#satellite fic

[kahluamystery97]

Satellite Masterlist

So it turns out I love reading all of your Y/N fics but I couldn't write one because Maggie felt so specific to me. I really picture her as a Margot Robbie sort. I hope you can get past that and enjoy this little story that was stuck in my brain and just had to come out.

TW : ED, SA, Attempted Self Harm

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

[maaxverstappen]

help me hold onto you | T | 9/13

f1driver!max and streamer!charles

The man—Charles, Max assumes—sounds French. He loves that. He should be used to a French accent, he was forced to converse with Pierre often enough, but it sounds different coming from Charles. More melodic. Almost similar to someone he used to know once. “And that made me think,” Charles says, voice bellowing from Max’s speakers. “That it was stupid that we didn't have carrots before. Like, come on, it's a farming game.” Max has no fucking idea what the hell he is on about.

or: Max is lonely and finds Charles streaming on Twitch.

based on this prompt sent to @f1prompts

[gingerteaonthetardis]

Ninerose but it's like those actors interviews with puppies

sae!! i know you'll probably be asleep when i post this, but this prompt was so much fun! i got to watch puppy interviews and call it research. heaven on earth. thank you. (in my excitement, i barely edited, so forgive me.)

—

𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧-𝐢𝐬𝐡

[read on AO3]

—

They are herded into the empty room over the noise of rattling cuffs, the lash of Rose's voice demanding to be let go—she's using his "Shadow Proclamation" line again, which never actually works, but he does admire the conviction of her delivery—and the mild, sizzling hum of studio lights, the heat of which breaks over them like a wave the instant the doors open.

The Doctor jerks both cuffed hands up to shade his eyes, only for them to be wrenched back down by the guard. "All right, pushy," he remarks, but the man doesn't answer.

Instead, he silently sets about removing the cuffs, inserting a thin key and unlatching them with a twist. They fall into the cup of his webbed, sea green fingers and shrink back to the size of a thimble.

"Huh," says the Doctor, cocking his head. "Thanks, mate."

"What are you—? Stop touching me, get off," Rose snaps, grunting with the effort of keeping her hands under her own control. Her guard, slightly smaller and more obviously green—as in, new on the job; in terms of skin, he's actually more of an opalescent blue colour—grapples with her anxiously, almost delicately.

"Let him do his job, Rose," the Doctor calls to her. When she glances up, startled, he waves his newly-naked wrists in the air. "If you want to lose the cuffs."

"Oh. Right." She aims a puff of air up at her bangs, which have fallen messily into her face.

The stylist had made an attempt at taming Rose's hair with only marginal success, but on the frogmarch over, most of their hard work was entirely undone. Still, it kind of suits her, he thinks—the disarray, like she's just stepped out of a whirlwind and landed here, fierce and determined. And wearing a dress, as outrageously pink as her flushed cheeks. As the cuffs slide off her, she shakes out her wrists in an exaggerated show of irritation.

"Where are we now?" she asks, hushed.

It's a good question.

"That's a good question." He delays for a moment, looking around at the white walls, the white floor, marked with a few small x shapes made of tape. "Looks like a studio of some kind. Broadcast, maybe?"

Rose's frown deepens. "Broadcast where, though? It's an arc—archy—an island," she gives up, rolling her eyes at herself, "with some other, bigger islands. What was the word again?"

"Archipelago."

"Archipelago, yeah. And then the rest of the planet's just water, you said. Are they broadcasting off-world or something?"

The Doctor laughs at that outright. "The Fangtooth Fissure Field starts ten miles from shore, and there's no way a signal's getting past that to the next nearest island, let alone to a proper booster station. It must be local programming," he reasons, suddenly grinning. "We're probably the most interesting thing to wash up on this beach since the wreck of the Queen Baleen."

"The what?"

"Never mind. Point is, we're big news, Rose! A hot topic! And," the Doctor goes on, "it looks like we're about to get our fifteen minutes. Look."

On the opposite side of the studio, a huge camera has begun to glide forward out of the shadows. The lens is giant and abyssally dark, like it's actually eating light, with a tiny, prismatic glimpse of a rainbow in the middle. Beside the camera is a dour, grey-complected man with an equally grey beard and clipboard, and a woman with hair so pale a mint green, it almost looks like the surface of a pearl. She's dressed all in black.

Aside from their vaguely aquatic appearance, a trait shared by all land-dwelling Finnings, they more or less resemble members of an Earth film crew, all headsets and focused expressions and white-knuckle grips on cups that look like they probably contain a coffee-equivalent.

Greybeard takes one look at Rose and sighs. "Cora," he says into his headset. "Need you for touch-ups."

"Seriously, what's going on?" Rose asks, louder now, speaking to the room at large where more various members of the production crew are filtering in. "Is this a joke or something?" Her eyes flash dangerously to the guards. "Why were we brought here in cuffs?"

The woman, who looks like she'll be the one operating the camera, stares back at Rose as if she's had a screw come loose. "For security reasons, miss."

Rose opens her mouth at that, but the coming retort is stopped by the same doors they'd come through banging open again. The harried stylist—who must be Cora—rushes Rose with a grim set to their mouth, armed with all the beautifying tools they'd brought to bear just minutes ago, and gets right to work.

The Doctor uses this opportunity to examine the space further. It's rather large, he thinks, for a basic local news center. But then, the spatial folding technology on the cuffs had been a surprise, too; it seems the people of the Finnian Islands have come a long way from their fishing huts and the raft-based culture he was led to expect.

He grins. He does so love it when people exceed his expectations.

"So," he begins, striding in a loop around the sizable sound stage. He makes note of how every eye, besides Cora's, is trained on him with intense focus. Particularly the camera operator's. "Sorry, what's your name?"

"Tetrine."

"Tetrine. Lovely name. This is quite the setup."

"State of the art," she agrees proudly. "Just like our satellite."

"Really? Didn't see that when we landed. Guess it must be small but mighty." The Doctor inclines his head at her, hoping the compliment will smooth things over, enough to help him figure out exactly what this is all about. "I like it."

For some reason, though, it just makes the woman retreat into herself. Beside her, Greybeard aggressively clears his throat, which sounds a little like a kettle boiling over, and says, "We received a generous grant from the intergalactic branch of the BW Corporation."

"BW… Don't think I've heard of that one."

Greybeard frowns at that. "The Bad Wolf Corporation."

The Doctor can practically feel Rose's eyes on the back of his head.

"She's ready," pronounces Cora. Their cerulean lips purse, then form a quick, satisfied smile.

"Good," answers Greybeard. "We're already behind schedule." He taps his clipboard thoughtfully, eyeing the pair before making an abortive gesture. "You can have a seat."

"On the ground?" Rose asks.

"On the ground."

"Okay. Sure. Of course. Sitting on the ground for an interview I was dragged to in chains, okay." Under her breath, she mutters, "Talk about hospitality."

"Rose," the Doctor scolds, not ungently. With a jerk of his chin, he draws her attention to the armed guards flanking them, just beyond the bounds of the white floor. Their implicit threat is more than enough to make him compliant—for now.

