#and things were already gone when she got back

[anonymous-ivplay]

Hey so just to add context for the lice thing, bc the tl;dr is that there's more nuance and classism is also a factor

Schools were already doing this well before the pandemic. My younger sister got lice in the spring of 2017 and our local small town high school still had her attend every day while she was treating it, as according to my mom (who's the local teacher's union rep) the school district had recently changed their policy to the above. This was a bit surprising, especially since the district had also recently established a rule that anyone sent home sick couldn't come back to school until they'd had a full 24 hours with no more symptoms. So why would lice be an exception?

Because they found that of all the documented lice cases each year, the vast majority of them would come from the same kids and the same households each time. Which meant those same kids were missing a LOT of school.

I can confirm this from personal experience. Growing up there was a kid in all my elementary and middle school classes, let's call him Aaron. This kid would get lice CONSTANTLY. Like once a month the school nurse would find it, send him home, and then he wouldn't be allowed back until the lice was gone. So after a week he'd be back with a shaved head and all lice supposedly gone, only to have it show back up a few weeks later. Now we rode the same bus, so I saw Aaron's house and could tell that it was....really not in good condition. Point being, I wasn't surprised in the least that there was a recurrent lice infestation that his folks couldn't afford to completely exterminate—that, or they just didn't care. But because of this, Aaron probably missed a combined half-semester of every school year. And yet he still got pushed through to the next grade level year after year, because the school district didn't want to lose funding by holding him back, as alluded to above.

Aaron moved to a different town in middle school and I lost touch with him, so I don't know how he's doing now or how long the lice cycle continued. But I do know that he couldn't have been the only one in this situation, not when like a third of the town I grew up in is at or below the poverty line.

So is needing funding for the school district to blame? Partly, yes. But it's not about the short term of putting more bodies in seats from day to day. It's about how many low income kids they're failing to educate by punishing them for a living situation that the kids can't control. And while I don't necessarily like that lice has a chance to spread in schools more easily now, I can at least respect that it's better than the alternative of denying already disadvantaged kids the education they deserve.

CDC voice: "I know I said we'd do something about covid if it got very high again, but we have real tough jobs to do, like removing the recommendations that children with head lice or watery diarrhea be sent home to prevent further spread of their illness."

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |11|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of injuries, talks of killing, talks of attack

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

You sat on a bed in the ambulance as you got stitched up, again. For the second time, in one day, you had to have your wound from the previous day restitched, then on top of that you needed the wound on your leg stitched. For once you got lucky and the cut on your arm didn’t go deep enough for stitches, the medic just cleaned it and wrapped it.

Much to Sam’s displeasure you refused to go to the hospital, again. You were fine though, you had a slight limp at the moment but once you got used to the pain, you’d be fine, you just needed to walk it off. Besides, you couldn’t waste time going to the hospital, it would take too long and two attacks in a day meant Ghostface could do it again. You weren’t about to leave Sam and her friends alone just to get properly patched up.

You hopped out of the ambulance with a groan, clenching your jaw as you tried not to focus on the pain that radiated throughout your leg. You walked off, trying not to flinch with each step. You looked down, pulling at your shirt as you took in the new blood stain from your torn stitches, which wasn’t nearly as bad as the blood on your pants from that stab wound. If people didn’t know you had literally just been attacked, they’d probably assumed you committed a murder.

“Survived to tell the tale again,” Kirby said, approaching you just like last time. “Seems Ghostface got some hits in,” she tilted her head, gesturing at the bandage on your arm.

You held up your arm, giving the bandage a look, then scoffed. “Cheap shots,” you said with an eye roll.

Kirby gave a knowing hum. “That’s how he does things.”

“I’m learning that,” you mumbled.

You would be prepared next time. The first time, you didn’t have anything, but you caught him off guard, until the second one appeared. The second time you were caught off guard, forced to run into a territory filled with civilians, you won that one, but you didn’t finish the job. And now the third time, you were once again caught off guard, without weapons, your only priority had been to make sure the others got away, taking Ghostface out was your second priority. The fourth time would be different, you would make sure of it. The next time you went up against Ghostface would be the last, for every single one of them.

“You got everyone out,” Kirby said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Not everyone,” you whispered. You looked across the way where you saw the coroner wheeling Quinn’s body out on the stretcher. A sheet was covering her face, but you knew she was under there. Bailey looked distraught as they stopped next to him, allowing him to say goodbye one last time.

You narrowed your eyes, Bailey was crying over his dead daughter, there was nothing out of the ordinary, it was the reaction anyone would expect from a father. Bailey had been the first on the scene this time, by several minutes before anyone else, as if he was already on his way there. There was a chance that was the case, he could have been coming by to see his daughter or update everyone on the case. There was something tugging at the back of your mind though, telling you not to take it at face value, Bailey was the last to arrive after the bodega attack, but the first on the scene to the apartment, which happened to be when his daughter was murdered.

You furrowed your brow; you and the girls had gone back to the apartment right after the attack. The only person who had left the apartment was Ethan, you knew the twins wouldn’t let some random stranger into the apartment, besides Quinn’s hookup, who was found dead in the bathtub. That meant Ghostface had to either have been in the apartment the whole time, which was improbable, there was no way he could have stayed hidden for so long. The other option was that he got in another way, possibly through one of the windows, which meant he had to climb up the fire escape. Your eyes tracked the fire escape from the ground up to where you knew Sam’s apartment was. The ladder wasn’t pushed down but the dumpster was close enough that if Ghostface jumped up on it he could have pulled himself up onto the ladder. It still should have made enough noise for someone to notice, but no one did, not until the phone call came in.

“I should get to work,” Kirby said. You nodded and watched her walk off towards the crime scene.

You looked around the area, seeing Chad with Mindy as she got patched up in the back of another ambulance. A medic checked out Anika right outside the ambulance, but you knew the worst Anika probably had was a concussion from being slammed into the wall. Sam and Tara weren’t too far from the ambulance as they talked to an officer. You noticed Danny standing off to the side by the gate and decided to walk over to him.

“Hey,” you said, giving him a nod.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, nodding at your arm.

“It’s nothing,” you waved it off.

“Almost bleeding out it my apartment doesn’t seem like nothing.”

You chuckled, you couldn’t help but nod. The cut on your arm and the tearing of your stitches really was nothing. The real issue was the stab wound on your leg, the knife had gone deep and was bleeding quite a bit before the medics got to you. Honestly, if you didn’t get help when you did you would have most definitely bled out, not that you were going to mention that to Sam or anyone else, but it was definitely something you should have gone to the hospital for.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you said. “That ladder stunt was crazy,” you smiled, shaking your head. “But it was fucking brilliant man.”

Danny chuckled and scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. “Me? What about you?” he gestured at you. “Jumping from the middle of the ladder? Now, that,” he pointed at you. “That is fucking insane.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. That was one of the craziest stunts you had ever done, and you had jumped out of planes and helicopters before, though you always had a parachute. You were bleeding out, the ladder was unstable, if you had missed, if you didn’t fall to your death, you probably would have broken most of the bones in your body.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Danny’s question caught you off guard. “I got some you could borrow since you look…” he gestured at all of you. You looked down at your bloody self, you wouldn’t be able to go back to your house and change again.

“Thanks,” you said. “But I got some in my car,” you pointed to your vehicle down the street. “But can I change in your apartment?” Danny nodded.

You made your way over to your car, fighting through the pain that shot through your leg at every step. You opened the back door and unzipped the duffle bag you kept back there; you made sure to always have a change of clothes and anything else you would need in your car. You grabbed your spare plain black t-shirt and black cargo pants. You were sure you’d look rather intimidating walking around in all black, but you needed to be ready for a fight.

You followed Danny up to his apartment, grimacing at the pool of blood on his hard wood floor. You would have to make sure to pay to get that cleaned up, you knew how hard blood was to get out of things. The cops had walked the apartment when they first arrived but because the attack didn’t happen there, they finished up after a few minutes and made their way over to the actual crime scene.

You made your way into Danny’s bathroom to quickly changed. You pulled off your bloodied shirt and had to do a double take when you caught site of yourself in the mirror. You were in great shape, spending most of your time training, when you weren’t deployed, but your body had been through a lot. The stab wound on your side and the cut down your arm was nothing compared to the rest of you. Even the wound on your leg didn’t seem like much. Your body was litter with scars from knife and gun shot wounds, all the times you almost died. You subconsciously brought a hand to the tattoo over your heart, it was the insignia of army special forces, with the initials of your teammates throughout. As your finger brushed over the tattoo you could feel the scar underneath, the bullet that should have killed you.

You shook your head, pushing the memories down as far as they would go. You couldn’t be thinking about that, Sam needed you at your best, you couldn’t let your own trauma get in the way of that. You gripped the sink until your knuckles turned white and kept your eyes pinched shut until you had completely pushed everything away. When you looked up again, you recognized the soldier in the mirror, the one that would do whatever it took to make sure the mission succeeded and right now the mission was saving Sam and her friends. You quickly threw on the clean clothes and made your way back down to the others.

“You fuck with my family, you die,” Bailey said just as you walked out of the apartment.

You furrowed your brow as he talked to Sam. You knew he was upset; it was natural for a father to want revenge on his daughter. However, it hadn’t even been an hour since Quinn was killed, it didn’t make sense for him to be so cold and logically already.

You made your way over to Sam and Tara’s side just as Gale Weathers walked up. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Gale said.

“Don’t even start,” Sam snapped.

“I’m not here for that.” Her gaze flicked to you; you could tell she still wanted to ask you questions but she didn’t.

“Bullshit.”

“Truly,” Gale tried again. “Off the record,” she rolled her eyes. “I found something you’ll all want to see.”

Gale didn’t say what she wanted to show everyone, she just said it was connected to Ghostface. Sam and Tara began gathering the others, you couldn’t help but furrow your brow when Ethan appeared. Chad kept flicking a glare at him, you weren’t sure what happened while you were changing but if Chad was suspicious of Ethan, then whatever happened certainly couldn’t have been bad. Once everyone was gathered you all made your way to the location Gale sent.

You stood close to Sam as everyone gathered at the front of an alleyway, as Gale explained the two kids from Tara’s class who were killed rented the building. It was broad daylight, making an attack unlikely but not impossible. Attacking someone during the day was a risk, higher probability of being seen, but it was unexpected, it was a way to catch the target off guard.

Gale and Kirby argued over how Gale found the place. You knew Gale was a good reporter and reporters had the habit of finding things they shouldn’t, but the fact that Kirby didn’t know the place existed was concerning, considering she was in the FBI and specialized in Ghostface cases. You glanced over everyone else, Chad stood next to Ethan, who had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking uncomfortable and out of place as usual. Mindy had her arm wrapped around Anika, whispering something in her ear. Anika hadn’t said a word since the attack, she just had a distant look in her eyes as her entire body shook. You had seen that look plenty of times, in soldiers after their first fight, in survivors after an attack, it wasn’t easy to get past, but everyone did eventually, with time.

You followed the group down the alley, with Gale leading the way. Gale swiped a card, unlocking a large metal door at the end of the alley. The door led down a dimly lit hallway, the dated red wallpaper was peeling, revealing the stained drywall underneath. You looked down, there was a thin dark red carpet to match the wall, though you could feel how sticky it was every time you lifted your foot. You came to a stop, furrowing your brow as Gale swung open a door and stepped into a metal cage of some sort, before swiping the card again and opening another metal door.

“What is this place?” Mindy asked.

“Just wait,” Gale said, before disappearing. She walked off to the side, a second later there was a loud click that echoed throughout the room, and then all the lights came on.

You couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open, it was some sort of old movie theater. “It’s a shrine,” Gale said as she rejoined the group. You looked around, seeing she had flipped the breaker.

“Holy shit,” Mindy whispered.

The theater was filled with display cases, all of them full of stuff you assumed was from previous Ghostface attacks. It even seemed that whoever created the shrine dressed up mannequins in the actual clothes from the killers and victims, at least that’s what you gathered from the bloodstains on the clothes in question. All the displays led straight to the stage, and in center stage was a set of nine Ghostface costumes, each of them in their own special display case.

You walked through the displays, your eyes scanning over all the information. You had heard bits and pieces from the news over the years, but you never knew it was anything like this. Whoever these new people were, they clearly had done their research, they seemed to have planned everything quite thoroughly. Everything from all previous Ghostface attacks was in one room, that definitely wasn’t a coincidence, you knew something bigger was at play, everything was too easy.

Kirby said she had been investigating the two college kids, they were stupid enough to get on Kirby’s radar before they ever even killed someone. Yet, this place was apparently theirs and hidden so well even Kirby couldn’t find it. On top of that, even if they were rich kids, there seemed to be too much evidence, there was no way they got everything by simply bribing cops.

You stopped at one of the displays, there were sketches of Sam and Tara. You figured it must have been from the attack last year. In the display was also crime scene photos, and photos of Tara. You flicked your eyes to Tara as she made her way up the stage towards her sister, just based on the photos she had endured one hell of an attack. Your eyes then fell on a picture of some guy, smiling at the camera, the nameplate at the bottom read ‘Richie Kirsch’ Sam’s ex-boyfriend. You wrinkled your nose at the picture, you didn’t know the full story, didn’t know anything about the guy, but you didn’t like him from a simple photo.

“So, what,” Chad said. “Someone killed these guys and took over?” you made your way up to the center of the stage where everyone else had already gathered.

“If this were a normal Stab movie,” Mindy said. “This would be the killers lair.”

“But this isn’t a normal Stab movie,” Kirby said.

This wasn’t a movie at all. You might not have been used to this whole thing, but you didn’t get all the movie references. This wasn’t a movie, even if some psycho was inspired by a movie, this was real life, real people died, and Ghostface was just a normal guy behind a mask. You wouldn’t deny that the place certainly looked like a lair, they were definitely right about that part. The idea that two kids created the whole space, only to end up dead and have someone else take up the Ghostface mantle and know about this room just didn’t seem plausible. All your senses were telling you to take nothing at face value, that there was something deeper going on.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler

[livbedum]

i would love to learn more about maybank!reader being kidnapped by rafe like what happened? why’d he do it? when did it happen? how did his family react? did they know? how did jj and the pogues react?

GIVE ME A MINUTE

WE ARE SO FUCKING OVER!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ summary requested!

warnings 18+ minors dni , profanity , kidnapping / drugging , violence

rafe had the fucking cross. after all that you had gone through in the day with pope nearly dying , crashing kie’s dad’s truck , john b fighting a gator , finding out jj ran into your dad , you were tired. but the night wasn’t over until you got the cross back for pope.

your eyes stayed on sarah and john b , who were clearly having a moment after their somewhat breakup. “you seriously think now is the time to talk about this?” sarah whisper yelled at him , giving him a look that called him stupid.

before jj could stop you , you headed in her direction and yanked her with you. “we have things to do. come on,” you grunted , heading towards tannyhill. when the two of you were far enough away from the boys you looked at sarah with a small smile. “he really does love you. enough to make him stupid,” you chuckled , making your way to the truck.

“i know,” she sighed , peeking into the driver’s seat, “we gotta find the keys though,” she added , getting back to business.

you nodded , not seeing them in the truck like you were hoping. “looks like we have to go inside,” you grimaced , knowing rafe was in there , knowing he would not be happy to see you like he usually was.

sarah looked over her shoulder to the boys quickly updating them that, “we’re going inside! we’ll be right back!” before ushering you into the house with her close behind. you both kept a lookout before moving too far into the foyer. “okay , i have to go find wheezie really quick— she’ll help us distract rafe. you find the keys , okay?”

you watched sarah plot for a moment on the situation before nodding in agreement. “just be safe. don’t want rafe flipping out on you again,” you warned her , holding her hand before letting go and rushing away.

the first obvious place to check was rafe’s room. you had been there so many times , it was easy to avoid the creaks in the floor on the way to his bedroom door. you had been lucky not to see anyone yet. so , quietly your hand twisted at the golden knob before cracking the door open as slow as possible.

after the copious amount of times you snuck into tannyhill , you knew better than to let rafe’s old door creak when you opened it. as soon as the opening was wide enough for you to slip in , you did , closing the door softly behind you , shutting yourself inside.

and that’s when you heard the shower stop running , making you blood run cold. now was not the time to bump into rafe. not when the boys were outside , not when sarah was upstairs , and not while he had the cross you were absolutely trying to steal back from him. that wasn’t an option.

your eyes darted around the room you were so familiar with , catching a glimpse of the nightstand that had the keychain sitting on top of it. you could still hear rafe in his en suite bathroom , so you rushed to grab the keys. they clanked against the wooden stand , causing you to cringe at the disturbance of quiet. “shit,” you cursed as they slipped out of your hand and into the floor , making even more of a ruckus as the bathroom door opened wide.

there was nothing else to do in that moment other than freeze. caught like a deer in headlights , you looked up and saw rafe standing in the doorway , towel around his hips , chest heaving and already looking down at you. you were crouched down , actively reaching for the keys again.

“what are you doing here?” oh. he’s playing it safe. he raised his eyebrows at you as he bent over , slowly grabbing the keys from the floor. he stayed low , looking into your eyes for a moment before rising completely and taking the keys with him to his dresser.

you took a deep breath and stood up , trying to gauge how this was going to go. “sarah was complaining about missing something the other day , so i thought i could come by and grab it,” you lied , watching him as he got dressed, “heard you in the shower and stopped in while i could. missed you,” you added , stepping closer to rafe before reaching out and touching his damp back.

his skin twitched under the contact. “yeah?” he chuckled , turning around with a smile, “came in here just for me?”

“what else?” you asked , matching his smile as you leaned up to press a kiss into his cheek before retreating back a few feet.

“you’re not here because you know i have the cross?” rafe questioned , stepping forward , effectively forcing you back toward his bed, “not here to steal my fucking keys? and take off with the cross that i found!” he shouted , trapping you where you were pressed against the edge of his bed frame.

your eyes betrayed you , flashing a vulnerable fear in them when he yelled. “no , baby,” you shook your head quickly just like your voice, “no , of course not.”

“stop lying to me!” again , rafe’s voice practically rattled the window panes, “you shouldn’t have fucking come here , y/n! you’re so fucking stupid. should’ve just minded your business! constantly forcing my hand to do things i don’t want to do!” he continued getting dressed , throwing a jacket on.

“rafe , you’re scaring me,” you admitted , sinking into the mattress in an attempt to get away from him.

a low chuckle came from his throat as he turned and looked at you. “this isn’t my fault,” he started, “you—“

“rafe! can you come help me pack my bag?”

wheezie.

your chest deflated , finally able to catch a breath when rafe moved his eyes to the door where wheezie was bound to walk through in a moment. “here , baby. you can have the keys to the truck,” rafe smiled , tossing the keys at you before going to the door and stepping into the hallway before wheezie got to you both.

you caught the keys , pushing yourself up off the bed and rushing to the door. the knob giggled in your hand as you tried to open it , but the locked clicked into place on the other side. “have to do everything for you people,” rafe grumbled to his little sister before you could hear his footsteps getting quieter.

“fuck! fuck , fuck , fuck,” you grumbled , hand hitting at the door, “rafe , let me the fuck out right now!” you yelled , banging against the door even harder , keys still jingling in your hand.

“y/n?” sarah’s voice came out worried and rushed through the door, “y/n/n , are you in there?” her hand tapped against the wood on the other side of yours.

“sare? sarah , i can’t get out. you have to pick the lock or something,” you explained , turning to look for something on your side of the door to help.

“okay , it’s okay,” sarah assured you, “i got you.”

you could here some sort of rattling on her end , assuming she found something to jam inside the lock to get you out. “i got the keys!” you smiled with a sniffle , trying to look at the bright side , but you knew it wasn’t long until rafe returned to his room and caught sarah this time.

the lock clicked , sliding out of place before sarah pushed it open. “oh , my god!” she breathed out , yanking you in for a hug before you both ran out of the room, “gimme the keys , and let’s go.”

you tossed her the key chain , following her out of the house and back to the truck. “what’re you doing?” you whispered when sarah kept moving to the back.

“i wanna make sure it’s still in here,” sarah explained , fumbling with the keys before finding one that fit into the lock on the back door.

“okay , well hurry it up before rafe finds both of us,” you urged her , checking over your shoulder for any sign of him. as if your words triggered the reaction , the lock undid itself , and sarah pulled the door open before stopping. “what is it?”

you moved to take a look yourself only to freeze just like sarah did , keeping eye contact with the man you saw in the truck with rafe earlier. he laid lifeless on the ground next to the cross , eyes boring into your own. “what did he do?” you sighed , assuming rafe was the one who killed the man. who else would’ve?

“you guys really shouldn’t have done that.” it was rafe’s voice that came from behind you just before you felt his arms wrap around you and a sharp pinch in the side of your neck. his hands released you , letting you stumble away as your hand reached up to you neck.

“rafe?”

he didn’t bother looking at you , only dropping the now empty syringe to the ground and grabbing sarah. you could only watch as sarah struggled against her brother’s grip , feeling time slow and your heart beat much harder than it was before. “rafe , what are you doing?” she kicked at him , but it wasn’t a fair match.

the last thing you saw was rafe dragging sarah back inside before you stumbled back and tripped. your arms flew back , trying to catch your fall , but there you laid on the ground almost as lifeless as the man in the truck.

you don’t remember anything as you wake up , but the moment your eyes open , you know where you were. the way the mattress sank beneath and around you , the feel of the silk pillow case under your head. you were in rafe’s room. again.

you sat up quickly , looking around to see if sarah was locked in with you , but you were alone. throwing the comforter off of your body , you swung your legs off the edge of the bed. “rafe?” you spoke quietly but loud enough to where he would hear you if he was in the area, “babe? what’s going on?” you called out a little louder but sweeter when you didn’t get a response.

“rafe!” your voice was louder this time , a little angrier when you realized he had left you in the room alone. “rafe cameron , let me out of this room! help! wheezie? rose!” you roared , running to the door to try and open it. you shoved your body against the wood , trying to break it down as if that would ever happen. “rafe!” you called out again far weaker than before.

catching your breath , you moved back to the bed to stabilize yourself. your head was still fuzzy with whatever rafe shot you up with. you sat down , head hanging low as you tried to think everything through.

rafe gave you a shot.

he took sarah inside.

you woke up in his room.

you were alone.

sarah wasn’t with you.

you steadied yourself again before standing up from the bed , moving to the door the bang on it more. “sarah! sarah , where are you?” you shouted , the door muffling your cries, “sare?”

there wasn’t a response. only the quiet hum of the air conditioning filling the heavy space around you. you slid down against the door , falling to the floor in defeat. you couldn’t get out of rafe’s room by yourself last time ; sarah helped you , and where did that get her?

your eyes scanned the room , catching sight of the flowers you had brought rafe not that long ago as an apology for your last fight. you apologized to him , and this is what he does next?

pushing yourself up , you move to the fireplace and grab the vase before launching it at the bedroom door. that would cause concern if your yelling hadn’t already. “rafe , let me out of here before i keep going!” you screamed , grabbing the next thing you could grab and throwing it the same direction as the broken vase and flowers. “we are so fucking over!”

by the time rafe was ushered away from sarah in the basement , you had already destroyed half of his valuables. the laptop he had on his desk , photo frames of his family and even some of you , his cologne bottles in the bathroom , and all of his watches had been thrown across the room as well.

