#in space silver ranger

[visforvictini13]

Name: Zhane / Silver Space Ranger

Trainer Card Number: 685

Gender: Male

Series of Origin: Power Rangers In Space

Type Specialty: Electric / Psychic

Alakazam: His telekinetic abilities

Vikavolt & Gogoat: His Silver Cycle which also turns into his Silver Cyber Glider

Galvantula: Mega Winger

Beheeyem: He is in fact, an alien

Arctozolt: He was frozen in a cryogenic chamber for the first part of the show

[nickpeppermint]

Since 2️⃣0️⃣2️⃣5️⃣ is the year of a snake and anniversary of Super Sentai, here's Goseiger and Kyuranger snakes 🐍

Landick Tribe - Gosei Black 🪽

Silent Star - Ophiuchus Silver ⛎

[rinachiba]

[aurora-boreas-borealis]

Honestly missed opportunity will always be ranger!kaylee

[79zz]

Let's Rocket!

[professorambrius]

Former Silver Power Ranger Justin Nimmo Reveals Cancer Battle

Wishing him the best and speediest of recovery....

[h0neybane]

I'M A PUPPET ON A STRING

[love-birds-stuff]

actually, i went off the shits and made a semi-cohesive timeline based off my pinterest board (linked bc the image quality for this thing is absolutely ABYSMAL)

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

I Bet You Think About Me

Braden Schneider x Reader x Matt Rempe

WC: 4.7K

Summary: Braden made a decision and he’s dealing with the consequences

A/N: This is gonna have multiple parts and ANGST

Braden Schneider sat at the edge of his bed, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the cluttered room in front of him. The sheets were tangled, a reminder of last night’s brief distraction. Another girl whose name he couldn’t remember, whose face would blur into a long list of hazy encounters. His friends had been insistent — every night they would tell him, “She’s way better than Y/N,” but none of it stuck. No one was better than Y/N, and he hated himself for even thinking that way.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to shake the image of her from his mind. But it was impossible. Two years — two years of her laughter, her smiles, her soft hands wrapping around his when they walked the streets of New York City. They’d built something together, and he’d torn it all apart. She deserved better. She’d always deserved better. And yet, here he was, suffocating under the weight of a choice he wasn’t sure he should have made.

Y/N was always still going to be around, he knew this. Working as the Rangers’ media manager, she was impossible to avoid, and seeing her every day was a constant reminder of what he had lost. At first, he had thought it would be easy to move on. He’d been convinced they were too different. She was a small-town girl, used to the simplicity of life on a farm. It was all living room dancing and kitchen table bills. He, on the other hand, had grown up in a gated community, a life of silver spoons and privilege. It had seemed inevitable that their worlds would eventually clash. But they say you can’t help who you fall for. He’d thought ending it was the right thing. Better to walk away before things got harder, before the differences became insurmountable.

But it wasn’t just their lives that had been different. He had started laughing at her dreams, rolling his eyes at the little things that used to make him smile. He hated himself for that too. He had been cruel in ways he couldn’t take back, and when he ended it, he thought he was freeing them both. She had given him space, both at work and outside of it. She had respected his decision, even though he could see how much it hurt her.

And now… now there was Matt Rempe.

Braden had noticed it slowly at first — the way Matt lingered near Y/N in the locker room, the way he always seemed to be cracking jokes that made her smile, the way they stood just a little too close during post-game interviews. Braden tried to convince himself it didn’t matter. He was the one who had walked away, after all. He had no right to care anymore. But it did matter. It mattered a lot more than he wanted to admit.

At practice, Matt had started to get under his skin. It wasn’t anything intentional, not at first, but seeing him with Y/N every day, watching their easy camaraderie, drove Braden into a frenzy he couldn’t control. He’d begun to get aggressive during drills, checking Matt harder than necessary, throwing his weight around like it was a fight for dominance. The guys had noticed. They made jokes about how Braden needed to relax, how he was getting too wound up over something so simple.

But it wasn’t simple. Not to him.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had ended it with Y/N, and now here he was, losing his mind over the fact that someone else was getting close to her. He couldn’t stand the thought of Matt touching her, of hearing her laugh the way she used to laugh with him. He had to pretend like it didn’t bother him, but it was eating him alive from the inside.

Why had he let her go? That thought haunted him the most. The love he was looking for, the thing he was chasing in every meaningless encounter with another girl — it had been right in front of him the whole time. It had been Y/N.

He pulled himself up from the bed, pacing the length of his room as he tried to sort through the mess in his mind. His friends, his teammates, they had all told him that this was for the best. That Y/N wasn’t the right fit for his life, that there were plenty of other girls who could give him what he needed. But none of them knew her like he did. None of them understood the way she could light up a room, how her kindness softened the edges of his life, how her presence made him feel grounded in a way that no one else had.

The truth was, Y/N had been harder to forget than she was to leave. He had thought it would be easy, thought he could just walk away and never look back. But every day, every moment he saw her with Matt, he felt the cracks in his resolve deepening. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to be happy — he just didn’t want her to be happy with someone else.

And yet, who was he to interfere now? He had made his bed, and he was lying in it, tangled in regret and frustration. All the other girls had been distractions, temporary fixes to a problem that went deeper than he wanted to admit. He missed Y/N in a way that gnawed at him constantly, and no amount of casual hookups or parties could fill the void she had left behind.

Practice had been a disaster.

Braden stormed into the locker room, his chest heaving with frustration. The drills had been intense, but not nearly as intense as the fire burning inside him every time he caught sight of Matt. They had been going at it the entire session, tension crackling between them as they clashed during every scrimmage. It wasn’t just competitive anymore. It was personal.

Matt was sprawled on the bench, his long frame relaxed as he tossed his gear into his bag. Braden shot him a glare, but Matt didn’t seem to notice — or if he did, he was ignoring it.

“Dude, what’s your problem today?” Matt finally asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been playing like you want to kill me.”

Braden gritted his teeth. He wanted to say it was nothing, that he was just pushing himself harder, but the words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t stand how casual Matt was, how unaffected he seemed by everything.

“Just trying to win,” Braden muttered, shoving his helmet into his locker with more force than necessary.

Matt laughed, and the sound grated on Braden’s nerves. “You could try doing that without trying to kill me every time we’re on the ice together. ”

The casualness of Matt’s tone only made Braden angrier. He felt the tension build in his chest, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to control the urge to lash out. But it wasn’t just about hockey. It was about Y/N. It was about the way Matt always seemed to be in her orbit, like he had some right to be there.

“I don’t need to kill you,” Braden said, his voice low and dangerous. “But you might want to watch yourself.”

Matt’s expression changed, his easygoing demeanor fading as he stood up and faced Braden directly. The locker room was quiet, the other guys watching the tension unfold between them.

“What’s your deal, Schneider?” Matt asked, his tone more serious now. “You’ve been acting like a total prick lately.”

Braden knew he was walking a fine line, but he couldn’t stop himself. He stepped closer, his jaw tight as he glared at Matt.

“You know exactly what my deal is,” Braden said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stay the hell away from her.”

Matt blinked, clearly taken aback by the venom in Braden’s words. He frowned, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you serious right now? You’re the one who ended things with Y/N. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Braden’s hands balled into fists, and for a moment, he seriously considered swinging at Matt. But the rational part of his brain told him that would only make things worse — for him, for Y/N, for everything.

