#calm violins seem to be keeping stress at bay

[dawntheduckrb]

Mouse with sloppy dramatic lighting

I just wanted to make a post so I can share this song lol, I always seem to work faster when I listen to it and its mega pretty

[mostlybarnes]

I Love You

Summary: The five times you wanted to tell Bucky you loved him and the one time you did.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mutual pining, idiots in love, friends to lovers, fluff, brief mentions of injuries. Not a single curse word, are you proud of me Steve? 😏

Words: 1,347

Author’s Notes: I’ve had this thing *waves hand at the summary* on my mind the whole heckin’ day and my mind screamed at me to write it. I made this little divider thing, it’s so cute I love it and I’m proud of myself.

My permanent taglist is open, please let me know if I’ve missed you or if you want to join!

Telling someone you loved them was no easy task, especially if the person you wanted to tell was just a friend. How do you tell someone who is your friend that you want to spend the rest of your life with them and that you love them more than life itself?

Well, the first time you wanted to tell Bucky you loved him was when he got back to the compound after a brutal mission that ended up going south and some of his ribs were broken from the fight. You were scared that you would lose him, and you didn’t want to waste time by not telling him of your true feelings.

You gnawed on your lip nervously as you watched him stagger through the hallway with his bionic arm around Steve and his right arm pressing on a bloody wound that seeped through his fingers. Blood dripped down the side of his face and even from the distance you could see he had blood in his hair and dirt under his nails. He looked a mess and the cold look in his eyes made you think twice about dropping a ‘I love you’ bombshell on him right now. Now wasn’t the time, now wasn’t the place.

You let it go for now, allowing Steve to take him to the medical bay to get patched up while you trudged slowly back to your room, hoping and praying Bucky was going to be alright. He was a strong super soldier, of course he was going to be.

The second time you wanted to tell Bucky you loved him was a couple of days after that mission. He was sitting at the dining table alone spooning a mouthful of Cap’n Crunch and reading the newspaper.

“Good mornin’ Buck! How are you?” You greeted him with a warm smile. He looked up from his paper and offered a tight lipped smile in return. His lip was cut from being punched by a hydra agent and he had some deep cuts and bruises over his face and body.

“Hey Y/N! Doing alright doll, injuries are finally healing. How are you?”

How were you, really? Is this the part where you tell him you haven’t slept so much because you’ve been so worried? Does that sound weird? Or is this the part where you tell him what’s on your heart?

“I’m… just a bit tired but doing okay.” You said instead after a few minutes of thinking about what to say. The truth is, you were absolutely terrified of rejection. With other guys, it wouldn’t have mattered so much but Bucky meant the world to you. If you ended up telling him you loved him and he didn’t feel the same way, then everything would be ruined and you know he isn’t the kind of guy that accepts apologies so easily and quickly. The last thing you wanted to do was make things awkward between the two of you.

“You sure? You seem like you have something on your mind there?” He stares back at you with his features softened. Bucky cared and he cared a lot.

You smiled and nodded your head. Only thing on my mind is you, Barnes. “I promise I’m okay, just tired.”

He nodded his head a few times before smiling back at you. “Take a seat.” He motioned to the chair opposite him, “let me get you some breakfast and coffee.”

Like I said, he cared a lot.

The third time you wanted to tell Bucky you loved him was during a trip to the beach with the avengers to take advantage of a free day for everyone and with the sun shining, the temperatures rising, it was just perfect. Tony suggested a relaxing day and this was definitely it. A few hours on the beach seemed to melt any worries and stress you had, and you found yourself smiling and laughing a lot more today.

Bucky was also in a very good mood, he had a constant smile on his face and he was even cracking jokes with Tony and Sam. He was shirtless, not caring if anyone saw his arm and he enjoyed swimming because the water was much cooler against the summer heat.

Bucky was laying next to you with his arms under his head and his ankles crossed over the other as you made sure every inch of his skin was covered in sunscreen. He looked so peaceful, so calm and the words almost spilled out. Almost. Until Tony decided to ruin the moment.

“Hey kid, if you’re done with the sunscreen, can you throw it back to me?” You threw it and Tony caught it easily. When you looked back at Bucky, he was grinning with his sunglasses up on his forehead.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me doll.”

“Of course! Sunburn is no joke, it’s painful because it feels like your body is on fire.”

“Well, good thing we got this huge umbrella over us.” You nodded in agreement and took in the breeze of the warm air as the heat made you feel sleepy.