“what the fuck!” rafe barged into the room , slamming the door behind him as he took in the sight of the floor and you, “what the fuck are you doing?” he yelled , grabbing you by the shoulders, “what the actual fuck , y/n?”

“you drugged me!” you argued , shoving at his chest, “you drugged me , rafe! and locked me in your room!” you kept shoving , hitting at him before he had enough and grabbed you. his grip forced you into the bed face down as he held you in place.

“stop fucking yelling , and stop fucking shoving me,” he grunted in your ear , pushing your body down again to get his point across, “calm the fuck down and we’ll talk.”

“get off of me!” you cried , trying to fight him , but his weight alone was enough to keep you down.

“not until you calm down , baby,” he replied, “you keep making me do shit i don’t wanna do. how is this my fault?” he asked you , lifting up enough to let you take a completely breath.

you looked up at him from the bed , eyes wide and tear filled. “you— you killed that guy,” you muttered, “you killed that guy , and you’re going to kill me and sarah , right?” you couldn’t help but let the absolute worst thoughts bubble to the surface.

rafe heard the words you spoke despite being coughed out through your tears , and he softened entirely. “what?” he moved , letting you go and sitting down next to you , but your body couldn’t move. you were frozen on the bed , terrified of what would happen if you tried to run. the only movement you could make was flinching away when rafe’s hand came up to gently move the hair out of your face.

“i didn’t kill anyone.” he said it like a fact , when you knew it wasn’t. peterkin. he killed peterkin , but you knew better than to bring that up ever again. “well , at least not that guy,” he added with a soft laugh, “and i wouldn’t do that to you , y/n. i love you ; don’t you see? i’m doing this all for you!” your eyes followed his movements as he got on his knees by the bed and laid his head by yours to look you in the eye. “we’re going away. i got the cross and sarah and you. okay , we’re leaving tonight. i just gotta take care of some things , but in the meantime you and sarah are going to go with rose and wheezie to the wharf.”

you felt his hand crawl up your back , stopping on your neck and holding you down without any force— just a precaution. “i love you , and i’m sorry , but you gotta come with. cuz i gotta go , and i can’t leave without you,” he continued , and you nodded , going along with whatever he was saying , none of which you understood.

“okay,” you croaked , nodding again.

“just need you to go back to sleep for a bit , ‘kay?” he had tears in his own eyes. he hated seeing you look so afraid of him. that’s the last thing he wanted. he was doing this all for you. he convinced his dad to let you come with because he loved you so much he couldn’t live without you. and you looked at him with fear. “love you , princess,” he whispered , kissing your forehead before standing up and grabbing something from the nightstand you hadn’t seen before.

“wait , rafe. no , no , no. please—“ your pleas were cut off by rafe covering your mouth and inserting another needle into your skin.

“okay , john b , you need to get sarah. me and pope will just y/n/n,” jj planned , huddling up with his boys before they stormed the cameron castle. only before they could break , rafe came waltzing out of the house and into the truck once again before taking off.

pope didn’t hesitate to run after the truck , hiding in the blind spot to hop on the back. jj and john b scrambled in place , not knowing to go after pope or the girls in the house , but the brake lights disappearing made their decision for them. pope could handle his own.

“wait— b , look,” jj hit john b’s arm , pointing at the scene happening in the cameron’s driveway.

rose was busying herself with shoving you in the backseat of the car , not understanding why on earth you were tagging along , but not wanting to push rafe even further tonight. wheezie followed behind , struggling to move sarah’s drugged up body by herself.

as soon as you were properly buckled and locked away in the back , rose moved to help wheezie , lying about how you and sarah wasn’t feeling too good.

“okay , well we gotta get them,” john b stated , already running after the car that had started to pull out of the driveway.

the boys banged on the windows , begging wheezie to unlock the door or for one of you to wake up and do it yourself. Rose just sped off , leaving the boys behind.

“twinkie! get the twinkie! we gotta go!” jj shouted , sprinting off towards the van so they could follow rose’s car across the island.

if you didn’t feel like shit waking up in rafe’s room , you definitely did now. your entire body was sore , head spinning , and for some reason you felt like you were swaying even as you laid down. despite not knowing where you were exactly at this time , you could figure it out if you took a moment to.

the bobbing , the salt air , the horn in the distance.

you were on a fucking boat , but you didn’t get much time to stress about it before you heard people outside your door arguing.

“rafe , you drugged her. that is kidnapping! and you made me an accomplice! for a pogue? who even is this girl?!” rose , if you assumed correctly , was clearly on your side of the kidnapping , not so much for you but for her.

you could practically see rafe roll his eyes from this side of the door. “dad , you said she could come. she’s here. she’s coming.” if the circumstances had been different , your heart would’ve swelled with pride at the fact that rafe was standing up to ward , especially when it came to you.

“not like this , son!” ward’s voice powerful as ever argued.

wait— ward?

you pushed yourself up from the couch you were laid on and moved to the door , stumbling with the waves beneath the ship. cautiously , you turned the handle and surprisingly pushed through. “rafe?”

your voice was softer than the three that continued arguing , but it still pulled them out of their conversation. all eyes were on you instantly. rose was the first to speak up. “y/n , sweetie , why don’t you go lie back down? rafe said you hit your head earlier. you must need rest.” it all sounded sweet in theory , but you knew it was all a story and fake concern.

“my head feels fine,” you snipped quickly , looking to rafe again before moving your eyes to the undead, “was hoping you were actually blown up by that boat , ward.” as much as you hated rafe for what he had done to you in the past however many hours , your blood boiled at the sight of ward. you were there for rafe when he died ; you picked up the pieces ; you encouraged him to keep going. even before his fake death , you had to be there for rafe when ward flipped out on him. every. single. time.

ward only spared you a glance before pointing at rafe and muttering a “clean this shit up , boy,” before walking away with rose.

“why the fuck did you wake up with an attitude?” rafe cursed , ushering you back into the room you were just in.

you crossed your arms and stared at him indifferently. “maybe because you drugged me , rafe. again,” you stated like he was an idiot for asking , despite knowing he hated when people spoke to him like that. you didn’t exactly care about his feelings in the moment. “you have done a lot of things to me that are awful , rafe , but this— wow , this takes the cake.”

“i did what i had to do to get you here,” rafe groaned , stepping towards you with open hands. you backed away , instinctively. “oh , my fucking god! you’re so dramatic , y/n!”

“and you’re psychotic!” you quickly yelled back , hugging yourself with your arms as you kept your distance from him, “where’s sarah? i want sarah.”

rafe sighed , running a hand down is face. “she’s with our family right now. she doesn’t feel good.”

“i want to see her.”

“she’s busy,” rafe simply denied your request, “do you want a water , baby?” you flinched as tried to step closer to you again. “y/n , seriously , knock it off,” he grunted , getting more irritated by your lack of willingness to just fucking comply with what’s going on, “everything’s going to be fine. i have it all handled. i just needed to get you here.”

you shook your head , slowly crossing the room. “no. i don’t want to be here. i want to go home , rafe. i want to call jj. please,” you asked him , tears filling your eyes at the beginning of accepting that you were in a situation you most likely weren’t getting out of, “rafe , look at what you’ve done,” you started, “look what you did to me.”

rafe didn’t listen though. he turned his head , not wanting to see the truth. he got you here. that’s what mattered. “you can call jj when we dock,” he muttered , trying to reach his hand out to you again before dropping it to his side, “but you’re not leaving until then.”

“we are so fucking over , rafe.” it was said definitively.

and it was like you were living in a loop when rafe slipped out the door and closed it behind him , when you heard the sound of a lock being put in place , holding you in the room you woke up in. your eyes stared blankly at the red , painted metal before you fell back into the couch. “i’m so fucked.”

at least that’s what it felt like.

a/n holy shit this took a minute and it isn’t proofed or anything so ignore any typos

taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @ravenmedows @yootvi @icaqttt @inlovewithmorales @spoiledbratspostsblog @heartsforandrewgarfield @stoned-writer

[swtsupernatural]

D.W || MYSTERY SPOT

Content Warning takes place a few weeks after 'Mystery Spot' 3.11, swearing, dean being dean, knives, and mentions of dean's death from 3.11.

Summary Angst, slow burn i think - Days have gone by and everyone in your town seem's to be on loop and you're the only one aware. Just as you're about to break down, two men in an Impala show up to lend a hand.

Ask @almostegg / @almosteggs : The brothers visit a new town that's stuck in a time loop. No one there is responsive and simply do their daily routine over and over again. Reader is the only one aware of what's happening and she is trapped within the town.

W.C. 2,200 words

A.N. first ficcc so excited to finally get this up. enjoy <3 - claire

Gunnison, Colorado. It was meant to be a shortstop for the Winchester boys, mainly for gas and food. They were on the way to a hunt in Utah with what they figured was a Banshee, based on the news they’d heard at least. It was early November, and the temperature was declining everyday. People strolled through the small town in coats and scarves, cheeks pink from the cold. Dean could even see heat steaming off of Baby as he parked her at a random gas station.

“Oh, shit,” Sam muttered, his eyes leering over his book to see the bright orange symbol on Baby’s dash. Dean had just finished filling up his car and was inside the gas station purchasing a few bars and snacks from the teenager at the front. Sam came up behind his brother, his jaw clenched.

“Don’t tell me,” Dean muttered, tossing a random credit card to the cashier. 

“Car needs an oil change.” 

“Oh that’s just freaking great,” Dean turned to the cashier, a frown on his face. “Where’s the nearest car shop, kid?”

“It’s Steve’s Auto Parts, just down Terrace street on the left, but it’s closed right now.”

“Of course it is,” Dean signed. He looked at Sam through his brows before looking back at the kid. “Nearest motel?” 

“Now what, we just sit around all night until that damn shop opens in the morning?” Dean said through his teeth, tossing his back on the left bed. 

“Well, maybe we can actually get some sleep tonight. Relax, Dean, we’ll be on the road tomorrow before seven.” Sam searched through the restroom for supplies. Motel stops were the time to take things like towels, soap, and other stuff they could throw in Baby’s trunk in case they needed it. Sam sighed, finding nothing in the room except cracked walls and a small slab of used soap. “M’ gonna ask the front desk for some stuff, be right back.” Sam passed flickering hall lights, hearing conversations of guests through the thin walls.

“Good evening, sir, how may I help you?” 

“Hi, I just need some stuff for our room, thanks.” The woman at the front desk handed Sam two toothbrushes, some toothpaste, and a couple towels.  

“Have a goodnight. Oh, I completely forgot when you checked in.” She reached below the desk, opening a few drawers before handing him a pamphlet. “If you’re looking for some places in town to visit, here's a guide.” The town didn’t often house anyone but locals, not having a large population or many visitors at that. It seemed like everyone knew each other. 

Sam nodded, “Thanks, goodnight.”

“Have a great night, sir.”

The next morning the two woke up at six, the motel alarm blaring an ugly, distasteful BEEP-ing sound. They both packed the little they had swiftly, heading out though the creaking door. At the front desk, the same woman from last night stood stock-still; that same fake-looking smile on her face. 

“Goodmorning, folks, how may I help you?” 

“Just checking out,” Sam put the keys on the desk. She nodded, grabbing the keys, and packing them behind the desk. Suddenly, her face lit up as if she had just remembered a forgotten thought.

“Oh, I completely forgot when you checked in.” She reached below the desk, opening a few drawers before handing him a pamphlet. “If you’re looking for some places in town to visit here's a guide.” 

“Oh, thank you, but I already got one last night,” Sam smiled. She stared at Sam blanky.

“Have a great day, sir.” He nodded with tight lips, grabbing Dean’s arm and leading them outside.

“Dude, she said the exact same thing to me last night when I came down for stuff.” Dean shrugged.

“Probably just her regular spiel, you know how those jobs are.” Sam lowered his brows, his gaze on nothing in particular. 

“I don’t know, it was just weird…” Dean shrugged, “Who cares as long as we're out of here within an hour.” He focused on the road, more preoccupied with fixing Baby and getting on with the case they were supposed to be working on. A few minutes later, a large, rusted sign reading ‘Steve’s Auto Shop,’ came into view, the blue and red paint chipped away from weather and old age. Dean parked his car and walked hastily inside, Sam on his tail. 

“Hey!” They heard someone yelling. Inside, a woman stood at the front of the store, waving her hands frantically in the man’s face. She couldn’t have been much older than Sam. “Dad, this isn’t fucking funny, seriously.” The man stared at her blanky, before looking up at her, as if just registering her face.

“Hey, Honey, how can I help ya? Shouldn’t you be at school, it’s Monday.”

The woman groaned, her hands flying to cover her face in frustration, “Dad, it’s Thursday. Please, I’m begging you, stop this, whatever is going on, please…” Dean got closer and saw tears in her eyes. He approached her tentatively, making his voice known first.

“Hey,” the woman jumped at Dean’s voice, but she quickly looked relieved to see him, though Dean was sure they’d never met. She walked up to them impatiently, looking both of them up and down skeptically. “Are you real? You’re not…from here. You can see me right, hear me?” 

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re uh, real. What’s the matter?” Sam said gently, coming closer to her and Dean tentatively. She stared at Sam, then Dean, and sighed a heavy exhale. Dean knew that exhaustion she was feeling, he’d felt the same way before.

“Are you guys visiting?” They both nodded. “How long?” Dean explained how they had come last night and only meant to stop briefly, but was having car troubles. Usually he wouldn't give strangers his life story, especially in his line of work, but this woman was obviously in distress. An odd sort of distress. A, ‘supernatural problem’, sort of distress. She nodded, like she was trying to calm herself down enough to explain what was happening.

“I…I’m going to sound insane.” Sam and Dean gave each other a knowing look. Definitely their type of problem. 

“Trust me.” Sam interrupted. “We’ve probably heard weirder.”

“I don’t know…I woke up Monday and everything was normal. Tuesday, I woke up the same alarm, everyone was acting weird, like, repeating the same few things. And Wednesday it was the same, and I thought it would change today, but I feel like I’m going insane. I mean, my own father doesn’t recognize me, no one does. It's like they're all stuck. But I’m not. Heard that kind of crazy?”

Dean laughed, “Actually, yes. Uh, we might be able to help.”

“You’re serious?” She looked up at Dean, like she was finally seeing him, her eyes leering over his intensely green eyes and old brown jacket

Sam nodded, “This might sound even crazier, but we guess this is our buddy. Sounds like we’re dealing with a trickster.” 

“So…who are you guys?” 

“I’m Dean, this is Sam. We kinda deal with this type of stuff.” 

“What? The same day over and over? That kind of thing?”

“Not exactly, but I think we can help. I had to deal with this same thing a couple weeks ago.” She surveyed them once more, finally extending her hand, first to Sam.

She told them her name, and they replied this theirs. “Nice to meet you. Really nice, if you’re who you say you are.” She brushed her hair out of her face, walking outside, the boys following behind her. “That your car?” She asked. 

Dean nodded proudly. “Yeah.” 

“Nice.” Dean smirked, giving Sam a wink. Sam rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. 

“So,” Sam walked closer to you, saying your name, “Has anything crazy, other than this loop, happened yet? Like…someone getting hurt or…dying?”

“What the hell? No,” she stared at Sam with wide eyes. 

“Just asking,” Sam said, glad that at least she didn’t have to go through what he went through in his time loop. Dean sighed, not sure how he could get out of this. Last time Sam was stuck in one of these, he wasn’t aware of what was happening. Now the three of them were fully conscious and he still didn’t know what to do.

“We think you’re in a time loop,” Dean finally said behind her shoulder, making her turn her head slightly. Damn, they were tall. And this one was really cute…Jesus, she was stuck in a time loop, or something, and she was undressing this guy with her eyes. Not that he seemed to mind. 

Sam cleared his throat loudly and Dean and Y/N looked forward to Sam. “So, are there any odd sort of tourist attractions around here?” 

She shook her head, “No.” 

The brother looked into space, deep in thought before she decided to show them around, maybe give them ideas of what they could do.

“C’mon, let me show you what I mean.” She walked them through town, the same peoplee from yesterday strolling around town with scarves and coats alike. Suddenly, a hand sprung on Dean’s chest, shoving him to the side, a flower pot breaking where he stood. He looked to the side and saw her. “Sorry!” A woman from the apartment building yelled. Y/N mimicked her, a “sorry!” slipping from her mouth. They kept walking, and she prevented them from walking on the road, despite the crosswalk sign clearly flashing white. A car sped past, a police car following close behind. The boys kept walking, following her into a coffee shop.

“I’m gonna order a matcha, the woman behind me is gonna get a black coffee, and the man after her is gonna get a latte.” She ordered, waiting for her drink next to the boys, the woman behind her ordering a coffee, black, and the man following her ordering a… “Green tea, please.”

“Wait, he…” he winked at her, before looking at Sam and Dean with amusement on his face. Sam was on him in an instant, pulling him around the corner of the shop. “What, doing this to random innocent people, now, huh?” His face turned into a twisted smile that made Y/N’s stomach turn. The man’s face began to shift into a completely different one. He was still a person, but a nonidentical one.

“What the hell…” she backed up near Dean, and he put an arm in front of her space, the other arm reaching slowly for his knife.

The man smiled, “guess again, sweetheart.”

Dean lunged this time, his knife pressed even closer than Sam’s.

“You get her out of this before I end you here, and now.” Sam was next to her now, letting Dean take out his own anger on the trickster. Sam was almost still. The being under dean’s knife had left Sam alone and broken after dean ‘died.’ It was the worst time of his life. Losing Dean had turned him into a monster, and he hadn’t even told Dean everything.

“What did she do to deserve this mess, huh? Fuck with us all you want but she’s not a part of this.”

The man slimed in Dean’s grip. “You’re right. She’s not. I just…well, I got bored! Spun a wheel, of sorts, and landed in this town. Fate may have it that she won my good graces.”

“Get her out of here before I carve that stupid smile right out of your face.” 

“No can do, son. I’m having too much f–” Dean’s knife was in the man’s chest instantaneously, twisting like a dreidel before Dean forced it out of him.

A car passed, their brights flashing on the three, and next thing she knew, Y/N woke up in her bed, just as she had the last few days, her clock reading; ‘Tuesday, November 3rd, 2008.’ 

“Holy shit.” Something stirred on her floor, and before she could properly think, her knife under her pillow was on the figure in an instant. 

“Dean?” she had lunged at him, her blade nearly pressing into his throat. “What happened?” Dean looked at her with wide eyes. “This is how you repay me for saving your life?”

Sam, from the other side of her bed, laughed as he stood up. His face was beaming, smiling happily at the clock,“You broke it, Dean. She’s out of it.”

“Oh my god.” She released the knife from her hands, tossing it god knows where in her room before wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” she breathed, her breath tickling Dean’s neck, making him feel things he’d rather not admit. Dean smiled, helping her stand.

“Anytime, Y/N.” They stared at each other for too long once again, her eyes less shameless than before, causing Sam to speak up. 

“We should go…soon. I’ll go get the car. Be back in 30.” She smiled wondrously at Sam, but missed his wink to Dean as he left her room. It wasn’t common that Dean got with girls Sam was a fan of, but he did like Y/N. He’d give them a small slice of time together.

“So. 30 minutes?” Dean said too close to her ear for it to be friendly, smirking and showing his pretty teeth. She nodded, her face heating up.

“The clock’s ticking, Dean. We should get this started.” She grabbed his shoulder with one hand, the other curling in his hair as they fell back on the bed. Maybe Dean wasn’t in such a rush to get to Utah.

[animezinglife]

I understand it, too.

I genuinely do find Solas attractive, albeit in a different way. I would love to romance him with a different character someday---I just wish we got Solas for who he truly was from the start of that romance or that the truth had come out earlier. I'm good at avoiding spoilers, and I hadn't known he would betray the Inquisitor, nor had I even known you couldn't romance him as a human. I had actually gone in fully expecting Mira to flirt with him a little (I knew nothing about Cullen's romance at the time and had always heard Solas was the way to go), but that's simply not how their dynamic played out anyway.

I have no doubt his and Lavellan's is an enthralling story in DA:I, and I would at some point like to experience it. I fully understand the appeal. I would fully be there myself with the right character and mindset.

Solas is captivating. He's someone you could talk with for hours on end about the most abstract concepts, but there's always that small sense of him keeping his distance (even before the topic ever comes up). Even I knew there was more he wasn't saying by the way he dodged questions and some of the dialogue between him and other companions. Though for someone who didn't know better, that could've simply meant he was far more powerful than he let on, knew more than he let on, likely older than he seemed, and wanted to protect himself. The whole, "elven god of lies" thing was a bit more of a twist than I'd anticipated. A secret, ancient elf hiding some things I can do, especially if those layers get peeled back over time. I'm less sure about elven Loki.

I think it truly would've been interesting had it gone a bit more in the direction of Children of Fallen Gods/Mother of Death and Dawn (which, some have noticed, draws some considerable parallels to Solavellan in ways that can't be considered coincidence). Without bringing too many spoilers to the forefront of the conversation, there is some...mutual awareness and corruption that occurs between Totally-Not-Solas and Totally-Not-Lavellan. The power dynamic's more balanced and decision making more...comparable to some degree.

(I am not, by the way, blaming Solas or pointing any fingers at anyone regarding their power dynamics in DA:I).

Solas is the guy whose beauty (if you lean that way at all) isn't quite as noticeable until you get into a really deep discussion with him and realize your heart's beating a little too quickly and you're definitely sitting closer to him now than you were before. He draws you in. He piques your curiosity a bit too much.

I truly do not factor in looks at all (within reason---I'm blatantly partial to humans, elves, fae, vampires, etc.) when I play games with romance options. Solas (in theory; I played as a human, which negates the option) would've been every bit as high up on my to-romance list as Cullen. In truth, he was higher just because he was the one I knew so many were obsessed with. Just because Cullen caught my eye faster didn't mean he and my Inquisitor would've been a good match.

But wow, were they.

I easily lean more towards the "Solas-is-attractive" camp in general. Honestly, I love the fact that the romance options in DA:I were so different and unique from each other. Any players who chose to pursue a romance could find one that suited their characters perfectly. I like that there are a range of personalities, dynamics, and looks, and that there's good variety.

For me personally, nothing in that particular game will ever top Cullen's just because it's so incredibly hyper-specific to every little thing I love and value most even in real life. It's perfect for Mira's story; she is, admittedly, a lot like me. I couldn't believe a romance like that even existed in a game (and you already know why/the many layers I'm referring to).

