#trekking without oxygen

[simptasia]

me and my mum got all weirdly happy that picard has something wrong with his parietal lobe because i also have something wrong with my parietal lobe

[wosofutbolfan]

I Would Climb Every Mountain With You

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

14K of fluff and fun

For those interested this is the song that played in my head throughout the inception of this one;

You shoved the last of your gear into your duffel, relishing in the zipping sound that pierced the silence of your sparsely occupied apartment.

This was a quick turn around, even for you.

You were back for your nans 82nd birthday which was in a few days and to catch up with your friends and family.

You’d barely been back on UK soil for 18 hours, in your Cumbria flat for only 15, when you got a call offering you a trip as a tour guide in the Pirineus Aragonese, otherwise known as the Spanish Pyrenees, for 3 nights.

Usually you’d ignore such a request at this point in your career but for a 3 day trip there were more 0’s than you would expect on the pay packet. Too many to refuse.

You were one of the best in the business, so trampling around the low level bases of a fairley commercial mountain range was a bit novice for you.

These days you find yourself in the thin air over 6000 meters, or in a remote rainforest, or trekking through the Sahara, guiding millionaire white men who made the move from being armchair adventurers to have-a-go adventurers in the very safe manner which your expertise offered.

You did it because those IT consultants, those bankers, those surgeons, paid well.

Very well. 

Well enough to fund your explorations.

To go to those heights that really drove you. 8000 metres. The death zone. Where the air was so thin you couldn't stay long or your brain would lose oxygen.

Or the amazon, making contact with a tribe to warn them of encroaching foresters.

Or to the arctic. To witness the last of the planet untouched by man.

As you shut the door behind yourself, barely even checking it locked. Fuck. You thought, as you downloaded the boarding pass sent to you. 

Your mum was going to kill you. 

But god. You loved the outdoors. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate the outdoors!”

Alexia growled smacking a hand against her forearm, trying in vain to swat the midgie which was trying to make her blood its next meal. She hated the high pitched zoom that travelled past her ear as it moved back through the mini bus to try and find a more peaceful meal out of one of her teammates.

“We know Ale…” a tired voice from next to her groaned “you’ve mentioned it once, twice. Maybe a thousand times.” Mapi rolled her head off of her girlfriend's shoulder where she had been in a light doze. Interrupted by her captain's loud complaints.

“I’m just saying.” Alexia continued to grumble “I don’t know why Jona is making us do this. Team Bonding? We are a very bonded team already! I make you all pancakes on sundays!”

Mapi rolled her eyes at the blondes protests. She’d heard all of this before since Jona had announced the 3 day team bonding trip at the start of pre season. She could recite Alexia's complaints by heart.

“I’m excited.” She shrugs, eyes cast over her girlfriend who had moved to nuzzle into her side.

“Traidora” The captain replies, eyes gazing out of the fast moving countryside out of the window. She felt worse and worse the more they moved away from the city into the endless empty space around her. She could feel civilization leaving her grasp as the bars of signal went down on her phone. “You’ve been brainwashed by your nordic girlfriend.” She lets out simply. Ignoring Mapis' offended scoff and dodging the light slap sent her way.

“Behave Maria.” A tired voice let out, without opening their eyes. Like a school child who had been told off, the tiny defender backs down and settles back into her girlfriend's shoulder. And if Alexia sticks her tongue out at her like a toddler then well. Who can provide it?

“God” she thought to herself as she settled her head back against the vibrating glass, starting a mental countdown of when she would return to her city center apartment  “I hate the outdoors.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I probably should buy new walking boots.” You thought to yourself as you clambered out of the minibus which dropped you and your small team at the muster point. Your boots fit like a glove but they did look a little worse for wear. All scratched and battered. The green laces prominent against the dark brown leather.

Who are you kidding? You knew you would never buy new boots.

You could still make out the scratch deep in the leather where you hooked your foot behind a rock as you careered down a shale summit when you were still a novice. A mark against the toe protection where a dog in the Andes got a bit too friendly and attacked your foot. Nah. These boots were the closest friend you had.

A rumble of a car cut against the silence of the mountains around you and you could just make up another mini bus trudging up the mountain pass from the elevation you stood at. You had a few minutes before the clients arrived.

“Who ‘av we got then?” you asked and you turned to face Rio, your long-time guiding partner when you were in this part of the world.

Full name Mario he was a kind man in his 40’s who lived for bad 80s music and loved his kids more than you thought any human was capable of love.

“I am unsure, Mi Amiga. I just got the paperwork that told me it was a team of 23 ladies. They assured the operator we have no fitness issues. They have translators in the group, multiple languages so we're best sticking with English. I have all the health forms here, everything looks good. Some dietary requirements but nothing we can’t handle”

Huh. A weird group. 23 fit women with translators in the group? Weird.

“Women. Rio. We prefer the term women.” you gibe him, “Urght. 23 women is a lot. I hope it isn’t a hen party. Penis straws aren’t my thing, if you know what I mean.” you knock your elbow into his ribs and let out a cackle. 

You were very very gay. A fact that wasn’t lost on Mario as he had unfortunately been witness to more than a few hook ups after expeditions over the years. 

“Si, I know what you mean, that rock over there knows what you mean, tu idiota.” he replied, rolling his eyes and moving to help the team with the checklist of essentials.

Your knee deep in gas canisters and spare tent pegs by the time the mini bus holding the clients arrives.

You untangle yourself with a sheepish smile to Rio as you move to meet the van and he moves to tidy your mess. He’s the practical guy. You’re the nice guy. It's your job to go and meet the clients and explain the expedition and answer any questions.

“Hol… Holy shit.” you start. What you intended to be a lively welcome in your best spanish quickly got lost on your tongue with each woman who exited the van.

Fucking hell. These women were gorgeous.

Specifically the last women to emerge from the van. All blonde hair and hazel eyes.

And tattoos.

And fit.

And tall.

And. Not to be a dick about it. Very gay.

You shake yourself out of it. Come on. Be professional. Stop being a gross guy. You scold yourself.

You turn to Rio who’s finishing up with all the kit who laughs at your expression; “Not a hen party then?”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“... so on day two we will reach the gorge, follow the treeline across the ridge, through the forest finding some good places to camp and then finally end in Arén. Where your bus will meet you and take you back to Barcelona. Is that good?”

The group lets out a murmur of agreement and an enthusiastic “Fantastic!” is heard above everyone else and Alexia rolls her eyes.

“Mapi, you really need to control your girlfriend. If you're not careful she's going to run away into the wilderness.” she mutters to her best friend.

“Shut up Ale.” Mapi hisses back, but it isn’t missed by Alexia how Mapi slowly inches herself closer to her girlfriend and hooks her fingers through the waist strap of her backpack, as though physically stopping her from leaving her, renaming herself Hedi and living the rest of her days in the mountains.

Alexia lets out a scoff of laughter, which was louder than she intended.

“There, at the back. A question?” 

Suddenly Alexia finds the eyes of the team watching her, most with a glint in their eyes as they were all victims to her complaining over the last few weeks.

Listen. She's not bothered she has 22 sets of eyes on her.

She's used to it. Especially these eyes. She's their captain.

That's not what causes her mouth to dry up and her pulse to race.

No. That's you.

For the first time since getting out of the van Alexia looks up and sees your gaze directed straight at her. Holy shit. You were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

And she had seen a lot of women.

But you, standing there in your khaki shorts, simple vest top, hair tied up and a bandana and dirty old boots took her breath away.

You gave off an aura of cool. Dark raybans perched on your face and muscles rippling against a backpack bigger than you.

You were the coolest woman she had ever seen.

“Sorry, the paperwork said everyone would understand English, or had access to a translator. That's my fault. Can someone translate? Or I can spe-” 

A ripple of laughter goes through the group but its Mapis cough and small kick that pulls Alexia out of her stupor.

“Vaya, I understand, lo siento, no. No questions here. Just. So excited to get going! Vamos Amigas!” Alexia cheerfully ended, ignoring her teammates' confused faces at her complete 180 as she hoisted her backpack on and threw you her most dashing smile.

Maybe she could make something out of this weekend after all.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You threw a smile past 3 of your group on the trail as you made your way down the mountain.

“Hola chica’s” you let out cheekily, throwing a wink at the three, who had quickly become your favourites.

You loved love and you could see how much the small brunette you learned was Mapi hung onto every action of her girlfriend. Ingrid's enthusiasm was one you shared, born of a childhood spent outside and Alexia.

Well.

Alexia was a mystery. Quick to smile and eager to please but there was something there. So confident and yet you could make out the blush on her cheeks at your innocent wink.

And god. Was she gorgeous. Chiselled and…stay professional!

They made a very likable trio and you had been spending most of your hike with them so far but you had to share the love and you left them behind a few miles ago to go scout out the front of the pack.

This was how you and Mario worked. You would take it in turns to be at the front and the back of the group - keeping everyone together and pacing everyone so they remained in a close-enough group to manage safely whilst not hampering or rushing anyone.

You’ve got to admit.

These girls were fit.

Even you found it difficult to keep up.

Though, to be fair you had to hike double with the overlapping on the hillside and your pack that weighed about 6 extra stone.

Still, you wouldn’t swap this job for the world. You thought to yourself as you spied the last team member a few metres down the mountain you halted and waited for them to reach you. Feigning that you were just taking in the view so that they didn’t feel bad about being at the back.

Someone has to be.

“Don’t worry about it” you let out easily at Pina and Patris apologies, “You guys are doing it the right way. Take in the view! We’re hours ahead of schedule”.

And you were. These girls really were athletic. You really should find out what the hell they do for a living.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Capi, what are you doing now?” Mapi grumbled as Alexia came to a stop.

She tosses her bag down and rummages through it, picking out a small bottle and spraying herself quickly before hiding it away.

“Vamos Mapi, you go up. I’m just… taking  a moment.”

“No problem Alexia, we can wait with you. Is it your knee? Are you okay?” Ingrid's kind voice asked, her brows furrowed in concern for her captain.

“Si Si I am good it’s just…”

“Ah! I know!” Mapi exclaimed “the sudden buen humor. The changes in pace. I can’t believe it! Capi has a crush! With the mountain boss lady! Wait… is that perfu…”

Mapi is quickly silenced by Alexia's large hand covering her mouth as the captain looks down the mountainside in concern. You’ve passed them and are out of view and she hopes out of earshot.

“Callate idiota” she hisses “Ew!” She pulls her hand away and wipes it on her shorts whilst Mapi grins cheerfully, her tongue safely back in her mouth.

“I do not! It is good to feel nice, that's all. I am just taking a moment. Please. Ingrid. Take her away before I push her down the mountain.”

Alexia pleads to the Norwegian, who is more than happy to grab her girlfriend's hand and continue the best weekend of her life, explaining all about the different types of trees they would see as Mapi hangs on her every word.

Alexia isn’t alone for long until she hears your peel of laughter as you round the corner with the two meneces that were Patri and Pina.

You say something that makes Patri laugh and she shoves you playfully to one side which makes Alexia's heart jump into her throat.

“Ay! Idiota! Do not push her! She could slip!”

She takes your bark of a laugh and the soft look you give her happily, embracing the warm feeling that it makes in her chest.

“Sorry Capi.” Patri mocks, saluting with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Alright. That's it. What the hell do you guys do? You’re all mega fit, speak about 15 different languages and now you’re introducing this insane leadership structure. Is this some sort of new-age google thing?” you ask, incredulously, hands on your hips and question in your eyes.

There's a moment of silence and then all three of them burst into laughter at the same time.

“What? What did I say?” you ask. “What do you think we do jefa de montana?” Pina asks, as you all continue your hike upwards.

“I don’t know… really rich estate agents?” you ask, prompting more laughter from the group. “Erm… oh! I know! You’re all personal trainers in old folks homes but you’re taking it really, really seriously? OH! I know” You’re all spies!” you exclaim, just to hear Alexias laugh again. Which you are rewarded with.

“No tonta. We are all footballers. We are the Barcelona Femini first team!” Alexia lets out, arms wide, all three of them pausing with expectant looks on their faces in your direction.

“Ah. Makes sense. Cool.” you let out, smile their way and continue leading them up the mountain.

You sense you’re walking alone all of a sudden and turn to see all three of them standing like fishes, mouths open staring incredulously at you.

“What? What's wrong?” you call down.

“Footballers, you strange mountain woman! It’s more than cool! We’re the best in the world!” Patri lets out, incredulously.

It’s your turn to bark out a laugh. “Ha! Sorry chicas, I promise I will be suitably impressed once we reach camp” you wink as you all continue upwards, a peaceful silence settling over the three of you. 

“I’m more of a rugby person anyway.” you break the silence.

A moment of pregnant pause.

“Push her off the mountain Patri.” Alexia orders, jovially. “On it Cap!”

You cackle as you run away from the three chasing footballers and the only thought that is running through your head is, ‘God, Alexia smells good.’

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ella es tan bonita” Alexia mutters to herself, as she watches you from across the clearing, after helpfully dumping herself outside of Ingrid and Mapis tent as Ingrid sets the whole thing up as well as going behind Mapi and re-clipping all of the clips and double checking all the poles, whilst ensuring Mapi doesn't see her.

“Ay, Capi. Stop creeping and come help. Or set up your tent, you need somewhere to sleep.” “I will, I will” Mapi takes a seat next to her captain who doesn't look like she's moving from her perch anytime soon.

“So, you’re in love, si?”

“Si…” Alexia lets out dreamily, “Wait. No! Shut up, I didn't say that.”

Mapi opens her mouth, ready to tease the hell out of her captain before… “We heard nothing Ale, don’t worry” Ingrid lets out from inside the tent. Mapis' mouth closes with a small frown at the idea of her teasing ammo being taken away from her.

“She is so cool though.” Alexia continues, “You know, she’s been to the arctic three times? And climbed 4 of the worlds highest summits. 4 of them? One on her own!”

“We know Ale,” Ingird responded, kindly, appearing from the tent “You’ve told us a dozen times. Come on. Let’s see if she needs help with anything.”

Alexia moves as though she’s just intercepted a stray pass in front of goal.

Rapid.

You stand, ignoring the aching in your back as you put the finishing touches onto the makeshift fire pit.

You’d spent the last hour scouting and setting up camp for the group. Mario was off helping some of the girls set up their tents for the night.

You both preferred the ease of a hammock slung between two trees with a mosquito net being the only thing between you and the stars. That meant you were both able to carry more provisions for the group and set up your camps quickly before moving on to help the clients.

“Do you need any help at all?” you hear accented english, you turn and Ingrid offers you a kind smile. “No, no you’re good guys, make yourselves at home.” you gesture to the logs that had been moved into a semi circle around the firepit. Logs collected by Mario waiting for the night to arrive.

You're on your knees setting some water to boil as you hear an annoyed grumble and a slap of skin “mierda!”. You turn on your knees and find yourself faced with Alexia, sitting on a log near you losing a one woman battle against a thousand midges.

“You must taste nice.” It takes you a minute of the blonde blushing and red face to realise what you’ve said. You stand and move to sit next to her “No! No sorry I didn’t mean… I mean…” you take a deep breath and…. “You smell nice.”

Mapis' bark of laughter makes you roll your eyes good naturedly, the blonde next to you still looking at you somewhat star struck.

“No really Alexia…” you move closer and breathe the blonde in, she smells sweet, floral…. Stay professional! 

“That’s why they’re attracted to you. Your smell, and…” you move slowly, gently and take her arm in yours… “some people just react to the bites more, this looks like it could become sore.” you brush over a large, reddening bite on her inner arm.

Alexia, meanwhile, is acting as though your touch isn’t setting her blood on fire. She’s apparently chosen to hide this by just staring at you, wide eyed. Another midgey lands on her skin and you feel her arm tense in your grasp as she moves to swat it but you hold firm.

“Ey ey, there's more of them than you and we’re in their territory. Take only pictures, leave only footprints and kill…”

“Nothing but time!” Ingrid jumps in, excitedly, “Yes Ing, that's the one” you reply, as Ingrid sits proudly. “Mascota del maestro.” Mapi teases her.

You move your attention back to Alexia, “Ale, you should go and wash off, there will be a stream over there, looking at the treeline and the game track marks. It’ll take the sweetness from your skin. It will help, I have some antihistamine you should take when you get back and I'm sure I smelt some wild garlic growing just as we entered the clearing. It acts as a repellent, I will go forage some and add it to your meal tonight. It will help for the rest of the trip.”

“No, I’ll be fi….” you move to stand, gathering your wilderness knife and attaching it to your hip. “I wasn’t asking Alexia. I’m in charge here, Captain. I know what I’m doing, now go. Please”

Alexia isn’t told what to do often.

Yes she has a coach and she has trainers but she is the captain.

The expert.

But your kind and gentle nature just became firm in front of her eyes. This was your world and it was clear you knew what you were doing in it. She felt like a puppet as she stood obediently and made her way to the stream.

As she stood there, in only her underwear in the cold water, listening to the distant laughter of her teammates and overlooking the most beautiful blue-green water of the gorge beneath the mountain side. She kind of understood this whole outdoorsy thing. It was peaceful, she could hear her thoughts. Alexia was never alone. There was always someone fighting for her attention, needing something from her.

But here, she felt like her mind had gone quiet. And she could think. And breathe.

She was feeling somewhat light and philosophical by the time she made it back to the firepit.

You look up from your pan and see the silhouette of the tall Barcelona captain making their way over. She looks lighter somehow. Hair hanging limp softens her features and her face is bare, making her look somehow more beautiful. You shake yourself out of your thoughts and start to plate up the meal for everyone. 

You feel Mario next to you; “Ay, smells goods, some of your best work Mi Amiga.” He mutters to you, shoving your shoulder gently, “ooh we’ve got fancy with the spices, si? Someone to impress” he obnoxiously wiggles his eyebrows at you and you very maturely, in your opinion, ignore his teasing in order to stir some sauteed garlic through one of the bowls. “Go give that to your apalastar. I’ll hand out the rest” he orders.

“I don’t have a crush” you hiss, even as you gather two bowls and make your way over to the blonde. Alexai looks up as you stand above her, seemingly having interrupted her thoughts. You offer a smile as you pass her a steaming metal bowl.

“Chicken and rice” you state, as you take a seat next to her, “with extra garlic, as promised” you smile as you start to shovel food into your mouth.

You take a moment with your eyes closed like you do before every meal before tucking in. Mario tells you that you eat like a wild dog who’s just found an open trash can, you don’t care, you love your food, especially after a long hike day cooked over an open fire. 

“How do you know these things?” Alexia asks. You make the universal noise of; ‘huh’? And eye her curiously. “The garlic. The stream. How do you know?”

“Ah, it’s my life.” you reply, “I grew up in rural England. Me and my brother would go for hikes for days at a time. Not much else to do. I learnt how to read the land. You get used to it…” a beat of silence, “the solution is always around.”

Now it's Alexia's turn to let out a confused grunt, around a mouthful of chicken.

“In nature. Nature always provides what you need. If it creates a problem, it will create a solution. That's why I love it so much. Sunburn? Mud is the best sunscreen money can’t buy. Stuck in a monsoon? You’ll be saved by a cave to shelter in that's carved by the same weather that's trying to kill you. Mosquitos making you their next meal? Garlic will grow and act as a repellent. You just need to learn to read the signs. That's why I love it so much.”

Alexia grows quiet, and you can’t quite place the look she's giving you. 

It’s open, and you feel maybe you shared too much so revert back to what you know. As you scrape the metal bowl clean you pull out a blister pack and present them to the footballer. “Sometimes, though, the answer is in a pharmacy in Perpignan” you grin cheekily and enjoy the blondes blush and laugh as she pops an antihistamine and swallows it. 

You root into your pocket and pull out some bite cream.

“May I?” you gesture towards her arm as you see she has finished her meal. She nods and presents you with her arm where an angry looking lump had formed. You grunt in sympathy as you carefully apply the cream. Making soothing motions with your thumb making sure the cream is absorbed fully.

You struggle to remain professional with the blondes soft skin under your hands. And you struggle to pull them away. You don’t know what comes over you as you gently blow on the bite to sooth it. You don’t think you’re alone in  your feelings as you hear a sharp intake of breath from the blonde, and feel goosebumps rise under your fingertips.

“I’m sorry, It helps to cool the area, it’s feeling a little hot” as you pull your hands away.

Alexia seems to be in a daze but you catch her eye as she lets out “eres tan caliente”. It’s quiet, under her breath and you see her eyes widen as she realises she's spoken aloud. “Pardon?” you ask, just to make sure you heard her.

“Oh sorry, nada, nothing. Thank you for your help. It feels better already. You’re really good at this.”

