#The loves of my life are coming to my country

[gangstalkerbarbie]

we're all animals, man. we all have an inalienable right to be here because the earth is everyone's home and the concept of the right to be anywhere is one of the most primitive social constructs. that's not to say it's not useful (if you're in my den eating my winter store of nuts and pissing in my nest i should hope you might fuck off if i scare you, i'm hungry) but most animals live short horrible lives they have limited agency over, and because they're animals people still harp on their connection to nature, which justifies their presence. (until it doesn't. see also: invasive species discourse, particularly re: that one cattail.)

nature is a social construct too! and at that it's one focused on resources — either their extraction or their hoarding by presumed enlightened stewards because of some belief in some pristine, untouched primeval worldstate that never in fact existed. at one extreme this framework leads to unchecked industry, at the other one to ecofascism.

in many countries people have good zoning laws and can walk, bike or bus places in the winter, eliminating the real reason people might start to hate driving in the snow, but it isn't just inconvenient and mildly annoying, it's actively a gamble for your life every time. you might be warm and listening to music if your car has fancy features, but many don't or they're broken, and people still commute to work feeling the same dread of death that the average small prey mammal does. many of those people don't actually have winter clothing. this isn't a pissing on the poor post it's an anti ecofash have-some-perspective post, bear with me.

you know how many types of guy evolved hibernation, which is literally just rotting in bed through most of winter, to try to make it so that they would probably not starve if they didn't brave all that?

we can't hibernate because we have money, landlords and no fundamental right to eat for free. some of us have to go long distances in a cold death trap device with no certainty of if we'll come back or be killed by surprise today.

no wonder people might start to hate snow because it sucks to drive in which could kill you, that's our equivalent to the feeling every animal has that has no choice but to go out foraging in it, exposed to predation and hypothermia.

it's loving snow, seeing it as just a fun whimsical thing to play in that you can warm up from in your well insulated, predator-proof, provisioned lair, that's been the privilege since the dawn of evolutionary time. whimsy is a privilege. many things in "nature" live in existential fear punctuated by moments of calm, which they often don't experience or don't feel as intensely when raised in the warm, safe environments we all made these posts from.

do some mushrooms and hang out with a garden rabbit, you'll see what i mean. the rabbit will tell you.

[tinythebunni]

How bunnyprincess!reader and Rafe met!!

inspired by @rafesangelita @princessbrunette

Rafe always came to the country club on the weekends and on Wednesdays to play golf with his friends. He wore a polo every time and always had his shoes shined pristine. Rafe usually ended up winning and afterwards he’d go inside to sit by the bar or swim in the pool.

After a long and tedious match, Rafe ended up losing. He wasn’t completely locked in on the match due to the argument with Rose this morning.

Walking inside and huffing a sigh, he took off his shirt and slouched in the lounge chair with Kelce and Topper joining him. Rafe ran his hand through his sweaty buzzed hair and used his shirt to wipe his head. He closed his eyes, zoning out the stupid conversation around him.

his head was fucking pounding and their nonsensical ramblings made him even more and more irritated. pinching the bridge of his nose he sighed as he heard someone walking over to them. probably one of those fucking bartenders, he thought to himself.

Rafe was ready to just up and leave at this point but then he noticed 3 things. He could smell the sweet scent of your perfume. Smelled of cupcakes and the sugar cookies his mom would make. Your voice sounded of honey drizzling. And when he opened his eyes, his lashes flutter at how beautiful you were.

“Hai guys! The usual?” you spoke as you pulled out your notepad. your eyes did a sweep over the three guys in front of you, lingering a bit on him. Rafe was very fucking confused, he’d never seen you before and he definitely would know.

Kelce went to open his mouth but Rafe was faster than him. “What’s your name?” He spoke, sounding a little more angry than he meant to.

“Oh i’m sorry if i interrupted your nap, i just know that these two like to-“ He cut you off once more.

“Forget about it bun, ‘m not worried bout it. last fucking thing on my mind right now.”

you blushed and blinked, wide eyed. You told him your name, pen resting on your lip as you looked at him. He introduced himself to you and stood. he towered over you, which was unusual. being tall yourself, you often felt like a giant compared to most guys on the island.

Rafe smirked at your reaction, a laugh bubbling out his throat. You could sense the God inside him, aching to be let out. Maybe you were a bit dramatic but you’re just a teenage girl!

Stepping closer to you, he put his hand on your hip and turned you so that you were right next to him. He slid his hand to the small of your back, whispering a quick come with me to you before turning around and smiling at the boys.

“Rafe come on! Ya can’t keep stealing the pretty girls.” Topper yelled in exasperation, throwing his hands up.

Rafe chuckled before saying something that made your heart flutter. “You don’t gotta worry bout that no more. I want to keep this one. Make her mine and all that” he replied.

As he lead you away to a table in the corner, he asked you little questions. Mainly about your love life, what you were doing at this bar. “girl like you should never have to work. too pretty for all that shit” He added, watching as you glanced down as if your shoes were the most interesting thing in the world.

his thumb tilted your head up and you looked away nervously. “Hey hey. none of that shit. Look at me.” You did as he said, not wanting to lose his attention. “you should have someone providing for you. So you can do all that girly shit yall like and not worry about it.” He watched as you smiled, eating up your reaction. His tounge darts out to swipe at his bottom lip before he speaks again.

“I could be that for you. All my money just rots in my fucking bank account anyways. You want me to be that for you? Could be your boyfriend. Keep your tummy full, nails done, and make you feel good. Whenever you need it.” His words made you flush, your chest blooming with nerves and anxiety. But in the best way possible.

You nodded, your eyes a bit glossy at the casual dominance. You’d always been one to prefer when people take charge about certain things. And this? it was perfect. “Yea. I’d really like dat Rafe.” You stepped closer, making a move. You placed your hand on his chest and stood on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. “Can you wait for me to finish my shift? It’s over in 30 and I wanna talk to you more” you pouted trying to win him over as you regained your confidence.

“Fuck yea!” he said a little too excited. “I mean, yea yea for sure.” he corrected, nodding his head and he turned on his heel. You watched him walk away, noticing the slight bounce in his step.

[fallinallincurls]

Miles Away, I've Always Loved You

this is my entry for the 2025 winter fic exchange hosted by the lovely @wyattjohnston!! thank you as always for hosting!

my fic is for @writingonleaves! i had lots of fun writing this one and really hope you love it just as much.

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 5.1k

The knock on the door startles Reagan out of her thoughts. She had been mentally trying to figure out how to organize the bookshelf in her living room now that it’s been built. 

The apartment is still mostly a mess. The move to Vancouver had been circled on her calendar for months, but Reagan knew the worst part about moving cross country completely by herself would be the unpacking and setting up of a new place. And so far, she’s been right. 

From putting together all the furniture on her own, opening and emptying box after box and feeling that same exhaustion hit her every few hours, the move has been an insane amount of work to say the least. But she couldn’t be happier knowing that she moved to this city that she’s still a little familiar with for the job of her dreams. That alone makes everything worth it.

There’s another knock at the door and Reagan lets out a deep sigh. She’s not expecting someone as no one in the city knows who she is since she just arrived three days ago. She abandons the stacks of books on the floor and heads to the door, wondering who could possibly be on the other side.

Without bothering to look through the peephole, which might’ve been a mistake, Reagan swings open the door to reveal a man she’s never seen before. He looks just a little older than her 25 years of age, has a big smile that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and his hair is neatly styled. Before she can even open her mouth to say anything, he’s already speaking.

“Oh, hey!” He says with an element of surprise in his voice. “I didn’t know Cap had a girl, but I’m new here so I'm still trying to learn all of that, you know?”

She doesn’t know in fact because she has no idea what he’s talking about and the confusion must be evident on Reagan’s face because he continues talking in effort to explain.

“Um, I’m here for the team dinner? Apparently it’s tradition here for the captain to host everyone before training camp starts and so I brought this,” he shows you a bottle of expensive wine and then a container of store bought cookies, “and these.”

Everything the stranger standing in front of her has said only made the situation more odd. Team dinner? Tradition? He clearly mixed up numbers and is at the wrong apartment.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, but is almost immediately cut off when another voice calls out from down the hallway.

“Jake!” 

The man turns towards the voice and a look of recognition passes over his face as his smile seemingly becomes brighter at the sight of whoever said his name. 

“Q!” He says brightly, before returning his attention to her. “I’m sorry, I must’ve mixed up the apartment numbers.”

“It’s no problem.” Reagan reassures him before he waves a goodbye and starts heading to the apartment next to hers. The curiosity gets the better of her and she glances over to see who “Q” was and that’s when everything comes to a halt.

Because Q, or cap as Jake also called him, is Quinn Hughes. Her ex-boyfriend. The love of her life. And now, apparently, her next door neighbor.

Quinn must have sensed another pair of eyes on him because he looks over and meets her gaze. A look of disbelief crosses over his face for a split second, his brows furrowed in confusion as he realizes who his teammate bothered in the mixup.

“Reagan?” 

It might have been two years since the last time she saw him, but hearing her name rolling off his tongue still had the same effect on her as it did then.

“Quinn?” She asks in response, unable to comprehend that he’s standing less than 100 feet away from her. Quinn. Her Quinn. 

“Yeah, it’s me. What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, just moved in a few days ago.” Reagan starts to explain and then a rush of worry hits her. “I finally got the job I’ve been waiting for and it just so happened to be here in Vancouver. I had no idea you lived in this building at all,”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Quinn says softly, cutting off her rambling. “Congratulations, I know how hard you worked to get through school and do everything you could to get this job.”

“Thank you.” Reagan murmurs, pushing her hair behind her ear and nervously dropping her gaze to the floor. All the heartbreak from the last few years has disappeared in the matter of seconds and it almost feels like she’s back there. In a time where they were still together and so in love with each other.

But Reagan knows that’s not her reality anymore. Now, she’s standing in her doorway looking at the man who she gave her heart to all those years ago, but now he’s almost a stranger. Just her neighbor in a new city.

“Uh, I know this is probably unexpected and way too sudden, but do you want to come over for dinner? There’s definitely enough food and everything.”

Reagan feels a wave of surprise wash over her at his offer and even though her heart is screaming to say yes, she knows she can’t accept. At least not right now.

“Thank you for offering, but I’m okay. Still trying to get adjusted and all. Another time?” She replies, trying to push away the want that’s arisen within her. She wants to spend time with him even if she hasn’t seen him in a while and her heart is still a little broken. Quinn nods in understanding, a strand of hair falling perfectly over his forehead, but Reagan sees the familiar look of sadness in his blue green eyes.

A loud yell erupts from inside Quinn’s apartment disrupting the quiet air around the two of them.

“I should probably get back. Almost the entire team is in there and I don’t trust a lot of them by themselves.” Quinn chuckles and Reagan feels a smile tug at her lips. “It was really great to see you. I hope Vancouver treats you well.”

“Thanks, Quinn. Same to you.” 

Quinn flashes you a sweet smile before ducking back inside. When the door to his apartment closes behind him, Reagan lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. Not only does she have to navigate life in a new city with a new job, but now she has to handle living next to her ex, the man who was her everything, on top of everything else.

The memories that came rushing back the moment she realized it was him standing in the hallway linger in her mind for a little longer. All the shared kisses, big hugs after good and bad games, nights on the porch at the lake house in the offseason, his unwavering support for everything she did, early mornings spent cuddling and so much more. 

Reagan knew when they broke up that she would miss him for the rest of her life, but it feels like the wound has been reopened seeing him unexpectedly in person. Of course, she’s kept tabs on him by tuning into a few Canucks games and for a while, Jack was sending her regular life updates but those slowly came to an end. 

Her heart aches knowing she is going to have to see him more often now that they’re neighbors. It’s a curveball she never saw coming or even considered when she chose to move to the city that he lives and plays in. But here she is. 

With a shake of her head, Reagan clears her mind and pushes open her front door again. There’s relief that the entire interaction is over, both with Quinn and his teammate, but in a strange way, she also misses talking to him already.

Nothing could prepare her for randomly seeing the man she still loved years after he broke her heart. 

A few days later, Reagan gets a strong sense of deja vu. She’s attempting to put together the coffee table for the third time, after the first two tries were unsuccessful, when there’s a knock at her door.

A heavy sigh slips past your lips as she drops the useless IKEA instructions to the floor. She’s already preparing a little speech in her head in anticipation it’s another one of Quinn’s teammates who got the apartment numbers mixed up again.

“Hey, sorry, Quinn is-“ Reagan starts as the door swings open and reveals the blue green eyed, curly haired hockey player who lives next door. “here?” She finishes, more like a question than a statement.

“Hey,” Quinn says, flashing that soft smile that makes her heart melt. “I, um,” he pauses, almost as if collecting his thoughts to get exactly what he wants to say correct. “I know how hard it is to move to a new place by yourself having done it myself so I wanted to help with anything you need. And I brought breakfast too. Hopefully your usual order hasn’t changed.”

Reagan’s heart swells with adoration, remembering this is the version of Quinn she fell in love with. The kind, thoughtful man who continuously surprised her in ways she never thought possible. And against all odds, here he is again.

She’s stunned into silence for a few seconds, overwhelmed by his offer. It’s genuine and shows he cares even after all this time but allowing him to help means spending time with him, reconnecting, and Reagan doesn’t know if she’s ready for that just yet.

But she also really wants that coffee table to be built. So for right now, the pros outweigh the cons.

“Thank you so much, Quinn. That’s really thoughtful of you and honestly, there are a few things I’ve realized I can’t accomplish by myself no matter how hard I try.”

Quinn’s smiling genuinely now. He can’t believe she’s letting him help despite the fact they haven’t seen each other in a while minus the mixup the other day. But he doesn’t care. This is his opportunity to catch up with her and he’s going to cherish every second.

“That’s why I’m here.” He chuckles in response, handing her the iced coffee and bagel he picked up for her. “Order still the same?” He asks again, more out of curiosity than anything.

“Order’s still the same. I’m more surprised you remembered it.”

Of course he remembers it. He remembers everything about Reagan despite the fact there was a time where he wished he could forget everything about her. He remembers the show she would only watch before bed and the scent of her favorite shampoo. He remembers the feel of her hand in his and the way he always felt so safe with her in his arms. He remembers her go-to lazy dinner and the songs she loved screaming at the top of her lungs in the car.

He remembers it all. But now, Reagan feels like a stranger for so many reasons.

Quinn takes this moment to really look at her. She’s still breathtakingly gorgeous. but he notices her wavy dark brown hair is lighter than he remembers it. Maybe she got highlights or has dyed it since the breakup. There are more freckles scattered across her cheeks than there were when they met. She’s wearing an old oversized Umich shirt that he realizes at the last second might be his. But when her brown eyes meet his, any anxiety he feels about this moment falls away.

This is still Reagan. His Reagan. Yes, it’s been a while but he knows her. She hasn’t changed that much. If she’s letting him help and being friendly, maybe she doesn’t hate him like he always thought she did after the way things ended between them.

“Of course I remember it.” Quinn says with a shrug, trying not to reveal how much he misses her. “So what do you need help with first?” He asks as Reagan waves him into her apartment and closes the door behind him.

Reagan explains her dilemma with the uncooperative coffee table which takes first priority before going through a small list of things she wanted to get done today like unpack her kitchen and finish building her vanity. Quinn nods along to everything she says, seemingly happy to offer his help even if he doesn’t] have to.

“Thank you,” Reagan says softly, the two words holding more meaning than she ever thought could be possible. Quinn gives her a slightly confused look as he sits down on the floor ready to tackle the coffee table. “For everything. You didn’t have to bring breakfast over and offer to help me get settled in considering we haven’t seen each other in a long time, but I really do appreciate it.” 

“I’d do anything for you, Rea.”

Hearing that one line and the use of the nickname only Quinn has ever used for her sends a shiver through her body. She feels her heart being tugged in his direction again even if it never fully healed from their end years ago, but she desperately tries to keep herself in check. Their relationship came to an end because of him. Quinn wanted to focus solely on hockey and his need to constantly get better on the ice was more important than keeping her in his life. 

So she moved on after he broke her heart. Or she thought she did until she saw him the other day. Her feelings have rushed back in no time, like nothing happened in the first place, but Reagan knows better.

“I know,” she murmurs, voice quiet as the wave of emotions hit her. “I’m going to start unpacking the kitchen. Let me know if you need any help. The instructions have been useless.” Quinn chuckles, that adorable sound filling her with a sense of happiness she hasn’t felt in so long. To this day his laugh is still one of her favorite sounds in the whole entire world.

For a good hour or so, the two of them work in comfortable silence. A random playlist Reagan selected is playing from a bluetooth speaker and every once in a while, she hears Quinn curse under his breath. She catches herself smiling a few times, the familiarity of it all bringing back so many memories. 

“Reagan?” Quinn tentatively disrupts the quiet as she’s reaching up to place a stack of plates in a cabinet above the kitchen counter. 

“Hm?” She hums in response, letting out a sign of relief when she gets the plates on the shelf. Quinn is grinning at the sight of her on her tiptoes trying to reach a higher shelf in her new home. This is something else that hasn’t changed since they were together. She still refuses to use any help to reach higher places despite being small enough that it would be beneficial. 

“Coffee table is finished.” He says, pointing over his shoulder when she turns around to look at him. “You weren’t lying about it being difficult, but it’s done.” A look of surprise crosses over her face and something about her right then makes Quinn’s heart ache. 

He knows he messed up when he broke it off with her years ago. His head was too stuck on hockey and only hockey. There was an unbearable amount of pressure on his shoulders after being drafted and he felt like he had to not only live up to the expectations, but defy them. And through all that, he lost the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

Reagan.

The woman who showed him unconditional love from the moment they met in college all the way through to the very end. Reagan who was there for every accomplishment and disappointment that happened in his career. The woman who always made sure he knew so many people, including her, were unbelievably proud of him at all times no matter what happened.

