#anyway maybe next week or this week during my travels I will work on my review of 'WEST' :)

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I haven't said this yet (OOPS), but I love the new Thunderpussy album WEST, although it was a pretty strange experience for me to hear a song like "In Your Honor", hear the guitar tone, and go 'Is this GHUM?' when it's like...I'm obviously listening to...a new Thunderpussy song...hello, me @ me????????? Also because, most significantly, I WAS A THUNDERPUSSY FAN FIRST. I discovered GHUM at least a few months after I discovered Thunderpussy, I'm pretty sure. I guess I've listened to Bitter by GHUM more often than I thought, although I've definitely listened to literally everything Thunderpussy has put out way more than Bitter or GHUM's other stuff? I JUST DON'T GET why I reacted to "In Your Honor" especially that way, musically thinking it was GHUM and not Thunderpussy.

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I 2.1k I different first meeting I modern au I one sided enemies to lovers I rated T

“I mean, if looking like a dyke is the goal, you're nailing it,” Steve tells Robin as she holds the phone back to showcase her date outfit. “Change the belt, I think-”

He hears a throat clear behind him and spins around to find Eddie the bar manager standing behind him, a blank face and closed off body language.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Rob, I have to go. I'll text you after work.” He hangs up on her and stuffs his phone into his back pocket. “Sorry about that. Hi, you must be Eddie.” He holds out his hand to shake but Eddie just looks at it. He lowers it, the sting of rejection biting low in his stomach. “Um. Harvey said you just got back from a tour? That's cool.”

“Mmhmm.” He sniffs. “You're on garnish duty,” he says, cold and succinct, before turning away.

It's only Steve's third day behind the bar but he'd been slinging drinks with Rachel the night before. Barback duties are beneath him, he's got six years bartending experience. He doesn't want to complain though, not to Eddie who hated him on sight, and not during his first week.

They stay out of each other's way for the first half of the night, Steve relegated to the back, slicing limes and making the pre-mixes.

He's not used to being hated so thoroughly like this. Eddie hasn't uttered a word directly to Steve since sending him to the back, but he catches Eddie's eye a few times and it's like ice water down his back. The people-pleasing little boy in him wants to cry but he's a grown fucking man, he's not going to let this bother him. Just because he was looking forward to meeting Eddie, wanted to make a friend here, wanted to get to know the guy who managed the bar when he wasn't shredding across the country. Maybe if the owner hadn't talked Eddie up like he was the next Chris Martin…or whoever the metal equivalent of that would be. And, yeah, he'd seen the photos of Eddie, the Polaroids behind the bar of him with staff and guests, and thought he was stupid hot, with his tangled curls and the dimples, and maybe he'd had some inappropriate thoughts about his in absentia boss, and maybe he'd fantasized about flirting at the end of the night, and maybe-

Anyway, it's all good. Eddie doesn't owe him kindness or friendship or a single dimpled smile. Sometimes people just don't get along and that's okay.

“Your Fernet,” he mumbles as he sets the bottle at Eddie's elbow, head down like a dog that's used to booted feet. He feels like an idiot but Eddie's frosty demeanor feels like it's balanced on a knife's edge, like he could tip over into a blazing explosion if Steve says or does the wrong thing.

Eddie doesn't thank him, just snatches the bottle and walks away.

“You're welcome,” he snarks under his breath after Eddie's well away.

“Can I get a rum and coke?” A guy asks over the counter.

Steve hesitates. He's not welcome at the bar, Eddie has made that abundantly clear, but he wasn't hired as a barback, he's a bartender, so he smiles at the guy and starts making the drink. Eddie is busy at the other end of the bar anyway.

“You're new,” the guy says, making conversation as Steve works.

“Yeah, it's my first week.”

“You liking it so far?”

Steve glances down the bar, watching Eddie shake a cocktail like he's fucking Tom Cruise or something. His face lights up at something the woman he's talking to says and the crack of his laugh travels the length of the bar, punching Steve right in the stomach. His dimples are really something to see in motion.

“Jesus Christ, I wanna wrap you in tinsel.”

Steve whips his head back around. “Huh?”

The guy chuckles. “Because you're pining so hard. Get it? Pine-ing.”

Well shit. He deflates. “That obvious, huh?”

The guy accepts his drink with a shrug. “Maybe not to everyone but to a…certain demographic…” He gives Steve a little limp wristed wave, which makes Steve crack a laugh.

“I'm Steve, by the way,” he holds out his hand, which the guy takes easily, unlike some people.

“Cary, like Cary Grant.”

“Or Cary Elwes.”

“Exactly.” He leans a ways over the bar and mumbles, “Don't look but your boy is watching us.”

Steve forces his body to not stiffen up. “Does he look mad?”

“No. Confused if anything. Pretend like I just said the funniest thing you've ever heard.”

Steve, always down for shenanigans, tips his head back and fakes the loudest howl he can without being too over the top.

“Oh, you're good. He's got his eye on you, doll. Make the most of it.”

Steve leans into the shared space, eyes half-lidded. “I hope he's seething with jealousy. He could've had me six ways from Sunday but instead he decided to hate my guts at first sight.”

“What an absolute dumbass.” Cary reaches up and taps Steve's collarbone. “If I wasn't already taken, and you weren't pining like a Christmas tree, we could've ridden into the sunset together.”

“If only,” Steve agrees with a soft laugh.

“We're out of Matcha.”

Steve jumps out of his skin. Eddie is standing three inches from Steve's side, eyes burning into him like he just caught Steve keying his car.

“Make your own Matcha,” Cary snarks, “Steve and I are getting to know one another.”

Without breaking eye contact with Steve, he growls, “I think Tony, your fiance, would prefer it if Steve made the Matcha.”

Chills run down Steve's back and arms but he maintains composure. “On it, boss.”

He slips out from under Eddie's gaze, finger waving to Cary on his way back to the kitchen. He can hear Eddie chastising but he chooses to ignore him in favor of hyperventilating in the walk-in.

“What the fuck.”

Eyes like black flames, licking up the side of Steve's neck. Collarbones raising and lowering in the light of the bar as his chest moved with each breath. Hands clenched at his sides, white knuckled.

That wasn't cold at all.

He moves on autopilot for the rest of his shift. Eddie doesn't talk to him again but Steve can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, raising the hairs and keeping him from forgetting Eddie’s existence.

Towards the end of his shift, just before midnight, he hears Robin calling his name from the bar. He comes out of the kitchen, happy to see her waving him over, excited to introduce her date. He probably shouldn't encourage this behavior, it's his first week after all, but the restaurant is closing and the bar is empty.

“Hey, you must be Chrissy,” he greets the petite woman at Robin's side, takes her tiny hand in his and gives it a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same! I couldn't believe it when Robin said you'd just started here. Like, it's a crazy coincidence.”

He cocks his head but before he can ask, Eddie comes bounding over from the other side of the bar and lifts Chrissy up off her stool, swinging her in a circle while she shrieks with laughter.

“Apparently Eddie is her best friend,” Rob fills him in, sort of unnecessary at this point. Steve wouldn't have been able to imagine Eddie looking so happy, he'd been so sour faced all night. Even when he'd been laughing with the customer earlier, it was only a fraction of this.

“Tell me everything,” Chrissy is saying after he puts her down. “Last I heard you loved Cleveland and hated Boston, which I maintain is insane.”

“And I maintain you didn't have to navigate the Boston roadways with Boston drivers,” Eddie argues, still grinning. “But it was great. Exhausting but…yeah, fucking awesome.”

“I'm so proud of you, Eds. You deserve it.”

He actually fucking blushes, which is devastating to Steve's crush. Just devastating.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “Oh, sorry, you must be Robin. Thanks for bringing Chris to see me.” He shakes her hand, not hating her on sight, Steve notes.

“No problem, but I didn't, she brought me here to see the Dingus.” At Eddie's confused look she throws a thumb back at Steve, who waves.

“Yeah, hi. Your best friend is dating my best friend. Sorry. Guess that means you're stuck with me.”

His frown doesn't abate with this explanation.

“Because they're lesbians. She's gonna have me helping her move into Chrissy’s place in, like, a week.”

“Shut up!” Robin reaches across the bar to slap the shit out of his arm and then tosses a lemon wedge at him when he jumps back out of swinging range. Chrissy giggles at them.

“Knock it off, I worked hard on those.” He picks the wedge up off the floor and tosses it into the trash. Three points.

When he looks back up, Eddie is staring at him, wide eyed.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Steve questions.

“Ohhh.” He presses his wrists into his eye sockets.

Steve looks at Robin and Chrissy in confusion but they're both as lost as him.

“I'm an asshole.” He hasn't removed his hands yet.

“Yes,” Chrissy agrees immediately, “what did you do, Eddie?”

He finally looks up at Steve, who takes a step back, involuntarily. They stare at one another for thirty seconds. Or two days. He's not sure.

“Eddie?” Chrissy prompts again.

“I-” He turns around and walks away.

Chrissy rushes after him and yanks him back. They get into a tug match, which Chrissy wins, somehow.

“I love her,” Robin mumbles.

“I fucking said. Less than a week.”

She slides a look his way, one that reads ‘Like you're any better.’ He shouldn't have told her about his plan to seduce his boss, who he hadn't even met yet.

“Whatever you did, you apologize right now,” Chrissy commands to a pouting Eddie.

Steve stands there, eyebrows up, as Eddie grumbles an apology that would do an eleven year old Dustin proud.

“What is happening right now?” He wonders aloud.

Eddie folds his arms across his chest, his black button down stretching across his shoulders beautifully. “I heard your conversation with Robin earlier. You said something about her looking like a dyke and…I made an assumption on the kind of person you were. And I was an asshole to you because of it. I'm sorry.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers in understanding. A weight lifts off his chest. “Fuck. That's hilarious.” He can't stop the giggles from erupting.

“Okay, in my defense, most straight guys don’t get a pass.”

Steve and Robin look at each other and crack up. He wants to ask what Eddie thinks was going on with Cary if he assumed Steve was straight but Robin shrieks, “You think I would hang out with a straight man!”

“Hey! You did hang out with me when I thought I was straight!”

She shakes her head like a smug asshole. “Debatable. You've always been a lil fruity. Tommy H? Whatever that was with Billy? C'mon.”

Steve takes a turn at slapping her. When he looks back up, he finds Eddie looking at him like a kid who just found coal in his stocking, dark eyes wet and bottom lip desperately trying not to pout.

“Holy shit, stop making that face,” Steve begs.

“I can't.”

Chrissy leans up on her knees, wobbling precariously on the stool, to physically push his lip back where it belongs. He smacks her hand away and then puts his own back up to his eyes, pushing hard.

“This is divine punishment. The universe sensed I was too happy so they sent you to test me. Big fat F, just like always,” he mumbles, nonsensically.

Steve looks to Chrissy to translate.

She puts a finger to her chin, looks between the two of them, and then concludes, “He thinks you're hot and that he ruined his chances by being a prick.”

“Chrissy!” Eddie's shriek puts Robin's to shame.

But he's not denying it.

Steve makes extremely pointed eye contact with Robin and says, “It's getting late. Eddie and I have to close the bar. You should see Chrissy home.”

She nods, slow and then quick, as the message lands.

“Yes! Yes, let's get going. Leave these guys to…close the bar.”

Smooth.

They giggle the entire way out the door but Steve ignores them. Eddie is staring again, dark eyes pinning him to the mirror behind the bar.

“I was going to ask earlier but I didn't think it was appropriate…”

Eddie swallows, throat bobbing. “Ask what?”

“What's the company policy on fraternization?”

As a former jock, Steve is thoroughly impressed by Eddie's form as he vaults the bar.

[sortagaysortahigh]

Nobody Gets Me | Joaquin Torres

A/N: Heyyyyy sexies...so don't be mad but I'm in my angst bag, this is giving Hurt/no comfort and I'm not sorry! I've been in my emo era so EVERYONE SHOULD SUFFER TOO!!! ugh anyways, i might do a pt 2 with a happy ending eventually, but I present: Divorced exes to something hopeful?? HURT!! WOOO HOO! Also, I did give Joaquin a sister for this universe specifically (hopefully i continue it </3) Everyone say thank you to @love-chx for beta-ing this and apologize to her for not having a happy ending <3

Summary: Getting married young had it's risks, unfortunately for you and Joaquin, that marriage didn't work out, it's been years since you've been in contact, so why do your hearts still ache?

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort NO HAPPY ENDING!, OOC joaquin (he's mean, jealous, exhausted fr), the Blip </3, john walker jump scare!, SAM BUCKY SUPREMACY!, heartbreak, angst, failed relationships, divorce, mentions of joaquin's accident, spelling and grammar errors (we all know who I am atp), a lot of crying, mentions of loss of virginity, mentions of sex (no smut/sex depicted). dual perspectives? switching b/w joaquin and reader??? idk im sorry if its all over the place

Word Count: 10.4k (of sadness)

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader (THEY'RE DIVORCED GOD DAMNIT! Reader also has long-ish hair/hair long enough to braid with 2 white stripes by her ears (this holds a future plot purpose </3)

Joaquin baby I'm so sorry for the angst i put you thru in this but maybe next time, do better! </3

Joaquin Torres is amazing at his job, he easily worked his way up in rank during his time in the Air Force, as a Lieutenant he met Sam Wilson, who he would eventually work very closely with and even consider family. It was a no-brainer when Joaquin had become a Captain, and while working side-by-side with Captain America, he was also able to take on the mantle of the Falcon.

He poured his all into his job, and from the outside looking in, he loved every second of every day. Joaquin was always positive, always putting on a happy face, always committed to making sure everything was going smoothly and that everyone was alright at all times. 

He truly was a hero in every sense of the word—at least to the public.

After his accident in the Indian Ocean near Celestial Island, he’d spent months in physical therapy and rehab, pushing himself past his limits, working harder and harder with the end-goal of getting back into the sky. 

It was accomplished after one year and three months.

One year of long days and even longer nights. A year and three months of being on the ground and being reminded of everything he’d swallowed down, all of the pain, all of the hurt, he did his best to ignore the ache and emptiness in his heart. But when he couldn’t drown himself in work and distract himself with the literal thrill of the skies, all of that bottled up emotion was bound to overflow.

That’s also around the time that he resorted to one night stands. He’d always hated one night stands, not because he didn’t enjoy the sex, but because sex without a genuine emotional connection was never enough for him. If anything, the random hookups had him spiralling even more.

His physical therapist had also told him several times that he shouldn’t have been partaking in any ‘strenuous activity’ which happened to include sex—or at least the kind of frustration fueled sex he was having.

She’d eventually referred him to an actual therapist, who he avoided like the plague, purposefully missing meetings every other week to force the therapist to schedule him bi-weekly. Opening up to a complete stranger was hard enough, but having to provide a co-pay to be questioned about his lackluster decision making and emotional trauma was a lot on him. 

Especially after the incident in the ocean.

The therapist had recommended he spend more time with his friends, which he did for a while, and it worked the first few months. Catching up with friends on and off base, but traveling back home to Miami was what had sent him into a downward spiral in the fourth month of his recovery.

Joaquin Torres has always been a family man, he spent his childhood telling his abuela about how excited he was to grow up one day, get a beautiful wife, and have his own little family. As a teenager, he admittedly did have two pregnancy scares with his then girlfriends, except each time he was fully committed to being a father, even at sixteen. 

He didn’t exactly love his exes, but he loved the idea of being a father, and he knew that one day, he would be. At seventeen Joaquin had only hoped he’d be married and not screwing anything on legs before having a kid.

The day he’d flown back to Miami he expected his sister to pick him up from the airport. It wasn’t a shock to see Ximena there, clearly on the phone with someone, however when he heard his ex-wife’s name slip past her lips, he was overcome with a sense of nausea that he hadn’t felt since the day in court when his divorce had been finalized.

Joaquin Torres hated telling people that he was divorced, being a divorcee at the age of twenty-nine wasn’t exactly the biggest green flag in the world. Nor was it something he was proud of. It’d been three years since the divorce was finalized, three years that he’d been drowning himself in work and a faux sense of positivity to ignore the rage and hurt he felt deep down.

She’d muttered a series of apologies for being there, stating that her husband couldn’t make it, before mumbling some excuse to Joaquin while simultaneously hanging up the phone.

He couldn’t be mad at his sister, not for having a best friend, even if that best friend was his ex-wife.

You and Ximena Torres met in the fourth grade, quickly bonding over a shared love of seashells. That bond quickly spiraled into running around the playground hand-in-hand while scaring the fifth grade boys—one of which being her older brother Joaquin.

The two of you hadn’t gotten along until your sophomore year of high school, when your then-boyfriend cheated on you and left you sobbing under the bleachers as if it was the end of the world. (To your fifteen year old self, it was the end of the world). Ximena was comforting you, and eventually, she managed to convince Joaquin and his friends to ‘go scare’ your ex-boyfriend and the group of guys he hung around with.

Joaquin was on the soccer team at that point, and he also knew several of the football players as they all did winter track and field together, so the fist fight that broke out two days later was a no-brainer.

The day you’d stormed into his house, quickly greeting his Abuela before rushing up to his room, slamming the door open and kicking his then-girlfriend out before cursing him out for thirty minutes while ranting about how ‘wildly wrong’ it was to ‘organize a fucking royal rumble’—your words not his—had marked the beginning of your friendship.

That friendship would later develop into something else when you complained about lacking a date to your senior prom. He’d been home from bootcamp and had a month before getting deployed overseas, so he simply shrugged and said he would take you.

Prom night Joaquin had taken your virginity, or rather, you’d given it to him on a silver platter.

From there, things just flowed naturally. He’d taken you on a few dates the month before deployment. During his first eight month deployment you’d written to him constantly, and those letters, plus photos, and occasional phone calls, gave him something to look forward to when he got back home.

He left for deployment in June, then came back in January of the following year. He was actually stationed in Florida, closer to Florida State University where you went to college. Although he hated FSU on the principle that he would always be a Miami fan, he had no issue in visiting you on campus. The both of you were casual for the latter half of your freshman year.

Then that summer he asked you to be his girlfriend, ‘in the official sense’—his exact words being ‘well, we’re always together, and I really like you, and you really like me, so will you be my girlfriend in the official sense because you’re already my non-official girlfriend’.

At that point he was twenty and you were around nineteen. The both of you dated consistently for two years before he proposed to you the week before Christmas on the beach. You’d obviously said yes, squealing in excitement as he slid the ring on your left finger.

The wedding happened four months later, it wasn’t anything major, something small on a private beach, but at the time, in 2016, it was the best day of both of your lives. 

The following two years were amazing, at least until the Blip happened and Thanos had managed to snap half of the universe’s population away. Joaquin was lucky that he and his wife hadn’t disappeared off of the face of the Earth. But life got harder much faster than expected.

Work was difficult, the sense of impending doom never really disappeared, not when dread was so common amongst global leaders. There were a few positives of the Blip—well, positives if you ignore the long lasting repercussions after the Avengers had reversed the Blip. Homelessness had found some sense of a ‘cure’, politicians using the available resources to make themselves look better, and to finally do something about the hundreds of thousands of people living on the streets and starving worldwide.

The first year of the Blip, things weren’t horrible. Not between you and Joaquin, or on a global scale. The sudden surge of resources did have some positive outcomes, however, the resources also led to a growth in greed. The greed led to a downward spiral on a global scale.

Sure, the global economy might’ve been great from a corporation-based standpoint, but day-to-day life for regular people wasn't.

Job hours got longer, the price of items did increase, inflation was actually an unpredicted issue for a lot of nations, then of course was the need to expand and grow militaries to account for the loss in actual soldiers and enlistments. That directly impacted you and Joaquin, to the point that you had to uproot your life in Florida and move to the West Coast.

Prior to the Blip, Joaquin had been deployed two additional times, one before you were married for six months, and a second for eight months the year after you’d gotten married. Both deployments were overseas, and each time he’d come home, he wouldn’t leave your side for days. 

Following the Blip, Joaquin was never home, or never at the house that you’d purchased off base in California. It wasn’t a bad house per-say, it just wasn’t home. It lacked any real warmth, and it felt like it was draining you. It was difficult to find work as a journalist and publicist, not because there wasn’t anything to be done, but because you freelanced, and during the Blip, major news outlets and magazines weren’t looking for freelance writers.

That also led you to working on base, which should’ve brought you and Joaquin closer together, but it did the exact opposite. Especially when he’d see other Lieutenants flirting with the ‘pretty new media relations’ girl, you usually smiled and laughed it off, doing your best to keep your job.

However, Joaquin Torres was the jealous type, and when you’d both get in fights at home about it, he’d constantly say that you were flirting, that you were feeding into it, as if you had asked for men to flirt with you during your day job.

His job was beyond stressful, which also led to him always being irritable, that combined with the grief that both of you were feeling over the loss of family and friends following the snap. 

You and him both were shells of who you once were before the Blip.

The blip had lasted five years, your marriage was over by the third. It wasn’t until the Blip was reversed that you’d both finished fighting one another in court.

Prior to that, you’d been sleeping in different rooms, and acted more like roommates that tolerated one another rather than husband and wife.

Once the divorce was finalized, Joaquin stayed in California while you went home to Miami. He hadn’t heard from you since, and he had no idea where you actually had been, considering you were never big on social media, and now it was like you were nothing but a ghost from his past.

He did his best to ignore the nausea in his stomach after hearing your name, it wasn’t just your first name, no it was your full name, as if you’d said something so outrageous that Ximena was yelling at you over the phone while laughing.

Joaquin knew you were still friends with his sister. He’d never hold that against you, but it did hurt.

During his time in Miami, he did his best to ignore his intrusive thoughts, telling him to call you, or to reach out to your family, or to figure out where the hell you’d actually gone, or who you were now. It’d been three years, three years since he’d seen you, three years since he’d heard your real actual voice, not just the recordings and videos on his phone and laptop.

With his skillset, he knew he could’ve found you, but you didn’t want to be found, that much was clear to him.

Whenever people would ask about you, he’d just laugh it off, shrug, and force a smile. He was so used to being positive all the time that he easily slipped into that persona, most people had never seen him irritated, and he liked it that way. 

