#garden jargon is SO COOL???

[thenamessparkplug]

hey did you know im normal about madilyn mei's music

trust

[creationality-productions]

Verdict on All classic Sonic Zones pt 6 (Sonic 1, Sonic CD, Sonic 2, Sonic 3, Sonic & Knuckles, & Sonic Mania)

Sonic Mania:

Angel Island Zone: Great Cutscene & Unless Ur in Encore Mode U Can't Play the Zone Regularly, but if Ur in Encore Mode, then this Zone Is Cool to be back in, i guess.

Green Hill Zone Act 1: Here Me Out! What if we Take Green Hill Zone and give it better level design and enhance its Music. I Like this version of Green Hill Zone Better than The Sonic 1 Version. Green Hill Zone Act 2: Awesome Visuals and Level Aesthetic with Great Music & Level Design + New Gimmicks!

Chemical Plant Zone Act 1: Great Music Remix and Better Level Design. Chemical Plant Zone Act 2: Syringes that change Raw Mega Mack to bouncy jelly? Yes Please! DNA Strands That take up And Sticky Jelly Platforms? I Like That! & A Boss Based around DR. Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine! U Can't Go Wrong with This Act & Its Remixed Music! Studiopolis Zone Act 1: Lights, Camera, Action! The Music, Level Aesthetics, & Speed Sections are awesome. there's even a Throwback to the Sega Sonic Popcorn Shop and The Lock on Cartridge Technology Form Back in the Day when Sega Had Made Sonic & Knuckles! Studiopolis Zone Act 2: Its Prime Time! If Ur Looking for Gimmicks up the Wazoo & Better Level Design, Then This Act is Ur choice. It's Actually My Choice over Act 1 (Lights, Camera, Action!) but act one is a Very Close Second!

Flying Battery Zone Act 1: The Remixed Music Is Great, Better Level Design Than The original, And a great New Mechanic! (Electric Shield on the Electric Roofs) Flying Battery Zone Act 2: Great Act 2 Remix Music & Level Design. + the Rain aesthetics & Reference to wacky workbench were nice touches. Bad Boss Though...

Press Garden Zone Act 1: Working in the Tabloid Jargon! The Music Is Phenomenally Amaizing! The Level aesthetics and Gimmicks are Awesome & The Level Design Is Really Good + There's a lot of references to Launch Base Zone. This is Definitely a great Zone and My 2nd Favorite. It's also Great to listen to this while Ur working or cleaning! (I don't see a lot of people caring about the 1st act of PGZ, just listen to the Music and you'll see!) Press Garden Zone Act 2: Its A Blossom Haze! NGL, i think PGZ ACT 2 is Awesome. Blossom Haze Is Really Chill and Stuff with Ice Blowers From ICZ, Ice Spikes & New Mechanics. Though all that's Awesome, I don't want People to Forget Tabloid Jargon the Greatest Work Ethic Sonic Zone and also the only Sonic Work Ethic Zone, Cause many of People Forget Press Garden Zone (Mainly Act 1), But This Zone Should Be a National Zone Treasure. Act 2 Is Still Awesome but i Prefer Act 1.

Stardust Speedway Zone Act 1: Groovy Dude! The Sonic Mania Remix Was So Solid Man! They Bring Back Every Groovy Part of the original SSZ From CD with great Level Design, Groovy Elements, And Many References to Marble Garden Zone! Stardust Speedway Zone Act 2: Now here's The Superior Act Between The two, the first Act and The Second act are tied For Best act Music but there are lots of things to like in this act, especially the Metal Sonic Boss!

HydroCity Zone Act 1: I love HydroCity Zone, Especially Act 2 but Act 1 Really Wins the award for Most Gimmicks and Gameplay. Its Great to See a Zone Like This Return, Especially Since Sonic Mania Needed a good Water Zone and I'm Absolutely Astounded that it returned & That the Music Is Remixed to the point where i could sit and listen to it for hours. HydroCity Zone Act 2: NGL, I'm Just as Happy Seeing HydroCity Return in Sonic Mania as Etika & Cobanermani 456 are. HydroCity Was a Great Nostalgic Return, I Loved Everything about This Act in S3&K and I Love Everything About It Here! I'm Glad They Didn't Change the Gimmicks and just Stayed True to the original, And That Remix Is Fire!

Mirage Saloon Zone Act 1: Skyway Octane Is a Great Music Piece & The Zone Has Some Great Aesthetics, But I'm Not a Fan of the Plane Part or the Boss. I Do like That Team Hooligans returned as part of the act 2 Boss & I do Like the Knuckles Version of Act 1 Called Wildstyle Pistolero. Mirage Saloon Zone Act 2: So, as I Stopped by The Rogues Gallery, I Noticed, This Music Is Bomb! It's Really Great. Here's the Weirdest part, I used to hate MSZ Before I played Sonic Mania. Now that i Know that this Zone is Great, I can say that I love the Handguns, Pinatas, Lightbulbs, Bumpalos, The Water Sprayers, and The Boss!

Oil Ocean Zone Act 1: Well i didn't expect this one to return, they had to have a Balancer Zone (AKA control Variable) in there and here it is. I never Liked his zone until it got a Great Mania Remix & Better Level Design Oil Ocean Zone Act 2: Thí- Hey Wait a Minute... It's JUST SANDOPOLIS ZONE IN DISGUISE! WHY SONIC MANIA, WHY DID U THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA! OF ALL IDEAS YOU COULD HAVE BRUNG BACK, U BRING THIS BACK! (Calming Down) At least the music is great, but it gives off a Desert music Feeling which isn't the best feeling.

Lava Reef Zone Act 1: NGL, I love the Comeback, i Love the Mania Remix, I love the New Mechanics and Aesthetics like the bridges & Buttons, but I kind of prefer the Original Because 16-bit music for this zone is awesome & Nostalgia. This Music track is awesome whether or not the Original Inches forward or not. Lava Reef Zone Act 2: The Mystic Cave Feeling and The Cooled Crystal Feeling Have Been Amplified Due to the Music & Atmosphere. The Mechanic from Quartz Quadrant Was a Nice Touch & The Music Is Really Good with a Soft guitar Playing, Awesome!

Metallic Madness Zone Act 1: Bro, if you hate this act, u don't Know life. This Zones Music Is Fire, there's lots of Mechanics True to The Original and new Mechanics, the Music Is Phenomenal, The Level Aesthetics are Greatly Respected & The level Design is Great. I even thought out my own Lyrics (First verse: Check the Mic, Yō, We'll Break Down the Madness. Roll Out the Door, Straight Up, Storm the Castle. Imma Blast off, I Have No Fatigue. Out Of My League, Naughty Egg, You Can See the Crew. Second Verse: Now, Check Out my moves, check out My Speed, How's It really Feeling? Going Fast with The Doctor at My Feet. I Live in The Fast Track. You're Getting In my Way. I Carry the Day "Hey!" Cause I (Na, Na, Na, Na) RUN!). At least I think they're the right ones. Metallic Madness Zone Act 2: Oh Man! That Saxophone, The Level Aesthetics, Chibi Sonic, And the Music in General Is All So Awesome! Though Spikes up the wazoo are not fun, but the zone's music tells me to forget about it.

Titanic Monarch Zone Act 1: I'm in no Monarch... well unless u count this zone (Rim Shot). We All Know this Zone Was Built to Rule (Name of the Song), But It Has its Ups and Downs Like the Death Egg Act 1 Boss Came Back, The Mechanics & Gimmicks are awesome, The Spikes & Enemies Get even more tedious, and The Level aesthetic was heading for a Robot Building in Progress like Launch Base. so out of everything, this zone is just bad. Titanic Monarch Zone Act 2: If you hated final bosses in sonic Games, then you'll hate this One! I sure do! I don't like how if you're not careful, you'll get sent to the beginning of the area. Really tedious Stuff. The Steel Cortex music is good, but not the best music.

Egg Reverie Zone: The true final boss is pretty hard, but it doesn't have the best music compared to the big arms fight.

Part 7 Is Coming Soon (When I Play the new 2d Sonic Game)

[dentalnet32news]

Crocus Definition & Meaning

Crocus is a term that you may have heard before, but do you know what it actually means? According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of crocus is "any of a large genus (Crocus) of perennial herbaceous plants (family Iridaceae) found widely in cool regions of the Old World and having solitary long-tubed flowers and slender linear leaves." In simpler terms, crocus is a type of flower that belongs to a specific genus of plants. Crocuses are known for their bright colors and delicate petals, making them a popular choice for gardens and floral arrangements. These plants typically bloom in the spring, adding a burst of color to landscapes that have been dull and grey during the winter months. Crocuses come in a variety of colors, including purple, yellow, white, and orange, making them a versatile addition to any garden. In addition to their aesthetic appeal, crocuses also have symbolic meanings in various cultures. In ancient Greece, crocuses were associated with the god Hermes and were believed to bring good luck and prosperity. In the language of flowers, crocuses are often used to symbolize youthfulness and cheerfulness, making them a popular choice for gift-giving on occasions such as birthdays or graduations. Overall, crocus is a versatile and beautiful flower that can brighten up any garden or floral arrangement. Whether you're looking to add a pop of color to your yard or send a thoughtful gift to a loved one, crocuses are a fantastic choice. With their vivid hues and delicate petals, these flowers are sure to make a lasting impression wherever they bloom. Title: The Importance of Using a Reliable Dictionary In a world where language is constantly evolving, it is essential to have a reliable dictionary to reference for accurate definitions and spellings. A dictionary serves as a valuable tool for writers, students, and anyone looking to improve their vocabulary. One of the main benefits of using a dictionary is that it provides a standardized definition for words. This is especially important when dealing with ambiguous terms or technical jargon. By consulting a dictionary, users can ensure that they are using words correctly and in the proper context. In addition to definitions, dictionaries often provide information on word origins, synonyms, antonyms, and usage examples. This can help to deepen a person's understanding of a word and how it can be used effectively in different contexts. Furthermore, dictionaries are essential for correct spelling. In a digital age where autocorrect often takes over, it is easy to rely on technology to catch spelling errors. However, having a physical dictionary can help reinforce correct spellings and prevent common mistakes. Overall, a reliable dictionary is a valuable resource for anyone looking to enhance their language skills. By utilizing a dictionary regularly, individuals can expand their vocabulary, improve their writing, and communicate more effectively. So, whether you are a student, writer, or simply someone who values clear communication, having a dictionary on hand is a wise investment. Read the full article

[sqinsights]

The Blooming Business of Botanical Ingredients: More than Just a Green Trend

Welcome, fellow Earthlings, to the fascinating world of botanical ingredients! In a market that’s blooming faster than a sunflower on steroids, it’s time to unravel the secrets behind the green revolution. Forget decoding and navigating through jargon; let’s take a stroll through the flourishing fields of the global botanical ingredients market.

The Growth Spurt:

Picture this: from a humble USD 164.4 billion in 2022, the global botanical ingredients market is gearing up to flex its green muscles at a whopping USD 299.71 billion by 2031. That’s a growth rate of 6.90%, making even the most ambitious house plants jealous. So, what’s fueling this exponential growth? Let’s dive into the fertile soil of reasons.

Health, Wellness, and the Quest for the Perfect Smoothie:

In a world where wellness is the new black, it’s no surprise that the demand for botanical ingredients is skyrocketing. With consumers on a perpetual hunt for the elixir of life (or at least a decent antioxidant), these green wonders are finding their way into functional foods, dietary supplements, skincare potions, herbal medicines, and probably your neighbor’s green smoothie. It turns out, plants are not just for Instagram aesthetics; they’re also great for your insides.

Powder, Liquid, and the Battle of the States:

In this botanical battleground, the powder form reigns supreme. Versatile, easy to handle, and a favorite among cosmetics, food, and pharmaceuticals, powders are basically the royalty of botanical ingredients. Meanwhile, liquid botanicals are the rebels with a cause — quick absorption, versatile applications, and a knack for being the cool kids in the beverage and skincare industry. It’s a tug of war between the powdered monarchy and the liquid revolution.

Spices, Herbs, and a Dash of Cultural Richness:

In the plant kingdom, spices wear the crown, ruling with their strong aroma and medicinal prowess. Used for flavoring, coloring, and preserving food, spices are the rockstars of the botanical world. However, don’t underestimate the herbs, the rising stars of the market. With their health benefits and growing popularity in herbal teas, skincare products, and dietary supplements, herbs are the underdogs giving spices a run for their money.

For More Information: https://www.skyquestt.com/report/botanical-ingredients-market

North America vs. Asia-Pacific — The Battle of the Green Giants:

In this epic showdown, North America holds the crown, thanks to rising awareness and a penchant for plant-based products. However, don’t count out the Asia-Pacific region, with India, Japan, and China leading the charge. Their rich herbal traditions, demand for natural ingredients, and a dash of cultural heritage have catapulted them into the fastest-growing market segment. It seems the East is truly meeting the West in the botanical battleground.

The Forces Shaping the Botanical Battlefield:

Health and Wellness Awareness: The world’s waking up to the importance of health, and botanical ingredients are the superheroes in this narrative. Anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, and immunity-boosting — these are the Avengers of the natural product world.

Demand for Natural and Organic Products: The era of synthetic ingredients is waning. The cool kids on the block want natural and organic, and botanical ingredients are here to deliver. Whether it’s cosmetics, healthcare, or food, the demand for natural products is driving the botanical boom.

The Thorny Issues:

Amidst the green euphoria, there are a few thorns in the botanical garden:

Regulatory and Quality Control Challenges: Navigating the regulatory maze can be trickier than finding a needle in a haystack. Differing standards across nations and regions can leave manufacturers scratching their heads and checking labels like confused botanists.

Supply Chain Complexity and Sourcing Woes: Harvesting, processing, and sourcing botanicals require a delicate touch. Throw in regional limitations, climate change, and environmental concerns, and you’ve got a recipe for supply chain chaos.

The Battle of the Brands:

In this fierce competition, giants like Naturex, Givaudan, and Ransom Naturals are duking it out for supremacy. The secret sauce? Rigorous R&D, global distribution channels, and a dash of sustainability. But it’s not just the big shots; startups are joining the fray, armed with organic certifications and a commitment to sustainability. The fight for the botanical throne is getting intense, and consumers are the ultimate judges.

Recent Developments — Not Just Your Average Cup of Tea:

From Nestlé’s botanical baby foods to Johnson & Johnson’s cosmetic concoctions, it seems everyone wants a piece of the botanical pie. Even Coca-Cola is jumping on the green bandwagon with a new beverage line. Herbalife Nutrition is also in the mix, promising supplements made from botanical goodness. It’s like a botanical renaissance, and we’re all invited.

Key Market Trends — It’s More than a Fad, It’s a Lifestyle:

Functional Plant-Based Ingredients: Move over, synthetic additives; it’s time for plants to shine. Consumers are craving functional ingredients that boost health, and botanicals fit the bill. From functional beverages to dietary supplements, it’s a green revolution.

Organic and Natural Products: The world’s gone au naturel, and the botanical ingredients market is basking in the spotlight. Cosmetics, food, and pharmaceuticals are clamoring for these natural wonders as consumers become more conscious of what they put on and in their bodies.

In Conclusion — Where the Green Road Leads:

As the demand for clean label products rises, botanical ingredients are taking center stage. With consumers shifting to preventive health approaches and an increasing focus on holistic wellness, the botanical ingredients market is set to flourish. It’s not just a trend; it’s a lifestyle, and the global botanical ingredients market is here to stay.

So, next time you sip your herbal tea or apply that anti-aging lotion, remember — you’re not just following a trend; you’re part of the green revolution. Embrace the botanical goodness, and let the plants guide you to a healthier, more vibrant future.

About Us-

SkyQuest Technology Group is a Global Market Intelligence, Innovation Management & Commercialization organization that connects innovation to new markets, networks & collaborators for achieving Sustainable Development Goals.

Contact Us-

SkyQuest Technology Consulting Pvt. Ltd.

1 Apache Way,

Westford,

Massachusetts 01886

USA (+1) 617–230–0741

Email- info@skyquestt.com

Website: https://www.skyquestt.com

[lizzetsjungle]

Monday, January 15th

Recently, I've added new plants to my collection, and I struggled with a problem I hope i'd never deal with. I ran out of space for more plants. In my distraught, I thought about how much space it really takes up to have house plants, and I was wondering if others also struggled with the same problem. This thinking lead to the idea that some people who don't even have plants could be struggling to even begin. So, I have decided to retrace my steps on how I prepare for my plants in order to spread my knowledge and to help me figure out how I can stuff more plants into my room.

Here's a picture of my plant corner for those curious, and yes, I haven't been on top of things lately... But worry not! I'm working on their recovery, since they had to go without water for the four weeks I was in Mexico during winter break.

But I degress! First things first, you're going to need a place to keep the plant in. This can be a plant pot, a glass bottle, I mean you could any closed container, really. Well, it mostly depends on the type of plant. A huge thing for pots/containers is that they have drainage holes. This is just small holes on the bottom of the container. The reason they're so important is because if you're using soil, the water you use to water the plant is more likely to be absorbed by all the soil. Of course, this is what you want to keep the plant nice and moisturized, however if the soil is too wet or damp for too long, this can cause the plant to rot.

This article I found is a great example of how to prep a container, I actually really like their tip of using newspaper at the bottom of the pot!

Plants can have different preferences, just like people! I found this helpful article on how to tell if the plant you have likes lots of moisture, or is on the drier side.

It's also important to be mindful of how big the root ball, which is just the root system, is in comparison to the pot/ container the plant is put in. Save those big containers for plants who have lots of roots and grow super fast, and the smaller containers for plants with less roots and grow slower.

Here's more information on root balls. This article also mentions a plant becoming root-bound, which is another problem that can arise if the pot/container you picked is too small.

It would be a perfect world if all plants followed this format, but there's a chance the biggest plant in your collection has the smallest root ball ever. In these cases, I'd recommend you put the actual plant in a smaller container, and then put another container that is bigger than the original.

For example, I have a syngonium that I did this with.

It's okay to have a gap between the two pots! I'd say it's actually perferred to be that way so that the soil can drain without spilling everywhere.

You could actually take care of a plant without ever putting it in soil! I'll be talking about potting mediums next, so watch out for that!

[maxdirect]

Green Flooring – FloormaxDirect

What is green flooring? Part one of three part introspection according to Jason Stanley; VP of FloorMaxDirect in Dalton Ga. GREEN is big now. Theres talk to greening your garden, your home, theres even an article on greening your marriage. The term fondly refers to goods or services that do minimal or no harm to the environment. Gauging the exact amount of harm or nonharm is next to impossible. As a conservationist from back in the day, common sense always guided my decisions. I didnt need a greenlabel, nor did I worry about LEED points. Recycle when you can, pick up your trash, and dont use too much water. These are the things my mother taught me before the term green meant anything to me besides the color of my favorite beans. In my industry, which is predominately the building and remodeling industry, we have been considering GREEN before green trends were cool. We kept over one million pounds of waste from landfills with carpets made from recycled soda bottles we sold one year. That year was 1996. And its only gotten better since then. We were one of the first operations to embrace the P.E.T. fibers, which started as ketchup and soda bottles and ended up as extremely stain resistant carpets. As technology progressed, the used heat set on these fibers, and began making incredible vibrant colors. We ran with a small mill out of Armuche Ga until they were swallowed up by a large mill when the new rage became this type of carpet. In a years time, Shaw, Mohawk, and Beaulieu were all on the recycled Carpet Fiber bandwagon. Today, more residential P.E.T. type fibers are sold than NYLON. Think about that fact. Its truly a testament to the GREEN story and technology working to better our home environment as well as our earths environment. So today the next generation of recycled carpet is here. We call it CARPET 2.0. Its different. Carpet 2.0 is made from post waste recycle materials. It is inherent stain resistance is the industries best (never seen a soda bottle stained before have?). It is solution dyed so that its extremely resistant to traffic patterns and to moisture, more resistant than porcelain tile! Antimicrobial protection and resistance to light bleaching and ozone fading is another great characteristic. What do all these industry jargon terms mean for your home? It means that it is the easiest carpet to clean kool aid spills up, easiest to vacuum sand and dirt out of; it will never shed or fuzz in your home once installed. It helps keep allergies out of your home and is a huge improvement for your environment in your home. They colors are high style, up to date fashion, including multicolored and frieze looks. Oh, and by the way, its soft. Real soft. And more affordable than the leading carpet brand. Youre helping your environment as well as The Environment. My Mom would be proud. I hope this dispels any rumors about carpet being a bad for the environment product. Its better than a lot of products, as we shall see in future articles. We will also look at some items that have been misclassified as non-green products.

For more details on our products and services, please feel free to visit us at: carpet cleaning tips dalton, carpet cleaning dalton, discount flooring, eco friendly flooring GA & free flooring estimate GA.Please feel free to visit us at: https://www.floormaxdirect.com/

[owlterri]

Maine log cabin floor plans

The Porter Cable is a great long life no maintenance compressor thanks to its oil-free pump and quick recovery time. When you buy a compressor, you need to make sure that it will offer the CFM output that your tools require. If you’ll be using it with two or three tools, check these tools’ CFM requirements. Check Price on Amazon ➞Įxpert Tip Check Your Tools Briana Yablonskiīefore you buy an air compressor for your garage, think about why you want one. Weight makes it small and narrow enough to carry to a different location or easily hide it away in storage. What we loved about this compressor is how easy it is to store. The compressor operates at 78.6 dBA which means you’ll be able to work in a quiet environment which is handy if you’re thinking of using this compressor in a home garage environment. This means you’ll be able to run your compressor for a pretty long time and when it finally does need to cool down, it will quickly and quietly so you’ll be ready to use it ASAP. The Bostitch comes with a 150 max PSI 6.0-gallon tank, a 2.6 SCFM and a 90 PSI pump. Campbell Hausfeld DC040500 Quiet Air Compressor.View the Best Air Compressors for Home Garage, Below. While you may be tempted to buy a compressor based on its tank size alone, make sure you have the space to store whichever product you choose. Expert Tip Storage Briana YablonskiĪfter looking at the different air compressors, it’s obvious they come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Looking for something more industrial? Try a 20-gallon model or even a 30-gallon option. We pulled together the best 10 air compressors we could find on the market, all you need to do is check which is best to use alongside your favorite tools and you’re ready to go! We understand there is so much reading and jargon attached with buying a compressor but don’t you worry if you read this article we’ve done the work for you. To get your compressor to work all you need to do is connect it to your power tools and you can get going. But trust is we’re not experts either, we’re just like you, and we found it’s not that hard at all. This means you can finally stop putting off that laborsome project because once you purchase an air compressor, the jobs effort will be halved! We know looking for a compressor can be daunting at first. Most often air compressors are used for cleaning stone of brick as well as powering home tool equipment like staple guns, as well as powering hammers or saws. Essentially the main benefit of having an air compressor is that they take out a lot of the hard work that goes into using wrenches, and hammers, etc usually.Īir compressors simply alleviate the effort needed to use these tools. You may have never thought about installing an air compressor into your home garage before, but they can be very beneficial. Over the years, however, you can now find air compressors much more suited to the less obvious industrial setting and even compressors which are suitable for use in the domestic garage or garden. A few years ago most of the air compressors you would see outside of an industrial setting would be found in gas stations. Learn more.Īir compressors make any work or project you wish to carry out much easier and simpler than it used to be. We may earn commission from our brand partners when purchasing products through our links. She currently spends time growing vegetables in her market garden. She has spent over ten years learning about and working with sustainable agriculture, both on research plots, in educational labs, and on commercial farms. Briana is a plant and ecology enthusiast who is happiest when she’s working on a project.

[viperbarnes]

The Long Last Summer

[B. Barnes] Oneshot

40s Post-War AU

Summary: With Steve off in America again, Bucky finds himself doing his own version of a USO tour through Italy, boosting morale and friendship, or so they tell him. However, a new stationing in the tiny town of Montecarra gives him more reason to want to stay, when he becomes quickly whisked away by wild, carefree and exuberant you.

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of the war, awful awful Italian probably. The reader has a name, but it's still written as a reader insert.

Note: The reader/character in this fic is a black woman. This fic was originally uploaded elsewhere, so if you're a part of the small audience who read it originally please don't panic, it isn't stolen lol. The story is almost entirely spoken in Italian, but doing italics for every conversation was annoying, so just assume that unless otherwise stated! Thank you for reading!

Words: 19.5k [This is very long.... Sorry...]

The hot Italian sun beats down on the town below, the occasional breeze carried overland from the nearby ocean to the west might have been a blessing if that too weren’t humid and warm. Bucky Barnes thinks it should be a sin for it to be so hot so early in the morning, but he’s long past complaining about it. Leaning against his car door, stopped on a hill overlooking the town of Montecarra, Bucky takes another drag of his cigarette before stomping it out. At least he hadn’t woken up in a filthy, sweltering trench, surrounded by hot bodies after another restless night of gunfire filled dreams. At least he was only required to wear his uniform during official ‘work’ hours.