The fourth time you wanted to tell Bucky you loved him was after his Tinder date stood him up at the restaurant he worked hard to make a reservation for. He came back to the compound looking down and upset. You made him some herbal tea and listened to him without any interruptions.

“I just wish I could find somebody who would love me, ya know? Someone who would love me for who I am.” He sighed, keeping his eyes on the swirling tea.

I love you Buck, you wanted to say so badly. You wanted to let those three words out and break free from the chains.

“I absolutely do understand. You deserve someone who would give you the world.” Bucky looked deep in your eyes, and you felt scared he would see your real meaning behind it. Eyes gave a lot of answers away if you weren’t careful and he was trained to read people like a book. He always knew you were sick before you even became sick. And he knew if you were sad, happy or even anxious and he seemed to know the reasons why behind every emotion. He gulped and nodded, finishing the rest of his drink before bidding you a goodnight. For the first time in a long time, you felt worried and anxious. You felt as if he knew something.

Bucky did know something, he heard the crack in your voice and the way your eyes focused on him as you spoke, as though you were in a daydream. Your eyes gave him the biggest clue and he was thankful for that because he didn’t want to look like an idiot when he asked you out.

Little did you know, Bucky had feelings for you too. You were more than a friend to him and he daydreamed about the future and you were his future. A picket fence house, children, pets. A happy marriage and a happy family. Bucky had plans to ask you out, he just hoped he hadn’t looked at the whole situation wrong.

The sixth time you wanted to tell Bucky you loved him and succeeded was after your first date. He asked you out a few days after everything happened with his failed date. He took you to a quiet restaurant where you wouldn’t be disturbed by the public, you drank wine, listened to the violins in the background and ate dinner.

The flames from the candles illuminated your skin and Bucky became mesmerized by your soft glowing features. You were his dream come true and the moment those words came from your mouth, it had felt like the whole world was lifted off your shoulders.

“I love you too, doll. You’re it for me, I don’t want anyone else.” He smiled down at you, bumping your noses together adorably.

“I’m glad to see that, Barnes. I’m afraid to tell you you’re stuck with me.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way, doll. Till the end of the line.”

Permanent taglist [4/50]: @w-wolfhxrd @team-marvel13 @ripredwing @certainaesthetic

[rae-is-typing]

Universal Language

Description: You, music and the Avengers

Characters: You, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Thor, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker and Pepper Potts because I love her

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, mentions of little Stevie getting beat up, and mild language. If there is something I missed, please let me know.

Disclaimer: Some are longer than others, some have dialogue, and I couldn’t think of anything for Rhodey (I’m so sorry!) Tell me what you think, I was trying something new for this one. If you want something more in-depth, lemme know :)

Word count: ~ 2.5k

Tony took you in when you were a toddler. He knew jack shit about raising a child, and enlisted the help of a nanny,. That is until Pepper made him realize how much he was missing of his daughter’s life. He didn’t even know you started crawling. However, he knew the only thing that got you to stop crying was music. He also knew that banging on things rhythmically was your favorite pastime. From then on, he knew that he was going to have a little musician on his hands.

Tony

In Tony’s opinion, the only good things your mother gave you were life and your knack for the arts, especially music. Rhodey and Pepper saw it, too. You took to music the way Tony took to mechanics. He loved your adorable pout when you were figuring the notes out, and the way your face brightened the room when you finally played it right.

The first thing he got you was a toy xylophone when you were three. He would watch you try and replicate the music he was playing over his speakers. You’d look up at him with tearful eyes when you couldn’t get it. He would gently take the mallet from your hands and copy the music, then he’d give it back to you so could copy him. Your giggles of glee when he played were something he’d never forget. He used his knowledge of the piano to help you learn music.

You were six when he got back from Afghanistan. Even at that young age, you knew things would be different. Your father had been gone for months. His arm as in a sling and he looked sick. He pushed you away for a few weeks after that, only staying in the lab, not even letting you stay in the child-proof area he had set up all those years ago. You didn’t understand why he was different, you only understand that he was different.

One night, you were playing in the main room. Pepper was done for the day, and Obadiah was far away and wouldn’t be back for a really long time; you were all alone with only JARVIS looking after you. You were trying, and failing, to play Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. You kept hitting the wrong keys and messing up the rhythms. Frustrated, you huffed and crossed your arms.

