate, Fury and Loki Odinson. His path had been paved with good intentions and pure hearted motives. It was everyone else who misunderstood, miscalculated and mistook his actions. Could Steve be blamed for that? Of course, this edition of Steve’s tale didn't include beating up a cuffed prisoner. It also omitted the fact that Steve had been pursuing you while actively lying about Loki's whereabouts. Glossing over the details allowed Steve to paint a picture highlighting the best of him, but Bucky had known the little punk a long time. During a long pause that found Steve with his head in his hands, Bucky took a deep breath and asked, “And how did you and Fury know what Loki was up to?” “He was sending mission reports weekly. Loki had been tasked with helping promote peace across the Nine Realms. That he gained so much was the tipping point. Fury felt like a return to Earth would be 2012 all over again, only this time… total annihilation.” Something was still nagging at Bucky, “Had Loki made any threats?” A guilty look passed over the face of Captain America and his normally solid voice wavered, “Not that I was told about.” “So, Fury...?” “Fury needed… no, that’s not right. He wanted to keep close tabs on Loki, monitor his return, his mood, his movements, if he ever came back.” “And since she was his lover, she was a potential point of contact… the entry point?” “A possible one.” “If you were dating her and Nat was posing as her friend, then you’d know if Loki reached out, spilling the details on his plans, and be able to head him off at the pass.” “Exactly!” Oddly proud, Steve was almost happy that he no longer carried the burden by himself. Sure, Natasha knew, had even engineered some of it, but having a friend on his side made Steve feel better. “But Loki didn’t do that? He surprised you today?” Blowing out a frustrated snort, “Natasha went to meet him at the base. Apparently, the high and mighty Prince expected to be greeted by Fury and his forgotten lover.” “That didn’t sit well with the God of Mischief?” “Nope. Somehow he froze Nat. Confined her, I don’t know… Anyway, he came here and…” Trailing off, Steve could still picture his lady’s body, your body bent under his own, your eyes pressed shut in ecstasy. How you ground against what looked like his own sculpted skin, moaning through an orgasm that appeared amazing, and left you with shaky legs. Going silent, Bucky didn’t push, not this time, but he did feel the moment Steve surrendered fully. His shoulders let go with a deep inhale, his voice sounding like that scrawny kid from Brooklyn after a bad scrape, "She loves him, man. And I fucked up. Loki’s got my girl and I don't have any way to find her or fight him." Tears? Sighs? This wasn't Steve. No, Captain America was an unstoppable, unflappable hero. Spinning out was Bucky's move, not Steve’s. Putting his fleshy hand on Steve’s shoulder, trying to console the broken man in front of him, "Come on, kid. There's always a way to win. It's what you and I have been doing for over a century." “Not this time, man.” "Why not? Did you come clean? That’s why she left, isn’t it? You told her what was going on and she went after Loki." Shame filled Steve’s heart, his cheeks burning, "I… I didn’t get the chance. She left here, but not alone." "She'll be back." Words, pathetic platitudes, were all Bucky could offer. He had seen you tonight, skittish and jumpy. He saw Steve’s reaction to your disappearance, angry and hurt. Bucky thought that a snowball in hell stood a better chance than you're returning. "Not happening. I lost it on her, Buck. Smashed up mom's dresser, yelled… It was like being outside myself, watching myself do and say these terrible things. And it wasn't her fault. Not really. I mean, yea, she fucked him but he was me, so-" "Whoa. Stop. Say that again?" Steeling himself to relieve this afternoon’s nightmare again, Steve swallowed hard, "Loki, you know how he can… shape shift? Well, he came here as me and I walked in on myself screwing my girl!" Bucky's eyebrows lifted, his full lips curling into a cockeyed grin, "Wait. You're telling me that you came home and saw yourself banging your future fiancé?" Pausing, catching Bucky barely holding back a smirk, "Yea… why?" And for some reason, after all the incredible things Steve had shared tonight, it was the idea of Steve catching himself balls deep in your naughty bits that made Bucky laugh. Once he started, Bucky couldn't control the mad giggles from overtaking him, much to Steve’s astonishment. But then Steve laughed, too, "I guess it is pretty funny, when you think about it." "I mean, your face must have been priceless!" Clutching his stomach as the laughter grew stronger, Bucky had tears running down his cheeks at the image Steve described. Sure, it was a horrible thing, but who could say that they watched themselves having sex like that without being in porno? It took them both a minute to calm down, with Steve settling enough to counter, "Shit, Buck! I was pissed! I probably looked crazy." "That I do believe. What did you say to her? Them?" Now his face flushed scarlet, burning with embarrassment. The lie was just easier to get out, "Um… I don't really remember. I know I surprised Loki and well, my girl fainted from being used by him. The shock of it not being me, ya know?" Bucky didn't buy it, but he let his friend sell the story anyway, "Must have been scary for her. And that's when you secured Loki in the locked shed? And set Nat as your watchdog?" "Yup." Unable to meet his friend’s stormy stare, knowing that it would undo him completely, Steve focused on the edge of the table, running his fingers back and forth along the rough wood. If this were an interrogation and Bucky were sitting across from a suspect and not his best friend, he’d have no problem beating the guilty man into submission. But Steve was his strongest connection to this world, this time, and it was hard to walk away from family, even if they didn’t deserve the benefit of your doubt. To that end, one thing still bothered Bucky, "Why not cancel the party, man?" "Because I still want to marry her." Pulling the small black box from his front pocket, Steve toyed with the thing, his vision of a future with you still so close to realized. Whistling at the size of the sparkly rock enshrined in white gold, "Fancy. What do you think your chances are? Think she'll say yes?" "My chances went down to zero the second Loki dropped down to Earth. As for her answer… Dunno. I… I hope so, but now…", Steve faded off, knowing there was little hope for your romantic reunion if he didn’t have a clear idea of where you were at the moment. "Now Loki’s back." "Right." “And they’re gone, together.” “Right.” “And Fury’s on his way.” Striding in on impossibly high heels, Natasha folded her arms over her chest, eyeing the two gossiping men in front of her. It was going to be a long night. --- Somehow you had made it to the treeline undetected, using the orchard as a shield, ducking behind trunks as you and Loki scrambled toward the edge of the property. You couldn't help looking over your shoulder, checking for pursuit, worrying that Steve or Natasha were going to find the pair of you. There was no possible way they would let you get away, not after today, not with Loki. It was a bit treacherous, though. There was only natural light to guide you through twisted branches and raised roots, so your progress was slower than you wanted, but Loki was with you. Even beaten and bruised, he radiated calm, a soothing balm for your frayed nerves. Something about that made this whole situation seem better, manageable. You were no longer alone, Loki was here, holding your hand, not directing you but consulting. "Pet… the roadway is up ahead. Stay here, tucked out of sight." Pulling your long lost lover close, a small kiss passed between you, a passionate promise to sit still. Stepping tentatively out onto the gravel filled shoulder, Loki surveyed the highway quickly. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, Loki waved at you, motioning you forward. Striding confidently at your side, Loki stopped in the dead center of the yellow lines, his grounding arm around your waist. A car, low, black, expensive, came racing round the bend, barreling towards you. Tucking your chin to Loki's chest, you gripped him tight, readying for the car's impact. A roar of wind swirled around you, grabbing at your skirt, whipping around your legs. For a second you thought you'd been struck. Breathless, your lungs emptied. There was nothing solid under you, just the feeling of Loki and a current of warm air. Next, you felt the impact of hard earth under your feet, vibrating through your shins, then Loki's grip loosening a touch, "Ok, darling?" Peeking from under his arm you saw lights everywhere. A bar was to your left, filled with noisy drinkers, barely discernible from the traffic around you. Honking horns made you jump, "Where the hell are we?" "Cleveland. I can't yet take us off world. I'm still a bit weak, I'm afraid… but at least we have a bit of a head start on Rogers and Fury." People pushed past you on their way to dinner, chirping happily, not seeing you in their tunnel vision. Being anonymous was a nice change, welcome even, as your personal life had been lost to Steve's intergalactic presence. On the busy streets of Ohio no one took notice of the two well dressed people standing on the damp sidewalk. "Um, you changed?", no longer sporting his battle gear, Loki was dapper in a black suit with an ebony tie. Leaning closer you straightened it, not because it was crooked, but because you needed to feel it… him. The whole look was just shy of too much, but that was the space Loki filled best and honestly, looking at him made your heart swell. Loki was back, and yours. After more than two years, having him close again felt natural, easy. In so many ways, the opposite of your life with Steve. As if somehow sensing your tug into nostalgia, Loki knuckled your chin up, "Just keeping up with you, love." His nose brushed against your own, so weirdly intimate and innocent for a man who had slapped your ass red only hours ago. Resting his forehead to yours, you inhaled that magical combination of burning sparklers, broken in leather with just a hint of honeyed citrus, "God, I forgot how great you smell." "Hmm… dove, there is nothing on Asgard that smells or tastes as wonderful as you. Believe me. I looked." "Careful Loki… people will say we're in love." At your cheekiness, Loki claimed your lips, his hands sliding over the soft fabric of your dress. Clinging to him, unwilling to let go now that he had returned, you puffed out a pouty sigh as Loki withdrew. “Norns. You know how badly I want you again? I can barely think straight for wanting you.” Oblivious to everything around you, lost in the sweeping pools of Loki’s desire filled expression, you toyed with his collar, “We have a lot of catching up to do, for sure.” “I’d love to get reacquainted-” here he paused to lick over his full lower lip, hunger for you dripping from every word, “-but we are on the run from the Earth’s mightiest heroes.” Snickering, you rolled your eyes at the thought of the Avengers, hours away eating charcuterie in Steve’s backyard. Stepping back, you sighed, “You’re right. So, have you got a plan?” Hanging in the air, your sentence had just left your mouth, your tongue still savoring the syllables when a sizzling crack snapped next to your ear. Swinging you away, forcing you to the sidewalk, Loki spun in a blaze of green. Crouched over you, snarling, “Fury! Always a pleasure to see you.” Stepping from the blazing golden circle supplied by Dr. Strange, Fury crossed onto the Cleveland sidewalk from your now empty garden party, weapon trained on Loki’s broad chest. “Wish I could say the same, Loki. You know it’s time to end this. Let’s take our… deliberations back to the office. Talk about this man to man.” A barking laugh left your lover, “Man to man? I am a GOD! And you… you are pathetic. Your attempts to keep me off Earth, imprisoned, away from my woman have all failed.” “Where are you going to go? You can’t get off the planet without help. My help. And it’s yours, Loki, if-” “If I come quietly? Tail between my legs, submissive and compliant?” As the words left his mouth, you watched, focused on the way Loki was shifting closer to you. The long fingers of his right hand were visible, reaching back for you, a silent signal of his escape plan. Fed up and furious, Nick Fury’s voice was flat with frustration, “Loki. Enough. Let’s do this somewhere people aren’t.” “Oh, I don’t know, this seems as good a place as any!” Circling Loki, edging nearer, Fury tried reasoning, “Endangering civilians isn’t going to make things easier. You know that.” “You know, I’d love to talk about how you betrayed me. How you stonewalled my lady… how you put Captain America in my place, as if he could ever be worthy of her. But, I’m a little busy at the moment.” Snapping his fingers, you jumped to your feet, grabbing for Loki’s outstretched hand. The second your palm connected that feeling of floating overcame you once more. This time you were ready for the roar of traveling through space by Loki’s magic, the push of meeting the ground, the curl of Loki’s body against yours. Blinking, you opened your eyes on new scenery, the chill of a beautiful sea soaked morning breaking around you. Straightening the coat of his pristine suit, Loki smiled at you as his fingers wove between your own, “New Asgard. My brother’s realm, now ruled by Valkyrie, by his abdication. We need to find him. He has a lot to answer for.” --- "Just what in the hell happened? I thought I was very clear about avoiding this exact problem." Pacing, hands firmly on his leather belted waist, Nick Fury growled at the bent head of Steve Rogers. "Now Loki’s on the run, dragging your… Well, what is she exactly Captain? Girlfriend? Fiancé? Mark? along for the ride." At those harsh words, Steve started, ready to focus his own anguish somewhere, anywhere. Fury was as good a target as any, as far as Steve was concerned. Pushing off the paving stones, he was stalled from rising by Natasha's firm hand and quiet words, "We have an idea-" "I don't want ideas. Not from you two. What I want are answers, Romanoff, and I want them now." Sitting on the emptied bench of the picnic table, still covered with your pretty tablecloth and jars of peonies, Natasha sighed, "I didn't have time to alert Steve. Loki made it here first and… reconnected-" "Is that what we're calling it?" Snapping, Nick glared from his good eye, his last name never more appropriate. Exhaling deeply, Natasha Romanoff squared her shoulders, "Sir, Loki… manipulated the circumstances." "Just what in the hell does that mean?" All three available eyes locked onto Steve, “What it means, Fury-” lifting his golden head with a jaw clenched tight, “- what it means, is that the son of a bitch showed up here and had his way with my woman. “After Loki… took advantage of her, I had him. He was contained, here, in my shed. It was modified with the restraints Tony provided with Thor’s direction.” “And still, he got away?” Disbelief clouded every syllable from Fury. That his two top agents had failed and so badly, had the normally stoic director steaming. Standing now, Steve was almost chest to chest with the man who’d been pulling the strings of this entire operation. Natasha, watching closely, knowing that she would only be able to subdue one of them if it came to it, gently palmed the dagger concealed in her waist band. Steve thrust forward, brushing past Fury before facing him once more, “Yea, Nick. He did. He got away.” “Do you know how?” Fury’s fingers were curled around his pocket taser, just in case Captain America needed a jolt, reminding him of who was calling the shots here. It wouldn’t do much except give Nick a head start, but with the Captain looking so rough and so raw, the SHIELD director would take any advantage available. “We believe that… he was set free.” Natasha didn’t want to say the words. You had let Loki go, that much she knew to be true, and she supposed that it made some sort of sense. Steve had been right all along. You and Loki did have some cosmic connection that even time and distance couldn’t eliminate. Intervening for the sake of Fury’s mission and Steve’s pining heart, Natasha had no qualms about why she’d guided you into a relationship, in fact, she still believed that he was a better man for you than Loki. But no. No matter what Rogers did, you had never let go with him like you had with the younger son of Odin. Not that you complained. You had taken all of Natasha’s words of praise, her seemingly well intentioned advice, her flat out advocating for Steve in stride. Sure, your friendship suffered for it. Natasha, never having been one for close ties to anyone, had enjoyed the talking and gossiping. It was nice to have a girl around the tower. One who understood period cramps and cravings. A person who would put on high heels and makeup for a night of dancing then suggest hoodies and shorts for watching Pride and Prejudice. That was over now. When she had been, well, frankly, overpowered by Loki and his new paralyzing weaponry, Natasha knew the plan for a peaceful capture of the prince was over. Having seen the aftermath of your reunion with the space god, having seen Steve’s seething anger, the Black Widow felt her own ire spike. Didn’t you know how hard she had worked? How tireless her efforts had been to keep you and Loki apart? Just how invested she was in joining you and Steve together? It was like you wanted to throw all of that away, squandering those bonding moments where you had become something more than a mission, those times when you were Natasha’s only real friend. Couldn’t you just go along with the plan, unknowing, quietly? She knew you couldn’t, wouldn’t. It wasn’t in your nature. So, channeling that frustration into the cold facade that so many had seen just before they met their end, Natasha had to compartmentalize the “you” she cared about away from the “you” she was responsible for trailing. Both had pissed her off. Now, hearing the gruff grumble of Director Fury bearing down on her, Natasha could only accept the berating tone of his hard words. He wasn’t wrong. She and Steve had fucked up royally, the whole mission was blown, and while Bucky had certainly aided in your escape, he was blameless collateral damage. The consequences fell to you and the Captain. Killing you was going to be hard for them both, but if it had to be done, so be it. Shrugging, Natasha started again, “Nick, we have a tracker on her. We know that she and Loki made it to Cleveland, but he can’t get away from Earth without some aid.” “Well, that’s good to know, if only it was some new intelligence. You’re tracking her? Great! Where is she now? Don't know huh? Well, she and Loki tele-ported from a city sidewalk, in front of me and hundreds of civilians, with no word on their next destination. “And make no mistake. Loki will find a way off of this planet and when that happens, there’ll be nothing else we can do.” “So what? Let him go! He’s won, Nick. It’s over.” Throwing himself down onto the bench, Steve’s dejected voice breaking, he slumped over his feet. “That’s not an option Cap. Loki is more powerful now than he’s ever been. You both read the reports. He wasn’t just hanging around on Asgard. No, Loki was negotiating peace between his native realm of Jotunheim and his adoptive home. He was gifted with tools and technology that no human could hope to wield. Earth ending stuff, Captain.” “Whatever plans you had of making peace are over now. There’s no way Loki gives us any help… and why would he after all this?” “Rogers, I’ll do whatever I must to keep this planet and the creatures on it safe. Loki is a threat to that, just by existing. With his new powers, high placed connections and intergalactic royal title, he had the potential to be unstoppable.” Seething breath puffed out the chests of the two men standing toe to toe. Machismo made Natasha want to vomit. Men. “Look, I’ll go after them. Steve, stay here, in case she reaches out. I’ll take the quinjet and trace their path.” Standing now herself, Natasha turned to the depressed super soldier, patting his arm, “Bucky’s still here. I’ll let you know when I’ve found anything.” “No. Nat, I can’t let you go alone. It’s my fault, too.” “You’re no good to me like this, Rogers.” “But, She’s-” Cutting him off, Natasha stepped closer to Nick, “I know, but you’re too involved. If tough choices need to be made, can you?” Gulping hard, passing a rough hand over his face, Steve frowned, “I can do my duty, if that’s what you’re asking.” “Steve.” Her tone said it all the words she wouldn't vocalize. I don’t trust you, not now, not like this. I don’t believe you will have my back at the cost of the woman you claim to love. I don’t think you can do the job. Fury didn't allow her the chance to elaborate, jumping in with his definitive voice, “Natasha’s right, Rogers. You’re staying right where you are, on the bench. Romanoff and I are going to resolve this issue without any further problems.” Half hearted, strength sapped, Steve raised his eyes to the leather clad figures before him, “Please. Please, Nick… Nat. Don’t hurt her.” “I promise, Steve. I won’t.” And in the second, all three knew she was lying.