“She’s not a game, Rempe,” Braden said through gritted teeth. “Just… back off.”

Before Matt could respond, Braden turned on his heel and walked out of the locker room, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t deal with this anymore. The frustration, the jealousy, the aching feeling that he had made the biggest mistake of his life — it was all too much. He needed to get away from it, from Matt, from the team, from Y/N.

But no matter how far he tried to run, the truth followed him. The love he had been looking for, the feeling he was desperately chasing in all the wrong places, had been right there all along. And he had let it slip through his fingers.

That night, Braden found himself back in the same situation — in bed with another girl, her presence a temporary escape from the mess inside his head. But even as she lay beside him, her soft breathing filling the room, all he could think about was Y/N. It was always Y/N.

The more he tried to forget her, the more she consumed him. Every smile she gave Matt, every laugh that wasn’t directed at him, twisted the knife a little deeper. Braden had never been the jealous type before, but watching someone else take his place in Y/N’s life was unbearable.

He rolled over, staring at the ceiling as the weight of his choices pressed down on him. His friends had been wrong. This wasn’t for the best. Nothing about this felt right. He had walked away from the one person who had ever made him feel like he belonged, and now he was paying the price

The air in the apartment felt heavy, oppressive. The girl next to Braden stirred, shifting closer, but he felt nothing. He was drowning in emptiness. No matter how many people he let into his bed, the void Y/N had left behind swallowed them whole. He wanted to shake the girl awake and tell her to leave, to get out before he dragged her down with him. But instead, he just lay there, motionless, consumed by the weight of his regret.

Braden grabbed his phone from the nightstand, scrolling through old photos of Y/N. He had never deleted them, couldn’t bring himself to. There they were, smiling together on her family farm in the middle of nowhere, the sun setting behind them. He had always hated how different their worlds were, how the simplicity of her life felt like a threat to the carefully curated reality he had built. He didn’t understand back then that it was that simplicity that had been his sanctuary. When all the stress washed away cause he was with her.

They’d danced in her parents’ living room one night after dinner, the dim light casting soft shadows as they swayed to a country song he didn’t even know. Y/N had laughed when he stumbled over the steps, but he could still hear the way she whispered, “You’ll get it,” and the way her fingers had laced through his so effortlessly, like they were made to fit together.

Braden could almost hear her voice, feel the warmth of her hand on his cheek. But now, it was only a memory, fading and blurring like everything else.

With a growl of frustration, he tossed his phone across the room, the sound of it hitting the wall sharp in the quiet. The girl beside him stirred again, this time waking up.

“Braden?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t. Not even close. He could feel her watching him, could sense the confusion in her gaze, but he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t even know her name. She had been just another attempt to forget Y/N, another failed distraction.

“I should go,” she said softly, already sensing the distance between them.

“Yeah… I think that’s for the best.”

The girl got up, collecting her things in the dim light. As she left, the door clicking shut behind her, Braden felt the suffocating loneliness settle back into place. He stared at the ceiling, knowing that it didn’t matter how many girls came and went. None of them would ever be Y/N. He had known that the moment he let her go.

But knowing it now didn’t fix anything. It didn’t make up for the way he had pulled away from her, the way he had dismissed her dreams and her jokes as if they didn’t matter. It didn’t undo the nights when he had rolled his eyes at her, or the cold silence that had grown between them in the last few months. He had convinced himself they were too different, that their worlds couldn’t coexist. He’d told himself that walking away was the right thing to do, that they both deserved better.

But the truth was, he had been looking for a reason to leave. He had been scared. Scared of how much he needed her, how much he had started to rely on the way she made him feel. Y/N had been real in a way that nothing else in his life had ever been. She wasn’t like the girls who chased after him because of his name or his money. She saw through all of that and loved him anyway. And he had thrown it all away.

Now, every time he saw her with Matt, every time he saw the way she laughed and smiled at him, it felt like a punch to the gut. He had no right to be jealous, no right to be angry — but he was. He had thought that once they were apart, he’d feel free. Instead, he felt trapped in a prison of his own making, watching someone else live the life he had discarded.

Matt wasn’t a bad guy. That was the worst part. Braden couldn’t even hate him. He was one of the nicest guys on the team, always joking around and keeping things light in the locker room. But the way Matt hovered around Y/N, the way he made her laugh — it was unbearable.

Braden knew he had to get his head on straight. He couldn’t let this ruin the season, couldn’t let it destroy the bond he had with his teammates. But every time he saw Matt standing too close to her, it set off something deep inside him that he couldn’t control. The anger was irrational, burning hot and fast, and Braden hated it. But he couldn’t stop it.

He was the one who had left. So why did it hurt so much to see her moving on?

The next day at practice, the tension between Braden and Matt was thick enough to cut with a knife. The guys could feel it, sensing that something was off between the two of them. Braden knew he wasn’t hiding it well. His patience was razor-thin, and every time he saw Matt’s easy smile, it made him want to throw down right there on the ice.

Y/N was there too, her presence like a ghost haunting every corner of the rink. She was working, interviewing players, making sure the media was coordinated for the post-practice press conference. Braden tried not to watch her, but he couldn’t help it. She looked so at ease, so damn happy, like she hadn’t just had her heart broken a few months ago. She’d moved on. And he was still stuck.

The practice drills got more intense, the coaches pushing them harder as the upcoming game against a division rival loomed closer. Braden’s frustration boiled over when he and Matt ended up in the same scrimmage group.

They were skating down the ice, Matt with the puck, Braden closing in fast. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline and anger mixing into something dangerous. Matt made a move to pass the puck, but Braden didn’t care about the play. He angled his body and delivered a hit that sent Matt crashing into the boards.

The entire rink seemed to freeze.

Matt hit the ice hard, groaning as he clutched his side. The whistle blew, and the coaches yelled for them to cut it out, but Braden didn’t move. He stood there, breathing heavily, staring down at Matt like he was daring him to get back up.

“Gosh, Schneider, what the hell was that for?” Matt spat as he got to his feet, wincing from the impact.

Braden didn’t answer. He just stared, his fists clenched at his sides.

Matt shoved him back, his voice rising. “You’ve been acting like a psycho lately. You want to go? Let’s go.”

Braden took a step forward, ready to drop the gloves, but before anything could happen, the coaches were between them, pulling them apart.

“That’s enough!” Coach barked, his face flushed with frustration. “What the hell is wrong with you two? This isn’t how we play.”

Braden barely registered the scolding. His eyes were still locked on Matt’s, and in that moment, all he could see was red.

“Back off, Schneider,” Matt muttered, brushing past him as the tension slowly dissolved under the weight of the coaches’ reprimand. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to get over it.”

As the rest of the team moved back to their drills, Braden skated to the bench, sitting down and burying his face in his hands. He was falling apart, and everyone could see it.

After practice, Braden showered quickly, eager to avoid any conversations with the guys. He was about to leave the locker room when he felt a presence behind him.

It was Y/N.

She stood there, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Braden’s heart dropped into his stomach. They hadn’t spoken outside of work-related conversations since the breakup, and now here she was, staring at him like she saw right through the mask he’d been trying to wear.