Giving the town, his newest home, one last look, Bucky gets back in the car and makes his way down.

Being a core member of The Howling Commandos these past years, Bucky had earned himself a certain amount of celebrity, both in America and abroad. Especially in Italy. Given that Steve had returned to the States already, and Bucky had expressed some minor interest in staying in Europe a while longer, Colonel Phillips had happily assigned him as a ‘morale liaison’ while the US and other allies sorted out the peace treaties and demilitarisation of Europe.

It made as much sense to Bucky then as it did now. He had come to realise that ‘morale liaison’ was just jargon for ‘dancing, handshaking, smiling, posing monkey’, seeing as most of his time the past two years had been spent shaking hands while smiling and posing for various photos. Usually with politicians. Bucky hated politicians.

Luckily, his newest post, Montecarra, was far more what Bucky had thought he’d be doing when Phillips had given him his orders; helping people rebuild and reclaim their lives in a post-fascist Italy. As he drives through the small town, Bucky thinks briefly that the bulk of it seemed to be almost entirely untouched by the war, the classic Italian architecture and warm coloured buildings homey and welcoming, the cobbled stone streets and walkways looking every part the idyllic Tuscan town, but then he sees it.

Toward the edges of town, Bucky’s eyes catch on a shattered stone building, utterly destroyed. It’s a small ways from the town itself, a little field between it and the nearest houses, and he can’t help but already feel grateful for the fact it looked to be the only place that had been hit by the violence, though he doesn’t deny the unseen scars that no doubt linger on the people themselves.

He quickly looks away and continues on to his residence.

There was no army base or fortifications in Montecarra, the nearest being in Florence, but The people had kindly offered up a small, newly unowned cottage for the military to house any visiting soldiers in during their stay. When he finally gets to be shown around by the nearest neighbour, a friendly older woman, he’s glad that for the time being, he has it to himself.

He gets himself settled, partially unpacks his bags before getting bored and making his way out to the blooming garden, camera in hand. It had been a gift from Steve, sent for his birthday the previous year when the two had not been able to reunite, and although Bucky had much preferred putting pencil to paper before he’d owned his own camera, he’d found in recent months, as the cold receded and the sun came out, he’d picked up a knack for photography.

The fact that this model was an ‘instant’ model, making it so that after each photo he took, a little slip of paper would spit out and slowly develop the image, certainly aided his newfound love for the hobby. When he had been a kid, his Ma would take the family to have their pictures taken once a year, and the results always took days or weeks.

Lifting the camera to his eye, Bucky peeks through and aims it at a tall bushel of bougainvillea, the bright red against the butter-coloured walls of his cottage making him wish the photos weren’t just black and white.

He snaps a few more floral shots, wondering absently if he’ll be able to buy more photo paper in town. With the sun still high in the sky, he decides that he may as well take a short walk, if not to introduce himself to some of the locals, then to answer his question.

Honestly, the unendingly friendly reception he’d received everywhere he went never ceased to surprise him. Two years ago Italy had been the enemy or the soldiers and government at least. For the most part, the people caught in the crossfire had been weary and scared, but helpful where they could be to Allied soldiers. Still, the warmth they seemed to hold him, and other allied soldiers with was always a little startling at first.

By the time he makes it to the centre of town, he’d been kissed on his cheeks more times than he could count, but interestingly, the people of Montecarra weren’t as clingy as he’d found some other towns and cities… After greeting him, they’d happily left him alone, though with numerous and repeated offers to have him for dinner.

Once unable to stand doing nothing at all, and always on the go, the young man Bucky had once been, had evolved into a quieter, more solitary version of himself. He still liked to have fun, mind you, he’d learnt to take enjoyment and pleasure where he could in the army, but his sniper’s life had taught him contentedness with his own company. Bucky was fine being alone, without chatter or noise to distract him. He’d come to prefer it, actually.

Bucky finds that Montecarra’s central space was a large set of four courtyards, separated by various important municipal buildings and shops, and at the centre point, an old communal well that had been made into a fountain. Without thinking, Bucky lifts his camera to snap a shot of the fountain. He loved New York more than anything, and he couldn’t wait to return home, but damn if he hadn’t fallen hard for European architecture.

He’s still waving the little piece of photo paper back and forth to help it develop when loud laughter and the familiar noise of children playing reaches his ears. It startles him slightly, Montecarra wasn’t exactly sleepy, but it was quiet, and the residence all seemed to be of an older sort, he hadn’t seen many children yet, though a look at his watch tells him that might have been due to school.

A small gaggle of children of various ages come skipping into view across from the fountain, chatting loudly and seemingly unaware of the previous peace that had reigned in the town square. Unlike in New York, however, Bucky notices not a single patron of the nearby outdoor restaurant throws them dirty looks or hisses at them to quiet down, if anything, the people nearby pause to watch for a few seconds, not with disdain written on their faces, but soft, gentle smiles, before they return to their business.

A voice calling out from the back of the group, noticeable for its maturity in comparison to the children’s voices, catches Bucky’s attention and he lets his gaze skip over the scene until it lands on you, and suddenly, he’s breathless.

Bucky Barnes had seen a lot of beautiful women in his time, and had been lucky enough to know a number of them too, but you, you are something else entirely.

It’s your smile he notices first, plush rosy brown lips pulled wide in a joyful grin, so magnetising he finds himself unable to look away. Your hair is long, curly and dark, brushed into waves that the humidity and breeze seemed set on ruining, and with one hand you secure your wide brim sun hat as you chase the kids. Your white blouse is laced around the open collar and both it and the bright yellow of your skirt stand out against your syrupy brown skin, smooth and a little shiny from the sun.

“Here! Roberto, Norma, come sit here a moment! Look at the fountain!” You beckon the children, two strays in particular, over toward the fountain, and much like Bucky, the kids seem magnetised to you as well. You float right up to the water, sitting on the edge as the children all gather around, still chatting and playing loudly, though a little more orderly now.

Bucky watches you swipe a hand through the cool water, smiling and speaking animatedly with one of the children. He wonders if you were perhaps their teacher, but he’s snapped away from his thoughts a moment later.

“That man has a camera! Look!”

Bucky blinks, tearing his eyes from you, even as the children, and you, all now turn your attention to him in varying shades of wonderment. He’s still a small distance away, but it doesn’t matter as not even a second later, he’s being swamped by the pack of energetic youngsters.

“Are you a photographer?!”

“Can I see it?!”

“Will you take my picture!?”

The last request sets off a frenzy, the rest of the children all joining in to ask for their picture taken, and honestly, Bucky doesn’t even think he has enough paper for that.

“Hey! Mascalzoni! Leave the poor man alone!” You appear then, hands on your hips, not even two meters away and Bucky thinks he could faint.

“Oh, they’re—” He cuts himself off, switching to Italian.

“They’re fine, really… I just don’t think I have the photo paper for it…” He explains, trying his best to look you in the eye, but not quite making it. You cock your head in sympathy, and clap once, getting the children’s attention once more.

“Come on, stop it. Can’t you see you’ve scared him?!” You say playfully, though Bucky wants to correct that it isn’t them he’s scared of.

“How are we supposed to get more tourists to Montecarra if you’re all scaring them away, huh?!” You continue, crossing your arms and the kids seem to relent somewhat, whining a little as they back up from Bucky. You give him another, apologetic smile.

“Come along, you all better get home before your mothers’ tan your hides!” You say, making a shooing motion that makes Bucky second-guess his teacher theory. Before any of them can begin to move though, he takes half a step forward, holding up his camera.

“Wait, I can— I can take a photo of you all together…” He says, and watches as even your face lights up, though as the children all begin to excitedly gather in front of the fountain, you step away, to his side.

“You don’t want to be in it?” He asks, throwing you a sideways glance and yep, you’re still just as pretty as before. You smile and shake your head.

“No. Not this time.” he doesn’t know what you mean by that, but focuses back on the children, raising the camera and snapping a shot of the children, smiling brightly.

Chaos ensues once again when the paper pops out of the bottom, further exciting the group as Bucky attempts to hold the picture out of their reach while it develops, unable to stop himself from chuckling at how spirited they were. It had been a long time since he’d seen any kid so carefree. Perhaps that was why the townspeople were so unphased by their noise earlier.

After the picture is passed around for all to see, you clear your throat and jerk your head away again.

“Go on, clear out now.” Far more happily the children bid each other goodbye, a few moving in pairs or trios as they split off in separate directions.

Bucky is all too aware that you’re still standing near him, and he focuses on cleaning his camera lens with his sleeve.

“Thank you.” You say kindly, with a slight bow of your head, and he finds himself shrugging and shaking his head.

“It’s alright, really.” he pauses, and then;

“Are you their teacher?” He doesn’t expect the surprised laugh you let out, shaking your own head vigorously.

“Hell no. I don’t have the patience for that! We were just walking the same way.” Bucky blinks, not expecting your language, though he finds it endearing, a little more grounding. He laughs.

“I see.”

“You’re the soldier, yes? From America?” The subject change catches him out for a moment, but he’s nodding a moment later.

“Sergeant James Barnes, ma’am.” He almost salutes, doesn’t and then thinks better of it, giving you one anyway. You cock your head at him, an amused smile pulling at your lips.

“I thought soldiers wore uniforms?” You fold your hands in front of you, and Bucky blinks, down at his casual civilian clothes, and then back at you.

“Oh, I, well, I do, but only when I’m working, these days…” You laugh good-naturedly at his awkward delivery.

“I was only teasing. I’ve heard from Rome that soldiers spend just as much time out of their uniforms as in them.” You say it easily, with a playful chuckle, but the risque connotations don’t go over his head, his eyebrows lifting high in his surprise.

Were you… flirting…? Or was this just how you were?

“Well, Sergeant Barnes, it was lovely to meet you.” You’re stepping back, giving him another smile (were you always smiling? He wants to know, now), and a little wave before you begin to turn. Bucky flounders at your fast retreat and panics.

“Uh, wait!” You look back, and he swallows.

“What’s… what’s your name?” You chuckle and push your hair behind your shoulder.

“Cristina.” You tell him and he repeats it, trying to roll the ‘r’ like you do, which makes you laugh again.

“People usually just call me Nina.” You offer a moment later and Bucky nods, before giving you his own, more commonly used nickname.

“Bucky?” You repeat, almost unsure, but when he nods, mouth dry at hearing his name on your lips, you smile and nod.

“Bucky. I will see you around, Bucky.” And with that, he watches dumbly, awestruck in his place as you float out of the plaza.

—-

The warm breeze carries through the open windows of your house, sending the scents from the kitchen below wafting around the rooms. You’d already finished your work for the day, and the chores your mother assigned you, and with a slight pep in your step, you finish tying the scarf around your hair and grab your book.

“Mama? I’m going to read!” You call out, pausing for a moment to listen for her reply. You hear a faint humming above the radio and quickly take your leave, skipping down the front steps of your home and out of the walled front courtyard.

Montecarra is hot and warm, like it had been every other day this week, but you don’t mind. The streets you pass through on the way to your nook are quiet, with only the occasional Nonna in her garden, or returning from the markets. There had been more people here once, a long time ago, and in your childhood days you remember visitors, passing through and admiring your home on their way to other places. You missed that deeply, but push it from your mind, trying not to sour your day at the thought of your already sleepy town becoming sleepier.

You reach your normal place quickly, little plaza toward the outskirts of town, many of the houses here empty now. One of the homes, a double storied one like your own, has a tall garden wall that sits in the shade of the tall tree behind it. Midway through the wall, high enough to take some effort to climb, sit a series of three empty archways, glassless windows that give a view of the overgrown garden within, and from the other side of the little square beyond.

Nobody came to this part of town, not anymore, and in recent years, you’d found it the perfect place to sit unbothered. Tucking your book under your arm, you hitch your skirt up a little, and use one of the roots that climbs and decorates the wall with green ivy as a foothold. The archway isn’t high, but you certainly couldn’t get to it without a little help.

Once situated, you lean back against the pillar, bringing your feet up in front of you, and rest your book against your thighs and knees. You lose yourself quickly in the words, devouring the stories of far away places, detectives and mystery and murder. When the Nazi’s had been here, you hadn’t been allowed to freely enjoy such things. You’d been hidden away, scared everyday would be your last, but it had never come. They had left, and you had been safe again once more.

It was why you enjoyed sitting outside, in the sun and warm, basking in a world that was purely yours again.

Well, not just yours.

A quiet, but pointed cough makes you jump slightly, and you whip your head to find the source, shutting your book on instinct before your eyes find him, and you smile.

“Good Afternoon, Sergeant Barnes!” You greet, and the man returns your smile, lifting his hand briefly. You had known he was coming of course, your whole town did. He was helping the men rebuild the old schoolhouse, though he seemed to have finished that task for the day, as you had finished yours.

He was a handsome man, with dark hair and blue eyes, his pale skin lightly tanned on his face and arms from days in the Italian sun. He was young, though older than you, likely nearing his late twenties if you were correct. You hadn’t known who he was during the war, but afterwards, you’d had plenty of newspaper fodder to read. You think most of it must have been trash though, because the man the magazines and gossip columns had labelled as a charming, suave ladies man could not be the same one that stood before you now.

“Bucky. Bucky is fine, Senora Cristina.” He replies, his eyes dropping a little as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Well then you must call me Nina.” You reply, keeping up your smile for when he looks back at you. When he realises you haven’t looked away from him, he quickly averts his gaze again, but clears his throat and looks around the empty plaza, waving a hand.

“Quiet spot?” He asks, and you turn from where your back is pressed against the brick, swinging your legs over the side of the wall to face him properly. You nod.

“Yes. The people who lived in this part left. We don’t know if they’ll come back or…” You trail off, pursing your lips briefly, but shake your head. No. No time to dwell.

“It’s a good place to come to be alone.”

“Oh, I can— I can leave if you’d lik—” Bucky’s face falls into anxiety stricken concern as he gestures with his thumb toward the little road you think he must have come from, but you cut him off quickly, laughing.

“I was not attempting to chase you away!” You tell him, and he drops his hand back to his side. For a few seconds he just looks at you, like he’s unsure of what to say, and so you fill the silence the best you can.

“How do you like Montecarra?” Bucky nods quickly, his body language immediately relaxing somewhat. You wonder if you make him nervous because he’s unsure how to speak to women, or if it might be something else.

“It’s beautiful. I haven’t been able to stop looking, you know? We don’t have towns like this where I’m from.” You smile at his clear enthusiasm, and cock your head. You’d never been to America, you’d never even really been more than a few miles from your home, so you can’t imagine what towns must look like there.

“The people are friendly, I mean, everyone is friendly everywhere, but the people here are… they don’t seem to want to be around me twenty-four-seven.” He adds, and then clamps his mouth shut, as if he’d forgotten who he was talking to. You think maybe he hasn’t been around friends in a while. You shrug, and chortle.

“Oh, that’s just how we are. My Papa used to say that in the cities, nobody can leave each other alone because they don’t make real connections… but here and other small towns, we’re all we have, and after a while, you just get sick of each other.”

Bucky laughs, loudly and heartily, and you think it is a lovely sound. He says something in English, you think you hear ‘christ’, but he sobers, still smiling.

“I’d say that’s about right.”

“Though, you should be wary of signora Cavalli… she’s like a venus flytrap, you know?” You say seriously, but with a conspiratorial edge so that he knows you are only mostly joking. Bucky cocks his head in confusion, but chuckles.

“A what?!”

“A venus flytrap! You know! It’s a plant that looks all bright and colourful, but when bugs land on it it snaps shut!” You clap your hands together in demonstration.

“And then it eats them.”

“Are you… are you telling me signora Cavalli is going to eat me?” Bucky asks, eyebrows high and you take a moment to dramatically look him over.

“No. I don’t think you are her type. But she will start a conversation that will not end until either you or her dies, and trust me, she’s really old.” Bucky laughs again, hand on his belly this time, his head thrown back again, and you can’t help but break ‘character’ to laugh with him.

“Right. Avoid signora Cavalli. Gotcha.” He says as he calms, and again, he seems to have relaxed even more, the little pull that you had noticed between his brow yesterday, and earlier, even when he wasn’t frowning, had all but disappeared.

“Sounds like I need your guidance here. Clearly.” He continues, and you can’t help but feel excited by the prospect. You nod vigorously, and hop down from your ledge.

“Oh, definitely. I have lived here my whole life, I know all there is to know!” You tuck your book back under your arm and step nearer.

“I can show you around! There is more to Montecarra than there looks!” You pause and shrug.

“Well, a little more, at least.” Bucky appears torn for a moment, his face scrunching back into a polite concern as he holds his hands up.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, signora, I mean, Nina…” You roll your eyes and fold your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, signore, but there isn’t exactly anybody else my age around here… really you’d be doing me the favour…” He opens his mouth, but you quickly beckon him in a direction before he can argue, and you hear a faint sigh, and a few seconds later he’s matching your easy pace.

“I did notice that, actually…” He confirms, and you feel his gaze on the side of your face. His hands are back in his pockets, and he walks a respectable distance next to you.

“Well, there weren’t all that many to begin with but all the boys went off to fight, and the girls either got married and moved away, or left to study somewhere else.” You try to keep your voice light and airy, try not to betray your jealousy or sadness.

You had wanted to move to Paris and study, or London, anywhere, but the shadows of war had already begun, and it had been too uncertain. Looking back, you were reluctantly glad you had not been elsewhere. Your mother had needed you too much.

You come to another small courtyard, with a large tree at its center. It was one of the oldest in the town, and this part of the village had been built around it, as was obvious from the uneven and cracked stone ground, where the roots had grown large and disruptive.

You sling a hand around the trunk, slowly circling it in a careful swing, and Bucky oddly does the same, moving opposite you, so you are always on different sides. Oftentimes you were called childish or immature by others in Montecarra, though they never meant you harm by it. You were young at heart, and always would be. You know it was not proper for young women your age to be so restless, but you couldn’t sit still. Even just walking normally was a little boring after a while. You think it’s nice that this American man doesn’t ask you to stop or to stand still.

“You didn’t though?” Bucky asks, and then hurries to clarify.

“Get married or move away, I mean.” You chortle and lean a little further forward to see his face better as you both continually circle the tree.

“I was not good enough in school,” You lie.

“And no man would have me.” You laugh as you say it, not really meaning it. When there had been boys around Montecarra, you’d had no shortage of prospects, though how many of them would have actually married you was another question entirely.

Bucky scoffs, making an odd noise in his throat, and he fixes you with a look of disbelief.

“Well I know that can’t be right…” You smile, but look away at his kind words, before another thought hits you, and you stop moving, holding onto either side of the tree as you lean around it slightly.

“Montecarra must be exceptionally boring for you.”

Bucky stops moving too, and instead leans his side against the trunk, arms crossing over his chest as he looks down at you casually, eyebrow raised in question.

“To be in such a small town, with no women who aren’t married. Compared to Paris or Rome, I mean.”

You gasp suddenly then, and quickly switch sides, making Bucky have to turn too, and you can’t suppress your cheeky grin.

“Unless of course it’s married women who you’re after. No need to worry about commitment there.” You wiggle your eyebrows and Bucky’s face turns into a molten mess of amusement and bashfulness, sprinkled with pink cheeks.

He uncrosses his arms awkwardly and clears his throat uncomfortably, and you chortle, shaking your head. There was certainly part of him you could see being charming and suave, but for the most part, Sergeant James Barnes just seemed sweet. Eventually he just laughs too, also shaking his head, and he looks off for a moment, before he carefully turns to mirror your hold on the tree, leaning just slightly around it to look at you.

He still wears a coy look of meekness when he shrugs.

“You’re a woman who isn’t married, aren’t you?” He says softly, carefully, as if he’s not sure how you will respond, and does not wish to offend.

Offence is the last reaction in your mind though, instead you feel as if the world stops for a moment, and all that exists is you, this man, and the tree between you. Despite the carefulness of his words, his expression is a little harder, his gaze locked on yours more intense and you have to force yourself to look away, pulling back from the tree just to catch your breath and your rapidly beating heart.

Perhaps Sergeant James Barnes was sweet, but Bucky Barnes was a little more savoury than that. Suddenly, some of the things you’d read make more sense, and you find yourself reconsidering your interactions. Had he specifically sought you out? Or had he just been wandering and it was a happy coincidence. You lean toward the latter but perhaps he had hoped to see you again after your brief meeting yesterday?

You wipe these thoughts from your mind as Bucky too steps away from the tree, and fix him with an innocent smile and a shrug of your shoulder as you begin stepping backwards, ready to move along.

“I am.” You say simply, unsure of what else you even could say, but the moment seems to pass, and Bucky finally tears his eyes from you, watching his step as he makes to follow you again, down another narrow street.

You make light small talk with him as you move into busier parts of town, still a little shaken from his flirting (if that was what it was). He doesn’t seem to mind, and you realise you don’t need to fill the silence all of the time. He seems content to just look and watch, but when you do speak, to tell him something, or point out a particular shop, he listens carefully.

When you make it to one of the central courtyards of Montecarra, near the fountain where you had met him yesterday, you see that the afternoon sellers have set up at the market stalls where you’d been only this morning, helping sell. Jobs and money were hard to come by in your town, everything was so small and insular, and in the aftermath of the war, people had cared less about money to pay for goods and services, but rather taking care of each other in any way they could.

You were luckier than most towns, you’d been spared the massive damage of other places, but with resources still low, and many people still getting back on their feet, feeding each other had become a community job. Bakers would gladly accept trade for their bread, and doing chores or work for others had become a reliable way to not only give back but to earn too. The shops that had managed to remain open were supportive where they could be, and it made your heart swell several sizes to know that the war had not driven your people apart.

Bucky seems to take in the sights and smells of the markets with a dreamily like gaze, his eyes roaming over the leftover morning breads, some meats and vegetables that had not been bought or traded earlier in the week and where now for sale far cheaper.

Your stomach growls, reminding you that you have not yet eaten since your breakfast, and you groan. Usually you’d have set off home for lunch, or brought something with you, before returning to your nook, but being with Bucky had distracted you.

He looks down at you in response to your groan and you scrunch your nose.

“I would suggest we eat, but I left my purse at home.” You explain. Bucky blinks, and looks over at the food, then back at you.

“If you’re hungry, I can, I have my—” You tune him out accidentally as your mind conjures up a thought, and stop suddenly, reaching out and grabbing Bucky’s arm in excitement. He stops speaking and stares down at you.

“I have a better idea…!” You say, grinning widely, and he cocks his head, looking slightly hesitant.

You release his arm only to grab the rolled sleeve of his shirt, pulling him along after you down a sidetreet.

“What— Where are we going…?” He asks, and then continues.

“And why do I feel like it’s going to be trouble?” You laugh loudly, and throw him a look over your shoulder, releasing his sleeve at last when you’ve led him through a maze of tiny alleys and narrow streets and out to the edge of town, near the main road he’d driven in on.

“Trust me.” You say, drawing out the words long and sing-songy.

“Give me reason to…” He mutters, but when you look over at him again, you can see he’s only playing the part of exasperated, his lips pulled up in the corners, and his eyes amused.

He follows you as you lead him up a long road, well away from town and towards where the fields and fields of orchards and vineyards begin. When you veer off the side of the road, toward one of the wooden fences, he stops.

“What are you doing?” He asks, a little more nervous than before, and you turn to face him fully.

“We’re going into the orchard to pick some fruit.” He fixes you with a squinted stare.

“Something tells me that we’re not supposed to do that…” You roll your eyes.

“Nobody will know. Besides, we’ll only take a few.” You bat your eyelashes the best you can manage and watch his resolve crumble. When he sighs, hanging his head while shaking it, you know you’ve got him, so you smile widely and quickly return to making your way up the fence.

Bucky at first seems concerned with you climb, moving quickly over to attempt to lend you a hand, but you hardly need it, lifting your skirt and easily scaling the posts before you land on the other side. Bucky stares at you for a moment longer, before planting his hands on the top piece of wood, and in one large jump, vaults the thing entirely.

You laugh at the sight, and cock your head.

“They teach you that in the army?” You tease, leading him away from where you might be spotted by the road, and into the thick rows of trees.

“Brooklyn, actually.” He tells you, and you spy him repeatedly looking over his shoulder and around, as if suspecting some kind of ambush. You pause, nearly causing him to walk into you, and put your hand on his arm again.

“Nobody is out here. It gets too hot in the afternoons, so they do all their daily harvesting in the mornings.” Bucky stares down at you, the little crease between his brows returning, but he nods at your words anyway.

Turning away from him, you once more gather up part of your skirt, lifting it well above a decent length, to use as a basket of sorts as you start inspecting some of the goods on ‘offer’.

“The peaches are especially good this time of year.” You say over your shoulder, reaching out to gently squeeze a few hanging from the nearest tree.

“I— What…?” Bucky asks, and when you look back at him, you see the vague pinkness back in his cheeks and refrain from rolling your eyes. Instead, you plaster on an innocent smile and hold up one of the fruits you’d plucked from the branch.