--- Finding Thor’s shanty was easier than you expected. A friendly fisherman was only too happy to point you in the right direction. What you saw upon arrival was not entirely what you had expected when visiting Loki’s brother. It was a beat up looking cottage, surrounded by empty cases of cheap Midgardian beer, crumpled take out containers, and a collection of well fed seagulls situated near the edge of the village, “Ugh. What a pig.” “Loki! It’s… charming?” Your admonishing whisper turned the statement into a question at the sight of Loki’s disgusted face. For a second you just stood at Loki’s side, staring at the weather beaten front door, your hand clasped in his strong one. “It’s disgusting.” Agreeing with a small nod, “Um, yes. Yes, it is. But, this is your brother’s house and you said we needed to talk to him. Step one is ringing his bell.” “No. I won’t do it.” You had forgotten about this side of Loki. Fastidious, precise and obstinate, Loki could cop an attitude that had the ability to drive someone crazy. Someone like you. Over the last two years it had been easy to forget all the little things that made Loki prickly. It was even easier to forgive him. Since he’d left, you had looked at your life together through rose glasses, through a gentle fog of missing him, and those elements of your relationship that were less than perfect had been abandoned. Now, standing outside the hovel that Thor called a home, as a fresh day dawned over New Asgard, you were reminded of all those imperfect things that came with loving Loki. A wave of need, love, and longing for him rolled over you. All of those imperfections made you perfect for each other. Rising up on your toes you pressed a small kiss to Loki’s pout, taking the tall God by surprise, “What was that for?” Shyly grinning, you bit into your bottom lip, “I missed you… missed kissing you.” “Then perhaps you should come over here again?” That was all the invitation you needed. Stepping into Loki’s space, your chest resting against his own, you savored the nearness of him, as himself. He wasn’t playing at being Steve. Loki was here, he was with you, and if you weren’t mistaken his hands were drifting down your backside. The rush of it, well, it was familiar and new at the same time. How Loki seemed to inhale your breath, inhale you, as his mouth opened to accept your lips. His gentle exhale, a moan, as his tongue licked over your own. It was overwhelming. It was wonderful. Stepping back, you started to pull away, only for Loki to wrap his arms around your waist, “Not so fast, darling.” Losing yourself, you focused solely on the firmness of his body, the weight of his hands on your hips, the intensity of Loki’s desire. Intoxicating, heady, you leaned into those feelings. Kissing Loki back, you tangled his hair in your hand, earning another one of those sultry sounds that made your legs weak. How had you lived without the passion and pleasure he provided for so long? A smashing crash broke the quiet morning causing you to jump in Loki’s embrace, “What the hell was that?” Immediately on the defense, Loki pushed you behind him, crouching into a protective stance. From over his broad shoulder you watched, worried about the new danger coming your way, unsure how to help your reactive lover. Another rattle had Loki palming his dagger, anticipating an attack. That’s when a raccoon, bigger than your childhood terrier, scuttled from under an overturned trash can carrying what looked like a half eaten slice of pizza in its mouth. “Appalling! Mother would be modified!” Loki cursed as he offered you his hand, kicking away an empty glass bottle, "Why is he living like a dirty animal, surrounded by trash? One would think they were back on Sakaar!" “I don’t know what’s going on with Thor, but we came here for a reason. Let’s get it over with, ok?” Loki shook his head, refusing to step any closer, “He’ll have to come out here. I won’t go inside this… dilapidated shit box.” Sighing, “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it.” Stepping around a pile of broken electronics, you carefully picked your way to the front door, gracefully knocking on the splintering wood. After an answerless few seconds, you tried again, rapping lightly with your knuckles before turning to flash Loki a small smile. That’s when you noticed the striking woman striding towards you and your returned lover. “My, my… is that pretty Prince Loki I see?” Even her voice was sexy, you thought, as the sarcastic words dripped from her full lips. The swaggering stranger radiated cool, calm, sensual energy. Otherworldly energy that made you feel mortal and boring. You couldn’t help tugging your skirt straight and fluffing your hair as she got closer. “Ah… Valkyrie! How are you?” Hugging her tightly when she opened her arms, Loki found that he was genuinely happy to see the fierce, battle tested warrior. Smirking at your man, she countered, “That’s King Valkyrie to you. Your brother crowned me, or have you forgotten?” “On the contrary. It seems like he finally realized what I’ve known all our lives.” “Which is what, exactly?” “He’s not fit to be the ruler of Asgard, obviously.” Drawing right up to Loki, hands on her hips, Valkyrie leveled her dark eyes at his, “What would you know about ruling, Mischief?” “Enough to know that you’re good at it. Enough to know that I no longer want to be the King of Asgard.” “Is that so? And what’s changed your mind?” At those skeptical words, Loki wound an arm around your waist, tugging you close, “I’ve got more… important concerns these days.” Looking you over with her shrewd, searching gaze, but speaking to Loki, “And she likes you? Are you sure?” Laughing, the sound deep and rich, “As much as you like fighting and drinking.” “I hardly drink anymore. As King I have mead only on important occasions, I have to keep my wits about me the rest of the time.” Sharing a laugh, the two shared another small hug before Valkyrie turned to you directly, “Alright. Who’s this then?” Loki started to respond but you cut him off, extending a hard towards the newly crowned King of Asgard, “Uh, I can answer for myself, thank you, Loki. Valkyrie is it? Nice to meet you. And, yes, I love Loki.” Making a face that was part disgust, part pride, Valkyrie smirked, “Love? Oh no. Hasn’t anyone told you yet? Loving the Odinson boys is hard on a girl.” Pulling Loki in for a small kiss, taking him by surprise, “I’ll take my chances.” Shrugging nonchalantly, “Suit yourself.” Focusing on Loki once more, Valkyrie shifted on her feet, “Listen, if you’re looking for Thor, he’s not here.” “Oh? And where exactly is the lovable oaf?” Hitching a thumb over her shoulder, pointing up the hill, “At the palace… the new palace, that is. You can come and, please, don’t forget your girlfriend.” Falling in line behind the King, Loki couldn’t help but add, “You know Val, I think I liked you better when you were drunk.” Snorting in response, “And I know I liked you better when I was drunk, weird right?” Bringing up the rear, your own sarcastic comment dying on your throat when the Palace of New Asgard came into view. Banners of gold shimmered in the light of the rising sun, flapping in the breeze of the young morning, beckoning you closer. You hugged Loki’s arm tighter, excited and exhilarated by the sight before you. “Home is a people, not a place. Those were some of my father’s last words to Thor and I… and while I can never take you to the place where I grew up, this… this is the home of my people.” “Loki… it’s beautiful!” Valkyrie, stopping so you could both catch up, “It’s getting there. Thor’s been a huge help. Come on, let's show you around the palace and let your brother know you’re here.” ---To Be Continued!

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drsilverfish · 5 years ago

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Understanding the Closet in Narrative - Healing Hands/ Holding Hands in 15x08 Our Father Who Aren’t in Heaven

The best theoretical book on this subject, in my view, to date is Eve Sedgwick’s Epistemology of the Closet (1990). It’s not that easy to read without a grounding in post-structuralist theory (it’s from that period in the academy when that was fashionable) and it has its flaws (one being that it only theorises the historical male closet, not the female one). But it’s still great :-)

Essentially, she reads nineteenth and early twentieth century literature by European and North American authors, who were, or, scholarship suggests, may have been, queer (that term is anachronistic for the time-period, but I used it as a shorthand) e.g., Oscar Wilde, Henry James, Herman Melville.

But Sedgwick’s readings are situated in the political context of the AIDS crisis in North America of the 1980s. And her attempt to unravel the significance of the closet, in narrative and culture, is predicated upon a passion about the cruel times she, and her many queer friends, were living in.

She attempts to delineate how queerness was written about, by male queer authors, in times when they could not be openly homosexual/ bisexual/ otherwise queer, nor felt able to write openly about queerness (because homosexuality between men was a criminal offence).

As she carefully elucidates, that meant that often, themes of horror, rejection, criminality, deceit, even evil, were projected by these authors onto characters they were (in a coded manner) delineanating as “queer”. This was about expressing what culture made these authors feel about themselves and, about, somehow, finding a way to present queerness, or the queer experience, in a manner which would be “acceptable” (because heavily coded, and depicted negatively) to the mainstream audience. Internalised homophobia also fed into these depictions. You can see all of that in Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897).

This is why the monstrous has always been “ours” in a special and specific way in narrative (here, in relation to Sedgwick’s discussion, in fiction) and later, as cinema developed, on screen, because it has often been a site of queer-coding. Of course, that’s a bit of a double-edged sword as a symbolic history. So pervasive did those codes become, that they are still used today, sometimes, as a short-hand for villainous, as in Scar in The Lion King (1994) (much discussed in pop-culture YouTube videos about queer-coding) or SPN’s Crowley (who for instance drinks “fruity” cocktails as part of the historic repertoire of male queer-coding as effeminate and therefore, untrustworthy/ villainous). But, of course, Crowley is also written as deliberately drinking those fruity cocktails because he knows what they “mean”, and not only does he not give a shit, he flaunts drinking them as part of his particular combination of transgressive bravado and demonic viciousness (an “I may drink a fruity cocktail but I will also rip your heart out and chop you into tiny pieces” vibe). Crowley remains, however, queer-coded [not unequivocally bisexual/ homosexual/ pansexual] for most of his SPN screen-time. He refers to his relationship with Demon!Dean as a “bromance”, even if the way he utters it sounds as if he’s sarcastically calling that word for it out. We see him kiss men on the lips as part of doing cross-roads demon-style deals with them, but it’s played as him fucking with those dudes (notably Bobby) rather than fucking them.

Finally, we do see Crowley participate in a a mixed-gender orgy in 11x01 Out of the Darkness into the Fire (well, we see the before and after). He has a four-way and then slaughters them (I really hate that particular scene; there’s a shitty menopause “joke” in there too) but Crowley is smoked into a different vessel from the one we are used to, a female vessel, for that orgy. So, although we do “see” it, Crowley’s pansexuality, we also don’t “see” it, because Crowley’s usual male-embodied vessel is missing from the scene. It’s out there (I’d say it does semi-“out” Crowley) but it’s, on the part of the SPN text, kind of a chicken “out” because dude-Crowley is not present. Moreoever, the context is horrible and murderous rather than tender or intimate. So, there is a classic, historical, on-screen queer-coding residue. Because, in terms of our still powerful cultural norms, it would have been more shocking for the audience if dude-Crowley had been present and the scene was a tender, loving orgy, rather than the gender-swopped and slaughtery scenario Carver gave us.

Sedgwick develops the useful concept of the “glass closet”. Which means, that, deliberately, in a text, a queer reading is at once available (clear) to some readers and opaque (unavailable or rejected/ denied) by others. She writes, of Oscar Wilde’s famous story The Picture of Dorian Gray, that it...

“.... occupies an especially symptomatic place in this process. Published four years before Wilde's "exposure" as a sodomite, it is in a sense a perfect rhetorical distillation of the open secret, the glass closet, shaped by the conjunction of an extravagance of deniability and an extravagance of flamboyant display. It perfectly represents the glass closet, too, because it is in so many ways out of the purposeful control of its author. Reading Dorian Gray from our twentieth-century vantage point where the name Oscar Wilde virtually means "homosexual," it is worth reemphasizing how thoroughly the elements of even this novel can be read doubly or equivocally, can be read either as having a thematically empty "modernist' meaning or as having a thematically full "homosexual" meaning.” (Sedgwick, 1990: p165-66).

So, what she’s saying, is that the closet as a narrative structure, has a double structure. It makes queerness at once visible and invisible, “there” and “not there”. Another way to put this is that the “there” is queer subtext, and the “not there” is all the other available readings provided by the built-in ambiguity that delineates the narrative closet. Such queer subtext IS part of narrative, but its nature is to contain a plausible deniability.

This shot from 15x08 Our Father Who Art in Heaven, epitomises Sedgwick’s “glass closet”:

There’s no doubt this is (in its context) an intimate gesture between Dean and Cas, and a loaded one, because the SPN text has made it clear (not subtextual) that Dean and Cas are not in a good place with one another emotionally or communicatively, following Jack’s (apparent) murder of Mary WInchester. We see them fight, and Cas leave, in 15x03 The Rupture.

However, in its subtextual context (meaning in the context of all the other queer subtext in SPN in relation to Dean and Cas’ individual sexualities and their relationship) this gesture (for those taking the text’s invitation to read it queerly) is also a gesture which begs for the space between those hands to be closed, for those fingers to be entwined, for those hands to clasp one another, in a manner that cannot be understood as between “bros”. The narrative negative space screams, in this register, “Hold hands, you idiots, we know you love each other!”

It’s loud, but the fact that it’s clear AND opaque (visible to some, and “don’t see it” to others) means that is still follows the structure of Sedgewick’s glass closet, i.e., it’s still subtext.

Other readings of it are available:

1) Yes, the negative space is there between their hands, but it symbolises how they are not as close as they usually are, because of the rift between them.

2) This healing gesture, in which Cas uses his fading power (and it costs him to do it) to heal Dean’s wound, a wound which Dean initially keeps hidden, curled inside his clenched fist, is symbolic of something at the core of their relationship- pain and healing.

The wound on Dean’s palm, is almost a stigmata, or a wound-from-the-cross; healed by an angel.

Cas fought his way to Dean in Hell and, in their initial (off screen) encounter put him, body and soul, back together, from his half-Demon, broken-on-the-rack, state. In other words, Cas healed a wound in Dean’s soul and restored him to humanity.

Cas: “Good things do happen, Dean”

Dean: “Not in my experience”

4x01 Lazarus Rising

Cas ended up himself being a good thing which has happened to Dean, the best thing (outside of his brother and his mother’s return from the dead) Dean’s ever had in his life.

It hasn’t all been roses. Far from it. Cas has hurt Dean deeply as well as healed him, particularly during the Godstiel/ Levi!Cas arc.

And Dean, in turn, has hurt Cas deeply too, particularly when he was vulnerable and human after the Angel Fall, and now, since Jack’s (apparent) murder of Mary Winchester.

But, this healing gesture, palm to palm, which is vulnerable for both of them, in the midst of their painful period of miscommunication, tells us, in spite of all that, that at the core of what Dean and Cas are to each other, or could be to each other, is a place of healing.

These readings make sense, whether we consider Dean and Cas to have a deep fox-hole type, bestest buddy in the world friendship, or that they are sexually and/ or romantically desirous of one another as life-partners.

