#i'm always down for a road trip and for pancakes

[virtualreader]

broken hearts and healing souls

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: carrying the ruins of the broken heart the death of his father had left behind, Dean pushes you away, fearing hurting you as well. or perhaps he’s just scared of being hurt himself, one more time.

word count: 3,3k. (does not include lyrics)

warnings: alleged age gap, fierce anger, heated argument, drinking out of spite, supressed feelings, cursing, yelling, not the happiest end, and lots and lots of angst.

part 2

a/n: i started watching supernatural about a month ago and I'm loving it so far. and god, i couldn't help but fall truly, madly, deeply in love with dean winchester. this scenario came to my mind while listening someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic, so this one shot is based on this song. feedback is always appreciated. please, comment if you think I should write a part 2 to this one!

"You can't boss me around, Dean! I'm not a child anymore!" you barked at the hunter standing by the motel room's door.

"I can't? Watch me!" Dean retorted, breathing heavily and extending his arms upward to appear bigger. "As the eldest here, it's my call to make the hard decisions. And I've decided that you won't come on any more hunts, end of story. You're risking your life out there—it's dangerous, y/n. What's not clear about that?!"

You and Dean had been arguing for a while. He came into the motel room the three of you—Sam, Dean and yourself—were forced to share, stringently declaring you were not allowed to go with them on hunts anymore.

After the previous mission ended with you being kidnapped by the demon you were after and tied to a chair in an old building's basement, the oldest brother wasted no time in making a decision. Despite your eagerness to rid the world of evil, Dean prioritized your safety, even if you didn't see it that way.

Dean Winchester was an undaunted and confident man, he had been since his mother died, he had to be, for his family's sake, for his own sake. Yet, when it came to you, potential bad outcomes constantly assaulted his mind. He could not afford to lose another loved one, so he did not take a gamble.

"It is my life that I am endangering, so I strongly believe that I get to choose whether I want to expose myself to hunting hazards or not. You are not my dad and cannot give me orders, Winchester!" you declared, raising your voice with anger and trembling as you pointed your index finger at him.

You were hurt and confused. Hunting had been your life for as long as you could remember and now he was taking that away from you. You tried to plead your case, but he had already made up his mind.

In response to your defiance, Dean raised his chin, pursed his lips, and clenched his jaw. Yet, even in his anger, he maintained steady eye contact with you. It was clear he was not going to back down easily.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he queried exasperated. “That demon back there, could have killed you, and you know that. This is not some inoffensive deer we’re going after.”

He was undoubtedly referring to the incident that happened earlier that day, when he was able to free you from the grasp of the demon. It was the same demon that mercilessly took your father’s life, leaving you fatherless at the tender age of twelve and subsequently placed under the care of the Winchesters.

Growing up with them, you learned to navigate the dangerous world of hunting and the supernatural. From hours-long road trips and campfires to cozy movie-evenings and pancake Sundays, your memories with your new family included a wide variety of experiences that left a lasting impact on you.

The bond you formed with the Winchesters was one built on mutual respect and a shared purpose, making them more than just your guardians; they were your family, and you were theirs.

"God, what a pig-headed dude you are," you muttered, oozing frustration, as you let out a peeved sigh. "So you, old man, can risk being killed by these heartless creatures, but I can't? Is it just because I'm younger than you guys? ‘Cause I already told you, I am as much of an adult as you are.”

Clearly, you would not be swayed by Dean's demands. You were your own person, with your own will and your own desires. You were determined to stand up for yourself and live your life on your own terms.

He took a moment to observe your bruised appearance as he pondered his answer. The blood that had previously emerged from the wound above your eyebrow was already dry, while the cut on your lip was still struggling to form a scab.

He noticed the swelling around your left eye, a tell-tale sign of the force of the blow that had landed on your face. And as he looked at you, he could not help but feel responsible for your emaciated state.

"If you're such an adult, you'll be fine on your own. You don't need me, do you?" the hunter sassed back, towering over you, tilting his head and upturning his brows.

Dean's words hurt you deeply, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes. But you refused to let him see you cry. You straightened your back and met his gaze with a fierce determination.

"Do you want me to leave?” you said, your voice shaking a little. “Fine. If that's what you want, I'll leave. But don't expect me to come back."

You walked past him, feeling his eyes on your back. You didn't turn around, didn't give in to the urge to look at him again. You needed to be strong, to show him that you could make it on your own. But deep down, you knew that you didn't want to be alone. You needed Dean, more than you wanted to admit.

"Hey, girl!" you called out to the waitress, raising your voice above the noise of the tavern to get her attention. "Can I get a refill, please?”

You were alone, left out in the cold Clinging to the ruin of your broken home Too lost and hurting to carry your load We all need someone to hold

As you waited for your drink, you couldn't help but replay the argument with Dean in your mind. You felt hurt and betrayed by his words. You were mad at him for not understanding your desire to be by his side, no matter the risks.

You were lost in thought when a voice snapped you out of your reverie.

"Rough night?" inquired a gold-haired man as he took a seat on the adjoining stool.

The man seemed to be a bit younger than Dean, possibly in his mid-twenties, closer to your own age. He wore a white crewneck t-shirt that hugged his muscular arms around the biceps, and his dark slim fit jeans matched the black pattern printed on his shirt's front.

It was difficult to determine whether it was the effect of the second-rate alcohol or your personal taste in men, but it was safe to say he was far from unattractive and he was, in fact, quite handsome.

"You could say so." you answered his question with a touch of apathy but still flashed a slight smile his way.

You've been fighting the memory, all on your own Nothing worsens, nothing grows I know how it feels being by yourself in the rain We all need someone to stay We all need someone to stay

The man took a slow, deliberate sip from his beer bottle and leaned back, his eyes fixed intently on you. His gaze seemed to linger for a moment, as if he were trying to gauge your reaction to what he had just said.

"You know," he said, his voice low and suggestive, "I can make it better for you, pretty."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks at the man's brazen suggestion, and you couldn't help but feel a little intrigued by his offer.

You glanced around the dimly lit tavern, taking in the smoky air and the clinking of glasses. It was the kind of place where people came to drown their sorrows and forget about the troubles of the day-to-day life. And in that moment, you couldn't help but feel like you were just another lost soul adrift in the sea of humanity.

The man's eyes were still fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be waiting for your response, as if he knew that his offer had the power to change the course of your night—or maybe even your life.

You took a deep breath and met his gaze head-on, feeling a sense of daring that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"And how, exactly, do you plan on doing that?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

The man smiled, a slow, confident grin that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Let's just say that I know a thing or two about making a woman feel good," he replied, his voice dripping with innuendo.

It was abundantly clear what his intentions were at this point in time, and to be entirely candid, it did not annoy you at all.

You eagerly accepted the charming man's alluring offer. And with a sense of anticipation, you followed him out of the sleazy bar, seeking shelter from the gentle patter of the light rain under the protective eaves.

As you walked alongside him, you found yourself captivated by his confident stride and the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light emanating from the street lamps.

You could feel his hand slowly making its way towards your hip, until it rested there, just barely grazing the upper part of your buttocks. This subtle touch sent a sparkling feeling coursing through your body, starting from the core and reaching all the way up to your chest. It created a warm whirlwind of expectancy, causing your heart to beat faster in anticipation.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice asked, a hint of pain in it.

Hear the fallen and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? At the end of the day you were helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

Dean narrowed his eyes, anguishedly taking in the sight in front of him.

As you stood there, drenched from the rain and your mind clouded by the alcohol, Dean's sudden appearance caught you off guard. He was directly facing you, his eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the pain and anger etched upon his features.

"What the hell are you doing here, y/n?" Dean asked incredulously, his voice laced with anger and hurt. “And who the fuck is that jerk?”

You froze, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. You had been so caught up in your own emotions that you hadn't even considered how your actions might affect Dean.

You've drunk it down and you've spat it out And nothing tastes like the things you had So tear it off, why don't you let them go? We all need someone to stay We all need someone to stay

"I didn't know she was taken, mate. I didn't mean to meddle in your relationship," the guy standing next to you apologized, his voice trembling as Dean's contempting gaze threatened to pierce his soul. Green eyes—usually a symbol of grace—had never held such a look of hatred. “She’s all yours, mate.”

Once the man marched back into the tavern, with tail between legs, the hunter’s emerald orbs landed on you. And as he beamed down at you, you noticed how much woe his gaze held. He wasn’t someone to let his emotions surface, not at all, that would leave his feelings too exposed, too unguarded.

He didn't seem to mind the rain dribbling over his leather jacket or his well-styled hair as he approached you. Although you had a defiant demeanor, you took a step backward in response, and your back met the wall covered in graffiti.

“Thought you said ‘I’d be fine on my own’.” you tried to sound confident as you quoted him, yet the alcohol running through your veins caused your words to slur together.

"Yeah, I said on your own! Not with some opportunistic macho man!" he said, referring to your previous companion.

He looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and anger, his eyes scanning your face as if he was trying to find some kind of explanation for what he was seeing.

And then, his anger boiled over, and he let out a shout that echoed through the empty streets. "No way. Are you fucking drunk?!" he yelled. "Are you nuts?!"

The force of his outburst hit you like a physical blow, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. You had never seen Dean like this before, and it was clear that he was at his breaking point.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other in silence, the rain pouring down around you like a curtain. And then, slowly, you began to speak, your words tumbling out of you in a jumbled mess.

"You're one to talk. You, my dear friend, are the very reason I'm here, drinking my sorrows away." you scoffed at him.

Your eyes darted around, looking at anything but Dean. You felt intimidated—what with Dean’s tall figure and the disappointment you could discern in his expression.

“Drinking won’t solve anything, y/n. You know better than this.”

"Do I really?” you uttered, struggling to keep at bay your wobbly lip. “Last time I checked, I was just a kid to you.”

Hear the fallen and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? At the end of the day we're helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

As the rain continued to fall, the rhythmic clattering of the water drops mixed with the sound of cars cruising over the wet pavement, creating an overwhelming melody.

The droplets seemed to grow in size and force. You welcomed the heavier rain, grateful for the way it obscured the tears that threatened to overflow from your eyes.

You knew that if he saw you crying, he would only see you as weak and immature, even more than he already saw you. You had always been strong and independent, and you didn't want him to think any less of you.

So you stood there, letting the rain soak into your clothes and hair, hoping that it would wash away the pain and sorrow you felt inside.

“I don’t think of you as a kid. I just prefer you staying away from those creatures. You know better than anyone what that demon is capable of. It killed your father, and you could’ve died today too, y/n!”

“Do not act like you care! And do not dare mentioning my dad ever again! You are too self-centered to take others’ needs into account.”

With a trembling voice, you lashed out at Dean, your emotions running high and your patience wearing thin. You couldn't stand the way Dean tried to control your life, always telling you what to do and what not to do.

You had grown up fast in the world of hunting, learning to fend for yourself and to take care of others. You had seen things that most people couldn't even imagine, and you had faced danger and death head-on. You were not some delicate flower that needed to be protected at all costs.

And yet, Dean seemed to think otherwise. He was always trying to shield you from harm, even if it meant keeping you from doing what you loved most.

"Do you even hear yourself, Dean?" you continued, your voice rising with every word. "You act like you're the only one who knows what's best for me. You don't trust me to make my own decisions, although I've been hunting just as long as you have. You're so wrapped up in your own fears and insecurities that you can't see how much you're hurting me."

"You're part of my family now, and as such, I must protect you," Dean declared, helplessness building up inside his chest. "Why do you find it so hard to understand?”

You were alone, left out in the cold Clinging to the ruin of your broken home Hear the falling and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? The end of the day and we're helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me?

“I-…Just…leave me alone. Please, Dean.”

And it was then when, acting on your most primitive impulses, you took off, walking away from Dean with no determined destination.

It was not that you were afraid of Dean, no, you had spent too many years among the Winchesters to know he would never voluntarily hurt you, at least not physically. You found him sort of intimidating, more like it.

It was well known among the Winchesters' acquaintances that Dean, although not often, could become livid if you pressed the right buttons. And no one would ever want that fatal rage to be directed at them, unless they wanted to know what hell felt like.

However, the emotion the hunter was feeling now was not anger. It was something else, something both mysterious and intriguing. Although his muscles remained tight, his eyes shone with unshed tears, and a pinched expression was plastered on his face.

You fought against the urge to turn back and run into his embrace, to apologize to him and leave this dispute behind. It was a struggle to hold onto your never-so-fragile pride when your love for him had never felt as powerful as it did now. Not since you had first fallen in love with him, at least, back when you were a silly, naive teenager.

A hand grabbed firmly onto your arm, forcing you into a halt. You did not have the courage to turn around and face him with a trail of tears cascading over your cheeks, even if the drizzling rain disguised it somewhat. There was no need for that, however, when he began speaking, not waiting for you to look at him.

"I'm sorry, y/n," he apologized in a small voice, unaccustomed to saying such words. "I didn't mean to push you away. I... I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. I'm scared, y/n. Scared of losing you like I lost my father, like I lost my mother," Dean confessed, his voice softening, dropping in pitch.

You turned to look at him, really look at him, and saw the pain and fear written in his face.

You felt a lump form in your throat at the raw emotion in Dean's words. You had always known that he cared about you, but you had never realized just how much you meant to him.

"Dean," you said, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. "I'm not going to die. I'm strong, and I know how to take care of myself. But I need you to trust me. I need you to let me make my own decisions, even if it means taking risks sometimes."

You stopped, taking a big deep breath before continuing.

“What you said back at the motel, it hurt me, a lot. I have nothing left, Dean. My family is dead, I have no place to stay, no job, no nothing. I’ve lost everything.”

“You have me.” He took a step towards you, getting closer, and caressed your feathery cheek with his large hand. “You always have and always will have me.”

Hear the fallen and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? At the end of the day we're helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

Dean wiped away a tear from your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin softly. "I'm sorry for pushing you away, y/n. I was just so afraid of losing you. But I promise, from now on, I'll trust you to make your own decisions. We'll face everything together, as a team."

A turmoil of heartfelt emotions whirled its way down to your very core as Dean's words sank in. And, as you looked up at him, you saw the love and devotion in his eyes, and you felt grateful like never before to the Winchesters for taking you in.

Seizing the proximity, you took a moment to admire him. The softness on his eyes only adding to his already perfectly alluring features. The green orbs standing out his face had never shone as bright, and his nose glowed as red as his eyes, probably from the cold air of the drizzly night.

Yet the part you spent the longest time observing was his lips. Sultry pouty lips, that rested slightly parted.

And as if in a dream, he leaned in intertwining his lips with yours in a genuine kiss. Sliding the hand that previously laid on your cheek to the back of your neck, bringing you nearer to his own body.

His grip was both firm and steady, but no less gentle, just so as if he never wanted to let go of you. Your movements kept in step with each other's, as your mouths melted in a much-needed dance.

None of you cared about the rain soaking your clothes or the idling engine of the precious impala of Dean’s, nor about the small crowd by the tavern’s entrance looking at you. You were in a deep immersion into the depths of the moment, and all you saw, all you could regard was the man in front of you - the man you’ve always loved.

The idyllic moment was short-lived, much to your dismay, as Dean pulled away and apprehensively took a step backwards. But the pain you felt then was nothing compared to the stabbing sensation in your heart when he opened his mouth to speak again.

"I'm sorry. This was a mistake."

part 2

[noonmutter]

Adjudication pt. 2

DWC May 2024 Day 3: Shame/Favorite

(As always, this one got a lot longer than the first. If you're not interested in a whole lotta dialogue, you're gonna be real disappointed.)

"You never carry me around like that."

"Shut up an' eat yer pancakes."

Caythaes pouted some, but it was hard to maintain a pout while eating warm pancakes. After swallowing the current mouthful, their eyes slid across the table to their guest. "Did uh... did he do something special to- to deserve this treatment?"

Shedwyn shrugged as she hung her apron on the hook by the stove and settled into the seat next to Tulford, still bound and gagged in his own spot at the table. "Not really special, he only threw a knife at Terry."

"That's it? Not even- Not even a brick? Or a bomb? T- please tell me he- he at least had a rallying cry before he threw it. Like- 'Down with the monarchy!' or- or 'No taxation without representation!' Maybe even- maybe something like, 'That's for George, you self-righteous prick!'"

"Not a word. In tha' regard, 'e at least 'ad some sense." Terry gave their utterly bewildered captive a little pinch on the cheek, then tromped off to take a shower.

Shedwyn followed up with a ruffling of Tulford's tawny hair, "Cute, but young and dumb."

"Ass- Assassass-" Cay paused, then cleared their throat and started again. "Assassinations do very little to- to change the system, you know. S-sure, you get rid of ONE asshole, but- but there's no guarantee that- that they're not going to be replaced with an- with an even BIGGER asshole. And- and I think in this case, you'd- you'd get a very angry Lady Shedwyn in place of Terry, since. You know. Noble inheritance rights and all that."

They waved a hand with a shrug, pausing only to take another bite. "You'd- you'd be better off doing grassroots campaigning with- within your community. Form mutual aid groups, com-compile lists of grievances and work together to- to make Terry's life miserable by- by refusing to work until your demands are met!"

As Cay got excited, they stood up, thumping their fist on the table lightly to punctuate each consecutive statement, pancakes now forgotten. "Start with infrastructure! Demand b-better roads! G-government funded public schools! Public works programs! Form unions for- for laborers and guilds for artisans! Make- make your home better by- by demanding equal rights! One voice, one vote! Challenge authority! Ask questions, require answers! Healthcare for the sick, the injured, and the elderly!"

Shedwyn very flatly watched Cay go, frowning only when the kids started to get excitable. "Tsk." She flicked a speck of bacon at Cay's face. "We're already doing all that, silly. But it's not nice to project our views onto him!" Cay had seen the bubbly ditz act before, but never in front of company unless she was conning a merchant to get a better price or get him to trip over himself in a lie. "Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding!"

Tulford didn't really have any choice but to listen, with his mouth taped up, and his hands bound, and the absolute certainty that the creepy half-elf with the knives was still skulking around somewhere with eyes on him. It was hard to say if he was even still capable of blinking any way but owlishly anymore, in the face of Cay's rant.

And then Toby, kind, observant, helpful Toby, said, "It's not nice to talk at somebody, Uncle Cay," and ripped the tape off his mouth. After a small explosion of noise, Toby gave a thoughtful look at the tape in his hand, then said, "It's not nice to swear at the table either, Mister Tulford," and went back to serving his younger brothers their pancakes.

"I'm- I'm not projecting, I'm just. Informing..." Cay mumbled as they sat back down, looking up at Shedwyn like a kicked puppy. Dipping a napkin in a glass of water, they began to clean some of the mud from Tulford's face, blithely ignoring any sounds of protest. "He- he threw a knife at Terry, that's- he's clearly ignorant to- to the many alternative methods of-"

They paused, taking a really good look at the spot they'd cleaned away. Combined with the perplexingly parental treatment from the Ambroces, the indignant rage on Tulford's face put something of a spotlight on just how young he was underneath all the road grime. "Oh my gosh, y-you're a baby! L-look at you, not- not a single wrinkle on your face!"