He settles to the ground, legs folded criss-cross, atop one of the taped out x shapes, waiting for Rose to do the same. He knows she's not quite as irritable as she's pretending to be; her hands shake as she sinks down and smooths out her frothy skirt, and she's swallowed three times in the last twenty-five seconds.

But they've been in far worse scrapes than this, and he's sure that if they just do as they're told, do the interview, provide some light entertainment for the profoundly remote Finnian television crew, they'll be let go without any fuss.

Probably.

"You look beautiful, by the way," he whispers, tipping his torso in Rose's direction.

Rose's answering smile is a little more like her usual self. She bites the tip of her tongue. "Thanks. But how come I'm the one who always gets a costume change?"

Greybeard clears his throat again, and the pair sit up straighter. "We have ten questions for you. This isn't live," the man says, "so if you need to cut for… some reason, we can edit it out later."

"Great, thanks." The Doctor makes sure to smile back. "But we're pros. We'll be in and out, quick as a wink."

That, too, makes the crew flinch.

Odd.

"All right," Greybeard pronounces, disconcerted. "Action. And… release the hounds!"

Rose's hand flies to grasp his, and for a tense, eternal second, the Doctor can't think anything except that he's messed up. Badly. Catastrophically. He has misjudged the entire situation, and now they're going to pay for it. His toes clench in his boots, ready to run—to push him back to his feet in an instant, dragging Rose if necessary. Her palm is clammy, her fingers icy cold, and he squeezes on instinct—meant either as a comfort or a warning to be ready, he doesn't know.

Once more, the studio doors fall open, and out come—

Rose flinches, then gasps.

—a teeming, tumbling heap of what can only be… puppies.

They're fish-puppies, to be sure, their coats coming in curious blotchy tones like the insides of conches—in crabshell oranges and pinks—in sticky, sodden seaweedy colours. Their fur is glossy and damp-looking, their snouts bobbed like Snub-nosed Darts. But they're also, undeniably, puppies.

Seven small, completely nonthreatening puppies.

They scramble over each other in a full-tilt race to see who can careen into the Doctor and Rose first, and when they do, he is overwhelmed with the smell of saltwater and sunshine and puppy breath. The first one flings its paws—webbed, of course—up onto his chest, claws embedding in the leather. Two more of of them flop into Rose's lap like even the short jaunt from the door has exhausted them, and her hands drift upward in shock before coming to land, tentatively, on one of the velvety-furred backs.

"What…?" she begins, seemingly caught between bafflement and sheer delight.

"Canes aquaria," the Doctor pronounces. Relief restores his bravado as he explains, "Native to the Finnian Islands. Colloquially known as hushpuppies."

Her nose wrinkles. "Like the food?"

"Like the food."

"Oh my god. Oh, but you're the cutest, aren't you?" she coos, lowering her head to another inquisitive pup who has come to nose at the edge of her skirt, such a deep green his coat nearly looks black. "You're a little sweetie. Yes, hello." She squeaks as the puppy gives her nose a sudden, briny lick.

"They were nearly hunted to extinction before the Universal Hushpuppy Protection Act of 8009-Banana-5," he explains, earning a rather surprised look from Greybeard. "Now they're a protected species." One of the pups nips gleefully at his fingers, and he chuckles, adding, "Only semi-domesticated."

Their would-be interviewer still looks wrong-footed as he clears his throat yet again, as if to get their attention. Must be a nervous tic. "First question: Do you consider yourselves animal lovers?"

"Well, who could resist these faces?" Rose replies automatically, smiling with all her teeth at the little bared puppy fangs of a particularly lanky, red-bellied pup who's pounced up behind her shoulder. "You're a brave one, aren't you? You want to climb up on my head!"

"And after all the fussing everyone did over your hair." The Doctor shakes his head in mock-disapproval. "Down, boy."

"Second question: Did you have any pets growing up?"

Rose glances at the Doctor before saying, "Not exactly. We got stray cats coming in and out sometimes, off the estate. They came through the cat flap. I was always after my mum to nail it down, but I suspect she secretly liked having them 'round. There was this one," and here, she huffs, resettling herself as a third puppy clambers onto her lap, squashing one of its siblings flat, "there you go, get nice and comfy. But there was this one cat who we saw a lot of for a while. We called her Puffin."

"What happened to her?" the Doctor asks.

"Don't know," she shrugs. "She just… disappeared one day. Mum still leaves scraps of Sunday roast out for her, just in case." Smiling fondly, she nudges his elbow, which is currently bent to accommodate a squirmy pup with a mottled coat and a pea green nose. "What about you?"

"Oh, I've picked up strays, here and there." He wiggles his eyebrows at her, earning him a cheeky, stuck-out tongue. "Cats, dogs, robot dogs, tortoises. Even had a vortisaur called Ramsay aboard for a while."

There's an audible choking sound from behind the camera, and he sees that Tetrine looks more than a little green about the gills.

"Vortisaurs are a banned species," Greybeard stumbles out. "They're not permitted in Realspace."

Rose glances at him worriedly, fingers stiffening around the soft tips of the brave red-bellied hushpuppy's ears. He's come around to sit upright beside her now, like he's standing sentry, and the Doctor feels a peculiar kind of kinship with the floppy young thing.

"Oh, they're a misunderstood lot," he says with a wave of his hand. "You know, mostly harmless—even good for the extradimensional ecosystem—like any bird of prey. So long as you don't get between one's jaws, I mean, you're all right. I used to ride them sometimes, back home." His smile turns wistful before he can prevent it, and he tilts his head quickly away from the camera. "But I had to let Ramsay go eventually. I've never gone in for permits and pet licensing, but a creature like that is meant to be wild, roaming the Vortex as it likes."

There seems to be a collective, sub-audible sigh of relief around the room.

"Er, third question: How did you two meet?"

Once again, the Doctor and Rose exchange glances. He nods for her to take this one.

"At my job," she answers simply. "He got me out of a… tight spot. And then I returned the favor."

There's an awkward pause as everyone waits for elaboration that clearly isn't going to come. With a pinched frown, Greybeard asks, "Did you always… work well together?"

"Oh, yes," Rose starts to answer, right as the Doctor replies, emphatically, "No."

"Hey!"

"What? It's the truth! Seems practically all we did was argue in those early days. We come from very different worlds, you see," he explains to the camera. "Different ways of thinking, different morality. And I'd been on my own for what felt like lifetimes, so I wasn't used to having a needy little ape about, always making cups of tea and leaving them on the sideboard—"

"You like my tea," Rose insists with a laugh. "At least half of those cups are yours!"

"And you lot need so much sleep!"

"I know you're nervous, but stop insulting my species. If you don't, I'll be forced to retaliate."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah! This one," she jabs a finger toward him, which the puppy crawling all over him gamely takes a nibble at, "can't go into a perfume shop without falling to bits. I understand a headache, but I'm pretty sure you actually cried."

"I have a very strong nose!"

"And don't we all know it." With her outstretched finger, she bumps the tip of his nose teasingly. "All right, fine. I can't think of anything. You're actually the best housemate I've ever had, is that what you want to hear?"