“The peaches. They’re very ripe right now. Montecarra always has the juiciest peaches. You can’t eat them without getting your fingers and mouth all sticky.” You look away then, placing the peach into your skirt and fight yourself to keep from laughing. Bucky remains quiet behind you, until you hear him let out a slightly shaky breath.

“Jesus fucking christ…” He mumbles in English, and you wipe the grin from your face before he can see it, as he finally steps closer to join you.

You end up with a nice collection of peaches, apples and some figs. You don’t take much, just a few, and by the time you’re walking the road back into town, your grumbling stomach is sated. You spent a few hours walking along the rows of trees, just talking and eating.

Before you properly enter Montecarra, Bucky tosses your peach pits, and you watch them fly through the air and disappear into some of the empty fields beyond. He looks down at you with a rather cute, proud and expectant smile, and you nod, clapping just slightly.

“Perhaps they will grow and we will have our own orchard.” You tell him, and he sniffs in amusement.

“Or we’ll have to explain where we got the seeds from in the first place.”

“Or that.” You laugh, nudging his side.

You notice he’d stopped keeping quite as large a distance between you when you walked, though you don’t know if it was conscious or not. The late afternoon sun bathes Montecarra in orange and red and shadows, and by the time you’ve walked across town to where you live, the sunset is well and truly in motion.

Sensing your time has come to an end, Bucky slows slightly, stopping when you turn back to him, and point to your house.

“I live here.” You tell him, and he shoves his hands in his pockets with a nod.

“My mama will expect me to help with dinner.” You explain further, though you aren’t sure why. You didn’t need a reason to part with him, it was early evening now and you’d spent the better half of five hours walking and talking and stealing fruit together.

You see Bucky’s eyes drift behind you, past the open archway of the wall that held your home behind it, and then back to you.

“Thanks for showing me around today. You didn’t have to.” He says and you smile, but shrug.

“Of course.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer before he nods, pulling a hand from his pocket to give you a parting wave.

“Goodnight.” He says softly, and turns, beginning to make his way back.

You step forward without thinking too much and call out, making him pause and look back at you.

“I— I work in the mornings, but you can always find me at the same place, where I was reading today. From about midday on. I’m always there… if you ever want to see me again.” You try to play it off cooler than you feel, shrugging a bit and giving him a nonchalant grin, but he only watches you.

Just as you start to feel discomfort creep in her shifts, dipping his chin slightly and cocking his head.

“I would like to see you again.” He says at last, and it’s just like earlier, around the tree. You feel a thick tension form between you, and even though he’s several meters away from you now, you feel like he may as well have been directly in front of you.

All you can manage is a nervous chuckle, dropping your eyes to the floor and anxiously tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Okay.” You say, and he must take that as your approval, because he smiles softly, and gives you one last parting nod before he walks away.

You watch him go for longer than you’d like to admit, right up until he disappears and you hear your mama call you from the front door.

—-

You see Bucky most days. After you had finished with your daily workload, you would return as normal to your little archway, only pretending to read until Bucky arrived. Sometimes he would bring his own book, and sit beside you in one of the opposite arches, but most days you spent walking aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing.

He would tell you about New York city, describing the streets and the buildings and the people in such detail you could see it in your mind. He’d show you pictures of places he’d been, other cities and towns in Italy and France and you’d been unable to keep from fawning dramatically over each.

You’d been warned by a few of the older local ladies, that American soldiers were notorious for the dalliances with girls, they’d have them and leave them, moving on to the next place as if it were nothing. But Bucky is different, you think. You weren’t so naive to think a man set on simply chasing what he wanted would change for just you, but Bucky never showed intention to chase. Not really.

He was kind, and sweet, and he never spoke to impress you like you’d seen with some boys before. He listened to you, asked for your opinions on subjects you spoke about and never assumed that you weren’t informed. You had revealed your love for reading to him, and he’d not complained once when you’d ranted for far too long about the plot of your newest book.

He never even tried to hold your hand, which was beginning to trouble you. You had given him plenty of opportunity, walking accidentally too close, and brushing your hand by his just slightly. He’d always apologised or ignored it, and you were becoming frustrated. It was not as if his flirting had stopped, when the opportunity arose he’d coyly spout sweet things that made your stomach churn something awful.

You look up from the page you’d been staring at for the past ten minutes without really seeing it, and blink. Perhaps you were wrong and he was just this way all of the time… but then you remember the moments of intense eye contact when he’d look at you and it felt like nothing else in the world existed at all.

No. no, you decide that perhaps you will have to give him a little push.

“Has d’Artagnan won the heart of Lady Constance yet? Or is love dead?” The voice, his voice, startles you so much you squeak, whipping around to find where Bucky has situated himself against the same wall your archway sits in, leaning on one shoulder with his arms crossed over his chest.

Today he hadn’t changed from his morning’s work, and you have to simply give yourself a moment to take in his uniform. It wasn’t the dress greens you’d seen on men in the newspapers, instead he wears a greeny-brown colour, the material slightly thicker in appearance, rougher almost. In lieu of the long dress coat, he wears a jacket that ends just over where you imagine his belt might be, cinching in his form rather nicely. His shirt bears the same colour as his suit, but his tie is a familiar khaki. Pins and medals and ribbons adorn his chest and you want to inspect each one up close, but you refrain.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, sweetheart.” He flashes a smile, letting you know he’d noticed your long, admiring stare. Sunglasses cover his own eyes, refusing you access to their cool colour, and you hope he takes them off. Your mouth feels dry but you force yourself to shift to face him, hanging your legs over the side of the wall once more.

“Startled is not scared.” You correct, and watch as he pushes off from the wall casually, making his way to where you sit. He’s tall enough that should he so wish, he could climb into your archway no problem, but he doesn’t, simply resting his folded arms on the ledge next to your legs, looking up at you. At this angle, you can see behind his glasses, to where his eyes fixate on your face.

“You didn’t answer my question?” He probes and you have to think back, unsure of what he’d even asked you.

“Has d’Artagnan won over Lady Constance yet?” He reminds you, reaching out to pluck your copy of The Three Musketeers from your lap and study the cover.

“No, I was going to read more last night but the power went out again and I don’t trust myself not to fall asleep with a candle burning.” You sigh, pushing some hair from your eyes. Bucky places the book gently back down and hums.

“Did you come straight from work?” You ask, switching the subject, and as if he doesn’t notice his clothing, he peeks down at himself briefly, before he cocks his head and gifts you another grin.

“What, can’t a guy wear his uniform around a gal to impress her?” He counters, clearly joking. You scoff anyway and lightly shove his arm.

“I think I’m sick of military uniforms…” You had meant it as a continuation of his joke, but you mean the words far too much to avoid the melancholy that seeps in.

You force yourself to look away, and take a few deep breaths.

Bucky had gotten around to asking you the obvious question of how you, with your brown skin and ‘ethnic’ features, had not suffered during the war. You told him the truth; that your neighbours had hidden you and your mother in attics and basements for nearly five years.

He’d been quiet and pensive on your answer, before telling you he understood why you spent so much time in the ridiculously hot sun. He’d made you laugh, something that you hadn’t ever thought you could do when speaking about your time during the war.

A hand gently, feather-light, curls over your own in your lap, and it takes everything in you not to jump. When you look back at him, his features are sad and serious and he gives your fingers a squeeze.

“Me too, darlin’.”

You want to say something, to maybe turn your hand over and feel his palm against yours, but before you can he removes it from yours, pushing back off the wall.

“I had an idea earlier, when we were clearing the rubble away.” He extends his arm to you, waiting patiently for you to make the short jump down from your perch. Linking your arm with his, he turns you to begin walking, but reaches out and plucks your book from you, tucking it into his jacket.

“An idea? I’m not helping with the mess…” You tease, and he gives you a sideways look.

“No. Riccardo said if I were truly suffering so much in the heat, I should go to the beach.” You perk immediately, gasping softly. You hadn’t been to the beach in so long.

“The beach!” You repeat, and Bucky grins, pride showing clearly through at his effort to delight you.

“I was thinking we could grab my camera, and head on down for the afternoon. I don’t think I have anything to swim in but even just dipping my toes…” You’re already nodding frantically, pulling away from his arm as you clap and do a little jump. You really couldn’t help it, you hadn’t been down to the water in many years.

“Yes! Though, did he tell you how long a walk it was? We should be careful of it getting too dark, my mama has already started—”

“—We can just drive.” Bucky shrugs, and you pause, blinking. Yes, you knew he had a car the army lent him, you’d seen it once or twice even but…

“I’ve…” You trail off and stop speaking entirely, shaking your head, and trying to plaster back on your previous excitement, but Bucky had already seen the slight fall to your face, and he frowns.

“What? What’s wrong?” He steps forward, toward you a little, his hand absently out as if to take your arm, though he drops it a moment later.

“It’s nothing. It’s silly.” You attempt to brush him off but he only moves closer still, right up to you now, and this time, the tension isn’t the same as it had been before.

His head bows down toward you, his frame nearly cocooning yours, if anybody were to be standing behind him, they likely would not be able to see you. His hand does touch your arm this time, comforting, concerned and all of it makes your heart flutter like a million happy butterflies.

“I… It’s just that… I’ve never been in a car before.” You admit, and it really is a silly thing to make such a fuss over. Bucky must breathe a sigh of relief that your dramatics hadn’t been about something more serious, but you don’t see his expression or body language change at all for a few seconds.

“... Ever…?” When he does speak, there’s no amusement in his voice, no awe at how backwards and small your growing up had been that you’d never been in a car. He just… asks.

You shrug.

“We don’t need them here…” His face does relax a little, and he must realise how much he’s been crowding you because he clears his throat and shuffles back slightly, letting his hand leave your arm.

“Well… I think you’ll like it. It’s fast.” He says, before frowning.

“Not— not too fast.” He adds, and you have to smile.

“Well… Why don’t I go put my book away, I’ll find some bread and fixings and you can go change, and I will meet you at your cottage?” You suggest. You didn’t want to go all the way down to the beach without some sort of food, even if he said the trip would be fast in his car. It would also give you a chance to change from your day dress into something that you wouldn’t mind getting a little wet or sandy.

Bucky nods.

“Yeah. Okay. You know where it is?” You roll your eyes.

“Of course.” He hangs his head a little, and lifts his hands in defeat.

“Small town, grew up here. Got it.” You laugh. He’d mentioned once how even though he’d spent his whole life in Brooklyn, knew the streets and the major locations like the back of his hand, there were still places he’d never know where to even start looking for.

You part ways then, and quickly hurry home, the excitement thrumming through your veins once again. Not only were you going to get to go to the beach, but you were going to ride in a car!

You toss your book onto your bed without a second thought, quickly undressing and slipping on a lighter, older dress. It’s faded pale blue told it’s age, but the fabric was thinner, meaning you would have no problem if it got wet. You decide not to bother with stockings, removing both them and your garter in favour of feeling the sand with your bare feet instead, and slip your shoes back on.

Before you leave your bedroom, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror and pause. Turning your face from side to side, you inspect your features carefully. You never bothered with makeup, it was expensive and you’d only end up sweating it off, but your eyes do linger on your lips for a moment.

Creeping upstairs, you sneak into your mother’s bedroom. She was out for coffee at one of your neighbours, still, you feel nervousness take hold when you find the small golden tube in her drawer. Taking a deep breath, you uncap the lipstick and lean forwards for a better view, before carefully swiping the deep red colour across your lower lip. You follow suit with the upper, fixing it here and there, and swiping to try and neaten it up, but when you stand back to inspect yourself, you groan in frustration.

You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard, and your painted lips and bareface didn’t communicate that at all. Grabbing a tissue, you quickly work to remove the makeup, rubbing at your lips until the bulk of the colour is off. However, when you stop to check again, you find the red has somewhat stained your skin. It only really adds a subtle flushed red over your usually brown lips, but it's still noticeable, and you panic, grabbing another tissue and trying again to no avail.

Time ticks by and you check your watch, not wanting to make Bucky wait too long, and so you pocket the stained tissues and take a last look in the mirror. Your shoddy clean up job would have to do. At least the stains were on your lips and not around them.

In the kitchen you gather up a small selection of items in a basket, just some bread and butter and homemade jam, and tuck an old blanket over the top to secure it all, and so that you could sit on it later. Checking everything one last time, you slide the basket to the crook of your arm and close up your house behind you.

You have to stop yourself from skipping as you make your way through the streets, smiling and greeting those who pass you politely and not like a mad woman. By the time you make it to Bucky’s little cottage, you can already see him leaning back against the car, waiting. He straightens when he sees you, smiling as you slow down, feeling almost hesitant about approaching the car.

“Here, lemme take this…” You let him grab the basket from you and watch him open one of the back doors, placing it on the floor, behind a seat. When he shuts the door again with a click, he turns to look at you in a both expectant and patient manner.

“Shall we?” He gestures to the other side of the car, and you let him lead you around it, swallowing as he pulls open the front side door for you.

“There you go. You know, you’re lucky this is your first car ride. This is a nice car, apparently.” You let Bucky take your hand to help you in, and for the few seconds after he’s shut your door behind you, and you see him jog around to the driver’s seat, you feel an immense awkwardness settle over you.

When he’s climbed in beside you, he gestures to something above your head.

“Here, that’s your seat belt. I know a lotta people don’t bother with them, but… better safe than sorry, right?” You nod, and reach out to grab the little buckle, not realising that the sun had been baking the metal since it had come up.

You rip your fingers away from it with a hiss, cradling them to your chest. Bucky jerks and is immediately leaning over to help you.

“Shit! Sorry, I— I forgot to tell you to be careful of the— here, look, you gotta grab the plastic part…” Your slightly burnt fingers are all but forgotten when Bucky leans right over you, directly into your space as he pulls at the belt, drawing it down and across your body, to your hip.

You watch him click the buckle together and blink up at him when he leans back, face still pulled in a wince.

“You okay?”

“Yes… I just wasn’t expecting it… it didn’t really hurt that much…” He looks like he wants to say something more, his eyes darting down to where you lower your hand back to your lap, and your face, but he eventually settles with a nod.

“Okay. Okay.” He repeats, twisting to face frontwards in his seat again as he begins readying the car. You watch him fiddle with the keys, jumping slightly when the engine roars to life all around you, but you only chuckle at the look Bucky sends you. He lifts one hand from the wheel, to hold onto a tall gear stick in the center console, shifting it a few times before you feel the car begin to move.

Despite your nerves, you can’t help but feel the excitement in your bones, and as Bucky starts to slowly drive along the outer roads of the town, toward the western most side, you can’t stop yourself from staring out the window.

It wasn’t as if you’d never seen any of these places before, but it felt different now. You feel Bucky’s eyes flick over to you every so often, a low chuckle you can barely hear above the car reaching you, but you’re too enthralled to do more than return his smile briefly.

You settle down a bit as you hit the main road. It's still a very new experience to be moving so quickly down a road you’d only ever been along at a walk. Bucky seems content in the quiet, but about halfway through the trip, he changes his hand on the steering wheel, to reach down for something on the side of his door. You watch him fumble for a moment, before he behinds winding a little lever, and you turn your gaze to where the window now rolls down, filling the car with fresh air and the sound of light wind.

“You’ve got one too,” He briefly takes his eyes from the road to point your own window lever out to you, and excitedly, you rush to unwind it. You laugh then, like a child, and lean forward to get a better view, to feel the wind blow over your face. It doesn’t last long though, the second you feel your hair get thrown about, you yip, ducking away with another laugh, but attempting to smooth back your hair again.

Bucky grins over at you, and he shuffles, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, resting his elbow on the window frame casually. With his spare hand, he rests it on his thigh, fingers tapping.

“Lotta women wear a scarf, to keep their hair from getting wrecked…” He tells you, and you make a note for if you ever ride in the car again.

“You were right.” You tell him, finally sitting back in your seat and relaxing. Bucky cocks his head, briefly glancing at you, but mostly he keeps his eyes forward.

“Hmn?”

“I do like this.”

You arrive at the beach in no time at all, the lone western road leading right down to the water. Bucky brings the car to a stop away from the road, on a patch of grass that separates the rest of the land from the sand dunes. On your right, some ways away, the land lifts, creating a rocking cliffside that encloses this section of beach neatly. You knew from your childhood that there were some caves accessible, but you’d always been told to stay well away.

Bucky grabs the basket from the backseat, and you wait for him to catch up with you before you begin treading down onto the sand. The sand is hot and pale, and the smell of sea water calls you, but as much as you’d love to throw yourself toward it, you direct Bucky to a small cropping of rocks and boulders that rested near the dunes, far enough back that the incoming tide wouldn’t reach them, but near enough to the water to be sure your things would be kept safe.

Bucky follows your lead as you kick your shoes off, climbing to the top of the largest boulder easily, it's jagged surface perfect for climbing, as long as you didn’t step on a spike. The boulder stands almost up to Bucky’s chest, and was quite large from a top side view. You beckon him to give you your basket and he watches as you quickly lay out the blanket. When he can see you settling, he joins you, scaling the rock quickly, and taking a seat beside you, where you’ve now begun to pull the bread and spreads from the basket.

“This is a nice spot.” He says scanning the horizon critically. You see his gaze turn up towards the nearby cliffs, scrutinizing them thoroughly with slightly squinted eyes. His face is so intense, you can’t help but look too, wondering what it was he was seeing, but when you turn back to him, he snaps out of it, plastering an easy smile on his face.

You open your mouth to question what he’d been looking at when he grabs the jame, and turns it over in his hands.

“Homemade?” He asks, clearly excited by the prospect, and even though you still want to know what he’d just been thinking about, you let it go, recognising a subject change when you saw one.

“Yes. My mama is very good at cooking. She cooks a lot for other people.” You tell him, buttering a thick slice of bread before handing it to him.

“Do you?” He puts the jam down as he takes the bread and a butter knife from you, beginning to spread some of the sweet, jellied fruit. You scrunch your nose.

“I don’t cook a lot. Mama says I should do more.” You roll your eyes and Bucky snorts.

“Why?”

“So that when I get married my husband won’t be displayed… or something.” You bring one of your legs to a bent position, like you were crossing your legs but only chose to do one, and shift your center of balance to be more comfortable.

The blanket was a nice touch, but it didn’t make the rock you sat on any more homey.

“I don’t understand… why women have to do so much to keep a man. If they love you, shouldn’t they not care about how well you cook or how clean your house is?” You glance at him, genuinely asking. Bucky was, as you well knew, a man, he may have insight you did not. He frowns, mulling over his thoughts as he chews his mouthful.

“I think some guys want a housekeeper more than a partner. I don’t think a lot of mother’s help that, either.” It’s your turn to frown and you cock your head, gesturing he go on. He adjusts a little, and looks off as he speaks, only glancing back at you a few times as he explains.

“It’s a cycle, right? A lady gets married, she looks after her husband, they have kids, a boy and a girl,” He pauses, takes a small bite, chews, swallows and continues.

“Now, as the girl gets older, mother starts to prepare her for when she’ll get married, so she takes on some of the household chores. The son however, he gets looked after right up until he leaves the nest. His food is cooked for him, his room is cleaned, his clothes washed…” You start understanding what he means, and nod slowly.

“By the time he’s serious about looking for a girl, he thinks they should be how his ma and pa were. I’m sure there’s love and affection, but in his mind, if she’s not doing those same things he grew up with, then how much can she really love him?” He ends with a shrug, looking at you, and you have to admit you’re genuinely surprised by his honest point of view.

But he sits up a little straighter then, and points to himself with the bread still in his hand.

“My mother would never let me get away with that.” He tells you solemnly, and you chortle at his deeply serious, over the top expression.

“Oh?”

“No ma’am. When I was sixteen she showed me how to use the machines at the laundromat, and if my room wasn’t spick and span at the end of the week I’d get it.” You laugh at the thought of a woman with Bucky’s same eyes making him remake his bed.

“And cooking?” You press, and Bucky shrugs again.

“I grew up watching her cook, helping her in the kitchen… I ain’t sayin’g I’m good. But I wouldn’t starve.” You laugh again, his stories uplifting on your general view of how things were ‘Supposed To Be’.

“Anyway, the point is, the only thing that makes a good husband or wife is that you care about one another. Everything else is negotiable.” You grin, and nod, look out at the water as he words sink in, before you sharply side eye him.

“Everything except fidelity. I’d cut off my man’s—” You cut yourself off before you can say too much, but Bucky has already begun howling with laughter, leaning all the way back to rest on his elbows, he places a hand to his chest as he guffaws gleefully.

When he calms down, still snickering quietly he nods several times to himself and gives you a look.

“I don’t doubt you for a second, sweetheart.” Your chest flutters again at not just the pet name, he’d taken to using various ones, but the softness in his voice when he says it. It makes you nervous, it makes your stomach feel like the rolling waves of the ocean before you are happening simultaneously in there too.

“Right, well. Let's cool off, huh?”

Bucky rolls his pant legs up to just above his knees before he treads into the shallows, and you lift your skirt just a little as you join him. You wallow about in the water for some time, talking about nothing in particular. At one point, he realises he’d left his camera in the car, and races back up to get it, returning with a piece of photo paper already developing in his fingers.

“Took one from the dunes. It’s a nice view.” He explains as you lean over to peer at the little print. You can make out your figure, distant in the photo.

Bucky takes several more pictures, of the cliffs, of the long expanse of shoreline on the other side… You let him be for a while, moving back up to the rock and the blanket, perching yourself on the edge as you just take in the cool sea breeze and watch Bucky move about, deeply focused.

It was sweet really, though you don’t know how many of the shots look the same.

The warm sun and your general relaxed mood lull you to lie back, fixating your gaze on the blue skies and clouds above. Your skin grows warm and a little moist under such direct sunlight, but it feels nice. You aren’t sure how long you lie there for, you even doze off for a little bit, but some time later, you hear Bucky approaching.

“Can I take your picture?” He asks as you sit up, shielding your eyes for a moment as you do.

“Me?”

“Yeah.” You want to protest that he shouldn’t waste his photo paper on you, but he’s already stepping back and bringing the camera up to check if he’s too close or far.

“Wait, let me move.” You tell him, shifting to sit side on, with your feet on the rock and your knees bent up, like you would sit in your reading nook. Bucky waits for you like you ask, adjusting a little notch on his camera before he lifts it back to his eye, peering through. You expect him to take the photo right away but instead you see his lips part and his tongue swipe out to wet them as he swallows and draws the device away again.

“Uh, your— your skirt sweetheart, it's…” He trails off and gestures at his own thigh, prompting you to glance down at yourself.

Oh.

With your legs up like this, and perhaps with the help of a little sea breeze, your dress had shifted far up the length of your leg, far more than what was proper or should be photographed, and yet, your mind begins to whir.

You cock your head innocently, and hook your finger under the hem, drawing it back even further, until almost the whole side of your leg was on display. As you do, you pop your shoulder forward and rest your chin on it, grinning widely, invitingly.

Bucky just stares for several moments, and you see him swallow again. He seems to fumble with bringing the camera back to his face, and you see his mouth in what you’re certain is English cussing. It only makes your grin that much wider.

He takes the picture, lowering the camera immediately to catch the photo it spits out, though, he keeps glancing back up at you. You only flutter your eyelashes as best you can and make sure to fix your skirt somewhat. You sit forward again, and rest your hands either side of your legs, leaning toward where Bucky still stands.

“May I see?” You ask, and he jerks, starting toward you right away.

“Y--yeah. Of course…” You note with a quiet snicker how he stands at least two feet away from you when he holds out the photograph, and you take it from him, inspecting it.

“This is a good one.” You tell him.

“Yep. Yeah. It is.” He’s aware you’re teasing him now, and you give him a smile over the top of the picture.

“You won’t throw it away?”

“Why… why the hell would I throw it away?” You shrug and hold it out to give back.

“I don’t know…”

Bucky reaches out for it, but just before he can take it from you, you pull it back.

“On second thoughts, I don’t know if you can be trusted with this.” His face resembles a rain cloud, his frown confused and deep.

“What?”

“I think it might end up in the bottom of a box somewhere… I should keep it.” Your lip quirks, and he can see the cogs turning as he realises you’re only playing. He rolls his eyes and goes to grab it from you again, but you pull it away again.

Before he can corner you where you sit, you jump off the rock, ducking to the side as he lunges, making you squeal.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me have it…” You keep moving backwards, even as you turn to face him, the photo clutched to your chest. Bucky has turned to pursue you, though he’s only walking, hands on his hips.

“You’ll have to catch me!” You take off running, unable to keep from laughing as you do, Bucky’s own chortling reaching you as he gives chase.

You duck and weave out of his reach, and even though he’s far bigger and fitter than you, you were smaller, and the drag of the sand didn’t affect you as much. He almost gets you twice, his fingers grazing your dress, and when he does finally catch you, it’s with his arms around your middle, seizing you mid stride and pulling you back.

The momentum sends you both tumbling to the sand, your back hitting it lightly. Bucky falls over you, though he catches himself before he can crush you proper. All you can do is laugh, breathless from the chase and from the fall, and most certainly from the fact Bucky now lays atop you.