This is the structure of the glass closet - healing hands/ holding hands; the gesture is both, but the holding hands reading (because of that physical space in between those hands) is subtextual. The romantic/ sexual reading is visible/ invisible, for different segments of the audience.

The history of heterosexuality as visible and coded as “normal” and homosexuality/ bisexuality/ queerness as invisible and coded as “abnormal”, means that we don’t yet have a narrative level playing field for queer and straight characters even simply in terms of recognition.

In general, audiences are socialised to be excellent “readers” of the codes and gestures on-screen that signal heterosexual intimacy. So, a man and a woman can just look at each other on-screen in a certain way and the audience knows they are being written and performed as desiring one another, sexually/ romantically.

Straight audiences have become, in the last fifty years of activism which have precipitated LGBTQ social and political changes (moving from decriminalisation to gay marriage) better readers of queer subtext, because they have been “invited in”, to some extent, to these codes, which were previously themselves opaque (and often written as a coded bat-signal between queer creatives and queer audiences). It would be hard to watch Freddy Mercury’s video for “I Want to Break Free” (1984) which he sings whilst doing the hoovering in drag, without understanding him to be queer today, but trust me, at the time, those codes went straight (ha ha pun) over the heads of thousands upons thousands of his fans, who saw him as a macho rock God (who must be straight by default).

However, more subtle and complex forms of queer subtext can and do still remain opaque for the “mainstream”. Because, you have to learn to read queer subtext; it’s not something LGBTQ folk are automatically born with either, not some inherent textual kind of gaydar. Queer people, certainly those of a certain age, just tend to be socialised into it to a greater extent, because it’s been our hungry experience to search deeply for characters that reflect us, given the slimmer pickings.

So, the standard of “proof” that a character is, without ambiguity, understood by all (not some) of the audience as homosexual/ bisexual/ queer is still higher than the standard of “proof” that a character is straight, because straight remains the default.

Is that fair? No.

Is it the deal? Yes.

And whether that full recognition (full audience recognition) is there or not has political implications for a text. It changes its impact in the world.

That doesn’t mean a queer-coded text has no political impact in the world, however. In some ways it can be more persuasive, e.g that “love is love”, because a queer label isn’t there up-front, kicking in (some) people’s automatic resistance.

So the fact that Dean and Cas are still queer-coded, not textually “out”, doesn’t mean Dean and Cas are not queer, unless the whole audience knows it. Dean has been queer-coded since S1, so I’d say, that, to me, he’s been queer all along. But, it does mean that Dean and Cas’ queerness is still structured by the glass closet - it’s there (for some of the audience) and not there (for others of the audience). It remains visible/ invisible.

A complex additional question, is whether it is ethical, in this time period in which we can (in some, but not all, parts of the world) show LGBTQ characers on-screen, to continue to tell queer stories in subtext. That is essentially what lies at the root of the contemporary, popular “queerbaiting” debate.

The answer to that is complicated too, and I think, varies from text to text, but this post is long enough.

If you want more, you can browse my “reading subtext” tag for some of mine, and others’ further musings on that topic.

#Supernatural #15x08 #Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven #SPN meta #Meta #Queer-coding #Destiel #Still subtext #But subtext IS part of narrative #Epistemology of the Closet #The great queerbaiting debate #Reading subtext

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tabloidtoc · 4 years ago

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Star, January 25

You can now buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Meghan Markle’s life is a lie

Page 1: Emma Stone’s baby joy -- after months of speculation thrilled mom-to-be Emma debuts her baby bump during a hike with a pal

Page 2: Contents, Sutton Foster and Nico Tortorella and Debi Mazar filmed a scene for Younger’s final season

Page 4: Candace Cameron Bure came out swinging again against commenters on a holiday pic she posted on Instagram of her and her husband Valeri Bure and kids Natasha and Lev and Maksim and she got a load of snark for the heavily retouched pic

Page 5: Karlie Kloss usually steers clear of dishing on her sister- and brother-in-law Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner but on January 6 Karlie broke her silence after Ivanka tweeted and quickly deleted a post calling a pro-Trump mob storming the U.S. Capitol building American patriots and Karlie begged to differ tweeting that accepting the results of a legitimate democratic election is patriotic and when one Twitter user urged her to tell her brother-in-law and sister-in-law she lamented I’ve tried

* Olivia Jade Giannulli posted a clip of herself dancing maskless at a beach-house party and the New Year’s Day Insta came days after her mom Lori Loughlin was sprung from prison and the clip which featured her toasting with a glass of vino came less than a month after she aired her regrets in an interview -- the party girl feels she’s suffered too from the scandal and she was just letting off steam

* Rege-Jean Page has sent pulses racing with his groundbreaking role as the rakish Duke of Hastings in Bridgerton but it was his reference to James Bond’s legendary martini preference in a tweet that had fans speculating he’s in line to take over from Daniel Craig as the next 007 -- the biracial actor has been vocal about the importance of inclusive casting

Page 6: Jessica Simpson whose own father once bragged about her double Ds is enjoying a very particular benefit of her recent 100-lb slimdown which is she’s gone down two cup sizes and she says she feels more athletic and her body is more in proportion -- in addition to easing back pain she feels a different sort of weight has lifted because all that talk about her breasts made her feel they overshadowed her as a person

* Drew Barrymore is nursing a private pain as her ex-husband Will Kopelman went public with his new love Vogue staffer Alexandra Michler and the two are serious while Drew is still single and she is alone and feeling like the odd man out -- there are times when Drew absolutely regrets divorcing Will especially now that he’s dating again and Drew was holding out hope for a reunion but when she discovered Will was seeing someone new she knew there was a good chance it may not happen and even worse her own attempts at finding romance have fallen flat as she’s tried online dating a few times but had no luck

* Star Spots the Stars -- Jimmy Fallon and wife Nancy Juvonen, Jennifer Lopez, Eva Longoria, Ryan Seacrest, Jenna Dewan, Aubrey Plaza, JD Martinez

Page 8: Star Shots -- John Legend gave his son Miles a zip around the water on a jet ski during a vacation in St. Barths, Ellen DeGeneres on a bike after lunch with friends in Santa Barbara, Brooke Burke dressed in wintry workout gear sipped a hot drink

Page 10: Leslie Jones on Celebrity Wheel of Fortune, Christina Aguilera playing video games with her son Max

Page 12: Kit Harington takes his dog for a walk in London, Sean “Diddy” Combs passed out gift cards and gift bags to those in need in Miami, Mindy Kaling online shopping

Page 13: Gabrielle Union and her husband Dwyane Wade on a hike, Jenny McCarthy maneuvered her trash bins to the curb in Chicago

Page 14: Coach Tom Jones on The Voice UK, EJ Johnson at the beach in Miami, Margaret Qualley and boyfriend Shia LaBeouf on a hike in L.A., Dua Lipa eating during a getaway in Tulum, Mexico

Page 16: Normal or Not? Tori Spelling out in Los Angeles with her dogs and husband Dean McDermott -- normal, Nicole Kidman and an alpaca -- not normal

Page 17: Jennifer Garner playing the drinking game from The Crown in which participants who can’t repeat a phrase correctly must smudge their faces -- not normal, Kate Bosworth celebrated her birthday with husband Michael Polish and some bubbly in Beverly Hills -- normal

Page 18: Fashion -- stars stun in Pantone colors of the year Illuminating Yellow and Ultimate Gray -- Mindy Kaling, Thandie Newton, Jorja Smith

Page 19: Ariana Grande, Zoey Deutch

Page 24: Olivia Wilde made news stepping out as Harry Styles’ plus-one to his agent’s wedding in Montecito and he introduced her as his girlfriend as the two mingled and held hands -- the next day Harry and Olivia who hit it off on the set of her upcoming psychological thriller Don’t Worry Darling in which he stars were spotted heading into his L.A. home -- wedding guests weren’t the only ones surprised by the new couple as Olivia’s ex Jason Sudeikis dad to her kids Otis and Daisy has been nurturing hope of a reunion since their split in late 2020 and he was surprised she’d go for one of the actors in her movie -- now Olivia is conflicted because she’s having fun with Harry but there’s no denying her feelings for Jason continue to linger and some are betting her romance with Harry will flame out in no time and no one would be surprised if Olivia and Jason ended up getting back together

Page 25: Florence Pugh and Zach Braff had Hollywood abuzz after a pal wished her a happy birthday on social media and cryptically referred to her as FPB -- that extra B caused many to surmise that Florence has quietly exchanged vows with Zach and taken his last name and Florence hasn’t done much to shut down speculation by strategically hiding her ring finger in photos shared on Instagram

* Zoe Kravitz filed for divorce from Karl Glusman after 18 months of marriage because she was fed up with having an MIA husband -- things between the two hit a breaking point after Karl failed to check in with his wife while filming Please Baby Please in Butte, Montana -- Zoe couldn’t take being ignored and when she and Karl finally spoke they had a big fight and she pulled the plug shortly afterwards

* They called it quits in October after two years together but Bethenny Frankel and Paul Bernon are now giving their relationship another shot -- they split up because their long-distance romance proved too difficult but Bethenny really missed him and it turns out Paul missed her too and it seems second time’s a charm because a loved-up Bethenny and Paul indulged in PDA at a Miami studio as they watched her daughter paint with the artist

Page 26: Cover Story -- Meghan Markle exposed -- Meghan’s older half-sister is dishing some major dirt about the former actress’ rise to royalty in her new bombshell book

Page 30: Inside Kim Kardashian’s escape -- Kim reached her breaking point with Kanye West months ago but took many steps before she finally left him

Page 32: It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over -- these celebs more than made up after breaking up and they made it all the way down the aisle -- Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel, Kelly Ripa and Mark Consuelos, Adam Levine and Behati Prinsloo

Page 33: Kristen Bell and Dax Shepard, Chrissy Teigen and John Legend, Prince William and Kate Middleton

Page 36: Beauty -- sweet dreams -- get better ZZZs and wake up looking gorgeous with products that nourish

Page 38: Entertainment

Page 48: Parting Shot -- Splashing out on a romantic getaway in Tulum, Mexico Bella Thorne and boyfriend Benjamin Mascolo made time to keep it tight on the sand

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polin-erospsyche · 4 years ago

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My Angel, Please Let Me Down Slowly - a Jordelia fanfic

Sidenote: I don’t really know what to say apart for that I had this idea for a fanfiction and for some reason I decided to write it and then I decided to share it. Like we say: if nothing is ventured, nothing is gained right? I have never felt so vulnerable on this hellsite before because fanfic is not what I really do and I certainly have never shared my writing before. I tried to make this as close to the character as I could, I’m sure you’ll find that there are mistakes here and there. It also ended up being much longer than I thought it would be, I ramble a lot who is suprised? I hope you’ll read it and that you’ll enjoy, I certainly had fun writing it.

“So? How do you feel?” Lucie asked excitedly. James stared at the thin silver band Grace was holding in front of him, seemingly lost in a daze. They stood in the drawing room of the London Institute with Lucie, Will and Tessa hovering, eagerly looking at James to look for any changes after the bracelet had come off.

None of them really knew the exact reason for which Grace had gone against Tatiana Blackthorn and accepted Lucie’s offer to join the London Institute and fight against Belial. Lucie had assured everyone that it was much better if they didn’t know the reason as, in truth, she wanted to keep their plans to bring Jesse back a secret just a little longer. Once on their side, Grace had quickly although reluctantly admitted that James was in fact not genuinely in love with her but was under the spell of the bracelet he wore since he was thirteen. Once she had explained Tatiana’s and Belial’s plan and the bracelet’s function, Will had exclaimed that this was completely unacceptable and that it had to be taken off at once. Everyone had agreed. However, due to the late hour of the night and because James wanted to do it privately, they had all been sent home with the promise that they would be able to come and check on James the following morning. All at the exception of Cordelia who had insisted on staying behind and was currently waiting in the library with Matthew who had decided to keep Cordelia company and wanted to show her an essay written by Oscar Wilde. Being responsible for the bracelet’s charm, Grace was the only who could take it off easily, and so, here there were with the bracelet removed.

“He’s not going to feel very different right away as once the bracelet is off there is still a remnant of the bond.” Grace replied for James. James disagreed, he felt as if he had woken up from a long slumber, and were finally able to breathe normally. He saw the world not through the veiled eyes of a passive body bound to an invisible force but as if he could experience everything around him for himself again. Grace had also lost this ethereal beauty he had found so fascinating. She remained stunning with her angel soft blond hair closing to silver, her frail complexion and her big grey eyes but her beauty suddenly did not make him want to follow her to the end of the world or throw himself in the river Thames. He realized with a sudden jolt that she was talking, to him more specifically, and that he had missed most of it.

“… you’ll be all right and I’m … you … you must know…” she paused, looking unsure. He looked at her with a look between resentment and expectation and wondered what she could possibly want him to know. Was she going to apologize? And if she did, what would he be able to say? “Never mind, we’ll talk soon. When you’ll be feeling more like yourself.”

“Yes soon, just not right away. I need some time to think and to reflect.” to get away from you James thought. He would not let her know how much he could not stand being in her presence right now, he would be civil. After all she couldn’t really be blamed, she had had no choice but to obey the witch.

“James?” asked Tessa gently “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I assure you.” Looking towards his father he quickly added “Don’t look at me like that papa, you’re making me anxious.”

Will looked as if this was the first time he’d ever truly seen his son and wondered whether to make him stay in bed the next day with ten blankets, a hot cup of tea and the curtains drawn so as not to risk James developing a weird sort of illness.

“I’m sorry Jamie bach, it’s just” he walked closer to James “we are your parents, our job is to worry for you. Are you sure you’re alright? I can call Jem right now if you want me to, I don’t mind.”

“Will!” Tessa chastised.

“It’s not necessary to call Uncle Jem. I just feel a little weird and lighter than usual, which is not so different from the first time Grace took off the bracelet.” James glanced at Grace who intensely stared at the ground as if the cracks in the floorboard was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

“Well if he’s alright I think we should go and tell Cordelia. I promised her I’d let her know as soon as the whole ordeal was passed. I’m sure she must worry.” Lucie chirped in.

Cordelia. Daisy. Angel. Images came rushing to James, her soft and warm embrace, her tenacity, the smiles she would only reserve for him, and his irrepressible need at times to run his fingers through her auburn hair. And how, at each of these times, he had to force himself not to do it as he would never have let himself cross that line. He owed Cordelia, who had given her reputation to save him, not to lead her on. And although they had eventually, after five months of pretence, reached a place where they were comfortable around each other and started to share inside jokes, their engagement was still a sham and he would not pretend that there was something there when there wasn’t. But was that true? Hadn’t he told her that he had never wanted anything more than to kiss her when they were in the Whispering Room? And, unknown to Cordelia, that desire had never really went away even after Grace had put the bracelet back onto his wrist. He didn’t know exactly how he felt about Cordelia but he knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had never loved Grace.

He had to see Cordelia. He had to explain to her and hope that she would understand and give him a chance. And maybe with just a bit of luck she would not feel indifferent to him and she had and still did share the same desire as him when they shared their first kiss. And they would then be able to figure out their feelings together. He had to go to the library, see her, talk to her.

“I appreciate everyone’s worry, really, and I will let you fuss around me at your heart’s content tomorrow. But Lucie is right, Daisy has been waiting.”

“Great! Let’s go.” Lucie started to walk towards the door but was stopped as James grabbed her elbow.

“No Lucie. Alone. I need to see her alone, please?”

Lucie pouted, feeling as if she was going to miss all the fun, but gestured for him to go. James who needed no more encouragements hastened out of the drawing room and ran down the halls of the Institute.

When he arrived in front of the library doors, he took a moment to steel himself and tried to get a hold of his muddled thoughts. After tonight he might not have to pretend anymore. He might be able to reach for her hand or play with her hair or take her in his arms and kiss her whenever he wished to. Not because he had to go along with a lie but simply because they both wanted to. He took a breath in, reached for the library door, slowly opened it and for the second time that night he froze.

The room was dimly lit by an oil lamp placed on the fireplace mantel but in the far corner he could discern two figures leaned against a bookshelf, clinging to each other, with an open book discarded at their feet. Probably the book Matthew wanted to show Cordelia. The smaller figure let out a soft moan and James shut his eyes. Suddenly the floor under his feet seemed no longer stable. His head and heart were pounding as if he had breathed in to quickly and yet there suddenly seemed like there would never bee enough air for him to breath normally. The energy that had made him almost run to the library was sapped and for a minute his world had lost its direction and a part of him wished he could still be under Grace’s influence.