Then he ran into your mother at the grocery store, she pulled him into a hug with a wide smile and started talking his ear off, asking how he was, congratulating him on becoming a ‘real superhero!’, then she’d gone on a tangent about you. That’s how he found out you were in Washington D.C. working directly under James Buchanan Barnes.

The same James Buchanan Barnes that Sam Wilson was best friends with, and the same person that he’d assisted in taking down the Flagsmashers. He’d seen Bucky several times over the past few years, and never, not once, did he see you.

So he knew you were avoiding him. It wasn’t just a weird sense of paranoia, no, Joaquin knew you. He knew you like the back of his hand, he knew the best parts of you and the worst, and he was absolutely positively sure that you’d been avoiding him.

He also knew that both Sam and Bucky most likely had no knowledge of you being his ex-wife, or even of Joaquin himself being married at one point. It was more likely than Bucky knew, mostly because getting the level of security clearances needed to work for a Congressman required several in-depth background checks.

Joaquin feigned happiness as your mother spoke to him, and as soon as he could, he got the hell out of there.

Slowly, but surely, his composure cracked. He wasn’t the happy-go-lucky guy anymore with nothing but optimism. The thread of pessimism within him was unraveling, and he found himself slipping into a never-ending anger.

He used that anger to push through the next few months of his recovery once he was back in Washington. He went on a strict diet, stuck to his training plans, and started pushing himself even more, striving to go back to being the Falcon, to find some sense of purpose, and something to drown himself in.

The only vice he truly had was the lackluster one night stands. It was never enjoyable, but he needed to let off some steam, so he’d go to some of the bars in D.C., flirt a little bit, and go back to someone’s place with them, slipping out in the early hours of the morning without a word. It worked for him, or at least, he told himself it worked for him. 

He also told himself he wasn’t going for women that reminded him of you—which was a definitive lie.

Eventually, once he was back in the sky, back running drills, back working on his flips, kicks, and spins he stopped with the unhealthy coping habits. He’d even gotten a new suit from the Wakandans, a gift from M’baku himself after Sam had told him about Joaquin’s accident. The suit was carbon black, had some green detailing, and it was constructed from vibranium, the same vibranium that absorbed kinetic energy and released it.

Joaquin had never felt more unstoppable with the mantle and new suit.

But with the whole ‘New Avengers’ fiasco occurring in New York, Sam had been stressed, and he’d been doing his best to work with Bucky, trying to find some kind of work-around to the ever-present legal issues associated with there being two Avengers groups.

When he got the call that they were headed to the renovated Avengers compound in Manhattan, part of him was excited to finally see the place, but the other part of him was dreading the possibility of seeing his ex-wife. He didn’t know if she still worked for Bucky, and he never bothered to ask, he hadn’t even brought it up again after speaking with your mother.

He was tense on the flight to New York, and when Sam tried to pry it out of him, he lied about having a stomach bug.

By the time that Joaquin and Sam had arrived at the tower, it was nearly seven and the sun was setting. Admittedly, the place was nice, a bit too modern for him, but nice either way. 

He followed Sam’s lead, mostly because he had no idea how to navigate the tower and getting lost wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do. But the second the elevator doors opened, he heard your laughter, a series of loud, high pitched, wheezy laughs and giggles that he’d fallen in love with a lifetime ago.

Sam’s brows knit together as he looked at Joaquin, then he looked around the elevator and into the large common space. “You alright kid?” 

Joaquin blinked a few times, nodding his head, snapping out of his daze as he looked at Sam. “Uh-uh yeah sorry, I just, zoned out—nothing to worry about. Anyways, where's Bucky?” he was talking too fast, the composure he’d worked so hard on building up easily crumbled. Then he heard your laugh again followed by ‘Wait! Stop—put me down Parker!’. 

He must’ve been on fire, that would explain the heat raging throughout his body.

Sam shrugged him off, motioning for Joaquin to follow him as he made his way towards the commotion, Bucky easily spotting them, standing from his front row seat to your ‘fight’ with Peter. 

Joaquin quickly followed, jaw clenched as he finally spotted you. You looked so different while also looking just like yourself. Your hair was longer now, pulled into two thick braids trailing from the top of your head, down your back. It also had two large white streaks near your ears, which was different—but then again, Joaquin had been shaving his face religiously because the thought of your compliments on it left a sour taste in his mouth.

He noticed the way you smiled, wide and full of life. A look he hadn’t seen in so long, a look he missed desperately, every single day.

When Peter Parker finally put you down, you laughed again, shaking your head as you sat up, still not noticing Joaquin’s presence. But Joaquin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. It was clear that you’d been much happier and healthier, having put on some weight—but it wasn’t bad—the opposite really.

The last time he’d seen you, you were stressed, exhausted, and that reflected in your features and body. You’d never been super skinny, and he loved that about you—at one point he loved everything about you—but the years leading to your divorce, you’d dropped weight at an unhealthy pace from the long days and even longer nights. 

His eyes traced your entire figure from top to bottom, noticing the small things you’d changed as well. The few new tattoos and piercings stuck out to him, the small gold rings on both sides of your nostrils, and the alligator tattoo on your leg were very apparent. Joaquin also tried to ignore the faded Air Force t-shirt you had on, it was clearly his, and he remembered the shirt well.

Then you finally turned and noticed him. Eyes widening at the sight of Joaquin, and he kept his eyes on you the entire time.

Everyone seemed to notice the shift in the room, well everyone except for Sam and Bucky who were too busy talking amongst one another about a few legal documents, and Sam throwing in several of his typical ‘anti-government’ remarks.

It was as if time was frozen.

You blinked a few times, eyes on Joaquin—your Joaquin. 

The same man that you’d loved and hated at one point in your life, you weren’t even sure how you’d felt about him now, but you did know one thing, you had done your very best to avoid him at all costs. Sure, you knew one day it would probably bite you in the ass, but you hoped that was years from now.

Then again, you knew there was a risk when you’d taken the job as Bucky Barnes’s media relations secretary. This was your wheelhouse, you specialized in media relations and journalism, you would’ve been a complete idiot to decline the job.

But now, it was as if karma was coming to kick your ass.

You stared at him, unmoving as you processed seeing him again for the first time in almost four years. He looked different, more mature in a way that you hadn’t expected. He still had that boy-ish charm, but he looked older, stronger, and sturdier.

He still shaved his face, something you always told him to stop doing. Constantly telling him he looked good with facial hair, making sly comments and innuendos in public, giggling whenever he’d pull you into him, burying his face into your shoulder, covering any inch of exposed skin in gentle kisses as you laughed trying to shove him away.

But now he had a very visible burn scar along the right side of his neck, clearly stretching to his shoulder. You knew about his accident, and you’d been traveling with Bucky during that time, having sat in the waiting room while he spoke with Sam. 

Part of you wanted to see him, desperately, but you couldn’t do it.

Bucky had asked you several times, stating that he ‘just wanted to make sure’, but each time you politely declined, shaking your head.

The Joaquin you were seeing now wasn’t your Joaquin, not anymore at least.

You knew something was off about him, his eyes weren’t as bright anymore. Then again, neither were yours. Heartbreak and grief had the tendency to suck the joy out of things.

“You alright Lightning?” you blinked a few times, registering Peter’s voice, nodding your head as you finally glanced back at him, then after clearing your throat, you gave everyone an awkward smile before muttering some half-assed excuses and making a beeline out of the room, towards the other set of doors, far from Joaquin.

He watched you leave, scoffing while shaking his head.

Everyone made their introductions, but Joaquin didn’t have it in him to keep up his faux positivity, giving everyone tight lipped smiles and head nods. Mentioning his name and rank a few times, forcing a laugh when Sam made a joke about being the ‘Falcon’. When Peter tried to talk to him about the mechanics of the new Falcon suit, Joaquin brushed him off.

Sure you two weren’t together anymore, but he had every right to be jealous. Even if Joaquin was just your ex-husband. Peter had a nickname for you! That was enough to piss Joaquin off and make him dislike the kid.

When John Walker tried to question the entire interaction prior to the introductions, Bucky shushed him, giving him a pointed look which was received with a small head nod, and a loud sigh. Followed by Yelena elbowing him. 

It was clearly a touchy subject.

That night Joaquin couldn’t sleep.

Neither could you.

For the first time in years, you found yourself fishing your old phone and it’s charger out of the small lockbox below your bed, the box filled with some of your most prized mementos, photos of friends, family, birthday cards, small trinkets, a few necklaces, an old camera, the phone in hand, and most importantly, your engagement ring and wedding band.

It had taken a few minutes for the phone to turn on after connecting it to the charger. Then you sat on the floor, leaning against your bed in the darkness, eyes focused on the screen as you unlocked it—your old anniversary being the password.

Your bottom lip quivered as you opened the photos app, the most recent photo being of you and Joaquin at the zoo three months into the Blip, when you were still trying to find a sense of normalcy. Back when the both of you would still go on dates and try to cheer one another up, when you still fought the grief instead of wallowing in it.

He looked terrified while you had a wide smile on your face, three parrots on you, one perched in each hand and the other on the top of your head. 

Then you started scrolling, eyes burning with unshed tears as you went through the photos, happy moments forever frozen in time. Moments you wish you could relive, just for a day.

Finally you found it, the wedding video. You turned your phone horizontally, playing the ten minute video, a perfectly edited version of your wedding ceremony and reception, with a few blooper pieces of your family members giving their commentary on the wedding. Ximena put it together for you and Joaquin.

You looked so happy as he held you in his arms, both of you laughing and smiling, embracing the newly-weds title. 

The choked sob that slipped past your lips at the sight of your first dance unleashed the floodgates, you were full on sobbing now, watching the video with your knees to your chest, hand perched atop them. 

Joaquin used to look at you as if you hung the moon and stars. 

You remember that look, the look of unconditional love. 

You might’ve had a crush on Joaquin in high school, but he was the one who fell the hardest. He was the first to say ‘I love you’ and the day he proposed to you, he couldn’t stop himself, it was such a candid moment. He had a whole day planned for it, but then you two had gone to the beach, and the sunset painted you like an angel sent from above, the second you’d turn around, squatting to pick up seashells, he knew it was time.

He’d tapped your shoulder that day, as if he was showing you a shell, then you turned around—laughing at the awkward movement while still squatting, then you practically fell backwards onto the sand at the sight of him on one knee with an open engagement ring box.

Ximena had a thing for dramatics, so at the end of your wedding video, she also added in the video of your proposal, which was shakily taken from his phone, propped up against his water bottle in the sand, the angle a little crooked, but it captured the moment nonetheless. 

Three knocks on your door interrupted your sobbing sessions. You were quick to wipe your tears away, hoping you’d have enough time to tuck the phone away and climb into bed, pretending to be asleep.

But then Yelena opened the door with Bob at her side while you were trying to grab the box from below the bed, still on the floor. The two squinting into the darkness, letting their eyes adjust to the room with the helpful aid of the hall-way light streaming in.

Bob noticed you first.

“McQueen? Why’re you on the floor—wait, are you crying? Shit, Yelena she’s upset about something.” 

You laughed at him, shaking your head as you finally looked over at them, tear stained cheeks, red eyes, and a quivering bottom lip. Not to mention your frizzy hair, and tear soaked sweater sleeves.

They easily entered the room, Yelena turning on your desk lamp as Bob shut the door behind him. Then Yelena was sliding onto the floor beside you, and Bob in front of the both of you. 

The both of them were an oddly comforting duo, they were the best of friends, and honestly, after helping Bob start working through a lot of his issues, he had helpful input on most emotional situations. Plus, the fact that he cared was enough for you to let him in, and that went for Yelena as well.

Yelena noticed the phone, picking it up and looking at it, her brows knit together at the sight of the paused video, seeing a younger version of you in the arms of Joaquin Torres, smiles on your face while you flashed your wedding ring. Then she noticed that you were in a wedding dress, and he was in a full suit.

She squinted slightly, using two fingers to zoom into the paused video, eyes widening at the realization that the Air Force Captain she’d met today, was the same man in the video that you were very clearly marrying.

“We got married young. Like idiots. Then the Blip happened and I dunno, we just hated each other after a while, there wasn’t anything to fix. Then we went to court—spent almost a year going back and forth for the sake of arguing. Honestly, I only prolonged the divorce because fighting with him was better than not speaking to him.”

You sighed, now leaning your head on Yelena’s shoulder while the two listened and nodded.

“I don’t think it was idiotic to marry him if you loved him—did you?” 

You blinked a few times, glancing at Bob, then down at your hands again. “I do—I did. He used to make me feel like nothing could ever go wrong. Then suddenly, the fantasy all came crashing down.” You sniffled a few times, shrugging.

He nodded, looking at Yelena who was swiping through the different photos and videos, then her eyes widened as she let out a loud gasp, throwing the phone to the side, where it now sat face-up, a video of you and Joaquin in a very intimate position on the screen.

Your eyes widened as you rushed to flip the phone. It wasn’t like a full blown sex tape, but you were half-naked on top of him.

“So I take it you had a healthy marriage at first? Based on that-” Yelena pointed to the phone. Then she finally broke, loud boisterous laughter filling the room. Her laugh was always contagious, and it led to the three of you laughing amongst each other.

They’d managed to cheer you up in minutes, and that reminded you of how lonely you’d felt before meeting them. How mundane life felt, how every single task was draining. It reminded you of how draining life really used to be, when you’d always feel so alone in a room full of people.

When you’d seek comfort in the one person that couldn’t provide it anymore. 

“I really do love you guys.” 

Yelena smiled, nodding her head. “I love you too, in a completely platonic way, don’t try to mount me the way you mounted him—wait what's his name again?” Her brows knit together as she thought hard to remember Joaquin’s name, but she was drawing a blank.

Bob finally stopped laughing, shaking his head. “Joaquin—I think? Yeah, that sounds right.” 

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s Joaquin, Captain Joaquin Torres. Y’know when we were married he wasn’t a captain yet—” you stopped mid sentence, afraid of the potential word vomit or tears that might come out of this conversation.

On the opposite end of the tower Joaquin was pacing back and forth in one of the guest bedrooms. Not only was he angry, he was hurt, so hurt, in fact, that he’d spent thirty minutes crying silently in the shower, hoping the scalding hot water would numb some of the pain he was feeling.

It usually worked for physical pain, but emotional pain? It did little to nothing.

Seeing you was like opening Pandora's box. Joaquin always knew he was angry, angry at you yes, but he was angrier at himself. He’d never really forgiven himself for letting you slip through the cracks, for taking his frustrations out on you, for being overly jealous and never understanding, and for pushing you away. Constantly.

The Blip had taken a lot out of him, he was hurting, but so were you.

He forgot about that, about the pain that you’d been in. 

Your mother was blipped, and she meant the world to you. Anytime you’d call your father, you’d lock yourself in the bedroom after, sobbing for hours, holding a pillow against your chest, trying to find some kind of comfort. 

In the beginning, he’d slip into bed behind you, arms wrapped around your torso while you silently cried and mourned your mother. You were never really the blind hope type—he was. Joaquin had been there for you, there to comfort you, to bring you a sense of reassurance, and most importantly, to ground you.

His abuela had been blipped, he knew how it felt, the grief, but it wasn’t nearly as substantial as yours was. He loved his abuela, but he also knew she was an older woman who lived an entire life, and anytime they spoke, she’d always say ‘I love you Quino, if this is the last time we talk, just know i’ll always be there in spirit! Make sure you tell my princessa I love her too!’—or something along those lines.

He used to tell her not to talk like that, but his mother said it came from a place of love and of understanding. Every moment with someone was precious and needed to be valued, life was really too short to leave things unspoken.

So how he managed to leave so much? He didn’t understand. 

He blamed himself for the divorce, Joaquin knew that he was pushing you away. Then you’d gotten that job on base, and at first he was excited to visit his pretty wife during lunch. But then his jealousy took over, jealousy mixed with pessimism and all of the negative emotions he’d been swallowing down started surfacing.

It wasn’t like you didn’t try. You were constantly talking to him, constantly checking on him, spending nights with your hands in his hair while you asked if he was alright, telling him you were always there to talk. 

His job was stressing him out, he was under so much pressure, constantly. Tensions were rising at work, there were deadlines that needed to be met, tasks he didn’t have the time to do, and yet he still had to.

So he’d come home late, and he was bitter about it. Then you’d show up with a small smile on your tired face, mumbling something about making dinner, but he was tired, too tired to eat. He just wanted to sleep.

Some days he’d snap at you, and you were never one to sit and take it. 

That’s when the fighting would start, and the screaming for hours on end. You two would go back and forth until eventually you’d slam a door in his face and tell him to sleep on the sofa. 

Even now, as he paced back and forth, he remembers the sound of your muffled sobs, the way you’d cry after every fight. Then you’d pad out of the room in the middle of the night with a blanket for him, he’d pretend to be asleep as you covered him, kissing the top of his head, mumbling a rushed ‘I’m sorry’. 

You always cared, you did your best. 

He didn’t. 

He stopped trying, and he knew that. He was just so tired, so angry, so jealous, so frustrated. The world didn’t stop spinning, tomorrow would always come, but he was so angry as he focused on each individual day, then he couldn’t find comfort in you anymore.

At one point, you were able to calm him down within seconds, you’d wrap your arms around him and tell him you loved him, then ask to talk. He’d melt against you, an entire breakdown of his day would follow. Sometimes you’d comment, other times you’d nod your head while he spoke.

But eventually, the hugs, kisses, and gentle gestures stopped. Even the sex didn’t solve anything. It was just another way for the both of you to let go of tension, then he was grabbing a pillow and leaving the room, going to the sofa, and eventually, to the guest bedroom that had turned into his personal bedroom.

What made things worse was that you were both so young when you’d gotten married, young and naive. In a world where alien invasions were common, jumping the gun on marriage wasn’t that irrational, not  when you were truly in love with someone.

But sometimes love isn’t enough. 

That’s what had truly broken Joaquin, the realization that love wasn’t enough. 

Joaquin was twenty-six when the divorce was finalized, you were twenty-five. 

When he was twenty-two people told him it was idiotic to get married that young, that it was a mistake. So many people doubted you and Joaquin’s marriage, and now, he had to admit that they were right. 

He wanted to hate you, the last year of your marriage was the hardest. It was as if neither of you wanted to let go while simultaneously making one another’s lives a living hell. Buying a house together made it much harder to separate from one another, which also presented its own legal issues in terms of needing to be separated prior to divorcing one another.

Then there was the fact that you’d been married in Florida, seeking a divorce in California, while Joaquin was actively in the Air Force, and you also worked on base. It wasn’t like either of you would’ve been able to avoid one another, and truthfully, neither of you wanted to avoid each other.

The arguments and fights were never ending during that last month. Anytime he’d see you or you’d see him before a meeting with your attorneys, a screaming fest would start. Most of the fights had nothing to do with any divisions of assets, and you’d both already agreed to sell the house.

But Joaquin knew that he preferred fighting with you over never speaking to you.

The sound of his door slamming open caught his attention, his pacing stopped while he turned to look at the door. 

Sam stood here with Bucky by his side, a singular brow raised as he shook his head, the two men inviting themselves into the room.

“So you mean to tell me, this entire time, you had an ex-wife? Kid, you were married?” Sam was loud as he spoke, shock evident in his tone as he entered the rooms, hands moving as he spoke. “I had to find out from Buck! Of all people!”

“Hey—what’s that supposed to mean!” Bucky sounded offended while he leaned against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest, shaking his head at Sam’s comment.

“It means, I’ve been working with the kid for almost four years—wait! When we first met, you’d barely been divorced? Is that why you were in Tunisia?! On some finding yourself through work journey?” 

Joaquin was frozen in place, eyes wide as he looked from Sam to Bucky, then back to Sam. He didn’t know the best way to approach this situation. Sure, he knew that eventually he would’ve had to come clean to Sam about you, but that wasn’t ever a priority of his, mainly because he preferred to act as if nothing was ever wrong and swallow all of his feelings down.

“Yeah, when you introduced me to the kid, they’d only been divorced for around four months? I found that out from McQueen. Honestly, I’m surprised Joaquin held it in for so long, five drinks in and she was crying on my living room sofa.”

Bucky sounded so nonchalant as he spoke, which only irritated Joaquin. It made sense that you’d be spending time with him, he was your boss. But, you? Drinking with him? Then spending time at his place? 

Joaquin’s jaw was clenched so tight he was afraid his teeth would crack.

“Buck, why were you drinking with her—you don’t drink often.” Sam paused, looking over at Bucky. 

“I wasn’t drinking, we were at a fundraiser, y’know they’re boring as hell. People kept passing her drinks, she didn’t want to be rude when she was technically working, I told her to just chuck the drinks into some plants—then she started rambling about plants and their root health. Anyways, long story short, she’s an emotional drunk.”

Joaquin stifled a laugh, a sad smile on his face at the story. 

You’d always been an emotional drunk, even as a teenager when you and Ximena would sneak into his mother’s liquor cabinet, sneaking out to drink in random parking lots or at the beach. Then someone would inevitably call him to pick you both up, he’d always feign reluctance, but he never had an issue getting the two of you, and whatever other friend was there.

That’s also one of the first times you’d kissed him. He remembers the day as if it was yesterday, you were a junior in high school, he was a senior, it was after the big homecoming game. You were clearly plastered, laughing and shrugging with Ximena, both of you practically falling over with wide smiles on your faces as you stumbled into Joaquin in the parking lot.

He lectured you both that night, Ximena had fallen asleep in the front seat, so you opted to help haul her out of the car with him, giggling as you backed into him a few times. Joaquin kept shushing you, and after you both managed to get his sister into the house, you smiled at him in the dimly lit hallway.

Then you kissed him. It was quick, as if the moment you realized your lips were on his, you were immediately reeling back. Apologizing while giggling, then you’d gone into Ximena’s room, waving at him before closing the door.

“Hey stop daydreaming over there! You’ve got some serious explaining to do!” Sam’s snapping caught Joaquin’s attention as he slowly nodded his head, acting as if he was listening—he very clearly was not.

“Start from the beginning, let’s hear it.”