Unbeknownst to you, your dad was behind you. He smiled softly, walked closer to you, picked you up, set you on his lap and played the phrase you were trying to. You demanded he play the rest. Soon enough, he had a sleeping kid in his lap.

You were eight when you had your first performance with an audience. It was a piano recital in a small auditorium at your school. He sat in the front, unashamedly cheering for you and loving you. He was there whenever you had solos, and he cried for a lot of them, not that he would ever admit that to anyone but you or Pepper. He records all of your performance, e even has videos of your progress from a four-year-old you playing Mary Had a Little Lamb to sixteen-year-old you busting out Beethoven like its nothing.

Now, he asks FRIDAY to play back recordings of you singing or playing. It helps him calm down, knowing he’ll always have a piece of what matters most to him with him at all times.

Steve

You met Steve when you were ten years old. It was the aftermath of the Battle of New York. Steve and the rest of the team, excluding Thor, had moved into the tower. While you were thrilled to see Natalie-Natasha again, you were a shy kid, opting to stay with Pepper or your dad and away from the others. The larger-than-life Captain America intimidated the shit out of you.

It wasn’t until you saw him sketching in the common are you began to consider him an actual human and not a walking action figure. You had been trying your hand at drawing for months, and while you had made considerable progress, your work always looked off for some reason. After watching him draw for weeks, you managed to snatch his sketchbook, flip through it when left to go get something from another room. He cleared his throat, startling you into dropping the book. You picked it up, heat in your cheeks, and sheepishly handed it back to him with a small, almost scared, “Sorry,”

He only smiled at you, ten-year-olds weren’t all that subtle when it came to spying. He sat you down on the couch, and began showing you all of the drawings he felt were appropriate. Some of them were memories of war-ravaged battle fields, and he didn’t want to give you nightmares. There were lots of old-timey Brooklyn, a man named Bucky, a vaguely familiar, but very beautiful woman named Peggy and Steve’s Ma, Sarah.

You pouted and explained that whenever you tried to draw, it never came out right. He nodded, then smiled. “I’ll tell you what, you help me learn Piano, I’ll help you learn to draw.”

Clint

Clint is a vent-dweller and, much like everyone else on the team, he struggles with PTSD. He uses the vents as a safe space, a way to escape the nightmares and the heartache from the past. However, he doesn’t like to feel alone. He often says above the lab to hear Tony’s loud music, snarky banter with his AI’s, and his empty threats to the ‘bots. Other times he’ll stay above the gym if he knows that Steve or Natasha are doing late night workouts. The soft grunts and the sounds of the equipment are sufficient to keep the loneliness at bay. On very rare occasions, he stays above the kitchen to hear Vision mutter to himself while attempting, and generally failing at cooking food.

Soon enough, he found the music room. Well, art floor.

You were up late, practicing a solo that you couldn’t quite get, but weren’t ready to give up on. He paused, getting clear tone with his hearing aids in. He soon found himself up above the floor whenever you were playing late. The music was a nice distraction, and he could feel himself become happy with your progress, small feelings of pride swelling in his chest at your success. One night, he even left a note on the piano asking you to learn and play Clair de Lune for him. The next week, you told him to be there at midnight, and sure enough, the beautiful piano tune floated up to the vents.

Natasha

You’ve known Natasha since she was Natalie. You mostly kept your distance until one day. You were struggling to play something. You fumbled with your instrument, while penciling something onto the sheet music. She watched you for a couple minutes before asking if you  needed help. You huffed out a petulant “No,” before proceeding to struggle for another five minutes. Defeated, you asked for help. She managed to help you figure out the fingerings and the accidentals.

You took up dancing a little later on, and she began helping you after your regular class. With her guidance, you quickly became one of the best dancers in your classes, always rising to the challenge with the work-ethic she helped instill in you.

Even later on, you became her pupil once more when learning to fight. She knocked you on your ass more times than you can count, and still does all the time. But, with her help, you’ve learned how to kick some serious ass.

Thor

It’s no secret that Thor is a big guy. He doesn’t know his own strength,and often breaks things when he wasn’t careful. Out of all the original Avengers, he intimidated you the most.

One day, you saw him holding your violin, examining it like a specimen under a microscope. You panicked, dropped everything and ran to him.  

You demanded he stop, resorting to pulling the bow from his hands. He was confused at the tiny child pulling the interesting midgardian play thing away from him.

“Let it go, Thor! You’ll break it!”