“You need to stop,” she said, her voice steady but firm.

Braden swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Stop what?”

“Whatever this is,” she gestured vaguely toward the ice where Matt was still talking to some of the other players. “I know you’re mad, but you don’t get to act like this. You broke up with me, remember?”

He winced at the reminder, the guilt crashing over him like a wave. “I know.”

“Then why are you acting like you didn’t?” Her voice softened, and for the first time in months, Braden saw a flicker of the girl he had once loved standing in front of him. “You don’t get to be jealous, Braden. You made your choice.”

His chest tightened. She was right. He had made his choice, and now he was living with the consequences.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s eyes softened, but there was a distance there, a wall that hadn’t existed before. “You thought it would be easy, didn’t you? Walking away.”

Braden nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Well, it’s not,” she said, her voice sharp with the pain she had been carrying all these months. “But you can’t just punch your way out of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Braden whispered, the words feeling inadequate, too small to fix everything that had been broken between them.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, the silence between them heavy and thick with all the unsaid words. Braden wanted to reach out, to pull her close and tell her he was sorry for everything — for laughing at her dreams, for rolling his eyes at her jokes, for making her feel like she wasn’t enough. But the words caught in his throat, and he knew that no apology would ever be enough to take away the hurt he had caused.

“You’re sorry?” she repeated, her voice low and full of disbelief. She shook her head, taking a step back, away from him. “You don’t get to be sorry, Braden. You don’t get to say that now. Not after everything.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “I know I screwed up, Y/N. I just—” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “I didn’t know it would be this hard. I thought… I thought we were too different, that it would be better for both of us if we—”

“If you left me?” she cut in, her eyes flashing with anger. “If you ripped my heart out and walked away without a second thought? Yeah, Braden, that’s really worked out well for you, hasn’t it?” Her voice was shaking now, and Braden could hear the pain buried beneath her anger, a pain that mirrored his own.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly, hating how weak the words sounded, how inadequate they were in the face of everything that had happened.

Y/N laughed bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. “But you did. You hurt me more than anyone ever has. And now… now you’re mad because Matt and I are friends? You don’t get to be jealous, Braden. You don’t get to care anymore.”

Braden felt the words hit him like a punch to the gut. She was right. He had no right to care, no right to be angry or jealous. He was the one who had walked away, the one who had decided that their differences were too much to handle. But every day, every moment he saw her with Matt, it tore him apart. He hadn’t realized how much he had relied on her, how much her presence had meant to him, until it was too late.

“I still care about you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt like the most vulnerable thing he had said in months. “I never stopped caring.”

Y/N’s eyes softened for a brief second, but then her guard went back up, the wall between them growing higher and stronger. “You don’t get to do that,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t get to care when it’s convenient for you, Braden. You don’t get to decide when you want to be a part of my life after you pushed me out of yours.”

Braden took a step forward, his chest tight with desperation. “Y/N, please… I didn’t know it would be this hard. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought we were too different—”

“You were scared,” she interrupted, her voice cutting through his words like a knife. “You were scared of how much you needed me. You were scared of what it meant to actually love someone. So you pushed me away, and now you’re mad that I’m not waiting around for you.”

Her words hit him like a slap to the face, the truth of them sinking deep into his bones. She was right. He had been scared. Scared of how much he had loved her, scared of what it meant to be vulnerable, to let someone into his life who didn’t fit the mold he had been raised to believe in. Y/N was everything he had ever wanted, but he had been too much of a coward to admit it.

“I know,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I know I messed up. But I can’t stand seeing you with him. I can’t—”

“You can’t what?” she snapped, her eyes blazing. “You can’t handle the fact that I’m moving on? That I’m not sitting around waiting for you to decide when you want me again?” She took a step closer, her voice rising with every word. “You ended it, Braden. You’re the one who said we were too different, that this wasn’t going to work. You made that decision. So don’t you dare try to act like you still have a claim on me.”

Her words cut deep, each one a reminder of the choice he had made, the life he had walked away from. And now, standing in front of her, watching the fire in her eyes as she fought to hold back tears, Braden realized just how much he had lost.

“I know I don’t have a claim on you,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “But I can’t help it. I miss you, Y/N. I miss everything about you.”

Y/N’s face softened for a moment, but she quickly looked away, shaking her head as if trying to keep herself from falling apart. “It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible. “It’s too late.”

The words hit him like a dagger to the heart. Too late. He had spent so many nights lying in bed, trying to fill the void she had left with meaningless encounters, trying to convince himself that he had made the right choice. But deep down, he had always known the truth. The love he had been looking for, the one he was desperately trying to find in someone else, had been Y/N all along. And now, it was too late.

Braden swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I didn’t know I could feel like this,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know how much I needed you until you were gone.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his face for a moment. Braden thought he saw something flicker in her expression, something like the love they had once shared. But it was fleeting, quickly replaced by the cold reality of their situation.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said softly. “You made your choice, Braden. And now I’m making mine.”

She turned to walk away, and for a moment, Braden felt the urge to reach out, to grab her arm and beg her to stay, to tell her he would do anything to fix it. But he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He had hurt her too deeply, and now, no amount of regret could change the fact that he had pushed her away when she had needed him the most.

“Y/N,” he called after her, his voice cracking. She stopped but didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry.”

She stood there for a long moment, her back to him, and Braden held his breath, waiting for something, anything that would give him hope. But when she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

“So am I.”

And then she was gone, walking away from him for the last time.

The emptiness that followed Y/N’s departure was unlike anything Braden had ever felt before. It was a void, vast and cold, that swallowed him whole. He had thought that breaking up with her would free him, that it would make things easier. But instead, it had destroyed him.

He didn’t go out that night. He didn’t text his friends to find another girl to fill the empty space beside him in bed. He just sat in his apartment, staring at the walls, replaying every moment he had shared with Y/N in his mind. Every laugh, every touch, every quiet moment they had spent together in her tiny apartment or on her family’s farm.

It had been simple with her. Life had been quieter, slower. It wasn’t the fast-paced, glamorous life he had been used to, but it had been real. And now that it was gone, Braden realized that it was all he had ever really wanted.

He lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as memories of Y/N played on an endless loop in his mind. He could still hear her laughter, still feel the warmth of her body next to his. But no matter how tightly he clung to those memories, they were slipping away, fading into the background of a life he had chosen to leave behind.

The other girls had never meant anything. They had been placeholders, temporary distractions from the overwhelming pain of losing the one person who had ever made him feel truly alive. But no matter how many nights he spent trying to drown out the emptiness, the truth remained the same: he had lost Y/N, and there was no getting her back.

He thought about what she had said. “You were scared.”

She had been right. He had been terrified. Terrified of how much he needed her, terrified of what it meant to let someone so completely into his life. He had told himself that their differences were too much, that they couldn’t last because their worlds were too far apart. But that had just been an excuse, a lie to cover up the fact that he was afraid of how much he loved her.

And now, it was too late.

A/N: Go to my page for part 2

[yuusishi]

. . . DOODLED MARKS

pairing : Boothill x gn!reader

genre : fluff , written before Boothill release !!

cws/tws : none

a/n : I'll probably redo my headers for the hsr masterlist cuz I was thinking of putting Boothill and Acheron on there since they're both galaxy rangers then realized there'll probably be more rangers in the future and I don't wanna keep constantly adding 😭

BOOTHILL !!