He never thought he would get to see her again and somehow here he is in her apartment that’s right next to his in the city that he’s been his second home for the last six years. 

“Told you I wasn’t lying.” She laughs, the sound filling Quinn with joy like it always has. “We can tackle the vanity next if you’re up for it. It’s a lot for just one person.” 

She leads him into her office where the unopened box is laying on the ground where she envisions the piece of furniture. Without a moment of hesitation, they get started on building the vanity as conversation flows freely. Quinn fills her in on everything going on with the Canucks from new teammates to how he likes being captain. She listens as he recommends some new restaurants and places to check out around the city and she fills him in on how everyone is doing back home in Michigan. Quinn asks about her new job and he can’t hide how proud he is when she tells him she got accepted into the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. 

Reagan has been playing the french horn since fourth grade and that’s the entire reason they met in college since Quinn ran into her at a UMich football game when she was part of the marching band. He remembers being struck by how pretty she was then even in the slightly unflattering bright blue and yellow uniform she was wearing with her instrument in hand. Over time as they became friends and eventually got together, Quinn learned her biggest dream was to play in a symphony. It’s difficult to get a seat anywhere, but if anyone could do it, Quinn knew it would be her. Reagan was talented, always has been, and knowing all that hard work finally paid off makes him beyond happy. 

And secretly, he’s never been so glad that the music she loves so much brought her to the city he lives in now.

“I was nervous about being accepted. It’s one of the most prestigious symphonies on the West Coast, but I was sick of being in Michigan again even if I do love it there, so I took a chance and it worked out.” Reagan explains shyly, her eyes dropping to her fiddling fingers.

“Hey,” Quinn says, abandoning the half built vanity for a second to take hold of her hands. “I’m so proud of you. You deserve that seat and it’s incredibly brave of you to pack up and move halfway across the continent to live out your dream.”

They both are aware of the unspoken words there. That it was also brave to come back to the city where their love story crashed and burned.

“Thank you, Quinny. That means a lot.” The words are barely out of Reagan’s mouth before Quinn is wrapping his strong arms around her in a tight embrace. She melts into the hug, her head resting on his shoulder and lets the comfort wash over her. Quinn lets out a small sigh of relief. He missed having her in his arms and the feeling of peace that surrounds him is unmistakable.

God, he messed up so bad by letting her go, by ruining the best thing he’s ever had because he thought he couldn’t balance the pressure of being an NHL player and a relationship at the same time. 

“Good to know Huggy Bear’s still got it.” Reagan teases him, reluctantly pulling away even if she wants to stay in his arms forever. But she can’t. She’s not that girl for him anymore.

“Yeah, yeah.” Quinn laughs, used to hearing the nickname his teammates gave him years ago when he joined the team. He meets her gaze and it’s then that an idea hits him. Reagan can see the look of hesitation in his blue green eyes, but waits patiently for him to continue. “Whenever you get settled in here and everything, would you maybe want to go skating? I know we used to go all the time and there’s this cool rink downtown you would love, but no pressure if not. I’m sure you’re going to be busy with work and adjusting to a new city.”

Reagan knows she should say no. She knows it would be better to leave the past in the past. But something about the way Quinn asks with pure honesty tugs at her and the small hope that maybe their love could get a second chance after all this time blossoms.

So she says yes.

“I would love that. Just text me when you’re free and we can schedule something.”

Quinn’s happiness at her response is immediately noticeable even though he tries to hide it so it’s not as obvious. The smile Reagan adores so much is on full display and she couldn’t be happier to have him in her half furnished apartment just days after she moved back to the city where her heart was broken.

Before she can get too swept up in the emotions, she gently pushes Quinn’s chest and giggles.

“We’ve got a list of things to do, Hughes. Get back to work.”

And with that, both of them work together to get through all the tasks Reagan wanted accomplished. That familiar sense of peace envelops the apartment and for the first time in a long time, Reagan’s heart isn’t heavy with sadness. Instead, it swells with joy like no other.

Between Quinn’s busy schedule of games, practices and traveling and Reagan’s new work schedule of getting acquainted with the symphony and joining practices of her own, it took a few weeks for them to find a day to go skating together.

But in that time, a constant stream of texts were exchanged and phone calls were made whether Quinn was next door or on the road. Reagan learned all about what happened in Quinn’s life for the two years she wasn’t part of it and heard so many stories of his teammates and his brothers, who she also missed since she hadn’t spoken to either of them since the breakup.

Quinn got a glimpse into who Reagan is now and if possible, he feels himself falling even harder for her all over again. His feelings never truly went away but every time he heard her laugh or she shared a secret, he knew that even after all that time, this girl is still the one he wants.

Finally, the agreed upon Sunday arrives and Quinn’s quiet, but strong knock sounds through Reagan’s apartment as she pulls a beanie on her head. 

“Coming!” She yells, almost tripping on her way to the door. She’s nervous and excited all at once. When the door swings open, Reagan’s breath is stolen away for a second as Quinn stands in front of her looking extra cozy and comfy bundled up for the cold. His eyes are alight with wonder and his somewhat wild brown curls are peeking out from under his favorite navy blue beanie. He has a hoodie on under his winter jacket and there’s the faintest blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Hey, Rea,” Quinn greets her with a bright smile. The old nickname still sends a jolt of happiness through her veins even though he’s used it frequently over the last few weeks and she can’t help but feel hopeful. Maybe this is just the two of them going skating together, but there is a sense of something more in the air and if there’s even a chance Quinn wants to give their relationship another chance, Reagan is all in. She can tell he’s grown and matured in the time they’ve spent apart and if she didn’t see that, it would be much easier to ignore the feelings she has for him.

“Hey!” She replies, giving him a quick hug. Quinn is a little surprised, but welcomes the embrace for a moment before she pulls away and starts speaking in excitement. “Don’t worry about skates for me, I still use my favorite pair,” Reagan lifts her white pair of Bauer skates up and then glances at her warm, but cute winter outfit, “and I’m dressed for the weather since you said the rink is outside.”

“You’re all prepared,” Quinn chuckles, “Let’s go then.” He says almost sheepishly like he’s nervous all of the sudden, and reaches for her hand. Reagan intertwines her gloved fingers with his and offers him a reassuring smile to silently say “this is okay.” The rink is just a few blocks away from their shared apartment building so the walk over is cold, but brief and full of laughter and conversation between the two of them.

Reagan catches a glimpse of the rink when Quinn stops walking at the opening of a large clearing and her heart starts racing.

They are at Robson Square Ice Rink. The prettiest rink in all of Vancouver in Reagan’s opinion, but it’s also her favorite and was dubbed her and Quinn’s spot when they were dating. 

“Quinn,” Reagan breathes out in disbelief. She doesn’t need to say anything else, Quinn can read all the emotions on her face. He squeezes her hand in reassurance while flashing her a sweet smile before leading her to the benches to help put her skates on. 

“Come on,” He murmurs and Reagan swallows down the emotions in an effort to take in every detail of this moment. She immediately starts unlacing her skates when they claim a spot on the bench, but Quinn insists on doing it himself.

“I can do it myself, you know.”

“I know,” Quinn replies cheekily. “But you deserve to be taken care of so let me do it even if it’s just this one time.” Reagan sighs, in pure dramatics, which makes Quinn chuckle but her heart is warm and fuzzy. This is why she fell in love with him in the first place. He’s the most caring person she knows and would do anything for her. That much clearly hasn’t changed.

Reagan keeps her eyes on Quinn as he ties her skates perfectly until he taps the heel of her right skate to signal that she’s good to go and freezes. Her brows furrowed in confusion for a moment until it hits her.

Quinn got these skates for her years ago. They were her first pair and one of the best gifts she has ever received. But after taking them out for a few spins, she noticed that he had them customized. There was a little blue 43 printed onto the outside of the heel on her right skate which is exactly what Quinn is staring at right now.

“It’s still there.” He says quietly, tracing the two numbers before meeting Reagan’s eyes. It’s almost as if he expected her to cover the numbers up herself after the breakup and although she was angry about how everything happened, these skates are a reminder of the blissful beginning and she wanted that to remain untouched.

“Of course it is.” And just like earlier, this feels as if the simple moment holds a double meaning. As if that tiny 43 is a sign of hope for Quinn that he might get a second chance. That there’s still a spot for him in Reagan’s heart.

They share soft smiles and sit in the comfortable silence for a moment as Quinn puts his skates on. When Quinn takes her hand to help her onto the ice, Reagan lets herself be fully present. Months ago she never thought about reconnecting with the man who broke her heart, but now she couldn’t be happier that they’re friends again. She missed him beyond words.

It took a few laps around the rink to get her footing back, but once she did, she was challenging Quinn to races and constantly giggling as he tried to distract her from skating smoothly. Despite being one of the most well recognized people in the entire city of Vancouver, no one bothered Quinn on the public outdoor rink even if a few of the younger kids kept a watchful eye on him as if they recognized the captain of their favorite hockey team.

“How is it so far?” Quinn asks out of the blue as the two of them are skating at a leisurely pace. Reagan takes in the city skyline around them before meeting his gaze.

“Skating? Good! I always forget how fun it is and-”

“No,” he gently cuts you off and shakes his head, “I mean living in Vancouver. I know it’s been a huge adjustment for you.”

“Oh,” Reagan says in realization, taking a moment to think. “It’s been way better than I expected, honestly.” Quinn raises his eyebrows in surprise as an adorable smile blossoms across his face.

“Really?”

“Yeah and I have a sneaky feeling you already know you’re a big part of why that is, Quinny.” His cheeks become pink with blush and he looks down briefly before stopping the two of you for a second.

“Have you ever thought of giving us a second chance?” 

The question is like a punch to the gut. Not only because Reagan never saw it coming, but it is exactly what she’s thought of asking Quinn herself a thousand times.

Has she thought of giving them another chance? Yes. Every single day she wonders what it would be like to be his girlfriend again. To allow herself to feel the overwhelming love she has for the oldest Hughes brother. To feel at home again because he’s back in her life. And Reagan has come to realize that she wants a second chance with Quinn more than anything.

He’s proven that he has grown and matured from the man he was years ago when he shattered her heart into a million pieces. He’s shown that her life and her dreams are just as important and he’ll do anything he can to support her every single day. His love has been on display since the first moment she saw him in the hallway of their apartment building weeks ago.

“Yes. Every single day.” Reagan responds with nothing but pure honesty.

“Me too.” Quinn almost whispers, trying not to let his nerves show. He’s biting his lip, a nervous habit of his that hasn’t disappeared. “Uh, you can say no if you’re not ready or anything, but would you like to go out with me? On a proper first date? Again?” 

Instantly, a beaming smile is on Reagan’s face as his words process in her mind. It’s happening. Something she’s dreamed of for so long, it’s real.

“I’d love that, Quinn.” She hugs him tight, relishing in the joy rushing through her veins. Nothing could make this moment any better and when Quinn kisses her temple, also feeling the happiest he’s been in a long time, everything in the world feels right again.

[coffeecacao]

Okay, let's talk about the coming out scene, because people are saying Taash was the one out of line.

Shathann is a sympathetic character. That does not make her a good person. She saved her child from a life of servitude by leaving the country she loved and tried to preserve that culture in her child. I respect that. I also wish there was a way to encourage Taash to embrace both sides of their culture.

BUT.

From the moment we meet her, Shathann criticizes literally everything her child does. Taash runs an errand for her, and Shathann criticizes their posture, pronunciation, gender presentation, AND sexuality, completely unprovoked, yes, in one fucking conversation. Shathann invites Taash over for dinner and then makes Taash cook that fucking dinner. And this has happened before, as stated in the dialogue. Taash is so affected by this behavior and probably worse they have endured their entire life that they say "you don't get to tell me who I am" at a simple question about their heritage, out of pure instinct.

Now to the actual scene.

Taash invites their mother to their new home and prepares a dinner for her, which Shathann immediately criticizes and has Taash make vegetables to go with. Can you imagine inviting someone into your home for dinner you prepare only for them to shit on it and ask you to cook more. And Taash does so, with a grunt. I'd be like bitch you're in my house, I cooked, eat. But they just do it.

Then they say it. "Im nonbinary." Shathann asks what that means, completely fair, and Taash explains that it means they're not a man or a woman.

Shathann asks if this is because she criticizes their gender presentation. Now listen. I have a parent who thinks nearly everything "wrong" with me is a reaction to their actions. It pisses me off. So Taash is getting reasonably frustrated, and insists that's not why. VALID. They were asked a question and they answered.

Let's talk about the Qun and gender identity. Yes they have a word for people who identify as a different gender than they were assigned. But this is implied to apply to trans men and women, not nonbinary people, so Shathann is asking Taash if they "just" identify as a man, because that's something Shathann can better understand, something more convenient for her to process. Sort of like when trans people come out to someone and are asked if they're "just gay."

No. And Taash says no. They have explained who they are. If Shathann was just having a hard time processing it that would be one thing, but she basically talked over Taash and tried to suggest that they were just a man, which they are not. Taash is being vulnerable. Taash doesn't even HAVE to tell Shathann this, but they want to, they think she deserves to know.

And what Taash says next is not purely to do with this one conversation, as explicit in the text. "why am I never enough for you." Never. Not now. We have seen Shathann critique Taash in every scene they share, and that's with a whole other person present who is not in the family. We don't know what happens in private. Shathann signed her child up for a fucking war without even talking to them about it. What Taash says is the build up of years of being talked over and criticized for everything they do, provoked by offering themselves to that person in a vulnerable position only to be talked over and criticized more.

"Why am I never enough for you."

And Shathann does not answer. She doesnt say "of course you are." Even if she disagreed with Taash's identity, which would be shitty, she could still affirm that they are enough for her. She doesn't.

She fucking leaves.

Maybe she thinks that's what Taash wants. Maybe not. But if someone asks you something like that, you affirm them. You say they are enough. Especially if they're your fucking child. But no, this conversation is too inconvenient for Shathann, she's not getting her way like she did when she signed Taash up for a war without their consent, so she just leaves. She could've said "I don't understand, but I love you." She couldve said anything. But she just left.

I'm sad she died. Im glad she accepted her child in the end. But no, Taash was not in any way out of line in this conversation.

Shathann was.

[qqueenofhades]

I just wanted to say thank you for your last couple of posts (and your words on the current fuckery in general). It's been tough watching the fallout from across the globe and dreading the inevitable impact on our own elections this year.

I know this isn't the timeline either of us wanted to be in but your posts give me that but of necessary hope to keep going and fighting for better.

PS: I offer a picture of my cat Maya for comfort in these trying but will be endured times

FLUFFY. WHAT A GOOD FLUFFY. I WANT TO SNUGGLE THE FLUFFY (I AM ALLERGIC TO CATS WHICH IS WHY I MUST DO THIS VIRTUALLY, IT IS A GREAT SOURCE OF WOE AND INJUSTICE IN MY LIFE.)

....ahem.

Thanks, m'dear, and you're welcome. I am so sorry for the blizzard of bullshit that the Trumpsters are raining not just on America but the world, and it totally escapes me as to why half the country shrugged and went "eh we should elect him again." But that being as it is, Etc Etc Gandalf Nobody Wants To See These Times But We Must Decide What To Do With Them. So there is that.

Nobody DID want this timeline and it is existentially crushing to be back in it again, but... well. I am trying to limit my political posts to only the ones where I can offer a constructive action item or reassuring insight, because I don't see the point in just repeating all the no good very bad generally terrible things that are going on and which we already know about. I don't want to make light of anything or say that it's not bad, when we can see that it is very bad, but we've gotta keep our heads and a little perspective as best we can. So yeah.

My one important point for every single [insert bullshit fuckery fascist action du jour] is that we can't live and die on every 24-hour news cycle and immediately jump on every single bad thing they do, because as I keep saying, they want to wear us out and burn out our spirit to resist. So when we get obvious insane bullshit like "Elon Musk seized the financial data of every US citizen," well, we can immediately call our elected officials and so forth, but we must also pace ourselves and take the long view. This is flagrantly illegal. Everyone knows it. It will be sued and very probably enjoined. We do not need to hang onto every minute-by-minute update and traumatize ourselves into inaction, when our direct ability to influence it is limited.

We need to look at cat pictures, read books, enjoy our hobbies, look at the beautiful world, love our friends and family, make dinner, do chores, get up and keep going. If we are constantly reading or viewing content that upsets us, even when we agree with it or it comes from our friends, we need to take steps to curate it. It will not happen differently whether or not we stare at it all the time. So yes. We will get through this, but we cannot burn ourselves out in the first few weeks when they will obviously be front-loading all the most insane BS.

Courage.

[nagaytoe]

Fatum

(Latin) [noun] Fate

Jericho Ichabod X Reader

Word Count: 4k

Requests: Open

TWs/Tags: Death, poison, corrupt gods, fate, existential crisis (?), PAST LIVE THEORY

Note: This was inspired by an audio from 'Dangerously yours', the past life theory and one of my favorite books 'Midnight Library'!!

(Hopefully this won't be a flop otherwise i may or may not go loca)

Tags: @sagegreen31

“Look! A shooting star!”

Crowe’s delicate finger pointed towards the night sky above you, as you felt the blades of grass tickle your neck.

Indeed there was, there was a bright star, brighter than any you’ve seen so far, making its way over the horizon. You couldn’t help but wonder where it’s path may lead it.

“Did you make a wish?”

You turned your head, facing Crowe, his hair spread over the ground in silky brunette locks, free from his signature braid.

Humming, you answer in a whisper, “I have.”

Now he turns his head to you too, the gash on his neck stretching as he does, causing you to grimace a little.

“What is it you have wished for?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you gave him a bittersweet smile.