He scoffs. "Not much competition there. But I'll take it, thanks." He's smiling, though, and a light, bubbly kind of sensation—the sort he ordinarily strives to tamp down—begins fluttering in his chest. "Anyway, what I was going to say is that we're… how we are now because we got a lot of that useless, annoying stuff out of the way fast. We argued all the time, but it helped us understand each other better. Now we're a real team, and it's…"

"Fantastic," Rose says, so warmly it makes him feel rather dopey and slow when he looks at it too long. Her shoulder presses against his, and he can feel the heat through the leather and wool like she's touched his skin directly.

He smiles back broadly. "Couldn't've put it better myself."

There's a long beat of silence before the pair glance up at their audience. Off to the side, Cora the stylist looks downright enraptured, their fingers folded emphatically over their heart. One of the men on the lights is blushing. And even Greybeard's mouth has softened from its tense pucker as he clears his throat once more. "Fifth question: Given the closeness of your relationship, has it been difficult being separated?"

"What, like, back in hair and makeup?" Rose asks, brows pulling together. "I mean, our… house is pretty large, so sometimes we can go almost a full day without bumping into one another—"

"I meant," interrupts Greybeard delicately, "during your imprisonment."

Silence.

"Our what?"

The Doctor doesn't say anything.

Greybeard looks in a bit of a panicked way at his interviewees, and then at his clipboard, and then at Tetrine, and then at the clipboard again. "It's the correct question. Your agents vetted all of them beforehand. It says here, 'Given the closeness of your relationship—'"

"Doctor?"

"'—has it been difficult being separated?'"

The Doctor feels Rose's eyes digging into him again, but he's too busy kicking himself afresh for overlooking the obvious: they're not interesting simply by virtue of showing up.

They were expected for this interview.

Or rather, two people were expected for this interview. Two people who apparently committed some sort of crime and are now on a post-parole press tour. It all makes sense now—the escort from the landing strip, the cuffs, the guards who were so eager not to hurt them, but so twitchy at the same time.

"I'm so stupid," the Doctor pronounces. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly is it we were supposedly imprisoned for?"

The litany that follows is so incredible—so surprisingly accurate to real things he and Rose have done—that the Doctor almost laughs outright: theft some royal family's crown jewels, destruction of property, alleged desecration of a government site, even kidnapping. At least they've not done not that one, he thinks. Not on purpose, anyway.

But the summary of dramatic, near-death brushes with royal, international, and interstellar guards; dabbling with incarceration only to escape; the brash and boastful leaving of tokens and signatures at crime scenes—it all tells a story of two people very much unconcerned with the law. It all sounds like a real adventure.

It isn't until Greybeard gets to the murder charges that Rose's face falls, and his own, too. The way she runs her hands over the red-bellied pup's back seems to be more about soothing herself than soothing it.

Suddenly, the Doctor says, "Stop."

"What?" Greybeard looks up.

"That's not us. You've got the wrong people." Gently, he sets aside the hushpuppy that's fallen adorably asleep in his lap and rises to his feet. Around him, tails wag in anticipation of playtime, but his stomach feels leaden. "I'm the Doctor, and this is Rose. We're just travellers. We landed here by chance—well, all right, not by chance, but because of Finnian's famous beaches. Look," he adds, reaching for his pocket.

Cora gasps in horror, and the guards that have been hovering back suddenly jerk into motion, but the Doctor holds up his other hand slowly.

"Just getting this." Withdrawing his psychic paper, he holds it out for everyone to read. "See? I'm pretty sure this is a case of mistaken identity."

Greybeard's dour look has come back in force, and Tetrine, upon squinting at the paper, starts scowling intensely. But, he's surprised to note, not at them.

"What did I say, Mac?" she cries, suddenly flapping her arms at the man beside her, nearly throwing the clipboard from his hands. She shoves down her headset microphone, just to better shout in his paling face. "I said we needed photos! Actual photos, not just a description. 'Human-ish,' you said! 'Human-bloody-ish.' Seas preserve us…" Her face falls into her hands, and the grey man they now know as Mac gives an almost comical gulp.

"Oh…"

"Oh," the Doctor agrees.

"What is wrong with you both?" Tetrine groans, finally swinging some of her ire their way. "Why did you go along with it? You thought we just… wanted to interview two random tourists?"

Rose has gotten to her feet by now, dusting off her knees and the floaty pouf of her dress. "Because you put us in cuffs," she says. "We thought you were gonna kill us or something if we didn't."

Mac makes a sound like he's been punched. "Oh, gods."

Throwing back her head, Tetrine bursts into a gale of laughter. "Mackerelle, you are in deep shit this time, I'm telling you. We just interviewed hostages by mistake!"

"The hushpuppies were a really confusing tone shift," Rose admits. "Who came up with that idea?"

"The other producers came up with it, after talking to your—their agents," Mac answers numbly. "Everyone agreed it would be a good way to demonstrate that the Bleeding Heart Bandits were fully rehabilitated. You know, rebuilding their image, making them look sympathetic. This is the last leg of their press tour. And what's more sympathetic than people holding puppies?"

"Too right, they're adorable. Yes, they are," Rose coos, practically folding herself in half to nuzzle the red-bellied one. The Doctor senses suddenly that separating the two of them is going to be something of an ordeal. "You especially, Rufus."

"Well, that angle certainly failed," he goes on, undeterred, "seeing how your stars never showed. My guess is they slipped their parole guards on the way here and they're off making mayhem halfway across the galaxy by now."

"We need to inform the authorities," Mac says, nodding to the guards, who disappear with a haste that can only be born of embarrassment. "And in the meantime, we need to find something else to air tomorrow. Tetrine? Tet, stop laughing, we've got to call—"

"We could finish the interview."

Every occupant in the whole room turns to Rose in surprise, and the Doctor is amused to note her once more rising blush at the attention. In another life, he thinks, she would've made the perfect sort of celebrity—intriguing and mysterious, but sweet. Just the right amount of surprising. She could take entire planets by storm.

"What?" she says, eyeing him fretfully. "We've already done half of it already. We could just… skip the questions about crime and stuff. But we've seen loads of interesting places, the Doctor and I," she tells everyone. "We're like… professional travellers. We could talk about that."

Nobody seems entirely sure what to do with the suggestion, but he doesn't imagine they'll get a better one.

"You just aren't ready to say goodbye to the puppies, are you?"

With a mock-glare, Rose plops back down onto her x-mark and smiles beatifically as her favorite puppy—and there is no way she's actually planning on calling the dog Rufus—sets himself up half atop her and half poised for action. "Good boy, Rufus," she says.

And just like that, this particular battle is suddenly lost.

"We're ready for the rest of the interview now."

There's another silent exchange, and the Doctor watches it all before shrugging and sinking to a seat beside her. The six other puppies spin in a whirlwind around him, tugging at his sleeves and play-growling. It's like being in the middle of a very nippy and, he has to admit, rather pleasant tornado.

"All right, then," Mackerelle says. He clears his throat one last time. "Sixth question, then… Who are you two?"

"I'm the Doctor, and this is Rose Tyler, my plus one."