Joaquin nodded at Bucky, letting out a deep sigh as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He’d spent the next two hours explaining everything to them both, from the start of your relationship, to getting engaged, then to the Blip, and of course, the end of it all. The divorce, the fights, the anger, all of it.

In a way, Joaquin felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He’d spent so long bottling everything up that it had just become normal to him. 

“So you’re still in love with her and from what Bucky’s told me—she’s still in love with you. So what’s the issue here? Clearly you’ve both grown up, and Ray Charles once said, time heals a broken heart but time has clearly sat still while you two have been apart—”

Bucky cut him off, “I don’t think that’s how that saying goes, Sam.”

“You shut the hell up, I’m giving the kid some emotional motivation to win his woman back! Sure, they’re divorced, but they’re young and clearly stupid!—no offense Joaquin. It’s been years since they’ve seen each other! You’ve heard her side, Buck, now we’ve heard his! They’re in love!” Sam’s hands moved rapidly as he spoke, constantly motioning in Joaquin’s direction and the opposite direction, most likely where you metaphorically would be.

Bucky sighed, shrugging. “Okay, you’re right—” he turned to look at Joaquin. “I get you two went through a rough patch during the Blip, but I can guarantee, things’ll be better now. At the very least, you should try. Lightning McQueen’s not gonna reject you outright.” 

Sam and Joaquin shared a confused look before Sam spoke up. “Why the hell is everyone calling her Lightning McQueen?”

Bucky shrugged. “She wears Lightning McQueen slippers around the tower, sometimes she’ll stop mid sentence and say ‘kachow’. At first I didn’t get it, then she forced me to watch the entire Cars franchise with her. She cried during the last two movies.”

Sam blinked a few times, meanwhile Joaquin couldn’t hold his laughter in.

“That’s one of her favorite movies, something about a coming of age story—I dunno, she’s loved it forever.” 

Sam and Bucky looked at one another, then back at him, speaking at the same time, the mixture of “you’re both idiots” and “idiots in love” sounded a bit jumbled and confusing, but Joaquin got the point.

The next few days Joaquin’s only goal was to actually talk to you. It was easy in theory, there were only so many places that you could run off to. However, you knew the compound much better than he did, and anytime he finally caught sight of you, you were gone in seconds.

It was obvious you’d been avoiding him, and that was only irritating him more and more. He’d gone from being slightly hopeful that maybe you two could start over, to feeling himself slipping into that same pessimistic mindset he’d tried to swallow down and drown out with work.

He was hanging on by a thin thread. 

That thread snapped the moment he walked into the lab in search of some data on a few samples of adamantium that was recovered near a small island neighboring the Celestial mass in the Indian Ocean. 

He still had a job to do, even if he was also simultaneously trying to win his ex-wife back.

The moment Joaquin stepped foot into the lab, you were there, standing beside a large metal table where Bob was laying flat. Not only was the man laying down, he was fully shirtless and your hands were on his abdomen. From Joaquin’s angle he couldn’t see what you were doing, but he did hear your laughter.

Yelena leaned against one of the tables behind you, her arms crossed as she questioned your motions, pointing down at Bob where you’d been stitching him up, “If you go any slower, it’ll prolong the pain.”

You scoffed, glancing at her over your shoulder. “Well, if you hadn’t been sparring with knives, none of us would be here right now. This is the closest thing we have to a med bay, besides, if I go faster, I’ll fuck up the stiching and unfortunately for you, you don’t exactly have health insurance in the state of New York. Actually, I don’t think any of you do outside of Bucky and Walker.”

Bob winced slightly as you pulled the thread through his skin, teeth clenched, one hand over his eyes. “Why couldn’t I have a drink or something again? No offense Lightning, but this hurts.”

You sighed. “Remember your whole addictive personality thing? Sorry, but the best I can do is get Yelena to knock you out cold. But I think that would be another issue. Besides, aren't you supposed to be like a God or something? You’ll heal just fine! Don’t be such a baby!” Then you started laughing.

He groaned, wincing as he laughed as well, which made Yelena laugh too.

Joaquin finally walked into the lab, jaw clenched as he walked right past the three of you, his own metaphorical storm cloud following him. Except this time, you couldn’t run away from him, which he was grateful for, but he didn’t really feel like discussing your past relationship with people he hardly knew.

“Good afternoon to you too, Captain Torres!” Your eyes widened at Yelena’s words, fingers pressing a bit too harshly into Bob’s skin—earning a loud groan.

Joaquin scoffed, nodding his head to acknowledge Yelena while mumbling. “Yeah—afternoon.” 

He found a more secluded area of the lab, but it still had a direct line-of-sight to you. So Joaquin sat, stewing in his own jealousy for thirty minutes while you stitched up some gash on Bob's side.

Then Yelena was helping Bob get back up, stating that she’d be back shortly, but once she was out of the lab, the lights dimmed, then flashed red for a few seconds, before settling on a blue-ish hue. That was followed by Yelena’s voice over the intercom. “Sorry Lightning! But you two need to talk it out, or sex it out, whichever you prefer! I’ll shut down the cameras! Oh and don’t try to do any other work, Peter’s shutting down the systems externally.” 

Once she finished speaking, you were left in a tense silence as you cleaned up the area. The sounds of metal clinking, plastic shifting, spraying from the disinfectants, and the sounds of your frustrated sighing practically echoed in the room.

“Are you gonna say something to me? Or just be angry and clean the whole time. Not that I’m not used to that.” 

You blinked a few times, pausing your motions before practically slamming the metal tray in your hands against the countertop as you slowly turned to face him. He was still several feet away, but now Joaquin was standing up, leaning against one of the larger free-standing countertops that you typically examined samples on.

“I have nothing to say to you Joaquin.”

He shook his head at that. “Well, I have everything to say to you Ms. Torres.” He noticed the way your eyes widened as he shook his head, then he ran his tongue along his top teeth. “Y’know what’s absolutely insane, that I had to find out from Bucky—your boss—that you hadn’t ever gone through with changing your name. So you’ve been walking around with my last name, while fucking whoever the hell you want.”

You scoffed at that, there it was, the jealousy. “Excuse me? I’m sorry that I didn’t feel the need to go through another extensive legal process to change my goddamn name, when I already made a name for myself with the last name Torres. And seriously? Fucking whoever I want? I’ve gone on dates—I’ve had sex with other people. Oh well! Do you want flowers and a fuckin handwritten apology? Like oh I’m so sorry Joaquin that I kept your last name after being married to you for five years! My bad!”

Joaquin let out a sardonic laugh, followed by a scoff before speaking again. “Well, if you hadn’t disappeared off of the face of the earth, maybe I wouldn’t care that much. It’s like the second we were over, you were gone!” 

“What the hell was I supposed to do?! Stick around? Fight with you some more?! As if it was ever fucking enjoyable? I choose to leave, I’m not mad about it! I had to get the hell away from you, I had to remember who the hell I was—who I am! I didn’t even know who I was outside of being with you! So sorry if I choose to put myself first and go live my life Joaquin!” 

Your voice got louder and louder as you spoke, chest rapidly rising and falling, feeling the waves of irritation and anger rolling through your entire body.

He shook his head. “Did you ever think that maybe—just maybe I didn’t want the divorce. That sure we could’ve used some space and time apart but that I still loved you?! Did you ever consider that! Or maybe I still love you! That I was never able to move on?!”

You paused, lips slightly parted, brows knit together at the confession.

Joaquin scoffed, rolling his eyes, leaning his head back slightly as he looked up, silently praying to whatever God truly existed, that this wasn’t a mistake. Then his eyes were back on you.

“There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought about you. Every single worthless hookup I had, I thought about you, I purposefully went after women that reminded me of you just so I could fucking feel something—anything! But they were never you!” 

He ran his hands through his hair. “I swallowed down every shitty emotion I’ve felt for years, drowning myself in even more work, I mean I guess it paid off-or at least it had paid off until I fucking crash landed into the Indian Ocean!”

Joaquin laughed again, sniffling slightly, doing his best to ignore the burning in his eyes “The worst part was, when I woke up from a week long coma, I was delirious and high on whatever the fuck they were giving me for the pain—and I asked for you. I asked every single nurse for you. I get it, you wanted to go off and live your life without me—but you didn’t call, you didn’t text. Hell, I even asked Ximena if you knew and she avoided the subject.” 

You cut him off. “Shut the hell up Joaquin.”

He shook his head “No, I’m tired of holding this shit in, and if this is the only chance I’ll ever get to talk to you—then so be it! I waited for you, I waited in that goddamn hospital hoping and praying that maybe you’d show up with your sad smile and concerned eyes and tell me that I was an idiot and things would all be okay. But you didn’t, come to find out, you were there that day—the day they rushed me in.” 

You shook your head, jaw clenched, eyes watering. “Joaquin, stop.” 

Joaquin laughed again, shrugging. “Bucky told me you were there with him, that you hounded all of the nurses and the receptionists, but you never once went to see me. What? Hate me that bad you couldn’t even spare me five fucking minutes when I’m unconscious after nearly dying?!—” 

“Jesus Christ! Shut the fuck up, Joaquin! You don’t know what you’re talking about. For once in your life, shut your big fucking mouth! I’m sorry I didn’t go—you think I didn’t wanna see you?! I was fucking terrified! Terrified that you were gonna die on that table when they were operating on you! I was sobbing the entire time, I was so afraid of losing you—” 

You wiped your tears away, brows knit together, bottom lip quivering as you stared at him. “I’d already lost you once. I didn’t have it in me to lose you again. I couldn’t see you like that, I tried—I wanted to. I couldn’t do it. You don’t get to hold that against me—” 

You pointed at him as you spoke. “You don’t have the fucking right to hold that against me.”

Joaquin blinked a few times, watching as your walls were crumbling. He knew you were still hurt, that much was obvious in the way you’d been avoiding him—but to know you were hurting like this? 

It broke part of him, and for a second he felt like his nineteen year old self again on the night he’d taken your virginity. He remembered the way you tried not to cry, word vomiting your insecurities and vulnerabilities to him while the two of you sat in his childhood bedroom. Joaquin remembered the way you looked, the way you couldn’t meet his stare, the way you held the blanket to your body to shield yourself from him, even if you were still in your dress.

He knew you so well, he used to know exactly how to comfort you, exactly how to make your worries disappear.

Now he didn’t.

Now he was the cause of them.

“I loved you until the very end of our relationship. Don’t ever sit and act like I didn’t—like I don’t care about you. Joaquin, you were my first love, you meant everything to me. I married you when I was twenty-one like an idiot because I had so much faith and hope in our relationship—in our love. I know I was wrong to up and leave once the divorce was finalized, but I didn’t want to work through things just to be your friend. I could never in my life be your friend Joaquin—not when you knew everything about me—every single insecurity, every hope, every dream.”

You weren’t wiping the tears away anymore, a sad smile on your face as you looked down at your hands, then back to him. 

“If I could do it all over again, I would. Just to get the chance to love you like that again. That’s why I left, because I knew if I stayed, I would’ve been right back with you—right back to wanting to hate you, knowing I never could and I couldn’t take it.”

He was at a loss for words, tears finally flowing along his cheeks while he looked at you. Joaquin finally processed how he’d broken your heart—broken you. He’d broken you down time and time again, letting his own insecurities, exhaustion, and pessimism get to him. 

He’d hurt the one person he never wanted to hurt—you.

“Everyday I think about you. I think about how you’re doing, I wonder what Sam’s got you wrapped up in, I laugh at the stupid jokes you make during press releases and media statements as the Falcon. Hell, I even pray for you, which is crazy because I don’t even know if there’s even a higher power—but the faith that you’ll be okay each and every day is enough for me. I ask Ximena about you all the time. Whenever I go back to Miami, I make sure to go see your family.”

Joaquin was genuinely speechless. This entire time, he thought you just didn’t care. That you wanted as much distance between the both of you as possible. He’d been so angry for years, angry at you, and angrier at himself.

“I don’t think I’ll ever not love you Joaquin, and that in itself, is enough to make me avoid you. I don’t want what we had, I hated it. I hated every fight, I hated watching you leave after we had sex, I hated the sight of you sleeping on our sofa. I hated all of it. I know life was really hard at that point, I know I wasn’t the best wife or partner, but I tried. I tried everyday but you held everything against me, constantly.”

You sniffled, biting your bottom lip while trying to recollect yourself. The tears were flowing, and you couldn’t stop them.

“You were so mean, all the time. You weren’t the Joaquin I had fallen in love with, honestly, I know I was a shell of myself, but you—you were so much worse. You never let me back in—” a short sob slipped past your lips while you cried, looking down at the ground, taking a few deep breaths. “I wanted you to let me in again. I remember purposefully forgetting documents and prolonging our entire attorney experience, just so I could spend more time with you. Because I knew the second it was over, I was leaving.”

The silence was suffocating.

You were doing your best not to sob. Joaquin was processing everything—he’d never truly known how it all affected you. He’d never seen you sob at night, sure he knew you cried, but he didn’t see it, he didn’t notice how broken you truly were.

“I’m sorry.” Joaquin spoke softly “I’m so sorry—baby—I didn’t know. I just—I didn’t realize how bad things were until it was all over. And I was just so angry all the time, everything made me so mad. Then I’d see you, but everyone was always gravitating towards you, and it makes sense because you’re beautiful, funny and so intelligent, but it bothered me.”

He paused, now stepping closer to you, hesitating before gently caressing your face, angling it towards him, away from the ground. His thumbs softly wiping your tears away.

“I was so insecure and jealous and downright mean, and I’m sorry for putting you through hell. You meant the world to me—hell you still mean the world to me. I’ve been so angry this whole time, I thought I was mad at you, but I was mad at me. Mad that I’d fucked up so bad, mad that things hadn’t worked out, that I stopped trying.”

You leaned into his hand, teary eyes now looking into his.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. I want you to know that, even if nothing comes from it. I’ll always love you, there’s nobody in this universe that gets me the way you do, I know it’s been years, but I don’t think I’m ready to just let you go again.”

Joaquin’s vulnerability shocked you, not because you didn’t think he was capable, but because this Joaquin, this was your Joaquin. This is the man that you’d fallen in love with.

“I never wanted you to let me go, Joaquin.” 

He’d been the one to suggest the divorce, and it had taken a few months of fights before you’d actually considered it. 

By that point, Joaquin was rarely sleeping with you, and the only time the two of you weren’t fighting was when you were both on base at work. Outside of that, the fights and arguments were constant, an unrelenting cycle, and you had finally hit your breaking point.

The last major fight before the divorce ended in you screaming at him before tossing a large yellow envelope on the kitchen island.

You both signed the papers that night. Then the filing process started.

That night you cried into the stuffed bear that he’d won for you at a carnival when you were nineteen. It was one of your first real dates, and you’d been so excited when he’d managed to actually win the ring toss three times in a row, scoring the large panda bear, giving it to you with a dopey smile on his face.

“Please—give me a second chance, I’ll do everything right this time—I won’t fall back into old shitty habits—I promise baby” his voice was strained as he tried not to cry. It took everything in him to not fall to his knees to beg for you back.

You sighed, pulling away from him as you shook your head.

“Joaquin, I think time apart might’ve been what we needed. But I still see the way you look at people around me, I still see the same shitty habits, and honestly, I think we might be better apart for now. We both have stuff to work through, but I won’t up and disappear from your life again”

He nodded as you spoke, biting his bottom lip, watching as you shrugged, sadness pooling in your teary eyes.

“I can’t be your wife again—not now at least. But maybe one day when we���re in a better spot.”

Joaquin sniffled a bit, looking up at the roof, then back at you. “One day for sure.” 

Then you kissed him, it was soft, hesitant, but he knew it wasn’t a welcoming kiss. It was similar to the last kiss you’d given him the day your divorce finalized. As if you were saying goodbye again.

Joaquin only hoped that the goodbye would be temporary.

-

Thanks for reading my lovers <3 as always feedback is appreciated!!!

[watermelonlovershigh]

A Week in the Life with a Broken Foot {part. 17} (housemate!harry series) (FLUFF/SMUT)

A Trip to the ER {part. 16} (housemate!harry series)

AN: i'm really sorry this took so long. this is the longest chapter yet in this series and combine that and the passing of liam, it took longer than i intended. anyways, hope you enjoy and please leave your feedback. next chapter is gonna be very smutty.

This story contains: broken foot obviously, crying, fingering of vagina, brief implications of somnophilia, handjob, attempting sex (but failed), fluff, comfort

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - teacher!harry - au!harry }

word count- 4,764

After breaking your foot on Monday, the first week of your recovery has its ups and downs, but Harry is with you every step of the way.

Harry has been an absolute saint ever since you broke your foot in the shower. When you arrived home Monday evening with a fresh cast on your foot, Harry carried you inside and sat you on the comfy sofa. You asked him when you were gonna have to use your crutches, but he said not very often when he's around. Meaning, he'll carry you wherever you need to go within the house. When you go out in public or when he's just not home, you may have to use your crutches on those occasions and he'll eventually teach you how to use them properly.

Having ensured that you were comfortable on the couch, Harry quickly went to change out of his work clothes, which he hadn't had the chance to change yet since leaving work earlier in the day. After changing his clothes, he went to the kitchen to find a small snack for you to eat until dinner was ready. Although you weren't particularly hungry, he explained that it was essential to eat something with the pain medication you had taken in the car to prevent an upset stomach.

While you munched on some cheese crackers with your foot propped up on a pillow, Pixie resting in your lap, and the tv on some rubbish reality show, Harry started making dinner for the both of you. He had to admit that, after a day filled with adrenaline, he wasn't particularly hungry himself. Still, he recognized the importance of eating something light before going to bed. Plus, any leftovers would be great for the next day when he might not be in the mood to prepare a meal.

Harry decided to prepare your favorite, chicken alfredo. You had gathered all the ingredients during your grocery shopping trip last week, which meant he could whip it up in no time. While cooking, he often glanced into the living room to ensure you were still okay. You eventually had to tell him that you appreciated his concern but would let him know if you needed any assistance. His attentiveness was becoming somewhat overbearing.

After dinner was completed, he prepared two plates and took them to the living room. Harry thought it would be far more practical for you to stay on the couch instead of trying to eat at the table with your large cast, and he was indeed right. Whenever your foot touched the floor, a jolt of pain traveled up your leg. You found yourself wondering how you'll cope when Harry leaves for work each day.

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

As the night drew to a close and you finished your meal, Harry offered his assistance in helping you bathe before he entered the shower himself. Since your cast couldn't get wet, you sat on the closed toilet seat while he carefully washed your skin with a soapy cloth. He made every effort to rinse you off adequately from your position and dried you before helping you change into your sleepwear. Although he planned to carry you to bed before showering himself, you insisted on staying in the bathroom with him.

"You just want to see me naked!" Harry said as a snarky remark.

As he entered the shower, white bum facing you, you replied sarcastically, "No, I just don't want to be alone, but also..... maybe I enjoy the view of my naked housemate."

"Boyfriend!" Harry shouted from behind the opaque shower curtain, taken offence that you called him your housemate. Though you once were just housemates, you were well beyond that title now.

Harry finished his shower while you remained on the toilet, waiting with patience. You may have occasionally glanced at him as he washes his body, unable to help yourself due to how attractive he was. As he exited the shower, you watched as he dried off and slipped into a fresh pair of black briefs.

After completing that, you allowed Harry to carry you to bed for the night. He selected your room because, if you needed to use the bathroom during the night, it's conveniently located straight across the hall. In contrast, his room is next to the bathroom but requires a left turn, which could lead to a higher chance of you accidentally hitting your foot on the doorframe or wall.

When you were finally able to lie down for the night, you realized the discomfort that would accompany you trying to sleep with a hard, thick, cast on your foot and leg. Typically, you and Harry would cuddle throughout the night, but the cast presented certain challenges with that routine. On a brighter note, you realized that he could still spoon you, which was a positive.

Harry's gentle fingers glided through your hair, lulling you into a state of sleep. Yet, this night proved to be different; instead of the typical few hours of continuous rest, the pain in your foot, coupled with the discomfort of the cast, caused you to awaken every hour. Each time, the soothing sounds of Harry's soft breathing helped you return to sleep, until you awoke again, then repeat.

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

On Tuesday morning, Harry was up before you. Being aware of your lack of sleep the night prior, he allowed you to rest for as long as possible while he quietly got out of bed to take care of some business. After using the toilet and brushing his teeth, he went to the kitchen to start brewing coffee, followed by calling the school where he teaches at.

The headteacher (principal) answered the phone with a cheery tone, introducing himself and the schools name, not knowing it was Harry that was calling.

"Hi, Mr. Clarke, this is Harry Styles, a teacher there at ******* School. Yesterday I had to leave early because my girlfriend fell and broke her foot. Well she'll need someone to care for her for at least the first week of her recovery. So I was callin' to let you know I'll need to be out for a few days. I can stop by to give my substitute teacher instructions on what to do in my classroom if you'd like."

"Oh, hi, Harry!" Mr. Clarke spoke when he recognized one of his favorite teachers voices, "I'm sorry to hear that about your girlfriend. And yes, I'm sure we can figure something out with your class. Can you be here around eight? That'll give me an hour to find you a sub for the week and you can instruct them on what to do before your class arrives this morning."

Checking the clock on the stove, Harry replied, "Absolutely, eight sounds perfect. I'll see you then, Mr. Clarke." Following the conclusion of the call, he went about getting dressed for the quick trip to the school. His choice of clothing was not as formal as it would typically be for a teaching day, but it also didn't consist of his usual home attire, which included sweatpants and a t-shirt. Or just briefs if he's particularly hot.

After getting dressed in his own room, Harry decided to stop by your room across the hall prior to leaving and check on you. As he stepped into your bedroom, he noticed you sitting up in bed with a serious frown on your face and tears brimming your eyes. It dawned on Harry that you likely thought he was heading off to work for an ordinary full day.

"Don't want you to leave me." you muttered in a sad tone. You've yet to use your crutches and the idea of falling again while you're by yourself terrified you. Especially if your phone wasn't near.