“I wished we were two other people, two people who need not say goodbye…”

Blood stained Crowe’s neck and the once lush, green grass beneath him.

He gave you a sad smile in response, reaching out to clutch your left hand with his right one.

“I am sure your wish will be fulfilled, my Love.”

Your brows furrowed at his comment, unable to grasp the meaning behind his words. Crowe chuckled slightly, softly squeezing your hand in his larger one, though the warmth it once carried was long gone.

“The tree,” Crowe pointed towards the tree which loomed over the two of you. “Do you remember what I told you about it?”

Pondering for a moment, you looked up at the tree’s branches, which partly obscured the view of the clear sky with stars scattered all over.

“Lily’s myth?”

“Yes, of the healing abilities the fruits bear.”

“Or of how poisonous they might be.”

Crowe sighed, but he was far from annoyed at your comment as a small smile played on his lips. “Nevertheless, it is the place where humans allegedly have come in touch with gods, it should be worth a try. Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to receive audience with one of this country’s patrons.”

“I was under the impression you did not believe in gods.”

Your remark makes him chuckle softly. “I do not, no. However, in this plane, where we currently find ourselves in, things might work differently. Who is to say that no one will answer your prayers?”

As you took a look around, everything seemed normal. It looked the same way it did yesterday evening, which was the happiest night of your life. Memories of Crowe’s soft lips upon yours made your heart flutter, the joy was short-lived however, for soon you remembered the predicament you both found yourselves in just several moments ago.

Blood had been everywhere, on the floor, on the walls, on Crowe’s body.

You had crouched down next to his body, wailing for your deceased lover, though it would not take long for you to join him in the afterlife. Perhaps it was better this way, for you did not wish to live in a world without him anyways.

“My Love, I believe our time is coming to a close.” Directing your attention back to Crowe, you noticed that he, as well as the park surrounding you, slowly faded away.

“No.” You felt panic rising up in your stomach as you sat up. “I won’t lose you… not again. I don’t know what will become of me without you, Crowe…”

“My Love, you will find me again, that I am sure of. We may not have been fortunate enough to be able to love each other in this life, but there must be one where we are granted this luxury.” He reached out to cup your cheek with his hand, but it passed right through you, unable to make contact with your skin. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to hold onto him, but to no avail. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest and it seemed as though it might implode.

“Crowe, don’t go, please…”

He gave you a sad smile, tears of his own streaming down his face. “I love you, in this life, every life before and every life to come.”

With that he vanished. It was as if he had never been here in the first place. You looked around, an endless sea of nothingness engulfing the surrounding area..

Suddenly, a voice was heard, loud and clear as if right next to you, it’s echo carried far in this empty plane.

“You bear a wish, my Child?”

Your head snapped into all possible directions but you failed to find any trace of another being in this space. “What?”

The voice was soothing, responding to you in a calm and quiet manner.

“You have wished upon a shooting star, have you not?”

The shooting star… was Crowe right after all? You looked to the side, seeing Lilith’s tree solely standing in all it’s glory amidst the darkness, which made it look awfully out of place.

“I may be able to grant your wish, if only you reveal what it is you long for.”

Something manifested behind you, the glow it emitted catching your attention. You turn around to find the silhouette of a woman, except for her luminescence she bears no features, as if she was but a mere shadow.

Clenching your fists a your sides, you took a deep breath before speaking your wish aloud.

“I wish for a life where Jericho Ichabod and I can be happily together.”

If only the woman had features, you could see her frown. However, the slight change to a more sorrowful tone in her melodic voice was telling enough.

“Oh, my poor Child, I am afraid this is the one wish I cannot grant you.”

The crack which struck your glass-like heart was almost audible as your breath caught in your throat. “Why?”

“It is not within my abilities to redirect fate.”

Your heart fully shattered, the pieces it left cutting into your lungs and robbing you entirely of your breath.

“What?” The question was uttered breathlessly, as if air was refusing to further fill your lungs.. “Are you implying we are not fated to be with each other?”

“I mean just that. There is no timeline in which you two may have the liberty of being together.”

The woman might as well have ripped your heart out and shredded it to pieces, instead it was left to shatter within the confines of your chest, behind a wall of flesh, muscles and bone. Oh, how you longed to rip open your ribcage and take out your very own heart in order to never feel pain of this sort ever again.

“Why!? I don’t get it! I love him, more than anything, why must I, why must we, be punished like this?!”

She fell silent for a moment at your cries and even though you could not see her facial expressions, you were certain she is pondering. “I see you fail to remember.”

Her remark almost made you recoil as you halt your bellows. “Remember what?”

“Your ancient sin. Fret not, dear Child, for I will enlighten you,” She motioned you to step closer, holding out her glowing hand. “Come to me, Child.”

Walking closer, you hesitantly laid your hand into hers, which was way colder than you would have expected it to be. “See this tree?”

You nodded in response, looking up at the giant tree. It’s the very same one under which you confessed your love for Crowe and realized the brightest star was not up above you, but right beside you.

The way Crowe looked at you, with a sparkle in his eyes as if he had plucked one of the stars from the sky above you and laced his eyes with it’s glow, was ingrained into your memories, deeply embedded into the depths of your brain where you could treasure it forever.

“You ate one of it’s forbidden fruits.” Your head snapped into the woman’s direction, a confused expression etched into your features.

“Excuse me?”

She chuckled. “Naturally, you fail to recall the event, for it took place centuries ago. Although, with your existence in this plane I would have expected you to remember. Never mind that, though.”

The woman let go of your hand and ushered you into the direction of the tree.

“Go on, my Child, pluck one of the fruits.”

Heeding her initial words, your gaze snapped back towards her. “But I thought I was not allowed to.”

“My Dear, we are no longer on the earthly plane, their rules do not apply here. Nevertheless, this tree in front of you is not the same tree, it is but a mere projection, you need not worry about possible consequences.”

Her words made you wonder, thinking deeper about something you had so blatantly disregarded.

“What is this here anyways?”

“It is the Bithalassus. The space between the mortal realm and the place where the soul goes after it perished from it’s vessel.”

A place between the realm of the living and of the dead. It made sense, but you failed to wrap your head around it, perhaps it was outside your capabilities to truly grasp this concept. “What place will my soul go to?”

“That is entirely dependent on your beliefs, my Child.” The woman assured you. “If you believe in heaven, you may go there, if you believe you ought to be reincarnated, you will wake up to a new life.”

Her words did not soothe your qualms entirely.

“I see… And what will happen if I take one of the fruits from the tree?”

“You will relive a past life, the one were you committed your ancient sin, to be exact.”

Cocking your head to the side, you tried your best to make sense of all the information she was throwing at you.

“But… won’t I be confused with all the modern world knowledge?”

“Do not worry about that. You will remember everything from your life at that time and in exchange forget everything from any other life you have lived so far. The memories of your current life will return, alongside the revelation of your sin, once you return to this space.”

You nodded and stepped towards the big tree. Looking up into it’s branches, you studied the fruits that hung from them and carefully, reluctance evident in your movements, plucked one of the fruits. A bright red apple, almost unnaturally so.

“Take a bite, won’t you?”

Hesitance laced your actions as you inched the apple towards your mouth. You were left to wonder what would await you once you took a bite, whether it would turn out to be but a mere ruse or reveal your past. As soon as you bit into the apple, your vision faded to black.

—

“Good morning, my Starlight.”

A warm, comforting voice awoke you from your slumber. Your eyes fluttered open, only to be met with deep blue ones. Neither the boisterous depths of the sea near your kingdom, nor the sky at night, littered with it’s glowing white freckles, will ever compare to the lovely shade of blue his eyes possessed.

“My Love,” wrapping your arm around him, you pulled his resting body closer to your equally still one. “Have you slept well?”

“How could I not with you next to me?”

A bright smile made it’s way to your face, the corners of your lips tugging upwards in response to his sweet words as you looked up at him. Words could barely describe how much he loved your smile, for not even the sun could compare to how it lit up any space you graced with your presence.

“My Love, I was dreaming the sweetest dream of you and I.” Jericho pressed a kiss to your forehead, resting his chin on the crown of your hair right after. “In my vision the two of us were standing at the ocean’s shore, watching the sunset. You were carrying a basket full of fruit and the two of us couldn’t help but indulge, eating one sweet apple after the other.” He chuckled, stroking the back of your head. “It felt so very peaceful.” Sighing, he pulled back to look you in the eyes with a warm smile on his lips.

“It appears we have a plan for today then.” Pressing a swift, sweet kiss to his lips, you pulled back just as quickly and rolled over in order to get out of bed.

“A plan you say?” Jericho propped himself up on his elbows as he gazed upon you with a curious expression.

“I will take care of it, worry not.” With that, you turned around and left your shared chamber, leaving your Lover dumbfounded.

Jericho heard a knock on the door to the dressing room, your voice calling out to him and asking for permission to enter. Once granted, you swung open the door, taking in the sight of your Lover cladded in different hues of purple and blue.

“Finished so soon?” He quirked an eyebrow as he walked towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. Nodding, you informed Jericho that all that was left for you to do was getting dressed properly. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips before turning to leave the room, giving you enough space to change out of your nightgown.

It didn’t take long for you to put on your finest garments for a casual day out, topping your apparel off with the most astonishing jewels Jericho had given you as a courting gift.

Leaving the chamber ladened to the brim with chests, half of which contained yours and the other half Jericho’s garments, you made your way towards your fiancé, who was currently sitting on your shared bed.

“Will you tell me what awaits me, my Dear?”

His gaze wandered over you, his smile subtly widening as he took in the sight of the jewels you wore.

“You have seen it once upon a dream.”

Jericho’s smile shifted into a grin as he stood up, now towering over you.

“I cannot fathom what that may be.” You couldn’t help but smirk in return to his remark. Taking ahold of his hand, you led him through the castle.

“We will not be feasting here today.”

The revelation of this information caused his brows to furrow ever so slightly as you pushed open the door to the kitchen. You were greeted by the castle’s chef, who handed you a basket with a polite smile on his lips. His long black hair was tied up and you couldn’t help but wonder just how long it may be once released from it’s usual style.

“I take it you plan on having a picnic with me?” Confirming Jericho’s speculation, you nodded and left the castle through the back door.

Rays of sunlight beamed upon the two of you, illuminating each of your features. It felt like a warm blanket was wrapped around you, engulfing you in a familiar, comfortable feeling. The surrounding scenery was nothing short of beautiful. Lush green grass covered the ground for as far as you could see. Tall trees carried bright green leaves, which glowed with an orange tint due to the sunlight, the remnants of it filtered through the greenery and created small patterns on the ground. The sky above you was a bright blue with no cloud in sight and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, inhaling deeply and taking in the moment.

A comfortable silence befell the two of you as you walked next to your fiancé. It was one of the many things you adored so much about him.

It didn’t take long to reach the shore, merely five minutes which were spent in mostly silence, though you wouldn’t complain. You had all day to talk about all sorts of topics with your Love.

“We won’t be able to watch the sunset, it is far too early.”

You came to a halt in front of the sandbank to take off your shoes. Your feet met the warm sand as soon as your footwear left them and you looked up at Jericho who was still taking off his boots.

“We can stay here until the sun sets, my Love, we have the entire day solely for us.”

He nodded and fell into step with you, carrying both pairs of shoes in his right arms, his left was occupied by your hand slithered around his biceps.

You settled down on the soft ground a few feet away from the water and placed the basket in between the two of you.

“What did you let the chef pack for us?” You looked over and met Jericho’s gaze with a soft smile.

“A bit of everything but mostly apples, I know how much you like them.”

His eyebrows lifted a little and he pointed out your distaste for the fruit. You chuckled in response, telling him you didn’t mind, as long as he was happy.

Taking in the sight of the luscious red apples nestled in the wooden container, you licked your lips. Despite not being too fond of apples, these looked way too tantalizing to be resisted.

“Perhaps I will try one after all…” Grabbing an apple, you handed it to Jericho before getting one for yourself.

He grinned at you and nudged his apple against yours like one would when clinking glasses.

The soft crashes of the waves helped you calm down even further, almost coaxing you into complete relaxation. The two of you brought each of your apples to your lips simultaneously and took a bite.

Initially, it tasted sweet, sweeter than anything you have eaten before and you hummed in contentment. However, the taste slowly morphed into something bitter, almost making you gag and crave to spit it out. Looking over at your Lover with wide eyes, you take in his horrified expression. He was clawing at his throat, gasping for air and not too long after you did the same. No matter how deeply you tried to inhale, oxygen refused to fill your lungs.

You hunched forward, almost laying on your side as you were bound to watch the star-like light leave Jericho’s eyes as you were wounding in pain. Desperately reaching out, you tried to take his hand, but he laid just a hairbreadth too far away. You looked up at the sky, dark clouds covered the once bright blue canvas and it almost seemed macabre to you that in your last moments you were refused any source of light and comfort, whether it be through the light of your world or the light of the earth. The view up above you seemed to darken even further, until all you could see was complete darkness.

—

You shot up, sputtering and gasping for air.

“Do you understand now?”

Your head snapped towards the soothing voice of the glowing silhouette and you realized you were back in the endless plane of darkness, Bithalassus.

“The apples?” You desperately tried to make sense of your previous observations. The woman nodded in response.

“But… we didn’t steal any, they were given to us!” Your brows furrowed as you argued, refusing to believe that Crowe and you are bound to receive eternal punishment for a sin you have not committed.

“I am afraid it does not matter who stole the apples, only who ate them.”

“But you said-”

“I never confirmed any theory you mortals came up with.” The woman interrupted with an unexpected firmness in her voice, before sighing as she continued her explanation.

“My child, listen closely and I may grant you the information you crave. The fruits of Lillith’s tree are free for anyone to take, however, they must be used as an offering for the gods. I am sure you feel wronged, but it does not matter whether you knew the fruits were meant for consumption or not.”

Your eyes widened at her explanation. “This means anyone could curse whoever they please to curse!”

She nodded. “It appears so. Although, the one who dooms another soul is bound to be cursed as well.”

You raised your eyebrows, reveling in this new found information. “That means the man who did this was also cursed?”

“Indeed he was and it might be in your interest to know that he was executed the very next day as well. Tell me, did you recognize him perchance?”

Pondering for a moment, you realized you had barely paid any attention to the man, leading you to shake your head in response to her question.

“It is someone you know all to well.”

Realization dawned upon you at her statement.

“Solivan?”

The woman nodded once more. “Yes, Solivan. For the rest of his existence, in all possible timelines, he will need to suffer from unrequited love, just like how his love for you was unrequited in the life you have just witnessed.”

Fate will repeat itself over and over again, that you were almost completely sure of now.

“Does this mean Sol will always be the one to kill Crowe?”

“It means just that.”

Your gaze met the ground and you could feel rage bubbling up in your stomach. All of this was his fault and there was no way to undo what has been done.

“My wish,” your tongue darted out to lick your lips and you tried your best to keep your composure. Ugly, unfiltered anger poured out of every pore but you urged yourself to phrase your wish as calmly as possible. You looked at her face and for the first time since you came here you questioned whether she was one of the goddesses of your land just like you had assumed or if she was merely a fragment of your imagination. It shall not matter, if she was able to help you, you would take her up on her offer nevertheless.

“I wish to be aware of the sin and to recognize the one who doomed Crowe and I in every upcoming lifetime.”

With the knowledge that she could not directly interfere with fate, you hoped there was a loophole to that rule.

“If this truly is what you wish for, then I shall grant your wish.” A hint of amusement was evident in her voice and you could swear, she would smirk were she to have a mouth.

You thought of yourself as fortunate now, grateful to have wished upon the shooting star. Being able to spend a day with Crowe, experiencing the love you once shared ages ago and finding the one responsible for both of yours suffering gave you a new purpose.

No matter what it may take, you will find Solivan in every life to come and you will not let him harm Crowe ever again, for you will willingly give your life and soul if it meant Jericho Ichabod was alive and well.

You will stop this unjust curse, this vile creature who doomed you, over and over again, refusing to simply subject to fate.

_____________________________________

Funfact: Bithalassus means "(space) between two seas)" thought it would be pretty fitting with the kingdom by the sea

[oskea93]

Tyler Owens x OC

Summary: In which Riley Owens, the ex-wife of the infamous Tornado Wrangler, has 36 hours to come to terms if moving to a whole new country with their small daughter is something she truly wants to do.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, suggested smut, fluff. ✶ Chapter One ✶ ✶ Chapter Two ✶

■ A/N: You guys are amazing! I just want to say thank you so much for loving this story and following the tale of Riley and Tyler ❤️ ■ Taglist is available - just drop a comment! Would love to hear your thoughts, questions, or maybe just drop by to say hello! Can't wait to hear from y'all

TL:  @ellesmythe @18lkpeters @hookslove1592, @djs8891, @smoothdogsgirl @queenslandlover-93 @imjustamehbleh @love2write2626 @lt-jakeseresin @starcrossedtrek @kmc1989 @lauraseresin

(12:59pm)

“Hey Lilly—” I jogged over to the Subaru as she quickly buckled into the driver’s seat, her movements quick and determined.

“You coming?” Her eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and urgency, reflecting the thrill of the impending storm and the adventure it promised.

I let out a chuckle, shaking my head no. “Not in a million years.” I could see her smile falter, a flicker of disappointment washing over her face. “I was just seeing where Caroline was—thought maybe Tyler left her with you or Dani?”

As soon as the words left my lips, I watched as the blood literally drained from Lilly’s face. “He didn’t ask you?” Her voice trembled slightly, and my stomach sank.

My shoulders straightened in concern, an uneasy feeling settling in my chest. “Who—ask me what?” My heart began to beat erratically, the rhythmic thumping echoing my growing anxiety.

She stayed silent for a moment, her gaze dropping to the steering wheel as if she were afraid to say the words that might shatter the fragile calm. “Caroline’s riding with Boone and Tyler.”