“Matthew” whispered Cordelia.

James opened his eyes, already adjusting to the darkness of the room, only to see Cordelia staring back at him. Matthew still had his head bend, kissing her neck the way James had done not so long ago, the way he still wanted to do now.

“Matthew, stop.” James wasn’t sure which of them had said it but to his short-lived relief Matthew lifted his head but only to follow Cordelia’s gaze and lend his eyes onto James.

Matthew immediately scrambled into an upright position trying to smooth his hair and clothes out.

“James! Here you are, we were worried. I was just reading a passage from The Decay of Lying.” Said Matthew biting his lower lip, his hair dishevelled, the first few buttons on his waistcoat undone. He was pointing at the book Cordelia had now picked up and clutched in one hand, her other hand hovering at her lips.

“Listen to this and tell me what you think, “What is interesting about people in good Society is the mask that each one of them wears, not the reality that lies behind the mask”.’ Matthew recited, because of course he would have learned by heart Wilde’s writing. How fitting as well that out of all of Wilde’s quotes he had picked one about masks, James thought.

“Riveting.” James let out through a forced smile. “I’m sorry for interrupting your passionate reading, I should have knocked. I just wanted to let you know that Grace took the bracelet off and I knew you were both waiting.”

Matthew’s expression hardened “I told you, didn’t I, that she was not as angelic as she was trying to make you believe. At least now I won’t have to try and prove it and hopefully she will be on her way once we win against Belial and Tatiana.” James didn’t know the reasons but it seemed that recently over the past five months or so Matthew had developed an even more pronounced dislike of Grace. “Anyway,” Matthew’s expression softened “how are you feeling?”

“Everyone has been asking me that.” James sighed. He threw a glance at Cordelia, everyone had been asking except her, she hadn’t said a thing. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning when my head is less foggy. I’ll leave you to whatever it is that you were doing.” And with that James closed the door and left.

He was halfway down the hallway when he heard quick, light footsteps “Wait! James, please, wait. I can explain.” The way she was almost begging him to stop was like shards of glass in his heart, but he kept walking faster.

“It’s not what you think.”

“No?” James stopped abruptly. “It seemed really clear to me what was going on in that room. I assure you I do not need any further explanations.” He was now facing her.

“We were reading …” started Cordelia.

“Reading doesn’t usually include kissing. At least from what I’ve experienced, it doesn’t.” James said with finality.

Cordelia stared at James not knowing what to say. He was angry and she wasn’t sure he would listen to anything she had to say right now. Then she ventured carefully “Would it make a difference if I told you it wasn’t supposed to happen? You weren’t supposed to see it. We both feel bad, we’re both sorry.” She could barely meet his eyes when she finished.

James slightly shook his head and exhaled “You don’t have to, neither of you owes me an explanation. You’re not bound to me in any way just like I am not bound to you. We’re both free of pursuing any relationships we want. I just never thought of all the men you could possibly have in London you’d go with my parabatai, my Matthew. I feel foolish, I should have known. I’ve seen the way you started to look at Math, the way you act around each other and the way you started to look at each other when you thought no one was watching. Just tell me something, and please answer me honestly, for Matthew’s sake, do you love him?”

“I don’t know.” She murmured, looking down at her clasped hands, her knuckles almost white.

Her answer knocked the air out of James. He thought that might have been the case, of course he did. He hadn’t lied when he said that he saw Cordelia and Matthew, their relationship had changed ever so gradually. While James was busy trying not to act on his false feelings for Grace and to comprehend why his heart seemed to beat just a little quicker when Cordelia entered a room, she had been busy keeping up a false engagement and falling for his best friend. He just never thought she would admit to it or that he would have to hear it.

Cordelia lifted her head, hoping to erase what she had said, hoping to bring the conversation back to them and not linger on her unclear feelings for Matthew “But the bracelet is off and …”

“And nothing has changed.” Except that everything had, but she didn’t have to know this. More than anything he wanted to see Cordelia happy even if her happiness costed him his. He would rather have cut out his own heart than take away Cordelia’s chance at being in love, so he continued “Daisy, I truly am sorry. I don’t think that either of us were ready for this turn of event but I do think we still need to get married, just to keep your reputation intact. But once this year is up if Matthew makes you happy then I will be happy for you.”

“So you’re not angry? I thought that … I don’t know what I thought. I just thought you would care.” I thought you would be jealous. Cordelia hadn’t kissed Matthew to make James jealous, of course not, but her treacherous heart still hoped he would return her feelings and so, in effect, would be showing signs of jealousy.

“Of course I care! You have become such a dear friend to me. I care for you immensely; you should know that by now. And no, I’m not angry, I’m just surprised. I saw it coming, I just never though it would actually happen.”

So there it was, she thought, he wasn’t angry or jealous just caught off guard. She had hoped that tonight would turn out so differently. That without the bracelet on he would tell her he loved her. That they would decide that the marriage wouldn’t be a sham but a real one based on love, understanding and trust. Yet, she never felt further from James than at this moment. He hadn’t loved her then; he didn’t love her now. And worst of all she wasn’t even sure how she felt about Matthew. When had things between them started to go so wrong?

“It’s late, I think we both need some rest after every that has happened today. I’ll see you in the morning Cordelia.”

As he started to slowly walk away, she reached for his hand and intertwined her fingers with his.

“I’m so sorry, I wish it could have gone another way.”

“Me too.” Maybe things would have been different if I had told you when we were younger, I just didn’t know it until I saw you with him my angel. James gently pried his fingers away and returning to the silence and darkness of his bedroom.

That night he promised himself that he would stand by Matthew and Cordelia, would smile at their happiness and in time would be able to mend his broken heart. He would not and could not stand in the middle of their happiness because he loved them both beyond words. He came to the resolution that if he could see them both happy with each other than he would have to be content with that.

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wrcns · 4 years ago

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↪ introduction to wren d’ansembourg.

BASICS

full name: wren marcel d’ansembourg. nickname(s): vtáčik ( ‘little bird’ in slovak, used exclusively by his fiancé tomas ). age: twenty-five. date of birth: 3 june 1995. zodiac sign: gemini. place of birth: luxembourg city, luxembourg. ethnicity: white. nationality: luxembourger. gender: cis male. sexual orientation: homosexual. romantic orientation: homoromantic. religion: roman catholic, though wren isn’t the most diligent catholic ( re: he hasn’t done anything religious of his own volition in years ). occupation: when he isn’t running amok around his home in luxembourg trying and failing to do his royal duties, he’s an artist -- a painter, more specifically. language(s) spoken: luxembourgish, french, german, english ( all fluently ). slovak ( not fluently, at this point the best he can do is string together his favorite swear words to make tomas laugh ). accent: his accent is extremely reminiscent of a german accent, though he’s been told it’s softer than the average german accent -- when he’s speaking english, that is. he’s been told his accents in french and german are negligible and difficult to notice -- especially at the pace he usually speaks ( i.e. - wren has never said anything slowly in his twenty-five years of living and doesn’t plan to START ).

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: maxence danet-fauvel. hair color: brown. eye color: blue. height: 180.34 cm ( 5′11″ ). weight: 83 kg ( 183 lbs ). build: lanky, athletic. tattoos: he has a tattoo of a wren on his left forearm ( here ) ; to date he doesn’t have any other tattoos but he’s constantly doodling things he’d be perfectly willing to get tattooed on himself - tomas has, so far, urged him to think about it a bit more. piercings: he has three piercings in his right ear -- he wears a ring in the lowest one and studs in the upper pair. distinguishing characteristics: his height, the fact that he always looks like he needs about six months more sleep at any given moment, the way he talks with his hands, the way he dresses.

PERSONALITY

label: the odd duck. positive traits: capable, clever, compassionate, considerate, creative, curious, daring, dedicated, earnest, empathetic, generous, independent, loyal, observant, passionate, protective, reliable, selfless, warm. negative traits: competitive, irreverent, sarcastic, self-conscious. aloof, anxious, crude, haughty, hedonistic, impulsive, timid, weird. goals/desires: wren’s admittedly very excited to get married when the time comes, to continue living his life as happily as possible even within the protection program. fears: genuinely doing anything to disappoint or hurt his family, losing his siblings or tomas. hobbies: painting, driving his siblings absolutely nuts, dreaming up new pranks to pull on his friends and family, doodling ( on clothes, skin, actual paper - wren’s not picky ), chatting with reporters about nonsense things, going on twitter rants about the dumbest things, spending time with his family ( occasionally ), cuddling with tomas, exploring whatever city he happens to be living in as thoroughly as possible, playing soccer, learning how to make films ( god forbid anyone let this man hang onto a camera for a significant length of time ), looking at memes until his eyes hurt. quirks: most of his sense of humor is based on memes, he almost always has paint smudges on his hands no matter what he’s doing, he’ll switch between languages when he’s talking without thinking-- especially if he’s speaking english and forgets phrases he’ll try and figure out what they are in the other languages he knows and go from there, he can come off pretty aloof but he’s a genuinely social person -- he just tends to be too-tired on any given day to be really over-zealous. likes: visiting museums when he has the attention span, painting, planning pranks, learning new skills, playing music ( his guitar skills aren’t all that bad and he genuinely enjoys practicing ), mystery novels, memes -- especially if they’re brand new to him, pestering luca, spending time with tomas, planning dates when he’s in the mood, watching documentaries on super obscure subjects, collecting mismatched socks, hanging out with regular people, collecting art supplies, energy drinks, coffee, good beer, good food, flustering tomas. dislikes: having to be involved in political matters of any kind, most hard liquor, not being taken seriously when he wants to be, people who take themselves too seriously, france, having to be serious for any length of time usually, anyone who fucks with his family.

FAMILY

father: emile albert james d’ansembourg. mother: adélaide marie d’ansembourg. sibling(s): luca phillipe gabriel d’ansembourg, wendy juliette d’ansembourg, lara jeanne d’ansembourg. pet(s): he doesn’t have any pets at the moment. financial status: too rich for his own good.

RELEVANT INFORMATION

PERSONALITY —

Wren is, first and foremost, a genuinely odd person -- or so he’s been told for the length of his life at present; it’s a title he accepts with the utmost pride and he’s the first person to admit that he’d rather be known as odd than known for anything else. He can be loud and abrasive-- opinionated in ways that would likely get him into more trouble were he not royalty but could likely get him into sticky situations he isn’t even vaguely prepared for as time goes by. He isn’t always nice in any traditional sense -- he has no problem telling people what he thinks of them, will rip them to metaphorical shreds with a broad smile on his face and be that much happier for it. He obsesses over miscellaneous things to an inane degree -- he’ll worry about how mismatched he can get his socks to be for over an hour on any given afternoon and turn around to obsess over any given style of art he’s currently fascinated with depending on the day. Wren is also one of the most loyal people in the world -- at least where his family and loved ones are concerned; essentially, when someone takes the time to get to know him and Wren understands that they love and appreciate him in a way that he needs ( whether he’ll admit it or not ) then he would do anything in the world for them the moment they need him and he tries -- on occasion and not always successfully -- to make that clear to those he thinks need to understand it.

RELEVANT BACKGROUND —

Wren has never been what anyone would label ‘a typical prince’ -- he’d likely be the first person to question what a typical prince was supposed to be and why would it be so terrible if he wasn’t fitting a mold that, in his mind, had been outdated for hundreds of years? A prince in title and status but perhaps not at heart — the inner workings of palace life never interested Wren unless he needed to be aware of them to pull off some halfcocked prank or another on a whim. To those who knew him in the palace he was a troublemaker on his best days and that suited him far better than being the dutiful youngest son that he was convinced no one believed he could be even if he’d had the desire to begin with.

In his mind, there was no sense in forcing himself to be a shell of the person he hoped to be and if that meant that he was seen as bizarre or odd or too “other” to be taken seriously, well, that was something Wren - by his teenage years - had come to accept rather happily. He was much more at home tucked away in his room with his face inches away from his laptop screen going down some internet rabbit hole or another -- his obsessions were long lasting, his hyperfixations even more so and it was never quite a surprise to anyone when he would emerge from his room looking as though he hadn’t slept in days but perfectly ready to talk anyone’s ear off about whatever subject had caught his attention for the time being.

As he got older he tried to strike a balance between embracing all of his hobbies and relationships outside of being a prince and making at least half an effort, even if it was a poor one, at being a “proper prince”. It wasn’t something he was gifted at -- politics of most sorts tended to give him a headache on his good days and he could waste breath on arguments for hours simply to have advisors admit that he was right in the long run -- something Wren would enjoy deeply simply for the satisfaction of it all. He wasn’t the sort of prince anyone would look to to guide a country and he was thankful, consistently, that it wasn’t his responsibility in the long run to do so. It was almost an accident -- too good to be true, in his mind -- when he met someone at a political function and bonded with them and when he met his current boyfriend it was exactly the way he felt.

He wasn’t always the sort of man anyone would look twice at or pay attention to for more than a wild story or acerbic quip but things were different from the moment they met and Wren found himself struck by the feeling of being seen in a way he felt so rarely that it was, in essence, a connection he couldn’t ignore. He half-expected their relationship to fizzle out as they got to know one another more deeply -- perpetually concerned that he would ultimately be too weird for anyone to take seriously where a long term relationship was concerned but as time went on and the world seemed to fracture around them one of the few things Wren had to cling to was his relationship with the man he loved. Politics became a subject Wren abhorred that much more as alliances formed and their countries were not overtly friendly or directly allied and Wren’s stress over their relationship ending because of him shifted to a deep concern that their relationship might end whether they wanted that or not. It terrified Wren in a way he’d never felt prior and in a fit of something just short of desperation he proposed in the hopes that nothing in the world would ultimately drive them apart.

HEADCANONS —

— Wren has been out-- to both his family and close friends-- as gay since he was fourteen years old. It’s never been something he stresses about or something he feels the need to hide in any concrete way but he’s certainly not the sort of person to go yelling about his various ex-boyfriends or flings to the world at large. Where extremely personal matters are concerned Wren can be intensely private, though that need for privacy can, on occasion, be cast aside in his mind in favor of pulling off a particularly glorious prank or giving the media some piece of insane half-truth to froth at the mouth over which he’s found nothing short of delightful to play with in his adulthood.

— In the grand scheme of interests he has, art is paramount. It’s one of the only things Wren has ever been interested enough in to study properly and arguing his case to be allowed to attend art school in earnest is something he’s extremely proud of having accomplished. Painting, sketching, sculpting, photography -- art of almost any sort is enough to catch and hold Wren’s attention but painting is usually his go-to form of practicing where his own art is concerned, as the materials are usually far easier to come by when he’s traveling or in this case when he’s going to be essentially in protective custody for the foreseeable future.

— Wren and his boyfriend -- now fiancé -- have been dating for going on three years and Wren is as in love with him now as he feels like he always has been. He feels he can be most earnestly himself around his partner and takes advantage of that at every turn -- occasionally in the form of staging elaborate but ultimately harmless and loving pranks on him simply to give himself something to do and relieve any tension either of them happen to be carrying. Their relationship is an easy one and even with the political tension in the world that brought their engagement to bear -- it’s still perhaps the most settled and at ease with his choices Wren has ever felt in his life.

#hshqintro #( introduction )#The Boy™

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lgbtqiahistoricalromance · 4 years ago

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Finishing Out Summer 2020 TBR List! - Updated 7/31

Starting back in March, I was adding novel after novel for purposes of reading during social distancing and Summer 2020. I’m hoping you all found some great reads, even if you haven’t been able to read them all. *Here is another batch to round out Summer 2020, and I’m thrilled by the selection that includes sapphic, trans MCs, and more eras and locations than any list to date.

Leather and Lace by Rebel Carter (Good Sky series #5) - May 20th - sapphic

Mary Sophia James came to Gold Sky, Montana to find a husband at the insistence of her overbearing mother. Striking out in spectacular fashion after setting her eye on Julian Baptiste, her options are dwindling, and time is running out. She needs to find a man to marry before her condition becomes…obvious. Her mother’s prejudices and sharp tongue aren’t helping matters and Mary, to her shame, hasn’t behaved much better. But all her plans are derailed when she spots the most beautiful person she’s ever seen across the town square. Alex Pierce is strong, intriguing, looks stunning in a pair of trousers…and a woman.