“And what do you think you’re doin’ there, cutie” Boothill's eyes crossed over to you, the squeaks of the marker you held pressing and drawing on his metal arm very much audible, especially to the man being drawn on, “Just adding a little something-something to your mechanical body. Think of it as getting a tattoo” you said with eyes fixated on the ink swaying on the clean silver metal. Boothill is very much a known galaxy ranger, adding cutesy doodles will probably get him made fun of in the next location. Does he care? Not a single bit, any gift on his body given by you might as well be considered a blessing from the aeons themselves.

He hummed a tune as you continued adding little “tattoos” to his arm starting to stare off into space, he doesn’t remember where he heard it from, probably just something he heard hopping dream bubbles in Penacony he thinks. Boothill leans over, craning his head slightly to sneak a peek at what you’re concocting on his arm. A high-pitched whistle left his mouth when he saw your drawing, a toothy grin playing on his lips, feeling prouder of your creation than you are.

It was of a simple flower print, the stem branching out to lead to different leaves and flowers of different kinds. Was it something out of character for how Boothill acted and dressed? Very much. He continued admiring your work until you wiped a bead of sweat off your forehead as you finished, the marker clicking as the cap made contact with it again. Finally getting to inspect the artwork up close, he lifted his arm the second you moved back, earlier grin turned into a proud smile,

“I sure do hope that marker’s permanent, I wouldn’t shine this thing for a long time if it wasn’t” he said as he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on your temple, letting out a tiny chuckle.

[brucestalia]

years too late, she's a silver lining lone ranger riding through an open space in my mind when she's not right there beside me

i go crazy 'cause here isn't where i wanna be and satisfaction feels like a distant memory and i can't help myself, all i wanna hear her say is "are you mine?"

well, are you mine? are you mine? are you mine?

bruce wayne & talia al ghul // r u mine?

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

[inthehouseoffinwe]

A Meeting in Valinor

Elrond comes back from his first real meeting with Eärendil tired and unsure what to do. He gets some help from an unexpected source.

Dw this isn’t hating on any of Elrond’s parents. Pure fluff :)

Elrond had returned to his house and was lying with his head in Celebrian’s lap. He’d told her how the meeting had gone and flopped on the sofa, drained, before she’d soothed away some of his oncoming headache as she’d done many years before. Now he lay with his eyes closed, soaking in the summer rays as she read.

Celebrian jerked suddenly, and Elrond shot up, hand going to the knife in his boot. Some habits wouldn’t change.

“Ai! relax! It’s just me!”

Elrond’s face slackened.

“It cannot be...”

Celebrian looked between the two, eyes lingering on the semi-familiar features before her. Round ears. Beard. Warm grey eyes, wise yet playful. Elven cut, navy tunic with silver embroidery, and brown hair brushing his shoulders. She tensed at the closed expression on Elrond’s face, reaching for her own dagger as the figure shuffled nervously.

“Hello, Ada.”

Elrond released a strangled sound and the man ran to his open arms, desperately clutching the elf. Elrond pulled back, hand smoothing down unruly hair as if he’d done so many times before.

“Estel, how- You’re *dead.*”

Celebrian relaxed at the name, a gentle smile lighting her face as the human spluttered between tears. So this was her lost son.

Aragorn smiled tremulously as he replied.

“Exactly as you used to say Ada, Illuvatar’s mind is unknown in regards to the fate of men, and I guess I was allowed to come here.”

Elrond hugged him again.

“How’s Arwen?”

“She’s doing well, recently became good friends with Andreth.” A strange look came over Aragorn’s face and his foster father laughed, kissing his forehead. He turned to his wife, and it was then that Aragorn froze, seeing the elleth before him. He shot to his feet, bowing low before her.

“Milady, I-“

Celebrian shot the half-elf an exasperated look and grabbed one of the man’s hands, pulling him up. Aragorn looked at her, confused.

“Mil-“

“Call me ‘Milady’ again and I’ll toss you out the front door. Elrond said you used to call me Naneth.” Aragorn flushed, eyes on his boots and Celebrian laughed. “I take no insult, son of Elrond! It is only right considering you were not only adopted into the family, but also married my daughter.”

The Dunedan gaped, and she pulled him onto the sofa between herself and her husband, voice softening at the sorrow in Aragorn’s eyes.

“There is no need to feel guilty Estel, I long foresaw Arwen’s choice and understand she was loved and taken care of by the best of men.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for giving her happiness. She was so sad after the orcs, I feared she’d never smile again.”

Aragorn froze for a moment, then buried his head into her shoulder, apologies spilling out his mouth. Celebrian rested a hand on his head.

“None of that now, I’m glad Arwen was able to find her strength again, even if it led her down a different path.” She pulled back and squeezed his shoulders. “And I’m glad to meet *you.*”

Aragorn bowed his head then settled back against the sofa. A comfortable silence filled the space until Elrond spoke.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, ion-nin, but why are you here?”

Aragorn turned to face the half elf, a mischievous glint in his eyes as Elrond raised an eyebrow.

“Well this should be interesting.”

“I had some... unfinished business to attend to.”

“Is that so?”

Aragorn sat on a chair in front of the elves, and both of them straightened. He winced at the expectant look on his foster father’s face, reminded of every scrap he’d been pulled out of in Rivendell, then later as a ranger.

“It may have had something to do with your earlier conversation.” The look didn’t change and he sighed in defeat. “Ok fine. It had everything to do with it. I had a conversation with Earendil. Interesting man. Surprisingly relaxed.”

Elrond smiled tiredly and Celebrian took his hand.

“Interesting indeed. He… wasn’t what I expected.”

Aragorn’s laugh echoed, loud and warm and *human* in a way Celebrian knew her husband missed dearly. So many of Elrond’s friends had been mortal, so much of his family.

“Now that’s an understatement!” The man smiled wide. “In any case, I had a quick conversation with him after you left. He says he’d love to take you sailing and have a proper heart to heart.” The smile dropped to something more somber, more gentle. “He also says he understands if you need more time, and will wait as long as he needs.”

Elrond seemed to simultaneously age and relax.

“If you’d take my advice…” Aragorn began hesitantly, waiting for Elrond’s warm nod before continuing, “I think you should take him up on the offer.“

Elrond gave real thought to the words and Celebrian wondered just how well this man judged characters that Elrond was willing to take another chance. Any elf would have been shut down by now. Had been in the past.

“I do not know if I can.”

A familiar stubborn glint entered Aragorn’s eye. A fearlessness Celebrian was delighted to see.

“I say this with respect Adar, but you have to stop running away from this.”

The half-elf startled at the sharp words, but Aragorn continued before he could fully recover. Smart kid.

“For your own sake, you must face him. Just as you must one day face Elwing, Maedhros and Maglor… but this is a good place to start.” He leaned forward to take his father’s tightly clenched hands. “What did you tell me when my heritage was revealed? When I was terrified the weight of my past might drown away my present?”

A suspicion began to form in Celebrian’s mind, threatening to break out in a bright laugh and smothering hug for the son she’d never met. Of course. Of course.

Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wryness and pride in his eyes when he looked up at Aragorn.

