#truly tired of anyone thinking they knew her better than I did

[snuggleupagus]

My mom's friend posted something about her on FB and it was just so wrong but like. I can't correct her. I can't just comment and say "her favorite color was purple, not green, wtf are you talking about?" And I cant say "Her favorite holiday wasn't St Patrick's Day, it was HALLOWEEN!!!!" because none of it matters anymore but I'm still irritated as fuck about it.

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: ony x reader

warnings: violence...kinda (reader throws a phone at ony), smut 18+, mentions of infidelity,

a/n: did i proof read this? no. so squint if you see imperfections

Accusations & Apologies

“Onyyy, slow down” You cried, your hand behind your back in an attempt to slow his relentless thrusts.

“Nah, cause a minute ago it was ‘fuck you’ right? Now you wanna be a fuckin cry baby” He hissed.

You knew better. Ony was the love of your life, the one who stood beside you no matter the circumstance, even when times were rocky. You knew he'd never do anything to hurt you, yet all rational thinking left the building the moment you saw the notification.

“Who the fuck is Ayesha, Onyankopon?” His phone clattering to the floor as it bounced off his chest, the moment he stepped foot into the room. 

“Ow, did you just throw my fuckin phone?” Inked hand rubbing the area as he bent down, examining the device before tossing it back on the bed.

“You picked the shit up didn't you?” You huffed in annoyance.

Confused about your unusual behavior and attitude he walked over to you. His calloused hands gripping your jaw softly as he forced you to look at him. “The fuck going on, ma? Talk to me. We don't do this acting out shit"

A part of you knew your behavior was unnecessary, and irrational, but the other half was too afraid of being hurt to stop and truly think about the situation.

“What's going on is you got some bitch blowing up your phone talking bout she misses you. Are you cheating on me, Ony?" Voice raising to hide the growing anxiety in your chest as you pushed his hand away

“Are you serious? After everything we've been through, you gon accuse me of cheating?” His voice gradually raising to meet yours

“Then explain yourself. Who is she and why is she on your phone?” You shouted

He was trying his best to stay calm, aware that you were afraid, but he was getting frustrated. Anyone who knew you and Ony could easily tell he'd rather die than think of another woman the way he thought of you. So why couldn't you just stop for a second and think?

“Some girl from high school, we used to be cool but I cut her off when I met you.” The annoyance etched on his features was evident as he ran his hands over his face. 

“Then why is she texting you? How'd she get your number? You think I'm stupid or something?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Right now? Yeah. Cause clearly you done lost all your goddamn brain cells if you think I'm cheating.” He shrugged, tired of your accusations.

The nonchalant tone of his voice irritated the fuck out of you and made what he said ten times worse.

“Man, fuck you” You stood, hands pressed against his chest in an attempt to push him out of your way, anger wavering when he didn't move an inch, and instead, his large hands gripped your wrist, dark eyes glaring down into yours as he clenched his jaw.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Please, Ony” You whined, legs trembling as he tightened his grip on your hips, forcing you back onto him as he pounded into you.

“Why you like being mean to me, huh? What daddy do to deserve this?” He spat, thumbs kneading into the flesh of your lower back before delivering a heavy slap to your ass, groan emitting from his lips at the squeeze your pussy gave him.

“I don't mean to, daddy, I'm sorry, just- fuck slow down” You cried. Teary eyes looking back at him as you pleaded.

With a hand wrapped around your throat, he leaned down, pressing a sloppy kiss to your glossy lips, string of your mixed saliva connecting you two as he pulled away.

“You the only girl I want, ma. You ain't never gotta worry about that shit. I love you and only you, rather die than think about some other girl” He whispered in your ear, emphasizing each word with deep thrust as he made you look back at him, your big eyes staring into his as he kissed all over your face, pink muscle licking up the tears that raced down your cheeks.

“You hear me?” His teeth grazing your earlobe as his free hand rubbed figure eights on your throbbing clit.

“Mhmmm, y-yes, Ony” Your head bobbing up and down rapidly as a response.

“Yeah? Then tell me whose dick this is, mama?” Both hands back on your hips as he let you fall back onto the bed.

“I-It's mine, Ony” Nails gripping the sheets as his hips ricocheted off your ass at a rapid pace

“Mhm- fuck say that shit again” Quickly pulling out before he flipped you onto your back, giving you .5 seconds to recover before he was ramming back into you. The sticky white ring around his thick base and pelvis contributing to the pornographic sounds bouncing off the walls. 

“What I say, ma?” Pearly whites on display as he bit his lip.

“You're mine, baby. Fuck right there.” Legs closing around his waist as your hands searched for anything to grip on to.

“Y-yeah only yours, ma.” Shaky breath indicating he was close as his fingers interlocked with yours.

“Come on, nut on your dick, baby” He whispered, rocking his hips into yours as the tip of his tongue ran over the small purple marks along your neck from your earlier endeavors.

Low moans escaped you as you gushed around him, freshly done acrylics leaving welts along his chocolate skin.

“Shit, baby” He groaned, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he came, the twitching of his dick mimicking a heartbeat as he pumped out ropes of milky white cum into your walls.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“I'm sorry, you know. For hitting you with your phone and accusing you.” Your whisper, breaking the silence of the room as you laid in each other's embrace under a thin blanket.

“Yeah?” The vibration of his deep voice contrasting yours as he repositioned your bodies so you were now straddling him.

“Mhm” Bottom lip trapped in between your teeth as you felt him growing against the soft flesh of your ass

“Prove it”

[yumeka-sxf]

In addition to Yor's epiphany scene, this scene was the other one I was most looking forward to in season 2 - a scene that, in my opinion, is one of the most Twiyor-ish scenes in the series so far 💖

Why is it so significant? Because there was no reason for Twilight to put on any Loid Forger acting in that moment. He wasn't conversing with nor being scrutinized by anyone. So why would he give that soft smile followed by such affectionate, comforting words as "お疲れ様/otsukaresama"? (this can be translated in many ways, but generally it's something you say to thank someone for their hard work).

The answer is because it's something he truly felt...he understood the sacrifice Yor made for Anya's happiness and genuinely appreciated it (if only he knew the sacrifice she made on the larger scale, lol). While he's a bit perturbed at first since some onlookers were snickering at him, it didn't take long for him to soften and then graciously carry his queen and princess the girls back to the ship 😭

But Twilight overall was really soft in this episode and I loved it~ From his blush upon seeing Yor to the several times he gave that same soft smile when talking with/looking at her...I think Anya was right when she called him out on the ship about missing his wife 😅

I liked how the anime conveyed his shock when noticing her bruised face...what must have been his thought at that moment? 👀

The scenes of the family activities translated better in animated form in my opinion. While they were each only a single panel in the manga, they lasted a few seconds each in the anime, plus the addition of the insert song helped the with the comfy, wholesome vibe~ Also the part where Yor inadvertently chucks Anya across the ocean is still hilarious.

Loid's dorky skip at the beginning of the episode translated very well in animated form too 😅

The ending of this chapter in the manga always felt a bit rushed to me...it quickly jumps from the aforementioned scene of them returning to the ship, to suddenly being home, reuniting with Bond and Franky, having a meal together, then Twilight meeting Sylvia, all within a few panels. Even though I wish the anime added more than just some additional scenes of the ship leaving the island, I felt it flowed much better in the anime since, just like the family activities, each scene in the ending lasted a second or two instead of being a single illustration.

But I love how this chapter/episode ends, with Yor, Anya, and Bond napping while Anya draws about her family vacation. This seems to take place the next day or maybe later the same day they got home, so makes sense they'd still be tired from the trip!

By the way, the manga has this additional scene showing that Olka and company are safe. Weird that the anime didn't stick it in at some point.

Also, the anime team didn't have to go so hard with this episode's key visual but they did...and I love it 😍 Might actually be my favorite of the key visuals so far!

I was very happy to see the "surrounded by liars" panel finally animated! This is such a funny scene and a great way to fully wrap up the cruise arc.

I also burst out laughing at Yuri's locker 🤣

Damian is surprisingly laid back in this episode. I think the reason is because Anya's antics aren't directly involving him. He tends to go total tsundere only when she's actually talking to him, lol.

The new scene of Yor getting the keychains for her coworkers was a nice addition! Guess it's canon that Yor and Anya didn't sleep for the entire trip back, lol. Glad they got to spend family time on the ship too! (though I wish we could have seen Yor's reaction waking up in Loid's bottom bunk bed, haha. He must have brought her to his room since he wouldn't know where her room is. Unless she woke up before he even put her in a bed, in which case she would have been super embarrassed knowing he was carrying her around in public 😆)

Looks like next week the anime will be changing the order of things a bit and giving us the Becky home-wrecking and Fiona chapters (the latter of which seems to have some anime original content?) The Becky chapter is one of my favorite stand-alone chapters...I'm already dying of laugher thinking about it 😂

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Mooooo ! I love you so much bby 💕 my I request one with Alfie with the touch starved prompts “you never have to earn my affection-not now, not ever” and “I’m never more at peace than when I’m in yours arms”? Thank you lovely❤️❤️

My baby girl!!!!!!! Ugh thank you so much for sending this in. Did my heart ache writing this? Yes. Did my stomach hurt? Also yes. Am I sorry for it? NO. WE DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR EMO HOURS IN THIS HOUSE. Hehehe Anyway I love ya so much I hope you enjoyyyyyy.

100 Follower Celebration: Your Love is Enough

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

There were many perks that came with being Alfie's woman. While there was certainly a good deal of danger lurking around, there was an undeniable air of safety you had due to all the eyes watching. You got access to all the hot goings on around the city. You lived comfortably. And above all, you got to love Alfie Solomons fully and purely and unabashed. There was only one downside really... the talk.

It was no secret that you were significantly younger than Alfie. It was something you and Alfie never shied away from and didn't feel a need to. Regardless of any age difference, you and Alfie understood each other on a cosmic level, a way no one else could. You loved him with your whole heart and soul and Alfie would burn down the world if you asked him to. You were one. And anyone who truly knew you and Alfie knew that this was true love. That this was the type of love and devotion that epics were written about and empires crumbled over. But there were always going to be people who didn't know. Always going to be people who didn't understand.

You were perusing fabric patterns in the shop down the street one early afternoon, looking for the final pattern to add to a quilt you were making for Ollie's soon to be born first child. You delicately touched the cotton blends along an aisle, imagining how it would look along the squares you had already picked, taking mental note as to what was available.

"I just cannot imagine what he sees in her. I mean... she is a child isn't she?"

Your ears perked up to the tone. It was Mrs. Vorsed from down the corner, the one you waved to every morning without even a smile in return. Another voice responded, "You know how men are. They just want a little toy to play house with until they find a wife."

Who on earth could they be talking about?

"Mr. Solomons needs a real woman in his home. My Portia knows what it means to be a lady of the house, and knows her place. I mean that girl he is shacked up with... I can hear her shouts and laughter from down the street! What does she know about keeping a home, much less keeping a man?"

A snicker erupts, "Well I'm sure she won't last long. He'll tire of her eventually when he realizes what he truly needs. Then Portia can swoop right in!"

The cackles fade away with the sharp chops of heavy footed steps. Despite your efforts, the knot in your throat never went down. You lungs refused to take in breath as the words spun in your mind. How could they say those things so confidently? They didn't even know you. They never even stepped foot into the house, how could they know how you keep it? Alfie never said more than a good morning to Mrs. Vorsed. How could they know anything about you or Alfie? Yet their words kept spinning and spooling around in your mind. What if... what if they were right?? What if people saw something that you couldn't see? What if you had deluded yourself into thinking that Alfie was truly happy and in love with you? What if he was unhappy but didn't want to tell you out of duty. It all became too much in your chest, and you left the store without your fabric, but the weight of the world on your chest.

That evening Alfie could not wait to get home to you. Every evening Alfie nearly buzzed at the prospect of coming home to see your face again, and wrap himself around you, getting as close as possible. You made his day better. You made his life brighter and joyful and meaningful. It made all the business and badness worth it. Stepping through the threshold with a press to the mezuzah, Alfie calls out, "Sweet girl! I'm home! You in the kitchen darling?"

He hears you call back and smiles wide, stomach growling hungry for supper and you. Taking off his coat and hat he ambles into the kitchen, watching you stir something magical in the massive soup pot. "My dove ,my angel, my joy, what are you doing? Making food for the Royal Navy are we?"

You turn to him, and he can clearly see that something is wrong. Your lips are quivering and poorly attempting to portray a smile, and your eyes are glassy and red rimmed. He feels a stab in his chest, "Now wait a minute treacle... what's got you crying?"

You wiped your cheek and turned away, "I'm not crying."

With a scoff he grabs your chin gently, turning you to face him, "I thought we didn't lie to each other my sweet. Especially since you're the worst liar since the Garden of Eden. Why are you crying? Come on now confess."

You shrugged as Alfie's hands moved up and down your arms, "It's nothing. Stupid really I shouldn't be crying."

"Nah nah. It ain't stupid if it's got my sweet girl crying like that. Out with it."

The tears kept falling, though you tried to keep an even tone, "I just... I heard some women talking. Mrs. Vorsed and another lady."

Alfie rolled his eyes, "Always a bad sign. C'mon what else."

You sniffled, "And... well... they said that... I wasn't good enough for you. That I didn't know how to be a good woman to you. And that you would be better off with someone else. That you would soon grow tired of me. That I'm not deserving of you, and Portia Vorsed would be a better match for you."

The tears started coming harder, and you couldn't help the shaking of your body. Alfie's stomach dropped, and rage replaced it. Alfie shook your shoulders a bit in his passion, "What the fuck is wrong with them? Treacle, Mrs. Vorsed is the worst gossip in Camden, and doesn't know anything about anything. She hasn't got anything better to do but talk absolute shit. Portia, right? She is the silliest woman in town, she can't even do basic arithmetic because she's too busy being an idiot. I mean fuck me treacle I can barely say good morning to Mrs. Vorsed without getting proper fucking agitated!"

Alfie kissed your forehead and brought you to his chest, "YOU are the one for me. I don't give a shit what Mrs. Vorsed or what any other decrepit woman or idiot man thinks. You are my life. You are my stars and my moon and my sun alright? You don't have to be 'good enough' for me. Fuck you just are. You never have to earn my love. You've always had it. Even before I knew you my old and brittle heart was yours. You got that?"

You nodded, the tears pooling in his shirt. Alfie pulled you away from him to look into your eyes. "And treacle I don't even think Mrs. Vorsed can see more than a meter in front of her so she probably has no clue who she is talking about."

You laughed despite the tears and Alfie grinned. All he wanted to do every day was to make you smile. He was convinced that was what he was put on this earth to do. You put your hand to his face, feeling him lean into the warmth of your palm. "I just want to love you and care for you like you do me. I just worry that I don't do enough sometimes."

He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingertips, "Ah my sweet. I'm never more at peace than when I'm in your arms. I'm never more at home than when you're next to me. The whole business could go to shit and I'd still be the richest man in the world because I have the greatest treasure in you. And I mean that my love. You believe your old man right?"

You nod. The lump in your throat finally dissapated and the weight melted away. There was truly no love like Alfie's and yours. People could talk all they want. People could make any assumptions they wanted. That didn't change what was true. And what was true was that you and Alfie belonged to each other and would for all of eternity.

[the-lavender-clown]

MORE COWBOY AU STUFF BECAUSE I’M OBSESSED!!! The au I’ve made with some friends is called Fool’s Gold! I may or may not write some fics for it 👀

Here’s an infodump on it if anyone is interested!!

Raph is tired sheriff who sighs at every newspaper & new wanted poster showing off his blue and purple brothers as well as Donnie’s partner in crime but a he can’t help but be a little proud because he knows their doing good, just in their own special & questionable way.

Mikey is a nomad that travels around & sells self-woven clothes and blankets as well as hand carved & painted trinkets or whatever else he’s made. He treats weary travelers to home cooked meals & tales & legends of four brothers! He’s also the only brother not *constantly* making trouble for Raph.

Leo is a lone hero. Going town to town & over throwing whatever greedy mayor/banker/outlaw has that town in its clutches. He’s able to masterfully manipulate whoever he’s dealing with & using his many resources to gather important information. He ties them up to a post for the sheriff’s convenience when he comes by the town to pick them up.

Donnie & Cass are bounty hunters/mercenaries. They used to chase each other for their bounties & because Cass was a part of the Foot before the brothers took them down & Donnie just so happens to often be the closest to her trail once she popped up again. After awhile of constantly failing to catch each other they started thinking of each other as *their* targets & everyone knew better than to try and catch the other. A fun little song & dance/game of cat & mouse if you will. Eventually they ended up having to run from the same person together & realized that they honestly make a good team & have stuck together ever since!

Shelldon is adopted by Donnie before he & Cass teamed up. He was told by the Purple Dragons to get close to Donnie so they could catch him in exchange for enough money to set him for life, money they had no intention on giving him. He did get close to Donnie but in the end didn’t want to betray him but the Dragons had accounted for that & set off an explosion in a mining tunnel to get rid of them both. Donnie ended up being able to get Shelldon a little clear of the crumbling tunnel before he was trapped under the rumble. Shelldon doesn’t want to leave him but eventually does & immediately goes to try to find help, coming across Leo who had found Donnie’s spooked horse & was trying to find out what trouble Donnie had gotten himself into since his horse never leaves unless something really bad happened. Donnie ends up losing a leg cuz is it truly an F!Donnie if he doesn’t?

Casey is adopted after Donnie & Cass team up. They were in town for some groceries when Raph told them about this kid in some not so great circumstances & said it’d be a shame if someone were to beat up his guardians & kidn@p him while he was busy with all this paperwork. Donnie & Cass were gone before he finished. They weren’t gonna pass up an opportunity where they had permission to do a crime after all!

The main difference between Leo & Donnie’s work is that Donnie always cashes in the bad guys for money & can be hired for jobs as well as uses semi lethal methods while Leo mainly does it for fun & justice (& to mess with Raph) & takes like a free drink as payment before moving on. Leo will leave notes on the bad guys for Raph for when he comes to pick them up.

“The Bread Winners” is the name of Donnie, Casey, Shelldon, & Junior’s gang because Casey’s brownie scouts & my Donnie baker hc. It also shows that they’re in it for the money & fits with how the go undercover as a family often. Plus it sounds innocent enough to disguise how insane they really are.

That is it for now!! Hope some of y’all like it!!

Here’s the drawing without the text in the middle

[imtryingbuck]

No Better Than My Husband

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Readers husband is having affairs, so reader does the same

Word count: 1,513

Warnings: Angst and Fluff, swearing? Cheating, Sharon being a bitch. Terrible writing as always.