Harry rounded the bed and gently sat beside you. "Baby, m'not goin' to work my normal shift today. M' just goin' to meet the substitute they're puttin' in my class for the week. Tellin' 'em what to do and all that. I'll be gone no longer then an hour, promise. Just keep your phone on you in case you need to call me for whatever reason."

"Wait, you called out of work? For me?"

Smiling gently, Harry cooed, "Well yeah, of course. You'll need someone to care for you for at least the first week. So m' gonna be out for about a week to stay home and take care of you. Until you can navigate somewhat on your own with that cast on your foot."

Tears welled up in your eyes again at his kindness. "I love you, Harry."

Harry giggled at your sweet confession before he leaned in to peck a kiss on your lips and responded back, "I love you too, Y/n. Do you need anythin' before I leave?"

"Yeah, can you carry me to the bathroom, please? Then take me to the living room to watch tv until you get back. And maybe.... um, give me one of my pain pills. My foot is killing me again." Harry nodded his head and carefully lifted you out of bed to bring you to the bathroom. While you sat on the toilet doing your business, he gave you privacy by getting the couch set up and placed a pill and a glass of water on the coffee table.

You ensured that you flushed the toilet before summoning Harry back into the bathroom to assist you in migrating to the living room. Once you were comfortably positioned on the cushions, with your foot elevated as per the doctor's orders, you took the pain medication. Harry offered you a granola bar to consume alongside your medicine. He then kissed you gently before departing, assuring you that he'd return soon.

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

The remainder of Tuesday was relatively uneventful. You felt a growing sense of boredom from being cooped up indoors all day, but the recurring pain in your foot, which returned every few hours, made you reluctant to stray too far from home. Harry arrived back from school roughly an hour after he had left, just as he had promised. With it being a rainy day in London, he pulled the curtains shut and settled on the the couch next to you. You found a new series on Netflix and ultimately binge-watched the entire show by midnight.

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

On Wednesday, a noticeable shift occurred. Although it wasn't necessarily bad, it was certainly an unfortunate development in your healing process. The shift in question? You found yourself becoming horny for the first time since your accident. Awakening to a throbbing sensation between your legs and you spent the first part of the day attempting to overlook it. In your efforts to ignore your horniness, you became more irritable, prompting Harry to believe that your mood was merely a result of the pain in your foot resurfacing.

When he asked what you wanted for breakfast, your initial thought was to say him. However, you chose to say oatmeal with fresh berries instead, all the while wearing a deep frown. After your meal, Harry wanted to know what you wished to do next. You considered saying something related to sex, but ultimately opted for watching another movie. The desire to alleviate the ache you felt between your legs was so strong, yet you were nervous about trying anything with your giant cast on, knowing it'll be in the way. Plus, you were afraid your cast might turn Harry off.

Mid afternoon is when Harry finally spoke up. For the past couple of hours he'd watched you toss and turn in your spot on the couch. He'd already asked several times if your foot was bothering you and you'd said no. So now he was genuinely confused as to why you couldn't keep still. "Baby, what's wrong? You sure it's not your foot? I can give you one last dose of your medicine tonight if you need some."

Exhaling in frustration, you came to the conclusion that it was finally time to confess, "Fine, I'm horny, Harry. That's why I keep fidgeting. I've felt this way since we woke up this morning." Your blatant honesty offers him comfort, knowing that your situation is one that he can easily fix.

Harry cackled out a loud laugh, startling Pixie who was sleeping on the arm of the couch. "Really? You've been actin' this way because you're horny? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I just.... not that I'm embarrassed to tell you I'm horny but um, I guess I'm just nervous to do anything with my cast on. I know you said there's many options that aren't actual sex but still..."

Harry turned serious now, seeing how you're actually nervous to get physical since your accident. But you shouldn't worry too much because he has a plan. "Alright, slide your shorts and panties down and spread your legs f'me."

"Hm, what?" you asked, confused on what he was planning to do. Maybe he was gonna eat you out. You'd never be opposed to that.

"Just do as I said." You compiled by lowering your shorts and underwear, which formed a small pile on the floor next to the couch. Harry helped you by gently spreading your legs while you remained seated upright. Your injured foot was elevated on the coffee table, and your other leg rested over his lap. Just as you were about to ask how he would proceed in this position, you were interrupted by the feeling of his hand making contact with your pussy instead.

"Ohh!" you inhaled sharply as his calloused fingers started to make circular motions on your needy clit. He then moved his fingers downward, parting your lower lips and allowing your wetness to serve as a natural lubricant before returning to your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming, as it had been a long day of longing for this very touch.

Harry gave your clit a break for a moment and decided to wedge his middle and ring finger inside your pulsing hole. The thickness of his fingers caused you to throw your head back on the couch and moan loudly as he basically started to finger fuck you. His fingers drove all the way in, then pulled out just to his fingertips before repeating. His palm patted against your clit with each thrust, also giving that attention in a non direct way. You're sure the way Harry had his wrist turned to finger fuck you was uncomfortable for him, but you couldn't care less. All you knew was he was making you feel so good.

Squelching sounds begun to echo in the living room from how wet you were, and that sound alone turned you on even more than you already were. Harry begun curling his fingers up and gently stroking your g-spot, which had you nearly jumping off the couch. The only thing that stopped you was your big ass cast wrapped around your foot and lower leg. "Oh, right there, right there, Harry!"

Grinning, Harry asked, already knowing the answer, "Yeah, that feel good, baby? M' I makin' your pussy feel good? Hm?"

You reached down and grabbed onto his wrist, helping him finger fuck you harder, but also to help you stay grounded. "Yes, fuck yes! Feels so good. I'm about to come."

While staying sat beside you, Harry continued to fuck you with his fingers while he purposely grinded his palm into your clit for added pleasure. That's what sent you over the edge. Just seconds later, you came so hard that Harry thought you might cut his fingers off with how hard you were clamping down on them. He continued to curl his fingers up, stroking your g-spot, and stimulating your clit with his palm, until you couldn't take it anymore and forced his hand away. You were left panting, trying to come back to earth after having been elevated in the clouds for so long.

"Better?" Harry questioned curiously, referring to your horniness.

Still catching your breath, you nodded, "So much better."

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

When Thursday morning came, you opened your eyes and felt some subtle pressure prodding against your thighs. Struggling slightly due to your cast, you shifted in bed and peeked under the covers, discovering that the object you felt poking you was Harry's morning wood. He seemed to be in a deep sleep, but you still wanted to help him out. Despite your physical constraints, you felt a strong urge to return the favor since he helped you out the day before.

Lying on your back, you reached out and gradually trailed your hand down Harry's soft tummy until it was met with the bulge in his briefs. You wouldn't have proceeded without prior consent; however, you and Harry have previously discussed your boundaries regarding sexual matters. Both of you agreed that it's okay to engage with one another while the other is asleep, knowing that neither would remain in a deep sleep for too long once the activities commenced. Therefore, it's not like you'd be completely unaware while the other person did as they pleased.

Your hand inched down and you proceeded to cup your hand over his hard cock, giving subtle pressure to help ease the discomfort you're sure Harry was in. You moved your hand in a gentle back-and-forth motion across the front of his briefs, observing as Harry slowly came to consciousness. The sensation that fully awoke him was your hand slipping into the elastic of his underwear, your hand making direct contact with his erection.

Harry jolted awake, momentarily taken aback by your touch, but quickly settled as you began to pump his cock in your hand. He raised the blankets to catch a glimpse of your actions. The sight of you jerking him off made his back arch off the mattress, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. "Baby!"

"Does it feel good, Harry? Felt your boner against my thigh when I woke up and wanted to help you out."

Harry turned his head on the pillow to look at you. Through gritted teeth, he remarked in a slurred voice, "It feels amazin', m'love. Didn't 'ave to though. Would've been fine without this." Even while being pleasured, Harry's concerned about your well-being.

"Shush and let me make you feel good. Know we can't have sex right now but I hope this will do the trick." You retracted your hand to apply some saliva for lubrication, and while doing so, Harry removed his briefs and pushed the covers back. When you placed your wet hand back on his hard shaft, everything was visible now. Due to the bulkiness of your cast, you couldn't lie on your right side, but you turned your head to observe your actions and are very much aware of how your touch was affecting him. Seeings as he was falling apart from your slick strokes.

The rapid movement of your fist caused Harry's stomach to rise and fall with increasing speed, while his breathing became more ragged, accompanied by low moans that escaped from his parted mouth. This moment brought you back to the first time you gave him a handjob, when your relationship was still new and you were trying to take things slow.

You watched as precum started to seep from his flushed tip, prompting you to go faster with the movements of your hand, eager to lead him to his orgasm. Harry begun swearing, "Oh, fuck! Y/n, baby, shit! M' 'bout to come." He uttered a stream of curse words along with your name and terms of affection. You found it rather amusing to see Harry become so affected by your touch.

Abruptly, Harry's back lifted entirely from the mattress, his hands gripped the sheets tightly, toes curling, and a loud roar erupted from deep within his chest cavity. His cock pulsed in your hand before he finally came, releasing several thick streams of cum all over your hand and his stomach. Observing a man in such a raw and vulnerable state was, in your opinion, a remarkable sight, and you couldn't stop staring at him in awe.

Once the final drops of cum seeped from his sensitive tip, you carefully let go of his shaft and turned your attention to Harry's face. The tension in his facial muscles had diminished, contrasting sharply from the intensity he had shown during his orgasm, yet his eyes remained closed. His chest was still heaving, and his body trembled slightly. Given how hard Harry came, you didn't blame how his body was reacting.

After a few seconds, Harry became alert enough to speak. "Need to wake me up like that more often."

You tossed your head back with a chuckle. "We'll see, you eager boy. Let's get you cleaned up so we can eat. I'm starved." And by getting him cleaned up, you meant, he clean himself up because well, you can only do the bare - fucking - minimum in this stupid cast. You can't wait for it to be off.

Harry rose from his bed to retrieve a washcloth, intending to clean himself as well as your knuckles, which were stained with his jizz. He attended to his hygiene in the bathroom and brought a fresh cloth back to your bedroom, where he left you. Upon reaching the bed, he took your hand to wipe it clean, only to find that the cum on your fingers had vanished. "Um, where's the mess that was on your hand?"

You looked up at him, your eyelashes fluttered dramatically as you tried to come off as sweet and innocent. But when you licked your lips and softly said, "Mhm, I told you I was starving," you exuded anything but innocence. Harry might have wanted to be shocked by your act of licking his cum from your hand, but in reality, he's not. He was already aware that you have a dirty side to you.

"You nasty, nasty, girl."

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

Harry's objective for Friday was to assist you in mastering the use of your crutches for the first time. After your accident on Monday, he had taken on the responsibility of carrying you around the house, but he was only off of work for one week. Despite him being concerned about leaving you alone, he was confident that teaching you to use the crutches would allow you to be more independent. So after spending the majority of the day procrastinating, you made the decision after dinner that he could finally help you practice walking with your crutches.

With your crutches secured in his left arm, Harry reached out with his right arm to assist you in getting off the couch. "Ready?"

Upon standing from the cozy couch, you murmured, "No, but I suppose we need to get this done." You steadied yourself on one foot as Harry helped to place the crutches under your armpits. You immediately felt the discomfort they inflicted on your underarms. Although equipped with a rubber cushion, it offered hardly any relief from the pressure on your underarm bones.

Once the crutches were placed under your arms, Harry stood beside you for support and instructed, "Okay, now try and walk."

You went for the first step but was left clueless on how to even use those things. "Um, do I, how do I....?"

"Basically, move one crutch forward, followed by the other. After completin' that motion, propel your uninjured foot forward while ensurin' that your injured foot remains elevated above the floor." Although Harry's instructions were somewhat confusing, you decided to follow his advice. Your initial attempt nearly resulted in a fall, but fortunately, he was beside you for support, placing his hands on your hips. The second step you took was more successful. "See, you're gettin' better already."

As you kept practicing around the empty space in the living room and down the hall, you groaned, "Yeah, but it's so uncomfortable, under my arms and it's hard to use my strength like this."

"I know, baby. It's gonna be a bit uncomfortable, but remember it's only temporary. Soon enough, your foot will heal and you won't be in a cast anymore. Then we can actually get out the house and do things again."

You made it all the way to the back door at the end of the hall before stopping for a break. "Yeah, like that date you promised."

"Yep, the date where I'll have you in those little vibratin' panties, edgin' you all - night - long."

"Ugh, stop talking about that or you're gonna turn me on."

Harry grinned knowingly, "Who said that was a bad thing."

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

You practiced walking on your crutches a few additional times that evening before Harry helped you with your bath. In contrast to the first night after your accident, when he helped you bathe while you sat on the closed toilet, he has since used a waterproof covering for your cast, now allowing you to use the actual bath tub. Initially, you felt quite vulnerable having him take care of you like that, but as time passed, you grew more comfortable with his assistance. Plus truthfully, nothing could enhance your feeling of vulnerability more than when he walked in to see the aftermath of your slip that caused your foot injury. That was ten times worse than him casually bathing you.

After your bath and Harry's shower, you got into bed as you normally did. However, shortly after lying down, you voiced, "I wanna try having sex." The mention of that eagerly awaited date earlier in which Harry planned to tease and edge you all night, stirred your excitement, and you craved more than just hand or oral stimulation. You had not yet attempted having actual sex this week since having your cast on. Primarily because you believed it would be impossible, but then you realized you wouldn't know unless you tried.

Harry turned in bed to face you. "You sure? I don't want to hurt you."

You looked over at him and responded, "I mean, I wanna try. I don't know if it'll work or if it'll hurt, but we can see, if you want that is."

Harry agreed and begun getting you ready for sex, not knowing you were practically soaked already. He kissed and caressed your body until he made it to your panties. He had a sly grin from seeing how wet you were. Some of it was from the foreplay, but like you'd said, you'd been wet since this afternoon.

Once your panties were taken off and Harry's clothes were shed, you decided to attempt the classic missionary position, assuming it would be the easiest option. Unfortunately, that turned out to be wrong. The way Harry needed to position his knees was incompatible with the bulky cast on your leg. Each accidental bump resulted in sharp pains shooting through your foot. He wasn't even halfway in when you yelped in pain, having felt your casted leg being stretched beyond its limit.

Realizing that the current position wasn't going to work, Harry proposed, "Let's try spoonin'." He withdrew himself from your pussy and helped you lie down, positioning himself behind you. He made sure your injured foot was against the bed, rather than the foot and leg that needed to be raised over his hip. While he was able to penetrate you fully from this position, his legs kept accidentally bumping into your cast as he started thrusting, despite his attempts to avoid it, resulting in more pain in your foot.

"Ow, ow, please stop." Harry halted immediately, understanding that the discomfort was not stemming from the sex but rather from your foot, which was troubling you once more. Tears began to well up in your eyes as the realization dawned on you that sex just wasn't feasible with your cast on. "I'm sorry."

Pulling out for the second time, Harry sat up behind you and asked, "Why'r you apologizin'? Nothin' to be sorry for."

"Yeah but, I thought maybe we could have sex and obviously we can't. It's all my fault for breaking my foot."

Harry leaned down, hugging your upper body in his arms. "Shhh, it's okay. I told you the day you broke your foot, sex isn't our only option."

"I know and don't get me wrong, your fingers and mouth feel amazing, but is it so bad for a woman to miss her boyfriends cock inside her?"

Harry couldn't help but to giggle at your words. The next six weeks is gonna be hell on earth if you have to go without sex for that long. You just hoped by the end of it all, when you finally get to have sex again, it'll be ten times better after being deprived for so long.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

My Masterlist Masterpost

taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722

[jmdbjk]

Mental gymnastics...

I am flipping out. That's all. Just my brain doing cartwheels and whatever those things are called where you flip between those high bars and let go for a breathless second and then grab onto reality again. Or this...

Too much Olympics these past few weeks I guess... anyway.

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT! I may or may not mention scenes in detail and their outcomes during these long rambling messy posts beginning with the next sentence.

Before I get into it... kudos to the staff for keeping up with these two and for suffering many extremely anxious moments as Jimin and Jungkook drove themselves through NYC, as Jungkook and then both Jimin and Jungkook rode the motorcycle through traffic, and the few heart stopping moments when JK flipped his kayak over and then they took off down the river alone before staff caught up with them. Not to mention probably looking up the nearest ER/urgent care facility in case Jimin got too dehydrated from his bout with the stomach bug.

Seriously though, their lives and global headlines had to flash before their eyes when JK disappeared underwater under that kayak... so big applause for the staff/production crew for not shitting THEIR pants thirteen times too.

So here are some of my thoughts. I'll begin with the first episode...

Episode 1:

In the opening scene, I'm assuming this is Antoya Korean BBQ restaurant. They were talking about JK's sore throat and that he had to visit a medical facility. Jimin kept on about it. It seemed like JK's "stop babying me" attitude bubbled up a little bit. Let them be them. As you can see, JK adjusted Jimin's beanie so he could see his eyes. They were fine.

Pause and reflect: they didn't know what to expect with this idea of a travel show. The moment above happened on Thursday evening, July 13. Both of them were working. Jimin was still working on his concepts, photos, MV and whatnot, planning to finish everything for Muse in the coming months. Jungkook had a full schedule for promoting Seven which was dropping the next day. He had to get up early for Good Morning America concert in the park.

I'm stating all this for point of reference. Nothing is static. JK was in work mode: he had a performance the next day and also not feeling well himself. Jimin had been on a plane for 14 hours. Just keep these things in mind before jumping to conclusions.

In the next scene (the next day) back at the hotel after JK's done with his performance and when he's packing to go on this trip he's all in and ready to go. Hurry up Jimin!

Jimin asked him how the live performance went. As we know, the GMA live performance was mostly rained out. Before the storm came through, they quickly pre-recorded the performances before it would have been time for the live broadcast and then shut it down. Jungkook had to be driven quickly to the studio to be interviewed to fill the leftover time in the program that more of his live performance would have taken up.

Hearing Jungkook say "this isn't my first rodeo" was never going to be on any bingo card in my lifetime.

I don't know what he was scribbling on that iPad but it looked geometric. He was focused. Maybe it was something for the next week's performance, maybe it was a sketch for music show staging, trying to recreate that flower archway they saw at Antoya the night before? maybe he was doodling in Canva... we don't know.

Me either, Jimin... (this was the first of all the hilarious gems that begin to shower down on us).

They are both known to be perfectionists when it comes to their work. And we know they've also both performed when feeling less than 100% on that stage. Jungkook realized there were circumstances beyond his control and he took it in stride.

FYI, in New York City, they stayed at the Loews Regency on E. 61st Street in Manhattan. It is between Madison Ave. and Park Avenue and not far from Central Park. Swanky. The suite looks like the 2-bedroom "Park Avenue Suite" and runs $2100 a night... gasp. Yes, its the same suite where JK did his live after his rained upon GMA appearance. During this live he mentioned being poked with needles, IV's and shots in the butt as well as teasing us with what would become Are You Sure:

No, I don't think Jimin stayed in this suite with JK. Jimin's room had a smaller bathroom and a shower curtain instead of a glass shower door. Staff with camera woke him up.

To be that beautiful when rolling out of bed... anyway, I digress...

It truly was unplanned and spontaneous as if they were doing this with the idea of "let's try it and see if it can be viable." Even Jimin wasn't sure if any of this could be aired.

Once they got in the Jeep they started to find their groove. Being alone, just them, was what they needed. They could focus on what was ahead of them. The driving moments were some of the best for me.

We eventually learn that Jimin wasn't feeling well and I'm certain this is what Jungkook was telling Yoongi during that episode of Suchwita, along with the elbowing in the nose.

Seems like Jimin's stomach trouble started when they were at the first restaurant, the burger place. The bathroom visits continued at the brewery and into the evening at the campsite.

Jimin had some sort of stomach bug that kept him on the toilet a lot and he ran a little bit of a temp. I am sad that he wasn't feeling 100% when they were on the yacht the next day but he still seemed to enjoy it enough to find the humor in his situation. He was a real trooper.

It sure didn't stop him from eating. My man was very brave in that regard. Me... no way I'd be stuffing my face with a big greasy burger when at any moment I might need to make a run for the toilet.

They get back on the road and these are the moments that I wait for:

After arguing in satoori about who is the worst driver between them, they start shopping at Dick's.

And get recognized...

After shopping excursion at Dick's, they finally head to High Nine Brewery...

Jimin's first sample wasn't to his taste (again). His taste buds were probably a little off since he had the stomach thing going on... but JK's eyebrows say that his sample was pretty good.

They finally settle on a hard seltzer and a pale ale and relax for a little bit. Jungkook is still wondering what would make good subject matter to film. They are truly making it up as they go...

Jimin proceeds to explain and an interaction happens and I am not sure what to think about it:

I am going to end this post here because they are now on their way to the kayaks and that segment deserves its own post and I have too many screen shots of it to fit in this post.

[These are all my own opinions about what I am seeing and hearing them say and from what I am observing from the video. It's ok if your opinion is different from mine.]

[petersasteria]

Coincidence? I Think Not! - Park Sung-Hoon

Pairing: PSH x flight attendant!fem!Reader Summary: he seems to see you a lot during his two-week vacation despite not knowing who you are. you see him too. who approaches who?

A/N: it's been a while since I've written for PSH so here it is! :))

Tired from his work, Sunghoon decides to take a break for two weeks. He planned to go nearby countries and just enjoy. Mostly, he just planned to travel for food. He finds comfort in a warm bowl of clear soup and rice, but he's determined to try something new. With a list full of restaurants in Japan, Taiwan, Philippines, and Singapore, he packed his suitcase and booked flights for his little Asian tour.

He first saw you when he entered the plane. You gave him a smile and a curt nod and he did the same thing. He chose to sit in economy because the flight was short, anyway. He was excited to go to Japan.

When he arrived, he saw you again with your fellow flight attendants. He thought you were cute, but he didn't want to bother you because he knew you'd be busy. He stayed in Japan for 2 days and 1 night. He ate and went sightseeing and he was even more excited to go to his next stop: Taiwan.

On his flight going to Taiwan, he saw you again buying something at the airport's gift shop. He chuckled lightly to himself and shook his head. He figured it was another coincidence.