Thor frowned, still holding the violin.

“My apologies, young Stark. I do not know what it is, I was merely trying to find its function.” He says, handing it back to.

You relaxed a little, the initial panic wearing off. “It’s a violin, it makes music.”

“How?”

You got into position, put the bow to the strings and drug across the strings. A note rung put, and everything seemed to click in Thor’s mind.

The next time Thor came to visit, he brought Asgardian instruments for you to learn, try and play. You may or may not have cried out of joy.

Bruce

Bruce is a ball of stress, and that is evident to anyone that’s spent any amount of time with him. He uses music as an outlet, letting the sounds wash over him and makes some amount of stress go away. But there are days that things get too overwhelming, there are days where the headphones and opera don’t work, there are days where he needs something more.

Bruce knows that you play, he knows about your talent, and he’s even gone with Tony to watch you perform. There was a day when he shyly asked if he could watch you practice. You were all for it. You practiced in front of him, and he calmed don a lot more.

It became a routine of sorts, you playing, him offering some constructive criticism when he could and you even taught him a few songs on the piano.

Sam

You took the initiative of catching Steve up with modern music. One day, he sheepishly handed you The List, Working your way down, you finally landed on Marvin Gaye. Steve called his friend Sam in so you both could gush about the icon.

You and Sam ended up screeching singing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough for him, and managed not to scare him off. You called it a successful day.

After that, you had put together a playlist for him, and had your dad create a portable sound system for his wings so he could fly listening to his fave.

Bucky

Bucky came to the tower after his time in Wakanda. Tony was wary, anyone in his situation would be. He wanted you to stay away from the ex-assassin indefinitely, and you didn’t blame him. You knew what Bucky did. However, you tried not to blame Bucky either. Steve explained the situation as best he could to you, and you understood that Bucky had been taken advantage of, used and manipulated.

Now that he was in the tower, Bucky wandered around the tower when he couldn’t sleep which happened to be most nights. One night, he heard something familiar, something that tugged at his chest in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Somewhere over the rainbow,”

He remembers a warm breezy day, the alley he pulled Stevie out the night before, reaming him for fighting more than usual because of the big day they had coming up. He cleaned him up. He remembers holding a washcloth to a small blond Steve as he tried not to hurt him too bad while he berated him for fighting again that week.

“There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby,”

He remembers walking with Stevie to the theater, paying too much for the tickets and sitting beside his best friend watching color appear on a screen for the first time. Bucky smiles, letting the feeling of nostalgia and the longing for a simpler time linger for a moment longer before heading to another area of the labyrinth to explore.

Wanda

Wanda moved in when you were 13. You were so happy that you had another female in the tower to bond with. When she expressed interest in music, you jumped at the chance to teach her something, anything really. You tried a few things. You started with woodwinds, she couldn’t figure out the embouchure. You moved onto brass, she didn’t like the sounds. You settled on stringed instruments. Her choice was the acoustic guitar, and she was good. She picked it up almost immediately, easily learning the fingerings and chords.  Her favorite thing were duets with you, and you often played together whenever you two had time.

Peter

You saw how good Peter was for your dad. He finally had a mentee to teach. Tony really tried to get you into science, he really did. It didn’t work the way he thought it would, and damaged your relationship for awhile until he back off, letting you do you.

You were jealous, admittedly. You weren’t used to sharing your father’s attention with another person your age.

Then you got to know him. You found out through your dad that he was in marching band, and you needed to know more. You began spending a little time together, swapping band stories and laughing at memes. Soon enough, Peter hung out with you before going to working with Tony in the lab for a few hours. It was fun.

You learned the Mii Theme, the Kahoot theme and even put together a duet of meme music to annoy your dad with together.

Pepper

Pepper is your mother. No, she didn’t birth you, and you didn’t call her mom, but she has been there for you through everything. Through your father’s time in Afghanistan, the battle with Obadiah, your first day of middle school, whenever your dad was busy and you were upset, your first period. It didn’t matter, she was with you. She listened to you when you worked hard on a piece. Hell, she even helped you pick out your first professional grade instrument, despite knowing very little about them.

She encouraged you when were feeling less than, she helped pick you up when you were down, she taught how to act around the business assholes in Galas and events.

Pepper loved you and you loved her.

When the proposal happened, Pepper asked you to sing at the wedding. You took this role very seriously, singing ‘A Thousand years’ by Christina Perri and ‘Future Looks Good’ by OneRepublic.