Hesitantly, the man asks, "What's a plus one?"

"Oh, don't worry about it," Rose brushes him off, before the Doctor can answer. She's got her arms wrapped fully around Rufus now. The Doctor barely restrains his sigh. Looks like they're leaving this planet with a semi-aquatic pet dog. "It's just a human-ish thing."

[mintraindrop]

Satellites - A Star Wars Story

Chapter 3 - Crystal Snow

on ao3

sneak peek:

Master Button ushers him out of the shuttle the second they have landed. It’s… a mess. There are more Jedi in one place than Lando has ever seen, more people running around, stumbling past one another, than the Temple was made to accommodate.

Lando clutches his travel bags tight in his hands. One is slung over his shoulder, threatening to slip off when he hurries after his master, ducking past a worker who starts to scrutinize their shuttle, presumably to ready it for the next passengers.

It’s when they pass through the entry hall and Master Button turns around, stopping for a moment to wait for his padawan, that Lando collides with another person. He stumbles, dropping one of his bags and already sees himself falling face-first to the ground when a pair of hands shoot forwards to grab his upper arms and steady him just in time.

He exhales, which mostly sounds like a breathy chuckle, before looking up. His thanks dies in his throat when he finally realizes who has caught him.

Warm brown eyes look into his own and for a second, for an almost agonizingly long second, the world stands still.

it's been a joy writing this with @fairielux and we are far from being anywhere near finished. thank you, love. for all of this ♡

tag list: @leftneb @slideleftt @oscatmeowstri @justwannabelovedbylou @fanboyoff1 @notheroicnotromantic @oopslandiia @fairielux @standgrand @nxlx96 @lyslsstuff @lovelycarica

if you want to be tagged whenever I post smth aboutbwriting - and art - just let me know :) I'll happily put you on the list.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: After a hundred miserable loops, Siffrin makes a wish. Isabeau gets caught in the crossfire. (…yes, it’s another Isa Loops AU. but hear me out! rock might beat scissors, but there’s no stone in the cosmos that can resist the gravitational pull of a star.)

Author: @sixpossumsinatrenchcoat

[good--merits-accumulated]

some people are born fic writers, some people are made fic writers, and some people watch Ethan Hawke play a socially anxious gay as hell teenager at the tender age of twelve and decide that they absolutely MUST put that man through the torment nexus, eternally

[salswisteria]

Is this a regular development for the fandom or have I missed something? (I'm in EP 119)

[thatmexisaurusrex]

I'm 10 years behind on the mcu and never have a clue what's going on when you post sambucky, but im absolutely cheering them and you on from the sidelines. So here's a prompt for you, for fun: ✨️✨️✨️✨️

SamBucky Summer Ficlet Prompts

Ooh, good choice! And hehe thanks for cheering them and me on, even if you don't really go here 🤣 Enjoy!

Satellites

Sam lay on his back in Sarah's backyard, gazing up at the stars. There weren't many of them. The light pollution of New Orleans reached as far as Delacroix.

But he could see a few.

Maybe one?

Or.

Well.

That might be a satellite, now that Sam was looking at it more closely.

"Sam?"

Sam turned his head to see Bucky Barnes. Sam still wasn't used to seeing him there.

In his hometown.

Staying with Sam at his sister's house.

"Can I join you?" asked Bucky, a little more politely than he usually would.

And.

Well.

Maybe he was like that because they were alone.

It was also the middle of the night.

And Sam was just lying outside looking at the sky.

"Sure. If you have nowhere else to be at two in the morning," said Sam as he patted the space next to him.

Bucky lay down next to Sam as he stared up at the sky; a mostly blank navy canvas.

"Couldn't see the stars in Brooklyn either," commented Bucky.

And.

Sam and Bucky laughed.

"Hey. But at least we've got a satellite to watch," snickered Sam as he pointed to it.

"We don't even have a moon to look at," faux-bemoaned Bucky as he elbowed Sam.

"I think another satellite is coming into view," snorted Sam as one did come into his line of sight.

Sam and Bucky stared up at the empty sky. And the silence was strangely comfortable as they got settled in the grass.

"Trouble sleeping?" whispered Bucky.

Sam nodded.

"I don't remember the dream, but I - I know I couldn't go back to bed. I needed a moment. So, I..." Sam started, his thoughts trailing off as he watched another satellite appear.

"You came out here."

Sam nodded.

Sam's hand bumped into Bucky's. He felt their fingers loosely lacing together; felt them hold hands.

And they weren't - they weren't something. But they weren't not something. It wasn't as if Sam needed clarity on what they were right now. But this was nice.

Holding hands

As they gazed up at Satellites.

[kahluamystery97]

Satellite Chapter Five

March 2021

Harry wasn’t sure if he woke up because the sun was starting to peek in from the sitting room or because Maggie was so restless next to him. 

"Sorry I'm freezing." She whispered as she burrowed deeper into the duvet. 

"Here, take this off." Harry pulled at the robe.

She raised an eyebrow. “But I’m cold.”

"Trust me." Once she was free of the robe he then pulled her into his warm underwear clad body. 

Maggie sighed with relief. Harry was happy to warm her up. He was still concerned by all her sharp edges. All the muscle loss. She buried her head into his neck. He felt her lips on him. Soft. Delicate.  Harry tipped her chin up and kissed her deeply. Her arms wrapped around him. 

There was a moment where he thought he should be honest about Amelia. How could he ever start fresh with Maggie with Amelia hanging over them. In true Harry fashion he decided it was a problem for another time. He missed Maggie so much that he just couldn't bring himself to ruin it.

Maggie slid her hand into his boxer briefs to find he was already getting hard. She gently pumped him and slid her thumb over his sensitive slit. This elicited a groan from Harry.  He pulled the slip of lace underwear she was wearing off. He slid a hand under her ass and pulled her up to him. She sucked at his lower lip as he entered her. Maggie's hands raked through his hair as she panted his name softly.

“I missed you so much. I needed you. I need you.” He whispered steadily into her ear as his hips steadily pumped into her warm channel. “Oh God baby you feel so good. You always feel so good. My sweet girl, sweet Maggie. Ughhh.” 

Maggie’s heart was bursting. He was always so vocal but never like this. Never about how much he felt. All she could do was call his name and chant baby in his ear as she came undone around him. Harry was quick to follow. 

He rolled them on their sides and pulled her close to him. He peppered the top of Maggie's head with kisses. She pressed her face against his chest and ran her hands against the solid wall of muscle.

"Baby I'm just so happy you're here with me. Just stay close. Don't leave me, ok?" Harry whispered into her hair.  Maggie wasn't going anywhere.  She breathed this moment in.

The next time Maggie opened her eyes the sun was fully invading the room. They must have fallen back to sleep.

Harry's voice thick with sleep said, "I don't want to get up but I have to." Maggie released her hold on him. He kissed the top of her head and rolled out of bed and went directly into the ensuite bathroom.

Maggie rolled onto her back. She felt complete bliss at this moment. Couldn't they just stay here forever? She grabbed the robe and wrapped herself in it. She heard Harry running the sink. She snuck into the water closet. Her turn.