-

In Taiwan, you bumped into each other at a hotel both of you were staying at. He was coming home from a long day of sightseeing, holding a take-out box from a local restaurant and you were going out to go clubbing with your friends. You were already late and when you bumped into each other, you quickly apologized and ran to the elevator. He had to do a double take to see if it's really you, and to his shock, it really was.

-

Walking around Intramuros in the Philippines is really interesting. He got to see the culture and experience the joy of buying Filipino street food. That's when he saw you across the street taking pictures with your friends. You glance at his direction and you smiled before jogging a little bit towards him.

"Hey! Can you take a picture of me and my friends?" You asked nicely and he shrugged before following you and taking your phone. He still had a full mouth and you thought he looked pretty cute. After taking your pictures, you thanked him and both of you went your separate ways.

-

It wasn't until Singapore when you finally noticed him. He was waiting for his luggage and you decided to approach him.

"Hey." You greeted. He looked at you and smiled, "Hey."

"Seems like we always see each other." You chuckled. "Are you following me?"

He laughed, "I'm not. It's just a weird coincidence, I think."

"True... or perhaps it's fate. Maybe we're meant to be!" You exclaimed joyfully. He was very cute and he was exactly your type. Maybe God sent you this man to love and to hold.

"If that's the case, want to accompany me on this trip?" He asked, feeling bold. You smiled, "I'd love to. Guess you could say it's our first date out of the country."

-

a/n: sorry it's short!

[eriace]

hostile variables ; gojo satoru

oneshot & fluff ↪  in which y/n and gojo satoru have hated each other since their first year at jujutsu high — but after one high-stakes mission, all that bickering gives way to something neither of them is ready to admit: love. ↷ gojo satoru ; jujutsu kaisen

↳ an order of black coffee + iced matcha latte from anonymous in the comeback cafe event !

THEY WERE OIL and water, fire and gasoline, curses and talismans.

Y/n hated Gojo Satoru the second she met him. Too loud. Too smug. Too powerful. Too him.

He hated her too— or so he said. Called her uptight, a stick-in-the-mud, and his personal favorite: "grudge in a skirt."

They argued in class, fought during sparring, and insulted each other mid-mission. The only thing they agreed on was that they worked better apart.

So when Principal Yaga paired them together for a critical recon mission in the outskirts of Kyoto, the entire school held its breath.

And rightly so — because they barely made it out without killing each other.

"You were supposed to cover the rear, Gojo!"

"Oh, excuse me for not anticipating the curse doing a backflip over my Infinity!"

"You let it get away!"

"You chased it into a temple full of civilians!"

Their bickering echoed through the empty shrine as they limped away from the site, bruised, bloodied, and absolutely livid.

Y/n shoved her shoulder into his as they walked. "You’re the strongest sorcerer of our generation, right? Then why do you suck so hard at teamwork?"

Gojo scoffed, sunglasses crooked and dusty. "Sorry I can’t carry your fragile ego along with the entire mission."

"You are unbearable."

"And yet here you are, walking beside me like a lovesick puppy."

She nearly cursed him into next week.

They spent the night at an abandoned safehouse, too injured to travel back.

There was only one futon.

A thin, moth-bitten one that y/n eyed with dread.

"You take the floor," she said flatly.

"Ladies first," Gojo replied, lying down and stretching dramatically. "Besides, my Infinity would just hover me above the floor anyway. You’d get cold and jealous."

She glared. He smirked.

In the end, she lay stiffly at the edge of the futon, arms crossed, back to him.

Gojo didn’t sleep either. Not with the heat of her body beside his. Not with her breathing evening out just enough to make him forget why he ever hated her voice in the first place.

He turned his head toward her.

"Hey."

She didn’t answer.

"...Do you really hate me?"

She rolled over just enough to meet his eyes in the dark.

"Why? Gonna cry if I say yes?"

"Maybe," he replied honestly.

She blinked.

There was something quiet in the air now. Heavy. Unspoken.

"I don’t hate you," she said finally. "I just... don’t know how to deal with you."

His voice dropped, unusually sincere. "Same."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then, quietly: "You still suck at teamwork."

"And you still talk too much."

They were smiling, yet the kiss wasn't planned.

One second, they were teasing again. The next, he leaned in— just a breath away.

"This is a terrible idea," she whispered.

"So is falling for someone who wants to strangle me."

"You’re not charming, Satoru."

"Good thing you’re not looking for charming."

She should’ve pushed him away, but she didn’t.

Their lips met in a clumsy, breathless, heated mess of bruises and exhaustion and every word they’d thrown at each other over the past two years.

And it felt like war giving way to peace.

When they pulled apart, Gojo grinned like a devil and murmured against her lips:

"Still think I suck at teamwork?"

She kissed him again.

© eriace ;; don’t repost my works.

[hsslilly-blog]

🏠 Do the dead return? Do they even leave? In Blair's haunted house the floorboards don't creak, the lights are always off, the furniture don't move, and the rooms are always vacant.

Today's Blair Week post is about their home life. I haven't gone in much detail about how Blair's relationship with their mother (or their father) looks like, and I also hadn't drawn a house piece for Blair yet. So here it is, under the cut.

Neither Blair, nor Colin were ever close to their mother, Eleanor. Their mother was... detached. She never wanted to be a mother, for starters. She wanted to leave the small village of Appin and do something with her life... maybe move to Glasgow or Edinburgh, or maybe across the Atlantic like her aunt Ava (Claire's grandmother) had done years before. Money and the expectations of a small community got in the way though, and she married James Stewart at 20.

Eleanor didn't dislike her husband. They were very young when they married and didn't have much in common, but she didn't dislike him. She was ambivalent towards him. Actually, that's the best way to describe Eleanor towards everything after her marriage: ambivalent. So when Colin was born in 1993, she wasn't happy, but she wasn't sad either. When Blair arrived four years later, it didn't mean much. She checked out.

Growing up, Blair and Colin only saw their father during weekends since he worked in another town, and their mother was... somewhere out of the house. This was not something that concerned Blair very much since they never even realised there was something awry going on; Colin would cook, do most of the chores, help them with school work and whatever else they needed assistance with. Of course, they noticed the absence of their mother, but they didn't think much of it.

This neglect didn't consciously affect Blair as much as it must have affected Colin, but Blair did go non verbal from 7 to 8 years of age (selective mutism). Besides this, Blair has generally positive memories of their childhood thanks to Colin.

When Blair was 12, their family moved to Glasgow for better opportunities. This was a troubling time for Blair, as they had a hard time adjusting to a new environment, new people, a new routine, and a new home; but it wasn't terrible. The school was nice. There was more to do in the city. They even made two friends. They saw less of Colin (he started attending university), but more of their father since he didn't need to travel as much.

After the car accident and after Colin passed away, Blair stopped talking for another period of time. As soon as his coffin was closed, their family fell apart. Their parents tried to make it work for a while, but soon they agreed to a divorce. Blair stayed with their mother. Their father moved out. Colin was gone, but he was everywhere.

It's here that Blair finally understood the situation Colin was shielding them from: that they basically did not have any parents around. Blair had a hard time learning everything. Food? There's probably something in the cupboard. Clothes? You can just stitch up those holes. Stop complaining about everything all the time, at least you have a roof over your head. It's a nun from school that helped Blair with their first period (why didn't Blair know about that? They're old enough to figure out things on their own).

The next three years were terrible for Blair. Their father started drinking, so they didn't talk as much. Their mother got a job, so at least Blair knew what she's up to now. Blair was bullied in school, and blamed for Colin's death at home. When they fell behind in classes, their mother held it over their head. You should be thankful they're even letting you still study there after what you've done (what have I done!?).

The news of their move to the United States wasn't received positively by Blair, but at this point... whatever. It's not like they had a choice, anyway. But Blair tried to see a silver lining: maybe this can be my do over. And they tried really, really hard to get out of the hole they were in once they settled in the U.S.

So, during the events of High School Story Prime, Blair barely sees their mother. In fact, they try to avoid her the most they can. This is why they're always doing an extracurricular, or starting a club, or trying a new sport, or working a part-time job, or helping anyone that needs something from them. They'll do anything as long as it keeps them out of the house and away from their mother's pointed looks and her cruel words.

I think that's it! I can go into more details, probably, but that's the general idea of what Blair's home life looks like. This is the first time I actually put it into words, so if it's confusing I can clarify it further :)

[plague-of-insomnia]

Ch 212: That Butler, Going South

Please respect the spoons (time and energy) and money I invested into this post. Do not use my content without credit.

16 pages including the cover.

Basically, the chapter covers Sebastian and Ciel traveling by train to Brighton, discussing the servants’ missions as Ciel enjoys breakfast in the dining car.

(Remember that all the missions are happening simultaneously more or less, so Ciel doesn’t know how successful or not they all were.)

It’s actually quite brilliant of Yana and her team to time things like this. This chapter is a great way for fans who may have lapsed during the servant arcs to catch up again, or even for new fans lured in by the anime to get a taste of the manga.

It’s also interesting to see a how a some of the scenes mirror panels/moments from previous arcs.

For example, the shot of Sebastian and Ciel on the train together is akin to the end of the circus arc. (And admire how much her art has improved!)

Later, we get a (shocking, to me, anyway) shot of Sebastian sitting at the table with Ciel as equals, reminiscent of when they ironed out the details of the contract.

The chapter begins with the two of them on the train in their first class compartment, en route to Brighton from Reading.

Sebastian, ever the conscientious butler, notices the time and mentions breakfast, but Ciel is cautious: they’re fugitives, after all. Sebastian points out that most people wouldn’t expect a criminal to be casually taking a meal in the dining car. Seeing his point (and since Ciel is driven by his stomach lol), they go to have breakfast together.

They then discuss the servants’ missions and what they expect. For example, Ciel brings up the point that Lau can only be trusted so far, and he is the one who first brought their attention to the whole mess back in the Campania arc with Karstein Hospital. And he is a mafia boss.

But, both of them acknowledge that Bard is the smartest and most capable of the four servants (Bard, Mey, Finny, Snake), and that he managed to make it to the UK all the way from America alone. Plus, he’s trustworthy. Ciel points out that’s precisely why he paired them up. (Seeing them compliment my man 😭😭… Take that, Bard haters!)

They also discuss the mission Ran Mao and Mey are undergoing and ofc Snake and Finny. (I’m sorry but I’m tired and I don’t care as much about the other servants as Bard so I’m… not going into detail on their pages. Maybe tomorrow if I have time and spoons I’ll make an add-on to this going over those pages.)

This panel is one of my fave moments in the chapter… it translates more or less like this:

Mey: For our lord

Bard: With pride

Snake: With my life on the line

Finny: I do the assigned work and see it through to the end

Despite initially being wary of leaving their compartment, when Sebastian suggests they leave the dining car, Ciel wants to stay and stretch his legs. It’s only a few hours to Brighton by train.

Looks like next week we’ll start the arc in earnest and maybe learn how they plan to infiltrate the hotel.

Please respect the spoons (time and energy) and money I invested into this post. Do not use my content without credit.

Note: The last panel is actually Ciel speaking, so apologies for that error in translation.

[erimeows]

The Game That We Play

When Shizune and Shikamaru fall sick in the same week, Kakashi requests Naruto and Sasuke to accompany him as bodyguards to The Land of Iron for the summit. Everyone else is far too busy doing important work in the village for Kakashi to bother them- or, that’s what Kakashi claims. Sasuke swears the man just loves shoving him and Naruto together whenever he can. 

Sasuke is surprised to receive the request in code via carrier pigeon during a long mission in Ame, but he doesn’t question it. Kakashi has done a lot for him- protecting him throughout his childhood, doing everything he could to get Sasuke pardoned, and now, allowing Sasuke to atone for his sins by working outside of the village… Sasuke owes him a lot. The simple task of getting Kakashi to and from the summit in one piece is nothing compared to everything Kakashi has gone through for him. 

So, Sasuke makes the long journey back to Konoha so he can meet Kakashi and Naruto at the village gates. Naruto looks all too happy to see Sasuke, embracing the ravenette in a tight hug the moment he arrives. Sasuke pretends not to enjoy the attention. It’s a game they play- Naruto loves Sasuke far more than he should, and Sasuke acts as if he doesn’t notice even though he returns Naruto’s feelings tenfold. Each time they’ve reunited since the war, the game seems to go a little further. Neither of them say anything. But as much as everyone likes to imply it, Naruto isn’t stupid. 

They walk a long time. It takes a few days to get from Konoha to The Land of Iron, so after traveling from first thing in the morning well into that night, they set up camp in a nearby cave between the two lands. Sasuke knows that they’re getting close to the midpoint due to the cooler weather. 

Kakashi, with a copy of Icha Icha in hand, bows out into their tent for the night, stating that he’s going to go to sleep. For whatever reason, Sasuke doubts that.

With Kakashi ‘sleeping’, it’s just Naruto and Sasuke in the cave. Alone. Very alone. No Sakura or Shikamaru or whoever else to cut through some of the tension between them. Sasuke feels something that he’s only ever felt around Naruto, hot and warm and familiar, bubbling up just beneath the surface of his skin. Affection, fondness. Friendship. That’s what they call it, anyway. It’s easier to mislabel things. 

The two men sit across from each other, a shittily made campfire the only thing keeping them apart. It sits in front of Sasuke’s sandal-clad feet. The light it emits bathes Naruto’s face in an oddly flattering orange glow. 

“What’cha staring at?” Naruto asks, tilting his head. In his left hand he holds a skewer with a piece of seasoned meat on it. He burns it by holding it too close to the center of the flame as he plays dumb. As if he doesn’t know what he’s doing to Sasuke… Well, maybe he doesn’t. No, no, he definitely does. He’s not nearly as stupid as everyone thinks he is. “Do I have something on my face or… Something?”

Sasuke shakes his head. But instead of looking away with a blush, instead of staying silent and moving on to the next thing like neither of them have any idea what their feelings are, he acknowledges it aloud for the first time. He doesn’t know why he does it. 

“You know what it is,” Sasuke murmurs before adding on- “Stupid.”

And Naruto- sweet, easygoing, stupid Naruto- laughs and tilts his head. 

“What, you wanting to talk for once?” Naruto practically chuckles the words out. Sasuke shakes his head again. “Thought so.”

Sasuke looks for an escape to the situation- there’s a ravine right outside the cave that they’re in. It’s running with clear, clean water and they traveled a long ways- a nice, cool bath is what Sasuke needs right now.

“I’m going to go take a bath.”

“Oh, I should come, too!” Naruto says, standing up and gathering a change of clothes. 

Them bathing together isn’t… Completely abnormal. Despite how it makes Sasuke’s heart race, there have been times on missions where it’s been necessary. What is odd is leaving Kakashi completely unguarded.

“What about Kakashi?”

“C’mon, we both know he’s still up in there reading those boring books of his,” Naruto argues, and then calls back towards the tent. “Hey, Kakashi! You good if we go take a bath!?”

“Yes, yes, go on ahead,” Kakashi calls back from inside the tent. “I was going to stay up a tad bit longer anyway. This edition is just so good!”

Naruto turns back to Sasuke.

“Told ya.”

So, they go to the ravine together, walking side by side, both of them with a change of clean clothes, towels, and washcloths in hand. They undress without looking at each other- or, Sasuke thinks they do. He doesn’t look, though he can never be sure about Naruto. Part of him is terrified that he’ll look at Naruto and meet those big blue eyes of his. The other part of him is terrified that he’ll look at Naruto, only for Naruto to not be looking back at him. He isn’t sure which would be worse, and he doesn’t want to find out, so he doesn’t look, even as he hears Naruto haphazardly toss his clothes onto some nearby grass. Sasuke neatly folds up his own clothes and places them atop a large rock.

“Hey,” Naruto speaks up as they sit in the ravine, washing themselves with the fresh water. Sasuke glances up to see that Naruto is, in fact, looking at him. He shamelessly stares back, awe and fire consuming him from head to toe even though the water is ice cold. Naruto’s skin is sunkissed, glowing under the moonlight and noticeably unscathed for a ninja, unlike Sasuke’s which is mapped with scars. “Remember that time we kissed?”

“Which time?” Sasuke murmurs with red cheeks.

“At the academy.”

“Oh,” Sasuke nods. “Yeah. What, wanna do it again?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, Sasuke wonders if he’s made Naruto uncomfortable- if he’s taken this game too far. But then, he looks over at Naruto to see the man nod.

Sasuke moves- perhaps faster than what is safe in this environment- and catches Naruto by the wrist. They lean in, the warmth of their bodies about to collide when-

“Hey!” Kakashi’s voice calls from the cave. Sasuke and Naruto jump away from each other instantaneously. “Hurry up, you two, I’m going to bed!”

“Heh,” Naruto laughs. “Maybe later.”

As fast as it happened, Naruto is out of the ravine and getting dressed- and then, he’s gone.

~

They arrive at the summit a day and some after their shared bath in the ravine. They’re around countless samurai and other ninja, in an environment far less intimate than that cave or that ravine. Sasuke isn’t sure whether he should be disappointed or relieved.

They sit in the back, watching as the kage discuss different events that have happened since their last summit the year before. Ever since the war, the kage have started meeting annually in an attempt to nip any conflicts in the bud, lest they turn against each other again. Sasuke doesn’t believe it will work for long, but it’s what Kakashi has decided is best, and Sasuke trusts him. 

As the other kage discuss a recent conflict in Suna, their respective guards whisper loudly about how Sasuke shouldn’t be there after what he did five years ago. Sasuke would argue that they’re right, but the prideful side of him wishes he could shut them up. He knows what they’re doing- whispering loudly enough for him to hear in an attempt to provoke him so he’ll never be welcome back if he lashes out at them again, so that he’ll have less of a chance of becoming Hokage. 

Naruto reaches over and places a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder.

And, as always, his touch calms Sasuke down immediately.

They manage to sit through the rest of the summit despite the cruel words of the others there. And then, they leave.

~

As it always goes on the rare occasions where they meet, Sasuke escorts Naruto (and Kakashi) home without a word. Though Naruto looks wistful as they exchange goodbyes at the village gates, he doesn’t dare say anything, instead turning away from Sasuke with a wave and walking with Kakashi in the direction of the Hokage Tower. Sasuke watches them with a smile.  Deep down, he knows that he and Naruto are going to play this game for the rest of their lives- and maybe, just maybe- he’s okay with that.

[rubyuji]

Go the Distance (Joshua Hong) ♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Nothing really except that this is like so sweet it makes me bitter at how adorable they are.

Synopsis: Joshua travels long distances just to see you, no matter how far.

Note: Another reworked fic from my pandora’s box of drafts / unfinished works, I wrote this while traveling so there might be typos or grammatical errors. Anyways, always remember to like + reblog as a way of showing support not only to me but also to other writers! Happy reading!

WC: 746

“Y/n? Can you open the door?” Joshua said from the phone. You were so close to dozing off when Joshua called, but you were jolted awake by what he had said.

“Joshua, what the fuck? This isn’t funny, you’re all the way in Seoul and I’m in Japan, there’s no way you came all the way here,” You huffed and went back to working on your essay, which was due the next day.

“Y/n, your mom called me. She told me about how you’ve been stressed over exams and school lately. I came to visit so you could maybe relax a bit,” Joshua said as you heard bags dragging from the other line. ‘He really is here,’ your eyes widened at the realization.

“Joshua, did you really fly all the way to Japan just to see me? You’re a week early for fucks sake! Isn’t the tour next week?” You were practically bolting down the stairs in your cinnamoroll slippers, almost slipping during the pursuit, which Joshua could hear.

“Maybe open the door so we can have a proper conversation?” Joshua had ended the call and you had opened the front door just in time, immediately engulfing your boyfriend in a hug as he spun you around.

The essay could wait, what mattered right now was that your boyfriend, who you hadn’t seen in almost half a year, was here to see you. Long distance was hard, especially with Joshua constantly on the move and his every schedule packed with work, but you were grateful that you and your boyfriend were able to make it work.

“Josh, I can’t believe you actually came!” You giggle, and Joshua buries his face into your hair. “Of course, I missed you so much. Now get off your laptop so we can spend time together,” Joshua says while walking into the cozy town house.

He’s been at your house a whenever he visited Japan, and it just gets more comforting as time goes on, especially the person living in it.

If Joshua wasn’t an idol, he would be fully content with just being your boyfriend and being a college student with you in the cozy town house you currently resided in.

“You really didn’t have to, I could’ve managed and been on my merry way to Seoul during the break you know,” You say softly and snuggle into Joshua’s arms as you watched a movie together.

“It was the least I can do, and besides, it’s been months since we last saw each other. I decided to get a headstart,” Joshua replied and snuggled his nose into the crook of your neck, a habit of his that you had missed so dearly.

“What did you end up bringing me by the way?” You asked, and opened the duty free bag curiously.

“I got you your favorite snacks that you always tell me to get whenever I fly over,” Joshua smiled gently, to which you responded with a squeal. Your boyfriend is the best person you could’ve ever asked for.

A few hours had gone by in a flash and after finishing some left over pizza from the day before and two tubs of ice cream, you and Joshua were beat.

“Are you tired? It’s getting late already, and you came here right after landing,” You say, concerned for your boyfriend, who had just come from a long flight.

“A bit, but I don’t mind because at least I finally get to see you after months,” Joshua whispers and gives you a gentle kiss.

You smile into it as Joshua leads you both into your bedroom, the two of you falling into your usual night routine as if time hadn’t passed.

When you were done, you laid in bed with Joshua, drawing circles into his firm chest as he ran his hands through your hair while slipping in a few pecks on your face.

“You seem so sleepy already,” Joshua chuckled, noticing your eyes slowly starting to droop. You did almost fall asleep at your desk before Joshua had called.

“I might be, I’m just scared that this is all a dream and you might disappear when I open my eyes tomorrow” You replied, already dozing off but still feeling Joshua’s gaze on you.

Joshua chuckles again and shakes his head at you. “Rest up darling, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he says, and turns off the lamp on the bedside table.

© rubyuji 2024’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

Rearview - Chapter 8 - Somebody's Watching Me

Summary: Halloween nears and an annual party at Dante's, a popular club, is the heat of the action during this holiday. A lurking presence makes itself known.