You smile at her happily, a proud buzz in your stomach at making her feel better, you're interrupted from any reply by Mario shouting your name across the fire pit. And that's when you realise you have 22 other clients all around, and you had kind of left your colleague to deal with them all.

Which makes it easier for him to convince you to fulfil his request. He always does this. And he knows you hate it. As he shakes the ukulele he’s carried up a frigging mountain at you. You can’t really deny him.

“Come on chica! Show the girls what you can do!”, you take it from him as you roll your eyes good naturedly as you settle back down, closer, somehow to Alexia, you can feel your thigh touch hers as you try to pretend that is isn't setting your world on fire. 

Alexia pretends that she can’t see Mapis' eyes light up and eyebrows wiggle at her from across the campfire.

As the stars start to make an appearance you serenade the group with campfire songs you grew up on, some songs that Mario sings along with you, you strum as Mapi excitingly dances around the campfire and you continue into the night as your fingers start to ache. Lucy even teaches you the Barcelona anthem, which you murder, but it's worth it to see the laugh in Alexia's eyes.

You don’t mind making a fool of yourself if that's your result.

You feel the blonde slump more into you as the night goes on, and you feel the tension between you both increase. However, when you look across to catch her eyes you see that she's practically asleep as she sits.

“Hey, Ale” you mutter as Pina takes a turn on your ukulele, rousing her from her light sleep, “come on, the tablets can make you drowsy. You need to get to sleep.”

“Oh, no. But I don’t want to miss anything.” she mutters, cutely, you don’t think she’d be so open unless she was completely exhausted. “And I need to set my tent up.”

“Don’t worry, I set it up for you when you were in the stream.” you respond, easily, and there's that look again, the one that puts your stomach into knots and makes you unsure of what you’ve said, so you continue, “It’s next to Mapi and Ingrids. I thought you’d want their protection from the bears.”

“Bears?!” she exclaims, which brings everyone's attention to the both of you, 23 worried looking footballers now looking in your direction as you bark out a laugh.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” you respond, to all of them, hands raised as a sign of peace. They settle down… “well actually I’m not, but what did you think the singing was for!”

Mario is the only one that snorts out a laugh.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia wakes up hot.

And thirsty.

She opens her eyes and takes a moment to remember herself and where she is. But as she hears the light chatter and banging of pans outside it comes back to her.

Last night, sitting around the firepit by your side, one she had gotten over how hot the vision of you playing the instrument was, she was being lulled into a drowsy state by your gentle singing, the stars shining above and the warmth of your body by her side.

She remembers your hands on her skin, causing goosebumps and her stomach to flutter, somehow those hands in the middle of a literal mountain range made her feel more safe than the most experienced medical professional in the most high-tech sports facilities ever could.

She remembers finding her tent from where you had set it up. Citronella candle burning outside keeping the bugs away, everything zipped up safely, and then seeing how you had set the inside up.

Sleeping bag open and inviting, all her bags set neatly, essentials on top of her bag, hiking boots sitting on pegs she definitely did not bring to air them and stop any creepies crawling into them. Water next to her cot.

God. She was in trouble.

As she crawled into the porch area she found a small metal bowl with what looked like a cut up cactus in it, goop oozing from it. She picked the bowl up and made her way over to her best friends, who were tucking into a breakfast of granola and fruits out of similar bowls to that in her hand.

“Hey, Ingrid. Nature lover. What's this?” She holds the bowl up with a curious eyebrow.

“I think you mean Hola Ingrid, How are you this morning?” Mapi grumbles, whilst her girlfriend rubs her knee and shushes her kindly, Alexia looks at her expectantly.

She takes the bowl and a smile overtakes her face, “This is Aloe, Ale.” “Aloe Ale? Are you making fun of me?” Ingrid smiles again, “No, Ale, it's Aloe Vera, it's the gel from the Aloe Vera plant. It's got healing properties and… good for sunburn, reducing irritation and swelling, some may say good for insect bites?”

“Oh, well thank you then Ingrid, that's really kind.” Alexia hums, happily.

“Ale. I love you, but I didn’t collect this.” Ingrid smiles, Mapi looks on in glee and not-at-all subtly points in your direction.

“It was the jefa de montana!” She whisper-shouts, “I woke up early and saw her coming back with that cool knife of hers… Hey… Ingri…?”

“No Maria. You cannot have a knife.” Ingrid lets out, not looking away from her breakfast.

Alexis misses Mapis' sulk, as well as the loving bickering between her two best friends, because she is distracted by you, sitting across the camp entertaining Jana and Vicky. Seemingly a boundless source of energy and knowledge. You must feel someone's eyes on you because you look up and it feels like you look directly into Alexia's soul.

She holds the bowl up with a shy smile and mouths thank you, and she re-iterates to herself how well as truely fucked she is as as you send a wink her way which makes her knees weak.

“Oh estoy jodida”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You smile as you waved the girls off from camp, it being your turn to stay behind and finish packing up the provisions and bringing up the rear of the group. With Mario leading the charge down into the gorge where you would make camp tonight.

It was your favourite day of the trek today, and you were excited about the girls reaction to the camp set up this evening. You expect that you would get there earlier than expected with these super-fit professional athletes, which would give you all more time to explore the lake. You found yourself looking forward to a certain blonde's face as she took in the view, the mountain above reflecting into the water.

It really was beautiful.

You knew yourself very well. That's the thing about being an explorer. You have to know yourself, you spend a lot of time alone and with your thoughts. You need to know your limits. Assess your feelings. Is this the half-way mark of my endurance? Do I need to turn around now? It was important for survival.

And with everything you've done you're not sure you’ll survive the next two days with Alexia Putellas.

You found her disarming. She was stoic but kind. She was serious but hilarious. Strong but vulnerable. She was stern but looked at you so softly it made your heart melt. 

She was a woman of contradictions in the best way. 

And you wanted to wrap your arms around her and keep her safe. Yeah, it was your job to keep everyone on this trip safe. But it wasn't your job that made you trek back 2 miles this morning to harvest the Aloe you saw yesterday. Or take an extra 20 minutes to set her tent up making sure she had everything that she didn't know she needed.

You knew why you did it, but you don’t think you were ready to be that honest with yourself yet.

You finished packing up camp and making sure there was no trace of your group and then continued along the trail. You thought you had a few hours before you encountered any of the famous fucking footballers you were guiding on account of most of them all being fucking olympians, but it hadn’t been more than 90 minutes before you spotted the same person who was clouding all of your thoughts.

“Hola Capi!” you shouted down the trail below you, you didn’t want to spook her and get to close as she looked lost in her thoughts, gazing down to the lake below.

“Ah, Hola Jefa de montaña” a smile overtaking her features. “I didn't expect you to be at the back, Capi” you tease, nudging her and continuing along at her side, “the young’uns making you feel old?”

There's that laugh again. The one that seems to fill a hole in your heart.

“no por supuesto que no, solo soy….” she trails off as you look at her curiously.

“Ah, lo siento, you don’t speak spanish, I’m just taking my time, enjoying the view, no rush, si?” she asks you, completely misinterpreting your look. You go to correct her but she speaks before you have a chance,

“So, where's your favourite exploration been?” and if there's anything that you can yap on about. It's your adventures.

Alexia loves the way your face lights up, loves the way that your whole body thrums with excitement. The way you describe the sights, sounds, smells of your travels. Her heart drops when you tell tall tales of alligator attacks in the south american swamps, her laughter bubbles as you tell her about accidental orders of bizarre and unusual foods in china, she blushes as you describe being run out a village in mongolia for sleeping with the mayor's wife (completely accidental of course).

You tell a story with your whole body, arms flailing and actions where appropriate. The time flies and the environment around Alexia is lost to the beauty she finds in your excitement.

You finally pause for breath and the silence makes you realise how long you have been speaking for.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I haven't stopped talking - ple…”

“Do not apologise” Alexia interrupts, “I like to hear you speak, your stories are so…” she struggles to find the word and takes a moment “...colourful. And exciting.” she snaps her fingers, happy with herself. 

“Exciting, me? Maybe. You though. Football, huh? That must be amazing. Free to travel the world… all of your adoring fans, huh?” you wiggle your brows and nudge her again, but her coy smile doesn’t appear like you expected it to.

She grows quiet, hand playing with the long grass as you both stroll by.

“Ah. Maybe. I thought so, but now… I’m thinking, maybe I am not so free?” she poses it as a question, and eyes lift to your face, and then her surroundings.

“I love football. Football is my life. But the other things… ah. I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could walk down to mi Mamis without wearing a cap, or a hood. Just… go. You know?”

You do know. You couldn’t imagine such restrictions. Your spirit is a free one. And Alexia seems caged. Caged and wanting to break free.

“I get it, Ale.” your use of her name brings a blush to her face. And a smile you want to keep there. “Tell me about football.” you request, simply.

“What about it? It is the most beautiful game in the world! You are English, a good football nation, it’s coming home? No?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” you do. “I’m from the countryside. Football is played in cities. I cannot think of any football team not named after a City.”

“Football is played everywhere! It's the game of the Earth”

“Is it?” you ask, “tell me.” you request again.

And off she goes, she tells you how she loves her team, the fans, Barca, how the game brought her close to her father and she feels closer to him as she continues to play. You enjoy the excitement in her voice as she makes you both stop as she uses a stick to explain the offside rule. You force a cereal bar into her hand and make sure you both drink water as you go. Seamlessly, as she continues to talk about her life's passion.

Before you know it you notice the placement of the sun and realise you have nearly completed the miles for the day. You are shocked that you haven’t run into any of her teammates, though you suppose, you have both been walking slower as you chatted.

Though, that does mean you have left Mario with 23 clients. Fuck you owe him.

“The way you talk about it, It does sound like a beautiful game, capi.” you summarise, as she finishes telling you about the football camps for underprivileged kids she visits.

She pauses and looks into your face. The moment grows less jovial than the whole day had been and you hear Alexia whisper, “Eres hermosa”. “Huh?” you let out, surprised. “Oh, da nada, nothing. Sorry, I don’t usually speak too much English…”

“Ah, Capi!” you hear a third voice, raised across the clearing you had just entered, a canopy of trees above and now you are at the lake shore.

You are both shaken out of your trances as you realise you have made camp, and by the looks of it, the rest of the group had been here for a while. God, you really did owe Mario.

“Ah, chica!” you hear Marios best as he makes his way towards you, “you left me! These girls, they are loco!” you laugh as you see the sweat beading across his brow and his face still red, “the walk and walk and walk, they walk so quick!” 

Jana now makes her way over, taking Alexias backpack from her shoulders,

“We walk quickly because Capi told us whoever won she would give first dibs on shower privileges all seaso….” Jana is silenced by Alexia, who shoves her hand over her mouth. “Ay, Jana, she’s an iditoto, doesn’t know what she's talking about, Si. Vamos, Jana. You can help me set my tent up.”

Jana is practically dragged away as you focus your attention again on Mario.

“lo siento mi amigo,” you tell him, “I didn’t mean to.. I think I just got carried away…” you eyes follow the tall blonde as she makes her way across camp, Jana having abandoned her on route.

“Da nada my friend. I have not seen you like this before…” he smiles at you. “I think she is good for you.”

“Oh stop Mario. You know me. I can’t.”

“You won’t. That is different to you can’t. And I notice you do not deny, now, vamos, help me anti-bear this place.”

Your next hour is spent helping Mario set up camp, you're close to a huge water source now, and whilst bears will only come looking for food you need to take extra steps to not spook your clients, you keep the provisions away from camp, high in trees, you sprinkle ash from the fire around and you place dry leaves and twigs around, you and Mario are light sleepers, any visitor to camp will make you up.

Alexia has been abandoned by her team. “Team building, sure… you all have fun guys, I’ll be here…” she mumbles to herself as she struggles to feed the poles of her tent through the holes in the canvas. She takes a look up and sees you, lifting logs for the fire. All short, shorts and rippling muscles. Those same damn old boots on your feet so sexily rugged.

She gets lost in her thoughts, images swimming around her mind of making you sweat for different reasons, imagining being stood above you as you drop to your knees in front of her as she gathers your hair in her hand….

“Do you need me to help you with your pole?” you ask. SNAP.  Huh? Alexia looks up from the daydream she had embarrassingly got lost in. Ignoring the heat between her legs. She looks up, flustered.

“Q..Que?” she asks you, she looks down and sees the metal pole she was trying to thread through in two pieces in her hands.

“Oh… oops.” she continues. “Oh Ale… that's the centerframe pole. That's keeping the roof over your head. I can try to patch it up with some twine… but I’m not sure it will hold.” you tell her, examining the two pieces in her hands.

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t know what happened there.” Alexia tries to distract to get out of this awkward situation. “No problem, I will share it with Ingrid and Mapi. They won’t mind.”

You cast your eyes over to where Ingrid was walking into the lake in a two piece swimsuit, Mapi watching from the fire and almost setting her boot on fire as she paid no attention to her surroundings. You think they may mind.

“Okay Ale.” she knows her friends better than you, you suppose. “Now come, come look at this view.”

You lead her to the lakeside where most of the girls were settled, and you explain to the group some of the geography of how the gorge and lake was formed. And, to be fair to them, most of them did pretend to care. But you could tell they were just dying to jump in.

“Go on then Chicas! A few hours til dinner. Go have fun!”

The cheer that the group let out made you laugh, so did watching them as they scrambled over each other in the water as you and Mario made dinner.  Lucy having produced a small ball from somewhere they all start to play in the water. Somehow, you felt like you were all of a sudden guiding 12 year old boys.

You could make Ale out, in the middle of the fray, contemplative nature fully unleashed as she laughed and played around with her teammates. You loved seeing her so free and open. Especially after your chat today.

You find yourself at the campfire again, plating up dinner for the group and you see an open space next to Alexia.

You make your way over but before you get there the seat is taken by Vicky, you miss the scowl that takes over Ales face as she slaps the back of her younger teammate's head.

“That space was being saved!” she sulks, watching as you change direction and settle yourself next to Lucy. Quickly being drawn into conversation. “Yeah, Lopez, that's her girlfriend's seat!” Mapi sniggers.

“Lo Siento Ale, I didn’t know.” Vicky looks so apologetic that it tugs on Alexia's heart as her gaze softens and she pulls her head into her chest in an aggressive hug, she kisses her hair. “está bien pequeña”.

After another night of singing, card games and this time smores you get the attention of the group; “Okay girls, serious now. We are in bear country.” a gasp goes through the group, “Me and Mario have made the camp safe but there's always a chance a bear may wander into camp. I’m not saying this to scare you. I’m saying this to keep you safe.” you point down to your calf, where a slither of scar tissue can be seen,

“I’ve been on the wrong side of a hungry brown bear before. They are good creatures, just hungry. They hate humans. If, and this is a big if a bear wanders into camp you need to just make noise. That will be enough to scare it away and bring mine and Marios attention to you. Si?”

The group is quiet for a moment until Ingrid lets out an affirmative noise.

You think your little bear chat scared them because quickly it's just you, Mario and Alexia who remain awake, as Mario tells stories of his family and the mischief his children get up to. He lets out a big yawn.

“Mario, you can get to bed. I will sort this” you point down to the dying embers of the fire. “I owe you after today.” “You do” he smiles as he stands up and makes his way across camp to his hammock.

“I will go to bed also.” Alexia stands, and you offer to walk her to Mapi and Ingrids tent with your headlamp so she doesn't trip on any ropes.

That smile again. She nods and as you move closer to the tent you hear a noise. You put your hand on her arm to stop her, and cock your head to one side, that won’t be a bear, surely?

There! That noise again. Louder this time. Wait. A… groan?

“Oh my god.” Alexia whispers, a laugh in her voice. You're confused and then you hear it again, this time, it sounds suspiciously like a groan of a name. Maria. Oh. Oh for god's sake. 

“Maybe they took the ‘make noise’ instruction too seriously, si?” Alexia giggles into your ear. This makes you bark out a laugh, quickly hidden behind her hand that raises itself to your mouth.

“Qué fue eso” you hear from the tent. For some reason, this fills both you and Alexia with childish excitement and glee. As you pull her hand with you as you sprint away from the tent as though you are 9 in a school yard and have just been told someone has cooties.

You guide her to your hammock, and stand there, giggles subsiding, suddenly unsure of what to do.

“Maybe they forgot you were in with them tonight?” you ask the blonde, who shrugs and replies “with those two I don’t think much can stop them.” this makes you laugh lightly and then a beat of silence.

“Erm, you can take my hammock, sorry, some people don't find it comfortable but it keeps the mosquitos away and I can set up a roll matt by the fire.”

“No.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make yo…”

“No, I mean. I am not kicking you out of your bed. I will go on the matt… “

“No Ale. With your blood you’ll be eaten alive without a net… maybe..”

“Si?”

“Maybe we can share? The hammock is huge and it's normal for people to share in survival situations, you know, to keep warm and stuff.”

“Creo que tener calor será el problema.” “Pardon?” “Ah, nothing, I just said yes we should share.”

This keeps happening, and you think it's hilarious, and you let out a coy smile, “roomies?” you ask, Alexia matches your smile as she nods.

You let her get settled into the hammock in her sleeping bag before you pull it wider, there being plenty of material to hold you both comfortably. You forgot, the design of the hammock encapsulates you both, the canvas bowing upwards forcing you both into the middle, and creating a shield around you, mosquito net a curtain around you.

Suddenly, all your senses are full of Alexia. Alexia beneath you and stars above you. God. Have you died and gone to heaven? No. In heaven you wouldn't be separated by 2 layers of polyester sleeping bags.

You shuffle around to try to take some of your weight off her and lie by her side. “Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a type of embarrassment you never do when usually sharing this space, probably with another explorer, usually in some death defying situation. 

You don’t know how this perfectly safe encounter makes you more nervous than those. In those situations, you don’t have time to be embarrassed by how heavy your weight is on the other person, how it's been 2 days since your last shower…. How your breath must smell.

“Estas bien” she lets out, softly, and those two words calm you more than a half a bar of phone signal after days of trekking in the Atlas Mountains ever could. One of her arms envelopes your shoulder and your head settles onto her chest. “Lo siento my arm is in the way…”

“Estas bien.” you reply, softly.

Alexia has never been more comfortable in her entire life. The warmth of your body weighs on hers, the smell of you infiltrating her senses, the stars above and the gentle sway of the hammock.

Sleep is already dragging her as you whisper, “buenas noches que duermas bien ale”. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia wakes to the feeling of movement on her chest. Before she opens her eyes she takes stock of her body. Her arms now fully wrapped around you. Hands tangled in your hair. You burrowed into her chest. She is warm.

She is happy.

She knows you're awake. But there's no springing apart in embarrassment. God no. She's not ashamed. She wants this moment to last forever.

But it can’t.

You groan in her arms as you both hear Mario clanking pans to start breakfast. You pop your head up like a meerkat to take note of the surroundings. It's early. Dew still in the grass and an early morning fog over the lake. The light is dim, the sun not yet as awake as the occupants of your hammock.

“Morning Ale” you croak, morning voice in full effect. You finally turn to her and your breath is nearly taken away by her beauty. Her face is open, hair bedridden and eyes bleary from sleep but smile tugging on her lips as she looks at you with that look.

“Cómo estás aún más hermosa por la mañana?” she asks, in a whisper trying not to break the silence of the morning, it just comes out of her mouth without thinking, and she can’t stop it.

You freeze in her arms, and for a moment she tenses.

“...pardon?” you ask. Ale covers herself, “Ah lo siento, I asked. Did you sleep well?” you hum in acknowledgement and she isn’t sure what to make of the look that you sent her way.

“Yes, very well thank you. At least you’re softer than the floor.” you joke, eyebrow arched.

“I am not soft!” she replies, affronted, “I am all muscle actually!” She sits up and begins to tense her biceps jokingly. This is the Ale that frightens you the most. Frightens you how deep your feelings will run. All jokes and soft edges and smiles. You need a moment.

“Alright alright superwoman. Go put the kettle on, will you? I’m going to jump in the lake to wash off before your girls wake up.” and with that you lean out of the hammock and pull your shirt off as you go, leaving you in a sports bra and Alexia with her mouth hanging open.

Which is why, not 6 minutes later, Ona is awoken to the sound of her tent unzipping.

“Lucia” she hears whisper-yelling, into the entrance of the tent. She freezes, sleep-addled mind confused… is that… Alexia?

“Lucia!” more urgent this time. Ona rolls away from her girlfriend and sees Alexia's head popped through the tent. Looking around urgently.

“What do you want, Ale?” Ona groans. Her girlfriend is dead to the world, an atomic bomb wouldn’t wake her up.

“I need Lucia!”

“What for. What has happened… it must be… 6am?” Ona grabs for her watch, confirming her suspicions. 