Panic took over my emotions, a tidal wave crashing over me. “What!” My eyes darted to the open road, Tyler’s red truck becoming nonexistent in the distance. “No, he didn’t fucking ask me!”

“Oh shit,” Lilly whispered, her voice barely audible over the thrum of the Subaru’s engine. “Look, maybe he just forgot to mention it? You know how he gets when there’s a storm coming.”

“Forgot?” I spat, disbelief and hurt lacing my voice. “He knows how I feel about her going near those things! Especially after…” My voice trailed off, unable to articulate the memories that flashed through my mind. Images of that night rushed back—dark clouds, howling winds, the terror that wrapped around us like a vice grip, and the cuts that etched across her small face, a haunting reminder of the dangers we faced.

Lilly’s hand found mine, her touch a wave of calm against the storm raging inside me. “I know, I know. But freaking out won't help. Get in. We'll find them.” I nodded, my head still spinning, rage still coursing through my body like a live wire.

The thought of confronting Tyler, of seeing the smug look on his face, ignited the fire of my anger. But more than that, I was terrified for Caroline. I yanked open the passenger door and slammed it shut, the sound echoing the turmoil within me. "Let's go."

The Subaru roared to life as Lilly peeled out behind Dexter’s motorhome, the wheels kicking up gravel in our wake. I watched as the clouds grew darker, swirling ominously overhead—the very clouds that were no doubt hanging over Tyler’s truck. “We got formation forming just west of the interstate—about four miles away from you guys,” Dexter’s voice crackled through the radio, a beacon of urgency amidst the chaos.

“Roger that, Dexter!” Caroline’s sweet voice echoed back through the radio, causing my heart to beat harder, a mix of relief and dread flooding my senses. Hearing her voice brought a wave of warmth, but it was quickly overshadowed by the reality of the situation. I could imagine her, focused and brave, but I couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at my insides.

“Caroline!” I called out, my voice rising above the roar of the engine and the wind. “Are you okay?” I needed to hear her say she was safe, to know that she was out of harm's way. The radio crackled, and I held my breath, waiting for her response.

“You think her being with me would mean that she’s not okay?” Tyler’s voice echoed back, dripping with sarcasm. “You’re really making me feel like a real winner of a father today, Riles.”

The air in the car grew tense, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved issues. My grip on the dashboard tightened as I processed his response. Tyler’s defensiveness was palpable, and it ignited a flicker of anger deep within me. “This isn’t about you, Tyler. It’s about Caroline’s safety,” I shot back, my voice steady but firm, trying to keep the storm of emotions in check.

“Oh, right. Because you’ve been the perfect mother, haven’t you?” he retorted, his tone sharp, like a blade slicing through the tension. “Last I checked, you were the one who moved hundreds of miles away and took Caroline away from me.”

His words hit hard, and I felt a rush of heat wash over me. I could hear the accusation lingering in his voice, and it stung. Moving and taking Caroline away from Tyler was one of the hardest things I’ve done at that time. I couldn’t stay in Arkansas any longer – there were no job opportunities for me out here. I couldn’t depend on Tyler any longer – fearing that any moment I would get the call that he was killed. I wasn’t gonna put my daughter through that.

“I did what was best for our daughter, Tyler.” My voice was tight, trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. “You fucking know how I feel about storm chasing, and you go behind my back and take her with you without even tell—”

“Telling you!” His voice rose, echoing off the walls like thunder. “Goddammit, Riley, she’s my daughter! If I want to bring her along and let her see what Mother Nature is granting us the pleasure of witnessing today, then by fucking God, I’m gonna do it.”

The line went dead, the crackle of static abruptly replaced by an unsettling silence.

“Tyler—” I called out, my voice rising in urgency. “Tyler!”

The two-way radio bounced sharply against the dashboard before it clattered to the floor with a dull thud. Frustration coursed through me as I stared at the lifeless device, its silence echoing the dread swelling in my chest.

“I know you don’t want to hear this—” Lilly began, her gaze unwavering on the twisting road ahead, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. “But we both know that even though Caroline is in that truck with Tyler and Boone, she’s in the safest hands at this moment.”

I raked my fingers hastily through my hair, a futile attempt to dissipate the mounting anxiety. The landscape blurred past as I focused on the horizon, where dark clouds roiled ominously. In the distance, I caught sight of Dexter’s caravan veering off to the side of the road, him and Danny jumping out, urgency propelling their movements. My heart raced; it meant Tyler and Boone were gaining on the twister.

“He knows how I feel about her getting that close,” I snapped, my voice thick with emotion. “He knows what she and I went through that night.” The memories came rushing back flooded with chaos, fear, and the haunting realization of how quickly everything could spiral out of control.

Lilly glanced at me, her expression a mix of concern and determination. “We can’t change what’s happening right now. We have to trust them. Tyler wouldn’t put her in danger.”

“Trust,” I muttered bitterly, staring out at the darkening sky. “Trust means nothing when you’re staring down a storm.”

Just then, a low rumble echoed in the distance, a warning growl from the sky. It sent a shiver down my spine, reminding me that time was slipping away. I could almost feel the pulse of the storm, the chaotic energy that promised destruction.

Lilly’s Subaru kicked up the Kansas dirt as she pulled up beside Dexter and Danny. I watched as she quickly got out of the car, her computer in hand as she rushed towards the duo.

As I stepped out of the car, the dry Kansas air enveloped me, carrying with it the scent of dirt and ozone. My attention was hijacked by Tyler's booming voice, his words spilling from Dexter's speaker like a sudden burst of energy. I felt a pang of unease as I caught sight of Caroline's bright smile on the screen, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, we have a special guest with us here on the storm chaser channel," Tyler announced, his tone a perfect blend of showmanship and daredevil charm. "Why don't you say hi to everyone, sugar pie."

Boone's camera whirled around, capturing Caroline's beaming smile as she waved at the camera. My heart skipped a beat as I watched, a mix of emotions swirling inside me.

"Tell 'em who you are, tater," Boone egged her on, his voice filled with a playful enthusiasm that grated on my nerves.

Caroline's gaze flickered towards Boone before she turned back to the camera, a hint of shyness creeping into her expression. "My name is Caroline Sarah Owens," she said, her voice clear and confident.

“Owens –“Boone playfully questioned. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Tyler Owens the tornado wrangler, would you?”

Caroline gleefully nodded her head, “He’s my daddy!”

"Whoa, small world!" Boone exclaimed; his enthusiasm infectious. "The tornado wrangler's daughter, riding shotgun with us today! Folks, we've got a real treat for you!"

Tyler's voice chimed in, his tone laced with a mix of pride and amusement. "That's right, folks! My little girl's got storm chasing in her blood. And she's not afraid to get up close and personal with the big ones!"

I watched, my anxiety spiking, as Caroline's smile grew even wider, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She was eating up the attention, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of worry. This was all too much, too fast. She was just a kid, and she didn't understand the risks, the dangers that came with storm chasing.

The team glanced over at me, gaging my reaction as the camera moved away from Caroline and back onto Tyler as he explained the mission for today. The models were showing a strong storm with a lot of updrafts – big and foreign words for someone in the fashion industry. I’ve heard Tyler and the team mention them all the time, but never been inclined to learn the true meanings.

“As always—” Tyler grinned into the camera, his excitement infectious. “We have the crew out in the field—Dexter, Dani, and the fabulous Lilly!” A split screen popped up, revealing their faces, each one brimming with enthusiasm. My presence was also caught on camera, a new face among the familiar crew, and it didn’t take long for viewers to take notice.

It took only a moment for someone in the comment section to spot my unfamiliar face, and soon questions flooded the screen. Who was I? Was I a new member of the Tornado Wranglers? Meanwhile, Tyler and Boone kept their focus on the incoming storm, casually brushing aside the burning questions that swirled around like the storm clouds above.

“There’s that beautiful girl!” Tyler exclaimed, his gaze shifting to the passenger side window. “Carolina, honey, check that out!” His finger pointed excitedly in the direction of the swirling twister, and I turned just in time to see our daughter’s head bobbing up, her bright eyes wide with wonder.

“Don’t you think we’re getting a bit close?” Ben interjected, glancing nervously between Caroline and Tyler. “Precious cargo and all?” His concern was palpable, but Tyler merely chuckled.

“Good ol’ Ben,” he smiled into the rearview mirror, his confidence unwavering. “This is the safest truck you’ll ever ride in. You need a good reliable vehicle when you’re riding into the twister, baby.” With that, his foot slammed down hard on the accelerator, and the truck surged forward, causing Ben to lurch back in his seat. Caroline's delighted giggles rang out in the background.

“So for today’s lesson, ladies, gentlemen, and kiddies,” Tyler continued, his voice booming with enthusiasm, “we are gonna see if you can, in fact, set off fireworks into the center of a twister. Got those canisters ready, Boone?” His eyes sparkled with mischief.

The camera switched back to Boone, who was grinning ear to ear, giving the lens a thumbs up. “Ready to rock and roll, Wranglers!” His excitement was contagious, and I felt my own heart race in anticipation.

As Tyler pressed down on the accelerator, the sound of the engine roared, drowning out everything else. Boone let out a whoop of exhilaration, and Caroline's laughter filled the air like music. However, a wave of nausea suddenly hit me, a gut-wrenching sensation that felt like crashing against a brick wall, as the red truck barreled right into the swirling center of the funnel.

“He’s got her, Riley,” Dexter tried to reassure me, but his words felt empty against the mounting chaos outside.

The signal began to glitch as the twister rolled ominously over the truck, the screen flickering as if the storm itself was trying to disrupt our broadcast. The sudden noise of an explosion erupted, followed by a dazzling display of red and blue sparks bursting through the sickeningly dark skies. It was a breathtaking sight, both beautiful and terrifying, a vivid reminder of nature’s unpredictable power.

“Hell yeah—” Dani yelled, her voice ringing out with pure jubilation. “They fucking did it!” Her enthusiasm was infectious, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling clenching in my stomach.

Seconds later, the signal stabilized, and the faces inside the truck beamed with excitement, their adrenaline still coursing through them. The storm that had moments ago loomed ominously above us had practically dissipated, leaving behind a clear blue sky punctuated only by the remnants of swirling clouds. Tyler’s truck rolled back onto the gravel road, dust swirling in our wake.

“You’ve seen it here first, Wranglers—” Tyler declared, his smile wide and infectious. “You can shoot off fireworks in the middle of a raging twister!” His voice was filled with pride, a testament to the crew’s daring spirit and their unwavering pursuit of adventure. He turned to the camera, gesturing animatedly as he went on to thank the crew, his excitement palpable.

Pulling Caroline into the front seat with him, he wrapped his arms around her small frame, an image of fatherly affection. “And thanks to my little backseat co-pilot for joining me today.” His eyes sparkled with joy as he looked down at her. “How’d you like it, sugar pie?”

Caroline smiled brightly, leaning her head against Tyler’s flannel shirt, her small voice ringing out sweetly, “Love it.” That same smile, one that mirrored her father’s—bright and full of life—shone into the camera, capturing the hearts of viewers everywhere.

Tyler turned to the camera again, his tone playful. “You wanna do it again sometime?” Without hesitation, Caroline nodded her head vigorously, her enthusiasm infectious, prompting Boone and Tyler to erupt into laughter. “Well, there you have it, ladies and gentlemen! Be on the lookout for the newest and youngest wrangler coming to screens near you soon.”

But as I watched this heartwarming exchange, a wave of unease washed over me. “Over my dead body,” I muttered under my breath, the words laced with a mix of protectiveness and apprehension. The thought of Caroline—my little girl—getting swept up in this chaotic whirlwind of storm chasing sent a shiver down my spine.

The crew might have been reveling in the thrill of their antics, but I couldn’t shake the nagging worry that accompanied such reckless adventures. Tyler thrived on the adrenaline, and Caroline, with her sparkling eyes and adventurous spirit, seemed ready to follow in his footsteps…

I was immediately on my feet once I caught a glimpse of the truck pulling into the parking lot. My heart raced as I stepped up to the backdoor, not even bothering to wait until he had placed it into park. The anger bubbled inside me, a boiling point I could no longer contain.

“Now wait a minute, Riley,” Tyler edged, quickly hopping out of the driver’s side, his face a mix of concern and confusion.

“Don’t you dare say a single word to me right now, Tyler Owens. Don’t you fucking dare.” My voice was sharp, laced with the fury that had been building since the moment I saw the storm on the horizon. I knew it was wrong for Caroline to see me acting this way towards her father, but the thought of him taking her without asking me—after I specifically told him no—set me ablaze. He had put her in the path of a fucking F2 tornado!

“Mommy, did you see what Daddy did?” Caroline’s voice broke through, innocent and filled with excitement, but it only fueled my anger further. I practically threw her harness straps off her little body, pulling her into mine as my arms wrapped protectively around her.

“She had fun, Riley,” Tyler said, his tone deeper, almost defensive. “It’s in her blood—”

“No, Tyler!” My voice cracked, laced with a mix of fury and desperation. “It’s in your blood—” My finger jabbed into his hard chest; each word punctuated with emotion. “She has no place out in this world—”

Before I could finish, Lilly and Boone swiftly approached, their expressions turning serious as they saw the tension escalating. They reached for Caroline, gently pulling her out of my arms. Tears rolled down her cheeks, caught in the crossfire of Tyler and my argument. The sight of her distress twisted my heart, but I couldn’t back down; I had to make him understand.

“Make you feel good to see her cry?” Tyler shot back, his voice low and fierce.

My jaw slacked, disbelief washing over me. “Excuse me?” I could hardly process his accusation. “This isn’t about me feeling good, Tyler! It’s about her safety!”

“Then why are you yelling at me?” He gestured towards Caroline, who was now in Lilly’s arms, her small body trembling. “She’s scared because you’re acting like a lunatic!”

“Because you’re being reckless!” I shot back, my hands trembling as I ran them through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “You think this is some kind of game? You took her into a storm, Tyler! A storm! What if something went wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong!” He argued, his voice rising, echoing in the parking lot. “She had the time of her life! You should’ve seen her face when the fireworks went off—”

“And what about the next time?” I interrupted, my emotions spilling over. “What if next time there’s no one to pull her out of danger? What if you can’t protect her?”

The tension thickened in the air, and I could see the frustration in Tyler’s eyes morph into something more vulnerable. It was a fleeting moment, but for a second, I saw the doubt in him—the realization that maybe I was right, that there were risks we could never ignore.

“Riley,” he said, his tone softening as he took a step closer, trying to bridge the divide between us. “You know I’d never put her in harm’s way on purpose. I love her, and I love you. I thought we were in this together—”

“Together?” I scoffed, the bitterness creeping into my voice. “We are not together! You don’t get to make unilateral decisions that put her at risk! This isn’t just about you and your thrill-seeking! She’s a child, not a prop in your adventures!” Each word felt like a dagger, aimed directly at Tyler’s heart, and I could see the hurt flash across his face.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on us, the tension crackling like static electricity in the air. Behind us, the parking lot buzzed with life, but in our little bubble, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of us—two parents at an impasse, fighting over the well-being of our daughter.

“You think I don’t care about her?” he finally shot back, his voice rising in frustration. “I love her! I thought I was giving her a taste of adventure, something exciting to remember! Isn’t that what we want for her? To live life fully?”

“Not like this!” I pressed, my hands shaking as I struggled to keep my composure. “Adventure doesn’t have to come at the cost of her safety! You think it’s fun to chase storms and set off fireworks, but you’re not seeing the bigger picture. What if something had gone wrong? What if she had gotten hurt?”

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Nothing did go wrong! She was safe, and she loved every second of it! You’re overreacting, Riley. You always do this—”

“Overreacting?” I echoed incredulously, my voice rising. “I’m not overreacting! I’m being a mother! You may see this as just another day in your thrill-seeking life, but I see the risks! I see the potential for disaster!”

Lilly stood to the side, trying to soothe Caroline, whose eyes were wide with confusion and fear. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she murmured softly, wiping away the tears that had streamed down Caroline’s cheeks. “Mommy and Daddy are just having a grown-up conversation.”

I felt my heart break as I watched my little girl caught in the middle of our storm. “I don’t want her to see us like this,” I said, my voice softening for a moment, but the anger quickly surged back. “But how can I stay calm when you’re putting her in danger?”

“Danger?” Tyler scoffed, his expression hardening again. “You call it danger; I call it living. She’s going to grow up thinking the world is a scary place if you keep her wrapped in bubble wrap!”

“Bubble wrap?” I laughed bitterly, my chest tightening. “Protecting her isn’t bubble wrap, Tyler! It’s being a responsible parent! You can’t just throw her into the eye of the storm and call it an adventure!”

“Maybe you need to let go a little!” he shot back, frustration boiling over. “Maybe you need to trust me! I know what I’m doing!”

“Trust you?” I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. “You think this is about trust? This is about being sensible! About understanding boundaries! You need to realize that you’re not just making decisions for yourself anymore!”

“Then what do you suggest? We just sit at home, watching the world go by while she dreams of the adventures we could be having?” Tyler’s voice was rising, and I could see the veins in his neck pulsing with tension.

“No!” I replied, my voice pleading. “But there’s a balance! There are ways to introduce her to adventure without throwing caution to the wind! You need to stop thinking of her as your sidekick in a dangerous game and start seeing her as our daughter!”

“Are you really insinuating that I think of Caroline as my fucking sidekick?” His eyes darkened with rage. “That little girl is all I fucking have in life, Riley. How would you feel if someone took away your life and moved them hundreds of miles away?”

“I did what was best for her, Tyler.” I was exhausted with having this argument. “There was no opportunities for me in Arkansas – no opportunities for her. I’m not gonna be the happy little housewife that waits patiently by the front door, hoping that you come back in one piece. It was draining being married to the Tornado Wrangler.”