Gold Sky is accepting of all types of love, and that between women is no different. Still, Alex didn’t expect to be so floored by the sight of the firey haired, yet fragile looking young woman. Mary needs to be married and Alex has a solution. Because in Gold Sky, Montana there are many ways to be married…and not all of them include a man.

Leather and Lace is a 35k word novella set at the same time as the events of book 2, Hearth and Home. It includes a passionate and romantic f/f love in a town where diversity, and love, reign supreme.

Note : Leather and Lace has a bit of mail-order, arranged married, kind of secret baby with some foreced proximity sprinkled on top!

The Sugared Game by KJ Charles (The Will Darling Adventures #2) - August 26th

It’s been two months since Will Darling saw Kim Secretan, and he doesn’t expect to see him again. What do a rough and ready soldier-turned-bookseller and a disgraced, shady aristocrat have to do with each other anyway? But when Will encounters a face from the past in a disreputable nightclub, Kim turns up, as shifty, unreliable, and irresistible as ever. And before Will knows it, he’s been dragged back into Kim’s shadowy world of secrets, criminal conspiracies, and underhand dealings. This time, though, things are underhanded even by Kim standards. This time, the danger is too close to home. And if Will and Kim can’t find common ground against unseen enemies, they risk losing everything.

The Revolutionary and the Rogue by Blake Ferre - August 24th

Perrin deVesey knows pain. As a member of Crimson Rose, a secret club for men who love men, he’s taken the vow “to stand and shield.” Standing together during these perilous times is the only thing keeping their necks from the guillotine. Now their leader is using the club to rescue wrongly accused traitors. After losing a past lover to an unjust execution, the decision to support this treasonous cause is easy…until a devastatingly handsome Committee Officer complicates Perrin’s whole world. Officer Henri Chevalier hates aristocrats. But the man he finds while investigating Crimson Rose is more than just wealthy and fancily clothed. He’s a rogue that could take him to the heart of the uprising and stop it before it starts. His plan to get close to Perrin and steal his secrets backfires, though, when Henri finds himself falling for the damned aristo and his dangerous smile. His heart is even more conflicted as he learns the truth behind their cause…and the truth his own people have been hiding. Together they must make the choice—to stand and shield at any cost—and their love might be the deadliest weapon in all of France.

Healing Lance by MD Grimm (A Warrior’s Redemption #1)- July 28th

A baby’s laughter. A mind uncaged. Lance is known as Scourge, the warrior in the black armor, the dog of the warlord Ulfr Blackwolf. He was just a boy when Ulfr found him and molded him into the perfect weapon. He slaughters and pillages on command, merciless and numb, devoid of emotions. Then a baby girl laughs at him during a raid. And everything changes. When Gust, a talented healer, is out deer hunting and stumbles across a magnificent horse bearing a mortally wounded rider, he has no idea that his life is about to change forever. Gust applies all his skills to his patient, determined to save the rider’s life, and is rewarded when the man opens his eyes. As friendship, and more, bloom between warrior and healer, so does the danger over the horizon. Ulfr has not forgotten, and Lance must take his first steps on the long road to redemption.

The rest of the series is either out this Summer or finishes in Sept!

Unhallowed: A Novel of Widdershins (Rath & Rune Book #1) by Jordan L Hawk - July 17th

Monsters. Murder. Librarians. Librarian Sebastian Rath is the only one who believes his friend Kelly O’Neil disappeared due to foul play. But without any clues or outside assistance, there’s nothing he can do to prove it. When bookbinder Vesper Rune is hired to fill the vacancy left by O’Neil, he receives an ominous letter warning him to leave. After he saves Sebastian from a pair of threatening men, the two decide to join forces and get to the truth about what happened to O’Neil. But Vesper is hiding secrets of his own, ones he doesn’t dare let anyone learn. Secrets that grow ever more dangerous as his desire for Sebastian deepens. Because Kelly O’Neil was murdered. And if Sebastian and Ves don’t act quickly enough, they’ll be the next to die.

My Heart’s in the Highlands by Amy Hoff - July 17th - sapphic - time travel

The year is 1888. Brilliant and beautiful, Lady Jane Crichton has fought the constraints of her Victorian Edinburgh upbringing to become one of the first women to attend university for medicine. Denied a degree because of her gender, she decides to marry a closeted gay man, providing him with political and social cover and herself with the time and money to pursue her scientific interests—one of which is a time machine. Jane’s machine works…but not exactly as she expected, and soon she has crash-landed in the 13th-century Scottish Highlands. There she is rescued by a wild, red-haired warrior woman, Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill, next in line to the chiefship of the great Clan Donald, the rulers of the Sea Kingdom of the Isles. Despite the constant threat of attacks from enemy clans, harsh winters and a touch of homesickness, Jane finds herself bewitched by this land, this time and this magnificent woman. The rough and warlike Ainslie also feels the magic and revels in a passion and love neither she nor Jane had ever imagined. But Jane is hiding a dangerous secret—one that threatens to tragically transform their Highland fairy tale.

Kinship and Kindness by Kara Jorgensen (A Paranormal Society Romance #1) - releases July 29th -trans MC

Bennett Reynard needs one thing: to speak to the Rougarou about starting a union for shifters in New York City before the delegation arrives. When his dirigible finally lands in Louisiana, he finds the Rougarou is gone and in his stead is his handsome son, Theo, who seems to care for everyone but himself. Hoping he can still petition the Rougarou, Bennett stays only to find he is growing dangerously close to Theo Bisclavret. Theo Bisclavret thought he had finally come to terms with never being able to take his father’s place as the Rougarou, but with his father stuck in England and a delegation of werewolves arriving in town, Theo’s quiet life is thrown into chaos as he and his sister take over his duties. Assuming his father’s place has salted old wounds, but when a stranger arrives offering to help, Theo knows he can’t say no, even if Mr. Reynard makes him long for things he had sworn off years ago. As rivals arrive to challenge Theo for power and destroy the life Bennett has built, they know they must face their greatest fears or risk losing all they have fought for. With secrets threatening to topple their worlds, can Theo and Bennett let down their walls before it’s too late?

More under the cut...!!!!

My Highland Laird: Sci-Regency Book #5 by JL Langley - releases August 10th

Bannon Thompson, talented artist and youngest son of the Duke of Eversleigh, is hastily shipped off after his latest indiscretion. After crashing on rural Skye, leaving him and his valet the sole survivors of a diplomatic mission, Bannon must navigate the complexities of a primitive clan society and take up a role he never wanted: helping a sexy Highlander ensure the safety of both their planets.

Laird Ciaran MacKay wants nothing more than to keep his clan safe from the off-world intruders who killed his father. Suspecting complicity among his own people, he has no choice but to trust outsiders from a spaceship crash—and he can’t seem to fight his attraction to the stubborn redhead. Drawn to the handsome laird, Bannon risks a bold affair. But there is more at stake than reputations as they find two lost Regelens and uncover the Intergalactic Navy’s plot.

Artful Deception by Jackson Marsh (The Clearwater Myseries Book #5)

“Deception. The lie that tells the truth."

A damaged painting tempts Lord Clearwater to a final battle with his arch-enemy, and it's not a summons he can ignore.

Archer must free his homicidal brother from incarceration and reinstate him to the title. He will be left humiliated and penniless, but free to live his life with Silas with no threat of exposure. The alternative is death.

Drawing inspiration from a work of art, Clearwater manipulates a series of illusions to stay one step ahead of the endgame. While James, Tom and Silas race to solve clues and reach Archer before the fatal deadline, the assassin, Dorjan, remains hot on his heels ready to kill.

The sixth book in The Clearwater Mysteries series brings back popular characters from previous adventures in a fast-paced, twisting mystery that can have only one of two possible endings.

Or perhaps one of three. After all, deception is the lie that tells the truth.

Ten or Fifteen Miles by BL Maxwell - May 27th

Tim Latham had only been riding for the Pony Express for a week before he has to show the new guy the trail. Being raised on a farm in the Sacramento area, the Pony Express gave him an opportunity to see more of the country beyond his family’s little plot of land. He loves everything about the job: the adventure, the scenery, and the speed. Racing the wind on the back of a horse was as close to perfect as he could imagine.

Jeremiah Rollins grew up in San Francisco under the shadow of his father's successful shipping business. But Jeremiah craves the adventure he reads about in the dime novels he can’t get enough of. On a whim, and despite his father’s disapproval, he signs up for the Pony Express and leaves his old life behind for the steep, rocky trails that cross the Sierra Nevada. Both men are excited to begin their journey on their first ride together to Nevada Territory. They set out, making their way from station to station, racing as fast as their horses can carry them, and their friendship grows every mile. They both wanted adventure, but they may end up getting more than they dreamed of. Every ten or fifteen miles brings new experiences, and new feelings that grow with each mile they pass.

People Like Us by Ruby Moone (Winsford Green #2) - July 21st

Arthur Fitch clawed his way out of the violence and poverty of the slums of London to become a valet to the aristocracy. His ambition to secure a higher position led him to a disastrous appointment with a cold, brutal man, and when things come to a head, Arthur is forced to flee into a snowstorm to find safety. Joseph Wilkinson is the Winsford Green blacksmith. He has a good life, good friends, owns a thriving business, but at the end of the day when he goes home, loneliness consumes him. When he stumbles upon a small man determinedly trudging through the snowstorm, he invites him into his home to shelter. Arthur Fitch is older, smart-mouthed, and as prickly as hell. But, as Joe peels back the layers, he discovers a warm, funny, vulnerable man whose tastes in the bedchamber leave Joe gasping and desperate for more. Trouble is, having found the real Arthur Fitch, how can he convince him that life in a small town can be infinitely better than working for an Earl? That love really is possible for people like them? Particularly when Arthur’s past catches up with him in horrifying fashion.

Seaworthy bu KL Noone (Character Bleed Book #1) - August 1st - bisexual MC - contemporary, but with a lot of historical touches

An epic motion picture! A gay Napoleonic War love story! Ballrooms and battles at sea! Romantic happy endings on the silver screen! And a film that’ll change everything for its stars ... Jason Mirelli can’t play adrenaline-fueled action heroes forever. He’s getting older, plus the action star parts have grown a little thinner since he came out as bisexual. This role could finally let him be seen as a serious dramatic actor, and he needs it to go well -- for his career, and because he’s fallen in love with the story and the chance to tell it. The first problem? He’ll be playing a ship’s captain ... and he hasn’t exactly mentioned his fear of water. The second problem? His co-star: award-winning, overly talkative, annoyingly adorable -- and openly gay – box office idol Colby Kent. Colby’s always loved the novel this film’s based on, and he leapt at the chance to adapt it, now that he has the money and reputation to make it happen. But scars and secrets from his past make filming a love story difficult ... until Jason takes his hand and wakes up all his buried desires. Jason could be everything Colby’s ever wanted: generous and kind, a fantastic partner on set, not to mention those heroic muscles. But Colby just can’t take that chance ... or can he? As their characters fall in love and fight a war, Colby and Jason find themselves falling, too ... and facing the return of their own past demons. But together they just might win ... and write their own love story.

The Engineer (Magic & Steam Book #1) by CS Poe - May 28th

1881—Special Agent Gillian Hamilton is a magic caster with the Federal Bureau of Magic and Steam. He’s sent to Shallow Grave, Arizona, to arrest a madman engineer known as Tinkerer, who’s responsible for blowing up half of Baltimore. Gillian has handled some of the worst criminals in the Bureau’s history, so this assignment shouldn’t be a problem. But even he’s taken aback by a run-in with the country’s most infamous outlaw, Gunner the Deadly. Gunner is also stalking Shallow Grave in search of Tinkerer, who will stop at nothing to take control of the town’s silver mines. Neither Gillian nor Gunner are willing to let Tinkerer hurt more innocent people, so they agree to a very temporary partnership. If facing illegal magic, Gatling gun contraptions, and a wild engineer in America’s frontier wasn’t enough trouble for a city boy, Gillian must also come to terms with the reality that he’s rather fond of his partner. But even if they live through this adventure, Gillian fears there’s no chance for love between a special agent and outlaw. Based on the short story, “Gunner the Deadly.” Entirely revised, newly expanded, and Book One in the exciting new steampunk series, Magic & Steam.

Pirate’s Promise (Pirate’s of Port Royal Book #1) by Jules Radcliffe - May 12th - the rest of the series is also out this Summer!

Press-ganged as a boy, Job Wright must learn how to live as a free man.

For years Job has been a captive, treated as a servant—and sometimes more—by a crooked merchant crew. Until the day his ship is attacked by pirates. English pirates, no less, and Brethren of the Coast, a brotherhood of free men who owe allegiance to no one but themselves. Job thinks he's been rescued at last, but he's badly mistaken. As an Englishman aboard a Spanish ship, the Brethren believe he's a traitor and an enemy. But just when pirate justice is about to be delivered, Garrett Dubh intervenes. He both saves Job's life and recruits him to the pirate ship Audacious.

Surrounded by a fearsome crew, Job finds protection under Garrett's wing. He's ready to do anything for the handsome pirate—things he'd never willingly do for another man. But Garrett ignores Job's shy overtures. He believes Job is too traumatised by his past. Too young to know what he wants. And nothing Job says will change his mind.

To show Garrett he can take care of himself, Job leaves the safety of the Audacious. He joins the most ruthless Brethren crew in the Caribbean, led by the enigmatic and cruel Rusé.

But in the French pirate haven of Tortuga, thoughtless actions can have fatal consequences, something Job is about to discover. And this time, Garrett isn't there to save him.

Chasing a Legacy by D. A Ravenscroft - May 2020

Against the tense political backdrop of the Second French Empire, siblings Camille and Marianne find themselves wrestling with personal demons both past and present. As Camille strives to keep family secrets buried and unveil a plot against them, Marianne becomes involved with the handsome Baron Auclair and his mysterious younger sister. Little do the siblings know that soon their very different lives will come crashing together…

The sequel to a sequel! In this follow up to the unofficial Les Mis sequel ‘Chasing a Ghost’, we follow Enjolras and Grantaire’s children, Camille and Marianne, through dangers untold and family strife. Set in 1866, towards the end of the Second Empire, this story has murder, mystery, romance, drama, comedy, and a pet lion. And yes, it’s very, very queer.

https://www.lulu.com/en/gb/shop/d-a-ravenscroft/chasing-a-legacy/paperback/product-y58wrq.html

Two Rogues Make a Right by Cat Sebastian (Seducing the Sedgwicks Book #3) - June 23rd

Will Sedgwick can’t believe that after months of searching for his oldest friend, Martin Easterbrook is found hiding in an attic like a gothic nightmare. Intent on nursing Martin back to health, Will kindly kidnaps him and takes him to the countryside to recover, well away from the world. Martin doesn’t much care where he is or even how he got there. He’s much more concerned that the man he’s loved his entire life is currently waiting on him hand and foot, feeding him soup and making him tea. Martin knows he’s a lost cause, one he doesn’t want Will to waste his life on. As a lifetime of love transforms into a tender passion both men always desired but neither expected, can they envision a life free from the restrictions of the past, a life with each other?

Best Laid Plaids by Ella Stainton (Kilty Pleasures #1)- August 31st

In 1920s Scotland, even ghosts wear plaid.

Welcome to a sexy, spooky new paranormal historical series from debut author Ella Stainton.

Scotland, 1928

Dr. Ainsley Graham is cultivating a reputation as an eccentric.

Two years ago, he catastrophically ended his academic career by publicly claiming to talk to ghosts. When Joachim Cockburn, a WWI veteran studying the power of delusional thinking, arrives at his door, Ainsley quickly catalogues him as yet another tiresome Englishman determined to mock his life’s work.

But Joachim is tenacious and openhearted, and Ainsley’s intrigued despite himself. He agrees to motor his handsome new friend around to Scotland’s most unmistakable hauntings. If he can convince Joachim, Ainsley might be able to win back his good name and then some. He knows he’s not crazy—he just needs someone else to know it, too.

Joachim is one thesis away from realizing his dream of becoming a psychology professor, and he’s not going to let anyone stop him, not even an enchanting ginger with a penchant for tartan and lewd jokes. But as the two travel across Scotland’s lovely—and definitely, definitely haunted—landscape, Joachim’s resolve starts to melt. And he’s beginning to think that an empty teaching post without the charming Dr. Graham would make a very poor consolation prize indeed…

The Gentleman’s Thief by Isobel Starling (Resurrectionist Book #2)

Tuesday 28th December 1897. Mr. Benedict Hannan, the owner of Hannan’s Auction House in Fitzrovia, London, receives an unexpected visitor at his Bloomsbury home. The man on his stoop sends Benedict’s heart into a flutter, and on inviting the mysterious stranger into his house, he is inviting mystery, adventure, and volcanic desire.