Masterlist

Y/n’s husband really thought he was being smart about his indiscretions, not that his affairs shocked her, but he truly believed she was some dumb naive housewife due to believing this, he started getting sloppy. At first it pained knowing her husband was entertaining another woman whilst she was at home alone, being nothing but faithful and devoted to him. When his first mistress found out that she wasn’t the only side piece he had she had messaged Y/n all the pictures, videos and messages between the pair, it was meant to hurt her but she already knew her husband was seeing other women behind her back.

The thought had crossed her mind at first to confront him but she knew better, she knew no matter how many tears she showed him he wasn’t going to change. She watched her mum do the exact same thing with Y/n’s dad, he promised her he’d stop and it wasn’t until his untimely death that she had found out that not only was he still seeing the other woman but was engaged to her and the cherry on top was that he had borne a 8 year old son.

So no she wasn’t going to confront him, leaving him to truly believe that his beautiful naive wife didn’t know that when he said he was having a business meeting it was actually him fucking another woman.

However what he didn’t know was that whilst he was having these “business meetings” she was in the arms of another man.

The first time she slept with Bucky she ran to the bathroom to puke up, she felt disgusted, she felt like she was the worst of the worst. The second time she slept with Bucky the guilt was still there but not as strong as before. Now after every time of meeting up with him she didn’t care, she loved the attention he showered her with but most of all she craved just being touched and not necessarily in a sexual manner.

Bucky thought she was truly the most beautiful woman to ever exist, he found out she was married after he gained the confidence to talk to her. The shock and anger he felt was showed on his face when she spoke about her husband’s affairs. Trying to get his head around the idea of how man could have someone like Y/n as a wife just to cheat on her truly baffled him.

Now Bucky lays there trying to catch his breath after spending nearly two hours of happily pleasuring over and over again the goddess that he has the upmost respect for. He knew he was in deep with her, he knew that it wasn’t just sex for him and he hoped that it was the same for her.

Keeping a soft gaze at her ever so slightly trembling form he broke the silence “So I was thinking, don’t give me that look missy, I was thinking about introducing you to my friends? They’ve heard everything about you and they want to meet you but only if your comfortable with that”

“I don’t know Buck, you told me they know I’m married and they probably think the worst of me”

“No baby they don’t, I told them about him and how he’s cheating on you none of them judge you for doing the same”

Shakily sighing “okay but only if your really sure about this”

“Never been more sure beautiful”

They share a kiss which quickly grew more intense. Bucky was more than happy to continue showing her affection and love.

The day had arrived to meet her lovers friends and to say she was nervous was an understatement the thought of them judging her scared her, she knew she wasn’t a bad person she did anything for anyone. Never in a million years did she think that the man who took a vow to love and be faithful to her would break said vow, but here she was five years into marriage her husband betraying her with four women - that she knows of - she was tired of being mocked and treated like a fool so she decided to return the favour. However now she was in too deep, she had fallen in love with Bucky. So she truly hoped his friends didn’t judge her too much.

Bucky had agreed to meet her outside the cafe that was close by the tower, they shared a kiss and made their way to where his friends were. The whole time Bucky was reassuring Y/n that it was going to be okay.

Standing in front of the Avengers was intimidating but when they greeted her happily the nerves that was settled throughout her body melted away. Conversations flowed effortlessly laughs were shared, that was until Sharon spoke up from where she was sat. “So Y/n Bucky says you’re married? At first I was shocked that he could sleep with a married woman but now meeting you I understand”

Y/n felt uncomfortable under Sharons intense gaze, she definitely didn’t like her tone. After shifting to try and get comfortable she finally found her voice “My husband has been cheating on me for a long time, I never intended to do the same but I met Bucky one night and one thing led to another and well now I’m here” ending her sentence with a shy chuckle. Bucky took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting gesture.

“Don’t you feel slightly ashamed of yourself? Because you should”

Not knowing how to reply she just looked down at her clasped hands, of course she felt ashamed of herself, of course she hates herself for being no better than her husband. It was one moment of weakness that if she had to do it all over again, she would. She would do it all over again without a second thought and that, that is what she hated about herself.

The room had fallen into an uncomfortable silence, everyone was pretty annoyed with Sharon for spoiling such a happy time. The looks that were shot at Sharon made Y/n feel like she had done something wrong. She never wanted to cause any problems with the group of friends. A few beats passed when Y/n glanced at her watch then bent down to get her bag and coat that was at her feet, her movements caused Bucky to jump up. “You don’t have to go” 

“I do, I need to get home” turning to the group “it was an absolute pleasure meeting you all, thank you for a great time, bye” Not listening to the protest coming from Bucky and his friends, she walked out the room to the elevators. Bucky had ran inside just before the doors had closed.

“Baby ignore Sharon, she’s just being rude for no reason. I’m sorry” 

“It’s fine Buck. Honestly. I need to let you know now that I’ve finally filed for divorce. I’ve already packed my stuff and moved into an apartment. He’s on a “Business” trip ah. I really feel hard for you Buck, I’m sorry” The shiny doors came open and she all but ran out before Bucky could reply.

Four months had pasted since Y/ns confession in the confined space of the elevator, four months without speak or seeing the super soldier. The messages and phone calls that came from Bucky and her now ex-husband had gone off none stop. The messages from her ex started off with him apologising and begging her to come back, he’ll change. Which turned to him taunting her, blaming her for his actions. When it came to their divorce to be finalised he had showed up with mistress number 4 hanging off his arm, he thought this move would hurt her but all it did was make the judge give her way more money than she originally asked for.

Bucky’s messages consisted of apologies too, along with pleading her to meet him. But was also filled with him telling her he loved her.

One Sunday the rain was pouring down heavily in the late afternoon when a knock on the door startled Y/n, trying to calm her racing heart she made her way to the sound. Opening her door her heart stopped.

“W-what are you doing here Buck? How did you find me?”

“Nat”

“Okay? Still didn’t answer the first question”

Instead of answering her Bucky walked straight up to her, touching her face with freezing and delicate hands he searched her eyes for any reason to pull away. Finding none he moved closer and closer till his cold plumb lips touched hers. Kissing one another always took their breaths away, no matter how many times they’ve done it. Reluctantly pulling away he rested his forehead on hers and smiled.

“Be mine and I’ll be yours” Bucky’s heart was hammering rather hard inside of his chest awaiting her response, and instead of verbally responding she pulled him into the apartment letting him kick the door behind them.

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[bernardsbendystraws]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆

⚠︎  mdni, smut, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, overall mature themes, and more [ this is made for all parts ]

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

with love and big tits, Rose Toy

©bernardsbendystraws

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 12: Chris's Girl

Neither my heart or my mind pulled in one direction to a clear decision. Every thought wavered my mind back and forth as I stared around the dark room, laying on the cold, hard mattress. 

Matt had made me unbelievably happy. But, it was more than that. He made it seem so easy, so natural to be in the constant state of warm butterflies resigning through my veins.

My dad was…my dad. I had prayed and begged to every god and every star for years upon years. His arms wrapping around me felt like hope–and not the kind I had to make up in my head. 

The back of my hands were extremely tender from the bruises that slashed across my skin. Every time I had gotten close to letting my eyes flutter shut, I accidentally rolled over on the throbbing flesh. 

It felt like a stupid decision to even have to consider. My father–who I’ve known my whole life, or a boy I haven’t even known for six months. 

The guilt weighed heavy on my chest as my crusted eyelashes pulled apart with each blink. I had cried enough that it ran dry. The drought had consumed me, but the flood of emotions still crashed down on me with colossal waves. 

Selfish. Every thought passing by was selfish. I wasn’t just thinking of my dad’s recovery, I was thinking of him finally talking to me–wanting to talk to me. 

But, why now? Why did he suddenly want to get better and care about me when I finally had found something that made my chest not feel so…empty. 

I couldn’t feel time pass by anymore. The consuming thoughts and conversations in my head had paralyzed time for me. 

Until I heard my phone alarm start to go off. 

My body felt heavy as I stood from my bed. The cold, morning air didn’t feel refreshing. It just felt cold. I let my feet drag on the floor as I pulled on an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. 

After doing the absolute bare minimum, my phone buzzed.

[From Matt: Outside :)] 

With a heavy sigh, I grabbed my bag and stormed to the door. I heard my dad’s laugh from the kitchen as the smell of eggs reached my nose. 

The nausea waved over me as I forced my eyelids to blink open. 

It’s gonna be a long day, that’s for sure. 

_

Matt’s POV

We had barely sat in Mrs. Evans class for five minutes before I felt her head collapse on my shoulder. I knew something was wrong, it wasn’t hard to tell. 

Her swollen eyes were sunken into her cheeks with dark circles. She had been deathly quiet, seeming to be fighting with gravity to hold up any limb. I had asked her what was wrong in the car, but I was met with a hum of acknowledgement. 

I didn’t push further. I had just turned down the music before reaching my arm out and pulling her head down on my bicep as I drove. 

Why was she so tired? Why did she look so sad?

The sweatshirt she was wearing was one of my bigger ones. It was sickening how happy it made me to see her in my clothes. Especially as she bunched the extra fabric into her fists as if it was the comfiest thing on Earth. 

I held back a laugh as I felt a slight trace of damp wetness where her mouth rested on my arm. She’s drooling on me. With anyone else, I probably would’ve been absolutely revolted–but with her, it was adorable. 

I had brought my hand up to her forehead. It wasn’t too warm, she wasn’t sick. 

Maybe she just didn’t sleep well last night? 

Her bed definitely wasn’t the comfiest thing. Honestly, the thought of her sleeping with just the thin, worn blanket in the dead of winter made me upset. At first I had hoped there were more blankets stored away in the house, but after realizing how truly barren everything was–I highly doubted it. 

I wanted her to stay over at my house, but I didn’t push when she hesitated. I didn’t wanna take away her personal time. But, part of me was sure that she only hesitated because she didn’t wanna feel like she was over-staying. 

After being dismissed into table work with our partners, Mrs. Evans shot me a questioning look, gesturing her pen in her hand down to Y/n. I shrugged softly with the shoulder opposite of the arm she was leaning on. Mrs. Evans nodded her head hesitantly, bringing her attention back to whatever paper rested in her hands. 

_

Each class passed the same. I was worried to say the least. Each time I tried to ask if she was okay, she just responded telling me she was tired. 

I had my hockey game tonight. I wasn’t worried–the team we were playing against didn’t have great scores so far into the new season. The only thing I was worrying about was her. 

Her hands stayed curled in the sweatshirt sleeves like a blanket, tucked under her chin practically all day. I wanted to reach out, hold her hand–but I refused to wake her up. 

“Hey, wake up.” I whisper. She groans in response, nuzzling further into my arm as I take the keys out of the ignition. Chris and Nick had already gotten out of the car while I stayed, gently petting her hair and trying to wake her up slowly. 

“Are you okay? Did you just not get good sleep?” Her eyelids hazily flutter open as she shakes her head back and forth. I lightly laugh, watching as she swipes the drool off her imprinted cheek from my hoodie lines. 

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” I urge. She nods slightly, but makes no movement to even unclip her seatbelt. I didn’t mind–I honestly liked taking care of her, doing anything and everything to make her life easier and to make her feel appreciated. 

I walk around, opening her door leaning over to unclip her seatbelt. I grab her bag and reach out for her hand. Her feet stumble walking to the door. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her to me as her weight immediately leans on me. 

I guided her into the front door before sitting her on the couch. In a sleepy daze, she still reaches out, petting Trevour. I hold back a smile as I close the front door, slipping off my shoes. 

I walk over, kneeling on the floor in front of her as I untie her shoe laces. I pull off each shoe from her foot before standing and offering her a hand. She lazily reaches out, placing her hand in mine as I feel her warmth radiate through the fabric of the sweatshirt. 

Her eyes shoot open as I pull her up, a gasp of pain erupting from her mouth as she pulls her hand back to her chest. Did I grab her that hard? No–I couldn’t have. 

Looking up at her face, I notice her panicked eyes darting around the room. “Hey, what’s wrong with your-” I reach out, but she pulls her hands behind her back. My heart sinks with the realization. 

She promised she’d tell me. 

“Can we–can we just go to your room?” she asks. I nod hesitantly before following her steps. 

As I walk through the threshold of my room after her, I close the door softly. She lays on the bed, pulling the material even further down her arms and bunching it up in her clenched hands. She snuggles on top of the comforter, pulling her hands under her chin. 

She promised. She’d tell me. Right?

I walk over, laying on my back as she stays in her position. Her guilty eyes tell me all I need to know. I don’t even have to hear the lie to know she’s not telling the truth. 

My lips quiver at the thought of her pain. How could someone hurt her? How could somebody even hurt their own kid? 

I take a deep breath. Maybe–just maybe, I’m overthinking this. My anxiety has always led me to make abrupt conclusions. I hope this is one of them. 

“Y/n?” I voice. Her eyes are fluttered shut, a small hum erupting from her sealed lips. “What is–” 

“Matt, I’m really tired. Can we please just take a nap?” she asks. 

I reach out, caressing her arm. “Yes, just—is everything okay?” I ask. Her eyes peer open slightly before closing once more. 

I see her lips tremble as they pull apart. “Yeah…everything’s okay.” she says. I feel a weight drop in my gut at the obvious lie. 

I let myself sit in doubt as her breathing starts to pace in deep, even breaths. The light snores start sounding from her mouth.

Patiently observing her sleeping state, I reach out. I slowly and gently pull her wrist out from under her chin in the slightest. I pull down the bunched-up sleeve with a snail pace. 

The slight shift of her body makes me freeze. She snuggles further into the sheets, the light snores resuming. I hold my hands in place.

After a minute, I finally crept the fabric down lower and lower. Purple, green, and yellow hues paint a line across the back of her hand. I bite the inside of my cheek, grinding my teeth together as my ears grow hot. 

I place her hand gently down, tugging up the material into its original place. What the fuck do I do? 

I slowly lift myself from off the bed, pulling my phone in my hands as I travel down the hallway. 

Please don’t hate me for this. This is me trying to help. 

_

Y/n’s POV 

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. 

The word chanted like a mantra even in my sleepy haze. As my eyes fluttered open, I noticed the sunset peering in through his bedroom window. The bed was completely barren beside me, not even an indent resting in the comforter. 

Where is he? Is he already at his hockey game? I stretch my limbs out, standing from the bed. I hear the faint whisper of voices as I open his bedroom door. Two female voices–ones I knew like the back of my hand. 

Before I can round the corner, Nick erupts from his room with Madi behind his shoulder. 

“Can you come in for a sec?” he asks. I look over my shoulder, peering down the hallway as the voices seem to hush to a quieter volume. Looking back at Nick, I hesitantly nod my head. 

He opens the door wider for me to come in. Madi greets me with a small smile as she tucks some of her chocolate hair behind her ear. I give her a smile back as I hear Nick shut the door from behind me. 

I notice the white dots of makeup around her eyes as I get closer. “Woah, your makeup is actually astounding.” I compliment. 

Her eyes beam with a happy squint. “Want me to do yours?” she offers. I nod my head eagerly as she tugs me to Nick’s bed, sitting me on the neutral bedding. 

Nick turns around, clapping his hands together with a smile. “So,” he walks over, grabbing a speaker in his hands and pressing some of the buttons. I hear the faint song start to increase with volume as Madi nods her head along to the beat. “--let’s get lit, bitches.” he announces.

I laugh, bobbing my head in sync as Nick starts dancing with that talent of a patient having a seizure. 

“Do you want me to just do your makeup? I’ll make it look pretty, I swear!” she says. I give her a curt nod, watching as she digs through the hot-pink makeup bag. 

“Purple or pink?” she asks, holding up two different pallets. I point to the pink one as she squeals in excitement. “I was hoping you’d say that! Pink is definitely gonna look perfect on you.” she remarks. 

She opens the pallet, revealing small pans containing varying shades of pink hues. Taking a small brush from the small pink bag, she dips the bristles in the powder, tapping it on the rim of the rectangular pallet as excess product shakes off the brush. 

“Okay, just close your eyes for me…” she directs. I let my eyes flutter shut as I feel the soft circular motions of the brush against my eyelid. 

The sensation almost puts me to sleep as I sit upright. I hear her rummage through her bag, keeping my eyes closed as I feel various products placed onto the skin around my eyes. 

“Okay, look up for this part.” I follow her command, my eyes flickering up to the ceiling as I feel the slight sticky sensation of her drawing with an eyeliner pencil in small dots in the same places she had on her own eyes. 

“And…” she trails off, patting down her pinky on my eyelids with a shimmery shade of glittery pink. “--done! Nick, come look!” 

I open my eyes fully, watching as Nick rushes over from dancing around the room in the opposite corner. He leans down, his lips parting. “Damn! This really looks good on you!” he states. 

I grin at the compliment, eagerly soothing my covered palms on my thighs with excitement. Madi stands up, waving her hand as a motion for me to follow. My feet practically bounce off the floor with each step as I walk behind her into Nick’s bathroom in his room. 

She flips on the lights as I stare at myself in the mirror. I had never had access to makeup, not even used it because it seemed like such a waste of money. But, I felt beautiful. 

The pink shimmery shades made my eyes pop. The small dots of white eyeliner made everything look so…perfect. I knew I was beautiful, but looking in the mirror made me feel beautiful. 

“I love it so much, oh my god! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I exclaim. I had pulled Madi into a hug as she wrapped her arms around me. With a flush of embarrassment, I stepped back. “--sorry, I just got really excited.” I mumble.

Madi doesn’t drop her hands, instead she pulls me back into a tight embrace. “Girl, you’re fine! We’re friends! I’m a hugger too, no worries.” she says. 

I let out a sigh of relief, letting my arms relax around the girl as I appreciated the moment. Sure, Matt’s hugs were so unbelievably great–his moms were too, but it didn’t feel like this. 

I had always wanted a girl-friend. I wanted to get ready, blasting music as we picked out each other’s outfits. She hadn’t just made me look pretty–she made me feel pretty. 

“I really appreciate it, Madi. I really–fuck I’m PMS-ing, I’m trying so hard not to cry!” I announce. I look up, blinking back the growing pools of water in my eyes. 

Madi grabs me by both of my shoulders. “Oh my god! Me too!” she exclaims. A smile covers my face as our laughter mixes together. I see Nick walk in through the mirror as he wraps his arms around the both of us, squeezing with an absurd amount of pressure. 

“Sorry–I felt left out,” he says. The laughter gets louder in the tiled bathroom as the music plays from the speaker. 

Madi clenches her gut, falling to the floor as her squeaks of giggles fall endlessly. I hold onto the counter as Nick glances between the both of us with wide eyes. 

“What the fuck is going on.” he whispers out. The statement isn’t funny, but for some reason Madi’s laugh makes my giggles contagiously flow as I feel my eyes squint with streams of tears falling. 

Madi tilts her head up, her own wet tears falling down her cheeks with smudged mascara. “I’m so glad I’m gay.” Nick breaths out. The giggles get silent as only wheezes of laughter escape our mouths. 