“Was it draining to be married to the Tornado Wrangler when you were spending the money that was coming in?” Tyler's words left his mouth before he had time to think, each syllable laced with a bitterness that echoed the anger boiling beneath the surface.

“Wow—” I gasped, tears welling in my eyes as his question felt like a gut punch. The accusation hung in the air between us, sharp and unforgiving. In that moment, I felt a rush of emotions—hurt, anger, and disbelief all crashing over me like a wave. How could he twist my concerns into something so selfish?

“Is that really how you see it?” I managed to choke out, my voice trembling with the weight of his words. “You think I was just some gold digger, living off your success while I played house?”

“It's not like you ever complained when the checks came rolling in,” he shot back, his frustration bubbling over. “You loved the lifestyle—the trips, the nice things, the freedom. But now that it’s all gone, you want to act like it was so tough!”

I felt the heat of anger rise within me, mixing with the tears that threatened to spill over. “You’re missing the point, Tyler! It wasn’t about the money! It was about the instability, the fear of you chasing storms without thinking about the family you were leaving behind. I was drowning in uncertainty while you were out there chasing your dreams!”

His expression hardened as he crossed his arms, the tension in his body palpable. “So what, I’m supposed to just give it all up? Stop being who I am because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“No!” I exclaimed, my voice rising. “But you need to find a balance! I wanted to support you, to be there for you, but I couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay when it felt like our lives were hanging by a thread. I was terrified of losing you to the very thing that you loved!”

“Terrified or just selfish?” he countered, the bitterness in his tone cutting deep. “Because it sounds like you’re just mad that I didn’t fit into your picture-perfect life.”

“Picture-perfect?” I echoed, incredulous. “You think I wanted a perfect life? I wanted a partner, someone I could count on. But instead, I was left waiting by the door, wondering if you’d come back in one piece or if the next storm would take you away from us forever.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

[valtsv]

please tell us more about the VALshrue wedding AU

okay <3 yay <3 so basically me and my wonderful friend sacha @unbloodiedmartyr have put our sicko heads together to come up with an au that i originally devised, but which sacha did a lot of the hard work of actually plotting out a rough storyboard for, where shrue got arrested by carson after beating the shit out of him, which initially was going to end with them simply being made a rhetorical saint to shill tranquilitea - but then VAL takes the CLS, and the withermark still happens as a kind of consolation prize set off by the faulknerians when it becomes clear their assassination plot is a bust in a last-ditch attempt to prevent legalisation (it does not work, faulkner is having the worst time of his life still), so carson needs to spin something up to placate the peninsulan populace, who just won the war, but at a horrific cost to human life and infrastructure which has put a pretty massive dent in people's faith in their government and the corporate gods. his solution? a wedding! because everyone loves a wedding, right? it's the perfect distraction, a great opportunity for marketing, and symbolically fitting for the start of a new regime - and he has two perfect candidates lined up to make the sacrifice of being forced into an arranged political marriage. so shrue is given some alterations to make them a love saint, specifically a stand-in for their alternate wartime propaganda version of the promised bride who gave her life to become something that could help her people win the war (which ties nicely into legalising the parish of tide and flesh), utterly loyal and devoted to VAL - who is wandering around shellshocked and despondent until she's captured and tranquilised by god hunters and brought back "home", where she wakes up in a cell to carson gleefully telling her that he has a surprise for her. she is understandably less than thrilled to be one of the new figureheads for the exact kind of regime she came to the conclusion she wants no part in, not to mention being shackled to another saint whose sole remaining desire is to worship her unconditionally, but she has little choice - if she refuses, they'll purge her, and recreate the processes they used to make her to hallow another girl in her place. and then shrue begins to regain some of their memories, and shockingly isn't exactly okay with all this either. meanwhile the clock is ticking for them to figure out a way to stop the wedding of the century from taking place and officiating a literal marriage of '''true''' romantic love to the unconditionally selfless love of serving as a patriot to one's country, ushering in a new age of sacrifice and wanton cruelty.

it's got toxic mutually abusive failmarriage! it's got politicial intrigue!it's got the state commodification of the body vs. the right to personal bodily autonomy! it's got the hideousness of gender essentialism! it's got examinations of how propaganda enables the rise of fascism! it's got aromantic perspectives on the institution of marriage! it's got tragedy! it's got drama! it's got the two worst living dead people alive being forced to learn to care about each other because they're the only people they can rely on! if we ever write it i can't wait for you all to see it

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

There's No Way

Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Loosely based on "There's No Way" by Lauv. Slow-burn, friends-to-lovers. Featuring sort of modern-day / old money Steve (there are phones but also VHS? :D)

One.

The smell of charcoal and lake water hung thick in the air as cicadas hummed in the distance. Lover’s Lake glittered under the golden haze of the setting sun, a familiar scene that somehow still felt special every time summer rolled around.

Robin tossed a burger onto the grill with a practiced flick of her wrist, the sizzle of meat filling the quiet space between them. “Alright, I’m just gonna say it - Steve, you are officially the most bougie of all of us. The Hamptons? Really?”

Eddie snorted, taking a swig of his beer. “Yeah, Stevie, how was your luxurious East Coast retreat? Tennis with the Kennedys? Yachting with the Rockefellers?”

Steve rolled his eyes, reclining in his fold-out chair. “Oh, bite me. It was a family thing. Not my fault my parents have weird rich-people traditions.”

Nancy smirked over the rim of her cup. “So no secret country club scandals? No whirlwind summer romance?”

“Yeah, Harrington, tell us the truth. Did you break some poor heiress’s heart?” Eddie waggled his eyebrows.

Steve scoffed. “I spent most of the time avoiding conversations about future investments and trying not to die of boredom.”

Robin gasped dramatically. “Tragic.”

Steve shot her a look but grinned anyway, shaking his head. This was nice. Comfortable. Everyone had been scattered all over the place over the past year - college, jobs, moving in and out of Hawkins - but somehow, summer always brought them back.

“So,” Eddie leaned forward, “what about you, Buckley? How’s college treating you?”

Robin’s face lit up. “Amazing. My roommate and I went to this killer concert a few weeks ago - front row, totally insane.”

“Wait, the roommate?” Nancy asked, smirking.

“Yes, the roommate,” Robin confirmed, rolling her eyes.

Steve sat up straight, sensing an opportunity. “Oh, you mean the one you’re secretly obsessed with?”

Robin groaned. “I am not obsessed -”

“You totally are,” Eddie cut in. “You bring her up constantly.”

“Okay, maybe because she’s cool as hell? She’s from New York, she’s got this whole effortless vibe going  - like, she walks into a room and people just can’t help but stare. And she’s stupidly nice on top of that. It’s unfair, really.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s got a little crush.”

“Shut up,” Robin muttered, but her ears turned pink.

Eddie laughed. “Nah, Steve, she’s right though. I’ve met New York - she’s a cool kid. Got the whole leather jacket, sharp wit thing going, but she’s not an asshole about it. Makes you feel like the uncoolest person in the room, but in, like, a friendly way.”

Nancy grinned. “I like her already.”

“Good,” Robin said solemnly. “Because she’s coming to visit next week. And I expect all of you to be nice and welcoming.”

Steve smirked. “I don’t know, Robin. What if I feel intimidated by her overwhelming coolness?”

Robin snorted. “Oh, I am so counting on it”.

---

Later that night, as the fire crackled and the group dwindled into smaller conversations, Robin found Steve alone by the lake’s edge. The water lapped gently at the shore, moonlight catching in the ripples.

“So,” she started, nudging his arm. “How’s the single life treating you?”

Steve exhaled, staring at the water. “Fine, I guess.”

“You and Nance good?”

“Yeah. It was mutual.” He glanced back at Nancy, who was laughing at something Eddie was saying. “We want different things. No drama, no hard feelings.”

Robin nodded. “Good. I mean, you know I love you both, but… it was kinda inevitable.”

Steve huffed a laugh, shaking it off. “Yeah, yeah.”

She hesitated, then said, “So, uh… just a heads up? About New York?”

Steve frowned. “What about her?”

Robin’s lips twitched as she paused as if mentally fighting with herself. Biting on her bottom lip, she threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, screw this. I just know you, Steve. And I know she’s exactly your type. And I’m telling you, please, for the love of God - keep it in your pants.”

Steve choked on a surprised laugh. “Oh, come on now, Buckley!”

“No, I mean it,” Robin insisted. “You’re gonna take one look at her, and it’s gonna be all heart-eyes, and I just - Steve, I need this friendship to not be ruined by your tragic inability to control yourself around beautiful women.”

Steve grinned, placing a hand over his chest. “Robin, I can handle myself. Cross my heart.”

Robin didn’t look convinced. She gave him an unimpressed look. “Mmm-hmm.”

Across the fire, Eddie caught the tail end of their conversation and smirked.

“Yeah, no,” he muttered to himself. “No way Harrington’s not going there.”

-

Two.

The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, streaks of gold reflecting off Lover’s Lake as the sun dipped lower. The gathering was bigger this time—more voices, more laughter, a familiar kind of chaos. Someone had brought a speaker, and music floated through the warm air, blending with the crackling of the bonfire and the distant splash of the younger kids skipping rocks at the water’s edge.

Steve stood by the shore, his Ray-Bans perched on his nose, arms crossed as he exchanged lazy jabs with Dustin.

“I’m just saying,” Henderson grinned, arms flailing for emphasis, “it’s honestly embarrassing how bad you are at Mario Kart. Like, actually humiliating.”

Steve scoffed. “Oh, shut up. Those blue shells are rigged, and you know it.”

“Excuses, excuses - ”

Dustin stopped mid-sentence, his mouth still open but his eyes widening. “Uh, who is that?”

Steve frowned at the interruption. “Who’s who—”

Then he turned.

And there you were. Walking down the beach, the glow of the fading sunlight catching in your beautiful loose hair, making it look almost unreal. Effortlessly cool in the most casual outfit, like you hadn’t even tried but still managed to steal the entire scene. 

Conversations around Steve stuttered, people’s eyes drifting toward you like a magnet.

You didn’t even notice. 

You smiled, your confidence radiating as you made a beeline for Robin, pulling her into a tight hug.

Steve barely registered Dustin saying, “Dude, you’re staring.”

“That’s New York,” Steve muttered, still watching as you and Robin swayed in your hug, laughing.

“That’s New York?” Dustin hissed, his eyes following your every move. “That’s the girl Robin’s always talking about? She somehow forgot to mention that she looks like she just stepped out of a movie.”

Steve huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Dude, she’s like super old for you. She’s also too cool for us mere mortals.”

Eddie, standing nearby, caught sight of you and broke into a grin. “Oh, hell yeah — New York!”

You turned, eyes lighting up as you spotted him. “Munson!”

Eddie opened his arms. “Come here, you leather-clad menace.”

You laughed, walking straight into his hug. “Still trying to make the whole ‘cult leader’ thing work?”

“Uh, duh?! And you still out here making the rest of us look like fashion disasters?”

“Uh, duh?” you mirrored, smirking at him. 

Robin grinned, turning toward the rest of the group. “Alright, everybody, this is New York. Be nice, or I’ll personally kick your asses.”

You were introduced around, your sharp wit balanced by a genuine warmth that made it impossible not to like you. Steve, still watching from the sidelines, felt that weird pull in his chest, the kind that came with meeting someone you know is going to matter.

Dustin slowly grinned from ear to ear, catching the look on his face. “Uh oh. What’s with the look?”

Steve scoffed, frowning. “What look?”

“You know what look,” Dustin rolled his eyes.

Before Steve could argue, Robin dragged you toward him. “And this —” she gestured dramatically, “this is Steve.”

You tilted your head, a smile sleeping on your lips, your eyes scanning over him - in a way that made his pulse spike. “Ah. The infamous Steve Harrington.”

Steve snickered. “Infamous, huh? That how Robin describes me?”

Your lips twitched. “Not exactly. But lucky for you, second-hand opinions are not my thing”.

He let out a low chuckle, gazing at you. “Well, how’s the first impression, then?”

The group around you went silent, subtly watching, like they could feel something happening.

You tilted your head ever so slightly, as if considering him. “I think the jury’s still out.”

Steve grinned. “Good”, he said, running fingers through his hair. “I love a challenge.”

That surprised a soft laugh out of you - and Steve wasn’t sure if it was the orange hue of the setting sun or something else entirely, but your eyes lit up. And he thought he’d very much love to see more of those little sparkles dancing in the your irises. 

---

A couple of hours in, the party had settled into a comfortable rhythm — some people gathered near the bonfire, others sprawled out on blankets near the lake. Max and Lucas were in the middle of a heated argument about something, while Robin and Eddie had started an impromptu debate over the best concert they’d ever been to.

You sat on a log near the fire, sipping from a plastic cup, when Dustin plopped down beside you.

“So,” he pushed, grinning mischievously, “what’s your deal?”

You turned to face him, curious. “My deal?”

“Yeah, you know. The whole mysterious, effortlessly cool, sarcastic but somehow also really nice thing you have going on.”

You smiled at him softly, taking a gulp of the drink you’ve been nursing. “Ah. Well, I think that’s very cool of you to come up and ask”, you winked at him. “Please, go ahead and inspect away. I’m an open book”. 

Dustin hummed in approval. “Okay, think we got the “really nice” part validated.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Cute.”

Eddie and Steve, who had been lingering nearby talking about Harrington’s BMW that’s been acting out lately, turned their attention towards you.  

Munson snorted, jumping in. “Kid, she grew up in New York. She’s got at least a decade of experience in making people cry with one sentence. I would hold off on any sort of validations for now.”

You rolled your eyes at him kind-heartedly. “It’s a weapon I seldom use, Eds, you know that.”

Paying Eddie’s antics and your comeback no mind, Dustin continued. “And you sure know how to make an entrance. So that also sorta checks the coolness box?” He then pointed at Steve. “I gotta say, I think you’re the first person I’ve ever met who might be able to outmatch the good old King Steve in the coolness department.”

Steve scoffed. “Different sides of the spectrum, Henderson. There’s cool and then there's douchebaggery”. 

You smirked at his auto-derision. You might have heard a couple of things about King Steve before coming here. “Robin told me you put the crown behind you?”

Steve scratched the back of his head, lowering his gaze. There was something vulnerable about him then. 

“Never had one to begin with”, he simply said, his brown eyes seeking out yours. 

You held his stare for a moment, and it was like everything else dimmed slightly — the music, the laughter, the conversations around you.

Seconds before the electricity started cracking between you, Steve took a sip of his drink, breaking the spell. Clearing his throat, he asked, “So. How’s Hawkins treating you so far?”

You released a breath and shrugged. “From what I’ve seen so far today, it’s… different. Quieter than I’m used to, but nice. I can see why Robin likes it here.”

“Yeah, it’s not New York, but it grows on you,” he pushed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping closer.

You studied him. “You ever been?”

He shook his head. “Nope. But I feel like I’d get eaten alive.”

That unexpected honesty granted him a smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, maybe. But at least you’d have had fun first.”

Steve laughed. “If you say so”. It’s not before he moved to seat beside you that you realized both Dustin and Eddie were nowhere to be seen. For a brief second, you wondered how long they’ve been gone for.

But then your eyes met Steve’s again. “I think you’d like it more than you think.”

The conversation continued, flowing easily between you. You talked about music, the best dive bars you both have been to, about how Steve still couldn’t figure out how to properly work a jukebox (you stared at him in disbelief and promised to teach him - because that was no way to live).

At some point, Robin, watching from a distance, leaned toward Eddie and muttered, “Oh, this is bad.”

Eddie didn’t miss a bit, taking a sip of his drink. “No - this is inevitable.”

—

By the time the fire had burned low and the night air had cooled, you and Robin found yourselves making your way to the cars, spotting Steve next to his BMW. “I can’t drive”, you told her, eyeing your Jeep parked under the trees on a side of the road. “Shouldn’t have dangled that G&T in front of my face, Buckley”. 

Before Robin could deny all fault, Steve waved you both over. 

“I’ll drive you guys back,” he offered casually. 

Robin shot him a suspicious look. “Didn’t you drink whiskey, Harrington?”

Steve scrunched his nose. “That shit Billy brought? Come on, Buckley, pretty sure he sucked that thing outta his gas tank.”

Before either you or Robin could protest, he swung open the passenger door, beckoning you in with a nod. 

The drive was quiet, comfortable. With her temple pressed against the window, Robin passed out before you even crossed the city line. 

You stared out the backseat window, house watching as white facades rolled by. Steve’s car smelled nice. Something sweet and heady, with a hint of wood. 

As your gaze slid across the back of the leather seats, you caught Steve’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He gave you a soft smile, before switching his attention back to the road. 

When you reached Robin’s place, Steve stepped out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. You carefully shook the girl awake and slid out first against the background of her sleepy muttering. Your arm brushed against Steve’s as you moved past him.

It was the smallest touch. Barely there.

But even with her eyes misted with sleep, Robin saw the way Steve’s fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for more.

She saw the way you hesitated for a second, like you felt it too.

And as you said your goodbyes and walked toward the door, Robin exhaled, shaking her head.

She’d be surprised if Steve and you didn’t end up going there. Not with the way you were already looking at each other - and you’d only just met.  -

Three.

“You drive like an old man.”

Steve shot you an incredulous look as he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Harrington,” you teased, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Ten and two, checking your mirrors every five seconds… I’m shocked you didn’t use a blinker in the parking lot.”

Robin snorted from the backseat. “He totally did.”

Eddie leaned forward between you and Steve, grinning. “I hate to agree with New York, but yeah, dude, you drive like you’re taking your driver’s test every time.”

Steve scoffed, throwing the car into park. “It’s called being a responsible driver. Sorry I don’t drive like a lunatic.”