Sebastian Cavell—master thief, gives the impression he has sought out Benedict for the sake of business, but the kind of business Sebastian has in mind has nothing to do with making money!

Cavell has been tasked with finding the whereabouts of a missing German aristocrat. With Benedict’s society connections, Sebastian gains access to his Gentleman’s Club and to men whose behavior is not so gentlemanly!

Benedict is pulled into the circle of a dangerous secret society and he not only learns the truth about the mysterious Sebastian Cavell, but learns the truth about himself and all he truly desires.

The Curse of the Mummy’s Heart by Julia Talbot - June 30th

Something is rising in the desert sand, and between two adventurous men.

Famous 1920s Hollywood actor Douglas Fitzhugh and his brother Donnie are headed for Egypt on a classic monster movie quest. Their mysterious benefactor, a man they call Grant, has sent them to find a stranded archaeologist, and all they have to go on is a handwritten journal. That's just the kind of adventure Douglas loves, and he never passes up the chance to get away from his studio-driven life.

Charles Angeloff is also on his way to Egypt with a special object his father has asked him to return to the tomb he ripped it from. Charles is just out of university, and when he meets Douglas, he falls hard for Douglas' charm and his worldly ways.

As they travel, more men of adventure join them: a cowboy, a rich seminary student, and a librarian. When they're all together, it's like magic happens, and the men all realize they're on a mission to stop the horror that stirs beneath the desert sands, even as that creature sets its sights on Charles. Will Douglas and Charles lose each other just when they've found what they both think is the man they want to be with forever?

Starcrossed: A Paranormal Historical Romance (Magic in Manhattan #2) by Allie Therin - May 18th

When everything they’ve built is threatened, only their bond remains… 1925 New York Psychometric Rory Brodigan’s life hasn’t been the same since the day he met Arthur Kenzie. Arthur’s continued quest to contain supernatural relics that pose a threat to the world has captured Rory’s imagination—and his heart. But Arthur’s upper-class upbringing still leaves Rory worried that he’ll never measure up, especially when Arthur’s aristocratic ex arrives in New York. For Arthur, there’s only Rory. But keeping the man he’s fallen for safe is another matter altogether. When a group of ruthless paranormals throw the city into chaos, the two men’s strained relationship leaves Rory vulnerable to a monster from Arthur’s past. With dark forces determined to tear them apart, Rory and Arthur will have to draw on every last bit of magic up their sleeves. And in the end, it’s the connection they’ve formed without magic that will be tested like never before.

Another Chance For Love by Ellie Thomas - July 4th

Former British Army Lieutenant Adam Merryweather survived the Western Front of WWI and has slowly recovered from his injuries. But can he heal from a broken heart? Torn between family duty and personal happiness, he sacrificed his love for Alf and has never ceased to regret it in the two years since the war ended. Adam is slowly putting his empty life back together, working for the family firm in the city centre of Bristol and trying to stop his mother’s meddling to find him the perfect socially acceptable bride. When he happens to meet Alf out of the blue, Adam is determined to try again. But convincing Alf to give him another chance may be too much to hope for. Can a chance meeting bring them back together? Or has Adam lost another chance for love forever?

The Care and Feeding of Waspish Widows by Olivia Waite - July 28th - sapphic

When Agatha Griffin finds a colony of bees in her warehouse, it’s the not-so-perfect ending to a not-so-perfect week. Busy trying to keep her printing business afloat amidst rising taxes and the suppression of radical printers like her son, the last thing the widow wants is to be the victim of a thousand bees. But when a beautiful beekeeper arrives to take care of the pests, Agatha may be in danger of being stung by something far more dangerous…

Penelope Flood exists between two worlds in her small seaside town, the society of rich landowners and the tradesfolk. Soon, tensions boil over when the formerly exiled Queen arrives on England’s shores—and when Penelope’s long-absent husband returns to Melliton, she once again finds herself torn, between her burgeoning love for Agatha and her loyalty to the man who once gave her refuge.

As Penelope finally discovers her true place, Agatha must learn to accept the changing world in front of her. But will these longing hearts settle for a safe but stale existence or will they learn to fight for the future they most desire?

*If more come to my attention after this is posted, they will be added!!!

#lgbt romance #historical romance #sapphic #trans romance #f/f romance #m/m romance #books

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19mrs-barnes17 · 4 years ago

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As Long As I Can Get - Chapter One: Barnes

Summary: Bucky has been through so much in his life, but something brings him back home and he’s forced to face his past. [prompt: Small Town Lovers AU]

Part: 1/5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader [AU]

Warnings: mentions of loss and past trauma

Word count: 3,243

A/N: Alrighty folks, here it is! Part 1!

Welcome to Brightbarrow. Home of small-town comfort and hospitality.

“Home sweet home.” His eyes scanned over the letters like they were those in a chapter of an old book from his childhood. A chapter he had closed and hidden away.

With the sun rising the place looked like a picture-perfect postcard, one he had received at least 3 times over the years. A final deep breath released as he pressed his foot down on the gas.

Crossing the town line the guilt in his heart began to increase its density, tugging him into the depths of the land. It had been 10 or so years since he had lived in Brightbarrow, residing overseas and then in New York. He had almost missed the calm of the rural town, however, the noise of New York did something this town never could. It cleared his mind, put it in focus. Until he began to discover that loss followed him wherever he went and not even the noise of New York could drown it out.

Something in his heart called him back. Back to where it all began. To where he had made the best and worst kind of memories, hoping the comfort would creep back into his soul.

The light began to reflect off the glass of the shops, splashing warm colors across the bricks and the side panels of each storefront. Oranges, reds and yellows melded into golden and rosy colors of the early morning. The beams of light painting the daycare where he learned the alphabet, the bookstore where he had his first kiss, the alleyways he ducked into on the nights he got into fights.

There were so many memories throughout the town, flashes of his youth running wild in his mind as he slowly rolled on by. Images of smiles in his mind and laughter ringing in his ears. His heart softened at the sensation. It was hard to imagine he'd ever want to leave this place. But he had. Desperately.

A picturesque town that had become too suffocating for him to stand. So he walked away, found work in the big apple, and did his best not to look back. He kept himself busy to repress the guilt and avoid the hole that was growing inside of him. Christmas used to be the only time he came back here, and that had been enough. Well, not for him. Or his mother. But enough to keep from losing contact altogether.

It’s still too early for any other cars to be on the road, most shops not opening for a few more hours and yet another set of headlights met his in a quick pass by. The blue Chevy Cruze turned down a side street that led to the highway, someone was leaving town. He only knew one family who left town at this ungodly hour, and he knew the driver of that specific car. It’s a small town, everyone knows everyone here. A blessing and a curse.

“James?” Her eyes were bewildered, her brow knit together in a perplexed manner as she peered at her son from behind the door. “Are you…”

“I’m home Mama. For good.” In a lightning-quick moment, the door was flung open and he was ensnared into his mother’s arms, her hold on him tight as though she feared he’d slip away if given the chance. “Woah, I still need air Mom.”

“Oh you hush now, cooped up in that smoggy city for years with hardly a phone call here and there. I will hug you in the manner I wish and you will deal.” Her voice was firm in its demand, nothing much changed. “Now you come inside, your brothers will bring your things in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hardly a thing had changed since he left, the first or second time, each picture frame and piece of furniture was exactly where it had been 10 years ago. It was almost a haunting depiction of the place he knew, a place stuck in time. Ever since his father’s death when he was 13 this place had remained exactly as it was and that didn’t settle well with him.

Only two or three frames where ones he did not recall ever laying eyes on, though his typical visits were not lengthy and he did his best not to pay much attention to the place. They could be old, new, or somewhere in between for all he knew. All but one held a photo he recognized, one held a picture of him in army uniform and the other was an old photo of his father in his navy attire. However, it was the last photo that held his attention because it included a non-family member.

For some reason, he didn’t recall a photo being taken of him at the time, but here it hung upon his mother’s wall. A 12-year-old James Buchanan Barnes with an 11-year-old Y/N Fairfield on his back, his gaze glancing over his shoulder at her features, her dimples indicating that she had been laughing as he paraded her around. Her smile was bright but his was, in a rare moment, equally so. His chest grew tight at the memory of such simpler times, such endless delight and friendship. Times he knew he’d never get back.

“That was one of the last days I saw you smiling so carefree, so light.” His mother’s fingers gently run over the glass covering the photo, her eyes sad and tired. “Come to think of it, it's one of the last times I saw her that happy. One of the last times you asked her over before you closed yourself off.”

“I didn’t mean to.” His mother cupped his cheek in her hand and caressed his cheek, a soft smile tainted by longing stretching across her face.

“I know sweetheart, I miss him every day. But I don’t want you to hide yourself away anymore, no one in this town holds it against you. His death hit this place like a hurricane and we’re still recuperating.” She disappears into the kitchen and he’s left staring at the memories he had fought so hard to ignore. Guilt once more crept into his heart.

That night he missed the muted noise of the city as he tossed and turned restlessly for hours. His mind was crowded with memories and reminders of his past, of his mistakes, and of his greatest regret.

“Not that one Buck, next to it.” His fingers fiddled with the tools before him, eyes searching for the one he needed. As his little hands grabbed ahold of the proper tool he turned to face his instructor whose eyes watched him with a soft pride. His father smiled with a curt nod. “Bring it here buddy. I’ll show you how it works.”

When he reached his father the image moved, the warm tones shifting into cooler ones as the sky lit up with stars. His eyes wandered about as he gawked at the constellations, blissfully unaware of anything else. A set of hands covered his eyes and muttered a guess who, his heart racing at the sound of the voice.

“Daddy!” He turned to hug his father, who had just returned from a trip out of town, holding tightly to his legs.

“Come on buddy, I’ll show you some new ones.” His father lifted him up onto his torso and began to point at different constellations, each came with a story and a name. Most he would later forget but there was one star he never did.

“You see that big star right there?” He nodded, eyes fixated upon the glowing object. “That’s the North Star. I want you to remember something when you look at it…”

A loud clang erupted outside his room startling him to his feet, dressing at a rapid rate to investigate. His baby sister sat in the hall rubbing one of her ankles and muttering to herself in an annoyed tone. He cleared his throat and her eyes snapped up to meet his, a gasp escaping her lips before a smile overtook her features.

“Bucky! I thought Ma was messing with us, but then I saw your car outside. Jake and Nick are already bringing things in, I was on my way to wake you.” Bucky shook his head and smiled at her incredulously.

“Mission accomplished Becca.” She smirked but narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. He leaned forward and offered his hand which she reluctantly accepted, picking up the objects that fell from one of the many boxes littering the hall. “These geniuses didn’t think to just place them in my room?”

Becca shrugged before disappearing down the stairs while Bucky began to move box after box alongside the empty wall by his closet. He opened each in search of his clothes before grabbing a clean set and hopping into the shower. Downstairs smelt of bacon and eggs, a lone plate sitting upon the counter wrapped to keep it fresh, a note stuck to the saran wrap.

Enjoy breakfast! Had to open the diner. Love, Mom.

Today he had to find a job, some way to maintain a steady income so he could get out of the house. As much as he loved his mother’s cooking and how nice it would be to wake to this every day, he couldn’t. Every hall, room, and picture frame held a story that reminded him of what he had lost and he wasn’t sure how long he could stomach it.

He left his keys behind, opting to walk the sidewalks instead. The sun warmed his skin, heating him under its blazing focus and forcing him to duck into the nearest place for a drink. The corner store, Oasis, was nearly empty this time of day with only a few stragglers not yet at the diner for breakfast or brunch. He was grateful to be berated by only two or three people throwing out where have you been’s and ‘how’s New York?’.

He eyed store windows for signs, the occasional curious neighbor popping out the door to chat. A few sent him about the town and soon enough word was out that he was in the market for a job. Things always spread like wildfire here, everyone knew about everything before too long. Hilda and Denise were no help in the matter, being the town gossips and all. He knew they were his best shot and yet he still approached the two elderly women with caution.

“James Barnes? Is that you sweet pea? Come give us a hug dear it’s been far too long.” Denise smiled mischievously, a twinkle in her eye.

“Ladies, I’m in need of your expertise.” The two women giggled in response, proclaiming how flattered they were to be sought out. “I am in need of a job.”

“We know handsome, and you’re in luck. I hear that Thomas Geldin is looking for a worker, he’s putting up some new housing down the way.” She’s leaning forward like it's some secret she isn't supposed to know much about. “Lucky for you he’s in your momma’s diner at this very moment.”

“Thank you ladies, your ears are a gift.” They wave him off with tender smiles before turning back to chatting, an occasional glance through the window behind the bench.

He barely makes it through the door before he’s swept aside by his brother, Nick, sitting him at the counter a few stools away from Thomas himself. Nick returns to the register but turns to face Bucky, his features implying that he’s waiting for something.

“What’s with the look, Nick?”

“Why are you back?” Nick’s eyes are locked onto his older brother, Bucky squirming a little under the intensity. “Couldn’t break mom’s heart any longer?”

“I’m sorry, I never meant to. I just couldn’t stay here and I had to get out.” He tried to convey his guilt to his little brother, the regret of leaving them all behind.

“So you’re here to stay?” Nick eyed him warily as he began his routine counter wipe-down. “No running off again when it gets real?”

“No. I’m getting a job and I’m gonna move into one of the open townhouses.” His little brother remains skeptical, but nods. “I swear, I’m not abandoning anyone again.”

“Good.” His brother smiled softly, a pinch of uncertainty hidden in his eyes. “You want anything?”

True to his word he got a job in labor from Thomas Geldin, the pay enough to rely on that he could put a down payment on his new home. His mother insisted he stay for dinner and one last night before his brothers helped him move his things in, the next day. After an exhausting day’s work unloading the boxes that contained his life and beginning on some alterations, Bucky treated his little brothers to pizza and some beer. They sat telling stories of the past year, confiding and binding in ways they hadn’t since they were children. For once, he felt like he had made the right decision.

With his sleep pattern already going to hell, he sat in his window seat, eyes scanning over the vast array of stars splattered across the sky. Finding the North Star once more provided the lifelong comfort his father had given him, the last piece of him he had. The last comfort.

Across the street he noticed a single light flicker on, a figure moving across the room and back again several times before it went dark again. A few minutes later he watched a woman he hadn’t seen in years pile into her car and pull away from the curb and drive off.

Y/N Fairfield lived just across the street from his new home, and the sight of her brought back emotions he’d long forgotten.

Bucky was restless and his first day of work was tomorrow, he needed to tire himself out and so he opted to take a late-night walk around town. The dark shadows on the empty town reminded him of a ghost town. Not a soul was in sight, apart from the wandering man who couldn’t seem to keep himself asleep. He was exhausted physically by the time he returned, his mind still filled to the brim.

Headlights created a glow around him, bouncing off the buildings and almost blinding his vision momentarily. He couldn’t help but glance across the street at her, his eyes watching as she emerged from the vehicle in scrubs looking exhausted. Her eyes flitted up almost as if she could sense his gaze on her, brow knitting at the sight before her. She took a moment to look him over before sending a lazy wave, eyes reflecting the sadness he felt inside as he looked upon her with immense guilt.

He turned away after she entered her building and made his way up to his room where he flopped onto his bed and slowly fell into a decent sleep.

At his lunch break, he wandered back into town, Donny’s Crafty Tools catching his eye, and reminded him of the work he still had to do after his shift. Hilda and Denise chatted him up before letting him enter the shop, the bell ringing as he stepped over the threshold. His eyes fell on the one person in town he kept constant contact with, the only one who knew he was coming home.

“Steve.” His best friend’s back is to him, his focus shattered the moment Bucky’s voice sounds out, turning about and pulling him into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, Buck. Been way too long.” When they parted he motioned toward the pile of envelopes littering his desk.

“Far too long, I’ve missed you too. How have things been?” Steve’s cheeks flush as Bucky picks up a photo from the counter. “Must be pretty good if you got pretty women sending you photos, and I don’t blame ‘em you’ve grown so much since high school.”

Steve was different than he was back then, less antsy to get into fights defending others and trying to do the right thing. He seemed more level-headed, the kind to talk someone down from a fight or inspire them to be better. The skinny little guy who would pounce on a guy harassing a girl had become the man who would inspire strength in those being victimized.