"I'm not ignorant, I'm not a bloody baby, and what the bloody hell is happening right now?!"

"S-sorry," Cay murmured, flashing Tulford a sheepish grin and a shrug. "I- I have a hard time with human ages, es-especially between the ages of uh... 16 and 30? I- I can't really tell how mature humans are un-until they start getting in a few wrinkles."

"Family breakfast. The most important meal of the day, so eat up!" There was something uncomfortably keen--he might have used the word 'predatory,' if he'd had the presence of mind--in the way Shedwyn looked him up and down before adding, "You're going to need your strength."

Cay passed Toby a plate of pancakes so that he could help Tulford eat, which after a few deeply suspicious looks at the first forkful, he did finally do. If they were gonna kill him, they'd have already done it by now, right? And pancakes were hard to resist for long. There was no way these people knew they were his favorite food, right?

"I'm- I'm Caythaes, by the way. Lady Shedwyn's Boy Toy." They paused, then looked to Shedwyn. "Or- or is it consort now? Do- do I get a fancy title to make our relationship sound less scandalous?" Another pause as Cay's eyes go wide. "Oh no. Or- or should I have just not said anything at all?"

"I knew it" tumbled out of Tulford's mouth as soon as 'consort' hit his ears. The scowl he aimed Shedwyn's way was very familiar, since Terry used to have roughly the same one all the time when he and Cay first met. It lost a lot of its punch when he was doing it over a mouthful of pancake, though.

Shedwyn merely giggled, even as she rolled her eyes at Tulford's disgust. With the big table and all the kids she was a little too far away to reach out to physically comfort Cay, but the desire was there in her tone (not that Cay needed it, having completely ignored Tulford's reaction). "You're not a secret, Caythaes. Not ever." She brightened visibly, "And, unless you prefer 'consort,' I think we can leave that off until Terry and I take you somewhere formal, hm?"

"Oh. Oh good," they sighed, laughing softly and giving Shedwyn a reassuring smile. "I'm fine with- with whatever, I just, uh- Well, there's- there's a lot of rules to Nobility, isn't there?

"I'm- I'm still learning a lot of it, myself," they added, turning their smile on Tulford and giving his shoulder a friendly pat. "If- If you can't trust Terry, you can- you can at least trust me as- as a fellow commoner and laborer. I was- I was known back home as a rabble rouser, you know."

Finally, the kettle whistled, and Shedwyn got up to make a pot of tea. "Has Terry ever told you that he wanted to join the revolution and help overthrow Genn Greymane? And now here he is, hand-picked by Queen Tess. All this land here in Duskwood was bought specifically to get and keep it out of the hands of the 'nobs,' just like Keel, and now it's a barony. Life's funny like that." Shedwyn didn't feel it necessary to include that she was the one that grabbed up the land in Duskwood and Terry had taken the inspiration directly from her. "As far as you and the 'rules,' half those people already have their own 'secret' lovers. And unlike most of them, ours can't have children."

"I can have children..." Caythaes mumbles, because that was clearly the most important thing Shedwyn said. "I think," they add, pouting as they look over their purple hand, ears tipping downwards as the pout becomes a frown. It doesn't last long, and Caythaes shrugs, flopping back into their chair. "Anyway, I don't want kids. I'm- I'm perfectly happy with being the weird uncle."

"Tea or coffee, Tulford?"

Their captive audience had been struggling to keep up, head pivoting back and forth like watching a tennis match. It was hard to yell epithets when the people holding you hostage and being frickin' wierd at you were barely even paying attention to you. It didn't help that what they're saying was fascinating, in an additionally 'what the fuck' sort of way. Which mostly meant by the time he was addressed, his expression was back to 'what the fuck' again and all he could do for a second once he looked at Shedwyn was blink while he rebooted.

Then, he spat in her face. "Iunno what wierd-ass game you're playin' but I'm not joining in."

The kitchen fell immediately silent as all five children and Caythaes watched in anticipation. Even Corben and Ulfrich, the youngest of the bunch, had gone still and stopped eating.

Shedwyn blinked a few times, then smiled beatifically. “Water, then.” She picked up a napkin from the table to calmly wipe her cheek, then slid a rather large cup of pretty decent coffee in front of Cay. She took the opportunity to give them a kiss on the top of their head, and finally poured green tea for the rest of the table. Ulf turned up his nose at it, Corben batted the cup around while making mewing noises for a minute and then guzzled it, Junior opted for water instead, and Graeme and Toby swapped cups for no discernible reason.

“There’s no game here, Tulford. I don’t know what you went through before you got to the keep, but since we met you’ve been beaten, left in a cell, and strung across the back of an elderhorn for hours. You’re tired, dirty, hungry, and thirsty, and that is being remedied while my husband gets a good shower. You're free to join or even lead the discussion until then, or you can just enjoy the food and happy company."

Just like every other time someone had spat in Shedwyn Lias's face and gotten no-sold in response, Tulford could only stare angrily in silence, too baffled that he hadn't been punched to have a different response loaded. As the kids were given their green teas and the mild noise of multiple children under the ages of ten, Cay, and Shedwyn having breakfast resumed, he rebooted once again and just groaned.

She set the water, in a kid-safe wooden cup, in front of him. “Of course, the third alternative is to wait in a cold cell, with no food, no water, and no hospitality.”

Drinking from the cup would be tricky without the use of his hands, but Tulford seemed ready to try and manage up til Toby stuck a straw in it for him.

"I can- I can also provide some light healing, if- if you'd like," Caythaes offered, smiling happily up at Shedwyn and wiggling their ears as they sipped their coffee. "Despite all of this-" They gestured to their entire shadowflame self, "- I- I haven't lost my connection to Belore. The warmth of- of the Eternal Sun will soothe your aches and- and keep bruising to a minimum, at least.

"Y-you'll want to wait on the bath until this evening," they add, nodding sagely to themself. "I'll- I'll make sure one is prepared for you before dinner, that way- that way you can feel like a person again before you pass out. Do- do you like oranges and vanilla, by the way? Or- or are you a patchouli sort of guy."

If he could have, Tulford would've slammed his hands on the table. "I tried to kill your husband. And all that happened was getting my shit kicked in for a while, then a shitty nap. Why am I here right now?" After a few more sips and a minute to get himself riled up again, he added, "And fuck off with your bath shit already, elf. That's wierd. You're a wierd elf."

Shedwyn gave another airy, brainless giggle. "Ah, Tulford. Weird doesn't mean bad. But you have hit the nail directly on the head. Why are you here? Why did you try to kill my husband?"

"You threw a knife at Terrence Ambroce, Eonar's champion and- and the guy who committed Grand Theft Siege Engine! Among other things!" Cay added, their voice rising in pitch with each exclamation. "Why did you think that would work? Wh- why did you think you, a baby with- with likely no military training, I assume - could pull a- a fast one on someone old enough to- to be your uncle, at least, who's spent his life on the battlefield?

"F-face it, Tulferd, right? I'm- I'm bad with names..." Cay shook their head and waved a hand. "Anyway- y-you're here because y-you're young, stupid, and- and you made a stupid mistake and Terry's trying to- to be reasonable about it.

"Anyway, I'm not-" Cay pauses, huffs, and rolls their eyes with a shrug. "Okay, I am weird for an elf, but- but not because of the bath thing. That's- a hot bath with scented candles is- is nothing compared to- to what many elves get up to, especially the rich ones. I'm weird because- because I like getting dirty and playing in the mud. And also fake blood."

Now with no further distractions and the kids seemingly bored of mum and dad's new project, Tulford was able to focus on what really mattered: getting pissed at being insulted. He bristled, and despite his youth he did appear to have some bulk that made bristling at least a little impressive. At least, it would be if he weren't tied up. Most of it was further undercut by how red his face went right out the gate.

"Shove the giggles and the smug right up yer arse! If I'm not gonna be executed then I'm damn sure not gonna sit here lettin' some nancy jackrabbit pontificate on how stupid I am and how untrained I must be because I happened to get caught! Soldiers get caught, dumbass! Sometimes that's the best case scenario, actin' like it isn't tells me you probably don't have the training Elune gave a pheasant!"

After a moment to catch his breath, and blink, he backed up a couple steps. "...Wait, Eonar? That holy champion shit was real?"

"Well, g-given that I'm from Quel'thalas, y-you're right," Cay says calmly, setting down their empty coffee mug and tipping their head to the side. "I- I do, however, have the training Belore gave a phoenix, and I - I rather think that suits me better. Now, as- as much as I'm enjoying your, uh..." They gesture at Tulford's bristling, then his face. "The shade of red you're turning, I- I do think you should answer Lady Shedwyn's questions. They're, uh- well, they're bit more important than, well..."

Caythaes coughs politely into their hand, blushing faintly. "They're more important than me condescending from- from my high perch again. I- I am sorry about that. It's- it's a bad habit I've been trying to break. Anyway."

"The holy champion thing is- is very real. I've- I've had to shoo her off a few times just- just because my proximity to Terry means that, well. She kind of just. Drifts into my space."

Shedwyn tamped down on the grinning, falling into a pout instead, even after Tulford's brain hiccup. "While I am incredibly eager to find out how much of the stupid nonsense he's gotten up to has been successfully mythologized, I really do want to know... Why would a trained and educated soldier try to kill him?" She was a master of the sad, confused puppy eyes, and was not afraid to break them out now. For bonus points, she rested one hand on her stomach. They were talking about her husband, the man she loved to distraction, the father of (most of) her children, and she could not fathom why someone who wasn't a paid assassin would be trying to kill him.

All of that was utter bullshit, of course; she could--and had--come up with a dozen reasons people might want to kill Terry in under 30 seconds.

Tulford, to his credit, did take a moment to actually process a few of the bombshells that just went off right in front of him. Long enough at least for the redness in his face to dial back a few shades. He was still angry, confused, and not sure whether or not to be scared, and being uncertain about that was more terrifying than just being terrified. It didn't help that Shedwyn drew attention back to her pregnant belly; if anything gave away his youth, it was how easy pulling at that heartstring was. He rallied beautifully, though.

"Because he's a fuckin' traitor, why else? Gave up bodies, ran off to join the deaders, went full red for years, finally got tossed in the clink like he deserved when he pissed off some mercs in Draenor. Fast-forward to now... none of that happened, far as the crown seems to care. A fuckin' turncoat coward betrays his family and friends and country and gets a ton of land and a foreign wife and a damn blood elf consort apparently. There's your damn myth."

Shedwyn's lips pursed as she made herself stop and think instead of getting angry at the racism or the enormous holes in this version of the "myth."

Leaving her one hand on her belly, she placed the other on the table and started counting things off. "First, yes, he was going to sell out the location of the graveyard, in return for…. what turned out to be empty promises. It's not my place to tell you exactly what those were, but I will say… I don't know how much you remember of that time period, but much of Gilneas--even those who escaped the Curse--was mad from grief. He was no exception, and he bears intense shame for that even now.

"Second, he did not join the rotters," the slur slipped off her tongue with the easy vitriol of long-born hatred, "He was kidnapped and tortured for years. We all know the stories of what they did to prisoners; this was worse. Use your imagination.

"Third, when he was put out on a leash, he did upset some mercs--my family and his brother. They caught him, and cut his leash. On what he thought was his deathbed, he pointed us to the place he was tortured, enabling us to destroy a particularly heinous laboratory located where the keep is now.

"Fourth, you're missing out on his time in the military, of which you have clearly heard stories, just without his name connected to them, or that you disbelieved because they were so shockingly outrageous. 'The holy champion shit' is an excellent example. He did everything he could to keep his name out of it, but debriefings are only so avoidable, so records were kept.

"That is what got the attention of the Crown. That is why he was one of those who was here to retake Gilneas. And why, in the aftermath, he was offered the opportunity to grab up as much land as possible, to keep it safe.

"Which brings us to fifth: the Crown cares a lot about his entire history. We are under close watch by the governments of both Stormwind and Gilneas."

For her last point, she finally allowed her anger to seep into her voice. "And of course, sixth, if you don't stop saying racist things about my friend, I will have to ask my children to leave the room."

"That means she's gonna fuck you up." Junior had been watching the whole scene play out in more or less silence, like he generally did, but much like his father, once he got invested in the show, he couldn't keep his enthusiasm to himself. And, unfortunately, his brand of enthusiasm was infectious in a room full of little boys. The younger twins cackled like gremlins, Graeme shot milk out his nose in pure surprise, and Toby blushed.

Shedwyn froze, then closed her eyes for just a second with a raw, unfiltered face that all but screamed 'god damn it, not again.' She only opened them again when she felt Ulfrich tugging at her sleeve. "Mm?"

"What's a consort, mum?"

"Oh-KAY I think it's time to take this outside WHO WANTS TO GO FLYING Shu-fen if you would please take them to go meet Scooter bless you you're a gem..."

Much like the spooky elf earlier, Tulford had almost forgotten about the pandaren attendant until she stepped away from the wall. She hadn't even been in shade or anything, she'd just gone all not-noticeable on him. The second Shedwyn said her name, she was there, and shushing the little chorus of combined protest and eagerness as she led the herd out the door.

Despite his very real predicament and the very touchy topics at play, Tulford almost burst out laughing anyway. (Caythaes was no help, they were still laughing once the kids had gone, and excused themself to the next room to finish getting it out.) It was all so fucking absurd! And he was pretty sure the one kid had done that on purpose; it'd cut the tension like a cleaver.

Right up til he looked back at Shedwyn, to find her staring straight through him, all pretenses completely dropped. Her eyes were glowing blue, unmistakably magical, and she looked ready to fucking eat him. In spite of himself, he wilted a little. "None of it sounded real. It still doesn't sound real. I think you're fuckin' with me, saying it is. That kind of shit doesn't happen to Gilneans."

"It was real, and it was horrible, and wonderful, and we barely got back in one piece. There are still things neither of us can talk about, even to each other. But it was all real."

Another tense silence followed. Then, "The Lighthound."

She slowly smiled, and leaned back a little. She was still staring, though, and there were too many teeth in her smile. "The one and only."

His brow furrowed, and he fidgeted with his bound hands again. "What was it?"

"It was him. He was desperate. They all were. He called out for help, to anyone or anything that would listen, and... Eonar owed him. I don't know what number you heard, but he carried five people out of the Blight clouds. It was classified--and instantly became a folk tale--because absolutely none of them showed a single sign of being Blighted."

Tulford scanned her face while she spoke, and for a while after she finished. Whatever he was looking for, he was increasingly distressed not to find. "I heard fifty."

"Only five. Five men who would have died in agony made it home."

"How-" He choked, swallowed a few breaths, and started again. "How does a slag like him get a favor from a fucking titan?"

She finally looked away, glancing down at her belly (where there were once a matched pair of holes in her torso), and huffed a little laugh. "Right place, right time. How much do you know about the Antorus campaign on Argus?"

More fidgeting. "Not much. I was only ever ground support here."

She peered at him, looking him up and down again as she did some very fast math, but let it pass. "Mm. The short version is, he answered her call, and they helped each other a few times throughout the campaign, establishing a... connection. She lives because of his actions. He lives because of hers."

Incredulous, Tulford asked, "Are you telling me they traded?"

"After a fashion. There was some back-and-forth. As I understand it, there is some mutual respect at this point, established when he agreed to be her champion during the Nazjatar campaign."

Not knowing what to say or do was fast becoming Tulford's baseline, and he didn't like it. It wasn't the normal kind of not knowing, either; not being sure whether a mission would go to plan or whether he'd get to go home for dinner was one thing. Being presented with answers he had no idea how to interpret, by someone he could not figure out whether to trust, and having no idea what the endgame was... That wasn't something he could have prepared for.

When he finally broke the silence again, he sounded even younger yet, and terribly lost. "What are you gonna do with me?"

She glanced at the door Terry had gone through earlier. "We haven't decided, yet. You seem to be a confused kid, but we'll have to do some background on you. However, as long as you're not some hired assassin or someone with a personal axe to grind, you're not in any danger from us."

After some uncomfortable throat-clearing to pretend he hadn't let his voice crack that way, Tulford gave her an evaluating look. "You're not actually a dipshit, are you."

"No more so than you."

A rude snort escaped him, and he shuffled with his bonds one more time. "Fine, that's fair." With that, he slid his hands right out of the ropes, letting them fall to the floor, then looked back up at her again.

After how calm she'd been each time he expected her to punch him in the face, it came as no surprise that she didn't really react aside from a slight nod. Acknowledgement? Approval? No telling. "Thank you for waiting for the children to be out of the room."

"Yeah, well." He rubbed at one wrist with a quiet grunt. "You already knew I didn't have any weapons. And you didn't slit my throat and dump me off the cliffs. So... Iunno. I wouldn't call what we've got trust, s'much. But I'm willing to at least believe you aren't gonna kill me now."

"Duzzat mean I kin come out now? Only I'm gettin' real sick o' sittin' 'ere all pruny an' I'd really like some clean pants."

Ah. Right. Terry'd been showering.

Shedwyn rolled her eyes. "I told you it was a mistake not to connect the bathroom to the master bedroom!"

"An' I told you there's nothin' wrong with 'avin' more'n one bathroom! Can I come out now or not? Are we done bein' murder-'appy idjits yet?"

"We're done being murder-happy idiots."

"Good. I'm fuckin' cold." With that, Lord Ambroce emerged from the bathroom, mercifully with a towel around his waist, and strode across the room to disappear through another doorway. As he passed the pair, Tulford once again blinking helplessly, he leaned over and pecked Dwyn's temple. "You owe me five gold."

Then he was gone, and Tulford was still blinking.

( @daily-writing-challenge @shedwyn @mekandawn )

[changingplumbob]

My top 23 gameplay moments

Thanks to @anamoon63 for tagging me! You've probably seen my top 23 screenshots but as I was trying to narrow them all down I did feel like my favourite storyline moments were not the same as my favourite pictures. So I'm going to take this tag and tell you the top 23 gameplay events I've had this year. Not all have screenshots as some of them happened before I started writing down and capturing my gameplay.

23. I did actually enjoy writing Bella and Mortimer pulling away from each other as Mortimer began to prioritise his writing over his family.

22. Seeing in thought bubbles that Paris and Samir both had crushes on the sims I wanted them crushing on. Sweet success!

21. Back when my game correctly did university grades and three out of five of my university students earned their degrees with honors! Devin, Luna and Cassandra.

20. Adding in Dina and Nina Caliente. Sadly Mortimer died so they haven't gotten a lot of screentime yet BUT I think they look great and have plans to bring them back in in time, they still control the Goth fortune after all.

19. Getting Bob his dog Dale which allowed Bob to get fit and healthy. He's still heavy set but it's mostly muscle now.

18. When Reece got a pop up about his crush randomly showing up at football practice despite his actual crush Samir being on the football team...

17. When Deanna and Paris completely ruined my story plans by kissing during a shopping trip in a different rotation, and I had to do sneaky screenshots so you couldn't see them in the background. Then when I went back to play Deanna she still had the first kiss option so I could write things my way.