Yet I also know there are plenty who wouldn't like his romance at all and vastly prefer Solas (or someone else in general).

That's the beauty of it, though.

But, yeah..."ugly?" That's not even a word I'd consider for Solas at all.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard | ▶ dev. Bioware

[stylespresleyhearted]

WON’T ANYBODY HELP US? WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR?

Summary : the beginning of Benny Cross & his favorite nurse.

warnings: language, stereotypical 60’s attitudes, sickness/illness, references to lupus but not explicitly said, references to suicidal thoughts/wanting to give up blink and you miss it

“Your favorite patient is causin’ trouble again.”

Tania smacks her gum against the roof of her mouth as she passes by the occupied lunch table. There’s a loaded sandwich sitting in front of you - only two bites in but it seemed like your lunch would be cut early.

Wednesdays were usually your favorite day of the week but today had been nothing short of chaos every step of the way. The system had gone down multiple times and the added minutes were causing everyone to get grumpier than usual. It was only fifteen minutes ago that someone had walked to the check in desk and deemed you incompetent of doing your job. Sawyer had stepped in and allowed you reprieve for a quick lunch shortly after but now that was cut short as well.

Of course you didn’t have to go. But you weren’t sure what Tania meant by ‘causing trouble’ and it caused anxiety to swirl in the pit of your stomach.

Instead of throwing the sandwich back into the cooler you decided on bringing it along with you. It was too delicious to leave behind and by the time you got home you knew food would be the last thing on your mind. Your bed was already calling your name.

“Floor 3, Room 11A,” Sawyer supplied helpfully when you passed the help desk, figuring he would be in the same room as usual. The one furthest from the main area.

Grateful, you give her a smile and mouth a thank you.

Two flights of stairs and an endless hallway later you find yourself at his room door. Doctor Martin sits beside him on a stool, elevated taller than the other man although there’s actually a four inch difference. Now that you’re aware they aren’t killing one another it’s easy to take a step back and rest against the doorway; to take him in as is.

Benny was externally the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Golden hair always shining in the sun, fluffed enough to show he had run a brush through it but messy with strings of hair flat out to show he didn’t care too much what he looked like. Oil splattered his jeans and undershirt and over the corner chair you were able to see his jacket strewn over the back. His eyes caught in the sunlight streaming in through the one window in the room, blue eyes catching green and golden specks at certain angles.

Martin must have requested him to take his jacket off. That alone would have warranted a blow out but it seemed Benny had consented to take his colors off for once.

“Doc.” Dragged back from your thoughts by Benny turning his attention towards you, catching you when you were inspecting his jacket.

You smile big, happy to see him if anything.

“She isn’t a doctor here,” Martin says. From here you can see he’s pulling the stitches across Benny’s skin and bone with none of the tenderness required to avoid scarring. “She’s a nurse.”

It’s said like an insult but you decide against rising to the bait. Martin’s usually much kinder, he must be upset he was the one left caring for Benny.

“I can take it from here, Doctor Martin,” you offered, taking a few steps closer in hopes that he would hand over the needle. “I overheard something about a crash on the highway. I’m sure they’re going to require your assistance soon.”

“He was in last week for ripping the stitches on his left knuckles.” Martin throws both gloves into the medical compartment beside him. “He’s in today for - oh yeah, the same damn thing.”

“What’s your point?” It’s Benny who speaks up, the hand in your hold curling in anger and not pain.

Deciding that his knuckles are scarred enough as is - and the beginning of repairing his stitches had obviously been done with no care to healing skin - in an attempt to soothe you run a hand down his bicep.

Goosebumps rise in the wake of your touch.

“My point is, Mr. Cross, you’re taking us away from people who actually want to get better.” His ending question was left unsaid, lingering in the air between them all: Why bother getting help at all?

“Our job is to help the injured.” Protectiveness rears its head but it is a smarter move to play it smart, after all you’ll pay for any remarks or siding against him during rounds tomorrow. No doubt be assigned the patients with excessive vomiting or stomach problems to clean after. “No matter who it is, Doctor Martin.” Your smile is meant to ease the tension and you’ll be unaware if it worked until later.

His exit as he storms out the room doesn’t leave high hopes.

A few months into working here, after a handful of runs in with Benny when he’d gotten mouthy or passed off to different doctors for being temperamental you had asked why there always seemed to be conflict involving him and the personnel. Don’t like the way they grab me, he had replied and after having seen the way Martin had worked his stitches and the looks he got from every person in the waiting room you found it reason enough.

“You’re left handed,” you notice and his attention is brought from the window back to the hand you hold.

He shrugs, as if it never occurred to him what hand he used.

“My right is busted so I used my left.”

“So you’re ambidextrous?” He cocks an eyebrow and you smile despite yourself, explaining, “You can use both your right and left hands with the same amount of skill.”

“I know what ambidextrous means.” You would feel bad for assuming he didn’t if he cared but he doesn’t. It’s one of the reasons why he was always passed off to you - his aloofness and lack of care never offended you. Why would it? People are the way they are despite the way one feels. And in reality, his way of being was the reason you liked him. How must it feel to be so free? “Just don’t know why it matters so much what hand I use.”

It’s an honest point and you laugh, loud.

“It doesn’t. It’s an interesting fact to learn about someone though,” you shrug, noncommittal, but the smile begins to cause an ache in your cheeks. “Now I can say I know four things about you, Benny Cross.”

“Really?” He smirks. There’s a shift in the air as he goes from carelessly lax to confident in a second; never more sure of himself than when he was riding his bike or attempting to pull a girl apparently.

“Oh yeah, adding it to the list I keep plastered on my room wall. I’m a real special girl, you see, getting you to open up like this.”

“I’ll deny it. Say you injected me with some shit and it caused an allergic reaction.”

You laugh again, feeling lighter than you had all day after everything that had gone wrong. This was another thing people never got to know about Benny: the guy was funny. He was able to give it back as good as he could take it. Only thing was, when someone pushed he made sure to push harder.

Having redone the stitches Martin had made a mess of and happy with the outcome of his hand now, you gingerly clean the excess blood remaining before turning to shove everything into the disposable department. All the while Benny follows your every move.

This was why Sawyer didn’t like to care for him; she said she didn’t like his stare.

You couldn’t find it in you to mind it, he wasn’t anything like the guys on the street who would cat call and whistle when you went by. His eyes caused a warming sensation in any part of you they caught.

Having washed your hands, you return to his bed with the sandwich outstretched. He looks from the food and back to you but makes no move to take it, which you expected. “If you don’t take it it’s gonna go in the trash,” you admit, exaggerating your pout for a sadness effect. “Which would suck because it’s the best damn sandwich I’ve ever made.” But my lunch is over and I didn’t get to enjoy it because they told me you were here, left unsaid.

“Never known hospital food to be any good.” He accepts the sandwich from your hold but makes no move to eat it. He slides by, closer to you than when you had been stitching him up, and picks up his jacket. “Thanks, Doc.”

There’s a want in your belly, brewing, growing, anything to keep the conversation going but he’s getting ready to leave and you weren’t lying when you told Martin there was a crash on the highway. There was nothing left to say and that was the bad thing about being in Benny’s vicinity: he always left people wanting more. More of his freedom. Of his wildness. Left people scrambling for any scraps he gave.

Sometimes the weight on your shoulders feels so heavy your knees buckle and it’s only when he strolls in with an injury or another that you feel weightless. Young. Alive.

“I’d tell you to rub aloe on those knuckles but I know you won’t listen,” you mention it anyway in case he finds himself home with nothing to do or at a store and it strikes his mind.

“Don’t need none of that hippie oil shit.”

He fixes the collar on his jacket with his left while his right holds the sandwich that is now out of its container - stained, oily hands and all he moves to take a bite.

The bread pales in comparison to the lively pink of his mouth.

“Until next time, Benny,” you toss over your shoulder, taking your exit.

He has a last glimpse of the line of your jaw and the hair flip over your shoulder, the plump arch of your backside and the straight posture of your shoulders. “Bye, Doc.”

Saturdays are spent at the market on Merigold in downtown Chicago.

You aren’t always able to get the days off but when allowed, you spend your day walking the collection of set up shops with your sister and your two favorite people in the entire world: niece and nephew.

At only eight years old, Maddy already contained more motivation than half the adults you encountered on a day to day basis. She had declared her intentions to become a scientist and find life on another planet (because the world is too big it's not just us!) and as such took her schooling absolutely serious. She required no pestering to get out of bed or do her homework and most days she acted more adult than any actual adult you knew.

‘Annoying’ was her new favorite word and it’s used in response to any inconveniences she encounters in her young life. It had quickly become your sister's least favorite word and Maddy had earned herself a time out when she deemed her dad annoying for snoring.

Poor, sweet Jack was nothing like his loud-mouth, dreamer sister and more times than not he made your heart hurt. At only six years old he had already encountered the world’s cruelty. Earlier this summer your sister, Melissa, had to drive a few towns over and pull him from summer camp because he was getting bullied. He was a heavier kid than most his age and a big eater to top it.

To make him feel better you had dedicated that weekend to him completely: a sleepover spent building forts, reading his favorite comic books, and baking sweets.

“I told Daddy five bucks wasn’t a lot!” Maddy holds her money with a sullen pout and foot stomp to follow. She stands in front of an outdoor, singular bookshelf that contains coloring books, bedtime stories — and she must be looking at Space Cadet which is priced at 6.50.

Melissa shrugs, “You know the rule, Maddy. Five dollars is your allowance. How about instead you get this one?” Your sister picks up another book, this one from the lowest shelf, and priced a dollar lower right in Maddy’s price range.

Beside you Jack holds your hand with his right and picks his nose with his left.

“Mommy I have that one already!”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to step in and offer to complete the difference in price but you don’t want your sister to feel undermined so instead you focus on Jack and how he’s managed to get his entire, chubby pointer finger into his nostril.

“Excuse me, sir!” You dramatize to hear his giggles, a smile erupting even as he turns wide eyed. “And where are you thinkin’ of putting those boogies, huh?”

With a mischievous look that lets you know exactly what is coming he wipes his finger on the side of your jeans, attempting to run away after. He shrieks as you grab hold of him, wrapping both arms around his back and bringing him backwards.

“Oh, that’s it!” You playfully growl, blowing raspberries into his neck and eliciting more of his loud, wonderful giggles. Happy in this moment you allow yourself a few laughs as well, hugging him tighter as he struggles to get away.

Distinctly, engines rumbling break the busy bustle of the street, the people of the town stopping their shopping to stare and wait for what - or who - everyone is aware is coming. It’s a sound that could be heard at all hours of the day, whether it be caused by a guy or two or the whole gang of them. Leather jackets, denim jeans, cigarettes, and all.

As the thunderous roar of the engine increased in volume, the Vandals emerged from the end of the street - drunk and half-naked with the exception of only a few. It was a good thing you had a hold on Jack because you felt him tug to get free. No doubt to run to the bikers if his amazed

“Wow,” was anything to go by.

You make sure to clutch him tighter, more people crowding the sidewalks now to make room for the bikers taking the entirety of the street. It was only a year ago that there were only seven of them driving past the stores, and slowly, every weekend since there’d be new members joining them.

With a good grip on Jack’s shirt to make sure he can’t escape and no one can jostle him, you look up again, locking eyes with Benny. He’s already staring. Taking in all of you, with a beanie thrown over your head and worn down boots you squeezed into it because the new ones still hurt.

He’s effortlessly cool riding by. One hand on the handle and another on his lap; some may think he was trying to show off but the truth was he didn’t care too. He was riding right in front of you now. His blue eyes were shadowed in the gray of the weather, becoming lighter instead of brighter. The ring he wore glinted against the metal of his bike and he’d either gotten into a scuffle or had chosen to not do his hair today. There were pieces sticking in different directions and as he drove past you could see the back of his hair was flat.

He smiles at you, slowly, pink lips parting to reveal glistening, white teeth and a glint sparking in his eyes.

“Come on,” Melissa ushers Maddy away from the books, “no time to waste.”

“How annoying,” Maddy grumbles.

You bite your lip to hide your answering grin.

-

Tania calls on Sunday morning, begging you to cover her overnight shift because she’s come down with the flu.

It was 7 a.m. and there was no coffee or breakfast in your system but she genuinely sounded horrible over the line so you agreed.

“You’re pushing your body too hard,” your Ma said from her position by the stove, “it’s gonna flare up again. You just wait and see.”

“Ma,” you snap and hate yourself immediately after.

It isn’t her fault your body decides to fail you time and time again; most times after you spend weeks thinking you’ve somehow magically been cured. The doctors had already explained it didn’t appear to be a genetic disease and it certainly didn’t derive from your parents because when Melissa had been tested she was declared physically healthy.

There’s resentment clogging your chest and throat, yearning to yell about how it isn’t fair but it isn’t her fault either.

It isn’t anyone’s fault that you’re sick and they’re healthy.

Turns out your Ma is right. You should have seen it coming.

Three days letter no food can be kept down and there’s an ache running from your ankle to mid-thigh that has you crying when you try to leave your bed.

“I hav’ta go work,” you try to explain to your parents through the tears and fatigue and the pain as they ease you back into bed.

“Just rest now, honey,” your Ma is trying to soothe, combing stray hairs away from your face. There’s a funny look on her face.

Her chin is pulled tight and there is a wobble to her lip.

You aren’t sure if the pain is causing hallucinations.

“It isn’t fair,” you sob, allowing yourself to lose the battle of trying to stand so your father can relinquish his hold. “It isn’t fair, Dad. Jus’ wanna be able to … be.”

There isn’t another way you’re sure how to explain it. The ability to live was a privilege to all but taken for granted by so many. If sickness and ailment wasn’t something you dealt with you’re sure you would be as ignorant and ungrateful as any other healthy person.

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

One of them places the pill in your hand. When you swallow, your mother helps hold your head up to pour water in your mouth.

Useless. That’s what you are.

-

You are in bed for a week. Adjusting to the medication always proves to be a rollercoaster of events. Tired the first few days and sick to your stomach the next few.

The worst part comes after the pain stops. When the pills aren’t needed and you’re left with the shakes and the chills and a never ending migraine. No better than any druggie laid out on the streets.

“Dr. Howard would have given you a few more days off,” Sawyer says after the fifth time your hands cramp up while you’re typing.

It takes everything to not tell her where to shove it. Regardless of everything, she’s your friend and she cares. Having everyone hovering makes you aggy.

“I’m fine,” you insist.

She shrugs; sighs worriedly; walks away.

The past ten days were spent in bed. Well, seven of them were spent in bed and the last three had been spent holding onto your parents as they led you up and down the hall in an attempt to readjust to moving around. The restroom hadn’t been much of an issue as you were unable to consume much of any food or liquid. Everything was retained in your body and what wasn’t you had puked out.

Doctor Martin approaches, calling your name. “I need you to fill the questionnaire for a patient. He can’t spell and his reading isn’t great.”

Your hands are in fists on your lap. You look down, try to open them, shake, and close it again. The green monster knocks on your chest again, builds, bangs against your ribcage and twists your guts, anything in an attempt to free itself.

You focus on your breathing.

Doctor Martin calls your name again to pull your attention. “Is that going to be a problem?” He looks to your lap but your hands are in fists, hidden from sight.

It’s gonna hurt like hell but you refuse to let anyone else pity you.

“No,” you decide and take the clipboard from him.

-

Rationally you know it isn’t right or fair to hate anyone for being healthy. Sickness or suffering isn’t something you would wish upon anyone; not even your worst enemy.

I’d like to see Martin get a cramp though, you think bitterly. Nothing lasting or damaging. A leg cramp that has him sobbing and unable to stand for a couple of seconds. That’s it.

There had only been seven questions and four of them required simple answers but it didn’t seem to matter if one word was needed or forty. The paper looked like it had been scribbled on by a second grader with no motor skills and in your state the comparison wasn’t far off.

“If you’re incapable of legible penmanship I’m not sure what you’re doing here,” Martin had spewed in your face, anger in his eyes when he tossed the paper and demanded Sawyer redo the questionnaire. “Go home.” He dismissed you.

Asshole.

Home was the second to last place you wanted to be. Your mother was worried, hovering around you any minute of the day and while your father tried to be better he followed you into every room you entered and his footsteps could be made out five feet away from you, always hovering.

Space. Air. A damn break. That’s what you needed.

Walking around the streets at night probably wasn’t the brightest idea you had but you were too anxious and wired to sit still and any restaurant or store you entered ran the risk of running into someone you knew.

Tonight you’d take your chances with strangers lurking in the dark.

You’ve walked the same block four times, in an attempt to be somewhat safe, the one that has the most street lights when you hear it. Grumbling. Roaring. Headlights brighter than any lamp currently illuminating the street and working to blind you as you try to make out the figure riding.

It would either be your friend or it wouldn’t be.

The headlights beam brighter somehow, blinding you enough that you look away and try to squint the spots away from your eyes. When you open them again the rider is down the block and your vision is still distorted. You don’t bother to try to make out any features from this distance and focus on trying to lessen the disappointment swirling around inside.

You had wanted it to be him. You aren’t sure how but you know seeing him would improve the ending of your day. It might be his pretty, blue eyes and the crinkles that appeared when he smiled. Or maybe the smell of 3-in-1 men soap, engine oil, and something distinctly sandalwood and citrus that was uniquely him would be useful in relaxing you.

Overall, you think it’s his way of being that you need tonight. Someone who was so selfishly themself because they needed nothing from anyone around them. No thought to go into what to say or do next because there was nothing to happen besides what was going to happen.

Disappointment is still swirling when you hear it return. A thrumpty exhaust groan from deep within the machine from being pushed too hard, too quick, that you’re sure is currently reverberating the ground beneath you.

And then like an apparition (more like a wish come true) — Benny. You decide that you may be sick and days may be shit, with a huge emphasis on the last thirteen days, but God does not hate you after all.

The light from his bike creates shadows across his face, highlighting the golden beard and mustache but hiding the pink of his mouth. His eyes you’re unable to make out, unsure if they were happy or sad, mad or tired.

With his headlights hitting you directly however, he’s able to make out every feature of yours.

“Benny.” It’s just his name that escapes you, no greeting accompanying it, but you don’t bother to hide the relief in your tone and you’re sure your smile is blinding him like his lights are blinding you. If he wasn’t how he was and you weren’t already feeling raw with rejection and failure you would have hugged him.

“What’cha doin’ out so late?” He uses his leg against the sidewalk to lean his bike inward. Thigh muscles ripple underneath the tight denim of his jeans, illuminated greatly by the shadows cast by the headlights.

You shrug, unwilling to be honest. “I needed …” You’re not sure what you were going to answer so you stop and he allows you time to think. You had said you needed air but you take a deep breath and all the worries and stress of before continue on. You thought you needed space but you began to feel lonely and the last thing you want is for him to go away. There’s no correct answer it seems so you can do nothing but laugh, tilting your head towards the sky. You wish you were brave enough to scream at the stars or howl at the moon. “I’mma be honest, Benny - I’m not sure what I need. I’m just,” you exhale, “a mess tonight.” More than just tonight but you don’t want to scare him off either.

You know that if he asks what’s wrong you’re going to start crying. There’s an ache in your throat that is blocking any air entry and the sting in your eye isn’t from his lights and the shaking in your hand hasn’t gotten any better and if you tell him the truth he’s going to pity you like everyone else and now there’s a traitorous tea—

“Wanna go to a meetin’?”

You look up, wanting to be sure that you heard him correctly. There’s no joking lilt in his tone, only sincerity and the same hint of boredom always wavering in the background. Like if it would make zero difference to him what you decided. You remind yourself he’s not the type of guy to offer something for niceties.

He’s in the same position. Using his leg to lean closer to the pavement, one hand holding onto the left handle and his bike rumbling beneath him. He’s got his head cocked to the side, generously allowing you to feel wanted, like if it’s something he wants you to consider and not only reject.

But there’s another aspect to consider in all this: the only source of transportation currently is his bike.

Be careful, you can hear Ma say, you aren’t in any position to be careless, honey.

She’s right, your Dad would agree. It’s the hand you’ve been given.

Careful.

Careful.

All your life you’ve attempted to be as careful as you could be. You watched where you were walking because a fall could result in a knee that aches for days, not only a scrape. You rubbed the healing oils the neighbors down the street swore by, you took salt baths to help with inflammation, you took medication that was meant to help but it made your head pound and your hands shake and your stomach stick and every couple of weeks or month your body still rebelled, nerves inflamed and bones hurt and it was your worst enemy.

“Sure.”

If you fall from his bike, if he takes every red light and stop sign and a car rams into you — getting up won’t be as easy for you as it will for him. But you’re accepting his invitation nonetheless, taking his offered hand to help you swing a leg over. He grabs hold of both arms, instructing you to keep them around him. It’s exactly how you’ve read in a novel or watched in a Marlon Brando film.

The tremors consume your body and vibrate around him; you wipe the claminess of your palms on his T and hope he doesn’t mind.

“You’re shakin’.” He notices, revving the engine but staying still, as if waiting for you to change your mind.

“Benny?”

“Hmm.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder to pull his attention and it works; he turns his head to the side so he’s able to look in your eyes. The scruff around his jaw is long enough to rub against your lower chin. It tickles but you don’t move away, being able to look into the eye closest to you. He smells of cigarettes and motor oil, of fresh air from the farmland a few miles out and of gas.

He smells of open possibilities and freedom.

“Can we go fast?”

He turns forward, laughing as he kickstarts the bike into motion.

“That I can do. Hang on, Doc.” And he takes off.

True to his word, he never slows down, not once. The wind comes hard and fast and you’re not sure how any of the old ladies who ride with their men manage to keep their updo’s perfectly done. Hearing the roaring of the engine in the silent night, the rumble of the machinery while straddling the bike, the wind blowing across your face — it was close to therapeutic. There were no confinements of a car, the cage that had become your life falling away with every new upheaval on the speedometer, every one of your senses was assaulted and brought to life.

You finally understood Benny and the gang and why they fought to maintain their way of life. Freedom isn’t something you would be willing to give up either.

Much too sign he’s slowing down, approaching the bar. The place is in full swing. Everyone seems to have arrived before the pair of you. There’s several motorcycles parked out front and in the center, up front, you recognize the red bike belonging to their leader. Benny parks right beside it. You wonder if it’s a rank thing where the boys park their bike.

The wind stops; no more vibrations arising from between your legs. Benny kicks a leg out and turns his head slightly to catch sight of your movements, waiting for a reaction or to see if you’ll hop off.

If you’re being honest there’s no desire to stop.

“That was …” fun wouldn’t do the experience justice. “Exhilarating.” Freeing. “I felt like a bird.”

Benny hums, either in agreement or acknowledgment but he arches an eyebrow at you over his shoulder and his response causes you to laugh. Loud and inhibited, and once you begin it seems impossible to stop. The stress of the day fading away with the memories of the wind in your hair, hands wrapped tight around him, and every single burst of laughter that escapes you at his acceptance of your random sentence.