Once out she joined him at the double sinks.  Maggie opened a hotel toothbrush. Her mouth was so dry. No more vodka for a while. Harry was finished brushing. He was washing down two advil with a glass of water. He put two tablets on the vanity for Maggie. After she was finished brushing she thanked him.

"How about some breakfast?" He pulled her into his naked body and traced her jaw with his thumb. Maggie wrapped them both in the robe. Warm naked bodies pressed flush together. 

"Absolutely and coffee, all the coffee please." She smiled up at him with her high wattage genuine smile. 

"I will have them bring all the coffee at once." Harry laughed. "Want anything special, sweet girl?"

"Surprise me." She raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to take a shower."

"I mean I could order breakfast and join you."

"Or you could order breakfast and patiently wait for me."

"Yes I'm very well known for my patience." Harry chuckled.  He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and left the bathroom.

Harry grabbed a pair of joggers and the room service menu from the desk. He ordered about half the menu and lots of coffee. 

He looked down to see his phone.  He saw the missed aFaceTime request from Amelia. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 

Amelia Mason was an amazing woman. She was smart. Well traveled. An accomplished director and actress. She was also sort of Harry’s - friend with benefits? Girlfriend-ish? I mean she was temporarily living in his house. He had made a film with her and they fell into an easy friendship/relationship. She was a few years older than Harry with twin boys from her previous marriage. He was enjoying having her and her kids at his house while their place got settled in London. 

‘Ugh Styles - you are a real piece of work.’ He chastised himself. 

Harry grabbed the phone and went into the living area. He couldn't manage a FaceTime with all the guilt that was washing over him.

He dialed her number. "Hey."

"Hey, it's the Grammy winner. How is that feeling today?" She asked with genuine excitement. 

"Well I'm just waking up but it feels pretty good. How are things there?"

"Good. A little quiet. No kids. No you. You don't even have a cat Harry."

He laughed. "No pets. It's too hard with my lifestyle."

"So you are on a plane later today?" She asked.

Harry's stomach clenched. "Not today. Going to hang out here for a few more days. I want to see James and some friends. I thought I would lose and just come right back.  Now that I have won I'm popular around here I guess." He lied. He wasn't ready to leave Maggie was the truth.

"Win or lose you're popular Harry. Winning is great but it isn't everything. You have real talent." Amelia’s kindness made him uneasy. 

You are a talented piece of garbage, he thought. This wasn't exactly being respectful of women. He felt tempted to be straight with her. The director was just out of a ten year marriage. While they had yet to really define their relationship this was an absolute shit thing for him to do to her and to Maggie.

At that moment Maggie appeared fresh from the shower. Smile still beaming. Every thought of being stand up to Amelia left his mind. With Maggie in front of him nothing else existed. 

"Once I firm up my plans I'll let you know. I'll give you a call later?"

Amelia replied,  "Yeah sure. No problem.  I'll be around. Congratulations again. Can’t wait to celebrate with you.”  

Harry was thoroughly distracted by Maggie pulling her blonde curls up off of her face with his hair clip. “Thank you. I appreciate that. I look forward to it.” He disconnected. 

Thankfully Harry didn't have to lie about who it was because a knock came at the door. It was the room service. Maggie nodded toward the bedroom and ducked back in. Hotel staff were mostly pretty discreet but why take chances?

After he signed for the food Maggie reappeared. Harry was sitting at the dining table and he motioned for her to come join him. She settled in the chair next to him. Her eyes went wide when she saw all the food. Suddenly her chair was moving.  Harry pulled her closer so her chair was tipped out facing his. Maggie yelped in surprise. Then she laughed. She placed her bare leg across Harry's lap and he stroked her calf.

"So have you invited a small army over for breakfast?" She asked. There were eggs, pancakes, fruit, avocado toast and smoothies.

"I am ravenous."  He chose his words carefully. After Sarah dropped the word starving last night things got awkward.  He didn't want to venture into anything serious yet.

"Same." Maggie said unexpectedly. She was hungry for the first time in a long time. Normally she could block it all out. Maybe letting Harry in, opening up, maybe she was becoming more of herself again. "If those are oatmeal raspberry pancakes with real maple syrup on the side I am going to have at least my second orgasm this morning."

Harry raised an eyebrow.  "That is absolutely what they are. Please go on. I'll be here watching."  Maggie shoved his arm playfully.

Harry chose eggs and avocado toast. He poured them coffee. Maggie seemed to be eating slowly and deliberately but she was eating and that made him feel better. She looked rested today. Her natural flush of pink across her cheeks was back.  He couldn't help but lean over and kiss her face as she ate pancakes.

She looked at him quizzically, "What was that for?"

He shrugged. "I'm happy Mags. I'm really happy."

She smiled. "Do you have press today? I mean you won a friggin Grammy." She shrieked with excitement. Harry couldn't help but smile. Maybe it shouldn't have but it made him feel legit.

"No press. Nothing. I feel like last night was enough."

Maggie was jealous of how much of his life and his privacy Harry controlled. She understood it stemmed from not having much control at the beginning of his career. Maggie mostly tried to keep her love life out of the public eye but as America's sweetheart you had to do lots of press, lots of smiles and charming people. She loved her job but she didn't always love that part.

"Earth to Maggie. Where did you go?" She heard Harry ask her. 

"I'm in my own world over here enjoying these pancakes."

"I'm going to shower. We can check out. Maybe find a nice way to spend the day." He suggested not sure what type of response he might get from her. 

"I'm down."  Maggie said before she could second guess it. 

Harry got up. "Ok then. You are going to finish your pancakes and anything else on this table you want." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. When he left her she was reaching for the LA Times and pouring more coffee.

“Have you heard from Maggie?” Alex asked as she cut fruit up at the island of her kitchen. Children, dogs and cats zipped around her. They were having a ‘family’ dinner with their chosen family like they often did on Saturdays at Alex’s. 

“I talked to her Tuesday maybe. I assumed she would be here today.” Liza said looking up from her phone. 

“I shot her a text. I called her. Nothing. Not a word. Not sure if I should be worried or not?” 

Perry and EJ were on the other side of the island arguing about how best to prepare the massive amount of chicken Alex insisted they cook. 

“I haven’t talked to her either.” EJ offered. He talked to Maggie nearly every single day. Whether it be sharing a meme or sending each other some random observation but she was pretty quiet this week. “I don’t like that. Maybe I better go right now and check.”

Jamie entered the kitchen looking for a bottle opener. “What are you going to check ? Don’t think you are getting out of here. Those kids want a ride in your truck, they want to pet dogs and I want to drink wine and be left alone so.” 

Uncle EJ was by far the kids favorite. Liza and EJ had no kids but were essentially just big kids themselves. It is why the kids always wanted to be at their house or doing some activity with them. A ‘family’ dinner without EJ was bound to be chaotic on the Moms. 

“No one has really talked to Maggie and she isn’t here and she didn’t respond.” Liza offered. 

“Fuck,” Jamie muttered to herself. She had to remind herself to thank Maggie for putting her in this position. “She’s ok. You don’t have to check on her. She has just been busy.”