16. When I was able to edit settings so that Devin and Luna could have kids that would be genetically related to them both. I usually like to keep my gameplay semi realistic when it comes to having kids but I knew Devin would not get pregnant being an actress and wanted the chance of a kid that looked like her.

15. My sims commiting home invasion before it became EA official. See Devin walking into the Pancakes house like modern day Goldilocks. Taking a bath, cooking a white cake, and only half eating some food.

14. Joey's glow up from little kid to attractive young adult was a nice surprise. I'm so glad he rolled wanting kids because if I can't get a Devin lookalike, maybe I can get a Joey lookalike down the line. Note to self, put eyelashes on more of my male sims.

13. When this new blonde girl in high school kept looking miserably at Deanna during the lesson. And I had Deanna go cheer her up only to discover when looking through her traits that she was also a lesbian. Cheers Paris for spawning at just the right time.

12. Kelly rolling the evil trait after being a destructive toddler was hilarious. I never would have picked it by myself but now I revel in writing him being a jerk to others.

11. When I got Milton to waddle across the road after Bella went missing. And again when I got him to ditch Dina and Nina and run away to see Alexander.

10. Rahul repeatedly spawning outside the Goth house for no apparent reason. This of course led to a friendship and eventual romance with Cassandra. Stalking may pay off???

9. Just watching Kaori ski has honestly been so fun. I look forward to it when I play her household. For those that don't know Charlie used Mix & Mingle for a blind date and Kaori was the second woman she met from that.

8. INFANTS! Specifically playing with alien infants like Silas and Pollock who are even more adorable and hilarious than human infants.

7. Writing Bob and Eliza as being in love. Taking the opposite nature of their personalities and finding a way where they actually work well together. I always smile when they go to woohoo and Eliza also dumps her clothes on the floor like Bob rather than in the basket.

6. When Reece got a crush on Samir after literally saying one thing to him, guess they'd been bonding off screen. In the York rotation Samir had come over and yelled at Reece, and my brain went he's probably just a closeted gay. Then I checked and he actually was! For storyline purposes though I have him as never being in denial of that.

5. Savannah and Mercedes being mini clones of Rahul. I love it so much. I also have really liked playing this latest storyline where they are not pleased at the idea of a sibling, they can be two little terrors.

4. Adam accepting the birth of both of his kids despite not wanting children. I didn't know if I could do enough to get him there but each time he was able to.

3. Keira getting sick during her Halloween party date and Marta looking after her. Not planned but ended up pretty sweet.

2. James proposing to Alexander when he was a townie, despite autonomous proposals being turned off and the fact that he had a living wife at that point. You rebel against the code James!

1. When Adam ignored autonomous proposals being turned off, and showed up in the middle of Suzanna's shift at the science lab to propose. They were living together by this point and clearly he got sick of me ignoring his wants while I played him at home.

So @azuhrasims @marcishaun @sharona-sims and anyone really if you have some top gameplay events from this year, doesn't have to be a whole 23, want to share? Also @julesbbsea17 I KNOW you must have had some kind of crazy memorable gameplay events in your game this year... *flashes back to that random unknown thing bobbing in the water beside your lot in Sulani that we still don't have the identity of*

[bassettmemes]

BIG DUMB HEART, CHAPTER TWO ↳ a collection of lyrics from jenna raine's big dumb heart, chapter two ep, as well as the singles fumbled the bag and see you later (ten years).

IT IS WHAT IT IS.

"Shrunk all my clothes in the washing machine."

"Running on two or three hours of sleep."

"There's a light flashing in my car, I don't know what it means."

"Ya know what I mean?."

"Thought I knew chaos then I turned eighteen."

"Lemons make lemonade. Flowers bloom in the rain. Growing up is a pain. It is what it is."

"It's not the end of the world; there's always light where it burns."

"It's kinda weird, kinda fun, I'm a speck on a rock."

"You can laugh, you can dance with your stomach in knots."

"You can trip, you can slip, you can fall down again, again, again and again, and it all works out in the end."

CRUISE CONTROL.

"Play the role, do what I'm told and keep it quiet, a never ending picket fence to live and die in."

"It's never made sense to me, I don't want the same routine that's on repeat, don't want it easy."

"Deep inside I just want to get up and leave."

"Even my bedroom ceiling is getting a little bored, and I got no reason to stay here anymore."

"High speed driving into the unknown. It's about time to take my hands off the wheel and just breathe in."

"What a feeling, taking off the cruise control."

"Trust the silence of the empty road. Right now, I don't need to see where I'm going."

"What's a life if you don't go and live it."

"Take a risk, it's better than a million what if's."

"I guess I've always had one foot out the door. There ain't one good reason to stay here anymore."

NIGHTS LIKE THESE.

"Called me out the blue, you needed something to do, and you had one more seat left in the trunk."

"You said, "We're waiting outside, don't look at the time"."

"I put on my favorite sweater, then we got breakfast for dinner."

"And, when they kicked us out we went for a ride, laughed 'til we cried."

"It feels like a movie."

"Everything freezes for a second."

"I let my memory take a picture I won't delete."

"I hate when it hits me that we're getting older every second, slipping away between our fingers in a blink."

"We go park the car somewhere we can see the stars and the light pollution isn't so bad, and look out at the lights."

"Tell me about your dreams, they're not as scary as they seem."

"I can't wait to watch you make it big. Yeah, you're going far."

"It feels like forever."

"I don't wanna jinx it if I say it, but we could be friends through all the ages, don't you think?"

"The same stupid kids with older faces. I guess either way I wouldn't change a single thing."

"And, when I'm 60, pulling a box out of the attic, telling my kids about the past like yesterday, they'll point at the pictures, and I'll hear the laughter in the diner. The smell of the coffee and the pancakes never fades."

WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR.

"I knew it straight away, he was gonna let you down."

"Gonna have to find out for yourself."

"Had to let the flame burn out, hate to see you hurting now. I won't say I told you so."

"I'll hold you when he won't, even if it's 2 AM, and you said you wouldn't cry again."

"You can show up at my door and pour your heart out on my floor."

"Why are you not on your way? Just 10 minutes on the interstate. If you can't show up at my door, and pour your heart out on my floor, then what are friends for."

"We can order too much food, watch a movie in my room, tomorrow we'll be sleeping in, waking up at 2 PM, when he texts you back, I'll make sure you don't text back."

FUMBLED THE BAG.

"I saw you out with your friends, same old cologne on your skin."

"You said, "I miss you" and "how you been?". You know I'm no good at this."

"My stomach's doing front flips, I used to know you, it makes me sick."

"So don't call me overdramatic, pretending the story of us isn't tragic."

"What if the best thing that you had is somebody that you want back?"

"What if the moment you walked away, you wished you turned around?"

"What if you got it all wrong and I was the one all along?"

"Hate to say, "I told you so", but baby ain't it sad? You fumbled the bag."

"You said your sister's engaged, she found love, you can't say the same."

"Thought that would be us one day."

"Small talk is hard to maintain when my heart's in 2019, you stood close and I just looked away."

"Now you gotta watch me give the world to someone else."

"You're throwing matches on a flame, but you're the one who burned it out."

SEE YOU LATER (TEN YEARS).

"It's funny 'cause I've always dreamed of me and you now here we are, staring at the stars."

"You just broke my heart even though you promised you'd never do that from the start."

"I guess we can only make it so far, 'cause time wasn't in our favor. This isn't "goodbye", this is simply "see you later"."

"Let me know when it's time to come back."

"Maybe when your life is on track, and you don't have to hesitate, hopefully it isn't too late. Luckily for you I'm patient."

"I'm OK with you making me wait and, as long as you're near, I'll be here, even if it takes ten years."

"Can't fall in love, when I found the one, how am I supposed to move on, when you're never really too far gone?"

"The memories won't go away, I feel pain every time I hear your name, but I always think of you the same."

[slashwhores]

how tall are they all compared to there slasher conterparts?

(When they were kids Gen and Bo placed a bet, whoever was the tallest by 19 won $8 and a dirty magazine )

Genevive pouts, her brows furrow and her fingertips tap against the rim of her glossy red mug she struggles to recall the last time she actually measured herself, She's pretty certain of Bo's height. Must've seen it in his medical records a half a dozen times by now, needs to know in case Vincent isn't around when if Bo gets hurt and she's forced to administrator drugs with a dosage reliant on the patients weight and height.

" Well Bo is 6'0ft basically 6'1 I'm think I'm just shy of 5'10 myself" ( ?)

She raises the mug. Till it just about barely grazes her bottom lip... thats when she senses something---someone loom over her, and before she knows it there's a strong force pressed against the top of her head.

" And don't you ever forget' it, darling"

Bo. Genevive sighs. Partly in faux annoyance and partly in relief.

He lovingly ruffles her hair as he scoots past her, entering the kitchen. His voice is fainter, farther away so he shouts

"Was silly of ya to ever think you could win that bet"

"My mother was 6'0ft! And I was 3 inches taller then ya back then'"

"Well my pops was almost 6'4 and your dumbass forgot girls grow quicker than boys- not taller"

"Psh Whatever..." She sips, from the mug. carefully avoiding the small chips. Bo bought it when she first moved in what used to be deep shaded maroon now a light mahogany, worn down. Well loved.

"Still owe me $8"

Bo smirks leaving the same way he came, a bag of frozen peas now hugged, albeit loosely under his arm, the door slams on his way out. He misses the faint smile on his girls face and the way her face burrows into her shoulder in an attempt to hide her laugh the question bringing back a fond childhood memory, something she considers pretty special, pretty rare...

"What the hell is he doing with a bag of frozen peas?"

*******************************************************************

Mona drops her brush, hopping off of an old stool and begins to sweep the rubber marks and pencil shavings from her desk "I'm 5'4 :)) Vinnies only an inch or two taller than Bo so that makes him... 6'2?" She scoops the lot into her ink stained,paint ridden,wax burnt, palms then her gaze lifts to that of her muses "Right hun?"

Vincent nods

Mona spins around, eyes scanning the room. Where the hell did she put the trashcan? Or her watercolours?

"The height difference actually has more advantages then you'd think you know?" oh the trash is under her desk, and the watercolours are in the old plastic box their always in. Danm she really needed some fresh air "Hey Vin could you please get me the Old Hollands? Their ontop of the shelf." He moves quickly, using it as an opportunity to break away from starring endlessly at a blank page that was supposed to be his latest masterpiece. The corpses was new courtesy of Lester though apperanyly the victim was tough, they'd cut his forehead with a glass shard they'd picked up from the side of the road. she thanks him- she should take a walk once she's organised her space, Vincent could give her a tour of the woods since he's free- that would be nice.

The shelf containing the couples supplies reaches alllllllllll the way up to the battered ceiling, the watercolours resting atop of Vincents half filled sketchbooks, sketchbooks he hasn't touched since childhood, they could be in galleries.

If Mona had attempted to scale the shelves (which she most definitely would've) theirs no doubt she'd have been crushed- flat as a pancake, however Vincent doesn't even need to tip-toe, he simply reaches and hey-presto the good watercolours, ready to be used.

"My hero!" Coos Mona dramatically swooning into his arms before he even has the chance to set the pallette down, his eyes roll and he shakes her off, hard. Probably harder than intended since Mona trips on her own feet- falling face first into the cold, hard floor, Vincent clasps both hands over his mouth, both from shock and amusement as he attempts to trap his laughter before it can escapes but hes unsuccessful, paints clattering toward to floor. Mona lifts up her head and a brush hits her, curtesy of Vincent, who is visibly shaking with laughter.

<<IM SO SORRY>> his signing is shaky

No your not! She laughs

He offers her a hand and helps her up, he helps dust off her skirt and gently places a kiss to her forehead.

*******************************************************************

"Lester- stop squirming! You'll hurt your self more babes!"

"I'm fine sweetheart promise" he sniffs,

"LESTER DAMIEN SINCLAIR" Kirby grits his teeth, breaking the name like glass, letters stumbling sharp from his mouth. "You are BLEEDING. For all we know you might have a concussion!!!!"

"Your real pretty when your stressed you know" Lester's smile slides up his face, anyone would smile at the sight, well, if it weren't for the blood dripping into his eye.

Kirby breathes in sharply

"You will age me horribly"

"I haven't already?"

"BOY! I SWEAR-" Kirby swatts at Lester's arm

But all he does is laugh

"I thought yous' was supposed to be taking care of me? Now your hittin' me like some nasty bug? How's that make any sense?" Kirby laughs at that and so does lester, weakly might i add.

"Still feeling" Kirby gestures with his hands, trying to remember the word used by his partner when he first saw his truck in the road.

"LooOOooppyyy" Lester draws it out in a singsong sorta tone.

"Yup"

"Yup!" Lester fixes his smile so it bears all his teeth , it still slants, ever so slightly.

"Do you think you can answear some questions while we wait for Bo?"

"Sure thing Sugar"

"Okay" Kirby pauses for a moment, thinking.

"How'd the car break down?"

"The Blonde bitch used the wrong fuel" he snarls.

"Did the blonde bitch stab you?" It's almost funny how sincere Kirby sounds

"Mmmmhhh no it was the one with tattoos" Lester closes his eyes "the one with the short hair... the nice one" He adds

"Can you keep your eyes open for me? Les?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry" He cracks his eyes open ever so slightly, everything looks so... blurry. Except for Kirbys hand, which clasps his, the sun shines in his eyes covering his face, Lester isn't scarred though, he might pass out from blood loss but its not something that hasn't happened before.

He told his brothers he was only a little beat up though, which was a barefaced lie unless you consider the penny deep cut above his head and several jabs and stabs to the stomach a 'little beat up'

"Why was he nice?"

"He talked to me in the car about knives and guns and music and... you" Lester's head lolls downward a little but he smiles up at Kirby which makes the brunettes heart melt.

"How tall am I?"

"6'0ft, freak" Kirby rolls his eyes

"Okay how tall are you?" The sound of a car driving up the road perks up both men.

"7'7"

They hear the crunch of Gravel, its louder now

"Clearly"

A car door shuts, the sounds a little more distant than expected

"Just kiddin'" Lester laughs loudly

A familiar whistle

"I'm 5'10"

The sound of something falling to the ground

"LESTER!" Bo skids down scraping his knees of the hard Rock beneath him

"Shiiittt, I thought Vincent was coming" Lester squeezes his eyes closed not wanting to deal with his eldest brothers pestering

"DOES IT FUCKING MATTER?" Bo scoops Lester up in his arms which causes the youngest of the brothers to go wide eyed and groan loudly.

"Careful! Bo! CAREFUL!" Kirby stands quickly adjusting Lester's position

"Is he gonna-? Aren't you a dotor or something? What can I-?- What do we do?"

"He's a vet" adds Lester, weakly

"So?" Bo curses

"Well I'm not a fuckin dog am I?"

"Yes the fuck you are" Lester chuckles a little at that, his eyes close, he groans when he shifts in his brother hold

"Do you have any medical supply's?"

"A first aid kit in the back of my truck and uh- whisky and a bag of thawing peas"

Kirby pauses at the mention of peas but continues nevertheless

"That'll do, the rest of your medical stuffs back in Ambrose right?"

"Yup"

"Than come on, get in the car"

*******************************************************************

[punxsutawneyfilth]

My entire lab group might blow off work next tuesday to drive an hour and a half to the only ihop in Vermont for sixty cent pancakes

[shurisneakers]

bridges break (i)

Summary: steve shuts himself away. you pull him along on a trip of a lifetime in an attempt to reconnect. great plan! except there's one big secret he's keeping from you that could change the course of your entire relationship, and there's no greasy stack of diner pancakes in the country big enough to hide behind.

(road trip!au, best friends to lovers)

Warnings: angst, mentions of death and violence, nightmares (?), mental health issues and disorientation, ptsd, swearing. lemme know if i missed anything and I'll tag it.

A/N: TAKE 2 MFS. a tarot reader lady on youtube told me to stop pushing and finally publish this fic lol. to my beloveds: tanya, ayesha, and chips ahoy traitor. thank you. ily.

pls know that this is my lil fic in my lil corner of the internet don't come at me if you don't like it, just block me <3

Steve’s legs dangle languidly off the concrete shore. His palm should be pressed to the ground, keeping his balance, but they instead defiantly clasp around an old worn-out sketchbook. His fingers nimbly capture ships on the horizon, waves lapping at the wall several feet below him and the orange of the evening reflecting off of rusted metal.

He looks up for a moment when a horn blares, loud and good. A smile slips past as he snaps his notebook shut and places it beside him, clenching his eyes shut and deeply inhaling the saltiness in the air.

Life is warm. Life is stripped down to its bare essence and still, life is good.

Steve jerks awake.

For months he expected nightmares to drag him out of his sleep, heaving and wide-eyed.

For months they never arrive, leaving him with the saccharine sweetness of the sun’s heat on his skin and legs stretched over the harbour.

Decidedly, it is worse.

____

He's seen those apartments in the catalogues, on TV shows and more. Grey, with furniture placed methodically only where it was required. A fake plant to spruce it up, one painting adding just one colour-- maybe a yellow, or an orange-- amidst the whites and blacks.

He's always thought it looked too sanitised. Like an office, or the boardrooms he spent most of daylight in. You couldn't possibly live in a home where everything felt like a touch away from being corrupted; too clean, like no one had ever lived in it.

But mostly, he always thought it looked lonely.

His apartment was filled- and remained in the process of it, too- with knick-knacks. Posters of movies he hadn't yet seen and of ones from the past that he had, paintings from local artists selling on the street, stuff he'd wrestled back from the museums. They'd called it artefacts, Steve had always just called it his old notebooks and his mother's clay sculptures. Those rested on the mantle.

Nothing had been added to the house in months.

"Captain."

Steve blinks, long.

He lifts his eyes to the person opposite to him, dark tailored suit and pinned back hair, greying prematurely.

"Yes?" he asks, ring finger still covering his mouth as his palm holds up the weight of his jaw.

"You haven't said a word since you got here," she replies with a poisonously sweet smile.

"Was just listening to what everyone had to say," Steve lies, and it's the first of many he'll tell today.

A panel. Steve’s on a panel of experts. Security experts. He doesn't even fucking know why-- he's never been very good at predicting which new being was going to fall out of the sky and try to kill all his friends.

"Nothing to add?" Though her tone is friendly, her eyes unsettlingly held no emotion.

"Have a feelin' you all know what I'm gonna say," he replies.

There's a sigh at the end of the long table, clearing one's throat from the other. Steve's stare remains steadfast.

“Captain Rogers. Steve," she-- Councilwoman Murray, he suddenly remembers-- says with a tick in her voice, pleasantly. "What we're proposing-"

"I know. I heard you," he says, calm as ever. "You want to set up a base in space with weapons of mass destruction in case an event like the Blip were to happen again. While I appreciate your patience, Councilwoman, here's where you're going to have to put up with me because I'm gonna tell you what I've been sayin' every single time we've met: it doesn't make sense."

"It is for international peace," she sighs.

It became very clear in the first meeting that his beliefs don’t align with the rest of them, but they've committed and so has he. No matter how many people slid him deals under the table or offered him positions like president, his opinion wasn't going to shift.