He’s laughing too, his face close and his breathe warm. He shifts to lift one hand and pluck the photo from your fingers, still held to your chest, trapped their by his own body. He’s still smiling when he makes a show of placing the photo in his top pocket, and buttoning it close, and then he drops his hand, resting it back in the sand by your head.

“I caught you.” He says simply, and all you can do is nod dumbly. His eyes fall to your mouth, and you suddenly remember the lipstick debacle. You’re about to make an excuse, or explain what had happened, when he leans in, dropping his lips to your own softly. You don’t mean to, but you gasp quietly, heat pooling in your face when you feel Bucky smile, and hear his light chuckle.

He doesn’t stop though, and you gladly return the kiss at last, lifting your chin so he could reach you easier or have more of you, you don’t know. Bucky shifts over you, his knee digging into the sand as he lifts some of his weight off of you, but before you can complain, he’s holding your face, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

When you part, reluctantly, you’re all too aware of how heavy you’re breathing, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Bucky’s eyes drop to watch for a moment, and you feel goosebumps crawl over your skin, but he looks away, moving to get off of you.

“Uhm… that okay?” He asks, scratching the back of his head a little awkwardly. You’re still just lying in the sand, watching him and trying to catch your breath.

He stands, and leans down to offer you a hand that you accept. You let him pull you to your feet, and by that time you’ve gotten at least a semblance of your sanity back. He’s looking at you cautiously, concerned maybe, but you intend to rectify that.

He hardly has time to catch you as you jump for him, legs wrapped around his middle, your arms around his neck, Bucky lets out a loud, hearty laugh as he makes to secure his hold on you. You lean in and kiss him again, heated at first, but then softer, until you’re only peppering little pecks to his lips.

“I’m gonna go with that being okay, then.” He confirms to himself. You giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush, and realise he’d been walking the whole time he’d been carrying you. He sets you down atop the rock, hands gliding under where he’d been holding your legs, before quickly removing them, like he didn’t want to overstep.

“You had better not lose that picture.” You warn, making him chuckle, and pat his pocket.

“Oh, trust me darlin’. It’s not going anywhere.”

The sun had already begun to set, and so you make quick work of packing up the small amount of belongings you brought. As you walk back to the car, Bucky carries the basket in one arm, and with the other, he reaches out to take your hand, firmly and securely, interlocking your fingers, and you feel your whole being ascend.

He doesn’t let go of your hand in the car either, reaching out to hold it there too, your intertwined hands resting on your thigh. It’s all too short however, and far too soon he’s parking the vehicle and helping you out.

“I’ll walk you back.” He tells you and you frown.

“What? No, you’re already home, I can—”

“—I’ll walk you back.” He says again, firmer, but with a playfulness that stops you from arguing further.

You wait for him to get your basket from the backseat, and when he does join you around at the rear of the car, his face lights up in realisation.

“Oh! Wait. Hold this for a sec…” He gently thrusts the basket into your hands and you blink, watching him jog into the cottage.

He reappears a few minutes later, carrying something long and cylindrical in his hand, and as he approaches you again, he flips it, catching it smoothly.

“Flashlight. For… for if your power goes out again…” He drops it in your basket before he takes it from you again, and you’re so genuinely touched by the gesture you’re frozen for a few seconds.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky frowns, cocking his head, but you snap out of it, leaning in to wrap your arms around his neck, only a hug this time. His free arms wraps around you instantly, and you aren’t sure you’ll ever get over how nice it feels to be held.

“Thank you. That’s very kind…” You say when you pull back. He just smiles at you, before offering you his arm, and walking you home.

—-

He takes you on a picnic.

It’s such a quaint idea that when he mentions it to you one afternoon, after kissing you goodbye on your doorstep, you can’t help but feel your eyes light up like two cartoonish hearts.

Bucky had assured you he would source the meal and perhaps some wine, but he’d need your basket once more, and the next day you find yourself lounging lazily under the shade of a tree, in the empty fields outside of town.

He’d brought bread, fruit and a bottle of red wine that you’d be very excited by right up until you’d had your first taste.

Bucky burst out in laughter at your expression, nose scrunched and brow furrowed, and he gracefully takes your glass from your hand.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it's an acquired taste…” He chortles, and you gladly let him pour what's left of your drink into his own, but you notice he doesn’t really touch it throughout lunch.

You talk for hours, clearing up the blanket so you can lie down next to one another and gaze at the cloudy blue sky. You ask Bucky to tell you once more about New York City, and as he speaks you gaze at him, gesturing wildly with his hands and smiling back at you every so often.

He was so pretty, for a boy, his eyes so blue, hair dark and lovely and smooth looking. Even his stubbly chin and cheeks, where you could clearly see he’d shaved just this morning look nice, and without really thinking, you reach out and brush the backs of your fingers over his jaw.

Bucky stops speaking, turning his head slightly to regard you softly, but you don’t stop. From the way he spoke about the war and missing his home, you think maybe it has been a while since he’d felt such gentle touches.

“See somethin’ you like, darlin’?” His smirk is barely a smirk, it's far too soft for that, but there’s still a hint of cheekiness in his gaze that draws you in. Laughing quietly, you rise to your elbow, leaning into his side where he’d previously been lying a respectable distance from you and press your lips to his jaw, then his cheek, and at last his lips.

Bucky kisses you back immediately, like he always did, lips moving softly against your own, carefully cupping the side of your face and pulling you down against him even further. Your heart races when he sits up without breaking apart from you, pushing you back so your positions are reversed. Out here you were practically alone, and even if somebody did come driving down the main road, with the tall grass nobody would be able to see you.

You wrap your hands up behind his head, tugging him down more, until he’s leaning against you fully, his forearms encasing either side of your head, a knee slipping between your own as your tongue slips between his lips. Your nearly come apart thena nd there when he moans, muffled by your kiss, but erotic all the same, and he seems to move more feverishly, kissing your quicker, bearing down against you harder.

You resist the urge to wrap a leg around him, but instead let your fingers scratch gently at the back of his neck, feeling yourself sink further and further into bliss with each tiny stroke of his tongue against yours, and each press of his clearly hardening length between your thighs.

You almost unhook your hands from his neck to lift your dress when he pulls back. At first he simply lays his forehead against your own, his eyes shut tight, and you watch him with rising disappointment and heavy breathing as he gently shifts his weight off of you, and dips his lips to kiss the tip of your nose, and then chastley at your lips.

“I uh… this probably isn’t a good idea…” You deflate, but push it aside. If he did not wish to go further, you wouldn’t pressure him. Still, the gentle ache between your thighs resists, begging for friction, for satisfaction. Bucky looks down at you, lips kissed raw and pupils dilated and it takes everything in you not to go for his pants then and there. He smooths down what he can of your hair, tucking some wilder pieces behind your ear before he kisses your nose again, and lays back down beside you.

On the walk back, the both of you are oddly silent, and although it isn’t uncomfortable, you still don’t like the awkwardness. You always felt like you could be truthful with Bucky, and you didn’t want to change that now, so tugging on his hand a little you slow your pace.

“I would have had sex with you, you know?” You squint at him and he blinks rapidly, face blushing quickly as he checks around to make sure there was nobody else present.

“Wha— I wasn’t—”

“—I’m not a virgin. I know what I’m doing.” You further assert, and he only continues to cough awkwardly, trying to reign in his clear embarrassment.

“Men aren’t the only ones who like sex. You always think us women are so eager to wait and ‘save ourselves’.” You roll your eyes then, and walk past him.

You don’t look back, but soon enough he’s hurrying to fall in beside you once more, taking your hand again even as he swallows.

“I never said you were, I just… I guess I’m not used to ladies talkin’ about it so… well, at all…” You side-eye him wryly and shrug.

“Look around, Bucky. In a town this small, there isn’t much else to do except each other. But all the boys have left now…” You shrug again, and this time Bucky laughs, letting out a slow puff of air.

“I guess.” He wears a look on his face like he wants to say something else, but he stays quiet. You slow down as you approach your home, and you’re about to ask when he stops just short of the steps leading into your front courtyard, and takes both your hands.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to take advantage. I’d want you to be sure.”

You purse your lips and roll your eyes again.

“I’m not a naive little girl.”

He laughs again and draws you near, quickly checking about to make sure no neighbour would spy the kiss he presses to your lips.

“And I’m not a boy.” The words send a thrill up your spine, and now more than ever you wish he hadn’t pulled away earlier. You swallow as he looks down at you, eyes intense and fiery and this time it’s your turn to swallow.

“I— I know…” You manage, and for a moment you can’t stop staring at one another.

Eventually, Bucky squeezes your hands and nods his head toward your home.

“You’d better—”

“—Oh! Yes… Goodnight…”

Bucky watches you as you make your way to your door and tips his hat when you look back at him before you close it.

“Goodnight.”

—-

Bucky can’t sleep.

It's late, he really should have been asleep hours ago, but he can’t stop thinking about you and what you’d said. As much as he curses himself for not seeking out the moment when he’d had you under him in the field, he’s also glad. You deserved more than a quick rut on a picnic blanket, and yet his mind wanders to Parisian nights, except all the women in his memories are replaced with you.

Would you be loud? Quiet? Would you say his name, drawn out and breathy? He decides he wants to find out.

It takes him no time at all to walk to your house, and when he’s climbed the side wall of the enclosed courtyard into the back garden, he sneaks on around to the open window on the first floor.

Surprisingly, you were either far from asleep yourself, or you had been suspecting his visit. You sit up in bed right away, but smile and hold a finger to your lips as you creep across to the window. Bucky leans against it comfortably, holding your hand when you half climb through to sit on the sill, legs dangling out beside him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, though your demeanour seems to be far more girlish, far more pleased-but-scandalised than you had been earlier, talking so frankly about sex. Bucky gives you his best smile and shrugs.

“Wanted to see you. What’re you doing awake?” He nods to your bed, the book and torch clearly lying amidst your sheets.

“I was reading.”

“I can go if you’d—”

“—No!” You whisper, socking him lightly in the shoulder, as if it were a ridiculous thought to even suggest he leave. In the moonlight he thinks you look lovelier than ever, and he scoots closer, until he’s resting his arms across your thighs and gazing up at you softly.

“We have to talk quietly though, my mother’s room is above mine and her window is also open…” You point, and Bucky looks, see’s the curtains billowing slightly out, and he nods.

“I’d let you in, but I think you might dissolve into a blush.” You tease him, and Bucky immediately perks, eyes lighting up at the challenge. He pulls his arms off of your lap and cocks his head.

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” He asks slowly, letting a hand gently curve up your calf. Your nightdress covers you from the knee up, but he ignores it, reaching underneath to massage softly at your thigh.

You don’t take your eyes off of him, even when he lowers his gaze to carefully push your knees apart. If anything you seem to lean back on your palms, watching him intently. Bucky meets your eye again when he snakes his hand further, forgoing your leg entirely to press the pads of his fingers against your core, eliciting a sharp inhale from the both of you.

“You don’t wear underwear to bed?” He can’t help but ask, pants suddenly restrictively tight and you breathe out slowly, clearly trying to remain quiet as he lets his fingers simply glide through you slick.

“Only when I’m expecting company.” You tell him, and he chortles, stepping closer and pressing his lips to yours.

Your head angles back for him, letting him set the pace of the kiss and gently, Bucky presses one finger inside. You almost gasp, but he kisses you harder, pulling back again just slightly, so your lips brush when he speaks.

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” You nod vigorously, eyes not even opening to meet his, and Bucky leans back further, content to watch your head lull back and mouth part in the softest breathiest moans he’s ever heard as he slowly pumps his one finger in and out of you.

He’s laser focused on the task at hand, even despite his rock hard cock, and soon he’s adding another finger, slowly letting them sink deep into your velvety wet heat, his pride stoked when you further part your legs for him. He uses his free hand to push your nightdress up around your hips, and he nearly groans at the sight. Licking his lips he sets his eyes back on you, leaning in to nip and kiss at your neck, finally letting his thumb press down against your clit, massaging in circles as slow as his strokes, and he feels your muscles flutter.

A third finger joins the others and this time you seem to reactively grip his wrist, your other hand flying to slap over your mouth as your brow furrows deeply. Bucky knows he’s breathing hard, and after adjusting himself briefly in his pants, he pulls at the thin straps of your nightdress, getting it only half down one shoulder, but it’s enough.

He wraps his lips around your exposed nipple, swirling his tongue and nipping experimentally, feeling your hand wrap around the back of his head in approval. He stares up at you, desperately wanting to see your face when he finally pulls you apart and he’s rewarded only a few minutes later, his fingers fucking you far quicker, his thumb working faster.

When you finish, your cunt squeezes his digits relentlessly in waves of pleasure, and you make strained, soft little mewls as you attempt to remain quiet. Your hips shift and twitch and he doesn’t draw away from your breast until you’re blinking back down at him, gently pulling his hand away from your clit with bashful little laughs.

“At least… at least I won’t have to change any bedsheets…” You pant, and Bucky chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your lips properly, feeling your naked chest heave against his when he does. Your eyes seem dazed, and your face warm, but when he pulls away again you swallow and gesture to his own clearly bulging pants.

“I can—”

“—Not tonight…” And he means it.

“I just wanted… I just wanted to see you.” He says, and your gaze shifts from purely lustful to something softer, and you smile, dipping your eyes away for a second.

Bucky takes the moment to enjoy his view, your dress pulled up to your hips, your pussy still clearly on display, and your sleeves hanging well down to your elbows, breasts bare, nipples hardened and exquisite. He fights the urge to reach out and start all over again, maybe get his mouth on you this time…

“S’alright?” He rests his head in his palm and you chortle quietly, nodding.

“Yes. Yes, better than… than anything with other boys before…” He gets the feeling you aren’t just saying that to stroke his ego, the blissed out look on your face and the oddly bashful demeanour you’ve taken on requiring him to believe that he really had just properly blown your mind. He grins triumphantly, and leans in again, kissing your lower lip.

“I told you I wasn’t a boy.” He kisses you full again, loving the feel of your hand reaching up to hold the back of his head to you.

“I know.” You say when he forces himself back. You watch him as he carefully pulls up the sleeves of your shirt, covering you up again, and then fixes the skirt too, until you’re mostly modest.

“You should get some sleep, sweetheart.” He tells you, and you hum, reluctantly climbing back through your window and standing on the other side. He kisses the back of your hand, but when he goes to pull away, you don’t release your hold on him, tugging him back slightly, and he blinks at you curiously.

Your eyes have taken on that same lustful expression from before and you cock your head.

“Will you think of me?” You ask, and at first, it doesn’t quite click.

“When you wrap your hand around your cock when you get home, will you think of me?” Bucky nearly chokes, nearly climbs right through your window and ends all the tension there and then, but he manages to hold strong, realising you were still somewhat teasing him.

“Darlin’ I will think of nothing but you, soaking wet and waiting for me…” He squeezes your fingers slightly, noting the approval in your eyes even before you nod.

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“It has been, yes.” You finally let him go, watching as he clambers quietly back over your side wall.

And Bucky does think of you when he gets home, he strokes himself to the thought of your mouth and your cunt, and your tits bouncing in his face while he has you on his lap. It’s honestly the filthiest his mind has been since Paris nights drowned in alcohol and women he didn’t bother to get the names of. He knows your name though, sighs it again and again as he thinks of you.

He falls asleep hard and wakes up in the morning the same way, unable to stop thinking about you.

—-

In the days following Bucky’s midnight visit, you feel a giddy sort of happiness thrum constantly through your veins. Even now, as you sit up in your archway, trying to focus your mind on the letter you write to your distant aunt (you think you’ve met her all of once, but she’d written to you and your mother regarding your health and wellbeing in the aftermath of the war, so you felt obliged to reply). You find yourself able to write only several lines before you’d look up, searching, hoping perhaps Bucky would show, but even you know it’s too early… he’d still be working.

Part of you debates going to watch, the idea of seeing him labouring away in the hot sun, hopefully with his shirt removed, leaving him in only a singlet top… your stomach stirs at the thought, but you shake your head, and concentrate harder on your letter.

You manage to succeed too, losing yourself in describing Montecarra to your relative who’d never once left England, as she’d explained. It isn’t until some time later that movement catches at the corner of your eye, and you barely refrain from looking up as Bucky finally ambles into the courtyard. He must sense your buys-ness, because he doesn’t greet you as he nears, he just stops for a moment, before he continues forward.

At first you think he may approach you to wait, but instead he swiftly climbs into the open archway behind you. You take the time to pause in your own actions to peek at what he’s doing, only to find him sitting in mirror of you, his back to the same pillar yours is. After he settles he twists back and nudges your arm.

“Got any spare paper, darlin’?”

You try to pretend you hadn’t been watching him, but his grin says you’ve been caught out. Gathering a few pages from under your small stack, you hand them back to him, his fingers over your far too suspect for you to think it is anything other than purposeful. Still, you can’t help but smile, even as you settle back to finish off your letter, hearing him uncap a pen.

You find yourself referring back to your aunt’s letter to answer and reply to all of her questions and queries, and once again you almost forgot Bucky is there, until tugging on your sleeve draws you out of your reverie. You turn to look, expecting to be greeted with his lovely face, but instead, all you see is his hand, holding a page folded into a little rectangle.

Your chest flutters at the thought he’d been sitting writing something for you, and so your letter is quickly abandoned in favour of taking the little note. Bucky seems to remain as if he were oblivious to his own actions, humming quietly to himself as you unfold the paper and gaze down at the words.

‘Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?’

Again, your heart stutters, and you can’t hide your smile as you put pen to paper, drawing up your response. You refold it and hand it back the same way he’d offered it to you; tugging on his sleeve and holding it out. The page is plucked from your fingers quickly, and you try to distract yourself by turning back to your true task, only to be pulled from this once more when his hand reaches back, searching. You watch for a moment before he wiggles his fingers expectantly and you snicker, adjusting your hold on your paper, so that you can place your hand in his own.

You sit there like that for the rest of the afternoon, Bucky humming happily, your hands interlocked at an almost awkward angle, and you try your hardest to finish writing your damned letter.

He picks you up from your home later that evening, finds you waiting for him out the front. You hadn’t dressed up in a long time, and so when his gait slows and his eyes roam over you as he approaches, you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

You’d worn a simple red dress, but it was the nicest one you owned, the only one appropriate for dinner out. This time you’d committed to the lipstick, painted your lips red and done your best not to talk yourself out of it. You’d left your hair down, let it fall in loosely styled waves, and all together you felt part-movie star, part-fool.

Bucky whistles lowly, just quietly as he nears, and you have to scoff and roll your eyes, hiding your embarrassment as he draws you in, hugging you just quickly before he pulls back, hands on your waist still, to inspect you closer.

“You look beautiful.” He tells you, voice soft and sweet and you know he isn’t pontificating, or trying to woo you.

“Thank you.” You reach out to smooth over his collar and finally force yourself to meet his eye.

“You look lovely, too.”

You feel lost in a slight high as you walk to the only real restaurant in town, in the main square. In the early evening the streets are quiet, only the occasional passerby, but the cafe remains open, seeing to a few quiet patrons, plus yourselves out on the terrace.

Bucky helps you with your chair and takes your order for you, pours you your drink… it's so normal and yet you’d never really experienced an evening like it. When your food is long gone, he scoots his chair around to sit closer to you and holds your hand softly in his while you talk aimlessly. You aren’t at all worried about being seen or judged, in fact the few moments in which you catch a passing couple take a look at you, you see kind eyes and sweet smiles, only making you feel dizzier.

“You enjoyed your meals, I see?” The owner, an older man named Matteo who you’d known to live in Montecarra for as long as you can remember, stops by to clear up your plates, and you nod enthusiastically.

“Wonderful, we’ll have to come back.” Bucky says, squeezing your fingers as Matteo smiles widely and agrees.

“Maybe next time I will have figured out how to work this named record player, then you will have music as well!” You and Bucky both seem to perk as Matteo throws a thumb over his shoulder, and Bucky straightens in his chair slightly.

“I can give it a look, if you’d like?” He offers, eyes already glued to the record player sitting atop the counter only a few meters away. The older man gives him a shrug and a gesture that clearly reads as ‘go for it’, as he finishes collecting the plates and patters back off to the kitchen.

You watch Bucky move over to the counter, fiddling with the player, though you can’t really see what he does. You know he’s fixed it however, when he throws a grin back at you, and plucks a record from beside the machine, pulling it from it’s sleeve and carefully placing it down on the turntable.

Music immediately begins wafting through the air, an upbeat tune you think you’d heard on the radio before, and Bucky comes speeding back over to you, hands held out even as he pulls you from your seat.

“Dance with me?” He asks, though he’s already wrapping his arm around your waist, and you move yours to his shoulder and hand respectively. There isn’t much room between the tables on the sidewalk, and although the song is happy, it’s not a rousing jazz tune, so you find yourselves simply swaying in each others embrace as the French lyrics begin to join the band.

You end up close, so close you forget anything else exists around you, Bucky’s forehead pressed against your own, your chests similarly compressed, as if neither of you could exist apart.

You have to laugh, thoroughly intrigued and enthralled when he begins softly singing the words to the song. It’s so different to hear him speak in a language that wasn’t Italian or English and it makes your chest ache for a reason you don’t know.

“I wish I could speak French.” You say quietly, Bucky’s lips quirk up but you shake your head.

“You must be so amused by how quaint I am… never been in a car, never left my town… never learnt any languages…” You don’t mean to sound so melancholy, but it hits you then, the ache in your heart stems from just how wonderful Bucky is, and how plain you are in comparison. But he’s frowning as you finish, shaking his head and adjusting his grip on you, wrapping you up even further.

“Never. I think you’re worldy in other ways…”

Your purse your lips, but as he opens his mouth to continue you cut him off, changing the subject.

“Can you tell me about New York again?”

Bucky’s expression falters, then lifts into a sweet smile, and you know his mind has wafted away to distant city streets.

“Of course…” He talks for ages about all the shops and stores available, about all the tiny apartment buildings and the decor, and his home block in Brooklyn. He tells you about the parks and the weather, and a place called Coney Island.

“... I think you’d like it.” He finishes, and you hum, having closed your eyes now, head to his shoulder as you attempt to imagine all that he describes. You feel him open his mouth to say something, to continue, but he doesn’t, hesitating and then remaining quiet, though he holds you firmer again, and you relish in the warmth of it.

Eventually, you have to let Matteo close up, and you bid the old man thank you and goodbye as you walk away hand-in-hand. Before you can get too far however, you stop, tugging on Bucky’s hand so you have his attention, the warm Montecarran breeze blowing your hair about.

“My mama doesn’t expect me home until morning.” You tell him, seeing instantly how his eyes change.

“Why’s that?” He manages to ask, stepping close again and you smile, shrugging.

“I told her I was watching some children in town overnight.”

Bucky hums at your reply, frowns as if in thought.

“Sounds as if you may need somewhere to stay, in that case.”

Bucky takes you back to his cottage, all quiet laughs and lingering touches as he leads you inside, placing his coat and keys down on the table, but any pretence is lost as soon as you kiss him. Clothes scatter around the small space, a gingerbread trail leading to his bedroom where he lays you down and peels the last of your underwear off.

Oddly, you feel less nervous about him seeing you naked than you had in your dress, maybe because he’d already seen you mostly this way, or maybe because at least naked it was real and you couldn’t pretend or hide, it was more honest.

You itch to touch him, but you don’t get the chance right away, his kisses leaving your lips quickly to travel down and soon you’re gasping, hands clutched tightly in his hair as he buries his face between your thighs, hands holding your legs apart as his tongue and lips work quickly over you, bringing you over the edge faster than you even thought possible. By the time he’s kissing you again, your mind is a haze of filth and desire and you guide him into you quickly.

Bucky is an excellent lover, his pace and angle perfect, his weight above you welcome as he thrusts into your warmth, desperate and wanting. He isn’t boring either, doesn’t end the night quickly, instead nearing his pleasure and stopping each time, drawing it out. He instructs you in various positions, making your belly spark with his knowledge of the female body, nearly sending you into a fritz when he takes you from behind, leaves you scrambling to hold on to something as you cry out into his sheets, his cock relentless as he fucks you through your orgasm, finally finishing with you, his hands curled around to pinch at your nipples, making your cunt bear down on him even more as you fall into a sweaty, moaning and panting heap.

He fetches you water, helps you fix back your hair in your still slightly dazed state, and pulls you near again, skin to skin as you drift off to sleep, lips pressed to one another even as your mind begins to wander.

In the morning you wake him with your mouth around his length, swallow him back as much as you can as he’s drawn from slumber by the pleasure, his hand reaching down to messily clutch at your hair. You watch him come apart for you, eyes fixed on his tilted head, creased brow and open mouth as he jerks into the back of your throat, hot warmth spilling forth that you swallow with ease.

He swears and curses as he rubs his eyes and you crawl up to lay beside him once again, finding his eyes looking at you as if to make sure you were real.