Now the sole focus of the room was Jamie. Alex, Liza, EJ and Perry looked at her. The kids, dogs and cats had disappeared. You could hear a pin drop. It was so silent. 

“And you know this because,” Liza waited for the answer. 

Jamie poured a healthy glass of the rose in front of her. “I talked to her last night. She wanted my empanada recipe.” She didn’t offer any more than that. 

“Why does there feel like more to that story James?” Alex pushed. 

Jamie took another gulp of the wine. Maggie owed her big time. They were about to kill the messenger. “She called me from Harry’s phone. She dropped her phone the other day and was waiting on Shane to get her a new one. Anyway, they wanted to make empanadas last night. I guess he has been staying with her.”

The room went back to silent for a long moment. 

“No. Fuck that guy. What is she doing?” Liza roared. “EJ, let’s go.” 

EJ braced himself because this was about to be a fight. “Go where and do what exactly?” 

“We are going to Maggie’s. She is not doing this.” 

“I’ll come with you.” Alex said, washing her hands. “What is she thinking? She isn’t okay lately. You see her now and with him again after everything?” 

Jamie understood the concern but this wasn’t going to help things with Maggie if they all showed up at her house. She wasn’t really sure how to say it but to say it. Before she even got to make a move Perry was speaking up. 

He slammed the spatula down. “Stand down - both of you. Keep pushing like this and you are going to lose her. I do see her. You see her. She won’t talk about it. She is clearly unhappy and unhealthy. I don’t know what this is with him or why but I know you two are treading into dangerous waters if you do this.” 

Perry never raised his voice. Perry never made a fuss. Liza never backed down from a fight but she was so stunned by her brother-in-law that she didn’t know what to say or do. 

EJ couldn’t help but agree. “I don’t know the kid. I don’t like what he did to our girl but Perry isn’t wrong here. You are trying to get her to get help and to help herself with the whole weight thing. She has shut you down and shut you out. Do this now and you might really risk losing her. She is a grown woman. You have to let her make decisions on her own.” 

“Oh do I? I have to let my sister slowly kill herself while they write articles about how her body is goals? I have to let my sister self-destruct by getting back with this guy who…”

Alex interrupted. “We know what happened between them. Let’s not rehash that here. Maggie certainly doesn’t want that to be a conversation for everyone.” 

Liza grabbed a joint from her purse and headed for the yard. “Fuck Harry Styles.” 

Alex grabbed Jamie’s wine. “I’ll drink to that.”

“What do you think about taking a drive to the desert? Do a little hiking tomorrow? Harry asked as he flipped through ideas on his ipad. “I mean who is going to see us in the desert?” 

“Is it important to not be seen with me?” Maggie asked, looking over intently at him. 

Harry shrugged without looking up and replied, “I assumed we didn’t want everyone in our business.” 

“And by everyone do you mean the world at large or Amelia Mason?” 

Now she had Harry’s attention. He put his ipad down and looked over to Maggie at the other end of the sofa. Her face was expressionless which terrified him. 

She handed him her brand new phone that Shane, her assistant had so nicely delivered to her. “What is this?” 

Amelia had been posting cheeky Watermelon photos since Sunday. The headline screamed, 'Harry Styles' Girlfriend Finds Clever Way to Celebrate Her Man's Grammy Win.'

Harry's face flushed pink. Maggie had already read the article.  She looked at Amelia's Instagram. She had seen the photo of them hand in hand. The director was beautiful. Maggie knew Harry was starring in her next feature. She did not know Harry had a starring role in Amelia's romantic life.

"She is not my girlfriend. We have been seeing one another.” He admitted grudgingly. 

"Is she somewhere waiting for you while you're here with me?" Maggie sat forward on the sofa. Harry got up and paced the living room a bit. 

"She's in London.  Her ex is working there and they have a joint custody situation with their kids."

"You live together with your not girlfriend?" Maggie asked. Her guts twisting. Her breathing was a little labored. She refused to cry. She would not cry. 

"Only until her new place gets sorted." He explained. Harry looked flushed. A bead of sweat appeared over his brow. "Listen it isn't what it looks like. "

"Well that's original. We’ve never had this conversation before.”She laughed humorlessly.  

“This isn’t like that. It isn’t.” Harry panicked. He could see the walls that had steadily been dropping being built back up in record time right before his eyes. “This is nothing like before.”

“You mean this isn’t like the time you got back together with Colette while claiming you only cared for me? Let’s be honest this sort of feels like that. Wait, I'm mincing my words. This feels exactly like that.”

“Please don’t just shut down on me. Please keep talking to me.” He begged. 

“So tell me how this is different.” 

2018

Maggie was exhausted.  Palm Springs was so fun. She finally made it back to her front door at 6:00pm. When she got in she went straight to the fridge for a seltzer. That is where she saw the invite for the anniversary party.  She remembered telling Harry he would probably be solo because she wouldn't be home until late.

She was tired but she missed Harry and his crew more. She looked at the clock and knew she could iron out a look and be ready in 30 minutes.

Forty five minutes later she was in the car. She thought about texting him and then she thought it could be fun to surprise him. Their texting had fallen off a bit while she was away. Maggie assumed he was locked up in the studio. She was having fun but also making great progress on a script that she loved. 

By 8:30 Maggie was at the door.  The greeter took her gift, handed her a champagne and pointed the way out to the party. 

The happy couple had been married for ten years. They really outdid themselves for the event. Twinkling fairy lights, white tents, flowers. It was magic. Maggie stood on the patio taking it in. Maybe someday she would be celebrating ten years of a relationship. 

"Maggie." Jenny, one half of the happy couple smiled.

"Happy Anniversary!" Maggie exclaimed. "This party is amazing. So beautiful and look at you.” She twirled Jenny around to get a good look at her dress. 

"Nicer than our actual wedding. Well you know we were broke back then."She laughed. "Harry said you were out of town."

"I got in late but I missed him and all of you and well I didn't want to miss this. I figure I'll sleep when I'm dead, right?" She shrugged and sipped the tall glass of champs. 

Jenny looked anxious suddenly. She quickly scanned the party. "Do you want to wait here and I'll see if I can find Harry for you?"

"No, no, go enjoy your party. I'm sure I'll find him. You don’t fret over me.” 

Jenny nodded and made a beeline for her husband. Maggie put her champagne glass down. She started out toward the bar off the dance floor. Harry was usually pretty close to the center of all the fun and the dance floor looked like the place to be. 

Maggie straightened her black wide leg, strapless pantsuit. Her hair had been pulled up in a high pony. Large emerald earrings adorned her ears. She kept it mostly simple so she could get out the door. Harry wasn't at the bar but he was on the dance floor. 

There he was. Handsome in a white suit with a black tank. There he was dancing slowly and kissing the underwear model, his ex, Colette. She stood frozen. Her mind went blank and then  'RUN,' her brain screamed. Pick up your feet and run but she couldn't. She was planted. Maggie watched Tom approach the couple and whisper into Harry's ear. Harry looked up and locked eyes with Maggie.