It felt good to be understood. It felt even better to feel invincible for once.

You use Benny’s shoulder for balance to get off his bike, releasing the last bits of laughter that escape and leaving only a wide smile that threatens to split your face in half as you stare into his eyes.

You aren’t sure how but you had known even earlier he’d bring an ease to the weight that had been resting on your shoulders and suddenly, you’re eternally grateful for him. For who he is and confounded that someone who had only come into your life because he kept getting injured could level your emotions so well without trying or knowing.

Any gratitude would only cause him confusion or discomfort so instead you choose to continue smiling.

He cocks an eyebrow, swinging his long leg around to stand up off his bike.

“I’ve got a good feeling about tonight, Benny,” a hand is thrown over his forearm and intertwined as he leads you to the bar.

Again, he only hums.

Turns out Benny’s a gentleman. Not that you were expecting him to not be, but if you’re honest you weren’t sure what to expect walking in.

How many times had you seen Vandals strut through the front doors of this bar, catcalling and roughhousing heard to the public before the door shut behind them. Once or twice you may have wondered why the visiting ladies exited pink and red in the face and adjusting their clothes.

But it isn’t like that for you. Benny holds the door open and stays a steady presence at your back. His friends holler and cheer, there’s some comments made under their breath and in his ear when they step up to congratulate him on what they assume is a new victory conquest. Eyes look you up and down and grin at him in approval but he has no response for them.

With his hand at the small of your back he leads you to an open table, going as far to pull the chair for you. From his position against the wall, you spot Johnny Davis — the leader. When you were in high school you used to babysit his daughters.

He dips his head in greeting.

The chatter in the room is so loud you can’t make out the song that’s playing.

“Benny?” He sits next to you, casual with both elbows on the table and manspreading so wide his knee bumps against yours. Benny leans forward to hear you better, close enough that you're able to notice for the first time he has freckles. One of the guys bumps into your chair, laughing, and you scoot closer. “I’m gonna need a drink.”

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

They talked about this before it started, that if it got to be much for anything, they would talk about it. Steve would understand. He always did, especially since he was afraid himself. Eddie's panic attacks were happening more frequently, and what happened over spring break was still fresh in everyone's minds. It was difficult for Eddie to breathe, and Steve knew it was coming, and Eddie did too. They could feel it when they touched, kissed, and fucked. They were already mourning a relationship that was never supposed to be serious in the first place. The next morning, Eddie told him that his band wanted to go on the road.

"I figured," Steve said, picking at his blanket.

"You're not mad?" Eddie asked.

"Of course not," Steve said. "This town is killing you, Eddie, I couldn't ask you to stay."

"You could ask," Eddie shrugged.

"You wouldn't say yes, and I wouldn't want you to resent me for staying," Steve said.

"You could come with me," Eddie said.

"You know that I can't leave the kids until they graduate," Steve said.

"And I can?" Eddie asked.

"Yes," Steve said. "You want to go. Do you want to go?"

"I do," Eddie said, swallowing thickly.

"I don't want to hold you back," Steve replied.

"You could never," Eddie said and paused. "I suppose you really can't have it all. You're right, I suppose I can't stay. I know I should have said. . .but I guess you could already tell. This town is killing me and not even you - which is crazy because you're Steve fucking Harrington. You're the most beautiful man alive. Inside and out."

Steve pulled him into a deep kiss, pouring everything he had into it. He could taste salty tears on his tongue. He couldn't tell who was crying more. Steve pulled back with a gasp.

"Eddie, I - " Steve closed his mouth and said nothing.

The next day, they said another goodbye, this time in front of everyone. It wasn't nearly as intimate. No one knew they were fucking. They had still been figuring things out about themselves, and Eddie hadn't been quite ready to label himself or tell anyone. Steve couldn't even tell Robin. The day after Eddie left, Steve took off to another bar outside of Hawkins. He couldn't go to the Hideout, too many memories, and he couldn't explain to people why he was drowning his sorrows. Steve was having a lot more difficult time than he had thought he would, and he respected Eddie's choice but it was killing him that he was gone, that there was an empty spot in his bed. He couldn't even tell Robin why he was so heartbroken. The best thing about this bar was that it was attached to a motel, so he was planning on getting drunk and finding his way to the room he rented. Of course, that's where he met Tiffany, who was just as heartbroken as he was. . .

"Steve, Steeeeve," Robin sang.

"Ugh, Robin, go away, my head is killing me," Steve said.

"Yeah, that's probably because you drank half the motel bar," Robin said.

"How are you here?" He asked, burying his head deeper into the pillow.

"You gave the girl you slept with my phone number, and you told her to let me know if you accidentally died," Robin said.

"I'm not dead," Steve groaned.

"No, but you look it," Robin scoffed. "You're going to need to check out soon."

"Where's - " Steve asked, looking up. "Tiffany?"

"Yeah. She left," Robin said.

"That's probably good for her," Steve said. "Ooh. I'm going to puke. Yeah, no, wait - yeah, I'm going puke."

He slipped out of the bed, butt naked, and ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach.

"Jesus, what the hell? I thought you were done with one night stands?" Robin asked.

"I just - yeah, I mean, I was but then - FUCK!" Steve yelled and then he burst into tears.

Robin frowned and grabbed a sheet of the bed, tossing it over him. She cleaned his mouth, sat on the floor, and pulled his head into her lap.

"Steve?" Robin asked. "I know you and Eddie have gotten close, but I didn't think you'd be this upset that he left. Jesus, how are you going to handle me going off to college? Shit, I put my foot in my mouth again, didn't I? Was that a little insensitive? Steve?"

"I'm in love with him," Steve sobbed, and then everything came pouring out. "I'm sorry and shit, I think I need to apologize to Eddie because I shouldn't have told you."

"Hey, hey, slow down. I think he'd understand," Robin said softly. "There's a lot to process here. I'm sorry, babe, I should have known."

"It's not your fault," Steve said. "I'm just so stupid."

"It's not your fault either," Robin said. "It was just a sticky situation for the both of you. And if you ever call my best friend stupid again, I'm going to beat you up. Only I'm allowed to call you a dingus, okay?"

"Okay," Steve said and laughed.

"Come on, let's get you home. . .dingus," Robin said.

Steve smiled. She always said dingus like she was saying I love you. God, she was his best friend.

"Dingus," Steve said, and Robin laughed.

"You're so drunk," she giggled. "Come on, Popeye."

It was a difficult time for Steve over the next few months, even more difficult than when he got over Nancy Wheeler. Maybe because he had allowed himself to be more vulnerable than he ever had with Nancy, and maybe in doing so, he had fallen harder for Eddie. With Robin's help, he was able to move forward. It helped that he had sold and moved out of his parents' place. They didn't think he could sell the place, but he proved them wrong. And with the money, he was able to tuck a lot of it away and move into a comfortable two bedroom apartment, an apartment that he was allowed to decorate however he wanted. After nearly a year, he was in a good place when things decided to turn upside down again for Steve. We'll, roughly 9 months later, to be a little more precise. . .

"Oh my god! I can't believe you forgot to buy me my favorite chips! After I came all this way to visit you!" Robin yelled.

"If you would move stuff around, you'll find them!" Steve exclaimed as he set up the movie.

"Oh, there they are! I knew you still loved me," Robin said.

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin came into the living room, her arms laden with snacks. She unceremoniously dumped them on the table.

"I'm glad you were able to pull yourself away from Vickie long enough to visit me before heading back to Chicago," Steve said.

"I can prioritize between the romantic love of my life and the platonic love of my life," Robin said.

Steve and Robin snuggled into each other, their matching pajamas firmly in place, as they settled in for the evening. Just as they were about to start the movie, Steve got the phone call. Robin watched as Steve could only give one words answers before finally putting the phone back down, his face pale.

"Steve?" Robin asked.

"We're going to have to cut the evening short," Steve said.

"What? But we've been planning this evening for weeks - "

"Robin, I'm a dad."

They drove to Indianapolis, where Tiffany had given birth, and now they were standing in the nursery, staring at the swaddled baby right in front of them. Tiffany had already left the hospital by the time they arrived.

"She's so tiny," Steve said breathlessly.

"And pink," Robin said. "She doesn't have a name yet. Do you have any ideas?"

"I - I don't know," Steve said.

"Do you want to keep her?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, I know it's crazy, but I want her," Steve said as he took her hand in his, letting her tiny hand wrap around his finger. "More than anything."

"You think of a name while I take your credit card and go get some supplies for your little chicken nugget," Robin said, squeezing his shoulder. "You're going to be a great dad."

Robin pressed a kiss to his hair, cooed at the baby, and then quickly left them alone. Steve watched his daughter wiggle in her blanket and listened to the noises she made, her little tongue darting out every so often. He watched as her brow furrowed in confusion. It must be so confusing to come into this world, not knowing who you are, where you are, and taken from the only place you've ever known. Steve placed a hand on her chest.

"It's okay, I'm here," Steve whispered, and he smiled when she calmed down a bit.

"You can pick her up, you know," the nurse said.

Steve almost jumped. He forgot he wasn't alone in the room. A friendly faced hispanic nurse was there, chuckling at him.

"I know, I just don't want to - she's so small," Steve said.

"Every good parent is afraid of dropping them," the nurse said. "Come sit over here."

Steve sat down in the rocking chair and watched as she picked up his daughter. He glanced at her name tag. Sofia. She placed the baby carefully into his waiting arms. He gasped in delight, the feeling of holding her overwhelming him in a very good way. Was he crying?

"Thanks, Nurse Sofia," Steve said.

"She looks good in your arms," Sofia said.

"She feels good. Feels right," he muttered. "She's so wonderful. Hey, there. I'm your dad. I know, it's crazy. Don't feel intimated by my hair. You're bald now, kiddo, but it'll grow. . .and even if it doesn't, I'll still love you. . .oh, I'm suddenly terrified. I am going to mess her up."

"Hush, you're going to be fine," Sofia said.

Steve watched as the baby's head started to move around, as though she was looking for something and she started to whimper.

"I think she's hungry," Steve said.

"See? Your instincts are already kicking in," Sofia said.

Steve smiled. Sofia reminded him of both Claudia and Sue. Oh, speaking of them. . .they're going to freak when they find out Steve made them grandmothers. Sophia left to go the formula and came back with it pretty quickly. She showed him how to hold it so the baby wouldn't choke.

"Thank you," Steve said. "I really appreciate it. . .oh, she's really going to town. Yeah, she was hungry."

"She goes after it like my four boys did," Sofia said.

"You have four boys?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yeah, they're a handful, but I love them. Supposedly, girls are easier, but I think that's bullshit," Sofia scoffed.

"Oh, girls are just as much of a handful. I babysit a group of teenagers," Steve said.

"Then you have some practice under your belt," Sofia said. "I always thought that if I had a girl, I'd name her Elizabeth. Never happened, but I'm happy with my boys, more than enough for me."

"Elizabeth," Steve whispered.

"Does that name mean something to you?" She asked. "It sounds like it."

It was Eddie's mother's name. He remembered him talking about her all the time, how she died when he was six, and how he got his love of his music from her. Eddie always wished he could have had more time with her.

"Elizabeth," Steve whispered to his daughter, and he smiled.

"Elizabeth Robin?"

"Of course, I named her after you," Steve scoffed.

"Oh my sweet little baby bird," Robin cooed. "I can't believe I have to go back to school soon. . .as her godmother, shouldn't I get like godmaternity leave?"

"Yeah, I don't think they do that," Steve said.

"Well, they should," Robin said.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Steve said.

"If you love your child, you would," Robin said. "By the way, Tiffany left you a letter at the front desk. They gave it to me."

Together, they got Elizabeth into the car seat and then into the car with Robin in the driver's seat, bringing her home. . .

Dear Steve,

I hope that night meant a lot to you as it did to me. I wanted to face you and tell you so many times, but I'm kind of a coward. I think we were both very heartbroken that night, and I hope you found the same comfort in me that I did in you. It gave the courage that I needed to face who I truly am.

I feel like something greater than ourselves brought us together that night. I was just a mere vessel. . .I know you wanted to be with someone else. You called out their name, and you said it like a declaration of love. I wasn't meant to be a mother, not yet. This isn't my baby. I hope that everything works out and that you feel it as much as I do. I was glad to help you and be a part of this journey. Don't wait too long to be honest with yourself.

Sincerely, Tiffany

"A mere vessel? What the hell does that mean?" Steve asked.

"Fuck if I know."

A YEAR AND THREE MONTHS LATER. . .

Eddie scowled, his ear pressed to the phone, as Dustin went on about Steve’s new special girl in his life. How many times did Eddie have to say that he didn't want to hear about it? He swore that Dustin's ears were only there for decoration.

"Yeah, yeah, that's great that this Liddie person likes Robin more than you, but I need to tell you something, and you can't say anything to Steve," Eddie said. "You can't say anything to anyone."

"Ooh, a secret, lay it on me, and by the way, her name is - " Dustin started to say.

"Okay, whatever. I don't care. I'm surprising Steve and coming home for his birthday," Eddie said.

"Oh, shit! He'll love that. He's missed you like crazy. We all have," Dustin said. "If you get in late, make sure it's before 7 because that's when he puts her to bed."

"He gives her a bedtime?" Eddie asked.

"Of course, he does! It would be completely irresponsible to let her go to bed whenever she wanted to. She needs a schedule, Eddie," Dustin said.

"That sounds a little controlling, but okay," Eddie said.

"Well, what time would you give her?" He asked.

"I wouldn't give her a bedtime at all!" Eddie shrieked.

"Eddie! You can't do that!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Look, just don't ruin the surprise, okay?" Eddie asked before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone.

Yeah, he was definitely going to win Steve back because, honestly, this new relationship of his sounded a bit messy, and Steve deserved better than that. How much trouble could this girl be that she needed a bedtime? She has to be the one that's trouble. . .right? Steve Harrington couldn't have lost his way. There's no way he would have turned to the dark side after he left. Either way, Eddie needed to intervene.

"Okay, okay, you can do this," Eddie breathed.

He looked at the address written on the piece of paper and checked it again. He was in the right place. He didn't waste any time after visiting with Wayne. Steve’s apartment was his second place to visit. Eddie took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Coming!" Steve yelled, and then he heard muffled laughter from Steve. "Lizzie! Stop barking! You're not a dog! I'm going to have to talk to Robin about teaching you that."

Steve opened the door, and he nearly stumbled back at the sight of Eddie. Steve was wearing sweats and an old t-shirt of Eddie's. . .to Eddie's delight. His hair was longer, and he had quite a bit more scruff to him. Eddie was also pleased to see that he was wearing his glasses.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Eddie," Steve breathed.

They've talked on the phone and written each other letters but it was definitely better seeing each other in person.

"I wanted to surprise you for your birthday," Eddie said. "Surprise!"

"My birthday isn't until next week," Steve said in amusement.

"So, I came early," Eddie said, and then he smirked. "It's not like I haven't done that before. . .but then, you know that."

"Eddie," Steve scolded, but he was smiling and blushing. "Come on in."

"Don't mind if I do," Eddie said, stepping over the threshold. "So, where's this girl of yours? . . . Liddie? I want to meet her."

"She's in the living room, and her name is Lizzie," Steve corrected, laughing. "Come on."

Eddie followed behind Steve, enjoying the view as he did so. When he walked into the living room, all he saw was a playpen with a little girl inside. Was Steve in the middle of babysitting?

"I don't see her," Eddie frowned.

"Lizzie's right there, Eddie," Steve laughed, pointing at the crib.

"Oh my god! Steve!" Eddie yelled, appalled.

"Uh?" Lizzie asked, looking up from chewing on her teddy bear.

"Yeah, I know, I have a daughter," Steve said. "Surprise! Although, I thought you knew."

"A daughter! Oh, oh, thank god!" Eddie said, clutching his chest.

"What were you thinking?" Steve asked in confusion.

"Uh, never mind what I was thinking," Eddie said, blushing. "So, a daughter, huh? How old?"

"A year and three months," Steve said proudly.

"Oh, wow," Eddie said with a grin.

"Yeah. Time flies, and it seems like only it was only yesterday that I was in the hospital with her. . .holding her for the first time," Steve said.

A year and three months. Eddie looked at the kid. She was cute with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. Apart from that, she looked almost exactly like Steve. Eddie chuckled. It almost looked like they had a baby together. A year and three months. A year and three months?! Eddie did the math in his head. They had sex right before Eddie left, which meant that Lizzie would have had to have been concieved sometime around there. Lizzie. . .Elizabeth. . .oh, after his mom?

"Oh my god," Eddie whispered softly and grabbed his arms. "Steve. . .Steve, is she mine?"

"Eddie," Steve said slowly. "I want you to really think about what you just said."

"I am thinking about it! I'm thinking about you going through all that alone!" Eddie exclaimed. "You had to deliver her without me there to hold your hand!"

"Eddie, I didn't - "

"I'm such an idiot! I never should have left, I mean, I could have toughed it out a few more years!" Eddie shrieked.

"Eddie, I swear - "

"Oh, my god, and even though I wasn't there for you, you still named our daughter after my mother," Eddie rambled.

"If you would just stop for a minute and listen - "

"Steve!" Eddie said, grabbing his arms. "Was it the bat bites? Because I slept with a guy like a month ago, and it was only because he was wearing a polo like you! I also slept with a girl. . .she had hair like yours! Can girls also get me pregnant?! Do I have to take a pregnancy test?. . .Lizzie, sweetheart, I think you're going to be a big sister!"

"Arf! Arf!" Lizzie barked.

Eddie bent over, putting his head between his legs as his mind spun around in circles. He felt Steve grab him and drag him into the kitchen. Steve yanked off his vest and jacket, tossing them onto the counter. He turned on the faucet, grabbed Eddie's head, and shoved it under the water. Eddie shrieked.

"Okay! Okay!"

Steve turned off the water and let him up. Eddie scowled as he rung out his hair.

"Are you done?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, thanks, I needed that," Eddie said.

"Lizzie is not your daughter," Steve said.

"She's not?" Eddie asked, with wide eyes.

"Okay, with you looking at me like that, I kinda regret saying that," Steve said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No, fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left," Eddie said. "I think I just regret doing that."

"Eddie, this town was suffocating you," Steve said. "You needed to leave."

"Did I, though?" Eddie asked. "Wayne managed to tough it out here."

"You need to stop beating yourself up for reacting to a bad situation that was out of your control," Steve said.

"I regretted the minute I left, but I was already out there on the road with the boys," Eddie said. "I loved it, but I think I might have left my heart behind here."

"You want to stay?" Steve asked.

"If you'll take me back," Eddie said.

"It's hard to say no when you're looking all sad and wet like that," Steve said.

"I want to stay anyway, even if you don't want to take me back," Eddie said.

"I have missed you every single minute of every single day," Steve said. "I haven't stopped loving you or hoping we'll find our way back to each other."

"I love you," Eddie whispered.

"I love you, too," Steve said.

Eddie grabbed him by the waist and kissed him. He felt Steve smiling into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck. He pressed Steve up against the counter, melting into him like butter. He broke the kiss, crossing to press thousands of tiny kisses all over Steve’s face. Steve giggled and pushed him back.

"Will Lizzie's mother have a problem with this?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, she's not in the picture. Hold on," Steve said.

He left and came back to Eddie, putting his hair into a towel. He handed Eddie a letter.

"What's this?" Eddie asked, sitting on a stool.

"The day after you left, I went to a hotel bar, drank it, and met a woman who was just as heartbroken as I was," Steve said. "We slept together and nine months later, Lizzie was born."

"A mere vessel," Eddie cackled after reading it. "I like her. She sounds like me."

"She also looks like you," Steve blushed.

"Okay, so we went the long way around, but we got here," Eddie laughed. "She is my daughter."

"What?" Steve asked.

"In every other way except biologically, Elizabeth is mine. I mean, you even named her after my mother," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I did do that," he blushed.

Eddie pulled Steve in between his legs, wrapping his arms around his waist. He studied his face, drinking in every inch of skin, every mole. . .God, he loved this man.

"Steve Harrington, if you want me to, I want to be your baby daddy," Eddie sighed.

"I do," Steve smiled.

Eddie flashed his dimples and smacked Steve’s ass.

"Well, introduce me to our daughter, big boy," Eddie said.

Steve laughed and pulled him up off the stool. Holding his hand, he pulled him down the hall. Eddie stopped him before pulling the towel off his head and fixing his hair. He straightened his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, his hands on his hips.

"I want to look good," Eddie said, and then he gasped. "Steve, what if she doesn't like me?"

"Eddie, she barks like a dog. She's going to love you," Steve said.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, and Steve just shook his head.

Eddie followed Steve into the living room, where Lizzie had moved onto a cloth book. Her little tongue was out as her little finger traced the words as though she was trying to teach herself how to read. Eddie smiled. She glanced up and smiled at Eddie then at Steve.

"Dada?" Lizzie asked and held her hands up towards Steve.

Steve pulled her out of the playpen and put her on his hip. Holy fuck, Eddie thought, he looks totally hot.

"Lizzie, this is Eddie. He's going to be your other Dada," Steve said.

"Dada?" Lizzie asked, confused.

"You get two!" Steve exclaimed, pointing to himself and then to Eddie.

"Two Dadas!" Lizzie clapped.

"Wow, she caught on quick," Eddie said.

"Yeah, she's smart. I'm still not sure how much she understands," Steve said.

Lizzie leaned over Steve’s arms and reached towards Eddie. He grinned and took Lizzie into his arms.

"Hi," Eddie whispered.

"Hi," Lizzie said.

"Hi."

"Hi," Lizzie said, and then she giggled.

She reached over and started licking Eddie's cheek. Eddie cackled.

"Yeah, we definitely should talk to Robin about this. She can't go around licking people," Eddie giggled.

"Dada! Dada! Dada!" Lizzie shrieked as she bounced on his hip.

"Ooh! I wonder - ," Eddie gasped.

"What are you thinking about?" Steve asked.

Eddie set Lizzie on the floor and sprawled out in front of her.

"Okay, can you raise your little fingers like this?" Eddie said as he raised his pointer fingers to his head to make horns.

Lizzie blinked at him. She reached over and grabbed Eddie's hair.

"Ah!" Lizzie screamed.

"No, baby, no!" Eddie said while Steve laughed.

Eddie eventually guided her gently and got her to make little horns while sticking out her tongue. It wasn't perfect, but she managed it with Eddie's help. Luckily, it took Eddie long enough for Steve to get a camera.

"Good job, daddy," Steve said.

He leaned down and kissed Eddie. Lizzie shrieked and pushed Steve off Eddie. She scrunched up her face at them before hugging Eddie.

"No, Daddy, don't do that," Eddie laughed. "That's gross. . .Thanks for saving me, baby."

"I ordered dinner. . .Are you gonna stay the night?" Steve asked.