“Good morning, Sargeant.” You tease, only to have him cuss more, his chest heavily quickly up and down. You chitter and brush the slightly damp hair back from his head, a kiss to his cheek as you withdraw from the bed.

“Where’re you goin’?” He asks, blinking himself properly awake and you throw him a glance as you hunt for all your belongings.

“I have to go home, my mother does expect me at some point…” You explain, and he rubs a hand over his face once more, seeming to deflate a little.

“Right. Of course.”

You’re fully dressed when he manages to pull himself to sit on the edge of the bed, still naked, still just as fine as the evening previous. He looks up at you as you step nearer, braiding back your hair before you place both hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you.” You say simply, leaning down to peck his lips chastley. He hums against you, kissing you back and quickly you’re no longer pecking his lips, your hands roaming down over his shoulders appreciatively, his hands reach up the back of your skirt, pulling your underwear to the side and—

You gasp, giggling as you pull out of his reach, shaking your head and wagging a finger at him like a naughty child.

“No! No, I have to go home!” You tell him, even as he sighs, falling back to lie on the bed again. You can clearly see his hardening length and you fight yourself to just climb atop him once more.

“I will see you later!” You say pointedly, tossing a shirt onto his lap, to hide him from you, and you see him grin, chortling even as his hand travels lower, removing the shirt and wrapping around— you turn your back, flustered and tempted, but you leave his little cottage, determined to get home before your mama woke, so you could wash and change.

—-

Somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind, he knew it wouldn’t last forever, but the end comes sooner than he’d expected.

He stares at the small pile of pages in front of him, their words all making sense in his brain, he understands what they all say, what they’re telling him, but at the same time, he comprehends absolutely nothing after the words ‘The United States Armed Forces herby discharges you with honourable service records…’

He was going home. They were sending him home.

At last he’d be able to hug his mother, see his sister, Steve, all the other fellas… he’d get to go home and really start his life post-war. He’d been waiting on this letter for months, a year even, more perhaps. At one time, it had been all he’d wanted. And yet, all that fills him now is a sense of dread, muddled with a bit of guilt, because he knows he really does miss his family, but…

When he sees you later that afternoon, sitting up in your nook like always, he can hardly bring himself to return your smile, sparkling and bright as always, for him. You pick up on his mood immediately, even if you poke fun. He knows he can’t delay, they expected him on his flight home from Rome tomorrow. The army loved their damn punctuality.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, face falling a little when he only half-heartedly chuckles at your joke, his eyes downturned, afraid to meet your own. He swallows, and shoves his hands in his pockets, squints into the distance.

“They’re sending me home.”

A beat passes.

When he finally looks back at you, he catches the tail end of devastation leaving your features, replaced instead with a hopeful, sincere grin.

You grab his hand, pulling them from his trousers.

“Bucky! That’s wonderful news!” You say excitedly, but he can only purse his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that! You don’t want to spend your whole life here, do you!?” You snort a little as you knock him in the shoulder, and he smiles thinly.

No, he didn’t want to live the rest of his life in Tuscany, but he’d been getting used to having a little slice of it around lately.

Your over-excitement fades, and you lean in to him cupping his cheek.

“You’ll get to see your mother, and your city… I know you miss them all…” He can’t help but frown at a spot on your dress, avoiding your eyes like a pouting child.

“I’ll miss you, too, though.” He mumbles, and you smile, scrunch your nose and shake your head.

“In no time at all this will all be a happy memory.”

Bucky wants to protest, lifts his gaze to argue with you, but the sharp, almost panicked look you give him as you shake your head again stops him.

“No, Bucky… Don’t. Please don’t make this sad… you’ve made me…” Your voice is cut off as you sniff, the shininess to your eyes spilling over just slightly, even though you smile softly.

“You’ve made me very happy, for quite some time. Let us leave with that.” You wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face away and Bucky sighs, pulling you closer too, and resting his head atop your own.

He glares, frowns aimlessly at a nearby wall, barely even seeing it, focusing all his energy on swaying gently with you.

“Alright.” He says, voice a little rough. You sniff into the collar of his shirt, and he smooths his hands down over your back.

“Alright.”

—-

“We rented out your room to a shoemaker. You’re gonna have to sleep on the couch until we can convince him to leave.” Becca says flatly, half her words muffled as she’s drawn into Bucky’s chest. He holds her there tightly for several seconds before pulling back.

“Oh yeah?” He rubs at his chin.

“Don’t think the shoemaker will sleep heads to toes with me?” He wonders, and Becca scrunches her nose, laughing at the image.

Winnie Barnes shakes her head and lightly taps her daughter.

“Becca don’t cause trouble. Bucky, we left everything exactly the way it was.” His mother tells him, before hugging him for the sixth time since he’d landed. He just grins, and hugs her back each time. He’d missed her. So much.

They eat dinner together, Steve and Peggy come too, and afterward, the blond makes Bucky pull out his camera. After quickly pulling some choice images out of the pile, he lets Becca and his mother rifle through, telling them about each photo as he remembers it, the act rather therapeutic. He really had been gone for so long.

“Oh… who's this?!” Becca coos, half reading, half awed, and Bucky absently leans over to get a look.

His heart stops for a moment when he lays eyes on you, your smile wide and full of glee, the wind blowing your hair wildly about, your hand lifted to hold your hat on your head. Maybe he takes too long staring, maybe it’s just something about a sisters’ intuition, but Becca whistles, then gasps as she plucks another photo from the pile now tipped on the floor.

“Here she is again! And here too!” Even his mother gives him a sideways glance, but he can’t bring himself to feel too bashful.

He clasps his hands under his knees where he sits on the carpet and hums.

“Nina. I met her in a little town called Montecarra.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” he confirms, as Becca continues to find photos with your face peppered throughout. He should be embarrassed about the amount of pictures he took of you, even ones where you aren’t doing anything but reading, but he really doesn’t.

“She your girlfriend?”

“Becca!” Winnie scolds, glaring at her daughter, but Bucky only laughs.

“I wasn’t lucky enough for that.” He shrugs, and his mother fusses.

“James Barnes, any woman worth her salt—”

“It’s not like that Ma… it’s just…” He trails off. He doesn’t want to say something to suggest he didn’t want to be here with them, because he desperately did. But he missed you.

“Well… I came home.” He shrugs, and his mother’s eyes fill with understanding. She purses her lips but frowns thinly, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

Becca frowns too, but she recovers quickly, pulling out a new photo and asking him about the features in it.

She pulls out the ones of your face, but she doesn’t mention them again.

Bucky settles in. He truly comes home. He stops feeling like he’s living out of a suitcase. He finds a job, granted it isn’t hard, with the SSR setting up an office in the city, he barely had to ask for a job. On Fridays he went dancing with Becca, acting more like a chaperone than a participant, and on Sunday’s he went to church with his mother, holding her hand through the service and making nice with the old ladies after.

He settles in. He’s home.

And then, there’s a knock on the door.

It’s well after any kind of appropriate hours for visitors, but not late enough into the night that anybody was in bed. Winnie sits by the radio in the living room, listening to her stories while Becca scrawls out a letter. Bucky had been reading when the knock came, and he waves a hand towards the women when he stands.

“I’ll get it.”

“Who on earth calls at this time?” He hears his mother wonder aloud as he makes his way down the hall to the front door.

Swinging it open, Bucky feels ready to send off whoever it is, but he stops dead in his tracks. All sense leaves him, aside from sight. He’s only able to stare slack-mouthed as you blink back up at him.

He’s never seen you in so many layers before. It was winter in New York, but Montecarra seemed to be perpetually hot, so the most he’d seen you in was a light jacket… standing before him now, on his front steps, you have a coat, a scarf, gloves, a hat and he thinks those might even be earmuffs around your neck.

“I… Hello…” You begin, your voice heavily accented when you speak English, and even though Bucky shakes himself out of his stupor, he’s still dumbfounded.

“Hi…”

“I… I’m new to the city, and I thought perhaps you will… show me around?” You seem to be thinking hard about your words, speaking slowly to articulate them. You scrunch your nose when you finish, clearly unhappy with the outcome.

Bucky can’t even bring himself to respond. He’s down the two steps separating you in seconds, hands cupping both your cheeks as he kisses you, again and again, in quick succession until you’re laughing against his lips.

“What— how— what are you doing here?!” He stops and starts, but eventually gets some version of his thoughts out. He speaks to you in Italian, not wanting you to feel limited, and you shrug, gloved fingers splayed across his chest.

“My Aunt… the one from England… she offered for me to join her in America, for better opportunities…” You trail off, and Bucky decides you could tell him any reason and he’d have been satisfied.

“I’ve been learning English.” You say, and he nods, thumb stroking over your cheek. He can’t stop looking at you, he can’t believe you’re here.

“I can see that.” He replies, in English, and watches as you slowly understand.

“Buck? Who's at the door— oh! I- I’m sorry, I—” Winnie, with Becca just behind her, stops in her tracks at the door, cheeks tinged red at catching such an intimate moment, but Bucky can’t bring himself to pull away. He see’s Becca’s eyes flash with recognition, her face lighting up.

He forces himself to pull back slightly, guiding you forward.

“Mama, Becca, this is Nina… from Montecarra.”

——

“I thought you said you’d worked in all the kinks!?” You whine, only slightly impatiently, though Bucky can understand why.

“Worked out all the kinks, baby. ‘Out’.” You roll your eyes and mutter in Italian.

“I’m going to work you out in a moment…” You say louder, and Bucky relents, holding up his hands as he finishes fiddling at last.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming! Get ready!” He tells you, quickly rushing around from one side of the camera he’d set up on a pile of books, the little wired control he holds in his hand flashing red.

“Come bambino, please smile for Mr Camera!” You bounce the tiny baby boy on your lap, earning a bout of giggles, just as Bucky slides in next to you on the stairs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and placing his free hand on his son’s back.

“Ready?”

“Five minutes ago…”

“Say ‘Montecarra’!”

He presses the button, and the camera flashes.

Thank You Very Much For Reading!

[mianavs]

half agony, half hope

“you pierce my soul. i am half agony, half hope.” - jane austen

Oikawa x f!reader, regency!au, angst, romance, hurt/comfort

for @sakeomi​’s the chosen one collab

a/n: fueled by my love for jane austen and a bridgerton binge. some regency/nobility jargon but nothing too fancy. hope you like it :)

a huuuuge thank you to @tetsunormous​ for taking the time to look this over. you’re a gem!

wc: 9k+

Peering out the small window of your family’s carriage, you couldn’t help but scowl at the ridiculously nice weather you were having en route back to the ton. The weather had also been lovely the day you left society which you took as an affirmation that you’d made the right decision in leaving. Now, you didn’t feel that same hopeful sentiment you did back then and had hoped lousy weather would delay your return, but it seemed that your luck with the weather had run out.

The sun shone brightly and was accompanied by the perfect amount of white fluffy clouds amidst a beautiful blue sky. There was a light breeze that kept your bonneted head cool enough to prevent beads of sweat from trailing down your brow, and you were also positive that Henry, your footman, was enjoying the mild weather outside on his box seat as he escorted you from your family’s country estate back to town.

You drew back the small curtain and leaned back onto your cushioned seat before picking up the stack of letters beside you and thumbing through them until you found the first of many unopened ones. Setting aside the others—all mostly from your father demanding your return—you examined all twelve letters that bore an unbroken turquoise seal and were addressed to you from Toru Oikawa. They all had a date scribbled on the bottom right corner, with the first one dating back to six months after you left town. You successfully fought off the urge to open the letters and piled them up with the others before putting them away in a wooden box—a present from your late mother.

 It was hard to believe that a year had passed since you begged your father to let you retire to the country after witnessing an immoral scene no respectable person should ever witness—let alone the fiancée of one of the perpetrators. Looking back, you could firmly say it wasn’t the shame that drove you to abandon society and your fiancé but the heart-wrenching agony you felt from seeing the man you loved with another woman.

While love matches were a rare thing between members of the aristocracy, you had truly believed yours to be one of them, and it all started from the moment you first beheld Toru.

It had been the annual debutante ball hosted by the monarchy, and you, along with a dozen other seventeen-year-old ladies, were making your debut into society. The ball was strictly for the aristocracy only, and, as a result, only members of the nobility were able to mingle with each other.

While on the surface, it was meant to start the matchmaking season by introducing the newest line-up of ladies to the ton’s eligible bachelors and their mothers, there were other activities taking place simultaneously. Racy affairs took place under a cover of darkness in hidden corners or outside in the gardens, and business deals of all sorts were struck up in gambling rooms between men as they dealt cards and downed glasses of brandy.

Of course, being the naïve debutante that you were, thoughts on the covert activities taking place were beyond you. All you could think about was keeping your head held high, back straight, and minding your step as you walked to the dais where the royal family sat, to not trip over the hem of your new silk ball gown.

After a satisfactory curtsy and subtle nods from the King and Queen, you took your place next to your father, the Count. The butterflies in your stomach settled as you watched the debutantes with better curtsies, looks, and family backgrounds get asked to dance by eligible young men. After a couple of songs, apprehension ate away at your calm demeanor as you wondered if standing at the sidelines in the balls to come would be your fate. Beside you, the Count shifted uncomfortably, and you took notice of his knitted brows as he scanned the room for someone before excusing himself and disappearing into the crowd.

Just when you’d resigned yourself to a dance-less evening and twiddled with your dance card, a pair of black boots stood before you and captured your attention. You looked up to find yourself face to face with the man that would become your fiancé—Toru Oikawa, the Duke of Seijoh.

He was everything a young man should’ve been and more. He was effortlessly charming and handsome with his velvety brown eyes that remained fixed on you throughout that evening, tousled brown locks that added to his boyish looks, and a roguish smile that never failed to take your breath away.

Toru remained by your side that entire evening. The two of you spent half of the evening dancing and the other half talking about your interests and hobbies. It didn’t take much for an innocent girl like you to fall for the first man that spared you any attention, so by the end of the evening, when Toru placed a gentle kiss on your gloved hand, you were already half in love with the man.

Toru spent a considerable amount of time wooing you during those two months prior to your engagement in your defense. He called upon your home at least three times a week, during which the two of you split your time in your drawing room conversing over tea, admiring your estate’s gardens, or promenading through the town.

It was during those times that you realized just how popular your suitor was simply from the jealous stares that ladies would send your way. At first, it was easy to ignore them, but as time went on and they grew bolder in their actions, you often found yourself biting back tears during assemblies or rejecting tea invitations to avoid subjecting yourself to their snipes.

While being the object of the Duke of Seijoh’s interest did ostracize you from the other ladies, you found that it was worth it as long as Toru’s charming smiles and warm words continued to fill your dull life with love. That was the belief you held onto up until that fateful morning when Toru arrived with flowers and an engagement ring before getting down on one knee. Besides your initial meeting at the debutante ball, the day of your engagement was the happiest day of your life, made even more special by one of the Count’s rare smiles and an albeit awkward embrace.

Unlike the fantasy you had already concocted in your mind, the reality of your engagement was disheartening to say the least. Toru stopped visiting your home altogether and avoided you at balls and other social events. While you hid away in corners, sipped on a glass of port, and made-up excuses for him, Toru fluttered about the assembly rooms chattering away with friends and dancing with ladies that never failed to mock you afterwards.

During those rare occasions when he graced you with his presence, any complaints you took up with Toru were shot down as petty jealousy. His smile would disappear from his handsome face, and his eyebrows would knit together as if you were submitting him to a torture session by just speaking with him.

“What other proof of my love do you need?” He would ask and raise your ring-clad hand for effect. “You will be my duchess and the mother of my children. That is all that should matter to you.”

You spent the majority of the fall and winter seasons planning for your wedding with only the guidance of the Marchioness of Niiyama. She had been widowed at the young age of twenty and had inherited her husband’s title, but above all, she was Toru’s childhood friend. While you found the Marchioness witty and extremely helpful when it came to wedding planning and understanding Toru, you found yourself missing your deceased mother more than ever and wondered what sort of advice she would give regarding your relationship.

The only time you saw Toru was during the Christmas celebrations and official events where the two of you were expected to attend as a couple. Other than that, you didn’t see or hear from your fiancé and spent your days wondering what went wrong while ignoring the conclusion you came to every time.

Those thoughts would continue to plague your mind until the last ball of the spring season when you decided to take a stroll in the gardens only to find Toru and the person that had been your confidante over the last couple of months—the Marchioness. Her long willowy arms were wrapped around Toru’s frame with her gloved fingers tangled in his brown locks as the two shared a lover’s kiss.

The sight was like falling into frigid waters. A numbness washed over, and you stood frozen in place while the air around you thickened until you couldn’t breathe. There was a disconnect between your body that remained still and your mind that was full of screaming thoughts demanding you move, confront them, or leave the premises altogether. It wasn’t until you locked eyes with the marchioness that the spell you were under broke, and you fled the scene with hot tears stinging your eyes.

That night was the first time you cried in front of your father since the death of your mother. It was also the first time you personally asked him for anything and, to your surprise, he acquiesced.

For the remainder of that night, the house was abuzz in preparation for your departure at dawn. You also didn’t sleep a wink that night and instead gathered all of the letters, dresses, bonnets, and gloves Toru sent and tossed them into the fire. With swollen eyes and still in your ball gown, you sat in front of the fire and watched the items you once treasured burn until the flames died out and only ashes were left.

In the end, you left for your family’s country estate before the rays of the sun peeked over the horizon but not before taking off the ring on your left hand’s fourth finger and leaving it on the windowsill of your bedchamber.

“Apologies for the delay, my lady, but we’ll be arriving in the evening.” Henry called out to you from his seat at the front.

“Thank you for letting me know, Henry.” You replied and continued to flip through the documents you’d prepared prior to leaving your country estate.

When your sorrow turned into indignation, you decided to do everything in your power to put an end to your engagement. What started as a simple letter asking your father to end things with Toru on your behalf snowballed into endless hours of research and lessons on all matters relating to your family’s properties, business ventures, and finances. The catalyst? Your father’s curt reply explaining the details of your engagement contract.

The engagement also includes a business deal the duke struck up with me that will save us from ruin. It cannot be broken off simply because you’ve fallen out of love with him. Stop this nonsense and come home immediately.

Your Father,

Now a year later, you returned with a vast amount of knowledge on your family’s businesses and the large debt accumulated from decades of bad business moves. It was a sheer miracle your family hadn’t lost your properties yet, and it was easy to see why your father had readily agreed to an engagement with someone as powerful as Toru Oikawa.

He had offered your father enough money to settle your family’s debts and then some to invest back into Seijoh’s multiple businesses. While it was a fair enough deal on the surface, you couldn’t help but wonder why Toru had chosen you. If it was purely to find a wife and gain a life-long investor, there were plenty of other families in dire situations with daughters of marriageable age that would’ve fit the bill. Whatever his reasoning, you made it your mission to find out during your inevitable encounter with him.

The tired whinny of the horses woke you from your slumber to an almost pitch-black carriage. Henry rustled outside while you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and straightened your bonnet. The door opened a moment later, and your footman greeted you with a weary smile and an extended hand.

“Welcome home, my lady.”

You took his hand and stepped down in front of your family’s estate, illuminated for the night. Although smaller than your family’s country estate, the imposing white stone building had been your family’s ancestral seat for generations and held memories that you either held near and dear to your heart or buried in the darkest corners of your mind.

“Rest well, Henry.” You said and gave your footman a small smile. “You’ve worked hard.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Henry replied with a low bow before returning to the carriage.

Turning to face your home, the front doors opened, and a blanket of light from home illuminated the pathway before you. Almost immediately, a flurry of maids exited the building and made their way to you, wearing sheepish looks and emitting a cacophony of apologies for not greeting you properly. Walking into your home surrounded by bustling maids and butlers carrying your luggage, you took a deep breath and braced yourself for the mess that awaited you.

While a year ago, the sight of hundreds of lilacs would have brought tears of joy to your eyes, the pungent fragrance of your favorite flower that filled your bedroom made you nauseous the longer you remained. You raised a handkerchief to your face and picked up one of the dozens of turquoise name cards attached to the bouquets that, sure enough, had Toru Oikawa printed in gold.

Crumpling the name card, you turned to your maids. “Get these out of my sight. The smell is making me ill.”

The maids exchanged a confused look before one of them spoke up. “But, my lady, His Grace delivered these himself—”

“I’m well aware of that fact,” you replied, tossing the crumpled name card onto a bouquet. “But I still want them taken out immediately.”

“Y-yes, my lady, right away!”

As the maids went to work, a knock on the door caught your attention, and you found the head butler standing at the door. The sight was one you were accustomed to and, wordlessly, you approached the elder man already knowing what he’d say.

“Greetings, my lady. I hope your trip wasn’t too tiring.” He said with a slight bow

“I’m assuming father wants to see me?” You replied curtly.

“Yes, Lord L/N is waiting for you in his study. Please, allow me to escort you there.”

“There is no need for that. I will see myself there.” Noticing the weary look on his wrinkled face, you softened your tone. “You may retire for the night.”

After dismissing the butler and removing your travel coat and bonnet, you made your way to your father’s study on the other side of the manor. Standing outside the study, you straightened your dress and took a deep breath before knocking once on the large mahogany door.

“Come in,” a low voice rumbled from the other side, and you opened the double doors to reunite with your father.

The Count sat at a table instead of his desk and upon closer inspection, you noticed the array of pastries accompanied by a teapot and two cups. The refreshments caught you off guard, and you stood awkwardly trying to process the situation that was unlike any of the other meetings with your father.

While you were sure some fathers excessively doted on their daughters, the Count wasn’t one of them and only grew more distant after the death of your mother. He either remained locked away in his study or went on business trips. Family dinners happened only once a month, and even then, they were stiff affairs with him asking about your education and you replying with short answers. The only semblance of affection from him came in the form of gifts with short notes delivered to you by the head butler. It was in those notes that your father would awkwardly convey his affection by congratulating you on an academic achievement or wishing you a happy birthday.

“Sit, Y/N,” the Count stated gesturing to the chair across from him. “I had them prepare this fresh for your arrival.”

“Thank you,” you replied and took a seat, settling your hands on your lap.

The Count took a sip from his cup, and when you didn’t partake of the food, he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Must you make things so complicated from the get-go?”

Any fondness you felt at the sight of your father and the display he prepared for you dissipated the moment he uttered those disgruntled words.

“I apologize if my wanting of a respectful husband complicates things for you.”

Your thinly veiled anger was somewhat of a shock to your father, who had never been on the receiving end of it. He cleared his throat and replaced his surprise with a look of disapproval.

“Whatever happened a year ago, I am certain that Oikawa has thoroughly repented. He’s been visiting me over the past six months for news of you since you never replied to his letters. He even spent the entire day waiting for your return.”

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest while a harsh, derisive laugh ripped from your throat. “Yes, I’m sure the lucrative deal the two of you made had absolutely nothing to do with his visits. Tell me, father, how much more did he offer you?”

The Count averted his gaze and lightly shook his head. “You’ve changed so much I hardly recognize you. Was his transgression so great to turn you into this?”

“I doubt whatever I say will change your mind on the matter.” You replied coldly and took a bite from a cookie. “I just hope whatever he offered didn’t affect our agreement.”

He took another sip from his tea and fixed his gaze on you, his own face undecipherable. You steeled your resolve under his scrutiny and held your breath waiting for his answer.

“If you can find another alternative, be it via marriage or not, that will provide our family with the funds needed to get us back on our feet, I will do everything in my power to annul the engagement.”

You exhaled. “Thank y-”

“But you must receive him when he comes tomorrow,” the Count concluded, setting down his teacup.

You finished your cookie and stood up. “I already planned on it. Thank you for the dessert. I shall take my leave now.”

The Count nodded his approval and you sank into a curtsey before turning your heel and leaving your father’s study. Once outside, you leaned back against the large double doors, relishing your small victory against your father.

Despite being completely worn out from the trip, you tossed and turned in bed only managing a couple hours of sleep as thoughts of Toru filled your mind. While it was relatively easy to occupy your mind with other things during the day, he was a constant figure in your head at night that  always invaded your dreams.

Toru Oikawa still resided within your heart, whether you chose to admit it or not, and your father’s revelation of his visits during your time away proved it. It had been a fleeting sensation but your heart had wavered in that moment.

By the time the sun rose over the horizon, you had already bathed, dressed, and sat on your room’s balcony nibbling on a plate of fruit. It was all you could stomach while you waited for Toru’s impending arrival.

“Would you like me to style your hair, my lady?” The outspoken maid from the day before inquired hesitantly.

Raising a hand to your hair, you considered her suggestion for a moment before deciding against it. A year ago, you would have spent all morning primping for Toru’s visit, but the situation was different now, and there was no need for elaborate hairstyles.

“That won’t be necessary.”

You’d just finished your breakfast when you heard the faint whinnies of a horse that only grew louder. Rising from your seat, you were able to make out a male figure on horseback wearing a navy-blue tailcoat that approached your home. As the gentleman drew closer, his wind-swept brown hair came to view, and that was all you needed to verify his identity.