We both take a couple of deep breaths, calming down as we exchange a look of disbelief. “We can take this shit off so we don’t look like sparkly-raccoons.” she suggests. 

I nod my head in agreement as she stands up, grabbing a bag of makeup-wipes off the counter. She snatches out one, handing it to me as I hold it cluelessly. “Just do what I do,” she directs. 

I follow her motions, my skin turning a slight shade of pink as I wipe at the skin. 

Soon enough, both of our faces are bare. Nick dances behind us as we observe through the mirror, exchanging looks with smiles. 

_

After an incredible amount of cookies and an unreasonable amount of trashy reality TV, I felt nothing but refreshed. The sullen thought of my dad looming over my head was pushed out by the ridiculous comments from Nick’s mouth. 

“When’s Matt’s hockey game? Isn’t it late?” I ask, reaching around for my phone in my empty pockets. 

Nick’s lips smack together as he twists his mouth to the side. “He’s actually, uh, he’s not playing tonight.” he explains. 

I tilt my head with a curious look. “What–why? Is he okay?” I press. Nicks nod affirmatively as I let out a breath of relief. 

“He, uh, I don’t know…” he trails off, grabbing his phone. “--he can explain it all to you, he said he was on his way home a couple of minutes ago—it shouldn’t be long.” he says. 

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling on the skin with nervousness. I sit with the swirling pit of anxiety bringing me back to reality–everything I had forced myself from confronting since I had walked through Nick’s bedroom door. 

I feel a warm hand land on my shoulder. I look over, seeing Madi’s eyes giving me a soft expression with a reassuring smile. “Hey, it’s just Matt. That guy practically worships the ground you walk on from how he talks about you.” she says. 

I feel my cheeks flush as I inhale a deep breath, nodding my head in acknowledgement to Madi. It’s just Matt. 

I hear a sudden knock at the door as my ears perk with anticipation. “Come in.” Nicks shouts. 

The door creaks open as Matt pokes his head through the sliver. He gives a small smile and wave to Nick and Madi before turning to me. “Can you come with me?” he asks. 

I get up off the bed, clenching the fabric of the hoodie sleeves in my hands as I give the pair still laying on the bed a smile. “Thank you guys. See you later?” I ask. Madi nods aggressively, making me laugh as I see Nick hold up his hand with a look that says, ‘duh.’ 

“Yeah,” Nicks starts, “--obviously. Sorry, Matt, you’re gonna have to share. She’s our girl now.” he states. 

“True that.” Madi replies, high-fiving Nick with pursed lips. I shake my head in amusement before turning to see Matt doing the same. He nods his head, a notion for me to follow him as I give them one final wave. 

“Our girl.” Matt mocks in a high pitched voice. I hold back a laugh, following as he walks down the hallway and into his room. 

“My girl, actually. Ain’t that right?” he presses. I nod affirmatively, watching as he shuts the door behind him. I turn to dive into the bed, pausing as I look at the array of items rested on his sheets. 

The plant his mom had given me, the two toy frogs, bags that had familiar articles of clothing spilling out from the top. 

“Matt,” I gasp, turning around to see him staring at me with a sullen look. “--what is all of this? I…what’s, what's going on?” I breathe out. 

“I,” his gaze flickers towards the ground and back up to me. “I saw your hands, Y/n. I know you lied, I’m sorry I went behind your back, but I needed to make sure you were safe. I read what you had written in my journal, you can’t live like that anymore.” he says. 

My lips part as my jaw falls with gravity. I stand frozen in place as my eyes stare at his chest. Dad. 

I hear the patter of his feet as his hands land on my shoulders. I look up, a tear falling from my eyes as I meet his gaze. “I talked to my parents. We came up with a couple of options for you, but I’m sorry—you can’t live with a man who hurts you this much.” he states. 

“You promised you wouldn’t read what I wrote, Matt.” I point out, a frown forming as I tug my lips into a tight line. 

“You promised me you would tell me if this ever happened. I’m sorry, but I did what I had to.” he explains softly. 

I feel the anger rumble in my chest as my vision blurs with hot tears of frustration. “Matt, he’s my dad. I can’t just leave him. I can’t give up on him.” I spill the words with a broken voice as I push him off me with a hand on his chest. 

“He was getting better–he–” I spit with anger lacing in my tone as I pushed my hands on his chest repeatedly. 

“He was passed out drunk when we got to your house, Y/n.” He lands his hands on top of mine, sliding down and holding my wrists against his chest. The skin unveiled shrines, the shades of the bruises covering my flesh with a sinking feeling in my gut. 

“You’re lying. Don’t lie to me, Matt!” I cry out pitifully as my voice cracks. 

“I’m not…he didn’t even go to work today. He just screamed about–it doesn’t matter what…just–you can’t be there.” he breathes out. 

I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “Mom said you can stay here. I’ll even sleep out on the couch or with Chris or Nick. Madi’s mom, Laura, lives next door. She said she has a spare bedroom too….” he trails off. 

People wanted to help me? Just like that?

My eyebrows furrow as I glance up at him. “Matt, I don’t know, this is a lot—” I suck in a harsh breath, looking up at the ceiling as I will the tears to stay at bay. 

“I know, I know. But—-we all care about you, we’re all here for you…” he says. His hands drop my wrists before he pulls me into his arms. “I care about you, I’m here for you…okay? It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” he soothes. 

I nod my head in his embrace as he pets the back of my head with a gentle touch. “Asking people for help–accepting help…it’s really out of my comfort zone, Matt. I just…I don’t even know.” I sigh. 

“It’s gonna be okay. You can still see your dad if you want to, I’m not gonna stop you—but, I’m coming with. I can’t—I can’t just let you get hurt like that. It kills me.” he utters softly under his breath. 

@sturniolosmind @freshloveforthefit @gnxosblog @sturnreblog @milasturniolo @mattscokewhore @melanch0lybby @stars4matt @samandcolbyfan22 @ruedowney @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @greatooglymooglyyy

@txssvx @junnniiieee07 @sturnstvs @sturnioloblogs @sunsetsturniolos @flowerxbunnie @rootbeerworshiper @sturniolohoe @mayhem-7-blog @braindead4l @lovergirl4387 @hearts4chriss @1horrormoviewhore1

@mattslolita @hearts4chris @nicksmainbitch @imfromthediningtable @st7rnioioss @sturniololol @nedsmarie44 @tomskookie @itssophiasstuff @chrissystur @chrisstankyleg @cloudykitten2004

@abruuu01 @riasturns @strnilolo @chrissystur @lrs-jenkinson

@yourfavoritefangirl @stonermattsgf @x3rox @cookiehaos

@iloveneilperry @lullvu @chrattstromboli @sstvrnioloo @seahorsie11

@sturnzsblog @sturnikitty @sturniol0s @sturnioloa @stasiesturn

@imwetforyourmom @matty-bear @pinklittleflower @mattsaq

@realuvrrr @sofiaannaleise @ariieeesworld @chrisstankyleg @hiraethlimerence

@ryli3sworld @wtpdhoe @eileenhou @lov3bug @jamiesturniolo

@jake-and-johnnies-slut @lovesodakid @simply-a-simper

@graysturns @glassesmattsbae @sturnsfav @unbruisable @dsturniolo

@sofie-1 @timmyscomputer @sturniolo-fav-matt @millyswife @ash-gaming13

@strmbolisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @ribread03 @sturniolo04

@strnilolo @chrattstromboli @veysxrge @matthemunch44 @giannasturn

[biisexualemma]

pining pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explosion, some injury detail i think but not a lot or graphic at all, soft, fluff, sweet interactions

requested: yesyesyes

plot: you can't keep your crush on peter a secret any longer

a/n: sorry it took me, not even exaggerating, three years to write and publish this, that is truly so uncool of me and i deeply apologise to those of you who asked for this so long ago. anyway it's here and i am happy with it so i hope you like it!

part 1 / masterlist

"i bombed that exam," you huffed, your face screwing up in frustration as you walked side by side with m.j. down the school hallway. "did you see question sixteen? what was that about? i don't think we even studied that this semester?" you were annoyed with yourself, because you knew you hadn't studied as hard as you should have for that exam.

"yeah, i saw it, i just took the same exam," m.j. furrowed her brows at you but you were too in your own head to care about her sarcasm. being m.j.'s friend for so many years meant that you tended to tune out the sarcasm that was always dripping from her voice. "i wouldn't worry about it, you always do well, it's like your thing. being smart at everything."

you shook your head, you were convinced you messed up that paper.

ever since your late night netflix session with peter, you'd been even more in your head than usual. you hated being this distracted. it was only because you had to keep your feelings to yourself, you had never been very good at keeping secrets, and this was too big a secret to be keeping to yourself. it was driving you crazy that he didn't know.

 it was now monday, you hadn't seen peter since you fell asleep on him and he snuck back out your window. you had woken up the next day in an empty bed, with a text message from peter saying he had to run and that he'd see you in school.

you hadn't heard from him again, and you had yet to see him in school. you had to tell him. you had to tell him or you felt like you might combust. and you had finals to be worrying over, not a boy. if you got it off your chest, whether he felt the same or not, you knew you could at least focus better on your day to day. you were tired of avoiding him and pushing him away to keep a secret. he had to know.

-

you had colluded with michelle during gym and she, too, thought you coming clean to peter was a good idea. you were pretty sure she was just sick of talking to you and you not taking anything in that she was saying, which was happening more and more often, so you understood. 

only, you hadn't actually seen peter all day to speak to him.

you spotted a familiar mop of black hair across the hallway at the end of the day, jogging over to meet ned at his locker. if anyone would know of peter's whereabouts it was his righthand man.

"ned!" you touched his shoulder, approaching him from behind, startling him a little as he jumped away from your touch. "sorry--" you apologised quickly when he mumbled shit y/n under his breath. "i just wanted to know if you'd seen peter?"

his face contorted for a second before furrowing his brows. "uh, peter? he just left-- i think he said something about mr stark? i don't know," you could tell he was lying, ned was always covering for peter, but you didn't push him. you just nodded.

"right, well, if you see him, tell him i need to talk to him?" he nodded and you backed away from him to leave. "i'll see you tomorrow!" you called, whipping out your phone and dialling peter's number as you moved down the crowded hallway. 

it rang out, you let out an exasperated sigh. why was he all of sudden so hard to track down? you waited for the beep before leaving a message.

pete, call me back i need to talk to you-- can you meet me at delmar's? i'll be there at seven-- just call me

the one time you were actively seeking for him and he was nowhere to be found. you huffed, dragging yourself home to put some effort into studying before you'd meet up with peter later.

-

you tucked your hands in your pockets to conserve some of your warmth in the cold new york air, your feet speeding along the pavement as you took the short walk to delmar's. you had gotten a text from peter shortly after you left your voicemail saying he'd meet you there.

you were regretting not wearing more layers as you shivered, making your way down the street, delmar's was in sight, the light shining from inside guided you towards the shop. you had been craving a sandwich all day. and you thought, even if your conversation with peter went terribly, at least you'd still get a sandwich from delamar's out of it. it wouldn't be all bad.

there was no sign of peter, but you approached anyway, waiting outside in hopes he wouldn't make you wait in the cold much longer. you checked the time on your phone, it was a few minutes past seven. you were sure he'd be here soon.

you tucked your phone away in your pocket, lifting your eyes up, widening them when you saw a commotion in the bank across the street. your mouth hung open. you made out one of the figures to be spider-man, he was swinging around, fighting a group of-- of-- avengers? you squinted, watching the fight unfold with curiosity. you'd never seen the web-slinger in action before, you were intrigued. you couldn't wait 'till peter got here, he'd love this.

"hey-- mr delmar-- have you seen this--?" just as you called into the shop for the owner to come check this out, there was a loud shattering noise, causing you to jolt in shock. before you knew what was happening, half the shop was on fire, you thrown backwards into the wreckage.

peter watched the weapon fire, near splitting mr delmar's shop in two from across the street. his eyes widened in panic, abandoning his previous task and running over to his favourite sandwich shop that was now in flames. he remembered his plans to meet you here at seven-- he hoped you'd been late arriving.

you groaned, your head splitting, ears ringing and you could hardly make out what was happening with your vision distorted by a cloud of grey smoke. you spasmed into a cough fit as you breathed in the smoke surrounding you, instinctively you pulled at the sleeve of your jacket and covered your mouth in an attempt to keep your airways clear.

"mr delmar?" you tried to call out, your voice muffled behind the material covering it, pushing yourself up off the ground that was now covered in rubble.

"you alright, mr delmar?" peter checked in, his arm wrapped around the older yank as he guided him out of the wreckage with a level of care reserved for the owner of his favourite sandwich shop. he nodded, he hurled over trying to take deep breaths, his hands propped onto his knees. "was it just you in there?"

he shook his head. peter thought to you immediately before mr delmar even said anything. "y/n," he spluttered out, coughing up the smoke he'd inhaled. "a regular-- she was standing right there," he had pointed to where the door used to be but now in it's place was a gaping hole. peter was half listening to mr delmar who was now wailing about the state of his store, bystanders had started to crowd and sirens sounded in the distance. but this was all background noise to peter now.

you could just start to make out the floor beneath you as the smoke began to ease up a bit, you guided yourself to the commotion you could hear coming from just ahead of you. "mr delmar?" you tried calling again, hoping he wasn't caught under any of the rubble somewhere, hoping he was ok. "mr del-- ow!" you looked down at your feet where you had tripped when you heard something yelp back at you. the bodega cat, covered in soot and dirt. "hi, kitty," you cooed, leaning down and scooping him up in your arms as you continued to navigate your way forward. "have you seen mr delmar?" you spoke to the cat, who only meowed in response. "right."

"y/n?" you heard your name being called, your ears pricking up, the cat in your arms attention had been caught too. "y/n, are you in there?" you knew that voice.

"peter?!" you called back, coughing as you inhaled more of the smoke surrounding you. "pete?"

the cat cried again. a faucet shot open across the room, you let out a yelp at the noise as water began to blast everywhere. "where are you?" you called out again, losing your patience and your nerve a bit now.

"y/n?" the voice was suddenly right in front of you and then before you could react a body thudded into yours. you yelped again, the cat also startled, and stumbled backwards, feeling two hands grip your arms, keeping you in your place.

arms clothed in red and blue, your eyes trailed upwards, widening as they looked over at the superhero now standing in front of you also covered in soot and dirt. "spider-man?" 

there was a loud crack that came from above where you stood, your eyes trailing up to the ceiling where the plaster had started to crumble from the damage. peter pulled you towards him, forcing you to duck down and covering you with himself as part of the ceiling fell down and would have fallen on top of you. "c'mon, we need to move," he guided you out of the building, one arm wrapped round your shoulders, his free hand covering your head.

you took a deep breath as you finally exited the building, back into the cold new york air, clutching the cat in your arms still. your head was spinning, he shifted to stand in front of you, his hands placed on each of your shoulders. your eyes were wide, brows furrowed together, your breathing growing heavier as the superhero checked you over for injuries.

"how're you feelin'?" he asked, one hand gripping your chin as he guided your face to turn to one side and then the other. you stood with your mouth slightly open, breath fanning out in front of you in the cold air, you nodded slightly, kind of coherently. his eyes, or the eye shapes cut out from his mask, squinted at you. "y/n, i need you to use your words."

"yeah," you spoke softly. "i'm ok-- i think," you shuddered, the only thing keeping you warm was the cat you clung to your chest. maybe you were just confused when you thought you'd heard peter before. maybe you had hit your head, or the smoke made you a bit delirious, or maybe the ringing distorted your hearing. that must be it. 

"my cat!" mr delmar's voice pulled you out of your thoughts and spider-man's hands slipped away from you as mr delmar lifted up his cat up out of your arms. he wrapped a free arm around you, pulling you into a quick hug, giving your shoulder a squeeze. "thank you, i'm glad you're ok."

"yeah, you too, mr delmar," he gave your arm a rub, before releasing you. "sorry about your shop," you felt bad. you knew it was out of your control but you couldn't help but feel for the man who had served you sandwiches nearly every day for the past ten years and who now had to rebuild his livelihood.

"no one got hurt, you're ok, i'm ok, cat's ok. we're ok," you nodded, he was right. "thanks to this guy," he grabbed spider-man by the shoulder, giving him a squeeze just like he had done with you. "thank you, spider-man."

"of course," he patted mr delmar on the back, beginning to feel the eyes of the bystanders surrounding this situation and the sirens growing closer. "listen, i gotta' dash, people to save, muggers to stop, you know the drill."

mr delmar began ushering him away, insisting that he go back out and get back to work. you watched the man in the suit carefully, standing still as he back to back away from you both. he gave you a slight nod before shooting off into the skyline again.

- 

you were startled by a soft knock on your window, your head jolted towards the noise, spotting the familiar brown mop of hair crouched outside on the fire escape. you let him in, he climbed in clumsily with a sense of urgency. "hey, i've been calling you,"

"sorry," you mumbled, retreating to your bed where you had been ready to crash only minutes ago. 

"i saw... i saw the news," he ducked trying to get a good look at you but you were avoiding his stare. "something came up-- did you-- were you-- are you--"

"i'm fine," you nodded, pulling at the hem of your shirt, sitting yet again, uncomfortably, in front of your best friend in your pyjamas. "no one got hurt."

peter moved to sit next to you, eyes focused on your face and why you wouldn't look at him. "are you sure?" his eyebrows furrowed together, eyes travelling to where you had your hands resting on your lap, fingers fidgeting. he worried about you. "hey, talk to me."

"i'm sure," you nodded slightly, turning so you could meet his eyes and reassure him. your hands still fidgeting he noticed. you shot him a small smile. "pete, it's ok. i'm just tired, it's been a really long day."

he remembered you calling for him earlier, the strain in your voice, the panic he felt when he couldn't find you straight away. he remembered the way you looked at him, with big eyes, full of relief and a hint of confusion.

he nodded, releasing a deep breath. "i'm sorry i didn't show at delmar's-- something came up-- it was stupid and i'm sorry i wasn't-- that i couldn't--  and i should've just--"

"peter, i love you," you cut him short. you couldn't hold your breath around him any longer. life was too short for keeping secrets. "that's what i wanted to talk to you about at delmar's-- before... everything... and spiderman."

peter's mouth hung open, his eyes locked with yours. your eyes were soft and languid, his wide and stunned, there was no denying you were awake this time. "what?" he spoke barely above a whisper, unable to think of what else to say.

"i met spiderman," you clarified. "he reminded me of you in a weird way actually," you hummed, not breaking eye contact with peter who was sat closer to you than he remembered being when he first sat down. his palms grew sweaty, he rubbed them against his pants in an attempt to calm down. "which was weirdly comforting amidst the chaos."

"oh-- that's cool i guess," he spoke in a bit of a daze. he hadn't expected you to come right out and say any of this, his head was in a bit of a spin. he had been waiting to hear you say those words again since the other night, and now here you were saying them, to him, and he couldn't think of anything to say back. 