"A base that falls under American jurisdiction, run by American soldiers, using American produced weapons, serving under the orders of an American government, serving on the basis of, and I'm quoting your proposal here, threats against the citizens of the United States of America." Steve arches a brow. "Doesn't sound real international to me, especially when you're planning on vetoing anyone who doesn't agree. Just a scare tactic to the rest of the world."

Another suffering sigh. He can see a smile threaten to creep up on Mona’s face.

"Besides, it's quite the budget you've allocated to this project," he continues, pushing forward the document. "I think it'd be better spent on the millions of people you say you're glad are back. Last I heard, they’re still waiting on the resources you've promised."

With the last word, there's a faint sense of deja vu warm in his chest. He's sure he's brought this up elsewhere, but he can't pinpoint where. It’s hard to remember how he gets from one place to another. Or is it hard to pay attention? He can’t tell the difference anymore, it didn’t matter much.

Years, he has to correct himself.

Everything looked the same as it did six years ago. The last thing that he remembers adding to the decor was a framed picture of you and him at a baseball game before it all went to shit in Germany. That sat on the mantle, too.

He walks past it every morning, diverting his eyes to the kitchen before he catches sight of it and the pit forms in his stomach again. Still, he can't find it in himself to remove it.

Steve drags a razor across his cheek. It cleanly wipes away the foam, leaving behind clear skin, neat. Some days he just used soap when he couldn't open the shelf and reach for the shaving cream.

He turns his head down to slosh the razor around in the water. He remembers when he used to like the sound, thought it was fun.

There is red when he lifts his head back up to the mirror. Piercing red.

“It’s not that easy, Rogers.”

“Isn’t it?” Steve shoots a glance at the head of the table. "Seems pretty damn easy to me to decide what the money should go towards, and it's not the next tax write-off for the megalomaniac who's funded the doughnuts for this meeting."

The member’s jaw tightens and he sinks back into his seat again. The room’s quiet, an amalgamation of awkward stares and rolling eyes.

Because of course, Steve didn’t understand the problem. Steve didn’t understand the politics of it all.

Steve's just there 'cause Captain America has to be.

There's a thin line of blood when he lifts his head back up to the mirror. It races from about half his cheek down to his jaw, bright crimson changing to a dull red as it dilutes.

Steve stares at it for several moments. His watch ticks, reminding him that he may be frozen but the world was still spinning around him. But it was 5am and he's got nowhere to be for at least three hours.

When he drags his stare away from the nick and to his eyes in the mirror, he remember how the air used to get sucked out of the room. The same clocks used to stop ticking.

There was nothing there. He was not there. It was empty and he looked back at himself, tired eyes and glowing skin.

But now everything goes on as it did before. There is still nothing there, not even him. The air is still heavy in the bathroom and the watch keeps ticking.

Steve uses his thumb to wipe away the blood, and keeps going.

“Coffee, Captain Rogers?”

It’s a steady little routine they’ve fallen into. Mona asks him, always at precisely the right time, whether he would like a cup as they walk towards one of the many assigned conference rooms that day.

He told her yes once, and she committed his order to heart. It wasn't a big feat-- black, with no sugar and no cream-- but he appreciated it all the same. He carelessly downed it like a shot, ignoring the s as it goes down his throat.

Steve gently turns her down today, however. She quickly rats off a list of people he has to meet, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in the process. He nods dimly, knowing that she'd send him a text with all the details anyway.

“You have to meet with Mr Langstaff at 12, and Mr Estrada at 1:30 to decide your press release. Y/N demands that you pick up the phone, and you have dinner with Mrs Madron at 8 at the Ritz about the ambassadorship.”

Steve's ears perk up, head snapping towards her. “What was that?”

“You have dinner at 8 with Mrs Madron at the Ritz,” Mona repeats slowly, deliberately.

“No, before that.”

She flips a page back on her notepad before reciting, “Y/N demands that you pick up the phone.”

Christ. 

Steve swiftly skims through his phone, brows furrowing when he finds nothing. It takes a second to hit that if you were to call him, it probably wouldn't be to his work number. The work phone had a few texts and missed calls he hadn't responded to yet. He would be meeting them in the next few days anyway, what was the damn hurry?

From Y/N

Been a few days, you around?

From Y/N

Mona says you're busy so I'm not gonna call, but I left a message with her. Don't feel pressured to respond immediately, it was mostly a joke

Fuck.

From Y/N

Just lemme know if you're good

He curses softly under his breath, before pressing a button and holding the phone up to his ear.

He ignores the people walking past, some doing a double take when they see him standing in the middle of the hallway on a random weekday.

“Y/N,” he says in greeting the second you pick up. "Hey."

“Steve,” you reply equally as quick. “You all right?”`

“'M sorry, it's been a while since I checked this phone. I‘m fine.”

He can hear you exhale slightly at the other end, and the snap of elastic on your skin. He waits patiently outside the conference room for the people to start filing in, but he estimates another ten minutes before they do.

“Sorry, Stevie, didn’t mean to worry you,” you say, prying the gloves away from your hand, “It's just-- the last time you missed a couple'a calls, I had to find out you’re enemy of the state from the receptionist.”

“No, I get it. I forgot to respond, it's my bad.” He keeps his phone on silent these days. The only communication he really responds to with urgency is what Mona deems critical.

 “We still meeting up for coffee today?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose hard. Of all the things to slip his mind in the middle of all the legal jargon and fundraising efforts.

He sneaks a glance at his watch, and then back at the meeting room where an assistant was placing glasses of water in front of seats, and back at his watch.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not up for it,” you remind him in the lingering silence. “I know your schedule is busy these days.”

He had conferences, and dinners, and calls to ignore, and people to scorn, because if he wasn't fighting, then he's gotta be doing more to be helping people out, right?

“4pm, at Whole Latte Love, wasn't it?” His eye catches Mona’s, who swiftly flips through several pages of her notebook to write down his new plan. “I’ll be there.”

“You sure?”

“‘Course.” The corners of his mouth lift softly. "Can't wait."

“All right.” He can hear the smile in your voice. It’d been a while. “See you there.”

The call ends with a soft click. His posture immediately stiffens again.

Mona’s attention is still on the notepad when she says, “Guess that cancels the video call with Jepsen at 4:15.”

______

He pulls the brim of his cap even lower, if that was possible, fully intending to cover up his untrimmed hair. It didn't work very well; whatever was too long for the cap just stuck up in strange angles given how tight the hat was.

The smell of roasting coffee beans was intense, and a little hard to take in. He had been here loads of times before, but those visits had thinned out and the gaps in between each had increased exponentially over the last few years.

When he scours the area, all he sees are booths occupied with people speaking in hushed tones. It serves to remind him again that the world seemed a lot quieter now.

Six years ago, he couldn't take a step down a street without hearing cries for missing sons, aunts, friends. Then, of course, there was silence. Almost deafening, as people slowly picked themselves up, tried to make sense of the life they were living now.

It continued even when the Snapped were back. The parades were loud and the parties even louder but everything seemed muted. Almost like they expected the returned to leave again, cautious about how much energy they spent celebrating something that could disappear in an instant.

The chair scrapes against the linoleum floor, pulling his attention away from his lap.

He doesn't even know when he sat down.

“Please, don’t look so surprised.” You don’t go for a greeting, instead, taking note of the slightly dilated eyes. “Only you would wear a cap indoors and think it’s a good disguise.”

Steve glances around discreetly. “No one else noticed.”

“What, that you look like you want to hide?” You snort, laying all your stuff on the table after taking a seat. “Yeah, they did. Hi, by the way.”

If they did, they didn’t say anything.

"Hi," he says back. "You look good."

You narrow your eyes at him, before your face breaks into a small smile. "I didn't realise disarray and chaos was pleasing to you."

He shrugs. "You make it work."

Your head ducks with a smile and a small shake. “Did you order anything?”

"Not yet."

“Do you want to?” You pour over the menu in front of you even though you’ve been here before with him so many times you know exactly what you want. “Coffee, black, no sugar, no cream?”

Even though he declined Mona on the same offer, he takes you up on yours. It's always been hard to say no to you.

You quickly flag down the waitress, giving her your orders and a big smile and revert back to Steve.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while,” you say,��leaning forward on your elbows. “How’s everything going?”

It hasn’t been on purpose-- well, it was-- but no one had really heard from him in a while.

“You know,” he draws out, “a lot of conversations with a lot of… interesting people.”

“Snobs?" you offer. "Uptight?”

“That's one way to put it.” There’s humour in his words but only a wisp of it on his face. “They’re thinkin’ of holding another carnival in a month.”

“What, like one obnoxious parade wasn’t enough already?”

“That’s what I told ‘em. But elections are coming up and the guy wants as much publicity as they can afford.” He restrains himself from rolling his eyes. “Tell me you're doing better on your side.”

“It’s like middle school all over again, Stevie.” The corner of your lip stretches thin in annoyance. “Ever since the return, everyone’s been fightin’ over desks and projects that we completed while they were gone.”

One of the most reputed labs in the world, some of the most formidable brains of nature and endless arguments over whose table gets to face the window, and who gets to sit nearest to the water cooler for better access to office gossip.

"Jesus," he says, before a familiar voice pinches him. Don't take the Lord's name in vain.

"Gets better."

Steve quirks an eyebrow.

The conversation gets cut short when the waitress sets down a cup in front of him and fills it nearly to the brim. It already smells better than the garbage they serve at the town hall, and he certainly could use a cup to make up for the fifty hours he'd spent awake so far.

"Thank you," he tells her before turning his attention to you. "Better how?"

“Well-- better is actually pretty subjective. Positions are shuffling around, people are moving.” You bite your lip. “They offered me a new job.”

He smiles for the first time that day, a big-toothed grin. "They did?"

"New title. Just fancier words for a person that runs that joint." You blow gently at your beverage, shoulders rising and falling nonchalantly. "Pays real well. Lot more access to resources, grants. Everything."

"Sounds like a dream," he says carefully, noting the lack of eye contact.

“I’m not sure if I’m gonna take it, though."

There it is. “Why?”

“Don't know if I want to." You shrug. "They only floated it by me a while ago, and it's pretty under wraps, so I have time. Don't have to answer 'em right away."

"Is there something going on?" If he'd somehow managed to miss it while doing God knows what, he'd never let himself forget it.

"No, there's nothing," you reassure. "I just don't know if I wanna do it."

Steve inclines his head. You expertly dodge it with a clearing of your throat. 

“Sam told me the new compound’s been coming up okay.” God, he hadn’t seen Sam since the time he came back from returning the stones to their rightful place and that had been a few months ago.

“Yeah, almost done, actually. Most of the stuff’s been moved already.” 

All the way across the country, far away from New York and its bi-annual alien attacks. Pepper had had enough after the compound got wrecked again, ordering for a complete shift to preserve whatever was left from the destruction.

“Do you think I can score a designated parking spot?”

“You can try."

"Or you can." You grin at him. "Put in a word for me."

Steve clicks his tongue. “Don't think it'd do any good. No special privileges, even for employees.”

“Damn it,” you curse under your breath and he lets out a small chuckle. “You think they’d throw free parking in with the healthcare.”

 "Did you get yourself checked up?" She eyes him, top to bottom.

"Bucky had a look."

"So, that's a no, then," she says flatly. "When was this?"

"Two days ago."

"And you're completely all right?"

"Steve?"

He forcefully zeroes his focus back on you. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Your head quirks, but you let go of it a second later.

"I asked how you were." You twirl a stirring rod around your hot chocolate, letting its warmth seep into your palms through the cup as you hold it up. “If you were holdin’ up okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve been good," he says, lips stretched into a tight smile. “Keeping myself occupied.”

 Steve purposely takes a long sip of his coffee, avoiding the furrow of your eyebrows. It makes his stomach lurch a little, and he raises his cup to his lips again to avoid thinking about it too much.

“You get any time off at all?”

“Sometimes.” Before you can question, he counters, "Do you?”

"I've had vacation days buildin' up for years now. Got nowhere to use 'em." Your eyes dart about the shop before landing on him. "Which is actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Steve peers back in question, setting the cup down.

“What if I were to ask you-” you begin casually “-if you’d wanna maybe get away for a while.”

He only waits for you to continue.

“I was thinking we could take a road trip.”

A road trip?

Steve voices exactly that.

“We’ll get a car, drive it down to wherever you wanna go. Texas, Washington-” you speak a little faster, leaning forward to take his hand in yours “-hell, even fuckin’ Florida, I don’t care. I’ll plan it out, I’ll take care of everything."

His eyes flit down your hand on his, swallowing thickly. A break. A break. The idea makes his head spin and a laugh bubble out of him incredulously. But as soon as it arrives, it dissipates, leaving in its wake hesitancy and 'I'm sorry, I don't know if I can'.

“Why?” he asks instead, to squander any outright denial.

Why? He wants to smack himself in the head. Because best friends do that. Best friends take road trips together and host dinner parties and tell each other what’s on their minds and don't hide things, life-changing things.

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze softening. “I miss you.”

Steve feels the familiar sickness in his stomach, the same pit that forms every time he walks past the framed picture of you both in the morning.

“A road trip,” he repeats, testing it out for himself.

“A month, you and me. We're not leaving tomorrow or something, don't worry. Still gotta apply for leave and take care of some stuff, it'll take a while." Your eyes brighten when he doesn't immediately shoot it down. “I’ll even let you pick the music.”

“My taste isn’t that bad," he deflects offhandedly.

You give him a half-smile in response. “What d’ya say, Stevie?”

“A month?” Steve asks again, knowing that he was about to send Mona into an absolute panic.

“Just one," you swear.

A road trip. Across a country he was named after, one that he had never seen, save for in a state of destruction and despair.

"I'll have to check," he says. "Can I let you know?"

It's like you deflate, only by a minuscule amount but he catches it.

"Of course. No pressure, okay? It was just an idea."

"I know," Steve says quickly, flipping his hand so that it covers yours instead. "I promise I'll see what I can do."

You nod, a little uncertain before a smile overtakes your face.

It isn't a no. It isn't a flat-out refusal but he knows. He’s been pulling away and this is another attempt atit.

A cruel part of his mind says that it’s easy, it makes it easier for him and you later on.

"Something to eat?" you query, settling back into your seat. "I could go for some food."

The logical part says it’s because he’s a damn coward.

__________

Day slips into night and night slips into early morning faster than he anticipates.

If he didn't sleep, he didn't have to relive it all over again and the choice, therefore, was glaringly simple.

His phone shudders to let him know there's only 15 percent of battery left. Only then, when his neck cranes to reach around for his charger does he notice the time.

4:13am.

Steve stares at the phone for a while.

The light hadn't even come in yet, but with all the blinds in his house closed, he doubts they would have.

He blinks when he feels the familiar burn in his eyes.

4:15am.

Then he's made slowly aware of the dull ache in his neck he can easily attribute to sitting in the wrong position for too long. 

Did he eat dinner?

4:18am.

Steve stares at the lock screen. An urge suddenly tugs at his brain.

Change it, or change his phone, or remove the cover. Or throw it at a wall.

By the time he locks it again, it reads 4:21am.

He thinks it's good enough to get a shower in.

__________

"A road trip?"

"Yeah." Steve rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palm.

"Thought you left that life behind with your plastic dinner plate."

Steve winces at the thought of his ill-fitting velcro suit. “Shut up.”

"Suppose your metal dinner plate deserves the same honour," Bucky muses, looking down at something off-screen. "Are you getting a tour bus?"

"Just a car, m'afraid," Steve says wearily. "Maybe on the European leg."

"Tell Y/N it broke my whole heart when I didn't receive an invite in the mail for this trip."

Steve sighs. "Might wanna hold onto your tissues. I'm not even sure I'm going." 

"And why the hell not?"

"I don't know." He squints when Bucky ducks out of view, leaving him open to the attack of bright daylight through the phone. "I'm not sure."

"About what?" Bucky yells to be heard from off-screen.

"Got work to do."

Steve chews on his lip, letting his eyes close for a second in the silence.

There's a loud thud, and Steve opens his eyes to Bucky dropping a stack of files on the table in front of him. Brown, some sealed and others with corners softened from overuse.

"You're avoiding it," Bucky says flatly.

Steve's eyebrows furrow, more so in indignation than anything. "I am not."

"Shut the fuck up, Rogers," his best friend of many-- almost too many, he's beginning to think-- years tells him without even thinking twice. "What's your excuse this time, huh? Back pain? Senior's night at the country club?"

"Jesus Christ, Bucky."

"When's the last time you took a vacation?" Bucky's image is clear through the phone with no pixelation whatsoever. Steve can't imagine it's the same from his end, what with the crappy WiFi and sitting in the darkness of his bedroom.  

He blows out a breath. "Well, if you count th-"

"If you say the time you were frozen, I'm gonna hang up."

Steve shuts his mouth.

Bucky pauses to read something and Steve takes the opportunity to kick off the shoes he hadn't bothered removing before laying down.

Bucky peers up at the screen for a second. "D'you know where the-"

"Manila folder. Under the testimonials list," Steve completes.

He doesn't even look surprised, just nods and picks up the correct file before flipping through it.

"Have you gone through them all?"

"Should I?" Bucky asks wearily. "I mean, I lived through them, y'know."

Steve sighs, scratching his cheek, wincing when he comes across the tiny scab. "You need to go through the files, Bucky."

"I'm kidding," Bucky clarifies with a roll of his eyes. "You'd think people would cut me some slack after being imprisoned for sixty years, but no. Can't joke about torture, can't joke about forgetting what I had for breakfast."

Steve stares at him through the phone.

"It was eggs," he says slowly. "I had eggs. And juice. Orange."

The thin sheets rustle under Steve as he sits up straight. "This is why I'm not going on that trip."

Bucky drops the file he was holding with a loud scoff. "Now hold on there, Rogers. Don't you fuckin' act like you've got babysitting duty.."

It should be too early there for Bucky to be this confrontational and it was definitely too late for Steve to argue back. He makes a mental note to call him at midnight next time, but the bastard would probably be up and about then too. He wonders if Bucky ever sleeps.

"I'm not." Steve exhales. "I'm not. I'm just not going to leave you in the middle of your trial prep, Buck."

"In the middle of?" Bucky voices back incredulously. "There isn't even a trial yet and there is nothing more left to prep."

"There's gotta be more-"

"But there isn't," Bucky cuts him off. "Steve, we’ve been at this for years. We've gone through everything. Murdock's done it thrice, Nelson's done it, like, six times, bless his soul. Look at this file, Rogers. I've been through it twice since last night."

Steve's own copy of all the material sat at his desk, highlighted and annotated. The way the case was being dealt with was unusual, but the case itself was unusual. He didn't really know enough about the legal system to argue either.

"The only reason we're waiting is so that I can take some time off before we let the government know I'm here," he reminds. "Otherwise we're done, we just gotta get my ass back to the States and we're ready to go."

Steve bites the inside of his lip, out of Bucky's sight. The angle isn't very flattering. He's long given up on trying to look presentable.

"It's not right."