“Si, pero eso no importa, I need Lucia to translate for me.”

“You speak better English than she does Spanish.” One is very very confused. “What needs translating?”

“I do not need English, I need British.” Ah. This is making sense now, The whole team had seen how love sick their capi had been over the mountain boss. It was unnerving for them, but all of them wish nothing but happiness for their well respected leader, still, it’s always fun to tease.

“Ah, mi Capi. This has something to do with the jefe de montana, si?” a teasing smile enters her face, “por favor, tell me, what's happened?”

Alexia looks frustrated, looking at something outside of the tent, but seems to accept her fate as she lets herself fall into the tent, practically on top of Ona, whilst holding a… kettle?

“She asked me to put the kettle on. But Ona, I don’t know what I’m putting it on! Is it a special kettle? it doesn't do anything, look!” and with that the young defender gets a metal kettle thrust into her face as though it's a rubix cube that she has 30 seconds to solve

Her captain looks at her so urgently it would be sad if it wasn’t so hilarious. Ona can’t help herself as she bursts out laughing. All this does is further aggravate her captain.

“Oh, olvídalo, idiota, voy a despertar a Kiera.”

“No, No, No, lo siento mi Capi. You forget, I lived in England for years. She means for you to go boil the kettle. For hot drinks.”

Alexia looks at her dumbfounded, “then why didn’t she just say that!”

“I know” Ona looks at her with faux sympathy, as she passes the kettle back to her she looks so determined to complete the little task she's been set that offers her a lifeline.

“Capi, wait.” Alexia turns to look at her expectantly, “I have… experience? With the English.” her eyes dart to the lump that is Lucy sleeping beside her. Well Alexia can’t argue that.

“Make her a Tea. Just trust me.” Ona continues, sagely, as though she had just passed on the wisdom of the universe.

Alexia looks at her, about to question until…

“Tea? Someone's making tea?” Lucy grumbles, rolling over into Ona, seemingly awoken from her deep slumber like a dog who's just heard someone mention a walk.

Alexia doesn’t have time to open her mouth when she hears from the next tent over where she saw Keira set up last night, a thick english accent,

“Ey wait, Is someone brewing up?”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s half an hour later and, with intervention from Lucy when Alexia tried to rip open a tea bag into your cup, that you have a warm enamel mug shoved into your hands. Alexia looked at you as though she had just handed you a pot of gold, all shining eyes and happy smile.

You feel much fresher after your early morning dip, trail shorts and vest back on and in two loose plaits that fall down over your shoulders. You look at the mug curiously, before you take a heavenly sniff of the liquid inside.

You thank the blonde, bashfully, and can’t help but place a grateful kiss on her cheek as you move past her. You pretend that your lips aren’t on fire from the contact. For her sake you also pretend that you didn’t see her stumble over a non-existent log at your action.

What you do miss though, is Ona sending her a wink, and the smug ‘i-told-you-so.” look at her face as she leans against her own girlfriend, who is happily drinking from her own mug.

You finish helping Mario make sure that all the girls are fed for the day before you stand in the middle of them and clap to gain their attention.

“Alright ladies! I hope you all slept well,- ” a mumble of affirmation goes through the group,

“I think Ingrid did not sleep so well.” Pina shouts across the group, “Si,” Parti joins in, “Did you see a bear Ingrid? Just I heard you screa-”

A rock is then thrown at Patris head, “ouch!” and you turn to see was directed by Mapi, Ingrid's face in a deep blush. The girls all burst into laughter.

God you were going to miss this group.

“Ok, Ok, Ladies calm it down. So, we have a choice today. Last full day on the hike… if you want it to be.” a curious mumble goes through the group. “Si, so, when we plotted this route someone…” you eye your partner “failed to mention that you are all literal athletes, so, we’re actually ahead of schedule, I’ve spoken to the bus company and if you want to then we can actually make it to the rendezvous spot today. It gives you a day back in Barcelona to yourselves before you start back at your traini….”

“No!” you’re interrupted as the group turns to Alexia who looks as though you’ve just asked her to never kick a ball again.

She takes a moment and realises that she's on her feet in front of the group, half of which are looking at her as though she's lost her mind, and the other half are looking at her with wry grins like they know exactly what's going on. 

“I mean, we should not. We need to bond. As a team. Si?” she asks the group “That is why we are here, and we should do that. Yes.” She looks at her teammates determinedly, nodding, as though daring anyone to question her. 

“But, Ale, you said that you hate–”, you see why Alexia is the best football player on the planet as you witness the speed in which she moves over to Jana and covers her entire face with her hand, stopping her words.

“No Jana, shhh pequeño. You look unwell. Are you feeling okay?” All Jana can do is nod under her giant hand as Mapi sniggers behind hers.

Okay, maybe you wouldn’t miss this group too much. They can be a bit weird. But you pretend that you don’t put more enthusiasm into your next sentence.

“Or, we can take the long way round to the rendezvous point, we’ll get some great views of the lake from that ridge over there” you point upwards and 23 eyes follow your movement, “set up camp for one more night, me and Mario can set up a Bonfire for our last night, yes?” he nods, “and then back to the bus in the morning if we would prefer?”

“Si, That we would prefer!” Alexia answers for the whole group, though the enthusiastic nods behind her assure you that they agree with her.

“Okay then, let's pack up campers, we'll have some elevation gains today!” you smile, clapping your hands together and a groan settles through the group as you move to pack up the breakfast items you hear Mapi and Alexia talking,

“Todos estamos haciendo esto por ti y por tu capitán de vida amorosa, recuérdalo el día del entrenamiento en circuito.”

Alexia responds in a tone you haven't heard from her before, “Lo sé, gracias Mapi. Simplemente no estoy listo para decir adiós todavía, ella es especial” she looks direct at you as she responds, no attempt to hide her spanish words, and the intensity of her gaze makes you look away.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All you wanted to do was a repeat of yesterday, hang at the back of the group and walk with Alexia. Maybe let your hand brush against hers a few times more than necessary and learn all about her life in Barca.

But, you were the best guide on this side of Europe for a reason. And you think Mario would push you off the mountain if you left him to do it again, even if he tells you he wouldn’t, you still felt bad about yesterday. 

So today, you found yourself at the front of the group. Weirdly, Alexia by your side with a few of the older girls, as well as Jana and Vicky who were hanging off Alexia's every word. It was cute, watching her with them.

Whatever fatigue she was suffering from yesterday which slowed her down so much seemed to have lifted, as her strong legs carried her with the rest of the group upwards. The elevation not bothering any of the women.

You were just hanging back with Mapi and Ingrid for a moment. Mapis backpack was bothering her, probably on account of her trying to carry all of Ingrids kit, you were teasing her as you helped to re-adjust the weight as Mapi was grumbling about how she definitely was strong enough to carry two sleeping bags, a tent as well as two sets of clothing whilst Ingrid was literally carrying a pillow, when the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

Something didn’t feel right, you looked up and could still see the front of the group, Alexia and Vicky chatting, going off Aleixas hand movements there was some deep football discussion going on.

You take stock of everything around you. In order to be in your line of work you needed to be aware of all of your senses, if one failed, another would pick it up, a smell in the air brought your attention and you turned to see droppings just off the trail. A large amount of droppings, and, oh no, green. You turned again and saw a tree bark torn up further away from the trail.

Fuck.

Bear droppings are green and quickly turn black as they oxidise, bears tear up trees and rocks as they pass through an area. These droppings were fresh, very fresh.

That, tied with your fantastic intuition, made you nervous.

The group had continued onward as you took stock and Alexia and Vicky had turned a corner just up the trail. You quickly help Mapi back into her backpack and move through the group quickly, making your way to the front.

“Detener!” you shout, wanting Alexia and Vicky in your sights. You turn the corner and your shout has caught their attention as they are both frozen, looking at you expectantly.

What they fail to notice, however, is a bear on the trail in front of them, not 20 metres away.

It’s a young bear, that you can tell, which is good because of its size, but the worst possible situation because young bears, like humans, are stupid. 

They are curious, they don’t see you as a threat, but if there is a bear this young here, there will be a mother bear somewhere around which you definitely do not want to be on the wrong side of.

You need to separate your group from this bear as quickly as possible. But without freaking them out.

“Alexia, walk towards me.” you instruct, seriously, arm out reaching towards the two girls, whilst you hold your other arm out behind you. Stopping the rest of the group before they can move forwards.

“What’s the matte— oh meirda…” Alexia has turned and seen what's on the path in front of her. Her back immediately straightens and grabs Vicky to pull her behind her. You hate the quick movement that they make as you inwardly cringe at their actions.

“Alexia, stay calm.” you slowly move towards them, “do not make any quick movements.” you don’t receive any sort of affirmation as both girls seem to be frozen in place.

“No te muevas rápidamente, no corras. Caminar hacia atrás lentamente” your use of spanish seems to get through the fear as you see Alexias feet start to scramble backwards, pushing Vicky behind her, who remains shielded behind her back.

You move forwards, slowly, arms still raised and as soon as in touching distance, pull Alexia behind your back. You can’t see her face as you refuse to move your eyes from the threat in front of you, but you can feel the terror running through her body.

Meanwhile, the bear is having a great old time, sniffing around and pawing at the ground. He’s stopped on the trail and is looking at you, curiously, as he starts to move towards you, you hear a yelp of terror from one of the girls behind you.

Usually, you know, to make yourself big and back up as slowly as possible, but you’re in a group of 23 novice hikers, and you knew you had to get this threat away as quickly as possible.

So instead, you make yourself big, you raise your arms in the air and start to move forward. You feel a tug on the back of your shirt and a frightened whimper from the tall blonde who seems to have grasped onto your shirt.

You take a big stride forwards as you move a hand back to untangle Alexia's grasp from your shirt.

“OYE, OSO. LO SIENTO AMIGO, TINES QUE MOVERTE!” you continue to move forward and wave your hands around. The bear cocks his head at you, curiously, you’re still moving closer and an alarm is going off in your mind, he’s gotta start moving or you’re going to be too close for comfort…

“SEGUIR. IRSE” you clap your hands together sharply, and that seems to frighten the curiosity from the young bear, who quickly scurries off the path and deep into the bush on your right hand side. 

The silence of the moment is suffocating. You take a moment and breathe some deep breaths. Filling your lungs and slowly releasing it. Once you feel your heartbeat settle down you turn on your heel and open your eyes to face the group behind you.

There, you are faced with 23 shell shocked faces. Mouths comically dropped as they all stare at you in awe.

The silence is interrupted as Mario catches up to the group, singing under his breath, you see his head pop up from the back of the group and an innocent smile on his face, “Hey chicas? What did I miss?”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  

“...And then El jefe de la montaña practically tackled this enormous bear that was virtually salivating at the thought of eating Ales pert butt as a light snack!”

Mapi dramatically, and incorrectly recites her version of events for what feels like the 5th time for the rest of the group who were hanging back with Mario during the excitement of the day.

The whole group sat together at the bonfire that you and Mario had erected, you’d gone the whole hog and dragged logs over to create a circle around the fire. You’d cracked out the marshmallows you’d been hiding deep in your backpack and you and the girls had had an evening of jokes, stories and, after Matio whipped his ukulele out again, songs. 

You’re sitting with Ingrid and you miss the warmth at your side that had been present over the last two days. Alexia is sat with Vicky, and, whilst she’s been nothing but pleasant to you since the incident this afternoon, you feel like a barrier has come up between you.

You try to not overthink the situation, who are you anyway? She's Alexia Putellas, and, over the last 3 days you've learnt that that's a big deal. Of course she isn’t interested in you. God. You need to be a professional. You try to stay in the moment and stop your mind from running away. You feel the heat from the fire on your face as you close your eyes.

“... and how did you learn to do that?” you hear, and as Ingrid nudges your side, you realise Mapis question was aimed at you.

You open your eyes and see the attention of the group on you. There may be an entire football team's eyes on you but you can’t help but zone in on a certain set of hazel eyes which bore directly into your soul.

“I told you, I’ve been on the wrong end of a bear in my time.” you try to joke, pointing at the scar again running down your leg, and you get a few chuckles, but you note, Alexia's face remains stoic, and her frown deepens at your words.

“What happened?” Vicky asks, next to her. She receives a light slap to the head from her captain, “Aye, don’t be rude pequeño.”

“I don’t mind Ale.” you say, heart warming at Alexias protectiveness, “well, little football superstar” you address Vicky, “I was on a 6 month trek through the Andeas, we wanted to see if we could find any further remains from the Incas. We did by the way. Anyway, I was young, and stupid and we hadn’t stored our food safely, which, you’ll note, me and Mario have done today.” you reach across and give your partner a fist bump, “a mother bear wandered into our camp whilst I was alone. I was an idiot and got between her and an open packet of cheetos.”

“Cheetos!” Vicky asks, incredulously.

“Yes! Turns out they love those cheesy snacks” you wink at her, “she attacked and luckily, my camp leader was just coming back and managed to deploy his bear spray just as she managed to take a good swipe at my calf. I was lucky. But it wasn’t her fault. I was in her land and didn’t protect myself properly.”

Vicky waxes lyrical about your story for a while, asking you a million and one questions. The conversation across the campfire moves onto the upcoming season for the team as you and Mario start to set camp up for the night around them.

“Hey, Al, Me and Ing are heading to bed, I promise we’ll behave tonight, but I can’t promise I won’t cuddle you.” you hear Mapi address to Alexia,

“Great, look forward to it” Alexia replied sarcastically. Mapis retreat to bed seems to have set off a chain reaction amongst the team who all start to say their goodnights.

You can’t pretend that you aren’t upset that you won’t have a repeat of last night in your hammock. The sadness swirls in your stomach, but you remind yourself that the whole thing seemed to be a fantasy you’d made up in your mind. 

You look up to the sky and with your head torch can see that it seems to have darkened somewhat. You move away from camp and string a rope above your hammock, you throw over a tarpaulin which covers your hammock and protects you from any rain.

As you move back to the fire you decide you’ll wait it out instead of throwing water on to drown the fire. You have some excess energy from the excitement of the day and you know you’ll just lie awake in your hammock anyway. As Mario squeezes your shoulder in goodnight you notice that Alexia seems to be hanging around the edge of the circle. 

“Night Ale.” you say, kindly. It’s not her fault you have a massive unrequited crush on her.

You don’t know her well but she seems…nervous? Hands playing with themselves and feet unable to stay still.

“Nig… actually… Can we talk?” she asks, chin turning upwards and vulnerability showing on her face.

You nod and you are surprised when she sits next to you and asks, “why do you still do it?”

You look at her, curiously, she is so beautiful. Sharp angles of her face illuminated by the dying embers, perfect lips, the arch of her nose. She takes your breath away. You have a question in your eyes.

“This. As a job. You got hurt…” her hand moves, and god it's only been a few hours but you feel like you’ve been touch starved for years, as she lightly traces the scar on your calf. Leaving behind a wake of goosebumps. “You’re so brave…”

Maybe it's her touch that makes gives you the confidence but you dont think before you reply,

“I could ask you the same thing.” She has a question in her eyes now, so you repeat her action, hand moving to touch her knee where you can see the surgery scars that pull tight against her skin.

You feel her take in a breath and you think you may have overstepped until she takes your hand in her large one, keeping your hand resting on her knee.

You look into the fire as you continue; “I love my job. I can’t imagine my life without it. It gives me air in my lungs. It's my reason to live. And yeah. I got hurt. I've been hurt before and I’ll be hurt again.” Alexia squeezes your hand at that, “but that's why we do what we love, isn’t it? You’re so brave every time you step out onto a pitch again” you direct your question to her, “we learn from our mistakes, come back stronger from our injuries, not just in our skills but as people? No?” 

There's that look again, those open eyes, that expression you can’t place.

“Football is the same for you Ale. I can tell. When you talk about it. Think of that feeling you get. That's why I carry on. I love it, and it wasn’t that bears fault I got hurt, It was mine. Just as it wasn’t the rocks fault as I slipped 200 feet down Mt Kilimanjaro. They’re all lessons on how to adapt, on how to come back stronger.”

She nods, a look of understanding in her eyes and turns her gaze towards the fire. But doesn’t let go of your hand. 

You don't know what Alexia is thinking. You don't know that she feels like every word out of your mouth feels like you've plucked it straight from her heart. You're deep. She feels like finally someone gets her.

“You spoke Spanish today.” she lets out into the silence.

Ah, you think, she hadn’t missed it like you thought that she may have done in the heat of the moment. And, as usual, you try to break the tension with a joke.

“He was a Spanish bear. I wanted him to understand me.”

Alexia doesn't laugh but instead turns to you again, “I feel stupid.” 

There's that vulnerability again.

“No. Never feel stupid Alexia, you are the most intelligent person I have ever met.” you reply, instantly, and turn your body to hers,

“You didn’t tell me that you spoke spanish… everything I have said…”

“I meant to! Honestly I did, I mean I told you I lived in Peru for two years.” she raises her eyebrow at you… “Ale they speak Spanish in Peru.” “Oh.”

Her eyes drop down to the floor and you can’t physically allow that look of sadness to sit on her face for a moment longer.

“I think you’re more beautiful in the mornings too.” you whisper, the only noise around you the crackling of the drying embers around you.

Alexia looks up at this, eyes somewhat, hopeful? And it's that look that gives you the belief that maybe maybe she feels the same way?

“Si? Even though you made me smell like garlic?” she asks, before the syllable is even out of her mouth you reply. “Si, tan hermoso. Aunque tal vez sea más hermoso ahora con la luz del fuego.”

You stood in front of a bear today.

But the scariest moment of your day is as you move your head towards hers, slowly, more frightened of this rejection than any wild animal.

You look deeply into her eyes and the permission you seek is gained there, she gives you a small nod as she closes the distance between you both. Her lips finally meet yours in a gentle and sweet kiss.

It's like fireworks have gone off in your stomach. 

Your mouth tingles where it presses against hers, your lips softly encase her lower lip and you hear her squeak of satisfaction which is the cutest fucking thing you have ever heard in your life.

You kiss as though you have all the time in the world. It is gentle and slow. Until it is not. And then you kiss like a pair of horny teenagers as it deepens and you groan into her mouth as her tongue seeks permission in yours.

You would have continued all night had mother nature not intervened. 

You’re good with your senses and you hear the fizz of the fire going out before you feel the drops of rain on your skin. You pause your movements and look deep into Alexia's eyes.

“Y hueles deliciosa” you whisper, enjoying the way her eyes crinkle as you make her laugh.

“Will you sleep with me?” you ask, her eyes widen in panic at your question and it takes your lust-addled brain a moment to catch up, “wait. No! No Lo siento, no soy un asqueroso! I mean. Will you stay with me tonight in my hammock? No funny business, I promise!”. 

Your hands move off the taller girls hips where they seem to have found themselves as she settled onto your lap, and you hold them high in surrender.

Alexia saw you face a bear today.

And the look on your face now is more panicked than it was then. 

She smiles at you, god she has it bad she thinks.

“Si, I will, and… maybe some funny business?”

You’re lucky that your bark of laughter doesn’t wake up any of your campmates.

Content that the rain which is now falling more heavily will take care of the fire, you rush the blonde to your hammock, lifting the tarpaulin above her head so she could duck down and she settles herself into the material like a seasoned pro.

You open up your sleeping bag and turn it into a blanket which will cover you both as she opens up her arms and you settle into them. It’s pitch black in the tent and you feel as though your other senses are working to make up for it. The rain patters against the plastic sheet above you and you enjoy the sound as you enjoy the warmth beneath you, the hammock still swaying gently.

You shuffle in the blondes hold, moving so that you can lie stomach to stomach. Your face close to hers, you exchange gentle kisses and enjoy the feeling of her hands on your back as you gently scratch against her scalp.

Your head on her chest as sleep starts to take you, still enjoying the heat of her body and the ministrations of her hands which have moved beneath your t-shirt.

“Maybe the outdoors isn’t so bad.” you hear her whisper as sleep takes hold. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life is funny sometimes.

You think to yourself.

You think about how you got here.

Not 24 hours ago stood in Arles, a minibus packed with footballers in front of you, and, in most cases, gawking at you, faces pushed against the windows, comically, as Ingrid moved through the inside of the bus, slapping heads and pulling them back into their seats.

You’d held Alexia's hands. You’d followed her lead this morning and since you both woke up and made breakfast at the campfire, she hadn’t stopped being affectionate, seemingly, no hint of hiding her affections from her teammates.

She’d hung behind with you and helped you pack up camp, as you both spent what you thought potentially was your last morning together.

It was light, you both had laughed easily and teased each other relentlessly.