"you don't have to say it back, or feel it i guess-- i've had a lot of time to think about this and this is the first you're hearing of it because i suppress my feelings until i feel like my heads going to explode," you were rambling at this point, a little nervous that he hadn't directly addressed it yet. you didn't expect him to feel the same way, you had seen him around liz, it was obvious to everyone that he'd been crushing on her forever. you had to tell him for your own peace of mind, you had finals to finish without the weight of this secret on your shoulders. "and my head was about to explode, pete, i'm not even sure i passed my history quiz today because i couldn't get my mind off of all of this. which is so stupid."

"you're not stupid, not even a little bit," peter shook his head. "and this isn't the first i'm hearing of this, either."

you expression soured, disgruntled and a little annoyed, "oh god, did mj tell you? that's so not cool, we talked about this-- i told her i would--"

"no, no, not mj," you paused, your expression unfolding, head tilting slightly as you hung on his every word. peter's eyes flickered down to your lips where they'd hung open, slightly parted after his interruption. "the other night, you were half asleep, before i left. you said it then."

you sighed. "well, that's kind of embarrassing."

he shook his head. "no, not embarrassing," his eyes glued to your face, unable to look away, the anticipation and a bit of confusion lining your expression. "confusing and complicated, but not embarrassing."

"confusing and complicated," you repeated, eyes trailing away from where they'd been looked on his for quite a while. "got it, kinda," maybe he was right, maybe this was confusing and complicated and maybe you had just opened up a can of worms. you couldn't take it back now that you'd said it, and you couldn't determine whether you wanted to or not.

"you're my best friend, is what i meant," he tried to clarify but it wasn't really helping. "and i didn't let myself think about you that way because i didn't want to ruin anything," he continued. your eyes unable to shift away from him again, your chest felt like it might sink the way he was going, you had prepared yourself for this, it was ok. "until the other night and now i haven't been able to think of you in any other way."

you felt your cheeks grow warm, eyes flickering between his, his darting down to your lips again uncontrollably this time. "what are you saying, pete?" you spoke barely above a whisper, unable to will yourself to speak any louder for fear you might break the bubble you two currently sat in. you were no longer thinking about your history quiz, or delmar's or even that you were sat in front of your best friend in your pyjamas. you only thought of peter and his soft brown eyes that never left your face.

"i really want to kiss you," he matched the level of your voice exactly, feeling yourself drawn closer to him. "so bad i feel like my head might explode," a small smile cracked onto his lips but you only caught a glimpse before you pressed your lips to his. his lips were soft but desperate, his hands moved to your waist, tugging a little to urge you to move closer, and you did until you were close enough to be sitting on his lap.

you had to retreat to catch your breath but you could feel your face flushed, running a hand through your hair, trailing down to touch your lips. one hand remained on your waist and the other slipped down to land on your thigh, slightly exposed from the bed shorts you were wearing. you didn't think it'd feel quite this good, his lips, his hands, his eyes on you. this was your best friend peter but this was different and it was good.

"how's your head feeling?" you breathed out a laugh, your lips curving upwards into a small smile.

"better," he gave a small nod, mimicking the smile on your lips. "yours?"

"a little dizzy," you admitted, never losing the curve in your lips even when peter's faltered. "in a good way, not a concussion way," you reassured, his features relaxed slightly at this confirmation, quietening his mind.

he leaned forward just a touch, your bodies still pretty entangled, his forehead leaning against yours and letting himself sit there with you for a minute or two. "listen, there's something else i should probably tell you before we do this.."

you retracted ever so slightly, remaining close to him still. you nodded gently, "what is it?"

"ok, remember you said earlier that spider-man reminded you of me?" you nodded again, eyebrows tugged together in thought. you just kissed him and he's thinking about spider-man? "well that would be because i am spider-man."

taglist:

@wildflower-cherry

@xoxohollands

@shunna

@eridanuswave

[kathlare]

we don't talk anymore

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: A brief interview response from Amelie sends shockwaves through social media, reigniting speculation about her past friendship with Lando.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

December 3rd, 2021 - Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

liked by f1wagsgossip, laneliemyship, and others

f1gossippage: Amelie’s new interview is out, and of course, that question came up… When asked about her past connection with Lando, she brushed it off with a polite smile and said, ‘We don’t talk anymore.’ 👀 This isn’t the first time either of them has confirmed they’re no longer friends—looks like that chapter is well and truly closed. 📖🚪

View all 5,482 comments

f1teaqueen: Seven months and still no contact? Damn, that fallout must’ve been BAD. 😳 → paddockmess: @f1tequeen Right?? And the fact that they were literally inseparable before? Wild.

f1fangirl23: Oof, that was cold 😬 wonder what really happened... → speedyboi44: @f1fangirl23 Fr, she didn’t even try to sugarcoat it 😂

racingfanatic88: Not sure why people are acting surprised, they’ve been distant for a while now.

racedayvibes: Why do interviewers always bring up Lando? Like, leave her alone. → formula1fan99: @recadayvibes Because they know we’re all waiting for that answer. 😂

drivetounite: Can we please stop with the ‘are they or aren’t they’ stuff? It’s clear they’re over it. → f1daredevil: @drivetounite Yup, they’re both moving on. But can’t lie, I wanna know the full story!

trackdaydreamer: Amelie’s smile said it all—‘Don’t ask me about him again.’ → speedracer77: @trackdaydreamer I feel like she’s tired of people bringing it up. Let her be.

f1fan_for_life: Can we just appreciate how calm she was in that moment, though? The self-control is real. → fasttrackkidd: @f1fan_for_life I think she just didn’t want to give anyone more fuel for the fire.

f1_queen22: I don’t get why people are so pressed. If they’re not friends anymore, so be it. 🤷‍♀️

f1obsessed: Not her just casually confirming (again) that they’re done done. 😬 → speeddemon44: @f1obsessed At this point, they remind us every few months like we might forget 😂

checkeredgossip: The way they keep confirming they’re not friends anymore makes me wonder just how bad the fallout was.

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

The roar of the engines in the Qatar paddock was a dull hum in the background as Lando scrolled through his phone, trying to distract himself. He was due out for practice in a few minutes, but his mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was replaying a short interview clip he’d just seen. Amelie.

She’d been doing some press for the new season of Euphoria, and, as always, the interviewer had asked about her connection to Formula 1. Inevitably, his name had come up. Lando had braced himself. He knew it was coming. It always did.

He’d seen other interviews where she’d been asked about him. She’d always been… polite. Vague. Something along the lines of, “We were friends,” or “It was a long time ago.” Enough to shut down the conversation without being overtly hostile. He could live with that. He preferred it, actually. It was better than her airing their dirty laundry, even though he knew he was the one who screwed everything up.

But this time… this time was different. This time, there was a coldness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. A finality in her voice that made his stomach twist.

“We don’t talk anymore,” she’d said, her smile tight, almost forced. Just four words, but they hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d known, of course he’d known. They hadn’t spoken in months. But hearing her say it, so casually, so dismissive… it stung. More than he cared to admit.

—Fucking hell,— he muttered, tossing his phone onto the table. He knew he was being stupid. He knew he should just forget about it and focus on the race. But he couldn’t. Her words echoed in his head, a constant reminder of what he’d lost.

He thought back to their last conversation. Or, rather, their last argument. It had been brutal. Tears, accusations, slammed doors. He’d said some things he regretted. She’d said some things that still made his blood run cold. They’d both been angry, hurt, and probably a little bit drunk.

He’d thought, at the time, that they’d eventually get over it. That they’d find a way back to each other, like they always did. But they hadn’t. And now, hearing her say those four words, he knew they never would.

He glanced at the clock. Time to go. He grabbed his helmet and gloves, trying to shake off the thoughts that were swirling in his head. He needed to focus. He needed to push Amelie and her cold dismissal out of his mind. But it was hard. Damn hard.

—Lando, you alright?— Will, his race engineer, asked, noticing the tension in his posture.

—Yeah, fine,— Lando mumbled, pulling on his balaclava. —Just… thinking about the track.—

Will gave him a knowing look, but didn’t push it. He knew Lando. He knew when something was bothering him. —Alright. Just remember the plan. Focus on the tires, get some good data.—

Lando nodded, forcing a smile. He knew Will was right. He needed to focus. But Amelie’s words were like a barbed hook in his brain, digging deeper with every lap he drove.

He climbed into the car, the familiar scent of fuel and leather filling his nostrils. He buckled his harness, his movements automatic, his mind still replaying the interview.

“We don’t talk anymore.”

He slammed his fist on the steering wheel, a surge of anger coursing through him. —Fuck her,— he muttered under his breath. —Who cares what she says?—

But he did care. He cared a lot. He’d tried to convince himself that he was over her, that he didn’t think about her anymore. But the truth was, she was always there, in the back of his mind. A ghost of what they’d been.

He pushed the thought away, focusing on the lights on the steering wheel as they counted down. He needed to be present. He needed to be fast. He needed to prove… prove what? That he didn’t need her? That he was fine on his own?

The lights went out, and he floored the accelerator, the car leaping forward. He attacked the first corner, pushing the car to its limits, trying to channel his anger into speed. But even as he shaved milliseconds off his lap times, her words echoed in his ears.

“We don’t talk anymore.”

He knew he was driving recklessly. He could feel it. He was pushing too hard, taking unnecessary risks. But he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to prove something. To her, to himself, to the world. He just didn’t know what.

—Lando, easy there,— Will's voice crackled through the radio. —You’re pushing too hard. Bring it back a bit.—

He ignored him, his focus narrowed, his vision blurred. He was chasing something, he wasn’t sure what. But he knew he wouldn’t find it at the bottom of a champagne bottle or in another girl’s arms. He knew, deep down, that the only way to escape the ghost of Amelie was to face it. But he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

He crossed the finish line, his lap time a new personal best. But it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt hollow. Empty.

He pulled into the garage, the mechanics swarming around the car. He climbed out, feeling drained, exhausted. He knew he needed to talk to someone. Max, probably. He’d understand. He’d been there.

[birchtreecat]

have I ever delved into Aki’s backstory well. I will now :3 cws for sh mention + mh struggles

Aki is a girl who’s very.. ‘happy’ as others would describe it. She purposefully acts bubbly and carefree to seem happy. In reality, she’s often very anxious about her connections and how people think of her. She’s very passionate and empathetic but that is partly because she feels she has to be.

Her parents argued a lot when she was little. She hated the way her dad’s voice would boom when usually he’s very quiet and soft, the way her mother would scream one moment then cry the next. These little fights aren’t memorable to her parents, they’ve taken a very deep rooting in Aki’s mind, especially after the divorce when she was around 7 or 8. Nobody was really at fault- the two just realized they weren’t working after all. Both parents did their best to communicate this. And yet, part of Aki noticed how everyone reacted. How her mom worked late, how her sister began to become more bossy and tired. She figured if she was happy, or seemed like it- maybe it would cheer others up. So that’s what she did. Told herself she’d handle the “bad feelings” later, because she wanted to see her family smile first. Learning how to keep her room clean, asking Ema to teach her how to do chores. Helping her dad with his woodworking even if the sawblades scared her at first. Picking out little trinkets she’d find at school to bring home and give to her family- anything to bring back the same full warmth she had. She comforted her family best she could, and eventually life moves on- but her family is never the same, and she can’t find that same exact feeling again.

middle school hits and she keeps doing this. Trying everything she can to help, all the while a goofy ass smile on her face. Yet somethings. A bit off. She pushed herself to do all these things, yet gradually began to feel.. nothing. No little spark at helping others. Nothing when her sister asked to hang out- which was getting rare as they grew older. Nothing at making her birdhouses with her dad, nothing at cooking with her mom. But she didn’t want to worry anyone, so she kept it in. She knew these things brought her joy at one point, so why aren’t they now? Is she not trying hard enough to enjoy it? Is she not good enough at it??

soon she began to hate it. hate the way she felt, wondering why she was like this. She didn’t want anyone to see, but at the same time she did. She researched stuff that might help- and some things did. Music, cold showers, alone time to herself. Yet nothing ever truly drove the feeling away. so she turned to other means. maybe if she hurt enough she’d feel like it was enough, she was enough, and move on. maybe if she let it out in another way she’d be able to forget about it and go to the next thing in life. maybe if she struggled, she’d feel like she was doing something- not just letting it consume her. there were craft supplies in her room, and while she wasn’t proud of it.. It felt real. the marks felt real even if all her problems had a chance of being nothing but teenage hormones. it felt real, like something she could do. like her problems had substance now.

So every now and then, when shit hit the fan.. she’d do it. Just enough to make a scab. Just enough to reassure herself that she was struggling.

By the time highschool hits she’s clean for a few months. She’s discovered how to change things up so she won’t spiral so badly again, and part of her has even forgotten that time. She hasn’t gotten better to the point she’s happy with herself- god, there’s so much she can do to be better- but she uses that as a springboard for her ambitions moreso than a reason to hate herself. She tries to be everyone’s friend because she’s afraid to be alone, afraid to be left behind. She still acts happy, even if shes not who she was, even if she can’t have that same joy. Because if she doesn’t, that’s like giving up to this feeling that won’t leave and she finds it easier to almost fool herself that she’s happy rather than face the mountain of feelings she’s been bottling up over the years.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Unattainable | 7

"Ah my little Schnucki! It's good to see you not through a Webcam! Are you sure you want to do the whole school thing?"

"Noiz! We already talked about this!"

That feeling of family warmth overtook your heart as you watched your brother bicker with his husband. Pulling on eacother's ears and cheeks as they went back and forth on the familiar subject.

"We can't keep them locked up for ever no matter how much we want to!"

"Why not? We have the means and Schnucki doesn't get along with others anyway."

"SHHH don't say that in front of them! (Y/n) we think your plenty capable of making new friends!"

"Well don't lie to them! They're better off staying home. It worked for me I'm sure it'll work for them too!"

"You were locked away for years and hardly knew how to talk to people!"

"And look at me now! It would suit them best to stay-"

"Don't. Undermine me, mister!"

Haruhi huffed at the sight. When would she stop baring witness to men acting like children? Idiots, all of them. She loudly cleared her throat, smiling cheekily when they turned to her. 

"Nice to see you two are as energetic as always."

The strawberry blonde chuckled holding his husband by the waist. 

"It's the only way I can keep him happy!"

He winked as Aoba hit his suited chest with a blushing face. Haruhi resisted the urge to gag turning to you. You were  staring at the seemingly bottomless container of your (f/t), pouting at the sleepiness that interrupted your joyful reward. Noiz crept beside you poking his forehead into yours as he looked down to sample your view. He looked up, identifying the tired glaze over your eyes.. Holding in a giggle he put a hand on your head, keeping firm as you looked up at him. Guiding you into his body he held you tight cradling your back as you hugged him.

"I see you found my 'secret' compartment!"

"Not much of a secret when the design is so obvious."

He feigned a stabbing pain in his heart, "Well leave it to my kid to see the idiosyncrasies of my engineering." 

"Sorry." The monotone voice would have come off sarcastic to anyone else. But Noiz knew. He knew that you meant it and you just didn't know how to say that without offensive social cues. He knew that your attempted eye contact was you're insecurity about reacting properly. And he was proud you were even trying.

""It's all good Schnucki!"

He let his hug reduce to an arm around your shoulders as he turned back to Haruhi and Aoba who seemed to be finished whispering about something. And he couldn't help but be a little petty.

"What're you two whispering about? Making fun of how much cuter the two of us are?"

Aoba quickly scowled before flashing a smile as he copied Noiz. 

"Not cuter than us I bet! (Y/n) will you judge us real fast?"

"Sure. They are the cutest."

"Gagh! How cruel! Turning my own child against me! But I'll do you one better!"

He pulled you along with his left arm while he reached for Aoba with his right. Firmly grabbing his husband's waist he looped his finger into his belt loops before cheekily holding him in place. Squeezing you both as tight as he could he turned to Haruhi.

"How about now aren't we just the cutest trio you ever did see?"

The reluctant host club member paused, taking in the way you playfully pretended to struggle while Aoba began to scold him. Pushing down an ugly feeling she let a somber smile spread on her face.

"Yep I can guarantee I've never seen anyone cuter...picture?"

She pulled out her phone while Noiz enthusiastically nodded. After a few seconds she tucks her phone in her pocket and Noiz finally releases his hold on Aoba. Doubling down to cuddle into you as you fruitlessly protested. 

"Send that to me Haruhi."

Looking into the golden hues of the Serigaki head she nodded, holding back laughter.

Aoba was truly talented.

She hadn't seen anyone be so threatening without meaning to at all. But Sharks aren't exactly aware they're considered frightening. Not until you were their next meal. 

Haruhi Fujioka had no intentions of being so, instead she'd consider herself a lesser threat. More like a feeder fish. 

Because she likes the remains of the initial attack. The remains of the defeated are exactly her type.

"Oh Haruhi, are we having the fish you like with those friends of yours?"

"I think we should. They've never gotten to taste it the Serigaki way. I think it'd blow them out the water." 

_____________

Schnucki - "Sweety" according to Google translate

[otissbluebearshirt]

Prosecutorial Misconduct 18+

Chapter 10 - Targeted Misfortune

Word Count: 7048

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Unlike the rest of the DA’s office, Rafael was still sitting behind his desk as the sky grew dark and the streets fell empty. He knew he should really close up shop and head home before it got any later — or rather before he ended up pulling yet another all nighter. But with the piles of paperwork that were stacking higher and higher on his desk as the days passed by, he didn’t think that would be an entirely wise idea for him to fulfil. 

Now of course, it would absolutely be a wise idea for him to call it a night, as he knew well that he should really start prioritising his own health and wellbeing over the blatant stresses of his job. The amount of times he’d found himself running solely on coffee was more than he could count on both hands, and if he ever wanted to live to see the second half of his life then he should really start taking better care of himself.

And don’t get him wrong, he would. One day, in the near distant future, he’d finally learn to put himself first and stop living off of coffee and take-out, however tonight… as he sat there fiddling mindlessly with his pen, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that his office was where he was meant to be. He knew it sounded corny, like something pulled straight out of a cheesy hallmark Christmas movie, but it was true. 

Each time he had tried to stand up and make the move to go home, there was a voice, from deep inside his heart — not his mind — that not so politely yelled out at him to stop, and each time it did he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than listen to it. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, or even how that lingering thought had entered his mind in the first place. All he truly knew was that until that feeling ceased entirely , throughout every fibre of his being, then he could not, under any circumstances, leave the warm sanctity of his office. 

Rafael didn’t care if that meant he was there all night. He didn’t care if he eventually found himself rolling exhaustively into the next morning — again — so long as his subconscious kept telling him to stay, then he would stay. He would much rather grow to regret not going home, than have to live with the regret of missing out on…whatever the reason may be for his desperate need to remain in his office, so until he truly felt like it was time, he wouldn’t be leaving his desk for anything. 