“The past is but a small part of you. You are so much more your history, no matter what anyone else says.”

“Wise advice, no?”

“Seems a little narcissistic to agree, but I suppose it is.”

Squeezing Aragorn’s hands back, Elrond sighed and slumped back, eyes closing for a long moment. Aragorn glanced at Celebrian, who returned a small, reassuring smile. It was about time someone smacked some sense into her husband’s head, and this one knew how to push all the right buttons.

“I am afraid, little one.” Elrond finally whispered.

Aragorn grinned boyishly, and Celebrian’s suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s why I’m here.”

[rinachiba]

I have never made or even attempted to make a meme before. I felt the urge to try, though. And I felt that my first attempt needed to center on my favorite power ranger. So, here we have Zhane circa 1998 in Power Rangers in Space and then Zhane from the in progress web series Bloodline of the Grid.

[ranger-ribbons]

More General Rangers Headcanons

Sixth Rangers are inherently more powerful than the regular Rangers. You'll notice that most can 1v1 difficult enemies that prove challenging to even the Reds of the team (ie.: Zhane (In Space Silver) 1v1'ing Ecliptor). This is because, on a power scale, the Sixth is supposed to balance the team out. A team that can work as individuals and an individual that can work on/with a team

Reds develop an attachment to their Sixth Rangers, be it romantic (Carter Grayson/Ryan Mitchell) or platonic (Leo and Mike Corbett), but it's close and quickly formed

Similarly, Sixth Rangers form quick and close attachments to their Reds, platonic or romantic

Pinks and Blues are either siblings or best friends and there is no in-between

Survivor's Guilt is a powerful force and 90% of the Rangers have it, especially the alien Rangers or those like the Lunar Wolf Wildforce Ranger

Rangers getting discouraged and believing themselves unworthy of the Power is also common, so there's a network of Rangers you can call to help with that kind of stuff

If you don't already have fantastic spatial awareness, you develop it pretty quick as a Ranger. It's damn near impossible not to because of all the attacks by Monsters, Bugs, etc

Red Rangers can give orders to their teams and the Power will give little pushes for the other Rangers to following it, but that doesn't mean the other Rangers can't refuse of their own volition

The Morphin' Grid affords its Rangers a form of immortality. They can be fatally injured, but otherwise, Rangers are effectively immortal

Some Rangers go on to become police officers, but most Rangers agree that working to assist and help people (ie.: lifeguards, doctors, breaking ground in the science fields) is best. Some of them establish dojos to train people to protect themselves (Tommy Oliver) and others work with volunteer efforts (Troy Burrows)

Veteran Rangers, Reds especially, tend to hang back during crossover events- this is to give the new Reds the confidence in themselves and their abilities, and allow them to grow into their leadership. The only exception was Forever Red, because Jason is a little bit of a control freak. He's the oldest Red, it's his right

When a Ranger is in a battle that forces them into demorph (i.e.: Gia, Jake, and Noah (Megaforce) against Creepox) the other teammates will be supremely worried and clingy, this is because of a trauma bond each team shares, but also because seeing someone you love get so hurt in a battle that they lose their ability to hold their morphs is fucking terrifying.

On that note, other Ranger teams will check in after those battles because seeing your successors get demorphed in the middle of battle is also something terrifying

Also on that note, some Rangers have specific nightmares in which they don't make it out of those demorph fights alive

The TMNT do on occasion pop out of the New York sewers to assist in a battle or two with the Ranger teams

Rangers who have martial arts skills (Ninja Storm, Jungle Fury, Samurai, Ninja Steel, etc) stick together, much like Rangers who are from or went to space

The techs of the teams have secret channels that they use to make "communication devices" (cell phones) so that Rangers don't have to rely on their morphers to communicate as well as being able to communicate with other Rangers and teams

Bulk and Skull have been linked so tightly with the Rangers that they've been kidnapped several times, only to be let go when it's been clear they aren't Rangers themselves

Junior Rangers have a chat, kids that helped Rangers (Heather, Jordon, etc.) have linked up and compared notes. They know of or know each other and most of them are tightly linked together

Possibility of more later, I didn't expect more than one post lol

[cherry-romper]

Loving You Sounds Like A Song

Playlist

+ Daichi, Sugawara, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kuroo, Kenma, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Bokuto, Akaashi, Ushijima, Tendo

Open to writing more characters!

Daichi; Locked out of Heaven - Bruno Mars

I'm born again every time you spend the night

'Cause you make me feel like, I've been locked out of heaven

You can make a sinner change his ways

Can I just stay here? Spend the rest of my days here?

Sugawara; Telepatia - Kali Uchis

Who would have thought, That it was possible, To make love by telepathy

You know I'm just a flight away, If you wanted you can take a private plane

We're connected although we're miles apart

I can hear your thoughts like a melody, Listen while you talk when you're fast asleep

Asahi; Would That I - Hozier

True that I saw her hair like the branch of a tree

True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me

Oh, but you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire, my heart rose to its feet

Nishinoya; She Looks So Perfect - 5SOS

We work too damn hard for this just to give it up now

You look so perfect standing there, In my American Apparel underwear

And I know now that I'm so down

I got you name tattooed in an arrowed heart

Tanaka; Steal My Girl - One Direction

She's been my queen since we were 16

Her mum calls me love, her dad calls me son

Everybody wanna steal my girl

Couple billion in the whole wide worlds, Find another one 'cause she belongs to me

Kageyama; King of my Heart - Taylor Swift

Salute to me, I'm your American queen

We rule the kingdom inside my room

'Cause all the boys in their expensive cars, With their Range Rovers and their Jaguars, Never too me quite where you do

King of my heart, body and soul

Hinata; Golden - Harry Styles

I know you were way to bright for me

You're so golden

I don't wanna be alone when it ends

Lovin' is the antidote

I know that you're scared because I'm so open

Tsukishima; R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys

She's a silver linin' lone ranger ridin' through an open space

In my mind, when she's not right there beside me, I go crazy 'cause here's not where I wanna be

And I cant help myself, All I wanna hear you say is, "Are you mine?"

She's a silver linin', climblin' on my desire

Yamaguchi; Rose-Colored Boy - Paramore

I hear you making all that noise, About the world you want to see

But hearts are breaking, and the wars are raging on

You got me nervous, I'm right at the end of my rope

Just let me cry a little bit longer, I ain't gon' smile if I don't want to

My rose-colored boy

Kuroo; Shut Up and Drive - Rihanna

If you think you're the one, step into my ride

So if you feel me, let me know

My engine's ready to explode

Get me where you wanna go, If you know what I mean

Got a ride that's smoother than a limousine

Kenma; Ivy - Frank Ocean

I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me

It's quite alright to hate me now

When we both know that deep down, The feeling still deep down is good

We didn't give a fuck back then

Oikawa; Say It Right - Nelly Futado

You either got it or you don't, you either stand or you fall

You don't mean nothing at all to me

But you got what it takes to set me free

I could show you tonight

Iwaizumi; Die For You - The Weekend

I'm findin' ways to articulate, The feeling I'm goin' through

See it in your eyes, You hate that you want me

It ain't working 'cause you're perfect, And I know that you're worth it

Just know that I would die for you

Bokuto; Stargazing - The Neghbourhood

If I start, I just cant stop

Keep runnin' 'til we're lost

I can feel your heart beatin' with mine

Started with a spark, now we're on fire

Akaashi; Sofia - Clairo

I think we could do it if we tried, only to say, "You're mine"

You know I'll do anything you ask me to

But, oh my god, I think I'm in love with you

Baby you don't gotta fight ill be here 'til the end of time

Ushijima; SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK - Joji

I don't want a friend, I want my life in two

When I'm around slow dancing in the dark

Don't follow me, You'll end up in my arms

Give me reasons we should be complete

Cant you see me?