"Look, Steve." Bucky picks up a file again. "You've done enough. I can handle a month."

"A month and a half, maybe."

"Even better." He gives him a sly smile. "Shuri says if she has to see your dumb face moping around here anymore she's gonna get you banned from entering the country."

Steve rolls his eyes. "I don't mope."

"Sure ya don't. Gettin' sick of it m'self, gotta tell you," Bucky says blankly. "T'Challa's got all these people working on the case. Figuring out a timeline. Once we tell the authorities I'm here, I either gotta surrender myself or get extradited. Either way, I won't be back for another few months at least."

Steve says nothing.

"Go on your little road trip. Stop worrying 'bout me." Bucky shifts in his seat. "Technically I'm on vacation, too."

Steve says nothing.

"Once I'm back, you can help me move into my jail cell, how about that?"

Steve's silence only intensifies.

"You're a ray of sunshine," Bucky says. "Love how you can take a joke."

"Bucky."

"Steve," he mocks, voice low. "I've been on my own since '45. I can handle it."

Even if he doesn't mean it like that, Steve feels an ache shoot through him in embarrassment. Bucky doesn't notice; he probably didn't even realise what he said.

"Plus, it's not the stone ages. I'll call you if I need anything, but I'm tellin' you, there's nothing. You've seen all the evidence. Only thing that's left is prepping for the stand, and they're only doing it after the therapist gives them the go-ahead to start poking in there." His index finger points to his temple.

Bucky's hair had grown long enough to curl lightly at his shoulder blades. He usually kept it tied up and out of his face but it hung loose today, forcing him to push back strands that kept covering his eyes as he read. Even through the phone, Steve could tell he looked better, dark circles faded significantly.

"They'll call you too. Grill your ass 'bout how much you love me."

"I don't."

"Should be easy then," he replies breezily, leafing through a folder. “Did you know I was apparently in Paris at some point? You’d think I'd remember the tower, but no. Turns out I just got stabbed.”

“Buck,” Steve says sternly.

“Sorry, sorry.” He holds up the file. “I got shot too.”

"Bucky."

"Just go." Bucky grins. "You can come back here and look at all these fun numbers.”

Steve shakes his head, pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes. The last two times he'd been to Wakanda, he had nothing to do. He met Bucky's goats. Ate a tomato he grew (it was still a little green but Bucky was damn proud of it. Best tomato Steve’d ever eaten). The rest was the same as the last few visits.

"If you don't wanna go for some other reason-" Bucky sneaks him a glance -"then don't. But don't let it be 'cause of me. Hell, I'd join too if I wasn't across an ocean. And gotten an invite."

He thinks it’s something to consider once Bucky can walk freely.

“You’re not doing a bad thing, Rogers," Bucky adds, tone a little more gentle this time. “You’re not a bad person. Stop beating yourself up about this and just go.”

Wasn’t he? He wasn’t a good person, that’s for sure. 

Who the fuck even is he anymore?

"You sure?" Steve asks warily, the unease still lapping at him. 

"Get me a souvenir," Bucky says. "Bet it'd look great next to my prison bed."

___

"Captain?"

Steve's eyes snap towards the person in front of him. Dark suit, hair brushed back.

"Yes?" he asks again and ignores the feeling that he's done this before.

"I asked if you'd gotten the email for the fundraiser."

Steve's eyes glance towards his left. It's almost like Mona reads his mind because she's already halfway through pulling out a folder from an even bigger folder.

"We did," she confirms. "We'll let you know about his availability. June is a tough month."

Steve looks down at his glass of water, determined to not let it show on his face that he's got no fucking idea what she's talking about.

The water ripples as Steve lifts it, but if someone were to ask, he isn't sure he ever drank it or not.

___

Steve stares at the red on his skin, wondering where it came from. It stretches down his skin like a long, raw scar before diluting at his jaw.

God, didn't that happen yesterday? Did he cut himself again? Or--wait, was it the day before yesterday? 

Where was the fucking shaving cream– why was he shaving without shaving cream?

His phone chimes with a text alert from Mona. He sees from the home screen that it's a schedule for today. It started the same as always, with her cheerful 'Good morning. Here's the plan for the day'. And usually, it could be boiled down to meeting people he couldn't stand, people he was still treading the fence about, and lunch.

When he looks up at the mirror, the red has begun to dry, forming little crusts that cracked when he opened his mouth.

Steve blinks and it's gone, and there's a wet towel on the sink.

Dinner is something. Chicken. Rice. Something healthy, there's some greens in there. He watches some sitcoms and laughs when the laugh track plays even when the joke isn't all that funny.

He eats his chicken and wonders whether 2am is too early to take a shower.

"You got any food in you or is that all you’ve been taking in all day?” He makes a mention to the cigarette that was almost halfway done.

“Jeanie managed to get us some soup. Should last us a few days if we divide it up real nice.”

“We got some extra bread.”

“Nah, Rogers.” The teen flicks the tail end of the smoke, getting rid of the extra ash. “We’ll be all right. Save that for another day.”

Steve jolts up when the familiar feeling of falling hits him. But the couch is still underneath him and the TV's moved on to another late-night rerun. The laugh track is mundane but feels like it's directed at him.

The plate clangs on the ground-- he's glad he's invested in metal ones after the first few times it happened.

He rubs his eyes, hand reaching out for his phone.

3:30am.

Steve pulls on a jacket and some well worn sneakers. It can't be too early for a run.

___

“Captain?”

Steve snaps back. “Yes?”

___

Dinner is lunch? Pasta? 

No, he ate rice for lunch. 

2:00am.

Why the fuck is he eating dinner at 2am?

___

“Rogers?”

“Please, it’s Steve,” he repeats, shaking hands with a polite smile.

“Steve. Thank you for the advertisement you did for us. Sales really rocketed.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Steve feels the scab on his skin. Scraped again?

___

5:20am.

Steve laughs with the laugh track.

Was this who he was? Laughing at some joke he wouldn’t be able to remember even with a gun to his head?

He shovels another soon of cereal into his mouth and discards the rest in the sink.

___

“Captain?”

“He’s not available, sorry,” Mona cuts in curtly as she walks swiftly beside him. “You can schedule a meeting with me, though.”

Steve looks at her when they round a corner. “Who was that?”

“Um–” Mona scrolls through her tablet. “Senator–”

___

“5am is not too early for a run,” he repeats to himself in assurance under his breath, tugging his shoes on. 

He stops to look in the mirror and it is empty. There should be dark circles and stubble and pale skin from not seeing the light of day. His skin glows. There is hardly a line on his face.

“Shave when you get back,” he says aloud, and his voice is hoarse from hours of unuse. 

He swaps out the elevator for the stairs, bounding down quietly. 5am was still early for his neighbours. 

He pushes open the door to his apartment and--

It is pitch black.

Steve takes a step outside, head turned up to the sky. 

It is dark, cloudy and deafeningly silent.

Steve’s eyebrows pull together.

He digs his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

2am.

He thought it was 5.

___

“Captain–”

“My opinion isn’t going to change, Senator.”

“What?” 

Steve’s attention drags him back to harsh fluorescent lighting and the smell of astringent hand sanitiser.

“I said you’re free to go.” The doctor flips the pages on his clipboard. “Good as new.”

“Serum, am I right?” he tries for a joke. It’s not even funny. He feels like a sitcom.

“Miracle of science.” The doctor graces him with a smile that seems almost pitiful. “Just try to get some sunlight. Your vitamin D’s a little low, but you’re cleared.”

“Great,” he says. Cleared for what, exactly?

___

“Mona.” Steve rubs his temples.

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

___

Steve watches his food spin around in the microwave. 

It goes on endlessly, for ages and ages. He's mesmerised.

It finally beeps and he yanks it out.

He takes a bite. The center is still cold.

___

“Captain–”

“Senator.”

“It’s Councilwoman,” Mona whispers from beside him.

“Councilwoman,” Steve corrects. “My apologies. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“We’ve all been there.” She smiles kindly at him. He thinks she’s one of the only people he likes. “Now about your tweets, we’d really appreciate if you didn’t go against the organization that’s been, you know–”

He thinks he doesn’t like her.

Steve’s attention returns to his phone as she rattles on about why he should lend his public support to some fucking businessman who had stakes in some place for some reason. If he tweeted against him, it was probably for good reason.

You’ve sent him a meme.

The corners of his mouth curl up slightly.

“So we believe it’s in everybody’s best interest that you–”

“No,” Steve says resolutely, gaze rising up again. “My condolences, but I don’t think I’ll be doing that. Now can we continue to more important issues?”

___

Steve tries a drama for once, instead of a comedy.

Three episodes in and he has no idea what the hell has happened so far.

He checks his phone. 

12:43am.

Too early for a run. 

He gets ready for a shower.

___

Steve walks out, towel around his waist and hoodie covering his chest. His hair is slicked back, still dripping water down his back. 

His phone chimes with another notification.

1:40am

Steve waits for it to download, one hand on his waist.

From Y/N

(image attached)

From Y/N

Why on earth are you awake this late?

From Steve:

Could ask you the same thing. Don’t you have work tomorrow?

From Y/N:

Don’t you have an interview with CNN tomorrow?

From Steve:

Steve’s eyebrows furrow as he looks up, racking his brain to remember if he did have something lined up.

How do you know my schedule better than me?

From Y/N:

They tweeted about it, Steve

He smiles, barely listening to his dinner spin around in the microwave.

From Y/N:

Why are you up?

From Steve:

Got in late.

From Y/N:

Go to sleep

From Steve:

You first.

From Y/N:

What are you, my dad?

From Y/N:

Kidding, I’m going. Have fun in your lil interview. Give me a shoutout

From Steve:

Keep your ears peeled.

From Steve:

Goodnight.

From Y/N:

Better not see you awake after this, Rogers

Steve pulls his eyes away from his phone when the microwave beeps dramatically.

From Y/N:

Goodnight. Talk to you tomorrow ily

He pulls his food out carefully. It’s the worst looking slice of pizza he’d ever seen, but he drops it onto a plate anyway and walks toward his couch.

2:00am.

He’s seen these reruns before. Twice, actually.

Steve takes a bite. It’s stone cold.

The laugh track plays again. His lip twitches. 

Steve takes another bite and swallows it down without thinking too much. 

He switches the channel. Someone advertises something he doesn’t want. 

He switches the channel. His face. The channel changes faster.

Steve takes a bite. Winces and chews slowly, purposefully. The channel switches.

Laugh track. Steve bites the crust. His face.

3am? 

The plate’s discarded. He’s got a box of cereal. The channel switches.

Steve takes a spoonful. Advertisement. 

Interview today. Fuck. 

He takes a bite. Parade promo. 

___

“Captain?”

“Yes?”

___

Channel switches. CNN? Who the fuck was he talking to?

Steve chews on muesli. 

Laugh track.  

He swallows. Advertisement. Laugh track. He laughs.

Muesli. Interview at 9. 

____

Steve drags the razor over his chin. 

He swishes it around in the water, and there is red that mixes with dissolving foam.

____

He checks his phone. Muesli. Steve laughs.

It’s been half an hour. It’s still 3am.

Steve chews. Advertisement. 

He laughs. Muesli. He laughs. Swallows. 

Laugh track. Spoonful.

____

“Captain?”

“Yes?”

___

Dry pizza.

Steve laughs.

Steve pulls on his shoes and checks the time.

___

Something suddenly flips in him. He doesn't have a name for it.

Laugh track.

___

Fuck.

___

Steve exhales, tucking his phone into his pocket before he could send a retraction.

To Y/N:

Let's do it. Road trip. I'm in.

It was done now. 

He couldn't go back.

___

It hardly takes a few seconds for the notification to ring out in an empty apartment.

____

From Y/N:

Fuck yes. You won’t regret this.

As much as he wishes this trip is for you and for the two of you only, he knows it is simply one small part of it. 

Steve stares down at the phone, knowing he will.

Mostly, it drags him out of he darkness and into a spotlight. There was no turning back now, he couldn’t hide it behind absence. 

There is still time, though. To somehow conjure up a way to tell you about the dreams and the docks and the sun on his face. Of dog tags and disinfectant on his torn skin and toffee from corner stores.

It gives him time to tell you he’s thinking of going back to the past.

Next part

[aristocratic-otter]

Get To Know Me

Thanks for the tag @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe and @angelsfalling16. This looks interesting!

Under the cut for length

Relationship status: Married and I just had my 25th wedding anniversary. So married for a long fucking time!

Favorite color: kinda depends on the use! Silver is my first response, but to wear I like jewel tones and for decorating I like ocean colors. So all over the map, but I can definitely say I love color!

Favorite food: My family likes to joke that everything I eat is cheese and bread. Grilled cheese, pizza, quesadillas, macaroni and cheese. I've got the palate of a five year old. I do love popcorn and chocolate though!

Song stuck in your head: If it gets stuck, it's almost always something from Hamilton. Shit's catchy, man.

Last thing you googled: "Jacob's Inn, Oxford" for a fic, but you'll have to wait and see which one.

Time: 11:41 pm

Dream trip: The British Isles. So much of the history I love to explore is found there. I come from a place where the oldest house is probably fifty years old. I want to stand in a place where the history is reckoned in thousands of years, not tens of years.

Last book you read: Just relistened to Boyfriend Material in prep for the new book coming out. There's a lot of that going around, I've noticed 😏

Last book you enjoyed: Same. I mostly read fanfic these days.

Last book you hated reading: I'll probably get a ton of shit for this, but it was Song of Achilles. Not because it's sad. That's a perk, honestly. I just couldn't get into it. The writing style was too dry and unemotional for me. I still have it on my dresser to finish, and I probably will because my daughter got it for me for Christmas, but I'm not looking forward to it.

Favorite thing to cook/bake: I'm not much for householdy things, but I do love cooking pancakes. There's something aesthetically pleasing about waiting for the bubbles to form and pop and finding the exact shade of golden brown on the other side.

Favorite craft to do in your free time: I've been trying to learn origami without much luck. I'm not particularly crafty, but I do love scrapbooking, I just don't have time for it.

Most niche dislikes: Onions. It's a constant trial because nobody believes that I can actually hate onions that much. They hit my Autistic texture squick and I hate the flavor, so it's a double whammy. But most of the people in my life think I'm a drama queen for constantly questioning wait staff about the onion content of the food on the menu.

Opinion on circuses, now and in history: Hmm...I enjoy the idea of them, the circus life. I like reading stories about it. Historically they're pretty horrific, but the idea of a life on the road, free of care except for caring for each other...it's pretty attractive. I've seen both Ringling Bros circus and Ka from Cirque de Soleil, and they are quite the pretty spectacle, but not something I seek out in my life.

Do you have a sense of direction, and if not what is the worst way you’ve gotten lost: I inherited my mother's shitty sense of direction, but I'm self aware and use directions apps constantly, so I seldom get lost. That said, I definitely have a getting lost story, though my husband was driving. We were driving to Bear Lake, Utah in midwinter because that's when I had time off. It started snowing as we drove up the state of Utah from St. George, and never stopped. The roads got slippery and icy, and we're Californian. We don't know how to deal with that. So we drove like snails, and therefore didn't arrive at the turnoff to our resort until one am. Now, the road to the resort was a single lane switchback and it was coated with snow. We couldn't even see the lane lines. We stopped and my poor husband spent half an hour out in the freezing weather to put chains on our tires and then we inched our way down the mountain in utter terror. We arrived at the town of Bear Lake at past two in the morning. NOTHING was open. We drove to our resort; they'd told us there'd be a key waiting for us in the box outside the office. We drove up a driveway covered in unbroken snow and found an office, and a box, but no key.

At this point, we were shivering in insufficient heating in a tiny compact car, me, my husband and our three year old son, and we were facing having to maybe spend the night in the car until something opened. We drove around the property several times until we realized there was a different office and found our key. Then we drove to the block of rooms, and dragged ourselves, our luggage and my kid through the snow, past every downstairs room and couldn't find one with our room number. All of the upstairs rooms appeared to have employee names on them. We circled the building. I was crying, the baby was wailing and we were all exhausted and terrified. Then we found that there were a couple of upstairs rooms that weren't set aside for employees and one of them was ours.

It was the closest I've ever felt to dying, honestly.

Funny thing is, that trip on our return found us passing through a hundred-year flood in Utah, where half the city of St. George was underwater, so this trip definitely gave me years of stories to tell!

Tagging some friends! @artsyunderstudy, @bazzybelle, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @fight-surrender, @fatalfangirl, @facewithoutheart, @johnwgrey, @krisrix, @moodandmist, @otherworldsivelivedin, @giishu, @frjsti, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @penpanoply, @prettylightsbigcity, @palimpsessed, @subparselkie, @tea-brigade

[fanmoose12]

Yo moose! Can I request this prompt? well I'm kinda stuck between two similar ideas so it's up to you to pick: Hanji surviving 132 and giving a speech to public about the shit she personally had to go through and it gets emotional, or things are canon (sadly) and Levi's the one to give a speech about what he went through with her. IN GENERAL I JUST WANT THE WORLD TO RECOGNIZE THE FACT THAT HANJI'S THE ONE WHO SAVED THE FUCKING WORLD (or at least what was left of it oof lemme ignore extra pages)

@agoldenheartedsnkfan my beloved 💕 sorry for the delay!!! but i hope you enjoy this little thing! i missed writing your prompts <3

---

Levi wasn't going home, not quite.

Home is where the heart is, but his heart was long gone, sacrificed for the future of the humanity.

And despite being away from his motherland for almost a decade now, Levi hadn't missed the place. It was hard to miss familiar cafes and bars when the people he used to visit them with were already dead.

Still, something stirred inside him at the sight of the streets he walked through so often. Now, however, he wasn't able to walk like he had used to. Now he could only roll on his wheelchair, all the while cursing the genius who decided that a brick road was a good idea for the central street.

He certainly wasn't the same man he had been before. He wasn't a thief from the Underground, wasn't humanity's strongest soldier. Now he was an old man, broken by the years of fighting and bleeding.

Continuing to move forward, Levi passed a cafe he used to frequent, the one with the delicious pancakes and a table in the corner that could fit all members of his, Hange's and Mike's squads; a bar where they sang lewd songs and picked fights with the military police; gardens that Hangs loved visiting so much; a bookshop that Erwin loved to walk around, with Hange animatedly talking his ear off; a clothing store where Levi used to buy cravats for himself and shirts for Hange.

Each place had a special meaning for him, each one was connected with a dear memory. But without his friends, there was no reason to visit these places again. Walking through them all by himself would only make pain inside feel that much sharper.

Levi turned the corner and breath was promptly knocked out of his lungs. He didn't think he'd ever see this particular building ever again.

But there it was, Survey Corps Headquarters. It certainly changed.

The emblem was a little different and the amount of soldiers was that much bigger.

Figures there would be an influx of new recruits after everything that happened. Levi could only hope that these ones wouldn't turn out to be as bloodthirsty as the ones he and Hange had to deal with.

As Levi slowly rolled closer to the building that now seemed that much grander than before, he was noticed by a group of soldiers, who stood by the gates, sharing a cigarette.