“Did anyone ever tell you that you work too much?” 

The split second that utterly delectable sound drifted blessedly through the air towards him, Rafael knew all too well of the reasoning behind his sudden desire to stay at work. 

It made sense. There wasn’t a single thing on the planet that had such a tight, intense, soul-bounding grasp on him as Melanie did, so it was no surprise to find out that she was the sole cause for the bellowing voice inside him — as though it somehow knew this whole time that this is where she’d end up. He glanced up from his desk immediately, his stomach already fluttering over simply hearing Melanie’s voice that when he finally saw her after a long week of catching mere glimpses of her here and there, it all but grew wings and threatened to fly away. 

Melanie hadn’t moved an inch since she appeared. She was still hovering almost hesitantly in his doorway, her arm pressed up against the frame and a small brown bag hanging loose by her side. She smiled sweetly the second Rafael’s tired eyes locked onto her own equally drained gaze, and the simple way in which it melted his heart made every minute of his night spent within the four walls of his office completely and utterly worth it — as had he listened to his mind over his heart and left when he should have… he’d have missed out on seeing her entirely.

And that was definitely something he’d spend the rest of the week wallowing in regret over. 

“I, uh, I brought dinner…” Melanie raised the bag, showcasing the familiar logo of the local Chinese restaurant nearby. She then shrugged, adding quickly as she lowered it again, “If you’re hungry.” 

“Starving,” Rafael lied, as with the pure hope that unintentionally soaked her tone, he didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d already eaten. And sure, it had been a rather small burrito from the cart outside that he’d gotten about four hours ago but still, he wasn’t overly hungry. Nevertheless, he stood up, tossing the pen he was holding yet hadn’t used in ages back onto his desktop before slowly rounding it towards her. “How’d you know I’d still be here?” 

“Lucky guess,” Melanie said, delving further into the office Rafael might as well live in as he gestured briefly to the couch. She made her way towards it, shuffling along the gap between the coffee table and slumping down onto the familiar comfort of the soft leather seat.

As she set the bag on the table and began to empty it, Melanie could easily feel the cushion beside her sink as Rafael happily joined her after grabbing a bottle of scotch and some glasses — once again sitting much closer to her than what was appropriately necessary for the situation. She didn’t say anything about it, though, and neither did he. 

In all honesty, no matter how frequently they both picked up on that little detail, or locked eyes during the moments in which it would happen, neither of them ever muttered a single word about it, as they didn’t want it to stop. They didn’t want it to change, but most importantly they didn’t ever want to miss out on experiencing the fierce, heartwarmingly intense chill that would ripple up their spine and spread out across every inch of their skin in a wave of goosebumps, any time they so much as brushed fingers. 

And whilst they happened, the two of them remained in a comfortable silence as Rafael poured them each a glass of scotch whilst Melanie continued to empty the bag, which was starting to appear as though it were bigger on the inside with just how much seemed to reside within it. 

Carton after carton she pulled out from between the paper sides, each one filled to the brim with the delicious cause of the warm aroma surrounding them. There was sweet and spicy chicken, steaming noodles mixed with crunchy vegetables, the crispiest spring rolls you could possibly imagine, not to mention the most mouth-watering fried rice either of them would ever taste. 

Most of the time when Melanie ordered from that particular restaurant — which was way more often than she liked to admit and she would notbe confessing aloud that she was on a first name basis with the owner, the chefs and the delivery driver — she could never decide on which items to choose from. The entire menu was all too mouth-wateringly good to pick just one thing and it usually resulted in her ordering way too much for one person, hence her last minute decision to drop by and make sure Rafael had eaten something other than pain relief and coffee. 

“I think I ordered too much,” Melanie murmured, scratching briefly at the back of her head as she grazed her eyes along the seven cartons of food that covered the coffee table. “It seemed like less when I asked for it.” 

Rafael chucked, “It always does.” 

Not that he was the least bit surprised, however, as last time she’d brought him dinner she’d arrived with two large pizzas, what felt like an entire loaf of garlic bread, twenty mozzarella sticks and a full box of chocolate brownies. 

With an excited smile, Melanie then held out the last, and only box not overflowing with food, towards him, “Here. You can pick out your fortune cookie first.” 

Knowing that it was useless to say no, as Melanie loved fortune cookies and likely wouldn’t rest until he’d opened one, Rafael silently agreed and peered over the edge of the box in front of him. There were only two cookies sitting inside it, one a little bigger than normal and the other slighter smaller. He went for the latter, plucking the small crispy shell from the bottom of the box and gently crushing it between his fingers until the small slip of paper revealed itself. 

Melanie dropped the box down to rest on her leg, watching intently as Rafael brushed a few lingering crumbs onto a napkin before unfolding the fortune and slowly drawing his eyes across it. The farther along the words he got, the more his face seemed to fall into a deep shade of disappointment. He never usually cared about what they said as, to him, it was just a silly piece of paper, but the longer he stared at it…Re-reading each word over and over in hopes that they would start shuffling into something else, the closer to home the fortune kept hitting. 

“What does it say?” Melanie asked, picking at the skin of her lips a touch as it was taking Rafael a while to read a single sentence and she almost feared what was written on it. “Rafael?” 

With a gentle sigh, Rafael hesitantly turned the slip around to showcase it fully, watching with a small ball of anxiety building and swirling in his stomach as Melanie’s eyes finally fell from his and to the paper. She took her time. Her brow slightly pinched as she read each and every word carefully, which did not do anything to ease Rafael’s worries as he knew she always liked to believe her fortunes. And the ones of those who she’d forced to open them, but here’s hoping that this time she simply chose to brush this one off as nothing more than a silly metaphor. 

“Don’t hold onto your hope if it requires a tight grip.” 

As Melanie unfortunately read the words aloud, an unintentional empty chuckle leaving her lips as she did, Rafael was quick to let go of it. And Melanie was glad for it. The second her own voice reached her ears she knew she shouldn’t have read it aloud so as to not speak it into existence, but before she’d fully realised what she’d done, it was too late. She could already feel her chest tighten a little as the silence grew thick between them, her eyes falling down to paper as it floated aimlessly through the air and back to the bottom of the box. 

“It’s just a silly fortune,” Melanie mumbled, despite both her own beliefs and how hard the phrase seemed to hit her. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

Doesn’t it? She couldn’t stop herself from thinking. It was a damn near perfect metaphor for the hope she knew Rafael carried so heavy in his chest when it came to the two of them, and she almost regretted opening that box. Or rather, she almost regretted ever coming here in the first place as things weren’t playing out how she’d hoped they would. She originally came here in search of that familiar, favourite comfort that she always found in Rafael. The usual respite he often offered her from particularly tough cases, not to end up spiralling over what may or may not ever happen in their weird little relationship. 

“What does yours say?” Rafael asked quietly, yet he deeply feared what might lay beyond the crispy shell of Melanie’s cookie. 

Reluctantly, and with a slightly shaky sigh, Melanie reached her fingers into the box and crushed the cookie so hard beneath them that the crunch echoed within the box’s walls and up into the air. She could feel the softness from the slip of paper between her fingertips, practically calling out to be read and cast into the world for good, but she wasn’t sure whether or not she was ready for another one — especially not one that might relate to the current affairs of her own life. She was so used to getting nice ones like ‘ You’ll find greatness where you least expect it’ or maybe even the silly ones the restaurant would sometimes add like ‘ You are about to become $8.95 poorer ($6.95 if you had the buffet)’ but never ones so deep and meaningful as Rafael’s. 

Nevertheless, she knew she couldn’t move on until she read it and so, with her chest tightening with each shallow breath she sucked in, she opened the paper and read it aloud, “You may soon find that an exciting career change lies ahead of you.” 

Oh… That wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. Farfetched, as it was, but still…It was a hell of a lot nicer than the other. 

“I should have picked that one,” Rafael commented, his tone as humorous as he could bring himself to make it as Melanie dropped the fortune into the box and dusted off her fingertips. 

“Oh yeah,” She raised her eyebrow, glancing towards him as she set the box back into the empty bag. “You thinking about switching careers on us, counsellor?” 

“As if you’d ever let me go if I did,” Rafael replied, and Melanie couldn’t help but tilt her head in agreement. She said nothing though. Her stomach was too tied up in that phrase and its underlying meaning, so instead she simply lifted a pair of chopsticks from beside the bag and handed them to him, his tone then turning playful, “Let me guess, you got yourself a fork?” 

“You guys need to stop bullying me and my inability to use chopsticks,” Melanie said bluntly, yet her lips did curl a little as she lifted, and showcased, the plastic fork she had indeed taken for herself. “It’s not my fault I can’t figure it out.” 

“That truly baffles me,” Rafael exhaled, unfolding the lid of what he guessed was the spicy chicken given the way his nose started to tingle. “You can sit and flawlessly flip a knife between your fingers for hours without fail, and yet you still can’t use chopsticks?” 

“Can’t stab someone with chopsticks, Rafael.” 

“ You could.” 

“True,” Melanie answered immediately, making Rafael chuckle quietly as she stuck her fork deep into the container noodles, twirling them mindlessly around the prongs. “But then again, they’d probably only end up with a nasty bruise so I think for now I’ll stick with my knives and forks.” 

“Fair,” Rafael agreed, his eyes then quickly narrowing as he kept them peeled, almost worriedly, on Melanie. 

Despite her usual banter poking out its head, something about her seemed…off, almost, as she sat before him, still twirling her fork as though trying to get every single noodle in the carton onto it at once. She never usually took this long to start eating when given the chance too. Hell, last time she’d brought him food she had eaten a slice of pizza in the stairwell on the way up to his office, so it was a little strange to see her like this now — staring absently into the distance as a thick glaze seemed to cast over her eyes. 

Rafael couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about the words that lay at the bottom of the fortune cookie box. He’d seen the way her eye had twitched as she read it aloud, as though she were outwardly cringing at just how much it seemed to relate to the two of them and their current situation. Honestly, he still couldn’t believe that. Out of all the variations of fortunes out there, he just had to go and get one that hit closer to home than a professional baseball player. 

After all, it had only been the other week, before he’d gone and spoken to Mike and gotten that little boost of encouragement, that Rafael had thought about letting go of the hope he carried so deep in his heart for her. He knew Melanie was…difficult, as much as it pained him to say. He knew she was tough and, as the fortune cookie so bluntly put it, a grasp he’d have to hold tightly onto, but he really thought they were getting somewhere. He really thought that he’d been slowly chipping away at her own hard outer shell, but after reading that phrase…after seeing the guilt flash over Melanie’s face as she, herself, read it too, he couldn’t help but wonder if that little cookie didn’t go and make a rather excellent point. 

“Melanie,” Rafael said softly, setting his carton of chicken aside as he never once drew his gaze away from Melanie, who was still playing with her food. She hummed in acknowledgment, lifting her attention to meet his as he shuffled in his seat a little, resting his arm along the back of the couch, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Melanie replied, her voice a mere crack of whisper. She then smiled, trying her hardest to assure him that she was — even though she really wasn’t, which was clearly evident by the way her lips barely rose more than a few millimetres. “I’m okay.”

Rafael narrowed his eyes doubtfully, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?” 

Melanie scoffed in offence, “I think you’ll find that I am an excellent liar, thank you very much… I perjure myself all the time.” 

“Please don’t tell me that.” 

Rolling her eyes as he all but scolded her, Melanie dropped them back down to her food and let go of her fork, “I don't know why I bought all this… I’m not even hungry.” 

“You will be,” Rafael said, taking the container from within her pale hands and setting it aside for later. He then shuffled closer to her, brushing the soft curls of her hair over her shoulder before placing his hand gently atop it. “Talk to me, mijo . What’s going on with you?” 

“It’s this case,” Melanie confessed quietly, and Rafael couldn’t help but feel a spark of relief wash over him entirely. 

At least it wasn’t the fortune cookie .

“You mean the Lily Evans case?” He questioned, and Melanie nodded, her eyes already beginning to shimmer with the first brew of her tears. He shifted his hold on her, grazing his hand comfortably down the length of her arm before it landed atop hers, to which she immediately laced her fingers with his. “I heard you found her body. I’m sorry, mi cariño.” 

And he didn’t mean that the whole team had found her body, he meant Melanie. She’d been the only one to notice Lily’s foot sticking out from within the blanket she’d been wrapped in, and it had been her very own, now partially shaking, hands that had been the ones to finally uncover the poor girl's lifeless face. 

“It’s just been a really long week,” Melanie exhaled, her breath trembling as she did. “None of us have slept much since the beginning.” 

“You do seem tired,” Rafael said, cupping one side of her face and ghosting his thumb along the underside of her eye. “Maybe you should be at home getting some rest, instead of here with me.” 

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” Melanie murmured, feeling the warmth of Rafael’s hand as it dropped to cup the side of her neck instead, his thumb circling softly, comfortingly , over her pulse. “Mikey, he’s…” A shaky sigh left her lips as she glanced up at the ceiling, taking a moment to force her tears to retreat back into her tear ducts before returning her attention towards Rafael. “He won’t talk to me about it, but I can tell he’s taking this case personally. He came over for dinner the other day and hasn’t left since… At night I hear him pacing and when he’s awake, I’m awake… Not that I get much sleep anyway, but when I can feel his guilt in the pit of my stomach, it makes it harder for me to get my usual few hours.” 

“His guilt?” Rafael questioned, “You can really feel what the other one feels?” 

He honestly thought their whole ‘twin telepathy’ thing was nothing more than a lifelong, well orchestrated joke. Maybe even simply a ploy to creep out the others, but as he looked at Melanie now… As he truly saw the added guilt that sat deep within her delicate features, he could tell there was a lot more than her own emotions weighing heavy on her shoulders. 

“To some extent,” Melanie replied, her fingers fiddling with a loose thread on her jeans. “I always thought it was more like sympathy pains… You know, from actually being together whenever something happened, but then this one time. Back when I was still on patrol, I got stabbed right through the hand by a guy dressed like Santa Claus…” 

“Wait, wait… You got stabbed ?” Rafael interrupted, the pit of his stomach sinking further than he thought possible.

With a quiet hum, that was almost pitied given his outward worry that made her chest tighten terribly, Melanie nodded, slipping her hand from within his and holding it out flat in front of him. She then took hold of the one he had on her neck and lowered it, gently drawing his forefinger along the faint scar that still resided on her palm. She didn’t care that he’d easily have been able to see the scar given its slight discolouration against her pale skin, in that moment she simply wanted to feel him.  

“It hurt like a bitch,” Melanie chuckled, her skin tingling as Rafael continued to graze his fingertip along the length of her palm on his own volition. “I was bleeding all over the guy's Santa beard as I cuffed him and then, no more than five minutes later, I got a text from Mikey. Now he’s in Chicago at the time, at some conference or whatever, and yet he still asked me what happened. Says he was pouring himself a coffee when all of a sudden he got a burning sensation in his hand and dropped the jug… That’s when I knew it was real.” 

“And with this case?” Rafael asked, drawing his hands back to his lap even though they itched to reach out and simply hold her. “Why is it that you both feel guilty?” 

“Mikey, he…” Melanie took a breath, holding it momentarily as she gathered herself before exhaling softly through her nose. “He didn’t think it was anything more than a run-away teen in the beginning. And don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like he was purposely trying to drop the case or anything, as I could see why he would think that. Lily was acting out. We found pot in her room… Condoms. She was even texting this older guy. I mean, it was a textbook case of a teenage runaway. But even then…”

“You still had your doubts,” Rafael finished for her, trying his best to hide the pity he couldn’t help but feel as Melanie nodded, her eyes closing for a brief second.

“I just wish I had listened to them…” She whispered, her voice cracking. “Maybe then…” 

“Don’t go there,” Rafael cut her off swiftly, scooting closer to her and fully closing the gap between them as he took her face in his hand. “I’m sure you did the best you could.”

“Yeah, that’s what Sonny said,” Melanie mumbled, and for one of the rare moments in his life Rafael found himself agreeing with Carisi. 

Not that he even really cared about that,  as in that small moment in which silence fell over them, Melanie leaned deeply into the comforting warmth of his hand. She even tilted her head a little, allowing her cheek to rub lightly over his palm and with each soft brush of her skin on his, his heart would clench terribly in his chest, easily overtaking each and every emotion he could have quite possibly been feeling in that moment.

Neither of them knew quite how long they stayed that way. Their words had fallen to a standstill and their eyes simply did the talking for them. All but confessing each and every word they both wished they could say out loud, yet could never find the courage to do so, as they gazed so affectionately at one another that Bigfoot could walk through the door and Melanie wouldn’t have batted an eye — which was saying something as she loved that Cryptid and had even spent time looking for him out in Oregon.  

It didn’t help, either, that every so often Rafael would pair his deep, blush-causing gaze with an equally soothing brush of his thumb over every small part of Melanie’s face that he could reach, allowing her those little moments of pure comfort that she so frequently craved. In all honesty, it very quickly grew overwhelmingly intense for Melanie. Her mind was already racing with about a thousand different thoughts on a million different topics, so she really didn’t want to pile anymore on top wondering whether or not Rafael was going to kiss her. 

And of course, she wanted him to… So, so badly did she finally want to kiss him. To feel the soft, tenderness of his lips on hers, but she knew she couldn’t. She still wasn’t ready to take that next step. Nor did she think she ever would be, honestly, as she still had that deep, lingering fear of both commitment and getting him so wound up in her reckless life that he’d likely never be able to unravel himself.

It didn’t matter that she could see in his eyes that he didn’t care about any of that. That all he truly wanted was her. And her alone, given the way his eyes kept flicking to her lips and he slowly, but surely, leaned in towards her. She simply couldn’t give in to her desire when she knew that both her mind, and her gut, weren’t fully in it. 

Therefore, she pulled away from him. Not abruptly, or like she was fleeing from his touch, but softly. Warmly. As though showing him that he’d made her comfortable enough that she’d regained her appetite, which honestly she had as she couldn’t miss the first hint of her stomach gurgling inside of her. She reached out towards the table as Rafael shuffled back, creating a little distance from the heat that built between them as she lifted her glass, taking a small — yet disgusting — sip of scotch to help steady her nerves.  

As the harsh burn trickled down her throat, and reminded her not to drink more than one glass should she succumb to another scotch-based hangover, Melanie set her glass aside and reached for one of the containers of food. She peered inside, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the crispy spring rolls that resided inside and caused her mouth to water furiously.

Lifting the largest one from the box she bit into it with a delectable crunch , the vast variety of flavours exploding on her tongue, “God, I always forget how good these are… Can you pass me the sauce?” 

Rafael hummed in agreement and reached over to his end of the table, taking care to lift the tub of sweet and sour sauce, as it was still hot, which he then passed happily over to Melanie. She mumbled a brief thanks around her second bite as she took it from him, popping off the lid and all but smothering the last part of the roll in that delicious orange sauce before utterly devouring it.