Characters: Dean, Cas, Charlie, others mentioned

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: cursing, reader can never be happy, reader has gay thoughts?, reader definitely is into foreplay, dean is probably into foreplay, two bad bitches, grim themes, halloween idk, horny reader and horny dean,

Author's Note: heyyyy! im so sorry about the wait here is a short little update:

my health has continued to improve slightly, but im still going through series of tests and such, and I had to take some time off of work SO im playing catch up everywhere. im not in any pain thankfully, mostly just mild discomfort and general anxiousness bc im always scared that im dying (im not, im just dramatic). chapter lengths will probably be taking longer than normal, maybe every two weeks for right now? im trying to pump these out asap so I apologize for that bit. anyways thanks for sticking with me!

Songs: (Garth's) Walkman by Bad Bad Hats, (Walking to class) Tough to Be a Dreamer by Felix Hagan & the Family, (Dante's) Saturn Swallows the Sun by Ghost Twin, Vampires by Night Club, Somebody's Watching Me by Rockwell

Series Masterlist - Chapter 9

GARTH'S - TEA AND COFFEE BAR

“Mike and Sully?”

“No.”

“Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swan.”

Dean seriously considers it. He tilts his head with a thoughtful purse of his lips, and his eyes drift off to somewhere as he pictures it. It seems like a half-decent idea, that is until you add:

“I can deck you out in pirate makeup.”

He grimaces at the thought, shaking his head slightly, “Yeah, you had me at Jack Sparrow—but you lost me at ‘makeup.’”

You let your hand drop on the coffee table in frustration, scoffing as you look to him with disbelief at his finickiness. “It’s badass pirate makeup.” You tack on with a mocking grumble, “Your masculinity would still be intact–”

“I know that,” he grunts, rolling his eyes, “I just don’t want to be painted up that’s all.” Dean tenses his shoulders in with half-hearted defense. He then narrows his eyes with a challenging stare and subtle upturn of his lips, “What are you tryna say, sweetheart– that I need makeup?”

You don’t even give him the time of day with that one. You bite your tongue to try and be the bigger person– even though you both know Halloween was ten times more about the girls dressing up than the guys, but for some reason, you offered to compromise with him on the costumes. You didn’t expect him to be so selective on it, it was almost comical how much he actually cared. Dean was initially excited about the thought of doing something together for Halloween, and he had definitely contained most of his giddiness when the offer was brought up.

“I mean, yeah, if you wanna do something together that’s cool.”

But you could tell he favored the holiday after he started throwing in some ideas of his own. He mentioned a horror movie binge, carving pumpkins– he even brought up the idea of going out of the town to do a hayride.

He was pushing to get out of the city. And you knew why: he wanted you to feel safe. So you didn’t have to turn your head at every corner, or keep Nick and the stalking in the back of your mind. He didn’t tell you that was why, but the incessant coaxing of the travel was a hint enough. He would tug on your hand, playing into his own excitement because he knew you would be more enticed to agree with him.

So now the two of you sit at Garth’s, drinks in hand as you shoot ideas back and forth of possible Halloween costumes. The holiday is next Friday, which is particularly exciting for the two of you since it falls on your day off from work, and an evening where you don’t have to worry about waking up early for class. The idea of going to Dante’s floats between the two of you still, a place to showcase your costumes if you could ever settle on something together. Since you've been enrolled, you've always gone to Dante's for their Halloween event. This club is the only one you've been to where the music isn't just tolerable, but on par. Fitting to their aesthetic. The run specials on drinks, and have eccentric decorations. It's like stepping into another world. It was basically already decided that you two were going, even though Dean was hesitant at first.

“You’re making this excessively difficult.”

“What about Scooby-Doo?” He lifts his open hand– the one not holding his coffee cup– in a suggestive manner.

Your eyebrows meet in the middle, intrigued. “Like Fred and Velma?”

A look of true disgust passes on his face for a moment before clarifying, “No! No way in hell– I was talking about Scooby and Shaggy.” 

“Oh, what– you gonna make me be the dog?”

He straightens in his seat, pointing his finger at you with a chiding expression. “That dog is a goddamn hero, you should be honored to be Scooby-Doo.”

“Oh, Jesus.” You chuckle under your breath at his scolding.

Your comment is almost forgotten as his gaze drifts off, deep in thought as he visualizes. “I will say, the thought of you being Velma, though…” He blows air sharply out of his mouth with a dazed expression, possibly reconsidering the costume.

“Not without my Fred. What about Pam and Tommy?”

Dean seriously considers this one. You can see him envisioning it in his head now, his eyes locking onto nothing particular in the room as he zones out to fully appreciate the picture in his head. You think he likes the idea, seeing his slow, maniacal smirk raise higher, his teeth lightly dragging against his bottom lips with a hunger to it– but his grin fades and he sits up awkwardly, leaning forward a bit, bringing his forearm to press into his lap some, you notice. He ultimately shakes his head, “No.”

Your shoulders drop. “What?”

“You. Tight dress, big hair, heels—I’d spend the whole night starin’ down every guy who so much as breathes in your direction.”

You can’t help but smile a bit, trying to hold back another chuckle. “Not sure if I’m flattered or concerned.”

“You should be flattered. Every other man in your near vicinity should be concerned.”

“Maybe that’s not a good idea then.”

Dean snaps and excitedly points a finger in your direction, and his wild eyes brighten slightly like he’s just figured out the cure to world hunger. “Batman and Robin.”

Your head dips forward and your gape upturns into an amused scoff.“No! I don’t wanna be Robin,” You laugh.

“Robin’s hilarious!”

You give him a look that says otherwise, proposing, “Batman and Cat-Woman.”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “That entails you in a spandex suit?”

“Most likely.”

He clicks his tongue, sitting back into the seat with resignation.“Might as well be Pam and Tommy, then. I’ll be too distracted– in more ways than you think.” He says the last part with a hint of a smirk playing out on his face. 

Your head dips down as you gaze at him through your eyebrows with a tight expression. “Alright, killjoy. I can’t be anything sexy?” 

Dean snorts, “You most absolutely can. Wear whatever you want, sweetheart. I just won’t be able to appreciate your costume in full if I’m staring down every guy who looks a little too long.”

His overprotective nature makes it difficult to contain your grin. A contrast to what you were used to in the past. Though, you know it’s all out of lo- 

The goodness in Dean’s heart.

He has no intention of controlling anything you do, or wear. You know. You could dress as Pamela Anderson if you really desired. Dean would keep his eyes peeled as promised for any interested, lingering gazes, but he would dutifully slide an arm around your waist and return the gawking in your direction with a withering stare, then turn to you with the soft, smitten eyes and his tongue would roll over his bottom lip.

Though it would want to lick other places.

Once the drinks are finished, the two of you stand up and head out to the bustling streets, buzzing with afternoon traffic, sunlight glinting off car roofs and warming the buildings through their many windows, barely leaving any room for the stone and concrete foundation to see. You and Dean fall into step on the sidewalk with rhythmless strolling, as his hands interlocked with yours, keeping you nearby. There’s idle comments made about both of your classes and schedules and lives, catching up from the last time you saw each other. It had only been two days, but it was always so easy to talk about anything between the two of you.

It had been almost a month since you’ve unpinned part of your past with Nick—since Dean stood with your body curled into his, vowing without hesitation that he’d help you figure out this mess. And while the text message remained on your phone, the threat of Nick at any damn corner of the city, something about Dean’s presence at your side through it kept the dread at bay. A temporary low.

Dean had made it a point to walk you nearly everywhere. Whether it was the short trip to Garth’s or the longer haul across campus, he was there—hand in yours and his own watchful gaze scanning the streets for you, watching every corner with that guarding, perceptive gaze of his. It was subtle most of the time. He didn’t make a show of it. He didn’t hover. But you felt it—his presence, his awareness, like a lifeline between you both that held you steady without suffocating you.

To your own surprise, you’d begrudgingly agreed to let him drive you twice since the hospital. Though, it hadn’t been easy. The moment you slipped into the passenger seat of his car, your breathing had gone shallow, your hand pressing lightly to your ribs as if remembering the pain all over again. But Dean hadn’t rushed you. He hadn’t even started the engine right away. He just looked over at you, quiet and patient, one hand resting on the wheel, the other ready to steady you if you needed it.

“You alright?” he’d asked the first time. Gentle. No judgement or irritation. He had been ready for you to change your mind just in case. Ready to walk you without a second thought if it became too much.

And you’d nodded, shakily. He didn’t ask for more than that, knowing that you just had to get accumulated to the idea again.

The drives themselves were calm. He talked to keep you engaged in conversation as a distraction, sometimes raising the music to let you hum some of the songs you recognized on his tapes. Other times, the silence stretched comfortably between you while the city blurred outside the windows. He kept his speed low, kept his eyes on the road, but you could feel him tracking your reactions, checking on you with side glances that always softened with encouraging, almost proud grins when you met them.

And you weren’t okay—not really—but you weren’t completely falling apart anymore, either.

One cinderblock of five had been taken off your chest.

Progress is progress.

The black Challenger still made its appearances sometimes. Not often. But enough. You’d spot it parked far off down a street, or idling in the distance. It never moved. Never followed. Not with Dean nearby.

It lingered. That was all it ever did now.

And maybe that was what made it more unnerving—that constant, silent reminder that Nick was still out there, just on the edges of your world, waiting for a misstep. But Dean being near... it kept those edges from closing in.

Dean hadn’t pushed you. Not once. But he saw everything. He noticed the way your shoulders curved inwards, or the way you tensed slightly. The way your breath would catch just slightly at the sound of heavy footsteps behind you, even if they weren’t following. He never called attention to it, but he never ignored it either. He kept a steady hand on the small of your back when in big crowds on the sidewalk, or when he saw the falter in your expressions. He anchored you back to the present.

Even now, on this brisk October morning, with steam curling out of a paper coffee cup in your hands and your bag slung lazily over one shoulder, he was scanning your surroundings like second nature.

As open as you have been, you realize you haven’t really told him that it is better now. You’d show your appreciation for him, of course, but you hadn’t wanted to give him false hope in case one day you steep back down into a panicked craze if it ever escalated again.

Amidst your light conversation, a warning siren sounds interrupting you both, the wailing increasingly getting louder.

The both of your heads turn behind you, the two pairs of your eyes trained on the firetruck and ambulance jutting through the lanes with haste. The cars pull over to the sides of the road in a disorganized manner, making room for the vehicles speeding down the lane, blaring their horns.

Your heads follow the vehicle with a silent interest, peering in their direction to see if anything is unconsciously in view for what they’re after. Though it’s a short-lasted curiosity, and you both internally shrug it off once it’s out of sight.

After a quiet beat, you pipe up to Dean, “Did you ever check out the flyer I left for you?”

Dean furrows his brow slightly, blinking at you like it takes him a second to register. “The–oh, the volunteer firefighter thing?”

You nod, trying not to sound too eager. “Yeah. I left it on your fridge, right under the Zeppelin magnet.”

Dean exhales through his nose, a wry smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. “I, uh, I gave it a glance or two. Just been a bit preoccupied to really look into it.”

You nudge him softly with your arm that’s holding his hand below, “You should look into it. Just to humor it, you know? What’s the worst that could happen from just checking it out?”

Dean snorts bitterly, eyes flicking across the street like he’s mulling it over. “I regret my major that I’ve already spent four years of time and money on,” he says. “I don’t know if it’s worth it. Me looking into something like that when I’m this close to being done with school?”

“Why isn’t it worth it?” you press gently.

He shrugs. “I dunno. Because I made this whole plan, right? Get the degree, take over dad’s shop back home, make something solid of myself. And now—months away from graduating— I start debating whether to change my job completely.”

“Dean…” the hand once in his slowly unraveling from it as you lift it to his elbow with a light squeeze. “It’s okay to change your mind. You’re young- we’re young. Nothing is set in stone yet. And no one’s saying to pitch this whole idea of taking over your dad’s business.”

He looks down at your hand, then back up to you, raising his eyebrow with an expectant expression. “But?”

“But,” you coax, “it’s okay to want something else right now. Especially if it’s something that makes you excited.”

Dean’s jaw ticks as he looks down the block, like he’s trying not to let your words hit too deep. “I owe it to my dad though,” he says quietly. “I’ve promised him for years that I would revive his-”

“His, Dean. That’s the keyword. It’s his dream, or his plan,” you say simply, trying not to cross too many lines. “You don’t have to devote your life to his dreams because he had to give it up. It’s unfortunate that he couldn’t have it all, but that doesn’t fall on you.”

He lets out a slow breath, still walking, his shoulder brushing yours. He admits, “I did read the flyer. All of it.”

“Yeah?” You try not to smile too much.

“Yeah.” A beat. “I even looked up the station number. Haven’t called or anything… but it’s been on my mind.”

You let yourself grin, tucking your chin slightly so he doesn’t see how much it means to you. “That’s a start.”

Dean glances at you, and something in his expression softens. “Do you think I should”

“I think you should do what feels best for you, and only you,” you reply, voice unwavering. “But you don’t have to decide today. Or tomorrow. Just don’t bury it. You owe yourself that much.”

Another long pause hangs between you, and then Dean chuckles under his breath. “You have a future as a life coach, you know that?”

You purse your lips with thought. “A niche compliment- I’ll take it.”

“It was a compliment,” he says, bumping your shoulder lightly. “Though, you’re still making me question everything I’ve done these last four years in school, but, I’m not totally sure it’s a terrible thing.”

“It’s not a terrible thing to change your mind.”

Dean smirks. “Maybe. I haven’t decided on anything yet.”

You shrug as you comfortingly say, “You don’t have to.”

You reach the steps of your building, and Dean stops just shy of the door, giving you that look—the one that says he’s grateful, and probably a little in awe of you, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

“I’ll think about it,” he says at last, voice quieter now. “Seriously.”

You nod, hand brushing his on instinct and you let the silence in between you two hang for a moment before you give him an appreciative, “Good.”

He leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Go learn somethin’.”

You laugh quietly, “Alright, I will. See you tonight?”

“You bet.” He dips his head with unwavering assurance, letting his hand drag against yours as he relinquishes his grip on you as you head into the building.

HALLOWEEN NIGHT - DANTE'S

The bass is so deep that the music rattles your teeth.

Dante’s is absolutely packed with bodies that sway and jump and grind in synchronized chaos under a kaleidoscope of flashing lights—neon strobes flash like it a rave over painted faces and glitter-slicked skin. The tang of alcohol scents mix with the wave of chemicals slathered on hair and skin and when you walk by a group or two, there is definitely an herbal essence that grabs your throat.

And for whatever reason it is– you could tell you would allow yourself to soak this in and enjoy it.

Your bootsteps echo as you step through the entrance in front of Dean, whose hand firmly at your waist, guiding you through the throng of fellow college students already three drinks in and multiple songs deep. It’s sensory overload, but there's something thrilling about it, something that makes the blood in your veins pump a little faster.

To be honest, you hadn’t expected the outfit to do anything when you pulled it on—but the second you stepped into it, confidence flooded into your brain.

The low-slung grey shorts and fitted tank top made you feel like you were straddling the line between the goal: Lara Croft– and someone’s fantasy, especially with the twin prop pistols holstered tight at your thighs and combat boots laced up over your ankles. The leather straps across your torso accentuated everything perfectly. The curves and features of your body are highlighted in a way that comes across so naturally, like the costume was a second skin to adorn your body.

And when you came out of the room earlier showcasing the outfit? Dean's eyes dropped, lingered, and then flicked up again to you, and he was damn-near salivating.

 Yeah. You felt seen.

He hadn’t said much when he first saw you—just let out a low, appreciative whistle and muttered something hoarsly under his breath. It was some kind of curse word followed by a dirty compliment, then with a hungry promise– something about loving the costume on you, but even more excited to take it off you. But the subtle clench of his jaw, the way his hands had flexed like they were aching to land somewhere on you—that was enough of a tell to give you the idea that he, too, liked the costume.

Dean was your perfect Indiana Jones, in that weathered leather jacket (indeed, the one he does wear damn near everyday), a white, ruffled button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves, and khaki pants gave him a rugged edge. The belt slung across his chest had no real functionality here, but it did draw attention to his large frame. And by God, the whip he had in his holster…

Fuck.

And he wore his swagger in the costume, too. You can see it– he enjoys it as much as you do. And you can help but appreciate him. Your eyes rake his body with an amused smile, but your thoughts run more devilish. More sinful– though you try to conceal most of it. If it gets too far now, the two of you probably wouldn’t leave for the party. Your gaze falls to his chest where he has two buttons already popped, and his tanned chest peaks through. The next two buttons are practically begging to be snapped. And you are hardly sly with your looks. More than once, he’d caught your stare. And smirked.

“Like what you see?”

Damn right.

The two of you make a fine pair.

You look like an adventure, and he looks like he wants to chase it.

Dean’s classic Indiana Jones fedora is already slightly tilted back from the heat of the crowd, and your braid is already sticking to your neck from the slight sweat, but neither of you cares.

“Place is nuts,” he leans down to say above your ear. His voice is almost lost under the pounding beat, and he’s already speaking with more volume than he normally had too.

“It’s bitchin’ though. You’re not having second thoughts on agreeing to this, are you?” you shout back with a tease, lips brushing against his cheek.

Dean grins, “And miss you in this outfit?” His eyes make a slow trip down from your boots to the holsters on your thighs to the leather hugging your waist. “I’d be one dumb sunovabitch.”

You roll your eyes playfully and grab his hand, dragging him through to the bar. The bartender is dressed like a pirate, and you can’t help but notice how she rocks it. The striped blue pants hug her thick thighs tightly, while a red fabric is snugly tied to her hips, giving her frame a nice curve. Her white, puffed blouse can barely hold her breasts up, as they fold over a black, leather corset cinching her further. She’s busy, even just in her corner of the bar tops, and you can see the sweat collect along the hair framing her face as she rattles the Boston shaker with a bright, neon green drink that somehow sparkles in the light. After pouring and measuring and garnishes, she’s finally able to make it to you where you couldn’t help but appreciate her costume as well. You manage to get your drinks—Dean settling for a Jack and Coke, and for you, a themed cocktail called Witches Brew. The drink is an iridescent purple, shimmering with a special blackberry liqueur and edible glitter.  

You know he can’t help but notice Dean watching your six as you order, as he promised. 

And you don’t mind.

Once drinks are in your hands, the two of you find a less-claustrophobic corner to sip for a bit. You reach up and straighten his hat, smoothing your hands down his shirt like you're brushing off imaginary dust from his jacket. “Relax, Indy,” you smirk. “You’re off duty for the night.”

Dean lifts a brow, objecting to your coax. “I’m always gonna be on duty when you're next to me. Especially looking like that.”

You look away, unable to dim the smile that brightens your face. Turning back to him, you sweetly ask, “You’ll have some fun though, right”

“Sweetheart,” he says, “If you’re having fun, then I am.” And he means it. 

You nod once, happily, as warmth blooms in your chest.

When the drinks are left to mere droplets at the bottom of the glasses, you tug him toward the dance floor. At first, he drags his footsteps, making them heavier— because Dean Winchester doesn’t “dance” so much as he stands and sways with a glass in hand—but here and now, he looks at you finally being able to let loose. This is the most confident and carefree he’s seen you. Something’s different about tonight. You catch him eyeing you, watching your hips bop to the rhythm, and the way you don’t hold back on the flash of teeth in your smile. He caves.

He joins you in the chaos, his hands finding your curvature and spinning you around so your back is to him. There’s no coordinated rhythm between you two, just proximity. A fiery chemistry. You lean back into him, and he leans into you. His hand spreads against the front of your belly, as your body-rolls fall into him with a precision, arching you back with ferocity and elegance. His fingers roam lower, coming to rest lower on your hips. His breath grazes your shoulder.

“Where have you been hiding this side of you?” he murmurs against your ear.

“I wasn’t hiding it, just waiting for you.”

“Well, I’m one lucky bastard then, aren’t I?”

You turn in his hold so you’re facing him, your hands slipping up to his chest. “I got a couple of other sides to me that I’m just waiting to bring out,” you purr, and now you know that the drink is flowing through you.

He bites his lip, his eyebrows flash up for a moment. “Aw, sweetheart, don’t be shy on me now.”

And so the dancing between the two of you intensifies as your bodies grow closer and closer, until you're pressed tightly together in the mix of the other couples in the crowd. The lights flash in a sequence of red. Deep purple. Green. Orange.

The beat picks up. Club hits and Halloween remixes thunder through the room, and for a while, it’s just the two of you. Your hands on him and his on you. His eyes devouring you in your element. You dance with reckless comfort as he watches like he’s never seen anything better.

Now, the two of you were tangled in the crush of the crowd, Dean’s hands firm at your waist while you swayed against him. The music throbbed around you, something slow and heavy with a sultry rhythm, and your movements matched the beat—deliberate, and ever-teasing.

You fold into him, dragging your fingers up his chest as you face him, and Dean’s gaze darkens. His jaw clenches slightly like he was holding back something rough and unfiltered. He lets you spin in his grip before pulling you flush against him again, one hand slipping just slightly lower as your hips met his. His breath was warm on your neck when he leaned in.

“You keep movin’ like that,” he murmured over the music, voice low and gravelly, “and I won’t last very long here.”

You smirked, grazing your fingers along his collar as you whispered, “Not my fault when you agreed to this. I could’ve gone as a cute, lovable Monsters Inc. character but you liked this idea.”

Dean goes to respond but, his body tenses—just slightly, a shift of energy behind his easy grin-turn-distracted. His hand tightens on your waist. You follow his line of sight but don’t see anything at first. Not until a group of loud guys finding their way to the bar almost brush past you a little too closely.

Dean watches them go, jaw clenched as he pulls you in closer to him.

“You okay?” you ask, voice low.

“Yeah,” he says automatically. Then he looks down at you and softens just a touch. “Yeah. Just making sure no one's getting too close.”

You nod. You know what he’s thinking. You’ve both been careful. You’ve both been vigilant. But still—Dante’s is the kind of place where someone could disappear into the crowd just as easily as they appeared.