Until that moment, when reality struck. You, due to fly back home to England in a few hours, and Alexia, about to board a bus which would take her miles away from you.

You’d already scribbled your number onto a trail mix wrapper and secured it into her hand. She had promised to message as soon as she could and you had promised to keep in touch, trying to keep the tears that teased your eyes at bay as you settled your face into her warm palm. 

But it hadn’t felt right.

It wasn’t fair. It was too soon. This had felt too right.

So you hadn’t been able to control yourself, as you faced her back as she boarded the bus when you asked; “Hey, Ale?” she’d turned and you knew you hadn’t misplaced that look of hope in her eyes, “Have you ever been to an 82nd birthday party?”

The grin that overtook her face could only be matched by yours.

So here you now found yourself. Standing in your nan’s garden under a gazebo as the English rain lightly drizzled, only 2 hours fashionably late for the event you actually arrived back in England for 4 days ago.

As your brother had opened the door earlier, you laughed at the shock on his face when he took Alexia in. All blonde, lean and mediterranean and very out of place in the middle of the drizzle of the English lake district.

Your whole extended family had popped up behind your brother, smiles and coy grins on their faces. Your mum broke the stunned silence at your arrival, more specifically, at the blonde by your side.

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

Alexia's face broke out into a huge grin that literally warmed your heart.

“I know how to do that!” she had replied, excitedly, her spanish accent thick.

Well, maybe not that out of place.

fin.  

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Eighteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 3.1K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. Sexual content. Pregnancy and things that come with it. Brief mention of options in relation to termination of pregnancy. PTSD. Heavy emotions. Graphic descriptions of domestic violence and miscarriage, suicidal ideation. This is mostly inner monologue. Feelings of anxiety, despair, fear. This part is a little shorter due to its emotional nature.

There’s no oxygen.

No room for your lungs to expand, nothing for you to suck into your chest and relieve the ache blooming in your bones.

You drift, unmoored, a sailboat with no rudder, no engine to save you in an ocean without a breeze. All you can do is follow the current, the one leading you back to the dozen HCG strips buried in the bottom of a trash can, faint pink lines buried in the membranes and the matter of your brain.

The midwife that squeezed you in confirmed it all with a blood draw.

“You have options.”

“I know.”

There are resources, and education for you…  though I know you’re probably aware.”

“Yup.”

“Depending on your decisions, we’d like to see you in about two weeks for an eight-week ultrasound.” You gulp. The air is tragically thin in this room, and the paper crinkles under your uneasy weight.  

“Okay.”

When Simon appears in the main lobby for the usual trek home, you barely hold back the urge to vomit all over his shoes. Your legs are weak, trembling with each step forward, and you hold his hand so tight, your bones ache.

Sensitive as always, he lingers alongside you in the quiet, biding his time before slicing through your silence. “What is it sweetheart?”

“Huh?” You’re already on the front doorstep, memory of the entire trip evaporated.

“Do you still not feel well?”

“Oh, yeah.” The lie is toxic, sludge stuck in your bloodstream, clogging your capillaries until they burst like fireworks. “It’s my stomach.”

“Pen’s still under the weather too.”

“Poor thing.” The words are numb. Your mind is numb. Your body is a livewire and exhausted, all at once, the push and pull almost knocking you onto the floor. In the kitchen, Johnny wraps an arm around your waist, leaning in for a kiss, but nothing registers.

“Maybe you should get some rest.”

“Yeah.” Autopilot. That’s the gear you’re in. Going through the motions, trying to hold yourself together, keep your head above water.

Is this real?

Is this happening?

What will they say?

What will they think?

“Bunny?” Johnny’s thumb is on your carotid, where your pulse beats. Where your heart pushes blood through your circulatory system, flowing to a presence now fluttering inside you.

One plus one equals two.

“Sorry, yeah. Think I’m gonna go up, take a nap.”

“Yell if ye need anything, aye?” All you can do is nod.

You gravitate towards the guest room before you can stop yourself. It’s as you left it, bed made, sheets crisp, remnants of your things separated into easily sorted piles. In the nest of blankets, it’s easy to pretend. Easy to imagine the bed as a cloud of cotton candy, so high in the sky, above the earth, above this… this thing that is happening.

An embryo. Something two millimeters long, siphoning its existence from yours.

That tiny sliver of hope is nowhere to be found, replaced now with logical, realistic questions.

Can you sustain a pregnancy, after the damage inflicted during the last one?

Can you carry one to viability?

Can you mentally, emotionally, physically handle a pregnancy?

An infant?

And what about them?

What about you?

You think about the times you wanted to die. The moments you sat in the shower, streams of red running to the drain, a clump of cells you never knew draining from your body with each second.

A loss you never knew you’d mourn. Something stolen. Something slipping through your fingers, handfuls of sand blown away by a sea breeze.

The overwhelming feeling of drowning every time you laid on the floor in a broken heap, synapses misfiring, making wrong connections, desperately trying to latch onto anything normal, anything sane. Staring at the ceiling, slow flow of blood dripping down your throat, left wondering if this will be it, this will be the moment it goes too far. Your spine will snap. You’ll take a blow to the head strong enough to render you unconscious, permanently. Your windpipe will be crushed, closing in on itself, starving your brain of oxygen. In those moments, you could only hope.

You’re grateful, at least, that you don’t feel like that now.

In a cocoon on a cusp of hazy sleep, you’re cradled to a chest, jostled lightly until blankets are tucked back up around your shoulders and snuggled between two warm bodies, a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

“Our sweet girl,” Simon murmurs in the dark, “we’re here. Whatever it is, we have you.”

A dream.

You sleepwalk through life. One week turns to two, and then three. Three weeks turn to four, and more, before you know it, you’re twelve weeks pregnant, still going through the motions, robotically making your way through each day. You’re shoving the waterfall of feelings and emotions so deep, so far away, they’re likely to never see the sun again.

You lock them in a box.

You bury it in a grave, six feet under.

At work, you’re grateful you know your job inside and out, because you’re mostly just going through the motions. The only time you show any sign of life is when your boss tries to float you to the NICU. When you dig in your heels, repeatedly denying the request, she finally gives up and moves onto a new unsuspecting victim.

Better them than you.

At home, its worse. You don’t know if you’re imagining the tension or if its truly there, eggshells crumbling beneath your feet, words turned to ash. You’re a marionette, fate pulling the strings, tearing the joints of your limbs in a million directions.

They can tell. They read you too well, but you’re not so easily swayed. Simon tries to coax it gently; Johnny tries to bluntly force it out. Both tactics fail, but they themselves stay steady, and true, holding you in the night, soothing you with touch and whispers, loving you through it all.

During the day, they coddle you. Johnny massages your shoulder, tips your chin back until your skull rests on collarbone, dots kisses all over your skin. He tugs you onto the patio, curls up on the outdoor loveseat with you under a big blanket, your head in his lap, telling you stories about his childhood, his parents. He makes you giggle by reminiscing of all the times he chased Simon around at work, how Kyle fell out of a helicopter, how they had to wear suits for an undercover op one time and Simon's ripped right down the ass.

Simon cooks, all your favorites, things you forgot he pays attention to, and spoons you on the couch, big arm like a safety net stretched across your chest to keep you close. He brings tea to bed, reading until your eyes close, calming your mind enough to lull you to sleep.

Even at night, they treasure you like glass. Johnny lays on his stomach, thumbs rubbing circles into your thighs, parting them, backs of his knuckles tracing over the seam of your pussy, coaxing your arousal, taking his time. He licks your clit so slowly its torture, all the while Simon tugs your knee as wide as he can, hand fisted in the mohawk, kissing you from shoulder to neck, over and over.

You beg them to fuck you hard, harder than you’ve ever asked for it before. Johnny jumps at the idea, but Simon kills it immediately.

“No,” he traces a line over the curve of your ass to the creases of your thighs, “that’s not going to happen, sweetheart. Not until you tell us what’s going on.” You opt to bury your face in his chest instead and ride Johnny’s hand as Simon coaches, telling you how good you are, how lucky they are, how much you mean to them.

If only they knew. Would they still feel the same?

It’s more than you deserve, you think. More than you know how to handle. The guilt piles onto your shoulders. You’re carrying a life, a life you created with them, a life they should know about.

The decisions waiting in the wings haunt you at every turn.

What should you do? What will you do?

You should tell them. They should know.

Why are you keeping this a secret?

The time is passing too fast, and with it, your panic increases, forcing your back to bow, hands clutching at your legs, head hanging heavy to the floor. At work in the closet, at home the moments you’re alone, the agony steals your breath, heart shredding to pieces. It overcomes you, floods your nervous system until the world spins.

In the shower, you fall apart, truly, knees slamming into tile, your shoulders slumped against the wall.

It’s hard to tell you’re crying with water streaming over your face.

You lose your shit the day Penny crawls across the couch to cuddle you.

She pulls herself up onto your belly, her head resting on your chest, chubby hands fisted in your shirt.

“Bunny wead?” She wants a story, a routine the two of you enjoy together, turning the pages of a children’s book and acting out all the voices. She’ll squeal with glee, her laughter full of excitement, and you’ll tickle her sides while pretending to eat her foot.

It makes you both happy, but today, it splits your soul in two.

You burst into tears. She jolts back, looking up into your face, little brow furrowed in confusion, mouth shocked into a circle.

“Bunny.” She pats your cheek, alarmed, and you skim your nose across the top of her head, breathing her deep, anchoring your arm around her back. She’s starting to get upset, too perceptive, too empathetic, already expressing the traits of both her parents. You try to soothe her distress.

“It’s alright.” Your voice cracks on the promise, her nose pressed to your throat. “It’s alright, Penny. I’m sorry. Everything’s okay.” Johnny’s unmistakable gait sounds on the stairs, still slightly off balance, and you hastily wipe your face, forcing your eyes to his as he approaches the couch.

“What’s wrong?” He sees it immediately, and you shake him off with another lie, so many little white ones rotting into blinding despair.

“I had a bad day at work yesterday, that’s all. Just still trying to process it.” His head cocks.

“Ye sure?”

“Yeah, promise. I’ll be fine.”

The tide changes at work.

A man lies in a medically induced coma, barbiturates keeping him in the dark, a suspended state of uncertainty. His wife waits, and waits, fixes her too keen eyes on you every time she sees you, waiting for an update, good news, anything. Anything that could bring her peace.

On the second day of your work week, your steps stutter at the sight of her sitting bedside, a baby in her arms, gentle words floating between them.

“We’ve moved onto ba now, for a bottle, which is just crazy,” she murmurs, a hand under her cheek, wiping away tracks of tears, “and I think he’s too big for me to carry around at this point.” There’s a wet chuckle, and the baby tips forward, smacking his hand on his dad’s. “Is that daddy?” She bounces him, quiet as he babbles and gurgles, his eyes wide at the sights and sounds in a hospital room.

You clear your throat. She startles.

“Oh god, sorry… I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” Intruding on private moments is not uncommon, though here it feels different. “I just need to check on some things and then I’ll be out of your hair.” She nods, and outside of the baby’s noises, the room is silent until she breaks it with a whisper.

“I know there’s probably no chance he can hear me,” her fingers stroke through his hair, a pained look on her face, “but I like to believe he can.”

“There’s no definitive research that he can’t,” you tell her softly, carefully going about your work to avoid disturbing them.

“I hope he can hear the baby. He’s… he’s missed so much already, you know?” She sniffles, tears freely falling, and your heart clenches. “We’re broken without him; I’m broken without him. He’s my family, my everything. I can’t… we’re not supposed to be apart. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You have thick skin. You’ve seen countless people die. Consoled hundreds of family members. Held hands with patients taking their last breath.

This shouldn’t bother you. It shouldn’t affect you in any way, but when you look at your patient, and his partner, and his child-

All you can see is your boys and their unconditional love. Simon sitting vigilant at Johnny’s bedside. Johnny’s tears when he finally woke up. The fear in Simon’s eyes when Johnny seized, the trust he placed in your promise to take care of him. Penny in his arms as soon as he was strong enough to hold her. Their resolve to hold their family together, their dedication to you through it all. The three of them, a family, now yours, spun together with string stronger than steel, connecting the four of you for the rest of your life.

You’ll make it through. You’ll all make it through. You have their love shining down on your face. The love strong enough to hold you tight, rock you through your nightmares, encourage you to grow, to be yourself, to let it all go.

And they have you. Your love. Something you never thought would exist again, fostered and enticed forward, magnified for them. For the first time, you’re able to give to someone, to comfort them, care for them the way they have for you, hold them tight through their pain, their fears. It’s never felt so…

right.

It’s not one plus one. It’s five. Five hearts, making a family.

You know, without a doubt, they’ll love this baby. They won’t leave your side. They’ll take care of you, they’ll nurture you both, they’ll be solid, and supportive, and patient through it all.

You don’t need them to say it, and you don’t need to be scared.

Their light soothing your despair, healing the deep embedded scars, their warmth of the sun-

The little sunbeam growing inside you.

“You’re a few weeks late.” The midwife shakes her head as you settle on the exam table. You showed up in a whirlwind again, convincing her to fit you in between appointments.

“I know, I… I was struggling with it, but I feel better now. I’m… ready.” Your lips quirk at the corners, and she smiles in return.

“Should we take a look then?” You nod with a deep breath.

The jelly is cold, and she purposefully keeps the screen turned away from you, clicking, measuring, assessing in silence. It's standard policy for any employee or medical professional. Though you're not an ultrasound tech, it's not outside the realm of possibility that you could read the image on the screen before she can tell you gently that something is wrong.

Your past haunts you, taunts you, convinces you this has all been for nothing. You’re too damaged for this. Your body is broken. He took too much.

Still, you hope. You cling to a future, a vision, Penny holding the baby with Johnny’s arms supporting her, Simon half asleep with a burp cloth on his shoulder, little one asleep on his chest.

“Alright,” she turns it back for you to see, her expression colored with kindness. “Everything looks great, honey.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Placenta is in optimal position, and baby is right on track developmentally for twelve weeks.” She twists a knob, the volume, filling the room with sound of galloping hoofbeats.

The heartbeat.

“Oh my god.” Your hand clasps over your mouth and you desperately try to bring air in through your nose, filling your diaphragm, staving off a river of tears unsuccessfully. She hands you a tissue.

“I’ll get you some printouts, okay?” You can’t do anything but choke on a thank you.

You slip away after your appointment, crossing through the halls leading to the out-patient wing where you’ll find Johnny in physical therapy, Simon in a chair scrolling through his phone just outside. The smile stretches across your face naturally, joy bursting at the seams.  

It's a new day, a new moment to turn away from the darkness and step into the sun.

You’re nearly skipping, heart so full, overflowing with hope, with happiness, your hands trembling, pictures of the scan clutched in your fingers. You hold them so tight, close to your chest, afraid they may disappear, be lost.

In hindsight, the crippling agony and fear you’ve been holding in seems so foolish now. It’s easy to curse yourself for the doubt, for the despair, but the path you took to get here, to be present in this moment, moving forward, was worth it.

They love you, and they’ll love little sunbeam. Penny will be the best big sister. You’ll make new memories, together, build the beginning of this life into a forever. Everything will work out; you can feel it now. You’ve shed the dented armor, the walls, the fence topped with barbed wire. The girl in the mirror, gone. It’s all crumbled down. With Johnny. With Simon. Your family.

A family of five.

You round the corner with your hands knitted together, a flimsy effort to still them, elated and barely able to hold your secret in. You won’t be able to do a cute announcement, won’t be patient enough to do something special like get Penny a shirt that says, “best big sister” even though you’d like to.

You’ve kept it from them for long enough. You need them to know.

You look for Simon first, expecting him to be waiting outside the door, but when he's not there, you glance around, and then peek into the observation window to find the physical therapy room empty.

Where are they? Where-

They’re at the end of the hall, talking to someone out of sight. Simon has his arms crossed, his body angled partially in front of Johnny, who shifts his weight onto his good leg. They’re both wearing serious expressions, Simon’s the most severe, and then Johnny’s lips twist into a grim sort of smile.

Whoever they’re talking to steps forward, and your heart burns into ash, falling through the floor to bottomless depths of darkness.

Phillip.

[amoreva]

Hiii can u do a Luke or Clarisse (either one) x child of Dionysus! Reader and like they sneak off to make out or SMT AND DIONYSUS catches them AND GIVES THEM THE TALK and it’s funny and embarrassing for them

(Thank you if you do make this!!)

THE TALK

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of dionysus!reader

summary: your father gives you the talk, after he catches luke and you sneaking around

warnings: innuendo?, making out, dionysus dramatics

a/n: let’s pretend ep 8 of pjo didn’t happen. ngl brainrotting to luke and swan lake op 20 act 1

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

Dionysus paced around in front of the two of you. His Hawaiian shirt catching wind. Luke was trying (and failing) to hide the grin. It was quite amusing to see a God worry about something like this.

Dionysus was muttering something to himself. You caught wind of your father talking about “Chiron” and “the talk” and he was so confused on where to start.

You grimaced just knowing this wouldn’t end well. “Dad, please…” You helplessly plead not to even start this conversation.

“No, no! I must.” Dionysus spoke and put his hands up in discontent. He leaned against his little desk in the Big House.

“Do you know how betrayed I feel!?”

Luke smiled as he helped you down the steps of Cabin 12. A stupid lovey-dovey grin on both of your faces as you interlaced hands and ran across camp. It was as if you were normal mortal teenagers rather than half-bloods.

You trek through the forest used for the Capture the Flag, running along the river which lead to the lake. Every so often, Luke stopped to steal a kiss from you. You two had not seen each other all day because of counselor duties.

“Luke—!” You giggled after he stole yet another kiss.

“You’ve deprived me of affection, love.” Luke joked and held your hands. He walked backwards into a clearing. You reached the lake. It was usually used for canoeing, swimming and Capture the Flag (as well as romantic rendezvous). “How was I supposed to sleep without seeing you?”

Luke took of the jacket he was wearing so you could sit without getting sand on your pajamas. The waves of the lake seeped into the sand by your feet. Luke and you sharing portions of his jacket so you both won’t get dirty.

“I did retire to my cabin without giving you a good night kiss.” You joked your hand came to rest on Luke’s cheek.

“What a terrible girlfriend.” Luke hummed and lips in to kiss your lips. You breathed through your nose. Fireworks exploded in your stomach as you and Luke kissed, pushing each back ever so slightly, but not letting go.

Your other hand went to cup his face fully. Sweet nothings heard here and there as he pulled back for air just to dive back in.

You can’t help but lose yourself in him.

It’s always him.

You can’t help it. When he looks like that, treats you like this and has a reputation of that— you can’ help it.

“Luke…”

“Mm…”

“Hi!” Mr. D shined a flashlight on both of you. His hand on his hip. Luke and you break apart and block the shiny light from your eyes. “So…you both get bathroom duty for…three months—”

Before Mr. D could even dish out punishment, he gasps. He gasps so dramatically you think he sucked all the oxygen from the world.

“I know.” Your dad stated firmly. His flare for dramatics makes you want to roll your eyes. “I know that is not my daughter kissing a boy.”

“Betrayed?”

You exclaim. Your face contorting into disbelief and surprise. You leg stopped bouncing as you stare at your father.

“Yes. Betrayed that my own—” Dionysus feigns his tears. A hand over his heart as if he is going to a parental crisis. “My own daughter!” His voice shaky.

“With all due respect Mr. D—” Luke spoke up.

“I’m not talking to you!” Dionysus exclaimed and crouched to his knees in front of you.

He turns on the fake waterworks. “You’re growing up! Which means…you’ll be discovering things that make you—”

Luke and you cringe. “Dad!” You cried out, disgusted with what he was trying to imply. Mr. D’s act drops. He stood up and leaned on his table. “Look, you two are young and Chiron was telling me to man up and have like a sex talk—”

“Dad!” You stood up, grabbing Luke’s hand. You storm out of there, listening to your father yell phrases like “be safe when you’re with him!” or “That’s four–no five months on bathroom duty!”

You face was as red as the strawberries growing in the field. Luke laughed quietly at your embarrassment, though he himself was embarrassed.

“Hey. You heard your father. Be safe with me.” Luke teased and grabbed your waist. He turned you around to face him.

“Luke—please, that was already embarrassing enough.” You spoke flustered.

“So…” Luke dragged out with a small smile. He leaned in towards your face, lips centimeter away from yours. “Next time. We won’t get caught. Can’t suffer another talk again, can we?”

Luke pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

[reiderwriter]

hii! could you write smut where spence and reader are bestfriends and one day shes in his car and he snaps and is like “I LOVE YOU” and like they have sex in the car (like with sub spence) and can you include spence getting bj THANKYOUUU

A/N: Car love confessions always remind me of the electric love tiktok "I kissed my best friend" trend that I was OBSESSED with two years ago, and my GOD was this a full-circle moment for me.