When Morgan was born, you sang to her whenever you could. When she was old enough, you’d sit her on your lap and let her smash the piano keys like Tony did with you.

Pepper couldn’t think of a better older sister for her baby; she couldn’t think of any better daughters.

[expressandadmirable]

RP Highlights: Collection III

Sol takes hold of Lux’s hand and doesn’t let it go for anything, clasping her other around them. She wishes she knew what was going on buried in their palms, but she can feel the warmth of the Tiefling and begins to wish her all the stability and calm a magical bloody stone of earth can grant.

* * *

“How did you end up coming to the service of Tyr?”

Sol turns her eyes back to Lux and her voice grows quieter still. “I crawled into his temple begging his help for the vengeance I want. He taught me that justice is patient, and I should be too. Serving him seemed a good way to pass the time.”

Lux grips Sol’s hand a little tighter. She cocks her head slightly, trying to read Sol’s dark features. She asks anyway, voice soft, never able to predict whether she’ll receive an answer. “Who hurt you, that you’d call on the power of a god for vengeance?”

“Someone… Someone that I pray to my god that you will never have to meet. Whatever is happening to you now, Aviva, know that this power is yours and I truly believe it was born to protect you. If the day comes that I have to tell you about my past, you’ll need it to survive.”

* * *

“Simply live.” And still, it sounds awkward in the tense air between Lux and her lute. Wil pauses. “That is, to say… Who cares what they think. It’s all a matter of what you think. Some may see a fire and think to themselves, ‘that will burn’, and others see a fire and think, 'that will keep me warm and protect me’. It’s your good heart that keeps us on a path, Lux. To hell with them. If they don’t wish to find out how good a soul you are, more for us then.”

* * *

Wil nods. “Sol has a good eye for things like that, you know.”

“For what? Surprise explosions? Or for when a panicked Tiefling needs to be talked down off the ceiling?”

“For finding folks that want to do genuine good, but just have a few steps to take along the way. You’ve both been good influences– ah. Bar fight notwithstanding. But for each other, you’re good. I think.”

* * *

Lux cocks her head. “What’s that expression? 'Fuck 'em if they can’t take a joke’? That ought to be our slogan.”

* * *

“I don’t like feeling helpless. I can heal you, I can catch you when you jump off crow’s nests, but I can’t do anything about this except hope we find someone who can.” Lux shrugs.

Sol lifts a shoulder and all it does it remind her of another ache that’s not going away. “We’ll find someone. Or something. Stumbling onto a cure for this curse really wouldn’t be the strangest thing about the past few weeks.” She turns her head away again, letting it rest against the wall. “If we don’t…” She looks at the shape of Grummer not far away in the dark. “There are other people to carry these torches.”

And there it is. Lux’s shoulders slump slightly. “Sure. Maybe dozens. But none of them are you.”

* * *

Lux lowers her voice even further and puts on a faux apologetic look. “I hope we find a healer sooner rather than later. I’m not sure I can kiss that face right now.”

Sol smiles, though the expression is twisted up by the blackness creeping along her cheek, making the smile too wide. “Really? An undead curse is all it takes to keep you at bay?” She cracks open one eye and turns it to Lux. “I’d better get it cured faster than I planned then.”

* * *

“Callings and offers. It’s a day for a little extra caution.” Sol pats the shining gold emblem on her belt fondly. “If it happens again, let me know. I can’t fight memories, but I’m fairly effective at fighting everything else.”

Lux smiles gratefully and squeezes Sol’s hand. “My hero.”

* * *

“Stay a moment longer, though?” The last words are almost inaudible, and just for them.

Lux had started to push off from the bench, but she stops and leans back. “Of course.” She glances at the room to see if anyone can catch the movement at this angle, and, determining they can’t, leans in to kiss Sol’s temple.

Sol, for once, sees the kiss coming and makes no effort to move away. She threads her fingers with Lux’s and holds her hand a little tighter, enjoying the rare feeling that comes with setting the gloves aside. Growing very fond indeed.

* * *

“That one–” she points at the lute with her cigarette, “–was given to me by Princess Sara. She traded for my violin. Apparently it’s immensely old, so I’ve got to take particular care of it. So, y'know, I bring it into battle. Very safe.” She quirks a smile.