“Oh,” Melanie then piped up, covering her mouth that still had a little food in it as she turned her attention back towards Rafael. “I forgot to say…” She swallowed, dropping her hand and running her tongue along her teeth to get the last of the sauce that coated them. “We exhumed a body today… I have pictures, I’ll show you later… But it reminded me of this one time when I fell into an open grave… Have I ever told you that story?”  

“I can't say that you have,” Rafael replied, unable to help the soft laugh that followed suit as if there were ever a person who’d fall into an open grave, it would be Melanie. “But hold on a sec, did you say you took pictures whilst exhuming a body?” 

“Just of them lifting it out of the ground. They’re mainly for Rollins… she’s still on bed rest and would be pissed if we didn’t,” Melanie elaborated, digging into her pocket to find her phone as she set her spring rolls aside. She pulled it out, licking her fingertips briefly before scrolling to find the photos amongst the mass of ones she took of Carisi when he fell asleep at his desk. “See…” 

As she turned the phone screen towards him Rafael couldn’t help but glance curiously down at it, his head tilting in agreement. “That’s a coffin, alright.” 

“It’s actually a casket,” Melanie corrected, locking her phone and pocketing it again. “Coffins are wide at one end and slim at the other, whereas a casket is always rectangular.” 

“Why am I not surprised that you know this?” 

All Melanie did was shrug, a smugly proud smile tugging at her lips as Rafael simply chuckled to himself. He should have known she’d correct him on that. Her mind always was full of the most random, and sometimes incredibly morbid, facts and details about the weird and wacky world in which they lived. He’d come to learn that the very first day he met her, when she had rambled on and on, for a good ten minutes, about the variety of marks and bruises that different types of choking devices could leave on a person — mediaeval torture ones included. 

In all honesty, Rafael hadn’t even questioned it at the time given her job as a sex crimes detective, but the more she went on to describe bondage, role play and other kinds of sex games in great detail, the more he began to wonder exactly what Melanie got up to on her days off. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d actually pictured quite a few different scenarios he might have found her in…some of which made him blush even now just thinking of them again. 

Turns out, though, she wasn’t living some sort of double life as a dominatrix like he might have expected her to be. Not at all. No, in reality she just spent the majority of her free time watching a lot of documentaries and listening to a lot of podcasts on all kinds of different topics. He’d never forget the time she broke a nearly unsolvable case simply because she knew where the last photo their victim had been in was taken. And all it took for her to do so was a small flower in the background — the New England Violet to be exact, which just so happened to only grow in one small, riverside ice meadow in the whole entire state. 

“I have to ask,” Rafael began, taking a small sip of scotch before lowering his glass to rest on his leg. “Where on earth do you find the room for all those facts you have in your head?”

Melanie let out a slightly delusional laugh, “Oh, if only I knew… It’s like a dumpster fire in there most days and you’re lucky I’m even able to sort through it when I need to.” 

At that, Rafael chose to say nothing more on the particular topic in question, as he knew bringing up the idea of Melanie taking her ADHD medication to perhaps put out that dumpster fire wouldn’t go down particularly well. Instead, he simply offered her a partial smile as she all but deemed that part of their conversation over — yet she’d seemingly forgotten to elaborate on the time she fell into an open grave and he made a mental note to ask her about that another day as he was rather curious as to how she managed it. 

From that point forward, the rest of the short time they had to spend together consisted of both Melanie and Rafael happily contributing to some lighthearted and fun conversation as they ate as much of the food as humanly possible — some of which Melanie purposely saved for her middle of the night snack she’d have later. 

They had started off talking about different things here and there. You know, just basic stuff like life in general and if they had any vacations planned and whatnot. Until at one point, don’t ask him how, Rafael had somehow got Melanie started on the topic of ancient sharks and the haunting possibility of there being some undiscovered, maybe even thought to be extinct, species still living in deep underwater caves and caverns.

To be brutally honest, Rafael had never once given a second thought to, or even cared much, for sharks. Or any kind of sea life for that matter, not until he met Melanie. Her deep love, and vast range of knowledge, for all things oceanic was utterly heartwarming and if he could, he’d happily listen to her talk about the ptychodus and whatever the hell a edestus was, for the remainder of his time on Earth. 

“Some people theorise that the Megalodon actually evolved to live in our time by shrinking,” Melanie carried on, taking a sip of the water Rafael had offered her as he could tell she hadn’t been enjoying the scotch. Perhaps he should invest in a bottle of tequila for her should they share any more nights like tonight. “You know, that it’s now just considered to be one of the larger great whites that are lurking in the ocean, but I don’t know if I believe that. I mean, yes I believe great whites might have actually come from the Meg, but I really do think all those big ones truly did die out. As unfortunate as that is for all of us shark nerds.” 

“I can’t say I agree with your use of the word unfortunate here,” Rafael said, his tone a little humorous as he began to close the Chinese food boxes and pass them over to Melanie, who then put them back into the bag. “The thought of a…” — his brow then pinched and he glanced over at her — “How big were they?” 

“They’re said to have reached around…” Melanie held her hand out flat and wobbled it from side to side, “sixty-seven feet. Give or take a few.” 

“Jesus,” Rafael mumbled, his eyes widening in horror. “Yeah, I definitely don’t agree with your use of unfortunate as even the thought of a sixty-seven foot shark makes me never want to look at the ocean again let alone swim in it.” 

“You know the likelihood of being attacked by a shark is a lot less than people think,” Melanie told him, setting the last of the boxes into the bag before turning herself to better face him properly. “You actually have more chance of being killed by a cow than you do a shark.” 

“Well then I’ll stay away from farms too,” Rafael added, catching the slight smile that rose on Melanie’s face as he mimicked her motions, where the very next thing he noticed was the small crumb sitting directly on the ridge of her lip. “You have a little something on your lip… Do you mind?” 

Without even pausing to see if she could get it herself, which she most definitely could, Rafael reached out his hand and waited with bated breath for Melanie to either shake her head or brush the crumb away by herself. He honestly expected it to be the latter, as she didn’t seem like the type of person to accept help like that from someone. But to his surprise she shook her head, allowing him to carry on his motion of extending his hand towards her face and lightly brushing the crumb away with his thumb.

It fell to the floor as he did, leaving her with nothing but perfection dancing across her face yet Rafael still made no urgent move to retract his hand away from her. Instead he let it linger, his fingertips brushing over the softness of her cheek as he began to feel the shuddering heat of Melanie’s faint breath as it slipped through her slightly parted lips, rippling over his skin like a gentle wave atop sand. He shuffled closer to her, her desire driven eyes having all but begged him to do so as he allowed his hand to fully splay across her cheek, his thumb dragging itself slowly down the supple warmth of her lips.  

“Rafael…”

Once again, the way his name rolled seamlessly off Melanie’s tongue in that sultry, raspy tone of hers made Rafael’s stomach flip so heavily inside him he could all but feel it in his throat. He’d seriously never get tired of hearing her say it like that. With such intense want… Such shameless desperation for him having seeped through her words that it only maximised his own burning desire to have her. He leaned forward, feeling as her hands finally rose from the partial softness of her jeans to the firmness of his fast moving chest, of which his heart was hammering so furiously beneath that he was near certain she could feel it.  

And she could. 

It was practically mimicking her own with the way it was ready to burst free and dance across the floor given the sudden lack of distance between them. Even with the many alarms blaring in her mind, Melanie couldn’t seem to stop herself from pulling him closer. Her fingers travelled along the slight hardness of his pecs and wrapped themselves tightly around his suspenders, drawing him even tighter against the quivering heat of her own body as it cried out in a desperate need to finally feel the weight of his on top of it. 

That might have happened, too, if it wasn’t for the arm of the couch stopping Melanie from being able to lie back and fully invite him into her. Given that, Rafael chose the next best thing he could think of and he shortened the distance between their faces, bringing his forehead to rest against Melanie’s and feeling the way she immediately tilted into him. Their noses brushed as she did, their breath mixing in the small pocket of air left between them and just as Rafael was about to close the gap fully and get to taste what he so frequently craved, Melanie whispered his name again.

Only this time, in a tone that completely contradicted that deep, piercing desire that clouded every sparkle in her eyes as she gazed at him, four more words followed suit. 

And each one crushed his heart in the process.

“I can’t do this.” Melanie pushed him gently away the second those dreaded words passed over lips and she stood up, closing her eyes as she did so as to not see the utter heartbreak that cascaded over his own. She folded her arms across her aching chest, her stomach now churning to the brink of extreme nausea. “I can’t… I’m sorry, but I have to go.” 

As she dropped one hand and lifted the bag from the table, Melanie was quick to round it and head for the door in her desperate need to escape before she suffocated. Or worse, threw her dinner up all over his carpet…her heart included. Only, before she could reach out and grasp the handle to freedom, Rafael’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and halted her place, her name slipping sadly from his lips and finally drawing her eyes back up to meet the pain that swam in his own. 

“ Mi amor…” 

“Don’t,” Melanie choked out, her heart crumbling in her chest as she easily pulled her wrist from the weak grasp of his hand. “Just… Don’t say anything.” 

Rafael’s eyes softened, “Melanie…” 

“Please, Rafael. I… I’m asking you not to make this harder than it already is,” Melanie whispered, her words as thick as the lump that rose in her throat over the confusion that warped Rafael’s hurt filled face. “For both our sakes, it’s better that this doesn’t happen.” 

Rafael’s gaze narrowed, “What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying…” Melanie said softly, reaching out to gently cup the side of his face despite how much it pained her to do so. But she couldn’t help it. She was about to potentially break his heart into a million little pieces, so the least she could do was give him one final touch of comfort before she did so, “That maybe it’s time for you to listen to your fortune cookie…And let me go.” 

And with that soul-crushing statement hitting him like a truck, Melanie was gone from in front of him before he could do so much as outwardly react let alone respond. Not that he even knew what to respond to something like that as he didn’t even know what to think, let alone what to say. 

All he could do at that moment was sink back down onto the couch, his hand landing absently on the warmth of the spot Melanie had just occupied. He didn’t know what was going on with her…Where that sudden dismissal towards his affections had come from as it seemed to him like she was just as madly in love with him as he was with her.

Or at least, that’s what he’d thought as right now…He wasn’t sure that had ever been the case at hand.

The only thing he was sure about right now was that he was rather confused… Deeply, deeply confused and honestly, as he sat there with nothing to do but ponder his life’s next move, Rafael couldn’t help but think that perhaps he should have listened to his head earlier instead of his heart…

As maybe then… he wouldn’t be left alone feeling like it was in pieces. 

<- Chapter 9 | Chapter 11 (coming soon) ->

Like this story? Apply to its tag list here do you don’t miss out on updates!

tagging: @the-nerd-dimension @doublebassallie @melodystar23song @clozeliz @rebeccapineapple @cringystyles @yousigned-upforthis @raulshushabyemountain

[fort-cozy-mcblanket]

I’m rewatching season 9 and the episode where they go to the aquarium. I can’t get over how many times Sheldon asks Amy if she slept with any of her dates 🤣 I feel like it was common for him to ask that cause he did the same thing that time she went out with Stuart. It’s funny that he is so adverse to sex yet was obsessed about Amy not having sex with anyone else.

I don't rewatch the break up era episodes very much so I may be off-base on this, but to me it seemed like until that episode Sheldon thought sex was the primary reason for their break up. Like he obviously knew Amy wanted sex, and he wasn't able to give that to her, so it probably followed logically in his head that she finally got tired of waiting and broke up with him.

Sheldon put more pressure on himself to have sex than Amy ever put on him, and I think it weighed on him more than he would admit. As much as he insisted he was better than his friends for not needing sex, it was probably also hard for him to struggle with something that seemed to come easily for everyone else around him. That's why we get stuff like this where he asks those questions, or those scenes where Amy would say something innocuous that he would interpret as sexual. He was fully aware that he was falling short in that area but he just wasn't ready to take that step yet. He truly was working on his issues for Amy and of course he wanted her to wait for him, but I think he also worried that eventually she wouldn't. When she broke up with him it was probably one of his worst fears finally come to pass.

And yeah, he probably thought there was a good chance she had slept with someone else by then because of this. In the car when she tells him she hasn't, he turns his head to look at her like that wasn't what he expected her to say.

I don't think he realized before this that Amy didn't want just sex, she wanted to have sex with him. Because she loves him and wants that closeness with him. And she didn't break up with him because he wouldn't have sex with her, she broke up with him because she didn't feel important to him.

[likecanyoujustnot]

Jude’s trial, Cardan’s pov

A/n: I’m supposed to be getting ready for my birthday party but I have massive procrastination issues. And this picks off right where the letter ended. Kinda long.

“What do you mean he is dead?”

There were tears in Taryn’s eyes as I paced in front of her.

“He washed up on the beach near our house.” She sniffed. “I don’t know how it happened.”

“When did you notice he was missing?”

I had last seen him two days ago. Entertaining a group of young faeries.

“He didn’t come home after last night and that’s nothing out of the ordinary, you know how he is.”

Yes I did.

“What are you going to do about it?” She looks at me cautiously.

“Hold a trial, I want to find who did this.” I may hate his cheating guts but I wanted to know who in my court thought it was a good idea to kill off my master of revels.

She froze. “Am I a suspect?”

“For now, until we can rule out your innocence.”

She nodded slowly. “What if it was Jude?”

It was my turn to freeze. “What makes you think it was her?”

“She doesn’t like him, and she doesn’t like you much at the moment either, this could be her way of sending a message.”

Not likely. If she wanted to send a message she would’ve crept into my rooms and slit my throat while I slept. This wasn’t her style.

“Trials begin at the beginning of the week, in two days, you are first Taryn.”

She nodded and walked off, a slight tremble in her hands.

Dammit.

Valerian and Locke. Both dead. I didn’t mourn valerian and I doubted I would mourn Locke. They were both awful. But it was now just me and Nicasia. I would probably have to tell her of the murder. She’d probably believe it to be Jude. I don’t know how Taryn could sell out that it might be her twin sister.

I didn’t think it was, but still.

I gave instructions to the guards and Randalin and went back off to my room.

My head was pounding and I wanted nothing more than to just sleep.

I was the king. I could do whatever I wanted.

And so I slept.

The next few days passed without hassle, until the day of the inquest came.

I saw Nicasia first.

She looked awful. Tired and distant. A dress the colours of the sea on her. And next to her stood my mother.

It was night time, the first of the stars visible when a mortal woman walked up to where we stood.

She wore a bronze dress and had a hood pulled over her head.

Taryn looked so much like Jude it hurt. I wonder what would happen if I just left and ran off to the mortal lands to find my wife.

The cold voice of one of my personal guards cut through the chatter. “Taryn Duarte. Wife of Locke. You must stand in the place of petitioners.”

She moved to where she was indicated to stand.

“Taryn?” I asked.

She raises her eyes to me and I am struck by a realisation.

That’s not Taryn.

That’s Jude.

The high queen of faerie.

My wife.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Your majesty.” She said.

“We recognise your grief.” I did my best to keep my voice even. “We would not disturb your mourning were it not for questions over the cause of your husband’s death.” Though I supposed I’m her husband.

Jude.

Here.

“Do you really think she’s sad.” Nicasia cut in. I almost roll my eyes. She steps closer to Taryn- no, Jude- and I tense. Nicasia had a tendency to be irrational, had he friend had just been murdered, making her even more unpredictable. “Did you kill Locke yourself? Or did you get your sister to do it for you?”

“Jude is in exile.” Her words are soft, and I yet again marvel at how easily she can lie. “And I’ve never hurt Locke.”

“No?” I interjected. I leant forward on the throne. My tail twitched. She’s lying again. If she is truly Jude, which she is, she has hurt Locke in the past.

“I lov…” Jude stopped. To anyone else it would look like she was grieving, as though the words were too hard to say.

But I knew better. She was having to force herself to say it.

“I loved him.” She lets out a little sob.

“Sometimes I believed you did yes.” I force my tone to be absentminded, as though I didn’t care. I did believe she loved Locke. And I hated her, for loving him and not me, Locke for tricking her, and myself for not being good enough. “But you could be lying. I am going to put a glamour on you. All it will do is force you to tell us the truth.” I curved my hand and magic shimmered in the air.

“Now, tell me only the truth. What is your name?”

If she wears no protection, under the glamour, she will be forced to admit her title as well. Jude Duarte Greenbriar, High Queen of Elfhame, wife of Cardan.

And that would cause a huge problem.

“Taryn Duarte.” She curtsied. “Daughter of Madoc, wife of Locke, subject of the High King of Elfhame.

Liar. She had to be Jude. I smiled. “What fine courtly manners.”

“I was well instructed.” We were instructed together.

“Did you murder Locke?” There is a silence following my words. The folk quiet in apprehension.

“No.” She said, she gave a pointed look to Nicasia. “Nor did I orchestrate his death. Perhaps we ought to look to the sea, where he was found.”

I wanted to laugh at the poeticness of this moment. Either Taryn had killed Locke and didn’t want anyone to know, or Jude killed both of them and was know planning my own demise. That didn’t scare me as much as it should have.

Nicasia turns to me. “We know Jude murdered Balekin. She confessed as much. And I have long suspected her of killing Valerian.” I wondered how she would react if I told her she had killed him. “If Taryn isn’t the culprit then Jude must be. Queen Orlagh, my mother, swore a truce with you. What possible gain could sue have from the murder of your master of revels? She knew he was your friend- and mine.” Her voice breaks at the end, her grief palpable.

I peer back down at Jude. “Well, what do you think? Did your sister do it? And don’t tell me what I already know. Yes I sent Jude into exile. That may or may not have deterred her.”

She looks like she wants to punch me. “She had no reason to hate Locke, I don’t think she wished him ill.”

“Is that so?” I knew for a fact she did.

“Perhaps it is only court gossip, but there is a popular tale about you, your sister and Locke.” I wanted to snap at my mother for bringing herself into a conversation where she is not needed. “She loved him, but he chose you. Some sisters cannot bear to see the other happy.”

I glanced at her.

“Jude never loved Locke.” Her face went a slight pink. “She loved someone else. He’s the one she’d want dead.”

I flinched at both meanings to her words. She wanted me dead, and she loved me.

I wasn’t sure which alarmed me more.

She loved me

Loved.

As in past tense

“Enough.” I said before she could keep talking. “I have heard all I care to on this subject-”

“No!” Nicasia interrupted. Everyone stirred a little. She cut me off. The high king. She seems to realise it as she goes on. “Taryn could have a charm on her, something that makes her resistant to glamours.”

I glared at Nicasia for undermining my authority. I look back to Jude and give her a cruel smile. “I suppose she’ll have to be searched.”

I could sense Nicasia’s sneer.

Jude stood up taller in a position that reminded me of Oriana. “My husband was murdered. And whether or not you believe me, I do mourn him. I will not make a spectacle of myself for the court’s amusement when his body is barely cold.”