And now? Now he had fallen in love with a woman who could hold her own, nothing but respect for her strength and confidence in her value as a person. This woman had a hand in inspiring him to be a source of inspiration himself.

Bucky had to meet this girl one day and thank her for helping his best friend in realizing what was in him all along, and showing him how to use his influence. That was something Bucky never had the ability to do.

“I met her during a semester abroad, London.”

“Oh yeah? How was art school?” Steve shrugged, nothing too huge about it but now he had the skill to make art people buy on the regular. “What’s her name?”

“Peggy Carter. She works in a British intelligence agency, kind of a total badass.” Bucky watches Steve smile softly at the photo, a longing in his eyes.

“Just your type.” Steve shoved his shoulder and placed the photo on his desk. “Care to help me with some remodeling later?”

“Anytime. Just give me a call.” Bucky gave him a clap on the shoulder before bidding him farewell and making his way to the door. “And Buck?”

“Yeah.” One hand on the door, he turns to look back at Steve whose face turns serious.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he means, he knows exactly who Steve is talking about. The missing member of their old trio.

“She’s not going to want to see me after what I did.” Steve’s eyes soften, shaking his head in disagreement.

“You can’t know that. Just promise me if you run into her you’ll try?” Bucky shifts his weight, unsure he could handle that interaction. “For me?”

“I promise.” Exiting the store he waved the ladies goodbye and rushed to the diner for the last 20 minutes of his break, his promise taking over his focus the rest of the day.

How could she ever forgive him for cutting her out of the picture, like an unwanted memory? But he had to do it. There was no other way.

Y/N Fairfield was a different kind of friend than Steve because while Steve had been there since they were babies, Y/N appeared out of nowhere. Steve lost his father before he was born and his mother passed while Bucky was overseas, so they had always had a shared experience and connection.

But Y/N? She was an anomaly in his life, not his friend like Steve because there were few kids in town and they had stuck up for one another. No, she met him by chance, their parents not friends but friendly enough to invite one another to parties out of hospitality. One trip to the diner and they were inseparable, almost as much as he and Steve were.

But he could never get too close, not after the warning he was given. The reminder that echoes in his head from time to time.

You never know, it could be possible.

Tags: @qtmeryr @broken-hearted-barnes @asphalt-cocktail @gstran18 @cantnkrusshedevil @just-trying-to-survive-marvel

If you want to join the series tag send an ask!

#justtryingtowrite #marvel #james buchanan barnes #Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #writing challenge #au #small town lovers au #reader insert

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ad1thi · 5 years ago

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meri pyaari tony

okay so @iam93percentstardust got me rly excited about this new au and even though im never going to write it i just wanna write a lil so enjoy everybody!! (hopefully this will clear up what i meant by not a happy ending but also not an unhappy ending)

The phone rings once, twice before it cuts off, and James’ back stiffens.

On the table, his mother’s fingers have stilled - frozen in the action of pushing the birthday card for his 10 year old nephew into an envelope.

The phone rings again, just twice, long enough to be unmistakable but too short to actually answer.

He looks out to the heaving rain, and without even thinking of reaching for an umbrella, he’s already sprinting across the grounds of his house, uncaring of how soaked he’s getting as he pushes himself up and over the gate of the neighbouring house and into the attic.

In the molten, rusty room, on top of an old suitcase that he’s seen Tony sit on countless times with his feet swinging off the ground - is a 6 year old boy; fiddling with the buttons of his jacket.

James runs his hands across his face, wiping off the water that’s collected in the creases of his forehead, and walks over to the kid.

He must look a state to the kid, sopping wet and uncharacteristically happy despite said dampness, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I’m really hungry,” he says to the boy, grinning, “do you think I can borrow one of your fingers to eat?”

Instinctively, the boy puts his hands behind his back, shaking his head fervently and James pouts, “not even the one? You have 10!”

The kid is saved from answering from a call of “Peter!” ringing outside the attic, and James turns, watching Tony fumble with closing an umbrella and he pushes into the attic.

Its a scene that James has imagined a thousand times over, watching Tony meet him in the attic where their childhood selves because friends all those years ago - and yet his imagination somehow didn’t do justice to the scene in front of him.

It takes Tony a couple of seconds to realise that James is there, and his face splits into a hesitant smile thats over-run with a frown when the kid barrels into his leg.

Tony runs his finger through the kid’s hair, “go find your Papa Peter - I’ll be down in a couple of seconds”

He waits until the kid’s disappeared down the stairs to turn back to James, “so, are you guys bestfriends yet?”

“No,” James says, smiling that private smile he’d reserved for Tony, “but you know me - I grow on people”

“Its good to see you Rhodey,” Tony says, and its only the fact that he’s carrying his bodyweight in water while Tony is wearing an expensive suit that keeps him from crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Tony.

“I forget,” Tony says, settling down on the suitcase his son vacated, “was it 2 rings or 3 rings? Our emergency code?”

“2,” Rhodey says, lifting up his fingers, “but then again - everything was an emergency for you so we never had any other code”

“Dad told me you’d stopped by,” Tony says, “didn’t realise you cared so much about this old dump”

Rhodey chooses not to answer that, “So you’re finally taking Major Stark to your house huh? Took you long enough”

“I know,” Tony huffs, “we’ll be at each other’s throats by the end of the week, but what can you do?”

Tony gestures around the attic vaguely, “I wanted to give Peter a chance to see this house before he sold it though - let him see where his Dad grew up”

“Peter?” Rhodey raises an eyebrow, “like Peter Pan? And here I thought your child would have one of those weird names with an unnecessarily pretentious pronunciation”

Tony raises his hand to swat at Rhodey, and for a second its just like old times.

Rhodey settles down next to him, shoving him with his hip until Tony shifts enough to make space on the suitcase for him.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” Rhodey says softly, “I’ve imagined it 1000 times over. ‘Course, in my version you were in distinctly less clothing, on your knees begging for forgiveness while an epic revenge tune played in the background”

Tony chuckles, eyes crinkling into familiar crow’s feet, and Rhodey thinks that for all the years he spent hating Tony - nothing can compare to the decades he spent loving him.

“So, New York Best Seller Writer huh? You finally did it Rhodey,” Tony leans in with a conspiratorial look on his face, “I walked out on you way too early”

you shouldn’t have walked out on me at all, Rhodey thinks, but this isn’t the right time for that conversation.

(he wonders if there ever will be a right time for that conversation)

Instead, Rhodey asks, “have you read any of them?” and Tony scoffs, “have you met me?”

“I can barely get through the first couple of pages of essential stuff like manuals, do I look like I can read?”

“That being said,” Tony says, “with a cover that says The Wild Washerwoman will wash you away, and - fuck what was the other one?” he scrunches up his nose in thought, “Tricycle - it will puncture your life, how could I resist?”

It warms something dead inside Rhodey that Tony reads his books, that Tony knows them well enough to recite the gaudy catchphrases his PR team used to sell them.

“Yuck man,” Tony says, “honestly how far have you fallen for a couple of sales. I gotta say though, extremely entertaining”

“Yeah well,” Rhodey shrugs, “horror is easy. I’ve been trying to write a love story for the past three years now and I’m not sure how to end it”

the why goes unspoken, hanging in the air and making the room thick with tension.

Tony reaches out and cups his cheek, and it takes everything in Rhodey to not lean into it.

“you’ll finish it,” Tony says softly, “You’re my Rhodey - ‘course you’ll finish it”

Rhodey pushes off his seat suddenly, making it half way to the door before he remembers to turn around and tell Tony to “stay put, don’t move I’ll be right back”

And he runs through the rain again, ignoring the shouts of his father and his manager to grab the manuscript on his bed.

He pushes it under his jacket roughly and runs back, where Tony is still sitting on the old suitcase - legs dangling just above the floor.

He puts the manuscript in between his hands, and says in one short breath, “read it”

and so Tony does - though he does flip through large portions of the book and crucial plot points.

Its okay though, because Tony lived through those moments, so he’s allowed to embellish and skip to the end.

When he flips the last page and looks back up at Rhodey, there’s tears in his eyes - but Rhodey’s known him long enough to know that these are happy tears

“This is your version Rhodeybear,” Tony says, “mine would be a little different”

Rhodey shrugs delicately, thinking about the night he tore through 10 pages trying to get that final last first kiss right, “a happy ending sells right? Why - what would be different in your version?”

“Does it matter?” Tony’s voice is wet, “I like your version better”

“But you found your Mr Right,” Rhodey says matter of factly, and Tony just shakes his head, “more like Mr Right place right time”

“But,” Tony wipes away the stray tear on his cheek, “he gave me Peter so I can’t complain. You should see me as a dad platypus, it’s like I was made for this role. Being a dad, thats the one thing I’m not a disaster at”

Tony holds out the manuscript, but Rhodey pushes it back gently shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone else reading this. Not my manager, not your husband, nobody else. The story in those pages, that’s ours, just ours.”

Tony leans up and presses a soft kiss on Rhodey’s cheek, featherlight but its what makes Rhodey reach out and say.

“I can still take you away if you want. Just say the word and I’ll carry you over my shoulder - away from all of this”

Tony opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by Peter barrelling in, making grabby arms at his father.

Tony hefts up his son, arm caught around Peter’s waist and he looks at Rhodey with a mixture of nostalgia and regret, “I think I might be a bit too heavy for you now honeybear”

Tony leans in and rubs his nose against Peter’s cheek and in Rhodey’s mind, he’s right there with Tony - arms around the two most important boys in his life.

But in reality, there’s a distance between them, a space that try as he might, Rhodey can’t cross.

For the first time in almost 5 years, that doesn’t make him sad anymore.

you should see me as a dad platypus, Tony had said, and Rhodey’s seeing it now.

Oddly, it doesn’t hurt quite as much as he always thought it would.

“We have a party to get to right?” Tony says finally, setting Peter down so that they can walk down the stairs, “your nephew’s 10th birthday is it?”

The rain hasn’t let up, but in all fairness to his family - neither has the party because Rhodey and Tony make their way down to see a gaggle of uncles and aunts dancing in the grounds anyway, music coming from a speaker hidden away safely from the porch.

Peter runs across the field to a man with blue eyes and blond hair, who instantly bend down and picks him up - spinning him around and smiling when Peter shrieks about how wet he’s getting.

“One dance?” Rhodey asks, extending his hand out to Tony, “for old time’s sake?”

The look that Tony sends his way cannot be described as anything but pure adoration when he accepts Rhodey’s hand, giggling when Rhodey uses the momentum to pull him in close to his chest and snag an arm around his waist.

He’s consciously aware of the weight of the metal band around Tony’s finger pressing into his as they sway to the music, but it doesn’t bother him anymore.

To the rest of the world, he’s always be a Mr someone - but to Rhodey, he has and forever will be, his very first love, Tony.

Fin

#my writing #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #meri pyaari bindu au #bollywood but make it gay #meri pyaari tony #they're in love #but its not enough #and thats OKAY #because tony found someone who made him happy #and rhodey flourished in his career #and they have this bond that nobody can ever break #and they got their happy ending even if it wasn't with each other #also the distinction between james and rhodey #is cuz to the rest of the world he's james #but to tony - he's rhodey

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hms-chill · 5 years ago

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RWRB Study Guide: Chapter 10

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

Earl Grey (267): Earl Grey tea is an incredibly common caffeinated tea. It is the base of a London fog.

Hamilton to Laurens, “you should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent” (267): This quote is from an April 1779 letter and is immediately followed by “But, as you have done it, and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on one condition; that for my sake, of not your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me”. Essentially, “you were rude to me, but I love you so much I forgive you as long as you look after yourself”. Just before it, Hamilton’s like “you taught me what it means to love”. (You can find it here)

Pyramus and Thisbe (268): The pair of lovers whose story inspired Romeo and Juliet, they were separated and could only talk through a wall between their houses (I’ve written a very in-depth analysis of this myth, which you can find here).

Dulles International to Heathrow (268): Dulles International is the airport in Washington, DC, and Heathrow is the classy airport in London.

John Cusack (270): An American actor largely known for his roles in the 1980s. This line in particular likely references Say Anything..., a romantic comedy known in part for a scene where Cusack’s character stands outside a girl’s window and plays music from a boombox.

Y’all had to marry your cousins (270): A reference to the royal tradition of only marrying other royals, which led to a whole lot of inbreeding.

Consummation (275): To consummate a marriage is to have sex for the first time, therefore making it “official”.

Wilde’s complete works (276): Oscar Wilde is an Irish author famous for writing satires and also defining gay culture in the late 1800s.

Fit of pique (277): If someone does something in a fit of pique, they do it spontaneously and out of anger at being wronged.

Mr. Darcy brooding at Pemberley (278): In Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (spoilers, though it’s been out for 207 years), after Elizabeth rejects Darcy’s first marriage proposal (which is essentially “your family sucks but you’re hot; marry me”), he goes back to the house his family owns and thinks about it and misses her.

Anmer Hall (278): A house owned by the Crown in Norfolk, England; it is currently home to Prince William, Duke of Cambridge.

Mel and Sue (280): A comedy duo and hosts of The Great British Bake Off. Sue was outed in 2002, but claims that “being a lesbian is only about the 47th most interesting thing about me”.

South Kensington (284): A district of West London known for its high density of museums and cultural landmarks.

Prince Consort Road (284): Prince Consort Road is a street in London named after Prince Albert, consort to Queen Victoria. A consort is a royal’s spouse or partner (hence Alex laughing at the idea of his being a prince’s consort)

Ferris Bueller/ Sloane (284-285): Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is a popular movie from the 1980s about Ferris, who skips school for a day of wild shenanigans in Chicago. Sloane is his girlfriend who’s roped in for the ride.

Victoria and Albert Museum* (285): The Victoria and Albert Museum, often abbreviated “V&A”, is the world’s largest museum of applied and decorative art and design. (you can explore their collections here)

Renaissance City (285): Room 50a of the V&A is full of Renaissance sculptures. (photo here)

Seated Buddha in black stone (285): The V&A has a bunch of Buddha sculptures, but this one is the only one I saw that’s in black stone.

John the Baptist nude and in bronze (285): Possibly this piece from 1881 by French sculptor Auguste Rodin and is in the V&A’s collection.

Tipu’s Tiger (285): A nearly life-sized semi-automaton that shows a tiger mauling a man in European clothes. The tiger makes growling sounds and the man screams and waves his hand when a handle on the side is turned; it also contains a small pipe organ on the inside and was created to show the power that the Tipu Sultan of India held over invading Brits. The “give it back” that Catherine argues for is officially called repatriation, it would mean that (Western) museums have to give back stolen objects; British museums are famously bad at doing this. (see Tipu’s Tiger here)

Westminster (286): Westminster Abbey, a church in London where royals are crowned and buried. It is covered with intricate carvings and beautiful stained glass.

The Great Bed of Ware (286): A bed made by Hans Vredeman de Vries from the 1590s; it is ten feet wide and made of oak. (see it here)

Twelfth Night (286): A Shakespeare comedy full of chaos that includes a woman cross-dressing, then her twin brother being mistaken for her.

Epocoene (286): A 1609 play that includes a boy dressing as a woman to dupe a man into giving his son an acceptable inheritance.

Don Juan (286): A Spanish figure known for his powers for wooing women; the first text published about him was in the 1630s.

Florence (287): Florence is a city known for its art; it was the cultural center of the Italian renaissance.

Gothic choir screen in the V&A’s Renaissance City (287): This Roodloft, or choir screen, carved by Coenraed van Norenberch is in the back of the Renaissance City in the V&A. It’s a stunning piece; the link above has great pictures and a more in-depth description than I could give.

Zephyr statue by Francavilla (287): You can see this statue here; it was one of thirteen statues commissioned for the garden of a villa near Florence. According to Greek mythology, Zephyr (the west wind) was married to Chloris, goddess of flowers.

Narcissus (by Cioli) (287): This statue may have once been the centerpiece to a fountain with Narcissus looking into an actual pool; it depicts him in the moment he sees and is mesmerised by his reflection.

Pluto stealing Proserpina (287): Likely the statue “The Rape of Proserpina” by Vincenzo de' Rossi. I couldn’t find it on the V&A’s site, but there’s more info here.

Jason with the Golden Fleece (287): This is a sculpture of a very naked Jason, the Greek hero who stole the golden fleece. He was helped by its owner’s daughter, who was in love with him, but whom he later abandoned. You can see the statue here.