You smirked. For some reason, you loved getting a rise out of him. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, Grandpa, let’s get the snacks.”

Harrington rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto his face as he followed you inside.

There was something easy about being around you. Like you had fallen into step with each other without even realizing it.

Robin noticed.

Eddie noticed.

But neither of them said anything.

Both watched the two of you dance around each other instead, like you had known each other forever. Usual knowing smirks plastered across their faces as you and Steve bickered over which snacks to get for the movie night happening at his house.

“We have to get Twizzlers,” Steve insisted, tossing a pack into the cart.

You wrinkled your nose. “Come on, Harrington. They taste like wax.”

Steve gasped in mock horror. “Take that back.”

You smirked, plucking the pack out of the cart and putting it back on the shelf. “I refuse to enable bad choices.”

Robin covered her mouth, stifling a laugh watching Steve gape at you wide-eyed. “Oh, and who made you an expert ? You just picked up —” he glanced at the bag in your hand, “—what even is that? Trail mix?”

“With chocolate,” you supplied pointedly, throwing it into the cart.

Steve groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie leaned over to Robin. “They flirting, or am I having a stroke?”

Robin grinned. “Flirting. Hard.”

Steve, blissfully unaware of their commentary, was still watching you with an exasperated but amused expression. “Tell you what, let’s compromise. I get my Twizzlers, you get your weird health snack.”

You pretended to consider it. “Alright, deal.”

Steve tossed the Twizzlers back into the cart, shooting you a victorious look. “Sucker.”

You just rolled your eyes, but the way you smiled at him made something flip in Steve’s chest.

Huh. That was new. 

---

All groceries paid and loaded (Steve all but blocked your access to the cashier, refusing to let any of you pay) - you headed over to Family Video for the movie selection.

Robin, boasting her ex-employee knowledge just a bit, took charge immediately. “Alright, we need something good—”

“Oh, I get a say in this,” you interjected immediately, scanning the shelves. “Last time I let you pick, we ended up watching some—” she glanced at Steve and Eddie, “—very artistic foreign film that was just two hours of sad people staring out of windows.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Excuse you!” Robin scoffed. “That movie had depth.”

“...of a mud puddle,” you supplied, ignoring her.

Steve grinned at you. “Okay, definitely letting you pick the movie for tonight.”

Before you could reply, someone stepped into the aisle, their presence immediately shifting the air.

Steve noticed Jason Carver before he could make his presence known, but didn’t react. With a bit of luck, Jason would just get on with his mission to make someone miserable today. So Steve just leaned against the shelf and watched.

Jason’s eyes swept over the group before landing on you.

No such luck, then. 

“Hey,” he said cheerfully, stepping closer with that too-polished, practiced smile. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

You barely glanced up from the VHS tapes in your hands. “I’m visiting.”

Jason leaned against the shelf beside you. The guy wasn’t great at taking a hint, apparently. “From where?”

“New York,” you said absently, your fingertips grazing the VHS as you hesitated. 

Jason let out a low whistle. “Damn. Bit of a change coming to Hawkins, huh?”

You hummed in vague agreement, still not looking at him.

Steve watched from a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. He told himself he didn’t care. He told himself he wasn’t annoyed.

Robin, standing next to him, called bullshit. 

She smirked. “You ok there, Harrington? Want me to press down on your hair so you don’t blow the top off?”

Steve forced a nonchalant smile. “I’m actually enjoying this”.

Robin grinned and nodded in agreement. “Like watching a car accident happen right in front of me.”

Meanwhile, Jason, undeterred by your clear lack of interest, kept talking. “So, what do you do in New York? Model?”

That got your attention. Looking up, you blinked at him, unimpressed. “Seriously?”

Jason smirked, encouraged by you finally looking at him. “Hey, just saying”, he threw his hands in the air. “You sure got the look.”

Before you could respond, Eddie popped his head in the aisle, holding what looked like a good old comedy. “Alright, I’ve got the winner—”

Carver turned to look at him then, his expression instantly shifting. “Oh, great. The freak’s here.”

You stilled.

The change in your demeanor was drastic. The air cracked with tension. 

You slowly turned to fully face him, fixing Jason with a look so sharp and cold that it could’ve sliced through glass.

“Are you actually for real now?” you said flatly.

Jason scoffed. “What? Just stating facts.”

Your lips curled in a dangerous smile. There was no stopping you now. Dude has crossed the line. “Here’s another fun fact for you, dickhead. They say a frightened dog barks the loudest. I can ask the store manager to call your mom. She’ll come get you.”

Jason’s jaw tensed. “I was just—”

“Don’t bother, we get it,” you continued, merciless eyes still locked onto him. “You peaked in high school. You’re clinging to relevance by being a jackass to people who actually moved on with their lives. Get the fuck on with your miserable existence somewhere else.”

Jason opened his mouth - just to shut it again. Eddie, grinning, casually handed you the VHS tape he found.

You took it without looking, brushing past a flabbergasted Carver as you made your way to the front of the store.

Robin followed, biting back laughter - just barely.

Steve, who had been watching without even trying to conceal his amusement, exhaled, shaking his head as he pushed off the shelf.

Eddie, still smirking, clapped Jason on the shoulder. “Tough break, man.”

Jason glared daggers at him. “Fuck off, Munson.”

Feeling ten feet tall and generous, Eddie gave him a tiny goodbye wave, leaving him biting the proverbial dust.

---

By the time you piled into Steve’s car, the tension had dissolved into laughter.

Eddie sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “I love being a damsel in distress. Might get used to it.”

You smirked at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re welcome, Princess.”

Steve glanced at you briefly as he pulled out of the parking lot. But you still caught the awe in his eyes. 

“You do that often? Publicly humiliate douchebags?”

You shrugged. “This one needed a reality check. Thought I’d do the Hawkins community a favor.”

Robin grinned. “You should’ve seen his face. I’ll be living off that moment for weeks.”

Eddie sighed, leaning back. “You are now my favorite New Yorker, by the way.”

You chose to ignore the fact that you were probably the only New Yorker Eddie really knew. “I better be.”

Steve forced himself to focus on the road, trying - and failing - to ignore a twisting sensation in his chest.

He thought back to Robin’s warning.

“Don’t go there.”

But as you sat in his passenger seat, casually flipping through the VHS tape like you hadn’t just verbally emasculated Jason Carver in public, Steve knew—

Robin was right.

He was pretty much halfway there.

And he wasn’t sure there was any turning back.

-

Four.  

Steve’s house was, as advertised, big and empty.

Robin and Eddie wasted no time sprawling blankets and pillows across the floor in front of the massive TV, with Steve helping arrange everything while you ran upstairs to the bathroom.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Robin refused to miss a beat. “So, Steve, wanna talk about how you’re pining?”

Steve sighed dramatically, throwing the last pillow he just brought from a guest room into the pile on the floor. “Jesus Christ.”

Eddie grinned, flopping onto the makeshift giant bed they built. “No, no, it’s cute, man. I mean, I knew you’d be toast the second you laid eyes on her, but this whole slow-burn thing? Didn’t see it coming. Thought you’d be making a move by now.”

“There’s no slow-burn!” Steve exclaimed, exasperated. “Just drop it already, guys, dead serious. Nothing’s going on.”

Robin snorted. “Sure, Steve. And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Bow to your majesty,” Eddie said, throwing a pillow at Steve’s head.

Steve caught it easily, shaking his head as he tossed it back. “You guys are so annoying.”

Robin and Eddie shared a look, their smirks identical.

Giving up on the pair, Steve glanced at the staircase, realizing you had been gone for a while.

“I’m gonna check on her,” he said, waving off their knowing glances as he headed upstairs.

---

He found you in the foyer, standing still in front of the only framed photo of him as a kid.

It was an old, staged portrait — him, no older than five, dressed like a perfect little country club baby in a polo and khakis, standing stiffly in front of a white column. No smile. Just blank, polite obedience.

He stopped a few feet away, watching you.

“That’s the only one in the whole house,” he said quietly.

You turned to look at him, then back at the photo. “No baby pictures?”

Steve shook his head. “None on display, at least.”

You studied the photo for a moment longer before glancing at him again. Your voice was soft when you asked, “Were you that serious as a kid?”

Steve let out a bitter breath of a laugh. “No. I mean, not naturally. But when the only times your parents want a picture is when they’re forcing you into one, you learn to stand still and shut up.”

You frowned slightly, your gaze thoughtful.

Steve surprised himself by continuing. “They were… cold, I guess. Still are. Always busy. Always away. They had expectations, and I followed them. For a while.” He huffed. “Didn’t last.”

You didn’t blink, watching him closely. “And now?”

Steve swallowed. “Now, I just try to do things my way.”

There was something knowing in your expression. A small, almost timid smile grew on your lips. “That’s why I think you’re kind of amazing, you know.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

You turned to fully face him, leaning casually against the wall. “You could’ve turned out like that—” you gestured to the framed, lifeless photo, “—but instead, you’re… you.”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’m all that impressive.”

“You’re kind,” she said simply. “Given everything, that’s impressive.”

There was a shift in the air. The kind that made Steve suddenly hyper aware of how close you were standing. You held his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

Felt like words were not necessary. Your bodies ached for their turn to take control.

Then —

“HEY, GUYS! MOVIE’S STARTING!”

Robin’s voice echoed up the stairs, breaking the spell.

Steve cleared his throat, looking away as he took a step back. “We should — uh — head down.”

You nodded, pushing off the wall. “Yeah.”

You descended the stairs in silence, and Steve begged whoever listened that you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest.

---

By the time you settled in for the movie, Steve barely knew what was happening on the screen. You were squished between him and Robin, and even though he wasn’t technically touching you, Steve could feel your warmth beside him.

He tried to focus, but every time you shifted, every time you laughed at something on screen, every time you adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, he felt it. All the way deep in his bones.

Then, at some point, you shifted closer, tucking your legs up and leaning against him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder.

Steve froze.

A quick glance around the room told him Robin and Eddie were already half-asleep.

You were breathing evenly against him, surrendered to a peaceful sleep.

Steve swallowed hard, staring blankly at the TV.

The thing was — he knew, deep down, this was going to be history — sooner than later.

But right now, at this moment, it didn’t seem to matter all that much. What mattered was him not moving. Because if he moved, you might wake up.

Right now, you curled against him, trusting and warm and peaceful - that's what mattered.

So Steve stayed still, staring at the screen without really seeing it.

Because nothing except for your warmth and your sweet breath mattered that much - if at all. 

-

Five.

Benny’s Diner was buzzing with the late breakfast crowd, but at your booth near the window, the four of you had carved out your own little world.

The vibe was soft and easy, filled with sleepy laughter and clinking coffee mugs.

Steve sat across from you, his arm draped over the back of the booth, pretending to listen as Eddie and Robin bickered over their orders. But in reality, his focus kept drifting.

To you.

To the way your knee kept brushing his under the table. To the scent of your perfume—something warm, slightly sweet, and completely distracting. To the way you tucked your silky hair behind your ear as you read the menu, biting back a smile at whatever dumb joke Robin had just made.

He was aware of you in a way that made him feel off balance - and it wasn’t just this morning.

It was how you’d woken up still tucked against him, completely unbothered by the fact that you’d spent the night like that. You had blinked up at him with that sleepy, bright smile and murmured, “Morning, Harrington. Sleep well?”

And he had lied through his goddamn teeth. Because the truth was, he hadn’t slept at all.

Too afraid to move. Too afraid to wake you up. Too aware of every shift of your breath.

The memory was so distracting that he barely registered it when you said his name.

“Steve.”

He blinked, snapping back to reality. “Huh?”

You smiled suspiciously, tilting your head to a side. “You good over there? You spaced out.”

Eddie giggled like a gremlin, looking at him knowingly.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting. “Uh, yeah. What was the question?”

You laughed. “I was asking if you were gonna come with us to Eddie’s uncle’s cabin today.”

Steve barely had time to process before Eddie jumped in, looking far too pleased. “Yeah, Stevie-boy. Thought we’d spend the night upstate, get out of town for a bit.”

Robin nodded sagely. “No parents. No civilization. Just us, a questionable cabin, and probably a family of raccoons.”

You grinned. “What do you say, Harrington? You in?”

Steve opened his mouth — only to groan as he remembered. “Shit. I can’t. My parents’ White Party. Annual bullshit. I have to go, or they’ll have an aneurysm.”

Robin immediately covered a very obvious “Bougie” with a cough.

Steve shot her a look.

You pouted, resting your chin on your hand. “Lame.”

Eddie sighed dramatically. “Gone too soon. Taken from us before his time.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything else, you leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Come find us after,” you murmured into his ear. “If you survive.”

Steve barely found the brainpower to breathe, let alone respond, before you pulled back and stood up.

Robin and Eddie followed you to the checkout counter, already making plans for the evening.

Steve just watched you go - completely smitten.

---

The White Party was exactly as soul-sucking as expected.

Steve leaned against the marble bar, nursing a whiskey, his white linen shirt sleeves rolled up as he endured yet another conversation about investment portfolios and European boarding schools.

Jason Carver was here, of course.

Leaning smugly against the bar with his usual crew, talking too loudly, probably making some poor girl miserable.

Steve ignored him.

He didn’t even have to put too much effort into the “ignoring” part - all he could think about was this morning.

Your voice. Your laugh. Your stupid perfume that was still somehow all around him.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face -

And then his phone rang.

He frowned, glancing at the unknown number before picking up. “Hello?”

“Steve?”

He immediately straightened. “New York?”

You exhaled, relieved. “Oh, thank god, you picked up. Listen, I—hold on—Robin, stop laughing, this is serious— okay, sorry, our car may have gone off the road—”

“What?”

“—into the mud.”

There was a cackle in the background.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “You crashed?”

“No, Eddie got us stuck,” you corrected. “I was just the unfortunate passenger.”

There was more muffled laughter in the background.

You sighed. “We tried pushing it out, but we’re just making it worse. And I hate to bother you while you’re at your elite socialite gathering, but, uh… we’re kinda screwed.”

Steve didn’t even hesitate.

“Where are you?”

“Halfway up to the cabin. Robin can text you the mile marker—”

“I’ll be there soon.”

There was a pause, then a smile in your voice. “Really?”

Steve just shook his head, already heading for the door. “Like I’m gonna leave you guys stranded.”

Behind him, Jason called something snide, but Steve didn’t care.

He was already leaving. 

-

Six.

By the time Steve arrived, it was pitch black except for the high beams of Eddie’s car reflecting off the trees.

And the mud.

So. Much. Mud.

Steve swore under his breath as he pulled up in his very much not made for off-roading BMW, still dressed in white. He really should have gone home to change first.

Up ahead, Robin was in the driver’s seat, revving the engine as you and Eddie pushed from behind, your shoes sinking into the slop.

He barely had time to assess the situation before Robin caught sight of him.

“Oh thank God! STEVE!” she cheered—right as her foot slipped off the gas.

The car lurched backward.

You and Eddie went flying.

Straight into the biggest, deepest, grossest puddle of mud on the whole damn road.

Steve’s heart stopped.

He didn’t think. He leaped from his car, sprinting towards you without a single regard for his white linen pants.

You were lost in a fit of hysterical laughter. Or, rather, cackle, as you propped yourself up on your elbows in the muck.

Steve waded in without hesitation, his thighs instantly soaked, reaching for you. “Jesus Christ — come on, New York, give me your hand.”

You grinned up at him mischievously, and before he could do anything else, you launched yourself into his arms.

He caught you on instinct, arms wrapping around your waist as you completely ruined the last clean part of his clothes.

“Can’t believe you came,” you laughed into his shoulder. “I knew you would.”

Steve barely registered the fact that you were getting mud everywhere — your arms locked around his neck, your body warm against his, the scent of damp earth and your lingering perfume filling his senses.

“Yeah,” he murmured, holding you just a second too long before finally setting her back on her feet. “Course I did.”

A few feet away, Eddie struggled to his feet, arms outstretched in exasperation. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about me, guys. I just love being ignored while I drown in filth.”

Robin, still in the car, had her forehead against the steering wheel, laughing so hard the roof of the thing was shaking.

Steve pulled back, brushing a stray, mud-caked strand of hair from your cheek. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You looked up at him teasingly, lips quirking up. “Sweetheart, huh?”

Steve’s stomach flipped.

Eddie let out an exaggerated gag. “Oh my god, I’m the one covered in mud, but that was somehow filthier.”

Steve had the decency to lower his eyes, biting back a smile as he let his hand drop.

Robin threw the door of the Eddie’s car open, finally catching her breath. “Okay, people — let’s get this stupid car out so we can go warm up before Steve actually cries about his ruined Ralph Lauren outfit!”

—

It took a combination of teamwork, Steve’s BMW, and a lot of swearing, but you eventually got Eddie’s car unstuck and back on the road.

By the time you reached the cabin, the mud had dried to an uncomfortable crust on your skin.

You unloaded Eddie’s car and scattered inside, everyone getting cleaned up and settling in.

Steve took the fastest shower of his life, scrubbing away every last trace of white linen Steve Harrington until all that was left was damp hair, Eddie’s spare band tee, and a pair of worn-out jeans.

When he stepped back into the room, he spotted you crouched over your backpack, searching for something.

The warm glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across your skin, catching in the loose tendrils of your still-drying hair.

Steve halted. You glanced up, pausing when you saw him.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Your gaze flicked over his borrowed shirt, his wet hair, the way his jeans hung low on his hips.

Then you met his eyes.

Something shifted in the air. The kind of shift that was slow, deliberate. Like the exact moment before a fire starts.

Steve’s throat went desert-dry.

You slowly got up to your feet to level with him, your lips parting slightly like you wanted to say something —

When the door slammed open with a bang.

“Harrington!”

Steve honest-to-god jumped.

Eddie leaned against the doorframe, completely oblivious. “Need an extra pair of hands for the wood pile before we all freeze to death.”