Harry didn't know how exactly he ended up in bed with Colette last night. A few nights ago he had innocently walked her to hotel room and left her with a kiss on the cheek. Last night she texted him to find out what he was up to. The crew from the studio was headed to a dive bar to play pool. She invited herself along. It was fun.  She said all the right things. He did all the wrong things. He still cared about Colette but he also cared about Maggie. Here he was on the dance floor with her. Kissing her like she was still his. Then Tom was in his ear, "Maggie is here. Maggie is right here."

He thought he might vomit and shit himself. Harry looked up and directly into the ocean blue eyes of Maggie. Everything felt like it was in slow motion and then it moved at the speed of lightning.

Maggie didn't make a scene. She quietly walked back the way she came. She had to get out of there. Her hands were trembling.  Her stomach was absolutely sick. She pulled her phone out and texted the driver begging him to come back. Before she reached the door to the house Harry caught up to her.

"Maggie." He said, keeping his voice low.

She turned to him. Oddly enough she had a smile on her face. Public Maggie. She was not going to be embarrassed any more than she already was by Harry.

"I'm so sorry. Please can we talk?" Harry pleaded.  He had to make this right.  He couldn't just let her leave. She had to understand. Understand what? He couldn't even understand.

"I've seen enough. I don't need it explained to me." She kept her voice low and casual. He put his hand on her arm. Her smile only amped up. "Don't, just don't touch me. Tell our hosts good night for me." To anyone close it looked like a perfectly normal conversation.

Maggie turned and walked out. She kept moving until she made it to the safety of the car. She thanked the driver profusely and promised him an enormous tip for his trouble.

Mitch was at the bar. He had seen what transpired. "Are you going after her?" He nodded in the direction of Maggie.

Harry threw his hands up. "I have royally fucked this up."

"No shit.  So what are you waiting for?  Go get Maggie." Mitch gestured towards the door. 

"Fuck. I don't know." Harry groaned.

"What do you mean you don't know? You know. We all know." He narrowed his eyes at his friend. Harry surely couldn't be this clueless.

"Clearly I don't know or I wouldn't have done that." He made eyes toward Colette.

"Fuck." Mitch shook his head. "Sometimes you are so dense."

"You aren't really helping here mate."

"Not sure I can help anymore mate. Go try to fix it or you are going to regret it. That I do know."

After seeing his Maggie he knew he didn't want to go backwards with Colette. He wanted a future with Maggie. 

Harry knew he had to talk to her.  He had to try to make things right. He walked away from the bar.

Colette approached. "Is everything okay?"

"Not really. The woman I've been seeing showed up. I'm sorry. It was a dick move to you both. I should have told you. Last night shouldn't have happened."

"I'm not single, Harry. I just, I missed you and I was so far away from him and you were so close. We agreed to be friends, remember?"

He was a little stunned. "The kind of friends who sleep together? You aren't trying to get back together?"

"No I'm not. Stop being such a child. We are grown ups."

Harry knew at that moment what an absolute asshole he was. He turned his entire life upside down in 24 hours only to hear this bullshit. He knew better and he did it anyway.  Was he following his dick or his heart? He would be damned if he knew.

Harry kissed Colette’s cheek. This was the end. The real end. No more friends. No more texting. No more Colette.  Why did it always take him blowing up his life to figure out what he wanted? 

The valet was backed up and he ran 1/2 a mile in a Gucci suit to the field where they were parking cars.

He had to get to Maggie. He had to make things right. His heart was racing.

Maggie had made it home. She immediately stripped out of her party clothes and put on her workout clothes. She was so sad. She was so angry. She needed to burn some energy. She needed to feel pain other than the one lodged in her chest. She put her ear buds in, clicked on some Rage Against the Machine and sat on her rower. She began to pull. The resistance was higher than she remembered. She pulled harder. It didn't take long for rivulets of sweat to roll down her neck.

She wanted to hate him. She wanted to hate her. She didn't know anything about her except what Harry told her. The breakup had fucked him up. It was a big reason she tried to stay emotionally distant from Harry. She knew she had to be the rebound, right? It didn't make it any less painful. 

What a silly girl she was. I am the rebound. Here I am ready to tell him I’m falling and he is fucking the girl he actually loves. 

He could have told me. He could have been honest. This was much worse. How long had he been going back and forth? Maggie and Harry were always together.  Did he wait until she left town and then called up the ex? Had Maggie done something ? Was there something wrong with her physically?

She pulled harder and faster on the rower. Her forearms and calves were on fire. She welcomed the pain. She needed the pain. 

Harry used the garage keycode to let himself in. He knocked at the door but then he swore he heard the woosh of the rower coming from the deck. He walked around the side. There she was slick with sweat pulling hard and fast on the rower. It was always mesmerizing to see her doing this.

It took Maggie a minute to realize someone was there. She looked up at him with fire in her eyes. Harry knew he deserved to burn. She stopped her rowing abruptly and took out the ear buds.

"No. You don't belong here." She said standing up but not approaching him. Her legs shook from exertion and nerves. 

"I'm sorry I let myself in but give me a chance to explain, to apologize. We need to talk." He said desperately.

"No we don't.  We could have talked before this. You could have been honest with me. Instead you chose this. I thought at the very least we were friends.  That was a fucked up thing to do to your friend."

"We are friends. It all happened so fast. She was just suddenly here."

"Did you fuck her?" She asked looking him directly in the eyes now.

Harry was unable to meet her stare. "Yes." After a beat he looked up into Maggie's stoic face, "Things have always been so complicated with her. I'm not with her though Maggie. I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you."

Maggie’s already fragile heart shattered into a million pieces. She was going to that party to hand her heart to Harry. All she wanted was to hear that he wanted her. It was all she had wanted for days. She wanted to be his. It was all ruined now. She would never be able to look at Harry without seeing him kissing her on the dance floor. Without thinking of him fucking her.

"Well let me uncomplicate things for you. I don't want to be with you, Harry. I'm all set. I have had my fill of Harry Styles now. I don't need anything more from you."

"Maggie, I ..." He stammered. Harry attempted to move in closer to her.

She cut him off and moved back. "You say we’re friends, right? If you care about me like you claim then leave the same way you came in."

Maggie radiated hurt and anger. Harry could barely stand to look her in the face. He was the bad guy here. Now he was also a coward because he had no fight left in him. He did what she asked and left.

Once she heard the garage door close Maggie folded in on herself. The pain was crushing her.  Her heart hurt so much she almost couldn't stand it. Tears threatened as she opened her mouth to let out a scream that never came. Finally, Maggie climbed back onto the rower. She needed to hurt. She needed to exhaust herself. She put her ear buds back in as RATM howled angrily. She was going to fucking row her arms off if she had to. Whatever would stop this feeling. Fuck Harry Styles.

[thiswasinevitable-rwrb]

Master Post of My FirstPrince Fics ~

Fox. Henry Fox. (finished)

Alex had seen the guy around campus, sure. He was hard to miss, but Alex never said out loud why. For everyone else, being the son of the famous James Bond actor made him a celebrity enough. But for Alex, Henry Fox just…stood out. [non-royal au. University au. Cool guy x nerd trope.]