"I'm going to stay forever," Eddie said as he hugged Lizzie to him.

After dinner, Eddie happily helped Steve give Lizzie a bath before throwing a colander over a flashlight in Lizzie's room to make stars. He laid down on the floor with Lizzie curled up between him and Steve, her eyes getting heavy.

". . .so I opened my eyes and wondered if I was floating. I realized a moment later that a beautiful man was carrying me out of hell. He was begging me to stay with him, and I did want to stay with him, but I didn't know why. He spent the next few weeks taking care of me, and I spent the same amount of time trying to fight the fact that I was falling for him, a man. It wasn't until the town had run me out that I realized I was in love with him. When I came back, I realized I never wanted to leave him again. . . That man, of course, was your daddy. So, the next time I go on the road, it's going to be with you and your daddy in an RV. Your daddy is going to be playing obnoxious music, so I apologize in advance."

"Hey, your music is not obnoxious," Steve said.

"I was talking about yours," Eddie grinned.

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed, slapping his chest.

"Shh! Steve, our daughter is asleep. . .what is that sound?!"

"Yeah, she snores," Steve said.

"My god, that's the loudest sound I have heard from someone so tiny."

"Hey, Eddie," Steve whispered.

"Yeah?"

"We're a family," Steve said and Eddie leaned over Lizzie's head to kiss him.

" . . . And they all lived happily ever after. . ."

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 piña colada

synopsis: some women just can't take a hint... good thing Zoro's only got eyes for one girl.

cw: nsfw (oral: female receiving), this woman is really shameless, surprisingly tender Zoro, you two are so in love, kinda magical ngl, etc.

"Hey, there," a woman—who was in the tiniest bikini known to man—hummed, tone low as she approached the lounge chair. "I don't think I've seen you on this island before."

'For fuck's sake...'

Annoyed, Zoro let a heavy sigh out from his nose, not even bothering to glance in the girl's direction as his sunglasses shaded his harsh side eye.

You'd think after seeing eight other women walk dejectedly away from his umbrella, the others would catch the hint?

"Not interested," he stated, curtly, hands firmly tucked behind his head as he looked out to sea.

The woman chuckled, softly, completely ignoring his comment and taking a seat in the sand.

She sat criss-crossed, dropping her hands in her lap and using her arms to slightly push her tits together, attempting to endearingly lean closer to your swordsman.

"Don't be so hasty," she sweetly smiled, taking his rudeness in stride. "Haven't even given me the chance to speak."

"Well, that's 'cause I really don't give a shit what you say otherwise," he sighed, shutting his eyes.

"I can name ten other men off the top of my head that would beg to differ," she countered, slyly.

"I'm not other men."

"You certainly aren't..."

'Walked right into that one.'

His brows flattened, and for a moment he wondered if this was a real person talking, slightly glancing around to see if he could find a camera crew of some sort.

Yet, to his surprise, there was none.

"I have a girlfriend," he dealt the finishing blow, delivering the final line that scared away all the other women from before.

He could finally get some peace and quiet.

"I don't see her here," the woman shrugged, simply, as if what he just said made no difference to her.

Zoro threw his head back with an irritated groan, wanting nothing more than to drop kick the woman away and go back to napping.

This was all Luffy and Usopp's fault.

The crew had been docked on a tropical summer island for a few days, and for all of them, you and Zoro had gone down to the beach together and lounged in the sun—tanning, napping, eating, and drinking in rotation.

But on that particular day, the boys had whisked you away to go explore some cove they found on the beach's edge, leaving your swordsman to fend off the wolves by himself.

And at first, it wasn't that bad.

The girls that approached were polite and had pure intentions, and actually respected his wishes when he said he was uninterested.

But numbers four through eight?

Hell, the woman sitting next to him?

Less so.

"Are you deaf or somethin'?" he asked, brows furrowed as he sat up, not appreciating her comment at all. "I already told you, I'm not interested. So get lost."

"Oh, c'mon," she rolled her eyes with a laugh. "There's no way you actually have a girlfriend. No girl in her right mind would leave her man alone on a beach like this, especially if he was as handsome as you."

"Maybe that's why she's my girlfriend and you're not," he scoffed, sarcastically.

Her brow twitched, the remark clearly striking a nerve as her posture suddenly straightened, her sickeningly sweet tone turning sour in a second.

"Well then, maybe your girlfriend can step up and we can see who's really the shit," she spat, standing from her spot in the sand. "Since she's so fuckin' great, let's see how she fares in a fight."

A smirk rose to the woman's lips, her hand coming to rest cockily on her hip.

"I might not look it, but I'm this island's martial arts champion... And I've yet to lose a fight. So let's see how she does with her face in the sand."

Zoro paused a moment, almost disbelieving, lifting up his sunglasses and taking a breath to see if the woman was serious.

She was.

Deadly serious, actually.

'HA!'

The man threw his head back in a burst of uproarious laughter, the sound causing the woman to jolt with surprise, and slight fear.

She'd never seen his expressions range anything past annoyance, so seeing him so amused seemed almost uncanny, especially since he was nearly howling with hilarity.

But he couldn't help himself.

You, the woman with a bounty over one billion?

You, the woman with the devil fruit of the personified spirit of death?

You, the woman who has fought literal monsters with her bare hands?

Lose to a random martial arts lady on a peaceful summer island?

It was almost too much.

The woman's brows furrowed, face warming at the mockery.

"The hell's so funny?!" she huffed with a childish pout.

Attempting to regain his composure, he wiped a tear from his eye, slightly clutching his stomach as his laughs died down.

"She'd fuckin' kill you," he chuckled, shoulders bobbing. "Like actually."

Furious, the woman broke into a long-winded tirade about why she would win... or how badly you would lose... or something along those lines.

If he was being honest, he zoned out the moment she started talking, something more interesting seeming to catch his eye.

You.

Like a dog with a bone, he watched, mesmerized, as you made your way over, hips looking ripe and tender for the grabbing.

'Goddamn...'

After days in the sun, you'd developed a delectably smooth tan, the sunscreen you had him apply earlier giving your skin an alluring shine.

Eyes scanning over your body, he took in the light (f/c) of your bikini, which had a few complimentary, (o/c) flowers decorating its corners, along with the waist beads resting lazily over your stomach, not to mention the gold anklets and bracelets that littered your ankles and wrists.

You looked good enough to eat—a thought he didn't mind indulging in later.

"Hey! Are you listening to me?" the woman continued pestering him, her hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

Huge mistake.

Faster than she could even see, Zoro grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand off and staring her down with a deadly glare, his patience long since run thin.

The woman froze, fear slowly creeping into her chest at the sharpness of his eyes.

He looked like he had half the mind to slit her throat right there.

"I'm only gonna tell you this one last time..." he warned, tone leaving no room for argument. "Get. Lost."

Roughly, he let go of her, and she quickly scrambled to her feet, scurrying back over to the safety of her friend's towel just as you arrived.

"Hey, Zo'!" you chirped, taking a seat on your swordsman's lap as you took a sip of your cocktail, which was in a cut-off coconut.

"Hey, pretty," he greeted with a smirk, placing a kiss on your neck. "Whatchu got there?"

"Some kinda coconut-rum drink," you answered, plucking the pineapple off the rim and taking a bite out of it. "The guy at the bar called it a Piña Colada."

Zoro nodded, "S'it any good?"

"Might be a bit too sweet for you," you shrugged, holding it out to him. "But try it."

Leaning forward, he sipped a bit from the straw, his nose scrunching slightly.

It was incredibly sweet.

"Yeah, I figured as much," you giggled, amused by his expression as you took it back. "By the way, who was that girl that went running away from here? She looked scared."

Slightly, you leaned over to glance at her, who was sitting not too far away, and raised a brow as she quickly turned around, terrified by your gaze. 

'The hell?'

"Was she in trouble or somethin'?"

Zoro chuckled, knowingly, his hand sliding up your side to give your hip a lackadaisical squeeze. 

"Nah," he shook his head, finally leaning back and allowing himself to relax in the chair. "Just needed help takin' a hint."

"So... I miss anything while you were on your trip with Luffy?" Zoro asked with a smile, slowly gliding his oar through the sparkling ocean.

You lit up with excitement, suddenly reminded of the events of the day.

"I wish I dragged you along! You woulda loved it," you sighed, leaning back in your spot in the canoe. "Turns out this island isn't as peaceful as we thought. When we went to the edge of the beach, we found tons of monster-sized crabs and lobsters, all of them strong as hell."

You smirked, holding up your fist.

"Me an' Luffy made a game over who could beat the most, while Usopp kept count. And we ended up in a draw."

'Damn.'

That blew his day fighting off women right out the water.

He should've gone with you.

"What about you? Anything interesting happen while I was away?" you asked.

"Eh," he shrugged, moving his oar to the other side. "Nothin' worth mentioning. My day was honestly pretty boring."

But he was hoping to change that.

While you were gone, he found Nami and Robin on the beach, and managed to weave through theirs sea of admirers in order to ask some advice.

Things had been going really great between the two of you, and since you were always so good with surprising him with gifts and gestures, he wanted to try his hand at it.

Of course, he had no idea where to begin.

And while Nami was little to no help, spending most of the time talking his ear off about how brutish and hopeless he was, Robin recommended taking you out to the nearby cove for a romantic night.

So, after scrounging up his island allowance and buying some booze and a canoe, he swept you away, all of the day's tribulations fading to the back of his mind as he watched you sit down in his lap.

"Y'know, this is really sweet of you, Zoro," you smiled, your fingers carefully tracing the scar across his chest. "Makin' me feel all special..."

He nodded, eyes raking over your face with an almost analytical look.

God, you were so fuckin' pretty.

It was almost baffling.

If he wasn't in this canoe—

"Figured you deserved something nice," he cleared his throat, warding off the less than decent thoughts creeping into his head.

He couldn't keep the romance up if he was too busy thinking about jumping your bones.

But little did he know... you were thinking the same thing.

Shifting your position, you rested your knees on either side of him, smoothly moving to bury your face in his neck, placing firm, meaningful kisses on his flesh. 

Instinctively, the man leaned into your touch, one of his hands coming up to steady you at the small of your back, while the other continued to paddle.

Gliding your manicured hands up his body, you rested them on his strong shoulders, using them for purchase as you continued to nip at him.

His chest rumbled with a deep hum at the feeling, relishing in the way your lips felt against his pulse point, sucking a hickey onto his skin.

Yet, just as it was getting good, you pulled away with a soft pop, moving to obscure his view of the water.

"I'm blockin' you. You can't see. What're we gonna do?" you grinned, cheekily, continuing to move in front of him as he tried to peer around you. "Oh, my Gods, we're gonna crash."

He looked up at you with a small smirk and a raised brow, amused, as you continued your antics.

"Oh, no. What's gonna happen?"

Suddenly, his hand roughly pulled you into his side, a soft squeal leaving your lips as he chuckled, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and continue your kissing assault while his two hands returned to the oar.

Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you peppered lazy kisses on his skin, your hand coming up to card through the hairs at the base of his neck.

Tenderly, Zoro placed a few kisses of his own on your shoulder, his eye perking at the sight of your destination.

Robin had given him impossibly thorough instructions on how to get there, which is the only reason why you two hadn't miraculously made it to the next island.

"Hey..." he lightly nudged you as the boat approached the shore. "We're here."

Lifting your head, you carefully flew out his lap, touching down on the dry sand as he hopped into the shallow water, walking around to the back and pushing the canoe onto the shore.

"Oh, wow," you gasped, in awe at the beauty laid before you. "This is beautiful! Look at the view"

The moon hovered over the water, making the waves crystallize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky.

The sea breeze wafted your hair and cooled the sweat on your body from the heat of the day.

It felt good to get away from people, the serenity too nice to put off.

Suddenly, Zoro scooped you up, you in one arm and the case of booze in the other as he began walking toward the cove.

"It gets better," he smirked, leading you over to where the tall rocks flattened out and arched upward, turning themselves into a natural cabana.

Placing you down, he quickly gathered some sticks from nearby, before bringing them back and starting a fire.

And as he did so, you couldn't help but marvel at his body, thick, corded muscle flexing and extending under his skin at each minute movement, looking delicious enough to bite.

And that wasn't the blood-sucker in you talking.

You sighed in contentment as you tipped your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above

Finishing up, Zoro plopped down beside you and threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side with a proud smile.

"Nice, right?" he chuckled.

You lazily nodded, wanting to stay there forever—among the water, stars, and him.

You peered up at him through your lashes, hesitant to speak in fear of ruining the moment.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in them. And you let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head met the crook of his shoulder.

You embraced him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest. 

There, you two stayed, holding each other, linked together like magnets.

"You smell nice," he murmured into your skin, taking a deep inhale of you. "Like coconut."

You smiled, shyly, warmth rising to your cheeks at the compliment.

And after a few silent seconds, he pulled away from you, his eyes dark as the night sky.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he stated, curtly, his gaze alight with enamor.

You didn't get to say a reply, too preoccupied with the lips pressing against yours.

The kiss was hungry, your lips moving against each other's like you both were starving for one another.

And you were.

You could tell Zoro wanted the same thing you did when his hands moved below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth.

He replied with his own grunt and pulled away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

"I wanna see you," he stated, his voice a deep rumble.

There was a molten tenderness in his gaze that had you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he had in store for you.

So you stripped.

Catching the hint, your hands glided up your back, pulling the string of your bikini top and letting your breasts fall out of the cups, along with the strings to your bottoms.

Zoro's eyes raked over the sight of you as if you were a piece of art he was admiring in a museum.

"Shit," he softly hissed to himself, amazed at the sight of your brown, hardened nipples.

You softly whimpered at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts, causing him to move on to other matters.

He leaned in and latched his lips onto one of your nipples, where he began to suckle on.

You threw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fell from your lips.

You couldn't help yourself, especially when Zoro began to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process.

Then he switched, giving your other breast the same treatment.

Your hands found his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the green strands.

You were ruining its somewhat even style, but he didn't seem to care.

He was more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice choked on a broken moan.

You couldn't take it.

All of this was going straight to your core, which was now throbbing and begging for attention between your thighs. 

"Please, Zo'..." you whined, gripping his hair. "I need you to touch me."

With a cocky smile, the man nodded, slowly leaning forward to lay you down in the sand.

Your eyes flitted up to the torch lit beach across the water, realizing any eagle-eyed person could come out and see you naked.

"Wait... what if someone sees us?" you asked, uncharacteristically timid.

A devious smirk rose to his lips, and he pressed a reassuring kiss on your lips.

"Let 'em... They'll be in for a show."

Gently, he pried your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet core.

You watched his face change from playful to downright feral as he stared at your cunt.

You flushed at his expression.

'Gods, give me strength...'

"Zoro, I'm serious—"

He shushed you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs.

"No more talkin', pretty," he growled against them. "All I wanna hear is my name on your lips."

He continued to pepper you thighs in kisses while his hands pinned your legs apart, his hold on you firm.

He didn't want you hiding from him.

And it felt good.

You didn't stop him when he dove right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he was making out with them.

It had been so long since the two of you'd gotten intimate like this, you nearly forgot the way the man worked his mouth.

Especially when he started to flick his tongue against your clit.

His tongue swirled around it and flicked it gently based on your responses.

And shit, you were responding well.

Your body couldn't help but react pleasantly to the sensations—your toes curling; your back arching; your eyes fluttering shut; your mouth falling open into an O as moans and gasps fell from your lips.

Zoro was not only good with his tongue, but good with his hands.

He reached up and played with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues.

"H-Harder, please!" you begged, to which he pinched the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the burst of pain making you gush all over his lips.

"Fuck, Zo'," you moaned. "That feels so good..."

Zoro hummed approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably.

"Keep feelin' good for me, pretty," he said between the wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. "Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head f'me."

Before you could even say anything, he was already tugging you closer by your ankle, earning a squeal from you.

He stood on his knees for a moment, taking you in.

His lust-blown eyes trailed up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you.

Then he inhaled deeply, as if struggling to process the sight in front of him.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' gorgeous," he huskily said.

You had no idea what to say to that.

All you could do was shyly smile up at him as he stared down at you, both of you enchanted with each other.

Then he was ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head.

This gave him better access to your pussy so he could easily tongue-fuck you.

As soon as you felt the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit you were in heaven.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your hands found his hair, gripping the blonde strands as your hips began to grind shamelessly into his face.

"Mmm-hmmm," he hummed approvingly, keeping up the pace.

He didn't pause or slow down.

He continued to work your pussy just how you wanted, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above.

It didn't take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you.

You couldn't help it.

His tongue just felt too good.

Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risque position turned you on more than you'd like to admit.

Zoro must've realized you were close because his jaw started to move fast, accompanying his tongue-fucking with porn-worthy grunts of his own that nearly threw you over the edge.

"Fuck, Zoro!" you whined. "M'gonna come!"

Eagerly, he hummed into your pussy, pulling his tongue out of your hole and proceeding to suck on your clit while his finger began to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides.

But it was enough to push you further and further down that road to releasing all over him.

His darkened eyes flicked up to yours, staring you down between your thighs.

"Come for me," he demanded. "Come for me, baby. Don't fuckin' hold back."

He grinned up at you, his eyes glistening in the moonlight.

He attached his mouth to your pussy again, and ran it until you couldn't help but fall over the edge.

"Come for me," he groaned into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reached higher pitches. "Come for me. Come for me. Come for me."

And you finally did.

That tight knot in your core finally snapped and a wave of euphoria washed over you as you came all over Zoro's face and eager lips with a loud moan.

You saw the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushed, your body shivering and shuddering.

Your back arched and your hips widened into Zoro's face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally faded, you were left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so good.

Zoro lazily cleaned you up, taking care to not overstimulate you as he ran his tongue over your sensitive, twitching core.

Then he lifted his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices.

With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hummed to himself.

"You taste better than the rum."

[geekgirles]

Yugo's Audience with Armand: Moving Past Previous Mistakes

If you think about it, after his sacrifice and his reconciliation with Amalia, his audience with Yugo is the scene that best highlights Armand's character development throughout the season, dare I say, the show. With it, we finally come full circle.

We were first introduced to Armand as he refused to let Joris anywhere near his father, even at the behest of the King of Bonta.

Up until that point, all we knew about him was from Amalia and Eva's retellings, where he was painted as often arguing with his sister, being an extremely difficult person to deal with, and having bad breath. And then we finally meet him and...

Everything they said about him turned out to be nothing but the truth.

But we don't really see the full extent of it until Amalia and Evangelyne pleaded their case regarding Nox to him, when he stubbornly refused to believe his sister, instead assuming her imagination had just gone wild. He didn't even rethink his assessment even when Eva backed Amalia up, which would have still been harsh of him to do—to believe his sister's bodyguard over her just because he has a crush on her—, but it still would have made sense, as Eva is very level-headed and she never would have even entertained the thought of allowing Amalia to joke over something so serious.

That already established Armand as an arrogant and self-righteous prince who believes he is in the right just because of his position as heir apparent and older brother.

We must also keep in mind he actually had ample reason to believe Amalia about Nox's plans. While it's hard to tell the extent of his actions and the repercussions they had on the World of Twelve and his victims before the beginning of the show, the fact remains that Nox had been at large for 200 years. In that time, he probably ravaged countless villages and killed powerful creatures in order to drain their Wakfu. Surely, word must have at least got out about some mad Xelor going around and killing people!

In other words, it wasn't necessarily like Armand didn't have proof that Amalia was telling the truth. At the very least, he must have heard some rumours. And yet, that wasn't enough for him to believe his sister and act accordingly.

Not to mention, Amalia had ran away yet came back to warn her people of the upcoming threat. Yet Armand still thought she was making stuff up. Who in their right mind would leave their home only to come back to put everyone on edge over a lie?

One thing is acting spoiled from time to time, and another very different thing is acting sociopathic!

Now, let's compare this to his audience with Yugo when he sought his permission to investigate Sadida ground.

During the time between season 2 and the OVAs, Armand seemed to have developed a deep-seated mistrust of the Eliatropes, most likely caused by Qilby's deceit, and it was only exacerbated when the Eliatrope Goddess introduced herself and made her intentions of controlling the World of Twelve in order to make it safe for her children clear.

It's also worth pointing out that not even Yugo was safe from his scorn, despite being a staunch ally to the Sheran Sharms, and saving his kingdom and the world in several occasions. This I attribute both to the fact that Amalia's feelings for him got in the way of marrying her off (thankfully, he seemed to move on from that mindset in season 4, though he still didn't necessarily approve of Yugo), and the fact that King Oakheart was always so welcoming and trusting of him. Knowing Armand, it really wouldn't be far-fetched to believe he was jealous of Yugo's own relationship with his father.

And yet, when the time came for Yugo to request his help and ask him to place his trust on him, Armand agreed.

This is especially telling of his character development because, unlike in Amalia's case, Armand did have ample reason to distrust the Eliatropes.

It's true, except for Qilby and arguably their goddess, the Eliatropes are a peaceful race, but the Twelvians' experiences with the former two at least justify their unease around them.

Both of them display an alarming lack of empathy towards anyone but themselves or their people. After all, Qilby is responsible for the genocide of the Eliatropes, and all because he was bored and searched stimulation elsewhere because of his divine gift. But at the same time, while he couldn't care less for the World of Twelve and planned to have Rushu and his subjects destroy it right before draining it dry of all Wakfu just to fuel the Zenit, he was equally adamant to have his family and the Eliatrope children with him as he travelled the Krosmoz.

The Eliatrope Goddess, on the other hand, might not have been as outwardly callous as her son, nor capable of even going through with her threats and putting the world leaders in their place, but she is equally uncaring towards anyone who isn't one of her children.

In fact, that was the very reason why she made an enemy out of the Twelvian leaders and they came to resent her presence. Because she chose to override their authority and keep them all under her watch (which, until she revealed herself, had the Twelvians terrorised). But the last nail on the coffin was when she revealed that all that, the Eliaculus, sending the Eliatrope guard to help whenever there was trouble, everything, was solely to ensure her children's safety.

Like mother, like son. Am I right?

Even without saying anything, she made it clear that she cared not for the Twelvians and that the Eliatropes were her priority. And that's without getting into her manic insistence they left the World of Twelve to rot the moment the Nécromes arrived.

Now, there's no denying that most leaders with any significant focus have been revealed to be jerks one way or another (looking at you, Queen Astra, Prince of Brakmar, and the entire Osamodas royal family), but they do have a right to be worried when Eliatrope didn't even bother to hide how, in her eyes, they're second class citizens compared to her own followers.

These first impressions really didn't give much reason for Armand to believe Yugo and to listen to his pleas. However, the most damning evidence of all had to be the fact that the Nécromes appeared with the arrival of the Eliatropes. Between the suspicious timing and the fact that the portal-making race had dealt with traitors before, it sounded very unlikely that both things wouldn't be connected.