Most of them didn't pay much attention to him, one soldier grimaced as he looked at his scared face, another scoffed and turned away. Only one of them, the one in the center, had realised who Levi truly was. His bright eyes widened swiftly and suddenly. Levi swallowed heavily. It seemed like he wouldn't be able to leave unnoticed.

"It's you!" the soldier ran up to him, already breathless. "It's you, right? Captain Levi? The hero of the Battle of Earth and Heaven?"

The hero part was a large overstatement.

"I've been here if that's what you're blabbering about. Now if you excuse me..."

"Levi Ackerman?" the rest of the soldiers joined their comrade, surrounding Levi. "One of Paradis' biggest traitors?"

Levi was going to leave. Logically, he knew that he had no other sane choice. But, goddamn it, he had enough of these fuckers back in his days. He was so not going to tolerate them and their shit.

"I am traitor?" he husked, his eye flashing. "None of you would be here if it wasn't for me and other traitors. So shut your stupid mouthes."

"You helped to kill Eren Yeager."

"And saved the rest of the world in the process."

"You killed a hero," one of the soldiers stubbornly repeated. "And saved our enemies."

"What else could you expect," the other soldier scoffed. "From the Captain who served under Commander Crazy."

Oh. Levi didn't feel that in a long time. That ugly, burning feeling that spread through his veins like a wave. He thought he had left it behind, alongside with his blades. But apparently there still existed idiots who managed to make him see red with just a couple of words.

Back in his days, Levi would have kicked the asshole in the stomach, knocking breath out of him. He'd punch him in the face, leaving him with the black eye. He'd twist his arm to make him scream and beg for mercy. He'd knock him down and step on his palm, waiting for the bastard to apologize.

Now, he wasn't as strong, wasn't as skilled. But he still had some tricks up his sleeve.

Before another stupid word left the fucker's mouth, Levi pushed his wheelchair forward, rolling on the soldier's foot. The soldier yelped and attempted to get away. Levi didn't allow him to.

"Now listen to me, you little shit," he pulled the man down by the collar of his shirt. "Commander Hange Zoe was the best person this shitty island had ever seen. She sacrificed everything for idiots like you. And if it weren't for her selflessness, if it weren't for her kindness and intellect, this island would have been fucked more times than you can count. Who do you think have designed that shiny uniform you wear? Or the weapons that all of you are so ready to wield?"

"Commander Zoe?" one of the soldiers whispered, his head lowered in shame.

"Learn some respect, you fuckers," Levi glowered, letting go of the poor idiot. "Or I'll knock it into you. You wouldn't want for others to know that you had your asses kicked by a disabled old man? If not, then get the fuck out of my sight. And if I hear the words crazy or traitor in the one sentence with the name Hange Zoe, you'll be sorry you've ever learnt to talk."

Luckily, the bastards didn't need much convincing after that. All of them scattered around, one of them visibly limping.

"What a bunch of losers," Levi sighed, willing his clenched fists to relax. The anger didn't leave him, but now another feeling appeared, the one that always visited him whenever he spoke or thought of Hange.

Fuck, a decade had passed, and that wound was still as fresh as ever. Would it ever stop hurting? Levi wasn't sure.

"Hope you've enjoyed that little spectacle," he muttered under his breath, his eyes aimed at the sky. "I bet you're ecstatic at all the compliments I just threw your way. Perhaps, I should have done it sooner," he said, his voice thick with feeling. "Repeated them more often."

But was the point of thinking about it now, when all he had left was his broken heart and a feeble hope that Hange was still watching him?

Although... all things considered, Levi hoped that Hange had missed this little trip of his. He certainly wished he wouldn't have come here.

Home is where the heart is. Levi could only hope that one day, it'd become true for him as well.

[bitchassbucky]

Highway 63 (Almost-there 2K writing challenge)

On a dusty stretch of highway that connects two cities, a few aged establishments have made themselves part of the land. They say that some days you wouldn’t find anything but boarded-up buildings and old “Do Not Trespass” signs but there will be nights where people find themselves mingling with the patrons. You have to visit on a warm summer night, though. When the moon is shining and the air is light.

There, you would find a Bar that attracts all kinds of people—city folks, locals, people who wanted to disappear amongst the crowd of faces. The building reeks of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor and yet they see groups of people coming in and out, trying to grab a fix of their favorite sin.

Weary travelers often find themselves checking into the Motel, just a few hundred steps away from the infamous Bar. Some rooms are occupied, some things go bump in the night. It makes a decent stopover rather than sleeping in your car.

Patrons love to rave about the Diner near the Motel. The food tastes like home! they say. The booths are aged and yellow, the buzzing overhead lights are dusty and yet it feels familiar—even if it was your first time here.

Venturing further down the road, you’ll find a dilapidated barn. Nature is on its way reclaiming rotten wood posts and rickety doors. Rumors of ghost and unfriendly souls keeps the walls intact; the rusted tractor sits idle on the side.

If you’re lucky, you’ll find yourself driving down the stretch—catching glimpse of faces you’d never see again. The Motel would’ve had its no vacancy sign up, the Bar would be full of people dancing, the beats spilling onto the street. The Diner would’ve been serving pancakes, chicken, and waffles. Pass by the Barn, maybe you’ll see the vines crawling and waving onto the posts.

If you’re luckier, a postcard would be stuck on your windshield, “Welcome to Highway 63!” it would say. Would you take it as an invitation?

—

Welcome to Bitchassbucky’s almost-there 2K writing challenge! With my blog turning 3 years old this June, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been there since day one. I made lots of friends throughout the years, I even found a bunch of people that I would call my family too.

I’ve decided to take a little break from writing, just until I can find my traction again. Don’t worry, I will be coming back! Hopefully, a better writer.

Anyway, I just really want to thank you for the laughs, for the ugly cries, for the rage, for the keysmashes, and everything in between. You’re always in my heart.

Enough sentiments, let’s get down to business.

Guidelines:

🟪 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. You are responsible for your own media consumption. We don’t exist to babysit you.

🟪 Send me an ask (with your @ if you’re on anon) with the prompt you’d like to take.

🟪 All stories should take place in the Bar, the Motel, the Diner, the Barn, or along the road. Welcome to Highway 63.

🟪 No minimum word count! If your entry goes beyond 500 words, please use the read more tool. All forms of content is welcome: moodboards, playlists, drabbles, one-shots, series, headcanons, etc. are counted as a valid entry.

🟪 To send an entry, mention me @bitchassbucky and @bitchassbucky-afterdark and use the Welcome to Highway 63 tag.

🟪 Marvel/MCU characters are very much preferred. Let me know if you want to write for another character.

🟪 Maximum of two people can take a prompt.

🟪 Warnings, warnings, warnings. Tag your fics appropriately. Dark (noncon, dubcon, etc.) fics are very much welcomed, just tag it. No cross-tagging too.

🟪 NO DEADLINE, we all hate deadlines. KEEP IT COMIN’, FOLKS.

🟪 Hard no-no’s: bathroom play, blood-incest, underage pairings.

🟪 No RPFs (Real Person Fics). Reader inserts or character/character only. OCs are welcomed!

🟪 Let’s keep all entries inclusive, please!

🟪 DO NOT REPOST WORKS OF OTHER PEOPLE.

Prompts under the cut!

Song prompts

You're Gonna Go Far, Kid by The Offspring

Bad To The Bone by George Thorogood

Don't Stop Me Now by Queen

Girls on Film by Duran Duran ( @belladonnabarnes )

Highway to Hell by AC/DC

Precious Love by James Morrison

Sugar for the Pill by Slowdive

Everybody Talks by Neon Trees ( @blackberrybucky for Bucky)

The Boy from NYC by The Ad Libs

Knock On Wood by Amii Stewart

How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) by Marvin Gaye ( @buckyblues for Bucky)

MONTERO (Call Me By My Name) by Lil Nas X

Streets by Doja Cat (@luxeavenger)

Tokyo Love Hotel by Rina Sawayama

Lover Boy by Phum Viphurit

Nobody by Mitski

Take Me To Church by MILCK

Curious by Hayley Kiyoko

Line prompts

"Are you sure we're supposed to be here?" // "Are we even allowed in here?" ( @vibraniumqueen for Bucky)

"The GPS fucked up, didn't it?" ( @phant0m-queen for Bucky) ( @uncensored-steve-the-platypus for Steve)

"Drive slower!"

"Not bad [name], not bad."

"Can you shut the fuck up for just one second?!" ( @whoth3hellisbucky for Bucky)

"What did you do?"

"You don't deserve to know me like this."

"Oh, fuck."

"Do you want any advice?" / "If it's from you, then no."

"If you're reading this, I'm dead." ( @buckycuddlebuddy for Bucky)

"Close your eyes, I wanna surprise you." ( @lokiscollar for Bucky) (@drysdale-barnes for Bucky)

"What are you doing here?" / "What are YOU doing HERE?"

"Are you following me?"

"I'm gonna need a drink." (@fuckandfluff for Bucky)

"Keep walking. Just keep walking."

"Hey, I think I saw something back there."

"Come with me!"

"Hand me the car jack."

"We're in Bumfuck, Middle of Nowhere, what do you think?!"

Trope and AU prompts

Biker AU (very on-the-nose, eh?) ( @mxsamwilson for Bucky) ( @thefallenbibliophilequote for a series)

Rom-com AU

College AU ( @babyboibucky for College!Bucky)

Vacation/road trip AU

Band AU ( @hey-its-grey )

Mob/Gang/Criminals AU ( @buckycuddlebuddy for Bucky) ( @xbuchananbarnes for Sam)

Spies AU

Stalker AU

Dystopian AU

Fuck buddies/friends-with-benefits trope ( @whoth3hellisbucky for Bucky)

Found family trope

Mutual pining trope

Idiot x Dumbass trope ( @vibraniumqueen for Bucky)

Amnesia trope

Unreciprocated feelings trope ( @buckyblues for Bucky)

Lovers-to-friends trope

Friends-to-lovers trope

Enjoy yourself and I’ll see you around.

[mr-nobodys-stuff]

Meeting Toshinori Yagi

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Description: running into someone is always nice, but LITERALLY running into them...eh... not so much. And of course, that's where you meet the sweetheart of a sunflower Toshinori. A swift run to the nearest convenience store leads to almost getting run over, a face full of chest, and maybe more?

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"Ok, just some cereal, drinks, and ramen for this weekend," you put your hands to your forehead and groan.

Today had been a bad day from the beginning. You kept dropping things, tripping, and you forgot nearly everything.

You swung your bag/purse around your shoulder and snatched your keys, which of course slipped right back out of your hands.

"Ugh, I swear, if i get run over by a car, I'll be happy," you pull the door shut and lock it, stuffing the keys into the bag.

It was a solid 10 minutes of walking before you made it to the same block as the small store. The whole time was just pure EDGE. Everything seemed to startle you. A bird rustling in a bush made you start yo reach for the pepper spray. A squirrel nearly made you fall backwards.

Let's just say you were currently the embodiment of "I. Hate. Everything."

You crossed the road with a few other civilians when the crossing light turned green. They walked a bit faster than you, but did you care? Only as much as you cared about anything today. So a solid hell no.

You stepped up on the curb and slid past someone who wasn't moving. Then they suddenly went sideways and knocked into you. The force pushed you back into the road. And just your luck, a car zoomed by in another lane. A truck in the lane you got bumped into was honking like crazy.

A strong hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you back up on the sidewalk harshly. Another snaked around your shoulder to steady you.

"Oh, sorry!" The person who pushed you said before hurrying away.

You finally looked up to see who saved you from becoming a squirrel pancake wannabe.

"Are you okay?" The person holding you let go and held both your shoulders with their hands.

Now you got a good view of who it was. It was a tall, skinny, almost perfect skeleton man. He had blonde hair and bright blue, deep set eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thanks for saving me," you smile, blushing slightly.

"You're welcome. Gave me quite a scare there," he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry," you slump.

"Ah! Oh, nonono, you have nothing to be sorry for. You got pushed into oncoming traffic. Nothing about it was your fault," he waves his hands, trying to back himself up.

"Ok, well I'm Y/N by the way," you say, slowly deflating from pure exhaustion.

"I'm Toshinori Yagi. It's nice to meet you. Though, I wish it were under different circumstances," he laughs nervously.

"Yeah, today should've come with a warning label. It's been a total train wreck."

"Has it now? Well where are you headed?"

"Convenience store," you sigh.

"The one just over there? That's where I'm headed too," he smiles.

"Walk with me?"

"Yeah sure. I can do that," he nods and walks right next to you the entire way. He even offers to help you get what you need.

"No, I can get it all," you wave him off. "Thanks though."

The two of you split up and gather your things.

Once he was done, he looked for you again, noticing you hadn't left yet. He found you staring at a box just out of reach.

You notice him walking you way and you immediately light up.

"Yagi!" You point to the box.

He smiles and hums, knowing exactly what you want. He reaches up and snatches it right off the shelf.

"This one?" He asks, glancing back up.

"Yep! Thank you," you swipe it from him and make your way to the checkout line.

"So," you start, turning to Toshinori. "You come here often?" You bat your eyelashes, overexaggerating the question.

He chuckles and even blushes ever so slightly.

"Yes, I do actually. Every other day it seems," he nods. "I just live down the road."

"Oh? Me too. About a ten minute walk."

"What a coincidence."

You pay for your things and head out, walking slowly to see if the blonde would follow.

The crossing light was red again so you waited.

Soon enough, he pops back up in your peripheral.

"Should I walk behind you this time?" He whispers.

You huff and shakes your head, looking away.

"Mmmmaybe...?" You smile.

The light turns green.

"Ladies first," he mumbles.

"Such a gentleman."

The two of you walk together, winding through the streets to get home. Toshinori just lived on the other side of the street and a few houses down.

"Welp, this is my stop. See ya later Neighbor," you smirk before heading to your door.

"U-uh!" He spurts out.

"Hm?" You look back at him, an eyebrow quirked.

"Would you like to maybe go out for coffee sometime?" He visibly turns red.

"Like a date?" You ask, turning pink on your own.

You've only ever been on a date or two in your entire life. They weren't even official dates either.

"Um, yeah? You don't have to if-," he starts putting out some excuse.

"Yagi!" You stop him, putting a hand on his, which was flailing around.

"I would love to," you smile.

He smiles and nods.

"Ah, yes, of course, um. Can i.. can I have your number?" He asks, turning his hand to hold yours.

"Yeah, here," you pull out your phone and exchange numbers.

"Does anytime Wednesday sound good?" You ask. "I have that whole day off."

"Ah yes that sounds wonderful! I'll text you what time," he nods.

"Ok, well I better get inside. Bye Yagi!" You wave over your shoulder.

"Goodbye Y/N!" Toshinori calls back, heading to own home.

You unlock the front door and set your things inside the kitchen. You turn back to shut the door and catch a last glimpse of the blonde head.

He opened his own front door and stepped inside.

You closed your own and put your forehead against it.

"I have a date. I'm going on a date. And he's honeslty... kinda cute," you blush and hug yourself.

[in-tua-deep]

hmm, got any nice hcs or ideas you haven't gotten to talk about in other asks?? I'm still reeling from the magic/ians shitstorm that happened this week, cute stuff would be welcome(if you want to of course)

i absolutely do!! i don’t follow that show so i’m not sure what happened but i can absolutely provide soft and random content!!

Diego is the person who, when he had food that is bite sized, will toss it up in the air and catch it in his mouth. He will do this for everything, and yes it IS to establish dominance

i have a lot of thoughts about the family converting that depressing ass courtyard into a big old garden with flowers everywhere and maybe a vegetable garden/herb garden that Grace could help tend to and the kids could all sit out there and relax

i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about Five and flowers and appreciating green and growing things because i’m treating the ash in the apocalypse as being like, post a bunch of massive volcanic eruptions that kill a whole lotta shit and fuck up crops and plants hardcore and idk if 40 years is enough to recover because sometimes it can take hundreds of years to recover from that

okay this is a sad one but I headcanon that the first time Klaus really thought about the future was in a cot surrounded by the noises of the jungle and men snoring as he and Dave whispered back and forth about things they wanted to do after the war, where Dave would smile and tell Klaus about this little diner that wasn’t too far from his house growing up that made the best pancakes in the states and that one day Dave was going to take Klaus there, or about the ice cream place downtown that was just to die for, or the roller rink where Dave had all his birthday parties growing up and and and - just all the places Dave wanted to share with Klaus, all the places he planned on taking him, on showing him - and that’s the first time Klaus started actually planning towards a future, his future, their future

(at some point, Klaus does end up going to Dave’s hometown. Diego offered to drive him, but it ended up somehow being a family road trip. The roller rink closed down. The ice cream place is also closed, in its place is some fast food place. But the diner is still there, somehow. They all go in and Klaus cries into his pancakes when they arrive because this was something Dave had wanted to show him, a moment Dave had wanted him to have, and it aches aches aches)

Klaus 100% finds some buddies from his squad who are still alive who are absolutely gobsmacked to see Klaus because they 100% just assumed he’d cracked when he told them he was from the future and all that but here Klaus is, plain as day, and they’re all fucking thrilled to see him and are good

one of them shows Klaus pictures from a protest where the whole squad had shown up in Dave and Klaus’s names to advocate for gay marriage being legalized

also when Klaus tells them about time travel bullshit and is all “blame my brother” he absolutely 100% introduces Five to his war buddies and I genuinely can’t decide if this was a brilliant or terrible idea because Five is an old man who would absolutely get these old war dogs black sense of humor but also they would look at this child who looks around their grandkids age or whatever and be like “hmm. we’re adopting klaus first of all, on principle. we’re also adopting you. actually just. the whole family. all of you. you’re all traumatized infants, and any family of klaus is family of ours”

the whole family gets an squad of old veterans who are taking them all under their wings whether they like it or not tbh and they’re all chronologically older than Five anyway so respect ur elders son

HMM another headcanon i haven’t talked enough about is my artist!Five headcanon where, because Five feels a need to keep his hands busy, he turns from writing equations to drawing. He also did it in the apocalypse though, usually with a stick and a patch of dirt or something. Just doodling, scratching lines into dust and improving

this is basically just me trying to get my idiot son to do art therapy and start drawing and be really good at in and also end up sketching his siblings a whole lot (not always his siblings as they are now, but as they are in his memories: thirteen and fresh faced and the last time he saw them alive because the only other memory of them he had to cling to was the memory of their dead bodies for forty five years)

i have a random headcanon that Vanya fosters kittens in her spare time for no reason other than the fact that i like it and i like kittens and also i have a scene in my head where she hands a teeny baby kitten to like, Luther or one of the others and they’re just transfixed by how illegally tiny these kittens are what the heck

Klaus is the sibling who, when washing his hair with shampoo, spikes it into a mohawk for no reason other than simple zest for life. He also sings in the shower, and i’m talking like operatic singing and he’s certainly going to try and hit all those high notes. He won’t manage it and WILL sound like he’s slowly being murdered, but he’s certainly going to try

the first time he does this in the house three of his siblings bust into the bathroom convinced the commission came back and klaus is startled and screams and when he finds out why they busted in is all offended like “clearly i am the only sibling with CULTURE so FUCK YOU ALL”

i have so many headcanons about Claire and Five tbh for no reason other than the fact that i think they would be a terrifyingly chaotic duo because Five is 100% willing to just go with whatever Claire has plans for and absolutely no frame of reference for what is an isn’t appropriate for a child to be doing so when Claire is like “hey how fast do you think i can slide down the banister” five is right there going “hmm idk but i’ll time you if you want”

five and claire, showing up at the picnic covered in mud and soaking wet, holding frogs: what’s up everyone we caught dinner

klaus buys the whole family matching heelies because i say so and because it seems like the kind of impulse purchase that Klaus would make tbh

i feel like klaus instigates a lot of childish activities that the whole family ends up participating in. Why yes, Luther, we have taken over the entirety of the living room to build this big ass box fort. Why no, Luther, you aren’t allowed inside it and if you come close we WILL pelt you with these scrunched up balls of paper we have decided to use as ammunition. I can assure you that Diego is just as accurate with paper balls as he is with knives, Luther

this has ended up being a lot of Klaus but look if you think Klaus doesn’t demand that Luther give him piggybacks and carry him places then you’re just wrong because he would also demand that of every single sibling and will throw himself at them regardless of whether they’re actually capable of holding him up or not (Vanya is,, deceptively strong surprisingly enough)

Five, like a cat, will splay out and lay in patches on sunlight in the house. Maybe he could have been left alone about this habit, but Klaus decided to start doing it as well in solidarity and now the others end up tripping over one of their brothers limbs entering a room and end up on the floor swearing up a storm

okay that’s all i got for now

come back later and u may receive more Random Headcanons a la moi

[greyroad]

Car Camping for the First Time

In February a friend and I went on a road trip which landed us in West Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina.