All Over Again (finished)

Alex and Henry's first kiss goes a little differently. [one shot. Canon-divergence. New Year's kiss.]

Salt Follows the Moon (unfinished)

Vampires exist, and it's no secret. What is a secret, is that Henry Hanover-Stuart Windsor needs a blood donor. Alex Claremont-Diaz just can't leave well enough alone.

[vampire!Henry x blood donor!Alex. Canon-divergence.]

Moonburn (unfinished)

Alex Claremont-Diaz is everything a wolf should be. Tall, long-limbed, strong, and most of all: charismatic. Community and pack oriented. Some would also say he’s loud, overeager, and has his head up the moon’s ass. Again: werewolf. It’s like blaming water for being wet. As for Henry Hanover-Stuart Windsor Fox…his mother is a wolf. She comes from a long and prestigious line—many lines—of wolves. She fell in love with a human. Despite the initial shock and disdain for marrying outside of tradition, having two children born as healthy, strong wolves calmed several of the loudest, bigoted voices. And then Henry came along. The youngest. The favorite. The human. But nobody else knows that last part.

[werewolf!Alex x human!Henry. Canon-divergence.]

Satellites (unfinished)

Alex is in England for a year studying abroad. To his both relieved and annoyed surprise, the whole school is in a tizzy over something other than the American president’s son enrolling…except it’s Henry. Prince Henry. He’s enrolled too.

[university au. Ceramicist!Henry x dancer!Alex. Still royal and FSOTUS.]

Alexander Hamilton Hall (unfinished)

It started with a group project. Well, Alex supposed it started when Henry Fox moved to town, or perhaps when Alex’s parents succeeded enough in their political careers that he and June were transferred to the most prestigious high school in Texas. Alexander Hamilton Hall.

[high school au. Non-royal au. Arthur lives au.]

Burning (unfinished)

Henry did manage to tell Alex to leave that night in Kensington. Now it’s two years later, and Alex is over it. He has a girlfriend. His mother has been reelected. He’s going to the Swanky Soiree of Something Important in Paris, because he’s over it. Henry can be there and it’s fine. Henry is there. And it’s most definitely not fine. [canon-divergence. Whump and angst. Getting back together fic.]

Codename: Rapunzel (unfinished)

Acquiring the Prince of Wales’ name in his Burn Book, so to speak, had not been a surprise in Alex’s line of work. What had been a surprise, was that someone wanted the fourth in line for the throne dead. [assassin/hitman!Alex x Prince Henry.]

Defy the Odds (unfinished)

Henry is a prince of the Olympians. He has had everything bestowed upon him since his birth. And yet, none of it mattered when the light of his father's soul went out. Alexander is the First Shade of the Underworld. Prince of the dark realm and...the perfect person to help Henry along his many - many - journeys into the Underworld to find his father. That is, if they can stand each other long enough to cooperate. [an inverse Hades Game!AU where Henry is trying to find his father in the Underworld. Basically Zagreus Henry and Thanatos Alex.]

[tired-fandom-ndn]

Human existence sometimes involves reading fiction set in an extremely specific area that you grew up in or are otherwise very personally familiar with and just grinding your teeth at all the inaccuracies.

[yellowumbrella134]

So a few months ago I used these 2 (<3) to PLAY (hence the awkward spacing - forgive me plz) with Layer Types. Dear Azula's hair is really just Cassandra's (from the Tangled series - which if you ask me, I parallel these 2 with Rapunzel and Cassandra but that's a story for another day). Anyway Worship the Ashes by @impatentpending and @meregalaxiesandgods made me think of chopping Azula's hair. Funnily enough, I was looking for content on these 2 and it's how I stumbled upon AO3. It was a great read btw! Found a fic that I clicked with - while also being a really good read. Now I'm just waiting for the AIDAYS companion fic to be done :)

[mintraindrop]

481 STAR WARS 481 STAR WARS ‼️

I hope you know what you just did cause now I won’t be able to shut up about this.

so, this is basically a recap.

@fairielux and I had a few not yet connected ideas about landoscar in a star wars au at the end of last year cause... duh? obvious choice, right?

and then we started to take notes, make moodboards, edits, collect songs that fit the vibe, start background reseach (which is mostly Lu's doing. I'm just the one asking questions if this or that is logical and fits the canon storyline), connected scenes and storylines...

...in January we started writing. we're three chapters in right now (and updated the third just last weekend!!) and honestly, it’s already way past the wordcount I thought we would reach with this.

keep in mind that everything that’s up on ao3 as of right now - as in chapter 1-3 - was originally just going to be the prologue.

technically, it IS the prologue. it's just that we didn’t expect it to be close to 50k words.

if anyone wants to look for it, it's

Satellites - A Star Wars Story on ao3

also, have a snippet (from chapter 1, cause I don’t wanna spoiler anything from chapter 4 yet)

still one of my all time favourite scenes of this (written by Lu!!)

They go back and forth, falling into a rhythm as the training hall slowly fades away. Lando’s focus is only on Oscar. He can feel the subtle changes in Oscar’s extension of the Living Force, when he’s reaching out, studying Lando’s moves. It feels as if they’ve danced this routine before, Lando thinks they both know all the steps. It makes him feel confident.

So he does something bold. Once he is on the offensive again, he swings his practice sword across, from the right, towards Oscar’s middle. Oscar catches his attack in time and instead of staying on the defensive, he answers Lando’s challenge with an attack of his own. Their training swords meet, they are face to face, and from this close Lando can see the anticipation in Oscar’s eyes, a small smirk visible on both of their faces.

He decides to press on, launching three precise strikes towards the younger, who responds with the same determination. They fall into a duel without either of them noticing.

thank you for your attention. back to the 481 star wars doc I go.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: A rogue alchemist, desperate to restore the alchemy of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist, pushes Truth into playing a new game - one that has Edward Elric waking up on the floor of his house where a transmuted abomination should have been, just in time to save his younger self and brother. He might have a chance to do everything again, now, though…He would never hold anything but bitterness for the title of 'dad,' but maybe an older brother could make things better.

Author: @spicyreyes

[squireofgeekdom]

Speaking of fictional characters who would eat the Paradise fictional characters for breakfast. I just started rewatching Leverage Redemption to get ready for the new season and. Kane Bradford would get his shit comprehensively wrecked by any given Leverage team. If Mr. 'the world deserves to know' had had Leverage International to reach out to before he fully spiraled that shit would have been shut down. Like, 'hey workers are getting poisoned on this project and I got canned for raising the danger, and there's shady shit going on' is like. Yeah that checks out as a Leverage client pitch to the point that I'm not sure that that doesn't summarize a Leverage client pitch or two. The shady shit of Sinatra being behind Kane Bradford's company's work and Very Invested and it not being what it seems would be an act two rug pull where they have to change the con and the mark, but they'd still pull it off, stop the project and get the money for the workers' medical treatment and their families.

... Then you still have the incoming disaster which. Well. 'let's go steal a supervolcano' would be a new one.

[fragiledate]

lalalala lalalala