Warnings: sub!Spencer, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism, oral sex (m recieving), slight cum play, car sex (bj only), like this was slightly self-indulgent and I had to post it right after I finished writing...

The air outside was cold, but the car had been running for an hour now as you listened to Spencer Reid talk about his day. Whether your cheeks were flushed from the heat coming from the fans or from his subtle attentions, you couldn't discern. 

Spencer, your best friend of nine years, who had been around the country saving lives and facing the most horrendous criminals in the world, was currently sat in the passenger seat of your car excitedly mumbling about Star Trek. 

“I can't believe you decided to watch it, and you did it without me,” he smiled at you, his body angled to face you just ever so slightly. 

He'd started by filling you in on the case he'd just returned from, then moved onto books he'd read recently (a conversation you could absolutely contribute to, being a college librarian yourself, and the source of many of his books). 

And then he'd asked you about your day, and you'd spilled about watching a few episodes of classic Star Trek, and all of his joy and knowledge had bubbled up to his lips without even a thought of pushing it down at all. 

“I've been hounding you for several years, and you decide on a whim to watch it today?” He'd meant for the question to come out with an annoyed tone, but he couldn't hold back the smile passing over his lips as you laughed at him. 

“Spencer, it's a TV show. We can watch it again together. In fact, why don't we do just that? Drive to mine, and we can sit through as many episodes of Star Trek as your heart desires.” 

“I wanted to see your initial reactions, though. I wanted to tell you all the behind the scenes knowledge only true trekkies know about.” 

You laughed loudly at this, especially as you saw the pout on his lips as he mumbled the word “trekkies.” 

“Hey, stop laughing,” he said, but his chest was heaving with a chuckle of his own. And for the life of you, you couldn't. He was sitting there pouting because he wanted to see how much you'd enjoy his favorite TV show, and by god, did he look adorable. 

“I'm sorry, Spence, I-” you tried to cover your mouth, but found your hands were both needed to hold your stomach instead as the laughs that wracked your body veered on painful. 

“Y/N, really!” He said, fully grinning now, pout abandoned. But you didn't stop.

Nothing in the air changed or paused at that second, as his head swooped closer to you, but your body instantly reacted to his closeness. 

It was as if all the hairs on your body stood on end as he tipped up your chin and quickly stole away all the oxygen in your body. 

Before your mind could react, your hands were already tangled in his hair, making sure he couldn't pull away. But you felt him smiling into the kiss, and you knew he wouldn't ever want to pull away now that you'd accepted him. 

With empty lungs, you finally had to separate, and to your surprise, a giggle still flittered from your lips. This time, you did clap a hand over your lips, though. 

“You're laughing still? I just kissed you to shut you up, and you're still laughing.” He said, tucking the few strands of hair behind your ear but still refusing to move too far away. 

“You should've seen your face. You were pouting and adorable and-” 

“I love you.” 

Your heart, that had previously been beating remarkably fast after his kiss (and likely from the fit of laughter preceding it), stopped at his words. 

You'd heard people describing butterflies in their stomach before, but this was more intense. It was more like your heart was a pinball that had just been launched back into the machine and was bouncing around in your ribcage hitting objects and trying desperately not to detach from your chest and jump into his arms. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He smiled, and it was sweet and simple, and even if you were not simple people and life had never been particularly sweet to you, you allowed your happiness to soar as you leaned back in and pressed your lips against his. 

Maybe it was the nine years of waiting (though had you been asked, you'd have been totally oblivious to your quite obvious feelings for the man). Maybe it was again the heat in the car. Maybe it was perhaps the two weeks in which you'd not seen him that led you to venture a step further than you usually would. 

But within seconds of tangling your tongue with his in his mouth, sending him reciprocated confessions with each passing breath, you somehow found the energy to pull yourself up and onto his lap. 

“Y/N, we're in a car-” his protests were weak as you suckled your way down his neck. 

“It's dark outside, and I love you.” His hands gripped possessively on your hips as you continued to shower him in affection. 

“What if someone sees us?” He whimpered as you loosened his tie, discarding it so you could pop his buttons open and trail more kisses across his beautiful collarbone. 

“Then I hope they understand enough to walk away and leave us alone to love each other.” 

You'd managed to get all of his buttons undone and sat squirming in his lap as your fingers brushed across his pert nipples. His head was thrown back to allow you access to the part of his neck that, when you'd run your tongue along it, had him gripping your ass and rubbing your core along the now obvious tent in his pants. 

“Y/N, please….” He panted, and you again returned your lips to his face, brushing over his eyes, his nose, his jaw, and his lips. You were blind and discovering your whole new world through your lips, mapping his features inch by inch. 

His whimpers grew louder, more urgent. He was almost becoming whiny, and that pout from earlier shadowed across his face again, so delightful that you'd immediately wanted to kiss it away from him. 

Dry humping in the passenger seat wasn't going to be enough  you decided, and reluctantly drew away from him quickly. 

“Y/N, what-” He weakly gripped the material of your pants, his quiet protests from earlier forgotten as he begged for your touch to return. 

“Trust me, I love you,” you winked at him again, marvelling in his flush, the hand he wiped across his face to hide his quiet joy. 

You shimmied yourself down so your face was hovering just above his cock, straining through his pants. You slowly undid the buttons and let his cock spring up, wrapping a firm hand around it when it was fully released. 

His hand came down to cover yours, even as the other covered his flushed cheeks and eyes in embarrassment. 

“Spencer, let me see your face. I want you to look at me, please, Spencer.” You cooed at him as you quietly removed your hand from under his, instead moving it to his so you could control his movements. 

You let your breaths hit his cock as you controlled his hand, helping him to slowly jerk off as he gave into the pleasures you were so desperate to gift him. 

“Spencer, please, for me. Show me your fucked out face, I want to see it so bad.” 

With each slow stroke, his body seemed to grow heavier with lust until the hand on his face eventually fell, and you could lock eyes with him once again. 

You smiled brightly at him and, without missing a beat, took him into your mouth. 

The angle was awkward, but you only needed to see that shock and just in his eyes briefly, so you manoeuvred your head into a better position and began fresh. 

You held his hand, holding his cock, and sunk your lips down as far as they'd go, before lifting slowly off. You did it again, and heard the hiss from his lips as he enjoyed the pressure. 

You sped up slightly and felt his discarded hand land on your hair. It wasn't domineering or controlling, but more comforting, as he tugged your hair behind your ear, eventually bundling it up into a gentle pony tail to keep it out of the way of your task. 

“Y/N, I love you so much,” he whimpered and moaned, and you squeezed his hand in response, intensifying the pressure on his cock while also responding to his confession. 

You were going to show him just how deeply you loved him by giving him as much pleasure as you could muster. 

“Pull off, Y/N, please, I'm going to-” He bit his lip, biting off the sentence, almost as if he were afraid of speaking the vulgar words into existence. You could feel his muscles going taut underneath your hands, though, knowing exactly how close he was to losing all control and giving into passion. 

And you certainly weren't pulling away. 

Instead, you pushed your head down once again, going further than you'd managed thus far, nose tickled by his pubic hairs as he shot his load down your throat. 

You gagged, of course you gagged, and he let out a guttural moan, sensitivity apparent in each of his twitches and ragged breaths. 

You made sure to keep as much of him inside your mouth and rose off his cock, looking up at him again through eyes half-lidded with lust. You made sure he was watching as you smiled and swallowed a mouthful of his cum, making sure to lick your lips after and watching his throat bob as he processed the entire scenario. 

You again climbed into his lap, but this time, you just pressed your head to his bare chest, wrapped your arms around his neck, and listened to the thrum of his heart. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he said again. You hummed a response and waited for him to say it  again and again. Hopefully, for the rest of your lives. 

[ayearoferewhon]

#Repost @fitmamamolly
・・・
The more I discover myself the more authentic I feel. I’m so hyper aware of my thoughts and feelings now it’s hard to stop. It’s hard to stop digging and pushing all the rocks and dirt aside to find what’s hidden deep inside the cold ground where it gets quiet, dark and lonely. It’s hard imagining a place so still and tender that only my heart and lungs do the talking. 
.
.
I look down at my body and I’m literally melting into her; the rocks, the dirt, the water, everything. I look up at the beautiful blue sky and the tree that’s giving me shade, I love you. You don’t care to know me, you just let me be here. You let me take in your oxygen without any pushing or shoving. You just let me breath. 
.
.
It’s moments like this that I need to be here. Fully be here. So I strip away all of the shit that hides me. My clothes, my ego, my insecurities and all of my thoughts that do not serve me. I leave them back at the top of the hill where the car is parked. 
.
.
I love being here and bringing all that I learn about myself back up the mountain. The trek out likes to test me. I’m fatigued, slightly dehydrated and looking down at my feet stepping one foot in front of the other. All I feel are my muscles cramping, my blisters rubbing against my little toes and I have a slight headache. I look up at the sun and I swear it’s laughing at me. “Look at you and all your humanness trekking up this hill hating every moment of this.” Then just as I’m about to give up, a gust of wind blows from behind and it feels like someone is pushing me up the mountain. “Keep going.”
.
.
Then I remember all that I am. I’m rock, I’m dirt, I’m dark, I’m lonely, I’m strong and I’m beautiful. My body does the talking and my mind goes quiet. This is where I love to be. 
#naturelover #naked #loveyourself 


[gay-spock]

here’s a compilation of why rick berman of star trek fame could have ruined the franchise with his bigotry, thanks to @/thisismewhatevs on twitter:

- rick berman is usually cited by writers as the main reason gay characters were not allowed on screen in TNG/VOY/DS9/ENT even though gene roddenberry specifically wanted gay representation in the 1980s

- notably, he is responsible for demanding female actors be "sexed up" in various ways including jeri ryan's catsuit and padding terry farell's breasts

- when terry farell asked for a reduced contract similar to those of her male costars, she was fired, leading to the sudden death of jadzia dax

- with seven of nine's catsuit, not only was it berman's idea to make her "born sexy yesterday" her original costume pinched her neck so much she kept passing out. rather than change it, berman brought in nurses to administer oxygen between takes

- berman would continually comment on the appearance of female actors to the point that marina sirtis developed an eating disorder. sirtis also mentions how tight her corset and how large her breast padding was under her "uniform"

- berman was left in charge of trek because he was in the right place when roddenberry got sick. He had no experience with scifi previously and didn't really believe in roddenberry's vision of the future:

- In addition to being a dick to denise crosby after pushing her out, he's also the reason for wil wheaton was kicked out for similar contact negotiation as terry farrell

- harry kim was never promoted from ensign since berman hated his actor, garrett wang, according to him

- enterprise was a step backwards in a lot of ways because berman had far more creative control (seasons 1-3) and took a much more hands on writing role. here's t'pol actor jolene blalock discussing his sexualization of her

- as DS9 went on, garak and bashir spent less time together and garak was given zyial as an incredibly gross love interest because andy robinson's portrayal as queer coded made berman uncomfortable

- despite the "equality" promoted on the show, berman hired very few female writers, with less than 30% of episodes having even one female writer during his time

- “Rick Berman is not the only asshole to have worked on Star Trek and he is not the reason for every bad choice from TNG-ENT. However HE WAS the executive producers and show runner in charge of production so much of the sins of that time lie at his feet. When people get confused about how some people seem to "misunderstand" the point of Star Trek and don't know how they can watch/enjoy the "progressive" nature of the show and be such vile sexists and racists, this is how. They let a sexist asshole run the show for three decades. On screen representation is important. It's amazing for people to see themselves in such a hopeful future, but the behind the scenes matters just as much if not more than who is in front of the camera. Representation without responsible storytelling is a tragedy.“ -Deep Space Fine on twitter

this is not to say that TNG/DS9/VOY/ENT are bad shows, or that they shouldn’t be watched, or anything else; but that understanding why these awful choices were made behind the scenes in depicting a “progressive” future. rick berman didn’t agree with this future because he didn’t want others who weren’t white, cis, straight men like him to benefit in the ways he did.

[sexhaver]

"neurotypicals don't understand autistic people need more special care" Mhmm, like babying you because at a whole 30 years old your underdeveloped brain can't understand something as simple as female oppression without screeching about the terf boogeyman and Harry Potter being a Nazi? well googoo gaagaa girl, you're middle aged. women are oppressed.

i am a lifeguard and my inbox is a public pool with a series of diving boards going higher and higher and occasionally an anon will trek up to the highest of these with the aid of an oxygen mask and do a quadruple axle backflip while flipping me off before slamming into the water head-first. me and all my followers watch them sink motionless to the bottom of the pool without moving to help

[randomprose]

It started out as allergies. At least that’s what He Tian said when he couldn’t stop sneezing.

When he started sniffling the next day when he went to pick up Guan Shan from work, Guan Shan told him to take some cold medicine, but He Tian just said, “Only idiots catch colds.”

To which Guan Shan replied, “All the more reason for you to take them then.”

Then He Tian started coughing at dinner and Guan Shan had yelled at him to take a flu tablet and go to bed.

“You’re sick, dick head.”

“In more ways than one, baby~” He Tian teases, but the leery effect he wanted to get going was undermined by his stuffy nose and the resounding sneeze that followed. “Fucking allergy season.”

“Disgusting,” Guan Shan sneers with an arm over his face as he hands him a tissue. “And quit calling it an allergy. You never get them even at the height of spring, dickhead.”

“Fucking Beijing pollution then.”

“You were born in Beijing. Pollution is practically your oxygen.” He Tian lets out another sneeze that has Guan Shan mentally cataloguing the medicine cabinet and making a list of what to get from the pharmacy in his head. “You’ve got the flu.”

“Shut the fuck up,” He Tian sniffs and tries to tamper down a cough against his elbow as he reviews the dossier his brother sent him. “I never get sick.”

Annoyed at his stubbornness, Guan Shan decides he wouldn’t be hanging around until He Tian gets his head out of his ass and gets better.

That was over two days ago. Guan Shan gets a text from Jian Yi who heard from Brother Qiu that He Tian looked like death warmed over at the last meeting.

Stubborn fuck.

Guan Shan comes over that night and sees for himself. He Tian greets him at the threshold panting and heavily leaning on the door frame as if the walk there was a trek instead of just a couple of strides. He’s sweating and his eyes are sunken and red rimmed with dark bags underneath. 

Yep. Death warmed over was accurate alright.

“Told you ‘m not sick.”

Guan Shan doesn’t say anything, doesn’t comment that he sounds like his sinuses are gonna explode, and doesn’t rise to any of He Tian’s baiting. He just makes a beeline for the kitchen to cook beef stew, watches as He Tian struggles to eat without an appetite, and nods in satisfaction when he eventually finishes a bowl. 

(The day He Tian refuses Guan Shan’s cooking will be his last. Even with taste buds shot to hell and a stomach that can barely stand water, he’ll always want Guan Shan’s food.)

He Tian staggers away from the kitchen on to his bed and Guan Shan only has to count to three before he's taking a nose dive straight to his mattress. He smirks from where he’s looking at He Tian’s knocked out state thinking maybe he might’ve put a little too much pseudoephedrine on his stew but not entirely regretting it.

Guan Shan moves to arrange He Tian under the sheets and in a more comfortable sleeping position. Then he goes to wet a towel in cold water to wipe He Tian's fever-warm face and arms before rubbing Vicks on his chest to help his congested sinuses. He cleans the kitchen and apartment a little thinking if maybe he should stay before deciding He Tian will be fine for the night and going home.

He comes back to check up on him the next day after his shift is over. When no one answers, Guan Shan lets himself in and sees that the place is as he left it last night. He Tian is still knocked out cold in his bed.

Guan Shan peers at He Tian and sticks a hand on his forehead. He’s still a bit warm to the touch and a little pale but it seems like he’s sweated off most of his fever at least. After filling a basin with water to wipe down He Tian’s fever sweat, Guan Shan goes to undresses him, taking off his soaked shirt and only hesitating for a second about his pants before thinking ‘Might as well’, and wipes him down with the cold towel until his hand doesn’t feel like it’s touching a furnace whenever he lays it on He Tian’s skin. Then he dressed him up with matching button up pajama top and bottoms before slapping on a fever patch on his forehead and tucking him back to bed.

All of that and He Tian didn’t even so much as make a sound. Guan Shan is starting to admit to himself that maybe he did use a little too much pseudoephedrine on the stew. Belatedly, he thinks if it was a good idea to mix in flu medicine in it as well.

“Ah, fuck it.” He shrugs as he sprays some disinfectant on his hands (better safe than sorry; he can’t risk getting He Tian’s germs and miss a day of work). What’s done is done. At least it worked to get his fever down. He doesn’t seem to be having any more troubles with his sinuses either. “He’ll thank me later.”

He Tian won’t, probably. Instead, he’ll probably leer at Guan Shan as per usual and make quips about him taking advantage of him while he’s in a “vulnerable” state—in quotation marks because He Tian is never really vulnerable in whatever state he is, in Guan Shan’s opinion. Fucking menace. 

He Tian’s phone vibrates on his night stand and Guan Shan peers to see He Cheng’s name on the caller ID.

It’s probably important but like hell he’ll answer He Cheng’s call.

Guang Shan nearly spills his basin of water when his phone vibrates with a call and he sees He Cheng’s name on the caller ID.

Holy fucking shit.

Out of sheer terror in knowing that not answering is the worse option, Guan Shan puts the basin in the sink and slides his thumb over the screen to pick up the call. 

“Hello—”

"You roofied my brother," came He Cheng’s low flat baritone.

Fuck! They must’ve come in after he left last night or something!

"What—I—” His eyes travels to the kitchen counter and sees the bottle of flu medicine already opened which confirms it. “Well...h-he wouldn't rest otherwise!” 

Guan Shan decides to get into defensive mode. What’s He Cheng gonna do? Have him beat up for basically taking care of his stupid brother? 

“He was gonna get himself killed walking all sick and shit! Hell! He was gonna get people killed by infecting them with his germs! He—”

There's low laughter on the other end of the line but it wasn't from He Cheng.

"He drugged your brother. Oh, man. This kid really has guts." Brother Qiu? "Your brother's gonna kill him."

Fuck. He's right. And the realization that he just drugged a mobster boss’s brother is starting to sink into Guan Shan fast.

"Listen, I—”

"Thank you for taking care of He Tian, Mo Guan Shan. Rest assured you will be compensated."

"Erm—That's really not necessa—"

The line was already dead.

Well. At least he knows he’s not gonna get dragged by He Cheng’s goons to get beat up on a remote warehouse somewhere.

He Tian wakes up just as the sun sets. Guan Shan is watching some re-run of a movie in the living room when He Tian stalks over with a dark look on his face.

"You drugged me." He Tian says, voice flat and inflectionless just stating facts. “You drugged me.”

"I—" Guan Shan sits up from his slump on the couch upon seeing thunder on He Tian’s face. “Look! I was just—”

"You fucking roofied me."

"It wasn't roofy, you di—!"

"Jesus, Guan Shan. You put in enough drugs to knock out an elephant. What was it? NyQuill?"

“It’s just some generic shit from the corner pharmacy.” As if Guan Shan has the money to spend on branded shit. “Had to crush and put in some flu tablets as well. You wouldn’t have taken them otherwise.”

“Fucking hell.” He Tian sighs, putting a hand to his face and sounding like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed. "You know, you don't have to date-rape drug me to get your way with me, right?”

"Chicken dick! That is not what—"

"But thanks."

He Tian plops on the couch over him, burying his face in Guan Shan’s chest. Guan Shan only puts up a token protest at the sudden weight before sighing and sinking back in the cushions with He Tian’s still warmer than normal body on top of him. He shifts to re-arrange them so they're both comfortable and not half hanging off the couch. He Tian grunts at being jostled and Guang Shan's hand instinctivley comes up to stroke at his hair to soothe.

"We're gonna have to fumigate your bed at this point,” he comments idly. He Tian had let his germs and sick fester and it would've probably mutated into some new strand of disease if Guan Shan hadn't done what he did. "Fucking hell, Tian."

"Burn it, shred it, toss the whole damn thing out, I don't care." He Tian wounds his arms around Guan Shan’s waist, nuzzling his face needily on his chest. "I've got myself the best bed here anyway."

"Don't treat me like a mattress and don't fucking get your snot on me or I swear to god." 

A half-hearted threat that He Tian knows Guan Shan would not go through if only because he doesn't push him away and the hand stroking his hair hasn't stopped. 

“Can you eat? You haven’t had anything all day and you need something in you before drinking the meds again.”

“Mm. Later.”

“Okay.”