The first two nights on the road we car camped at Walmart and the rest of the trip we stayed with the people we were visiting.

Neither of us had car camped before so we didn't know what to expect. Staying at Walmart worked out just how I expected! We made sure to park in well lit areas near the semi trucks, but far enough away from the building that we weren't in the way of customers the following morning.

I can confirm that Grey Lady can easily sleep two people. To make things simple we kept the bed set up at all times, and just moved stuff between the front and back as needed. I had window coverings made out of reflectix and duct tape that worked out really well for the back windows. We used a black blanket to cover the items in the front seats, which also that blocked the front view.

Our first stop was Morgantown, WV because I'm a Fallout Nerd and I was way too excited to visit. I'm not sorry.

The Andy Griffith Show was one of my favorite shows on TV Land as a kid, and I always liked Don Knotts as an actor, so it was pretty cool to learn he was from Morgantown.

I didn't realize how much they love their cryptids. The town has begun a yearly event called Cryptid Bash and I'm hoping to attend in the near future.

They also have beautiful street art!

While in town we decided to visit Dent's Run Covered Bridge. We missed a turn and got slightly lost on winding dirt roads for a good hour, but we found it and it was awesome!

When we pulled over to check out the bridge I grabbed this beautiful shot of Grey Lady. She held up so well on those roads, especially for a newbie like me. Thankfully we got back to the main roads before darkness hit, or I don't know if we would have gotten out.

Next up we visited a friend in Chattanooga, TN. The morning after we got there she took us to a diner called Aretha Frankenstein.

We loved the décor and enjoyed the food. I grabbed chicken and biscuits which was delicious - at least to a Northerner like me. The friend we were visiting with got the pancakes and they were huge! She compared them to cutting the top off a cake before you frost it - it sounds accurate to me.

If you want a good view of the city check out Lookout Mountain. We went up both at night and during the day. There's "train" called the Incline Railway which take you up and down the Mountain. We didn't go on it, but to look at it reminded me of a roller coaster.

Our second day involved a trip to Nashville. Did you know they have a replica of the Parthenon ? I didn't before this trip.

As a person who loves world building, history and architect, being able to stand in a life like "ancient" temple was mind blowing. I've walked through replicated rooms at museums before, but nothing to this scale.

When we got to the main floor I went from feeling like I was in a dream to hyper focusing on all the details; comparing the size of the people against everything there and making mental notes so I get the scaling right in my stories.

After Nashville we headed into North Carolina and visited with family. If you're in or near Raleigh, NC I highly recommend the North Carolina Museum of Natural Science. Unfortunately I've reached my max on pictures for this post, but know that its an amazing museum and its free!

I also recommend checking out Apex Wings in Apex, NC if you enjoy laidback local food. They have what they call "egg rolls", but they're more like crispy wraps. Your choices are "reuben roll" which is a reuben in a crispy wrap, "italian roll" which is like a pizza in a crispy wrap, and "buffalo chicken roll" which is like a chicken finger wrap but crispy. We chose the assorted option so we could try all of them, and I look forward to doing it again!

Don't think this trip was without its bumps and bruises. It wasn't. We gained some stories and some lessons, but I'll save those for another post.

Reblog and let me know where you went on your first road trip!

[peachpitmp3]

YES. THAT. EXACTLY!!! Proper caps is just weirdd

stuffed animals !!!!!! yeah !!!! i'm kinda high energy rn and it's taking a lot of willpower to not respond to everything with "NDZCXLM HI ZMODFKJASKLDAFJSDF WAIT YEAH NO I !!!! WOO I AGREE" which would,, be Incoherent to say the least.

converses, because of the aesthetic,, shhhh leave it be. beanies or snapbacks!! those are very good options, both seem very hat-ty :D (help i know i'm going to look back on this and be like,, oh god what did i just DO but it's too late for that!) hotel with in a walking distance is very smart, very chill but also not a ten-hour road trip situation !!

i would love to go stargazing somewhere in the middle of nowhere. yknow those fics that have characters driving late at night after a nightmare, and then they get out of the car in a random spot off the road? i want that. i want to drive with a friend or someone, and when one of us are having a bad night, or when we're not!! just to drive out somewhere, lay down on a blanket, and just. e x i s t. idk if i'm scared scared of heights, i don't actively avoid high places, but i do get a little nervous in high places. OH have you ever heard of the call of the void? it's the impulse to jump/hurl yourself into a void, but it really doesn't have anything to do with suicidal thoughts. not that this has anything to do with anything but !! IDK

your questions: what is the strangest concept to you in our daily life? do you have a favorite flower? do you say "duct tape" or "duck tape"? - 🌵

aksjdfalsjdflkj thats such a vibe and trust me i am very good at reading incoherent things so!! ur welcome to be as incoherent as u want sdjfsljflsdfjsldfjk

no no no converses are SO valid. also very queer but that's not a bad thing !! ah yes. both hats are very hat-ty. thank you for your wisdom /j /lh.

omg. stargazing in the middle of nowhere YES. okay that description yes i love those fics and yes yes yes. and bestie if we were irls i would be SO down to do that with you <33 skdfjsldjfsldfj. wait there's a NAME for that??? oh my god. call of the void yes yes yes that's such a vibe. yes yes. always yes. yes yes. yes. yes. thank you.

hmmm. idk. uhhh. ok honestly? i guess the idea that you *have* to make your bed. like, i get that it's a good habit or whatever but ,,, as long as it's not like completely falling apart i feel like it's fine to leave it messy? like you're just gonna mess it up again later what's the point. idk. there's probably some psychology thing that's like 'you should make ur bed because ur brain likes doing productive things and its good to do that for a science reason' but i!! don't!! care!! hmm. favorite flower? honestly idk. uh. yeah i really don't think i have any cause i don't really know any specific ones, but if i see a pretty flower i will still be like !! :D pretty flower !! :D yknow? okay i say it "duck tape" but i spell it "duct tape" lmao.

pancakes or waffles for hand-holding? (if you don't know, pancakes is when you have hands flat together, and waffles is when you interlock fingers lol). if you woke up in the middle of the desert, what would be the first thing you'd do? do YOU have a favorite flower?

[kiki-ciara-blog]

CS Storybook - 5x23 The Way Back Home

This is my little contribution to the Once Upon a Captain Swan Storybook Vol2. A canon divergent story starting in New York after Regina has split from the Evil Queen.

Rating: M

AO3

Word Count: 6000ish words

Read the whole of the story and many others in the Once Upon a Captain Swan Storybook, Vol 2 which can be found here.  

I also created an illustration to go with the story.

“Well, much as I’d like to keep indulging in this touching family adventure, I'd actually like to get back to my daughter. Snow, I'm surprised that you aren't equally keen to get back to your son. You haven't forgotten the infants that we left in Granny’s arms just before we were pulled into a portal yesterday have you?” Zelena snarked from her spot on the couch in Neal's apartment. 

At the mention of baby Neal, Mary Margaret's face crumpled with sorrow. 

“Of course we haven't forgotten him,” David replied, a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder. “You're right Zelena, we should get going, but as we didn't all arrive by conventional methods, we should maybe work out how we are all getting back to Storybrooke. Any suggestions?”

“We have Gold’s Mercedes, that can take five of us,” Regina said, “and then there's that yellow monstrosity you insist on driving, Emma. We can all fit into those two. But I have already been in that death trap once this week so I will be taking the Benz.”

Emma glanced up at Killian and squeezed his hand before speaking. “Actually, I was thinking that Hook and I could take a little road trip on the way home. It’s been an eventful 48 hours, and I would really like us to have some time together before the next disaster strikes.”

She looked over at David and continued, “Dad if you want to drive the bug back, we can either get a hire car, or take a bus. We’ll figure it out.” 

Testing a theory Regina conjured a small flame in the palm of her hand. “Of course there's always this,” she said.

“Hang on a minute. Our magic works out here?” Zelena asked standing up, “In that case, I'm out of here. Do you two want a ride?” 

No sooner had Mary Margaret and David looked at each other and nodded, Zelena grabbed David by the arm and the three of them disappeared in a cloud of green smoke.

“Well, I guess that's settled then,” Killian said wryly. 

Having finally waved Regina, Dr Jekyll, Henry and Violet off on their journey home, and stopped by a store for essentials, Emma and Killian checked into a nearby hotel. 

Emma kicked off her boots and sank down onto the queen size bed with a sigh. Looking over at Killian as he shucked his leather jacket and unbuttoned his vest, she patted the mattress and encouraged him to join her. 

“Come sit with me,” she said, “we should talk.”

“Are you okay love?”

"Yes. No. Probably." 

Killian sat beside her, and took her hand in his. He gazed adoringly into her eyes, concern etched all over his face.

"Whatever it is love, you can tell me".

Emma returned his gaze, and caressed his cheek with her free hand. 

“Killian, only yesterday morning I was trying to come to terms with my grief. To deal with the fact that I'd found my true love and already lost you before I'd had a chance to tell you properly how I felt. How I feel. The emptiness that filled my heart, I didn't think it would ever fade.

“But then, you came back. And don't get me wrong, I'm…well...happy doesn't even come close to explaining how I feel.” Reliving her delight at seeing him in the graveyard, she leaned in and peppered his face with kisses, just as she had then. "I still can’t believe you came back to me, and we have another chance at happiness"

Gently cradling her head with his hook, Killian kissed Emma reverently on either side of her mouth. Resting his forehead against hers he assured her, "It will take a lot more than two deaths, the Darkness and Hades to keep me away from you, Swan," and tenderly kissed her again.

Emma returned the kiss briefly, not finished with what she needed to say. 

"But then, less than 24 hours after you get back, Henry runs away to destroy magic, and naturally I followed, he is my son. But it meant I was separated from you again. And all the time I thought you were safely back in Storybrooke with everyone else, I was fine. Well not fine exactly," she paused scanning his eyes for understanding.

"It was fine because you believed I was safe, I get it." Killian smiled at her tracing her jaw with his fingers.

"Except you weren’t safe," Emma replied, tears starting to pool in her eyes. She took a ragged breath trying to get her emotions under control enough to finish. "When I got that message from Granny to say that you had been pulled through a portal into yet another realm, I felt my whole world crumble beneath me. Except this time it wasn’t just you that I would lose but my parents too."

"Oh Emma," Killian whispered, as he brushed a tear from her cheek. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that, my love. I swear I have no intention of ever leaving your side again. I'm here with you for as long as you want me."

"Good." 

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and moved to sit astride Killian's lap as she kissed him passionately, her tears falling more freely now. He returned the kiss with equal fervour, his arms tight around her back, pulling her further onto his lap, chest to chest their skin separated only by the thin material of his shirt and Emma's black jumper. 

A low moan escaped Emma's throat as she felt him harden against her. Days of pain and longing since she left him in the Underworld turned to desperate desire. Without breaking the kiss she leant back enough to start pulling at the buttons of Killian's shirt, anxious to feel his skin. Sensing the urgency in her movements, Killian in turn started pulling Emma's jumper up above her stomach and over her breasts. 

She broke the kiss momentarily to switch and pull her own jumper off, whilst he in turn threw his shirt to the floor. They stood and quickly removed their remaining clothes before resuming the kiss and Emma pulled Killian back onto the bed beside her. Their kisses became a clash of teeth and tongues as Emma's tears continued to fall freely. Her fingers tentatively explored the network of newer scars upon his back as their bodies moved against each other in a tight embrace.

"Need you. Now," Emma urged between kisses, "can't wait any longer."

"Are you sure, love? I don't want to hurt you, if you're not ready for me."

"Please Killian, I need this."

He pulled back to look into her eyes, still shimmering with the last of her tears, and seeing the love and desperation and want reflected back at him, he positioned himself and closed the one remaining gap between their bodies. 

Afterwards, they lay together sweaty and sated, legs tangled and arms entwined. Emma tracing the curve of Killian's hook whilst he drew lazy patterns on her thigh with his fingertips. 

"I'm glad you're back," she whispered into his chest.

"Me too love, me too."

Emma woke early the next morning still wrapped in Killian's arms. She spent several minutes taking in the peaceful expression on his face, committing it to memory and giving silent thanks to Zeus for returning him to her.

"I can feel you watching me love," Killian murmured, opening his eyes a fraction and then squinting against the sunlight streaming in through the window. 

After saying a proper good morning that explored every inch of each other's flesh and then getting slightly distracted again in the shower, Emma and Killian finally made it out of their room for breakfast. 

“Ok Swan, what's the plan for today then?” Killian asked as he piled his fork high with pancake and scrambled eggs. 

“Well, I thought we could take a slow drive towards Providence as there’s something nearby that I think you might appreciate. We can grab lunch on the way, spend the afternoon there, and then head on to Boston to stay overnight. Do you think you could find us somewhere to stay on your phone, if I scope out our daytime activities for the next couple of days?”

"Well I'm still not particularly sure how to use all aspects of this device, but I'm sure if you show me the basics love, I'll figure it out."

Emma spent a few minutes taking Killian step by step through installing the Hotwire app onto his phone and then showing him how to search for and book a hotel. Once he was set she searched through reviews on Trip Advisor whilst sipping her coffee, and within the hour they were all booked up, checked out of their room and on the road with their route plotted. 

Aside from the anticipated congestion in and around New York, the traffic was fairly steady once they got out of the sprawling metropolis and onto Route 15. They made easy conversation, chatting about anything and nothing; reminiscing about their previous journey from New York to Maine; complaining about their fellow road users inability to signal before changing lanes and laughing over the humorous bumper stickers they spotted. At other times they sat in companionable silence, Killian's hook resting on Emma's thigh, tracing lazy patterns across her jeans as she drove. 

"I remember last time being terrified that Henry would think I was crazy if we told him that magic and different realms and fairytale characters were real," Emma said, glancing over at Killian briefly. "I never once imagined I'd be making a similar trip home after he had gone on a gungho mission to rid the world of magic and then have him open up a portal in a fountain with the help of hundreds of bemused bystanders."

Killian chuckled in the seat beside her. "Aye love, but maybe the truest believer needed to find his belief again, he's been through a lot, and has been given huge responsibility for someone so young."

Emma sighed. "That's true, and I've been so caught up in my own grief that I didn't see how much everything has affected him. I doubt many teenagers can include a trip to the Underworld in their ‘What I did on Vacation’ report for school.”

"Look at it this way Swan, in addition to giving the lad more family than he ever expected, you're giving him a broad range of character building adventures." Killian gave Emma his brightest grin and raised an eyebrow at her as she momentarily took her eyes off the road again to look at him in disbelief.

"The lad is a credit to you love, and whilst his latest actions were misguided, and admittedly could have been disastrous for your parents and myself, his intentions were pure and that's what matters."  

Emma's brow remained furrowed at the thought of how Henry’s actions could have turned out, and so Killian gently rubbed the curve of his hook along her thigh in an attempt to ease her worries. 

After a couple of hours driving, they had passed New Haven and took a turn off the interstate through the leafy town of Guilford, which Killian remarked looked quite similar to Storybrooke at first glance. Emma navigated through the streets and eventually pulled up behind a seafood shack overlooking the marina. 

"I've heard they do amazing clams and lobster rolls," she said, opening her door and climbing out of the bug. Killian followed suit, taking stock of the various fishing boats and pleasure crafts moored in the harbour as they walked around the side of the building to the entrance. 

Inside they were welcomed and shown to a table outside overlooking the water. A sense of calm washed over Killian as he stretched back in his seat and took in the view of the ocean reaching all the way to the horizon. 

"Even if the food is abysmal here, I think you made an excellent choice in eating establishment Swan."

Emma reached across the table and took his hand, rubbing her thumb along his knuckle. "I thought you might appreciate being close to the water again. That's kind of the theme for today."

His eyes softened as he gripped her fingers in return. "I do appreciate it Swan, very much. Whilst I was able to wander along the docks during my time in the Underworld, the stench of death that rose from the water and the sight of so many lost souls beneath the surface made me reluctant to venture there often."

After the waitress took their order, they sat back and watched a small red and white lobster boat putter into the harbour, a flock of gulls circling above, hopeful for an opportunistic feast. Lunch arrived shortly after, the groan Killian made as he bit into his hot lobster roll verged on obscene and Emma had to stifle a giggle. That was until he offered her a bite to try. When the sherry butter flooded her mouth, her own moan of delight was so loud it drew attention from a family seated at a table nearby. 

"Oh my God, that's amazing," she mumbled, still chewing. 

"Indeed it is love, as are you. Especially when you make exquisite noises like that," Killian replied, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Emma grinned and returned to her own lunch, deliberately choosing not to encourage him further just yet. Whilst the prospect of teasing Killian with suggestive looks and sounds all day was appealing, they had many hours left in the day before they would reach Boston, and she wanted him to able to focus on their tourist adventures first. 

After their meal Emma cruised the bug along the I95 towards Providence and eventually Fall River.  As they drove Killian tried to find a radio station that they could both enjoy. Although he had grown accustomed to much of the music in this realm, there were still many aspects that he found discordant and unpleasant. 

"Bloody hell! How can people subject themselves to this noise voluntarily?" he grumped having twiddled with the dial until it picked up a station playing rap music. "And I know that I quite literally swear like a sailor, but I hardly think that type of language is appropriate, what if we had children in the car with us?"