Morgan laughs, and it’s a true laugh. Not like the thin, nervous laughs she’s been prone to as of late. “Princess Sara is smart. I’m sure she knows that you’re going to have it when you fight. Maybe it’s magic?” She ponders this idea for a bit. “Or maybe she thinks you might get yourself in trouble so she gave it to you so you’d think twice before doing anything silly.”

Lux raises an eyebrow and smirks slightly. “If I thought twice before doing anything silly, I probably wouldn’t have joined the Heroes, followed a Dragonborn, ridden a ghost ship, visited Aelfheim, charmed a Wood Elf, lit a mummy on fire, kissed a Drow, slept in a knife room, or ended up bricked into a sewer. So, hopefully we’ll find out the lute is magic, because it sure hasn’t stopped me from getting into trouble.”

* * *

“Why does it matter that she’s a Drow, though? She’s Sol, and you love her. I don’t think you need to think twice about that.” Morgan looks at Sol again, and then back at Lux. “Things are awful. Someone should get to be happy, you know?”

* * *

Grummer shrugs. “I doubt they are my friends anymore. The Unyielding are not fond of Blood-kin who break ranks.”

“I can imagine. And I’m sorry for that.” Lux pauses. “How are you handling it?”

“Well enough. I have spent many long years with The Unyielding, but those I cut my tusks with are all long since dead, and the youngbloods who now populate it are just as deluded as I was in the beginning. Warriors who think that slaughter and bounty will earn them their place among the Satug Ghoukav.” Grummer becomes solemn for a moment. “The wise and the brave join their ancestors, not the brutal and bloodthirsty.”

* * *

Grummer looks at Lux directly, his one good eye a murky brown. “Do you think there is anything else I can be doing? I have a pretty limited skill set but I’m here to help in any way I can.”

“Morgan,” Lux responds, without hesitation. “Talk to Morgan. She thinks very highly of you, and she’s deeply frightened by all this. She’s scared of killing, scared of darkness. She’s the moral compass of this merry band, so the more comfortable and confident she feels, the better. For her, and us.”

“Scared of killing?” His eyebrows raise in surprise. “She’s so adept at it, I had her pegged for an aukukaukukin, a shadow killer.” He laugh wryly at his next words. “I’m not sure I’m the best one to talk to her about that, then.”

“We’re going to have to keep killing. It simply is what it is. I think you’re in the best position to help her come to terms with that.”

Grummer barks a short laugh. “That is probably so.”

* * *

Lux shrugs. “Been better, been worse. All things considered, I’m fine. Making sure the morning’s adventures haven’t taken too great a toll on anyone. Between the sigil, the torture room, the summoner, the summoned and your friend becoming Sol’s friend, it’s been a trying day so far.”

Wilhelm’s patented lopsided grin is there, his laugh a bit hollow as his gaze drops to the floor. “Ah, right. Sol’s contract. That’s… yes, ah, I can see how that could cause issues and some unfortunate stress upon you. I’m not entirely pleased with it, but, we’ll see what it leads to, and what exactly she’s paid for.” With a soft 'clink’ onto the wood beneath him, he slides a platinum piece towards her. “Things do look up, I suppose, once we’re no longer walled into an old world sewer.”

Lux looks at the platinum piece with a raised eyebrow. “Is that a metaphor? Am I to buy her back with that? Because I would, in a heartbeat, so don’t you toy with me.”

* * *

“None of us are alone in this, for better and worse. Our actions affect each other. Some more deeply than others, but it’s the way of things. I’m trying to keep everyone as safe as I can.” Lux’s voice is soft, almost as if she’s speaking to herself.

“Why.” And for once with Wil, it’s quiet, and it’s low. It’s disbelief and suspicion, the tone of a person who hasn’t experienced anything like this outside of his mother. “Why is it you care so much?”

Lux blinks and looks over at Wil in surprise. “Because we’re all we’ve got.” She says it plainly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We can’t run away from each other, just as we can’t run away from this. If we don’t take care of each other, we’re fucked.”

* * *

Sol looks at the dark, damp ceiling of the sewer, and makes a thoughtful face. “Given that the castle above is filled with liars who tried to kill us, I think I could swing some justice for their war crimes, maybe in the form of bringing the whole place down on top of that sigil. I know it’s not the option people want, but it’s definitely an option.”

Lux lets out a puff of air and blinks a couple times. “Well, yes, that’s an option. However, I’m going to make an executive decision and place that one in the 'Not Ideal’ category. Sorry, sunshine.”