Steve exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. Sure.”

Eddie nodded, then flicked his gaze between the two of you.

His smirk couldn’t get more obnoxious.

You rolled your eyes at his antics, and went back to your bag - like nothing happened.

Steve followed Eddie out, hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the way his pulse pounded in his throat.

Whatever that was - it could have been a wildfire. Even without the goddamn wood.

---

The cabin kitchen smelled amazing—garlic, tomato, and cheesy lasagna bubbling away in the oven. But the state of the place? An absolute disaster.

Robin had sauce on her cheek. Your sleeves were covered in ricotta. There was a suspicious amount of flour on the counter that neither of you had actually used.

You pointed at Robin with a wooden spoon. “I don’t even wanna ask how you got cheese in your hair.”

Robin swiped at it half-heartedly. “Cooking is an art, alright?”

You snorted, shaking your head as you went back to layering noodles. You and Robin moved easily around each other, the kind of teamwork that came from months of rooming together and effortless friendship.

And then, Robin — who had clearly been waiting for the perfect moment — casually ventured, “Sooo… what do you think of Steve?”

You didn’t pause. Didn’t look up. Didn’t even blink.

But you smiled.

Robin grinned. “Oh, now that’s a look worth a thousand words.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “He’s just…” You let out a small laugh, biting on your bottom lip. “I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

Robin made a suggestive noise. “Yeah, no kidding. Who else has a hair routine longer than my entire shower?”

“Nothing wrong with good hair”, you defended. “Yeah, well,” Robin scrunched her nose. “He also wears loafers without socks, so. Trade-offs.” You nudged her with your hip, hard. “He’s—” you bit on the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words. “He’s good. In a real way. Not in a look at me, I’m a nice guy kinda way. Just good. Kind.”

Robin leaned against the counter, smirking. “Yeah, he’s a big ol’ softie. Tries to act all cool, but we all know he’d risk it all for a bunch of kids who tease him mercilessly.”

You laughed, eyes crinkling. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

Robin gave you a stare-down. “You like him.”

You didn’t argue. “I really wanna get to know him better.”

Buckley grinned. “You should,” and then added, after a beat with half-mock seriousness: “Just… y’know. If you hurt him, I will have to kill you.”

You barked out a laugh. “That’s fair. I like that you’d defend him like that”, you confessed, approval dripping from your voice.

Robin gave a serious nod. “I will commit crimes, New York.”

You laughed as you opened up the oven, checking on lasagna… 

…Neither of you noticed Steve in the doorway - standing there with a big, stupid grin on his face.

He’d just come in from outside, shaking the cold from his hands, when he caught the tail end of the conversation. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But man, oh man, was he happy that he did. 

He ducked out before you could see him, his cheeks burning, his chest full, the “I really wanna get to know him better” bottled up in his mind to get back to in months to come, like a hidden treasure only he knew about.

--- 

Dinner was warm. Easy. 

The four of you ate too much lasagna. Robin somehow got more cheese in her hair. Eddie cheated at board games - and didn’t even bother to hide it. 

Laughter filled the cabin as you went over the mud incident from earlier. 

You turned to Steve, propping your chin on your hand. “Your folks pissed you left?”

Steve, still in Eddie’s borrowed band tee, rolled the dice and shrugged. “They probably didn’t even notice.”

You scrunched your nose in disapproval. “Their loss, our gain.”

Steve stared at you for a second too long, something tight and aching curled in his chest.

Before he could even process your words and the meaning behind them, you casually tossed a game piece at Eddie catching him red-handed as he tried to cheat - yet again. Steve vaguely registered Munson yelling something about “disrespect” and “absolute betrayal.” It didn’t matter. The more time Steve spent getting to know you, the less everything else mattered. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet.

---

Eventually, things slowed.

Steve found himself sitting on the floor by the fireplace - next to you.

The flames flickered, warm light casting soft shadows as you talked, voices hushed.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Steve couldn’t help but wanted to learn everything about you. Especially the little things. Like how you always needed to drink something before bed. How you grew up listening to your dad’s old rock records. How you once broke your arm jumping from a tree.

He took in every single detail like he was trying to memorize you - like a favorite song. An all-time classic. 

“Let me get this straight. You jumped out of a tree because a boy dared you to?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised.

You grinned. “Yeah. Not my proudest moment”.

Steve huffed a laugh. “Please tell me you at least got to rub it in his face.”

“Oh, no.” You laughed too, leaning back against the couch. “He screamed. Thought I died. I was too busy crying.”

Steve shook his head in half awe, half disbelief.

“You’re wild.”

You smirked. “You like it.”

Steve’s heart skipped - because you weren’t wrong. You weren't wrong at all.

He didn’t know what to do with the feeling swelling in his chest. It felt dangerous - like falling from the edge of a cliff. It scared him, but not enough to make him want to stop. 

At the kitchen counter, Robin and Eddie watched. Buckley sipped from her drink. “He’s so gone.”

Munson grinned. “Told ya.”

Completely oblivious to them watching, you stretched, covering your mouth as you yawned. You got to your feet, stretching your arms over your head, and Steve swallowed hard, noticing your shirt riding up just a little.

“Alright, I’m calling it,” you finally said, voice warm and sleepy. “I’m crashing.”

You turned to Steve, eyes soft.

“Night, Steve.”

Steve barely managed to get out, “Night,” before you disappeared down the hall.

Oh, he was so screwed. 

-

Seven. 

Steve wasn’t avoiding you - not really.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

His schedule had just been busy. Running errands for his dad. Taking care of bullshit he didn’t actually care about.

But the truth? The truth was that he’d gotten used to you - to the way you smirked at him when you knew you were getting under his skin. To the way you laughed, loud and carefree, with Eddie and Robin. To the way you just… fit - like you’d always been there. 

And that scared the ever-loving shit out of him.

So he stopped answering every message in your group chat. He stopped saying yes when Robin, Eddie and you planned something new.

He was running away - and straight-up hiding at a coffee shop this morning pretending to ignore his phone going off every 5 seconds. 

Goddamn, you guys were relentless! 

The Group Chat - The Chaos Crew

ROBIN: Steve.

ROBIN: Steven.

ROBIN: Stevie Boy.

EDDIE: Holy shit, Robin, let the man breathe.

ROBIN: He doesn’t deserve to breathe. He’s been ignoring us.

YOU: He probably died in a tragic hairspray accident.

EDDIE: A fallen soldier.

ROBIN: A hero.

YOU: Rest in peace, big guy.

STEVE: Jesus Christ, I’M BUSY.

EDDIE: Oh wow, he lives.

ROBIN: It’s a miracle!!

YOU: Huh, I was just about to hold a séance.

STEVE: I hate all of you.

ROBIN: Lies. You love us.

EDDIE: And yet, he keeps bailing on everything.

ROBIN: Right? The audacity.

YOU: I was kinda hoping he wasn’t all talk, but…

STEVE: …

STEVE: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

YOU: No big deal, Harrington. Just… y’know. Disappointing.

EDDIE: Ohhh, she’s calling you out, Harrington.

ROBIN: SHE’S CALLING YOU OUT, HARRINGTON.

STEVE: I hate all of you.

EDDIE: You said that already.

ROBIN: So, does that mean you’re coming to movie night?

STEVE: No.

ROBIN: YOU ACTUAL LOSER.

EDDIE: Disgraceful.

YOU: You’re breaking my heart, Steve.

STEVE: …

STEVE: We only just met, New York, come on!

YOU: And yet, here I am. Heartbroken.

EDDIE: Oof.

ROBIN: Cold.

YOU: This is on you, Harrington. 

Steve groaned, rubbing his face.

He didn’t like the way his stomach twisted at your words. Even though you were obviously joking - trying to get a rise out of him, as usual. 

He didn’t like the way his fingers hovered over his phone longer than necessary before finally setting it down.

He missed the four of you. Better yet, he missed you - just you, and that was the problem. 

Burying his face in his hands, he ran his aching fingers through his hair for the thousandth time, when he heard a familiar voice calling for him.

He looked up to see Nancy, already halfway to his table with a small smile. He straightened. 

“Hey, Nance.”

Wheeler hesitated, giving him a once over. Latching on to the strap of her bag, he saw it on her face as she made up her mind. Nancy nodded slowly to the chair across from him. “Mind if I sit?”

He shook his head, leaning back into the chair. “Not at all.”

Nancy slid into the chair opposite of him, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup.

She tilted her head at him. “You look… pensive.”

Steve huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. That’s one word for it.”

Nancy smiled knowingly into her cup. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke, years of history hovering silently over the table. Years of being tangled up in each other’s lives; of being young and dumb and thinking forever was easy.

Nancy sipped her coffee. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she mentioned matter-of-factly. 

Steve snorted. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She arched a brow at him.

Steve sighed, giving her a surrendering look. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Nancy smirked. “Figured.”

Another pause made up of silence that wasn’t empty. It was filled with bittersweet memories, with the ghosts of past arguments and stolen kisses, with the weight of what was and what will never be again. 

Steve tapped his fingers against his cup, thoughtful.

“Did we ever stand a chance?”

Nancy blinked. The question didn’t surprise her. Steve actually asking it did. 

She let out a slow breath, watching him carefully.

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “At a different time. If we’d been different people back then.”

Steve nodded, staring at the table. “Yeah.”

“But we weren’t,” she said gently, wishing for him to look at her. “And I don’t think we were ever supposed to be.”

Steve exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “I think I knew that, too. Even when I didn’t want to.”

It felt good to say that out loud. 

Nancy smiled, soft. “I don’t regret us, though.”

Steve finally looked at her then, his fingertips tapping softly against his cup. “Me neither.”

After a beat, Nancy bit her bottom lip - she looked like she was weighting what she planned to say next. 

“I do regret not letting myself feel things fully, though. When I had the chance.”

Steve frowned slightly, watching her closely. “What do you mean?”

Nancy stirred her coffee, thoughtful. “I feel like I spent a lot of time afraid - of making the wrong choice, or - of saying the wrong thing. Of getting it all wrong.” She waved her hand in the air. “I was so focused on the thing between us potentially breaking me, that I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process”. 

Nancy met Steve’s eyes, while he listened. “If I could do it again, I’d let myself be all in. And maybe, you know, embrace it, instead of writing an elegy for the relationship I didn’t even give a proper chance to. ”

Something in Steve’s chest tightened - because it all hit pretty close to home. He knew exactly what Nancy was talking about - hell, he knew all along why he’d been keeping his distance from you.

Because this thing — whatever it was — was starting to feel big, starting to feel real.

And what if it didn’t last? What if it all fell apart? 

That would hurt like a fucking bitch.

Nancy smirked, seeing it all play out on his face. “You’re falling for someone, aren’t you?”

Steve opened his mouth —

Then closed it.

Nancy laughed. “Oh my God, you totally are.”

Steve groaned, leaning back. “Jesus, Wheeler. Can’t a guy just have an existential crisis in peace?”

She grinned in response, but her voice was gentle when she said: 

“Don’t run from it, Steve. Don’t ruin it before you give it a chance.”

Steve exhaled, shaking his head. “Easier said than done.”

Nancy pressed her lips together, swirling now cold coffee in the cup. “Yeah, well. I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Steve gave her a long, appraising look. Maybe in some other life, things would have been different between them. But in this one? Nancy Wheeler was just his friend.

And right now, she was giving him the kind of advice that only a good friend would.

Steve offered her a sincere smile. “Thanks, Nance.”

Nancy nodded, softly. “Anytime, Harrington.”

Sliding from the booth, Steve made his way to the counter and pulled out his wallet to pay for their coffees. While waiting for change, he fished out his phone from the front pocket of his jacket and found your name in his contacts.

Before he could press “Call”, his phone buzzed in his hand, a message popping up on the top of the screen.

This wasn’t a part of a group chat, you name winking at him next to a simple text. 

Hey stranger. Up for a drink tonight?

Steve stared at it. Felt the words settle in his chest.

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. Hey, stranger. Like it was nothing. Like the days of silence between you had been a pause, not an ending. Like you haven’t been the last thing on his mind every damn night.

His thumb hovered over the screen. His chest swelled with hope.

Steve swallowed hard, then typed:

“Time and place?”

And hit send before he could talk himself out of it - precisely why, just seconds ago, he had wanted to call. 

-

Eight.

Steve wasn’t nervous.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

It was stupid to be nervous. You and him had spent so much time together by now - it felt like you’d known each other for ages. He knew how you took your coffee, the exact way your mouth curled when you were about to say something cutting but hilarious, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were listening to someone talk. He knew you.

But tonight felt different. 

It was the first time you’d be hanging out alone, just the two of you, without Robin or Eddie and the constant buffer of two loud, teasing friends. Steve wasn’t sure if Robin knew, wasn’t sure if she and Eddie were somewhere right now making bets on how this would play out.

He didn’t know why it felt like his whole world was shifting, but it did.

So he sat at the bar, still in his white linen shirt and tailored slacks from an excruciatingly dull day at the club with his father’s associates, feeling wildly out of place. He stirred the ice in his glass of water, staring at the condensation as he forced himself not to check his watch.

(He did not trust himself to drink tonight.)

The door to the bar swung open, letting in a burst of summer air, and his stomach flipped before he even looked up. He knew it was you. He felt it before he saw you, like a change in the atmosphere, an invisible pull tightening in his chest.

And then — there you were.

Steve forgot how to function as a human being.

You weren’t trying to turn heads, but you did.

The dress was simple. Black, thin straps, something that barely brushed against the tops of your knees. But it clung in all the right places, shifted around your thighs as you moved, your bare shoulders illuminated by the dim bar lighting.

You were like a shot of whiskey in a crystal glass. Smooth. Lethal.

And Steve was dying of thirst. 

Your eyes found his - and you just smiled like you knew exactly what was happening in his brain.

It wasn’t fair.

Steve straightened instinctively, hands pressing against his thighs as if that would stop them from fidgeting. He swallowed hard, watching you weave through the crowd. Your perfume - cashmere, jasmin, maybe apricot? - wafted around as you placed a hand on his shoulder, and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek before sliding into the seat next to him. 

Steve could still feel the warmth of it, searing into his skin.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, flagging down the bartender. “You’re early.” Your voice was light, teasing, but your eyes flickered over him, curious.

“Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Didn’t wanna keep you waiting.”

Your lips twitched, amused, but there was something else there too—something Steve couldn’t quite name yet.

“Huh. I thought maybe you’d skipped town.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said, and it was pathetic how quickly he could hear the lie in his own voice.

You hummed, amused. But decided to still give him a chance - to further embarrass himself. “Busy?” Steve shifted in his seat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “Yeah. Y’know. Family stuff. Work”. He sucked on his water, only to stop himself from talking. 

“Right”, you nodded. “Family. Work. The two things that keep people from answering texts.”

He winced. There it was.

“I didn’t mean to—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

You took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim. Then, finally: “Okay.”

That was it. No argument. No pressing for an explanation. Just that single, unreadable word.

And somehow, that was worse.

Steve leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar. “I swear I wasn't. I just… my parents have been around more lately. Making me sit through business dinners and all that bullshit. You know how it is.”

Steve remembered your offhand comments about your dad, about growing up with people who only cared about wealth and status. It was one of the first things you’d connected over, how empty it could all feel.

You gave a slow nod, swirling the drink in your hand - because you did know. 

Feeling encouraged, Steve cleared his throat and then added: “And I needed to clear my head.”

Your expression didn’t change, but you set your glass down a little too carefully. “And? Is it clear now?”

He swallowed hard. He could lie again, keep pretending this was just another casual night out, but the truth was sitting in his throat, thick and insistent.

“No,” he admitted. “Not even close.”

Your fingers curled around your glass, but you didn’t look away. “So why did you come?”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, mostly at himself. “Because I’m an idiot.”

That made you smile, but it wasn’t the easy, teasing one he was used to. It was softer, something a little more careful.

“And I owe you an apology,” he finally said, his eyes sincere and bright. “I’m sorry I’ve been pulling back. The truth is - I -” he bit down on his lip. “I’ve been trying to put some distance between us, because the way I feel about you scares me, and I don’t know how to best deal with this, I - I just don’t know”. 

His voice was raw and uncertain - and in that moment, under the dim lights of the posh, expensive bar - Steve Harrington was the most goddamn authentic, beautiful thing, illuminating the room. “Steve,” you said, soft but calling for attention. Calm but determined. You set your drink down. 

His eyes flicked up, meeting yours, and for the first time tonight, he didn’t try to look away.

“I missed you,” you continued, voice steady. “So I don’t want distance. I don’t want you to run from this. I don’t want to play games, Harrington.”

His throat bobbed, something shifting behind his eyes.

“What I do want,” you said, voice dipping just slightly, “is to kiss you.”

Steve’s brain short-circuited. For a second, he just stared, like he was trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining this.

“But I won’t,” you added. “Not unless you truly want it too.”

Steve sucked in a breath, sharp and uneven.

His pulse was a drum against his ribs, hammering in time with the words you’d just said. What I do want is to kiss you.

His mind scrambled for something — anything — coherent to say, but nothing came out. Because fuck, he wanted that too. Wanted it so badly it almost knocked him flat.

He could still feel the weight of your gaze, steady and patient, giving him space, letting him decide. And that was what did him in. Not the way you looked at him like he was something worth waiting for, not the way your lips had wrapped around those words like a promise — but the fact that you gave him the choice - to either go all in, or not at all. 

He exhaled shakily, a slow, almost disbelieving smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “You really don’t like to make things easy, huh?”

Your lips twitched, amused. “What’s the fun in that?”

Steve didn’t answer. He reached for you, slow but certain, his fingers grazing the warm skin of your arm as he pulled you in.

You just watched him, eyes dark and searching, your lips parted slightly as if waiting, daring him to make the next move.