“I’m good,” you reassure him, hands tightening around his. “We’re good.”

Dean leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Still keeping an eye out for you.”

“I know.”

Dean turns, one arm still around your waist, and his eyes land on Cas in the crowd. His face forever in a pinched expression as he scours through the crowd.

Cas is dressed in a white T-shirt that said I’m With Her with an arrow pointing right– yet, no one accompanies him to complete the puzzle. He wears attached plastic white wings to his back and a halo headband that sits just a little crooked in his dark hair.

Dean blinks, confused as he takes in the costume but waves him over regardless.

“Hey, bud,” Dean starts, but then can’t help his utter curiosity, “What the hell are you?”

“An angel,” Cas replied deadpan.

Dean’s eyes roll, and he reads the shirt again, making sure he hasn’t missed anything, “That explains the wings and the halo.” 

You could practically hear him say And the rest? You laugh as you shoot a smile to Cas in greeting, and before you could respond, Charlie slid in beside him holding two drinks.

“Oh my Gods, I found him. I lost him at the door,” she said breathlessly, handing Cas a drink. “He doesn’t even look back for me.”

You immediately drop your hands from Dean and push him off you as if Charlie hadn’t already glanced over the two of you. 

You hadn’t told Charlie about you and Dean becoming official.

Shit, shit, shit.

You can't help but catch the flicker of confusion and hurt that plays out on Dean’s face as you did so. You give him a quick look of apology, and direct your stance to Charlie.

“Hey!” Your voice higher than normal, “I thought you weren’t coming out tonight, I thought you’d be with your girlfriend.”

Charlie has no poker face. Her eyes dart between you and Dean with a questioning look, but answers steadily, “Oh, uh, she got called in to her job tonight, but I’m seeing her later when she gets off of work.” She smiles at you, and then looks to your left, “Hey, Dean!” 

Dean still looks a bit baffled himself, not quite having put the pieces together yet before returning a warm smile to her.

Charlie, in black high-waisted pants and a fitted V-neck shirt, raised her arms dramatically. “Like the costume idea? Charlie’s Angel and Charlie’s Angel?”

Dean squints between them, before his smile widens with yours as you two realize.

“Ahh,” you both say together. Clever,

“I’m afraid I wasn’t given a choice in the matter,” Cas says plainly, sipping whatever Charlie handed him to drink.

Charlie winks at you. “He totally wanted in on it.”

Cas gives you a look that says otherwise.

Your lips press together in effort to hide your laughter, warmth settling in your chest at the dynamic of the two friends of yours. But the moment lasted only a beat.

“Soo, you guys definitely beat us here,” Charlie tries to gently assess your dynamic, “Did you guys come together?”

Dean looks to you now in understanding of Charlie’s own reaction. His pursed lips and a raised eyebrow are his way of screaming help to you, unknowing of what to say.

“Ha,” you try to laugh, but it comes out shaky, “Charlie, do you wanna let the boys catch up for a second? I gotta freshen up in the bathroom if you could come with?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” Charlie immediately hustles you away, leaving the boys to watch you both with uncertainty, and they both shrug to each other.

Once the door shuts out the noise from the dance floor, Charlie turns her back to the door, and gives you an expression that can only mean Girl, you have some serious explaining to do.

You sigh immediately at the look, dragging a hand over your face, “So, I might not have mentioned this to you yet.”

“Uh, you mean how you were practically on top of Dean out there?” She regards not in a cold way, but of pure shock.

You close your eyes briefly, “We’ve been dating for a bit. Actually–” you correct yourself, “Dean’s been my boyfriend since a little while after I got out of the hospital.”

Charlie called you that day too– when Dean took you out of the hospital. The conversation was frantic. She worried for you like a panicked mother hen, while you tried to calm her down on the phone by telling her you were alright and cared for at a friend’s…you didn’t specify which friend or what kind of friend, but you assured her you would be back soon.

Her face manages to morph into multiple expressions. Unexpectant, proud, weary.

“I can’t believe it!” Charlie gapes at first, “That’s good– really good! He’s a good boyfriend?”

You let out a huff of air.

Good doesn’t even cover it.

“He’s amazing, Charlie. I–” you couldn’t say it yet. “I really like him.”

“It’s about damn time you found someone who isn’t a piece of shit.” She smirks, and the comment actually gets a bit of a chuckle out of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The soft, unavoidable question.

You shake your head a bit, “I wanted to, I promise. I was itching to tell you, but I didn’t want Jo to know just yet, and I didn’t want to make you lie–”

“Oh my God. Jo–” Charlie’s eyes bug out of her head with realization. “She doesn’t know?”

You grimace, “No, and I know about her and Dean and how she started to fall for him but... Dean never saw her that way. I felt bad– I still feel bad about it sometimes but…” you trail off, unsure of what to say, because you do still carry a slight guilt in remembrance of when Jo confided in you about with her feelings for Dean. Of course, once it was already too late. 

Charlie inhales through gritted teeth with discomfort, “Yeah… well? What can you do? He didn’t like her like that…”

“I am not really inclined to tell her,” you preface, “But, I can’t ask you to lie to her for me.”

Charlie scratches her head, pacing the bathroom floor with contemplation.

“I don’t want to tell her anything, especially if you don’t want her to know, but I’m so bad at keeping these things to myself! If she ever asks me, I would have no idea how to get around it. I can’t lie for shit…” Charlie stresses.

“Then don’t,” you say, “Just… I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell her. If it slips, it’s not your fault, but…just don’t bring it up?”

She nods understandingly. “Yeah, of course, you know I’ve got you there.”

You exhale with a relieving breath, smiling at her in thanks.

The two of you return to the boys, and you make it a point to slide your hand into Dean’s to make up or the random shove earlier. He meets your gaze with a smile, showing you that he understands, and he squeezes your hand.

Another round of drinks are purchased, and around two hours later, the lot of you are ready to call it a night

Dean handed you his card when you mentioned you were closing out the tab. “Here,” he slid it to you from in between his fingers. “You want me to come with?”

“It’s right over there, you can see me from there. Finish your drink,” you gently tell him.

The walk to the bar was only a few feet, but you feel the weight of your boots more with every step. The pirate bartender is still incredibly occupied with making drinks, so it takes her a moment to find your tab, but just before you could hand her the card, she slides a cocktail toward you.

The drink is crimson, almost glowing under the dim lighting, and topped with a skewered gummy eyeball.

“Here, baby,” she said.

You blink at her, taken aback. “Oh... I didn’t order that.”

The bartender nods. “Yeah, some guy at the bar bought it for you.”

Your eyebrows knit together, “The Indiana Jones guy?”

She shook her head, “No, he had on some kind of weird mask with horns. Just the mask. Normal clothes.”

Your stomach drops.

You glance toward the edge of the bar, scanning the crowd. But there are too many masks. Too many faces…

“What is it?” you ask wearily, trying to keep your voice steady as you eye the drink. No pun intended.

Pirate looks over to you, studying your face sightly. “One of our specials tonight. The Watcher. Cranberry, vodka, triple sec, lime.”

Your skin turns to ice as you feel a ripple of fear shutter through you.

The Watcher.

You push Dean’s card toward her with urgency. “Uh, I think I’m done for the night. Can you just close me out, please?”

She raises a brow but nods, ringing you out. “Sure, baby.” She hands you the card back and you leave the drink untouched and beeline for Dean, heart hammering in your chest. The crowd blurs around you. All you could feel is the panic sneaking up your throat.

Dean sees your face before you can even reach him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice immediately shifting into alert mode. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, slipping a hand onto his forearm. “Can’t talk about it here. Can we just go?” It's nearly a whine as it leaves your throat.

Dean determinedly nods, gripping you tightly at the waist as his eyes scan the club instinctively, every bit of his body coiling with tension. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

The two of you barely say goodbye to Charlie and Cas as you exit the bar.

His arm wrapped around you in an instant, keeping you tucked close, eyes sharp as he led you out of the club—and whatever the hell The Watcher was—right behind you.

Into the now sharp, cold air of the midnight, Dean brings a hand to your elbow, bringing you to face him, “What happened?” He glances over you, looking to see if you were hurt or if there was anything physically done to you.

You blink back the panic, “The bartender– when I was closing us out, she slid me a drink and told me some guy bought it for me. And he disappeared apparently, and she said... fuck–” You just now notice the shortness in breath.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean bends slightly lower to meet your eyes, “I’m here. Nothin’s gonna happen, I promise.”

You let out a frustrated breath, “Dean… the drink was called The Watcher.”

His gaze hardens, eyes darting back to the club like he was planning to find the fucker.

“The bartender said he was masked. Horns and normal clothes. He disappeared after the drink got made but– Dean, I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” Your voice shakes.

Dean stands up straight, guiding you back to walk hastily next to him. “No, I don't think so either. But he’s gone, I guess, and so are we. This is just something we're going to add to the list when he go to the police at some point. And now, there's someone to back us up.”

You can’t bear to tell him that you don’t want to go to the police. How that terrifies you.

You let him tuck him against you, keeping his eyes open for anything as he walks you back to his apartment.

You dream of a masked man with horns that night.

taglist: @suckitands33 @globetrotter28 @supernotnatural2005 @star-yawnznn @muhahaha303 @tinas111

[artsyjedi]

They don’t stay together at the end | Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: you and charles meet, live and life goes on.

author’s note: i enjoyed this but no at the same time? maybe it’s a little confusing, sorry. I hope you enjoy anyway :) and let me know if you do! english isn’t my first language!!!! and it’s been a while since i wrote something, be nice please

*also: I think the reader is gender neutral, but i don’t exactly remember.

warnings: none but If you find any let me know

**2nd part: ‘they see each other again’

“Move in with me to Monaco” Charles’ voice caught your attention.

You had met during that week, three days ago to be more precise and the days since have been more than a dream. A true fairy tale.

Charles’ was travelling, enjoying his days off before the begin of the season, and you were trying to make a life in a new place. You were working at a cafe when you met him; brown eyes enchanting you right away. He was a prince; the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“Hi” he said softly while paying for his drink.

“Hi” you answered back with a mere whisper. If he wasn’t paying fully attention to you, he wouldn’t have heard.

And that was when you figure it out how powerful a two letter word can be.

This simple ‘hi’ became a whole conversation at the end of your shift, and then him showing around the city; his favorite spots, places he holds deep in his heart. Charles told you stories and you loved how his eyes sparkled with passion whenever he mentioned his family, friends or his career. He loved talking about art, he showed you his songs. Every little thing he did, you fell more and more.

But this dream would end one day. You knew - and so did he. This whole fairytale is gonna come to an end eventually and he’s gonna go back to his prestigious life as a driver while you gonna go back to your cafe and small apartment you share with other three people. Everything was gonna be nothing more than a memory - one you will hold close to your heart forever.

He was still staring at you, body and hair wet from the hot shower. You were on his hotel bed, covered with the white sheets, hair a mess and body tired. You were still sweating. He looked ethereal.

“I can’t, you know that” you laughed.

“Of course you can” he sat next to you, hand holding yours “You can live with me. At least at first if you want to live somewhere. And if you want, you can find a job there - or not too. Just come. I need you”

“You’re insane! I can’t just go and leave everything behind again. I need to create roots, a life. And more: what people would say? They would think I’m using you for money and fame”

“Who cares about what people think? It’s me and you that matters, nothing else. Create roots with me. We’ve been having such a good time together here, why not keep this going?”

“Because” you tried to argue, taking a deep breath before continuing “Because this is just a moment, Charles. This is good, perfect, but we both know it won’t last. This is good because it’s gonna come to an end. That’s all. Destiny played its part: we met each other, we learn from each other, and now we need to follow our own paths”

Charles got quiet. He was sad, you could see it; feel it even. But he knew you weren’t wrong. You couldn’t just drop everything you’ve been fighting for and go on this adventure with him; he had everything right already. A name for himself, a career.

“I love you. I love this” your hand held his face and went to his hair, caressing the brown humid strands. He closed his eyes, letting his head lean on your warm touch. When he opened his eyes, he found you smiling. Charles Leclerc was truly a thing.

He leaned further, nose meeting yours and he let himself enjoy the intimate touch. He kissed you then, with more passion than he had on the previous days.

“Fine” he rested his head against yours “I hope we meet again soon. Until there, let’s enjoy the time we have, ok?”

“Ok”

The days passed and everything felt then times more real. The feelings you had towards each other were crude and transparent to everyone. You went more places together, ate together, slept together. You loved him and he loved you. Life was simple.

The day he left, you went to the airport to say goodbye. It felt right.

While you saw him walk to his gate and disappear from your sight, you thought how beautiful those days were. It’s was not just about love, but about moments, about knowing to live with the knowledge that everything can and will end. One hour, one day, one week, one month or an entire life - moments are what makes life what it is and the best thing we can do is be grateful for them to happen at first place, and for the people who are part of it.

When you left the airport, the cold breeze met your face. That day was a good day, and you hoped faith would put Charles in your path once again; in that life or in another one.

[medusapelagia]

10 - The Tower of Terror

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: "Where were you?”) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: enemies to allies) and @aug-kissed (prompt: Blow a Kiss) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: Witcher AU, violence, blood, injuries Words: 1626

(An AU inside an AU?!?! Yes 😂)

When Steve’s mom dragged him to Kaer Morhen as a kid, Steve didn’t know that she was selling him to the mages to make a witcher out of him. He just thought it was a funny adventure. They rode in a little carriage together with some cabbages, and then they crossed the woods and started the same long path that now Steve is walking down, holding Roach's bridle with one hand, guiding the stubborn girl down the steep slope.

Steve never knew how much the mages gave his mom. He hopes they gave her a lot, she still had other five kids at home and he was just another mouth to feed: too young and weak to be really helpful working at the farm.

Now his mom and his brothers are long gone, but Steve is still there, doing what he was raised to do: killing monsters.

At the end of the winter, he says his brothers and their father goodbye, and gets back on the path, ready to kill monsters and humans alike. Because sometimes, the worst monsters have human skin.

On his back are his two faithful swords, silver and iron, that he keeps in tiptop shape, cleaning and sharpening them every night before resting.

He doesn’t stop at the first few villages, he wants to leave them to his brothers, but he keeps walking toward the farthest towns, looking for little villages that definitely need a witcher, even if most of them can’t really afford him. But Steve was never too high-maintenance: if the people are nice to him and they really need help, he will help them, in exchange for some food and a comfortable place to sleep. 

He would probably help them for free as well, but even witchers need to eat and sleep.

That’s how he finds out about the Tower of Terror. An old tower that’s all that remained of a big castle up the hills and that was destroyed during a strong earthquake.

He’s eating some bland soup, the only thing he can afford at the beginning of the hunting season, when a man, wearing fancy clothes, sits next to him.

“You’re a witcher, aren’t you?”

“What gave it away? The white hair or the yellow eyes? Maybe the two swords on my back?” Steve asks sarcastically, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with rich men, they are the ones that always try to fuck him up and pay him less than the agreed amount.

“Snarky, aren’t you? I thought all of you were grumpy and scary men.” 

“Met many witchers?” Steve asks without even turning.

“A couple. When I was a kid. Anyway, I have a job for you. I want you to go to the Tower of Terror and free the place from all the monsters that inhabit that place.”

Steve lifts an eyebrow, “Did they attack the village?”

“Not yet. But they are monsters! We can’t live under the threat of those monsters coming for us if we want to become a bigger village. You see? At the moment all we have are just a few houses, but the road that leads to us is the quickest route to get to Hawkins. If we manage to kill every monster in the Tower of Terror, we will be finally able to attract more travelers and become a bigger city.”

“And make more money.”

“And make more money.” The man agrees, “The tower is full of gold and jewels, you could take anything you want once you clean it from the monsters. So what do you say? It’s a pretty big deal.”

“What kind of monsters haunt the tower?” Steve asks, squinting his eyes, pensive.

“How the fuck would I know! I never got there.”

“I don’t take jobs if I don’t know what I’m facing.”

“Oh. Too bad. Well, I guess I’ll ask the other witcher.”

That catches Steve's attention. What other witcher? He concentrates, trying to find a slow heartbeat like his but finds none.

“Oh, he’s not here yet, but we sent a messenger a few weeks ago and he promised to come soon. In the beginning, I thought it was you, but the messenger told me about dark pitch-black hair, so…”

There’s one witcher crazy enough to accept a job without knowing what the fuck he’s going to face. A witcher on his back has two swords and a lute. A witcher that’s crazy like all the witchers from the Cat School. 

Eddie.

Steve takes his bowl of soups and gulps it down in one go, slamming it on the table, “Good for you.” he says, leaving the tavern.

He’s not even halfway through the village when he hears a familiar voice singing a stupid song, he turns in time to see Eddie get off his dark horse and put away his lute.

“When the tavern owner told me a grumpy witcher with white hair came to the rescue I couldn’t believe my luck.” He grins, getting closer to Steve who is still riding Roach.

“Not here to help you. Just looking for a job.”

“Are you saying to me you’re allergic to money? Because, my dear Steve, that castle is full of gold and jewels. So full that you won’t have to hunt for at least ten years.”

“And became old and fat in the meantime? No thanks.”

“Come on! It will be fun! You and me against the world!”

“There’s no you and me. There’s you. And there’s me. And our paths won’t cross again.”

“Oh, you weren’t so adamant when I was fucking you against the tree in the middle of the woods a few summers ago.”

“That was a one-time thing. And we were drunk.”

“Were we, Stevie?” Eddie asks, licking his lips and showing the little cat fangs.

“We come from different schools.”

“Doesn’t mean we are enemies. I'm pretty fond of you, actually.” Eddie says, blowing him a kiss and then winking at him.

“It does,” Steve replies, deadpan, before hitting Roach in the stomach and pushing her to gallop away.

“Tomorrow, at first lights! I’ll be there, waiting for you!” Eddie yells, but Steve doesn’t even turn.

***

Steve doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t even meditate. He just tosses and turns, thinking about that only night he shared with Eddie years before. How good it felt to be adored and loved even if it wasn’t real.

Finally understanding he won’t get any more sleep he sits near the ember of his fire, trying to remember everything he knows about the Tower of Terror. He has definitely read something about it but now all he can think about are pale hands wrapping his sex while a horny voice whispers dirty things in his ear.

If Eddie is really going to get into the Tower alone he will die, and those hands will never touch Steve again with reverence and desire.

It’s not Steve’s problem. If Eddie wants to die he’s free to do as he wishes.

Roach turns her head, glaring at him from the tree she’s tied to.

“Ok, I get it. I get it.” Steve sighs, dismounting the camp and preparing himself to fight.

***

It’s the smell of blood to guides him through the stupid tower, not the greedy, as Eddie insists when they meet in a maze of corridors.

The dark-haired witcher is holding his side, a deep wound gushing blood through his fingers, but Steve doesn’t have the time to take care of his injuries, because the monsters with no eyes are attacking them again, their shriek so loud on Steve’s sensitive ears that he has to fight with himself not to drop his sword and protect his ears with his hands.

With a slash, he cuts the arm that’s reaching out toward his head and when the creature loses its balance, Steve’s sword pierces him from side to side. He doesn’t even have the time to retrieve the blade, when another creature, smaller than the first, attacks him, making him fall on his back while he tries to keep the monster’s mouth away from his face. Steve kicks it in the stomach and the creature yelps, recoiling just enough to give Steve the time to grab the dagger from his belt and cut its throat.

The dark and warm blood falls on his clothes and his face, and Steve curses, kicking the dead beast.

“You should think about dyeing your hair.” Eddie chuckles, spitting some blood, “Black maybe it’s a little too dark fir your skin complexion, but I think chestnut would be perfect for you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve replies, trying to determine how bad the injury is.

“Where were you? I thought we agreed to be here at dawn.”

“I didn’t agree.”

“I heard you growl, distinctly. That’s not how your school expresses agreement?”

“Fuck you.” Steve says, fishing some vials for his bag, “Take this.”

“Swallow? How magnanimous of you.” 

“Just drink it and let’s get out of here.”

“Can’t.”

“Come on Eddie. Not even a cat can be so stupid to risk his life for some jewels that were probably stolen ages ago.”

“Have you ever seen monsters like these?” Eddie asks, pointing to the two dead creatures.

Steve squints at the monsters without eyes. He doesn’t remember having read anything about them in the book he studied, and he definitely hadn’t met such creatures before.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you come with me we could find something more than gold and jewels.” Eddie drinks the potion in one go and gives the vial back to Steve, “Can we be allies, for once?”

Steve stares at the other witcher who slowly gets up, one hand still protectively in front of his wounded side.

Allies.

Just for this time.

They shake hands, and then their medallions start to shake like crazy.

(Should I start working on a Part 2???)

[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

[soleinne]

The Fine Print (One-shot)

Make sure you read it. Or don’t. What do I know.

SUMMARY: An account of the night Umbriel and Deimos met. Was it fate or mere coincidence? Who knows!

WORD COUNT: 4,747ish

WARNINGS: Generally morbid topics (discussion of suicide and death)

(disclaimer: this has a slow start, half of it isn't really g/t, but it does get there! hopefully i'll share some more g/t oriented stuff in the future :D just a lotta lore about my guys and world i wanted to get out of the way and post)

————————————— ͙͘͡ ✦

The radio on his dresser crackled to life, static buzz filling his room.

“THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE OF AVALSHIRE HAS ISSUED A… SIGNIFICANT SNOW SQUALL WARNING… FOR THE CITIES OF AVALSHIRE, ASTRAKANE, VALENAE, AND SURROUNDING RURAL AREAS…”

Umbriel hummed as he sat on the edge of his bed, organizing and packing for his trek-to-come.

“At 930 PM EST, a dozen extremely dangerous snow squalls were located, seemingly popping up across the entire country with little warning. Hazards include extremely poor visibility, sustained winds of up to 40mph, temperature drops of up to ten degrees, and up to 3-4 inches of snowfall accumulation in an hour.”

“Really now?” He scoffed to himself. “Out of every night, just had to be this one?”