Guan Shan drapes the throw-over blanket they keep on the couch over them, making sure He Tian is covered up to his shoulders. He puts a palm on He Tian’s forehead and neck to check for his temperature and sighs in relief when he deems it's gone down enough that he can just sleep it off. 

He Tian falls asleep to the low sound of the TV, the steady staccato beats of Guan Shan's heart, long fingers making soothing motions through his scalp, warm and safe, and already knowing he'll wake up feeling better.

[thevioletcaptain]

So I've been quiet on here a lot longer than planned.

The reasons are many. The reasons are varied.

The reasons are mostly fucking horrible.

Under a cut because it's long. Check tags for content warnings.

First was the expected absence: my parents came to visit me in Los Angeles over my birthday, so I spent the first half of October showing them around whenever I wasn't working a shift at my shitty department store day-job, or in class at UCLA.

Then, almost immediately after they went back to Australia, I got a second job working as a personal assistant for a composer. This was (and is) an extremely fun and rewarding job, but meant having one more thing on my weekly schedule, which was an adjustment.

Given that until halfway through last year, I'd been out of work since I immigrated in 2019, it took a while for me to get used to having so many concurrent responsibilities, and I'd just started to get a handle on things when I got sick right before the holidays. I took many covid tests -- all negative -- and eventually determined that it was just last year's strain of flu, which I hadn't managed to find time to get the shot for due to the aforementioned super busy schedule. I'm almost positive it was thanks to a particular customer at the aforementioned shitty department store job who coughed hard enough in my direction for their germs to get through my n95.

Anyway, last year's flu was a monster, and I spent a week in bed with a fever, then several more weeks being utterly drained and with a horrendous cough to match. It took a full month for me to recover, and then in mid-January, almost as soon as I started to catch up on all the things that had fallen behind while I was sick, things got bad, then good, then worse, then better, then much, much, much worse.

Basically, it starts with my dad being diagnosed with prostate cancer. He'd told me in October when they came to see me, but the surgery was scheduled for the tail end of January.

The surgery happened on a Monday, and it was a complete success. They got it all in one go. No chemo or radiation or further treatment needed at all. I spoke to him on the phone after he woke up, and he was in good spirits. Happy to have been given the all clear by his doctors.

I told him to watch Star Trek: Strange New Worlds & Evil while he rested up at home, because I'm writing specs for both this year and wanted him to be able to read them and know what was going on. He's the one who got me into sci-fi and horror, after all.

He went home.

He was home for two days.

He started feeling a bit rough on the Thursday. Short of breath. No appetite. Mum took him back to the hospital, just to be safe.

Turns out he'd had a mild heart attack. They couldn't figure out why. The echocardiogram didn't show any issues with his heart.

Then over the next couple of days, his breathing got worse. They took a scan of his lungs, and found that they were extremely inflamed. They'd given him covid tests but they came back negative. We told them about a work accident he had about 20 years ago, where a switchboard he'd been working on exploded in his face, and he'd suffered from inhalation burns among other things.

They thought that maybe something during the prostate surgery had caused irritation in his already damaged lungs, which put stress on his heart and caused the mild heart attack. He's never had any issues with his lungs since that accident, but they thought that maybe he'd just adapted to the damage over the years without realizing.

They kept trying different treatments to help his lungs heal. Nothing seemed to work. His breathing kept getting worse. They had him on as much oxygen as possible without intubating him, but it wasn't enough, so over that weekend they decided that they'd need to move him to another hospital with a more specialized lung unit.

When they were preparing to do that on the Monday night, he crashed. Another heart attack. Bigger, this time. They intubated him. Sedated him. Called my mum and told her to come in right away because things looked so bad.

But then he rallied. By the morning, though he was still sedated and intubated, the doctors were confident that with the right treatment at the specialized lung unit at the other hospital, he'd be okay. He was still in a rough condition, but stable. They transferred him to the other hospital.

He was given another covid test. This one came back positive.

My mum and brother called me once it was a reasonable time in Los Angeles to let me know what was going on, and the next day my brother booked me a flight back to Australia. I had to leave for the airport about five hours after my ticket was booked.

I got to Melbourne on February 1st.

For the next two weeks, dad was intubated, sedated, and in an isolation room. Every few days, they scanned his lungs again, and they were slowly improving.

Finally, he stopped testing positive, and was moved to a regular room in the ICU. Then he healed enough for them to extubate him and wake him up.

On February 13th, he was conscious enough to squeeze my hand when we went in to see him. On February 14th, he was conscious and capable of talking enough to ask a nurse in his ward to bring him his phone, and called mum first thing in the morning to wish her a happy Valentines Day.

Two days later, on Friday 16th, his lungs looked good enough on scans that they felt it was safe to do an angiogram, which they wanted to do just to double check that there weren't any issues with his heart that they missed with the echo.

They did the test. They found massive blockages. 90% blockage in one artery; significant blockages in two others.

Even though he'd barely recovered from covid, the blockages were bad enough that they scheduled him for open heart surgery on Monday 19th. They said without surgery there was a 100% chance that the blockages would cause another massive heart attack that he would not survive. They said there was about a 20% chance that he'd have complications, but only about 4% that they'd be serious/life threatening.

Like before, the surgery went well. Triple bypass, in the end. We got a call late on Monday afternoon to say that he was in recovery and looking good. His heart was functioning perfectly. They'd bring him out of sedation that night. Keep him in the ICU one or two days just as the standard post-op procedure. He'd spend a week or so in a cardiac ward after that, then head to a physical rehab ward for a couple of weeks until he could build back the muscle mass he'd lost while sedated.

We went in to see him the next day. Tuesday 20th. His 66th birthday.

He was tired, but looked good. Color in his cheeks. He made a couple of jokes. We left after about 45 minutes because he was pretty worn out, and we wanted to let him get some rest.

But then after, that his breathing started to get bad again. By Wednesday morning, they'd switched out the oxygen prongs in his nose for a big, high-pressure mask again. They called to let us know they were going to intubate him again so he could rest while his lungs recovered a bit more.

They struggled to get the tube in.

His lungs were deteriorating badly. He kept getting worse. We couldn't go in to see him because they were working on him all day.

At 9pm we got a call to say that he was just getting worse. They had him on 100% oxygen. He just wasn't absorbing it. His entire body was under massive strain. They were doing everything they could, but he just wasn't improving.

They said we should go in right away.

We got there by 10pm. My brother and his wife arrived about the same time. We went in to see him. He didn't look good. He looked pale. But he was warm, and he'd come back from the brink before, and we were sure he could do it again. We stayed with him for about an hour, and left not long after 11pm. Went back to my brother's place because they live closer to the hospital.

We were there about half an hour before they called us again. Just after midnight. He was gone.

That was about a week and a half ago, now. It still doesn't feel real. He was only 66. He hadn't even retired yet. He was working full time up until the week before Christmas, and had planned on going back to work a few days a week after he'd recovered from surgery. He never had any heart trouble, or lung trouble. He was active. He was fine.

My wife Zel and her mom flew in a couple of days after it happened. I barely remember anything from the past two weeks. Everything just feels fake.

I've been trying to write something to say at the funeral, which we've finally been able to arrange for next week -- it was delayed because we had to wait for dad to be released by the coroner. I don't think I'll be able to do it.

Anyway. That's where I've been.

It'll probably be a little while longer before I'm around here much, let alone posting with any regularity, because I'll be in Australia helping my mum & and my brother sort everything out. I have no idea how long I'll be dealing with stuff, or when I'll be able to make words cooperate enough to post anything, but I'll be back eventually.

I'm trying to keep an eye on Discord (I'm violetmatter over there) so you can find me there if you want. But yeah, I just wanted to let you guys know why I've been so quiet.

[bitchsister]

i can’t stop thinking about gale and bucky dp’ing curtis. i’ve been so sad they never got to do this in eat your young. in my mind it’s exactly what they all need

You diiiiiirty rascal, you.

It took me three days to write this because I had to take a break here and there.

I’ve combined this ask with one I got very shortly after. (Same anon?? Hmmm!?!?! 👀👀👀)

I thought it just made sense to put them together.

THIS IS A LUCKY CHARMS AU PROMPT.

I did think about doing this as an EYY prompt, and could do that again later too if anon would like!! For me, it made sense to pair these two requests up with the LC AU instead of EYY.

Also @swifty-fox is to blame for like half of this even though I planned to do it all before they said anything idc I’m blaming them still.

don’t read if you’re not absolutely LOCKED IN for:

feminization of Curt, double penetration, crying, whining, getting a lil snotty over your boyfriends fucking you absolutely stupid, daddy is used once or twice, pet names like honey, darlin’, baby, Gale and Bucky adoring Curt like he created the universe even though he is Head Brat in Charge.

Reminder : This is Yoyo’s first time writing dp. She does not know what she is doing :-) ever :-)

Andiamo!

Curt was getting used to spending Bucky’s money — and he wasn’t shy about it, either.

In the beginning Curt used to send a text, at the very least, about a sweater he liked, or a journal he wanted from the coffee shop Gale frequented on his coffee and matcha runs for the two of them while they hammered away at case files and court hearings.

Those days were over, though.

A trip to the mall before going over to Bucky’s for the weekend would prove as much.

She’s goddamn beautiful, Bucky commented on an actress in the movie they watched the night before and for whatever reason, that had stuck with Curt.

He thought, in the back of his mind, if Bucky wanted to fuck a girl then he mind as well, but Curt would scamper around in a skirt he bought with Bucky’s money to taunt him for it first.

It was obnoxious, the skirt. The lace. The tule that ruffled the edges and the playboy crop top he bought.

He dressed himself in a fit of giggles, hardly able to look himself in the mirror once he was all finished so he instead trekked to Bucky’s study where he and Gale were thumbing through piles of law books to figure out if their tactics would even hold up in court.

“Hey, darlin’.” Bucky greeted the familiar noise of Curt entering the room without looking up from the book in front of him, but Gale had.

“Johnny,” Gale grumbled at the sight, his lungs squeezed dry of every ounce of oxygen left inside them. “Might wanna look at this.”

Curt stood proudly beside the window he usually did, a lollipop in his cheek and a joint in his hand as he bashfully turned his gaze toward the two of them, giving them that infamous “What?” As if he’d been wearing his usual cut offs and a baggy tee.

“What’s this?” Bucky murmured, sighing loudly as he sat back in his chair, leather squeaking beneath him.

“What’s what?”

“Curtis..”

Curt shrugged a singular shoulder and plopped down by the window, looking down at his collection of books and acting as if he could focus hard enough to pick one he’d pretend to read.

Bucky and Gale had been more the generous with their time these days — giving Curt all the attention he could ever want; fucking him pink, sweaty and sleepy enough so they could buy themselves a couple hours of uninterrupted silence to hammer in the last few nails of their work.

It was understood between the three of them their dynamics.

Curt was in the midst of his summer break and hardly had an interest in a summer job. Instead, he’d spend his days with Bucky and Gale going to dinner or getting fucked in the pool, in the tub, or over the island in the kitchen.

Others, he’d go out to the farm to visit his mother Ruthie. It was his own little getaway where he’d plant wild flowers and drive their little boat in the fresh spring water.

He loved Bucky, and he loved Gale, but all three of them knew their lives were on different paths.

That didn’t mean they weren’t meant to be — no.

If you were to ask Curt if he’d rather be doing anything else with his life, he’d say he’d rather die.

Bucky was so in love with Curt it sometimes made him feel ill and Gale just the same, though he repressed his feelings so far down into his gut that he was unsure he could bring it up without being sick.

It was too much to fathom, too much to think about.

So he didn’t.

Nobody did.

What was the point, when something like this could rock up into Bucky’s study without a forewarning or a text?

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Curt grinned, sitting the way he usually did but this time he was wearing a skirt with no underwear beneath it. Just crossed legs, and lips alternating between a cherry lollipop, a joint, and mouthing off as usual.

“C’mere.” Was all Gale had to say, his voice steady and his gaze locked on Curtis whose cheeks flushed pink. He liked when Gale used his voice, which he was getting so much better at as of late.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said.”

Curt huffed and sat up slowly from where he’d been slouching, the book he’d been staring at clapped closed once he stood and flattened out the skirt that hiked further up with each step toward them.

At times, it was a hard balancing act, but Bucky never minded sharing with Gale and only Gale, who had never once complained about watching if he was put in such a position — however, he’d lately been so hands-on that it was hard to imagine himself sitting idly by while Bucky had all the fun.

“Where’d you get this?” Gale asked, reaching forward to tug at the skirt that Curt wore confidently, but seemed shy in. “Spending Daddy’s money again?”

Curt nodded slowly, slipping himself into Gales lap and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, joint held to Gales lips who reluctantly took a hit.

It was game over.

“He said he liked one of ‘em pretty actresses in that movie we watched last night.” Curt made himself comfortable in Gales lap, the joint between his teeth again as he hummed. “I think I’m prettier, so I thought I oughta show ‘em.”

His knees were scabbed from the farm and his shins bruised from drunken nights with his girlfriends at the college bars, who knew how to fucking put ‘em back.

A tomboy, through and through, but he looked so pretty this way.

Curt could pull off anything.

Bucky snorted anyway, nursing the whiskey he’d had lying around for hours now by his side as he watched Curt drape himself over Gale and feed him more smoke via his own lungs and mouth, “She’s conventionally attractive, Curt. Universally.” He waved his pen, “She wasn’t even wearing a skirt.”

Curt’s cheeks burned bright red, his thighs spread over Gales once he turned in his lap. No longer was he concerned about acting prudent, or modest. He was nothing of the sort. “You don’t think I look pretty?”

Both Gale and Bucky uttered out the loud hums in the very back of their throats; the ones Curt could recognize from anywhere and would know exactly what they meant. “Too fuckin’ pretty.” Bucky concluded in a whisper, watching Gale’s palms flatten over Curt’s mid-summer tanned thighs that already quivered with aching anticipation.

He’d gone and riled himself up more than he’d ever realized, but Bucky and Gale were not so far behind him. “Put him on the desk for me, Gale.” Bucky waved his fingers and Gale was quick to obey, just as eager to please as Curt could ever be.

He stayed behind Curt once he was sat upon Bucky’s desk, his chin resting on his shoulder to look down at his body — his pink nipples, his soft belly and the skirt that hardly covered his thighs and his cock that had began begging for any bit of attention.

“Wait,” Curt slapped his hand over Bucky’s chest to keep him at a close distance while his other pulled Gale closer, drawing him further into Bucky until they were face to face over the desk with Curtis between them. “Give Galey some lovin’.” He demanded, but his voice was soft and so sugary sweet.

It was only recently that Gale and Bucky had broke the third wall; sharing kisses, swapping spit or Curt’s cum they couldn’t bear the thought of tasting by themselves, always so eager to share with each other — Curt wasn’t shy about wanting to explore that need to share a bit deeper, pick and dig at the brains that have wanted to make such advances for years but never knew how.

Their kisses were sloppy, wet, uncoordinated but Curt relished in watching Gale learn how to he loved by a passionate man rather than the hand of a distracted woman who’d rather be doing anything else.

He watched them touch, kiss, lick, bite until he could hardly keep himself still. “Okay,” he whispered, shoving at their chests. “My turn now.”

“Sorry,” Bucky murmured through a chuckle once he’d pulled away from Gale who groaned at the sudden loss, his eyes cracking open to soak up the sight of Curt panting between them with his legs spread wider and waiting. “Galey tastes so much like you right now.”

Weed, cherry, sickly sweet.

Gale hadn’t even minded the fact that Bucky may or may not have been licking the saliva out of his mouth just because of said reason — all he cared was that he had the two of them, and always would.

The details hardly mattered.

Until whenever the day came that they did.

“Shouldn’t be tellin’ us what to do, anyway.” Gale grumbled as he sucked a little red mark into Curt’s collarbone from where he stood, gripping his thighs to spread them as Bucky pressed himself closer on his front side. “Look at yourself.”

Curt smirked once he lifted his thighs, his feet covered in thigh highs spread apart. “Yeah, look at me.” He sighed, as if Gale had made a valid point.

No, a year ago he never would have imagined himself in such a position, wearing a skirt while he spread his legs for two judicial professionals who’d both earned prestigious titles in their respectful fields — but there he was, and there he ought to stay, for as long as they’d have him.

“So, what’s the angle?” Bucky asked through a smirk as he pressed his palms to the back of Curt’s thighs, his knees drawn closer to his chest. “Exactly where did you think this would land you, Curtis?”

A grin was shot back at him once Curt had reached up to grip onto Gale’s biceps. “Mmm.. Somewhere like this.” He panted, his half-lit and almost forgotten about joint still dangling from his lips.

Both Gale and Bucky had rid themselves of their clothing faster than Curt could even register, his hands left briefly to palm between his legs and hike up further the pink skirt that hardly covered anything anymore. “I wanna try it again.” He blurted, his own needy little fingers already working to fuck himself open and get ahead of the process, which last time had failed so miserably.

Curt wanted so badly to feel both Gale and Bucky at the same time — and what better way to bring the three of them closer, he wondered.

No amount of lube or sweet talk could get Curt to relax, too riled up after he’d returned to Bucky’s for the weekend after boxing practice with a bloodied cheek from a misstep and sweat still damp in his hair. Too much adrenaline, still. Gale had rationed when he simply couldn’t fit. Please, no, Galey. Please, please, please. Keep trying. Curt had begged, though he was in tears from their efforts.

“Curt,” Gale whispered, already afraid just he could split him apart on his very own at times. “I don’t think it’s even possible.”

Curt wasn’t taking that for an answer and Bucky knew as much to be the truth, already warming lube between his fingers with a grin. “We can try.” John nodded, looking to Gale as to soothe him and his nerves. Despite how he may act at times, or how he may look, Curt was a big boy who could handle his own. “Second you start crying again is when we stop.”

It wasn’t on purpose — and it wasn’t so much the pain that had caused the tears, but the frustration he felt with his own body for not cooperating.

Thankfully, not a lick of adrenaline had hit his nervous system that day unless you considered the little bit he got from swiping Bucky’s card to buy knee highs, a skirt, and an overpriced playboy top.

Curt nodded in understanding nonetheless, his own fingers that desperately worked themselves between his cheeks replaced by Bucky’s instead — warm, thick, and so familiar. “Fuck,” a whimper dribbled from his lips once he was easily maneuvered to sit over Gales thighs again after he’d circled the desk.

He pressed his back into Gale’s chest, grinning up at him as he moaned through the joint that had finally put itself out. Gale had removed it to discard nearby in one of Bucky’s desk ashtrays littered only with the filters left from Curt’s morning and midday study or magazine flipping joints which had freed his lips to be kissed and bitten by Gale.

Curt gasped, his neck craned upward to catch the kisses Gale was showering upon him while Bucky worked himself into the little body that could already feel him in its belly, full just from one and eager to take on another. “Such a pretty baby,” Gale murmured breathily, holding Curt into position by the backside of his thighs, folded in half in his lap as Bucky slammed his hips into Curt’s ass. “Already so tight around Daddy, you’re too little to take two.”

“Uh-uh,” Curt argued, his cheeks burning red hot and his skin sticky with sweat already. “I can d— fuck,” he reached up again to grab onto Gale’s biceps, gazing at Bucky who was so full of love and adoration, looking at him the same way he did his expensive paintings. “I can do it.”

Bucky’s hips slowed then, watching intently at his cock as it disappeared with each careful thrust while Gales hung heavy and needy.

He nudged Gale upward carefully before he lined their cocks up together, stroking both as if they’d already merged into one somehow.

Their hips found a rhythm once Gale stood and held Curt to his chest by his thighs, Bucky being the anchor he latched onto once he was wedged between them, taking both of their cocks at once with a little encouragement and a ton of luck, just like he said he would, yet nobody could utter a word just yet besides the sputtering, whimpery mess Curt had suddenly become with the hem of his skirt pulled up and clenched between his teeth.

Though it was difficult, Gale and Bucky had made it a point to go slow.

“Fu- uuck,” Curt panted while Bucky cooed at him, the feeling of Gales cock so close and tight against his own and the familiar warmth of Curt around both of them was unlike anything he’d ever felt.

Like nothing he’d ever imagined.

“Look at you,” Bucky recognized the Curt in front of him, his jaw unhinged and his eyes glassy and trying so hard to focus, but hadn’t seen him quite this gone in some time. “You’re doin’ so good.”

Gale’s gaze had landed on Bucky again, needy and wanting and waiting as he huffed little breaths of oxygen from his lungs. “You should see Galey’s face, Curt. Makin’ him feel so fuckin’ good, honey.” Bucky pressed a few sloppy kisses to Gales lips that were starting to taste more like him again.

Spearmint, matcha, little wooden toothpicks.