And Armand knew this. He was perfectly aware of how suspicious everything was, and he didn't hesitate to let Yugo know. However, he also admitted, several times, in fact, that Yugo had been an ally to the Sadida Kingdom since the beginning. That if both his father and his sister never hesitated to put as much faith and trust in him as they did, then it would only be wise he chose to trust Yugo as well.

A clear contrast to how he refused to listen to Amalia, his own sister, back in season 1, and all because he believed to be always in the right.

Season 4 was Armand's chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the audience, to go from an arrogant, jealous prince to a mature and wise king and brother. And while there are things I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for, I do appreciate the character development he went through. As I said at the beginning of the analysis, this scene proves he's come full circle.

[purifiedclitoris69]

Breaking point

a/n: Finally got to the nat version of silent comfort. It’s a little short tbh so sorry about that. hope you enjoy!

pairings: Natasha Romanoff x supersoldier reader

warnings: violence

You’d been with the Avengers for almost a year now, and in that time, you’d managed to carve out a space for yourself on the team. Sure, being the former Hydra experiment wasn’t exactly the most inviting introduction, but you didn’t let that define you. It wasn’t who you were anymore. You were the team’s go-to for a laugh, always cracking jokes, lightening the mood, and making it easier for everyone to handle the high-stakes pressure of their lives. What you didn’t talk about, though, was your past. Not because anyone had told you not to, but because you didn’t want to relive it.

Especially not now, when things were starting to feel... normal.

Normal was spending late nights on the couch with Natasha, arguing over which movie to watch but never finishing them because you’d get caught up in teasing each other. Normal was training together and catching her smiling at you when she thought you weren’t looking. Normal was her throwing playful jabs about how you talked too much, only to call you out on being unusually quiet when something was bothering you.

You weren’t sure when things had shifted, but somewhere along the way, the time you spent with her had become the highlight of your day. And judging by the way she always seemed to find excuses to stay close, you thought maybe—just maybe—she felt the same way.

Neither of you had said anything yet, though. It was comfortable, whatever this was, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

--------------------------------------------------------

The quinjet hummed softly as the team prepared for the mission. Hydra remnants were regrouping, and the team had been sent to intercept a high-level target.

You were double-checking your gear when Natasha sauntered over, a sly smile already playing on her lips.

"You know," she said, leaning casually against the wall beside you, "I’ve noticed you spend an awful lot of time fussing over that utility belt. Got a secret stash of candy in there or something?"

You snorted, pulling a strap tighter. "Jealous I don’t share my snacks with you, Romanoff?"

"Please," she shot back, tilting her head. "If I wanted candy, I’d just take it," she shrugged her shoulders, "I always get what I want."

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try."

She stepped closer, her green eyes glinting with mischief. "Careful, or I might have to prove it."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You’re all talk."

"Am I?" She reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of your belt, and for a split second, your heart skipped a beat. But instead of taking anything, she smirked and stepped back, clearly enjoying the way you were watching her.

"Tease," you muttered, pretending to focus on your gear again.

"You make it too easy," she quipped, crossing her arms.

Before you could come up with a comeback, Steve’s voice cut through the moment. "Gear up. We’re heading out in five."

Natasha straightened but didn’t move immediately. Instead, she leaned in just enough for only you to hear. "Try to keep up out there, rookie."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. "Try not to get distracted, Romanoff."

She laughed softly as she walked away, the sound lingering in the air long after she was gone.

--------------------------------------------------------

Though successful the mission had been thoroughly chaotic, to say the least. Things had been going smoothly until Natasha went off-script.

You hadn’t even known what was happening at first. One second, you were covering her six, and the next, she was gone, chasing intel Fury and Maria Hill had deemed critical. It left you in a tight spot, trying to hold your ground without her, and you’d taken a few hits you shouldn’t have.

By the time the mission wrapped, you were sore, bruised, and too exhausted to joke around like you usually would. The tension on the jet ride back to the compound was thick, everyone keenly aware that Steve was seething.

The hanger was suffocatingly tense as the quinjet’s ramp descended with a mechanical hiss, and everyone piled out, the weight of the mission hanging heavily in the air. Conversations were sparse—exhaustion mingled with the unspoken tension. You were still catching your breath, the fight replaying in your mind, when Steve’s voice broke the silence.

“Romanoff, we need to talk.”

You glanced at Natasha, who was walking beside you. Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t stop, striding toward the hangar floor like she hadn’t heard him.

“Natasha.” Steve’s voice carried more force this time.

She stopped, turning around slowly, her face calm but her eyes sharp. “What?”

Steve’s expression was stony as he marched toward her. “What the hell was that back there?”

“The part where we got the job done?” Natasha shot back, her voice icy.

“The part where you ignored orders and jeopardized the team,” he countered, standing toe-to-toe with her now.

You stepped closer instinctively, but for now, you stayed silent, your fists clenching at your sides.

“I didn’t jeopardize anyone,” Natasha said, crossing her arms. “I prioritized the bigger picture. Fury and Maria needed that intel, and I got it.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Fury and Hill aren’t the ones in the field. We are. And when you decide their priorities are more important than this team, you’re not just making a bad call—you’re making a selfish one.”

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t look away. “I made a call that benefited everyone in the long run. You might not like it, but it worked.”

“Did it?” Steve snapped, gesturing toward you. “Because they almost didn’t make it out thanks to you.”

Your chest tightened as his words hit. “That’s not fair, Steve,” you said, stepping in now.

He turned on you, his voice rising. “It is fair. You wouldn’t have been in that position if she hadn’t dragged you into her little side mission.”

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice low.

But Steve ignored you, his focus still on Natasha. “You know, it’s always the same with you. You play both sides, keep everyone guessing. It worked for you in the Red Room, maybe even with S.H.I.E.L.D., but here? That doesn’t fly. We’re supposed to be a team, but you’re still looking out for yourself first.”

The mention of the Red Room made your blood run cold. You saw the flicker of something in Natasha’s expression—a crack in her armor.

“Watch your mouth,” you said, stepping in front of her now, your voice dangerously calm, as you met Captain America eye level.

Steve’s gaze snapped to you, his frustration redirected. “Stay out of this.”

“No,” you said firmly. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

“Or what?” Steve challenged, jaw tightened, his temper bubbling over as took a step closer, eyes blazing with anger.

The moment he moved, you acted. Your hand shot out, gripping his wrist and twisting with precision. With a sharp pivot of your hips, you flipped him over your shoulder. The impact reverberated through the hangar as Steve crashed into a nearby crate, shattering it into splinters.

The hangar went silent, the sound of the crash echoing in the vast space.

Steve was already scrambling to his feet, his eyes blazing with disbelief and fury. Bucky intercepted him, gripping his shoulder and holding him back

“Steve, don’t,” Bucky said, his voice firm but calm.

Natasha was in front of you before you could react, her hands pressing against your chest as she pushed you back. “Enough,” she said, her voice low but forceful.

You froze, the reality of what you’d just done hitting you like a freight train.

You glanced around the hangar, catching the wide-eyed stares of your teammates. The expressions on their faces weren’t just shocked—they were scared. Of you.

Your gaze landed on Natasha last. Her green eyes were glassy, her brows furrowed with confusion and something that looked too much like hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice barely audible. Then you turned and walked away, your boots echoing in the silence of the hangar as you disappeared into the compound.

--------------------------------------------------------

The rooftop felt like the only place you could breathe. The cool night air bit at your skin as you sat on the ledge, your hands gripping the metal railing.

What the hell had you done? You’d spent so long trying to prove you weren’t the weapon Hydra made you, but one moment of anger had torn that facade apart.

“Hell of a move back there.”

You didn’t have to look to know it was Natasha. Her voice was light, but there was an edge of something else—concern, maybe.

“Didn’t mean to wreck the crate,” you muttered, still staring out at the city lights.

She walked over, her steps soft, and leaned against the railing beside you. “The crate’s fine. Steve, on the other hand…”

You huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, bet he’s thrilled.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just studied you with that piercing gaze of hers. “Why’d you do it? he was right, I left you out there."

You sighed, finally meeting her eyes. "I would've been fine Tasha, and I know you know that," you looked down to your lap, "besides I couldn’t stand the way he was talking to you. Like you haven’t done more for this team than anyone.”Her expression softened, and for a moment, the world felt a little less heavy. “I don’t care about your past, Nat,” you said quietly. “And I’ll be damned if I let anyone throw it in your face.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile as she reached out, her hand brushing yours. “You’re not who they made you either, you know.”

You looked at her, and for the first time all day, you felt like maybe you hadn’t completely lost yourself.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t have to fight for me," her gaze dropping to your lips as you both began to lean in, " but thank you for doing it anyway," her breath fanned across you. Before you could reply, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was well over do. Her lips were soft against yours, warm and grouding in a way that made everything fade away.

When she pulled back, she smiled—a real, genuine smile. “Now let’s go figure out how to apologize to Steve.”

You groaned, but for the first time that night, you felt like everything might just be okay.

[pyjamaart]

Every time someone complains about Fully Charged Airmans design, my love for him grows even stronger.

I feel like most people are mad that he isn't blue. Like back in 2014 when people complained that Sonics arms were blue in Sonic Boom. But I honestly don't think it's that big of a deal.

But if you see Fully Charged as an alternate universe to the classic series (which it is), then I don't really get why you'd have to complain about Airman not being blue. I think it's good they tried something fresh with the robot masters. They didn't have that much personality in the classic series, to be honest, compared to Fully Charged. I just think he needed a little more screen time to focus on his character. Just like many other robot masters on this show.

Okay, I have to admit, I did change around his colors a bit for a joke that would have gone along the lines of "Just hire fans, lol", but it actually ended up looking pretty cool, so I can't really make that joke anymore……. Really shot myself in the foot with that one. Anyway, here's blue Airman:

I still think that an episode featuring an air race would have been really really cool. They could have introduced a robot master like Gyroman as his rival. Maybe losing that race could have been the start of his character arc where he finally confronts his inferiority/superiority complex. Along the lines of "Flying is all I have left! If I can't have that, what else am I supposed to do?" Well, now that we're already in headcanon territory, I might as well tell you about all my other ones involving Airman. I believe his family is suuuuper rich. All his siblings have well respected careers and probably make his parents buckets of money. Meanwhile Airman is like the youngest sibling who dreamed of becoming a professional racer, which his parents didn't support at all. Kinda reminds me of another robot master under Lord Obsidians command whose dreams were crushed by his parents......

And as we've seen in that one episode, Airmans siblings are assholes. They just pretend he doesn't exist, like he never belonged to their family at all. Like they're ashamed that he's such a failure.

Oh damn that got dark again, sorry. But just like Drillman, he gets better in the end. While Drillman gets Woodman to look out for him, I've had the headcanon for a while that Airman gets taken in by Blastowoman, since she's also a flying robot master like him. Maybe she even gets him a job as a cargo bot alongside herself. I feel like he really needs someone supportive who's not afraid to call him out on his bullshit in his life. And because I have another headcanon that Blastowoman actually has an adult child (Blastman, lol), she's like the perfect woman for the job. ;)

Coming back to Airmans design, I did change some things about it for this particular piece of fan art. When I was trying to come up with an awesome pose to draw him in, the first thought I had was "Damn, I gotta give this man some heels." And that's exactly what I drew.

Sorry for not posting anything for 2 months btw. I got addicted to Metaphor ReFantazio ;) If that doesn't become game of the year, I'm gonna be real mad.

Jenny out.

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 1)

Contains: mean Daemon, mentions of words like slut and whore

Wordcount: ~3.54k

Masterlist of this story

114 AC (Maera is 17 years old)

Maera nervously bit at her thumb.

It was a good kind of nervous though. Not the kind when she attended a feast and some lord wanted to dance with her and she feared to stumble over her own feet. It was the happy kind. The kind when she couldn't wait for something to happen.

The sky was bluer than it had been for a long time and perhaps it was a sign from the gods. Maera's eyes were darting over the sky searching for the little dot that she had been forced to watch leave three years ago and now finally, after all this time she knew that she got to see it again.

During the past years she sometimes had found herself looking up at the sky in hopes that the dot would magically appear again. That Daemon would surprise the whole court and King's Landing with his sudden arrival on Caraxes but it hadn't happened. Three years weren't a particulary long time but for a litte girl it was the world.

Maera clearly remembered what it had been like after her uncle had left. She had fallen into a hole, some sort of numb and grey state where she just wouldn't smile or dance or sing or even eat. Nothing seemed exciting anymore with Daemon gone and Maera spent hours just staring at her ceiling while trying to find a purpose in anything she did.

Without her uncle her life had become boring and dreary and her father and also the other members of the small council had felt concerned because the previously joyful and lively princess had grown into a quiet and cold girl. Over time in the loneliness of her chambers a deep fury shooting at Daemon and her father had grown.

Obviously Maera knew that her uncle hadn't had a chance when he was sent away to fight at the stepstones and yet she felt neglected and hurt. How could he just leave her? How couldn't he sense how bad she was feeling and didn't come to get her? And she didn't even want to start with her father. The king had taken from her what was most precious to her and she was determined to let him feel how much it bothered her. She only gave him short answers, angrily flashed her eyes at him every time he wanted to tell her what to do and disobeyed him at any given chance. Maera had become bitter and sour and indifferent to what happened around her.

And yet right now was the first time in months that she felt a warmth inside of her belly because Daemon would come back today. She knew that things wouldn't be the same. Their distance over the last years led to several changes in Maera's feelings towards Daemon. She knew that she couldn't hide her hurt even once he was back and his absence had also given the girl a lot of time to think about their relationship and over time Maera had started to feel that her love for him had developed into a plain uncle-niece relationship. It was like a candle.

During her childhood Daemon had lit this candle and made it burn for him. Then he had left so that candle had gone out which had left Maera in coldness and darkness. And so while the candle was still beautiful to look at it simply wasn't the same and never would be. Maera appreciated the candle for what it was but nothing more.

And yet she of course couldn't wait to see her uncle again after these three painful years. It was only noon and Lord Envor had predicted his arrival for the late afternoon but Maera was already at the dragonpit and desperately searched the sky. She had to wait for another 2 hours until there was finally a dark spot in the sky. By now her thumb was bloody from all the nibbling but Maera couldn't care less. She just felt her heart beating fast and relentlessly bit her lip and then Caraxes became bigger and bigger before her eyes.

It was no surprise that she was the only person here to welcome him back because though his long absence most people in court still either feared or dispised the rogue prince. Maera couldn't hide a smile now because Caraxes had landed and she could spot the familiar armour and helmet with his silver hair blown in the wind.

"Uncle.", she shouted though not sure if he could hear her from that far away.

But it didn't matter anyway because he had spotted her and climbed off his dragon with a wide smile as well. He removed his helmet and Maera was already on her way to run towards him. It was overwhelming, surreal to see him again now because the girl had dreamed of a situation like this a million times during the past years and now it actually happened. It was difficult to process but right now Maera tried to stay in the moment and savour it.

She ran towards him and then jumped in his arms. Daemon chuckled quietly against her hair while wrapping his arms around her back so she wouldn't fall down. For a moment Maera was too emotional and overwhelmed to say anything to him so they stood like that in silence until she felt him caress her hair which brought her back to reality in some way.

"I'm soooo glad, uncle.", she said, or better nearly whispered and her words were additionally muffled by his shoulder and yet he understood them.

"Me too, little girl, me too. We haven't seen each other in quite a while, have we?"

Maera shook her head and then pulled away to look at Daemon. His hair was a little shorter now but aside from that he pretty much looked the same. Dirt was covering his armor and a bit of his skin as well but it was nothing a good and long bath couldn't fix. A wave of happiness flooded Maera's system all of a sudden and she tightly held him which her uncle noticed.

"Really? You missed your favourite uncle that much? You're probably the only one who's happy to see me, love."

She grinned and then grabbed his arm.

"Let's go inside. Father probably wants to see you."

"Does he though?", Daemon asked with one of his eyebrows lifted but Maera determindely nodded.