You wrung the cloth napkin in your hands before dropping it on your plate. “It seems we have a visitor to greet.”

The reunion between you and Toru was one that you’d played out in your mind many times over the course of the year. You’d memorized impassioned speeches and even practiced storming out of the room, yet nothing could have prepared you for the torrent of emotions that washed over you the moment you stepped into the drawing room where Toru waited.

He was on his feet as soon as you entered, tugging on his silver waistcoat as his eyes swept over your form. It had only been a year yet Toru seemed to have aged five. While still handsome, his boyish looks were gone and replaced with a weariness beyond his twenty-three years. Instead of the air of confidence he once gave off, the Toru before you appeared hesitant and—dare you say it—ashamed.

It wasn’t until his brown eyes locked onto yours that a glimmer of the light that used to radiate within his orbs appeared, and you felt your legs tremble with every step you took. A ragged breath left his lips that broke into a hesitant smile before he took a step forward that turned into another until he was able to take you into his arms.

“My love,” he breathed into the crook of your neck. “You’re back.”

You couldn’t breathe or move, as he tightened his hold around you. All you could do was stand there and feel every shallow breath he took as his entire body trembled against yours. He held you with a desperation that made your chest tighten and throat close up.

“I-I thought I lost you, Y/N,” Toru murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you that I’ll do everything in my power to make it all up. I’ll make you the happiest woman alive and you’ll never regret giving me this second chance. Oh, my love, I’m so happy you’re back that-”

Every word he spoke was like a needle poking and prodding at you until the pain became too much and you broke free from the trance you were in. A snarl ripped through your throat and you pushed Toru away with all of your strength.

“Let. Go!”

He stumbled backwards, steadying himself with a chair, and looked back at you as if you’d struck him across the face instead of breaking free from his suffocating hold. For a moment, you almost felt guilty for rejecting him when you saw the distress in his eyes, but the memory of his betrayal resurfaced and anger took ahold of you once more.

“You’re gravely mistaken if you think I have forgiven you, Your Grace. You and the Marchioness have shamed me in the worst possible way and I refuse to submit myself to a life of misery by your side. If I am meeting you today, it is only to put an end to this engagement. I’m sure you and your lover can find another girl to fool.”

Your voice quivered and tears stung your eyes, but you kept your head held high as the words tumbled out of your mouth like water bursting from a dam.

The color drained from Toru’s face as he stared at you aghast. His mouth opened and closed a multitude of times before it settled into a thin line. He tore his eyes from you, running a hand through his hair before a defeated sigh escaped him.

“You didn’t read my letters, did you?” He asked, facing you once again with the gleam of unshed tears in his eyes.

Your throat constricted painfully but you answered him anyway. “No, I didn’t and I refuse to do so. I’ve had enough of your lies and false proclamations of love-”

“I do love you!”

Toru’s declaration came out hurried, ragged, and desperate. It reverberated off the walls of the drawing room and echoed in your ears eliciting a shallow gasp from your trembling lips.

“I fell in love with you over the course of our courtship.” He admitted, gripping the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. “It wasn’t what I expected. You...weren’t what I expected. Before I knew it, I found myself wanting to be by your side. You’re so beautiful, intelligent, and devoted and the moments I spent with you were the happiest I’d ever been in my entire life.”

“Why me?” You asked the question that had been on your mind for months, unable to wait any longer. “Why did you pick me?”

Toru’s shoulder’s drooped and dejection replaced desperation. “Your father’s title, your family name that is as old as the royal family itself, and your financial situation were all factors that singled you out as the best candidate.”

“Did…the Marchioness have any say in the matter?” Your voice was so quiet it wouldn’t have surprised you if he hadn’t heard it at all. There was a long silence and all you could hear was the drumming of your heart against your chest. Just when you were about to repeat the question, Toru spoke.

“She was the one that brought up your name.”

His words were like a slap to your face.

“Leave! At once! I cannot stand being in the same room with you.” You glared daggers at the man not caring if he was a duke and you the daughter of a mere count.

“Please allow me to explain the situation! It’s not what you think—”

“There is nothing to explain, Your Grace. Our relationship is over and if you don’t annul our engagement then I will find a way to do it myself.”

Your threat washed away the obstinacy in Toru’s eyes and a haunting hollow look glossed over them. His hand released the chair he’d been holding onto for the majority of your encounter, and he dragged his feet towards the door.

He surprised you by stopping beside you, and for a moment, you believed he would take you into his arms once again and beg you to forgive him. Only, he didn’t.

“Read the letters I sent you. They contain everything I’ve ever wanted to tell you. Only then will I agree to put an end to our engagement.”

His words haunted you throughout the day up until the evening when you sat at your desk and traced the turquoise seal on one of Toru’s letters. It would have been so easy to break the seals and read through the letters but the thought of falling prey to his pretty words stopped you.

The following morning, the plan to end your engagement and save your family from ruin started with a package from the investigator you hired back in the country. Within it you pulled out pages and pages of information on all of the families of the aristocracy. The reports included the names and ages of the members, the business endeavors of each of the families, and the properties they owned. Other details were also included like their financial status, list of acquaintances, and town gossip.

Over the course of a week, you were able to go through each report and compile a list of potential families you could strike up a deal with. The longer you delved into the background of every family on that list, the shorter said list became until one last name stood out amongst the rest—Kageyama.

According to the report, Viscount Kageyama had been successful in his business endeavors over the last couple of years and it was all thanks to his prodigal son. At the young age of twenty-one, Tobio Kageyama was racking up accomplishments left and right with no sign of slowing down. With a military background like his father, he was an excellent athlete and hunter and won almost all of the competitions he participated in. It was his eye for business ventures and investments, however, that caught your attention and made him a possible marriage candidate.

Over the past three years, he’d managed to turn his family’s failing businesses into prosperous ones and used those profits to invest in other groundbreaking ventures. That was the sort of advice you and your father needed to turn your debts into profits and it just so happened that Tobio wasn’t engaged to anyone.

You found that odd.

For a young man of his age with an acceptable family background and a natural talent for business to be without a fiancée was unheard of. The mothers of society would never let a man like him slip past their radars so you sought to find out why.

Rummaging through his family’s report, you searched for the list of acquaintances hoping to find a mutual one that might give you more information on him. Your eyes stopped on a last name that you’d recognized from an invitation to a tea party that would take place in two days’ time.

Turning away from the document, you called out to the outspoken maid that always seemed to be in the room when you needed her. “What is your name?”

“It is Akane, my lady.” She replied with a deep curtsey. “How can I be of service?”

You smiled, thoroughly pleased with how quick-witted she was. “Send word to the Yachi estate letting them know I will be attending Lady Hitoka’s tea party.”

Akane’s eyes flitted to the table then back to you before a small smile played on her lips. “Right away, my lady.”

Hitoka Yachi was somewhat of an outcast in polite society despite her caring and gentle personality. Her mother was an outspoken countess in her own right that had married for love and, and as a result, Hitoka was an heiress—something that was frowned upon by most. The two of you had bonded over the fact that you both had lost a parent at a young age; she had lost her father and you’d lost your mother.

Over the course of the year, you’d exchanged a letter here and there with Hitoka, and she’d been kind enough to reach out when you returned. While you initially hadn’t planned on attending social events until you’d broken your engagement, you figured rekindling your relationship with Hitoka while garnering information on her friend, Tobio, wouldn’t be too bad.

The day of the tea party, you dressed in a simple cotton dress with small flowers printed on the fabric and had Akane sweep your hair into a simple updo. Since the death of your mother, maids had come and gone under the head maid’s strict supervision, but none of them had stood out like Akane. You found her a smart and observant girl that worked as your eyes and ears around the estate. For that reason, you decided to keep her close and had her accompany you during your outing.

The Yachi’s manor was located in the outskirts of town and gave off the appearance of a large country home while less than an hour away from town. It was a beautiful home surrounded by gardens that, in the spring, bloomed exquisite flowers of all shapes, shades, and sizes.

You were escorted to the rose garden by one of the manor’s butlers where Hitoka and another young woman were already seated at a table filled to the edge with pastries, bite-sized sandwiches, fruits, and a porcelain teapot with matching cups and saucers.

“Y/N!” Hitoka exclaimed and leapt to feet and took your hands into hers. “Oh, it’s been far too long!”

“It’s nice to see you again, Hitoka,” you replied earnestly. “Thank you for your wonderful letters this past year. They were a great comfort to me.”

A pretty blush dusted her cheeks. “I’m glad my silly letters had such a wonderful effect.”

She drew you to the table where her other guest was standing by. Upon closer inspection, the young woman’s distinct black shining hair and stormy blue eyes triggered your memory and her name resurfaced just as Hitoka introduced you.

“Kiyoko, this Y/N L/N.” Hitoka said, gesturing to you. “Y/N, this is Kiyoko Sawamura.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Kiyoko.”

“Likewise, Lady Y/N.” She replied, her voice quiet but firm.

The three of you took your seats and Hitoka took the lead in the conversation cluing you in on what they’d been discussing. You caught a couple of words here and there but your main focus was on the woman to your left.

Three years ago at her debut, Kiyoko Sawamura had been declared a diamond of the first water by the Queen herself and had caused quite a stir amongst all of the eligible bachelors at the time. As the only daughter of the Duke of Karasuno, not only was she stunningly gorgeous but she came from a noble family whose wealth and power surpassed even that of the Oikawa’s. Her engagement to Yuji Terushima, heir to the Marquess of Johzenji, had been the announcement of the year—at least until the annulment three months later.

Rumors ran rampant that summer over what had actually happened but they all lead back to a cheating scandal involving Yuji and a maid from his household. Of course, Kiyoko faced the brunt of the ordeal since Yuji fled society like a coward along with his maid who ended up pregnant with his child, but she never succumbed to the pressure and kept her head held high with the support of her family. The last piece of gossip you’d heard regarding Kiyoko was that she’d found love with the son of Baron Tanaka.

To say you admired the woman was an understatement; she was everything you wanted to be but never could. Where she had braved society, you had fled to the country for a year like a coward.

Hitoka’s cheery voice broke through your cloud of dark thoughts. “…he’s been trying to get Tobio to attend more social events for the past two years, and he finally succeeded! Tobio will be attending Viscount Udai’s ball this Saturday.”

“I told you if anyone would be able to convince him it would be Shoyo. After all, they are best friends whether they admit it or not,” Kiyoko replied before taking a sip of her tea.

“Tobio Kageyama will be attending a ball?” You muttered, mostly to yourself but Hitoka heard you and responded.

“Yes! Are you acquainted with him, Y/N?”

“No, I am not,” you admitted sheepishly and made up an excuse on the spot. “My father mentioned him the other day and spoke of his achievements.”

“He is very talented when it comes to making money, but I just wish he would let people see the other sides of him. He’s actually a kind person underneath his gruff exterior,” Hitoka lamented before changing the course of the conversation.

“Will you also be attending the ball with His Grace?”

You plastered a smile on your face and prayed it looked genuine. “I’m not sure if Toru will be able to attend but I certainly plan on it.”

Despite your relationship with Hitoka, the real reason behind your leave wasn’t something you disclosed to her or anyone else for that matter. You had already dealt with enough ridicule from being Toru’s slighted fiancée and had no desire to add more fuel to the fire by revealing the details behind his betrayal.

“He must be awfully busy these days. It’s been months since he has attended any large social gatherings.”

Your friend’s revelation was shocking to say the least, and the smile on your face faltered. Kiyoko’s sharp gaze immediately zeroed in on your face, but her scrutiny only lasted a second before it was gone.

“Ruling over a duchy is no easy feat. My father is very strict with my brother’s education.”

“Oh, how is Daichi these days? I saw Yui the other day at the modiste and…”

Hitoka’s chatter faded into the background and her revelation of Toru’s absence in society echoed in your head. You had expected Toru to take advantage of your absence to the fullest and yet he hadn’t. A single thought amidst the storm in your mind stood out amongst the rest, and your heart wavered.

Maybe he’s truly become a changed man.

And yet, the cursed image that had been branded in your mind returned and dashed away that hopeful thought, replacing it with a more cynical one.

Or maybe he’s just showing his devotion to his true love, the Marchioness.

For the remainder of the gathering, your mind continued to drift to and from the conversation until the refreshments were cleared and the sun began to set. After bidding the ladies farewell, you returned to your carriage with Akane following closely behind you.

“Akane, do we still have some of the tea leaves I brought with me from the country?”

“Yes, my lady. I daresay there is enough to give away.” Akane replied and you smiled before turning to face your perceptive maid and ally.

“Good. Have some packed and sent to Lady Hitoka and Lady Kiyoko.” You paused before adding, “and save some for yourself. You’ve earned it.”

While you could have easily waited until the Viscount’s ball to be introduced to Tobio, time was of the essence and you needed to set your plan in motion prior to meeting him. If everything went as planned and Tobio proved to be receptive to an agreement—be it one of marriage or not—then the ball would be the perfect place to present your terms and come to a verbal agreement.

With that in mind, you started drafting a letter to Tobio introducing yourself as Hitoka’s friend and provided him with a brief outline of what you wanted, offered, and how it would benefit him and his family. You reread the letter thrice and debated including the possibility of a marriage between the two of you. From what you’d gathered, Tobio Kageyama was a straightforward man that valued honesty, so you added it in while making it clear that it would be one of mutual respect. You knew it was risky sending a letter to a man who was no better than a stranger but it was a risk you were willing to take.

The couple of days prior to the ball you spent preoccupying your mind with business and family matters to steer your mind away from Tobio’s pending reply. It wasn’t until a day before the ball that Akane interrupted you to bring you your correspondence. There was a sealed letter and one short message that you picked up and read without a second thought.

 I will not ask to escort you to Viscount Udai’s ball as I do not deserve that honor. I only ask that you not deny me the first dance as your fiancé.

Yours,

Toru

 As much as you dreaded the idea of being in the same social function as Toru, let alone dancing with him, you had appearances to keep up and would have to permit it for propriety’s sake. You tried not to dwell too much on his intimate farewell address and shifted your gaze to the sealed letter, which upon closer inspection, had the Kageyama family crest pressed into the navy-blue wax. With trembling fingers, you broke the seal and unfolded the paper, ever eager to read its contents.

 Lady Y/N,

I was very surprised when I read your letter simply because I did not know who you were. Now that I am more familiar with you and your family, I am interested in your offer and would like to speak with you more at Viscount Udai’s gathering.

Until then,

Tobio Kageyama

 A sigh of relief left your lips. Your gamble had paid off and Tobio was considering your offer. If you played your cards right during your meeting then it would only be a matter of time before you would be free of Toru Oikawa while saving your family.

Your eyes stole a glance at Toru’s note. While you should have tossed the note into the fire, your fingers ran over the dry ink until they stopped at the word before his name. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you took his note and placed it inside the wooden box that contained his other letters.

According to Akane, Viscount Udai’s ball was rumored to be the grandest event of the season and when you stepped out of your carriage with Henry’s help and peered up at the bustling and glowing manor, you found no fault in her statement.

The ballroom was brightly illuminated with chandeliers of glass. Curtains and elaborate tapestries of white and gold lined the walls. White flowers of all sorts hung from the ceilings, lined the doors, and wrapped around columns. The room was something out of a fairytale and the people that filled it had all dressed the part. Glancing around the room, you searched for a familiar face only to hear your name called.

“Y/N!”

Hitoka stood on the other side of the ballroom surrounded by Kiyoko and other gentlemen you didn’t recognize. One of the gentlemen turned his head in your direction and stopped when he saw you. Approaching the small party, your attention remained fixed on the man whose midnight blue eyes were glued to your face with an intensity that unnerved you.

Hitoka’s gloved hands reached out to yours and drew you into the circle of people. Now facing the gentleman, his gaze softened slightly before it shifted to Hitoka.

“Y/N, this is Tobio Kageyama. He’s the man I was telling you about the other day.”

Hitoka’s hand patted Tobio’s upper arm before addressing him. “Tobio, this is Y/N L/N. She’s the friend that just arrived from the country.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.” You replied demurely and sank into a curtsey.

“Likewise, my lady.” Tobio’s reply was stiff but his bow was even stiffer and earned him an elbow to the ribs from the shorter man beside him.

Introductions to the other two gentlemen were made and you learned that the shorter man next to Tobio was none other than Shoyo Hinata, a famous jockey and son of a Baron. The man with a roguish grin next to Kiyoko turned out to be her fiancée, Ryunosuke Tanaka.

At that moment, the musicians took their seats and readied their instruments while the room exploded with young men and women finding their partners for the first dance. Your eyes swept over the room in a cursory glance, and to your relief, Toru was nowhere to be found.

Kiyoko and her fiancée left to the dance floor first. They were soon followed by Shoyo and Hitoka but not before the former shot Tobio a pointed look and gestured over to you with a tilt of his head. You found the jockey’s not-so-subtle indication amusing but played off having seen anything. Tobio cleared his throat and you turned your head to face him.

“May I have this dance, my—”

“No, you may not.”

Toru’s voice rang out from behind you. It had a hard-edged quality to it that you’d never heard and sent shivers down your spine. Before you could turn around, his hands settled on your hip and hand. The intimacy of the gesture left you stunned and unable to reject him.

“My fiancée has already promised me her first dance.”

Toru’s warm breath tickled your exposed neck and set your face aflame. Tobio shifted his weight and the action garnered your attention. His brow was furrowed as his eyes searched yours for an explanation you couldn’t give him.

Still in your stupor, Toru drew you away to the dance floor. You opened your mouth to say something but the music started and the couples around you bowed and curtseyed in greeting before they began to move.

The muted chatter around you, the soft music in the background, and Toru’s eyes, darker than usual, drinking in your appearance left you speechless. He looked as handsome as ever in his black tailcoat, golden waistcoat, tousled chocolate brown locks, straight nose, and a pink inviting mouth. Completely mesmerized by him, any ill-will you bore him became non-existent. You drowned in his dangerous pools of brown that disarmed you and left you bare. His touch burned through the fabric of your dress and gloves, branding you with his hands.

It was like the first time you ever danced with him only it wasn’t. Where butterflies had once fluttered about in your stomach, waves of something now swirled within you and pooled at your core. It was terrifying and yet you wanted more. So when the piece came to an end and Toru’s ragged breath fanned on your face, you tilted your head hoping he would close the gap.

Except he didn’t. You didn’t let him because across the room was the face of the last person you wanted to see—the Marchioness.

Her face held no malice as she watched you but she looked almost relieved and it shook you to your core.

“My love.” Toru’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “W-what is it?”

You didn’t answer him. Your eyes remained fixed on the marchioness. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly before turning towards one of the doors. She took three steps before turning back to face you and then she continued until she disappeared from the ballroom.

Toru reached for your hand but you side-stepped him and dashed out of the room; your name blending in with the music and chatter the further you got.

The corridors were dimly lit compared to the ballroom but you could still make out the marchioness’s silhouette in the distance. Her pale face turned to you before walking further away and entering a room. You bounded down the hallway until you reached the room and found the marchioness standing before a large French window. The room was dark except for the moonlight that spilled in and illuminated the center of the room.

“Close the door.”

You hesitated before reaching for the double doors and pushing them until you heard a click. Turning around you found the marchioness already watching you. She was as beautiful as ever with her porcelain skin, golden curls styled fashionably, and rosebud mouth. Her cat-like eyes softened in a way you’d never seen before—not even when she pretended to be your friend and ally.

“Why did you appear before me? What do you want?”

“Technically you appeared before me. This is my home after all,” She replied, a hint of mirth in her voice.

You staggered back. “W-what do you mean?”

“I remarried and am now Viscountess Udai.”

“I-I don’t…why?” Your feet took you forward until you were an arm’s length away from her. “What about Toru? I saw you with him…the two of you…that day.”

She sighed and turned her head, fixing her eyes on the wooden desk beside her. “That is the reason I had you follow me here. It’s high time I confess my sins to you.”

Her eyes looked back at you and the whirlwind of emotions swirling in them left you stunned. In the months you got to know her you knew her to be a charming but cold woman, so seeing her so vulnerable shook you to your core.

“Since I was a girl, I had always envied Toru. He had two parents that adored him and did everything in their power to ensure his happiness. My parents were the exact opposite and sold me off to the highest bidder when I was just sixteen. My late husband was a beast of a man that was forty years my senior. He had poor health but an even worse temper and wouldn’t hesitate to beat me until I passed out from the pain. It was then that Toru lost his parents in an accident, and I started to use him to make myself feel better. I tried manipulating him into thinking I was the only person who could be by his side. That I could be his friend, lover, and family. It worked for a while but when Toru started drifting away from my hold…”

Her voice that had been growing thicker with emotion broke down. Sobs wracked from her body as she slipped off her black lace glove. Under the moonlight you could make out pale scars on the underside of her forearm.

“I started to hurt myself and that kept him by my side until he met you.”

Your chest tightened painfully and tears stung your eyes but you didn’t let them fall.

“He needed a wife to fulfil his mother’s wish and I picked you for him. I believed he would remain loyal to me, but I was wrong. Day by day, Toru fell more in love with you and left me behind. When he received your father’s blessing to officially propose, I was so desperate to hold on to him that I lied to him. I promised to let him go after your marriage if he neglected you during your engagement. But that night in the garden, he declared his unyielding love for you, and I did everything I could to kill that love.”

She wiped away her tears while you let yours fall. She took a couple of deep breaths whereas a ball lodged itself inside your throat and blocked the air.

“I dare not ask for forgiveness. I only ask that you not blame Toru for my sins.”

Unable to utter a word, you managed a solemn nod before turning your heel and leaving the room. The darkness of the corridor left you hollow, the noise from the ballroom rang painfully in your ears, and the air around you was stifling. Everything about the place was suffocating, so instead of returning to the ball, you rounded the corner and left.

Upon exiting your carriage, you ignored everyone and bounded up the stairs to your bedroom before locking the door and forbidding entry for anyone. Heaving from the exertion, you lunged for the wooden box on your nightstand and set it on your desk with a thud. After taking a seat, you lit a candlestick and took out the first of twelve letters.

With trembling hands, you finally broke the turquoise seal and unfolded the paper to read Toru’s side of the story.

After you read the letters once, you sobbed into your hands until the candlestick burned out. You reread them and cursed yourself for being so oblivious—so blind—to the pain in his heart. The third time, your heart swelled with affection for your father who did everything he could to ensure you would be happy with Toru prior to allowing the proposal to take place. The fourth time, you pulled out a piece of paper and wrote to Tobio rescinding your offer and offering your most sincere apologies. By the time you finished rereading the twelfth letter for the fifth time, the birds outside were chirping signaling dawn.

You stood up abruptly and glanced out the window to find the rose-colored light of the sun’s rays peeking over the horizon.

I have to see him.

After washing your face, you discarded your ball gown in favor of a simple cotton dress and a woolen shawl. You picked up the letter addressed to Tobio and opened the door.

Akane, who had evidently been sleeping at your door, tumbled backwards and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Oh! A-apologies, my lady, but I waited to see if you needed anything and…”

You crouched down and helped the girl up to her feet. “Thank you, Akane, for everything you do. You are my most treasured ally.”

Her caramel-colored eyes welled up with tears that she wiped away with her sleeve. “H-how can I help you, my lady?”

You handed her the letter. “Have this sent to the Kageyama estate as soon as possible. Also let my father know that I will not be cancelling my engagement.”

Akane’s eyes lingered on your coat and a smile played on her lips as she replied, “right away, my lady.”

Outside the confines of your home, you breathed in the cool morning air and bolted down the white stone steps, setting off for Toru’s estate. Trudging through the grass and kicking up the rocks of your front lawn, you were full of energy despite not having slept a wink. The negative emotions that had weighed you down since your engagement were lifted and all you could think about was Toru. You wanted to drink in the sight of him, touch his face, run your fingers through his hair, and wrap your arms around him never to let go.

Your front gate eventually came to view, but before that, the backside of a man standing near your family’s fountain appeared and your breath caught in your throat.

Tall, broad shoulders underneath a black coat, and wind-swept brown hair, you knew who it was before he turned around.

Toru’s velvet brown eyes widened and his lips parted at the sight of you. He looked perfectly disheveled in his plain white shirt, unbuttoned, and exposing his chest, and grey trousers that looked like they’d seen better days. Like a moth to a flame, you drew closer until he was in front of you.

“I-I had to see you,” he admitted. “You disappeared from the ball and—”

“She told me…what actually happened.”

His eyes widened. “I must tell you—”

You reached for his hands, not able to hold back any longer. “You already have.” You brushed your thumbs against his knuckles and felt his pulse quicken. “I read your letters…multiple times.”

“I’m sorry, truly,” he breathed.

“I know, and I’m sorry as well. I should’ve given you a chance to explain. I should’ve read them sooner.” You released his hands and stared into his eyes, lips trembling. “If I’m too late an—”

His mouth descended upon yours in a kiss that silenced the words on your tongue. His oh-so- soft lips felt like satin on yours and you melted into his arms that wrapped around you and drew you closer to him. The swirling heat in your core returned and you wrapped your arms around his back, eager to see where the sensation led you.