“Takin’ us both like this.”

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet to us, Curtie.”

“Look at you, baby. Takin’ cock like you were born for it.”

A sight for sore eyes, the few little wet spatters on Curt’s belly from his own leaking cock caught Bucky’s attention. “Look how wet you are.”

Curt had bounced back and forth from panting and moaning to choking back little sobs that made his chest heave and shudder, cheeks splotchy, pink and covered in hot wet tears, nose stuffy and sniffling. “I-I told ya I could do it.” He hiccuped through what sounded to be a sob, but his expressions had shown not one bit of pain.

Both Gale and Bucky had remembered their deal earlier about the tears but this felt too fucking good to let go of, even despite the big fat stream that trickled down from Curt’s pretty blue eyes and to his chest once Gale had stripped him of his clothing, skirt and all. “Oh, sweet baby.” Bucky moaned, “Does that feel good?”

A wild string of yesyesyes’s was fucked out of him, his core rattling with each draw of oxygen back into his lungs that felt like they’d begun to bleed.

He felt so full of them, the sensation nestled deep into his belly — he couldn’t stop the wave of emotions that ripped right through him, whining and whimpering, hardly able to muster even a squeal through it all and so instead it came out in a continuous swirl of gentle weeping.

Dontstopdontstopdontstop, pleasepleaseplease, Curt wailed amidst the cacophony of beautiful skin against skin, thick, breathy moans, and more wet kisses shared between Gale and Bucky who were closer now than they’d ever been before, even including their college days.

Bucky licked into Curt’s mouth that simply couldn’t stay shut, and then Gale had leaned forward to do just the same.

By now, Bucky had learned Gales tell for how close he was to tipping right over the edge. “M’gonna — fuck -“ he mouthed at the dip in Curt’s shoulder, mostly tongue and so very gentle I’m-in-love-right-now-but-I’d-rather-die-than-admit-it kisses. “Gonna make me come, baby.” Gales voice had gone deeper than ever before, a low growl mixing with the same one Bucky had huffed back at him.

“Y’gonna be full of it, just like you wanted.”

Curt sobbed between them, but rocked his hips harder against the two, “Faster,” he begged, though he looked in no shape to be requesting such a thing. “Please — faster - please fuck me faster.”

He was in no mood for Gale or Bucky to scold him for bad manners.

A swirl of pretty pinks, yellows, blues and greens.

Tan skin, the smell of them, the sound of the fountain in the pool trickling outside the open window by his usual spot.

His body had hardly been his, then.

Used by Bucky and Gale beyond its limits until everything became warm, wet, and sticky. He was filled with it, covered in it, licking it from his fingers and from Gales mouth once he’d been plopped onto the leather of the couch in the study, peppered in kisses as his vision blearily came in and out of focus from the exhaustion that crept up on him, Bucky wiping him clean with a wet wash cloth from the adjoining bathroom while Gale smoothed his hair away from his eyes.

“Told ya I could do it.” Curt whispered through the hiccups that still wracked his lungs that struggled to catch an even breath.

{ these keep getting longer and longer pls put a muzzle on me }

[rainyweeds]

Home is where the heart is {Part 1}

Part 0 | Part 1

Pairing: Ao'nung x Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: After finally waking up from cryosleep on Pandora, you quickly realize you're not in the right place. While trying to navigate your location, a certain species of tall aliens take you captive.

Warnings: None for this chapter

A/N: I didn't actually think so many of you guys would want to read this. Anyways I'll have a mini tag list at the end since a few of you guys asked <3 and I'll add you guys to the next part too if you want!

How the hell did you end up here? You were supposed to be in the forest with Grace. This clearly wasn't a forest. The clear body of water surrounded the entire land mass, sandy beaches joining the two together.

There was no way in hell you were in the right place. What even happened while you were asleep? Did Grace know you were alive? Where was the RDA? You began trekking through the wooded area, hoping to find an answer.

The entire island was surrounded by water with no chance of you making it past the reef without drowning. How far were you from the nearest base? You recall Grace once mentioning there were small base units scattered across Pandora. Maybe there was one here?

After remembering all RDA machinery has built in navigators in case of emergencies, you walk back towards the wreckage. The ship was now less than half of its original size. But the question was, how did it even get here? All ISV ships were only supposed to operate in deep space. You were supposed to wake up and be transported on a Valkyrie to the base where you'd meet Grace. So how in the world did the ISV get here?

You entered the ship once again to look for the control panels. Once located, you try to turn them on. But of course, the panel was worn down and rusted. To your dismay, you angrily slam your hands onto the panels. Something you hit must've turned something on because the screen displayed an old recording.

"This is our final log before everything shuts down. The last ship has left and we are hoping this video reaches someone. We need help.

Once the systems shut down, we will have no contact with the RDA headquarters. If anyone gets this, these are our coordinates."

The pilot held up a piece of paper with some numbers on it. Were those coordinates where you ended up? Maybe you could still find everyone else.

"We won't make it. The ones in cryo will. The ship will continue maintaining the people's body temperatures until they either wake up or the ship goes down. But we don't have a chance.

The time is 21:37 and the date is July 15th, 2154. This is Team Beta signing out." The screen goes blank once again."

2154. Two years into your cryo journey. People who underwent cryosleep could stay under for long periods of time and not age. It was scary how long they could remain asleep. But you couldn't have been asleep for more than the six year trip. Right?

You continue to look around what was left of the ship, hoping to find something of use. There were a few extra oxygen masks, an unloaded gun, and a bunch of useless things. You took a spare mask, the gun, and set off into the wooded area of the island. Although you were practically defenceless, the gun could probably act as a threat if you encountered another human.

The jungle was scary to say the least. You continuously looked over your shoulder in case some animal wanted to attack you. And the large roots of the trees cause you to almost roll an ankle. If you could just find a way to leave or contact the other back at the forest, maybe you could make it out alive.

Surprisingly, there weren't many animals on the island, just a few harmless ones wandering around in search of food. And the plants. Oh the plants were more beautiful than any picture you've ever seen. All the vibrant colors seemed to only increase as the hours went on.

Nights on Pandora were known to be dangerous. Grace would always be in the lab at night to protect her and her avatar. But that was in the forest that was probably hundreds if not thousands of miles away. You found shelter under some exposed tree roots, tucking yourself away from the outside.

The sun rose early and the eclipse happened late on Pandora, meaning you had more time to explore your surroundings. You quickly continue your journey to the other side of the island after waking up and realising you were still alive. The hopes of finding other humans being the only thing that kept you going.

The island was huge. Or at least huge for your little human legs because you seemed to be walking for what seemed like forever. The trees finally begin thinning out once you see another strip of beach. This time there were sea creatures swimming around near the shore, splashing about under the sun. You step closer to take a good look at the creatures. They're nothing like any of the creatures you've seen from Grace's research. One of the creatures seems to notice you approach it, swimming closer.

"Hello!" You smile. The cool water now reached your knees as the waves crashed into you. "Can you help me find my way to the forest?" The animal only cocked its head, obviously unable to understand you.

"Who am I kidding, I'm probably going to die soon anyways. This Oxygen mask is only good for a few days. And I only grabbed one extra." You point to the mask tied to your waist.

The creature circles around you as if to examine you. As it does, you notice the handle connecting the two queues together. Someone was riding it. As you reach out to grab the handle, something behind you grabs at your hair and pulls you backwards.

You kick at your captor but with little success. They hold a knife at your neck, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You feel yourself being tied up and pushed forward.

"Olo'eyktan! We found this demon wandering around the ilus." You were harshly shoved forward, causing you to stumble into the sand. Despite the use of their native tongue, you were able to understand the foreign language. Having practiced for years before leaving Earth.

"Skxawng." You mutter. Large hands wrap around your arms, forcing you up to face the na'vi in front of you. The Olo'eyktan. Clan leader. He stood before you, towering over you.

"What is your business here?" He broke the silence.

"I mean no harm. I don't know how I ended up here." You respond with your broken na'vi. It wasn't the best but they seemed to understand you just fine.

"Bring her to the pod. We'll talk later." He waved you off. You were quickly dragged away towards a pod-like room. The warriors threw you into the pod and closed the curtains.

"If you leave, we will have no choice but to kill you."

Great. First you were going to die due to oxygen shortage and now you're going to die by the hands of Pandora's natives. How fun. You sat in the pod, knees brought up to your chest as you thought about how you could have been in the forest by now. Studying plant life with Grace.

You must've dozed off again because the next time you open your eyes, you're tied up again in front of the clan leader and who you can only assume is his mate. The woman steps forward, walking in circles around you, taking in your features.

"Why have you come to us?" She scowled at you.

"I was trying to get to the forest. I don't know how I got here." You watch her grab your hands. Your five fingers look out of place compared to her four.

"Sky people bring nothing but pain to na'vi. We should get rid of it." You were taken aback. More so at the fact that you were just referred to as an 'it' rather than the talk about killing you. You've had too many death scares to be phased at this point.

"I'm telling you. I just want to find Dr. Grace Augustine." You plead. What happened the last time humans came to Pandora to get such a hostile attitude? "I don't mean any harm."

"And who is this 'Grace Augustine." The Olo'eyktan narrowed his eyes at you.

"She's a scientist." You vaguely answer. All you could do was pray to whatever god there was on Pandora that you weren't seen as a threat.

You don't know how you did it, but you managed to make it out of there alive. With the promise to help Ronal, the Tsahik, collect ingredients and run errands, you were able to keep your life. You were brought back to the pod which now doubled as your home to rest. Apparently, there was a family staying on this island that came from the forest. Maybe they could help you.

The salty breeze reminded you of home. How the few remaining beaches would blow the familiar smell into your face. You sighed, stepping out of your pod and walking around the village. The na'vi could only stare at you as you walked by. How could their leader allow a demon to stay?

You found yourself wandering near the shore. The clear water displayed the vast marine life below the surface. One of the creatures from earlier began swimming up to you. An ilu as you learned, was a common mode of transportation among the reef people. Although you could not physically bond with the creature, it seemed to take a liking to you.

"What are you doing with my ilu." You heard a voice coming from behind you. Turning your head, you saw a tall figure. Tattoos covering his arm and face. Despite looking around your age, he towered over you. Sure, he was a completely different species but you liked to think you were tall for a human.

"Sorry it just swam up to me." You move away from the sea creature. The male watching you the entire time. Eyeing you up and down at your awkward movements. You reminded him of a baby. Just learning how to walk. "Well I better go!" You sped away from the scene.

After walking a safe distance, you sit down on a patch of grass in the forest behind the village. Nobody seemed to be around so you finally allowed yourself to breathe. Your mask begins fogging up slightly as you take in deep breaths of oxygen. Everything still felt surreal. What if you were really still in cryo and you were on your way to the forest. No. People don't dream in cryo so that can't be it.

You sigh as you head back towards your marui, na'vi clearing the way as you walk by. As you walk past the beach, you see a dark blue na'vi sitting on the sand. Her short blue hair blowing softly in the breeze. She looks like someone you know.

Like Grace.

"Grace?!" You run up to her. The girl turns her head to you as you run up to her. Shock written on her features. "How come you never told me you were here?" You remember seeing Grace's avatar in the background of the calls every now and then. The girl before you had a striking resemblance. But wasn't Grace supposed to be in the forest?

"How do you know my mothers name?" She glares at you.

The color drains from your face. Grace had a kid? How come you never knew about her? Were you really asleep for that long?

"I'm sorry- you just look like someone I know." You shake your head. There was no way this na'vi was related to Grace. No way in hell. You turn around and walk away, embarrassment evident of your heated cheeks.

"Wait!" She grabs your hand. "How do you know Grace?"

"My mother used to work with her. I was supposed to join her in the forest and research plants with her." You explain. The girl in front of you begins to pull you away as you continue explaining your situation. Soon enough, you find yourself in front of a pod.

"Come." She leads you inside.

When you step inside, you see a man sitting on the floor preparing food. A woman sits beside him. "Father. I brought someone." The girl takes a seat next to the man. He looks up at you, yellow eyes scanning your figure. "She says she knows Grace."

Both adults look at you with wide eyes. "Ma Jake." The woman speaks. Jake? As in Jake Sully?

"Kid?" The male, Jake, mumbles.

Jake would always call you 'kid' when he saw you on call. The nickname brought back memories. "Jake?" You look at the man. The more you look at him, the more he looks like the soldier you once knew. The resemblance was uncanny. "What are you doing here? Where's Grace?" You point to the girl.

"What do you mean where's Grace- What year do you think it is?"

"Isn't it supposed to be 2158?" You quickly do the math in your head. If the video you saw back on the ship took place two years after your journey started, then it should be four years later assuming everything still went smoothly. Jake looked at the woman beside him and then back to you. "What?"

"It's 2173... You were asleep for 15 years..."

A/N: Hi! I really hope you liked part 1 of the series! I have been a bit busy so I delayed the update a little bit but here it is! I'm slowly getting a vague idea on where this series is going so stay tuned! The next update might take a little longer since my weekend is looking a little hectic but I will get it up as soon as possible!

Thank you guys so much for reading and have an amazing day/night! <3

To those who wanted to be tagged: @eywas-heir @sunshinewwx @ducks118 @tiredsoulsorry @thecrazyswamp @ambria @lovekeeho @zeroqueen0555

[wosofutbolfan]

I Would Climb Every Mountain With You (Teaser)

Alexia Putellas x Reader fluff fic.

A complete vanity project.

I know all anyone wants is angst fest When Somebody Loved Me pt 2 but I love nothing more than hiking and this silly idea popped into my head and I wanted to flex my fluff muscles.

Wanted to put a small teaser out here to see if its worth exploring. Any feedback greatly appreciated!

You shoved the last of your gear into your duffel, relishing in the zipping sound that pierced the silence of your sparsely occupied apartment.

This was a quick turn around, even for you.

You were back home for your nans 82nd birthday and to catch up with your friends and family.

You’d barely been back on UK soil for 18 hours, in your Cumbria flat for only 15, when you got a call offering you a trip as a tour guide in the Pirineus Aragonese, otherwise known as the Spanish Pyrenees, for 3 nights.

Usually you’d ignore such a request at this point in your career but for a 3 day trip there were more 0’s than you would expect on the pay packet.

Too many to refuse.

You were one of the best in the business, so trampling around the low level bases of a fairley commercial mountain range was a bit novice for you.

These days you find yourself in the thin air over 6000 meters, or in a remote rainforest, or trekking through the Sahara, guiding millionaire white men who made the move from being armchair adventurers to have-a-go adventurers in the very safe manner which your expertise offered.

You did it because those IT consultants, those bankers, those surgeons, paid well.

Very well. 

Well enough to fund your explorations.

To go to those heights that really drove you. 8000 meters. The death zone. Where the air was so thin you couldn't stay long or your brain would lose oxygen.

Or the Amazon, making contact with a tribe to warn them of encroaching foresters.

Or to the arctic. To witness the last of the planet untouched by man.

As you shut the door behind yourself, barely even checking it locked.

Fuck. You think, as you download the boarding pass sent to you. 

Your mum was going to kill you. 

But god. You loved the outdoors. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate the outdoors!”

Alexia growled smacking a hand against her forearm, trying in vain to swat the midgie which was trying to make her blood its next meal. She hated the high pitched zoom that traveled past her ear as it moved back through the mini bus to try and find a more peaceful meal out of one of her teammates.

“We know Ale…” a tired voice from next to her groaned “you’ve mentioned it once, twice. Maybe a thousand times.” Mapi rolled her head off of her girlfriend's shoulder where she had been in a light doze. Interrupted by her captain's loud complaints.

“I’m just saying.” Alexia continued to grumble “I don’t know why Jona is making us do this. Team Bonding? We are a very bonded team already! I make you all pancakes on sundays!”

Mapi rolled her eyes at the blondes protests. She’d heard all of this before since Jona had announced the 3 day team bonding trip at the start of pre season. She could recite Alexia's complaints by heart.

“I’m excited.” She shrugs, eyes cast over her girlfriend who had moved to nuzzle into her side.

“Traidora” The captain replies, eyes gazing out of the fast moving countryside out of the window. She felt worse and worse the more they moved away from the city into the endless empty space around her. She could feel civilization leaving her grasp as the bars of signal went down on her phone. “You’ve been brainwashed by your nordic girlfriend.” She lets out simply.

Ignoring Mapis' offended scoff and dodging the light slap sent her way.

“Behave Maria.” A tired voice let out, without opening their eyes. Like a school child who had been told off, the tiny defender backs down and settles back into her girlfriend's shoulder. And if Alexia sticks her tongue out at her like a toddler then well. Who can prove it?

“God” she thought to herself as she settled her head back against the vibrating glass, starting a mental countdown of when she would return to her city center apartment  “I hate the outdoors.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[laney-rockin]

OKAY OKAY OKAY.

I know I haven't made a whole "my thoughts on -insert star trek episode here- for a while [I've been so busy and surprisingly to me doing a sport for two weeks straight will murder any energy I have]

BUT THIS WEEK WAS THE SNW SEASON 2 FINALE AND I COULDN'T NOT TALK ABOUT IT.

FIRSTLY. Chapel, babes. GET THE FUCK OVER SPOCK HOLY FUCK. Spock, babygirl, GET THE FUCK OVER CHAPEL. You two are not soulmates, you will never be soulmates. I am tired of watching you two hold hands and look in each other's eyes while you could be GOING BACK TO THE SHIP HOLY FUCK MOVE.

SECONDLY. WHAT THE FUCK?!?! The Gorn are shown to be a highly advanced society capable of fucking WARP. What the actual fuck is SNW doing trying to push a "they're monsters that eat humans and babies" narrative. YOU MURDERED A CHILD. NO FUCKING WONDER THE GORN HATE YOU.

THIRDLY. Batel and Pike are kinda cute together I can see how they're meant to be together. Kinda weak making Batel get bitten by a Gorn but go off SNW- make some decisions. Would've been way fucking cooler to have Batel get into more action without getting bitten just so Pike can have some sad man moments. But what do I know? I'm not even out of high school, I cannot possibly fathom what is going on in these people's minds.

SPEAKING OF WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THESE PEOPLE'S MINDS- WHAT THE ACTUAL FLIPPITY FLAPPING FUCKING HELL ARE Y'ALL DOING ON A COVERT MISSION WITH SEVENTEEN MILLION LIGHTS ON YOU. THE COLONY IS BURNING AROUND Y'ALL- THAT'S ENOUGH LIGHT HOLY FUCKING SHIT IF YOU DON'T WANNA BE SEEN BY THE LIZARDS WHO YOU DECIDED ARE CANONICALLY SENSITIVE TO LIGHT DON'T WEAR FUCKING LIGHTS.

Also Chapel uselessly looking out the window to stare at the Enterprise was so fucking stupid. I get her flashlight didn't work but also like- she had an HOUR until she ran out of oxygen/life support. Where is the hustle? Personally I would be having an actual legit panic attack as I searched for a spacesuit and extra flashlight instead of just staring at the Enterprise and calling Spock's name.

ALSO [In my opinion that means nothing] THE "TO BE CONTINUED" SCREEN FUCKING SUCKED. The ending was not satisfying at all in an "I wanna see more!" kinda way. It was more of a "LET THIS "ADVENTURE" FUCKING END" kinda way.

In my opinion the only thing that saved this episode was Scotty, my role model and the biggest reason why I wanna do aerospace engineering. That man was amazing and stole the show for me, every single time we had to cut away to see Spock and Chapel be annoying I just wished I could see Scotty again. He was so fucking cool and so fucking nerdy and just the coolest man ever.

Speaking of introducing legacy characters: next season they have to bring in Bones McCoy. And I guarantee it's gonna be top-tier because SNW seems hellbent on just ruining Spock and Chapel atm. But if they touch the grumpy country doctor and don't give him and Spock the stupidest yet so in character reason for them to just start bickering like two old woman at the bazaar I will riot.

All in all- a "what the fuck was that" episode. Loved Uhura, Pelia, Scotty and everyone else but Spock and Chapel. Their actors I have no ill will towards [I think they're both super cool and I'd love to meet them someday] but I just cannot actually stand their characters in scenes together. That's just me tho!!

[trillscienceofficer]

Fic commentary (DVD extras style) on chapter 2 of “Best Left”, which is when the plot and the drama really kick into gear.

(The commentary for chapter 1 is here.)

Inside, it’s all blue shadows again, except for the faint green lighting of the regenerator coming from a few meters away from the door. Standing immobile under it, Seven’s silhouette. Raffi rushes to her. It is simple enough to wake Seven—there’s a built-in emergency shut-off, a large red physical switch which she had shown to Raffi during the building process. She can easily spot it even in the green glow of the machine, grey rather than red.