Tendo; G.U.Y - Lady Gaga

I wanna be your G.U.Y

I'm aiming for full control of this love

love me, love me, please retweet

Let me be the girl under you that makes you cry

[oftenwantedafton]

the still of the night | dave miller x f!reader

chapter one

(sequel to the dark of the woods)

The enigmatic park ranger Dave Miller has entered your life once again.

Another chance to get closer, to learn about his past…

…to discover what dangers truly lurk in the lakeside campground across from the shuttered Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.

Explicit content, 4.4k words, new 2/14/25

ao3 link

The first snowflakes begin to fall when you’re ten miles from your destination.

Tiny particles of slushy ice fall in wet clumps along your windshield before the wiper blades clear the glass, only to pepper the surface again seconds later. The pavement of the interstate is still clear, the temperature a little too warm for the snow to stick just yet. You concentrate on the pair of tail lights glowing like coals ahead, keeping back a safe distance just in case the roads start getting slippery.

See you soon.

These are the words that Dave Miller had inscribed on the back of the photographs you’d taken taken at the now derelict Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria during your camping trip last fall. The same words the older man had uttered in closing at the end of your phone conversation the night before, lowly murmured, full of promise.

When you’d first answered the phone you’d only been half paying attention, busy addressing family Christmas cards until that voice, his voice, had purred to you, offered a greeting and saying your name, making your stomach flutter wildly and a familiar warmth spread through you.

You hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to be the first one to reach out and make contact since you'd parted ways at the Silver Lake campground, your hopes at a reunion dwindling as time had passed, more and more convinced it had been a one time fling, but then he’d finally come through, calling you a week before Christmas, inviting you out to eat at the diner he’d mentioned to you previously, the one off the interstate that had such good breakfast sandwiches.

Now it is late evening, and you won’t be seeking out such early morning fare for a meal. You don’t really have much of an appetite at the moment; you’re too nervous, too anxious to see the park ranger again. You’re so distracted by the memories of that voice in your ear, inevitably recalling the heated moments between the two of you—in his cabin, yours, the restaurant, his car, the public restroom—that you nearly miss your exit, grateful once again that the roads aren’t slick as you hastily pump the brakes and flip your turn signal.

The illuminated sign for the diner greets you shortly after you’ve left the highway, an oval sign with a white background and red lettering serving as a reassuring beacon. You’re going the right way. You’re nearly at your destination.

The parking lot is not terribly crowded. Perhaps the lateness of the hour or the inclement weather has kept some folks away. You realize you have no idea what Dave’s car looks like; you’d just agreed to meet in the parking lot.

You pull into a vacant space one row away from the entrance and shift the gears into park, wondering if you should stay inside the vehicle where it’s toasty warm or venture outdoors into the storm to search for your date, or perhaps even just head inside the building and wait for him there. Your eyes flick to the digital display on the dashboard. You’re a little early. Maybe you should just stay put.

A pair of headlights flashes in your rearview mirror and you frown, trying to discern details about this new arrival. Something darkly shaded. A sedan. Older, the engine a little more throaty. Then silence. A tall figure emerges from the vehicle. It’s him.

You tell yourself you’re not going to rush. You’re going to take your time tucking your keys into your purse after departing from and locking your own car, waiting for him to approach you. You’re closer to the diner, after all; it just makes good sense. You nearly drop your keys. Your fingers are slippery from touching the car door to shut it. That’s all. You feel your heart rate elevating. The wet snow sinks into your hair and stains your cheeks. Your breath clouds the air in front of your face. You have to see him. Your booted feet are already betraying you, crushing your resolve, bringing you in the opposite direction of the establishment, deeper into the parking lot, to the dark slip of a man walking towards you. You can make out his features now: the clean shaven cheeks, the tousled hair, and yes, that little teasing curve at the side of his mouth. That sight in particular grabs at something in your chest and wrenches sharply on it. So much for the pretense of being unhurried, playing it cool, making him work for it. You can’t wait any longer. Your steps quicken until you reach your target, then you jerk to an abrupt halt.

“Hello,” Dave greets you.

“Hi.” You briefly study the dark wool coat enshrouding him. Too large for his narrow frame and not long enough for his height. Yet still you want to be crushed against it; the want suffocates you until you suddenly decide to throw yourself against him.

A little surprised sound escapes him before he reacts, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace and you nuzzle aside the collar of his coat and burrow your face against his neck. He doesn’t smell like the campground tonight; no ashen embers from a campfire, no hint of autumn leaves, just that fragrance he wears overlaying that masculine tang that is distinctly his own. You sigh his name and he chuckles softly, his gloved hands stroking your back while you clutch handfuls of the woolen frabric draped over his chest.

“Miss me, did you?”

“You know I did.” You draw back to view his face, enraptured by those pale eyes that glitter like malachite this evening. There’s a hint of color in his cheeks from the brisk winter air that’s flattering. “Did you miss me?”

“What do you think?” His leather clad hands shift to find their way inside the parka you’d left unfastened for the journey in the car, settling on your hips and jerking your body tightly against his. He teases a shallow thrust against you and his arousal is distinctly noticeable.

“Well, it’s nice to see your…appetite hasn’t slackened any,” you observe wryly.

He hums in amusement, the sound evolving into a pleased sort of growl as his eyes track down to properly take in your appearance. You’re wearing a v neck sweater and a skirt in spite of the cold weather, a curve hugging suede one that stops mid calf, your legs beneath it clad in nylons. You know he’s going to be exploring under it at some point this evening; the only question that remains is when.

“Shall we go inside?” You note the dark hunger in his eyes expanding and you shiver over the knowledge that it’s not just a meal at the diner he’s interested in. You are definitely on the menu.

“Okay,” you agree.

You reluctantly release your hold on him, pleased when he immediately reaches for your hand and leads you back towards the restaurant.

“How was the drive in? Roads not too bad I trust?”

“No, it was fine. Thank you.” Dave holds the door open and you step inside the diner, a warm blanket of air immediately surrounding you. Your companion doesn’t wait for guidance and chooses a booth that’s the furthest away from the other customers. You slide out of your coat and he mirrors your movements, setting his down folded on the seat before sitting and shoving it across the cushion towards the wall decorated with vintage advertisements, old vinyl album covers, and other retro stylings.

A tired looking middle aged woman appears with a pair of laminated menus. You’re still distracted by the appearance of the forest ranger seated across from you, barely sparing a glance for the offering you’ve just accepted while you watch him clutch the tip of each glove’s middle finger between his teeth to aid in tugging them free and tossing them beside the napkin holder. Then he shoves at the sleeves of the teal colored Henley he’s wearing, resting his forearms on the table while he briefly peruses the menu, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You blush. “I just can’t believe I’m actually here. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I told you that you would.”