* * *

Sol nods, the corner of her mouth catching up in a smile. “I’m not fantastic with nuance. If only I had a company of very capable and widely knowledgeable people to work with.” She tips her head. “Oh, wait, I do.”

* * *

Lux tries to deliver her words to Sol with a straight face, but can’t help smiling. “Subtlety is not your forte, it’s true. You’re more of a battering ram than a lock pick.”

* * *

Lux raises her eyebrows, her delivery perfectly calm. “Oh, did you not know? I turn into a kraken in private. Sorry, should have led with that. All tentacles. I’m harmless though. It’s so I can give more hugs.”

Sol’s eyes go even wider, and in the dark the pale blue of her irises might as well not even be there. “It’s fine,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll just drink double the wine.”

(Lux’s text and minor edits by me, Sol’s text by @b-e-m-l-t, Wilhelm’s text by @biasanduntrue, Morgan’s text by @stufflaalikes, Grummer’s text by @cavesean)

[priamtaravella-blog]

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♤: Taking a bath together

“Is everything okay in there?” Priam knocked once, then twice on the bathroom door. No response. “Rafaella?”

“I’m fine, Priam.” Her tone suggested otherwise. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest…waiting…waiting. Until, “…Priam?”

“Is the door unlocked?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled and turned the knob. Inside, Rafaella sat in the bathtub under a blanket of bubbles, a leg propped up on the edge to keep the bandages dry. Her hair was soaked as she leaned out with her upper body, arm outstretched. She was trying to use a loofah to slide a bottle of shampoo closer to her. She wasn’t succeeding.

An exasperated glare kept his laughter at bay when he picked up the bottle. Rafaella sunk back into the bathtub and sighed in relief. She looked at him, hand open to take it. Her brows furrowed the longer he kept it. “Can I have it now?”

“I don’t know,” he said, tossing the bottle in his hand. “That was kind of fun to watch.”

She looked like she might explode, until an eerily calm smile crept onto her face. “Fine.” Rafaella flicked water at him before he had time to decipher the sudden mood change. “Give me the shampoo, or you’re getting wet.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?”

She didn’t answer, instead flicking him again, this time with more water. The wetter he got, the wider her smile became. Finally, he felt it was only right to retaliate and splash her back in the face, where it might actually make a difference. Problem was, he had to get closer to get bath water. And that was all she needed to grab him and throw him off balance just enough so that he’d tip into the tub. He had to do a weird dance to avoid hitting her bandaged foot, but somehow he managed to succeed in not ruining the wrapping. There was just a pool of water on the bathroom floor now from his impact.

“Join me, won’t you?” she asked, grabbing the bottle from his hands to pour shampoo onto her hand. Like nothing was out of place here.

Priam stared at the smug smile on her face that grew the longer he sat there, clothes drenched from head to foot. Well…she did invite him. So, with a smug smile of his own, he shrugged his shirt off and shimmied out of his pants until only his boxers were left. Her expression seemed shocked, but she didn’t protest. If Rafaella wanted a bath buddy, then he was happy to oblige. “Pass the soap?”

♧: Your muse playing with their hair

It was in the wee hours of the morning when Priam jolted awake, a book face down on his chest. He can’t even remember what he was dreaming about that ruined his slumber, but his heart was racing like he’d just run a marathon. He closed the book, listening to the stillness that came with the night. It was when he finally noticed Rafaella a short distance from him. Even in the dark, his eyes had adjusted enough to see she was studying him. She moved closer to the couch when it was clear he was awake.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Bad dream, I guess,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Me, too.” She shrugged. “I was just going back to bed. Going that way?”

“Yeah, I probably should.” He gave her a sleepy smile and headed toward their rooms with her, splitting ways when they reached his door.

He flopped onto the bed, but he knew it wasn’t going to be an easy trip back to sleep. The days were getting harder, and the idea of not getting sleep when he needed it only stressed him out more. Curling up under the covers, he was about to turn the lamp off when he saw a head peek in through the door.

“I’m bunking with you.”

“But—“

“I wasn’t asking.”

Apparently, he had no choice in this, so he didn’t argue when Rafaella got into bed and he thrust the room into darkness. Priam rolled over closer to her, his head against her shoulder and an arm around her waist. He felt her fingers begin to stroke his hair, fingers dancing through the strands. The sensation was soothing, his troubled thoughts slowing to a halt the longer she did it. Something else to focus on wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Goodnight, Priam,” Rafaella whispered.