As I mentioned in the previous installment of the commentary, I spent some time wondering about the regeneration device(s) Seven might use in the Picard timeline. I liked the idea of a big physical switch that could quickly power down the machine, it added to the image of 'built out of readily-available components' I wanted to convey, although obviously is it's just one of the ways in which it can be powered down. I have to imagine that this regeneration device can be connected to the ship's computer so that Seven can be woken up if there's an emergency and is alone on the ship (which is usually the case). I hope this big red switch is not too incongruous even if I didn't find find a good place to explain my reasoning in full in the fic.

She can’t lose any more time to fretting. Raffi reaches up and flicks the switch. The regenerator powers down, lighting included, and Seven’s eyes flicker open. She stumbles; Raffi grabs her in between her arms before she can fall flat on her face.

If I ever were to commission art for this fic, one of the scenes I'd like to have drawn would be this one; Seven stumbling, half-asleep and in the dark, in Raffi's arms.

“How is she,” she demands, beside the motionless form of her old comrade. The cold hue of the bay’s lighting makes Seven’s eye sockets dark and hollow, and her hands are closed into fists. Emil, on the other side of the biobed, simply obliges her. “Her blood oxygen level is now in the safe range. She had a few cuts and bruises but isn’t in any grave danger.” Raffi notices that the blood and the black eye are gone from Torres’ face. “I was waiting to revive her for a final check for an eventual concussion, even though scans have that at a low probability.” He pauses, squints, and then moves around to get closer to Seven. “You, however—”

Seven is a mess <3 but this mostly goes to show how apprehensive Raffi is in this tense moment, when she still is trying to parse what's going on and worrying about Seven's state.

She mumbles something that Raffi can’t hear, and Seven’s shoulders lose some of the tension they were carrying. “Take it easy. You took a beating,” Seven says, with sudden, unexpected softness. Torres blinks again, turns toward the woman at her side with narrowed eyes. “Seven? Is that you?” “It’s me.” Torres tries a smile, but she shuts her eyes again with a wince. “You look like shit.” “So do you,” Seven retorts, her own amusement tugging at her lips. A whisper to Raffi’s side. “Wait, do they know each other?”

I am still inordinately pleased with myself at this whole exchange lol instead of killing my darlings I pretty much left this piece of dialogue unchanged since one of the first outlines I wrote down for this story. I hope it conveys the sense of a shared history between Seven and B'Elanna, history that may not be entirely confined to the Star Trek: Voyager timeline even if echoes of it are still present, without saying explicitly what it is. Raffi is certainly observing Seven's reactions very closely in order to get a sense of who this person she's only ever seen in the news might be for Seven. And then there's Elnor and Soji, who still have no idea of what's going on at all.

Torres lowers her hands and seems to become aware for the first time that there are other people around her other than Seven and Emil. She takes in her audience with what Raffi assumes is wariness. “Is this your crew, Seven?” “Don’t worry,” Seven replies, “They’re all friends.” Raffi presses her lips together at the noncommittal answer—really, Seven? I get that you’re angry that I didn’t wake you up sooner, but we acted exactly like a crew. Or do you hate the idea of having one so much?

So I don't know how clear it is to readers but again this one-two-three of reaction is pretty much the core of the interpersonal conflict between Raffi, Seven and B'Elanna, and it's essentially all caused by the three of them all having imho similar issues re: trust, fear of abandonment and actually spelling out what it is that they need from each other. I think it makes sense that all three have similar problems because of their traumatic pasts and a present that never really allowed them to sort through any of that (maybe with the exception of B'Elanna, although she still carries a lot of baggage around), not to mention the guilt, especially in Seven's and Raffi's case, for the way they (believe they) have hurt the people they cared about the most.

Essentially Seven has been isolating herself for decades at this point, and B'Elanna is one of the few people she talks to/meets regularly and even that means, like, once a year or less. Said isolation means Seven has never told B'Elanna about La Sirena's crew, and B'Elanna is surprised to find out that Seven has people close to her again and eventually hurt that Seven did not trust her enough to let her know, especially the 'I have a girlfriend now' part (although the reasons for why Seven didn't tell her and why B'Elanna is so hurt are explored later in more detail). Seven is unwilling to admit that these new people are actually a crew because confessing that she now trusts and is close to other people (like she was close to and trusted the Voyager crew long ago) is something she's not ready to do lest something terrible happens to them because of her. Raffi in turn is hurt by Seven's refusal to concede that she, Elnor and Soji represent a crew, because to her it so clearly indicates a lack of trust on Seven's part, exacerbated by the fact that Seven seems to care for her old shipmate so much in comparison.

The rest of the story is, in my intention, all of them pretty much stumbling over all these obstacles until they tentatively find a way past them, in large part thanks to Raffi's analytical approach to everything, and also because what's a better bonding experience than being chased by a warship through an asteroid field and then trying to hijack said warship?

“Wait.” Torres squints at him. “Deactivate? Are you an EMH?” “Emil, at your service,” he replies, quite pleased with himself at the recognition. Torres doesn’t share his enthusiasm. She turns to Seven and says, “An EMH? Are you kidding me?” “It was not my idea,” she replies hastily.

Again, a little exchange I'm very fond of. Difficult patients should stick together, right? I think (or I should say, I hope) Seven and B'Elanna may have given each other some space to air mixed feelings about the Doctor, as hinted by that famous interaction in “Imperfection”. B'Elanna finding Seven in the company of another EMH here makes things worse between them for this reason—there are so many things that Seven hasn't told her, and that seem to contradict everything B'Elanna has come to expect from Seven. Especially not after Seven confessed to her that she's killed Bjayzl, but that's a part of their conflict that is explored more later.

“So, you trust her?” Seven frowns. “Of course.” Raffi tilts her head. “Because she used to be a senior officer on the USS Voyager?” “How many times have you read her Starfleet file already?” Seven retorts, forcefully sticking her left arm in the vacuum suit. “Oh, don’t start. It’s not as if it’s a secret who she is.”

I love mess. I have to imagine this type of fight happened somewhat regularly between Seven and Raffi especially early on in their relationship, with the former bristling at anyone trying to get to know her and the latter the kind of person that simply has to know even to her own detriment, which in turn I think reminds Seven a bit too keenly of her own younger self. If this particular tense conversation doesn't spiral into an outright fight it's because both of them are desperately trying to stay on task as well—the rest of their back and forth lays out the same dynamics I've tried to explain in a point above.

How else Raffi could’ve understood the wildly different emotions that the memory of Admiral Janeway seem to elicit in Seven, if she had not done her own research? (Raffi guesses it’s the mix of deep gratitude and equally deep resentment that Starfleet legends seem to engender in people they take under their wing—not that she would ever admit that to JL.)

Again, a darling I didn't kill... I got a kick out of this parallel and imagining Raffi coming up with it. I DO think that if a Starfleet legend takes you under their wing, you're basically bound to go through the spectrum of emotions about it for the rest of your natural life—and I meant this is a bit cheekily in the case of two legendary captains I have mixed feelings about myself, but they're not the only ones for whom this applies. I have complex feelings about mentorship in general; I found out in my adulthood that I'm unable to fit the role of either mentee or mentor and this has caused me no small amount of grief. I think some of this bled through on my take on Raffi in this fic, in which she's reflecting a few times on her role both as as Picard's second in command on the USS Verity and her way to care for Elnor, remaining ambivalent throughout without any clear resolution.

Ostensibly happy life with her Starfleet family and friends—until the synth ban. Torres then resigns from her post, divorces her husband, gets joint custody of their daughter. Disappears, over the years, in the wide cracks where all non-aligned orgs operating on the Federation borders seem to live these days. Does her daughter hate her for that, Raffi asks herself sourly. She forces the thought out of her mind. That’s pure projection—not a good mental state to ask questions. And Raffi does have a few queries for Torres.

Another piece of the puzzle in the middle-aged women drama! Raffi recognizes that she's projecting quite a bit on B'Elanna from the very start, but even if she does she isn't exactly able to stop herself from doing it (which I think it's extremely relatable—knowing your own patterns doesn't always translate in having developed effective countermeasures, and Raffi has essentially just gotten out a fifteen-years-long depressive slump). I think it's also hard for Raffi to not project because here is another woman whose life has changed completely (and whose marriage collapsed) after the synth ban, except B'Elanna has been doing great, necessary work ever since. It's not the kind of information Raffi can take with any kind of objectivity, imho.

She’s still very pale, burrowing in her suede jacket with her shoulders slumped, but she also seems more at ease, sitting with her weight on her folded right leg. Her knee-high boots must be as well-worn as the smooth elbows of her jacket.

idk guys, my dad used to wear this suede jacket everywhere and now I think it's THEE piece of clothing for mechanically minded, DIY people. And I couldn't leave out the boots, of course.

“I’ve heard about Coppelius,” Torres says, while Raffi walks down the stairs. Ah, the trade-off of leaving Elnor unsupervised with their guest. “I wondered if Seven had something to do with crashing a Borg cube onto the surface of a planet,” Torres continues. “She has a knack for—” “Being in the right place at the right time?” Raffi finishes for her, as she walks over to the table. She smiles, making herself as unassuming and nonthreatening as she can.

I'm also very proud of this scene between Raffi and B'Elanna, in which they're both so obviously taking the measure of each other, alternating between wariness and nonchalance. I also had fun throwing Elnor in the mix because his presence highlights that some of what they're doing is essentially posturing. Rereading it I liked the tension—these aren't the best circumstances in which to meet.

“You said you were attacked? And that your computer core was stolen?” “Yes. I was headed to a rendez-vous near the border, with people I worked with before. Instead of the old shuttles I expected, a warship showed up. Well, I think it was a warship,” Torres amends, “Because to be honest I couldn’t take a good look at it. It seemed to appear in and out of nowhere, and I was too busy trying to avoid its phaser cannons. Those were definitely not from a civilian ship.” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t do much, in any case, it was much faster than I was even at warp. That’s when I tried the subspace eddies, to see if I could slow them down—but then my shields were suddenly toast and my computer core was being beamed out. That’s when I got stranded.”

The bit of the plot I laid out here is something that remained pretty much unchanged from the first outline as well—essentially I had this very vivid image of B'Elanna's shuttle being attacked by a mystery ship, and then I reverse-engineered what lead to that particular outcome.

They’re getting to the heart of the matter, finally. “I’ve been meaning to ask—why would they be interested in stealing your computer?” Torres gives her a lopsided smile. “I am—good at fixing things. Warp cores, defensive systems, repurposing old tech. You name it, I’ve probably tried to bang it back into shape. I worked with all sorts of people, over the years, and over two quadrants” she adds, looking into the half-empty mug. “I have a lot of logs, to keep track of what I did for whom and in order to not get caught into feuds or other sorts of messy situations. It’s—coordinates, lists of equipment, people. Warp signatures. Even access codes, which might have changed after I used them or might’ve not.”

Heartfelt headcanon alert!! I think B'Elanna would find a lot of meaning in turning her life around this way, essentially taking what she loves doing and putting it in the service of mutual aid, even if it's a hard and thankless task. She would also have no illusion about what that entails, and how to survive in situations of conflict, I think.

Raffi is chilled to the bone. “That’s a lot of sensitive data.” Not to mention terrible info-sec all around. “Is the core encrypted at least?” “Look, I know what you’re thinking,” Torres says, glaring, “but I’m not stupid. Reliable and trustworthy offsite data storage is a little hard to come by, in my line of work. So yes, the data is encrypted, and I expect it to hold up against attacks for a little while at least. But it won’t last forever.” Raffi leans back, crossing her arms. She probably would’ve done things differently—had done things differently, during her self-imposed exile from society, getting lost into all sorts of information rabbit holes. She didn’t get rid of all her redundant copies and storage options even after being offered her Starfleet commission back. But Raffi hadn’t exactly been out there, had she? With how the pieces were constantly shifting in the sectors beyond the border, the only loyalty you could be sure of was to yourself. Granted, that’s only if you aren’t prone to self-destructive benders.

I've tried super hard to give Raffi opinions on stuff that concerns her (former) line of work, and this is one of them. She can recognize that B'Elanna didn't have the best info-sec because of her circumstances, but Raffi still thinks it was a terrible idea.

Torres’ eyes flicker to Elnor then back to Raffi. “Huh. I can see Seven has made some interesting friends lately.” Raffi could say the same about Seven’s friends from decades ago, but first she needs to find out what kind of interesting Torres exactly is. [...] Now that's what I call interesting, Raffi thinks, taken aback. The woman in front of her seems to know it too, with the way she’s meeting Raffi’s gaze steadily, as if she’s daring Raffi to have an objection to the absolutely batshit thing she’s just claimed to have done.

I can imagine that even after the return in the Alpha Quadrant, B'Elanna is still fond of crazy solutions for difficult problems, and it might just be the kind of wild feat that makes Raffi pause because I think she likes this kind of daring in people (see what she says to Soji in the show). And so here Raffi is, being wary of this woman and the rapport she and Seven still have, projecting a bit on her, and kind of admiring her. It's a complex, explosive mix of feelings and I think it can easily lead to attraction (as it does later).

“It’s—really nothing important,” she says, closing the holo-interface with an impatient flick of her left hand, “I’m probably just thinking too much. We just extracted her from a near-death situation, and I’m being a hard-ass.” Soji’s smile widens. “You did point a phaser at me the first time we met.”

Raffi blinks, Seven’s sudden apathy making very little sense. She takes in the scene properly; Seven and Torres standing apart, pointedly not meeting each other’s eyes. Elnor hangs out a bit to the side, hands clasped behind his back and a frown on his face. Long faces all around. What the hell happened back there?

I love Soji so much... she WOULD bring that up as a joke. I just had to. I also like the rest of their conversation; I think Soji really trusts Raffi's opinion and I've tried to make that clear there.

Raffi sighs, bringing both hands to her face, on the bridge of her nose. She’s the conspiracy auntie now, isn’t she? God, that’s so sad.

The show is a bit ambivalent, I think, in letting us know what is Raffi's own opinion on her quest to find out what was really behind the Mars attack. While Raffi was eventually proven right I don't think she's proud of how bad she made things for herself while pursuing her goal (even beyond the fact that I'm personally in disagreement with the way the show validates conspiracy theories). I think that after s1, Raffi's assessment of her past actions and fixations is also complicated by the fact that she's trying very hard to move on. The quote above is where I landed—a bit of self-deprecating humor.

I love mess round 2. B'Elanna wants to be out of La Sirena as soon as she can, given everything she's seen that Seven has not told her about, believing she's better off on her own, and Seven obviously doesn't understand why she wants to leave so soon in her state—hence the fight, still a common occurrence between them. But obviously Raffi doesn't know about B'Elanna's motivation at this point.

Raffi walks over to the bed, and sits down on the mattress beside Seven. “Are you worried for her?” “Hard not to be. She says she can manage alone, but she’s without a ship now, and she needs to get her computer core back soon or there will be consequences.” “And the people who stole it and left her for dead have a lot of firepower on their hands,” Raffi adds. Seven turns to her. Quirks her ocular implant in a gesture Raffi quickly learned to love, even if it often leads to heated confrontations. It’s not the case this time. “What are you thinking?” Well, time to explain herself. “Maybe it’s nothing, but I think Torres is not telling us everything about her attack. Her version is—missing context. And if you say you trust her, but she’s shutting you out as well—” Seven twists her mouth. “I don’t like the sound of that.” “I don’t mean that she’s lying to you, it’s just—” “No, I understand.” Seven reaches out to her again, placing her left hand implant on Raffi’s right. It’s cold, just like earlier, but once again the touch is steadying. Seven continues, “I just do not like to consider it.” She takes a big breath, then exhales. “Then again, it wouldn’t be out of character. B’Elanna can be—cagey.” The kettle to the pot, Raffi thinks wearily.

I think I wanted to conclude the chapter in a way that suggested that Seven, despite Raffi's misgivings, does trust her and her judgment a great deal already. I thought a lot about the kind of relationship they would have, even beyond what we've seen on the show, and I think Seven can see very clearly how smart Raffi is and how listening to her helps break Seven out of patterns in her life that would otherwise be inescapable—a thing Seven is also pretty scared of, I think, which is the source of a lot of their problems. The presence of B'Elanna, and the fact that they're already fighting, forces Seven to be a little more vulnerable, which goes a long way to smooth things out between her and Raffi (see also the way she asks Raffi to stay with her while she regenerates).

“Alright. I’ll stay then, and be unconscious with you.” Seven’s laugh, an almost silent affair, is another one of those rare rewards that Raffi will never get tired of witnessing.

I always thought Seven's (very rare) laughter would be almost silent, and tbh I don't care if the Picard show contradicts this. I still like the way this chapter ends a great deal.

[jeks-tgs]

Decaying In Reverse - A TGS Murder Mystery

Part 1: The Impermanence of Death

It was a sleepy autumn morning in London when it occurred. Birds flitted about from place to place, their twittering songs serving as the chorus for the steady building symphony of the city below. As the sun's rays began to warm the brick and cobblestone of the buildings, and those who could spent a few extra hours in their beds, a far less sensible man was finishing the last of a stack of paperwork.

Henry Jekyll was known to many as many things; a perfect gentleman, an accomplished doctor, but most importantly, a workaholic. The Scotsman had spent the entire night slaving away at his desk, as evidenced by the horrible ache in his spine and wrist, and the bone-deep exhaustion weighing his too-thin body down. He failed to stifle a yawn as he added his signature to the final piece of paper, blinking tiredly at it. He squinted, bringing the sheet closer to his face, then nodded, satisfied with the level of neatness the writing possessed. He set the paper to the side, glancing about his office while he tidied up his workspace. Upon noticing the time on the clock he frowned. Had he really worked until five in the morning?

As if to answer him, his stomach growled, breaking the silence of the office in a way that coloured the doctor's cheeks a rosy pink. Right, then. If he wanted to get anymore work done today, he needed to grab something to eat. He could work running on no sleep, and he could work without food in his stomach, but not at the same time as he'd found out the hard way. Decision made, he finally stood from his chair, wincing as his back let out a series of cracks and pops more befitting a man at least twenty years his senior. He swayed slightly afterwards, causing him to grip the desk. Yes, he definitely needed some food, his blood sugar must be a bit low.

The trek to the kitchens was surprisingly peaceful. He'd forgotten how quiet the Society could be when no one was shouting or running around or blowing something up. He found himself smiling, tired and bittersweet, as he reminicsed on the memories of those exact instances. The first time Luckett had blown something up, Robert had nearly had a heart attack. The Lodgers had had a good laugh about that afterwards, and Henry had tried his hardest not to laugh at their dramatized impressions of his friend's reaction. His smile faded as he thought about how those moments quickly faded, the Lodgers absorbed in each other and Henry absorbed in his taxes and debts and legal fees. By the time he'd opened the kitchen doors, he was in a rather melancholy mood, which only heightened his surprise at what was inside.

A little pastry sat on a plate, coated with a pink icing, red writing on top spelling the words 'We're Sorry Jekyll!' He found his eyes stinging as the cornera of his mouth tugged up. Maybe all hope wasn't lost. Maybe their was still time to bond with the Lodgers, to rebuild those friendships, to be the leader they could rely on. Heart thrumming with timid happiness, he raised the treat to his lips and bit into it.

To an untrained tongue, the sweet flavour of the pastry might be mistaken for wild carrot, leading to the assumption they were eating a carrot cake of some sort. As a rather experienced alchemist, Henry immediately identified the taste for what it was.

His eyes widened with terror as he hastily spat the bite out, but it was too late. He tried to suck in a breath to call out for help, but already the poison of the plant was constricting his airways. The founder clawed at his throat until his nails were caked with blood, trying in vain to alleviate the pressure cutting off his oxygen intake. He began searching the countertops wildly; if he could get his hands on a small blade, he could puncture a hole in his esophagus, and while it was a last resort, it would allow him the chance to breathe. That thought had bately registered in his brain before his body seized, and he collapsed to the floor, jerking and twisting as the poison flooded his brain.

Aggravated Hemlock, a plant bred as a more fast-acting and lethal version of the common hemlock plant, could kill a grown in five minutes, which would be filled with the worst pain the victin had ever felt.

Henry Jekyll died after ten.

The clock read five o'clock, on the dot.

Henry sgared at it's glassy surface, his entire body trembling. His muscles still ached from seizing for ten full minutes, and the skin on his throat was an irritated shade of red with thin scabs reaching from beneath his jaw to the collar of his shirt, as if a faded remnant of the bloodied mess it had been after eating the poisoned pastry.

Heart racing in his chest, Henry clutched his head in his hands, trying to come to terms with suddenly being a good thirty minutes in the past after having been murdered by someone presumably living in his building.