I admired the sheer will and determination in her voice.

My smile only grew. This is was chance to get her alone. “As you wish. Then I suppose I will have to examine you alone in my chambers.”

I could barely keep myself from smiling in glee. Jude was back. And she was following me to my rooms. And there I would ask her why she stayed away so long. Why she didn’t come home to me.

She was nervous, she had no clue I knew she wasn’t Taryn. And that scared her. She knew that if I had her undressed I would know her body. Her scars and imperfections.

Never mind I could tell who she was just off of her face.

I passed a hooded servant carrying pale green wine.

There was a cry and a crash behind me and I wip around. Jude is on the floor, the servant with her. Her dress soaked in wine and the shattered glass around them.

Jude helped the servant girl sweep up debris before she says. “Oh no, my lady, your pardon, you ought not lower yourself.”

One of my guards catches her arm. “Come along,” he said as he lifted her to her feet, and we continued walking.

Two servants open the heavy doors to my chambers and I threw myself down in a low couch in the parlour, Jude stood awkwardly in the centre of the room.

My feet rested on the stone table. “Well.” I said, patting the couch beside me, an invitation for her to sit. “Didn’t you get my letters?”

“What?” She croaked.

“You never replied to a one. I began to wonder if you’d misplaced your ambition in the mortal world.”

“Your majesty.” Her said, voice stiff. “I thought you brought me here to assure yourself I had neither charm nor amulet.”

I raised an eyebrow and my smile deepened. “I will if you like. Shall I command you to remove your clothes? I don’t mind.” Not in the slightest.

“What are you doing.” She’s desperate now. “What are you playing at?”

She still thought she can convince me she’s Taryn. It was adorable. “Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked in the brugh.”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

I stood, watching her intently. “Come closer.”

She took a step back.

I frowned. “My councillors told me that you met with an ambassador from the court of teeth, that you must be working with Madoc now. I was unwilling to believe it, but seeing the way you look at me, pervades I must.” She was angry, and rightfully so, looking like she wanted to run me through with a knife. “Tell me it’s not true.” It could not be true, she wouldn’t plot against me, would she? Though if I died, she would be free to rule without me, Madoc whispering in her ear.

“I’m not the betrayer here.”

“Are you angry about-” I stopped, studying her face more carefully. “No, you’re afraid. But why would you be afraid of me?” I’d never done anything for her to fear.

“I’m not.” She trembled. “I hate you. You sent me into exile. Everything you say to me, everything you promise, it’s all a trick. And I, stupid enough to believe you once.”

“Of course it was a trick-” I noted that she was now holding a blade. Sheathed, but it looked deadly.

Suddenly everything shook. An explosion that was close enough to cause us both to stumble. Books fell and crystal orbs rolled onto the floor. I looked at her, surprised, before I realised, she could have done this. My eyes narrowed.

Then there’s the sound of metal striking metal, swords.

“Stay here.” She drew the blade.

No. “Jude, don’t-” I call after her as she slipped out of the room.

Dammit.

I had Jude back, and I would not loose her again. I drew into my power, commanding it to listen, to reshape the burgh. Commanding the doorways to crack and shrink. From the screams of the guards I knew that vines, roots and leaves were clicking them, starting to creep around their necks, strangling them.

They had taken Jude.

And they would not forget it.

[gigglymarvel]

Tickly Witch vs Stubborn Widow

We’re back! Life took over so we’re so sorry for kinda abandoning this blog. But we’re back with all the fluff, enjoy this fic of Wanda bringing out Yelena’s softness. 💕

Natasha had asked Wanda to look out for her sister while she was away on a mission. The witch had no issues making sure she ate as everyone including the blonde widow loved her cooking, but when it came to emotional comfort….Yelena was often closed off.

Yelena was drained, she had agreed to train up Kate on her basic sparring skills whilst trying her best to look out for her big sister despite Natasha insisting that she was fine. A lot of changes had happened recently so she wanted to recharge, and she only knew how to do that by shutting herself in her room.

Wanda could sense the weight of her thoughts, trying not to intrude on specifics, she knocked, “Lena?”

The blonde Widow’s eyes opened the second she heard the first knock, thinking it was her big sister. “You’re back early…”

“Hey, I'm sorry, it's Wanda not Nat,” her eyes sympathetic, a soft smile on her lips.

“Wanda?” She murmured out, genuinely confused yet not moving from her position on the bed, laying down on it with her head stuffed in the pillows.

“Yes…it's me. I, uh, snuck up some cookies if you'd like? Or maybe we can just hang out?” She tried,wanting to care for the younger of the widow sisters but unsure. She and Nat had developed a camaraderie, and she and Yelena had even exchanged jokes, but she knew the blonde had yet to be truly open with anyone in the compound besides her sister.

She just shrugged. “No one is stopping you from joining me, but I am pretty burnt out right now so I may be no good for fun.” Yelena admitted, basically giving Wanda a chance to back out if she wanted to.

“I'm happy to just exist next to you,” she said, a little cheerful that Yelena would let her, as she opened the door and sat next to the blonde.

“Uh.. okay.” Yelena replied quietly, admittedly a little confused as to why Wanda wanted to spend time with her, since they don’t really hang out on a one to one basis.

“Nat did ask me to check in with you while she was away, but honestly…I've wanted to get to know you better as a whole. You appreciate my Sokovian dishes like no one besides Natasha. And you're funny, kind, and strong, but…I want to help you have more than one person you can feel safe with?” Wanda tried.

“You are a good cook.” Yelena told her. “However I do not have the energy to be entertaining enough or to even be a decent human.” She replied truthfully

“You are tired, I can massage you?” She offered gently, making Yelena briefly turn her head to look up at Wanda. “You… want to what?”

The redheaded witch bit her lip, “Massage you? I'm sorry if it was a weird suggestion…you just seem tense and…”

“I am a tense person, what can I say?” She replied quietly. “I am not used to the feeling of relaxation.”

“So…may I massage you?” Wanda asked quietly. Yelena just shrugged. “I guess.”

The witch gently sat behind Yelena, beginning by kneading her shoulders. The spy was clearly hesitant to relax, and was a little more tense when Wanda touched her, but there was something about her touch which allowed her to maybe relax a little into the sensation.

“I'm adding a little magic, is that okay?” The witch asked softly. Yelena couldn’t help but bite her lip, a little hesitant about what it was going to feel like, but nodded anyway.

She used the magic to gently heat her hands, adding a little pulsing which gently loosened the knots, “Is this still okay?”

Yelena couldn’t help but embrace the feeling a little, not expecting it to feel the way it did, she felt her knots releasing as she brought her arms up to rest her head on them.

Wanda smiled fondly, “I can feel the knots releasing,” and then massaged down, pulsing into her ribs now, but the magic ever so gently vibrated them.

Yelena couldn’t help but flinch, tensing a little again but tried to continue the conversation. “As can I…” she replied quietly.

“Oh sorry did that hurt? I saw you flinch,” Wanda checked in, afraid she'd hurt Yelena with her magic. The blonde wasn’t sure on how to respond, she was usually a direct person but she wasn’t completely sure on whether she could be open with her yet, so she just shook her head silently.

The witch nodded, working her way down, and kneaded into her back now, vibrating the gently heated magic into her lower back, but the magic was dancing through the widow too.

Yelena couldn’t help but kick a little, trying to keep her upper body still so she could try and maintain her toughness.

Wanda had no idea the way the gentle magic was exiting Yelena's body, now pulsing down through the back of her hips and kneading her thumbs there, “Nothing too painful? Your knots are going, just trying to get your lower back softened.”

She nodded, scrunching her face up and being thankful Wanda couldn’t see, she sucked in a breath and tried everything she could to remain stubborn. “You’re good-“

“Are you sure? I know you're strong Yelena, but if I'm hurting you, I promise I won't be offended or think less of you if you tell me?” The redhead said gently, softening the magic more so it was now like feathers dancing on her insides.

Yelena shook her head, biting back giggles now as she tried to maintain herself, it was absolute torture to do so.

“Oh sweetie you're so tense, are you sure I'm not hurting you?” Wanda said with the most sincere concern as she lightened the magic even more and kneaded her thumbs between her hips and spine, but gently.

“I’m sure, and I’m not a sweetie!” She replied, wiggling around a little now as she arched her back ever so slightly.

Wanda tilted her head, taking the tiniest peak into Yelena's thoughts, she softened a little, and tried to let Yelena play tough, but made the magic that started as a massage, pulse through so it would gently shake her ribs and swirl her tummy, from belly button out, “Okay, if you're sure little widow.” The witch cooed softly.

Yelena blushed at the nickname, letting out a tiny yelp when she felt her bellybutton being fluttered, she tried to push herself into the bed to squish the feeling but to no avail.

“Oh I see,” Wanda smiled, and leaned in, “Is someone….” The witch whispered mischievously, “Ticklish?” And then sent a flurry of gentle magic to poke and explore and swirl Yelena's ticklish spots.

The stubborn spy gasped at the word, now kicking out as she shook her head. “Nope, not at all…” she replied quickly before holding her breath.

“Then why are you holding your breath, giggle bug?” Wanda cooed and spidered into her sides now as two red wiggly woos circled under her armpits, warm gentle magic swirled her belly button, wiggly woos danced on her ribs, and two fluttering woos weaved between her toes.

“Because it was sore?” Yelena tried, slamming her arms against her sides whilst slapping at her hands as she smiled into the pillow discreetly.

“Why are you slapping my hands like you're ticklish?” Wanda cooed knowingly, shaking her fingers into the lower backs of her ribs gently, “Goochiegoochiegoochie goo?”

“Again, because it hurt?” She tried again, still trying to do something to stop her magic as she now grinned into the pillow.

Wanda paused then, “I hurt you?” She asked, making Yelena pause too, unsure about how to go about things now.

The redhead then just sat on Yelena's back, deciding to give Yelena back scritches and tickles. “Maybe this instead?”

“Oh… I guess.” Yelena replied awkwardly, the feeling a little cold to her since she wasn’t completely comfortable around Wanda yet.

The mood change was clear, so Wanda tried the massage magic again, “Maybe I just need to work out these knots more hm?” She pulsed the back of her ribs with the warm magic.

Yelena gasped. “You never hurt me.” She told Wanda quickly, as normally as she could.

“Then what was that gasp?” The redhead smiled fondly and pressed into the backs of her hips, letting her magic gently course through the blonde.

“You simply surprised me…” Yelena told her, biting back another gasp as she scrunched her face up.

“Mhm,” Wanda chuckled and kneaded gently down Yelena's sides and toward her hips, causing the blonde to bite her lip as she arched away from her whilst reaching back and pushing at Wanda's hands.

The witch arched her eyebrow, “Hm? Why push me away? Hurting you….or am I tickling the big bad widow?” She cooed, her voice gentle.

“Nono, not at all…” Yelena replied quietly, a small blush on her face.

“Seems to me I'm tickling you pink,” Wanda whispered and snuck her fingers into the blondes armpits, making her let out a tiny squeal and slam her arms against her sides, shaking her head in protest.

“Awww cmon Yelena, just…let go,” she sent magic into the younger widow's armpits, smirking as Yelena finally let out a few giggles, the fingers and the magic under her arms at the same time broke her.

“Goochiegoochiegoochie goo there's a giggly wittle widow?” She smiled and spidered Yelena's armpits, magic gently pulsing out of them too.

“This isn’t fair!” Yelena protested, kicking her legs out as giggles kept spilling out

Wanda gasped playfully, “It's noooot? Then how about thiiiis?” And sent her magic dancing along Yelena's ribs, thighs, feet and through her belly, “Bougiebougiebougieboo!”

Yelena shook her head, rolling over to grab her hands as her giggles escaped more freely now. “It is nohohohot!”

The redheaded witch used her magic to pin Yelena's hands to the sides, blowing her shirt up just enough to peek her tummy out, and leaned down, “PFFFFT!” And raspberried the widow’s tummy.

“OHOHOHOH FUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOHU!” Yelena laughed, pulling at her arms as she just thrashed her legs about, sucking her belly in at the same time.

Wanda grinned, letting her go, and then cuddling into her, laying gently on top of her with and “Umph.”

She pouted a little, but was thankful to take in deep breaths, unsure about whether to hug Wanda back as she wasn’t sure about affection still with anyone but her big sister.

“You can hug me back,” she smiled and spidered Yelena's armpits so she'd have to bring her arms down. The spy let out a few shy giggles and squeezed her arms against her sides instead.

The witch pouted playfully, “Huuug meeee,” and leaned down and nuzzled her tummy again, causing Yelena to pull her shirt down with a giggle, then awkwardly patted her back.

The witch bit her lip, “It's okay if you don't like hugs,” she assured her gently. Yelena bit her lip too, just not used to the affection, she felt bad for making Wanda feel awkward.

The redhead peered into the mind of the blonde, “Hm…okay,” and hugged her a little tighter, scritching her back gently.

“Huh?” Yelena asked innocently, but relaxed a little more into the feeling with a sigh. The redhead responded by adding her other hand, rolling so Yelena was on top of her now and scritched the slightly younger woman's back all over.

“Hey, I will squish you.” She murmured and went to roll off her.

The witch protested and pinned her gently within a magical hug, “If you leave I tickle you. So..admit you like the tickles or let me cuddle you and admit you like that?” Wanda teased, but her voice was sincere and loving.

Yelena’s eyes widened. “Well it is not like I can move right now…” she replied with an eye roll, but she shyly bit her lip.

She grinned and squeezed Yelena's sides and held her close, “Getchagetchagetcha!” The surprise attack made Yelena squeal as she began giggling immediately, trying to find a way to push her hands.

Wanda paused, laughing lovingly and booped her nose as she gently rocked the blonde, “You seem a bit more comfortable with me?” She asked softly.

Yelena bit her lip, but nodded. “I guess you are not too bad…”

“I'll take that as a compliment!” Wanda beamed.

The blonde just rolled her eyes, staying still and letting the witch embrace her. She may not be completely ready to give affection just yet, but the bonding did make her feel closer to her, physically and emotionally.

[practically-an-x-man]

Scars (Eris character study)

Summary:

I'm still burning like a tire fire deep down inside Oh, I'm burning like a tire fire and I don't know why Was I born with a hole in my heart

A fatal fault at the start Tell me it's inevitable that I end up with scars

Or, in which Eris becomes a mentor and is faced with the memory of their own upbringing

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: Emotional angst, violence, strong language, character study, backstory, title from a Crane Wives song

Crossposted on AO3

____

“I need a favor.” 

“Do I look like the kind of person who gives out favors?” Eris shot back, vaguely surprised that DuBois would present such an idea. He knew them better than that. Maybe he thought they’d softened in the wake of Corto Maltese. 

If that was true at all, it wasn’t true for him. Eris was and would always be a creature of armor and thorns. There was only one man on Earth she’d soften for, and even that came in spilled blood and saltwater tears.

DuBois failed to respond at first, and Eris nearly thought he’d dropped the issue. That would be smart, he thought. He’d have better luck tossing a bottled wish into the ocean, or stepping into a fairy ring and asking his favor of the Unseelie Court.

Then one heavy hand dropped onto Eris’ shoulder, squeezing firmly enough to make his shoulder ache. It wasn’t quite to keep him in place - no man was truly strong enough for that - but perhaps to convey the intensity of emotion he couldn’t otherwise express.

“It’s my daughter.”

That, of all things, did give Eris pause. Much as Rick was the chink in their own armor… they knew Tyla was the chink in his. The sole person on the planet he’d bend for, bleed for, give his life for. 

This must have been serious.

“And?”

“I want you to train her. Teach her how to defend herself.”

The thought was so ludicrous that Eris audibly scoffed, and ignored the way it made DuBois’ face darken. 

“No, you don’t.” he said, rubbing idly at the rough scars across his hands and wrists, “Your daughter’s, what, sixteen? Give ‘er a can of mace. Put her in Muay Thai. I am not a teacher, Robert. What I could give her isn’t what she needs.”

“You don’t understand.” DuBois replied, and suddenly jerked Eris towards him until she could feel his breath on her neck. His voice fell to a hushed sort of growl, a tone often devoted to secrets and contraband. “Waller is not happy about that drive. And you know how she is with revenge. She’s already sent two cons to my ex-wife’s place. Metahumans. Lucky my daughter don’t live with her mother anymore. And lucky I was there to take care of things. But she’ll find Tyla soon enough, and she’ll do it when she knows I’m not there. You think Muay Thai and pepper spray’s gonna cut it against Waller’s metas?”

“You’d rather put her in the ring with me? You don’t think she’d be worse off?” Eris shot right back, “Train her yourself.”

“She could use some discipline. And you’re the most unkillable fucker I know.”

“I can’t make her heal like I can. That’s not how it works.”

Doubt colored DuBois’ face. They supposed that was fair. After all, with Corto Maltese only six weeks past and Rick already up and walking (slowly, perhaps, but walking nonetheless), rumors had begun to percolate in Eris’ wake. Thus was the price they paid. They’d certainly paid much worse, and for much less.

But he seemed to realize can’t instead meant won’t, or something similar, and he simply shook his head. 

“Just teach ‘er to survive. That’s what she needs. She won’t listen to me, Flag’s in no shape for it, and I dunno anyone else who’s got what I need.” he said, and for the first time Eris heard a ribbon of real desperation under his voice. It gave them pause. It gave them… consideration. 

DuBois sealed the deal.

“This is my daughter’s life we’re talking about. Isn’t this what your people do? Train women to be Amazons?”

“I have not been an Amazon in a very long time.” Eris hissed, “Themyscira does not want me.”

Finally he shrugged DuBois’ hand off of his shoulder and took a large step back, looking the taller man in the eyes. DuBois didn’t break. He never did. 

“But I will keep your daughter alive.”

____

“Adamantia!”

The sudden sweep of a blade. The spurt of blood from her flesh, shining dark like Amazonian wine as it fell to the sand. In reflex, her fingers opened and her training blade fell with it.

The skin knit together far faster than it should have, and left behind it the first of many scars. She would come to realize it had been a necessary wound. She had drawn first blood in a battle that should not have had blood at all, and with it some beast had awoken deep inside her. If not for the wound, and for the arms that grabbed her tight and wrestled her back from her battered opponent, that beast might have raged unchecked. 

Even young, barely into her training, she knew this was not the way of the Amazons. This was not the honor and discipline they trained her for. This was not the warrior’s code they instilled in her. 

But she took to the blood like a shark, and she couldn’t stop herself.

She refused food on that night, and escaped from her bedroom window once the moon had risen. It was only on the farthest reaches of Themyscira, the rocky cliffs bleached by the endless spray of the ocean, that those new sparks in her chest finally quieted. Even still, she remembered the feel of blood against her fingertips, the satisfying impact of her wooden staff against soft flesh, the vicious joy of victory. She remembered the thrill of the battle, like lightning dancing all across her skin, like any minute her feet would simply lift off the ground and she’d fly, weightless and unstoppable. 