He knew the weather in Meris fluctuated fast. One minute, it could be barely flurrying, the next, he could almost get buried alive in snow. The prince had been warned of this for a decade now: if he snuck out on nights like these, nobody would be there to save him if worse came to worse.

But that was a risk he was willing to take.

Glancing yet again at the tear-off calendar on his nightstand, the date was circled in bright blue. Underneath it, the text “SELENIDS 11pm-3am” was scrawled out.

The Selenids, an extremely beautiful meteor shower best seen from Meris, named for their kingdom's supposed savior, only occurred around once every three centuries, and he wasn’t planning on missing it. Not with his fixation on astronomy and stars. It would be like a chef passing up the chance to work with the finest ingredients, or a bookworm neglecting the opportunity to visit the largest library in the world. He couldn’t bear to not even attempt to see it; Umbriel had been dreaming about this night since he first read that old legend when he was a little kid.

He would never get those descriptions out of his mind. The sky completely clear, not a cloud in sight. Auroras dancing across the heavens. A full moon. Thousands of stars amidst the cosmos, and hundreds of beautiful, shimmering meteors streaking across it all. That's how it was described six centuries ago in the legend. During the last appearance of the Selenids, though some clouds were present, and the auroras milder, it was just as stunning. By sheer chance, he was born at the exact right time to see it. A once in a lifetime, no, once in multiple generations opportunity.

The problem was, well, it wasn't viewable from the palace. Clouds had been plaguing Avalshire and his home for the past week, and he was sure they wouldn't part just for him to see the sky tonight. Maybe he should ask his mother to invest in someone that could make a machine to do that. It’d save him a lot of trouble.

For now though? His best option was hiking up a tall hill near the palace. Its peak was a plateau, and it usually reached a bit above the low clouds, giving him much better visibility.

The weather made little difference to him. Snow squalls didn't last very long anyways. They were small, and could miss the area entirely. Weather warnings were always somewhat broad in Meris.

Those were all things Umbriel told himself, but for some reason, the anxiety nagging deep in his gut didn't want to go away. He continued to pack his bag slowly, taking care to arrange all the things he'd need. A thermos with hot tea, a travel first aid kit, a small blanket, some trail mix he'd managed to buy, a pair of binoculars, and his oldest possession: the rondel dagger his late father had gifted him.

Running his finger across the cold steel of the blade, his thoughts began to darken.

All of a sudden, there was a sharp knock on his door, one he’d come to be very familiar with.

He swiftly shoved the dagger into the bag. “Ahem. Come in.”

The door creaked open. Someone of average height, sporting brownish-pink hair cut just above the shoulder, and donning ornate clothing bearing the Merisian Royal pattern, peeked in.

“And here I was thinking you’d be getting ready for bed like a sane person.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t seriously gonna attempt going out tonight, are you? You can’t.”

“You don’t have to come with me, Castor. I’ll be fine without a bodyguard for a few hours on a trail. Besides, where I’m going is still technically on protected palace grounds.”

“Technically,” Castor gave an eye roll. “Tell me, what do you plan to do if you get caught in a snow squall? Or you if you get seriously hurt? What am I supposed to tell your mother, as your personal bodyguard, when her son’s body is missing in the wilderness in the morning?”

Umbriel stayed silent.

“I know it’s a bit morbid and harsh, but seriously, please think about this more. I know, the Selenids. Everyones bummed that they’re hard to see this time around. I get it. But risking your life and lineage isn’t worth some stars, is it?”

“This isn’t like you. The Castor I’m used to would be all for me sneaking out to see the stars.”

Castor fidgeted with the locket hanging around his neck.“Well, it’s really—“

Umbriel’s eyes flicked up, making direct contact with Castor’s. “Did my mother ask you to dissuade me? Is she really that worried?”

“S-She asked me to prevent you from leaving! It's just, knowing you, Your Royal Highness, you’ll find a way out no matter what I do!” A large sigh escaped him. “But… if I really haven’t changed your mind, just… Please be really careful, alright? The snow thing isn’t a lie!”

Umbriel nodded. “Sure. I’ll think it over. Maybe I won’t go out then.”

“I would say good luck, if there wasn’t a big part of me that doesn’t want you to go.” Castor shut the door behind him, leaving as fast as he’d entered.

Guilt pooled in his abdomen.

Sure, he knew most parents were naturally worried about their children. But when his mother is a queen, and he’s an only child with a dead father, he really can’t afford to go and freeze to death. Umbriel was the only heir, the crown prince. What would happen if he died? Moreover, his mom was worried about his sneaking-out-and-hiking hobby in particular, because his dad had died in an avalanche while hiking.

But still, passing this up? The sole thing in his life he’d genuinely been looking forward to? That wasn’t an option. If it was going to be extra-hard to sneak out tonight, then so be it. He’d rather get caught than not even try.

So, the prince finished packing his supplies, just as the clock tolled ten. After struggling for a moment with the buttons on his coat, getting his boots on, and tightening his gloves, he was ready. Adrenaline raced throughout his body, and he affirmed one final time: he was going to see the Selenids.

Taking a deep breath, Umbriel slowly opened the thick wooden door to his room.

Nobody was outside. How convenient. Castor was truly the most responsible bodyguard in the world.

A lot of watchmen had asked Umbriel around the palace about his tricks. How did he manage to get out so unnoticed? The truth was, he didn’t a lot of the time. Guards noticed him a lot. He was just small, quick, and stealthy, so he could get away before actually being caught. Quite a perfect trio for sneaking out.

Oh, and also, they didn’t know about the forgotten side corridor that hung on the side of the palace, where he was currently walking to. And by side, he meant the literal outside. It was a narrow breezeway, high up, often covered in snow. As Umbriel arrived, he noticed a bit of wind, some flurries, but definitely not anything characteristic of a snow squall.

Maybe he’d get lucky.

So, he continued on, reaching the end of the breezeway, where a spiral staircase awaited to take him to the ground. The thin layer of snow crunched as he walked down the steps, not yet putting on his hood to stay hyper-aware of his surroundings. Because if he was to get caught, not only would he be absolutely grounded, but it would reflect badly on Castor, and he didn’t deserve that.

At the ground, he immediately crouched down. There wasn’t much cover in this area, and—

Crunch. Clink. Crunch.

Umbriel froze, blood running cold.

Those were definitely the footsteps of a guard. Growing louder and undoubtedly closer with each passing second.

What was he supposed to do? There wasn’t anything substantial to hide with! A row of small pine trees stood to his right, but he’d be incredibly easy to spot if the guard crept up to inspect them; the top of his blue-haired head would stick out. He tried to think about the best option, but the time was ticking.

And, just as he was sure that the guard was about to round the corner and see him, he dove for that row of small pines.

“F-Freeze! Who’s there!”

He held his breath, heart pounding in his ears.

Through the needles, he could see the guard take a few steps forward, a small sword drawn.

Yet, in a stroke of luck, a rabbit dashed out of the trees. Making a remarkably similar noise to him diving into them as it hopped away into the distance.

“Ah… it was a… nevermind…”

The guard resheathed the sword, turning away.

He exhaled.

What a close call.

Umbriel indeed passed by a few more guards on his way out. However, through a combination of sheer luck and years of covertness, he managed to get past them without much of an issue. And the fact he was outside with a plethora of shadowed hiding places did, admittedly, help. There also weren't very many on duty that night; he supposed some had gone inside due to the weather warnings. Nonetheless, the prince slipped out the correct side exit without so much as another glance from one.

He knew the way from here well, and the snow was still pretty mild. Follow a few signs and trail markers, a left there, a right here. The "hike" was really just walking up an inclined slope with a couple turns. It wasn't very difficult for him after all the times he'd been that way to stargaze.

"KRAA, KRAA!"

And this was the first sign something was going to go wrong. Something that signified he should’ve turned back at that very second.

A single raven flew overhead in the opposite direction, its loud cry eerily echoing through the empty snowscape. Ravens were a common superstition in Meris that meant "doomsday," because many of the oldest depictions of that legend showed ravens in the backgrounds of their storybook-esque illustrations.

Umbriel cleared his throat, a chill running down his back. He’d persist, he’d be fine. He was going to see these meteors and be totally, completely ok. Superstitions probably weren’t real anyways. Just scary things made up to tell on an equally spooky night.

Yet, with each step that he took in the snow, a growing sense of unease was mounting in his chest. Maybe Castor was right. Maybe he should've listened to him. But if he turned back now... no, he couldn't. He'd already made it this far. He could do it. Taking a small breath to calm his mounting nerves, Umbriel pushed onwards.

The prince recognized the area he was in. It was close to the first fork he had to make to get on the correct path. Walking through the clearing that cut through the forest, his anxieties began to die down. The snow was fine. He was fine. There weren't any ravens anymore. And he knew exactly where he was.

The forest was completely silent, apart from his footsteps. The snow died down a little. How peaceful.

And then, a large gust blew from his left, and everything went white.

Ah.

Right. The snow squalls.

The flakes were incredibly large, their frequency speeding up at an alarming rate. The air plummeted from the nice twenties he was used to, enough to give him a chill even in his layers of thick, warm clothing. And the wind was the worst part; he couldn't see anything due to how much it blew the snow. It felt like miniature daggers piercing the little exposed skin he had.

He'd... he'd be fine. He'd just stop at the next trail marker and wait for it to pass. The next one had a lantern.

He'd live. He'd walk.

And walk.

And walk.

And walk.

And walk.

And walk.

The next trail marker never came.

The snow pelted him, just as intense. Except now, he was shivering. Shivering bad. Even if he tried to take out that warm tea from his bag, he'd probably drop it in the wind or it'd slip out of his trembling hands. And lighting a match? Forget about it. His breath was labored and slow; every breath took a considerable amount of effort, and the subzero air that filled his lungs hurt from the sheer cold.

One step in front of the other. He'd make it. The Selenids. He was on his way to see them. He walked more. Just a little farther with each step, no matter how freezing cold he felt, or how blinding the snow was.

Finally, as the snow died down a bit, as he was just about to start thanking Meris' savior, he came to a horrific realization.

He was lost.

Umbriel didn't recognize the area he was in at all. He was positive that this wasn't on the trail he took, despite his muddied mental state. There were barren trees around, and trees in Meris were almost exclusively pine. What's more, he didn't even think he was on a path. It seemed to just be a clearing in the middle of a forest.

This was really how he was going to die, slowly freezing to death in the snow because he couldn’t follow simple instructions. Would they even find his body? Panic was beginning to set in. He had brought some supplies, sure, but it wasn’t enough for him to stay out there for more than a few hours, let alone however long a search party would take.

Dizziness plagued him. Despair crept into his chest and spread throughout his entire body. The guilt was the worst of all. Castor was right.

...How would his mother react? If he were to die?

Part of him wondered if she would even care.

If he wasn't a prince, he would've given up by now. He probably would've laid down in the snow and made a snow angel for the last time, before bundling up in his blanket and letting the cold claim him. But he couldn't let this centuries-old bloodline end with him in such a pathetic way.

Sure, he'd thought about death a lot. About jumping from his balcony. It was a quick and easy way to go. No more stress. No more pain. No more unbearable loneliness. But he'd kept on going. Not for himself, but for his kingdom.

Confronted with the very real possibility of death, though, Umbriel realized he wasn't quite ready. There were things he still wanted to do, people to meet, places to see.

Tears welled up in his eyes, immediately feeling frigid.

He was such an idiot.

Yet, as the last of his hope faded away, as he was about to open his bag and get out that blanket, something caught his eye.

Something in the distance.

He couldn’t quite make out what it was, he was too far away, the snow was too thick, but… it looked to be something omitting light. An unnaturally colored light: pale pink. Umbriel took a few steps towards its direction.

As it seemingly got closer… he could make out the figure of a person. But… people weren’t pink. People didn’t glow either. And yet, it crept closer. Clear legs, a torso, arms, a definite head.

But then, it seemed to disappear after a particularly large gust of snow. Was he hallucinating? Could've been a possibility.

That is, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Nearly jumping out of his skin, adrenaline raced through his body as he turned, hand reaching for the dagger tucked in his bag—

"Geez! I'm not here to hurt ya! Calm down!"

He stopped. Because the sight in front of him was so bizarre, so strange and different that he didn't know what he was looking at for a second. It was…

Something. Something glowing and entirely different shades of pink, with hair that reached its thighs and oversized clothing. Bandages obscured half of its face. It was also a good foot taller than him.

It clearly wasn’t a human.

He was frozen in fear as the thing continued to stare at him, smiling.

“Wow, you mortals always look so much cuter when you’re terrified!"

Umbriel blinked. “Wh-What…?”

“I said, you look cuter when you’re terrified. That thick hood of yours clogging your hearing?”

Umbriel took an instinctive step back, but the thing took a step forward to match, looking him in the eyes with a wide grin. “What brings ya out here tonight?”

“Um.” He cleared his throat, trying to stop his chattering teeth. “Meteor… shower. I’m… I don’t know where I’m at. Got lost. In the snow."

That’s alright!” It tilted its head. “I know humans are kinda fragile, do ya need help finding your way? Because I can certainly do that!”

Hearing humans described as fragile was odd to him, to say the very least. It's like whatever this thing was thought him to be an object.

"Uh. Okay.”

“Ah… but… I can’t possibly do that kind of thing for free, you see. My expertise is just simply too valuable! However… Actually, what’s your name?”

He really didn’t have the time for this, he could barely feel his legs.

“…Umbriel. Collerei. Prince Umbriel Collerei.”

For a split second, he could’ve sworn this things’ demeanor changed, the very atmosphere seeming… off. But it quickly vanished, and he had to wonder if he was imagining things.

“Wooowie, my mistake, Your Royal Highness. I didn’t expect to find such a big shot out here tonight~” It giggled, and Umbriel couldn’t tell if it was being sarcastic or genuine.

“Um. Right. H-How much money do you want? To help me get home?”

"Money? Don't be silly. I'll take you home for basically free, actually. Royal discount!"

"...Basically?"

Smiling wider, it crept to his side, wrapping an arm around his body. This thing emitted a lot of warmth, causing him to sigh from how welcome it was.

"Well, little prince, I just need ya to look this over and sign your name at the bottom. That's all, really. Then I can get ya home, safe 'n' sound." It pulled out a piece of thick paper.

He froze. From the gesture to that nickname, everything suddenly felt so extremely unnerving and off-putting to the point it was overwhelming. But, just like before, it vanished within an instant.

"Ah... um, alright. Let me look." Umbriel took the paper, hands numb and shaking, and began to skim it over from top to bottom. It was done in crayon.

Deimos’ Super Cool Totally Amazing Contract!

I, Deimos, the creator of this contract agree to the following terms:

To share any info I know about the world with the Reader! (I know a lot of cool stuff :D)

To be very nice and give the Reader lots of attention!*

To protect the reader from harm!*

I, Prince Umbriel, the receiver of this contract, agree to the following terms:

Give up a tiny, very small, portion of my soul! (You won’t notice it’s gone!)

Let Deimos accompany me in daily life!* (I’m very lonely D:)

Sign Here! \ /

“A… contract?” There was more text at the bottom, extremely small text at that, but he couldn't really read it due to the snow and his slightly blurred vision. “What's the catch?”

“Hm? A catch? Ehe, just make sure you read the fine print…”

“Uh… I can't really see it…” He squinted, but the text was so small it was basically incomprehensible. How in the world did it write that small with a crayon?

“Oh, pft, it isn’t that big of a deal actually, just some boring legal stuff.” It patted his shoulder.

“...Really?”

“Mhm!”

“Um…” Umbriel had to think for a second.

He didn’t know what this thing was. But it presented relatively friendly, if not a little odd. What's more, the pros of this contract tremendously outweighed the cons. He really wasn’t in a position to refuse this, because if he did and this thing left, he was probably going to freeze to death. The only iffy part was that thing about his soul, but even then, he wasn't sure souls were even a real thing. Sure, spirits were definitely real. That desert across the sea was chock-full of them. Glowing colorful fantastical beasts with an aggression to humans. Now that he thought about it, this thing offering him a contract was a little similar to one of them.

Those things stayed in the desert, though, and weren’t humanoid. Apart from his kingdom’s exception, the sole reason it was founded. The thing of horrors defeated six hundred years prior on this very night.

He shook his head. Too much thinking for his near hypothermic brain.

"A-alright. I'll sign it. Give me something."

It handed him a rather large quill. A black quill, with feathers that looked suspiciously similar to that of a raven.

And so, he signed his name, sloppily, due to his freezing hands, at the bottom of the contract as this… thing watched, its visible eye gleaming with a childish sort of excitement.

As soon as he dotted the last "i", something incredible happened that he could only describe as a miracle. Something that assured him he'd made a good choice for the time being.

The clouds above, which had seemed so dense moments prior, had parted. Revealing a large swath of clear night sky.

The northern lights were more vibrant than he'd ever seen. The stars were bright and visible. And the meteors, the meteors. There had to be hundreds of them. Shooting across the night sky in an incredible display. A crescent moon hung amidst it all.

He nearly dropped the contract.

It was everything he'd expected since he was little.

"What... What was your name?" Umbriel muttered, not taking his eyes off the sky.

"It's Deimos! I'm a guy, by the way!"

"Deimos... I think we'll be good friends."

"Hang on, do ya want a better view? I can get you one!"

"H-Huh? I mean, I'd absolutely love that, but how in the world..." He began to turn around.

And stopped. Dead in his tracks.

It was like he was suddenly face-to-face with a large, glowing, and pink wall. Except, well, it obviously wasn’t a wall.

Deimos, who couldn't have been more than a foot taller than him moments prior, now took up the entire clearing with his size.

His face alone was more than double the size of his body, the bandaged hand pressed against his cheek was definitely larger than his mattress. However tall he would be standing would probably be enough to reach above the—

Above the clouds.

"Sorry, did that surprise ya? Forgot to mention, I prefer this size much better. And since you signed that contract, you're super special now! You can see me and feel me when I decide to become intangible! Isn't that super cool? Basically, nobody else will notice me right now, even at this size!"

"Ri-right," Umbriel shifted, feeling a bit, well... small. It was kind of overwhelming. "Um. About the... uh, view..."

"Ah, of course, of course! Here, lemme just..."

Before he could react, Deimos' ginormous hand reached for him, warm fingers closing firm around his body, surrounding him completely. It was an incredibly strange sensation, being picked up like an object. But he didn't particularly dislike it. Especially given how warm and soft Deimos' hands were. The feeling was similar to stepping out of a shower and wrapping up in a warm towel, however strange that comparison may be.

"Geez, you're reaaaally cold. I'll have to keep ya wrapped up in my hand."

Umbriel wasn't going to protest that.

All of a sudden, his upper body was shoved out of Deimos' fist, enough for him to look around.

He felt like he was in outer space.

Gone were the limitations of clouds and snow. Umbriel assumed that all was far below him. All that remained was the infinite expanse of the starry sky, so big and beautiful that tears were brought to his eyes. The meteor shower was still ongoing.

He'd gotten to see it after all, and see it he did.

Umbriel probably had the best view in the entire world.

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He couldn't bear staring at the sky any longer. It brought back too many memories; things he didn't like, fragments of pain he didn't understand.

A smile crept across his lips as he felt the tiny prince wriggling in his hand. A sensation he'd missed so dearly.

He could play pretend for a bit. Maybe it'd even be fun. Revenge is a dish best served cold, after all.

But his true motives?

They were right there, outlined in purposefully small crayon at the bottom of a contract, stuffed securely into his pocket.

*This does not include any physical or psychological harm inflicted on the receiver, Prince Umbriel, by Deimos himself.

*Deimos is allowed to do whatever he wishes with the receiver, Prince Umbriel, after he signs this contract.

*The receiver of this contract, Prince Umbriel, allows Deimos to obtain the Merisian throne instead of him.

He couldn't believe they'd made a monarchy in his absence. As if she was even that special.

For some reason, he couldn’t escape that surname. Collerei. It followed him around like a curse.

Still, if he couldn’t escape it, he might as well make the most of it.

And so, there he sat for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for Umbriel to tell him when the meteor shower concluded. His mind wandered to what he’d missed, and to what he’d do when his eventual reign came.

Deimos was positive it’d turn out a hell of a lot better than last time. He’d make sure of it.

“D-Deimos?”

“…Mhm? What’s up?”

“Could you t-take me home now, please? The meteors are starting to die down, and, well, I feel quite cold… and woozy…”

“Oh, of course!” He lifted up his sweater, stretching the pocket of his pants open, before ever-so-carefully sliding the little prince inside.

Umbriels muffled voice reached his ears. “Is this… your pocket? I didn’t know you had them…”

“Sure is! My sweater covers ‘em. Is it comfy enough for ya?” Deimos patted the small bulge Umbriel made in his pocket from the outside.

“Mmm, yeah. It’s… really comfy. And warm. You have soft clothes.”

He couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to have somebody not see him as a horrific monster for a second.

So, he shrank down to a more humane scale, Umbriel shrinking along with him. The prince didn’t need to know about that either. Not yet, at least.

He walked aimlessly through the forest, feeling Umbriel jostle in his pocket every now and then. For some reason, he got the unexplainable urge to do another nice thing. How bizarre.

Deimos laid his hand over the pocket where Umbriel laid, and began rubbing his back through the fabric with a finger.

“Y-you don’t have to do all that…” The prince mumbled.

“Relax, it’s fine. I’ll take care of you. Where do ya want me to take you again?”

“Est… Estrelline Palace. It’s not very far, you won’t miss it.” Umbriel was interrupted by a large yawn. “And… preferably, d-don’t let the guards see me, they don’t know I went out…”

“Sure!”

And so, Deimos walked. Prince in one pocket, signed contract in the other.

He’d have to break this act at some point. Surely.

But for now?

He was quite content having somebody to take care of. Even though he wasn't planning on being very kind to this prince in the slightest after hearing that name. But someway, somehow, he was feeling... awe. Adoration. This unexplainable feeling that wanted to treat Umbriel with kindness instead of malice.

And that feeling sparked another in him. One he hadn't felt for a long time.

Guilt.

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WOWEE IF YOU READ THIS ALL YOURE A REAL ONE heres gifts

castor sketch design / details

"i have two sides" ahh deimos