Toru broke away from the kiss first, leaning his forehead against yours and taking in shallow ragged breaths. A whine escaped your lips and the embarrassing noise set your cheeks aflame. Toru laughed and pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Patience, my love. We have the rest of our lives for this.” He assured you and drew you into a loving embrace.

His sweet words sounded like a promise to your ears and tears of joy prickled your eyes from simply imagining your future with Toru, the man you loved and had never stopped loving.

[mliter]

Sonic Mania. Wow.

I was super excited for this game. I could not believe my eyes when i first saw the initial gameplay when it was revealed at SXSW.

This game takes the best of classic sonic's gameplay, and puts it together to make a near perfect Sonic game. The hype leading up to this was one of the best periods in time to be a sonic fan ever. It was amazing. I enjoyed every moment of the excitement.

The game has an original story, introducing a mysterious gem called the phantom ruby. The game feels good, now in 60fps and it even introduces a new ability for Sonic. The drop dash. It’s a really cool skill that classic sonic shouldn’t live without. If you hold the jump button while in mid air, you’ll get instant speed. I like that Sonic himself was given an ability to differentiate himself from the rest of the cast. Other than being able to use shield abilities, Tails and Knuckles could do what he did with another movement option. It’s nice.

The animation for this game is godlike. Each character looks as they should, oozing with personality at every sprite. Little tails is a favourite now. You can tell the animators loved each and every one of these characters.

The thing that makes Mania so special is that it picked up veterans within the Sonic community to develop it. Names I’ve seen in the credits of fan works were appearing to do the music, animation, and programming. It was amazing. It felt good to see them up there. I love Sonic Mania. Sometimes I put it on just to play through one stage, and I find myself in the final level a hour later. Everything about this game is of quality. From the menus, the art style, the music, the ambition, the opening and literally everything else. You’ll find yourself playing this game again. I can promise that.

[gloves94]

Rumor Has It... [Zuko x Wife!Reader]

Anonymous Requested:

Girl I just got done reading the comics and Zuko with Kiyi IS THE CUTEST THING EVER!!! Can you pleaseee do a one shot where it’s Zuko x reader with their child??💕💕💕💕

Rating: PG Warnings: Fluff! Words:  1281 Pairing: Zuko x Fam!Reader / Pregnant!Reader A/N: I got a little carried away Anon, hope you like it! (And yes- Zuko and Kiyi are hella cute)

This all started with an ill rumor.

Fire Lord Zuko was sitting on his throne. Advisors came in and out of the room with proposals and hearings that he had to hear and after a long day he was mentally exhausted from running his country.

Behind him on either side of the throne stood his Kyoshi Warrior bodyguards, Suki and Ty Lee. They too had a headache from listening to the same rambling of everything that was wrong with the Fire Nation in the post-war reconstruction period.

A merchant that had requested an audience with the Fire Lord was inquiring for a business license in order to sell cabbages in the Fire Nation. It was such dull jargon, so much that Ty Lee couldn’t resist striking a conversation with Suki.

“Hey,” She whispered. Suki turned her eyes in her direction standing perfectly still remaining on guard, eyes fixed on the cabbage merchant. “Don’t you think (y/n) has been acting a little strange?” She spoke in a hushed tone unaware that Zuko’s ears perked at the mention of his Fire Lady. No longer listening to the cabbage merchant he listened to Ty Lee’s words attentively. Suki simply arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, I mean she’s been eating these really weird foods. The other day she had me try a mango with honey and hot sauce, it was disgusting. You know you’d think she’s pregnant or something.”

Suki’s eyes went wide and she turned to face her friend giving her a silencing look.

“(Y/N) is pregnant?!” Zuko coughed out loudly making all eyes in the room turn to his wide-eyed expression.

Everybody was dismissed from the throne room. The cabbage merchant was granted the permit that he needed and happily left.

“No,” Ty Lee rolled her eyes innocently at her friend. “That is not what I said. All I said is that she’s acting like she could be. I mean her aura is pinker than usual-“ She was interrupted by Suki who told her to shut up elbowing her roughly now standing beside her.

“You can’t just say things like that Ty Lee!” She reprimanded. “This is how rumors get started. Right Zuko?” She paused waiting for the Fire Lord’s answer. “… Right?”

Both turned to see Zuko who had gone completely mute. There was a growing smile on his lips and a dazed expression on his glinting golden eyes.

“Oh no…” Suki muttered looking at the daydream expression on his face. “Oh, no, no, no, no….” She repeated approaching him.

“Zuko,” Suki began touching his shoulder hoping her touch would make him snap out of his daze. “Nobody is pregnant. It’s just talk.” She glared at Ty Lee who smiled sheepishly. Suki’s words went in through one ear and out from the other. It was too late; the hopeful idea had already been planted on his head…

Xxx Zuko watched his wife intently as she ate next to him. She seemed to be eating her meal just fine. He didn’t think he could see auras or whatever the hell it was that Ty Lee was talking about. “Want to try my new sauce?” She suddenly said. “It goes great with- well everything.” (Y/N) said leaning in close and putting a bottle of a strange looking sauce with a pungent smell before him. It smelled awful. He was definitely not trying that.

He couldn’t help but smile lovingly at her. He couldn’t think of a good reason why she would keep such good news from him but decided to respect her silence. “What?” She asked a little confused and self-conscious at the endearing look he was giving her. “Nothing,” His smiled widened a little more as he reached for her hand on the dining table entangling his fingers with hers.

Xxx

Over the next couple of days Zuko had been acting odd, like really, really, odd.

(Y/n) couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

He was constantly hovering over her whenever she attempted to manage the simplest of tasks and had ordered servants to do whatever and everything for her. He had also been extra attentive and protective over her, holding her close whenever he could, especially at night and even offering generous foot massages whenever she did her late-night reading.

She found it odd but wasn’t one to complain. That was until one night.

(Y/n) calmly sat on their bedroom’s maroon living room. She was presently enjoying an evening’s glass of wine while reading a book. She was so engrossed in her novel that she didn’t even hear her husband walk into their bedroom.

Zuko stopped in his tracks when he saw his wife consuming her alcoholic beverage and immediately freaked out rushing to her side.

“What are you doing?!” He exclaimed as he jogged to her side almost tripping over the carpet. Nervously, he reached for the chalice of wine and took it from her hands and away placing it on a coffee table nearby. She raised an eyebrow confused at his actions. “Reading?” She guessed. “Enjoying a glass of wine?”

“You-You shouldn’t be drinking that. It’s not good for the baby.” He said cautiously sitting on the carpeted floor next to the sofa; his hands reaching for hers.

She blinked twice and shook her head lightly. Had she heard him correctly?

“What baby?” She drawled out slowly still perplexed at his behavior. He focused his warm eyes on her face, stroking the back of her hand gently. He looked at her just as confused. “Our baby.” He smiled at her so endearingly she could’ve just melted on the spot.

She gave him a dumbfounded look. Looking at his face seeking for any hint or clue of what he was talking about. And then it hit her. That’s why he had been acting so weird… She sat up slightly brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

She looked down at her body, sure maybe she had put on a little weight, but this? 

“But- I’m not pregnant...” It sounded almost like a question.

Zuko’s expression faltered, his eyebrows knotting, eyes dropping in disappointment. He should’ve known better. He knew that it was only a rumor, but a part of him… A part of him wanted it to be true. To be real… “Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked turning to him and taking his face in her hands. Raising it so he’d look at her. “Nothing,” he answered quietly still not meeting her eyes. “I just… I thought…”

She was patient waiting for him to explain himself.

“I thought we were about to start our family.” He sighed standing up

“I didn’t know you were ready to start a family,” she said also rising to her feet.

She didn’t know that he was ready for this step in their lives, starting a family. Phew, it was a big deal. She also didn’t know that he wanted this so badly. The blow of the news still reflected on his face.

“Hey,” She said wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s never too late to start,” the slightest of smirks curled the edge of her lips.

His eyes went a little wide at the meaning of this. Broad smile once again blooming on his face. He hugged her back his lips catching hers. 

xxx

Some months later Suki and Ty Lee received news that the Fire Nation was expecting their Crown Prince or Princess to arrive anytime now.

“Well,” Suki shrugged at the news. “Guess the rumors were true!”

Xxxxx 6 Years Later xxxxx A small girl ran the long corridors of the Fire Nation’s Royal palace. An excited look on her face as she ran towards the palace’s entrance as fast as her legs could take her. An excited look on her eyes, broad smile on her face.

Sometime later she spotted the objective of her trek.

Fire Lord Zuko had just returned from a business trip with the Avatar to the United Republic of Nations. He was exhausted from his journey across the ocean and back. The only thing he wanted to do was enjoy a cup of tea and sink into his bed with his wife.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” He heard loud shouts echoing the corridors’ red walls.  

He pushed the exhaustion to the back of his mind when he saw his daughter running towards him looking more excited than ever. “You’re back!” She cried out giddy with excitement before tackling his legs in an embrace.

“There’s my Princess!” he grinned broadly at the embrace and lifted the young girl holding her up in his arms. “Daddy, I missed you!” She said wrapping her arms around his neck hugging him tightly and to think he had only been gone for ten days. “I missed you too,” he smiled back at her and planted a kiss on top of her head. He gave a look to the guards that were escorting him, and they left on command. “Now, where did you come from? Where is your mother?” He asked gently pushing several strands of messy hair out of his child’s forehead.

The young girl ignored his questions.

“Dad! I want you to meet my new doll,” she said pointing in the direction of her bedroom. “I’d love to meet her, but we have to find your mom first. I haven’t seen her in some time and want to say hi to her too.” He explained sighing at the end. “She’s fun!” (D/Name) spoke referring to her doll. “I named her Kiyi!” “But that’s Aunt Kiyi’s name,” Zuko looked at her in surprise at the odd choice in name. “I know, but it’s a good name!” She insisted. “That, she’d agree too.” He nodded briefly thinking of his younger sister.

As he walked with his daughter in his arms he passed by the palace’s central garden. The one in which he had spent many pleasant afternoons with his mother feeding the pond’s turtle ducks.   He stopped in his tracks and looked at the tree next to the pond and then at his princess. “You know what… Mom can come find us.” xxx “One time I threw a bread at a turtleduck and its mom came and bit me,” Zuko explained as he tossed a piece of bread to the turtleduck family on the pond. Both him and the princess had been sitting there for some time now enjoying the cool shade under the garden’s tree, sharing the intimate family moment. She couldn’t help but laugh at her dad’s anecdote. “Like this?” She said taking the large loaf of bread and aggressively tossing it at a little turtleduck making the poor thing go underwater. The mother quacked angrily and approached them. “No! Not like that!” He saw the mother duck approach and lean forward to bite his child and instead stuck his hand. He winced slightly at the discomfort and shook off the animal’s beak. He would never allow anybody to touch or harm his princess. “No! Dad!” She cried out concerned reaching for him. “Are you okay? Why did it do that?”

“Because you hurt her turtleduckling. That’s what parents do. We defend our turtleducklings.”

“Oh,” she deflated slightly. “I’m sorry dad. It’s my fault you got hurt,” she apologized lowering her head. “Just be more gentle next time,” he said laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “If not, you’ll have to face the mother turtleduck’s wrath!” He cried out before abruptly sinking his fingers into her sides tickling her.

(Y/n) watched the warm scene as she stepped into the garden. She wanted to approach the two people she loved most in this world but didn’t want to interrupt the endearing scene she was witnessing.

She’d never get enough of those two. It wasn’t enough to start the day with them. To struggle trying to get their daughter to eat her vegetables only for Zuko to sneak some dessert to the princess without (Y/n) noticing, although she did, she just pretended not too. Even finishing the day with (D/n) sneaking into bed with her parents after they’ve put her to sleep.

“Mom!” (D/n) suddenly cried out snapping her out of her train of thoughts.

“There you are,” (Y/n) said approaching the two of them. She saw her husband bending over still holding his daughter’s sides in a tickling embrace.

“She’s been asking about you all week. You spoil her too much,” she shook her head with a slight smile and joined her little family kissing her husband’s cheek. “Welcome back, the three of us missed you.” She said sitting next to him running a hand through her daughter’s hair.

“Three of us?” He looked at her confused. She simply smiled, the cheeky grin on her face growing even wider. It was then that it hit him. He couldn’t help himself, overjoyed he brought his wife in for a loving embrace. “I’m so happy!” He spoke against her hair thrilled at the thought of a new person joining their growing family.

The best part of it all was that this time it wasn’t a rumor.

xxx

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[lotus-baby]

hey val! do u have any hcs about zetsu and his relationships/thoughts on the other akatsuki members?

yes 👉👈 *500 words of jargon*

pain - white zetsu likes him, he’s a patient leader which is big to him because so many of the akatsuki members (including the one he shares a body with) get mad at him for dawdling. black zetsu think’s peins god thing is cute bcz he knows ‘real gods’, but otherwise neutral. sometimes wonders if the paths are pickle equivalent.

konan - they kinda have beef ngl... konan’s only in the akatsuki because pein is there and she does Not like to listen to orders from ‘madara’. he’s really conflicted: it seriously inconveniences black zetsu but white zetsu thinks it’s funny because one person with no special kekkai genkai or anything is threatening to tip the cohesiveness of akatsuki just with the Power Of Friendship because she’s close to nagato. but also sometimes when they’re all bored they’ll have lengthy gardening discussions bcz roses = plants, shared hobby??

deidara - black zetsu’s w/ sasori on the expecting deidara to die. also he’s the oldest member of the akatsuki and deidara’s the youngest and he gets a ‘the kids are into arson these days’ vibe. i think white zetsu likes him more because him and deidara were pretty friendly with each other during the 4th shinobi war arc. white zetsu will stick up for deidaras art sometimes if there’s ever competition between the artists. pretty sure deidara thinks white zetsu is a dweeb though because of similarity to tobi 

sasori - this was rlly hard 4 no reason omg.. he probably considers sasori one of the better members, because he contributes so much to the organization w/ his spy network and stuff. i feel like him and black zetsu could potentially nerd out together abt poisons and relate to being stuck with guys that are way chattier than is preferred. work friends, most likely

itachi - itachi’s important to zetsu because of his role in the plot and stuff but he doesn’t think too much about itachi outside of akatsuki business, plus they don’t trust each other at all. zetsu maintains his distance because he knows about all the op sharingan moves and he doesn’t want to die, itachi’s always on edge because he’s pretty sure zetsu is reporting his actions to madara. spyception = double agent spy (itachi) spying on other double agent spy (zetsu) who is spying on the first double agent. 

kisame - a little bit of jealousy tbh. they’re both offputting and inhuman appearance-wise but kisame is more likeable and white zetsu’s not sure what he’s missing. kisame’s also one of the first few members so they’ll chat for old times sake. ‘it’s a philosophy: the weak are meat the strong eat’ ‘most things can be meat... as long as they have animal-like flesh. maybe not me, but you...’ ‘actually zetsu i forgot i have stamina training with itachi today goodbye sorry.’

kakuzu - old loner solidarity... i hc that black zetsu when chatting, will reference  bygone events because he thinks it makes him look sophisticated (no lol). only kakuzu really gets them, so zetsu and him can have actual casual conversations where they both understand each other. but also kakuzu’s not usually in a talking mood and neither is black zetsu so even if the two rlly wanted to be friends i don’t think they are that close. but they’ll go for drinks and cards and consuming hearts every so and so.

hidan - killing murder? good. wasting food? :// white zetsu gets kind of disturbed with how hidan enjoys pain because he’s tried dying too, and it wasn’t fun. black zetsu thinks hidan is supremely entertaining even if he doesn’t help any plans. he doesn’t believe a word hidan says either he just thinks its fun to check in on the resident fucked up guy every once in a while and see what’s cooking. ‘society isnt ready to hear this but evisceration is good. healthy, even’. cue flytrap cackling.

tobito - while black zetsu doesn’t really care about him, white zetsu and tobi are cool. they’ve lived in the cave together for a decade and they’re pretty much like siblings who hate each other now. like obito yelled at shiro daily in the cave era and they know they can’t trust each other but tobi’s still gonna ask zetsu for a snack from the store when goes out and zetsu’s still gonna get it for him, and white zetsu spoke up for tobi on joining akatsuki .. just frenemy things!

[psychosistr]

Meet Me Halfway- Chapter 2

Summary:  Liquidator prepares to enact his ingeniously evil plan to rob St.Canard of its water supply and put the town in a crisis...but he has a bit of a soft spot for a certain botanist, so he gives him a heads-up and helps him prepare for what's to come.

Notes:  This one's a bit shorter than the last, sorry ^^"

-First Chapter-

After their first encounter in the greenhouse, running into the Liquidator became a more and more frequent occurrence over the following two weeks. Bushroot would often go to his greenhouse and find the aquatic canine already there, watering his plants for him, or his new friend would pop up from the garden hose not too long after his arrival. The pair would then spend hours talking about their day (though Bushroot tended to do most of the talking in that regard with Liquidator merely listening and interjecting when appropriate) while Bushroot tended to his plants or worked on the newest phases of his experiment and Liquidator either helped out or tested out a new ability.

Their frequent meetups at the greenhouse seemed to be mutually beneficial for both men involved: Bushroot had someone to help maintain the specific watering cycles his precious plants needed every day, as well as someone to share his latest scientific discoveries with. Meanwhile Liquidator, whom Bushroot was at first concerned wouldn’t get as much out of their frequent interactions, got a place to breath in some fresh air for a while as well as a safe environment to experiment with and refine his water-based powers and abilities.

On top of that, they both got something far more important- someone they could talk to who wouldn’t judge them. Even if he couldn’t always follow Bushroot’s excited ramblings about his experiments, Liquidator was genuinely fascinated by his research and would gladly let the scientist ramble on for literal hours without getting bored or dismissing what he said. In return, Liquidator used the scientist as a test-audience for his water-based puns and one-liners to see which were crowd pleasers and which still needed to be workshopped a bit longer.

It was an interesting but fulfilling relationship that Bushroot had never had with any of his coworkers or classmates before- a genuine friend who got as much out of his time with Bushroot as the duck did with him with neither expecting nor wanting anything in return. The fact that his new friend was a water mutant and upcoming supervillain did little to change Bushroot’s opinion or feelings for the other man- in fact, he hardly even thought about the latter most of the time.

Well, at least until Liquidator had a discussion with him one day about the water source for his greenhouse…

“I’m pretty sure it comes from the Saint Canard Waterworks.” Bushroot said after giving the question some thought. “Why?” He questioned as he turned away from his research notes to look at his friend curiously.

The man in question was currently leaning against one of the greenhouse’s supply lockers with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, looking as if he was weighing his options carefully before speaking. “……” He finally made his decision and looked at Bushroot with that same seriousness. “There’s a drainage pond out back behind the hill, right?”

“Yeah, but that pond’s been drier than the sidewalks since the heatwave started.” The duck’s curiosity was certainly piqued now. “Why are you asking? Is something wrong?”

“Not yet.” Liquidator shook his head before looking out through the glass panes of the greenhouse towards the pond in question nearby. “I’m going to fill it for you before I leave today- consider it a reward for being a loyal customer of the Liquidator’s special watering and companionship services.”

“Oh, well, that’s really nice of you,” Bushroot began while looking out towards the pond as well. “But the Waterworks still has plenty of water, even with the heatwave, so I don’t think I’m going to run out anytime soon.”

“Trust your friendly neighborhood Liquidator- you will be needing it by tomorrow.” Liquidator assured him with that same seriousness from before.

“Why would I-?” Bushroot’s brain stopped mid-question as he finally figured out what Liquidator was getting at and he looked back to his friend with a curious wide-eyed stare. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“As always, the amazing Dr.Bushroot has guessed the 100% correct answer on his first try! For your prize, you get to be the first to hear the good news!” When Liquidator looked back at the small scientist, his serious expression had been replaced with a devious smirk- the same one he’d worn the first time the two of them had met. “I’m planning something big. Something this town won’t be able to forget for a long time to come. Something that’s going to put me on the map as one of the most dangerous supervillains in all of Calisota. By the end of the day, ‘the Liquidator’ will be a household name!”

He looked so dangerous when he smirked like that.

He sounded so excited about doing something that would likely be dangerous and possibly life-altering (if not life-threatening) to many people involved.

He already acted so much like the supervillain he claimed to be- a title he’d given himself despite having never committed any major crimes (that Bushroot was aware of) until now.

By all rights, Bushroot should have been scared. He should have been nervous about having such a dangerous person in the same room as him. He should have been thinking about the quickest way he could get in contact with the police and warn them about what was to come.

Instead, the only thing Bushroot felt was excitement. Excitement and pride for his friend’s plans that were about to unfold. “Really? That’s great! I can’t wait to see what you’re gonna do! I just know it’ll be great!” He gave the other man a bright smile as he leaned forward in his excitement, wanting to know more about what the clever canine was plotting. “So, what are you going to do? Poison the water supply? Burst the city’s water mains and flood city hall? Stop the pipes from working and extort the town for money to turn them back on?”

Liquidator was momentarily taken aback from the shorter man’s eagerness, but soon had a grin on his face that was somewhere between devious and amused as he answered the other’s questions. “To satisfy your thirst for information: That’s already been attempted, with unfortunate results. Not a bad plan- I may try it next time. And you’re surprisingly close with your third and final guess.” Before the duck could ask any more questions, the dog flowed over to the work table he was seated at and held up a finger to silence him. “I’m afraid the customer service desk is closed until further notice- no more questions may be asked until business hours resume.”

Bushroot pouted at essentially being told he wasn’t allowed to know more about the supervillain’s evil scheme. “Can’t I get some sort of 24/7 support for my special membership?” He knew how much the dog loved his business jargon and jokes- it was usually the best way to get him to relent on something and worked most of the time.

Unfortunately, a shake of the head informed him that this would not be one of those times. “Sorry, but even platinum-tier customers can’t be privy to all of the business’s trade-secrets.” His earlier grin softened into the slightly softer smile that Bushroot had become familiar with over the past two weeks. “Trust me- the less you know, the better. If you know too much and get caught, you’ll probably be charged as an accessory or accomplice.”

“Son of a broccoli..” Bushroot muttered dejectedly. He really wanted to know what his villainous companion was up to, but he knew logically that Liquidator was right. Despite his frustration over the lack of information, the duck returned his friend’s smile with one of his own. “I’ll keep the news on at work, so you’d better make sure I have something interesting to watch.”

A bubbly chuckle rumbled in the dog’s chest before he wrapped an arm around the mallard’s shoulders and gave him a thumbs up with the other. “Of course! Exploits involving the Liquidator are guaranteed to enthuse and excite even the most melancholy of local news watchers, or your money back!”

Bushroot chuckled as well, subconsciously leaning into the cool touch on his shoulders. “They’d better be, or I’m calling the complaint department when I get home!”

The two laughed, excited for the next day’s events to unfold, albeit for different reasons.

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes:  Again, sorry this one ended up being a little shorter ^^"

[the-a-j-universe]

Alright, cool. I finally have a guaranteed length of time that should be long enough to go through all of these, so let’s do this. I know the plan was to have me address each ask one at a time but that didn’t work out lol so I’m just doing it all at once. I’m also turning it into a post so anyone who wants to can follow along with my journey.

I’m also gonna copy/paste the text of the other asks instead of screen capping them because copy/pasting is faster lol.

I’m gonna put a pic of each one here, give my thoughts, maybe a goofy rating (I dunno), and then pick my favorite. Just so y’all know.

* Tanawy's entry n.1 in the Dragon Quest monster showcase: the all-time classic Slime. When asked to design the Slime like the standard goop monster they usually were, Toriyama said "no" and a legend was born, now cute slimes are more popular than the disgusting goop depiction. Its cousins and variants are numerous and some are very different from one another so as a bonus here the criminally underutilized Mottle Slime and its evolution the Mottle King Slime.

See, I don’t even need to look this one up. Here it is:

But let’s be real, you guys didn’t need to see an image of this dude either. I love this thing. I never went through a period where I thought of the grosser oldschool slimes. This thing has always been what’s come to my mind when I here the word in an RPG context. Which, considering my zero experience with DQ, really speaks to this thing’s popularity. I am actually going to remove this one from consideration, though, for that reason. I just have too much of a bias towards it. I know it too well, and all variations seem to be equally great. It’s a 10/10, though. Truly iconic.

Get the rest after the cut!

* Tanawy's entry n.2: Originally a boss monster, here is the Golem. While not the sharpest tool in the shed, these brick-made guys can be quite loyal, with a child-like personality, downright adorable (I will never forget you Goldirox) but their strenght in battle must not be underestimated. And since St. Valentinus is around the corner here a Chocolate Golem variant as a gift. Friendship chocolate mind you, from a dude to another 😄

I like this guy. He reminds me of a couple oldschool Yugioh cards. They’re all bad cards, but I’m nostalgic for them so that help’s this guy’s chances. I don’t know that I buy him as a threatening boss, though. He seems more like he’d be your big stone pal.