“I know, but…” You abandon the thought, pointing to the laminated paper he’s clutching. “What do you recommend?”

“Cheeseburger and fries,” he answers immediately. “And a milkshake. I know it’s winter, but it’s a must.”

“Alright. That sounds good.” You set your menu on top of his at the edge of the table to signal that you’re ready to place your order. There’s a soft rock song playing in the background that you vaguely recognize from your youth, though you can’t quite recall the artist’s name. Some one hit wonder from the 80’s. The waitress returns after serving another table and you follow Dave’s recommendations, duplicating his own requests. Your eyes wander around the diner’s interior, noting that the majority of the patrons seem to be on the older side, just like the furnishings and decor that’s straight out of the 1950’s, with its chrome trim and a checkerboard patterned floor not unlike the one at Freddy’s.

“So how was the rest of your semester?”

Your gaze returns to meet his. “Not too bad.” You fuss with the cork board coaster bearing a local IPA brand’s logo. The complimentary water tastes like chlorine, clearly right from the tap. “How was closing up the park?”

“Uneventful.”

Your fingers still. You can’t think of a single thing to say. You’re finally with the man that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about, and your brain has suddenly turned to mush.

“Going home for the holidays?”

Good old Dave, keeping the embers of conversation from dying out completely. “Yes, I’m going to see my parents. I’ll be staying with them for a few days.” You glance outside the window. The snow is really starting to stick to the ground, a solid layer now lining the parking lot. Your car is completely coated already. “What about you? Any plans?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” he murmurs, following your gaze outdoors.

“Well, it’s only a week away. Might want to give it some consideration,” you tease.

Dave suddenly leans forward, his voice low. “Maybe you’d like to go powder your nose. We’ve got some time to kill before the food gets here.”

You stare at him blankly. It takes a moment for you to realize what he’s implying. “You can’t be serious. There are…there are people around,” you hiss in a scandalized tone.

“Indeed there are. Still ashamed to be seen with me?” He takes a large swallow of water, apparently not minding the taste. Probably used to it. Probably even enjoys it, you think bitterly. Weirdo.

“No. No,” you repeat firmly. “I’m not ashamed. What is it with you and public restrooms, anyway?”

“Well, you never know when you’ll run into an attractive young woman in one,” he replies.

“How often does that happen?”

“On one specific occasion that comes to mind rather vividly.” He smirks, a calculated maneuver that leaves you writhing a bit against the padded bench. You’d forgotten the power of that secret smile of his. Suddenly you’re feeling a little too warm. Maybe a sweater wasn’t the best choice of attire after all.

“Right. When you just happen to enter the women’s room.” You take another sip of ice water, hoping it might at least cool you down a little.

“Or you follow someone there.” He’s upgraded the smirk to a full on grin now, revealing those sharp teeth of his.

You blink, dumbfounded. “You…followed me?”

“Of course. That is my job, after all. Looking out for the needs of the park guests. All of their needs,” he adds, winking at you.

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head.

“Did you imagine it to be an error on my part? Serendipity or…”. His teeth catch his bottom lip and his eyes flash.

Fuck, you love that mouth of his. You miss the taste of it. You should have kissed him in the parking lot. “Yeah, the latter, I guess.” You frown, another thought occurring to you. “What if I hadn’t gotten up to use the bathroom? Were you just going to hover outside my cabin door all night?”

Dave chuckles. “The outcome would have been the same regardless of when or where the first intimate encounter occurred, I expect.”

“You think you’re that irresistible?”

His lips part in another wide grin. They’re a bit chapped, you’re noticing now. Why does that make them even more appealing? “I know you think so. So, how about it? Want to give this a go? I’ll follow your lead. The restrooms are back and to the right.”

You glance in the direction he’s indicated, then your eyes dart around the room. Everyone seems engrossed in their meals and conversations. Too preoccupied to notice a fellow customer rise to her feet, smoothing down the sides of her skirt before briskly crossing the room. The bathroom door scarcely shuts behind you before it creaks back open and Dave enters, swiftly turning to lock it, then crowds you against the sink.

“This was quite thoughtful of you, wearing this,” he murmurs, already working on the side zipper to loosen the fabric covering your lower half, then gathering it until it’s bunched around your hips. Your arms twine behind his neck as he grasps your waist and lifts you up to sit on the edge of the sink. “I must insist that you keep the noise to a minimum. I like this place and I’d rather not be banned from returning or having the authorities called for public indecency.”

You nod and he smiles again, gently this time, then his lips touch yours.

You let out a muffled moan, trying to stifle the pleasurable feeling of his mouth pressing against yours again. They are rough, chapped as you’d thought, but you’re not even surprised he’s neglected them, merely busying yourself with licking, sucking, biting them. Your fingers sink into his hair and his fingers dig into your pantyhose, impatiently tearing a gap in the fragile material in the junction between one leg panel and the crotch.

“Hey—” You begin to protest, the next words you’d planned forever lost because now his fingers are touching the skin of your inner thigh, cold against warm. Maybe still chilled from the weather despite those leather gloves with the thin fleece lining he’d been wearing, or that stupid glass of water he’d just gulped down or—oh. Now he’s shoving at the legband of your panties, those probing digits becoming warm from your body heat, digging into your wet, warm pink flesh as you manage to wedge your fingers between the tight press of your bodies, unfastening his belt and jerking down his pants’ zipper. A groan vibrates against your throat when he feels your hands pulling his cock free, extracted through the fly at the front of his boxer briefs. He’s fully sheathed inside of you in between one heartbeat and the next, slamming deep to the hilt and cursing harshly against the side of your neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Dave,” you whisper, gripping his body with your knees, your heels, the fingers buried in his hair tugging frantically. So many nights had passed with you reminiscing about your previous dalliances, fantasizing about an encounter like this. His name on your lips every time you’d climaxed, sweaty and breathless, sheets twisted in knots, waking up a few hours later only to crave him all over again.

“Such a stubborn girl. Refusing to call me first,” he reprimands beside your ear. His hips snap forward sharply as a further rebuke and your buttocks slides backward, threatening to dump you into the basin but he grabs your hips and keeps you balanced on the rim of the sink.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you murmur, letting your lips slide along his jaw.

“I gave you my number. The intention was clear, was it not?” His thrusts are measured, steady, deceptively unhurried.

You huff against his mouth. “No. Tell me.”

“Tell you?” He nips your bottom lip, then kisses a path to your ear lobe. “Is that want you want? To hear that I missed you? That I wanted to see you?”

“Only if you mean it.”

“Does this not feel like I mean it?” He tightens his grip and begins fucking into your faster, harder.

“Dave…” You whimper, the sound too loud, just like the slaps of his body against yours. Anyone even remotely close to the bathroom door would realize what’s happening inside. You’re bound to be caught during a public indiscretion like this, one of these nights. It’s only a question of time. And you can’t help but wonder if that’s part of the thrill for him. Maybe he likes the idea of doing something so scandalous, so forbidden, right underneath the unsuspecting public’s noses. Maybe he even wants to be caught, in spite of his earlier cautions and warnings.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you rasp, the muscles in your canal clenching around his cock, relishing the sound of pleasure that forces from him despite his efforts to mute it.