And he did.

His hands came up, cupping your face gently, like you were something precious, something he had no business touching but couldn’t resist. His thumbs traced the edges of your jaw, his fingers slipping into your hair, feeling the silk of it against his knuckles.

You exhaled, and he felt it - your breath, warm and steady against his mouth.

The moment your lips met, the world shrank.

Everything - the noise of the bar, the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation, the weight of all the time you had wasted - fell away.

Steve’s touch was reverent, like he was memorizing the feel of you beneath his palms, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

You leaned in, pressing closer, and Steve swore he felt the earth tilt beneath him. His lips moved against yours, slow at first — hesitant, savoring, like he was trying to make up for every second he had spent denying himself this.

Then you sighed into his mouth, and something inside him snapped.

His hands tightened against your cheeks, pulling you in deeper - and you let him. Met him, matched him. The kiss deepened, turned desperate - finally, finally, finally - like a dam breaking, like something inevitable, something that had been building for longer than either of you wanted to admit. ---

Group Chat – The Chaos Crew

EDDIE: [a blurred photo of you and Steve walking out of the bar, hand in hand.]

EDDIE: Pay up, Buckley.

ROBIN: WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL??

ROBIN: I WAS OFFLINE FOR TWO HOURS. TWO. HOURS!!

STEVE: Picture’s blurry, man. But pretty straightforward.

YOU: But, damn, we look good. 

ROBIN: OH SO YOU’RE A TEAM NOW?? 

ROBIN: JUST DROPPING BOMBS CASUALLY??

EDDIE: Lmao she’s spiraling.

ROBIN: I AM NOT SPIRALING. 

STEVE: Robin. Breathe.

STEVE: If that’s any consolation, you’re still our first choice for best woman 🙂 EDDIE: I can be the flower girl. 

EDDIE: @Robin, told you there’s no way this wasn’t going there. 

YOU: Maybe a little too soon for the wedding though?

STEVE: Yeah - let’s agree on the dog first. 

EDDIE: Oh, you’re done for, Harrington.

ROBIN: Absolutely wrecked.

STEVE: Yeah. I am :)

The End.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Some new fandom/fanfiction writing thoughts from me...

Author's Note:

This is just some thoughts I needed to get out because they kept me from finishing my Vampire!Terry Richmond Fic and forced me to start writing my "Sinners" fic I hadn't planned on dropping until April, but my spirit was moved to write by some aspects of the media hype of the "Sinners" new movie trailer release. It's stream of consciousness straight from the hip for Black History Month, so let ya girl cook!

Who remembers this movie?

Do you remember this dynamic duo? (Yes Dr. Karen Jenson!)

Do you remember what happened to most of the "Blade" fanfictions in that fandom as the series progressed (even into television)... and who got centered instead of Blade/Karen Jenson?

Blade essentially became a secondary character in his own franchise. He stopped knowing other Black folks, too. Even the writer of the original franchise David S. Goyer confessed that the studio wanted Blade to be white from jump.

Bitch...whut?

Others have written of this before with the Blade franchise. I personally have lamented the missed opportunity to expand the role of the sexy, beautiful, dark-skinned genius hematologist, Dr. Karen Jenson, played by the gorgeous and talented N'Bushe Wright. Who is still fine just so you know:

The de-centering of Black characters from their own leading roles in fandom is nothing new. Y'all remember this oldey but goodey?:

Remember how they did our girl Abbie Mills (played by the lovely and fabulous actress, Nicole Beharie)? She was the heart of the show with great chemistry between her and Ichabod (Tom Milson). But the Sleepy Hollow Showrunners started centering this heaux:

They even brought in Ichie and Katrina's old ass son Henry Parrish/Jeremy Crane:

Baybee, me and a ton of other Black women were OVER the sidelining of Abbie Mills. Don't even get me started on how they did baby girl by writing her off her own show. Soon it was looking like this:

Chile when I tell y'all Black women rode in like the Sin Eaters on that show and burned that bitch to the ground! No Abbie Mills? No more Nicole Beharie? Alright, bet. Nan one of you hoes is working then. The industry treated Nicole so bad after that show. She was blacklisted and experienced a hostile work environment with that American flavored soup du jour: racism. A recent book, "Burn It Down: Power, Complicity, and a Call for Change in Hollywood", broke down all the horrors Nicole Beharie went through bts.

Here was a show that gained popularity because of BLACK WOMEN. We started the weekly Tweet storms, chatted to each other, wrote fics, did panels about it at fandom conferences (I spoke on some and attended a few myself about the TV series). It was a sexy multicultural cast, a literal crack fic come to life that first season.

But then...the centering of whiteness rears its ugly head and ruins nice things.

Which brings me to the new "Sinners" movie trailer release, and my fears at seeing a lot of the media hype online (thumbnail photos, clips etc) pushing Hailee Stenfield a lot more than Michael B. Jordan (in a double role as twins!) or even the other Black women characters in the trailer.

They got Wunmi Mosaku in this bitch with Jayme Lawson.

You know Wunmi, right?

Marvel Wunmi in the Loki TV Series:

Lovecraft Country Wunmi:

Wunmi with Idris in "Luther" Season 5:

Then there's the exquisite Jayme Lawson from "MLK/X: Genius" with our new fic king at the moment, Aaron Pierre. He plays Malcolm X and she is Dr. Betty Shabazz:

Jayme playing the Queen in "The Woman King":

Jayme as the mayor in "The Batman" (she could be our next Angela Bassett with her acting range and beauty!):

Now, about that elephant in the room for me personally.

Hailee Steinfeld and Jack O'Connell.

Their images are everywhere, often more so than images of the star Michael B. Jordan. Twitter (I will never call it X), Threads, Bluesky, YouTube, TikTok et al, have them hyped up to the point where I'm worried that it will turn into a Blade situation. The white characters overshadowing the central Black one.

Of course, they're playing the vampires. The bad guys. The ones we want to see the Black people vanquish. Some bad guys are sexy if we're being honest (cough--Killmonger--cough). Life in Clarksdale, Mississippi, the birthplace of the Blues, is tough enough with racism, lynchings, prohibition...just white people nonsense in general, let alone white vampires. A horror movie has to have compelling antagonists to keep our interests. But again, the overshadowing of Michael in some places...

On IMDB, Hailee is listed first as the star, then comes Jack O'Connell, and then Michael B. Jordan. Y'all, the two white actors are listed first BEFORE Michael is. I don't care if Hailee was nominated for an Oscar at fourteen. (Black people should know by now the Oscars are highschool popularity contests for white people, and every now and then they throw a bone at negroes who act circles around them on any given day.)

How is Wallace Vince Killmonger Adonis Creed John Clark (aka Muffin to me), listed third in his own goddamn movie? Maybe this will change when the movie comes out, but...excuse me?

Give me a minute. I need to sip some tea to calm down.

I barely see Wunmi in online hype, and she has been in some pretty high profile roles the last few years, especially in superhero action projects. And it looks like she plays a Hoodoo practioner (like myself). I want to see more of her promoted too. Like why can't I see a photo of this on more fandom websites?

That question was rhetorical. We all know why.

The centering of whiteness even in Black spaces.

I already know the fanfiction that will be churned out soon by non-Black people. Shippings of Mary/Remmick (Steinfeld and O'Connell's characters in the movie). There will be the I/R shipping of Mary and Stack (Steinfeld and Jordan) because the ads are playing up their sexy juke joint dance everywhere. I'm beginning to get a sense of deja vu...a la Blade/Sleepy Hollow decentering vibes.

The trailer all but gave away most of the plot in terms of what the Black characters will be up against during Prohibition Mississippi. Moonshine and Monsters, with sprinklings of Black American Blues music, both real history and the myths of it with Robert Johnson/Crossroads energy. And clearly Mary, who starts off as human, will get turned into a vampire like Remmick...and then run off to dance with hot, sweaty negroes tryna have their own goddamn fun away from white racism and the dangers of white women turning into the o.g. Karen's of their day. Smh. Can't have nothing without white characters slithering in and causing chaos as usual, lol! (I'm looking at you Agent Ross in the Black Panther fandom, you dirty C.I.A. infiltrator!) Plus there's always some dumb Black man willing to risk it all for unseasoned coochie putting every other Black person in his community in danger.

I mean, even in real life, Black people can't even access DEI opportunities without white women taking all the spots. Now I gotta watch DEI Mary-the-vampire mess up Black people's good times? The horror!

Now I'm just fussing. America recently voted the orange racist/fascist menace back into the white house, and he brought his incompetent white people and their Pee-oh-See lackeys. (One day we have to have a conversation about why so many Indians from India in this country-- and their children-- side with white racism and use anti-Blackness to move ahead in America.) I'm a little salty with white folks right now, not gonna lie. We saw those voting exit polls where only Black women and Black men overwhelmingly voted for the correct side of history to try and stop the Magats by any means necessary with the little we had to work with. Forgive me if I'm grumbling and projecting this onto a fictional movie. Two beautiful dark-skinned women are also love interests in the film (based on the trailer), but I can't find them promoted as much as the white vampires? I don't like it.

Listen, I used to do screenwriting. I helped friends make short films for festivals. I also screened films to help choose projects for the L.A. Film Festival when that was still a thing when I was a member of Film Independent. I've done screenwriting fellowships, too. I understand film marketing, and the work it takes trying to get the largest audience possible to see a movie by pushing the big names or face draws to a project.

But...

I want Black things centered in "Sinners". In the long run it will be, because...Ryan Coogler is that dude.

I want this rambling lament to be a call to other Black fic writers who plan on seeing the film to write your asses off after you see it, and even before you see it based off the trailer. I want hundreds, if not thousands of "Sinners" fics stretching out the worldbuilding we'll soon see on the screen. Heck, I already have a prequel fic started that I want to post in the next few days once I finish it. @nahimjustfeelingit-writes has one out already, and I saw a couple more by other writers floating down my TL.

I want Smoke and Stack and their world steeped in Blackness so that they won't be isolated or damn near relegated to a corner like Blade or Abbie Mills was among their world of supernatural shenanigans by the end of their onscreen run.

I hope we write so much that no one would dare try to push these other Black characters aside. There's so much richness to work with: the Blues guitar singer (who has a fucking banjo inside the core of his magical guitar!), the Hoodoo woman, the Black sexy female love interest that Jayme plays, Delroy Lindo's piano player and his Native wife (I'm guessing), and even the Asian woman (probably descended from the Chinese railroad workers in Mississippi) . We need all the fics telling so many stories in this "Sinners" world.

Granted, fic writers are free to write what they want. Black writers will take a side Black character and create a whole universe for them outside of the main characters in a predominately white film/fandom. But that's only because Black characters are always set aside, shunned, or written in racist/stereotypical ways. They are often fetishized, turned into brutes, or given so much less time in the front. Me writing all this is not saying that non-Black writers can't write stories about Mary or Remmick or anyone they choose. They write/appropriate what they want anyway, so it doesn't matter. I'm only interested in what Black fic writers are going to create

I want to be selfish and see Wunmi and Jayme heralded and pined over even if their characters aren't used as much as Hailee's in the film. I want us to have our shine finally. I want "Sinners" fics that reflect that.

I want to see more Black fics with Black characters paired with Black characters.

I want Black fic readers discovering this new fandom and finding new writers and new stories celebrating us.

I want this movie to succeed and everyone who goes to see it having a good, scary, time.

I want to see Muffin show out in his first period piece. Dressed casket sharp with gold teeth, lol!

I want Black fic writers to be able to write Black horror period piece stories that aren't rooted in Black trauma. There will be so many magical/supernatural things to write about in "Sinners" that we don't even have to touch on the horrors of historic white racism in America if we don't want to.

I promise you, Black people back then experienced joy, wonder, falling in love, and going up against antagonists that weren't always white people or white racism, or even the remnants of our enslaved past. The Klan ain't got to show up! Lol! Hell, white people don't even have to show up in your story. Coogler even hinted that there were more things other than vampires going on in the movie. We'll see. But my point is, we can create "Sinners" fics that Black readers won't have to fear dwelling on Black trauma porn as a plot point.

So...my fellow MBJ/Coogler fans...can we write the hell out of this new fandom? Revel in Blackness? Enjoy our latest entry into the vampire genre?

I would love to hear people's thoughts after they see the movie in April!

Last thought: If you know of some "Sinners" fics, share them!

[tenebris-vampyr]

⊰· 𝐑𝖊𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖉 ·⊱

·⊱────┈⊰· ☽ ·⊱┈────⊰·

⠀⊰· Today is one of the most important days of my life, and I'm not exaggerating. 4 years ago I started dating the love of my life, I've never been so happy with someone in my life, the only problem was the distance between countries. After 4 years without seeing each other in person, without knowing what it's like to have her by my side and enjoy her, today, Sunday February 2nd, the day has come when she comes to me, and as you can imagine, I'm overwhelmed with happiness and nerves 🥀

⠀That's why today's post is more than just a post, it's a fanart made with all the love and excitement in the world, representing Loustat's meeting, but also connecting it with the personal, with me and my wife, finally reuniting after what seemed like centuries apart... I hope you like it and that you give it lots of support 🖤 ·⊱

·⊱──┈⊰· ⚰︎ ·⊱┈──⊰·

• 𝑨𝒓𝒕 𝒃𝒚 @tenebris-vampyr

·⊱────┈⊰· ☾ ·⊱┈────⊰·

[iwasnotaslasher]

Not my rugby mom ass plotting a SuperBat Rugby Coach AU.

I would stick with some background canon facts, like Bruce as the heir of a rich Gotham family and Clark as a Kansas country boy adopted by farmers, but no alien powers or masked vigilante stuff. The two of them are just former professional players from different rugby teams: Gotham's Knights and Metropolis Meteors (yes, I lazily copy-pasted the canonical football teams' names, sorry not sorry).

As both closeted bi and madly attracted to each other, they developed a secret fling which lasted almost throughout their careers. They used to sneak away from the after-match party to fuck senseless, and of course they were in love but never confessed to each other. The relationship never got past the fling stage, mostly because they thought they could not have a real future, since they were both too scared to be ostracized by their teams if they would come out.

Eventually everything was put to an end when Lois came into the picture. Clark settled with her, they married, and later they had Jon, as well as becoming foster parents for Connor. After a good career, Clark retired from playing in his late thirties to become a match reporter and since then he carried a fairly normal mid-class life in Metropolis.

Meanwhile, Bruce quitted rugby in his early thirties, after a serious injury that almost left him paralyzed, and became fully invested in running the Wayne Enterprises. As for his love life, he kept jumping from one relationship to another, none lasting more than a few weeks. Only notable exceptions were his two and a half divorces: first marriage with Selina, his everlasting on-going-off-going affair, ended just after months; second marriage with Talia, lasted a little more, and from whom he had Damian; and then again he tried with Selina, but only to be left at the altar. Gossip magazine going wild every single time he's spotted with a new flame, also because he was known to have a weird habit of adopting a new kid whenever he divorced (or almost got married).

Alfred still jokes about the fact that they can't afford another marriage, since surely Bruce would end up adopting another kid when he eventually divorce. But he's secretly very pleased to have so many kids around the Manor.

Fast forward to the present day: they are both in their mid forties and single, since Clark is now divorced and Bruce has resolved to never commit again and just have fun.

And they are both involved in rugby again, but as coaches.

Every year Clark holds a rugby summer camp for troubled teens at Kent farm, with Ma's enthusiastical hospitality and the help of his long time friend Diana Prince, also a former rugby player.

As for Bruce, of course he founded a teen league, called it The Robins, and enrolled all his kids into it.

Now picture this: Bruce and Clark casually meeting after all those years and oh boy the mutual attraction is still there as if not even a day had passed. Clark ends up inviting him and his Robins at the summer camp for a weekend of training and matches, and Bruce, as a big city guy, can’t catch how much the offer from a mid-western country man is intended to be real, so he accepts just out of politeness. But after some weeks the league recieve an actual invitation, so now they are forced to go.

You can guess where 20 years of sexual and romantic tension between them can lead them when they find themself again on the field. But oh well, it's just for the sake of honoring the old times, not because they are actually in love. Two divorced dads coming out as bi in their forties and just living their love openly? Come on, it's not viable! Also, what would their kids say?

(spoiler: it's all so obvious that they got it since the beginning and they are already scheming some shenanigans to finally see their dads/coaches happily ever after)

Except after the summer camp they can't stop thinking about each other.

After months of ruminations, Bruce feels compelled to reciprocate the experience by inviting Clark and the kids to an improvised winter camp hosted at the Manor. Closing with a New Year’s Eve costume party à la ‘Romeo + Juliet’ (yes, I want to write about Bruce brooding around with an eye cowl).

The kids are thrilled, Alfred and Martha are already exchanging ideas about the wedding venue, Diana can't wait to be maid of honor, everyone is betting on when the proposal will be done.

The only two completely oblivious are Bruce and Clark, sneaking around the Manor at any given moment to indulge in heated making out sessions, trying their best to not get caught red-handed.

Much for Alfred's amusement but less from anyone else, they will end up not marrying right away and secretly enjoying for a bit the intimacy of not sharing their relationship with the whole world. They will eventually do it, years later, in a small (for Bruce’s standards) ceremony at Kent farm, with all their now grown up kids and grandkids. The rugby match and after-match party will be memorable.

Coincidentally, at some point during the party the happy newlyweds will sneak away for a while…

[just-rose-things]

Not the rose coming to Canada 🥵😮‍💨 my prayers have been answered 🙏🙏🙏

[jahdefender]

So I found this posted to reddit and I wanted to share it here because I'm sure there are some fans who haven't seen the Adventures Bible stuff. (I had not so this is just referencing myself)

[ratatatastic]

Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...

Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)

[sergle]

I think my favorite thing about doing ginger red hair instead of cherry red hair is: lying to people about it