“Although I'd like to think that Henry is still quite innocent I'm sure he's probably heard worse in the playground at school,” Emma laughed. “Still, point taken, try again. Maybe the next station will be more to your taste. If not I've probably got a couple of cassettes in the glove compartment."

Killian turned the dial some more, found another station, listened for a couple of seconds, frowned and moved on. He repeated this same process three more times disapproving of each tune that blasted out of the tinny speakers in the bug.

"No! Wait, go back, I love that one!" Emma interrupted, as he skipped yet another station. 

"As you wish love." 

He turned the dial back to the last station as the final verse of Whitesnake’s ‘Here I Go Again’ played out and sat with his arms crossed, as yet unconvinced at Emma's choice of station. As the song came to an end and merged into Peter Cetera’s ‘Glory of Love’, he glanced across to see if Emma still approved of the station.

"You can't beat 80s power ballads, trust me," she said, "especially on a road trip."

"Hmm, perhaps."

Sure enough, Killian relaxed as the verse moved into the chorus and by the second refrain he was humming along.

"Well?" Emma asked, as the song came to an end.

"Admittedly that was rather enjoyable, some of the lyrics were quite apt, especially the part about how his love keeps him standing tall. Good form, a song about fighting for honour and love."

"Told you so." Emma grinned smugly and by the time they had reached the outskirts of Fall River, both of them were singing along at the top of their voices, whether they knew the words or not. 

Emma pulled the bug to a stop in a parking lot under the Memorial Bridge across from the docks. 

"You have me intrigued love," Killian said, climbing out of the car. 

"You’ll see," she replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him across the tarmac towards the entrance. "I thought you might be interested in discovering what naval history was like in this world, and so I've brought you here to Battleship Cove. We can have a tour of a couple of battleships and they have a pretty cool museum with maritime history through the ages."

Killian's eyes lit up as they lingered on the fleet of massive steel vessels docked on the river. "Belle directed me to some books that explored these feats of engineering a while back, but to see them with my own eyes, is certainly a treat."

They spent nearly four hours wandering through the USS Massachusetts and the exhibits in the maritime museum, and could have spent even longer exploring other ships if they hadn’t needed to get to Boston. As they went, Killian pointed out similarities between these ships and his beloved Jolly, and had many questions for the veterans posted around the attraction, listening enraptured to anecdotes of naval battles in their youth. 

"I have seen a fair few adventures with my own vessel" he began whilst conversing with an elderly veteran who had served in Korea. 

Sensing how rapidly the conversation could spiral out of control, Emma leaned in and whispered in his ear, "He won’t understand that you're a 300 year old pirate, keep it believable." 

Killian nodded his understanding almost imperceptibly. "I spent my formative years in the Royal Navy before being discharged due to my injury." He waved his gloved prosthetic in illustration. While on deployment in the Indian Ocean we encountered Somalian pirates, although I must admit the modern incarnations were nothing like the ones you see in the movies."

Emma looked at him in amazement, and when the conversation came to an end and they moved on with their tour she admitted, "I didn't know you had so much knowledge about pirates in the 21st Century, Killian. I'm impressed."

He puffed out his chest in pride and his stride took on a distinct swagger. "Well love, the lady Belle keeps me supplied in books, and I had quite a number of lonely nights to read them after the Dark One was banished from our little town and we had no villain to defeat. I learned a lot about a great many subjects including the history of piracy in this realm."

They continued their tour hand in hand until it became clear that the museum was closing and they made their way to the exit. 

"How long from here to Boston, love?"

"Um an hour I guess? Probably a bit more given the time of day."

Back in the car again, Killian gave Emma the details of the hotel he had booked for them and they set off. It was located in the Waterfront area and as they drove through the city from the outskirts Emma pointed out her old haunts, and also some of the places she’d had misadventures whilst chasing skips. They made a quick stop in Downtown Crossing to purchase some fresh clothes for the next day, and Emma added a blue chiffon Bardot dress and a pair of silver heels to her purchases whilst Killian was browsing the menswear department. 

The hotel Killian had chosen was unexpectedly lavish. The huge lobby was the epitome of chic with with polished cherry and chrome, and the room he had booked took Emma's breath away. He had splurged on an executive suite with separate sitting room and a bathroom boasting a spa bath and monsoon shower. It also had a magnificent harbour view, naturally. When she asked how he could possibly afford it, he just smirked and replied, “Pirate, love, remember?”

Back on her home turf, Emma knew just the restaurant for them to dine in and booked a table while Killian freshened up, she then took a few minutes to get changed herself.

They enjoyed a relaxed meal with a couple of glasses of wine in a little Italian a few blocks from their hotel. As they both tucked into a shared dessert of an indulgent ice cream sundae topped with brownie chunks, whipped cream and a decadent fudge sauce, Emma drew Killian's attention to the building on the street corner opposite.

"That's where I used to live," she pointed to a window several floors up, "Apartment 205. Until Henry knocked on my door, and changed my life forever." 

"I'm eternally grateful that he did love. Had he not, the curse would never have been broken, your family would not have been reunited, and I would still be frozen in time on an island with Cora." 

“Is that the only reason you're thankful that I broke the curse?” she asked playfully, looking up at him through her eyelashes as she licked ice cream off the end of the spoon seductively, making Killian's jeans feel instantly tighter.   

“Minx,” he replied, holding her gaze, his eyes two shades darker than they had been a moment before, “I'll gladly tell you all the reasons I am grateful, or if you’d rather,” he paused reaching his hand under the table to trace patterns along her thigh, his eyes never leaving hers, “I can always show you. What do you say, Swan?”

Emma gulped and caught a passing waiter’s attention. “Check please!” 

Killian pulled Emma up from the armchair in their suite, where she had perched to remove her shoes, and into his embrace. 

Killian placed a featherlight kiss on her earlobe. “Let me,” he murmured ghosting his lips along her jawline as he kissed her again.  “Show you,” a flick of his tongue as he trailed his mouth down the curve of her neck.   “Just,” another caress of his lips on her throat.  “How thankful,” Emma gasped as his scruff grazed her collarbone with another delicately placed kiss. “I am,” he continued with a touch of his lips to one exposed shoulder.  “That you,” breathed in a whisper as he slowly moved behind her, lifting her hair up gently and nuzzling into the back of her neck, whilst he unzipped her dress. “Broke,” a lingering kiss on the other shoulder as her dress pooled on the floor at her ankles, leaving her naked but for her lacy cream thong.  Returning to cradle her face with his palm and his hook, Killian brought his nose to hers and stared into her eyes for what felt like an eternity. “The curse,” he finished pressing his lips to hers tenderly.  

Emma wrapped her arms around him and sighed into the kiss, opening her mouth to welcome him as his tongue traced the contours of her lips. 

Using every ounce of restraint Killian had, he broke the kiss before it could become too heated, and led Emma over towards the bed. Kneeling before her he placed a delicate kiss to each of her hip bones then gently pulled her underwear down her legs, following their journey with his lips. Rising to his feet he kissed her briefly once more and encouraged her to lie back in the centre of the bed. As Emma made herself comfortable he quickly shed his own clothing and brace, removing the hook and bringing it with him as he lay down beside her, propped up on one elbow.

Emma could feel could feel the heat starting to build between her thighs as Killian's gaze travelled over her body, seemingly committing every inch of her skin to memory once again. 

“You are simply divine, love.”

Placing the tip of his hook at the base of her throat he trailed it very lightly down her chest, pausing momentarily before skimming up over one breast to trace the shape of her pebbled nipple and then repeating the action on the other side. Emma moaned at the sensation and licked her lips, trying to stay as still as possible under the sharp tip of the cold steel. He dragged the hook down lower until it rested in her belly button briefly before turning it over to run the curve along the glistening skin of her sex, wet with arousal. The contact with that most delicate area made Emma gasp as her hips flexed up towards the hook involuntarily. 

Killian shook his head and tutted, gently pushing her hips back down. “All in good time,” he said, “I promise it will be worth the wait.”  Emma rolled her eyes in frustration, but didn't protest knowing he would deliver on that promise. 

Setting the hook aside and moving to straddle her, he returned his attention to her breasts, rolling the left nipple between his thumb and forefinger whilst gently suckling on the right. Alternating the pressure and the tempo between featherlight touches and small twists and nibbles he could sense Emma's increasing arousal as her breathing turned to gasps, and the fingers laced through his hair pulled his mouth in closer. In a practiced move that he knew she loved, he simultaneously twisted one nipple vigorously whilst biting down hard on the other.

“Fuck! Killiaaan,” Emma moaned as her hips bucked and sought friction that wasn’t to be found. As he maintained the pressure on her nipples, she felt her arousal flood her core as the first flutters of an orgasm took hold. 

Killian beamed from ear to ear to see Emma fall apart for him so quickly. He delighted in giving her pleasure and knew how sensitive her nipples could be. He hoped to coax her to at least two more orgasms before seeking his own relief, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach at the vision of his Emma writhing between his thighs. 

He moved further down the bed, trailing kisses down her stomach, until he reached the apex of her thighs. Emma eagerly spread her legs for him, as he pulled one over his shoulder, resting his blunted wrist on her flat stomach. Using his fingers to carefully separate her folds he traced his tongue around her labia, lapping at her abundant juices and moaning as her exquisite tang hit his tastebuds. 

Hearing Killian’s moans between her thighs made Emma even wetter. She angled her hips to give him better access, whispering rambled words of encouragement. He switched his attention to her swollen clit, flicking his tongue against it and she moaned in relief at him finally providing the friction that she had been so desperate to receive. For what seemed like an eternity, Killian attentively kissed, licked and suckled her to ecstasy, alternating his movements building her towards another peak but then directing his attention to another highly sensitive area never quite bringing her over the edge. 

Finally, when Emma thought she could take no more, he looked up at her through his eyelashes, and although she couldn’t see his mouth, she could tell he was grinning wolfishly. 

“Come for me, Emma,” he growled before returning to his ministrations. As he sucked on her clit she felt the heat building in the soles of her feet and her orgasm finally took hold, her hips jerking as her walls flexed and clenched, wave upon wave of bliss washing over her.  

Killian wiped his mouth along the back of his arm and moved back up the bed to lie alongside Emma and drew her into a deep and passionate kiss. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, as they broke apart. “That was amazing.”

“I'm not done yet,” he replied, “think you can handle more, when you’ve got your breath back?”

“Well if you insist on showing your gratitude some more, then who am I to refuse?” she giggled pulling him back in for another kiss. The kiss was long and slow, their tongues tangling with each other, Killian's hand caressing Emma's side in languid patterns as she ran her fingers through his chest hair and across his back. She closed the distance between their bodies, wrapping her leg over Killian's hip and then rolled him above her so that he lay between her thighs. Killian positioned himself at her entrance and pushed into her slowly, both of them groaning into the kiss at the sensation.  He tilted his hips and pushed as Emma stretched deliciously around his length until he was fully seated. He stilled waiting for her to clench around him, encouraging him to move, as he knew she would.

Just as slowly Killian pulled back, all the way out, Emma whimpering at the loss of him and wrapping her legs tighter around his waist to pull him back in again. Surrendering to her desires he snapped his hips and plunged back in hard and fast. 

“God! Yes Killian! Just like that,” Emma cried, her nails digging into his back.

Having found the perfect angle Killian started thrusting, building into a frantic rhythm that soon had Emma crying out and had him gritting his teeth to hold on long enough to bring her to completion one last time. 

Emma moved her hands from Killian's back and grabbed her breasts, tweaking her nipples in time with his thrusts. The familiar sensation started building and with one last twist and tug her orgasm started coursing through her. Her muscles began to clench around his shaft, and that was enough to break Killian's remaining sliver of control. His hips sputtered, once then twice and Emma felt his seed release deep within her. He slowed until he lay still above her, panting into the crook of her neck before rolling to the side and collapsing into her open arms. 

“That was…” he panted running his hand over his face.

“Long overdue,” she replied blissfully.

They lay together entangled and catching their breath for a long while before Emma dragged herself into the bathroom to clean up, and returned with a glass of water for them both.

Climbing back into bed, Killian pulled her into his embrace and they whispered sweet nothings to each other until sleep took them. 

They had brunch delivered to their room, neither in any hurry to leave the comfort of their sumptuous bed, unless it was to take advantage of the spa bath in their suite. Eventually, having enjoyed each other on every available surface, Emma and Killian checked out and set off to their next destination. She initially planned to spend the morning in Salem giving Killian an insight into how witchcraft had been viewed in years gone by. Their lazy morning put paid to that idea, and instead they headed north towards Portland. 

As Emma drove, Killian took charge of the radio again, fiddling with the dial until he found something satisfactory.  

When ‘Somebody to Love’ by Queen came on, Emma reached over and turned up the volume. As he listened a strange sensation came over him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He didn't believe he had heard this song before, yet something about it resonated within him. Perhaps Emma would be able to explain it. He settled back and let the music with Emma's enthusiastic supporting vocals and steering wheel drumming wash over him. 

“In case you couldn’t tell, I love that song,” Emma enthused afterwards.

“Aye, that was apparent. So tell me, why do you love it so much?”

“It's hard to put my finger on. Some songs, the words just get to me, you know? But this one, it's more about the tune. I've always loved it, even when I little kid. I always get a sense of deja-vu when I hear it, and it always makes me feel safe. I dunno, I just really like it.”

“It's funny you should mention deja-vu, Emma. For I also had the strangest sensation when it played. I'm certain I haven’t heard it before, and yet as you say there's something about it. It stirred a memory in me that is just out of reach, and I felt an urge to stand on a table and pump my fist in the air.”

“Well, an involuntary fist pump is a sign of a good rock song Killian,” Emma laughed. “I'll have to take you and Henry to a gig sometime.”

“A gig?” Killian's brow furrowed in confusion.

“A concert, Killian. Where the band performs their songs live,” Emma replied gently, reaching across to squeeze his knee. Whilst his knowledge of American terminology improved daily, his occasional confusion over unknown phrases was still endearing. 

Arriving in Old Orchard Beach, Emma drove straight to the beachfront motel she had booked. It was simple accommodation, but it was clean and functional and unexpectedly had sliding glass doors opening out onto the pool terrace and the footpath leading to the beach.

“As this is our last afternoon, let’s have some seaside fun Killian,” Emma suggested, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the glass doors. 

Killian grinned and followed willingly down to the beach. Miles of sand stretched out in both directions. They strolled along the shoreline hand in hand, towards the distant pier and fairground and soon they encountered signs for Pirates Cove Adventure Golf. 

“Can we?” Emma bubbled, practically bouncing with excitement. It had been years since she last played crazy golf.  

“I have no idea what Adventure Golf is, but how can I resist somewhere with pirates in the name? It would be terribly bad form,” Killian replied, with a flourish and an exaggerated bow. “Lead on Swan”

Although he had agreed to the activity willingly, never imagined that it would involve chasing a little ball around a ridiculous obstacle course with a metal stick. Once he had found a way to support the club with his hook, he found himself to be quite skilful and to Emma’s chagrin was beating her fair and square. 

Emma was thrilled to be spending time being silly with her Captain, and his frequent grousing at the inaccuracies of the model pirates around the course had her in fits of giggles. 

“They’ve given me a hook, a peg-leg and a parrot on the shoulder! That's overkill on the pirate clichés isn't it?”

“It's a pirate themed fun park Hook, cliché is pretty much guaranteed!” 

Eventually Emma and Killian finished the 18-hole course, not sure who had won after losing count halfway round. They returned their clubs to the booth and walked back out onto the beach heading towards the pier and the fairground.  

They bought corn dogs and beers from a booth on the pier and found a bench to sit and eat watching the waves. Then they pottered around the fairground and amusement arcades until dusk. Killian tried to win Emma a stuffed toy at various stalls without success. She managed to win a tiger for him in a shooting gallery, and not to be outdone when they came across a coconut shy he was finally victorious, presenting her with a giant bear that would take up most of the bug’s back seat in the morning. 

They shared candy floss, and rode the carousel and the big wheel. As it stopped at the top to let on new fairgoers, Emma squeezed Killian’s hand and cupped his cheek. 

“Killian, there’s something I need to tell you, that I haven’t said before now,” Emma began.

“What’s that, Swan?”

“I...love you Killian.”

In reply Killian leaned in for a passionate kiss, as the ride began to move again. 

As night fell they walked back, hook in hand along the beach, the moon high in the sky above them. Hearts bursting with love for one another. And whilst the painful recollections of their separation in the Underworld remained, for the time being they were buried beneath joyful memories of quiet moments, of passion and of laughter.   

@csstorybook @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose

[sally-annesstories]

Day 68 - Antigua to Guatemala City, Guatemala to San Jose, Costa Rica

My final day in Guatemala!

1. Woke up early and wandered to El arco de Santa Catalina which is just a 10 minute walk away. While I'd been via the day before the whole street was completely chockablock with people and just a bit of a menace to get down. I wanted to see it in piece. On arrival there was just one other group there and it was probably one of the prettiest streets in Antigua (and that's saying something). Itnhad all the beautiful colors and given cars aren't always allowed on the road the visual wasn't distorted with these. I was also really lucky as a bluebird day and the volcano view was perfect.

2. Back at the hostel I ordered pancakes for breakfast and did the final sort through my bags. I'm flying to Costa Rica so unlike normal when I just pack I needed to do a few reshuffles of liquids etc. Bit of a menace but has to happen!

3. While I haven't visited every church in Antigua (theres over 30) nor visited a coffee farm, I'm pretty happy with how I've spent my time here / what I've seen and done. I don't have really anything I need to achieve with my last day which is nice. I hadn't been to the main markets (they're only open certain days - Monday being one of them) so I wandered across town to these. The market was nice and so had a stroll down. Lots of 'what are you looking for questions' followed me throughout. I then went into the supermarket to pick up random things for the road / try spend the remainder of my quetzals, this included a pack of cards as I figure they'll be good on the boat trip in a few weeks.

4. After making my way to the hostel Abi and I went and got a drink in the main square. Cafe condesa which I'd been to earlier in my trip is really good and I loved their strawberry smoothie (con agua) the first time I was there so I opted for this again. It is ginormous and so refreshing in the brimming hot sun. Antigua really turned it on for the last day. Then it was back at the hostel for an hour lying on a sun bed before the shuttle came to pick us up. It was nice getting some rays as with school and hiking I feel I've been losing my tan.

5. So my flight was at 10pm but the shuttle options were only 3pm or 6.30pm. While standardly it would be a one hour journey, driving in Guatemala can be significantly slower due to traffic as well as road closures from strikes so because of this it was necessary to catch the 3pm shuttle. Luckily for me there was none of this, though it did mean I was at the airport 6 hours early ( I dont think even my mother has been that early for a flight before!). The ride to the airport was largely uneventful till 2 minutes before he dropped me off and someone's suitcase fell off the top of the car! They don't tie them down when they put them on the roof. At the airport I was way too early for anything and there was no wifi (and my cellphone plan ran out 30 minutes before the shuttle). I settled in and started condensing my Spanish work. With school I'd picked up lots of paper from homework and activities. These are helpful for learning but not for compact travelling so I started copying information into my notebook. An absolutely riviting way to pass time!