“You want this, honey?” He pants beside your ear. “You want me to fill up this tight pussy of yours?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Say it. Tell me how much you want it.”

“I want you,” you gasp.

“Fuck…what you do to me…”

Another moan escapes your lips and he quickly covers yours with his own. You become hyper aware of the smallest details around you: the snow still melting in his hair; the salted bead of perspiration trailing down his left temple; the slight hum from the lightbulbs above the sink; the scent of aftershave heavy against his throat, he’s scraped that skin smooth recently, just for you—everything narrowing and converging until that tight feeling winding inside of you snaps and bursts free. Another moan from your partner, definitely too loud, his mouth slipping a bit away from yours, and then you feel the warm spill of his release flooding your body.

“Fuck,” he curses again, but it’s gentler this time. You slick back his tousled hair and kiss his mouth and laugh softly against it, clutching his trembling arms. “Happy now?”

“Very.” You are. An extreme feeling of contentment, that period of satisfaction in the lingering afterglow suffusing all your extremities, making you temporarily forget where you are. The gentle kisses that follow are as good as the rougher, more passionate ones you’d previously exchanged. Maybe even better. You enjoy seeing him like this. Soft. Relaxed. Sated. He cups your face between his hands and you stare into his eyes and the moment is perfect.

Then it passes onto the next, his hands dropping, your body lifted and set beside the sink. “The food is probably ready. Let’s go eat.”

There are a few moments of readjusting clothing, hastily wiping your now exposed inner thighs clean with damp paper towels. The nylons will certainly be going in the trash after this. You’re not even sure what’s keeping them from splitting further, truth be told. You check your appearance in the mirror—your cheeks are a bit flushed, and you think a new hickey is about to make itself known but overall, not as mussed as you might have expected—and then Dave exits the restroom. You emerge a few moments later, looking for signs that would indicate your indiscretion has been noticed, but there are none. You try to act casual as you cross the dining room and rejoin him at the table, noticing that your meal has, in fact, arrived. Suddenly you find that you’re ravenous, hurriedly cleaving the cheeseburger into two pieces with a butter knife and then taking a bite.

Dave doesn’t bother pouring the ketchup into a tidy dollop beside his fries like you have; instead, it looks like a crime scene, with long red streaks painted in messy stripes. His first bite into his sandwich seizes a sizeable portion of it. You still don’t know how someone with such a healthy appetite manages to keep so slim.

He chews and swallows, watching you sample each element from your meal. “Good?”

You nod after you’ve finished tasting your chocolate milkshake. “Delicious.”

A little smirk swiftly appears and disappears before he pops a French fry in his mouth.

You decide it’s your turn to get the conversation flowing again. “So with the park closed for the winter, what are you doing for work?”

Dave dusts salt from his fingers and reaches over to rummage in his coat pocket to retrieve his wallet. A business card is extracted and placed on the table between you.

“You work here?” You bring the card closer to your face. Red. Weathered. Three of the four corners are dogeared and a sharp crease divides the upper and lower halves. The text printed with the name of a local motel is so worn it’s nearly illegible.

“Yes.”

“Time for a new one of these.” You slide the card back across the table.

He shrugs, returning the card to the billfold that looks to be in only slightly better condition than that battered relic. “It serves its purpose.”

“Another management job?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Okay, Norman Bates.”

He lays a hand against his chest in mock surprise. “I’m offended. I’ll have you know I’ve never murdered anyone in that establishment.”

“Right. But other ones are a different story, right?” You nudge his shin with your foot.

Dave hums but doesn’t reply, taking another sip of his drink. He really has such an odd sense of humor sometimes.

“Do you get a lot of business?”

“Depends on the season. In the fall there a couple of weekends where it fills up. Leaf peepers, you know.” He takes another long pull from his milkshake. “Then things slow down. But because it’s right off the highway, there’s always someone that needs a room for a night or two, so it’s never completely empty.”

You nod your head, reaching for the wallet still resting on the table. His driver’s license is visible through the clear plastic holder inside. The image seems a little out of focus, but it’s unmistakably the dark haired man’s face. The expiration date is for the following year. “No middle name, huh?” You glance at the demographic details. Height. Weight. Eye color. Address. No restrictions. A messy scrawl that’s his signature.

“I have one. I just didn’t give it.”

Your head lifts. “Why not? Do you not like it or something?”

“I like it fine.”

“Don’t you legally have to give it?”

“If you want to know what it is, just ask.”

“Okay, fine. What is it?”

“William.”

You cock your head to one side thoughtfully. “David William Miller, huh?”

He nods, stuffing a few more fries in his mouth, then grabs a new napkin—the other is already heavily stained with the vestiges of his sloppily applied ketchup—while you debate about rummaging further through the leather accessory, unsure if he’d really let you. Maybe there would be pictures inside. Clues to his past.

“Are you going to steal my credit cards?” His tone sounds amused, but you’re not entirely convinced he won’t resent you prying further. His eyes are unmistakably locked onto the object you’re holding, and his hands have grown still, frozen mid wipe to watch your next move.

“No.” You reluctantly shut the billfold and hand it back to him. He tucks it back into his coat pocket, then resumes eating, the tense moment passing. Better to let him tell you whatever secrets he’s hiding when he’s ready, you suppose, though you think it’s going to take a bit of work to get him to volunteer much of anything.

Dave’s almost finished eating, the paper lined basket nearly empty save for a few last bits of fried potatoes drowning in ketchup. You’re barely a third of the way through yours, despite your newly blossomed hunger.

He sees the direction of your gaze and smirks. “That disappeared rather quickly. Guess I was hungrier than I thought.” One hand casually disappears beneath the table, and you feel it reach your knee moments later. You force yourself to continue eating, refusing to check to see if anyone has noticed, to let him know just how quickly he’s reignited your body again.

“So, should I expect a visit to that motel later?” You try to keep your tone light, but inside you’re a lot more anxious. For one thing, you don’t relish the thought of driving back home late at night with the roads in what appear to be deteriorating conditions. For another…well, you hadn’t really discussed any plans beyond the meal at the diner. You’d just kind of assumed. Hoped. Now that classes are finished, it’s the perfect chance to spend a weekend together before the bustle of the holiday season begins and another semester follows.

“I was thinking more along the lines of taking you home with me.”

You nearly choke on the mouthful of cheeseburger you’ve just consumed. “Really? You’re actually going to show me where you live?”

“How is everything folks?”

Dave’s eyes never leave your features. “We’re doing just fine.”

“Yeah, it’s great, thanks.” You take a gulp of water to help soothe your throat so the coughing fit can subside. You’re vaguely aware of the waitress moving on to another table in your peripheral vision.

The sound of air being inhaled through the straw announces the older man has arrived at the end of his shake. He pushes it away with a mournful sounding sigh. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t know, I just thought…”

“Yes?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t know what you were planning.”

“You could have asked, you know.”

“Do you live far from here?”

“Not at all. It’s right downtown, actually.”

“Apartment?”

“Yes. A loft.”

“Neat.”

“You can follow me. We’ll take it slow.”

“That would be a first.”

Dave actually laughs, a rich sound that draws the attention of some of the other patrons. You duck your head and blush.

“Whenever you’re ready to leave, let me know.” His hand settles on your knee again.

Outside, the snow continues to fall.