The chocolate variant is absolutely adorable.

8.5/10 overall for both.

* Tanawy's entry n.3: Here are two members of the Machine Family, first the Killing Machine. These relentless hunters are merciless and they are constantly upgrading, so models with different modifications are plenty. They even come with garden sprinkles. Then there is the Mecha-mynah, who puts a different spin on the mechanical Cuckoo-bird motif. Careful these guys have razor-sharp wings and they selfdestruct when cornered.

Alright, not so much for the second one, but the Killing Machine also reminds me of, like, a half dozen Yugioh monsters. Did Kazuki Takahashi just like ripping this franchise off or something? Either way, these are both good designs, but they don’t really work for me that much. They’re a little...plain? I guess? I guess I like my machine creatures rougher and with more detail. 7/10.

* Tanawy's entry n.4: Next are my deepest fears (exaggeration) if they were real; the Waspion, half wasp half scorpion, and the Claw Hammer, Half hammerhead shark half metal scolopendra, all nightmare. Continuing with the caravan of creepiness, here is the Bona Constrictor, just get it away from me. This next one, when i saw it for the first time i yelled "WTF is That?!" here is the Ulcer, a walking awful pile of rotting flesh.

I am NOT a fan of the Ulcer. That thing’s ugly, and not even in a fun way. 0/10.

I like these other guys, though:

The Waspion is literally just Gligar from Pokemon, but aside from that I like animal/creature mash-ups. And the Claw Hammer is a pretty unique one. 9/10 for the whole lot.

* Tanawy's entry n.5: Beef or chicken? Why choose when you can have both? Here is a heavyweight of the Bird Family the taurine Bullfinch. But dont forget your vegetables, or else they might turn into these Plant family monsters, the eggplant Woebergine, the bellpeppers Capsichum and the cucumber Cruelcumber. Also, meet the Peahooter, these guys pelts their targets with arrows taking advantage of their higher ground.

Okay, we’ve got another mash-up creature here in the form of the Bullfinch, but I’m not feeling this one as much. It’s worth, like, a 6.5/10, maybe. The Woebergine and the Peahooter are both pretty interesting. The Peahooter is kinda cute in a weird way and the Woebergine is delightfully derpy. They both deserve approaching an 8/10. I’m not really feeling the Capsichum at all though. They get a 5 or a 6/10.

* Tanawy's entry n.6: Who doesn't like a good dog? Well maybe not these guys from the Beast family: the Chainine who will ensnare their preys with their collars, the Putrefido, who is no longer alive, the Abracadabrador, who will eat your bones, the Crocodog, a levitating (yes this thing floats in the air) dog-crocodile hybrid and finally the Jackal Ripper (long lost relative of Wolverine or just imitator? More at 11 on the news)

Hey now. That’s not really fair to the other entries. Every one of these dudes:

Is a very GOOD BOI. I think I like the Abracadabrador the least. He’s a little too un-dog-like compared to the others. 6.5/10. The Chainine and the Putrfido are both the perfect blend of cute and weird. I like them a lot. They get 7.5/10. Jackal Ripper is a badass 8/10. He’d be cooler if he was wearing jeans. I LOVE the Crocodog, though. 10/10. Perfect. He just looks like a friend, but he also looks like he could kill my enemies. Which is what I like in a monster.

* Tanawy's entry n.7: Here is a taste of Japan with the Boppin’ badger, the most Tanuki-like monster you will ever meet; Then these guys don't need consent to give everyone within their reach a smooch, here is the Lips. Also, beware of these horses of the underworld, the Equinox where they probably hangout with these other lovely fellows, the Hellspawn. Speaking of which here is the demon Teeny Sanguini. Cute eh? Not when it evolves in the Bloody Manguini. Thankfully not everyone of them does that.

Okay, you can’t fool me. That first one is just a regular animal.

Jokes aside, though, I’m not really feeling this bunch unfortunately. The Hellspawn just reminds me too much of mutant can Steven, the Lips is a little boring, and the Equinox, while I like the wordplay in its name, and while it’s cool in principal, is too busy. I’m just not feeling the designs of these guys overall. 4 or 5/10 for the whole lot. Though the Teeny Sanguini is closer to a 5 than a 4.

* Tanawy's entry n.8: There are two species of monsters, the Pips and their cousins the Conks, who constatly imitate the classic classes of the humans, like warriors or priests, but this time the little rascals have gone a little farther and here they are copying the DQ8 4 main heroes in the Trodainian Conklave, the DQ4 heroes in the Zenithian Conklave, the hero of DQ1 and the 3 heroes of DQ2 in the Alefgardian Conklave and the hero of DQ3 with 3 other companions in the Aliahanian Conklave. Cute.

Okay, I love the idea of these things. They’re cute, they fit right in with the general aesthetic of the franchise, and they have a ton of personality. I’m not gonna post pics of all of them because there’re so many, but they deserve ~9/10 collectively. They’re very good.

* Tanawy's entry n.9: Not enough dragons? So here's three: what do you get mixing a T-rex, a dragon and a vicious axeman? An Hacksaurus that's what! Then the Drakulard. Don't be fooled by their mole these portly fellows mean business. Another chubby dragon, the Jargon: dragonic masters of the clay containers, these guys URNed their right to use jar puns and they will make sure you remenber it, even if they have to crack your pot.

Okay now these are more what I was thinking when I heard the title Dragon Quest.

I like the Hacksaurus the best outta them. He just looks nice. They’re all good, though. They fit the art style perfectly, and resemble each other just enough that you buy them all being related creatures. 8/10 overall, though the Hacksaurus is a little above the others, with the Jargon being a barely at the bottom of the barrel. Or the jar I guess.

* Tanawy's entry n.10: The only story entry in this showcase, because just look at him, it's the only DQ big baddie (at least in english) to actually call themselves "the Demon Lord" It's Orgodemir, specifically it's true form which is the first photo you find in the gallery at almost end-page. Let me just tell you this, Orgodemir is a d*ck of the highest level. The brain it's actually an eyelid for a giant eye by the way. Happy Nightmares.

HAHAHAHA. I know there are other forms for this guy, and this is probably not the reaction that anyone who played the game would have, but I just can’t take this guy seriously. He looks like Edward Cullen with bat wings. HAHAHA. 8/10 ‘cause it made me laugh.

* Tanawy's entry n.11: And lastly, in a category i like to call "I can't belive these are real", its the Funky Ferret; yes he and his cousins do exactly what the image shows. And the almost copyright-infinging Owlbear, yes they did not even try to distance themself from D&D with this one (ok they have a variant but is not saying much). There were others in the last category, but since they REALLY did not age gracefully to the modern standards of "acceptable" i prefered not show them.

I love Owlbears, they’re just such iconic fantasy monsters at this point, so he gets a solid 8/10 rating by default. It’s a pretty original take, too, focusing on the cuteness potential of the creature over the badass potential. I like that.

The Funky Ferret, though...

With a name like that this guy coulda been so cool. But he’s just a pretty generic design blended with a fart joke. What a bummer. 3/10.

And there we have it. Probably not exactly what you were thinking but I hope you like it. I don’t hate any of these guys. Some are more boring than others, but there’s something neat about each of them. I like the ones that take badass ideas and make them cute while remaining intimidating best out of all of them, and I think the Crocodog does this best with the Hacksaurus as the runner up. Crocodog is definitely my favorite of these, though. He gets the Best Good Boi award of Bestness.

Orgodemir gets an award, too, though, the “made AJ spit out his rum and Coke laughing” award. It’s not the most coveted, but it’s something.

I know this is a long one, and y’all may not want to reblog, but what do any of my followers think of these funky dudes? Leave a comment on this post or reblog with your answer in the tags!

[supy91]

Surrealism, Fracture, and Liberation in Chytilová’s Daisies

Once upon a time, there were two Maries. Were they sisters? friends? Were they symbols of female defiance? human decadence? Probably all of the above.  

           But wait, the start isn’t quite right. It should go something like “Once upon a time, in a land far far away”. So, where did they live?

Now, there’s the more interesting question. They lived in a sort of post WWII Czechoslovakia, but its more complicated than that. Before I saw either of them, I saw images of war, bombing, devastation, so I wasn’t sure whether I was watching some documentary or a fiction film. And then I saw them sitting there (like marionettes!) in black and white before WOOSH, everything changed to color. Come to think of it after that the colour never really stayed the same: there was the standard monochrome, then various coloured filters, and sometimes this rainbow sheen.

           Ok ok, stop, I’m getting dizzy just hearing about it. Their weird world sounds cool, but where did they actually stay? I want to know about their house. And fashion.

Well, that’s the thing, their tiny apartment was sort of fragmented and changing too. Actually, no first they were both in a garden, like Genesis, only with Eve and Eve (sounds pretty feminist to me!). And then their tiny apartment looked like the garden, with leaves and images of plants all over the walls. As if someone had exploded the garden. BOOM! And get this, they then actually burned their apartment down and redecorated it by scribbling graffiti and random dudes’ phone numbers on their walls. Fragments, into more fragments, into more fragments, into more fragments. Like their clothes too actually – polka dots, cheques, stripes, and then at one point just some butterflies, then towards the end a manifold curtain.

            Ok they sound totally nuts, I love them. But I know you, you’re probably going to want to find some kind of logic for why they’re doing this. Boooooring.  

So, this one professor, Bliss Cua Lim, tried to tell me that the montage, jump cuts, changes in colour tone, and especially their decision to chop each other into pieces like a collage is a feminist critique of surrealism using its own aesthetic language. I know there’s lots of academia jargon, but stay with me. Apparently, the surrealist bros like Breton, Ernst, and Bellmer depicted women’s bodies in quite violent ways in their art. No wonder Frida Kalho thought they sucked. So M&M (get it) were being surrealist and gleefully chopping up each other’s bodies and reconstituting them to show their agency over their own bodies.

           Ok I hear you. But is that it?

What do you mean?

           I thought that part of the anti-capitalist project of surrealism (see, big words too! Ha!) was to produce art that didn’t necessarily have a well-defined point or meaning. The “point” might just be about an aesthetics of pointlessness. Are we sure they were following a script? The scene in the dance hall seems pretty improvised to me (hey, I thought only you saw them ;) ) and there the action was driven by their drunkenness. And then we don’t really know how the night with the butterfly guy ended. It doesn’t seem to matter to the plot. What plot? And even this feminist-surrealist collage scene seems either like an allegory (see what I did there?) for the fluidity or the negation of the self. And at the very end, when they make the definitive statement that they’re “truthfully happy”, is when they seem to die.

Oh. Oh yeah. Wait what?

[sugamoonv]

How Rude

Like A Mate Should

Summary: Namjoon and Jin see you being attacked as a godsend. You see it your attack and meeting them as a series of unfortunate events. How unfortunate that you’re their mate. 

Pairings: established NamJin / Namjin x Reader

Word Count: 3,360

Masterlist > Next

“What do you mean you’ve never met a werewolf!?”

You were sitting at a round table with a few of your friends. Some eating as a few dishes took longer to cook in the restaurant. You saw each other a lot since you were the same major and thus shared multiple classes and so had made it a thing to eat lunch together after class.

You shrugged and swirled the straw around in your glass of water with your tongue. Your friend, [F/N], stared at you with wide eyes and shook her head in disbelief causing you to laugh and abandon your drink. “What do you want me to tell you? My childhood was very sheltered. My mom didn’t trust them.”

“And what about you?” one of the girls was watching you with a scrutinizing gaze. She was already on edge with the liberal use of werewolf because while it wasn’t considered a slur, it was seen as ignorant and derivative. Shifter was the technical term. Her minor was in Hybrid Law and shifters fell under the umbrella of hybrids since they were cousins to the wolf hybrid. It was highly debated in the field whether shifters were bred from wolf hybrids or if wolf hybrids came from shifters. Experimenting was illegal since they were part human, so it was all theoretical.

You shrugged again, “I don’t know I’ve never met one. At least I don’t think I have? I mean I don’t have any reason to hate them or anything.”

This must have been an adequate enough answer because she went back to her garden salad. You were finally allowed to eat as your usual plate was placed in front of you and the topic shifted off of you back to class.

One by one, everyone at the table paid their portion of the check and packed their food to leave. Two girls shared the same class and so they had to leave right after lunch and everyone else used them leaving as a leeway to leave themselves. Talk about plans of going to the library, dorm, or gym filled the air as chairs were pushed in and backpacks were slung over shoulders.

You waved as you departed in the opposite direction as everyone. [F/N] walked alongside you. You both got caught up in idle chit chat when your shoulder was roughly shoved causing you to half spin to face a man. You rolled your eyes and turned back to your friend to begin walking away. After crossing the road, you glanced back to see the man standing in the same spot you left him with a confused scowl on his face but when he sensed you looking, he looked up from the ground, turned, and began walking again.

You focused back on what your friend was saying with a confused roll of your eyes at the man's strange behavior.

“So I got a date…” you look at her expectantly and grin when you see her eyes light up. After being turned down at a party some time ago and whining about it to her for a couple weeks, she forced you into a dating app. Not to find true love but to have distractions. And if you found true love then that was an added bonus. Her words.

    You breathily laughed, “And before you offer to help because I know you're obsessed with those outfit montages they do in movies,” you teasingly point to her, “I already have an outfit picked out and I can handle doing my own makeup.”

“What about your hair?” she raises her eyebrows at you.

“My hair is fine,” you lightheartedly defend yourself, “I don’t want to do anything to it because they’re taking me on a picnic and it’s supposed to be windy that day.”

The wind howled as it whipped your hair about. You cursed yourself for cutting it as it was now too short for you to tie it back but long enough to keep getting in your face. You dramatically pushed another strand out of your eyes and your date laughed at you from their spot on the blanket. A cliche wicker basket full of safe lunch food sat in between you and plastic cups of cheap, sparkling wine was balancing on the ground next to you.

The sun beat down on you. Sitting in the warmth felt heavenly but the hike to the field felt like pure torture. You almost sprained your ankle twice on the rocky trail in the flimsy sandals you paired with the sundress. It was annoying that your date had walked ahead of you the whole time but now that you were sitting, you quickly brushed it off.

“So....what major are you?” you asked the question to break the awkward silence.

Your date seemed to be too nervous to initiate any conversation, but once they were given a prompt, they immediately delved into what they wanted to do with their life and all the things about their major that they’re passionate about. Which would have been nice if you understood a lick of what they were saying. To you, it all sounded like jargon, especially since they jumped into complex topics rather than briefly explaining the basics. It also didn’t help that they spoke while eating so instead of focusing on the words they were saying, all you could focus on was the lip-smacking.

They cleared their throat and took another large bite of their ham sandwich. You glanced at your own paper plate of food in disinterest and slightly pushed it away from you. You sat waiting for them to ask you the same question if not something else but were left hanging as they finished their sandwich and began making another.

You sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity when your date suddenly stood up and brushed their hands together to knock of crumbs. “I really have to go to the bathroom.” They strangely bent their wrist back to point at the line of trees circling the clearing and you nodded. They were halfway to the trees when you looked at their empty cup then the bottle of wine consecutively. Nearly three-quarters of it was gone. Your cup was still half full from when they first opened the bottle.

You gave your date extra time because peeing in the woods wasn’t as convenient as a regular bathroom. But then 10 minutes passed, then 15, then 20, and after 25 minutes you knew they weren’t coming back. Whether that was because they had gotten lost or ditched you was the question.

You abandoned the basket of food and left in the same direction your date went. You should have been sensible and only walked in far enough to still see the clearing, but you stupidly kept venturing further into the woods. Looking either for your date or the path they used to escape. After a few minutes of walking and finding nothing, you turned back to the direction you thought you came from. But after walking a few minutes back to the clearing and seeing no signs of it, panic grew in your chest.

The spot you were taken to had immediately blocked you from getting service. You switched your phone to battery saver mode and pushed back tears before turning and retracing your steps. From the time on your phone, you estimated that you had been wandering around the woods for around an hour.

The more time passed, the more panicked your breathing became as you grew more and more certain that you were officially lost. The ground betrayed you with its soft appearance of dewy leaves, soft dirt, and sporadic patches of grass. What you found that the soil and leaves were hiding sharp rocks and twisted roots from your view and now you were carrying your broken sandals in your right hand. Your dirt covered feet padded along the earth, careful to sense where best to step.

The shadows that came with afternoon began stretching past you. Goosebumps formed your arms in the cool shade. The woods seemed darker than they did at the entrance and the birds didn’t chirp as loudly here. The hair on the back of your neck raised as your body instinctively began scouting for danger in the unmarked territory.

Your frustration quickly transformed into fear as a loud snap sounded from behind you. Then another, and another, and another, each one louder than the last. Your feet carried you away from the source, a quick walk then a full sprint as the snapping behind you picked up the pace with you.

Flashes of red and black flanked your sides as you ran, slowly inching diagonally towards you to cut you off. You pushed your foot into the earth and took off in the opposite direction and while it gave you a second ahead of them, their reflexes were far better than yours and you found yourself in the same situation.

You could feel the heavy thuds of the wolves paws against the soil as they got close enough from you. One wolf moved behind you and its footprints fully replaced yours with their own. The skin on your arms burned from the blood flow and a sharp pang restricted your already heavy panting.

Just as the wolf on your side made a move to knock into you, another wolf smaller than the wolf chasing you smashed into its chest and they became a flurry of black and reddish black fur and teeth.

The wolf behind you saw that it no longer had the opportunity to have fun with the chase as it and its’ partner had visitors. The wolf lunged forward and an intense pain shot up your leg as its teeth pierced your ankle. With the wolf having a hold of your ankle, you lost your balance and only when you harshly landed on your stomach, did the wolf release you to stumble forward before you caught yourself.

Ignoring your ankle, you scrambled back to your feet but once standing, the wolf rammed its shoulder into your body and you were forced back into the dirt. Stars filled your vision as you were thrown about and your body didn’t have enough time to pump blood to where it needed to go.

The wolf lurked so it was standing above you looking down at you. You blinked rapidly and your body froze as you locked eyes with the dark red canine eyes. Its lips slowly turned up into a snarl and you were introduced to the large, pointed teeth. Just as you thought this would be the end of you, the wolf was yanked off of you by another wolf that too was smaller.

This wolf may have been smaller than the black wolf it was fighting, but you could tell that it held more power that it appeared it did. The black wolf was quickly pinned to the ground by the chestnut brown wolf where its’ teeth locked into their neck. Every time the back wolf attempted to move, the brown wolf you give a vicious shake of its head and push the wolf down.

Two hands suddenly appeared under your arms as they scooped you up. As they brought you to stand on your feet, you accidentally put weight on your injured ankle causing your legs to fold under you with a yelp. Luckily, the person behind you was quick to react and caught you before you hit the ground. You tried to look behind you to see who was holding you up but a crick in your neck told you it was a bad idea and so you just kept your eyes forward.

The brown wolf gave one last shake, yanking the black wolf around before it backed off and gave a threatening growl. The black wolf sprang to its feet and ran off. Once it was some ways away, you heard a howl and another wolf joining in, you assumed it was the other that was chasing you. The brown wolf faced you and your nails dug into the arm of the person behind you. You pushed against the person’s chest but for some reason, they refused to move.

You could swear that the eyes of the wolf were human and were staring at you with sympathy. You held your breath as you waited for this wolf to take its turn attacking you but instead, it took a few step backs. The sound of bones snapping made your stomach churn as you gaped at the wolf slowly transforming into a human. When a human man, naked as the day he was born, was standing in front of you with the same colored hair atop his head as his wolf counterpart, black spots filled your vision and you slumped in the arms of the stranger.

“I’m telling you, this is the girl I ran into two days ago.”

“Taehyung, stop. You’re going to hurt her!”

“Stop, I’m not going to hurt your mate.”

“Taehyung, get out.”

The loud slam of a door jolted you awake and you opened your eyes to see two men surrounding the bed your on. One is tending to your leg and the other is sitting by your head and drops your hand once he sees your eyes are open.

“Jin.” the man draws the attention of the one tending to you to your state.

This Jin has black hair and soft, plump facial features with broad shoulders while the other man is thinner and most likely taller. The other man has silver hair and a weaker jawline than his counterpart though it’s still noticeable. Something about the man is familiar to you but you can’t quite put your finger on why nor do you have the time to.

Jin looks up to you while you scoot yourself back. He gives you a large smile that makes you question whether you’ll be leaving this place alive. Noticing your discomfort, Jin drops his smile with an embarrassed chuckle and clears his throat.

“I noticed your ankle got hurt. I was bandaging it wi-”

“Where am I?” you rudely cut Jin off and scoot further away onto the bed away from him.

His lips part in shock and he glances at the other man before looking back at you. He sputters, “You- um, you’re at, um, well it’s a- our,” Jin tries to explain your location with various gestures and eventually looks to the other man for help.

“This is our cabin. We found you a couple miles away from us and you didn’t look to be in good shape, so we brought you here.” He stares at you for a few moments before seemingly shouting, “I’m Namjoon, by the way,” and nervously laughing.

You disregard Namjoon by looking back to Jin. Your eyes flicker as you connect the dots in your head.

“The werewolf,” you whisper. Your head shoots to Namjoon then back to Jin. “I was attacked by two werewolves. Then there were two other werewolves. I saw one shift right in front of me.” Your eyes widen, “Was there someone with me? There was someone else that was with me. Are they okay?”

You keep your wide eyes on Jin waiting for answers. Your eyes are brought to Namjoon as he comfortingly takes your hand. Or at least tries to because to pull yourself away from him. Namjoon uncomfortably laughs and apologizes to hide the pang of rejection.

“That was Jimin and he’s fine. He helped bring you here.”

“He brought....You’re all werewolves.” You eyeball Namjoon with your eyebrows slightly pinched. You catch Jin flinching in your peripheral vision but Namjoon confidently holds your gaze.

You swing your feet onto the wood floor and stand from the bed which causes Jin to panic and runs around the bed to you. He lightly puts his hands on your shoulders to push you back onto the bed but you slap his hands away from him and limp past him.

Jin follows right behind you and reaches out to grab your upper arm, “Wait, wait, wait. You can’t be on your ankle. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Namjoon calmly stands and walks to you and Jin. There’s something profound lurking in Namjoon’s now darkened eyes. Something you have yet to understand. So you yank open the door, nearly hitting Jin in the face and startling some other man that had his ear pressed to the door. You step over the man on the floor and continue to walk away from Namjoon and Jin. Or at least you try to.

By the time you reach the end of the hall, you're using the wall for support and you feel the bandage around your ankle grow wet with your wound beginning to bleed again. The sight of blood sends Jin into a new frenzy and he begins to frantically beg you to go back to the bed, carry you, or even just sit on the floor so he can care for you. He keeps reaching out to you, but his hands stop just short to touching you as so far you’ve expressed your disdain to personal contact. And making you more upset at him is the last thing Jin wants to do, especially since that means you’ll reject him helping you like he should. Like a mate should.

There are three more men watching you leave a trail of blood to the door. None of them look like the man that shifted in front of you.

Right as you reach what you think is the front door, a hand drags you back by your shoulder. You stumble back and nearly lose your balance but Jin is there to catch you. He angrily scolds Namjoon before turning to you as your face is scrunched in pain.

Namjoon taps Jin out of the way to step in front of you. “You’re injured and don’t know where you are. Realistically, how far do you think you’ll get?”

You gawk at the silver-haired man, “How dare you put your hands on me like that!” You shove against Namjoon’s chest creating some distance between your bodies. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You have absolutely no right to keep me here. If I want to leave, I’m going to leave. It shouldn’t concern you how far I’ll get, I can handle myself.”

Namjoon’s jaw clenches and he meets you glare with one as equally angry. “Fine,” he waves a hand to the door, “go then. But first, you might want to clean up your puddle of blood.”

You look down to your feet to see that you are in fact, standing in a pool of your own blood. While you were yelling at Namjoon, you had shifted your weight to both of your feet equally. You hadn’t even realized you had been bleeding this much.

“Enough!” Jin steps in between you and Namjoon. He looks at both of you with a harsh glare but his gaze promptly softens on you.

“I know you want to leave and no one is stopping you, but you honestly won’t last long with that ankle.” Jin softly explains to you. “Let me take care of you for a few days and take time to heal and then one of us will lead you back to the city. I promise we won’t hurt you.”

You blink at Jin then glance around the room to see all the faces staring at you. A blush forms on your cheek and you shift your weight back onto your good ankle. You mull over all the different ways staying with Namjoon and Jin could go before you finally nod your head. Jin lets out a sigh of relief and moves to lift you, but you shake your head at him. You begin limping back to the room with Jin walking alongside you, arms stretched out, prepared for you to slip at any moment.

Well, it looks like you’re going to be staying with the very creatures you were raised to distrust. This could only go so well.

Permanent Tag: @detectivebourbon @eshika0102 @omgsuperstarg