“Night, Rafaella,” he murmured into her skin, feeling the sweet arms of sleep wrap him in a warm embrace. Or maybe that was just the woman next to him. “Sweet dreams.”

♢: Forehead or cheek kisses

They both came home late that night…or early the next morning. Time was starting to run together, and he couldn’t remember the last time he checked his watch. He thought it might be broken now, he didn’t know. There was a bandage on the back of his head where the Montague captain drew blood – where she gave him a damn concussion – and he was guzzling down his next dose of pain meds when he walked into the kitchen. Rafaella was sitting alone at the table, the moonlight shining through the window acting as the only source of light. Her head was in her hands, and she didn’t bother looking up when he entered. He didn’t blame her.

Priam scooted the chair out next to her and sat down. At least he could move without ash falling everywhere now. He thought she might’ve cleaned up too, but maybe it was just time that did the work for her. They sat in silence for a while, neither knowing what to say, until he felt a gentle caress where his bandage was. He turned to face her and could see she was still a mess, a wet trail running through the dirt on her cheek. Six dead. Numerous injured. It’s the only thing he could think of when he saw her face, her own injuries. Those were people they knew. Those six could’ve been them.

Her lips touched his cheek gingerly, like he might break if she was too rough. Then her arms wrapped around his neck in an embrace, and he put his around her shoulders, giving her forehead a kiss before she nuzzled in close. And that’s how they sat for a while, quiet and in the dark. Her body shook against his, and he felt his throat go dry. Six dead. Numerous injured. Capulets. Families. Friends. Innocents.

Where did they go from here?

♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

“Hello? Earth to Priam?”

His head shot up to meet her stern gaze. “Hmm?”

Rafaella sighed, coming over to where he leaned against the wall. She placed a hand to his cheek, and then her fingers deftly smoothed and straightened his tie, her hands lingering at the knot so she could gaze up at him. “Stop thinking,” she told him quietly.

They’d gone over the plan a thousand different times, but he couldn’t help imagining every possible outcome, all the good, all the bad, all the backups they’d need to have in place if something did go wrong. What would happen if this didn’t work, what would happen if it did? He didn’t want to be unprepared for this. They couldn’t risk being unprepared. “You’re asking for the impossible,” he said, giving her a small grin.

She patted his chest gently. “This has all been worked out. When it’s over, we will have successfully completed a hostile takeover. It’ll be a good day. So try not to worry?”

Priam nodded, giving her hands a soft squeeze before letting go and getting his stuff together. Time for them to go become richer, he supposed. With a final pat to make sure he had all the weapons he needed, he opened the door for Rafaella. “Ready to give some assholes a bad day?”

Rafaella smiled, and together, they left the apartment arm-in-arm. “Born ready.”

♦: Slow dancing

Usually, they were dressed in glittering gowns and sharp tuxedos when they danced, moving in sync around the room thanks to multiple other events that required them to know the same steps. Violins would be playing nearby and there were plenty of people around them that danced to the tune. But tonight was no ordinary night.

The balcony door was kept open, at first to air out the smoke from the oven, but then because they realized there was a cooling breeze tonight that would be terrible not to enjoy. Ingredients lay scattered on the kitchen countertops, flour, batter, and icing smeared on any clean surface available. The cake itself was now burnt, but that was because they’d been too preoccupied with a board game to hear the timer go off. So it sat on the counter, charred and forgotten, as they ran to the bakery to pick up an edible one. That one sat on the table beside two empty places, crumbs sprinkled on the dishware from where the slices were devoured. They made a note to go back there again soon.

Now, dressed in their finest pajamas, they swayed together on the balcony, a scratchy recording of Moon River playing off in the distance somewhere. Priam wished he could thank them for their good music taste, and their willingness to share it with anyone in the general vicinity. His hand held Rafaella’s in a gentle grip, her head resting against his shoulder as they moved in a circle. He couldn’t remember the last time someone gifted him with a night like this one. Maybe it wasn’t so bad having some friends he trusted. When the song ended, they waited a moment before splitting, enjoying the dance too much to make it stop so soon.

“Happy Birthday, Taravella,” she said, tightening her grip on Priam to give him a hug. “I hope this is one you won’t forget.”

He looked over the top of her head, out at the city below them. A sense of tranquility he wasn’t used to filled him, and he closed his eyes, soaking it in. He didn’t think he would forget this one for a long time.