Amazons fought for honor, for valor, for justice. Battle was an obligation, a duty, a burden that fell heavy upon their shoulders. Scars were stories, but they were rarely stories of pride.

There on the cliffs, she looked upon her first scar and she did feel pride. Even untrained and clumsy, it had taken a grown warrior to pull her from the battle. In time, she would only grow stronger. She could be Themyscira’s bravest warrior, the one most fit to shoulder their pains. She could grow to make her sisters proud.

Or the beast could rise up and she could raze it all to the ground. 

Perhaps she had gained two scars on that day. A mark on the flesh, and a hole in her heart that would never mend.

____

“I’m no teacher. His daughter’s better off with someone else.” Eris hissed, “Anyone else.”

“You’ve taught me.” Rick protested, his eyes on her even as his hands shuffled a deck of cards. The game had long since dissolved, but the cards provided some escape from the restlessness that his recovery had sparked in him. He managed a half-hour walk every day, sometimes more, but this was painfully little compared to his usual routines. “Taught me plenty. The, ah- what was it? The lamsat almawt? ‘N plenty else. Kept me alive.”

“You are a grown man and a soldier. She is a child.”

“Older n’ you were when you started, right?”

“Comparably. But time moves differently on Themyscira. And the traditions are…”

“Different?”

“Ingrained,” Eris finished, “I was a warrior raised by a creed of fellow warriors. The world I knew saw battle as honor, as necessity, and there was no higher status than one who could not be cut down. This world, this- this time, it doesn’t operate that way. The culture I was raised in would crush Tyla.”

“You’re so sure that’s true?” Rick, nearly as much of a contrarian as Eris himself, replied, “DuBois said she’s pretty hardcore.”

“He told me she was ditzy. His words.” she said, “Besides, hardcore might have stood up to my own mentors, but it doesn’t stand up to me. My own people could not stand up to me.”

She found her fingers dancing across her own skin as she spoke, tracing staggered scars until they finally came to the very first. The very oldest. It had been a part of her so long that it was no longer raised or textured, and was barely even a slash of color against her darker skin, but she knew exactly the path it took all the same. 

“My first battle- not even a battle, just a children’s sparring session with wooden hafts in place of true swords- they had to cut me away from my opponent. My blood was spilled, and I was dragged away by force. Over nothing more than a… a scuffle.” 

Eris abruptly jerked his hand away from the scar, as if burned by the touch, and curled his fingers into the hem of his tunic to keep them from creeping back to it. 

“And you know what I’ve become since then.”

Rick was silent for a beat too long. Eris turned and found his eyes on them, following the paths of so many scars across their skin- and yet lingering on one, the same one Eris had lingered on merely a moment before. They couldn’t begin to guess his thoughts. They weren’t sure they wanted to.

“So does DuBois.” Rick finally said, “Still asked you to train her. Doubt he’d trust most people to do that.”

“Trust, or desperation?”

“Probably both.” he said, with a careful shrug, “But he still could’ve asked someone else.”

“I am not. A teacher.”

Their traitorous fingers had found their way back to that scar. The realization, or perhaps the touch itself, made their skin prickle unpleasantly. Eris again snatched their hand away, but not before Rick had drawn a conclusion of his own. 

“You’re afraid you’d hurt her.”

“When have I been afraid of anything?”

Rick shifted on the bed, biting down a faint wince as he did, and fixed Eris with eyes that were a hair too intense for the smile he tried to offer them. 

“I’m not the person to ask, doll. I’ve got a real answer for you and I know you don’t want to hear it.”

Eris just huffed and shook their head, refusing to call his bluff- because they knew it wasn’t really a bluff. Much as she was loath to admit it, Rick had seen her afraid. He’d seen the battles that grew too close for comfort, the moments of desperation, even the rarer times of mundane fear. He knew more of their heart than anyone else, and that meant he’d grown awfully good at creeping past that shell.

Hell, the scar on his chest was a mark of her fear. Eris had scrawled their emotions on his heart - it was the only reason he was still alive. Much as he didn’t regret his decision, would never regret his decision… rarely did he ever let his emotions go so candidly.

“Why not give ‘er a day? One lesson. Just to see how it goes. If it’s shit… then we’ll know. Tell DuBois to find someone else. But if it’s not, then…” Rick trailed off and gave him another low shrug, “Anyway, I’ll go with you. Just in case.”

“Please, what could you do about it?” Eris fired back, eager for the chance to recover control of the conversation. In case the words weren’t enough, she leaned over the bed and prodded Rick just an inch above the new scar on his chest - not enough to hurt, not enough to cause damage, but plenty a reminder of the state he was in.

“I’m not saying I’d fight you.” Rick said, “Just saying I’d…. y’know, step in.”

His words struck true, and Eris recoiled before she could stop herself. He understood what Rick was implying, of course. Just as much as he understood that it might not work. 

Of course, Eris didn’t want to hurt DuBois’ daughter. That was why he’d fought hard to refuse such an offer, and continued to refuse it as the concept continued. And of course, they certainly didn’t want to hurt Rick, least of all when he was still healing, still vulnerable. Rick knew that much, and perhaps that was more than most.

But he didn’t understand that spark within them. He didn’t understand how much effort it took to keep that beast muzzled. He didn’t understand that there was a fire raging deep inside, a fire fueled by blood and pain.

He had been safe from Eris’ blades for years now, and he knew it. At the very least, he’d been safe from her conscious cunning, her focused ferocity. He knew she’d never hurt him by her own hand, in her right mind, of her own choice. 

He didn’t know that might not be enough.

They’d have to be careful, then. Very careful. That spark would have to remain contained, for fear of Eris doing something he’d regret. 

This would not be like the sparring bouts of his youth. He would not make the same mistake. He would not let that weakness win, when the stakes were so high.

____

She prowled into the mess hall like a lioness back from the hunt, and for the first time she understood the meaning of her name. 

Adamantia. The unbreakable. The unconquerable. While her sisters were bruised and limping, hunched over their bowls and wincing at new wounds, she was the pinnacle of health. She’d had pains, yes, but they vanished in wake of the battle. There came that electric thrill again, the instant mending of her wounds, the feeling that she’d conquer the entire world in one fell swoop. The sensation was addictive. For all the bruises, all the blood, the sidelong glances they now threw her way, she couldn’t get enough. 

Whispers trailed her as she crossed the room. Daggered eyes were thrown her way with every step. Somehow their rage only sharpened her senses further, until her skin felt charged with lightning.

With every skirmish, the hurricane beneath her flesh only continued to grow and roil. A part of her, as she collected her evening meal with its stew and spiced bread, wanted simply to dive across the serving table and claw at the first person in her way. She wanted to start a fight. She wanted to feel that thrill again.

It wasn’t quite rage. What she felt… it wasn’t anger. These were her sisters, her cousins, the women who raised her. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt them. Or… to hurt anyone. 

But it was a need for something, as primal as water and food and air, and she hadn’t yet found a way to fill that need that didn’t end in blood and pain. She’d suffocate under its absence, or starvation would make her desperate.

Either way, she knew she’d never be without it again, whatever it was that festered within her.

Her sisters did not want her at their tables. They turned their backs as she approached, and some even hunched over their bowls as if they feared their meals snatched or poisoned by her hand. Knuckles grew white around their cutlery - for those that did not simply eat with their hands, which was most - in preparation of yet another fight.

So she turned, brought her meal away and prepared for another night spent alone. It was not the first, and she knew it would not be the last. There would be quite a many lonely nights in her future. 

As she scoured the halls for a place of relative peace, she passed a cluster of the warriors who trained her. Something within her spoke to keep quiet, to slip by undetected, and so she ducked low and crept through the shadows, allowing her smaller form to be hidden by the weathered walls and potted greenery around her. 

“I am worried we gave her the wrong name.”

“Adamantia?”

She froze in place when she heard her name. Something in her knew what came next would scorch her, scorn her, and she prayed her limbs would take her onward before she heard it. But she couldn’t move. 

“Yes.”

“Seems fitting enough. She has not yet been conquered in a fight. I’ve begun to wonder if she ever will. She takes to it quickly. She will be a great warrior.”

Her chest swelled with pride, and she allowed herself a hidden smile. It wasn’t quite like the skin-prickling electricity that came from the fight itself, like fruit in place of a candied treat, but it was close enough. 

Yet her pride withered in the moment that followed. 

“Or a great plague. You have seen her in her training. She simply does not know when to stop, and no lesson will teach her. The battles feed her- she revels in it. She walks away with no wounds. Her anger cleanses her when it should caution her. I worry…”

There came a great sigh. It sounded like a woman’s last breath. From her hidden post, she wondered how she knew that sound without ever having heard it. Perhaps the battle was in her blood, as they said. Perhaps it would never escape her. 

“I worry we have not raised an Amazon, but strife itself. I worry another god has descended to us, and if we allow her to rage unchecked… she will leave our home barren.”

What she first felt was protest, bubbling up from deep below. It covered what else should have been there, the fear and the heartbreak, and this was painful as much as it was a relief. It spared her the deeper thoughts, the prickle of tears or any other unpleasant responses, and yet it felt… wrong. It made her fingers twitch and her body thrum, itching for a fight she did not want. 

It wasn’t anger, she wanted to say. She loved her sisters. The blood on their faces, the betrayal in their eyes… that hurt her like it would anyone else. Her body may have reveled in the fight, healed her wounds and sprung her onwards, but her heart did not. 

She did not want to be a plague. She did not want to ruin her home.

“You want to pull her from training?”

“I think we must. She is strong enough as a child. If she learns what she is capable of, there will be nothing to stop her. If we don’t stop this now, there will be no restraint on Themyscira powerful enough to hold her.”

“But if the gods have indeed sent us…” The name could not seem to draw itself past her mentor’s lips. Even so, she knew what it would be. She had been taught the stories of the gods since the day she was made awake to this world. There came a second sigh, though this one the firm breath of a woman ready for battle. “They must have done so for a reason. Perhaps we have a great storm coming… perhaps her skills in battle are meant to be utilized. If we refuse to train her, and that storm comes to us, Themyscira will die anyway. You know none of our girls have been easy to raise. She is more of a challenge than most, but… it is awfully early to call her a plague.”

“Very well, Hippolyta. If you want so badly to train her, you train her yourself. But I would not have the others hurt for her lack of control. What she grows into is your responsibility.”

Footsteps arose and swept past her hiding spot, and she hunched low for fear of being spotted. Even once all the sounds had faded, she waited through moments of true silence until she was sure she was alone. Balancing her meal carefully between her hands, she crept out from the shadows…

And found herself face-to-face with her mentor.

“We will start tomorrow, Adamantia. On the limestone cliffs.”

She was far too stunned to respond, having greatly overestimated her capacity for stealth compared to her mentor. 

Hippolyta spoke to her in the same way she always had, with not a word towards the conversation that had just taken place. Only one thing betrayed her inner thoughts. 

That was the last time she’d been called by that name. 

From sunrise on, she was strife.

____

“Keep your body in line.” Eris instructed. It came out as more of a snap, but after the first week of training, Tyla had learned not to flinch. “You’re making too many unnecessary movements. Keep your arms in.”

“I’m a dancer. It’s how I balance.”

“Bully for you,” they drawled, “But now you’re a fighter. And fighters keep their arms in. Unless you’d like to pay discount rates on manicures from now on.”

Tyla rolled her eyes, but made a show of tightening up her posture. The past week had granted her bruises aplenty, deep purple against her brown skin. She’d complained ceaselessly over the first three days, before finally realizing those complaints fell on deaf ears. Even Rick refused to coddle her - he hadn’t gone quite as military as Eris had, or as much as they expected given his history with the Squad, but he’d still presented himself as a brick wall against her whining.

The girl was knocked off her feet time and time again. Each time, she got back up. Each time, she lasted a moment or two longer. Each time, her form grew better, and her motions more intentional, and her expression changed from irritation to dedication.

Eris had not yet felt that beast begin to stir. Perhaps his body had learned what made a real fight and what didn’t. Perhaps even his instincts did not see Tyla as a threat. Perhaps, over a thousand years after it had sparked to life, he’d finally learned the restraint his own mentors feared he’d never have. 

She’d still become what they’d feared. She’d left before she could ruin Themyscira, but she’d caused more than her share of destruction in this world all the same. If her home ever opened its doors to her again, she knew she’d only be met with the same guarded, fearful expressions that had sent her off.

But they’d learned restraint. At least on some level.

“Have you ever met Wonder Woman?” Tyla asked, the words difficult to make out past her labored breaths. Eris responded with a vicious sweep of her bo, intending to knock the wind out of her, but Tyla reacted quickly enough to block the strike. Better than the first few times. Eris would give her that much. It wasn’t enough to survive one of Waller’s desperate metahumans, but it was a start. 

“Fighters don’t chatter either.”

“You chatter.” That remark came not from Tyla but from Rick, who was watching from the sidelines with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked better today, a bit more color in his face and a bit more brightness in his eyes, and Eris wondered briefly whether that was the sunny day or the sparring session. If he’d given his regeneration to Rick, at least in some part, had he also given a piece of that spark? Was he stronger for watching the fight, even when Eris’ own sense told him it was hardly a fight at all?

“I have done this for a thousand years. I’ve earned my chatter.”

 Maybe it was the banter Rick drew today’s strength from, and not the sparring. If that was true, he hardly needed Eris’ spark for that. That was how he’d always been.

“But do you know her?” Tyla persisted, even as it earned her a fresh volley of blows. These she did not all succeed in blocking, but she at least remained on her feet.

“‘Do I know her?’ and ‘have I met her?’ are two very different questions.”

“You grew up together, right? She’s, like, your sister?”

“No. She came after. They did not let me near her when she was young, and by the time she grew old enough to begin her training, I had already left.” Eris obliged her with that much of a response, something of a reward for remaining on her feet this long, then gave Tyla a brisk shake of their head, “We’ve had sparse interactions since then. Enough chatter.”

Tyla worked up the bravado for a strike of her own; weak and easily parried, but at least better than remaining strictly on the defensive. She had potential, Eris thought. She’d never be the world’s strongest warrior by any means, but she might just keep herself alive. With the proper training, of course, and the proper tenacity.

“Who trained you?”

“A warrior named Hippolyta.”

“Was she your mother?”

“I have no mother.” Eris responded, but the words left something of a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried again. “She was my mentor. Among others. That’s the closest I had. My people are not born to mothers.”

“Then how were you born?”

“From the clay. My soul was imbued to me by the gods.” she said, vaguely aware that she was revealing too much but choosing not to stop herself now. If nothing else, she could name it a distraction, an attempt to waver Tyla’s focus. “Many are given the souls of the battered and mistreated, so that they could find the honor and strength they’d lost. I was given… something else.”

From the corner of their eye, they were aware that Rick’s posture had shifted. He’d leaned in, as if to catch the words, and his expression was curious in a way that Eris had only rarely seen. They shrugged it off. They’d assumed, from all his work with metahumans, that he’d heard the legends of how the Amazons were born. But maybe he hadn’t. Or maybe he was just surprised to hear the story from her own lips.

“What else?”

There was the line Eris would not cross. He’d already let the conversation go on too long. If Tyla truly wanted to know, she would guess it from his name.

Once again, Eris swept his student’s feet out from under her, and she hit the packed earth beneath her with a grunt. This time, the determination on her face had faded into pure exhaustion, and she did not move to stand back up.

“I’m done. I can’t do this.”

Eris tensed for barely a millisecond, finding a way to play this. For all Tyla’s whining, all her endless complaints and distractions, this was the first she’d outright thrown in the towel. That showed some level of tenacity, but it wasn’t enough. She still could hardly hold her own in even the simplest sparring match. 

Then their posture loosened. Eris dropped his own bo and listened to it clatter against the girl’s own fallen weapon, then extended a hand in offering.

“I’ll give you ten minutes.”

Tyla reached for her hand- and, with a flash of sudden silver, snatched it right back to her chest. 

The cut was clean and shallow, more symbolic than anything. A clean slash across the palm, an offering in blood. Eris flicked the blood off his blade, a slender dagger hardly as long as his pinky finger, and briskly returned it to its hiding place amidst his folds of clothing. Without bending down, he rolled his bo onto the opposite foot and kicked it up to his hands. 

“The only way you decide a fight is done is when you win it.” she hissed, brandishing her weapon, “You think your enemy will let you take a break? You think you can pick and choose your battles in this life?”

“You cut me.”

“Waller’s metahumans would do worse. Will do worse. They will not give you a break, they will not give you a truce, and they will not care that you’re a child. Waller has bombs in their heads, and they’re the kind of people who will always put their own lives before anyone else’s.” Eris snarled, “So you put your life first. You do not get to choose what life puts you through. Your only job on this Earth is to survive it. Do you understand?”

For the first time since the training began, that fire again rose in the back of Eris’ chest. She could sense Tyla’s hatred with her, her determination to succeed reborn in a new and crueler form, and steely sparks flashed across Eris’ skin in response to it. A part of them was wary, concerned that a true battle might grow unchecked, but this was a smaller part than he expected. 

It was Hippolyta’s voice that he spoke. That gave him strength - an inward strength, one he seldom found within himself.

“Do you understand?”

Tyla nodded. 

It wasn’t enough. 

“Your father asked me to train you because he wants you to survive.” Eris continued, “He asked the embodiment of conflict to teach your prissy ass to fight because the only thing he cares about is for you to survive. So you will survive. The only option you have is to survive. You do not get to quit a fight because you’re tired or you’re hurt or you want to take a break. The only fight that exists is a fight for survival, and that is a fight you do not quit. Do you understand?”

Tyla’s eyes dropped, her posture hunched around her bleeding hand. From the blurred edge of his vision, Eris saw Rick take a half-step closer. They held up a hand, and he froze. This was no lapse in control. This was a lesson that needed teaching. It was a lesson that couldn’t be taught without a little spilled blood. 

“I understand.” the girl finally mumbled, still refusing to meet Eris’ eyes. 

“We go again. We aren’t finished until the sun touches the ground, or I do.”

Tyla nodded once again. This time there was acceptance in the gesture, and the same glimmer of fiery drive simmering beneath the surface. That fire was what she needed, more than any techniques or weapons. The raw skills would allow her to hold her own, in time. The fire was what would turn the tides. 

Eris extended the same hand to her, a thin pale ribbon of a scar nearly hidden against the lines of his palm.

Tyla took a deep breath, apparently granting herself one more moment of rest. Eris decided to allow her that much. They’d consider it a small mercy, for the purposes of training. 

She twisted abruptly, raising a storm of dust and kicking at his knees so suddenly Eris felt something pop. He toppled, out of surprise more than pain, and Tyla was on her feet in the time it took him to reset his knee and return to his own. She had failed to retrieve her weapon, but her fists were raised high and her eyes were steely. 

It was a start.