Samson Slaying a Philistine (287): You can see this statue here. Henry does a pretty good job of explaining the incredible history behind it; all I have to add from my (limited) research is that it is remarkable in part for the fact that there is no one point on it that draws the eye-- it demands to be looked at completely or not at all.

Victoria and sodomy laws (288): Queen Victoria famously instituted a whole lot of anti-sodomy laws.

Viau on James/George (288): A 1623 poem by Théophile de Viau:

“Apollo with his songs

Debauched young Hyacinthus

Just as Corydon fucked Amyntas,

So Caesar did not spurn boys.

One man fucks Monsieur le Grand de Bellegarde [a friend of Viau],

Another fucks the Comte de Tonnerre.

And it is well known that the King of England

Fucks the Duke of Buckingham.”

“Christ had John, and I have George” (288): This is an actual thing that James I/VI said to the heads of the church. Here’s the full quote, from wikipedia (emphasis is my own): “I, James, am neither a god nor an angel, but a man like any other. Therefore I act like a man and confess to loving those dear to me more than other men. You may be sure that I love the Earl of Buckingham more than anyone else, and more than you who are here, assembled. I wish to speak in my own behalf and not to have it thought to be a defect, for Jesus Christ did the same, and therefore I cannot be blamed. Christ had John, and I have George.”

George iii (289): George III was the king against whom the American colonies revolted. He was deeply religious and instituted laws declaring that royals could not marry without the approval of the court.

Convent church of Santa Chiara in Florence (290): This church is no longer a church, but the altar chapel is in an alcove in the V&A. It is the only Italian Renaissance chapel outside of Italy. (you can see photos of it here and here)

Santa Chiara and Saint Francis of Assisi (290): Saint Francis of Assisi founded a few different monastic orders and is one of the most celebrated saints; Saint Clare of Assisi founded a women’s monastic order and wrote the first set of monastic guidelines by a woman.

Blessed Mother (290): Mary, the mother of Jesus, one of the holiest figures in Catholicism.

“Come, hijo mío, de la miel, porque es Buena, and the honeycomb sweet to thy taste”** (290): “My son, eat thou honey, because it is good; and the honeycomb, which is sweet to thy taste. So shall the knowledge of wisdom be unto thy soul: when thou hast found it, then there shall be a reward, and thy expectation shall not be cut off” -- Proverbs 24:13-14, King James Version (yes, that King James. He translated the Bible to make the church stop hating him).

David and Jonathan (290): An aggressively gay couple from the Bible who have been presented as friends for centuries. Jonathan was a prince and David a shepherd, but God promised that David would be king one day. Rather than argue this or hate David for it, Jonathan welcomed David into his household and loved him despite the prophecy that he would one day usurp him. Following Jonathan’s death, David took in Jonathan’s son and looked after him.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, amen (291): Many Christian prayers end with “in the name of the Father, the son, and of the Holy Spirit, amen”. It’s a way of celebrating the god who gives you all of the good things in your life while also giving up control to them.

------

A fill in from chapter 1, as requested by someone on AO3:

Deputy Chief of Staff (Zahra’s position, 23): The Deputy Chief of Staff is the top aide to the president’s top aide, and is responsible for ensuring that everything runs smoothly within the bureaucracy of the White House.

------

*This museum puts out books called “maker’s guides” that teach you how to make pieces based on things in their collections; they’re super duper cool.

**I’m not a theologian, but I am a pastor’s kid, and just... this gets me. This whole bit, but this Proverb especially. Like obviously there’s the “oh we’re kissing and I’m thinking about honey tasting sweet”, but verse 14 coming in with the “when you’ve found what’s right, you will be rewarded with the confidence of that rightness and you will have hope”? Just kill me outright next time. Don’t make me google my own murder weapon.

------

If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

—–-

Chapter 1 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 11

#this is for that anon who thinks I'm smart and cute #but y'all can read it too #rwrb study guide #rwrb analysis #English Major Brain™#English Major Brain™️#rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #june claremont diaz #nora holleran #pez okonjo #bea fox mountchristen windsor #firstprince #red white and royal blue

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drarryspecificrecs · 6 years ago

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H/D Mpreg Fest 2018 : (fics only)

@harrydracompreg || official masterpost || AO3 || ∑= 13 fics + 4 arts + 1 podfic The Mods : @kittymiaomeow & @sassy-cissa + Banner © : @sirene312 (x)

1. Don't Worry About Me (Baby, We'll be Fine) by @bangyababy [M, 5k]

Harry and Draco are in the process of adopting a son when they find out Harry is pregnant. Harry is ecstatic, but Draco can't stop worrying about how he's supposed to be a good father to two children when he can't even figure out how do it for one.

2. Expectant by @l0vegl0wsinthedark [E, 62k]

After he accidentally gets Malfoy pregnant on a drunken fuck at a club, Harry doesn't anticipate that it'd be just as easy to fall in love with him.

3. In Our Blood by @secretsalex [E, 37k]

Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.

4. Is It True That You Like To Sleep Alone (or is it what you just tell everyone) by @everything-a-wolf-could-want [E, 53k]

In the wake of the war, Draco has worked hard to scrub the taint from his name. He is society's darling and he relishes the rewards that come with it. [...] When Draco finds out he's pregnant, and that the father could be one of three different men, he has to figure out what comes next. It could be a fairy tale come to life...or it could be the biggest scandal in the history of the Wizarding World. It's all in how Draco manages to spin it...

5. The Joys of Naptime by @dianacopland [G, 200]

Just a small slice of life in the Potter-Malfoy household.

6. Peanut Potter-Malfoy by enchanted_jae [T, 2k]

New-Dad Harry is awed, humbled, excited, anxious, protective, and scared out of his mind.

7. Rock-a-bye Sweet Baby James by @femmequixotic & @noeeon [E, 28k]

Harry Potter knew that having a baby by himself would be difficult, but when his son's other father arrives on his doorstep, furious and upset at not being told about Harry's pregnancy, Harry's already messy life becomes a thousand times more complicated.

8. Show Me My Options by @unadulteratedstorycollector [T, 5k]

Harry is currently training to be a Healer, which is going great! Except then suddenly the lecturer mentions male pregnancy and Harry is very, very confused. And unfortunately there's only one person who can explain it to him.

9. Unexpectancy (Into you) by @polly-weasley [E, 20k]

Draco supposed that starting Eighth Year in Hogwarts fucking Harry Potter was a good start. Both of them were in the closet, for a lack of better words, and both of them were having fun with each other, no bonds attached, no uncomfortable talks, no need to tell their friends whatsoever. [...] But when Draco suddenly finds out he ended up pregnant of Potter’s child, there was nothing he could do except face the world and reveal his secret. Would Potter accept to reveal his, too, for the sake of this new life?

10. We Found Love (Right Where We Are) by @sassy-cissa [E, 9k]

Whatever this was between him and Harry - it was working. The sex was brilliant and who needed commitment anyway? Not Draco Malfoy, of that he was sure. Mostly.

11. What I Never Knew I Always Wanted by @erin-riwen [E, 13k]

It’s been ten years since the war, ten wonderful and productive years but now, Harry finds himself thinking of what he’d like to do next. His musings take Draco by surprise.

12. A Wild Ride by Titti [T, 6k]

After finding out that Draco is pregnant, Harry simply can't let it go. He needs to help Draco any way he can and that involves finding out who the father is.

13. A Year in the Life (Expanding Constellations) by @kikibluemay [M, 12k]

Harry and Draco have been married for quite a while, fathers of two Hogwarts students and professors on their own. They reached their balance and are ready to enjoy a quiet year at Hogwarts ... until one of them gets pregnant.

---

✔ other fests in 2018 ✔ fests in other years

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #masterlist #2018

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teamhook · 5 years ago

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A Chapter a Day... Savage Heart CS AU

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the sweet @ilovemesomekillianjones

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

Chapter 3: The Betrothal

~~~Flashback

The Nolan's are a very respectable family in high society even though they now find themselves in bankruptcy. Their financial problems had emerged from one too many bad deals made by James, David's identical twin brother. James Nolan had always been known to be the reckless brother of the two. He had angered so many people in his dealings. Those actions were the reason for his tragic demise.

His death leaves Count David Nolan, his lovely wife Snow, and their beautiful, young daughter behind with a tattered and uncertain financial future.

Despite the insecurities they now face, Emma Nolan is loved and adored by her parents. She is especially close to her father. Emma will forever be her father's little duckling, his sweet little princess.

Months after his brother's death, David receives a letter from Jackeline, James' coming of age love. She tells him of Milah's existence, a niece, a cousin to Emma. Sadly, by the time the letter arrives, Jackeline had met her death as well.

David decides to fix the injustice that his young niece and her mother had to face. David tells Snow the story and then leaves with her blessing, on a quest to retrieve Milah.

Ten-year-old Emma sits waiting as her mother tells her she has big news. "Emma darling, we will soon have an addition to our small family."

Emma's ears perk up to the news, and a wide smile covers her face, she has always hoped for a little sister, she would even settle for a brother. "Mother, am I getting a little sister?" Emma asks, trying and failing to hide her excitement.

Snow takes a breath. "No sweetheart, I am not expecting. Your cousin Milah is coming to live with us. She just turned eleven years old. Your father has gone to bring her home."

Emma sits calmly taking in the information, she never knew her Uncle James had children. She scrunches her face in confusion, she's always been an extremely curious child, so she does the only thing that can appease her. She asks questions.

"Mother, how is it possible? Uncle James never married. How can he have a daughter? What is her mom's name? Where have they been? Why are we only finding out now?"

Snow nods and tries to answer her inquisitive daughter's questions as best as she can. "No, he didn't marry, but there are situations that happen unexpectedly. This is not something we can discuss completely at this time. However, we will embrace and love Milah because she is family."

Emma nods vigorously, agreeing with her mother. She already loves her new cousin and she hasn't even met her.

David soon arrives home with his niece in tow. Milah is a beautiful girl that has inherited her mother's looks, she has long, wavy, raven hair and blue eyes. Emma, also a beautiful girl, has inherited an equal mixture of each of her parents. She is the polar opposite of Milah, with her blonde locks from her father, and her mother's lovely emerald eyes.

The exterior is not the only thing that makes the young girls different though. Milah is envious and secretly longs for all that Emma has, she hates that she never met her father, while Emma grew up with her parents doting on her. Milah's mother Jackeline had tried her best but she could barely scrape enough money together for meals. Jackeline had worked in a tavern to provide for Milah and that made her resent Emma for her charmed childhood.

Emma is sweet, loving, and caring, she does everything she can to make Milah feel like a part of the family. She's naive to the manner in which Milah was brought up, and therefore she is unaware of the discourse Milah feels toward her. She has grown to love Milah like a sister, but sadly the feeling is not mutual.

It's not long before talks of a union between two of the most established families in town begin. The Nolan's need to rebuild their financial future and hope that tying themselves to the Booth's will help. The Booth's can think of no better way to secure their good name than being linked to the Nolan family. They decide Emma and August will be joined by marriage.

Emma had met August several times when she was younger. She had only fond memories of him. Despite being a few years her senior, he was always sweet and kind to her, so it didn't bother her that her parents had agreed to the arrangement.

Once the betrothal is arranged, David Nolan decides he must leave his family in order to seek out a way to rebuild his own fortune. If he's able to, he won't have to see his daughter entered into an arranged marriage. As a young man, he had been betrothed to Kathryn Midas. His father George thought that it was the best match for the family.

He had hoped to never put Emma in that position. He had gotten lucky because Kathryn had fallen in love with Frederick Knight, a business partner of her father, and she married him instead.

David had met Snow not long after, and he is forever grateful to have had the fortune of meeting his true love and marrying her. Snow tries to stop him, but he refuses to stay. He wants his daughter to marry for love not to save them. He still has time.

11 Years later

Emma grows up to be even more beautiful than her mother, and as dedicated as her father. She misses him dearly, but remains at home with her mother to keep her company, while Milah travels, spending the money Emma's father has been able to send home. David still waits for the big payout that will allow him to finally return home from Arendelle.

Emma's parents give Milah everything she asks for. Guilt is such a powerful incentive. It always goes back to what she didn't have when she was a child.

Milah's trip is coming to an end. On her last week in Port Royal, she comes face to face with her cousin's betrothed, August Booth who is en route to Misthaven after a long absence from home.

"Don't you remember me?" Milah asks while looking at August through her eyelashes. Milah knows she is beautiful, and she knows exactly who he is.

"I am afraid I don't recall my lady," August responds promptly.

"I'm Emma's cousin, Milah."

The rest, as they say, is history, they spend a whirlwind week together and August falls deeply in love with her. The only reason Milah shows any interest in August is because of his wealth, power, and influence.

Milah returns home and never mentions her interactions with August to Snow or Emma. Milah tries to make the best of her time in Misthaven, but she misses what the big city has to offer. She had gotten too used to the big city and all its fine distractions.

She takes daily strolls on the sandy beach to pass the time. On one of her excursion,s she comes across a modest cabin and stops short when something catches her eye. She sees a man bathing, and quickly hides and keeps observing. Unbeknownst to Milah her presence does not go unnoticed by the handsome man. Even from the distance that separates them, she can clearly see that the man is gorgeous.

He suddenly yells, "Smee, bring my towel and get rid of the dirty water."

Once Smee is close enough, with a smirk, he whispers, "There is a lass by the oak tree, follow her and find out who she is."

Soon Smee returns to give his Captain the information he was able to uncover. "Sir, she entered the Nolan's household. She didn't use the servant's entrance."

"Do the Nolan's have any daughters?" Killian asks lost in thought.

Smee quickly answers him, "They have one daughter, and they took in the daughter of the Count's twin brother who was killed some years back."

"That will be all, for now, Smee," Killian says quickly.

For days Milah shows up by the cabin in hopes of seeing Killian again. As soon as Smee notices her he reports to his Captain. "Sir, she is back."

"Is she now? I guess I better go introduce myself," Killian says with a smile.

Milah is waiting patiently by the oak trees to see if the handsome man will make an appearance.

Killian slowly approaches her from her blind side. "Hello, my lady. Killian Jones at your service."

Milah gasps when she hears him, then smiles and says, "Milah Nolan."

"Countess Nolan, would you like to join me for a glass of wine, or is the request completely out of line for a lowlife like me?" Killian asks.

"I'm afraid I don't drink wine," Milah responds but quickly adds, "I could keep you company."

Killian smiles and guides her inside his cabin, where they talk for hours. As nightfall approaches, Milah reluctantly lets him know she must take her leave. Killian offers to escort her home but she declines.

Over the next couple of weeks, their meetings become a ritual. They get to know each other and quickly fall in love. Killian and Milah soon explore their physical attraction, and Milah gives her maidenhood to Killian not long into their relationship. The truth is, they are being extremely reckless.

One beautifully sunny day, Milah and Killian go swimming. Milah gets out of the warm water to lounge and bask under the horizon. Killian emerges out of the clear blue water to join her. He looks like an Adonis, not a pirate as the water travels down his glistening and toned body. He finally reaches her and leisurely gets on his knees then crawls on top of her to kiss her passionately. They end up in his cabin enjoying each other.

That same night, Killian proposes to Milah and informs her of a business trip that he will be taking on his ship, The Jolly Roger. He assures her that on his return they will be able to marry. He knows it will be a very lucrative deal and he will be able to offer her the life that she desires. Milah accepts his proposal quickly.

"Mother it is so lovely to see you. I have missed you," August tells his mother upon her arrival to Port Royal.

She smiles and leans in to kiss his cheeks. "I have missed you too. I came to surprise you; I hope you don't mind making the trip back home with your mother."

August smiles and only nods his agreement, he wishes he was making the trip back with a certain young brunette who stole his heart just a few days ago.

"Are you excited to finally be going back home? I know Emma is looking forward to seeing you again and starting wedding preparations as soon as poss-"

August cuts her off, "Mother I am afraid I cannot marry Emma. I have fallen in love with Milah. I will not marry someone I do not love. I am truly sorry."

"August, how could you do something like that? You knew very well of the betrothal," his mother seethes.

"Mother, you mentioned it once or twice in passing when I was young. How was I supposed to know you were serious?" August quickly snaps back the retort.

After hours of arguing Cora finally relents and agrees to break the news to Emma and Snow.

The arrival of August in Misthaven will surely break more than one heart.

Tagging:

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @sherlockianwhovian2 @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers

#Captain Swan #cs ff #CS Crew #CS Mafia #teamhook SavageHeart

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