"Of course. You have to tell us all about your time at the stepstones. Father told me how bravely you fought."

~~~~~~~~~~

Maera, Daemon, Aegon and Viserys spent the afternoon lazily eating and drinking in the gardens. Daemon told them about his past three years and though there was a tension between him and his brother in the beginning, soon it felt a lot like many years ago. And yet Maera could feel that something had shifted between her and her uncle. She still admired Daemon of course but when she was younger she perhaps had been in love with him a little, a feeling that had vanished over the time.

They had a great time though and Maera hadn't smiled that much in months. Even Viserys seemed relaxed and so the afternoon tea turned into supper and then the sun had set and Maera couldn't help but yawn open-mouthed.

"Niece.", Daemon warned her and she closed her mouth at once.

"Forgive me.", she said and her uncle nodded approvingly.

"But I'm really tired and I think I would like to go to bed.", Maera then spoke.

Viserys nodded and so the girl stood up to leave the table with her brother Aegon. Once they were gone Daemon sighed and leaned back in his chair his legs crossed. His brother relaxed as well and waited for Daemon to say something but he didn't so Viserys started.

"Well… I'm glad you're safely back. Because though I know you don't believe me when I say this, I didn't exile you because I wanted you gone forever."

He wanted to get a reaction from his brother, see where they were standing but once again Daemon didn't do him the favor. He didn't even look at his brother and had his eyes fixed on a tree while having his arms crossed in front of him.

"Daemon.", Viserys tried again but he just chuckled and then finally turned to lay his eyes on the king.

"I wish to wed Maera."

Viserys' jaw dropped and he laughed in disbelief. "What?"

"I want her as my wife. She is of age now, I'm back from my exile and we can keep the blood line pure."

Viserys shook his head and still seemed like he couldn't believe his words.

"What? You can't be serious. No, of course you will not."

Daemon looked cold in his expression, like he didn't care about the refusal. "Why not? It would be in tradition of our house."

"You… No! I don't have to explain myself. You wouldn't be good for her. It's that easy."

It scared Viserys in some way how Daemon didn't even look angry or disappointed but smugly smirked to himself. It made his words, the words of the king seem less powerful.

"How… I mean why are you even suggesting this out of the blue? You haven't seen her in years and now you come back with the desire to wed her?"

Daemon rolled his eyes. "As I said. She's of age now.", he hissed.

Viserys shook his head and turned his head away. How could he think he would agree to that? There had been a reason why Viserys had sent his brother away and he was pretty sure that Daemon knew it as well. He hadn't been blind to the bond between his brother and Maera when they were younger and he had watched it with fear.

In the beginning Viserys had been relieved that his daughter had found a person she trusted and a companion in his brother but soon he was rather worried. Because he knew his brother so well and he knew what a violant and dangerous person Daemon could be. Him so near to his only daughter…? And her having such an affection for her uncle? They had spent almost every second together and so Viserys had found that he didn't have a choice but to separate them. He hadn't even been sure what he feared would happen but he didn't want to find out either. And now this. Of course he couldn't allow it.

While still looking away Viserys heard his brother get up from his chair and move away from him. Only when his back faced him did the king glance at him and watched him leave the gardens like a shadow flitting away into the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~

Viserys nervously tapped with his finger on the table in front of him.

He hummed to himself, chewed on his buttom lip while waiting for his daughter. He had sent Ser Tommen 15 minutes ago and yet there was no sign of Maera. Viserys just hoped that she wasn't with Daemon.

Then finally the door sprang open and Ser Tommen bowed his head while Maera walked into the room with a curious look on her face.

"Father. You want to speak with me?"

The king nodded and gestured her to sit down next to him which she gladly did.

"Where have you been? Ser Tommen seemed to have searched for you for quite some time."

His daughter smiled softly. "I went to fly with uncle. You know I haven't seen Caraxes in so long as well so… We were very careful, I promise!"

Viserys nodded graciously but felt an uneasiness inside of him. It was as he had feared but he had planned to put an end to this at once.

"Yes. Fine. This is not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Maera adjusted in her chair and thoughtfully bit her lip. "What is it?"

Her father cleared his throat and just hoped that Maera would react to this with reason and not let herself get swapped away with emotion.

"You're 17 now and you know that we have spoken about marriage already." Maera watched him with small eyes, sensing in what direction this was heading.

"I want you to marry Lord Brandeth Lannister."

Her eyes fluttered. "What?"

"He is a fine match and he has already expressed his desire to take you to wife."

Maera's face was drawn with desperation. "No father, please. Please, not him. He is way too old, please."

As much as it hurt the king to see his daughter begging him like that, he had to remain hard now, for her own sake.

"I'm sure you will get along well. Give him a chance, Maera. He has proven himself loyal to the crown and to our family and I know he will treat you nicely."

But Maera seemed shocked, completely swamped with her father's choice of her betrothed and stammered her next words.

"B-But… n-no. I don't want t-to."

She was close to tears now and Viserys exhaled feeling like this wasn't the way he had planned things at all.

"My dear. Think about it please. I'm sure over time you will be able to accept and appreciate this union."

"I don't have a choice anyway.", Maera pressed and turned her head away so her father couldn't see the tears running down her face.

"But if you are willing to be unbiased you might…"

He was cut off by his daughter who abruptly got off her chair and flashed her eyes at him.

"I won't forgive you this.", Maera hissed and each of these syllables broke Viserys' heart.

"Maera please.", he breathed but she was already halfway out the door and didn't hear it.

Maera almost ran into Daemon once she turned around a corner. Her plan was to directly head to her rooms and preferably lock herself inside for the rest of her life but now that Daemon blocked the corridor she had no choice but to glare at him and tried her best to hide her fury. But of course her uncle knew her too well to overlook it.

"Niece. You look upset."

She blinked a few times and rubbed over her eyes and then gulped loudly.

"What is it, sweetling?", Daemon asked softly and Maera exhaled in an attempt to calm her temper. 'Who cared?', she thought. He would find out anyway.

"My father. He… He just told me he intends to marry me to Brandeth Lannister."

Her voice has gotten more quiet with these words and the last word was barely audible and yet Daemon had understood.

"Oh.", he made with lifted eyebrows. "That's unfortunate."

She nodded and new tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. "I don't want to marry him, I don't want to get to know him, I just…. I just want to do what I want."

Her uncle sighed deeply and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"And what is it you want, Maera?"

She hesitated. Was it clever to tell Daemon what dominated, controlled her mind at the moment? What influenced her every decision? He sensed her uncertainty and a gentle smile built on his lips.

"Why do you despise this union so much, little one?"

Maera's eyes scampered over his face as though she tried to find out whether Daemon would support her after she made her confession or look down at her. But she couldn't find anything so she anxiously scratched at her wrists and dropped her gaze.

"I-I… I don't want to marry him…. Because there is someone else I would like to marry."

A wide smirk formed on Daemon's face and he came a little closer. His finger lifted her chin so she had to look at her uncle.

"And who's that, mhm?"

Once again she hesitated and awaited if someone else would magically appear and answer this question for her but the gods were cruel and left her alone in this horrible situation.

"I wish to wed Ser Harwin Strong.", Maera whispered and the finger below her chin dropped at once.

"What?", Daemon fizzled and now her eyes searched for his by herself. "You wish to wed this idiotic cunt?"

The girl fearfully took a step back because she hadn't expected this kind of reaction from him. She had expected him to either advise her not to fight her father's choice and accept the match or support her in her desire. But not that he would insult Ser Harwin.

Ser Harwin… What a man he truly was. He had been by Maera's side for quite some time now and ever since Daemon had left for the stepstones the two of them had gotten to know each other better. That had been perhaps the only good thing that had happened during these three years. Ser Harwin had accompaigned her while she was out hunting, had guarded her door and had turned a blind eye when Maera had sneaked into her chambers late at night because she had forgotten the time while reading an ancient book in the library.

They had started to speak more frequently and then things developped into a friendship and a few months later Maera had understood that she fancied the young knight. He was gorgeous with long and thick brown hair, had a gentle and wide smile and was tall and strong like a real warrior. And the most important thing was, he understood her in ways that no one else was capable of. Long before Maera had thought that Daemon was the only one who could but after he had left she had yearned for that very thing again and had found it in Harwin.

She knew that it was foolish to think that she could actually marry him just like that. He was still a knight of the king's guard, sworn to protect her and her family but… Maera couldn't help but dream sometimes about what it would be like to wed him. And she had thought that from all people her beloved uncle would be able to at least understand her to some extent. Hadn't he been the one who was also a victim of her father's ongoing lectures about tradition and courtesy? She had thought that Daemon didn't give a damn about customs as well. Maera now stared at him with big eyes.

"Y-Yes. I… We get along very well."

Daemon scoffed. "The gods save you and your bad taste."

Her eyes glistened because why did he act that way? Why was he mocking her? Maera felt an anger growing inside of her and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Why are you speaking that way? Ser Harwin is a fine and honourable man who lives up to his duties and protects my father."

"An honourable man?", Daemon asked with lifted eyebrows, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You contradict yourself, little one. I don't think it's honourable to give up your vows to be intimate with the king's maiden daughter. But I may be wrong. What do I know about honour, after all?"

Her jaw dropped and her cheeks reddened with shame.

"H-He hasn't been intimate with me, uncle. I swear it to you. We've only talked and… and laughed together but n-never in my life would I… I would never let a man d-do… this with me b-before we get married."

Daemon chuckled quietly but it sounded evil and mean.

"I don't believe you. I only had to take a look at the two of you all comfortably talking in the yard today in the morrow. His eyes. He looked at you the way someone looks at a girl who has spread her legs for him."

Maera brought her hand over her mouth and tears welled in her eyes.

"How can you say something like that, uncle?"

But Daemon still wasn't done and observed his niece angrily. "I think you're a little whore. Who couldn't satisfy her profane desires and has let someone sully her before her wedding. Do you think some noble lord would marry someone like that?"

Maera was crying now and was in disbelief over her uncle's words.

"He didn't touch me, uncle, I swear it! Please, you have to believe me." She had her eyes widened and felt panick controlling her thoughts.

"I'd never – You know that I would never…"

But Daemon scoffed and ignored how desperate his niece felt. Instead his face tensed and Daemon grinded his teeth.

"You should feel ashamed of yourself. It's not fit for a young lady to throw herself at an anoited knight of the king's guard. Have I not taught you anything?"

Maera sobbed and grabbed her uncle's arm in an attempt to show him that she was telling the truth.

"Please uncle. Please, it wasn't like that. I only wanted to… He is a good friend."

But Daemon didn't pay any attention to her pleas and removed her hand from his arm.

"Shut up. You're a slut and I do hope you're going to reflect your disgusting behaviour."

With these words the rogue prince angrily flashed his eyes at her one last time and then turned around to leave a crying girl behind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss

[underatreedrinkingtea]

Something Golden, Something Glistening

Chapter Summary: Lucanis, Rook and Spite spends some time together in the quite, early morning. There is some light flirting and teasing involved. Rook/Lucanis/Spite

Hello again! I enjoyed writing these idiots so much and think I will add more chapters to this. Might just be small snippets in their down time when they are not running around saving the world. Im not quite confident enough writing fight scenes and following the main story and what not. We shall see what direction this takes! Again, english is not my first language so if you see any mistakes I will do my best to correct them. Enjoy! Added a picture of my Rook if you wanted to know how I visualise her.

Chapter 2

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is that he feels...well rested. His mind is clear, sharp. Then suddenly sits up and panics, how long has he been asleep? Did Spite try anything while he was out? Did he hurt anybody?

“Mmh. Why would I? I can behave!” Spite appears before him and smirks. Lucanis regards him for a second, he sounds sincere, at least as sincere a demon can be. But Lucanis does not trust him, he knows Spite. And Spite has never given him a break before so why is this time any different. He always makes Lucanis' life more difficult in some way when he falls asleep.

“Spite, you always misbehave. Tell me what you did. How long were you up causing trouble last night?” Lucanis asks. The demon gives him a long look, and seems to think before he answers.

“Sleep well?” He asks with a small knowing smile. Like he is in on some kind of joke. Lucanis shakes his head and begins to demand an answer from Spite when he hears the kitchens open. Somebody is here for breakfast then. He needs coffee before he can handle Spite in a productive way anyhow. Lucanis begins to move towards the door when Spite suddenly inhales and exclaims;

“Smells like vanilla, old books and candles. Rook!” He sounds way too excited and Lucanis doesn’t like it one bit. ‘Mierda.’ He still wants that coffee. 

When he enters the kitchen and makes his way to the small kitchenette with the coffee pot and cups Rook is already there, making herself something to drink. When she hears him entering she turns around to greet him with a big smile. There’s several books on the table along with some paper and ink, no doubt belonging to Rook.

“Good morning, Lucanis! I see you slept in today, good for you.” She says in a cheerful manner. His eyes widened, oh did he really sleep that long? ‘Damn’ Rook sees his panicked expression and gives a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. 

“I’m only joking Lucanis. Don’t worry, it's still very early. We are the only ones awake actually. You are way too easy of a target not to.” Rook is smiling even bigger now, cloudy eyes radiant. And he is a fool

“Hah! Rook is fun! Lucanis. Believes. Anything. Rook tells him!” Spite is having way too much fun and he is sick of it. He does not feel well rested anymore. ‘Damned demon.’ Lucanis looks his way and gives him a hard stare and thinks ‘Spite, enough. Let me have some peace and quiet.’

‘Will you. Beg?’ Spite now wears a wicked grin on his face. If it was possible to somehow punch a demon, he would find a way. Spite’s grin grows and begins to make gestures as if he got hit.

“Spite please. It’s not nice to tease before a man has had at least 2 cups of coffee!” Rook looks between the two now, and compared to Spite, a soft welcome expression on her face. “And one needs a full stomach to handle..your bite.” She teases back with a sparkle in her eyes.

Spite drops his smirk and looks to Rook. One could say he almost looked like a disciplined pet. Shocked, Spite is shocked and doesn’t know what to answer. 

“But!” He looks to Lucanis and then back at Rook “You just did! Ugh, you tease him!” Spite lets out a frustrated huff. She gives him a pointed look and after a moment he is gone. Lucanis feels a tight knot in his stomach, hot and flustered. No doubt this is Spite, and tries to shake it off. This just leaves the two of them.‘Right, Rook can hear and see him." Lucanis thinks and clears his throat.

“I’m sorry about him. He is…extra annoying this morning.” Lucanis scratches his neck and looks down. 

“Oh no, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have encouraged him by teasing you…I.”

“I’m s-“ she starts off. 

“No it’s-“ he exclaims at the same time.

Rook lets out a quick laugh and clears her throat. “How about that breakfast now hmm?” She leans closer, smiling up at him. 

“Yes, let me get it started.” Lucanis turns quickly and begins to prepare for the meal. He needs something to do with his hands and get out of this awkward situation as soon as possible. Lucanis makes his way to the pantry to get eggs, bacon, bread and fresh fruit. He spares a quick look in Rook’s direction and her expression is..unsure and one of disappointment. She’s fidgeting with her books, looking for something to occupy herself with

‘Let her help! Don’t ignore her! Rook wants to talk. With us!’ Spite bursts out in his head, scolding him. Lucanis hates to admit it but Spite is right, and he wants to spend time with Rook as well, she is a breath of fresh air. He has never really gotten close with many people before. But with her, with this team…it feels like it could grow to be one of the good things in his life. He should cherish this, see where it goes. The complicated feelings he has for Illario and Caterina, the love he has for them is unshakable and mighty. But being shackled and caged for a year by Zara has left both Spite and himself split open, full of torment, with jagged edges ready to maim. Now more than ever before. He pushes those thoughts away for now.

“Can I trust you with cutting the fruit Rook?” Lucanis offers in a soft tone. He feels Spite’s approval.

Rook shuts her book at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes she gasps;

 “The famous assassin is giving me a knife?! Is it because it’s the dullest blade that you’re trusting me with it?” She blurts out in jest. It seems Rook is quick on her feet with her playful jabs. And Lucanis finds himself enjoying this side of her, basking in her attention. Surrendering into this feeling. 

‘Go on..’ he hears Spite softly muttering, hopeful. Lucanis flexed his hands and went to pinch the bridge of his nose. With a quick breathy laugh he said to her;

“Yes, I fear the fruit has a gruesome fate waiting for them. But don’t worry, I’m extremely skilled in cleaning up a crime scene. The others will not know a thing.” The amusement clear in his tone. ‘You do know how to be fun.’ Lucanis ignores him, full focus on Rook now. She looks away from his gaze and shifts down at the floor, pulling at her fingers. He makes out rosy cheeks growing ever so slightly redder. He catches himself thinking he likes that colour on them. ‘Taste like joy, lightning in the stomach, honey and passion. Delicious. Pretty Rook.’ Spite voices in his head. Now Lucanis' cheeks start to feel warm. He wants to ignore him and the tingling butterflies within him. But he agrees with Spite because she is radiant, like an angel. He snaps back to reality by the sound of her laugh.

“Well I’m in the mood to murder some oranges this lovely morning, are there any left since you and Bellara went to the market? How about some cheese too?” 

“Cheese and oranges? You mean to have that for…breakfast?” Lucanis asks bewildered. Bellara warned him about Harding’s eating habits, but nothing about Rooks. 

“When I woke up today it just felt like an oranges and cheese kind of day you know?” She answers like she didn't just tell him the most ridiculous breakfast combination ever. Now Spite decides to chime in cheerfully. ‘I agree with Rook. Feels like cheese and oranges. Today!’ ‘Of course you do, you exist to torment me.’ He feels Spite’s amusement before he gets a reply;

‘Now there is one more!’ 

They work in comfortable silence for a while before Rook drops what she's doing and cries out;

“Oh, I forgot about my tea! I need to try that new one Harding grew in her garden for me.” Chair screeches against the stone floor followed by hurried steps towards the kitchenette. The knife in Lucanis hand stills and he feels like choking on his tongue. The tea is for her. Spite brings him back to the present by adding ‘She wants honey! In her tea.’ 

[charliedawn]

The Last Neighbor

Joel had never been known for his good actions. Quite the opposite, actually. If there was a Guinness World Record for being an asshole, he’d probably hold the title. Self-preservation was his only concern; if someone got in his way, he’d shoot first and forget their name second. He could shoot a human being straight through his skull just for another day of living. Actually, he already had—on more than one occasion. So, when he was jolted awake in the dead of night by loud banging outside, his reflexes kicked in immediately. He grabbed his rifle, ready to confront whatever or whoever had dared wake him up.

But, he wasn’t ready for the show waiting for him outside. He saw a young woman standing there with a cardboard box in her hands, her face breaking into a startled smile when she saw him. Then her eyes landed on the rifle, and her smile dropped.

"Don’t shoot ! Please ! I am not infected !", she called out, raising her hands halfway—as far as the cardboard box still in her arms would allow her to.

Joel groaned, leveling the rifle at her.

"Hands where I can see ‘em !"

She was quick to comply—almost dropping the cardboard box on his doorstep in her haste to raise her hands up. He looked her up and down.

"Weapons ?" He asked shortly and she nodded.

"Knife and gun. For the infected." She didn’t wait for his command, slowly lowering the items onto the ground before standing back up, her hands raised high once more. "I mean no harm. My name is Lace and—"

"What the hell you doing here ?", he interrupted, not interested in small talk. Lace winced, nudging the box slightly with her foot.

"Hum…Well, I saw that you had just moved in from the house across the street and I decided to drop a few essentials—in case you were running out. Food, medicine and water bottles. Stuff like that."

Joel’s eyes widened a little—momentarily glancing at the box—before they narrowed suspiciously and returned on the young woman. "What do you want ?"

Lace blinked, genuinely taken aback. "W-What ? Nothing."

He glared at her.

"Do not bullshit me. Why would ya come and bring me stuff if you didn’t want somethin’ ?"

Her mouth opened, then closed before she shrugged nervously.

"…Because it was the neighbourly thing to do ?" She offered—her eyes still fixed on his rifle in case he decided to shoot. "Hum…Could you please lower the rifle ? My arms are getting tired…"

He scoffed.

"What’s tellin’ me ya ain’t got no bomb in there or poison ?" He gestured towards the box. She sighed and grabbed an apple from the box before taking a bite of it.

"See ? Perfectly fine. Hmm. Juicy." She then threw the apple at Joel who barely managed to grab it with one hand. He still seemed suspicious and sniffed the apple before giving her a long side eye—waiting a few seconds before taking a bite too. He chewed slowly—his eyes not leaving hers for a second before he swallowed. He waited to see if he felt any dizziness or discomfort—but he felt nothing. He took another bite. Then another. Then another—until the apple was gone.

When he finished, she gave him an expectant smile. "Good ?"

Joel didn’t answer and she sighed again.

"Well…Could you at least stop pointing that rifle at me ?"

He scoffed and seemed to think about it for a moment before slowly lowering his rifle. He then carefully approached to take a look inside the box and at its contents. There were water bottles, various food products and cans, as well as medical supplies. Once he had scanned everything, his eyes returned on you.

"…Why you givin’ me all this ?"

She smiled again and shrugged.

"Like I said, neighbourly thing to do."

He scoffed, but didn’t say anything.

"Well anyway…It was nice meeting you, neighbour. Hope you’ll stick around." She said and then walked back towards her house. Joel’s eyes followed her before he scoffed again and muttered under his breath.

"Crazy woman…"

He took the box and slammed the door behind him.

A few days later:

When Joel opened his front door, prepared to go on a supply run, he stopped short. A freshly baked pie sat on his porch. He didn’t need to look far to know who had left it.

He looked up at the house opposite his and sure enough, he caught Lace peeking through a window. She smiled and waved when he noticed her. Joel sighed, rolling his eyes as he reached down, grabbing the pie, and closing the door behind him.

Maybe he’d stay a few more days...especially if she kept feeding him…

…….

Another week passed by and Joel had now received pies, pizzas, cakes, cookies, casseroles and many tupperwares filled with homemade meals. His kitchen was now a pile of plates, containers and other things she had decided to leave on his porch. He knew he should probably get rid of them—bring them back to her. But for some reason, he felt as if that would be losing some kind of war he had no intention of losing…

Finally, one morning, he opened his door only to come face-to-face with Lace herself, a paper plate held out in front of her. For a moment, they stared at each other in surprise—neither spoke. He looked down and sure enough…here was another plate of food. This time—it was on a paper plate. Looks like she had ran out of the good ones…Lace seemed frozen before she wordlessly extended the plate forward. "Uh…lasagna ?" she managed, her voice uncertain. "Made it myself."

He looked down and instead of accepting, he asked.

"How’re you cooking without an oven ?"

Her smile turned sheepish. "Wood-fired. I make a small fire in my yard…cook what I can." She shrugged.

Joel stared at her, the plate of lasagna between them, and let out a long sigh. Right. He finally accepted the plate and returned inside his house…He didn’t close the door, but she didn’t dare come in. She returned to her home and Joel forgot to mention the containers he had yet succeeded in giving back to her.

A few days later:

Joel eventually invited Lace inside—not that he’d admit it was an invitation. More like she showed up with another meal and he’d grumbled, "If you’re gonna bring all this damn food, might as well sit down." She took it as a warm welcome and walked in, balancing a tray of chicken stew and cornbread.

The silence was heavy as they sat across from each other at his small kitchen table, the stew steaming between them. Joel shifted, watching her with his usual suspicion.

"So," she started, looking around at the scattered dishes she’d left over the past few days, "enjoying my cooking ?"

He scoffed. "Edible." It’s not like he waited for her to bring him something good everyday or that he looked forward to it even.

A laugh escaped her, bright and unrestrained. Joel just looked at her, one brow raised as if to say, ‘What’s so funny ?’ She shook her head, taking a bite of stew.

"Well, I’m just guessing that that’s high praise, coming from you. Since you seem like the silent type of guy." She took another spoonful, and they lapsed back into silence. Joel watched her, his gaze unreadable, until Lace finally couldn’t help herself.

"Do you…I mean, have you been alone for a long time ?" she asked carefully.

He tensed, eyes darkening and immediately replied defensively. "Why do you care ?"

She shrugged and smiled nervously. "I just wonder sometimes, y’know ? The things people have been through."

Joel huffed, his jaw tightening. "People’ve all got their sob stories. Doesn’t make ’em special."

Lace nodded slowly, respecting his reticence but unable to hide her curiosity. "Fair enough." She set her spoon down, glancing at him. "But it doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone either."

He looked up, an edge of surprise crossing his face, but he quickly masked it, pushing his chair back and standing up. Lace watched as he moved to the sink, his shoulders tense as he washed his dish. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his tone gruff.

"So what’s your story, then ? Why waste your time cooking for people who don’t care ?"

She didn’t seem fazed by the harshness of his words. Instead, she met his gaze and smiled, a touch sadder than her usual one. "Guess it’s just nice to feel…useful. It’s rare to even find a neighbor these days, much less one that doesn’t try to rob you."

Joel snorted, almost amused. "Lucky me, huh ?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Lucky you indeed…"

….

Days turned to weeks, and their cautious alliance became a part of their daily routine. Joel didn’t question when she left supplies or when she knocked and said, "Dinner’s ready." He’d just grunt, maybe crack a rare smile that looked more like a grimace. And she’d laugh every time, knowing it was the closest he’d ever come to gratitude.

One evening, as they sat on the porch after dark, sharing the last of the coffee she’d bartered for at a nearby settlement, Lace leaned back, gazing at the moon. It cast a soft light over the deserted houses, making the street look almost peaceful.

"You ever think there might be…you know…more than this ?", she asked, her voice quiet.

Joel shrugged. "This is all there is. Survive another day. That’s the job."

She tilted her head, studying him. "And what happens when there’s no one left to survive for ?"

For a moment, he couldn’t answer. The question hung heavy in the air, gnawing at the walls he’d built around himself. He turned away, jaw clenched. "Survival’s a habit. Doesn’t matter what’s waiting at the end."

She gave a soft, understanding smile, sensing he wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not yet.

"Well," she said, breaking the silence, "if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."

He looked at her and hummed.

"Right…Thanks, Lace."

She smiled. It was the first time he had ever called her by her name…

But in the apocalypse, peace is always short-lived. Just a few days later, Lace’s house was dark, and she didn’t show up with any new dishes or supplies. Joel tried not to notice. He told himself it wasn’t his business, that she could take care of herself. But after a few hours, he started to feel that old itch of worry. He waited until nightfall, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, before he crossed the street, heading toward her house. The front door was unlocked, creaking open with the slightest push.

Inside, the place was deserted. No sign of struggle, but no sign of her either. Joel’s jaw tightened. He checked each room, feeling a chill settle in his gut as he found only silence. Finally, in her kitchen, he spotted a note left hastily on the table:

Ran low on supplies. Be back soon. Don’t miss me too much.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, despite the knot of worry tightening in his chest. Damn idiot, he thought. Without a second thought, he headed out into the night, rifle at the ready.

…He was gonna kill that idiot if not someone had already.

Meanwhile, Lace had entered into a store and discreetly sought out for supplies. She smiled as she found more than a few cans and even a dozen water bottles.

"Well well…Lucky me."

She started stocking up when suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. She was about to get her gun out when she recognised the familiar feeling of the sharp edge of a knife against her throat.

"Wait wait wait…Please. You don’t have to do this." She pleaded—genuinely scared. The grip on her tightened, the blade pressing just enough against her skin to remind her of the threat on her life. She took a steadying breath, hoping she sounded calm.

"Please," she repeated, barely above a whisper. "I don’t have anything you want. Just let me go."

A rough chuckle sounded close to her ear. "That so ? All those cans say otherwise." The pressure from the knife eased just a fraction, but his hold on her remained firm. "Not every day I see someone alone. And a woman, no less. I bet you’d be worth a fortune if I were to sell you…"

There was a young man with him who didn’t seem as comfortable as his partner.

"Come on, Barry. We should just take the cand and go…"

But Barry groaned.

"Mind your own business, kid !"

Lace forced herself not to move. "Look, we can share. I don’t need all of it." She nodded toward the cans in her arms. "Take what you want. Just…leave me enough to take back home. We’re two and we are just trying to survive—like you."

"Home ?" Barry laughed again, low and cold. "No one’s got a home anymore, sweetheart." The knife stayed close, but she felt his grip shift, loosening ever so slightly.

She seized the moment. Dropping her supplies to the floor with a loud clang, Lace twisted out of his hold, spinning to face him as she backed up, pulling her own knife and holding it defensively in front of her. Her heart pounded, but her hand remained steady.

The man sneered, amused at her sudden boldness. "What you gonna do now, huh ? Stab me ? You ain’t got that nerve, girl. I can see it in your eyes."

"Look, I don’t want any trouble." She raised her chin, keeping her voice steady. "But if you force me, I’ll defend myself."

He tilted his head, appraising her, but his expression grew dark. "Think you can take me ?" He took a menacing step forward.

Before he could close the distance, a sudden loud bang echoed from behind him. His sneer turned into confusion as he staggered, reaching for the back of his head, his legs buckling beneath him as he fell to the floor—blood gushing out the bullet wound now in his back. Lace saw the shadowy figure looming just beyond him, rifle in hand. Joel.

"Guess she doesn’t have to," Joel drawled, lowering his rifle.

The young man took a few cans and ran out fast before Joel could stop him and he groaned. His gaze shifted to Lace, eyes dark with anger. "You, You should have asked me to come with you."

Lace took a shaky breath, trying to process what had just happened. "How did you find me ?"

Joel crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Followed your trail. You’re not exactly subtle."

She managed a small, wry smile. "Wasn’t expecting a stalker."

He ignored her attempt at humor, stepping forward and nudging the dead man with his boot. "This one won’t bother you again," he muttered, though his eyes stayed on Lace, his expression hard.

"Joel…" she began, wanting to thank him, but he shook his head.

"Save it." His voice was gruff. "Just…be smarter next time." His gaze softened just a fraction. "There are worse things out here than an empty stomach."

She nodded, still clutching her knife. "I know."

He sighed, glancing at the scattered cans on the floor before picking them up. "Come on," he said. "Let’s get you home."

She followed him with her head hanging low in shame. But she then opened her mouth to ask: "I still managed to get more than my fair share of cans. What would you like for dinner ? I could make some risotto with what I got or…?"

Joel didn’t respond at first, just kept walking, his eyes scanning their surroundings as he led her back toward the safe zone. Lace bit her lip, starting to think he’d ignore her altogether. But after a few moments, he muttered, "Risotto, huh ? Fancy for the apocalypse."

She smiled, a little relieved he’d answered. "Hey, even the end of the world deserves a good meal every now and then. I’ll make it worth your while."

Joel scoffed, though she caught the slight softening at the corners of his mouth. "Long as it’s edible."

They walked the rest of the way in silence until they reached her doorstep. Joel glanced at the supplies she held and then at her, his expression unreadable. "Just…be careful next time," he said, his voice softer than she expected. "You won’t always get this lucky."

She nodded, still feeling a hint of guilt. "I know. Thanks again, Joel."

He shrugged, averting his gaze. "Get inside. I’ll come by later to check if that ‘risotto’ of yours is any good."

With that, he turned and started to leave, but not before she called after him, a spark of hope in her voice. "Bring your appetite !"

…She almost facepalmed herself.

He didn’t look back, but she could’ve sworn she saw his shoulders relax as he walked away.

[haddonfieldwhore]

florida!!! - aleksander barkov

aleksander barkov x reader

summary: while in florida on vacation you reconnect with someone from your past

warnings: a mixture of aleksander and sasha used throughout, angst, nsfw implied, small age gap (not specific), not edited (it’s 3am)

word count: 4.1k (oops)

“i’ve got some regrets, i’ll bury them in florida”

the smell of coconut wafted through your nose as you applied sunscreen for the third time that day, your skin not yet used to the heat of fort lauderdale. you were visiting for 2 weeks, a much needed vacation from your life back home, and you already felt relaxed after only two days here.

some of your friends were supposed to join you on the trip, but eventually cancelled, either not having the money or not being able to get the time off from work.

though it would have been more fun with them here, you didn’t mind travelling alone, having studied abroad in college and enjoyed every second of it.

well, mostly - you thought to yourself. despite only being here once before as a child, florida was bringing up some memories in your mind that had been long dormant. it wasn’t the state itself that was to blame though; it was something else. someone, to be more specific.

your phone rang in the back pocket of your shorts, and you swiped answer on the call.

“hey jessie,” you answered with a smile.

“hey! how’s florida?” your best friend asked.

“i wish you were here with me, but it’s still pretty amazing,” you admitted.

“i know, i wish i was there too,” she sighed. “next time, i promise - even if i have to quit my job so i can get the time,” she laughed.

“how will you pay for the trip then genius?”

“leave that to me.”

“alright,” you surrendered with a chuckle.

“see any hot guys yet?” she asked, of course that’s what she wanted to know.

“a few, not that i’m really looking,” you admitted. while there had been a few good looking men you had spotted while you were here, there was one specifically that was occupying your mind for the last few days; and you were trying to drown out any thoughts of him.

“did you decide if you’re going to a game or not?” jessie asked as if she had read your mind.

“maybe - the arena is right near my hotel, but i just don’t know if i’ll find the time,” you brushed it off.

“babe, you’re there for 2 weeks, i think you can find time if you want to.”

“you’re right,” you sighed deeply, flopping onto the soft duvet spread across the bed.

“i always am.”

“i’m gonna ignore that,” you smiled. “it’s not like i would see him anyway,” you thought out loud.

“unless you did.”

“that’s not helpful,” you replied with a roll of your eyes.

“i’m sorry!” jessie apologized. “and don’t roll your eyes at me, i can hear it in your voice,” she teased, and you both laughed.

during the 2 years that you had studied abroad in finland, you had wound up entangled with the one and only aleksander barkov; who in the years since then had blossomed in the national hockey league and become the captain of the florida panthers.

things were good for the most part, despite both of your busy schedules you made it work, and all too quickly found yourself falling for the handsome and humble man. he was a few years older than you, kind, handsome, and a perfect gentleman. there were ups and downs, and he was away from home a lot, but you made it work, keeping things casual and not exactly exclusive; not that you even entertained anyone else when he was gone. unfortunately, like most college relationships, things fell apart when you ended your studies there. you tried for a few months after you finished your courses, but despite your feelings for him, there wasn’t enough to keep you in finland without school to occupy you when he was gone so much of the time.

you thought back to the day that you told him you were leaving; the hurt in his eyes broke your heart, but you both knew the day was coming. you were on borrowed time and you both realized it long before either of you gained the courage to admit it.

“i don’t want you to go, but it’s selfish of me to ask you to stay,” he said sadly, and you buried your head in his chest, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as he wrapped his arms tightly around your body.

“we knew it wasn’t forever right?”

“yeah, we knew,” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head.

a part of you wished it could have been.

“are you listening to me?” jessie’s voice snapped you out of it, and you ran a hand over your face in frustration.

“yeah, sorry,” you shook your head, trying to think about anything else.

“you’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

“it’s hard not to - knowing how close we are right now,” you sighed in defeat. you had found it hard to stop yourself from wondering how he was doing, besides thriving on a successful hockey team.

“you miss him.” the way she worded it, it wasn’t a question, you realized.

“our lives are so different and it’s been years since i’ve seen him, jess.” the last time you had seen sasha was when he dropped you off at the airport, the kiss goodbye was almost enough to make you stay. you had texted him when you landed back home, and you’d kept in touch for a few weeks, calling eachother here and there but the distance drove a wedge between you. soon enough life got busy and it was easier to lose contact.

“you didn’t answer the question,” she pointed out.

“i don’t even know if he’s the same person he was back then - i’m certainly not. and he’s a hotshot nhl captian now.”

“of course people change, but this is sasha were talking about. do you really think he’d be that different than he was when you knew him?” she asked. you had told her so much about him, it was like she knew him even though they’d never met. and it was true; the sasha you knew would never let the fame get to him.

“i don’t know him anymore.”

“if you say so. i got to get back to work, my break is over. i’ll call you in a few days?”

“sounds good,” you replied. “love you jess.”

“love you too. keep me updated.”

before you could protest she hung up, and you tossed your phone onto the pillow next to you.

you stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, before grabbing your phone again, opening it to contacts without realizing what you were doing until your finger hovered over the name ‘sasha’.

you hesitated for a moment before closing the app, and googling florida panthers tickets instead.

•

three days later you found yourself sat in one of the crimson seats of amerant bank arena, waiting for the game to begin. you casually followed the nhl, not watching every game, but for obvious reasons, you had a soft spot for the south florida team; it helped that they were fun to watch and had become a force to be reckoned with these last few seasons.

as interested as you were in the game, you found it hard to focus on anything but the memories of aleksander that had continued to float around in your mind for the duration of your vacation. you had woken up this morning with an ache between your legs as you dreamt of the last night you had spent tangled with sasha beneath the sheets of his bed. you could still remember the way his hands felt tracing every inch of your body; not even a cold shower could erase it.

you’d considered not going to the game despite having bought a ticket, but wanted to experience a panthers game while you were here, unsure of when you would get the chance to see them play at home again.

the panthers won, and you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the crowd lingering, but you found you thumb hovering over sasha’s contact in you phone again as you sat next to the pool back at the hotel later that night.

you decided against a phone call, typing out a text message before you could talk yourself out of it.

hey - it’s y/n from college. congrats on the win tonight! :)

a simple ‘hey’ didn’t seem like enough - you weren’t even sure if he had the same number after all these years, or if he remembered you at all. the doubt started to set in the second you hit send, the possibility that you hadn’t left as much of an impact on him as he had with you setting in fast.

what if he didn’t remember you at all?

you decided to call jessie to distract your mind, and you were thankful that it didn’t take her long to pick up.

“hey! i was just about to call you!”

“great minds think alike,” you laughed, her voice putting you at ease a little already.

“what’s up?” she asked.

“just sitting by the pool,” you replied. you hadn’t told her you’d decided to go to the game, and you hadn’t decided if you were going to tell her about the text you’d sent or not yet.

“ugh i’m jealous. i’m considering ditching work and flying out there to join you at this point. you’re still there for another week or so hey?” she asked.

“yeah, 9 more days actually. it would be nice to have you here, jess.”

“is everything okay?” she asked, always able to tell when something was bothering you.

“yeah, i think i just got too much sun today, my head hurts.” you weren’t entirely lying, but you just hoped she didn’t check the weather and see that it had been cloudy in fort lauderdale that day.

“bet you never had that problem in finland, hey?” you knew she was teasing, the climate in finland in fact being drastically drearier than florida, but you were hoping to not think about that for at least a few minutes.

“yeah, definitely not.”

despite the cold, you loved everything about finland. it took some getting used to the dark and cold, but each time aleksander showed you around different places around the country, you knew you would find it harder to leave.

for more reasons than just the scenery.

the day he showed you around his home town of tampere finland was the day you realized that you were falling in love with him.

you walked hand in hand down crowded streets, sasha pointing out different things from his childhood, like where he grew up playing hockey, his favourite restaurants, everything.

you looked up at him in wonder as the glow of the street lights illuminated his face, a light pink tinge across his cheeks and nose from the cold. fluffy white snowflakes fell softly around you, gathering atop the beanie that covered his head and across his broad shoulders.

it was only a few months since you had met, but it felt like you had known him for years. you never imagined a day would come where it would feel like you were strangers, even knowing that your time in finland was temporary.

“you don’t have to leave,” he had said, only a month left in your final semester abroad.

you laid bare next to him, his bedsheets the only thing covering your body as you fiddled absentmindedly with his hands, tracing calluses with your fingertips.

“once the semester is over i won’t have a place to stay, i can’t stay at the dorm.” you had gotten a job at a coffee shop that made you enough money to afford food and necessities, but you couldn’t afford an apartment with that salary, and hadn’t intended to get a job in your chosen field here. the plan was always to go home after your schooling was done.

“you could stay here, with me.”

it wasn’t an absurd idea; you spent a lot of nights at aleksanders house anyway when he wasn’t on the road. but in reality, he wasn’t home that often, and you would feel weird living in his house without him.

“you mean it?” you asked, your heart aching at the thought that even if he said yes, you knew your answer was no. part of him knew it too.

a notification went off on your phone, and you snapped out of your daydream, realizing that you’d once again become lost in memories of what once was.

you pulled your phone away from your ear, jessie’s voice getting quieter as she went on about something that happened at work today. you knew you were being a bad friend, and made a mental note to make it up to her later.

you saw that you had a text message and your breath caught in your throat as you tapped on it.

hey ☺️ it’s been a long time. you watched the game?

you stared at the message, suprised he’d responded so fast, if at all.

“i’m sorry, i gotta go, my phones about to die, i’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” jessie said, and you said a quick goodbye before you both hung up, leaving you alone to deal with your thoughts.

what had you intended when you texted sasha? you weren’t sure even you knew, but typed out a reply anyway; deciding you would figure it out as you went.

i was there actually - i’m in florida for a few days.

you impatiently waited as the three dots appeared to indicate that he was typing.

oh wow. thank you for coming to the game.

you smiled.

i wouldn’t miss it.

it took a few minutes after he read the message for him to reply this time, and you worried you’d said something wrong. deciding you didn’t want to sit by the pool anymore, you wrapped your towel around yourself, fighting of the evening chill that had begun to tickle your skin.

you’d made it up to your hotel room by the time your phone went off again, though it was a text this time; it was ringing. you assumed it was jessie, but froze when you saw sasha’s name light up the screen instead.

should i answer it? you thought.

a thousand reasons why you should or shouldn’t ran through your mind, but you ultimately swiped accept and closed the door behind you as you stepped in to your suite.

“hi,” you answered nervously. all these years later and he still had this much of an effect on you.

“hi,” he replied, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “it really is you.”

“did you think it might not be?” you laughed slightly, and on the other end of the call, aleksander realized how much he’d missed the sound.

“i don’t know, maybe,” he admitted. “it’s good to hear from you.”

your heart skipped a beat.

“how have you been?” you asked, pacing around the room. despite how easily sasha used to be able to put you at ease, you couldn’t stay still.

“i’m good,” he replied, and you had forgotten that he was a man of few words at times. “what about you? what brings you to florida?”

you couldn’t exactly tell him that you had been good save for the fact that he was all you’d thought about for the last few days.

“good,” you decided was your answer. “why did you call instead of texting?” you asked. it had been years since you last spoke, but you felt like you were back in college, calling him while he was on the road to hear about his latest game.

“oh… i just wanted to hear your voice i guess,” he admitted, a blush forming across his face that he was glad you couldn’t see.

sasha sat in his car outside the restaurant where he and some of his teammates had been out to celebrate their victory when you texted, and he had excused himself to make a phone call, quietly sneaking out to his car.

of course he’d thought about you in the years since you left finland, always considering you to be the one that got away, despite the fact that you both knew from the beginning that you’d be leaving.

he hadn’t expected you to text him out of the blue that you were in florida, and it made him anxious to know that you were so close, especially knowing that you had been at the game earlier that day.

a happy anxious.

“yeah, it’s nice to hear your voice too.”

“are you coming to the game later this week?” he asked. you hadn’t planned on it, but the way he asked made you hope it meant that he wanted you to say yes.

“i might be, i’ll have to see about getting a ticket,” you replied, giving an open ended answer.

“if you need a ticket i can send you one,” he said, before quickly adding. “if you want.”

“do you want me there?” you asked, hoping you weren’t being too bold to assume that could be what he meant.

“of course i do.”

•

you spent the next few days feeling like you were floating on air, like you would wake up any moment and this would all be a dream.

you had been texting aleksander almost constantly, and he called you every night, catching up on the years you had missed, though it felt like no time had passed.

you were suprised when he had asked you to meet him after the game tomorrow, which he had in fact gotten you a ticket for. you tried to offer to pay for it, but he refused. you knew he could easily get them for free as the captain, but still felt wrong taking it.

you were getting ready to head to the arena, when your phone rang.

“are you ever actually working when you’re at your job?” you laughed as you accepted the call from jessie.

“i’m on my break for your information,” she argued playfully.

“fair enough. how are things back home?”

“boring without you of course,” she laughed.

“obviously,” you teased.

“did you decide if you’re going to the game tonight?” she asked, and you half wondered if she had cameras watching you.

“i am actually getting ready to go right now, stalker.”

“good - i’m sure you’ll have a great time,” she replied. “and who knows, maybe you’ll run into a certain finnish captian while you’re there…”

“i doubt it,” you lied. you still hadn’t told her that you’d already gone to a game, or that you’d been talking with sasha non stop for the last three days.

“you never know. cupid works in mysterious ways.”

“jess…”

“i know im just teasing.”

you talked for a few more minutes before you had to leave to go the arena, still thinking about what she had said.

if only she knew, you laughed to yourself.

•

you waited in your rental car after the game for aleksander to text you where to meet him, giving him time to shower and talk with the team after yet another panthers win.

he had let them know that he wouldn’t be joining them to celebrate tonight, but hadn’t told them why, deciding to keep your existence a secret for now as neither of you were sure exactly that this was.

you phone went off and you checked to see that he had sent you his location, still at the arena but he must have parked on the other side where fans couldn’t usually go.

you drove over until you saw him standing outside the players entrance, and your heart rate sped up.

talking on the phone was one thing, but seeing him in person was different.

you hoped you looked okay as you parked and got out, walking up to him with a smile.

“hey,” he smiled, and you couldn’t resist the urge to embrace him in a hug, which he thankfully returned.

sasha felt a pang in his heart as he held you tight to his chest, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. he missed this; sure he had moved on with his life in the time you had spent apart, but there was a part of him that always wondered what it would have been like to have you there by his side the whole time.

“did you get taller?” you laughed, and he smiled, blushing softly like he always did anytime you complimented him.

“maybe,” he shrugged as he felt your arms release their grip on him. as you stepped back, he took in your appearance. you had grown up slightly since he’d watched you board a plane and leave him behind, but the years had been good to you.

“congrats on the win by the way,” you said, suprised at how the nerves had melted away. so far, he was still the same sasha, and you’d always found it easy to talk to him.

“thank you,” he said shyly, humble as ever.

“where did you wanna go?” you asked.

“do you want to get coffee?”

“sure,” you smiled. “lead the way, captain.”

•

you and sasha spent nearly three hours in the small coffee shop, catching up on anything you’d missed telling eachother over the phone, and repeating somethings you already had. neither of you minded, and when the barista let you guys know that they’d be closing up soon, you found yourself wishing you had more time.

just like in finland.

there was no one else in the coffee shop since it was late at night by now, and the soft music was quickly making you tired despite the caffeine in your system.

“i should take you home,” he offered, and then as if he read your mind, added. “i can pick you up tomorrow morning and take you to your car if you want.”

“sure - thank you,” he helped you put on your light jacket you had worn despite the florida heat, and you hesitated before slipping your hand into his as he walked beside you to his car, fingers interlocking.

once you were back at your hotel, you hesitated before getting out of the car.

“do you want to come up with me?” too scared to see his reaction, you looked down at your lap as you waited for his answer, but the sound of the engine shutting off made you lift you gaze and meet his eyes.

“i’d like that.”

•

you woke up to the feeling of sasha’s fingers tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder, and cuddled closer into his chest as the sunlight crept in through a crack in the curtains.

“good morning,” he whispered.

“good morning,” you repeated, feeling the warmth of his arms wrapping around you, your legs tangled with his beneath the covers.

“i missed this,” he admitted, and you hummed in response.

“me too.”

he was silent for a moment, as if he was mustering up the courage to ask you his next question.

“do you ever wonder what things would be like if you had stayed in finland?”

you looked up at him, your eyes meeting.

“yeah, a lot actually,” you admitted. “sometimes i regret leaving.”

“you had to go,” he said, but you could tell that it had hurt him when you left. maybe as much as it had hurt you.

“it was one of the hardest things i ever did. leaving you.”

“we found eachother again though,” he replied, always finding a way to look at things in a positive light. reality set in as you realized the harsh truth.

“i’m only in florida for a few more days sasha,” you confessed, and you felt guilty. surely he knew that you had to leave again, but it still felt like you were doing something wrong.

“i know,” he assured you. “no one stays anywhere forever.” you knew he hadn’t meant it with any hostility.

“do you like it here in florida?” you asked, trying to shift the subject off of you leaving. “it’s so different from home.”

“it’s very different, but it’s nice.” he agreed, and while he knew when you called finland home you meant his, but there was a time when you called it home as well, even if you were just a guest there.

“yeah, it’s really nice,” you agreed.

“will you visit again?” he asked the question you had been dreading.

“i don’t know when i’ll be able to,” you said honestly. “but i’ll try, sasha.”

he smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“we play in your hometown next month,” he remembered aloud, and you smiled, knowing you would see him again sooner than you imagined.

“i’ll have to get a ticket,” you smiled at him.

“i think i can help with that.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[elmundodeflor]

The sun fits her body just like a glove would. It caves, and it trips, and it bends to every crevice that’s in her. The curves of her legs, her hipbones and waist, — they are all shaped by light and shadow. Contoured in pale paint-strokes that make her worthy of admiration.

Cait’s asleep right next to her, her breaths slow and steady, — almost peaceful. They are covered in nothing but bedsheets, coated in sweat. The hour before, they had tasted each other fully. Gotten to know the sweet, sweet ecstasy that’s to love, and be loved in turn. Vi can’t help but remember the first time she’s been here, right in this house. The rain was pouring, the world was crumbling. Oil and water, she’d said. Her and Cait couldn’t be more different, — two halves of a whole that would never fit together.

“Forget me, cupcake.”, she’d told her, back then. The pit-pat of the downpour the only sound that was between them.

Cait had extended her hand to reach her, but she was far gone, walking away already. At the time, that’s all she had wanted to do. It is crazy to think that, now, maybe, for once, she thinks she’ll stay. That, after a lifetime worth of running away, with Cait there, tucked inside her arms, the day has finally come for her to settle.

She strokes her cheek. Her hair’s blue, and it falls like the ocean waves. It’s wild and it’s free, — as seafoam outlining the shores. Cait, oh Cait. The fearless Commander, Piltover’s fiercest. She’s clean-cut and tidy. Strict and obedient. It sure is new to her, to see her like this now, — raw, and untamable, all too beautifully naked.

She had caressed her this same way, Vi remembers, — back when they were here, right in this very bed. She had talked about Powder, and how they’d play to chase their own monsters away, on those scary nights where neither one could sleep. Her hands had been careful, she recalls. Soft, and warm, and delicate, — as if she was made of glass, and she was afraid of breaking her up.

She puts a strand of blue behind her ear, now. Her palms are opposite to Cait’s, she notices, as she traces patterns on her face. Hers are harsh, and full of battle-scar, — her knuckles sprinkled up with callouses. But something wonderful could bloom from underneath, — she’s aware. It was in the way she’d undressed her bare, with a lifetime worth of yearn. How she’d marked her flesh, with a loyalty that unwavers, as bright as the day they met, still.

She smiles. At times, it appeared to her all her hands had known was fight. It was nice to see that it wasn’t all that true, at last. That they were capable of making marvelous things, too.

“Hi.”, Cait looks up at her, her eyes barely open. The sunset’s orange makes her irises twinkle. Paints sparks of gold within a cerulean canvas.

Vi snuggles up closer, takes in every scrap and figment of her. She’s gorgeous like this, basked underneath the afternoon colors. It seems to her, that she’s never been more like herself than here; — her breasts poking from beneath the covers, the freckles on her shoulders all the more visible.

She smiles again, — wider this time—, and thinks of that one night she’d been here. Back then, she’d been scared. As if the monsters her and Powder would dare chase away, were there inside her head, instead. Now, her wrappings lay on the floor, her arms and chest unraveled only for Cait to see. She’s stripped, unshielded both body and soul, — but she’s not scared anymore. She’s found, with Cait there, staring back at her, that there’s a ray of light that’s hushed away the monsters. That there’s no need to hide no more.

The hour before, she had taken the band aids with such care! Got rid of them, slow and tender, as if uncovering an open wound. It had made her feel safe, — how she’d touched her, then. So sheer, so delicate, as if her fingertips burnt. Every brush of her palms against her put her heart at ease. As if she was filling in the cracks that broke her, — fixed her inside out, outside in.

“Hi, there.”, she says, — and Cait leans in, lips to lips, nose to nose. She’s warm against her, almost like boiling water. Vi takes notice; she’s worn-out oil, in turn. The dry kind that sticks to plates and vases serving street food down in Zaun. But they mix well together, somehow, after all. Two halves of a whole that have found their way to make it work, if only.

“Let’s just stay like this a little longer, Cupcake.”